#Bob Floyd oneshot

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: After teasing and disobeying Bob, you get your well deserved punishment.

Warning: Choking (yes this is the bicep choking fic), dash of size kink, lots of sex, oral (both receiving), language, mean dom Bob bc I'm a whore

"Darlin'. Behave." His voice is low, gravely in your ear. His fingers gently squeeze the flesh on your hip. To others, it looks nothing out of the ordinary. Just Bob, whispering sweet nothings to his partner.

If only they knew.

You let out a confused hum, tilting your head up to face his. The smile on your face is innocent, unassuming. The same smile that Jake swears was the key to him figuring out that you were married to Bob, stating that y'all looked like 'you just stepped out of a movie musical from the fifties'.

You didn't wear long dresses and skirts because you felt a kinship to a particular decade.

Rather, the extra fabric made it easier to cover yourself while Bob fucked you in his truck. 

Which is exactly what you wanted to be doing right now instead of watching Jake and Bradley argue over a round of pool.

Usually wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your back into his chest did the trick. Apparently watching two grown men argue was too distracting.

So you began to move your hips, subtly grinding your ass against his crotch. Bob simply squeezed the flesh of your hips, sending a subtle reminder back.

That just wouldn't do.

God, you had been aching for him all day. And yes, it was a bit greedy to still want him after he gave up arriving on time tonight in order to eat you out. Truly, you had hoped the act would be enough until you two returned home. 

But he just looked so good in his white T Shirt. Bob was always handsome, but you loved it when he dressed casually. The soft fabric of his shirt hugged his muscles that he didn't show very often. It seemed that people often forget that Bob had to stay physically fit for his job, that he also had to do two hundred push ups.

You never forgot.

"Just a little bit longer, then we'll go home. Kay?" Bob whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You nodded your head, despite being unsatisfied with his response. Stilling your body, it appeared that you understood his request.

Bob slung an arm around your shoulder, his hand near your breasts, but just out of reach. Your thighs clenched at the sight of his fingers, thinking about how earlier he had used them to make you come so hard your legs shook.

So your hips began their ministrations again. To onlookers, it looked as though you were simply swaying to the music playing from the old jukebox.

Bob knew the truth.

The grip he had on your hip tightened, his lips trailing from your forehead to your ear, "What did I just say?"

"I like this song," you stated, shrugging your shoulders. It was fun, seeing how far you could push him. Bob was pretty good at keeping up the facade, as if his cock wasn't growing erect underneath his jeans.

If things were up to you, his cock would be growing inside you while your back was pressed into the mattress.

Instead, you were still at the Hard Deck, Bob seemingly determined not to break.

"Y'know I'm gonna fuck you when we get home, right?" He whispered, pulling you closer to him, hoping the promise would be enough to satiate you. 

"I know," you said with a sweet smile. No one thought anything odd of your exchange because it looked like a normal conversation you and Bob were having. 

If only they knew. 

Your hand trailed up from his thigh to the back of his neck. His hair was soft, curling thanks to the hat he had on. That old trucker hat that he always wore when he wasn't in uniform. 

Bob let out a strangled grunt upon feeling you tug his hair. The sensation only lasted for a few seconds, your hand moving quickly back to his thigh. 

He was stunned, or so he appeared. 

His arm swiftly moved up your chest. Your eyes bulged upon feeling his bicep against your neck, restricting your airway. 

The action was brief, his bicep gone before anyone could see anything. But the sensation, how easy it was for him to choke you, how he didn't have to move his arm that much because the muscle was so big, remained in your brain, replaying over and over again, your thighs clenching. 

"That made you wet, didn't it?' He asked, chuckling. As if he just witnessed something amusing, rather than choking you in public. 

"Why don't you go check?" 

His stare burned into the back of your head. You didn't need to look, you knew his icy blue eyes were narrower, his nostrils flaring as he thought about what you just implied. 

"You heard me," you whispered, words smug. 

Bob's hand moved quickly. It wasn't a hard slap, but it made your eyes widened. Within seconds after slapping your face, that same hand was now gripping your chin, tilting it upwards so he could press a kiss to your lips. 

No one noticed. 

He had been so fast, that it looked like he was simply cupping your chin to kiss you. 

How sweet. 

No one noticed how his hand was trailing up your thighs, slipping under your skirt, moving towards the space in between your thighs. 

No one noticed how his eyes widened when his hand felt your soaked folds rather than cotton. 

“This whole night?” Bob asked. 

"Wanted to be ready for ya," was the only explanation you gave him. 

It was all you needed. 

Bob didn't let you get that far into the house. As soon as you reached the living room, your knees were on the carpet. The soft material brushed against your face as your legs were pried apart. 

"Ya think you're so big for that fucking stunt, don't you?" His hands were rough, grabbing your hips, pushing them towards his. 

A desperate moan fell from your lips upon feeling his clothed erection against your bare ass. 

"Should have fucked you right then and there. But you'd like that, wouldn't you?" You couldn't help but let out a needy whine upon hearing the sound of him unzipping his jeans.

"But you'd like that too much, wouldn’t ya?" His voice was sinful, low and gruff as he repeated himself, indicating he wanted a response. 

It took some time for Bob to be this comfortable around you. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries, and quite frankly, part of him was worried you wouldn't be into it. 

He was so wrong. 

For as much as you liked being in charge, there were times where you didn't want to make decisions, to think through every action. You wanted to be daring, to be reckless. 

Most of all, you wanted someone to reign you in, to call the shots. 

It worked out well, for Bob only had so much control in his daily life. He didn't call the shots, that was ultimately up to his pilot. He couldn't control what others did up in the air. 

But in this moment, he could control you. Could mold you to how he saw fit. He could make you cum over and over until your legs shook or edge you till tears ran down your face. 

He had options, choices. Something he reminded himself as he felt your bare cunt grinded itself against his denim covered crotch. 

His large hand found your ass, roughly grabbing your soft flesh, practically marveling at your curves. 

“Only want you Robby. Only you,” You pleaded, your voice music to Bob’s ears. 

“God, you’re so soft,” He murmured into your ear, his fingers finding their way to your soaked folds, “Want all of ya.”

You moaned as his fingers thrusted into you, finding that special spot with a precision and quickness that only Bob possessed. 

The sound of his name said in broken moans filled the air, mixing with the lewd sounds of your wetness as his fingers continued his ministrations, his thumb finding your clit. 

With anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how desperate and loud you were. But god, his fingers were so thick and made you feel so fucking good. Bob knew your body like the back of his hand, every curve, every spot that drove you closer to the edge. 

And you’re so close, you need just a few more thrusts, a few more rough circles drawn on your clit and you would be seeing stars when you closed your eyes. 

But you didn’t deserve that. Not after what you just pulled. 

Which is why Bob responds to your tears and pleads when he pulls out with a harsh slap against your cunt. Pleasure laced pain courses through your body, your own fingers gripping the rug for purchase. 

“Don’t you dare. Turn around and show me how bad you want to come and maybe then I’ll think about it,” Bob ordered. His words caused your walls to clench around nothing. 

You maneuvered your body so that you were now looking up at him. His erection was straining against his clothes, his cock impossible to ignore. 

Quickly, your fingers found the buttons of his jeans, undoing them enough so you could easily pull down both his pants and boxers to his knees. 

Your mouth all but salivated at the sight of his cock, now resting against his abdomen. 

Bob had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. It was perfect, not too thick, curved ever so slightly, which allowed him to hit that spot with every thrust. 

You moaned as your lips touched the plush tip, tongue lapping up the precum that had formed. The vibrations sent shivers down Bob's spine, a deep grunt falling from his lips, his hands gripping your shoulders. 

He used his hands to gently guide your mouth further down his cock. Your cheeks hollowed out, trying to take in as much of him as you could. 

"Just like that sweetheart, f-fuck." Bob could maintain his composure thousands of feet up in the air, but as soon as your pretty mouth was wrapped around his cock, all bets were off. Your mouth was heaven and he loved how eager you were to show him you were able to take so much of him now. 

Drool began seeping down your chin as your head bobbed up and down, taking in as much as you comfortably could. 

His call sign never stood for baby on board. 

"Ya want me to come in your mouth? Or that pretty little pussy of yours?" His words made you want to rub your thighs together, an urge you were desperately fighting, not wanting to risk any more punishments. 

You looked up at Bob and he wished he could take a picture. Wide eyes and your mouth wrapped around his cock. You were beautiful and all his.

And boy, did Bob Floyd fucking love it. 

His fingers gripped your chin, guiding your head away from his cock, "I asked you a question darlin. You gonna give me an answer or do I need to teach you some manners again?" 

"I want you to come in my pussy. Please." 

Bob chuckled, "So polite for a dirty little girl. Turn around." 

And that was your punishment. He'll fuck you, he'll let you come, but you couldn't see him unless he let you. You couldn't kiss Bob unless he wanted to. 

He entered you swiftly, eliciting a near scream from you. 

"Robby!" 

No one had ever made you feel so good, so full before. Bob wasted no time, knowing you were prepared thanks to this afternoon. 

"Fuck, taking my cock s-so good, angel," his voice was shaky, his breath hot on your ear. Even if you were in trouble, he couldn't help but praise you. 

You tilted your head up, hoping he would act on pure instincts and kiss you. 

His lips ghosted over your face, cerulean eyes nearly all but closed as he reveled in the feeling of your warm cunt clenching around his cock. 

"S'big Robby, I-" 

"Shhh," he pressed his lips to your forehead, "You don't have to think. Just let me use that pretty little pussy of yours." 

He snaked an arm around your neck, tightening his grip so his bicep pressed against your throat. Now you had no choice but to look up at him. 

Broken, choked gasps filled your living room, swirling with the sounds of Bob's hips meeting yours. All you could do was take it, his cock repeatedly brushing against the spot that made your toes curl and your back arch in pleasure. 

Before you met Bob, you didn't think that spot even existed. 

"You gonna make a mess all over my cock? C'mon baby, you can do it," Bob flexed his bicep, further restricting your airflow. 

That one movement broke the dam. Your legs shook as white hot pleasure ran through your body. Bob, ever the doting husband, was quick to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you up while your orgasm took over your body. 

"Please don't stop," you're begging and you don't care. Every thrust prolongs your pleasure. All you can focus on, all you care about is your husband and how his cock is sending you to a pleasurable bliss. 

"S'pretty, want another one," Bob's chest was pressed against your back, his hand snaking to just above where you two connected. 

His fingers, calloused from years of work, felt heavenly on your clit. 

The pleasure was now rolling through you in waves. Each thrust, each swipe of your clit sent you reeling. If it weren't for the arm Bob and around your neck and collarbone, you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself up. 

"C'mon baby, so fucking pretty. Know you got another one in ya. Fuck, you feel so good. C-can't believe I get ya all to myself, love you s'much," his words were beginning to slur, as if he was drunk off of you. 

It was one of your favorite parts about having sex with Bob. When his words began to slur, when the only things he could intelligibly say were praises for you, the only thing he could focus on was you. 

Between Bob's praises and the circles his thumb was drawing on your clit, your eyes closed as pleasure took over your body again. You were screaming something, could feel your throat strain as you spoke. But what exactly it was, you couldn’t say. 

A large hand cradled the back of your head, the other maneuvering your legs so they were wrapped around a lithe waist.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on your bed, a pair of blue eyes staring back at you. 

"Hey darlin," Bob's voice was soft as his nose glided over your cheek, "Wanna keep going?" 

You weakly nodded, your hands reaching up to his hair. 

"Use your words darlin," Bob reminded, fucking his head down to press gentle kisses and nips across your neck. 

"Want," you whined, causing Bob to sink his teeth into your collarbone, "Want you to come inside me Robby! Please!" 

A low, guttural groan came from your husband, "Fuck, how did I get so lucky?" 

His mouth trailed down your body, leaving kisses all over. Your fingers flew to his shoulders when you felt his nose brush against your clit. 

"Robby, you said-" 

"I know," his breath was hot on your most intimate part, "But I just gotta taste ya first, okay?" 

Bob couldn't help it and you knew it too. Yes, he got to taste you earlier. He knew it was bad to be greedy, but your cunt was an exception. 

So he didn't feel bad when his tongue found your soaked folds, lapping up your arousal. It drove Bob wild, getting to taste you. He had to fight the urge to grind his hips against the comforter, wanting to come inside you. 

Your fingers were threading themselves in his sun kissed hair, needing something to hold onto as he groaned against your cunt. 

"S'good," Bob moaned, sending vibrations all along your body. Wanting to keep you ready for him, he thrusted a finger inside you. 

"Robby!" 

Bob simply smirked, knowing your walls could feel the cool, smooth metal of his wedding band. He continues making languid thrusts against that spongy spot, the one that he knows drives you wild, makes your legs shake. 

Besides, you were still being punished. You wanted to come so badly tonight, so Bob was going to make you come.

Over and over again. 

Your back arched as his tongue continued to lap at your clit, sensitivity surging through you. 

While your release came in a smaller wave this round, it was still intense. Your fingers gripped the soft strands of Bob's hair, hips jerking upwards in a shameless attempt to get more of Bob's mouth. 

"What's wrong? Thought ya wanted my cock darlin," Bob smirked when he pulled away. 

It was impressive how after five years he could still take you by surprise. You open your eyes, his words making you want to sit up. 

Instead, your husband's lips crashed onto yours, his large hands pushing you back down to the mattress. 

"Asked ya a question darlin. Gonna give me an answer?" 

Two could play the game. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, nails brushing against his scalp as you tugged on the locks, pulling his head back. 

"You gonna fuck me?" 

You could only place a few love bites on his neck before you were back on your knees, face against the pillow. 

"When did you get so bold?" The rural drawl laced his deep voice, his breath hot on your neck. 

"Since you stopped fucking me." That was the final straw. Bob quickly lined his cock to your entrance and thrusted in without a warning, sending you practically reeling. 

"Fuck Bob!" 

"That's what I'm trying t'do," he snarled, his hips quickly meeting yours. 

Any smartass comment died in your throat when Bob's bicep pressed against your neck. God, it was easy to forget how big and strong he was. He tried to hide it, tried to make himself small, make himself blend in by hunching over, by not taking up as much space. 

Which was why you loved it when he displayed his strength. He didn't have to flex much, if at all, to have the muscle against your throat, restricting your airway. 

"Can tell how much ya love that from the way you're clenching me so tight." 

You could only let out a strangled hum of agreement, too busy focused on how fucking full you felt every time he bottomed out. 

Bob knew you were getting close. He could tell by the way your breath quickened, your walls clenching around his cock, not wanting it to leave. 

Bob was also very close. Had been for quite a while. But he was raised to be a gentleman and you deserved to come several times before he did. 

His free hand trailed down to where you two connected. Just a little more attention to your clit and Bob would have you right where he desperately needed you. 

All you could do was take his cock, take in the scent of eucalyptus that surrounded him, mixed with the sweat that came from his hard work. 

"M'so close," you weakly groaned, fingers finding purchase in your comforter. 

"I know, just a little more. You can wait for me, I know ya can. Fuck I'm so lucky, married to ya. Ya gonna take it all too, aren't ya? Fuck, I love ya so fucking much." 

He released the grip he had on your throat, turning your head so he could capture your lips once more. 

That was what sent you reeling. That's what made you see galaxies when you closed your eyes. The only thing you could focus on was how good he felt, fucking you, coming inside of you, filling you up with everything he had. 

For what seemed like ages, you two were frozen in place, trying to catch your breath. 

"Darlin, I'm gonna pull out now, 'kay?" Bob finally said, gently pressing a handkerchief to where you two were connected. 

"Can we shower after this?" You mumbled. 

Bob pressed a kiss to your shoulder, "Course we can." 

"With the shower steamer?" 

Bob chuckled, "The rosemary one, right?" 

"Love ya Robby." 

"I love you too darlin'."

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

@lewmagoo @ohtobeleah @sometimesanalice @cumholland @chxosunbound @callsignspark @dissonannce @yanna-banana @lovinglyeternal @cherrycola27 @lostinthefandoms11 @rhettabbotts @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @ryebecca @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @mothdruid @delopsia

[vivwritesfics]

Lewis Pullman Masterlist

Lewis Pullman

Series

Imagines

Dog Sitter Fic

Lewis has a new dog sitter while he's away filming. She just so happens to be cute af

Blurbs

bf!lew

cooking with bf!lew

Bob Floyd

Series

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Bob and Bun

Run From Midnight

Story Of Another Us

Imagines

Military Flyover

The dagger squad don't want to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas grand Prix. None of them really knew much about and, those that did only really knew about Nascar. She hated the Vegas Grand Prix as much as those doing the military flyover. But the cute WSO there to support his friends was making it bearable.

Grow Old With You

Bob didn't want to introduce his girl to his squad. But she was his fiance and he did want them at the wedding. When Hangman tries it on, Bob knows she really is the one

Sweetness

The dagger squad didn't expect much from Bob. He was quiet and reserved, and they didn't expect anything else from him. But they didn't know about the girl waiting for him at home, dressed in her prettiest lingerie.

The Mug Situation

Bob Floyd and his wife are real fuckin cute

Magic Mike

Say hello to stripper Bob! Except, he wasn't supposed to be a stripper. No, he was supposed to be a magician, was supposed to be doing silly card tricks to impress his fellow patrons at The Hard Deck.

Pride (bob x reader x rooster)

A shitty relationship with a homophobic asshole and she doesn't know who she is. For three years it remain unaddressed, until her current boyfriends both come home with pink, purple and blue flags painted in their cheeks

Bob Floyd Eats Pussy

Exactly what the title says, Bob Floyd Eats pussy

Blurbs

Girl dad bob

Damsel in distress

Cowboy bob

Bobs original pilot

nnnn

soft sweet sex w bob

Rhett Abbott

Series

Waiting For The Sun

Imagines

If Your Daddy Knew Part Two

The youngest member of the Tillerson family was so sweet, Rhett couldn't help but be enamoured with her. There weren't many other people he would risk climbing through the window of the Tillerson house for. If her daddy knew, there was no way he'd make it out alive (worth it)

Ben's Mother

Rhett's girlfriend has a child. She had him before she met Rhett, but he still made them a part of his family (which is fine bc the Abbotts love them).

The Pony Sleepover

Rhett isn't ready for his daughter to grow up

Blurbs

Rhett and Sparrow

Rough Rhett

Riding (horses)

rhett x british reader

[ddejavvu]

for mvm i’m thinking about the dagger squad being mechanics and they’re all fussing over you and offering to fix your car when you walk in their shop (i just think miles teller would look good in a dirty wife beater 😪)

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

Natasha doesn't think it's fair that she's working the counter when you come wandering in, looking like a little lost puppy. If she'd forced Jake to take his shift at the right time, and not duck out for lunch, she'd be dressed down more, in a tank top that highlights all the places she wants you to see most. Instead, she's in a baggy uniform, nametag shining on her chest.

She tries to compensate for her lackluster outfit with extra sweetness when she greets you, "Hi there! What can we do for you today?"

She leans over the counter, bracing her chin in her hands. It puts her face closer to yours, just far away enough to claim professionality, even if she is trying to get a subtle whiff of your shampoo.

"Hi," You smile nervously at her, "My car broke down? It's- it's like, a mile up the road that way," You point out the door to a long stretch of road, one that's notorious for being away from most cell service.

"Aw," She croons, sympathy in her voice as her eyes soften impossibly further, "It's alright, we can tow it back here for you. You must be tired, walking all that way, you want a water?"

"Oh!" You gush when she pulls a bottle out from a cooler behind the desk, "That's okay, are you sure?"

"Totally sure," She sends you a wink, passing the chilled bottle over the counter, "I can drive the truck, but we'll need to get one other worker to come with us to hook it up. It's not a one-man job."

"Okay," You nod, standing adrift at the counter as she bustles about, slamming her thumb down on a comm system.

"Bradshaw!" She snaps, voice thick and rough, "Pull a truck around, someone needs towing."

"On it." Comes a raspy, grainy sound from the comm only seconds later, a man's voice this time.

"He's not a very good driver," Natasha explains, taking all the opportunity she gets to talk Bradley down, "You ever heard of 'brains and brawn'?"

You nod, and she laughs, "Let's just say, he's not the brain."

"Who's stupid?" Comes a voice from behind the counter, and a man with gelled brown hair and thick glasses emerges from the bathroom, "Oh- uh, hello, are you having car trouble?"

The man looks like a deer in headlights, all pinky cheeks and wide eyes. His nametag reads Bob, and you shift on your feet as you nod.

"Yeah," Your teeth catch the inside of your cheek and you gnaw there, "Uh, my car broke down on the road out there, and it needs towing."

"Oh! I can drive," He offers with a sweet, hopeful smile, but Natasha intercepts, unbuttoning her uniform shirt so that only a white tank lays underneath.

"I'm driving," She states as calmly as possible, but she's urgent to shut him down as she leaves her uniform draped over the back of her chair, "Bradley's hooking it up."

"Oh," Bob's shoulders sink, but perk back up once he spots the cooler, "Has anyone offered you a water?"

You hold up the bottle, smiling sweetly at him, "Thanks anyways."

"Here," The door behind Natasha bursts open with a bang, and a man steps out, chest heaving a shirt stained with grease. The white fabric holds tight to his skin, and there's a similar smear of grease across the bulge of his bicep.

He spots you, and he heaves one final exhale, holding out an oil-stained hand for you to shake.

"Bradley," He introduces himself with a charming smile, and his eyes are concealed behind aviator sunglasses, "You need towing?"

"I do," You lament, reaching for his hand and trying to avoid the grease smeared on his skin. His fingers are rough, calloused, but his touch is soft as he wraps his other hand around your intertwined ones and shakes yours.

"Don't worry," He soothes, choosing to vault himself over a lower part of the counter instead of open the door, so that his muscles pop. He lands beside you, shoulders broad and breath momentarily hot against your shoulder, "We'll get it fixed up for you."

"Thank you," You breathe, hands suddenly sweaty. They're circling you like vultures, Natasha hastily breaking through the segmented doorway and standing on your other side.

"Tow truck's out front," Bradley motions to the truck standing tall in the parking lot, "Actually, Natasha, you can sit this one out. I don't need help with the cables, and the front desk needs manning."

"That's what Bob's here for," She keeps steady, tense eye contact with Bradley, "Plus the last time you tried driving that truck, you almost crashed."

"Did not," He snaps.

"Did too," She sneers.

"Uh," Bob interjects, "If you want, I can-"

"No!' Bradley and Natasha turn on him in unison, but the door opens and cuts off any protests they could have given.

"Someone need towin'?" A southern drawl cuts across the room, and the employees around you groan.

"Ah," A man smiles from the doorway, flanked by another mechanic behind him with sharp features, nametag reading Javy.

"You must be the unlucky driver," The man drawls, Jake engraved on the metal tag on his chest, "Did'ja break down on the dirt out there?"

"Yeah," You breathe, taking a slow step towards him, "How'd you know?"

"People break down there all the time," He waves a hand dismissively, "How 'bout I help you with that, darlin'?"

"I'm driving," Bradley and Natasha speak in unison, and it puts a satisfied smirk on Jake's face.

"My coworkers are prone to infighting," Jake explains, feigning solemnity as he lays a hand on your shoulder, "It's a real problem. Let us take you, okay? We can let them sort out their issues on their own."

Javy holds the door open for you and Jake, sending Natasha, Bradley, and Bob a shit-eating grin, when you're out of earshot before he joins you, "Tryhards."

[foreverrandomwritings]

Two Turns Into Three

Summary:You and your boyfriend Fanboy propostion your close friend Bob with a threesome request.

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x afab!Reader (Reaper) x Robert "Bob" Floyd

Warnings: Explicit, Threesome (m/m/f), Masturbation, strap on anal, FanboyxBob anal, kinks, dildo, kissing, praise kink, fingering, a little bit of nerves, MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

Word count:3643

Masterlist

A/N:Written as a sequel to Schoolboy Crush but can be read alone. Written for @sushiwriterhere threesomeissance challenge.

You and Fanboy had been dating for about three and a half months when the topic of kinks and fantasies came up. The relationship had been a slow one at the start. He had finally gotten the courage to ask you out after months of showing up to your Nerds United store. You had built a good rapport with him over those months and had even played some video games with him occasionally after swapping gamer tags before he had popped the question. Then about two weeks into you officially dating he had gone onto a three week long mission. 

Neither of you wanted to rush into that level of intimacy before he left so you had waited until he had gotten back to have your first time together. You both enjoyed each other immensely and had a great time with each other since then. But even though things were going great there were still some things you wanted to try. After a day at a convention with Mickey and a certain glasses wearing aviator, you had dropped Bob at home. Which wasn’t abnormal, he spent occasional time with you guys. Going to D&D nights, going to movies or even conventions with you both. You both somehow got onto the topic of a threesome on your way back to your apartment.

The first time you had seen Bob, Mickey had dragged him into your store. It was while you were both still friends, he assured Bob that the small business was the place to go. Which was flattering and definitely one of the many reasons you said yes when he eventually asked you out. Bob had been bashful but had quickly warmed up to you. He was the perfect person to include in your outings as you all had similar interests. 

Mickey and you had both been open about your sexuality with each other and you were very aware that Mickey was pansexual. He never hid it from you or from any of his team members. Bob had at one point told the both of you that he was bisexual, though he was a bit more shy about telling people.

So when your loving boyfriend mentioned a threesome and you shared your interest in it as well it seemed clear as day who you would ask to join you both. The only problem was going to be how you approached him. He was still a reserved person even though he was comfortable with you both. So you had decided to invite him out for pizza and bring up the topic there. 

“Hey Bob, could I ask you a question?” Mickey had his fingers wrapped around yours as he shot the question at the fellow backseater. Bob finished chewing his bite of pizza, wiped the sauce off of his lips with his napkin and nodded his head eagerly.   

“What are your thoughts on a threesome?” You had agreed it was better not to beat around the bush. Even though Bob had just swallowed his food you saw him swallow again, his cheeks becoming increasingly rosey. You were thankful for the corner booth and pretty empty dining area that allowed you to have this conversation a little bit discreetly. 

“Uhm. What do ya mean?” His country drawl was thick as he spoke. Something you noticed would happen when he got flustered. 

“We’ve been talking about it for a while and we are both interested in having someone join us. We would like for that person to be you Bob.” You paused for a moment letting him take in the information before continuing. 

“You don’t have to say anything now if you’d like to think about it. However if you don’t want to then we just leave it at that. We’ll act like this conversation never even happened.” Mickey squeezed your shaking hand. 

The confidence you were showing was all a facade. The only one here that usually showed any confidence was Mickey. Bob was normally quiet unless engaged in a conversation involving something particularly interesting. You were confident in your store because you knew the store, you knew the answers to the questions that customers would ask and it was easy for you. But this was unnerving, the unknown of the outcome had you chewing your lip and trying to remain emotionless. 

“Could I just have the night to think about it?” His voice was dripping with hesitation but you nodded your head reassuringly. He gave you a thankful smile at the action.

“Of course, take all the time you need. We aren’t in any rush.” Mickey gave the glasses clad aviator a beaming smile and the topic was dropped. You talked about an upcoming D&D campaign you were currently putting together and then went your separate ways at the end of the night. It was two days later on Sunday that you saw Bob again. Neither of you had heard from him since the night at the pizza place. You had both taken that as his answer to not wanting to join you for a threesome. 

You and Mickey were closing up the store since Jeremy was away for the weekend at an event trying to gather more items for the store. Neither of you minded the late night, your apartment was above the store so it wouldn’t take you long to get home. You had just locked the money away in the safe when you heard a knock on the door. Mickey had been stocking a box of trading cards so you went to tell the person you were closed. But as you got closer to the door you noticed a familiar tan carhartt hoodie and quickened your steps. You unlocked the door and opened it, licking your lips as you made eye contact with the man standing in front of you. 

“Hey Reaper, Is Fanboy here?” His eyes wandered over your shoulder briefly as he asked the question. 

“Yea he’s farther back stocking some trading cards. Do you want me to grab him?” He nodded his head at you and you ushered him into the building. 

“I’ll go get him.” You turned on your heels quickly and with fast steps you were standing in front of your aviator boyfriend. 

“Hey sugar plum. I’m almost done with this box. Are you almost ready to go up?” He looked up from the cards in his hands briefly. He noticed your hands playing with the lanyard around your neck that you had yet to take off. 

“What’s wrong? Was the person at the door giving you issues?” He had heard the knock at the door and hushed voices but figured you could handle it and would holler if you needed anything. 

“Bob is here, Mick and asked to see you.” His eyebrows both shot up at the words. You shifted from one foot to the other. 

“Did he say what he was here for?” You shook your head quickly. He came to stand in front of you, taking your hands in his. 

“We’ll go out there and see what’s going on. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He kissed your forehead quickly before dropping one of your hands and leading you out to where you left Bob. 

“Bob, great to see you man! What’s got you here so late?” It was odd for the blonde to be at the store so late on nights that weren’t reserved for D&D. 

“Yes.” Was all he said. His fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie pulling on them and twisting them around his fingers. 

“Uh yes what?” Mickey briefly looked at you before cocking his head to the side in question at Bob. 

“The threesome. I’d like to have one. With you guys I mean.” You and Mickey both stood straighter at the confession. Hands squeezing each others with hope. 

“That’s amazing to hear. Did you have an idea of when?” The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. Your cheeks heated up at the eagerness that was evident in your voice. 

“I was actually thinking tonight if it’s not too soon?” He looked between you and Mickey as you and he looked at each other. A silent conversation quickly transpired between you. 

“Tonight works great! We were about to close up anyway. You guys can head on up, maybe have a drink or something and I’ll get everything done down here really quick.” You really just needed some time to cool the nerves that had suddenly built up inside you. Mickey understood what you needed and kissed your cheek before nodding his head to the door that led up to your apartment. 

“We’ll see you up there soon babe.” Bob’s hand brushed against yours as he passed you and he gave you a shy smile which you returned. You made quick work of finishing the box of trading cards, double checking the doors were locked and turning off all the lights. You took a deep breath as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. The walk up gave you more confidence. You were sure in this decision and you were positive it would go well. As your hand hit the doorknob to your apartment you took one last deep breath and pushed it over. 

You heard them before you saw them. Mickey was saying something to Bob causing him to let out a loud laugh. A smile adorned your face instantly at the thought of your boyfriend making this situation more relaxed. He was always the best at reading people and figuring out how to make them laugh. When you rounded the corner into the living room you spotted them both on the couch. Both of them had a root beer in hand and wide smiles on their faces. Even with the large couch they sat practically on top of each other. 

“What’cha boys talking about?” They kept the smiles on their faces as they looked at you. There was excitement and mischief in their eyes as well. 

“Talking about Mav beating Hangman in another exercise this week.” You were standing in front of them at the end of your boyfriend's sentence. 

“Why don’t you sit down, honey blossom.” You shook your head at the pet name, he was always making up random things to call you, keeping you on your toes. You hummed in reply however and sat yourself down on Bob’s lap much to his surprise. You threw your feet into Mickey’s lap and gave him a sweet smile which he returned. 

“Is this okay?” You’d get off if he said no, but the hand placed on your back told you he was fine with it. 

“It’s alright, darlin’.” The country drawl was back again and shot a feeling of desire through you. 

“Do you want to go ahead and talk about boundaries?” You looked between them both and they quickly nodded. The conversation went quickly, you talked about a safe word and hard limits. Your hand had wound up in Bob’s hair, his hand was on Mickey’s thigh and Mickey was running his hand up and down your leg. Both of them had placed their drinks on the end table. As the conversation came to a close your lips were laid upon Bob’s and Bob’s hand was working over the bulge growing in Mickey’s pants. 

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” Mickey’s question was breathless as he held back a moan. You and Bob broke from the kiss and you stood up. You held both hands out to them and they took the invitation. You pulled them both to the bedroom and worked on taking your shirt and shoes off. The vans were easy to toe off and the t-shirt ended up somewhere in the room. Mickey had flipped on the ceiling light. Bob played with his hoodie strings again. But his hands were caught by Mickey and dragged to his sides as Mickey planted a heated kiss upon the blonde's lips. 

The simultaneous moans they both let out had you letting out one of your own. Mickey’s hands worked into Bob’s hair while Bob’s worked under Mickey's t-shirt pulling it up until they broke from their kiss to toss it onto the floor. Their lips met again quickly and you gathered up your double ended strap on and the lube. You placed them on the bed and came up behind Bob. You ran your hands from his upper back down towards his ass then wrapped them around to the front of his pants. Your fingers quickly found the button and zipper of his jeans. You worked the button open and unzipped his jeans. 

You slipped your hand into the top of his boxers. He was already exceptionally hard, precum leaking out of the tip. A moan slipped from his lips right into those of your boyfriends. Mickey’s hands worked themselves under Bob’s hoodie and t-shirt this time. They broke apart briefly so they could pull them off his body. Then you were laying your bra covered chest against his bare back, reveling in the heat of his body. Bob’s fingers ran up from Mickey’s stomach to his nipples rolling them both between his fingers eliciting a moan from the cheeky backseater. 

You pumped Bob’s cock a couple times, working him up and down. The hand that wasn’t working him over slipped into your own pants, finding your clit you started to rub small circles over the sensitive nub. A moan slipped through your lips into the toned back of the man sandwiched between you and your boyfriend. You started to leave open mouthed kisses along his shoulders, nipping his skin occasionally. 

Moments passed and before you knew it you were all three on the bed the rest of your clothes strewn around the room, a mess you’d have to sift through later. Mickey had lubed up his own fingers and began to work himself open. His eyes focused on the way Bob slipped his fingers in and out of your pussy. You slathered your own fingers in lube and slipped them between Bob’s legs. You found the tight hole quickly, you were slow as you slipped a singular finger inside. 

“That feels so good.” Bob had his eyes squeezed together tightly as the finger fully sheathed inside of him. His glasses had been placed neatly on your bedside table. 

“She’ll take such good care of you Bobby. She’s such a good girl. Always treats me so good.” He slipped his fingers out of himself. Mickey maneuvered himself across the bed so he was sat next to you. His mouth found your own, his tongue slipping inside instantly. Moans were swapped back and forth as the pleasure you were experiencing worked through your every nerve. 

“I need more.” Bob’s voice was a whine as he spoke, you slipped another finger inside him, scissoring the two gently. 

“Patience Robert, I’ll make sure you feel good.” You knew you’d be true to your word. You were desperate to be inside of him. To hear the noises that he’d make as you fucked him. You wanted to know how he’d moan as he was seated inside of your boyfriend. You needed to know how your boyfriend would feel with Bob fucking into him. 

“Can you help me with my harness Mick?” Your eyes connected to his and he was already up gathering the strap on and making his way back to you. Bob’s fingers slipped from inside of you and you slipped a third into him. It was only seconds before Mickey was opening the bottle of lube and covering both sides of the strap on. He slipped the straps up your legs and settled the end facing you inside of your pussy. You gasped at the feeling of the purple dildo stretching you out slightly. Mickey moaned at the sound it made as it slipped inside of you. He finished tightening the straps and made sure it fltl fine before stepping away. 

“Can you get on all fours Bob?” Mickey was stroking his fingers down his face. But Bob couldn’t seem to form a sentence because his mouth was open in a gasp as your fingers found his prostate. 

“Use your words Bob. Be a good boy for me.” You stilled your fingers allowing him to clear his mind for a moment. 

“I can do that.” The thick country accent had you smiling. It had gotten progressively richer throughout the night. Even slipping in occasionally through his moans somehow. Your fingers slipped from where they were buried between his cheeks. You stood from the bed and waited for him to move. When he was finally on his hands and knees you moved back to the bed. You grabbed the lube from Mickey and poured some onto Bob’s hole and rubbed some up and down the purple dildo that would soon be buried inside him. 

“Let me know if it’s too much honey.” Those were your only words as you slipped the tip inside him. The moan he let out was quiet and whimpery. You continued to push inside him until you were all the way settled. 

“Oh my- oh- it feels.” His sentence broke off as he buried his face into the mattress. 

“It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything. Just enjoy how good it feels.” Mickey ran a hand along Bob's back reassuringly. You stayed still until you felt like he was ready for you to move. 

“Mick.” Bob all but whispered the name. If the room wasn’t otherwise silent you wouldn’t have heard it. 

“Yea?” Mickey’s brown eyes met your own and sent you a wink. You sent him one back. 

“Want to be inside you Mick.” It was a desperate cry. 

“Please, Mick.” Mickey placed a kiss on cheek before whispering into your ear. 

“You look so hot buried inside him sweetheart.” Your cheeks heated at the words. 

“He is gonna look so good buried inside you.” Your words were quick as he slipped himself under Bob’s body. He handed him the lube and Bob was quick to squeeze some out onto his cock and between the cheeks over the tight hole of Mickey. The cold feeling had a gasp leaving his mouth. 

“You boys are doing such a good job. Taking everything so well. Making me so proud.” They both preened at the praise. Bob was soon slipping his cock inside of Mickey, a moan leaving the both of them. You couldn’t stop the buck of your hips at the sound. A moan slipping through your lips as the dildo settled inside you shifted slightly. 

“Can I start moving sweet boy?” Bob nodded his head that was laid upon Mickey’s back. That was all it took for you to be pulling back and pushing back in. One hand was on his hip and one was on your breast, rolling the nipple between your fingers, pinching occasionally. 

“You feel so good Mick.” Bob’s voice barely sounded like his own, his accent was so thick it was unrecognizable. 

“Your cock feels so good.” Mickey was quick to send praise back. Those words spurred Bob to start moving; he matched your pace with ease. Then you were all in a lust filled haze, moans and whispers of pleasure filled the room. All three of your orgasms approached rapidly. The noises only spurring the three of you on. You felt the stutter of Bob’s hips first. 

“Are you close honey?” You already knew the answer but wanted to hear the words from his lips. 

“It sure feels like it. I can feel it in the way you’re moving.” Bob let out a loud whine as his back arched, chest connecting with Mickey’s freckle covered back. 

“So fucking close.” You and Mickey both swelled with pride. The night was way better than either of you had planned. The pure pleasure you were both giving Bob had both of your heads spinning. You both frequently switched between dominant and submissive. Tonight however was all about Bob. You had both discussed that before when you were originally talking about a threesome. The idea seemed to be paying off perfectly. 

“You can cum whenever you want to Bob no one is going to stop you.” His hips stuttered again, a breathless whimper leaving his lips. Mickey spit into his own hand before wrapping it around his own cock. It was overwhelmingly sensitive from the lack of touch. But that was what he wanted. He had purposely kept his hand away so the pleasure would be mind blowing. You heard the tell tale sign of his release coming before he came, recognizing the moan was easy, your body reacted on instict. 

“Come on Bobby, you can cum with Mickey.” That seemed to be all he needed as his hips finally stilled, sweat covered forehead crashing down onto Mickey’s back. His whine was caught in his throat as Mickey squeezed around his cock. Mickey’s own orgasm rocked through him and sprayed across the bed spread underneath him. The moan he let out which was more of a praise to you and the blonde between the two of you had your own orgasm rolling through you. Your own walls squeezing around the purple object buried to the hilt inside you. You let out your own praise to the two men in front of you. Both of your hands squeezed Bob's hips. Your head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. All three of you stayed like that for seconds or even minutes, basking in the euphoria. 

“We definitely need to do that again.” Mickey’s tired voice spoke into the silence of the room. Laughs erupted from you and Bob at the words, but you both knew you also wanted to do this again. You were also thankful for their long weekend in celebration of Labor day. 

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I had such a fun time writing this piece.

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @kmc1989 @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming @princess76179 @coffee-prince-kyungsoo @starset21 @gspenc @witchybabel

[kinzis-writing]

Only Exception | Robert Floyd Masterlist

Summary: Y/N Mitchell swore to herself that she would never allow herself to date or get involved with anyone from any branch of the military. After worrying about her father, the past few years, she knew that she never wanted to experience her worry for a significant other. After her father gets ordered back to California, she may just meet the one that ruins all of her plans. 

Warning(s): swearing, slight angst, mentions of sexual material, top gun related themes, Top Gun: Maverick spoilers, timelines won’t add up for story purposes, Female reader.  

Part One: 

Y/N Mitchell gets reacquainted with an old friend, as well as getting to see her father again after a few months. Knowing that her father is training the best of the best for a mission, means that she’ll end up meeting new people. Thanks to her best friend being in town, she gets to meet her father’s class, including the quiet and shy wso. 

Part Two: 

Y/N and Bob are growing closer every day, after inviting him to dinner confessions are made and dates are planned. One thing Y/N does not know is that there is a secret Bob is keeping from her. One day, when she’s with her father doing a team exercise, Maverick may just let Bob’s secret slip. Y/N then starts having doubts and fears that no one can control but herself. The new information may also make her debate some of her job choices.  

Part Three: 

It’s finally time for the dreaded suicide mission, after heartbreaking goodbyes and hopeful hearts, Y/N gets told some interesting news. The news that she knows is not true. While her family members and boyfriend are away, she’s keeping herself busy with her new job. Until she gets some awakening news from the admiral. 

Part Four: 

Two years after the suicide mission, Bob and Y/n are still going strong. It’s Christmas Time and this Christmas they are going to visit Bob’s family. This finally is filled with much love, surprises, and happy endings! 

[delopsia]

Cinnamon, Coffee & Vanilla | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 12,600 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, alpha! Bob, omega! Reader. Physical altercations, implied abuse/mistreatment & trauma from the Navy, a little blood, brief food mentions, handjobs, mating cycles, first ruts, knotting, unprotected sex, a (slight) open ending, and a weak traitor plot woven between the lines. Brief Summary: You'd figured you would be able to smell him by now. Truly deduce whether or not he's an alpha, beta, omega, or something in between the lines, but even as you breathe in, you can't catch a damn thing.

Wind howls around the corner, rain pattering against the window with soft thunks that dance and twist down the hallway like their own little melody. You haven't got the slightest idea where your feet are falling, barely guided by the pale blue light that peeks out from the kitchen and out into the hallway.

Turning the light on is a viable option; the switch should be somewhere on your right, but your arm is too heavy to lift, dangling limp at your side as you amble down the hall.

There are some things that you can't bring yourself to do this late in the night. Not when this is the first time you've seen these walls since you left this morning, skipping off into the sunrise, naively believing that you'd get to come home at a normal time.

Lightning flickers so brightly that, for a moment, you think the kitchen light has turned on by itself. But it's gone just as quickly as it appeared, thunder rattling the picture hanging on the wall as you drift past.

The kitchen isn't that much better. It seems that being closer to the window doesn't do all that much in regards to lighting because...you can't see a damn thing. All you know is that you're surrounded by vaguely shaped splotches, all varying shades of black. Some of them are familiar: the round blob that is the clock on the wall, the rug, the step stool, the dining table, the foot sticking out from underneath it...

Your eyes narrow. Squinting as if that can possibly brighten the room.

"Bobby?" Because there should only be one other pair of feet in this apartment. 

"Hm?" It's faint, but you recognize that hum all the same. 

Your weary knees creak as you crouch down, peering below the table. Light leaks out from a crack in the curtains, casting across a familiar mop of hair. His eyes squint back at you, unfocused and blurry, without the assistance of his glasses. 

"What are you doing?" Your head tilts to the side, trying your best to shake an idea out of your brain. 

"Dunno," Bob raises his hand, watching intently as he knocks his knuckles against the wood above his head, "trying to figure out what omegas get out of this."

You're...not following. "I've never gotten under the table."

"You said you like small, dark spaces." His shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. "This is the only place I could fit."

"Well..." pausing, you shrug the backpack off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a resounding thunk. The neighbors downstairs probably heard that, but it's not your problem right now. "Is it striking any instincts for you?"

A chuckle rumbles out of him. "Not a damn thing."

But he's not making the slightest effort to come out from under there. Content to rest with his back against one of the table legs, like it's the best spot in the house. If the sun were still out, and your eyes weren't halfway closed, then you'd probably have a lot more questions for him, but fuck if questions are the last thing you want to think of right now.

Your palms flatten against the floor, left knee chirping as you begin to crawl under the table with him. Another motion, and it pops, the remnants of a nagging ejection injury. It's usually an easily missable sound, but in this quiet little kitchen, it might as well be as loud as the thunder.

"Was that your knee?" Bob asks it as if he doesn't already know the answer, his hand darting out as you settle next to him. His palm is hot against your bare skin, thick fingers squeezing around the joint like he thinks that a bit of pressure will heal the old fracture. 

You wish it was that simple.

"Yeah," your head falls against his shoulder, unable to keep it up any longer. "I should bill Maverick for the surgery."

As if they'd even give you enough time off to heal. The consequence of being the best of the best: your free time vanishes because everyone on planet Earth needs you. 

Bob's head comes to rest against yours, a subtle weight that seems to quiet your thoughts in an instant. No worries about getting into bed before six-thirty rolls around, what you'll pack for your rushed lunch tomorrow, and whether or not you'll come home from this mission alive. All you can do is breathe and watch as Bob reaches for your weary hand, squeezing it gently.

His wrist shakes, and you don't need to ask to know that it's been caused by another one of those full-body tremors. One of the side effects of being taken off navy regulation suppressants for the first time in over a decade, left to suffer the consequences of a body that has never learned to regulate its own hormones. 

Slow, you tilt your head, nuzzling into the soft fat of his cheek. Squishy. "Anything change for you yet?"

"I can smell your scent now," you can feel the flex of muscle as he smiles, peeking at you through the corner of his eye, "but...nah, I think that's about it."

You'd figured you would be able to smell him by now. Truly deduce whether or not he's an alpha, beta, omega, or something in between the lines, but even as you breathe in, you can't catch a damn thing. Still the same vanilla shampoo and faded woodsy cologne.

"What do I smell like?" Asking after a moment.

"Somethin' like..." All of a sudden, the tip of his nose finds the shell of your ear. His fingers dance across your sensitive thighs, tickling. 

"Hey!" You squeal. 

A kiss presses to your cheek. "Sugar." Kiss. "'n fresh laundry." Another kiss.

Your noses bump together. It's too dark to see, but you know there's a shade of cherry dusting across his cheeks as he pulls you into him, mouths colliding like galaxies, merging into one. 

There is no end to your exhaustion—simply an intermission. 

Your feet fall so heavily that it sounds as if you're stomping down this empty hall. Boots pounding against the floor with heavy thump, thump thumps that pale in comparison to the voice that booms above all. It's so loud that you can hardly understand a single word, and you're making no effort to try and decipher it.

The hand on your bicep tugs, forcing you forward. A voice in the back of your head sparks to lie; they shouldn't be hauling you around like a mutt on a leash, but you can't bring yourself to say a damn thing. Not when your throat is already raw from shouting, voice run ragged in a desperate attempt to convince Cyclone that you're not the person he's accusing you of being. 

What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty, anyway?

"I cannot fucking believe this!" Maverick's voice crystallizes as you round the corner, feet flailing beneath you as you're thrust into the room. 

Weary heads turn your way. Jake. Natasha. Rueben. Mickey. Bob. Javy. Billy. Brigham. Callie. And you know the names of the remainders, but their names just aren't coming to you right now. But one glance is all it takes to realize that they must have pulled all of you all at once; they look just as miserable as you feel.

"The Navy trusted you!" Spit flies out of Maverick's mouth. "I trusted you!"

He turns, hands combing through his hair as if to try and soothe himself. It doesn't work. It never works. "I paraded you as the best goddamn pilots the Navy has seen this decade, and you make a fucking fool of me!"

Bob's head tilts, muttering something to Jake that you can't quite hear. Whatever it is, it's enough to have Jake nodding his head and leaning over to Javy. 

"I give you my best and how do you repay me?" Mav doesn't seem to hear them, too red in the face to think about anything other than this. Betrayal. A figurative knife in the back. "By running off and becoming an insider for the goddamn enemy!" 

His arm swipes across a shelf. Porcelain figures and glass frames fly in your direction. Shattering on the ground into a million and one pieces. Damn near invisible on this white floor, presence merely indicated by the glisten of the shards in the light. But he's not done. A potted plant strikes the wall, exploding like a firework. 

"God, so help me," spinning around, Mav jabs his finger in your face, "if I find out which of you fucking did this—"

"For godsakes, Mav!" Bradley's voice is loud in your right ear. Every bit as strained as yours is.  Cracking in the middle. A husk of its usual sound. 

Just as quickly as he's turned to face you, Maverick is moving again. Storming across the room. Turning. Pacing back to you and Bradley like a mad dog, thirsty for someone's blood. 

"How are you so damn sure it was us?" Bradley continues, throwing his hands up. He's so close that his nails scratch your elbow on their way past. You hardly feel a thing. "We weren't the only ones who knew this shit!" 

A hand appears on your shoulder. Warm, a thumb swiping back and forth in such a familiar manner that you don't need to look to know who it is. Bobby. His slight nudge is enough to get you to follow him, slinking toward the back of the room. Walking backwards has never been your talent, but somehow, you don't bump into anything.

What's he trying to do?

"You and your team are the only pilots who knew the information that made its way across enemy lines," there's a sudden calmness to Maverick's tone that wasn't there before. You don't like it, not one bit. "And now you've cost us an entire goddamn mission."

Boots stomp across the tile. Louder. Closer.

 "And not one of you is fucking leaving!" And all of a sudden, Maverick is nose to nose with Bobby. "Not until someone starts talking!" 

Bob's mouth opens, but for a moment, nothing but air escapes. "You can't lock us in here." 

Jake's head nods. So does Javy's. Silent agreement. 

Mav shoves Bob's shoulders. Knocking him against the wall. "Yes, I goddamn can."

Bob's lip curls. Canines uncharacteristically flash in the light with the same glisten and sharpness as the glass scattered across the tile. 

Maverick strikes him. 

You don't even see him reeling back. You blink, and his fist is crashing into Bob's glasses. The frames fracture, falling to the floor with a clatter. 

Someone gasps. Mav falls backward, hand shielding the side of his head. A boot finds his jaw. Hands grab hold of his hair. A flurry of bodies dart between. Someone's got Mav by the collar, and Bob—

Bob growls. 

Held back by Jake and Bradley. Teeth bared. Blood pouring from the corner of his mouth. Shoving against Jake and Bradley's hold. And he's strong, but he's not stronger than both alpha and omega combined. You hardly feel your feet moving, bending to scoop the fractured frames off the floor. 

"What's gotten into you?" Natasha shouts. Somewhere off on your left. "Both of you!" 

Her shoulder clocks yours. 

You spin on your heels. 

She's nose to nose with you. "Get your roommate under control," she hisses under her breath. For a moment, her gaze darts to Maverick, eyes so wide that you fear she may never close them again. Then, back to you. "If this goes south—"

"I know." Your hands find each other at the same time. Squeezing once. Twice. Four times. She's got this handled. "I'll get Bobby sorted."

"By safe," she's stepping away, already beginning to shout something that you don't quite catch.

By the time you turn around, Bob is gone. 

For someone who usually operates at a turtles pace, Bob sure does move quickly when he wants to. Jake tells you that he caught a glimpse of him leaving the locker room, and by the time you get outside, his truck is missing from its usual place beneath the old maple tree in the back corner of the lot.

"Do you think he's realized that he can't read the road signs?" Javy wonders aloud as you walk toward your vehicles. Always parked next to each other. He's the only one you trust not to ding your car with his door, and vice versa.

You're still waiting on Mickey to pay for that giant scratch he gifted you this past Christmas. 

"He's probably wearing the set with the tinted lenses," you chirp, adjusting the bag weighing on your weary shoulders. "I think he usually keeps them in the center console." That's where you last saw them, at least.

Javy nods his head like he's agreeing with your train of thought.  "Well, if I see a black truck swerving in and out of lanes, I'll give you a heads up."

The front of your boot thunks against the curb. Your weight falls forward. But your footing recovers just as quickly as you lost it. Javy's already grabbing your shoulder, holding you steady. 

You might be too tired to be driving. But what other choice do you have other than to call a car and pay the fine when your car gets towed overnight? 

"Maybe we should check for him around Mav's place," the sound of Reuben's voice is the only reason why you remember that he's walking behind you, "might be looking for a round two. No referees this time."

Your hand darts into your pocket, pressing a button on your key fob. A second passes, and the locks in your car doors audibly open. "Well, if he's not home, I'll sound the alarm," 

"Y'all make it home safe!" Jake's voice echoes across the lot.

"Text the group chat, or you'll find me at your front door!" Natasha picks up right where he left off, her phone shaking in the air as she yells. "That means you, Bradshaw!"

Bradley's horn honks. "It was one time!"

It's not until you get situated in the driver's seat and are combing through your music, looking for something decent to listen to, that your phone dings with a singular message. 

Bob: Made it home 👍 12:47 AM

With everyone leaving at the same time, it's not difficult to find yourself falling into a loose line as you all make your way off base. A symphony of honks soar through the air once you've crossed onto city-owned pavement, some dumb little routine that sparked from Jake's incessant need to remind you all that he's here before you can possibly begin to forget.

This place is so far out that for a good three miles, the only vehicles on the road belong to your little group, following the slightly too-fast lead of Mickey's project car until the street guides you into town. Jake and Bradley take a left at the red light. Natasha cruises off onto the upcoming exit. Mickey and Rueben turn off into the parking lot of a sandwich shop; Javy tails you until you enter a roundabout. 

And all of a sudden, you're by yourself. 

It's almost strange, actually. You've grown so used to Bobby's headlights reflecting in your rearview mirror that without them, the road feels impossibly dark. Not another person on this Earth but you. 

The sight of his truck parked in its spot is just as foreign, and once parked, you catch yourself trying to wait for him to pull in next to you. But there is no smiling WSO to accompany you on the walk into the apartment complex. No giggling as he tries to beat you to the elevator doors. It's just you and your overfilled backpack. 

All that, only for the apartment to be dark when you open the door. 

"Bobby?" You call out, trudging into the darkness. No response. Blindly, your hand feels along the wall, seeking the switch.

A whine jumps out of your throat. Light does nothing to reveal him, but his backpack rests in its usual spot beside the door, those tinted glasses sit on the arm of the couch, and his work shoes rest in the place of the beat-up pair reserved for the gym.

Is he not tired? 

Evidently, you aren't either because somehow you've got the energy to slip into a softer pair of shoes and head back out of the apartment. Eyes half-lidded, barely paying attention to your surroundings as you make your way down the hallway. 

There's absolutely zero reason for you to be doing this. It's not as if Bob is never going to come home again, but something has got you hunting him down like a bloodhound on a trail. Frozen images flicker through your head, like flipping through a picture book. 

The drop of his smile when Cyclone made his accusations that someone is leaking information to the enemy. How tired those usually bright eyes were when you were finally hauled out of the office. The flashing of fangs, the fist connecting with the side of Mav's head. You don't understand. You've seen him riled up a number of times, but this...

This is new. 

You suppose that you can't blame him; you acted similarly when they finally took you off those suppressants. Too many unbalanced hormones, all at once, thrown in the deep end with no idea how to swim. 

You hear him before you've even stepped off of the basement stairs—the soft patter of fists against leather echoing throughout the stairwell like a beacon. Heat greets you like a slap in the face, enveloping you as if you've just walked into a sauna. It's always so damn hot down here; you don't know how Bobby can stand working out in it. 

The door to the bottom of the stairwell is missing, seamlessly opening up to the gym. Treadmills, a long rack of weights, specialty machines you've already forgotten the names of; the mini fridge in the corner is still broken, and whoever left their neon yellow yoga mat has yet to come back for the poor thing. 

It's so big that at first, you don't notice him. But then you do, and...

Shit. Has Bob always looked like that?

It's got to be a trick that the lighting is playing on your eyes, set off by the sweat that pours off his body like a waterfall. Dripping down the swell of his chest, running loose across a toned stomach, only makes it that much more obvious when his abdomen flexes. There's no way that he's fully awake, but his feet are alive beneath him, dancing left and right as if this old punching bag might start punching back.

You've seen this sight more times than you count, have followed him down here for the sole purpose of drooling over his swollen biceps, but this...this is different. Something has changed, and you can't pinpoint what that is. 

The strike of his fists might be more aggressive than you remember them being, but maybe the exhaustion slowing your senses is causing you to misjudge. His upper lip twitches up, breathing hard through his nose. It's the only other sound in the room. Too shy to allow himself to make much noise, for fear of hearing his own grunts. 

There's a foreign scent in the air. Something hidden beneath the stench of sweat and the indescribable sourness that comes with a poorly maintained gym. Your brows furrow. It reminds you of...a kitchen. Fresh. Warm. Kind of like...the pot of black coffee that he brews every morning. Wrapped around a cluster of cinnamon and vanilla, like a hand-crafted candle. 

Is that...?

All of a sudden, the gym falls quiet, his fists frozen at his sides, the punching bag still swaying from his final strike. From across the room, his eyes lock with yours, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, cheeks flushed, unkempt in an almost endearing fashion. 

 Oh, his poor eye. Mottled with red and darkening purple, swollen around the corner, just enough to be noticeable when compared to his right one. The split in his lip doesn't look that much better, a visible scab resting in the corner. 

Something in your lower belly twists. A shiver wracks down your spine. 

Bob doesn't say anything, and you don't either. Frozen into silence. 

Coming here may have been a mistake. Shit. Why did it never occur to you that he probably came down here because he wanted to be left alone? Why else would he be down here at one in the morning?

"I...I'm sorry," Bob's voice breaks through your thoughts like sunshine peeking through storm clouds, warm enough to melt away the words fluttering about your head, "I almost blew—"

"Mav had it coming." Cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. You were never upset about that to begin with. 

Again, it's quiet. Hesitant, Bob steps forward, then pauses, looking back toward the swaying punching bag, then back to you. Then, one foot falls in front of the other, head hanging low as he crosses the room. A small part of you wishes that he would have stayed right where he was because that little voice in your head stirs to life the moment that he's within an arm's length of you.

Touch his chest. Touch his chest. Touch his chest.

You're no better than an omega in heat. 

"'s my face look that bad?" A chuckle rumbles out of him, blindly pawing at his bruised cheek with the side of his hand. 

Blink. "Huh?"

"You're looking at me kinda funny," he says it like there's absolutely nothing different here. As if today is just another average day. Same old, same old. 

"You really haven't figured it out, have you?" It's more of an observation than a question. Even through your half-open eyes, it's not hard to tell that he hasn't put two and two together. 

He reaches to scratch at the back of his neck. "...no?"

Ugh.

"Flashing your teeth, sudden aggression..." You're starting out slow, listing your evidence out bit by bit, but he's not reacting to a word you've said, "developing a scent..."

A scent is an understatement. He smells like a goddamn bakery.

A beat passes, and then, slowly, his shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. "I'm not following."

For a guy with glasses, Robert Floyd can be really fucking dense sometimes. 

If you were more awake, then maybe you'd put more effort into spelling this out for him, but a king-size mattress on the ninth floor is calling your name, and you're running low on willpower. Your brow furrows, swallowing hard. It's been a minute since you last tried to do this, but if you dig deep and focus on flexing your throat...

A chirp bursts out of you. Sharp. High pitched. 

Jake did a piss poor job of explaining what that noise does to an alpha, but he must be right about one thing. Bob stiffens. Holding onto his breath, his wide eyes flickering up and down your body. 

His eyelashes flutter. "Oh." 

You're fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Alphas. 

Of course, that's what he would wind up being. 

It seems that you can only fight one battle at a time because your hands are on the move. Palms skittering up the sides of his waist on a one-way track to his chest. He's on fire, burning so hot that the feel of his skin alone is enough to have you feeling light-headed. There's no reason for you to be embarrassed by it, but you find yourself masking your intentions by using him to remain steady as you lean in. 

His scent glands have only just begun to awaken, producing so little oil that your scent almost wipes his out entirely, but it's there, and it's real, and it's so...him. Hands appear on your waist, drawing you in, his sweaty body pressing against your uniform. Slow, his head moves against yours, temples brushing against each other once more.

"'m I doing it right?" He asks, breath tickling your ear. 

"You're getting the hang of it," your confirmation doesn't amount to a whole lot. He knows that as well as you do. You're only slightly better than he is, too far removed from the instinct that resides in your DNA to make much connection with it. 

Even so, that doesn't stop him from following your lead. Letting your hand curl around his jaw, guiding him to nuzzle against you in a sloppy, unpracticed fashion that just feels right. A noise lurches out of him, a low, rumbling thing that sounds like the beginnings of a purr. 

Lips appear on the corner of your ear. Breaking your attempt at scenting in favor of kissing along the side of your cheek, each one growing closer and closer until his lips finally meet yours. Soft, melding with yours in a dance that you know like the back of your hand. 

This is something that the Navy can never take from you. The weightlessness that settles into your joints, the way your head goes completely and utterly quiet when you kiss him. He molds against you like he's been built just for this, the soft jabs of his prickly chin drawing you into him like a moth to a flame. 

You can feel the flex of muscle in his arms as they curl around you, strong and burning and so, so familiar. The fresh, warm scent that greets your nose is new and yet so undeniably him; you've only known it for a few minutes, but you can't wait to spend a lifetime wrapped up in it. In him, and his soft hums and the dizziness that he puts in your head. 

It's the voices in the stairwell that break you apart, but it's the deepest craving of your soft, cozy bed that has you both tumbling up each and every step. Shoulders bump together as your weary legs carry you to that familiar apartment door, not quite awake enough to maintain any sense of balance. 

"I can't believe you never put it together," you find yourself saying as you meander down the hallway. Whoever decided that the elevator should stop on the first floor and not the basement should be fired. 

"Well...I sort of already did," Bobby pauses, squinting at the buttons, "I just didn't..." he trails off, too focused to finish his sentence.

"Uhuh, sure," Your hand darts out, pressing the correct one.  "What other symptom could I have possibly missed?" 

"A knot."

Saliva catches in your throat. "Huh?"

The elevator dings, evidently just as surprised as you are. A moment passes, and the door slides open. It's empty, thank god. No prying ears to overhear what is about to come out of your partner's mouth. 

"I'm just as surprised as you are," his hand squeezes yours, obediently following along as you walk into the elevator. There's no use in him trying to do anything else. Not when he can't see. "It's not...you know, all the way there yet, but it's either that or an unfortunately placed tumor."

Almost automatically, you press one of the buttons, not even entirely sure if it's the correct one or not. Guess you'll find out when the doors reopen because this cheap old contraption gives no indication as to what the hell you just did. Are you going to the ninth floor or the third? Only the elevator knows.

Bob's weight sways from foot to foot, and in the thin sliver of mirror in the corner, you can see the overhead light glistening against his sweaty chest. There's that twitch in your lower belly again, thighs pressing together on their own as if to keep something at bay. Maybe there would be something if your head weren't so...empty. 

"Nobody ever warned me about how sore it'll be when it's coming in," Bob's words are stretched around a yawn, quickly chased by a second one.

Almost simultaneously, your mouth pries itself open, yawning, too. "That bad?"

"You have no idea," his laugh bounces off the metal walls, ringing in your ears; it's the kind of thing that might put you to sleep right here and now. "I forgot about it while I was in the shower this morning and about hit the floor."

With another ding, the doors slide open, and as it turns out, you did pick the correct floor. The next thing you know, you're stumbling into the apartment together; your phone rests on the couch, screen flickering to life with a text. Right. 

You: Made it home! 2:12 AM

Almost instantly, a new message appears on your screen.

Rueben: Is Rob home, or should I send the search team to Mav's house? 2:12 AM

Bob: 🙄 2:15 AM

Something about that text has both of your phones buzzing away with a flurry of texts as if some kind of floodgate has been opened. Bob entertains it, but you're too focused on gathering clothes and towels, dumping them in an unceremonious pile on the bathroom sink. 

Where your belongings end, and his begin can be figured out when you're out of the shower. For now, all you're focused on is turning on the water and pulling this stuffy uniform off your body before it becomes permanently stuck there.

 "Do we have work in the morning?" You find yourself croaking as you test the water. Still a little chilly. 

Lips appear on the back of your neck, pressing a kiss there. "We don't work on Sundays, remember?"

"I don't even remember what day it is." Oh how you wish that you were exaggerating. At some point in the week, you've just quit looking at the calendar and let your overfilled schedule swallow you whole.

There's no reason for him to guide you into the shower; hell, it's a walk-in, but he does it anyway. One hand on your waist, moving at the same slow pace until you're standing under a warm stream of water. Your eyes are already trying to drift shut, fighting against you as you try to keep them open.

Defiant, they drift down between Bob's legs as he reaches to grab a bottle off the shelf. There's a soft swell to the base of his cock that wasn't there before; skin stretched tau, not quite adjusted to this sudden change he's been hit with. Whether or not he catches you staring, you don't really care.

Moving is the last thing that you want to be doing. Your shower gel is only an arm's length away, but it might as well be a mile, and once you finally grab it, it's almost too heavy to hang onto. Somehow, though...somehow, you manage. You think you do, at least; you catch the familiar scent from the soap, and you certainly remember washing the bubbles off, so you must have washed something.

You're staring at your reflection in the foggy mirror when a cold wipe presses to the side of your neck, rubbing at the scent gland there. Funny, you'd almost forgotten about that. But now that it's been brought back to the forefront of your mind, you can't help but pluck one from its container. 

The corner of Bob's lip lifts, obediently tilting his head to expose his neck for you. A few little swipes are all that it takes to unveil a scar atop the scent gland there. Faded white with age and almost blending in with his pale neck. For something that could cost you both your jobs, it's quite small.

"We're lucky Mav didn't see these," you mutter, thumb swiping over top of it. The gland is still dry, hasn't figured out how to produce that thin sheen of oil yet. 

Maybe it never will.

Bob's frown is something that you find yourself having to kiss away, can't stand the sight of such a thing. And that's really...that's the last thing that you remember doing. Standing in the bathroom, feeling his arms snake around you, as you kiss his lips until they lift with a smile one more. 

What you do know is that somehow, you get into bed because the next time you open your eyes, you're snuggled into the sheets. Sunlight peeks through a crack in the curtains, casting a horribly bright light into this otherwise dark little bedroom, all too visible behind your closed eyelids. 

Defiant, you roll over. 

If you don't acknowledge it, it's not there. 

Guided by habit, your arm darts out from your side, sliding across Bob's warm belly. His hand settles around your wrist, squeezing gently as if to test and see if you're really there. Through the haze of sleep still lingering in your head, you think you can feel him moving, hips wriggling back and forth against the mattress, unable to keep still.

It takes a moment to find your voice. "What's wrong?"

"It's..." fuck, you forgot how deep his voice can get in the mornings, it's the kind of thing that can put thunder to shame. "It's nothing."

The room is darker than you expected it to be, nothing but that little sliver of light to illuminate the whole place, stretching across the bed and up onto the wall. 

"Well, it's got to be something," gliding your palm up and down his belly in that lazy sort of fashion that always makes him sigh.

His mouth opens, then snaps shut just as quickly, afraid of the words that rest on his tongue.  "'m hard," he croaks, and then, before too much silence can build in between sentences, "which wouldn't...which wouldn't be a problem, but that stupid...that stupid knot hurts." 

Oh, and his cheeks are on fucking fire, red as they can possibly get. All these years, and yet he's still so shy about these topics. It's cute. Even if part of his face is decorated in a frightening mixture of red and purple, only just beginning to recover from yesterday's events. 

You're only just beginning to blink away the blurriness resting in the corners of your eyes, but there's already a lightbulb going off in your otherwise foggy head. So bright that you can feel it lighting up your features, eyes brightening, smile sprawling across your face.

Bobby clocks it before you can even begin to formulate words. "I suppose you have an idea."

"When do I not?" Your weary arms help to push yourself up, lazily swinging a leg over his waist. 

The sheets jostle, pooling around your hips, a chill nipping at your skin. But alphas run pretty warm, and Bobby was already a furnace, to begin with, downright burning against you like a flickering campfire. 

Your plan isn't that unpredictable. It's so easy to figure out that Bob is already leaning up, elbows settling on either side of himself as he meets you halfway. Teeth knock together, lips crashing with so little grace that you distantly wonder if you're at the start of your relationship again—just two fools who don't know how to navigate around each other's bodies. 

But you do know. 

Only several years spent together could teach you that he'll shudder when your nails trace down his chest, gasping into the kiss when they drift across his nipples. Always has been sensitive here, even if he struggles to admit it. 

Biology suggests that you won't get away with it, but history assures that putting your hands on his shoulders and forcing him onto his back will be rewarded with perfect compliance. Instinct be damned, he's putty in your hands. Blinking up at you with those big, unfocused eyes, like a lamb caught in the hungry gaze of a wolf. 

You just can't help yourself. Mouth finding the soft underside of his jaw, where a little bit of stubble has managed to make itself known, scraping against your nose as you drift past. His hands splay out on your hips, his only attempt at reigning you in as you kiss down his neck. Soft little pecks that can't last any longer than a second or two, lest you get carried away and leave a mark that your superiors may spot. 

One of these days, you're going to childishly mottle his neck with marks. Make everyone understand that the cute WSO is yours, nobody else's. Alpha or not. 

"Don't tell me..." his chest heaves as you make your way across it, peppering every little freckle with attention, "don't tell me you're..."

"I'll be gentle," peeking up at him through your lashes, blindly following the hard valley of his sternum. Down, down down to the start of his upper belly, soft and squishing beneath your kiss. Here, you can pause, sucking gently at a patch of pale skin.

A hand slides up your back, settling into the space between your shoulders, just resting there. "Ain't worried 'bout that," his words come out breathy, not quite focused on what he's trying to say. 

You've already got a little red spot forming. Then a second, and a third, before you've reached the treacherous territory of where his shirt may unexpectedly ride up. Being visible in the locker room is one thing, but if he reaches to grab something while wearing that little black regulation t-shirt...

"Do you want me to stop?" Pausing in your tracks. 

"Nuh uh," his head shakes back and forth, then, hesitantly, "'s just...new." 

Your knee pops as you scoot further down his legs, fingers hooking under the thick elastic of his boxers. Obedient, his hips lift, letting you slide the fabric down his thighs. But you're a little too close, forcing him to pull his knees to his chest in order to get it safely past his ankles.

Fuck, he really does have a knot. Properly swollen at the base now, the skin stretched tight and flushed a dark shade of red, not quite adjusted to this sudden change. At least at sixteen, your body encounters these things over time, gradually increasing in intensity. But he's a decade older and up the creek without a paddle. 

"Well, if you could handle me on my first heat," carefully taking his length into your hand, feeling the weight of it, "then this should be a walk in the park, right?"

Bob's head tilts to the side, gaze fixated on what you're doing. "'s easier when I ain't the one changing." 

Fair point.

Maybe you would have more to add if you weren't too busy settling between his legs. In hindsight, you should have detailed your plan a little bit more because now that you're here, you're not entirely sure what to do. Start at the base? The tip? Somewhere in the middle? What do you usually do here? 

Your tongue darts out, running over the swell of his knot. Just one little lick and—

"Oh."

A spring squeals as his hips writhe against the mattress, suddenly full of life. 

Curious, your tongue pokes out once more, gliding across it slower this time. A whine cuts through the morning air, rising to chase your touch. Greedy. Like he hasn't been touched in forever. 

"Do that..." sucking in a desperate gulp of air, "do that again." 

You don't need any more encouragement; already beginning to fall into some kind of rhythm. Lazily mouthing at his delicate knot, all lips and tongue, like you're playing with a lollipop and not the base of his twitching cock. So simple and yet he throws his head back and whines, content with this and this alone. 

"Lube," speaking against him, if only to see the shiver that ripples up his spine. 

His hand audibly pats around the bed, feeling around until he makes his way onto the bedside table. A beat passes, and the bottle appears next to you. Thank god for being lazy; otherwise, he would have had to move and dig into the drawer. 

This is something you know. Leaning back to pour it directly onto him, savoring that little hiss at the chill. Maybe you're a bit too generous with it, thick globs of it running down him like some kind of waterfall, but it's too early in the day to be worrying about such a thing. 

All you care about is getting your hand around him, feeling that familiar girth beneath your fingers as you give him an experimental stroke. How his back rises up off the bed once more, his hand reaching to grab a handful of the pillow, anything to keep himself from pawing at your arm. 

"Feel good?" Your wrist twists. His thighs squeeze around you.

Dumbly, he nods. "Uhuh." 

It's not enough for you, and so you're already opening your mouth with another question. "Can you use your words for me?"

But that pretty head shakes back and forth, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. "N-no." 

He's cracking. Hand flying away from the pillow, making a little grabbing motion until you offer him your unoccupied one. Always has to be holding your hand. Always. Even if it's when your other hand is lazily gliding up and down his weeping cock, working at its own comfortable pace.

Swift, your thumb darts out, massaging circles around his enflamed tip. 

You don't know what's louder, the squelch of lube or the cry that rips out of him, muffled a little too late. This is so new. He's so much louder, reacting to every little thing as if it's the first time all over again.

"Up—mmh!" Bobby's eyes squeeze shut, then flutter open again, panting hard. "Up here." 

If this was his first time requesting such a thing, you wouldn't know what he's talking about, but it has almost become second nature at this point. For a moment, you let go of him, needing both hands as you crawl back into your place beside him. He rolls onto his side, already beginning to reach for you before you can even settle in. 

"This better?" You chirp. He's nodding before you can finish your question.

The change in angle makes it so much easier to stroke him, following your own undisclosed rhythm, feeling the way he twitches under your touch, sensitive to all hell. But you're already growing distracted, letting go of him once more, lightly tracing your fingers over that newly formed bulb at his base. 

"That..." his thighs squeeze together, whimpering high in his throat. "That..."

In the back of your mind, you wonder if the neighbors can hear this. The unusually loud noises that just keep tumbling off his pretty tongue, so beautifully overwhelmed with the newness of all this. Glassy-eyed and pink in the cheeks, reaching out to hang onto your wrist as your fingers wrap around his cock once more, if only to keep himself grounded.

Maybe he's worried about being overheard because he's craning his neck, lips crashing together with the same clumsiness as before. Your tongue darts out, wrapping with his for a fleeting moment, wet and messy and certainly getting saliva on the pillow below. 

Again, your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, running back and forth across his slit. His body jerks, gasping into your mouth so sharply that it startles you. 

"Talk to me, Bob," you've got to quit using that phrase outside of the workplace, but it just works so well on him. 

"Feels, feels, aha—!" If he sounded this pretty in the backseat of a jet, you probably wouldn't have a license anymore. "Feels good!"

Vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee kiss your senses with all the strength and intensity of a roaring freight train. The scarred gland on the side of his neck glistens, finally producing that intoxicatingly warm scent. So strong that it makes your head spin, senses downright swimming in it.

"I want...I'm gonna..." Bob's eyes scrunch shut, his foot kicking at the sheets like he can possibly keep it at bay if he fights hard enough. 

But you're not slowing down.

"That's okay," squeezing him a little tighter, twisting your wrist in a fashion that makes his knees knock into each other. Close. So, so close. "Cum for me, Bobby." 

And he does. Twitching in your hand one, two, three times before that first rope of cum paints your palm with white. Fuck, and it just keeps coming, knot swelling impossibly wide, pulsing with every spurt, until your entire hand is fucking dripping. 

You've never seen so much of it. Not from him. 

On their own, your fingers dip down, delicately rubbing at his expanded knot; it throbs under your touch, his thighs snapping together on impulse. The greedy voice in your head wonders what it would be like to feel that inside of you, locking your bodies together, cum flooding your pussy until you can't possibly take another drop from him.

"Feels..." he's fighting for a proper breath, eyes rolling, "feels so different."

"Is that a good thing?" You hum, drawing your hand away before that nonexistent refractory period of his can raise its ugly head and drag you in for a round two. 

Weary, his head nods, but you're not entirely sure that he realizes he's doing it. "Uhuh."

You don't know if he's just not awake or if it's something about the alpha thing, but he hardly has his eyes open, lying next to you like a lazy puppy. His belly and your hand are a downright mess, drenched in an obscene mixture of cum, saliva, and lube, and more just keeps spilling out of him. 

A shower is the only thing that can clean this mess up, but it's too late for that. He's already wriggling an arm around you, his head nuzzling beneath your chin, and moving is suddenly impossible. 

If he's not worried about it, then you suppose that you aren't either. 

It takes twenty minutes for his knot to go down, disappearing entirely as if it were never there, to begin with. It takes an hour to get out of bed and another one for your impromptu bubble bath to end, only for you to crash on the couch like a pair of sleep-deprived teenagers. 

What else are you meant to do on your day off? Something productive? 

You'd known this day was coming, but Christ, you didn't expect it to arrive this soon.

A gray building with gray floors and even grayer walls. The definition of boring and exactly where you're supposed to spend the next several hours rotting away in a meeting. The plastic chairs, the doors, and the pen that the lady sitting at the front desk taps her cheek with are all the same, dull monochrome. 

It's such a severe lack of color that it makes the fading on Bob's cheek appear brighter. Fresher. Like he walked out of the fight ten minutes ago and not three days. There's no uniform, but Jake's red t-shirt is almost offensively vivid, persistently resting in your peripheral, no matter which direction you turn your head.

All of a sudden, the unnamed girl stands, darting into another room without a word.

"Sure can't wait for this to be over," Bradley mutters almost as soon as the door slams closed. 

Jake shifts his weight, bumping their shoulders together. Hard enough to make Bradley sway with the impact. "Worried you can't take the heat?"

"Are you projecting?" Bradley hums, hardly even reacting to the second attempt to shove him.

There's a response there that you don't quite catch about something back at home. But before you can decipher those whispered words, your eavesdropping is cut short by a weight appearing on your own shoulder. The burning press of Bob's nose against your neck, shamelessly burying into you. 

"Bobby?" You chirp, craning your neck to try and get a better look at him. No dice. 

He doesn't move. "Mmm?" 

Rueben's head swivels in your direction. Nose wrinkling. 

...did you forget to take a shower? What's he looking at you like that for? 

All of a sudden, Bob's feet stumble. Weight falling atop your back as he tries to regain his footing, so damn heavy that he's got you wobbling right along with him. A strangled noise rumbles out of him, riding on the coattails of his breath.

"Robert?" Because he's not answering to your nicknames. "Do you feel okay?"

"My head is..." his words vibrate into your collar, arms wrapping around you as if to use you as a pillar, "spinning." 

"You're not gonna get sick on us again, are you?" Nat has suddenly appeared on your left, brows knitted together. 

Between the lingering glances from Rueben and the sudden end to Jake and Bradley's conversation, it's suddenly far too quiet in this little room. A second drags by. Then a second, and a third. Your only indication that Bob is even awake is the brushing of his eyelashes against your skin.

Just as you're beginning to think he doesn't have a response, he opens his mouth.

"'s not that kinda spinning," he mumbles, hardly even loud enough to reach your ears. 

Surely, it can't be something that he ate; you two have shared the same meals all week. If he's feeling off, then you should be, too. It's certainly not allergy season, and as far as you could tell, he was perfectly fine on the drive over here. 

So what gives? What could have possibly changed in the span of a few minutes?

The unnamed woman stumbles back into the room, her heels clicking with every little step that she takes. Something comes out of her mouth, but the grumbling noise that rumbles out of Bob covers it up entirely. It must be a request to follow her because all at once, everyone around you begins to move, filing through the same door that she just came from.

Bob's arms loosen from around you, and he's straightening up, all things that should make him appear better, but...he looks worse. Pale in the face, shoulders appearing to slouch in on themselves as he walks next to you. He's moving, though, feet falling in perfect tandem with yours, following the crowd down the corridor and around a corner. 

The group comes to a sudden halt.

Bob's shoe squeaks against the floor. His shoulder hits the wall, his head rolling like it's too heavy to hold up. Eyelashes flutter, his chest rising with a breath so shaky that you can see him quiver with it. 

Something's wrong.

"Bobby?" You start to reach for him, but Rueben's quicker than you, settling a sturdy hand on the back of Bob's shoulder, trying to draw him away from the drywall before he can accidentally put a hole in it. 

Abnormally short fangs flash. Something akin to a growl rips out of Bob's throat. Heat rushes between your legs. 

His face drops. Eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's nothing personal," Rueben's already backing up, his palms facing the ceiling. The closest thing he can get to waving a white flag. "I get it." 

You don't believe what you're seeing. Smelling, even. It's way too soon for this, but...

He's starting his rut. 

"Is everything okay?" The girl from before is asking; you wish you could remember her name, but reading her nametag is the last thing you're doing right now.

Bradley's shoulder nudges against yours, his head hanging low as if to shield out the rest of the group. "Get him home," he whispers. Firm. "I'll cover from here."

Your attention flickers to Bob, then to the rest of the group. "You're sure?"

All it takes is a look. Unwavering, jaw stiff, commanding all the authority that he can possibly muster. Omega or not, he's not one to be argued with. 

Bob's shoulders shudder. Sweat is already beginning to bead at his forehead; lips parted, breathing through his mouth. 

You don't need any more convincing, already beginning to take him by the wrist. There isn't the slightest bit of resistance, falling into step with you without any ounce of convincing. Whether or not he's actually comprehending what's going on, you're not sure, but he knows enough to not try and let go of you.

Taking the keys from him is the hardest part, trapped in the front pocket of his jeans, right next to the growing tent in the fabric, downright begging for your attention.

"Feels...weird," he grumbles, foot missing on his first attempt to climb into the truck. The second is a little more successful, almost trembling as he pulls himself up into the seat. 

"I know," if it's anything like what your first heat felt like, then you've got a pretty good guess of what he's going through. Heat flashes, loss of coordination, nausea, the overwhelming need to orgasm damn near eating you alive.

In fact, you think that's exactly what he's going through. Grumbling with every turn you take, slouched against the corner of the seat, his head against the glass. There's a tremble in his hands that wasn't there before, knee bouncing up and down, unable to slow itself even for a second.

There are more signs that you would likely notice if you weren't so focused on the road ahead. You've only driven this truck a handful of times; the turn signal is in a different place, the view of the road is different, and it doesn't quite take turns as sharply as your car does.

But he's quiet. Uniquely so, as if he's lost in his own head. Doesn't make a comment on how you pull his truck into its spot rather than backing it in, only grumbling when you don't immediately give him your hand during the walk toward the apartment complex. 

His chin falls onto your shoulder the moment the elevator doors close. 

"Still feeling weird?" You ask, attention flicking to the mirror.

He whines, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your waist. A familiar hardness shamelessly grinds into the curve of your ass. Even the thick material of his jeans can't stop you from feeling the way he twitches, desperate for something. Anything.

Warmth rushes down into your thighs. Knees knocking together as they clamp shut, helpless to do anything but wriggle against him. His shaky exhale tickles your ear. 

Something clangs overhead, but you can hardly pay it any mind. The elevator could be falling, and you still can't bring yourself to care. Too focused on twisting in his hold, bodies so close that your noses crash together. 

Bob looks no better than he did while you were in the truck. Skin so clammy that he glistens in the overhead light, not quite pouring with sweat but if you give him a few minutes, that story may change. 

The elevator doors open with a squeal. You move toward them. He doesn't budge. 

"Bobby?" Your head tilts. 

His eyes dart toward something in the hallway. You follow his gaze, but not a damn thing is there. Nothing but the same old gray carpet, dusty, decorative table, and the welcome rug sitting outside your neighbor's door. 

Your alpha neighbor. 

"Bobby, it's your instincts running wild," your attempt at diffusing fails to evoke the slightest reaction, "nobody is going to hurt us." 

He doesn't seem to believe you. Still staring off into the hallway as if his greatest enemy is about to slink around the corner at any given moment.

You reach over his shoulder, fingertips brushing over the back of his neck. Scarred and battered from all those scruffings during basic and every other time a superior thought they caught a glimpse of defiance. Delicate, you pinch the soft skin there, but his shoulders don't loosen like they should. No, they stiffen. 

His chest swells with a sharp inhale. 

"It's okay," whispering, as gently as you can, "it's just me." 

Hesitant, he takes a step forward. Obediently following your lead, those big blue eyes flickering back and forth across the hall as you walk down it. The apartment door is only a few steps away, off in the corner of the building, but it must take a minute or two to get him there. He's just sane enough not to fret when you let him go in exchange for digging the keys out of your pocket.

The door opens, and it's as if an invisible string snaps.

Kisses appear on the side of your neck. Crowding you through the threshold, the door slamming closed the moment you're through it. The apartment is at the same temperature it's always been at, and yet it's too damn hot in here. Feels as if you're walking into a burning room, but instead of flames licking at your skin, it's Bob's hands. Darting under your shirt, desperate to feel more of you.

"I..." Bob's voice dies in his throat. Rumbling against your nape. "I..." 

It's too easy, letting him pull that thin piece of material over your head, your back finding its way up against the wall. The meeting, your friends, the buzzing of your cell phone in your back pocket, none of it matters. Only the press of Bob's lips against yours, how his body slots against yours, built for this and this alone.

He's everywhere. His lips are crashing into yours, and his hands are creeping up your naked back, and the bulge in his jeans is pressing against your hip, and, and—

It's so much. 

Fuck, it's so much. 

"Bob," you find yourself gasping, aimlessly uttering his name as if it can quench the fire beneath your skin. "Bobby..."

He whines at that. Rumbling against your mouth and down your spine, rattling through you like a shockwave. Your fists gather the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. Deeper. Draws a surprised groan right out of his throat, caught off guard but making no move to stop you. 

His hips roll into yours once more, all too eager for something, anything. Your thigh slots between his, pushing up just enough and...

"Shit," he's swearing under his breath, so quiet that you hardly hear it. 

Your impatient hands tug at his shirt. The kiss only breaks long enough for you to yank it over his head, taking his glasses with it. They the floor with a painful clatter. 

He makes no effort to retrieve them.

Neither can you because he's back in your space within an instant, his lips stealing your breath away as if it has belonged to him all along. He tastes like coffee and the honey biscuit he scarfed down on the way to the meeting, so warm and sweet that it's like kissing a bakery instead of a man. 

It ought to drown you. Flooding your senses like some kind of pleasant assault swirls your thoughts and delves deep into your belly, disturbing the butterflies there and setting you alight. This is...this is new. He's always made you weak in the knee, but you don't recall them nearly buckling from his scent alone, only held up by the strong arms looped around you.

Something in your lower stomach clenches. So upset over the overwhelming sensation of being empty that it begins to cramp, a wave of slick rushing to ease the ache. 

Bob's moving, and it's all you can do to throw your arms over his shoulders and hang on. Following blindly as he backs you through the bedroom door, feet stumbling blindly. Back, back, back, guided by the pressure of his hands and the bump of his chest against yours.

The backs of your knees hit the mattress, crumpling out from beneath you.

Your ass hits the bed. Vision swimming as you try to regain focus. 

That soft belly is right in front of you. Pale and dusted with freckles, the thin layer of fat concealing the muscle that lurks beneath. You just can't help yourself, greedily leaning in and kissing a fading hickey. One of your hands finds its way to the tent in his jeans, pressing softly. 

Bob sucks in a breath. Jerking. "Hurts." 

"I'm gonna take care of you," you say it as if you've got yourself together. You don't. "I promise."

The button to his jeans pops open without the slightest resistance, zipper racing down the tracks at a record pace. He's too quick to help. Hands colliding with yours as you both yank at the hem of them, pulling his pants and his boxers down in one go, sloppy as it might be. His cock springs free without warning, the flushed tip nearly hitting your cheek as you try to help him pull the fabric past his thighs.

Once they're past his knees, you can no longer reach them.

Your eyes dart to the bottle of lube sitting on the bedside table. With the heat between your legs, you're almost certain that you won't need it, but you're squirming across the bed anyway, rolling onto your belly, arm outstretched, reaching for it. Your fingers wiggle, catching on the side. The bottle spins across the table, right into your grasp.

Hands appear on your hips, dipping beneath your waistband.

"Hey!" You squeal, but it's too late. He's already tugging your pants down, too, pulling you across the sheets in the process. Your phone pops out of the pocket, landing next to you.

"Sorry," but those half-lidded eyes and his lazy grin imply that he's definitely not sorry, already hovering over top of you. There's barely enough room for you to roll onto your back, caged between his shivering arms. 

Funny, you'd always presumed alphas to fall under the same old, aggressive stereotype once their rut started, but this one...he's anything but. Pink in the face, pressing soft kisses against your cheek, almost entirely himself. 

Whether or not he hears you uncapping the lube, you don't know, but he doesn't react to it in the slightest. 

"Ah—!" He does react when your dripping hand wraps around his heavy cock, spreading cold lubricant across him without so much as a warning.

His knot is hardly there, nothing but a slight bump at his base, as it should have been this whole time. You reckon that something about his rut finally kicked his hormones into gear. 

Your hand is hardly doing anything special. Simple strokes to spread the sticky substance across him, thumb swiping over his head once, twice, drawing little whimpers past his lips with every motion. Sensitive and so wrapped up in the feeling that he doesn't realize that you're surging up off the bed. Pushing him over, your leg swinging out to straddle his hips. 

Those wide eyes draw a giggle out of you. "Dummy." 

It's so easy, reaching between your thighs and taking hold of his weeping cock, guiding it up until his tip slips through your folds, nudging against your clit and all. Ugh, you've missed this feeling.

"You're..." Bob sucks in a trembling breath, eyes flickering from your face to the sight of his cock nuzzled against your cunt. "You're sure?"

"Are you?" Mirroring him. You've already made your intentions loud and clear. 

He nods before he can find his voice. "Uhuh."

"Then so am I," and before either of you can begin to conjure up a response, you're sinking down on him.

A sudden pressure appears at your entrance, an ache already arising from your severe lack of interest in stretching yourself for him. It's a dizzying kind of burn that has your body shuddering, taking his cock head in with a soft 'pop' that ought to make your heart stop. 

"Jesus," Bob's hands fly up to your hips, squeezing tight, "fuck." 

There's just something about hearing him swear that gets your head spinning, fighting to keep your body upright as you take him inch by delirious inch. Not obscenely thick, but enough to already be rubbing against those little hidden nerves. It's not fair. He has no right to have your thighs tremoring before you've even taken him halfway.

Your hands fall forward, bracing yourself against his heaving chest. The feeling of the pitter-patter of his heart beneath your palms isn't doing much to help you either, beating at his chest like a caged animal.

Coffee and cinnamon strike your nose with the intensity of a freight train, tearing through your head so quickly that everything becomes muffled, wrapped up in your own little world. A little place where Bobby is your only concern, with his oddly sweet scent and soft blue eyes that threaten to drown you if you gaze too closely.

But your ass is settling into his lap, and you're too damn full to remain up in your head much longer. Fuck, you can't breathe. Lungs tight as if you've run out of room, forced to pant for air that you can't possibly hang onto. 

Already, Bob's hips roll up, unable to keep himself from squirming beneath you. His hands roam up your sides, idly touching, as if to make sure that you're really here. That you're not a figment of his rut-clouded mind.

"So pretty," he babbles, sounds absolutely awe-struck, "you're so pretty." 

"You're just saying that because I'm riding you," teasing, a little smile emerging onto your face as you draw yourself up.

"No, I'm—mmh!" His head falls backward, thunking against the pillow.

This...this is something. You've hardly even drawn yourself up an inch, and he's already whining about it, his hands squeezing your sides once more, hanging on tight as you sink back down on him. 

It's on the second attempt that your breath hitches, stars sparkling in your vision as he rubs against a particular bundle of nerves. An experience nearly identical to any of the other times his cock has been in you, but something...something is different here. You don't recall feeling a sudden gush of slick, reacting to an extreme. 

He should have quit taking those suppressants sooner.

You're drawing yourself up quicker now, clinging to his chest as you try to find your pace. Something quick enough to get what you want but shallow enough to avoid wearing yourself out before you've even gotten close. But it's so hard to remain rational when he's downright nailing that little spot, cock head kissing it over and over and over. 

Bobby's hips jump up once more, meeting you halfway. His whine intertwines with yours, dancing about the room and through the walls. You hope the neighbors aren't home because you don't have the strength to quiet him down. Not when he sounds so pretty. 

"Darlin'," his head rolls back and forth, blinking rapidly, "darlin', I..." 

A beat passes. He doesn't finish that thought.

"Hm?" Fighting to keep your eyes open, "talk to me, Bob." 

You're using workplace phrases in the bedroom again.

But his eyes only scrunch shut. So tight that his nose wrinkles with it. "I don't know."

On its own volition, your hand darts out; he meets you halfway, fingers lacing together as you push them onto the bed. It's a motion that forces you to lean forward, such a subtle change in angle, but—

"There," you blurt it as if you're not the one in charge here. Heat rushes up your belly, burning high into your throat, smoke clouding your vision. 

You're babbling something, but you just can't hear it. Control crumbling like a house of cards, impossible to rebuild as your hips quicken, chasing the delicious pressure of his cock against your nerves. Cunt clenching around him like a vice, every little motion punctuated by an obscenely wet noise that you're only vaguely aware of. 

It's a sudden growl that rips you back into reality. Bobby's short fangs sink into his shivering bottom lip, pretty blue eyes glassy as he bats his lashes up at you. 

"Huh?" Freezing in your tracks. Is there something...did you do something that he doesn't like? 

He's pushing himself up, suddenly all too close. "Wanna roll over." 

The room is spinning before you can even realize what he's just said. Back hitting the soft mattress, a familiar weight settling atop your chest. Arms brace on either side of your head, already finding his favorite position.

Your newly empty hand darts up. Grasping at his wrist until your fingers lace together once more, his weight pinning them into the sheets. You haven't the slightest clue how he stayed inside of you, but he's already beginning to move, and your shaking legs are coiling behind him, and—

"There!" It rips out of you so suddenly that you think you sound akin to a wounded animal. Little shocks jump up your core, pussy fluttering around him. "There, there..."

His hips move a little harder, properly jostling you beneath him, rubbing into those little nerves once more. "Jus' like this?"

All you can do is nod, tongue limp in your mouth. 

Bob's leaning closer, his nose nuzzling against yours, hardly an inch of space left between your heaving bodies. The slight swell of his knot catches on your entrance, such a sudden thing that it rips the air out of your lungs, fighting to keep your legs hitched around his waist. All it's doing is drawing him up against where you crave his touch most, growing impossibly wet from the feel of his knot alone.

A stray squeezes out from the corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek and leaping down to hit your nose. His lips crash into yours before you can begin to ask about it. A soft intertwining that makes your thoughts swirl together until they've blended into a constant, incessant murmuring. Bob. Bob. Bob. 

"Bobby?" It slips out before you've realized it, and if your voice itself could echo a word, you have no doubt that a hundred incantations of his name would be tumbling out your parted lips.

His whine cuts through the air. 

"Feels good," he gasps, speaking against your lips, making no effort to pull away any more than he has to. "Feels...it's so—mmh." 

There's no possible way to keep himself quiet, his whimpers so distracting that you hardly notice the ones coming out of your own mouth. Your unoccupied hand rises, shaking with the heavy thump of your heart as it settles against his cheek.

As if it's come alive, your back twitches up off the bed, legs squeezing around his bony hips, a wildfire rushing across your skin. Head swimming with the noise that is Bob Floyd and the incessant nudge of his growing knot rubbing against that sweet little spot. It's so new and it's so much, and, and it's got spots decorating your vision. Patches of black fading in and out, like you're about to faint.

His knot catches on its way out of you. So big that it doesn't slip back in on the next pass, merely pressing into your pussy once, twice, three times. 

You don't feel it coming. 

One moment you're fine, and the next, your eyes are rolling, cumming without warning, as his knot finally pops inside of you. Quaking with the force of it, ears ringing so loud that you can hardly hear Bob's cry as he cums inside of you. Knot swelling to its full size, locking your bodies together, his cum flooding your spasming cunt, with nowhere for it to escape. 

You're only distantly aware of your back hitting the bed once more, legs slipping out from around him to fall at his sides instead. There are teeth sinking into your shoulder, and your heart is pounding against your chest, lungs burning for a breath you've gone too long without.

The first inhale grounds you. Brings you down from the ceiling and back into his arms. 

The second rips every ounce of strength from your body. All too limp beneath Bobby and his crushing weight that has long since settled on top of you. 

"I love you," his words are jumbled together, so unintelligible that you hardly realize what he's saying. 

It must take a minute or two for you to squeeze his sweaty hand, still linked with yours. "I love you too." 

There's no way that you'll be separating any time soon, not with his knot pulsing inside of your poor pussy, stretched to a limit you didn't know you had. Even when his phone dings from the other room, there's nothing he can do about it. How cruel nature is, forcing you to lie here and accept his snuggling advances. Barbaric, even.

"This..." Bob hums, kissing at your jaw, "feels so damn weird."

Idle, your arm loops around his shoulders, hand greedily delving into his hair. "Tell me about it. If you cum any more, I think I might pop." 

Your giggles melt into yawns; whoever said that sex was a quick and easy thing clearly wasn't doing it right. The moment that Bob gets his head comfortable, his nose nuzzled beneath your ear, you know that you've lost him. Frankly, you're not far from it, either, already beginning to fight back another yawn. 

But your brain isn't on the same page because while your body is already sinking further into the bed, growing heavier by the second, your thoughts are racing a mile a minute. Maverick. The prescription suppressants sitting on the dresser, waiting for the day that the Navy requires you to start taking them again, for the sake of efficiency and making the job easier for all parties.

You don't understand it. 

Why does the Navy prioritize scrubbing you of alpha, beta, and omega statuses? What's the point of soap designed to strip your scent glands when all it does is make you so much more sensitive to the variety of scents out there? Was the endless scruffing from your superiors really meant to 'build character'? Or was it just a bunch of insecure superiors desperate to make themselves feel in charge?

Bobby should have known whether he was alpha, omega, or beta over ten years ago. Why is it that you and he have been medicated to high hell while Maverick has walked around for the better half of thirty years without being given a single fucking pill to take? He's exactly what the Navy preaches about; a hot-headed, cocky alpha who gets so invested in instinct that he hurts his team.

God, fuck, his fangs aren't even formed properly. Short and stunted from the lack of hormones, not an ounce of threat to them, no matter how many times he may try to flash them. 

Your eyes dart to your cell phone, resting on the unoccupied side of the bed. 

It's barely within reach, but it's nothing that a little stretching won't resolve. Heavy in your hand as you type in the passcode and navigate toward an app, resting in the far right corner. The screen turns black. 

A beat passes. 

Then, a second.

And a third. 

The camera opens, little squares dancing across the screen as it scans your irises. A microphone crosses the screen. Your name tumbles off your tongue.

Finally, it opens. A crudely built messenger app, a myriad of texts flooding in as it loads. Wire transfers. Messages about the mission. Information that the Navy never thought would leave your lips. Names. Javy. Natasha. Jake. Rueben. Bob. Mickey. Three other familiar names that you cannot be bothered to read. All you care about is finding a contact by the name of Admin, and pressing the call button. 

As the dial tone sounds, Bob's head lifts, sleepy eyes flickering up to meet with yours. Doesn't need to look at the phone to understand what you're doing. It's a call he made when Admiral Cain left a mark on your wrist. The same number Bradley dialed when Cyclone started that brawl with Jake. 

Bob's just beginning to settle back into the crook of your neck when someone picks up. 

"Who hit him?" 

You know that voice. You know what happened the last time you called. But for once in your life, you've forgotten how to feel hesitant about the words that are about to leave your mouth. 

"They call him Maverick."

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

The Orange.

You and Jake share an orange. He’s in love with you.

Part 2 - For Eternity.

Pairing - Jake Seresin x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 2047

Masterlist. Requests.

The air conditioning rattles gently, keeping you company. You’re sat at the bar of The Hard Deck, reading the book that’s been sitting forgotten on your nightstand for months. Outside, you can hear the cheering and yelling coming from the Dagger Squad, who are playing their new favourite game – Dog Fight Football. Ever since Maverick introduced it, they’ve been hooked, finding any reason to gather at the beach and take each other down.

You man the bar while Penny sits on the beach, watching her partner and his team sprint across the sand. Inevitably, soon they’ll all come running inside, requesting water, beer, and popsicles to cool their heated skin and flushed faces. You prefer to shelter yourself away from the sun during the day, and make the most of the warm summer nights that seem to last forever.

You’re already mentally planning your evening – you’ll finish your shift, grab a drink, and walk down the beach, perhaps taking your book with you. You’ll sit on the cooling sand, rest your legs, and stay there until the ocean breeze gives you your cue to leave. You’ll offer Jake to join you, and he’ll make a big show of being sarcastically reluctant – but he’ll never say no to you. Those sunset conversations have become the best part of your days – and his.

Your friendship with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is a seemingly unlikely one. Arrogant, charming, decorated Naval Aviator meets intelligent, determined, stubborn waitress. When the Dagger Squad arrived in town for the uranium mission, Penny had given you a sarcastic, but slightly genuine warning.

“You better watch out, you know”, she says in passing one night. You quirk your eyebrow at her questioningly.

“These pilots. They’re gonna be all over you. Fresh new eye candy for them to fight over.” She winks at you cheekily and leaves you to serve another customer.

You knew it was always just convenience, for the Aviators. You were pretty, and witty, and served them their drinks every night. You were in their line of sight. They didn’t really want you, you were just available. Easy. Or so you thought.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin showed up that night with the confidence of ten men. The minute he laid eyes on you, you felt it. Some sort of shift. A crack in your universe.

He’d sidled up to the bar with a swagger in his walk that should have been off putting – but strangely wasn’t. The moment you heard that thick drawl flow like honey from his lips, you knew you’d have to use every ounce of self control you possessed. He was gorgeous.

And cocky.

The man had gotten accustomed to having women throw themselves at his feet. All he had to do was flash that gleaming smile, and he’d have girls dropping their barriers – and their underwear. He was a ladies man, and he knew it. You were aware he only ever spent a night with them – having had to rescue him from many awkward confrontations at the bar, usually along the lines of, “why didn’t you call me back?” and “you said you’d make breakfast!”.

You, however, became the exception to his rule. You didn’t expect anything from him, just his kindness, which he would happily give you by the tonne. Your kindness though, is what started your friendship in the first place. Or maybe it was stupidity. You were still deciding.

It was a Friday night at The Hard Deck. The Squad were over by the pool tables, drinking, and throwing darts. You’d been subtly watching Hangman from your position behind the bar. He was bragging to Coyote about being able to hit the bullseye with his eyes closed, and proceeded to demonstrate. He closed his eyes, hit the target, and reopened them to be met with an angry brunette with a point to prove.

“Excuse me, Hangman! You think you can just sneak out of my house, not call me, and then come in here and play darts like nothing happened?”

She jabs her finger angrily into his chest, but he doesn’t move. Stubborn man.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “let’s not do this here. I’m sorry I didn’t call. But I thought you knew; it was just a one time thing.”

He lays his charm on thick, and you see her falter for a minute. You’re almost willing her to give up, and save herself the inevitable embarrassment. But lo and behold, she continues.

She’s shouting now, yelling about his treatment of women, and how he should be ashamed, how he led her on with his false intentions. His squad are watching silently, attempting to stifle the laughter that threatens to bubble up between them. Javy has managed to take a few subtle steps back, as if to get as far away as possible from the danger zone.

She’s still yelling, and he’s just stood there, with that damned smirk on his face, taking it. You know whatever he’s going to say next is undoubtedly going to shred the poor girl’s self confidence, so, without much thought, you move from behind the bar, and make your way to the scene.

Placing your hand on his ridiculously toned bicep, you look up at him, praying that he’ll understand what you’re trying to silently say. You’re saving him.

“Babe, what’s going on?”, you ask cluelessly, as if you hadn’t been watching the entire situation unfold from mere feet away.

“Babe?”, she yells, more at the universe than at either of you.

Jake, for once, doesn’t quite know what to say. So, you continue.

“Yeah. I have no idea what’s happening, but I think we should talk.”

You look at him pointedly, and he seems to get the message. You apologise to the girl quickly, and drag Jake away, through the bar and out of the back door, into the cool evening air. You speak before he has the chance to.

“Please, Hangman. Keep your soap opera disaster of a love life out of my bar. No one wants to see it.”

It’s your turn now to jab your pointer finger into his chest. You expect him to snap back with a sarcastic remark, or to laugh. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you. Really looks. As if he’s seeing you for the first time, despite you serving him his beers every time he comes into the bar. Eventually, he speaks.

“You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

It’s your turn to look at him now. That wasn’t what you expected. You scoff, and raise your eyebrows at him.

“Seriously, Jake. It isn’t my business what you do with your spare time, but please, save us all from having to watch the car crash every week.”

He laughs. A real, genuine, hearty laugh, that settles itself into your ribs, into the cavity of your chest. You’ve never heard him laugh like that. It makes you like him more. Damn.

“I’m kinda done with it all anyway.”

“Done with what?”

“The sleeping around. One night stands. None of those girls are half as interesting or half as pretty as you.”

He’s looking at you again. You’re determined not to let him get under your skin, so you bark,

“Yeah, right. Bet you say that to all the girls, huh, Seresin?”

He laughs, and then pauses, million dollar smile still etched on his face.

“I’m serious. You won’t have to rescue me like that again, Angel. That’s a promise.”

He winks at you, and you swat his arm, before grabbing his hand and leading him back inside.

That was months ago.

Since then, you’ve spent an increasing amount of time with him. Laughing, joking, teasing. His friendship is more valuable than his weight in gold, you’re convinced, and you lower your guard ever so slightly. He’s worth letting in. You know he is. Warnings be damned.

You smell him before you see him when he enters the bar. He smells like cologne, salt, and sunshine – so distinct, so Jake. You’d bottle it up if you could, store a vial in every room in your house.

You feel him before you see him when he makes his way over to you. Feel his body get closer, the heat radiating off him. You can almost feel the salt on his skin when he plasters himself against your back, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

“Mmm, you smell good. What you reading, Angel?”

He’s moved to sit on the stool next to you. At this angle, you get a better look at him. He’s not wearing a shirt, golden skin on display. Begging for you to touch it, run your fingers along it, your tongue. You know he’d taste like the ocean and the sky simultaneously. Sunshine boy.

You pull yourself back to reality, and show him the cover of your book.

“Ah, smart girl.”

The praise lights up your bones, seems to settle into your ribs. You know, like all friendship does.

You look at him, and clock him watching you. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Jake Seresin is in love with you.

You can see it clear as day, all of a sudden. Like you’ve been looking at him through a fog, a mist, and it’s evaporated without a warning.

He’s in love with you.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s kept his promise from that night. No more girls, no more one night stands. Since that evening, he’s only had one woman on his mind. You.

You’ve become suddenly aware of all of this, and you don’t know what to do with it. What about your friendship? What if this jeopardises everything? Losing him would be your worst nightmare. You’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.

But then, you realise, that’s not going to happen. Because he’s in love with you. And like a freight train, it hits you. You’re in love with him. You have been since the moment he stepped foot in the bar, all self-assured attitude and golden hair and bright eyes. You’re in love with Jake Seresin and he’s in love with you and the world is suddenly making sense. The final piece of the jigsaw puzzle has been placed and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream or dance or all four or none at all.

So you stand, and make your way behind the bar. You slide a glass of ice cold water in front of him, and grab an orange. It’s ripe, bright and feels like a ball of light in your hand. A promise.

You sit back in your original position, on the stool next to his, but turn to face him. Carefully, you peel the orange, bit by bit. Juice runs down your fingers onto the palm of your hand, and without thinking, Jake grabs your wrist and traces the journey of the drop with his tongue. You look up through your lashes and smile at him gently, and continue to peel, slowly, deliberately. When you’re satisfied, you split the orange, and hand one half to him.

The air conditioning rattles gently, keeping you company. You eat in silence, stopping occasionally to inhale the smell of citrus, salt, and sunshine.

Jake reaches out as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and runs his thumb across your bottom lip carefully. He places his thumb in his mouth, and sucks gently.

You’re not sure if it’s you, or him, or gravity, but somehow, you’ve ended up sat with your legs in between his, facing each other. Orange finished, he leans in, and brushes your lips with his. He tastes like citrus, and salt, and sunshine. So distinctly Jake, that you’d bottle it if you could. He pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. There’s a warmth emanating from him that you’re sure isn’t solely from the sun. You haven’t been outside in hours, and you’re omitting it too.

It feels like hours that you sit there, foreheads pressed together, orange peel abandoned on the bar top. Neither of you needs to speak. You both know exactly what the other person is thinking.

Jake Seresin is in love with you. Nothing else matters.

[blackwidownat2814]

My sweet Bobbers!! I honestly would not believe he was there to talk to me, it's never happened before.

I loved this so much!!!

Dancing with You

Summary: A dance with Bob leaves you infatuated and slightly surprised that a man like him actually exists.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

A/N: Warning, I wrote this so fast and had no idea how to close it. I'm sorry for the weird plot, it was just an idea that I had in my head that I had to get out.

You had never been any guys first choice. That was a fact that you had accepted as true by this point in your life. It wasn't that you were unattractive because you knew that you had moments that you could knock any man on his ass. You were just shy.

You were a shy, introverted person who was friends with bubbly, outgoing people. You didn't think anyone was trying to be rude they just tended to glance right over you, their eyes not registering the person sitting or standing there as well.

It's why you were surprised that he was talking to you.

You hadn't bothered to look up from the table when a figure made it's way to the place you were sitting with your friends. It was only when your friend that was sitting next to you nudged your arm that you looked up to meet the eyes of the most handsome man you'd ever seen.

Feeling the blush rise in your cheeks, you said, "I'm so sorry, were you talking to me?"

He nodded, "Yes ma'am. I was wondering if I could steal you away for a minute. I was hoping to grab a dance with you."

He had a kind demeanor, unlike a lot of the other men in the Navy who had been flirting with your friends all night and he seemed genuine in his interest for you. He had a cute southern drawl when he spoke that made your heart beat a little faster.

"I'd like that a lot," you told him, giving him a sweet, surprised smile.

His eyes were sparkling as he offered you his arm after you slid out of your chair to meet him around the table. Your friend gave you a thumbs up before you turned towards him to slip your arm through his.

He led you through the crowd of couples towards the dance floor where a few people were already dancing themselves. You passed a group of people who he seemed to know as he nodded in their direction. They all turned to stare at the two of you in disbelief as he pulled you close to him for your dance.

His right hand settled respectfully on your waist and his left hand hung in the air, waiting for yours. You let him pull you close, slipping one hand in his and the other up to rest on his shoulder.

"So," you started, staring at the collar of his uniform. You were too afraid to look at his face. "You're name's Bob?" You asked, eyes staring at the name that was sewn into his shirt.

He shrugged, "Yes and no. Technically, my name's Robert. Bob's is my callsign."

Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, "Bob is your callsign?"

"Yeah, before I'd been giving a callsign everyone just called me Bob. They liked it better than Robert, which makes sense and it just kind of stuck I think," he told you.

He was leading you in simple steps around the floor. His hand on your waist guiding you gently in the direction you were supposed to go. You had no idea what song was playing, too focused on the way his voice sounded so close to your ear and the way his hand felt in yours.

"Does it bother you?" You asked, daring to look at his face.

His eyes were soft and his expression open for you to read at your will. You hadn't noticed that he had any walls up before but between the table and where you were on the dance floor, his expression had changed.

"That I don't have a crazy callsign?" He asked, eyebrows raising.

You nodded, moving your hand on his shoulder so that it slid closer to his neck.

He shook his head, "Not really, I've never had a different one. Plus, it's way more unique than anyone else's."

This made you laugh a little as you nodded, "That's a good point."

He hummed slightly. His eyes scanned your face for a minute before pulling you so that you were a little closer to him.

"What's your name?" He asked, his voice coming out in a whisper.

You cleared your throat, "It's y/n."

His grip on your waist tightened involuntarily for a moment, "That suits you."

"Thank you," you told him, "I didn't pick it."

"Touche," he granted.

You had turned enought that you could see his friends just over his shoulder. They were all turned in your direction. A beautiful woman with dark hair was high fiving a man with a moustache and the blonde man had a giant grin on his face.

"You're friends are all staring," you whispered, hiding your face in the comfort of is chest. He smelled really good, a mixture of something woodsy and sweet.

You felt him turn to glance behind him for a minute before he shook his head, "I'm sorry. I think they're just excited 'cause I don't normally do anything like this."

His voice vibrated through his chest and you were hesitant to pull away from it to look at him.

"Why did you?" You asked him.

He tilted his head and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, "If you don't normally do this, why tonight? Why me?"

"It's not really why you," he told you, "You are the reason I did this tonight. I saw you come in with your friends and I couldn't look away. Phoenix, she's the pilot for the plane that I fly in, encouraged me to go over and talk to you."

"Honestly," he continued, "I really thought you weren't interested at first, you didn't even look at me."

You shook your head quickly, "It wasn't that at all. It's just, men normally come over to talk to them, not me. I just assumed that's what was going on."

"I find that hard to believe," he chuckled.

You gave him a confused look, "Why?"

He stopped dancing all together, looking you right in your eyes. "Y/n, you're the prettiest girl in this room," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That doesn't mean that people ever try to talk to me," you pointed out.

He chuckled, starting to dance again. "What I would bet," he said, leaning down a little to whisper in your ear, "Is that most of the men that hit on your friends were originally coming over to talk to you but were stolen by your friends."

You rolled your eyes, "Why would you even think that."

He went a little pink before he answered, "That's what was starting to happen when I walked over to talk to you."

He hurried to explain, "I had asked if you wanted to dance but you were off in your own little world so your friend spoke up and said that she'd love to dance. I had to explain that I only wanted to dance with you."

You looked at him in amazement, before going up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"What was that for?" He asked, giving you a little half-smile.

You shrugged, "For going after me anyway."

His eyes slid off your face for a second before he tightened his grip on you to pull you closer, "The pleasure was all mine, ma'am."

You rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed, enjoying the feeling of his arms and simulataneoulsy trying to figure out why you felt so comfortable in the arms of someone you'd just met.

"The song's over," Bob said as he dropped your hands. "Thank you for the dance."

You nodded as he led you both off of the floor. He started to walk back in the direction of your table but you stopped him.

"Hey Bob," you said, tugging his arm to stop him.

He turned to face you. "Yeah darlin'," he said.

"Would it be alright if I spent some more time with you tonight? I don't want to leave you yet," you told him, fighting through the nervous butterflies that were storming in your stomach.

He gave you a mischevious smile, "I wasn't planning on leaving you there, I just figured you might want your stuff. I was going to ask if you wanted a ride home."

You felt your mouth fall open slightly as you took in the man in front of you, "I- yeah. Alright, that sounds really nice."

He smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and you were content to let him lead you wherever he wanted to take you.

[thewulf]

Skies of Concern || Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Summary: Request -may i request for top gun maverick with husband!mickey 'fanboy' garcia x civillian maverick's daughter!reader please? when you heard that mav called mickey to join a mission, you kind of mad to your dad cause it is dangerous for mickey (worried)... Read Rest Here

A/N: Eeeeek! This one was fun to write. Super cute and fluffy. Memories are in italics. Hope you enjoy anon!

Pairing: Mickey Fanboy" Garcia x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.6k +

T/W : General TGM warnings

The sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm, golden glow across the tarmac of the Naval Air Station as you waited for the aircraft carrier to arrive back on base. You stood near the water as the anticipation built with each passing minute. You were anxiously awaiting the return of your father, Maverick, and his trusted wingman and your beloved husband, Mickey Garcia.

But even in the middle of the tension and worry that gripped your heart your mind wandered back to a warmer memory. A moment of serendipity that had brought you into the orbit of the charismatic WSO who would later become your husband much to your fathers dismay. Although he eventually came around and loved Mickey as his own son.

It was a balmy evening at the Hard Deck as you waited for your father to return from a training mission. He’d asked you to meet him there against your better judgement. Although you didn’t frequent the bar that often anymore you had sought solace in the familiar surroundings of the bar, the chatter of fellow Navy personnel providing a comforting backdrop to your thoughts. As you nursed a drink at the counter trying to push aside the nagging worry that always accompanied your father's missions, you noticed him.

Mickey Garcia, with his effortless charm and magnetic presence strode into the bar. His flight suit a testament to the adrenaline-fueled world he inhabited. His gaze briefly met yours and in that fleeting moment, something sparked between you—a connection born in the anonymity of the crowded room. You should’ve run far, far away after the smirk grew on the pilot’s face. But you couldn’t. It’s like that one look had you rooted right into the bar stool.

Unbeknownst to Mickey he had just caught the eye of Maverick's daughter. You had planned to keep your identity hidden. More than content to observe from the shadows as he approached with a casual confidence that belied the danger of his profession.

"Hey there," he greeted you. His smile as warm as the fading sunlight outside. "Haven't seen you around here before. I’d remember a pretty face like yours. You can’t be a regular, no?"

His words were laced with genuine curiosity with a playful demeanor drawing you in despite the weight of your worries. Little did you know that chance encounter would set the stage for a journey fraught with danger and adventure but so much love. Oh, so much love.

As Mickey leaned casually against the bar with that signature mischievous twinkle in his eyes you couldn't help but return his flirtatious banter. "Well,” you replied with a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Maybe I like to keep things interesting. You never know when a new face might turn up." He was right. You often avoided the Hard Dec as it was your father and Penny’s spot.

Mickey chuckled. The sweet sound sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I like the way you think," he said. His gaze lingering on you with unmistakable interest. "Name's Mickey, by the way. Mickey Garcia." You nodded. You knew that. Hell, you knew most of your dads pilots even if you hadn’t formally met them. But you had to play dumb to keep up your charade.

You extended your hand. A coy smile playing on your lips. "Nice to meet you, Mickey. I'm... just a girl trying to enjoy her night."

His handshake was firm, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Well, just a girl, if you ever need someone to show you around this place… you know who to call," he spoke with a confidence only pilots seemed to have.

Before you could respond to him the familiar sound of your fathers voice cut through the air, drawing your attention to the entrance of the bar. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched your father stride in. He looked to be in one piece. Your concern washed away in an instant. His presence commanded the attention of everyone in the room. When he spotted you chatting with one of his pilots at the bar he made a beeline right to you with a less than thrilled look on his face.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Your dad greeted you. His voice was warm with affection as he pulled you into a quick hug. "You holding up okay?"

You nodded. A small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned into his embrace. "Yeah, Dad," you replied oh so grateful for the familiar strength of his arms around you. "Just glad to see you back in one piece."

But as Pete pulled away his gaze fell on Mickey, and you felt a knot of tension coil in the pit of your stomach. There was a shift in the air. A subtle change in your dads demeanor that set your heart racing with apprehension.

"Fanboy," Maverick spoke with an icy tone as he turned his attention to the charming pilot beside you. "Fancy seeing you here."

Mickey's easy grin faltered and was replaced by a look of uncertainty as he met Maverick's gaze. "Hey, Maverick," he replied. His voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Didn't expect to run into you here. You’re not usually here after missions."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them. The air thick with unspoken tension as Maverick's gaze bore into Mickey with an intensity that made you squirm in your barstool. Finally, Pete spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "No funny business with my daughter, Garcia," he said. His words a thinly veiled warning. "Or you'll answer to me."

Mickey swallowed hard. The weight of Maverick's stare bearing down on him like a leaden weight. "Yes, sir," he replied. His voice was barely above a whisper as he nodded in silent acquiescence.

And as Maverick turned away with his arm slipping around your shoulders in a protective gesture. You couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for you with Mickey. The chemistry between the two of you was something you’d never experienced before. There had to be something more. You felt caught between the love of a father and the allure of the skies.

It had been years since that fateful meeting at the Hard Deck, years filled with adventure, love, and the occasional heart-stopping moment as you watched your husband and father take to the skies together. But through it all you had remained steadfast in your support for both of them.

As you stood there the memories of that first encounter with Mickey came flooding back. A bittersweet reminder of how far you had come since that chance meeting. Now, as you awaited their return, your heart swelled with a mixture of pride and worry. You knew all too well the dangers that lurked beyond the clouds. But despite the nagging fear that gnawed at your insides you refused to let it consume you. You had learned to trust in Mickey's skill and your dads experience.

Your thoughts then took to earlier on in the week when you father broke the news he was taking your now husband with him to go fly a mission in Russia. He couldn’t tell you the details, but you knew it was going to be risky. Anything overseas always was. A pit formed in your stomach at the thought of the two most important guys in your life putting their lives in danger once again.

Unable to contain your fears any longer you turned to your father with a pleading look in your eyes. "Dad, you can't do this," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "You can't take Mickey on this mission. It's too dangerous dad!"

Maverick's expression hardened. His jaw tightening as he met your gaze with a steely resolve. "I have to, sweetheart," he replied with a sorrowful look as his voice firm but tinged with regret. "We're the best chance they've got and Mickey's one of the best damn WSO’s I know."

You shook your head. The frustration and fear bubbling up inside you like a tempest ready to burst. "But it's not fair," you cried out as the words tumbled out in a rush. "Both of you don’t need to go. How about just you? Or him? Not both of you! I can't take it dad. Please" You knew the pleading would likely fall on deaf ears, but you had to try.

Your voice cracked with emotion. Tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of your fear threatened to crush you. You had spent countless nights lying awake dreading this exact moment when the call would come. One that summoned your father and husband into the heart of danger once again but farther away than you thought possible.

This time felt different, the stakes higher than ever before. And as you stood there with anger and despair boiling over inside you, you knew that you couldn't bear the thought of losing them both, not now, not ever.

Maverick's expression softened. A rare flicker of sympathy crossing his features as he reached out to pull you into a comforting embrace. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice gentle against your ear. "But we have a job to do, and we'll come back to you, I promise."

You clung to him like a scared five-year-old but you really couldn’t care. You were terrified. The weight of his words offering a sliver of solace amidst the storm of uncertainty you prayed with all your heart that his promise would hold true. That both your father and husband would return to you unscathed once more.

The anticipation was palpable as you stood on the base. Your eyes fixed on the horizon where the carrier would soon appear. It had been over a week since you last saw your husband, and your father depart on their mission. Each moment of their absence had felt like an eternity.

But now as the massive silhouette of the carrier emerged from the vast expanse of the ocean your heart leaped with relief. They were back. They were safe. You knew it because you hadn't received that dreaded call. The one that brought news of tragedy and loss. Still, despite the reassurance a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach as you waited for them to disembark. You couldn't shake the lingering worry, the fear of the unknown that had plagued you since the moment they left.

And then, finally, the gangplank descended, and a surge of relief washed over you as you caught sight of familiar figures making their way down onto the dock. Your heart raced as you scanned the crowd searching for the faces you longed to see.

And there they were.

Your father emerged first with his iconic aviator shades shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. Beside him, Mickey walked with a confident stride. His tattered flight suit a testament to the adventure they had just returned from.

Without a second thought you rushed forward ignoring the protests from the officers guarding the walkway. Your heart pounded with a mixture of joy and apprehension. They were here. They were safe. But still you needed to see them with your own eyes. To feel the reassuring warmth of their embrace. His embrace. Your husband and beloved.

Without hesitation you rushed forward to you husband. Your arms outstretched as you leaped into his embrace wrapping your legs around his waist. "Babe!" you exclaimed while happily peppering his cheeks with kisses. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you? I missed you so much! Don’t go for that long again, please." Your eyes scanned his frame for any sign of distress.

Mickey laughed while wrapping his arms tightly around you and returning your kisses with equal fervor. "I'm fine, honey," he reassured you, his voice filled with affection. "Not a scratch on me. I missed you more than you know pretty lady." He gave you a squeeze as he held you in his arms as the both of you ignored the bewildered captain beside you.

Your attention wholly focused on the man holding you in his strong arms. But when you finally pulled back you couldn't help but notice the grin spreading across your fathers face as he watched the reunion between his daughter and son-in-law.

"Looks like someone's glad to see her husband and not so much her old man," he remarked with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

You flushed with embarrassment realizing you had been so caught up in your reunion with Mickey that you had all but forgotten all about your father. But as you glanced back at him you found nothing but warmth and understanding in his expression.

"Sorry, Dad," you said sheepishly. "I was just... really glad to see Mickey. It’s good to see you too." As you attempted to slip down from Mickey's hold expecting to stand on your own feet again, you felt him tighten his grip around you. He wasn't willing to let you go just yet and a warm sense of contentment washed over you as you remained enveloped in his embrace.

Maverick chuckled. His eyes had a knowing amusement in them as he watched the scene unfold. "I can see that," he replied. His voice tinged with pride. "I see I’ve officially been replaced."

You grinned with your cheeks flushing with affectionate embarrassment at your father's teasing remark. "Well, Dad," you spoke playfully jabbing his shoulder from Mickey’s hold. "I think there's enough love to go around for both of you."

Pete laughed. "I suppose so," His voice filled with warmth as he spoke. "Just don't forget who taught him everything he knows."

You smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for the two most important men in your life. "I could never forget.”

As Maverick chuckled, shaking his head, and walked away he left just the two of you there to continue on. Mickey still held you close in his arms. His embrace filled with a longing that mirrored your own. With Pete out of sight he seemed to pull you even closer. His touch igniting that usual fire within you.

Feeling his warmth enveloping you, you melted into his embrace. Your body fitting perfectly against his. His lips found yours in a hungry kiss. A silent declaration of his desire and his longing for you. The kiss deepened becoming more passionate as if he couldn't get enough of you after being apart for too long.

When he finally pulled back his breath came out in ragged gasps. He pressed his forehead against yours with eyes dark full of desire. "God, I missed you," he murmured. His voice husky with emotion. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes as he winked suggestively. His lips curling into a playful grin. And as you stood there wrapped in his embrace surrounded by the sights, and sounds of the base, you knew that the reunion you had been longing for was just beginning.

With a shared smirk Mickey held you a as tight as he could without squeezing you completely. His gaze was filled with promises of the passion to come. "Let's get out of here my love," he whispered. His voice low and intimate. "I want to show you just how much I missed you." The earned a giggle out of you as you knew he meant business when it came to that look.

And with that he carried you effortlessly towards your car. Each step filled with anticipation and desire. With a thrill of excitement coursing through you, you knew that the night ahead held endless possibilities. And you couldn't wait to explore them all with the man you loved.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @abbersreads @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[callsign-daydream]

How the Hangman Stole Christmas! - TGM

Summary: It's Secret Santa time for the Dagger Squad! Every year, Hangman manages to figure out everyone's SS and spoil the fun, but the rest of the squad is determined to keep him in the dark this year. Will they succeed, or will Jake Seresin once again be the Dagger Squad's personal Grinch?

Warnings/Content: Plain ol' silliness, alcohol mentioned, starred out swearing, OC included, little to no editing happened here

Word Count: ~1024

A/N: Merry Christmas Eve, everyone! My gift to you is this silly little blurb. Wishing you smiles, joy, and peace from Above in the coming days! <3

How the Hangman Stole Christmas!

“Go away, Bagman.”

“No.”

“**** off.”

“Forget it.”

“Seriously, Jake?”

“Didn’t you ruin Christmas enough last year?”

Jake Seresin worked with a bunch of losers. It wasn’t his fault that he’d managed to figure out everyone’s Secret Santa last year. Or that they’d decided to try it again this year. He was just that smart, and his squad was just that bad at keeping secrets. 

Of course, he probably didn’t have to announce everyone’s Secret Santa the day before the exchange, but that was besides the point.

Unfortunately, everyone was being a stick in the mud and complaining that he “ruined Christmas.” Even Fanboy was uncharacteristically tight-lipped on the topic. The other Daggers had evidently told Maverick about the incident as well, as Jake was met with an instant “I don’t know” when he approached the Captain.

Of course, the opposition was just extra incentive for Jake to get creative.

He knew he had Coyote, and he was pretty sure he could confirm a few key Daggers…

—

The bakery was crowded on a Saturday, but Jake needed to snag a few things for Daydream. Both for a Christmas present and for bribing her to tell him who she’d pulled for Secret Santa. He was debating whether she'd be more willing to tattle over a cannoli or some tiramisu when he heard a familiar voice.

“Yeah, two dozen. Thanks.”

Rooster, as Jake lived and breathed, buying a box of pistachio pizzelles that only one person they knew ate.

Hangman smirked to himself.

Busted.

—

“How’s my favorite pilot?”

Daydream looked up as Jake waltzed into her apartment. Her face was anything but impressed as she placed Pillsbury gingerbread cookies on a baking sheet.

“I’m not telling you who I have for Secret Santa.”

“Fine. I’ll keep this early Christmas present for myself.” He opened the box to display the dessert

“Tiramisu!”

He chuckled and held it high over his head. “What’s the magic word?”

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Still not telling.”

“Nope. I think it rhymes with peas.”

Another eye roll that made him crack a smile.

“Please.”

“With pleasure, Dreamgirl.”

She eyed him suspiciously as she accepted the gift before marching to the fridge. Jake was just debating what else could possibly get her to talk when a paper on the counter caught his eye. It was a familiar green color, with a singular name scrawled across it.

Gotcha.

—

Jake slid into the booth at the Hard Deck. He almost had all his answers, except one. And he knew exactly who to confront.

“Hey Floyd,” he greeted Bob. “You breaking hearts out here on your own?”

The man blinked behind his glasses. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy, Bagman.”

Jake held up his hands. “I didn’t ask.”

“Well, good.”

Jake nodded and knocked back his drink. He scanned the bar and was satisfied to see no sign of Phoenix. No need to have her literally swoop in and snatch Bob away just yet.

“Hope your shopping went well. Fitch must be hard to shop for.”

Bob chuckled. “I don’t have Payback.”

Jake nodded. “Right. Good thing too. I’m sure Fanboy would be easier to buy for anyway.”

There it was. Bob opened his mouth and shut it. It was fast enough to nearly miss, but Jake had spoken to his fellow aviator enough to know what it meant.

“I don’t have either of them. Keep trying, Jake.”

Jake chuckled and waved a hand. “Nah. I’m done guessing this year.”

I don’t need to.

—

Gifts and beers littered the table that the Daggers huddled around. Penny had replaced the usual jukebox tracks with Christmas music, leaving them with “Blue Christmas” in the background. The squad had elected to dress in civilians, a move Jake was glad for considering the red dress Daydream had broken out for the occasion.

“Alright!” Phoenix yelled to shut the squadron up. “Are we ready for Secret Santa?”

The table cheered, including Jake.

Rooster spoke up and lifted his bottle. “And I want to raise a toas to all of us besting Bagman this year!”

Cheering and clinking followed, until Jake stretched and smirked. This was the best part of the game, to his mind.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Rooster. Who wants me to tell them who their Santa is?”

"Not again." Phoenix's face dropped.

“But we didn’t tell you anything,” Payback said.

Jake shrugged, soaking in the incredulity of his squad. “Didn’t have to.”

“You’re bluffing,” Daydream said beside him.

With a quick swig of his beer, Jake cracked his knuckles and leaned forward.

“I have Coyote. Easy.” He passed over the box he’d wrapped to perfection, which was accepted with a lifted eyebrow.

“Coyote tells me every year, and this time around he got good ol’ Rooster.”

Everyone booed as Coyote sheepishly handed over a box full of vinyls with a bow on the front.

“Oh, come on!” Coyote snatched up his drink. “It’s one name. How could he have figured anyone else out?”

“Was last year not bad enough for you?” Fanboy asked.

“I still don’t believe you know everyone,” Daydream said.

“Fine. Rooster has you. Saw him shopping at an Italian bakery when the most cultural he gets is Del Taco every Tuesday.”

“They make good tacos!”

“Dreamgirl left her paper on the counter when I came over and has Bob. Bob does the mouth thing when he’s lying, making it easy to guess that he has Fanboy.”

Bob sputtered and did the mouth thing.

“Garcia can’t hide cards to save his life, or in this case, a Secret Santa slip. I knew you had Payback from day one.”

“This is why you always lose at poker, man.” Payback shook his head as he accepted a bag overflowing with tissue paper.

“I knew Payback didn’t have me because Phoenix made that special face she keeps just for me when she saw her paper, leaving Fitch to have Phoenix by process of elimination.”

He stuck his toothpick in his mouth and leaned back in his chair as everyone stared at him. Maybe he could be an ace detective in his post-naval career. He was a bit of a genius when it came to deduction, apparently.

Phoenix turned back to the group. “So we leave out Bagman next time?”

“Hey!"

[foreverrandomwritings]

Hi M! Congratulations on 100 followers! 🥳 (101 now because I just realised I wasn't following you! 😱 Silly me!)

I would love to request Bob Floyd and “do you see her laughing? okay, then. stop.” from the defending a lover prompts.

I hope you have a fabulous day 🥰

Laser Tag

Summary: Laser tag had been all fun and games until an entitled prick decided to ruin it. But you can always count on your boyfriend Bob to save the day.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x afab!Reader

Warnings: Uhmmmm, assualt, harrasment, swearing, uhm kinda gets a little dark so beware.

Word count: 1325

Masterlist M's Hundred Celly Masterlist

You and your boyfriend Bob and the aviators from his squad and their significant others had all been trying to figure out something fun for the group of you to do. Dog fight football, beach days and the hard deck were definitely something you all enjoyed doing but it was also something you had all grown kinda bored of. So that’s how you found yourself at laser tag. It was supposed to be everyone and then you guys would break off into teams and go against each other. 

But the day of, you got a call from Payback that all three of their kids had gotten strep so they would be home taking care of them. Then Harvard texted and said he was too hung over to attend. Omaha texted saying he was having car trouble. Then Yale didn’t want to come because Harvard wouldn’t be there. Halo called to say that her fiance had fallen off a ladder and they were on their way to the ER to check for a concussion but that he was acting pretty fine. Then Fritz was on a mission so he wouldn’t be attending either. So it was just you, Bob, Phoenix and her girlfriend, Hangman, Rooster, Fanboy and his girlfriend and Coyote. With the uneven numbers they threw in a single player to one of the groups. 

Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, Fanboy and his girlfriend were all in one group. Which left Phoenix, her girlfriend, Bob, you and the random guy on a team. He gave you the creeps immediately. He looked seedy and like daddy’s money had gotten him anything he wanted in life. His hair, teeth, skin and clothes were all just too perfect. The way his eyes seemed to undress every woman in the room made your skin crawl. You figured you could just finish this game and then you’d never have to see him again. 

The bell rang and everyone ran, some trying to find hiding spots, some trying to find vantage points to shoot their opponents. It had all been going so smoothly and had proven to be a lot of fun. You had managed to shoot Rooster and Hangman a handful of times when you had caught them making out rather than playing the game. Your team had been up by about a hundred points for a while now. Bob was extremely silent and made quick work of sneaking up on people. Every once in a while you would see each other and fist bump or high five, big mighty grins on both of your faces. 

Rounding the corner of one of the walls you found yourself at a dead end. You turned around to find a different way to go when you were pushed back. You stumbled catching yourself with one of your hands on the walls. Your gun clattered to the ground loudly snapping away from your vest as you were pushed again. You could barely make out the person in the darkness of the large room. If it wasn’t for the glowing blue lights from both of your vests you weren’t sure you’d have been able to make them out at all. 

Immediate panic rose in your body as you laid your eyes on the guy that had been added to your team. He had a large smile on his face as he caged you in against the wall. You tried to duck under his arms but that made him pull your hair harshly slamming it against the wall. You hissed loudly at the feeling of your head meeting the wall. You opened your mouth to scream but he covered it quickly. He had dropped his gun as well, the object swinging from where it was tethered to his vest. 

“Now now baby, don’t want anyone to catch us having fun now would ya?” Tears were coming down your face as the reality of what was going to happen set in. You closed your eyes as his face came towards yours he buried his nose into your neck and inhaled deeply. You could hear your heart beating in your ears as he licked a strip up your neck. You shuddered at the gross wet feeling. Silently you were pleading for someone, anyone to find you.

“You’re gonna keep real quiet and we’re gonna play okay?” You shook your head vigorously, eyes snapping open, begging for him to let you go. He licked his lips in response, his hand going to the vest you were wearing. He tried to unclasp it and he almost had it when he was ripped off you. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your eyes found your boyfriend standing there with the guy pinned to the wall. He cursed very rarely so hearing him do so sent a shiver down your spine. You had never seen Bob as angry as he was right now. 

“We were just fooling around, man. It was just a little joke. Get off me.” The guy tried to shrug off the grip that Bob had on his vest. But that only made Bob angrier and he slammed him into the wall. The anger was radiating off of his body as he seethed at him. 

“Do you see her laughing?” Bob’s eyes darted to yours, softening as he took in the tears on your face. The guy tried once again to get Bob to let him go. But Bob held him steady, being the same height made it easy for Bob to keep his grip on him. 

“I said, do you see her laughing?” Bob’s country drawl was thick with his words. 

“No.” The guy whispered out, he looked down at the ground seemingly ashamed. But you knew he was ashamed at what he did and was going to do, just that he had gotten caught. 

“Okay, then. Stop acting like what you were about to do was consensual in any way shape or form.” You saw Coyote coming up on the three of you. He had dropped his gun as he saw Bob holding the guy against the wall. 

“What’s going on here Bob?” He asked the backseater eyes flicking between the guy, Bob and yourself. 

“Take him to the lobby and don’t let him go until I get there.” He pushed the guy towards Coyote and then he was turning to you. You shuttered as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. 

“How’d you find me?” You asked him through your tears that were still steadily working down your face. He brushed them away soothingly, studying your eyes. He was back to your soft, gentle Bob now. 

“I hadn’t seen you in a while and got a little worried. I asked everyone if they had seen you and Phoenix’s girlfriend said she saw you around here. I headed this way and saw that guy. I knew he was bad news when I saw him in the lobby.” His voice got low as he finished the sentence. Regret filling him that he hadn’t said or done anything when he first had the gut feeling the guy was creepy. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner sweet girl.” You could see tears in his eyes, the fear coursing through him of what could’ve happened to you if he was any later.

“It’s alright Bobby, you got here right in time.” You pulled him towards you, giving him a small peck on the lips. You both walked towards the front and called the local law enforcement. Once they got there the guy tried to deny what he did multiple times. He also tried to bribe the officers to which they scoffed. You had learned that his dad was an admiral at the base they all worked at. That this also wasn’t the first time that he had done something like this. His dad would typically get him out of it but you guys were gonna make sure he got what he deserved this time.

A/N: I'm sorry that this literally took me forever to post! Thank you so much for this request and I hope you are also having a fabulous day.

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @princess76179 @loving-and-dreaming @eternallyvenus

[kinzis-writing]

Only Exception | Robert “Bob” Floyd pt. 3

Summary: it’s finally time for the dreaded “suicide mission” and Y/N now has to worry about her father, boyfriend, and best friend. How can she distract herself while the people most important to her are gone?

Warning(s): mentions of anxiety, death, reader worrying themselves sick, worst thoughts possible.

Series Masterlist: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, & Part Four

*Not Edited!*.

p.s: I didn't keep my taglist because I know it has almost been a year since I have written. I know people can change their minds in that long, so my taglist is open, just let me know if you want on it! Be sure to mention if you want on my permanent taglist, top gun, certain characters and so on!

*Gif Not Mine*

It was time, it was the day that Y/N dreaded more than anything. The day that the three most important people in her life would leave. The day that she wouldn’t hear from them or know if they made it home until the mission was over. Bob had stayed the night with the girl as they shared some intimate moments between one another. Y/N had stopped before sex, claiming that it was something for when he got home. Hoping and praying that it would encourage him to come back safely. Their night was spent with kisses stolen and just genuine feelings between the two. Bob had gotten a small amount of sleep, while Y/N didn't sleep at all. She had a lot to lose today, and she knew that.

“You ready to head towards base?” Bob asked the girl softly. He knew that she dreaded this day more than anything. Bob wished that her could promise his return, however, he knew that it wasn’t possible to promise to come back. They started calling it a suicide mission for a reason. Even though Y/N didn’t know exactly what the mission was, her gut didn’t feel right after seeing how her father, rooster, and bob had acted around her.

Y/N nodded in reply to Bob’s question, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” She mumbled as she stood up and grabbed her keys before the couple made their way out to her car. Bob was leaving his truck parked at her house instead of leaving it parked on base. He knew as soon as the girl found out that he was home that she wouldn’t waste anytime coming to pick him up.

Bob watched as the girl kept her gaze straight ahead, the tears coming to surface in her eyes was something that the navy boy didn’t miss. He hated being part of the reason why she was upset and anxious, but he knew it came with the job. That was part of the reason was previously single, it didn’t help that he was shy at first, but he also knew what the job required. “I’m sorry to be part of the reason you’re upset.” He whispered as he leaned over a placed a hand on the girl’s thigh.

The Mitchell girl left out a sigh as she inhaled and exhaled before glancing over at her boyfriend for a moment and then back to the road. “Don’t apologize. I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you, Bobby.” She replied. “Being on base is going to be hard since I have to stay in the dark.” She mumbled as she came to the outskirts of the Navy base.

“You took the navy job?” The boy next to her asked as she nodded. She hadn’t told anyone, but it was the only job offer that she currently had and a job would keep her mind settled. “It’s only a six-month contract, but it will work while I look for another job.” She mumbled as she stopped at the gate and got into the base. “I have to get my name tag and everything made this morning so I’ll be here until take off.”

The car was pulled into a parking space only a few minutes upon entering the base. They knew what It meant, and they weren’t ready for it. Y/N knew that her dad would pick Rooster, phoenix, and bob for sure. Not sure who else he would pick. Mainly because she knew that he believed in how they work and how they are good at their job. “So, this is it, huh?” Y/N sighed as the pair got out and leaned against the girls car. Phoenix was over by Roosters Ford and she knew that her father was inside getting ready to fly the mission as well. Even though he wasn’t suppose to fly it, Y/N knew her father and how he would get his way in flying this mission. “I know you can’t make promises, but you better come back to me in one piece, Floyd.”

Bob gave the girl a small smile. Y/N had never used any other name than Bobby and he knew that her anxiety was at an all time high. “Listen, Y/N, I like you a lot and I would definitely promise to come back home if I could. If something were to happen today… just know that the time we spent together was the best time of my life.”

The Mitchell girl never cried in front of people, well, she tried not too that is. She always had the “tough” persona when it came to certain emotions. Today, today was the first day that she cried in front of people and didn’t even care. “I love you, Bobby.” She whispered before pulling him in so she could kiss him. “Please try your hardest to come back.”

Bob nodded and opened his mouth to speak but before he could another voice shouted after him, “hey bob!” The voice of Natasha brought the couple out of there intimate moment. “You ready to head in?” The Floyd boy nodded before placing a kiss on Y/N’s forehead and heading towards his pilot with a soft Farewell to his lover.

The Mitchell girl hurried to get inside so she could also tell her father and best friend goodbye and to come back in one piece as well. She needed to talk to Bradley and her father before they left and before she went to finalize her job. “Dad!” The girl called as she saw Pete walking towards where all the aviators were gathering. “I love you, please fly safe and come back in one piece.” The girl then pulled her dad into a hug, and he kissed the top of her head gently. He knew what this mission intel’s and hated keeping his daughter in the quiet. He also knew it was classified information and he would get in trouble if he were to tell anyone besides his naval aviators. “I don’t know if I’ll get to see Bradley, If I don’t can you tell him that I love him and I hope he comes home as well. You two need to not be reckless and get whatever it is done and out.” The Mitchell girl stated as she watched her dad nod.

“That’s the plan.” Pete told his daughter as he noticed all the navy members lined up. “I’ll keep an eye on all of them, especially Bob.” He teased.

“Hey, Bob isn’t the pilot.” Y/N mumbled before bidding goodbye to her father and walked towards the med-unit in the base. Arriving to the unit, no one was there. She knew that it may be because the aviators were being looked over before they took off for their mission to make sure they were safe enough to fly.

After about 25 minutes of waiting, the door to the med-unit finally opened and in walked an older woman. She was probably in her late forties or early fifties. She wasn’t old, but she was much older than the Mitchell girl. “Hello dear, can I help you?” She asked kindly while she went to throwing some of her items away and then getting her other items organized.

“I’m here for the position. I was supposed to get everything ready for my first shift.” Y/N told the current nurse working there. The woman nodded and reached into a drawer and pulled out the paperwork that needed to be on file for the Mitchell girl.

“Fill this out and I will go set up the photo station for your badge.” She mumbled. Y/N took a seat on one of the soft cushioned chairs and began filling out her paper work. Common questions like name, birthday, nurse registry number, allergies, so on and so forth was asked. “It’s ready when you get your papers filled out. My name is Darla, it’s nice to meet the girl they’re replacing me with.” She told the younger girl.

“Are you retiring?” Y/N asked softly as she handed the clipboard with information to the older nurse. She knew that in certain circumstances you can retire at an earlier age on a military base than you can bedside in a hospital.

“No, I got another job. My niece helped me get it, apparently they fired a nurse at the local hospital due to neglect and I applied when they posted the job.” She answered Y/N’s question while the two headed to the photo room to take a badge photo.

“Neglect huh?” Y/N asked as she stood in front of the board that had a white background so she could get her nurses badge made.

To be honest, the younger girl’s blood was boiling. She was 99% sure that the position that the navy nurse had gotten was her old job. Of course, the hospital had put down neglect for the reason they fired her, but how could they have paid out her contract if they were telling everyone she neglected her patients. It wasn’t on her nursing record or anything, so it made no sense.

“Our boss wanted me to go ahead and give you the schedule, you start tomorrow morning.” The older woman told her as she handed her all the packets, her badge, and her schedule. “There is another nurse that they alternate you with. A few that they had hired had their contract run out, so there’s only a couple nurses left until another contract is signed or something else happens.” She explained.

Pretty soon Y/N left and the current nurse got called to the cafeteria for a fire mishap with the cooks. Y/N knew that the team had already left to head to the aircraft carrier and that she wouldn’t hear from them for days and maybe even weeks. This was going to be hard and she knew it.

**

It had been days since the girl had saw Bob, her father, and Bradley. It felt as if she was never going to see them again, seemingly because she was not allowed to be told anything. She had been working in the med-unit on Top Gun’s base for four days and was not staying busy. It was not like bedside nursing, since you were constantly on your feet, having to deal with a code, or so on. It had almost been a week since she had any contact with her boyfriend and to say the girl was growing nervous was an understatement.

“Med-nurse needed in admiral office.” The radio that was connected to the girl’s unit wall came through. Y/N grabbed the things she may need before she headed out to the main office on base, she knew that it may be something minor, however, it didn’t help her nerves any. “We don’t have much time so I am going to tell you so you can get to work. We have two aviators being transferred from the aircraft to here. We need you to get two beds ready.”

“Yes, sir.” The Mitchell girl spoke sternly before leaving and hurrying back to her med-unit so she could get the beds ready for the two aviators. The girl’s anxiety was extremely high, she knew that it was probably bob and phoenix or someone that was starting to get close with. Once the beds were set up in two different rooms, she went ahead and started to get her bedside trays ready with what she may need when examining whoever was coming home and being rushed to the

med-unit. “Get them in the beds now, they need to be examined to make sure they have no further injuries.” The voice that Y/N knew had to be Jake Seresin voiced out in a worried tone.

“Hangman, know your place.” A stern older voice called down to the other aviator.

“I saved their asses for a reason, no one deserves to lose a family member.” Hangman muttered from what the girl could hear.

Y/N shook her head before standing up and opening the door to the first bed just in time for two. Aviators to carry in Rooster for the first bed, next two more aviators took her father to Bed two. Both men were awake, Rooster had visible injuries on his face and Pete looked overall okay. Once the other aviators went out to the waiting area, Y/N turned to two of the most important guys in her life. “Why am I not surprised it was you two?” she muttered before grabbing her items and wheeling her cart over to Rooster to fix his visible injuries up first.

“To be fair, Mav saved me.” Rooster spoke as he winced when the younger girl started cleaning his visible wounds. The two men had stripped the top of their uniform off and let it hang so they were just in white tees on the top.

“You shouldn’t have come back for me, kid.” Pete mumbled as he watched his daughter do what she went to school for. He had not ever got to see her when she was working.

“Well as stupid as you two are, it doesn’t seem to be that bad. Of course, they’ll want to the doctor to examine for internal damage.” Y/N spoke as the two navy aviators watched their family member do her job. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved when it wasn’t Bob that they drug in.”

Rooster gave the girl a smirk, “Y/N’s in love.” He teased as the girl rolled her eyes before moving onto her father who was waiting to be examined. “Seriously though, I told Phoenix that your wrath was horrible.”

“It wouldn’t have been her fault.” Y/N expressed as she just found some gnarly bruises on her father and no open wounds. “The doctor should be here in a minute, if he thinks you have no internal damage or bleeding then you’ll be good to go.” She mumbled as she went and threw her garbage away.

She didn’t know what to do next. Should she go look for Bob or would she be better to stay in the room until the doctor got there? She wasn’t sure. She knew she wanted to go find Bob but it also wouldn’t be completely correct to do that.

“Y/N.” Pete finally spoke up, causing the girl to look at her father. “Bob’s a good kid. He really cares for you and I just want you to know that I don’t think you could’ve found better for you out of this class.” Y/N gave her father a small smile before noticing Bradley’s sour expression.

“Excuse me?” Bradley mumbled in faux hurt. “I’m joking, it’s gross. You’re my little sis.” He spoke trying to seem like he was bothered by Pete’s words but couldn’t act like he was.

Y/N bit her lip before taking in a deep breathe, “I love him, I really do.” She mumbled and before she could say anything else the naval doctor came in to look over everything. After about an hour of thorough examination and to make sure there wasn’t anything to be worried about they got dismissed. Y/N, being their nurse, walked them back out to the waiting area where most

of the men and woman who went on the mission was waiting. The only ones missing were Bob and Phoenix. Y/N knew he was okay, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed since he was gone. “Hey Jake,” Y/N called grabbing everyone’s attention. “Can I talk to you for minute?” She asked as the man nodded and followed her back into her med-room. “I just want to say thank you, for helping my father and Bradley. I heard what you said in the hallway earlier and it means a lot.”

Hangman shrugged like it didn’t mean anything, “You’re welcome.” He settled instead of saying his usual smart remark. “Whether they believe it or not, no man left behind.” He mumbled quietly before giving the girl a pat on the shoulder and leaving the room.

Y/N sighed as she took a seat, her neck had been killing her because she hadn’t slept good in almost a week and she just wanted to get some rest. “Were you talking to Hangman?” The voice she loved so much spoke making her jump up from her seat and turn around. “I’m sorry I wasn’t outside I was with Phoenix, she was worried about Rooster.” He mumbled.

The Mitchell girl didn’t care where he was when she wanted to see him first, what mattered was that he was here now. He was safe and on the ground. “I was so worried about you.” She muttered. Before walking over to him and pulling him into a hug.

“I’m fine.” Bob whispered as his eyes raked over the girl in front of him. “Have I ever mentioned how good you look in your scrubs?” He asked as the girl playfully rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. “It’s a turn on definitely.” He mumbled.

Y/N shook her head as she let out a small laugh before pulling his neck so his lips met with hers. She missed this. She missed him, knowing he was fine and was here, missed the way she felt when he was near her. She missed everything about the guy in front of her.

“I love you,” Bob started as they pulled away from their intimate kiss. “I meant to say it back but Phoenix got me away from you too fast before we left.” He mumbled.

“I can’t wait to have you to myself tonight.” She mumbled as she laid her head on his chest and fiddled with the buttons of his navy uniform. Truth be told her mind couldn’t process that he was back and safe. She knew that this wouldn’t be the first mission that she would be worried for him, but she knew that none of that mattered right now.

“The group wanted to get together at the hard deck for a few tonight? Does that sound good and then we’ll leave early and head to yours?” Bob asked softly as he pushed some hair out of the girls face.

“Sounds perfect.”

[make-me-imagine]

Secret Santa: Part One

12 Days of Christmas: Day 10

Plot: When you and the squad end up taking part in a Secret Santa exchange. The gifts you receive end up being love confessions. But who are they from?

[Bob's Ending] [Fanboy's Ending] [Hangman's Ending] [Rooster's Ending] [Maverick's Ending]

Pairing: Gn!Reader x ??? (Choose your own character ending) *Possible Endings: Bob, Fanboy, Rooster, Hangman & Maverick

Words: 2.9k

A/n: Bob and Fanboys endings will be posted Christmas Eve. And the other three will come out Christmas Day. I will add the links to this fic once they are posted.

-

Walking towards the training room, you heard the familiar voices of the other pilots. You had been reunited with the dagger squad, and some other pilots you knew from the past. Another mission, another training program, trained once again by Maverick.

Through the grueling training and test flights, you were enjoying your time being with the others again. Though you had to admit you were excited about one, more than the others, but you were sure they didn't know that.

As you entered the room, your eyes cast over the group. Hangman and Rooster were bickering as usual, while Bob and Phoenix rolled their eyes. Fanboy, Payback and Coyote watched silently, sharing the occasional look.

Seeing you enter Jake turned in his seat "Y/n, perfect, perhaps you could solve our little problem."

"Nope, no." You shook your head as you took your seat, "Do not drag me into whatever is going on, I don't want to be a part of it."

Phoenix and Bob snickered as Jake leaned over"Come on, I think you'd be on my side."

"Like hell they would." Rooster broke in.

You shook your head with a soft smile as you saw Maverick enter. "Pilots, good morning." He said with a cheery voice.

His eyes ran over you and the others as he walked past. In his hands was a Santa hat.

As he stopped at the podium he looked at all of you in silence for a short moment. "Before we start our training today, I thought we might have a little Christmas fun."

You quirked your brow and sat up a bit, you saw the others do the same.

"Sir?" Bob asked with a curious tone.

"Secret Santa!" He said with a smile.

A small murmur went over the group as Maverick shook the hat in his hands. "In this hat are all of our names. You will each pick a name, and over the next three days, starting tomorrow, you have to give your person three gifts."

"Three?" Jake spoke up.

"Yes, three. On day three, by the end of the day, you must give me a slip of paper with the name of the person you gifted, and the name of the person you think is your gift giver. If you guess correctly, you get a day off of training. If you are wrong. You will be cleaning up after the Christmas party."

A small groan came from the group as you all pictured what mess would be left behind after that.

"There are two rules. One, don't get caught leaving your person a gift, or you are disqualified. Two, do not tell anyone who your person is."

As Maverick walked around holding the hat out for everyone to take a name, your eyes scanned over everyone. You wonder who would be the easiest person to buy a gift for. Your eyes lingered on one person as you thought of a thousand things you could get them.

"If you get yourself, grab a different name." He said softly as he continued down the line.

Getting to you, he gave you a small smile as you reached in. Pulling out a slip of paper you opened it to read 'Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace.' You smiled softly before closing the paper and shoving it in your pocket.

After everyone had chosen their names, the class went on like usual, though you knew everyone was a bit distracted, thinking of what to get their chosen person. Though it wasn't a competition, a familiar buzz ran through the room.

You tried not to look at Phoenix, not wanting to give away she was who you got. But you did glance around, wondering if you might find someone looking at you.

You would be lying if you didn't have someone particular in mind as to who you hoped might be your secret Santa. The same person you thought would be the easiest to buy for. Though, the luck of them getting you was pretty small.

By the end of training you had enough time left to go out and try to find a gift for Phoenix. You had thought long and hard about the types of gifts she might like, but you still struggled. Knowing she had a thing for antique and vintage objects, you thought going to an antique store might do the trick.

Walking through the store, you looked at various objects, before finally landing on an old hourglass carved out of wood. It was certainly unique, and looked old. Buying it, you hoped she would like it. Knowing you wouldn't really know for a few days.

Making it back to the base after another hour of shopping you felt relieved, having bought three gifts for Phoenix, and some wrapping paper.

As you walked down the corridor, you saw Bob walking towards you. He smiled and his eyes caught on the wrapping paper in your hands.

"Don't tell me you got all your gifts already?" He asked with mild surprise.

You smiled "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't" You said jokingly as you continued past him, seeing him smile at you as he nodded in understanding.

As you rounded the corner, you looked back, seeing him disappear around the corner. 'I bet he's a great gift giver' You thought to yourself as you made your way back to your room.

Unpacking your shopping bags, you looked at the gifts you got Natasha. The hourglass, a gift card for one of her favorite shops she could never convince herself to buy something from, and a Phoenix pendant necklace you managed to find by chance in a cute shop near the beach. You had almost jumped in excitement when you saw it.

After wrapping the gifts, you finally went to sleep, your last thoughts being about who may have picked your name from the hat.

--- --- ---

During your break in between training the next day, you snuck Natasha's first present out of your room and quickly made your way to her room. Setting the present down in front of her door, you rushed back to your room. Breathing a breath of relief as no one spotted you.

As you rounded the corner to your room, you stopped as you spotted a bouquet of flowers placed at your door.

"Wha-" You looked back down the hall in bewilderment.

You had only been gone for a few minutes, and you hadn't seen or heard anyone else.

"Sneaky" You whispered to yourself as you walked up to your door.

Picking up the flowers, you smiled at them. It was a beautiful bouquet of Gardenias in an ornamental Christmas colored vase. You smelled them as you made your way into your room.

You knew it was a well known fact that you loved flowers, and often knew the meaning behind them, enjoying the symbolism of each individual flower. You were teased by some of the others about this in the past, which didn't really narrow down who might be your secret Santa.

"Gardenias" You muttered to yourself as you tried to remember the meaning behind them.

Seeing a small note in the flowers, you pulled it out to see a short typed note.

'There's importance in the symbolism.'

You smiled as you remembered saying this once when the others were teasing you about why you were so determined to get the right flowers for someone as a gift.

Thinking back to that moment, you tried to remember who was in the room. Maverick, Hangman, Rooster, Bob, Fanboy and Coyote. Well, that doesn't narrow it down much.

"Appreciation? No, that's not it. Joy!" You knew that was at least one of them.

Setting the flowers on your table, you pulled out your phone to look it up. As you scrolled through the meaning of gardenias, your eyes caught on one particular meaning.

"Secret Love?" You asked softly, your heart beating heavily in your chest.

No, it could be the 'you're lovely' meaning. Just a friendly message. Not an admission. Unless it was?

As someone popped into your head, you felt a mild sense of hope, before you pushed it away. It might be a mistake. They may not have seen the meaning of gardenias as secret love.

You decided not to focus on this too much. Not until you knew more, maybe the next gift would tell you?

Hearing your alarm, you made your way out of your room for your next test flight. You took one last look at the flowers as you went.

As much as you tried, the idea of the flowers left for you being a confession stuck in your mind. You couldn't help but look at the others, wondering if it could be any of them.

You had hopeful thoughts for one, but that was all it was. Hope. There wasn't anything that made it seem obvious that they had feelings for you. Nor had there been from any of the others.

You were close to all of them, good friends. But secret love? You really weren't sure.

--- --- ---

The next day the pilots were abuzz with talk of their presents. Each trying to trick their Secret Santa into giving themselves away. Everyone eyed each other with suspicious gazes.

Natasha briefly mentioned the hourglass, and you could tell she had liked it. That was all the gratification you needed.

You kept your present to yourself, knowing that everyone would tease you about the flowers. Asking what their meaning was. You didn't want to out the meaning in case it was a mistake. So you played coy, only making everyone else more curious.

"Maybe their secret Santa forgot to give them their present?" Fanboy asked as he eyed you, his chin resting on the back of the chair in front of him.

You smiled softly at him and made a motion of a zipper across your lips as you looked to the front of the class as Maverick entered.

"Alright everyone, I know you are all talking about your secret Santa's Anyone get caught leaving a present?"

The was silence among the crowd and Maverick smiled "Good, stealth is important, I'd be disappointed if anyone got caught."

You were nervous to head back to your room after training. Expecting another present to be left for you. There was an odd sense of suspense, that you weren't sure was based around excitement or dread.

As you rounded the corner, and your eyes locked onto your door, you felt an odd pang in your chest as you saw nothing sitting at your door. Maybe they hadn't had time to leave it? Maybe they changed their mind on the prssent?

Getting to your door, you opened it, accepting that you were a bit disappointed. As you stepped into your room, you flinched as a small box fell from your door and bounced off your head, landing on the ground.

"What the hell?" You asked perplexed as you looked up at your door, seeing a small piece of tape, had been holding the box there. "How the hell-" You mumbled off as you reached down and grabbed the box.

You looked over at the window, wondering if they used it to get in. Or maybe they got the key?

Opening the small box, your heart was racing. Would this present give away another secret? Would it confirm or deny the meaning of the flowers? And why tape it to the door?

Seeing a small chain, you grabbed it and pulled it out, revealing a small glass apple on the end. It was cute, but you wondered why they chose it of all things.

Seeing a piece of paper in the box, you pulled it out. Taking a deep breath as you opened it.

Another typed out message.

'Did you know in Ancient Greece, to throw an apple at someone was a declaration of love?'

Your breath caught in your throat as you read over the message again and again. To throw an apple? So the rigged the box to fall on you as though they were throwing it at you?

You wanted to laugh, but your heart was hammering too heavily. You sat on your bed and looked over at the gardenias. So it did mean secret love. That wasn't a misunderstanding.

As you sat there, thinking it over, more realizations came to mind.

The person who got you happened to be in love with you, and was now using the secret Santa exchange as a way to tell you.

You let out a long drawn out breath. You were touched, and excited, yet nervous. There was only one person out of all the pilots these gifts would really mean something from. If it was any of the others, could you ever feel the same?

Who would know about Ancient Greece? You wondered. It definitely seemed like some odd fact Bob, Rooster or Fanboy might pick up at some point. Hangman could be a secret romantic. Maverick was playing the game too and he knew a lot about random things.

You felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety wash over you. Lying down you stared up at your cieling as you held the small apple necklace to your chest. It wasn't obvious who it could be. Would it be an insult to this person to keep hoping it was one specific person?

It would only hurt you more if you kept hoping it was them, and you were wrong.

Maybe the third gift would give it away. Sitting up, it suddenly donned on you that you needed to leave Natasha her second gift.

"Shit." You muttered as you looked over at envelope with the gift card. I could slip it into her locker, you thought. Or slip it under her door.

This secret Santa exchange took such a different turn than you were expecting, and you really didn't know how to act.

Looking at the clock, you saw it was nearly time to head out. You were all heading out to get dinner. You'd take the envelope with you, hoping to find a moment to slip it into her bag or car sometime during the night.

And maybe you could gather some hints about who might be your secret...admirer?

--- --- ---

As you walked across the tarmac the next day, your eyes landed on the person walking up to you.

"Nice time." Rooster said as he slowed in his step.

"Thanks, think you can beat it?" You asked with a teasing tone.

"I know I can." He winked before continuing past you and towards his jet.

You smiled and shook your head softly as you headed towards the locker room. After a long day of training, you were finally done.

You even managed to slip the last gift for Phoenix into her bag this morning. Having slipped the envelope under her door the previous night once you got back from the dinner.

During said dinner, hen the topic of secret Santa came up, you tried to pay attention To hints of who might be your secret Santa. But you learned nothing, everyone was keeping it close to their chests.

Today was the last day of the Secret Santa exchange. By eight this evening you had to give Maverick a slip of paper with your guess on it. You had yet to receive your third gift, and had yet to figure out who it was.

Opening your locker, you watched as an envelope fell to the floor. You looked around, seeing and hearing no one else in the room. Picking it up, you opened it, with your heart beating faster than before.

The third gift, what would it be? A full length confession? A gift card?

As you pulled two slips of paper out, your mouth opened slightly in surprise.

One slip was a ticket to a Christmas festival behind held about an hour away tomorrow night. You had wanted to go, but the tickets sold out too fast.

The second piece of paper was a short note, once again typed out.

'I have the other ticket, find me there.'

You stared at the paper in contemplation. So they had every intention of you finding out who they were after all. 'Find me there.'

It had to be someone who knew you wanted to go to the festival. Who did you mention it to?

Thinking back on it you sighed. Five of them knew about the ticket. That hardly narrowed it down. Though you were still aware that that specific someone always on your mind was one of them.

Tucking the ticket and note back into the envelope you put it in your duffle. You needed to decide what to do.

Not only who to guess, but whether or not you were ready to find out who they were. To find out who apparently had hidden feelings for you.

Your mind was heavy with uncertainty as you headed to Maverick's office at the end of the day. As you knocked on the door and handed him the paper, your heart was never steady.

You didn't know who you would find at the festival tomorrow, but you knew who you wanted it to be. Whether or not it was them, you would go, you had to. And if it was someone that you didn't have feelings for, well, you would deal with it then. No matter what.

Even with the nerve wracking thought it was unrequited love you might be finding at the festival, the hope that it was not unrequited, that it was a shared feeling, hidden between the two of you, made it worth the risk.

You just hoped you still thought that tomorrow.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Top Gun Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal, @springflwer07, @pockyandme, @iceman-kazansky, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @callsignmaverick5, @phoenix1389

Hangman/Rooster Taglist: @readingwithatorch,

[pastabake017]

Bradshaw’s

hello there! i’m ollie and im just testing out my writing style here, i hope you enjoy!

summary: Robin and Rooster engage in an argument causing them to miss the warnings of a storm coming in⛈️

Pairings: Robin Bradshaw (my oc)X Bob floyd, established relationship(🤭)

warnings: swearing, arguing, injury (not detailed tho), Bit angsty lol!

Please lmk if there are any spelling or grammar errors 🫶

✮ ✮ ✮

“Rooster were falling really behind, we gotta move!” Robin shouted into her mask, desperate trying to get her team leader to pick up the pace. She knew if they failed the practice course again, flying the actual mission would be out of the question.

“No, we can make up time in the straight away, maintain your speed!” Rooster ordered back at her. To her annoyance, they reached the target but a minute late, meaning they had aloud time for the enemy planes to attack.

“Great, maverick is gonna kill us.” Payback sighed over coms.

“Maybe, but we reached the target how could he kill us for that.” Rooster barked back.

“You don’t get it do you? If we flew at your speed on the actual mission, we’d be dead right now.” Robin argued,

“You don’t know that!”

“Were not flying fast enough, the enemy would have intercepted us by now you stupid fuck!”

“Then it’s a dogfight!”

“Against 5th generation fighters? yeah right.” Robin scoffed. Between the twos bickering they’d failed to pick up on the strong winds they had flown into. Payback and Fanboy had been long back to base at this point, leaving the siblings to argue. They had been greeted by the other aviators who were confused at the absence of the Bradshaws. Especially a one WSO.

“Payback? Where’s Robin? Did you leave her and rooster out there?” Bob questioned the taller man as he walked towards to hanger, Payback just stayed silent, not wanting to escalate the situation,Bob lunged towards him in an attempt to strike his face but he was held back by Fanboy,“You asshole! How could you leave her? Did you even try to warn them?”

“Lieutenant Floyd, I think thats quite enough.” Cyclone shouted, allowing Payback to explain his piece.

Straightening his flight suit after the tussle, sending daggers towards Bob,

“We tried to warn them about the storm, but they were to busy arguing about speed and time to notice, Im sure they’ll be fine-“

Payback answered before being cut off by a sudden flash then thunder clap. A worried look adorned the aviators faces, racing to the communications room. Phoenix flicked on the radio to hear the panicked shout of Rooster.

“Robin! Eject! Eject!” he kept repeating but she wasn’t listening,

“No-I can- I can do it.” her voice was frantic, focused on trying to save herself from crashing. Her F-18 had been struck by lightning and her engines were starting to die one by one and she was getting to close to the ground.

“Robin you need to eject now! You can’t save the jet but you can save yourself! Think about Bob!” Rooster attempted to plead with her, when Robin heard Bobs name she looked down her the ring on her finger, remembering the promise she made to him. She knew she couldn’t fix it but ejecting from the plane seemed like the worst case scenario for Robin as it was the only part of flying she feared the most,the fear stemmed from her father and the stories her mother used to tell her about when he used to fly, and how an ejection from a jet going wrong was what killed her father. But with no other way of fixing the flames starting to creep up the wings Robin knew what she had to do to get back to Bob. A final attempt of re-engaging the engines failed and they all finally gave out, the jet fell eerily silent it was now too late for any Maverick type manoeuvre the only option was for Robin to eject, with a deep breath to clear her head Robin reached for the handles and pulled hard, sending her flying into the air away from her jet, away from her brother and away from where anyone could probably find her.

✮ ✮ ✮

Ringing. Was the first thing Robin heard when she came to. Her right cheek was pressed firmly into the dessert sand that had dried up signalling to Robin she’d been out here for a while as the storm was long gone. Waves of pain started to make their way across her body as she tried to move and assess her injuries, it took all her effort to just press her palms to the ground and try to sit up. However she only managed to flip herself onto her back, sending a shock of pain through her body. Attempting to look around was hindered impossible by the sun that was now beating down on her bare face, compared with the fatal storm that had brought her jet down in the first place. Looking down at her hands she noticed her ring still firmly on her finger, sighing to herself as she thought that she would’ve have definitely lost it.

She thought about the day Bob had gave it to her, it wasn’t long after they arrived at top gun. She had found a note attached to her helmet in the locker room reading that she should meet Bob on the beach after their class that day, unfortunately for Robin, Bob had not grown up near top gun so he got lost while trying to get back to where he’d set up his proposal. By this point Robin had figured out what he was trying to do and had said “Bob, i don’t care where we are or how you do it just ask me to marry you will you? i’ve been waiting too long!” Robin chuckled to herself as she remembered Bobs face when he found out she knew, of course she did, Bradshaw’s know everything.

Robin sighed to herself, bring her mind back to the present and her current situation, she couldn’t do anything but wait for search and rescue, as down here she couldn’t fully asses her injuries but by the amount of pain she was in she knew they weren’t going to be easy to fix. Pulling off her helmet she felt an agonising pain where her goggles had been, she brought a hand up towards her forehead running over where she thought the pain was coming from, she felt something drying onto and into her hair, blood. Her major senses were impaired, she couldn’t feel anything, hear anything other than ringing or hardly see anything due to her glasses being shattered when her head hit the ground.

The relief she felt when she saw the blurred out line of a search and rescue medic coming towards her was immense, she felt tears pricking her eyes. There was someone behind the medic dressed in a pilots uniform but Robin couldn’t make out who it was.

“Robin! Oh my god! Hey its gonna be okay, you’ll be okay. Don’t panic.” a muffled familiar voice said as they knelt down beside Robin. Rooster beckoned over to the medic that it was safe before attempting to comfort his sister.

She opened her mouth the speak but nothing came out, she wanted to scream and tell them how much pain she was in but she couldn’t make a sound. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and that she wanted Bob to know she loved him too, but her voice was course and quiet so Rooster couldn’t hear her over the helicopter propelers

The medic brought over a stretcher and called Rooster to help move the younger girl onto it. But the pain of being hoisted onto a flat surface overcame Robin and her world went black before they even reached the helicopter.

✮ ✮ ✮

[lenafromthenordiccoven]

Let's seeee if I can keep my current writing streak. I can hopefully get the next Bobby smut up sometime next week. But I'm already giggling at the title and premise 🤭

I meaaaan, Yes, ma'am just fits really well 😂

[sweetestficrecs]

hello! this is my sideblog where i reblog writings (and sometimes other stuff) i enjoy!!

multifandom but mostly harry styles, steve harrington, and top gun 🤠 (i tag every post with the names of whoever they’re about sooo just search my blog if you’re looking for someone in specific)

if you have any fics you want to recommend, ask me to reblog, or have any questions my asks and/or messages are always open :)

and last but not least.... remember to support fic writers! 💌