#bob floyd x maggie brentley

[attapullman]

ONE NIGHT ONLY // series

It wasn’t supposed to be anything. Meaningless sex. A laugh or two. Home before dawn with a coffee from the place on the corner. Bob Floyd never expected to meet a wide-grinned early riser who has him questioning his policy on dating. But he's glad he did.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x OC (Maggie Brentley)

Warnings: 18+ (minors and blank dni), explicit language, suggestive content, smut, anxious attachment style, angst out the wazoo.

INTRODUCTION: Just For Tonight

ONE coming soon

[attapullman]

INTRODUCTION: Just For Tonight One Night Only // series

A commitmentphobe and a serial dater meet in a bar. Then decide to have a one night stand. A relationship just for tonight.

All the paths they lead / To the single solemn place / Then we'll stay for a weekend / And leave without a trace - JUST FOR TONIGHT ONE NIGHT ONLY

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Maggie Brentley (female!OC)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors and blank dni), alcohol, yearning, later chapters will have explicit language, smut, anxious attachment style, and angst

A Note From Mo: Hello, I am nervous about posting my first OC fic! This fic has turned so deeply personal while still being so unbelievably fun and goofy, so I can't believe it's finally ready to share with the world. Enjoy!

ONO MASTERLIST

Nothing is permanent.

But how Maggie Brentley wished some things were. Perfume on the skin. The sunset over the ocean. Her dog’s puppy coat. Not anything too substantial, but the little moments that make life special. A smile to be enjoyed at any time without the sorrow when it leaves. 

Her whole life she had looked for something constant. A childhood shipped between military bases, the most consistent part of her upbringing had been the inevitable moving sign on their front lawn. The faces of friends had changed, neighbors had been replaced, and languages had swapped. Maggie just wanted something that was hers. Something that was forever.

And maybe holding onto a dream is how reality happens, sitting at this weathered Navy bar no better than the ones her dad and his colleagues hung out in, wearing her tightest jeans and too much mascara. Living this close to North Island almost felt comforting, all these men in uniform and the smell of engine fuel mixing with the sea air. It was a scent she’d happily enjoy for a lifetime.

Maggie chewed on her bottom lip as she surveyed the crowd. Close-cropped hair, biceps for days, not a scruff in sight. Exactly what she had come for. It wasn’t really a matter of if one of the uniformed men took her home, but which one. But for the love of all that is holy, could one of them please commit to happily ever after?

Her nails tap on the screen of her phone, the godforsaken app open to their messages all week. Some aviator hot shot who promised he could rock her world and show her the sky. His profile said he was looking for a long-term relationship and that was enough for her. When the bar is in the sand, find a guy who flies a plane. Worst case scenario he would buy her a well whiskey and soda and never talk again.

There’s a hand on the back of her barstool and suddenly a thick chest pushes into her line of sight as a man puts his tanned forearms on the bar. “Oh, Penny, my dear!” 

He could do. No ring, strong arms, the slick smile of a man who gets what he wants. Maggie’s hands fidget to straighten her top, make herself more open and alluring. The man casually looks to his left, unknowingly taking in the way she sips her sweating drink through its tiny straw and batted her lashes. But his sea glass eyes instantly drop away, uninterested. 

The man grabs his beers and heads back to the pool table, his group of khaki uniforms whooping and hollering loud enough to be heard through the bar. Maggie holds back the sigh she desperately wants to let out - a sound of defeat - and focuses again on waiting for her hot shot to text her back. Silence since last night, but her mother had always said she admired Maggie’s optimism. 

Any second now.

But when her first whiskey soda turned into two and a small clump of mascara collected under her eye, it was clear that hot shot had found another way to spend his evening. The evil part of her brain hoped it was in the infirmary with a full body cast. Or shipped out to a November in Oymyakon.

The ice in her glass melts a bit more - a sad excuse for a drink at this point - and Maggie knows she’s was avoiding the bartender’s questioning glance. Did she want to stay for a third? Between Hot Shot and the man with the sea glass eyes, any hopes of a self-confidence comeback were slim. Might as well pack it in and go home where at least her couch and dog would love her.

But despite the change Maggie disliked, everything happens for a reason. And that was how when she raised her hand to pay her tab, she accidentally smacked a cup of peanuts right out of some poor, unsuspecting man’s hand right onto the sandy, beer-covered floor.

“I am so sorry!” Her face floods with color as she leaps from her barstool. The man stands dumbstruck. Peanuts in his hand, gone the next. Without a second thought she’s crouching in jeans meant for standing, brushing nuts into the cup and hiding her embarrassment.

Most of the peanuts are swept up when Maggie sees khaki slacks kneel beside her, a large hand outstretched at the mess. “It’s okay, please don’t pick those up. I don’t even like peanuts that much.��

And when she looks up to apologize again - her cheeks hot and blooming with color - the freshest ocean blue washes over her. She didn’t know they made eyes that beautiful. Clear and honest, with a sliver of sapphire at the edges. The crafted frames resting on his nose only highlight their organic beauty. 

Words are lost on her lips, the last handful of peanuts falling back to the ground. Of all the Navy men in the world, she just had to hit the one with the prettiest eyes.

Before she’s even fully standing up Maggie’s waving down the bartender. Her elbow comes way too close to his face, another accident narrowly avoided. “Let me buy you another cup, that was full.” This whole situation is a disaster. He shakes his head, promising it’s fine. “Really, I insist.”

Her parents had always said she was too stubborn, too focused on having things how she thought they should be than accepting the world for how it was. Maggie would roll her eyes and say she just believed in fairness. If you destroy a guy’s cup of peanuts, you buy him another. Who cares if he doesn’t want one?

With a hesitant smile, the stranger takes the barstool next to hers. He falls into it, all limbs. She uses the support to hop up into the seat. Her original plans for the night might be dashed, but renewed optimism fills her senses at her new company. His face is warm and genuine. He looks like he steps out of the way for lady bugs. When it came to bed companions, he was looking promising.

“I’m Maggie,” she croaks, her hand shooting into the space between mechanically. Raised by a Navy General, she had a firm handshake before the third grade. Warm, calloused fingers slip around hers, palm zinging at the first touch. 

“Bob. Nice to meet you.”

Nothing is permanent.

It was a mantra Bob Floyd lived by every day. Every time he got up into that jet, it could be the last time. 

The temporary nature of it all was why he didn’t do relationships. The deployments, the constant moves. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been home for two holidays in a row. It was not only his own heart, but the hearts of others he was protecting when he said goodbye after a night between the sheets.

Attachments were messy. He was the best of the best, and any self-respecting WSO kept a tidy backseat. 

Plenty of squadrons had seen him deploy this method of dating - a girl never seen twice - and joked more than once that his call sign should be “One Night Only”. But he took their jesting in stride and continued to bade his goodbyes in the wee hours of the morning. When nothing was serious, no one got hurt.

So when he made his way back to the pool table and his cup of peanuts was assaulted, there was no harm in a little flirting. She had a too big smile and eyes that begged for conversation. But it was the mischievous grin when she slammed her card down to pay that kept him in his barstool, that familiar itch of want crawling up his spine.

Fresh peanuts in front of him and a full drink in front of her, Bob doesn’t realize he’s completely ditched his group until he hits the bottom of his cup. They’ve talked about different Naval bases they’ve lived on, whether pepperoni or sausage is better on pizza, and for the past few minutes she’s been guessing where his accent is from. She got it right on the first guess, but he’s enjoying watching her forehead crinkle as she goes through all the twangy states in her head. 

His mother had always told him he was too set in his ways, that sometimes a little hiccup or break in the routine actually benefitted in the long run. Bob had always rolled his eyes, there was a reason they were called routines. You could have a good time with just about anyone, his years of deployments were proof. Whatever this flirty bar conversation was, he enjoyed the moment for the temporary joy it brought, especially with Maggie’s outraged expression when he revealed where he grew up.

“That was my first guess!” Her hand shoots out and smacks the shoulder of his khaki uniform. The skin is hot where she touched him, a shot of warmth shoots down his arm fueled by flirty tension and whatever peppy retro track is blaring from the jukebox. Just as quickly, she tucks her palm back at her side with an almost guilty grin.

He can’t remember the last time he felt at ease in a crowded room.

Since initially sitting, Bob’s shoulders loosened and he’s practically on top of her with how far he’s leaned over during their conversation. Bright hazel eyes twinkle in the warm light, that mischievous sparkle beckoning him in.

“You want to get out of here?”

While Bob remained composed and lightly put his palm to the small of her back as he led them out, adrenaline rushed his system. The excitement of a new adventure ahead, of the unknown. The same energy as every time his front seater starts the engine. 

He heads toward a particularly thick throng of people in front of the entrance and his hand drops to let her go first. Maggie tugs his hand back, linking them together again - a zing of electricity! - and his fingers stray too close to the rounded seam of her impossibly tight jeans. The blood rushing to his lower extremities pleads to find out what those jeans look like on the floor. 

It’s an unseasonably warm night, the lightest breeze brushing the surrounding palms and loose sand. The absence of music and bodies and lights out here in the parking lot has Bob nervous. His eyes meet hers and a moment passes between the two amorous strangers. As if waiting for the other to come to their senses. 

It’s only one night. I’ll never see you again.

Bob motions to his truck, a small hopeful smile playing on his lips. “I’ll follow you?”

That obnoxiously wide grin splits open and lights up the dark lot. For the next twenty minutes his focus is solely on the taillights in front of him as North Island fills his rearview, her little sedan forking left onto Harbor Drive. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, the combination of road sounds and the staticky radio not enough to drown out his thumping heart. 

Blood rushes in his ears when they finally reach Maggie’s stucco-and-terracotta apartment a few blocks from the beach, the red paint on her door peeling. His hand makes its way to her hip - a comforting gesture -  as she unlocks the door and lets it slowly creak open. His sapphire eyes meet her hazel in the dim lamplight. 

Nothing is permanent, so let’s make the most of tonight. 

Now that you've met our players, who's ready for more? Our commitmentphobe and serial dater are almost here with their first chapter (which I promise is longer, there's a reason I made this a prologue)!

Since this is my first OC fic, I'm skipping a taglist and letting this find who wants it. But of course need to tag my babes who have been so supportive with this fic and the journey: @sorchathered @bobfloydsbabe @baezen @roosterforme