#bob floyd x reader

[t1red-twilight]

masterlist b. f. masterlist blurbs

when you came to, you realized you weren’t alone anymore. the last thing you remembered was laying down on the couch to watch some tv, but you must’ve fallen asleep somewhere after that.

you turned your head to look behind you, even though you knew who it was. there was bob, who was also asleep. how long had he been home for? you had intended on waiting up for him, but clearly your plan didn’t work out as intended.

when you moved to settle back in bob woke up. “hey, honey,” he mumbled. his voice was gravelly and borderline irresistible.

you turned in his arms to face him. “what time did you get in?” you asked him. the couch was rather crowded, but neither of you minded. you nudged your nose against the column of his throat and sighed calmly. bob smelled of his eucalyptus shampoo and of home.

“i got home,” he paused to check his watch, “about two hours ago.” he placed his arm around your waist again, and set his chin on top of your head.

you sat in the comfortable silence for a few moments before speaking. “do you think we should go to bed?”

bob inhaled, “let’s just stay here for a little longer,” and kissed the top of your head.

[mrsjobarnes]

Top Gun

~ Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw ~

Rooster was right

Tales of a Call Sign

I just want to wobble around

Date night

~ Jake "Hangman" Sersin ~

Not the only Cowboy

Whats the worst thing that can happen?

~ Robert "BOB" Floyd ~

Bob did what?

[writesick-lover]

Hiiii,,

Could you write something for bob? Anything. I really enjoyed ‘cry baby’ if that helps.

All the best

A/n: Hiii! I was waiting for the moment when I finally get the kick to write to Bob and this was it! I actually got a bunch of ideas, but in the end I settled for this! Hope it was worth the wait - I do plan to share other tropes for Bob as well... maybe in a Cry baby universe? ;) But for now, ENJOY!

That’s my wife

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x fem!reader

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

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It was crowded in Hard Deck, as it was every Friday night. Bob usually didn't mind, always staying close to his group by the pool, but today was different. All of a sudden, he felt annoyed by the pushing bodies, making it hard for him to see the entrance of the bar. Because today was not an ordinary night at the pub. Something special was happening for Robert Floyd, thanks to special someone about to make an appearance.

And just as he thought about her, he manifested her presence into the bar.

Bob would recognize his wife anywhere. Even in a totally packed Hard Deck, where he probably wouldn't be able to find his own mother. She made her way through those sweaty bodies, her  'excuse me's and 'thank you's flowing through his ears like a melody.

Bob started to look for a place to put his beer to for the time, ready to meet the girl of his dreams at the bar just like they agreed to. When he finally found a small space under the window, he heard a loud whistle. His head snapped.

"And who is this pretty lady," Hangman's voice made the whole company turn as he gazed towards the bar. "Ha, Hangman," Rooster joined him at the staring contest, nudging his ribs. "You can bet, she wouldn't go for a guy like you," he grinned, seeing Jack's shocked face. "A guy like me?" He repeated. "Then what are you? A trashcan?" He retorted, wiping the smile from Rooster's lips in a second.

Bob gulped. He followed the direction in which the two were looking.

His body froze on the spot, trying to figure out what to do. They were eyeing her. She was beautiful, as always. It was these moments, when Bob couldn't comprehend his own luck. His right hand traveled to his left, subconsciously playing with the ring on his finger. Well, shit.

"You're just worried she wouldn't go for a trashcan like you," Hangman provoked and everyone could only watch with a small smile how quickly Bradshaw took the bait. "We'll see about that," and with that, he was on his way to the center of the room, Jake Seresin right at his heels.

Bob was too stunned to do anything. Something in him started to burn, eating him from the inside, pinching every corner of his heart. But he just kept on twisting the golden ring, not noticing the questioning look Phoenix gave him. Her face twisted in surprise at first, connecting the dots pretty quick despite the silence from her best friend. But then she was right beside Bob, nudging his shoulder a little.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "She's got the same ring on her finger," Bob only managed to nod. Natasha's face brightened. "Congrats," she gave him a smile and Bob shared the enthusiasm with a small lift of the corners of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, finally picking up the courage to take a step forward. "I told her about you, although I wish this wasn't the way they meet for the first time," Natasha caught his arm in his motion.

"Hold on," she said, nodding towards the three at the bar. "I wanna see this,"

"Hey there," Rooster went all out. His huge frame surely made an entrance for him, but an additional smile and a confident greet couldn't hurt. And beside that, chicks are digging his deep voice.

Before you even got to turn around, another man was standing beside him, his smile brighter as ever. You eyed them both, with Hangman pushing Rooster to the side and stepping forward. "Is he annoying you? I can take care of him for you," Hangman cooed, not noticing your slight lean backwards, away from the two peacocks in front of you. It took you a while to recognize them, but after a few seconds, it was unmistakable who these two were. You knew them from a photo of the whole group Bob was showing you after he got back from his mission. You weren't sure if you were supposed to laugh or cry. Who would have thought you would meet like this?

☆ ☆ ☆

"That's Hangman" Bob pointed at a handsome pilot with a smile that shined with bright white teeth. "Avoid him at all cost," he looked at you, his eyes completely serious, which only made you burst into a fit of laughter. "I'm serious," he said, the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. "I can see that," you breathed, your hands travelling to his back and rubbing it reassuringly. "But noted," your kiss tickled Bob's cheek, spreading a tint of pink across his face.

"And this is?" you pointed to a tall man with a stache, his big arm hugging your husband around the shoulders. "Oh, that's Rooster," Bob's eyes softened. "And this is Nat, right?" you exclaimed, pointing at the woman hugged by Rooster from the other side. "Yeah, that's her," you two shared a smile as you watched Bob slide his fingers across the photo. "I can't wait to meet them," you said softly into the warm morning and Bob couldn't help but smile sweetly. "They mean a lot to me," he whispered back, gulping. "I know," you turned his face towards you before pecking his lips, both of you falling into a calm silence of comfort with each other.

☆ ☆ ☆

You slightley stretched upwards, trying to look past the men's broad shoulders that bumped to each other, trying to push the other out of the way. Your husband was nowhere to be seen and although you were quite enthusiastic to meet his crew, enthusiasim was pretty far from what you were feeling now. You watched the two glaring at each other and you bit back a smile. If only they knew.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Rooster pushed forward, making Hangman stumble back. "Get in line, chicken," Hangman grabbed his shoulder, forcing himself next to you instead of Rooster. "Boys, I hate to say this-" you began, your fingers falling on the ring on your left hand.

"Come on, sweetheart, let me get you something," before you could finish, you were blinded by Jake's perfect set of teeth, the photo from Bob apparently doing it injustice. "Guys-" you tried to speak up, but to no avail. "Penny, one more on me," Jake called to the woman behind the bar, who only nodded, preoccuppied with other customers. You sighed.

"Don't listen to him," Rooster touched your right hand gently, making you look at him. Ah, missed. The two completely ignored the shiny stone on your ring finger glistening in the dimmed lights of Hard Deck. You decided to let them go in this one, forcing on a straight face as they bickered with each other.

"They are all over her. Maybe I should-" Bob watched the bar, an anxiety creeping into his voice. Phoenix looked closer, noticing the crease forming between his eyebrows and the way he narrowed his eyes. His hands, unbeknownst to him, closed into fists. He was ready to shoot.

"Bob?" she grabbed him by his shoulder, grounding him. He looked at her, his brown eyes a little lost. "I've got your back," she tightened her squeez and that was all Bob needed. It was time to get his wife.

"And why shouldn't she listen to me? She obviously likes what she sees," Jake retorted, nudging you with a flirty smile. "Cause you're a casanova, Bagman," Rooster fought back. "You wouldn't smell love even if it was right under your nose," you had to pause at those words, yanking your hand from Rooster. This was going too far. Bradley looked at you in surprise, to which Hangman bursted out laughing. "You too, so it seems," he got out through heavy breaths, leaning on the bar for support. "Nice one sweetheart,"

"Speaking of love, gentlemen," a woman's voice came from behind the two competing mountains of men. They both turned to the lieutenant who grined at them. If she didn't have ears, she would be smiling all around. "Nat," you sighed in relief, recognising her immediately. "In the flesh," she grinned at you. "It's so nice finally meeting you," she said, Jake and Bradley exchanging confused looks. "Bob told me so much about you," you ignored the two, clinging to a conversation with Natasha like a tick. "Bob?!" the loud yell of both aviators brought you back to the reality. "Are you Bob's sister or some-"

"Yeah, no, I didn't have you for the types to go after married women," Nat giggled, cutting off Hangman as the two completely paled. They slowly turned towards you, their eyes falling on your left hand resting on the counter. A silence fell on the Hard Deck.

"Whose-" Rooster was the first to recover. "Mine," a bright smile blossomed on your face as you saw Bob walk from behind Natasha. "Sorry, looks like I got here first," he grinned as well before stepping in front of you. "Penny?" he called out, but he didn't have to say anything else.

That night, Hard Deck was filled with the dreading sound of a bell and if Rooster and Hangman could become more pale than they already were, they probably did. "Guys," Bob turned sround, his hand automatically traveling to your lower back. "This," he looked at you, his eyes twingkling in the warm light.

"Oh no," Hangman groaned, rubbing a hand through his face.

"Oh shit" Rooster let out.

"This is my wife,"

Your face brightened hearing the words as cheers errupted from around you - everyone ecstatic they will get a free round. And there was a lot of them. "Nice one, Bobby," Coyote and the rest joined the group, not even trying to hide their smiles. They mirrored Bob's contagious smile, the warm atmosphere spreading to everyone around. Well, to almost everyone.

"How do you want to pay?" Penny stopped by amidst pouring shots, smirking at Hangman and Rooster, both still in shock, grilled in their own embarrassment. "We-" the two looked at each other pleadingly for help from the other. "Shit," both said at the same time. "Well, lads," Payback and Fanboy patted their shoulders. "It was nice to know you," they pushed them lightly towards the door leading to the empty beach.

"I'm gonna kill you, Bagman," Rooster glared at his friend, Jake only laughing slightly. "Can you believe it? Our little Bobby found himself a wife! And I went after her!" he laughed at himself. "Yeah, cause you're a fucking idiot!" Roosters last words disappeared into the night, drowned in the laughter and chatter of the people around.

"Well, that was something," you giggled, looking back at the two men, now having it out with each other, their feet sinking in the cold sand. "You're okay? I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," Bob started to apologize but you knew how to shut him up.

"I'm okay. Better even, now that you're here," you pulled back. "And here I was, thinking that they wouldn't like me," you joked, making Bob snort as others joined you.

"Congrats, man," Fanboy hugged Bob around the shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze. "You seem like a lot of fun," Coyote laughed, pointing at you. "I sure am. If only they listened," everyone followed your motion to the entrance, "they could have had some fun too,"

Everyone laughed as you looked at your ring one more time. "But honestly, Bob, where did you find her? She's hot! Do you have siblings?" Payback had to chime in, other boys only agreeing with his statement and awaiting your answer. You only shook your head, earning a few groans from the group. "No wonder she got those two out of their minds," Natasha smirked.

"Yeah," Robert's eyes fell to the floor, suddenly feeling overwhelmed from the compliments. A sheepish smile spread on his face.

That's my wife

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Let me know how you liked this story with a like, comment and repost!

Who should be next from the Dagger squad?

If you liked this story, you might like -> Cry-baby

[arrowurboat]

when my favorite writers respond to my asks/reqs

[that-one-fangirl69]

you ever read a fic so good you just gotta sit there and contemplate your entire existence and everything you’ve ever read before?

[withahappyrefrain]

bob dating a girl about 8/10 years younger than him (early mid 20s) and jake calling bob a sugar daddy when he finds out

OLDER BF BOB MY BELOVED

Because you know he would be so respectful. He'd assumed she doesn't want to talk to him and he doesn't want to come off as a creep. So imagine his surprise when she goes up to him!

Even when she's talking him up, he's still very respectful. Their first date? He gives her a sweet kiss on the cheek after walking her to her door. She definitely misunderstands and thinks Bob isn't physically attracted to her.

"Do you....not want me?" She's confused as hell because by all accounts, Bob seems very into her. But then why is he so timid with her when it comes to the physical stuff?

After that gets sorted out, it still takes him some time to bring her to the Hard Deck. Because we all know damn well Jake Seresin can't shut his mouth.

"Is he just jealous?" She asks with a smirk on her face.

Bob laughs as he pulls her closer, "Probably."

[nobitchs-world]

Me after explaining the multiverse of different people and characters where I have different ocs in my head to my sisters

[callsign-swan]

The Floyd Boys

Chapter One

Bob can't stay in California after his soon to be ex wife leaves him and his son. Returning to Montana, he enrols Mason in a new school. With a new teacher. A new teacher who happens to be kinda cute, actually.

"You're gonna do great," Bob Floyd whispered as he tied his little boy's shoelaces.

Sucking in a breath, Mason Floyd nodded his head. "I'm gonna do great," he whispered, staring into his dad's blue eyes. "I'm gonna do great." He grabbed the straps of his bag and held onto them, determination on his face.

"Glasses check."

Both boys pulled off their glasses. They used their shirts to clean both lenses and put them back on their faces. "Ready?" Bob asked, grabbing his keys and reaching for Mason's hand.

"Ready."

Mason Floyd was Bob Floyd's mini me. He was the tiny version of Bob, had the same brown-y red hair Bob had grown out of by the time he was a teenager. He had the same wire framed glasses as Bob, picked out at his last appointment to match his daddy.

The Floyd Boys, that was what Penny Benjamin used to call them. It had been so hard to leave California, to take Mason across State lines, back home to Montana. But he knew it was the right thing to do.

Locking the front door behind them, Bob took Mason out to his truck. He helped him to climb onto the front bench, buckled him in, and went around to the other side. He climbed into the drivers seat, started the engine and drove away.

The housing situation was only temporary, one of the guest houses on his parents ranch. It was usually used for ranch hands, but those ranch hands were currently in trailers up the mountain, taking care of the cattle. A temporary situation, but a perfect situation while they had nowhere else to go.

From their porch, Bob's parent's waved as he drove past with Mason. Mason waved back with enthusiasm, his face glued to the window as they went past the horses on the ranch.

Reaching forward, Mason turned on the stereo. Immediately, it began playing the CD they had listened to for the last leg of the journey, the CD of the songs Mason's auntie Nat had burned onto a disk for him.

Natasha Trace. Bob and Mason both missed her. They missed the entire squad, but they missed her most of all. She was there when Bob's ex wife revealed she was pregnant. She was there when Bob proposed (actually, she had tried to talk Bob out of it. She saw the red flags that Bob only saw now that they were separated). She was there when Mason was born, for all of his birthdays and when Bob and his ex wife split up. She was there, helping him pack up his things for Montana.

It was unusual, how quiet Mason was. The only time he was quiet on the journey to Montana was when he was sleeping. He looked like an angel when he slept, but Bob did have to reach over while driving to pull off his glasses.

"It's okay to be nervous," Bob said to his son.

Mason swallowed. His bag was still in his lap, held close to his chest. "Really?" He asked, his lip wobbling.

"Yeah, Mase." The school was in view now, but Bob pulled over before they got there. "I'm nervous too, buddy."

Mason looked up at his father. "Why're you nervous, Papa?" He asked.

Breathing in, Bob looked through his window. It was a familiar neighbourhood, a familiar school he was sending Mason to. His school, the elementary school he had gone to when he was a kid.

"It's just different out here. That's all." He patted his thighs and pulled his keys from the ignition. "Different isn't always bad, Mase. We're gonna do great out here."

Opening the door, Bob stepped out of his truck. The truck he'd bought here in Montana when he was a kid. The truck he took with him when he joined the Navy. The truck to California, to Top Gun. It was a full circle moment.

"C'mon," he said, opening the door and taking his son's hand. "You're gonna do great," he reaffirmed.

"I'm gonna do great."

Holding his daddy's hand, Mason Floyd walked towards the school. He had a million things to be anxious about. What if the other kids didn't like his glasses? What if they didn't like his bag? What if they didn't like that he was the new kid and he was from the West Coast?

Bob took him up the steps. Last time he had been in this school, he had been begging his dad to let him go to the rodeo. He'd had bull rider dreams back then, before he'd joined the Navy.

Bob checked his phone, checked for the classroom number. He remembered being a kid, seeing other kids, younger kids, being brought into the school with their parents. Back then, the dads had all been wearing cowboy hats. That was the type of town they lived in.

Classroom 3B. Bob released a breath as he stood in front of the door. This was it, Mason's first day of school. "You're gonna do great," he said again.

"I'm gonna do great."

Bob pushed open the door.

"Hi, can I help you?"

He looked towards the desk as he walked into the classroom with Mason behind him. Mason squeezed his hand and Bob squeezed back. "Hi, I'm Bob. I'm here with my son for his first day of school."

You put your glasses on the top of your head and stepped around your desk. "Oh, hi!" You called as you strode towards him. You fixed your skirt, smoothed it down, and gave him your name.

"This is Mason."

Mason Floyd. You had been told about his integration into your classroom a week ago. All the way from California. You didn't know much else about his situation, but you had him sitting beside one of your best students.

You crouched down in front of him, met the blue eyes of the little boy hiding behind his daddy's legs. "Hi, Mason," you said gently and gave him your name. You checked your watch. "You've got a little bit of time until class starts. Do you wanna hang out in here or do you wanna come and meet some of the other kids?"

Mason looked up at his Daddy. It was cute, their matching glasses, matching blue eyes. Mason had his daddy's cute nose, too. "Go on," Bob said gently and nodded his head towards you.

Mason looked back at you. "Can I stay here?" He asked in such a sweet, small voice.

"Of course you can, sweetheart," you replied and glanced up at his dad. But you quickly returned your gaze to Mason. "I'll show you where you can sit. Do you wanna read a book or do some colouring?"

Finally, Mason let go of his fathers hand. You stood up straight and offered him his own, taking him to sit at his new desk. "And here you've got a drawer where you can keep your pens and pencils," you began as Mason opened his bag.

He pulled everything out. A dinosaur themed pencil case, wipes for his glasses, an inhaler. You pulled out his drawer for him and Mason put all of his things inside. "Tell you what, I'll get you some colouring pencils and we can make a label for your desk!"

Mason let himself smile. "Yes please," he said politely.

Bob watched Mason as he settled in your seat. He let his eyes moved to you as you ran back towards the front of your classroom. Reaching into your bottom drawer, you grabbed a plain label sticker, cut it from its role, grabbed an already organised pencil pot and took them over to Mason.

You set him up and he began drawing. Colouring, writing his name boldly to show that the desk was his own.

As he did, you walked back to the front of the classroom. "He's gonna do great here," you said, folding your arms over your chest. "Have you got any concerns or anything you wanna talk about before the kids come in?"

Bob shook his head. "Just worried about him," he said, keeping his voice quiet.

"How did he get on in California?" You asked, glancing back towards Mason. He kicked his legs as he coloured, seeming perfectly content. Bob had no reason to worry, clearly.

"Things were different in California," Bob muttered, mostly to himself, and rubbed his hand over his face. "He's gonna like it here, I know it."

You leaned against your desk, both palms braced. "What made you move to Silver Ridge?" You asked with a smile, crossing your legs at the ankle.

Bob's smile was small, almost as if he was trying to hide it. "Uh, I'm actually from Montana," he answered. "Grew up here, before I joined the Navy."

"Navy, huh?" You asked. The smile still hadn't fallen from your face. "That's pretty cool! So, you like boats?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I'm a Navy pilot, a WSO."

Your brows furrowed, but you were still smiling. Before you could ask any questions, before you could ask what a WSO was, the bell rang. "Shoot," you said and pushed away from your desk. "Well, it was really nice to meet you, Mr Floyd. Maybe you could tell me what a WSO is when you come to pick Mason up."

You led him over to the classroom door. "I'd like that," Bob said as you pulled the door open for him. He turned on his feet and waved to Mason. "Bye, Mase!" He called.

Two seconds later, Mason was out of his chair. He ran towards his dad and threw his arms around him. "Love you, papa," he whispered, holding Bob there.

When the other children came into the classroom, Mason let go of Bob. He walked back into his seat, pulled his label from its backing, and stuck it to his desk drawer.

As you held the door open, you watched as Bob walked down the hall and out of the school. Cute, very cute, actually.

You couldn't wait for pickup time.

[princezzleia]

x reader she's like Barbie. she can be anything. she can be everything. she can do whatever I'm not dare to do in rl and she can choose her man. *sigh* Life've never been better.

[bi-n-evil]

Me seeing a fictional character be portrayed as a dom/top when they're literally such a sub/bottom:

[callsigns-haze]

The quiet ones

Summary: You surprise the Dagger Squad by revealing your secret to Bob, who shyly but lovingly melts into your kiss as the others watch in shock, as shy guys are your type.

Chapter Warning: Secret relationship reveal, unexpected PDA, and flustered teammates, drinking.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x reader

The sun is barely up, casting a soft glow over the empty beach outside The Hard Deck as you pull open the doors and step into the familiar dimness of the bar.

You've been doing this for years—unlocking before the heat of the day sets in, setting up stools, and sliding glasses onto the shelves with the smooth rhythm you've perfected. Today feels the same, but something in the air hints it won't be an ordinary shift. There's a buzz, the sort that comes with Navy missions brewing, whispered over drinks in tones low enough that only bartenders know how to hear.

You're wiping down the bar when the door creaks open. You look up and spot a guy with dark-rimmed glasses, a touch of shyness evident in the way he stands at the door, scanning the place like he’s about to get reprimanded just for being here early. He's tall but sort of unassuming, a guy who'd rather fade into the background. He's a contrast to the pilots who usually come in loud, all bravado and swagger. You recognize him instantly: Bob, the quiet one who stands at the edges of the Dagger Squad.

As he approaches, you give him a slow, easy smile and cross your arms, leaning back. "Hey there. Early start for you guys?"

He swallows hard, adjusting his glasses. “Uh…yeah. Just…getting a round for the squad.” His voice is barely audible, like he’s half-hoping you’ll mishear and let him walk away without much fuss.

Your eyes flick over him, taking in his nervous fidgeting. It’s endearing, really, the way he seems like he'd rather be anywhere but standing across from you. And maybe it’s because he's the polar opposite of the loud types, but you can’t help teasing him a little.

“So…who’s in charge of this little mission?” you ask, setting down a few glasses with a subtle clink.

He hesitates, caught off guard by the question. “Uh…Admiral Simpson.”

You chuckle. “Beau? That's my uncle."

Bob's eyes widen, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he stammers out a response. "Oh. Uh, wow. I… I didn’t know." The faintest blush creeps up his cheeks, and he looks down, almost embarrassed to be caught off guard like that.

You can’t resist needling him just a bit more, leaning in just close enough to watch him fluster. You know the effect you have—the low neckline of your top, the tattoos trailing down your arm, the glint of your piercings just visible through the thin fabric. He’s doing his best not to stare, but his eyes flick down for a split second before he yanks his gaze back up, his face turning redder by the second.

“Don’t worry,” you say with a smirk, letting your fingers trace the rim of a glass, “your secret’s safe with me.”

“Uh…thanks. I just—um, I’ll take…uh, the round,” he manages, his voice catching as you pour the drinks.

You can see his struggle—the way he wants to say something, but every time he opens his mouth, he clams up. He's never met anyone like you before, that’s obvious. The confidence, the tattoos, the piercings peeking through the fabric—it all ties together into something that leaves him completely off balance. And he’s… well, adorable.

As you slide the last glass across the bar to him, you give him a wink. “See you around, Bob. Bring your friends by sometime.”

He mutters a quiet “thank you” and shuffles out, beers in hand and cheeks flushed. And as he heads out the door, you can't help but grin to yourself, wondering if he’ll find the nerve to say more next time.

---

It’s a typical night at The Hard Deck, the bar buzzing with energy, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and rock music blaring from the jukebox. The place is packed with Navy types, just as it always is when there’s no active mission holding them back. You’re behind the bar, quick on your feet, sliding drinks to customers and catching up with the regulars. Then, through the crowd, you spot him.

Hangman strides up to the bar with that cocky swagger he’s famous for. Tall, blond, and all confidence, he’s got a grin that could charm the devil himself. And he knows it. Tonight, he’s dressed in his usual off-duty look—just tight enough T-shirt and a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the guy who doesn’t take “no” for an answer. But that’s the game he plays, and tonight you’re ready for him.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he drawls, leaning across the bar just a little too close. “Thought you’d be closed by now.”

You raise an eyebrow, resting your hands on the bar and meeting his gaze without flinching. “Well, I thought you’d be up in the air by now,” you shoot back, your tone teasing. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

He chuckles, clearly delighted by the challenge. “All right, you got me there,” he says, glancing around. “But I’ve got a list for you. The squad’s thirsty tonight.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” you say, pulling out a row of glasses, ready to work but giving him your full attention.

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Well, let’s start with two beers for Phoenix and Bob. Can’t have ‘em dehydrating, right?” There’s a slight pause, and he gives you a smirk, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary. “Make sure Bob’s is extra cold—he’s, uh, still cooling off after the last time you talked to him.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you start on the beers. “Don’t tell me he’s still flustered from that., it's been years.”

“Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with you around, no matter the time,” Hangman says with a wink. “But hey, he’ll survive. Next up, Coyote wants a whiskey—neat. You know how he is. And Rooster…” He pauses, rolling his eyes in that way he does whenever he brings up Rooster. “Rooster’s a beer guy, as usual. But let’s give him the lighter stuff. Don’t want him trying to prove anything tonight.”

You slide the beers across to him, already pouring the whiskey as he keeps going. “And what about you, Hangman?” you ask, tossing him a smirk. “Anything special, or do you just want a mirror to stare into?”

He laughs, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Ouch, darlin’. That one stings.” He places a hand over his heart, feigning offense before letting his gaze flick down to the line of tattoos trailing up your arm, then back to meet your eyes with a mischievous glint. “But as long as you’re the one serving, I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

You pour him a whiskey, sliding it over the bar with a raised brow. “Think you can handle it?”

He picks up the glass, holding it up to you with that easy, confident grin. “Oh, I can handle a lot more than that. But I like a bartender who can keep me on my toes.” He takes a sip, never breaking eye contact, letting the moment hang in the air.

The bar is still loud around you, but there’s a beat where it’s just you and him, his gaze heavy and flirtatious, yours daring him to keep going. He leans in a little closer, his voice a quiet murmur. “You know, we should get a drink somewhere else sometime. Just you and me.”

You lean back, letting a slow smile spread across your face, but truly this guy is not for you. “Oh, is that an invitation?”

“Consider it an open one,” he replies, giving you a wink before stepping back to gather up the drinks. “But hey, don’t take too long thinking it over. I don’t like waiting.”

It’s been a busy night, the bar still packed as the crowd buzzes with the kind of energy that only comes when there’s no telling when the next mission will roll around. You’re behind the bar, catching your breath after that last round, when you catch sight of Rooster winding his way through the crowd, headed straight for you.

He’s wearing his usual laid-back style—well-worn jeans, a vintage band T-shirt, and that aviator jacket slung over his shoulders. He looks like something out of a different time, especially with those sunglasses perched up in his curls, even though it’s night. Rooster always has this quiet, steady confidence, like he knows he doesn’t need to announce himself. And there’s something a little different in his step as he approaches you, maybe a touch of playfulness in the way he’s looking at you, a half-smile already curving on his lips.

“Hey, bartender,” he says, leaning onto the bar with an easy grin. “I’m back for the squad’s refills, but this time I think we’re changing things up.”

“Oh yeah?” You give him an amused look, resting your hands on the bar and leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Guessing Hangman finally realized he can order something other than whiskey?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, Hangman’s hard to change. But the rest of us? We’re open to suggestions. Figured you might know what we need better than we do.”

You raise a brow, sensing the tease in his tone. “Oh, so now I’m in charge of drinks? Guess I must be moving up in the world.”

“Better believe it.” He flashes you a quick grin. “But you still gotta keep me entertained while you’re at it.”

You laugh, reaching for a row of glasses. “Let me see… Something tells me you could handle a little extra kick tonight.” You pour a round of tequila for Phoenix and Coyote, grabbing lime wedges and a sprinkle of salt for the rims.

“Tequila for Phoenix and Coyote,” you announce, lining them up. “And… let’s do something different for Bob. A Moscow Mule might be more his speed—something smooth but not too strong, I know he likes it.”

“Perfect,” Rooster nods, his eyes catching on the way your hands move as you pour, clearly fascinated. “And what do you recommend for me?”

“Hmm,” you say, pretending to consider as you tilt your head, catching his gaze. “Something with a bit of bite, I think. Something… classic.”

You reach for the whiskey, but instead of neat, you add a twist of orange, pouring a well-balanced Old Fashioned. You slide it over to him, catching his eye with a smirk. “Think you’re ready for that?”

He picks up the glass, turning it slowly in his hand, that same lazy smile lingering on his face. “Only if you’re ready to join me for one sometime,” he says, his voice low enough to make sure you catch the hint. He takes a sip, and his gaze stays fixed on you, watching your reaction, clearly testing the waters.

You raise an eyebrow, not about to let him off easy. “And what makes you think I’d go for a guy who takes drink recommendations from the bartender?”

He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Because I don’t think you’d waste your time with just any guy.” He holds your gaze, letting the words hang in the air, something challenging in his smile. “You seem a little… particular.”

“And you think you’re up to the standards?” You tilt your head, leaning on the bar just close enough that he has to take in every word.

His eyes flick down to your arm, where your tattoos catch the light, and then back up to meet yours, a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “I think I’d be willing to try,” he says, his voice smooth, steady. “But I’ll leave it up to you if I get the chance.”

You shake your head, suppressing a grin, and reach for another glass, pouring yourself a splash of soda as you lean back. “How about you focus on delivering those drinks first, hotshot?”

Rooster raises his glass in a mock salute, his eyes never leaving yours. “Alright, boss,” he says, clearly amused. “But don’t think I’m letting this go that easily.”

He picks up the tray, balancing it with practiced ease as he throws one last look over his shoulder before heading back to the squad. You’re left behind the bar, catching your breath with a smile as you watch him go, knowing full well he’ll be back for another round—and maybe another shot at breaking through.

-

The Dagger Squad is clustered around a corner table, the drinks you just served scattered across the tabletop. Conversation and laughter flow easily, but the energy shifts the second Hangman and Rooster start eyeing each other, sizing each other up with cocky grins and sidelong glances. Bob, meanwhile, is trying his best to blend into the background, clutching his Moscow Mule and looking more than a little flustered as he watches his teammates' latest standoff unfold.

“You know, Rooster,” Jake drawls, leaning back in his chair and raising his whiskey with an infuriatingly smug smile, “you’re wasting your time here. She’s clearly more into a guy with… confidence.” He emphasizes the last word, smirking as he takes a slow sip, his eyes flicking over to the bar where you’re serving another customer.

Rooster snorts, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Confidence? Is that what you call whatever it is you do?” He shakes his head, trying to keep his voice casual, but the competitive gleam in his eyes betrays him. “Trust me, Bagman, she’s not going for the guy who struts around like a damn peacock.”

Phoenix snickers, sipping her tequila and watching the scene unfold like it’s her favourite soap opera. “This is priceless,” she mutters to Coyote, who nods, clearly entertained.

“Oh, please,” Jake fires back, unfazed. “You think that ‘slow burn’ routine of yours is going to win her over? Women don’t want to wait around forever. They like a guy who knows what he wants.” He casts another confident glance toward the bar, and Rooster follows his gaze, jaw tightening just slightly.

Bob, meanwhile, is turning a shade of red that nearly matches his squadmate’s call sign. He keeps his eyes firmly on his drink, but Phoenix catches the flush creeping up his neck and nudges him with her elbow.

“Hey, Bob,” she says with a mischievous grin, “you’re awfully quiet over there. What do you think? Who’s got the better shot?”

Bob’s eyes widen as every head at the table turns to look at him. He stammers, his grip tightening on his glass. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I, uh… I think she’d go for someone… respectful. Kind of… uh…”

Rooster grins, reaching over to pat Bob’s shoulder, his tone almost affectionate. “See, Bob gets it. A guy who’s not all in her face about it.”

Jake rolls his eyes, scoffing as he leans back. “Right. Because nothing says ‘charming’ like shyly staring into your drink.”

Bob just blushes harder, sinking a little lower in his seat as Phoenix pats his back in a show of support. “Ignore them, Bob. They’re just scared you’re the dark horse here,” she teases, sending Jake and Bradley a challenging look.

“Oh, is that it?” Hangman laughs, tipping his glass toward Bob in mock salute. “Tell you what, Bob—if she turns me down, I’ll let you take a shot.”

Rooster shakes his head, chuckling. “Sure, Bob. If Jake somehow fails—and trust me, he will—you’ve got my blessing.”

Bob’s face is now a deep shade of crimson, and he lets out a nervous laugh, clearly mortified. But he can’t resist glancing over toward the bar, where you’re moving easily between customers, completely unaware of the mini-drama playing out across the room.

“You know what?” Rooster says, straightening up and giving Jake a look that’s half-challenge, half-smirk. “Why don’t we let her decide who’s worth her time?”

Jake’s eyes narrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Fine by me, Rooster. May the best man win.”

Bob practically melts into his seat, but despite his obvious embarrassment, there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances at you.

-

You’ve been keeping an eye on the Dagger Squad from behind the bar, and you’ve caught enough of the banter to know they’re up to something. You can feel the weight of their stares now, so you decide to put them out of their misery. With a knowing smile, you grab a couple of fresh napkins and make your way over to the table, letting your gaze linger on one person in particular.

Bob’s leaning on the railing, doing his best to stay out of the spotlight as Jake and Bradley bicker, each too wrapped up in their little rivalry to notice you coming. Only Phoenix catches your approach, her eyes widening in excitement as she realizes what’s about to happen. She’s the only one who knows, after all.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say with a playful lilt, giving him a warm smile. His head snaps up, his cheeks turning an immediate shade of pink.

You can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of pure adoration in his eyes as he takes you in. Without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, his hand finding your waist as he pulls you in. His usual shyness fades as he melts into the kiss, his touch growing just a little bolder, like he’s letting himself savour every second.

Around you, the entire squad has gone silent. Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote are all staring, mouths slightly open in complete disbelief. But it’s not the kiss that has them in shock. It’s the glint of your engagement ring—hanging on a delicate chain around your neck, tucked just under the collar of your shirt. The light catches it as you pull back from Bob, and you see the realization dawn on each of their faces.

“Oh, my god,” Phoenix gasps, covering her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter as she watches Jake and Bradley try to process what they’re seeing. “No way. All this time, and she’s been with… Bobby?” Her eyes sparkle with pure delight as she glances back at you, unable to contain her excitement.

Bob, still flushed from the kiss, shifts awkwardly as he catches sight of his teammates’ stunned expressions. He ducks his head, clearly overwhelmed by all the attention, but there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“Wait…you’re with Bob?” Hangman says, still sounding completely baffled. He shakes his head, his usual confidence gone. “And you’re engaged?”

“Guess we kept it under wraps a little too well,” you say with a smirk, running a hand affectionately through Bob’s hair, watching as he blushes even deeper but relaxes into your touch. He looks at you with such genuine, quiet adoration that it’s impossible not to smile.

Rooster, still processing, lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Wow. And here I was thinking shy guys didn’t stand a chance.”

Phoenix is practically beside herself with joy, and she can’t help but gloat just a little. “Well, guess what, boys?” You grin, crossing your arms. “Turns out all I wanted was the quiet one.”

[twasmayfield]

day one | seaborn.

description: at natasha and bradley's wedding, you meet a friend of theirs named bob, who charms the hell out of you. and then you wake up in your hotel room on the morning of said wedding.

warnings: fluff, first meeting with bob, afab reader, no use of y/n, language, bob is a BIT ooc (i cannot capture characters' personalities 😭), mentions of bradley and natasha, mentions of alcohol.

a/n: this was rotting in my gdocs so i decided to fix it up a bit sigh.

“And to Nat and Bradley,” the chattering of the wedding guests died down as you raised your flute of champagne up, causing the guests to do the same. “Congratulations on the wedding.”

Natasha gave you a smile, mouthing out “thank you” as she and Bradley both raised their glasses before another bridesmaid took your place, making you slink away to the open bar. You let out a yawn, rolling your shoulders back as you set your flute down on the bar and waved down a bartender with a tight-lipped smile. Anyone within ten feet of you could see that you were exhausted—either it was sitting through the ceremony that basically cemented the fact that you were the only single one left in your friend group—Natasha was now married and Callie was basically going steady with that girlfriend of hers—or it was due to you being up since the crack of dawn (you were exaggerating) for makeup and walking around all day in heels that you were sure was going to give you blisters.

You wouldn’t say that you were extremely unlucky when it came to love and relationships as a whole. But you couldn’t deny it either. The only actual long lasting relationship you had was the relationship that lasted through your college years, and then he had the audacity to break up with you a year after graduating. Sure you were heartbroken, but then you started recounting everything in those four years and you realized that you should’ve cut him loose earlier. Maybe it was because you craved stability—your relationship was anything but stable—and he seemed to bring that to the table. Kinda.

Snippets of the other bridesmaid’s speech broke you out of your haze and you watched as the bartender poured something in a glass for you. They filled it halfway and you looked at them with a raised brow. A few seconds passed before they poured a bit more and slid it towards you with a nod. You thanked them, taking slow sips on it as the bridesmaid finished her speech. You did it better than her though.

The band started playing the first few notes of some romantic song you couldn’t figure out and you watched as the guests started to get up to dance. You stayed situated at the bar, noticing a guy with glasses. Somehow he looked out of place and not at the same time, one hand pulling at his tie slightly. You caught his eye—his very blue eyes—and you gave him a smile and a raise of your glass. He mirrored you, raising his own glass as well. Well, he’s not too bad then.

You waved him over, seeing him look both ways before he pointed at himself to which you nodded. You racked your brain, trying to figure out where you’ve seen him before. You couldn’t have passed him on the street because why would he be at the wedding of your close friend if he was a stranger? The guy strolled towards you as the band started another song. “Friend of the bride or groom?” You asked him as he stood beside you.

“Both actually,” he let out a small chuckle, pushing his glasses up. “You?”

Oh he knew both Nat and Bradley—they probably worked together then. You finished your drink, placing the empty glass on the bar as you blinked slowly, your legs suddenly feeling like lead. “Friend of the bride. We were childhood friends.” You replied, shaking your head when the bartender made a move to refill your glass. You offered him your name as your eyes landed on Natasha and Bradley slow dancing in the middle of the dance floor. They looked cute.

“Robert.” He offered, finishing his drink as well. “They call me ‘Bob’ though.”

You nodded, rolling your shoulders as you looked up at him. “Wanna get out of here?”

Waves washed up against the sand as you held your heels by the straps, bare feet on the wet sand as you trailed beside Bob, who had his tie undone and his suit jacket resting on his arm. The moon was bright, its light casting on the ripples of the water. The night felt eerie in a way, but you shrugged it off to the coldness of the night’s air and the random chirping of crickets that the waves somehow didn’t drown out.

“That was a nice speech, you know?” Bob commented, breaking the comfortable silence that was between the two of you.

You kept your eyes glued to the sand below you, shrugging. “Thanks. I just… said what was in my heart, I guess.” Bob hummed at that.

“I mean it though,” you fidgeted with the straps of your heels before you looked back up, meeting his eyes. “Nat and Bradley, they—they deserve only the best.” You sighed and Bob nodded at your words, reading between the lines and understood what you were trying to say. He left it at that and the two of you continued walking, reaching a cave lined with rocks with all sorts of shapes.

You sat down on the sand, leaning on one of the rocks and not caring that sand was sticking to your dress. That was tomorrow you’s problem. You patted to the empty space beside you, inviting him to come and sit down next to you. Bob compiled, sitting down beside you with his legs crossed.

The two of you sat in silence, listening to the waves and the occasional sound of crickets chirping in the far distance. Eventually, you broke the silence and you shared your favorite food and he, in return, shared his favorite songs and genres. He told you about his mother and sisters and how he wanted to be a naval aviator because his dad was one, and you listened to his every word because he had a tinge of a southern drawl that your ears caught on after a few sentences. You recounted your silly adventures with Natasha from childhood and all the way up to the end up high school when you both promised to keep in touch as you were accepted into a different college than her. And strangely—in some weird way—you two shared more similar interests than you expected.

A strange crackle of sound was heard from inside the cave that caused you to tilt your head in confusion. Bob stood back up, straightening his back as he looked down at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “I’ll go check it out.”

You watched as he made his way towards the cave, disappearing into it a few seconds later and the only existing piece of him was the jacket he left behind on the sand. You waited a few seconds, trying to distract yourself, but then realized that Bob should’ve come out by now. You strained your ear, trying to listen for something—anything—and then getting up yourself.

Usually, caves were supposed to be dark at night, but this one was glowing faint blue. Bob had completely disappeared and there was light in his absence. You held your hand up, watching as the blue light danced around your hand; a tingling feeling in your hand that felt like pins and needles as it looked like your hand was somehow disappearing with the light. That somehow made you sober up, trying to pull your hand away. “What the fuck?!”

Your eyes widened in panic as a burst of blue light surrounded your entire body, pulling you in deeper and deeper before your body got sucked in.

Your phone alarm blares at you, causing you to grumble as you blindly grab it to turn it off. You open one eye, swiping the alarm close as your eye catches the date and time on your lock screen. May 15th, 7:00 am. The same date as yesterday. You notice the hotel carpet and the clothes you were wearing. You peel the comforter off, grabbing your phone and checking it again. Same time and date. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

Your door opens and Natasha peeks her head in with a smile. “Hey, you coming?” You nod at her question and give her a tight lipped smile before she nods and closes the door again.

This isn’t happening. You were definitely dreaming.

You needed to find that guy. Now.

[veryberryjelly]

LAST DAY

to send in requests for my 1.5k dinner party! i’m you by to continue writing the requests i haven’t already posted but today is the last day to send something in!

send asks to my inbox !

[ddejavvu]

MEI i have severe top gun maverick brain rot and all i can think about is reader being the admirals daughter and everyone assumes rooster or hangman is gonna go after her but it turns out she’s been hooking up with bob for AGES and they’re all like ??? how did you do that???? bob gets kinda flustered but readers just like idk he was really nice and he’s really good in bed

"Check it out," Phoenix elbows Bob where the man is engrossed in reading the back of the bar napkins Penny had handed them so that they didn't stain her tables again, "There's Mav's daughter. 'Think she's got that Hawaiian shirt on to seduce Rooster?"

Bob's eyes dart to where you're chatting with Penny, his shoulders stiffening as his friends turn to watch you.

"Nah, Rooster doesn't like orange. But those cowboy boots she's got on are probably for Hangman- didn't he say he'd teach her how to square dance?"

Penny reaches over the bar to tug affectionately at one of your braids and Bob tries to no avail to break the conversation.

"Actually, she's-"

"I'd say she was here to meet Fanboy, but she doesn't date losers," Phoenix's eyes are narrowed dangerously, and she hides a smirk against the rim of her bottle.

"Hey! Hangman's a bigger loser than I am!" He protests, but before the taller man can trap him in a headlock, Penny points towards the dagger squad where they're lounged in a corner of the bar, and your eyes shine as you rush over.

"Bob!" You shriek, throwing your arms around his neck and letting your legs bend when he hoists you off of the ground for a hearty hug. His muscles are well hidden beneath his regulation khakis, but he's built for much heavier loads than you, and he lets you hover a few inches off of the ground while he hugs you.

Your face is buried in his neck but you press a kiss against his cheek, catching the bewildered blinking of the rest of his squadron over his shoulder.

"Oh. I forgot you didn't know." You supply, your feet back on the ground as Bob keeps one arm slung loosely around your waist, "Sorry, we- uh, we've been hooking up for a while, it's just... I haven't seen him since you guys got shipped out."

"You've been hooking up with her?" Coyote stares down his nose at Bob who shifts subtly closer to you, nodding once, stiffly in the face of his teammate's scrutiny.

"Damn. And he was good enough in bed to keep you waiting 'til he got back?"

Bob flushes - you feel his skin warm where it's pressed against your own, and you fill the awkward silence.

"Oh, please. I'm sure you've seen it in the locker room; I'd wait a lifetime."

Bob scoffs over your shoulder, now even more flustered, but Phoenix is happy to save the situation.

"Does your dad know?" She tilts her chin towards you, remembering how viscerally uncomfortable their Captain had been whenever someone had suggested you get together with one of his aviators.

"Of course he knows," You laugh, "He's the one that set us up! 'Said Bob had to get his hands on me before Texas over there tried to Hold 'Em."

Bob wraps an arm protectively over your chest, leaning over your shoulder from behind to return a kiss against your own cheek.

Hangman whistles lowly, shaking his head with a dazed look, "Well, shit. I didn't know the offer to hold 'em was on the table, but-shit!"

Bob's face darkens but Rooster levels the toe of his boot with Hangman's lower thigh, striking him at the back of the knee and subsequently spilling beer over his khakis. Hangman grunts as his knees knock against the beer-sticky floor, but he seems to know he deserved what he'd gotten because he doesn't retaliate.

"We'll wrangle him." Rooster promises, "You two go have fun, Bob you gotta quarter for the jukebox?"

"Yes'sir," Bob nods, tugging you towards a lesser populated area- perfect for slow dancing even if the bar isn't, "Let's make up for lost time, honey."

[callsign-bobsgirl]

Baby On Board

Pairing: Bob Floyd x f!Reader Summary: There seems to be a misunderstanding between you and the Dagger Squad about your husband's callsign. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: Unbeta-ed, rusty writing and one clumsy allusion to smut. Otherwise none.

When the gang found out that Bob could actually talk to women, they were shocked.

When the gang found out that Bob had been talking to, coming home to, and loving on the same woman for the past ten years, they were somehow less shocked.

What shocked Bob — although in retrospect it probably shouldn’t have — is just how adamantly everyone insisted on getting to meet the Mrs. Bob Floyd. The mystery that the quiet WSO kept under wraps. This Friday at the Hard Deck, seven o’clock.

Which is what he groaned into your neck early that afternoon after Mav had sent everyone home early as a reward. The two of you lazed about on top of the covers, the box of clothes half unpacked and forgotten at the foot of the bed the minute Bob walked through the bedroom door.

“I was hoping to keep you to myself for just a little longer,” your husband whined; turned humming as you ran your hand through his hair.

“I’m more hurt you didn’t immediately tell them about your hot wife in Lemoore,” you muse, “I mean what if I came down to surprise you, hmm? What if I popped down to the Top Deck before we permanently moved down huh? And that … Flameman or whatever tried to hit on me because he didn’t have it burned into his skull that I’m the lovely Mrs. Floyd hmm? What then?”

Groaning, Bob lifted himself to his elbows, pressing kisses to your jaw, “When we meet Hangman at the Hard Deck, he’s probably gonna hit on you anyways, if nothing else than to try and get a rise out of me.”

“Ah yes, you and your famous impulsive temper,” you tease.

Sliding a hand from Bob’s torso up to his shoulder, you quickly flip him over so you’re on top. Grinning cheekily you lean back on your haunches, getting to work on Bob’s belt while he fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt, waiting for his turn to strip you of the offending cloth.

“I’ll talk to my sister, see if she can’t reschedule some stuff for Friday,” you say, reaching your hand down your husband's briefs and getting a pleased hum in response.

—

When the two of you walked into the Hard Deck, you for the first time, you let Bob lead you through the crowds of people and he pointed out the different ranks of aviators, the obvious gaggles of tag chasers, and the old-timers who were loyal to the bar. You did your best to listen but you were busy smoothing down the sundress Bob loved so much and it was really loud in here.

“Stop worrying,” Bob leaned down to say in your ear, “You can run miles around these guys.” The WSO paused for a second, “Maybe not … physically, but in every other way.”

You laugh as you slap the back of your hand against his chest, “will Phoenix be here at least?”

“You see the guy in the Hawaii print?”

“Uh-huh”

“See the woman who just jabbed him with the pool stick?”

“Yeah?”

“Phoenix.”

The two of you approach the pool table everyone is crowded around but before you can announce yourself, a boyish-looking man with amber skin whistles and waves across the pool table, bringing everyone’s attention with him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bob!”

Everyone clamoured to meet the new arrivals, but you didn’t miss how one of them — a blond, cocky-looking son of a bitch with a toothpick dangling from his lip — held back, only to eventually push his way past an ‘LT. Fitch’. 

“Well Darlin’, it sure is nice to finally meet you,” his grin sure does take over his face, huh, “callsign Hangman, but you can call me Jake,” he says with a wink.

You share a look with Bob — who had just returned from the bar with your cocktail and his peanuts — and yeah, Hangman was exactly as you imagined him.

Saying a quick thanks to your husband and making sure to drag your fingers across Bob’s as you take the glass from him, you turn back to the other blond who won’t stop with the cocksure smirk. If Bob hadn’t warned you that Jake, for all that he was like … well this, was harmless and wouldn’t actually try anything; you’d be throwing the drink in his face.

But you also figured the alcohol would do better in you than on him.

Later in the evening, after everyone had had a few drinks and you’d loosened up, Topman sauntered back over to your stool where you were admiring your husband bent over the pool table.

“I gotta admit, I am mystified at how our Baby on Board managed to snag you,” the pilot kept going, finally getting a chuckle out of you.

‘Cause yeah, ‘Baby On Board’, that was funny you’d give Bagman that one. You didn’t get why it made the rest of the squadron look at you weird though.

“What?” you ask. 

You also couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling when Rooster swatted the back of Hangman’s head, but Phoenix is the one who elbows herself up to Hangman, going between glaring at him and raising her eyebrow at you.

“You … you do get what Bagman’s saying about Bob here, right?”

You nod, still not getting where the miscommunication lies.

“That Bob is … you know, a baby?” she explains.

Right as you emphatically exclaim, “fucks!”

And boy if that didn’t get the guys hooting and hollering, as your husband’s face turns bright pink.

Did these guys not get it? There’s a reason your Robby was one of the only two squadron members who’d even made it down the aisle. The way his hair was never out of place in uniform, how it bounced when he was out of it, and how soft it felt between your fingers. Those blue eyes that demanded your attention and turned you into a puddle when they darkened. Did his squad think you could let him do more than an hour of yard work in the summer, chest all sweaty and glistening before you beckoned him back into the privacy of the house? Or even worse, when he danced from the kitchen to the living room, carrying mugs of hot chocolate, on Christmas in those ‘family matching’ pyjamas.

‘Bob is a baby’ for the best of the best in the navy, these people were fools.

“I don’t get what the big fuss is,” you tell the aviators, “honestly, with every year that passes I half expect a kid to reach out from wherever he’s been deployed over the years.” Which gets another round of laughter out of your husband’s colleagues.

Robby knew you knew how insanely in love with him you were and how much you trusted him, and you knew how deep his devotion to you was — which is why instead of defending himself he just hid his red face in your hair. Already hearing the jokes he’ll face on base next month. You bringing a hand up to clumsily yet comfortingly cup his jaw helped though.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Payback says sincerely, “it's just that the Bob we know, the Bob we work with … it's kinda hard to see the Bob you know in him.”

And that’s when you realize. If Robby hadn’t told his squadron anything about you, then he definitely hasn’t said anything about …

“No I get it, my Robby can be on the quieter side, and probably downplays his moves at work” You hear Robby groan in your ear, knowing exactly what you’re about to reveal; and you gear yourself to revel in the shock you’re about to create. 

“But he did get three kids out of me.”  

The yelps of surprise and demands of proof had everyone in the bar glancing over at the pool table, but you and Bob just laughed at them as he handed over his wallet: showing off the five of you in the small ID window.

_____________________________________________

A/N: this is 100% from my own misunderstanding of Hangman's joke the first few times I watched the TGM, I truly thought he was implying Bob must always have a baby on the way because look at him??? Anyways, first time posting in the fandom. Come on over and say hi! And ... idk, live laugh love long and prosper.

also s/o to @sailor-aviator for helping my brain when it wasn't braining ♡

[withahappyrefrain]

Abby I need your most esteemed insight on something so important

How would Bob react the first time you call him Robby/Bobby? Thinking you've been dating for a while and he's heard sweetheart, love, baby/babe, but it's the first time hearing Robby/Bobby

Additionally, how would Bob react the first time you call him Robert? Full name, middle and all

Oh when you first call him Robby/Bobby, he fucking MELTS. His cheeks turn to pink, he gets this dreamy lovesick look in those blue eyes, tilts his head and a goofy, adorable smile breaks across his face.

"You okay? Is it okay if I call you that?" You ask. Heat is now rushing to your cheeks because he's staring as if you just appeared from his dreams.

"Yes. Absolutely yes."

But when you pull the "Robert William Floyd" card, he stops in his tracks. It's out of muscle memory, from when his mother called him that when he was younger and in trouble.