#dagger squad x pilot!reader

[sarahsmi13s]

Rookie

(not my gif)

pairings: dagger squad x pilot!reader (call sign: rookie)

characters: the dagger squad, reader, jake seresin, javy machado (those two play a signifcant role)

warnings: fluff with angst, insecurities about abilities and age, talk of death (training outcomes mostly), jake’s an asshole, i believe that’s it

word count: ~4.4k

a/n: this came in third, but i love it all the same (and the results were fairly close). i hope you enjoy

quick summary: being a new addition to the already established dagger squad came with its fair share of worries. but when you’re a fresh pilot with a call sign the only accentuates that fact only adds onto those.

************

You were fairly young to be a pilot.

Okay, 24 is a pretty normal age to be a pilot.

However, you had graduated high school early and graduated MIT at the age of 18, then graduated from USNA at the age of 22. You were practically a genius.

So, despite being close in age with your peers, you were given the call sign ‘Rookie’ because you were considered the baby of the group.

*******

You graduated TopGun just this past summer and were being called in for a special detachment with the Dagger Squad.

Speaking of the Dagger Squad, they were sitting in the hanger much like they did back in May.

“Mav’ why are they adding a new member to this team? You’ve got the best right here,” Rooster asked, gesturing to the team.

“Did someone say the best? Cause I just got here,” Hangman said as he sauntered into the hanger.He gestured back the way he came, “Also, there’s someone coming this way in a flight suit. So I assume that’s our new teammate, that we don’t need.” 

Mav held his hands up, “Okay, look, I know it doesn’t make sense to add a new member but we need all the help we can get. And this pilot, they’re good. They’re super intelligent and can fly like nobody’s business.” “You fly with them? Cause someone that good would have to have your level of experience,” Coyote questioned, skeptical of the captain. He shook his head, “No, none of us have flown with them.” Hangman narrowed his eyes, “Then how do they expect us to fly with them?”

Mav sighed and put his hands on hips, “Can you just be nice to them? Please.” The team nodded and stood as Cyclone walked in, you walking right in behind him.

“At ease. Aviators, meet your new team member. Lieutenant Y/N L/N, call sign Rookie.” They nodded at you in greeting, and then Cyclone left, giving you a glance of what appeared to be saying ‘good luck’.

“Just take a seat Lieutenant, anywhere is fine.” You nodded and sat down in the open second row. 

Maverick briefed you all on what the mission entailed, explained your training, and then sent you all to either the tarmac or to wait your turn.

“Rookie, you’re up first.” You nodded, “Yes, sir.” “Doesn’t she need a wingman?” Phoenix asked, a little worried for you. “We’ll get there.” 

You broke off, you went to the tarmac checking your plane before getting in it and taxiing it to the runway.

You took off and waited for Maverick’s signal to start. “Where are you Maverick?” You were glancing left to right. “Try up, Rookie.” You looked up and chuckled, shaking your head; Mav was inverted above you. He leveled out, “Fights on. Show me what you can do.”

******

Down on the ground, the Dagger Team listened in on the radio. 

“Does she ever shut up?” Hangman asked. “Be nice Bagman, she’s kicking his ass.” “Yeah, but does she have to talk the whole time?” “You do it. I’m sure we all do it,” Bob defended you. Jake just rolled his eyes.

*****

Later at the Hard Deck, they decided for the first day to leave most of the competition at the base.

“You know, if you hit the 4 towards the 10 it should ricochet off the wall and put the 1 in the corner pocket,” you pointed out from your spot by the pool table. Rooster tilted his head, considering the advice you gave him. “Hey, no helping! That’s not fair,” Coyote laughed, showing he wasn’t actually upset.

You held your hands up in defense, “Hey, Rooster was staring at the table for like 5 minutes.” You three laughed as Rooster took his shot. “I can’t believe that worked.” You laughed and shrugged before walking over to the table and sitting down by Bob, who offered you a kind smile.

“Oh, hey Rookie!” Payback greeted when he noticed you. “Hey guys,” you smiled back, taking the bottle of beer that was handed to you.

“Woah! Are you even old enough to drink that?” Hangman laughed, and you did too, despite the twist in your chest. “I’m 24, I can handle a beer.” “You can handle a plane too. I’ve never seen anyone fly like that,” Fanboy said, smiling as he tipped his beer to you.

Quickly, the group learned that your habit of talking a lot didn’t get left in the sky, it was a constant. And when you got to talking about sports or planes, or even movies, they were in for an earful. When you talked about something you were passionate about, you couldn’t stop talking.

And while the team never said anything, but you had been in situations plenty of times where you realized when you got to be too much. So, you tried your best to tone it down without fully removing yourself, which you had been trying your best to work on.

“So, Rook, where’d you go to school?” Rooster asked, taking a bite of nachos. You cleared your throat, formulating an answer so you didn’t ramble. “I went to high school in Massachusetts, and then went to MIT before USNA.” 

Boom you did it, straight and to the point, no side stories.

Until…

“Wait, you said you were 24, how did you go to a four year college and the Academy?” Coyote asked, pressing his hands into his thighs as he leaned forward. “Well, I graduated from high school early.” 

“So, what, you’re like a genius or something?” Hangman asked, shoving a fry in his mouth. You shrugged, “On paper, yeah.”

After that, Mav decided it was time to call it for the night and you all made your way home.

*******

Over the next two weeks training went smoothly, on the ground it was fine as well. Sort of.

Today you had been called to be a backseater for Coyote, just for the day while something on your plane got fixed.

“Can you sit backseat?” He asked as you walked to the tarmac. You nodded, “Yeah, I was trained in both. Gave me options.” 

Javy chuckled, “Where do you find the time?” You laughed and shrugged as you climbed into the backseat of his plane, “I’m a faster learner.” Coyote laughed again and followed in after you.

****

Things in the air didn’t go quite as planned, and you ended up getting ‘shot down’.

After your push-ups you sat on the concrete, “Hey, Coyote, I’m sorry about that up there. I should’ve seen him.” He dismissed your apology, “Hey, it’s a one time thing right?”

You shook your head, “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Make exceptions because I’m young. I fucked up, got us killed. I know it’s training but that shit happens, we both know that.”

He sighed and squatted down, “Y/N, you’re a good pilot, and you're a good wizzo, up until that last part.” You huffed, pinching your nose. He continued, hitting your knee with his knuckles, “Look, I know that mistakes were made, but that’s why we’re here, right? To work out the kinks and get better together.” 

He stood up and offered you a hand, “Come on. We’re both in need of a shower.” You nodded, “You got that right.”

********

The next day your plane was unfortunately still needing repairs, so you were sitting someone’s backseat again.

You had your fingers crossed it would be Javy again but your hopes were crushed when it was Hangman. Not that you didn’t like Jake, he just didn’t seem to be your biggest fan as of late. At least not in the sky.

And that was confirmed when he looked up, clicking his pen and exhaled through his nose in annoyance. 

“Good luck,” Rooster said, lips pressed into a line as he patted your knee.

When you got in the air with Hangman, it was tense. You tried your best to not make the same mistake as yesterday and you did fairly well.

Except when Hangman decided to be Hangman.

“Hangman, where are you going? What are you doing?” “Getting Mav off our ass,” he turned the plane. You looked out the sides and Mav was off your ass but now he was on Phoenix’s. “We can’t leave them, Hangman.” “Who’s the pilot? I’m trying to save our asses.” “By putting them in the line of fire? Get back in there.” 

He ignored you. 

“Hangman! Come on, where are you? I can’t shake Mav!” Phoenix shouted into the radio. Bob also comes through saying, “He’s trying to get a lock!”

“Hangman, I’ve got an idea.” He groaned, “What?”

You detailed out your plan, stating that Phoenix needed to bring him closer and towards you, and stall. Once Maverick flies by her, Hangman can move in for the kill. “That could work,” he said, but it was through gritted teeth.

It wasn’t the first time that you showed intimate knowledge of flight maneuvers, also wasn’t the first time you told him what could work. He loathed the fact that you told him what to do, especially when you were right.

And when you went head to head with Hangman in training, you bested him more often than not. It pissed him off. More so when you didn’t even brag about it. He was good and beating him gave bragging rights.

****

The plan you had was executed perfectly and none of you had to do push-ups.

Once you landed and got parked, Hangman was out of the plane without even a single word to you, didn’t even help you out. Maverick did though.

“Nice job today guys, I haven’t seen a move like that in years. Rookie, just got word your plane is fixed and you should be good to go for tomorrow.” “Thank god..” Jake mumbled under his breath.

Okay, that hurt.

You nodded, “Thank you, sir.” “Dismissed.” You all relaxed and Hangman was the first off the tarmac, “I need a fucking Aleve…”

You sighed and picked up your stuff.

“Hey, thanks for having our back up there,” Phoenix clapped you on the shoulder. You gave her a small smile, “Of course.” “Now I need a shower before we go to the Hard Deck.” You nodded, “Yeah I’ll need one too.” She squeezed your shoulder and was on her way.

You sighed again, rolling your shoulders before looking down at the name written on your helmet.

“Hey-“ “Gah! Bob, I didn’t know you were still there,” you laughed a bit. He chuckled, pushing his glasses up, “Hey, don’t take Hangman’s words to heart. He just can’t handle being told what to do .” You nodded, “Thanks Floyd.”

*****

After your shower you walked by the common room to go to your bungalow.

You glanced in to see who was still here to find everyone but Maverick in there. You almost went in until you heard Jake talking.

“No, I’m serious. She talks so much. Too much. I can tolerate it down here, because it’s way easier to tune it out. But up there, she’s in my ear like a damn mosquito.” “Come on Jake, she isn’t that bad,” Rooster tried to defend. 

“No, she is that bad. You can’t tell me that it isn’t at least a little bit annoying when she spouts off some random fact, usually while in the middle of an exercise.” The group sighed and nodded in agreement. 

“Hey, I think you’re being a bit harsh, Hangman. She’s saved your ass in plenty of exercises, and kicked your ass in a few of them,” Coyote pointed out, causing the others to laugh and Jake to clench his jaw. “Didn’t she get you killed yesterday? Because she couldn’t close her damn mouth for 5 fucking seconds,” he said, jaw set and green eyes harsh. Javy said nothing and opted to cross his arms and look at his boots. 

“And when she gets alcohol in her, it’s game over. She’ll tell you every damn detail of something you didn’t ask about.” The group shrugged and made small noses of agreement. “She’s too young to be flying with us. She doesn’t have the experience we do.”

And there it was, the bomb you had been waiting for.

The one you were expecting, but had never expected to hit you this hard. Have you really been that annoying? Did everyone think that of you and just not want to say it out loud? 

You shook your head and walked back towards the locker room. 

But they continued to talk in the common room.

“She thinks she’s better than us, all because she’s an MIT grad and just got out of Top Gun.” “She doesn’t think she’s better than us,” Fanboy shook his head, recalling a talk he had with you last week. “Then what the fuck was that up there today? She completely undermined me and my plan!”

“She kept you from abandoning your wingman, you asshole,” Rooster said, narrowing his eyes. “It doesn’t matter! Every time one of us is in the air with her, she constantly tells us what to do!” 

“She’s giving suggestions, Bagman. We’re a team, we need to work together. I could almost guarantee that she has picked up on all of our patterns and knows exactly how we fly. That’s what makes her a good pilot,” Phoenix defended.

Jake just rolled his eyes and walked out, “I need a drink.”

******

After you had gone to the locker room, you took an alternate route to your bungalow. 

And about 10 minutes later, Coyote was knocking. “Hey, you ready? I need a rematch on that dart game.”

You just chuckled and shook your head, “Maybe another night.” His face fell, “You’re not coming?” You shrugged, “Just been a long day.”

He jutted his lip out, “Come on. It’ll be boring without you!” “Somehow I highly doubt that,” you mumbled to yourself and a car going by helped drown it out.

“Please?” You couldn’t help but feel that he was pitying you. Like Mav told them to make you feel included and Coyote was trying his best. “Javy…” “Y/N come on, please!” You sighed, “Fine.”

****

You and Javy walked into the Hard Deck, and you didn’t miss the way Jake rolled his eyes but still greeted you the same as the others.

You sat down, and pulled out your phone.

“Okay, I’m getting the first round. What does everyone want?” Rooster asked. Everyone gave their orders. “Rookie,” Fanboy gently nudged your ribs. You looked up, “Hmm?” “What do you want?” “Water’s fine.” Everyone raised a brow. “You sure Rook?” You nodded, “Yeah.” The group shared a look.

You normally didn’t give short answers, usually (sometimes unnecessarily) explaining yourself. So the squad picked up that something had to be off. 

Fanboy and Bob shared another look over your shoulder, you being seated between them. “Are you feeling okay?” Bob gently rubbed your back. You nodded, “Fine.”

Your eyes don’t leave your phone and most of them take notice of the way your fingers tap against your thumb. Hangman decides to pull Payback into a game of pool.

“Hey, Rookie, why don’t we play a round of darts?” Coyote offered, shifting his gaze nervously around the group. You shrugged, “Sure.”

Rooster was placing his order, a round of beers and two bottles of water. 

“Who’s the second water for?” Maverick asked from his barstool. “Rookie.” Penny furrowed her brows, “Really? She usually has a few before she taps out.” He shrugged, “I don’t know, today was a little rough.” 

Maverick let his gaze set on you haphazardly aiming at the dart board. “I mean she was backseater for Hangman today. But they did fantastic.” He looked back, “Is she okay?” Rooster shrugged as Penny gave him the drinks, “As far as we can tell.”

“Come on, Rook! You’re letting me win now.” You were in fact not trying your best to win, just wanting to get the night over with. “Maybe my arms are sore.” 

You threw one that hit dead center, but you were too far behind and it didn’t matter. You gave Coyote a pat on the back and went to reclaim your spot. 

“Thanks Rooster,” you said as you sat down and pulled out your phone.

The group at the table felt a collective pang in their chest. You were uncharacteristically quiet and they didn’t know why.

****

The squad noticed as the night progressed -- you only drank water and spoke only when spoken to. 

They really want to chalk it up to you being tired and that seemed to be very plausible given the distant look in your eyes.

Later, as the pilots started heading out, they offered you rides, but you refused not wanting to put them out of their way. Coyote was your neighbor so it was easier to just ride with him.

At the moment it was just you, Fanboy and Payback, Coyote and Hangman. 

Fanboy sat with you until he was summoned to either darts or pool. Payback tried to get you in on a round of pool but you shook your head. Hangman ignored you completely and talked to Coyote, keeping him occupied.

You sighed and hopped off the stool by the pool table and went to the bar. “Penny, I’m heading out.” “Really?” You nodded, “Yeah, I had a rough day. I’m pretty tired. Will you put 4 bottles of water on my tab for them, I know if it isn’t in front of them they’ll forget to get some.” Penny gave you a sympathetic look, “Okay, yeah honey, I can do that for you.” “Thank you.” You paid her and left.

She watched you leave and not get into a car. But the base wasn’t too far and you were 100% sober, so she wasn’t all that worried. But still, it concerned her how quiet you were.

Sighing, she went over and sat the water down, being met with confused glances.

“They’re on Y/N.” The group looked around for you. “Where is she?” Penny gestured to the door, “She just left. Wanted to get y’all a bottle of water, cause she knew you would forget.” “Why’d she leave?” Penny shrugged, “Said she wasn’t feeling good.”

For some reason, Hangman felt a twist in his chest. 

Of course, like everyone, he had noticed your extreme change in behavior. He found himself straining to hear your voice rather than attempt to tune you out. And you left without saying goodbye, which was unlike you, but you still cared enough to get them water. And Coyote was your neighbor and ride home. He was also like your best friend, aside from Bob and Fanboy.

Coyote immediately pulled out his phone and called you when Penny went back to the bar. When you answered, he put you on speaker, “Hey. Why’d you leave on your own?” “You looked like you were having fun. And I’m tired.”

That was the excuse Hangman went with to shove this unfamiliar feeling in his chest away.

“I would have taken you home.” “Javy, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that you hung up.

“I don’t like this. Tonight was too quiet. I hope she feels better tomorrow,” Fanboy said, leaning on his pool cue. “Yeah, I feel like I should have just let her stay at home…” Payback straightened up, “Wait what do you mean?” “She said she was tired when I picked her up, but she came anyway. I feel bad now.” 

It was quiet for a moment.

“She let me win,” Coyote broke the silence. “What?” Hangman asked, sipping his water. “She let me win at darts. She could kick my ass blind folded and backwards.” 

*****

The next few days were weird.

You didn’t talk much, if at all unles you were in the air, and everyone noticed. Especially Hangman.

He tried to get under your skin while in the air, but you just took it. Humming and nodding to the remarks thrown your way. You didn’t throw anything back, barely even threw suggestions at him or yell at him when he left you hanging. 

“What the fuck is going on with you?” He would ask. You’d shrugged, “Nothing.” “Bullshit!” “It doesn’t matter.”

Your 180 turn in behavior worried everyone. But what you did today left them shocked.

“What the hell did you guys say to her?” Maverick questioned, eyeing everyone on his team when he entered the hangar. “I told you to be nice to her. I know she’s young, but she's just as good as any of you.” 

The group shared a look, “We have been nice to her.” “Then why did I catch her in the locker room spaced out and crying yesterday. Then she comes to my office and says she doesn’t think she’s good enough to fly this mission.” 

Their stomachs dropped. 

“Of course she’s good enough, why wouldn’t she be. She’s kicked your ass plenty of times,” Rooster said, gobsmacked at what he just heard. “I don’t know, but you’re lucky I convinced her of that. I’m not sure what’s up with her, but you better fix it.”

****

Later that day, everyone tried to talk to you alone, except Jake. He finally put a name to the feeling that had a vice grip on his chest: guilt.

He went into the ready room after doing his push-ups, finding you on the couch twirling a model plane in your hand. “There's water in the freezer. It shouldn’t be frozen but it’s definitely cold.” 

Your voice had no bounce in it, it was just kinda numb. “Thanks…” He sipped the water, pouring a little bit on his head.

He capped it and sat on the couch across the one you were laying on. 

“Hey, everyone’s going to the Hard Deck tonight, you should come.” You shrugged, “I’ll think about it.” Hangman ran his teeth over bottom lip, frustrated. 

You hadn’t gone out with the team in days, and while it still was fun, something was missing.

“Okay, can we cut the bullshit?” “What bullshit?” “Your bullshit.” You leaned up and looked at him, “Me?” “Yeah, you.” You fell back down onto the couch, “What’d I do this time?” 

This time? He thought. Shit..

“You heard what I said…” You paused your movements, sighing before looking at him as he ran his hand down his face. “You weren’t supposed-” “I know. But it’s fine, you spoke your mind and I appreciate your honesty.”

“But, it wasn’t exactly honest…” Your silence let him continue. “I was jealous. I was frustrated. And that’s no excuse for what I said about you.” “The others agree-”

“But they don’t, Y/N. They don’t agree. They defended you. They miss you, and I miss you too. Yeah, sometimes you can ramble and it can get a little annoying but it’s because you're passionate. And I had no right to make you think that was something to be ashamed of.” He sighed.

“You’re like the little sister we never had. I’m sorry for what I said, if that means anything.” You smiled slightly and that made him smile. “It does. Thank you.”

You bit your lip to hide the mischievous smirk as you looked back at the ceiling, “But can rewind to the part where you said you were jealous?”

He couldn’t help but laugh and roll his eyes. “Yeah, I was jealous. You’re already better than us.” “Okay, now you're flattering me.” “No, I’m being serious. I was jealous and insecure. You’re only 24 and you’ve done so much with your life already. I can’t begin to imagine where you’ll go next but I can only hope that we’re all there to see it.”

You sat up, sitting the model down on the coffee table. “Jake, you shouldn’t be insecure. Yeah, I graduated top of my class in Top Gun, but so did you. We all have our different ways of flying. We’re different, but that’s what makes us a team. Jake, you are an expert in this field.” He cracked his knuckles and looked at you but said nothing.

You chuckled and shifted, “Okay, don’t let this go to your head but, I studied you while in flight school and at Top Gun. Minus the leaving them out to dry.” “So, your skills come from me?” “I said not to let it go to your head. I also studied Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell.”

Hangman tensed at that. “Speaking of Maverick, he told us about this morning… I’m sorry for making you feel that way. But trust me, you are more than good enough to fly this mission.” “Thank you Jake. I appreciate that.” He nodded and you sat in awkward silence.

Jake clapped, “So, Hard Deck? 17:00?” You nodded, “Hard Deck, 17:00.” He smiled and nodded, now the awkward silence was comfortable.

********

Jake sauntered in, toothpick between his teeth. “Why are you guys mopin’?” “Not now Hangman…” 

The blond sighed, “She heard me. She heard everything I said that day.” 

Maverick narrowed his eyes, along with set jaws from the rest of the squad. “You’re such an asshole, Hangman, you know that?” Phoenix rhetorically asked. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I feel awful.”

Maverick shook his head, “I can’t believe you, Jake.” “I know. I know. Can we save the disappointment for later because I brought a guest.”

The squad rolled their eyes, expecting it to be some girl he met outside. “Bagman, I don’t really think we want to meet a girl you met 5 minutes ago.” 

“Well it’s a good thing he met me 3 weeks ago.” 

The group looked up and saw that familiar and greatly missed smile. “Rookie!” They got up and wrapped you in a hug.

Coyote held you the longest, “I missed you kid.” “It was so different without you. You have no idea,” Fanboy, ruffled your hair. Bob pulled you in for another hug after Javy let go. You all sat down and started the night officially.

This was the first time in days that you laughed this hard, and the squad couldn’t be happier to have their little sister back.

Plenty of photos were taken of you, one that Payback happened to take caught Jake smiling at you as you told some random story. He was definitely going to need that later.

You played pool and darts, and whenever you beat Hangman or Coyote you were hoisted up by your waist and shook as they laughed.

The universe was right again.

******

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!

thank you to those that voted for this story! this is the third one in the poll

i really appreciate all of you that voted for this story and the others! <33

if you want more polls for the ‘x reader’s that are just chilling in my docs let me know or if you have any requests for more fics please do so!!

love you guys <33

top gun tags <3: @milesdickpic @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia​

thank you guys for being here! i love you *mwah*

[its-a-ittle-bit-cold]

Piece by Piece

1.8k

Mitchell!reader x dad!Maverick

series masterlist

my masterlist

a/n: I know, I know. Im starting a new series even though i haven’t finished by hunger games one, my clone wars one or my marauders one. I also have marvel series i started on ao3 that i haven’t updated in literally years.. and don’t even get me started on ted lasso.

I guess inspiration just strikes when it strikes.

anyway, here’s the fic

summary: Arrival to North Island means visiting the nearby Navy Bar, the Hard Deck, which is run by your dear friend Penny Benjamin. Of course, you’re not the only visitor that night.

warnings: verbal abuse, drinking, character death, trauma, unedited

It’s strange, how in just a few hours, your whole life can totally and completely change. In just a few minutes, the strangest things can happen - the worst and the best.

In the span of five minutes, you solidified your top spot in the top gun academy. 

In the span of two, you ruined your relationship with your mom.

In the span of one minute and thirty seconds, Your best friend died because of a choice you made.

And within five minutes of that incident, you weren’t too far behind. 

In one minute, sifting through a box your stepfather sent you, you find a picture you’ve never seen before: Your mother, wearing a smile you’ve never seen on her face before, wrapped in the arms of a handsome navy pilot, all teeth and jawbone and eyebrows. 

And with thirty seconds of your arrival at the Hard Deck, that very same pilot comes waltzing in. 

Penny pauses her conversation with you, about how you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, how sorry she is for you, and strikes up a very similar conversation with him.

They have history, you can tell. 

Penny taps the counter over the barstool next to you - one of the only ones available in the crowded bar.

It only takes his polite smile to cement it in your head that this is him. 

This is your father. 

You don’t let anything show through, though. You stir up your shirley temple and smile, introducing yourself as majesty. 

“Ah. I’m in the Navy, too, you know. I’ve never met a Majesty before, though.” 

“Well, sir, this is a Navy bar… and I was on leave up until just recently. It doesn’t surprise me that you haven’t heard of me, since I was stationed in the Peninsula before , and everything there is pretty hush, hush.”

“Maverick,” he says, smiling again, but genuinely. He holds out his hand and you shake it. “Pleasure to meet you, Majesty.”

“likewise, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I finally see someone I know.” 

You bounce off, holding your drink tightly, acting as if your whole life hasn’t just been shaken up by a chance encounter at one of the many Navy bars in North Island. 

Approaching the group of other lieutenants, you steal a glance back at him grinning at Penny with the same stupid lovestruck expression that you saw in the photo.

Yep. That’s him. 

Maverick watches Majesty’s retreating form before she disappears in a group of rowdy pilots, wondering where he’s heard that name before. Majesty. 

He vaguely remembers some news from the peninsula about a year ago, but as the lieutenant had said, the news from there is very limited and very filtered. Something about a pilot whose call sign was Duchess…

“Uh oh.” Penny’s deadpan voice interrupts his thoughts. “You’re thinking. That’s never good.”

She slides him his beer and he laughs softly at her joke. 

“You know that pilot- Majesty - well?”

Penny glances over to where she disappeared into the group of pilots. She’s laughing along with the group while playing pool. They watched her take a shot.

The first thing he thinks is, she sucks.

“Yeah.. She’s a nice girl.” Penny starts deftly making a drink with the confidence of someone who’s done it a thousand times. “She watched Amelia for me when we were going through a divorce. Truly a lifesaver for both of us.” Penny meets his eyes. “She’s had a hard life, that one, and she’s not really ever had a reprieve from it, either. It’s good to see her laughing again.”

He sighs, knowing there’s a lot of pilots who joined up to get away from difficult families. 

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t recognize Bradley Bradshaw himself walking in until he walks up to Majesty and plants a kiss on her cheek,

He raises a hand.

“Penny, check, please?”

You’re having a surprisingly fun time at the Hard deck. You haven’t been clubbing since before you were deployed, and certainly not to a bar.

Who would you go with?

but the pilots you’ve met - and the old friends you’re seeing again are nothing but kind. (at least, to you. It’s been five minutes and Rooster and Hangman are already going at it) 

Phoenix introduces you to the pilots you don’t know, but there aren’t many. You swim in the same circles as most of them.

You line up a pool shot and slide the stick quickly, aiming the white ball at a general cluster of colored balls, and missing all of them completely.

“Now that,” a cocky voice begins over your left shoulder, “That was an astoundingly awful shot, your highness.”

You turn to face Hangman, who’s significantly taller than you, but you still stare right into his eyes. 

“I’ve never played before,” you defend. “And it’s Majesty.”

“Sure it is, darlin’. Lemme show you how to shoot pool.”

You cross your arms.

“Are you going to mansplain eight ball to her, Bagman?” Natasha- Phoenix - juts in. 

“Yeah, are you?” You ask, voice intentionally provocative, meant to make him splutter. Frustratingly, he doesn’t, only coolly lines up a shot - making it perfectly. 

“No, I’m offering to explain how to play properly, so it’s more fun for the both of us.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

Before you can respond with another teasing comment, the music shuts off, making way for a loud, unhappy groan from almost everybody in the bar.

You hear the familiar intro to Rooster’s favorite song, (It’s the only one he learned how to play) and hand the stick off to Bob, whose wide eyes widen even further.

“That’s my cue to leave,” You announce to the group. “I can’t listen to this song for the fifty-thousandth time.”

You blow a kiss to Phoenix and wave to the rest of the pilots, hugging Fanboy, a close friend of yours, and bid adieu to Penny, slipping her a twenty.

“Thanks Penny. See you later, yeah?”

Penny winks at you and waves. You lean into the door and press out into the cool night air, the sound of the ocean suddenly the only sound you can hear - besides Rooster’s muffled voice and piano playing. 

You walk around the bar, getting ready to head back to base. The last thing you expect is to meet eyes with Maverick, who looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

Your voice startles him out of his daze. He shakes his head slightly. 

“Yeah. I’m good.”

His eyes drift to Rooster again through the window, a peculiar expression passing over his face.

“…Well, I’m headed back to base. Have a good night, sir.”

You turn around, hands in your pockets, beginning the short walk back to the barracks.

“Wait. Do you mind if I join you?”

You shake your head ‘no’ and stop to wait for him to catch up with you. How strange is this, the man you just realized was tour father walking with you back to the barracks. 

You walk down the beach in silence, watching the waves crash on shore. There’s not much to say. 

“Are you here for the mission?” he asks eventually, finally, one of you breaking the silence. 

“I.. actually don’t know, sir. They didn’t tell us anything but the fact that we had to be in class tomorrow.”

You meet his eyes, briefly analyzing his face before turning your gaze back to your boots in the sand. There are some features, you suppose, that are similar in your faces. little things, but if he’s your father, you definitely take after your mother. 

“So.. yes. Then you must be a damn good pilot. Penny seems to think so.”

You laugh.

“Penny has what I like to call ‘Mom goggles.’  She thinks everything I do is the greatest thing ever.” 

It’s his turn to laugh.

“‘Mom goggles’? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Well, you’re not married. Give it time and you’ll figure it out.”

Maverick puts his hands up.

“Hang on. How’d you know I’m not married?”

You gesture to his hand. 

“No ring on your finger. And by the way you were shamelessly flirting with Penny literally all night.”

“I was not!”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself. 

This could’ve been us.

you clear your throat, looking out over the sea. The sun has fully set, now, and you’re getting close to base. You yawn, covering your mouth. 

You turn up the path to the base, in a comfortable silence when the your phone rings. You fumble through your pants, unzipping the pocket where you’ve stashed you phone. It reads one word, one you’ve been dreading. 

Mom.

 You cast Maverick an apologetic glance and then take the phone  call. 

“Hey, mom. What’s wrong?” You can hear the resigned sigh in your voice. Captain Mitchell has stopped walking, waiting for you. You shoo him away, not wanting to inconvenience him more.

Your mother’s voice is unintelligible. Staticky and blurred. 

“My baby!” she finally says in words you can understand. “Where are you? I came home and looked in your room and you were gone!”

You rub your eyes. 

“Mom. You’re drunk. Where’s Kevin?”

Usually, by this point, Kevin, your stepdad would step in. 

Maybe, you think, somewhat bitterly, he’s come to his senses and left the crazy lady. 

“Out,” is all she says. “You’re not still running around with the Navy, are you?”

She’s says the word Navy like it’s a slur. 

“Mom-“

“Because this is just a phase, (y/n). You’ll get over it and realize that I was right all along. You don’t belong on the battlefield, you belong in school.”

“Mom, as a matter of fact, i love my job and i’m not planning on leaving it anytime soon.”

This is a conversation you’ve had many a time. Almost every time she’s drunk she calls you up to criticize your life choices. 

“Then you’re a failure.”

“Gosh, I really wonder why I left.”

That’s when you hang up, abruptly cutting off your mother mid sentence. 

You make it all the way to the barracks before you angrily start punching things. The nice thing about living on base again is the free gym available to you, so you change into a ratty old shirt and shorts and go down to the officer’s gym, where punching bags are already hanging. 

You do a quick job of wrapping your hands, then begin the assault on a bag, sending it swinging with a punch.

You keep going and going and going until your knuckles feel like they’re bleeding or broken or at least bruised, and all the stress and anger with your mother has burned off. 

You hit the shower after the gym, then collapse into bed.

Your phone is lit up with four call notifications and twenty six text messages from your mom, which you promptly ignore, silence your phone and fall asleep.

“Duchess, fly away!”

“Get out of there!”

“It’s okay.”

“Majesty!”

Your eyes snap open, your back and arms are covered in sweat. You hold your breath in and let it out, trying to calm your heartbeat. 

You glance at the clock. 

Jesus Christ, it’s only three in the morning. 

This mission can’t come soon enough.

—

btw i know nothing about north island or the navy

[moondancediner]

Love of my Life

summary: the dagger squad meets hangman's best-kept secret

jake seresin x reader

word count: 1490

warnings: no editing, fluff

a/n: this popped into my head the other night... enjoy! also this gif makes me CHOKE ohmylord

song rec: love of my life - harry styles

masterlist

It wasn’t on purpose. Nights when you and Jake ended up at the same bar were never planned, mostly because your friends from work always wanted to go somewhere downtown, and Jake’s friends from work always wanted to go to the Hard Deck so there was never a chance for the two groups to intersect. 

Tonight, however, your friends had enough of hearing about all your nights at the Hard Deck with your fighter pilot husband who drops by work every once and a while with lunch or a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. They decided to venture out to the Hard Deck tonight for your monthly get-together and you weren’t going to miss an opportunity to ogle at your husband from across the bar while he played darts and pool with his Dagger Squad friends who just so happened to be in town visiting. 

And that’s exactly where you found yourself on this lovely Friday night. Your friend walked over to your standing table with another drink for you and you thanked her with a smile. She immediately started diving into some workplace gossip, keeping her voice quiet since so many of your colleagues had managed to make it out tonight. You half-listened to her go on how bad the break room refrigerator smelled the other day but your real focus was on Jake who was playing pool with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Bob. He had Bob on his team and you were surprised to see him actually give the man a chance to play without correcting or coaching him. 

You knew all about the Dagger Squad, when Jake was first sent out here you followed him, even knowing this wouldn’t be a permanent duty station, and he talked about everyone he was competing against non stop. From the moment he came home after training you were getting a full rundown of the days happening (you were sworn to secrecy of the top secret events, of course). You learned quickly who was who, even if you never got the opportunity to meet them. 

After the mission, you were pulling out boxes and getting ready to move what little belongings you brought over to the island when Jake came home and surprised you to your core. He accepted a teaching position here on the North Island and you were staying for the foreseeable future. 

You were shocked but over the moon. Jake would be in one spot for at least a couple years and wouldn’t be off on deployments and missions so often. You could start a family and he could actually be there for all of it. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” A hand waving in front of your face brought you out of memories and a trance you hadn’t realized you were in. You laughed and smiled at your friend, but not before catching the eye of Phoenix, who totally caught you staring at Jake. 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little lost there.” You waved her hand out of your face and took another sip from your drink. 

“I’ll say,” she laughed, “I mean, I get it.” Her eyebrows wagged and you laughed heartily, throwing your head back. She was always complimenting your choice of husband and you had to agree with her, he was fine as hell. 

“Fuck, I think one of his friends just caught me staring,” you said once the laughter died down. 

“Remind me again why he doesn’t tell them about you?” 

“It started off as a joke,” you start, “he wanted to see how long it would take one of them to notice, and now it’s just an ongoing bet we have.” 

“A bet I am about to win, by the way.” Jake suddenly appears behind you and you’re happy to see him until his words sink in.

“You’re not allowed to interfere!” You point at him and he just laughs. 

“No interference, I promise.” He leans on the table you two are standing at and you almost forget about the bet for a second because his green eyes still captivate you even after all this time. 

“Well, what are you doing over here then?”

“See now, that’s where it gets interesting because someone caught you looking at me,” he tips his beer over in the direction of his friends, who scatter like chickens when you turn your head to look at them, “and they bet me $20 that I couldn’t walk over here and get your phone number.” 

“Hmmm, seems like fair play to me.” Your friend interjects, looking contemplatively between you and your cheating husband. 

A noise comes out of your mouth, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. You only had one month left before the bet was yours and you could claim your prize and now this happens, the perfect opportunity falls right into Jake’s lap. 

“Did none of them notice the giant ring on my finger?” You hold up your wedding rings, which glint even in the dim bar lighting and Jake takes your fingers in his hand, bending them towards himself before placing a kiss on your knuckles. You swoon. It’s impossible not to. “Don’t try to distract me, you’re in trouble.” 

“Come on darlin’,” His hand fell away from yours but moved slyly around your hip, where it curled around the belt loops of your shorts, and just then, while his face was inching towards yours, your wedding song came on. 

“When did this song get added to the jukebox?” 

“I may have put in a special request.” His smile did you in. You met him halfway and when your lips met that familiar kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight. Jake pulled away just to smile at you some more before pressing a few quick kisses to your lips. When he backed away enough, you took the chance to look over his shoulder and see what his friends thought. 

The entire group was standing around, completely gobsmacked at what just occurred and you could only imagine what was running through their minds. 

“After you, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake whispered in your ear. You gave him the best glare you could but he just laughed and grabbed your hand to walk you over to the group of people you already felt like you knew. 

Jake chuckled as you got within ear shot. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone,” he pulled you under his arm and you automatically slid your own across his back, “this is my wife.” He said it with genuine pride, a stark contrast to his usual cocky tone everyone was used to. 

“Wife?” Rooster repeated, dumbfounded.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Bradshaw.”

You ignored Jake and introduced yourself to everyone with a quick wave. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.” 

There was a beat of silence while you watched everyone process what was happening, but Phoenix broke it with a laugh. “You’ve been holding out on us, Bagman!” 

“Yeah, what the hell, man!” Rooster seemed downright offended that Jake would keep such a secret from them and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s not all Jake’s fault,” You come to his defense, “we had a bet going, which I just lost.” 

“What bet did you two have?” Bob asked, coming forward to introduce himself to you properly. 

You shook his outstretched hand, smiling. “We wanted to see how long it would take for someone to figure out he was married.”

“You… you don’t wear a wedding ring?” Rooster seemed to be having the hardest time with this revelation and it was cracking you up. 

Jake pulled his dog tags out from under his shirt, proudly turning them around to display his gold wedding band that perfectly matched the one around your finger. They both belonged to his grandparents and he was so proud to give you his grandmother's band on your wedding day. 

Phoenix studied the two of you for a moment, watched the way you started to sway to a song and Jake immediately joined in, watched how his attention always drifted back to you, and how his entire cocky dimenor melted away as soon as you were near. 

“So, what’s the story? How did you manage to bag Hangman?” Natasha asked, leaning her hands on the pool cue in front of her. 

Jake pretended to be offended. “I’m not that wild.” 

You roll your eyes affectionately before diving into the story of how you and Jake met. It was nothing spectacular or anything you would want to make a movie about, but it was a whirlwind romance that ended in the two of you married in the Seresin family’s backyard three summers ago. 

When you finished your story, all smiles for your husband, Rooster raised his beer in a toast. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Seresin.” 

Jake couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to let the team in on his best-kept secret, even if he was gonna pay for her losing the bet later on tonight. 

---

thanks for reading ily

Requests are open 🫶🏻

[ddejavvu]

I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!

You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.

"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."

"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."

"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."

You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.

"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"

"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."

You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.

"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"

"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"

"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.

She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.

"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"

"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."

Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.

You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"

"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."

Your stomach drops.

"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"

"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"

"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.

"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"

"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"

"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.

"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."

"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.

"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"

"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."

"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"

"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.

"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"

"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."

He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."

"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"

"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'

"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"

"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"

She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.

"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."

[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.”

[writingdumpster]

secret wife

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

warnings: none, all fluff

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

word count: 1k

A/N: Thanks for 3k followers!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who do you think?” Asked Hangman. 

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

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

“I’m married,” Payback pointed out. 

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

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

“Could be anyone,” Fanboy joined in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your name?” Phoenix asked. 

“Y/N,” you told her. 

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

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

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

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

“I’d love to, ma’am,” Phoenix said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[onehoplessromantic]

Masterlist | Glen Powell

Jake “Hangman” Seresin - Tyler Owens

Updated: 11/3/2024 (link check)

!!authors!! if you want ur work removed please pm me

I’m back again with another one!!! It’s definitely not as lengthy as my other lists (yet) but I’m hoping to find some more for all three. I also figured I’d get a stake in this territory as the Glen Powell fanclub grows post-twisters. I hope y’all find what you’re looking for!

peace 💕

join the taglist here

fluff-> 🤍 | smut -> 🍋 | angst -> 🌧️ | major tw -> ‼️

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

𐚁 BROTHERS BEST FRIEND | @tongue-like-a-razor

13 parts | ongoing | 🤍🌧️🍋

Jake Seresin x Bradshaw!Reader

The trials and tribulations of falling for your brothers best friend.

𐚁 BRUISES | @ohtobeleah

8 parts | complete | 🌧️‼️

Jake Seresin x WSO!Reader

After a mission goes south, Jake finds himself captured by insurgents that show no remorse. But whats worse than knowing he failed his mission? Knowing that the Weapons Systems Officer who trusted him to bring her home safe was in the same cell as him. Collecting bruises that match his own.

themes of heavy violence, sexual assault, torture, 18+ content, minors dni, mature themes, being held in captivity, hostage style situations, main character death! whump, angst, conversations that discuss antisocial and antisemetic views

𐚁 ROCKS ARE ALLOWED TO CRACK, STARS ARE ALLOWED TO DIM | @sarahsmi13s

oneshot | wc: ~8.0k | 🌧️

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x fem!pilot!reader

everyone deserves someone to comfort them in their time of need, even the ones that always lend their shoulder.

angst, language, ptsd, description of accident, panic attack, injuries, descriptions of scars, flashbacks, fear of death, familial death (mentioned), crying, bottling up feelings

𐚁 THE WALLS ARE CAVING IN | @desert-fern

oneshot | wc: 5.5k | 🌧️🤍

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!Reader (known as honey bee/honey)

You are sunshine incarnate, the life of the party who is so free with your affection. Jake finds himself struggling to express his desire to be like you while wrestling with his past, what happens when it all comes crashing down around him? AKA Jake is both touch-starved and in love.

jake has a shit dad, angst, still fluffy tho

𐚁 THE BEANERY | @callsign-peach

oneshot | wc: ?? | 🤍

established hangman x female!reader

Jake goes from drinking the base’s stale coffee to bringing in cups from the cafe down the road from the hard deck, and the dagger squad is determined to find out why.

tooth-rotting fluff

Tyler Owens

𐚁 LIKE MOTHER LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER | @wisdomssdaughterr

oneshot | wc: 3.7k | 🌧️🤍

tyler owens x harding!reader

you had made a name for yourself in the storm chasing game; it was in your genes, being the daughter of the famous chasers jo and bill harding. tyler found your knack for knowing just what the storms thinking, a little infuriating and incredibly impressive

fem!reader, reader gets injured, mentions of blood and injuries, probably inaccurate meteorological info and medical info, angst, fluff, some hurt/comfort

𐚁 CHASE YOUR FEARS | @briefinquiries

oneshot | wc: 11k | 🤍🌧️

tyler owens x f!reader

you and your younger brother are road-tripping across the US when you encounter a tornado. Luckily, the tornado wrangler himself shows up to help.

tornados, fear, flufffff

𐚁 WORTH YOUR WHILE | @wisdomssdaughterr

oneshot | wc: 2.9k | 🤍🌧️

tyler owens x fem!reader

As the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. While you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, Tyler barreled into it head-first. But things change in the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than the safety of a newsroom.

dramatic fluff, hurt/comfort, description of tornadoes, language, description of injury, slightly inaccurate meteorological info

Glen Powell

𐚁 HEY THERE DARLIN’ | @shellbilee

6 parts | complete | 🤍🌧️🍋

Glen Powell x OFC (Billie James)

fluff, swearing, angst, eventual smut

ⓒ onehopelessromantic, November 2024

[vivwritesfics]

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.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x F1 driver!reader

5.6K

a/n: yes a military flyover doesn't make sense for vegas buuuut let a girl dream lol - i'm hoping I've managed to write this for an audience that might not really know f1 but idk how confident i am in my abilities lol

Bob couldn't quite believe what the two time Top Gun graduates were having to do. They had completed an insanely dangerous mission and returned to be permanently stationed in San Diego, except from when they were called away for deployment.

They were a part of the military, why were they doing this?

Well, at least Bob didn't have to actually fly. He was a Weapon Systems Officer, he didn't have to take part in this. But he still went, more to morally support his squad.

Nat wasn't happy about have to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. She, Bradley and Jake were constantly complaining. None of them knew anything about Formula One, not enough to appreciate doing the flyover.

(May I just say, even if they did know about F1, they still wouldn't appreciate it. They'd train for years to be in the navy and now they were having to waste their time on this.)

The flyover was on the Sunday. Only Natasha, Jake and Bradley were taking part. Bob didn't have to go, didn't have to visit the track on the Friday and the Saturday with the three of them.

But Natasha had begged him. "Drive up with me," she'd said to him. "It's five hours and I could use the company."

So, Bob agreed. His dad had sometimes watched Nascar while he was growing up. He didn't know much of anything about motorsport but, if Nat wanted him there, he'd go.

The navy pilots didn't know they'd been invited to meet the drivers. Bob followed Natasha through the paddock. "Getting to meet the drivers might be the only good thing thing to come from this," Nat mumbled as she led the way.

The paddock was buzzing with life. There were cameras following people around, interviews happening as they walked through the paddock. Fans stopped men in team shirts and hats for pictures before letting them continue.

There was a familiar whistle, just loud enough for Natasha and Bob to hear over the crowd around them. They turned and saw Rooster and Hangman striding towards them.

"Where are we meant to be?" Asked Hangman as Rooster pulled off his aviators and looked around. The three of them (Natasha, Jake and Bradley) were in their overalls, looking proper in their uniform. Bob, though. He was dressed down, wearing jeans and a sweater (Vegas really wasn't that warm this time of year), his military issued glasses sitting on his nose. He looked cute, even if he didn't know it.

"Cyclone said the Ferrari garage, right?" She said as she looked between the other aviators. Bob, who had studied the itinerary, nodded his head and the four of them set off towards the red garage.

***

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a joke. All of the drivers thought so.

The Ferrari drivers weren't happy about it (just like the rest of the grid). They had spent the season struggling behind the Red Bulls and driving on an unknown track wasn't going to help that.

She needed a lot of mental preparation for this one. Just like the other drivers, before the first practice session her only experience on the track had been through sim racing. She was nervous in a way she hadn't been before.

She donned her red fireproofs, the overalls hanging from from her hips. She pulled her cap onto her head when there was a knock on her driver room door. "Yeah?" She called and the member of Ferrari staff walked in.

"The navy pilots are on their way," she said and went to back out of the drivers room.

"What?" The Ferrari driver called suddenly, her brows furrowed. "What navy pilots?"

The member of staff gulped. "They're doing a military flyover before the Grand Prix," she said. "They're on their way here to meet you and Charles," she said.

The driver let out a huff. She grabbed her drinks bottle and marched out of her drivers room, heading to find her teammate.

Charles was doing an interview for Sky Sports when she walked through the garage. She didn't much care, though. She powered on, her hand on Charles's shoulder as she stood at his side. "Chuck," she said, looking at her teammate.

Lawrence Barretto moved his microphone back to his mouth. "Is that his official name for the Vegas Grand Prix?" He asked and moved the microphone towards her.

"Yes," she said as Charles shook his head, repeatedly saying 'no'.

She stood beside him until the interview was over, answering any question Lawrence sent her way. As soon as they were done she grabbed Charles and pulled him away, pulling him further into the Ferrari garage.

"What's up?" Charles asked. He was a brilliant teammate, one of her best friends. They'd known each other for yeas and were close enough for people to think they were together at one point. Brocedes 2.0, many commented on the pictures of the two of them posted on the Scuderia Ferrari Instagram account, as if they were a disaster waiting to happen.

"Did you know we're having to meet the navy pilots doing the military flyover?" She asked, hands on her hips.

Charles furrowed his brows. And then his face relaxed as he shook his head at her. "Start checking your emails, please," he said.

She gently pushed him as a member of the Ferrari staff, the same girl from before, approached them. "They're here," she said and left them to it.

Charles led the way back through the garage, heading to where the navy pilots were standing around his car. Three of them, the three that looked the part, chatted with Fred while one, one that was dressed down, stood to the side.

Suddenly, she pulled Charles out of sight. "What is it?" He asked quickly, concern written on his face.

She looked back around the corner at the pilots for just a second. "Holy shit, Cha, I think I'm in love," she said and Charles just laughed.

"Do you need a wingman?"

She furiously shook her head. "Don't you bloody dare."

She steadied herself and followed Charles over to the navy pilots. Fred spotted his drivers first. He gestured over to them as he back away from the pilots, letting the drivers take over.

Charles held his hand out towards them introducing himself first. She went next, giving them her name as she reached out to shake the woman's hand.

"Natasha Trace," she said with a smile as she shook her hand. "Callsign Phoenix."

She moved on to the man with the moustache. "Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster," he said and shook her hand, his grip firm. He wore a smile, but it was respectful.

Unlike the man next to him. She could tell who he was from the moment she looked at him, wearing that flirty smile. "Jake Seresin," he said, pulling her hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. "You can call me Hangman."

The smile dropped from her face and she pulled her hand away, clearly unimpressed. She looked past him, at the guy in the sweater and the glasses. "How about you?" She asked, completely ignoring Hangman. "Are you in the navy too?"

Bob blushed bright red as he stepped forward. "Robert Floyd," he said and shook her hand. "I'm a weapon systems officer."

"Oh," she said. Just that one word and she sounded incredibly fascinated. "Do tell me more."

She'd asked Charles not to wing man her, but he did it anyway. She might not have been aware as Charles spoke to the other navy pilots, doing the job for both of them. (Charles didn't know if Bob was the one she had fancied, but it was easy to guess. He looked like her type).

They spoke for a good twenty minutes before the drivers were told to wrap up the conversation. "You got a call sign?" She asked Bob as she crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the wall.

Jake had been wrapped up in the conversation he, Rooster and Phoenix were having with Charles until that point. Upon hearing her question, he placed his arm around the WSO's shoulders and grinned at the driver. "This is Baby On Board," he said with a grin, going to pinch Bob's cheeks.

Again, his cheeks were flaming as he stepped away from Jake. "It's Bob," he said. "Just Bob."

"Just Bob," she repeated as she smiled at him, completely ignoring everything Jake had said (something that Bob was grateful for). "It's simple, I like it."

Her engineer called for her. She turned and put her thumbs up before turning back to Bob. "Are you staying for the free practice?" She asked and Charles couldn't stop himself from answering.

"Sorry," he said to the pilots. "She doesn't read her emails."

She sent a glare in Charles's direction. The drivers said a quick goodbye to the navy pilots (although she hoped it wasn't for the last time), and got themselves ready for the first practice session in Las Vegas. They pulled up the red and white overalls and placed the balaclavas over their faces.

Bob watched as she pulled her helmet on, hiding her undeniably pretty face. He really did think she was beautiful, and she seemed interested in him, but he wasn't going to read too much into that.

He couldn't see as she gave him a smile from beneath her helmet. When she climbed into the red car with the number 53 on it, Bob knew which one he had to look out for.

The track wasn't ready, everybody knew it. But they didn't know how bad it was until they shower of sparks coming out the back of her car. "What the fuck was that?" She said to her engineer down the radio. "I just hit a fucking manhole cover."

The pilots were leaning forward as she stopped the car. The session was stopped, the other drivers coming into the pits. She jumped out of the car, waiting for it to be lifted onto the truck so that she could look at the extent of the damage beneath.

As the car was taken back to the garage and workers surrounded the manhole cover, she climbed into the medical car and was taken back to the pitlane.

Bob watched as she stormed into the garage, pulling off her helmet and balaclava. "Nine fucking minutes!" She heard her say to somebody in a Ferrari shirt. "I officially hate the Vegas Grand Prix."

She looked around the garage, eyes focusing in on the pilots. They were watching her, too, and she forced her expression to soften as she walked over. "Sorry you had to see that," she said, unzipping her race suit.

Bob shook his head. "'s no worries, ma'am," he said before he could stop himself. When his fellow aviators looked at him, his cheeks flushed red.

"We're just glad to know you're okay," Natasha said for him.

The driver smiled at them. But the interaction was short lived as she was called over to her wrecked car. (It looked fine on the top, but everybody knew the damage was beneath, invisible).

The nine minutes of practice wasn't enough to help the aviators get into F1. Rooster, Hangman and Phoenix wanted to head back to their hotels, but Bob wanted to stick around.

"My dad was into Nascar," he explained as the others left. They nodded, but they knew better. Their Baby On Board had a crush.

She hadn't expect him to stay, that much was clear. She'd seen the other aviators leave and had gotten on with what she needed to do, speaking to the mechanics about the parts they needed to replace and speaking to Fred about the potential consequences.

"Oh!" She said when she saw Bob still sitting there. "I thought you would have left."

Bob gave a polite smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to learn more."

The smile she gave him matched his own. "Well, you're not gonna learn much here," she said. "Let me get changed and we can get dinner."

Bob didn't expect dinner to be in the Ferrari hospitality suite. He'd didn't exactly think he'd be going out to dinner with her, but he didn't expect this.

She sat Bob down at a table and got a selection of food for them to share. "I can't exactly go crazy," she'd said as she sat down opposite him, placing the single plate in between them. "I still have a car to drive later."

Bob grabbed something from the plate. "Why does that mean you can't go crazy?" He asked curiously, innocently.

Every question Bob had, she answered. He told her that his dad watched Nascar while he was going up but he couldn't get into it. Didn't have the time once he joined the navy.

She asked him all about that, just as curious as he was about her job. Bob knew she was meant to be this big celebrity, but she was normal with him, and he really appreciated it.

He hadn't known who she was going into this weekend, but he heard the way the fans screamed her name. She was so famous, and he was just a boy from Montana.

"Are you and your friends watching anything else of the Grand Prix weekend?" She asked as she ate a piece of lettuce (literally just holding a big piece of lettuce to her lips and crunching on it).

Bob shook his head as he looked down at the table in front of him. "'Friad not, ma'am," he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. Bob didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he took them off.

"Aw," she said with a pout. "I liked them."

"Really?" Bob couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "I used to have ones with slightly thicker frames, but these are military issued," he explained, putting them back on his face.

She grinned at him. "They're cute," she said, resting her cheek in her hand. It was undeniably flirty, and her grin was only making it worse. Well, that would have been if Bob could have allowed himself to believe that was flirting with him.

"I could get you tickets, if you'd like," she said. "You and your pilot friends. You can come back back to the Ferrari garage, support us for the rest of the weekend."

Bob gave her a gentle smile. "I'd like that," he said.

They continued chatting until she had to head back to the garage. Bob followed her, walking behind her.

She took him back to the garage, leaving him to stand with the rest of the Ferrari guests while she disappeared into her drivers room. Bob couldn't help but think of her as she got herself ready, getting dressed into her fireproofs and race suit. If Nat was here, he could ask her for advice.

Ten minutes before the start of FP2, she walked over to Bob. He'd seen her dressed down in a Ferrari hoodie and cute cargos, seen her in her race suit, and seen her in her fire proofs, race suit sitting low on her hips.

That was how she walked towards him. He'd seen so little of her, but this was his favourite (and he certainly wanted to see more). "Want to sit in the car?" She asked, hands on her hips.

***

The first thing she did after FP2 was give Bob her phone number. He couldn't quite believe it, and made a mental note to recount everything to Natasha as soon as he got back to the hotel.

"Have you got a way back to your hotel?" She asked, her helmet tucked beneath her arm.

"I, uh..." No, he and Natasha had gotten a cab together.

She waved him off before he could give her a proper answer. "I can drive you, if you'd like," she offered.

That was how Bob found himself sitting in an F1 drivers car, telling her about his childhood as she took him back to his hotel. He told her about his big family and the mountains he grew up around. He told her about when he joined the military, about his first time in Top Gun and his permanent stationing in Coronado.

Before very long they were pulling up outside of his hotel. "Well, here we are," he said, patting his legs. He didn't move to leave the car, but she didn't much mind.

"I really liked meeting you today, Bob," she said as she tapped the heel of her hand against the steering wheel.

"It was lovely to meet you, too," he said.

"Promise you'll text me?"

"Promise."

She held out her pinky finger and Bob wrapped his own around it, sealing the deal. He looked at her one last time and climbed out of the car, heading into the hotel.

Bob couldn't hide his smile as he walked through the lobby and into the elevator. Just days ago he'd hated the thought of a military flyover for the Las Vegas Grand Prix. Now, he couldn't wait to get back to the track, back to the Ferrari garage.

Nat noticed it the minute he walked through the door of the hotel room they were sharing. "Had a good time watching the rest of it?" She asked as she pushed away from the desk in the room.

Bob nodded as he pulled out his phone, clicking on her contact. But, the moment he was there, he didn't know what to say to her. "Nat," he called, looking up at her. "I need your help."

He only needed Nat's help to get the ball rolling. But soon, she and Bob were sending messages back and forth with just a second long gap between. Sometimes Bob took a little longer to reply, but only because Nat was reading the messages over his shoulder and assuring him that she was flirting.

Bob couldn't believe it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.

"I'll go with you tomorrow," Nat said as she climbed into her bed. It was incredibly late and Bob was hyper-aware that they were still texting. "Find out if she really is flirting with you."

"Nat..."

"Goodnight, Bob."

Natasha went to sleep, but Bob stayed up. She was still replying to his messages, and he couldn't bring himself to not respond. At least until she turned around and wished him goodnight.

When Bob woke up, she had already texted him. I don't have to be on track until later - wanna get food?

Who was Bob to say no? Natasha grinned as he got himself ready, including his glasses. (He had brought his contacts to Vegas because of how much he hated wearing his glasses. He didn't have time to put them in before they headed to the track the day before, but Nat didn't expect him to wear them now).

He walked out of the hotel, ignoring Hangman and Rooster as they called after him. They sat in the lobby, do doubt waiting for Natasha as they whistled at him.

Bob kept going. He saw her car before he walked out of the glass doors, and had to stop himself from breaking into a small jog. As he approached, she pushed open the passenger side door. "Hey, Robby!" She called, wearing a grin.

"Hey," Bob said, wearing a smile as he climbed into the passenger side.

As soon as he was buckled in, she began driving. "Have you ever been to Vegas before?" She asked as she headed towards the strip.

Bob shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said. It wasn't in the same way he'd said 'ma'am' before. No, those time he had been nervous saying it. This time, it was so fucking cute and she loved it. "I don't get enough leave for that."

"Why do you call me ma'am?" She asked, but she never wanted it to stop.

Bob couldn't stop his smile. "My momma raised me right."

That much she could tell. She parked the car and climbed out as Bob did the same. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

They went to a restaurant. Bob didn't catch the name of it as she pulled him through the doors. Even when sat gave the waiter her name, she was still holding his hand.

They sat down at a table for two. It felt far too intimate, almost like a date. She couldn't order a drink, but insisted that Bob did. He ordered one beer and made sure to make it last through their entire lunch.

She ordered a salad. Bob wanted to do the same, but she could see how conflicted he was. "Have whatever you want," she said, lowering her menu.

So, he did just that. Bob got himself a burger, the cheapest one on the menu (which was still incredibly expensive).

While they ate, Bob couldn't ignore the way her foot touched his knee beneath the table. He gulped as he reached for his beer.

While they waited, she told Bob about how she had grown up. Karting from a young age before moving onto single seaters.

The more she spoke, the more Bob could imagine getting into F1. Watching races, coming to see her in Vegas when he wasn't deployed. He just had to hope she still liked him enough to keep in contact with him.

They spent the entire afternoon together, until she was taking Bob to the track with her. Pictures of the two of them were taken as they walked through the paddock, too close to just be friends.

Once again, Bob stood in the garage while she completed the last practice session. She led, the fastest car until the Red Bulls were released onto the track.

But still, Bob couldn't stop watching the number 53 car. She came into the pits, had her tyres changed and went out a few minutes later.

Bob couldn't help but smile as he watched her climb the leaderboard. When practice ended, she didn't come in right away, doing a practice start with the other drivers.

When she got out of her car, she pulled off her helmet and balaclava, and spoke to her engineers. She had looked so happy when she climbed out of the car, but Bob watched as her face fell.

She walked over to him, unable to keep herself from sighing. The anger dropped from her face, replaced by sadness. "Wanna come sit in my drivers room?"

So, Bob followed her to her drivers room. She led him inside and shut the door behind him, letting out a breath as she leaned against it.

"Everything okay?" Asked Bob as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

She unzipped her overalls and let them fall to her hips. Bob shuffled over on the couch, giving her space. She sat beside him, shutting her eyes as she leaned back. "Because of the parts they'd had to replace in my car, I'm probably going to get a penalty later," she mumbled.

Her head fell onto his shoulder and Bob didn't move. He hesitated before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. That that, she shuffled slightly closer, which Bob didn't mind one bit.

Suddenly, she let out a weak laugh. "You're kinda making me want to stay in the states a little longer, Robby," she mumbled.

He looked down at her. "Would you? Seriously?" Bob could imagine it then, taking her to stay with him in San Diego, taking her to Montana to meet his mom at Christmas.

She shook her head. "I can't," she said and sighed through her nose. "There's one last race before the end of the season."

After that, Bob wanted to say. But he squeezed her shoulder instead.

When her trainer came in, Bob wished her good luck and headed back out to the garage. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent Natasha a text. She hadn't gone to the track with him, instead going with Bradley and Jake to the hangar they would be flying from.

If Nat showed Rooster and Hangman his texts, he'd never hear the end of it. But Bob realised he didn't mind. Let them talk, he was here with her.

The first round of the qualifying session was about to start. Bob sort of knew what to expect, she'd explained it to him while they sat in her drivers room, her head on his shoulder. He watched as she walked towards the car, her red, gold, black and white helmet on her head.

She climbed into the car and somebody strapped her in as somebody else spoke to her. She nodded at whatever they were saying and put her thumbs up.

Admittedly, Bob couldn't tell the difference between the practice sessions and the qualifying session. He watched as she went from having no time on the board to being the quickest car on track. But then she was knocked out of the top spot, down in eighth by the end of that session.

Bob had assumed that she was starting the race in eighth position after the eighteen minute long qualifying session. But then she and fourteen other drivers were going back out onto track.

Again she was at the top of the board, knocked out by the same driver. But she stayed in fourth, unable to get a quicker time in before the end of the session.

She went out for a third and final time. Bob heard her calling down the radio as somebody got in her way. But she put an impressive time on the board, finishing third.

It may have been obvious to everybody else in the garage, but Bob had to ask the girl standing next to him. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and answered with a thick French accent. Bob thanked her and watched as the 53 car came into the garage.

She hopped out, did what she needed to do and came to find Bob.

It was near midnight and she couldn't quite believe he was still there, watching her. They'd spent the entire day together, and she'd loved every minute of it.

"Want me to drive you home?" She asked and Bob nodded his head.

She did just that, driving Bob back to his hotel. "They haven't confirmed if I've got a penalty or not," she said as she drove him. "So, for now I'm starting in P3." She quickly glanced at him and then looked back at the road. "Think you might be my good luck charm, Robby," she said and he blushed a deep shade of red.

She pulled up outside of the hotel, just as she had done the day before. And, like the day before, Bob was hesitant to climb out of the car.

As Bob reached for the handle of the door, she opened her mouth, ready to say something, and he stopped. But she closed her mouth. Still, Bob didn't move.

She sucked in a breath and tried again. This time, words came out. "Can I come up?"

Bob knew what that meant. How could he not? Some part of him had been wanting her to ask something like this for the last few hours. But still, he shook his head. "I, uh, I can't. I'm sharing my room with Nat."

"Oh," she said and looked down at the centre console between them. "Oh, shit. Are you and Nat- I didn't mean to overstep... I-"

Bob quickly shook his head. "No. No, Nat's my best friend, but only my best friend," he said. "But, her bed is a couple feet away from mine, so..."

She couldn't help but let a smile cross her face at that. "Can I kiss you, Robby?" She asked.

He leaned over the centre console. Her arms went around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair at the back of his neck.

Bob kissed her. He closed the gap between them, his arm awkwardly resting on her shoulders as his lips moved against her own. Her nose bumped the lens of his glasses, but neither of them minded.

If the expensive car left room for it, he would have moved her onto his lap. But he couldn't. He pulled away, staring at her as his eyes opened again. "Holy shit," he whispered and she grinned at him.

"I'll come and get you before the race," she said and Bob climbed out of the car.

***

He didn't wake up to a text from her. Immediately Bob's mind played tricks on him, telling him that, after they had kissed, she didn't want him.

He sat in the hotel for half of the day, in a perpetual state of anxiousness. Part of him didn't want to move until he heard from her, until he knew that everything was okay.

"You coming?" Nat asked him. He checked his phone one last time before following her out of the hotel room.

He didn't know what she was currently dealing with, that she had just found out about her grid place penalty. "This is such shit!" She cried as she and Charles walked through the paddock. She'd woken up to the news and hadn't had time to message Bob.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Charles said, stopping to sign things for fans (signs, hats, and even a packet of oreos). "How are things going with the navy guy?"

She grinned as they kept walking through the paddock. "We kissed, Cha," she said, suddenly much happier.

"Kissed and..." Charles tried to push.

She shook her head. "Just kissed."

Charles nodded as they walked into the garage. "Just kissed, but you wanted more," he said. "Are you gonna see him before we leave?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm gonna go and pick him up before the race."

Through the evening, she and Charles did what they needed to do for the race. When she got a minute, she texted Bob, but she didn't have many opportunities to check her phone.

As soon as she had a chance, she ran out of the paddock. She held her phone to her ear as she went, making her way to her car. Bob picked up on the third ring. "Hey," she said, opening the door of her car. "I'm on my way."

Bob hesitated before he answered. "I'm not at the hotel right now."

"Do you still want to come to the race?" She asked quickly.

"Do you still want me there?"

She let out a laugh. "Of course I do, Robby. Give me the address and I'll pick you up."

That was just what happened. She picked Bob up and took him to the track. She promised the other aviators that she would get him there to watch the military flyover and drove off with him in the passenger seat.

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" Bob asked as she drove. It had been playing on his mind a lot since they kissed, his best case scenario (which was currently happening. He could have laughed at himself for being so worried).

She shook her head. "I haven't had a chance to explore outside of the places we have Grand Prix," she answered.

"So, you haven't been to Montana?"

"Nope."

Bob couldn't help but smile. He sucked in a breath, steadying himself. "I don't know when you're gonna have time off, but I could show you Montana, if you'd like."

She grinned at him as she parked the car. "I'd love that, Robby," she said and climbed out of the car.

She checked the time on her watch, grabbed her hand and began running. "I'm late!" She cried. Bob was only happy to run beside her, heading into the Ferrari garage. He slowed to a walk, but she kept going, running to her drivers room to pull on her fireproofs and overalls.

Bob watched it all. He watched as she stood for the national anthem with her fellow drivers, watched as she completed the formation lap from the back of the grid (something he had to ask about), and watched as she raced.

Bob couldn't help but be impressed as she fought her way across the track, racing past most of the grid. She overtook ten other cars, finishing in 5th.

When she climbed out of the car, Bob could see just how happy she was from her body language alone. She did what she had to do, spoke to the team and was interviewed, before she ran over to Bob and threw her arms around him.

"That was incredible!" He cried, smiling down at her. "I didn't realise racing was so exciting."

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Think you'll watch next weeks race?"

"Definitely," he said.

He hadn't expected her to kiss him in front of all of the cameras. But Bob didn't mind. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close until she pulled away.

"I leave in the morning," she whispered in his ear. "Stay with me, in my hotel. One last night."

"Until Montana?" Bob asked, his forehead against her own.

"Until Montana."

a/n: ok i loved this and it may need a part two lol

[0mg-bird]

i would love it if you did a fic about bob finally introducing his shyer!girlfriend to the daggers! cute teasing, fluff, all the works <3

unrelated, but would you ever consider making a masterlist?

Hi! Thank you for the ask! And yes, I will be working on a master list soon, it just takes too much work for me to do as of this moment 😭. Bear with me y’all! I’m new at this! Anyway, here’s the story, hope you don’t hate it <3

Bob Floyd x Shy!Girlfriend Reader

“No.”

“Sweetheart.”

“Absolutely not, Robert.”

Bob sighed, leaning against the door while he watched you comb your hair. He’d brought up the idea he’d been toying with all day, only to get the answer he suspected he was going to get from you.

“Honey, it won’t be horrible. Look, the squad wants to meet you, and I want to introduce you to them."

He's hard to resist, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes of his. You understood his reasoning, but the idea of being surrounded on the beach with a bunch of cocky aviators...well, that was something you didn't really like the idea of.

You groan, looking at his reflection in the mirror before fully turning to face him. You give him a pouty look, one that makes him come forward and hold your face in his hands. "They're not gonna like me." You say, muffled from the way your cheeks are squished in his hold.

"Yes they will." He says.

"I'm boring."

"Your the most interesting thing in the world, honey."

He was always so sweet with his words, he calms your nerves every time. You know it means something to him to have his squad know who his girl is, so you try and be brave, pushing your worry out of your mind. You smile reassuringly. "Okay." You say. "It's a date."

Bob smiles, leaning down to kiss your lips, then your forehead. "It'll be a good day, I promise."

As you get into his bed, surrounded by the scent of him, he pulls you closer. "Maybe then they'll stop saying I'll never get laid." He states, making you look at him with disbelief.

"What, are we in middle school?" You ask.

He lightly chuckles. "You're gonna see the level of immaturity these guys have on Saturday, then you'll understand."

And when Saturday came, you gripped onto his hand like your life depended on it. You wore a white baby doll dress over your bikini, your sandals in your hand as you walked across the sand. As the two of you come closer, you see the group of pilots all gathered, setting up camp.

"Well, look who showed up." One of them call out as you come to join them.

You immediately blush at the amount of eyes on you They all look you over, almost like they were detectives and you were a case they needed to crack. You get introduced to them and quickly come to learn just what Bob meant, this group of the best fighter pilots in North America were no better than kids.

"I uh, I brought some snacks if y'all want some." You say, laying out multiple floral tupperware containers that were filled with homemade goods. Immediately, the boys were on it, fighting over who got what. They reminded you of seagulls.

Natasha, who was the most excited to meet the girl who Bob spoke about non stop, is yelling at the boys to mind their manners. "You wouldn't even think they were functioning adults." She jokes, making you smile.

You wait till the last minute to take your cover off, looking at the well built bodies around you made you retreat to modesty as a defense. You didn't put on your usual bathing suit because Bob said you should wear his favorite one. One that showed more skin, one that drew more attention to you. Stupidly, you agreed with him and put it on. You regret that decision now.

"Aren't you hot?" Nat asks as she pulls her tank top off.

"Oh no, I'm good." You say, giving her an awkward smile and then dig in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen.

You didn't really think it'd be embarrassing to pursue the routine you always have with Bob when you come to the beach, so as he, Hangman, Coyote and Rooster stand, talking about something way above your pay grade, you come to Bob's side. You try not to interrupt their conversation, but words slowly start to slow and they get distracted by the way you pull Bob's glasses off his face. You squirt some of the sunscreen out and into your hands, then you gently apply it to his face. The three others stop and watch, faces full of amusement as you make sure he has an even coverage. Bob doesn't mind, he was never one to be embarrassed of the loving acts you do for him, so you find it strange when you turn around and see the guys watching you.

"That's awfully sweet of you." Coyote comments, and you make the mistake of taking him literally.

"Bob, do you get your mom to fly in and do it for you when she's not around or do you just risk the sunburn?" Hangman teases, making the other two laugh.

You look at the tall aviator. "Sunscreens important, Jake, do you need some? I could help you with it or I'm sure your boyfriend here could do it for you." You say, motioning to Coyote.

Rooster bursts with laughter, wheezing at the joke you make, and behind you, Bob stands with a proud and smug look on his face.

Jake fumbles with his words, in disbelief that you’re being outspoken.

Back at your beach blanket, you clip your hair up and look around, making sure no eyes were directly on you as you pull your dress off and drop it into your bag. Any previous jokes that some of the boys made about Bob finding a goody-two-shoes for a girlfriend, are immediately regretted when they see how great you look in a bikini.

Payback looks ultimately confused. "Anyone else wondering how Baby on Board gets to sleep with a girl like that?" He asks out of ear shot from you.

"Probably because he's not a total dick like you are." Nat suggests.

"Bobby?" You get his attention as you lay on the blanket, holding up the sunscreen, silently asking him to get your back so you can tan for awhile.

At the sound of the name, some of the boys laugh, making you blush.

"Hey, Bobby, will you get my back next?" Fanboy teases, making Bob glare as he sits beside you. "Did he just glare at me?" He asks, in utter disbelief that Bob was capable of it.

Bob undoes the back of your suit, gently running his hands over your bare skin. "Are you good here for awhile? We're gonna play a game of dog fight football." He asks.

You turn your head to look at him. "I'll survive."

He ties your suit back together, then meets your lips as you lean up to kiss him.

It was peaceful, laying and watching the aviators goof around, running up and down the beach. You had no idea that the questions being asked between plays were all about you.

"What'd you do in order to win her over?" Rooster asks, grunting as he throws the football.

"I'm still trying to figure that out." Bob huffs, blocking Fanboy so he can't intercept.

"She's cute, doesn't talk much though." Fanboy adds.

"She does, just not to people she barely knows." Bob defends.

As Hangman runs by, he pauses. "Be honest with us, Bobby, you ever get bored of her?"

Bob looks at him like he's crazy. "Never. One of these days, Hangman, you'll learn that crazy bar girls don't make girlfriends. Maybe my girl's shy but she's a whole lot better than whatever new girl you can't make stick around."

The ones around them laugh at Hangman getting called out for the second time today.

"Jokes aside." Rooster says. "I'm happy for you, man, she seems good to you."

Bob looks back at you lazily reading a book, your feet kicking back and fourth in the air behind you. "Yeah, I really like her...actually I'm gonna ask her to move in."

They all gasp.

"We'll say a prayer for you man." Coyote shakes his head.

At some point, you had rolled onto you back and let your hair down, sunglasses on your face as you rest your eyes. Though, your sun is covered by a shadow after a while. You open our eyes, gazing up at the man who's standing above you. You prop yourself up on your elbows.

"Hi." You grin, watching as Bob pulls his sweaty shirt off, revealing his toned upper body. You move your sunglasses down your nose to get a better look, then take them off entirely.

"Hey, you ready to go into the water?" He asks, making you shake your head.

"I'm good on dry land, sailor."

Bob gives you a smirk. "Now, that's just not going to do."

"I'm okay here, Bobby, go have fun with your squad, they're already in the water." You say.

"So you want me to join them and leave you here?" He asks, making you nod in agreement.

He hums, pausing before leaning down and scooping you into his arms. You gasp, flailing in his hold but his grip is too strong. "Bobby, no! Put me down!"

"Not a chance."

You form a death grip, arms holding tightly around his neck as he makes it to the water with you. "Don't do this." You laugh loudly.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

"No! Bobby!"

He loosens his grip, pretending to drop you, making you yell and tighten your grip around him even more. The dagger squad starts chanting ‘overboard’, and you feel the cool water slosh up against you as Bob walks further in.

“Bobby!”

“One.”

“No, baby, please.”

“Two.”

“Robert Floyd!”

“Three!”

He falls sideways into the water with you, making you sink under before you pop back up, wiping your eyes. You can’t help but laugh, splashing him as he pops up in front of you.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, wrapping your arms around him.

He grins boyishly. “Sorry, honey.”

The squad watches as the two of you swim beside each other.

“So…Bob is getting laid.” Coyote says.

“He’s the only one who is.” Rooster adds.

[lulunothulu]

Hello again!! Back with another request because you blew the first one out of the park 😍 this time could it be reader is a pilot and best friends with both Rooster and Hangman but they’ve been at each other’s throats lately so she decides to get the rest of the group in on a fainting prank she pulls on the two of them to force them to work together just fluffy worried boys

I love this and your brain 😭

“Hurt”

Hangman x Rooster x Reader

“You know next time I want a stupid opinion, I’ll ask for your input,” Rooster spits. The insult slapping Hangman as if it were Rooster’s hand.

“You know I’m right,” Hangman spits back. “You’re being reckless and you’re gonna get someone killed. Focus or get the fuck out of the pilot’s seat. You don’t need to be like your daddy you know.”

“The fuck did you say to me?” Rooster asks, getting in Hangman’s face.

“Woah, woah, hey,” you say, standing between them and holding a palm on each of their chests. “Calm the fuck down.”

“Tell him to calm down,” Hangman tells you.

“Tell him to watch his mouth,” Rooster counters.

These two handsome idiots are your best friends, the best you’d had in a very long time. So to see them arguing for the past two weeks had hurt more than anything.

They’d bicker about everything and anything. Yesterday, it was the fact that Rooster was breathing too close to Hangman’s ear at Hard Deck. The day before that, Hangman’s big mouth said something about Rooster’s dad and how flying with Maverick could get Rooster in the same predicament his dad did—dead.

“Just go take a walk,” you tell them. “Both of you.”

They mutter something under their breathes but they walk away.

“We need to do something about those two,” Phoenix tells you, wrapping and arm over your shoulders.

“You wanna make them box it all out?” Coyote asks.

“Nah, let’s make them drink their livers away and then make them fight,” Fanboy suggests.

“Those are terrible ideas,” you laugh.

“Maybe they’ll come together if something happens to you,” you hear Bob say quietly.

“What was that Bobby?” You ask.

The pilot turns red, looking anywhere but at you before clearing his throat and repeating, “Maybe they’ll come together if something happens to you. You know? If you get hurt?”

You rub your temple, thinking for a second before smiling and planting a kiss on his cheek—making him turn even more red than before.

“Bobby, you’re a genius.”

~*~*~*~*~

A few beers (and a lot of bad ideas) later, you and the rest of the Dagger Squad have a plan set in motion. A plan so great, the two dumbasses will stop fighting all together.

“Okay Bobby, are we ready?” You ask.

“They should be coming in any second,” he tells you.

See, the plan was to make it look like you’d taken a nasty fall and have Rooster and Hangman find you. What you didn’t anticipate was actually falling and getting hurt.

You’d just gotten the signal from Phoenix and Bob when you felt yourself slip from the ladder going into the jet you were set to fly that day.

It felt like a movie the way you fell.

Everyone around you screamed or yelled out. The world around you slowed down and you could see the looks of horror on Hangman and Rooster’s face.

They rushed to you but they were too late. You’d already fallen and hit your head in the concrete floor of the hangar.

“Is she breathing?” Hangman asks, holding your head in a stable position.

“If you would give me a second, I can check.” Rooster tells him harshly. He checks your pulse point on your neck and putting an ear by your mouth before nodding. “Yeah, her heart is pounding and her breathing is shallow. We need to get her to the medic.”

Nodding, Jake lifts you into his arms and begins to race toward the medical room—Rooster on his heels.

“She fell from the ladder going into her jet,” Rooster tells the nurse while Hangman gently places you on the gurney.

“We’ll take her to get some vitals and a CT scan.”

The two aviators fall back, watching as the nurses wheel you to another part of the medical building. Rooster is the one to speak first.

“She terrified me,” he croaks.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Hangman counters.

“Why does everything turn into a fight with you?”

Hangman’s brows raise, a surprised expression taking over his features. “What makes you think I want to be fighting?”

“Because every little thing we do or talk about, turns into us fighting and Y/N stopping us!” He exclaims. He rubs his eyes, plopping himself onto a chair in the waiting room. “I’m just tired of fighting.”

“I am too,” Hangman admits. “Without Y/N to keep us grounded, I don’t know how to control myself. It’s just…god, you get under my skin.”

“Same here,” Rooster smiles.

“I thought we could’ve moved past our issues, especially after you and Mav came back when we thought you both lost…”

“I thought so too.”

They sit in silence, grateful that they can enjoy it before Hangman speaks again.

“I really hope she’s okay,” he whispers, head in his hands.

Rooster turns to face him. He’s shocked. He’d never seen Jake to worry for anyone but himself and maybe occasionally you. He claps his hand to Jake’s shoulder, causing Jake to turn to him.

“She’s gonna be fine, Jake.”

Hangman only nods. He knows if he speaks, the cracking of his voice will give away everything.

No, instead he places a hand on top of Bradley’s and nods—sighing when Bradley squeezes his shoulder in comfort.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A few hours later, you wake up in a dimly lit room. Beeping and the sounds of people whispering in the corner of…wherever you are…float to your ears. You sit up slightly to see Hangman and Rooster standing in the corner in a conversation.

They don’t look like they’re arguing…but you’ve been wrong before.

“Hey,” you groan. “No fighting.”

“Y/N,” they say, coming to your side, each taking one of your hands.

“How are you feeling?” Rooster asks.

“Like I feel off a ladder.” You squeeze their hands and smile. “I guess my plan worked.”

“What plan?” Hangman asks, eyes meeting Rooster’s.

“To get you two to stop fighting,” you tell them. You sigh when they open their mouths to argue with you. “Don’t even try to get out of this. You know you two have been fighting for the past few weeks. I was just tired of hearing it. I didn’t mean to actually get hurt.”

They’re silent for a bit before they smile at each other.

“What?” You ask. You turn to Rooster, eyes narrow. “Bradley?”

“W-what?” He stutters.

“What is it?”

“We talked to Phoenix,” Hangman tells you, making you swing your head to face him.

“Jacob Seresin, you tell me right now.”

“She told us about it your plan,” Bradley cuts in.

“And we’re very sorry we made you have to resort to…this.” Jake finishes.

You look between the two of them in disbelief. “Really?”

“Really,” Bradley nods. “And we’ll try not to fight so much.”

“If you two start it up again, I don’t k know what I’ll do,” you chuckle. “Maybe throw myself off a roof?”

“Please don’t,” Jake laughs.

Ugh… I need a Jake and Bradley

[sarahsmi13s]

Lieutenant Rogers Universe

I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANY OF MY WORK BEING COPIED OR TRANSLATED

This is the masterlist for the ‘Lt. Rogers’ Unvierse! Here should be able to find everything about Star and her found families!

pairings: romantic!neil ‘omaha’ vikander x rogers!reader, platonic!dagger squad x rogers!reader, plantonic!sam wilson x rogers!reader, platonic!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

series summary: 13 pilots were called back to Top Gun in 2023. at the same time, Lieutenant Rogers learns that her father’s shield was passed down to John Walker.

sources: Top Gun: Maverick (2022) , The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)

Story

Call Sign: ‘Star’

13 pilots were called back to Top Gun in 2023. at the same time, Lieutenant Rogers learns that her father’s shield was passed down to John Walker.

Push Your Limits

after learning of the shield’s new owner, star must press on with her duties as a naval aviator and start her training with her new team.

Holding Onto the Past; Letting Go of the Future

after a pretty rough start, maverick takes the aviators to the beach for a team building exercise. star and omaha invite the squad over for the night. after a quick heart-to-heart with rooster, star has to watch the world forget her father.

Earn It

sam and bucky finally meet john in person. so does star. neither interactions were in john’s favor.

Birds and Promises

while we all know what happens in the air, we don’t know what happens with the aviators on the ground when three nearly die during a training exercise. how do hangman, rooster, and star react to their best friends nearly dying? will it change things between star and omaha?

Good Afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen. This is Your Lover Savior Speaking

the mission is here. and once again while we know what happens in the sky and in the control room, what’s going through star’s mind as her friends fight for their lives and might not come home?

Shield of Injustice

while star and her friends fly the mission of a lifetime, sam and bucky are on a mission to find karli before john does. but they all get way more than the barganed for...

Safe Places

in the wake of the publicized murder of a flag smasher, star has to wrestle with herself as she comes to terms with everything that has happened and anticipate what will happen in the fall out -- all the while omaha tries not to let his feelings overshadow hers

The Lieutenant Rogers Moodboard Collection

if you would liked to be tagged in this series, please comment or reblog here!! it’ll just help me to keep up with everyone to have a central hub for tags

lt rogers tags <33: @milesdickpic @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @malindacath @twsssmlmaa​ 

love each of you little starlights <33

[tropes-and-tales]

It's That Simple

Day 16:  Praise Kink (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst, kinda (Bob gets deflated); talk of panic attacks and self-doubt; smut (handjob); 18+ only.

Word Count:  5656

AN:  This was requested by an anon!

AN2: If you've been around a bit, you know the drill: this isn't edited or re-read or beta'ed.

It’s another terrible first date.

Bob struggles to even snag a first date.  He’s unassuming; he lacks the swagger and extroversion to stroll up to a woman and talk her up.  Most of his dates are obtained from other members of the Daggers—double dates, set-ups, stuff like that.

The latest one was set up by Fanboy, a friend of his sister.  Within moments of meeting his date, Bob knows it’ll be a mess:  she makes a face when she greets him at the door, and it goes downhill from there.

It ends when she gets a text.  An emergency, she tells him, and Bob is too smart and perceptive to buy the lie.  But he’s a gentleman, so he nods seriously and offers to drive her home or wherever she’s needed, which she declines.  He pays the bill of their abortive dinner, and he pretends not to notice how his date practically skips out of the restaurant and into the waiting car of a friend.

He should go home to lick his wounds.  Another failed date, another night alone.  He sees the stretch of his life in front of him and despairs that he’ll ever meet someone, and he should go home to sulk, but he goes to the Hard Deck instead.

He might as well break the news to Fanboy, at least, and maybe Nat can cheer him up with her usual sarcastic humor.

-----

The Hard Deck is as packed as always, and Bob—in his date clothes of dress pants and a button down shirt—stands out among the uniformed pilots and fellow wizzos.  He finds the Dagger Squad, confesses his failure to Fanboy, then settles into a stool near Nat and Rooster.

Nat puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a comforting squeeze.  “I’m sorry, Bob,” she says.

“Her loss,” Rooster offers.

Bob shrugs.  It’s not anyone’s loss but his, but he offers them a weak smile that fools neither of them.

It’s Hangman who sidles up to Bob, and in an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness, the cocky pilot offers to be his wingman—which makes Bob laugh, and it comes out laced with some bitterness.

“No offense, Bagman, but you’d be a terrible wingman,” Bob says.

“What?  Why?”

Bob lifts his hands in a helpless shrug.  “Because you’re….you.  And I’m not like you at all.”

“So?”

He scoffs in frustration at Bagman being so obtuse.  As if any woman would look at Bob if he walked up to them with Jake at his side.  It’d be like an Aston Martin rolling up alongside an old Honda Civic, and that’s the analogy he uses to make Jake understand.  But Jake shakes his head, clasps him on his shoulders and gives him a friendly shake.

“Nah, Baby on Board.  You got it all wrong.  You just need some confidence.”  Another teeth-rattling shake.  “Trust me, there’s a girl out there for you.  C’mon.”

Bob finds himself powerless to resist as Jake pushes him off of his stool, then shoves him gently in the direction of the crowded bar.

-----

The first pair that Jake sidles up to is a bust, but it’s not Bob’s fault:  Jake had hooked up with the one woman before, forgotten about it completely.  He’s moments from getting a drink tossed in his face when Bob tugs him away from the danger and they pull back, reevaluate.

The second pair is a bust too.  The first woman doesn’t even let Jake get the full sentence out before she’s wagging her ring finger in his face.

“Married,” she says, her words clipped.  “Move along, sailor.”

The third pair?  The third pair works out.  Jake hones in on one immediately, a blonde with big doe eyes, but the second one—you—rolls her eyes at him.

But when you turn to study Bob, you don’t roll your eyes.  You hold out a hand, introduce yourself, ask for his rank, then pat the empty chair beside you.

“Settle in, Lieutenant,” and your smile is easy.  “Let’s chat while we watch your friend strike out, huh?”

-----

It turns out you’re drunk, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

For one, you’ve fallen in with Bob Floyd, the most gentlemanly man a drunk, single girl could come across.  He’d never take advantage, and in fact, he’ll end up driving you home at the end of the night, getting you into your apartment.  He will take your shoes off of you, tuck you into your bed, and press a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen on you before he sees himself out.

For another thing, Bob Floyd has fallen in with you, the most fiercely sweet drunk that a down-on-himself man could come across.  You’re one of those loud cheerleader types when you drink; the kind of woman who chats up other women in the bathroom, who tells them they’re beautiful, that you love them.  With your friend and Jake otherwise engaged, Bob finds himself caught in the tractor beam of your charm.

“You look sad,” you tell him around the rim of your glass.  “Are you sad?”

You’re drunk and Bob is sad, and you’re staring at him with wide eyes that glitter in the low light of the bar, so he tells you.  He tells you about his terrible date, the latest in a string of terrible dates, that he’s been single for so long and he’s not entirely convinced he’ll ever meet someone, that he’s too scrawny, that his glasses are terrible (one date called them serial killer glasses), that he’s too reserved to ever catch the eye of a woman, too unremarkable looking, let alone—

“No!”  You cut him off by exclaiming it, a near-shout, and your hand finds his forearm and grips him there.  “You’re gorgeous, Bill!  Don’t even say you aren’t!”

He grins despite himself.  “It’s Bob.  But thanks.  I mean, it’s nice of you to say—”

“Bob.  Yes.  Sorry.  Bob, not Bill.  I say it because it’s true.”  You release your hold on his arm and sit back in your chair, your eyes narrowed now as you study him closer.  You’re quiet for a long beat, and Bob squirms under your attention, but then you tell him more and he swears he breaks out in a full-body blush.

“You’re gorgeous, really,” you tell him.  “It’s just that you have a sneakier handsomeness, you know?  Like, that one there—” You gesture broadly at Jake.  “—He’s, like, Ken-doll handsome.  Like, he catches your eye because it’s all symmetrical and stuff, and he’s fine, but symmetry can be boring and someone like you, it’s sneaky.  You have a nice face, and these nice blue eyes, and nice hair, and I bet people think about you after the fact like, ‘oh, that Bob guy, he’s not bad at all,’ and then even later it’s like, ‘oh, Bob, he’s pretty handsome.’  Because you’re that sneaky sort of handsome and that’s the worst damned kind.”

Bob isn’t entirely tracking what you mean, but he shakes his head at the unearned praise, and he can’t stop the smile that’s plastered on his face.  He probably looks like a dope.

“Why’s that the worst kind?” he asks.

“Because it’s deadly!”  You lean forward again, put your hand on his arm again.  “Sneaky-handsome guys are like a virus because by the time you realize they’ve infected you, it’s too late.”

Bob chuckles.  “I’m a virus?  Suddenly my night has gotten worse, somehow.”

“No, not at all.  It’s just…”  You trail off, polish off your drink.  You wave down Penny for another.  “It’s just that you sneaky-handsome types never understand the power you have.  Ken-doll over there knows he’s hot, and by the mere fact of him knowing he’s hot, he loses a considerable amount of hotness.  But you have no idea you’re handsome, and that makes you even hotter.”

“I think there’s a string of women in the San Diego area that would disagree with your assessment,” Bob replies.  “But I appreciate the compliment, nonetheless.”

“Oh, them.”  You flap a hand, a dismissive wave.  “There’s a lot of idiots in the world, Bob.  You can’t let a string of women in the San Diego area make you feel bad.”

“I guess I just need to find someone who isn’t an idiot.”

“Ah, well!”  You set your drink down and wave your hands in front of yourself in a ta-da sort of flourish.  “Cal Tech graduate, Bobby.  I work for NASA.”

He feels a warm flush at you calling him Bobby.  “You’re a rocket scientist?  Definitely not an idiot, then.”

“Astrobiologist, actually.  And only an idiot sometimes, but never when it comes to the sneaky-handsome men here at the Hard Deck.”

Bob shakes his head, a little embarrassed at how much he likes you, a drunk stranger, talking him up.  He tries to dial it back, afraid he’s going to fall in love before last call.

“You’re way too smart for me, then,” he tells you.

That makes you arch an eyebrow at him.  “You afraid of smart women, Bobby?”

“Not at all.  It’s just that smart, beautiful, and sweet?  Do you understand the power you have?”  He keeps his tone light, teasing, but he’s in over his head with this:  he’s definitely going to fall in love before last call.

Of course he is.  His question makes you laugh, a warm sound that knocks free the lump in his chest from his earlier failed date.  Your laughter makes him feel drunk even though he hasn’t touched a drop; he feels warm and light and big-headed at how kind you’ve been to him, how sweet, but your laughter is the sound that makes him fall in love with you.

-----

The two of you stay until last call.  Bagman and your friend disappear hours before then, and you shrug at Bob, say you called it all wrong, that you didn’t think Jake was your friend’s type.

Bob drives you home.  You’re unsteady on your feet, so he hovers near you, but you manage reasonably well until it’s time to unlock your door.  He watches you try it, then he reaches out and takes the keys from your hand.

It’s the first time he touches you.

He gets you inside.  He gets you to your bedroom, and you flop gracelessly across the mattress, and Bob immediately goes into caretaker mode.  He slides your shoes off of you, sets them in a neat row by your closet.  He makes his way to your kitchen, gets you a glass of water, then stops in the bathroom.  He rummages through your medicine cabinet—you use the same brand of toothpaste as he does, the same type of toothbrush, and Bob marvels at the strange intimacy of learning these things, the everyday things that not everyone is privy to about you.  He finds some ibuprofen and shakes two out, then takes them and the water back to you.

You’re already drifting off to sleep, and Bob has to cajole you into sitting up.  He gets you perched on the side of the bed and gives you the pills and water, which you take without complaints.  He takes the empty glass back from you, and then there’s a moment—

—you sit on the edge of your bed and Bob stands over you, and you look up at him with your bleary eyes and he sees fear.  You’re understanding what you’ve done, maybe:  you’ve invited a strange man back to your place and you’re drunk, and he could do anything, and Bob sees the flicker of uncertainty, the beginning of fear in your eyes.  It makes him feel sick because he’d never take advantage.  It makes him sick that the world, being what the world is, makes this fear lance through the whiskey fumes in your head.

He reaches down to the foot of your bed where there’s a blanket neatly folded.  He shakes it out, urges you to lie down, and when you do, he covers you up.

“Be sure to drink more water when you wake up,” he tells you softly. 

The nascent fear fades out of your expression, and it’s replaced by a loose, goofy grin.  You free a hand from under the blanket and give him a sloppy salute.  “Aye, aye, captain.”

Bob sees himself out but not before he’s struck with a bit of brave optimism.  He sees the little whiteboard by your refrigerator, and he writes out his name and his number.  He drives home and sends up a silent prayer that his sneaky-handsome virus has already infected you, charmed as he is by your earnestly drunken (albeit clunky) analogy from earlier in the evening.

He wakes up the next morning and feels less hopeful.  He queues up a playlist and sets out on his morning run, but his morning pessimism is misplaced:  you call him a mile into his run, and Bob stutters in his steps to hear your voice—a little rough, but sunny nonetheless.

“I’m looking for a guy named Bobby,” you tell him over the phone, and he can hear the smile in your voice.  “Lieutenant Blue Eyes.”

-----

The two of you make plans to meet up at the Hard Deck, but you don’t call it a date so Bob doesn’t either.  He’s in unfamiliar territory:  things have always been a date or not a date in the past, but he’s noticed that many of his Dagger teammates speak in looser terms—meeting up, hanging out—with potential partners.  He’s unsure how to handle it; if he seems too casual, you might miss his interest.  If he comes on too strong, he might scare you off.

He decides to just turn up in his uniform, as he usually does, and when he arrives at the Hard Deck, you are already there.  You’re perched in a bar stool and chatting to Penny, but when he strolls in, you see him.

You smile at him as he walks over to you, but then you shake your head in a mock-rueful way.

“Oh, no,” you say as you hop off of your stool.  You open your arms and Bob steps into them, and you hug him warmly like you’re old friends.  “I thought maybe it was just whiskey-goggles that night, but you really are cute.”

Bob chuckles.  He releases you, then takes the stool beside yours.  “Well, I’ve been downgraded.  You called me handsome that night,” he points out.

“Sneaky-handsome, actually.”

“There seems to be a whole spectrum here that I was never privy to.”

You wave down Penny who comes and takes your orders.  Once your drinks are in front of you—a hard cider for you, a shandy for Bob—you click your glass against his.

“Here’s to the sneaky-handsome men of the world,” you say.

Bob ducks his head and grins  “And to the rocket scientists,” he adds.

A date or not a date…the evening passes in a blink, and you leave Bob that night entirely sober after long conversations and a lot of easy laughter.  You pull him in for another hug before you part, and this hug lingers longer than the hug you gave him as a greeting.  When you pull away, though, you gaze at him with a somber expression.

“I wanted to thank you for the other night,” you tell him.  “For being a gentleman when you took me home.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”  Your hands on his upper arms squeeze him a little firmer.  “You could have taken advantage, and you didn’t.  You’re a good one, Bob.”

He shakes his head, tries to wave you off, but you squeeze him again.  You don’t let him shrug off your thanks.  You don’t let him downplay his goodness.

“You are a good man, Bob,” you repeat, and you stare at him, like you’re daring him to disagree. 

Bob, who finds that you’re something of a force to be reckoned with, wouldn’t dare to disagree.

-----

He’s still not entirely clear if this is dating or not.  Neither of you actually says the word.  You text each other steadily, and you meet up sometimes at the Hard Deck, but your schedule isn’t great and Bob’s is even worse.  He worries that he’s missed his chance.  When he talks about it to the other Daggers, Hangman rolls his eyes and tells Bob he should have taken his shot earlier, that Bob is pretty much friend-zoned now, but Nat rolls her eyes at that and says he’s overthinking it.

Of course Bob overthinks it.  Bob overthinks everything.

He doesn’t know yet that you overthink everything too.  That you are going through your own pangs of regret, that you think you’ve missed your chance too, that your friends circle around you too and give you tough-love pep talks to build up your courage to take the lead on this burgeoning thing with Bob.

And ultimately, Bob’s hunch that you’re a force to be reckoned with is correct.  In the end, you take charge.

-----

You end up inviting him over for dinner on a night when your schedules align, and Bob overthinks that too. 

What if it’s a date-date, and he turns up too casual, with nothing in his hands—no wine, no flowers?  Or the opposite—what if he dresses up a little, brings you a mixed bouquet, and it’s just a casual friends-type thing?

Bob has no idea how he can manage the systems on a sophisticated plane because his brain grinds to a painful halt the moment he starts to contemplate this dinner at your place.  It’s Nat—it’s always Nat, with her no-nonsense lens into the mystique of her fellow women—who smacks some sense into him.

“Wear a nice shirt, shower beforehand, and take a bottle of wine,” she tells him.

“But what if—”

“It’s always polite to take a gift, Bob.”  She rolls her eyes, heaves a sigh.  “And it’s always polite to, you know.  Shower.  Show up fresh-smelling and neat.  Jesus Christ.  Just go.”

So Bob turns up at your apartment, a mid-tier bottle of wine in his sweaty hand.  Freshly showered, a daub of cologne behind his ears, and a nice blue button-down that brings out his eyes. 

And it’s a good thing he took Nat’s advice too, because you open the door in the sweetest sundress, and there’s music softly playing and the most heavenly smells wafting from your kitchen.  Bob realizes all at once that it’s a date-date after all, and his heart does an alarming little stutter in his chest, enough to stun him until you take his hand and gently pull him inside.

-----

Part of Bob’s issue with women is his inability to pick up on subtle, sometimes invisible cues.  He has always fallen in with the sort of women who play mind games, who play coy and say one thing while meaning another.  He always feels back on his heels; it feels like women speak a language he’s only slightly fluent in, so he’s always playing catch-up to translate what they mean.

But it’s refreshing with you, in this moment, because as you both sit down to the feast you’ve prepared, you just talk with him.  The two of you chat about your lives, you catch each other up since the last time you’ve talked, and Bob almost forgets to be nervous.

Almost.  A pair of tapered candles flicker between you and cast your lovely face in a golden glow, and low, bluesy music sets the soundtrack as you eat.  You sip at the wine he brought, and he eats your home-cooking, and Bob imagines an entire life like this…and he almost misses the way you keep swiping your palms along your thighs, like you’re nervous.

Almost.  He leans into his WSO work, studies you closely like you’re a dashboard of lights and alarms and switches.  He watches you a little closer, and he sees the way your throat bobs when you swallow a mouthful of wine, like you’re swallowing past a lump or going all dry-mouthed on him.  He sees the deep breaths you take, the way you press the back of your hand to your neck, like you’re flushed and trying to calm yourself.

“You’re nervous,” he blurts out when he realizes it for sure, and you pause in where you’re lifting the wine glass to your mouth and stare at him.

“I am.”  It’s that simple.  No mind games, no coy pretending. 

“It’s just me,” Bob says.

You smile at him, and it trembles a little at the corners.  He can feel the nerves in you now, and he reaches out a hand across the table, palm up.  He makes a grabby motion with it until your smile firms up and you lay your hand in his, and he grasps you lightly.

“It’s just me,” he repeats.

“And I like just-you,” you tell him.  “Like-like, I mean.  I wanted to tell you so tonight.”

His heart does that wicked little stutter in his chest, but he squeezes your hand.  “Sounds like you just told me then.”

“Guess so.”  You watch him, and your smile seems tremulous again, so Bob replies, “I like you too.”

It’s that simple.  After you each put yourself through your own overthinking hell, each suffering through your own sleepless nights and needless worrying about dumb things like friend zones, it comes down to a moment so simple that it’s stupid:  just the two of you holding hands as you confess your mutual feelings matter-of-factly.

-----

It feels too easy.  After months (years) of struggling to even land the occasional first date, suddenly Bob’s dream girl turns up just like that.  It feels too easy, and so Bob slips into his overthinking almost immediately.

It goes fine after dinner, when the two of you trade nervous kisses on your couch until the nerves burn off enough that your mouth slotted over his feels natural, that you move in concert with each other—your head tilting one way, his tilting the other, no longer bumping noses or knocking his glasses askew. 

It goes fine as you climb into his lap, the solid weight of you a welcome sensation because Bob’s head feels like it’s filled with helium, drunk and fizzy from the feel of your lips against his, your tongue against his own.

It goes fine when you climb off of him, shaky-legged like a newborn foal.  When you hold out your hand and take his to lead him back to your bedroom.

The moment he finds himself stripped down to his boxers and lying on your bed is the moment it falls apart.

It’s like every mean comment, every brush-off and ghosting, every roll of the eyes and beleaguered sigh and overheard commentary about him crowds into the room and leaves no space for this moment with you.  Bob thinks of all the feedback he’s ever gotten on dates—the serial killer eye glasses, the lack of muscles, the lack of game.  He tries to take a deep breath and finds he can barely pull in a lungful, and his throat feels like it’s closing on him—

And he can’t get hard.  His near-erection from making out on the couch deflates, and even though you are perched over him—you’ve shed your sundress, and you’re in the sexiest, sweetest lingerie set, powder pink, like the underside of a cloud at sunrise—he cannot coax himself back to attention.

The panic that floods him—he recognizes the feeling.  He’s felt it a million times.  He feels the hot, splotchy redness as it breaks out across his chest and neck, and his face flushes furiously bright, and you notice it all in real time.  The sultry, heavy-lidded look on your face disappears and is replaced by pure concern.

“Bob?  Bobby?  Are you…okay?”  You reach a hand out and cup his face, and your palm had felt warm earlier but now it feels cool….which proves how hot he’s flushed, how feverish his panic makes him feel.

“I’m sorry.  Shit, honey.  I’m…I gotta go.”  He tries to sit up but your mattress is soft and he flails a moment, and if Bob were just a bit younger he’d burst into tears at how sideways this has all gone so suddenly.  You served him up the perfect evening, you’re kneeling right beside him in the hottest fucking lingerie, and he’s been reduced to a stuttering, red-face idiot who can’t even get hard—

“Hey.”  You lay your hand on his bare chest, steady him.  “Hey, hey, hey.  Take a second.  Just breathe, Bobby.”

“I gotta—”

“Just relax.”  You press against his chest, tap your forefinger against his skin.  “Breathe for me, okay?  Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not.  Fuck, it’s not!”  He raises his voice, winces at how shrill he sounds, and the dam in him breaks.  Something in him dislodges, and it all spills out:  every mean, rotten thing he’s ever thought about himself.  Every bit of unfair criticism, every insult and slight and how his own insecurity has twisted it all into a crippling imposter syndrome.  How he only ever feels competent at his job but how he struggles with everything else, and now how he’s fucked it all up with you because he’s overthinking, always trapped in the own tangled maze of his mind, always waiting for the other shoe to drop because he’s not good enough, he can’t even get hard even with you looking like a dream—

“Hey.  Whoa.”  You remove your hand from his chest, but you scoot over to sit beside him, turned to face him, your expression very similar to the night he met you—the same easy smile, the same studious eyes.

“Nothing’s ruined.  You haven’t fucked anything up.  Take a breath.  Is this because of that bad first date you had the night we met?”

He nods.  “A little bit.”

“There’s been other bad first dates, I guess?”

Another nod.

“And now you’re worried this is just another bad first date?”

“Yeah.”  It comes out a croak, a roughness in his throat. 

“Hmm.”  You lean forward, press a soft kiss to his forehead.  “You wanna hear about my worst first date ever?”

“No, honey, it’s okay—”

“His name was Justin.”  Another soft kiss, this one to his temple.  “Good job, good looking.”  Another kiss, to the other temple, right at his hairline.  “Picked me up and gave me flowers, took me out to San Diego’s most exclusive restaurant that has a reservation list a mile long.”

Bob chuckles weakly.  “Sounds awful,” he says, wry.

You hum again, kiss his flushed cheek.  “He was charming at dinner.”  A kiss on his other cheek.  “Said all the right things.  Asked about my life and listened to my answers.”  The lightest of kisses on the tip of his nose, and it makes him smile despite himself. 

“Halfway through dessert, a woman comes up to our table.”  Bob feels the gentle press of your lips at the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to kiss you back, but you pull away. 

“It was Justin’s wife.”  A flurry of kisses now, to his chin, along his jawline, near his ear. 

“He was cheating,” Bob says.

“Nope.”  A kiss, this one lingering, under his jaw, on his neck.  “Turns out, this was a little game he and his wife play.  Some weird cheating, cuckolding fantasy.”  Your lips skate over his pulse point.  “He takes a girl out, his wife pretends to catch them, and then they go to a nearby hotel to fuck each other senseless.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit is right.”  You lift your head to gaze at him.  “Asshole left me with the bill for dinner too.  So Bobby….you’re not my worst first date.  You’re not even close.”

“Honey—”

“You have no idea how hard you’re gonna have to work to really, honestly fuck this up.”  You grin at him, and then you straddle his lap again, and he lays his hands on your hips and stares up at you.

“Because you’re, like, exactly the sort of man I’ve always been looking for.  You’re that sneaky-handsome sort, and you’re smart and sweet, and you took care of me that first night when I was too drunk to make good choices.”  You cup his face in your hands, and you stare at him hard, that sweet forcefulness on full display, like you dare him to disagree with you.

“It’s already a sure thing, Bobby.”  You lean forward, kiss him gently.  “There’s no pressure to do anything tonight.  Don’t even think about needing to do anything.  How about you just let me love on you, and you just relax, and if you can keep your secret wife from busting in and turning this into a cuckolding fantasy, we’ll end the night just fine, okay?”

That makes him laugh, and it breaks the spell of his terrible ruminating.  Bob laughs, and he slides his hands from your hips up to your waist to feel your soft skin.

“I didn’t even think of getting a secret wife before I came here,” he confesses.

“See?  It’s a sure thing, then.”  You lean forward again, whisper in his ear, your warm breath making him break out in goosebumps as you tell him to just relax and let you love on him.

-----

The antidote to Bob’s awful overthinking, as it turns out, is your care and praise.

As far as first dates go, this is the one where Bob learns something new about his own sexuality.  He learns, thanks to you, that he has a praise kink, because your hands and mouth and body on his feels amazing, but it’s your words that make him hard.

Loving on him means you touch him everywhere.  You kiss him everywhere.  You stroke him, press your soft lips to him, lick against parts of him until he feels like he’s on fire in a way that is completely different than his panic attack.  You kiss every inch of his face and neck.  You trail your mouth over his shoulders and collarbones, across every bit of his chest and belly, and you praise him whenever your mouth isn’t otherwise occupied.

Look at you, Bobby.  Hiding this body away under that uniform.

You praise his arms, the muscles of his chest and abs.  You praise his shoulders and back, the smattering of chest hair, the trail of hair that leads down and disappears under the waistband of his boxers, and you glance up at him, the question in your eyes as you toy with the elastic.

“Can I?” you ask, and Bob nods, swallows hard, and you go lower, you push his boxers down and his cock is there, hard from your honied words.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out.  “Bob, are you for real with this?”

It probably seems like a cliché, like the pretty girl in a movie who somehow never realized she was pretty, but Bob has never really considered his size.  He’s been around plenty of other penises through the course of his career, but he’s never exactly eyed up other men and measured himself against them.  The handful of women he’s slept with never said anything so he assumed he was average, but you praise him here too—you tell him he has a beautiful cock, and Bob blushes at the compliment.  He’d never call it beautiful, but when you wrap your palm around his shaft and grip him gently, he’d agree to any adjective you might offer, so long as you never let him go.

This feels too easy too, but the panic never claws at Bob’s throat again.  You’ve chosen him, you’ve made it a sure thing for him, and you’ve cut through his awkward moment of near-flight to get him to this:  your body stretched alongside his, your breasts pressed against his arm, your hand working against his cock while you whisper praise in his ear. 

And every time doubt starts to creep in—he should be touching you too, he should be making you feel good too—you hush him, you still his mouth by kissing him, and you tell him that he has all the time in the world for touching you, but he should let you take care of him now.

His orgasm creeps up in fits and starts, and it seems to ratchet closer with each bit of praise you lavish on him, more so than each movement of your hand working against his cock.

“I want you to come for me, Bobby,” you whisper against his neck.  You kiss his pulse point, a plush, open-mouth kiss that makes him shiver as you grip him tighter, work a faster rhythm with your hand.  “Come for me like a good boy.”

He wants to be good for you; he wants to do as you say.  Some not-so-small part of him craves your approval, and maybe the two of you will play around with that sort of dynamic in the future, but for now, he just wants to obey you.  He wants to do his part to salvage the night he thinks he almost ruined, so he breathes in time to your strokes, focuses on every sensation—the softness of your breasts pressed against him, your wet, hot mouth kissing him, the light scent of your perfume.  The tension in his belly is a coil, and it tightens and tightens until it snaps, and his hips stutter against your grasping hand.  He gasps out your name, warns you, and then a beat later, he comes.  He spills over your hand, thick ropes of cum coating your fingers and wrist, spilling over onto his belly.

“Just like that, baby.”  You kiss his panting mouth, and he feels the curve of your lips as you give a pleased smile.  “It’s that simple.”

[missmarveledsblog]

bob floyd fic plz loving your fics anything really with some spice 🥺💞

Risky business ( Robert " bob" Floyd x Reader) 18+

summary : home doesn't feel like home so y/n takes a risk moving to san diego to the man she always felt was her home her best friend robert floyd , she thinks he friend zoned her , he thinks if he tell her about his feeling for her he'll lose it til one night he takes a risk and hope its a good one .

warnings : swearing , very fluffy like super fluffy , mutual pinning , idiot in love , bestfriends to lovers , dagger squad being the best smutty fun , oral ( female r), fingering , p in v ( unprotected don't be silly wrap that willy ) .

Risks are scary, big or small, and can be terrifying when you don’t know the outcome. It's scary when you do but most risks are usually the best decisions in a person's life. Coming from Montana to San Diego because your best friend is permanently stationed is a big risk , not telling said friend and making sure no else did, big risk. Yet standing in some bar called hard deck hoping they would show up like they most nights. what maybe helped already knowing with the help of a certain female pilot promised they would be .  talking away with the pretty kind eyed bartender as patron began to fill the space with a blink of an eye it was sea of people , each time she would hear the door open her eyes would dart in the direction in hopes to see the WSO  she hadn’t seen in a year or more . texting and calls were main communications and social media which is how she began sort of friends with natasha trace bantering or in bobs word torturing him on a post or meme which became a regular and a mutual online friendship was formed .  bob always gonna be her best friend two growing up together playing on her ranch , he even worked there summers with her so they could spend time together.  Montana suddenly didn’t feel like home anymore it missed one major thing and that was robert floyd so she packed her things and now here she stood in a bar trying to see through the sea of people . a polite smile and shake of her head at the men coming her way offering one liner and drinks . she sipped her beer and continue as nat promised she would get the weapons systems operator to the hard deck even if she had to drag him herself . 

“ well well i didn’t know it was my lucky night” a voice called as she turned to see a blonde and along with a few others eyes locked on her and her glance short because she saw him standing there  almost flying off the stood and running past the cocky blonde. 

“ BOBBY” She yelled almost knocking the poor man to the ground as his mind was catching up and making sense to what was happening. 

“ guess it’s not a lucky as you thought bagman” . 

“ y/n shit what you doing here” he lifted her up and spun her around . 

“ to see ya stupid why else “ she giggled as he put her down . 

“ told you i’d get him here also nice to finally meet you” a voice called as she turned seeing the brunette that help and share memes to torment bob. 

“ nat wow nice to meet ya too “ she turned hugging the woman . 

“ could we meet you too… hi names bradley “  he smiled holding his hand out and they began pushing each other out of the way telling her their names and call sign. 

“ erm let sit over here” bob pulled her to his side and guiding her to the usual space as hangman and rooste more or less yelling about their skills in pool and darts .  he didn’t know what was going on or it was some hallucination , did they crash and this was some coma dream or his own form of heaven . 

“ y/n let me get you a drink to welcome to the hard deck “ of course jake was already putting the charm on . 

“ oh thank you “ she smiled softly as she told him her order before her attention was back on bob .  “ i was so scared you weren’t gonna show up but then again i knew nat wouldn’t have let the surprise go to waste” she giggled as they guy simultaneously sighed dreamily. 

“ That's why you kept trying to get me to leave earlier. I should have known” he chuckled . 

“I didn’t wanna leave this hotty at the bar too long on her own “ nat winked . 

“ you flatter me really , hell i’d say the guys have a hard time flying with you around huh?”. 

“ more her mouth than anything…. So what brings you to fighter town pretty girl ?” rooster asked, hand on his chin  and big eyes in her direction . 

“ well home was boring  without bobby around ain’t felt much like home so I kinda packed up my car and decided  hell why not” she shrugged. 

“ wait your staying like staying staying”bobs eyes widening and excited smile on his face shit why was so cute , handsome and fuck why couldn’t she stop feeling like this for her best friend.  

“ well she’s been planning the last few months and honestly i’m proud of myself for keeping it a secret so long” nat smirked. 

“ and nat helped a lot she viewing places for me which  i will make sure to send  something …food wise since you won’t let me pay you anyway “ she rolled her eyes . 

“Honestly better than money or whatever sweetpea’s cooking is to die for “ bob almost moaned  at the thought of tasting her food again one of the things he missed being home. 

“ sweetpea?” 

“ nickname from when i was kid  my mama was really into flowers and well one of it meanings is loyal  when i got into trouble a lot for picking up for bobby  she called me sweet pea also because they were grown for beauty too but i think more the loyal part “ she rolled her eyes.

“ your beer darling” jake returned flashing  a million dollar smile her way . 

“ thanks cowboy , so this is famous hard deck i’ve been hearing all about hell  penny is a peach  , where else is fun around here?” she asked looking around mainly her eyes where on bob , they always were even as kids she thought he was the prettiest boy  , cutest smile and innocent eyes but she say other side when they got dark when he would get pissed off or when he got drunk how it would be a goofy grin . She was one who saw most sides of robert floyd , reading him like a book or so she thought. 

Ever since he was little boy the only girl to fully make robert floyd heart beat fast and his stomach to flutter and a warmth fill through his body was y/n , his sweet pea who go out of her way to take care of those she loved and put a person in their place of needed to be  .  since they were kids she didn’t take to kindly to other kids teasing him or even adults as they got older .  Her mother was right she was loyal to a fault often trying to see the best in people and never returning it back .  Hated the guys she dated ones that didn’t appreciate the best woman on gods green earth .  then he would pick up the pieces of what was left behind unknowingly making things worse because they got that chance because she thought he saw her as sister , constantly made sure to let slip in the fact they were best friends so she dated idiots she thought would distract her from her decent  in the depths of the of friend zone. Now she was happy being single maybe she needed time to get over those feelings  first before jumping into a mistake.  She was happy now being with the one man she couldn’t have it should of stung but a life with him in it even as her best friend was what she was willing to settle on. She got along with the dagger squad they were good people , fun and very welcoming . rooster and hangman to offering to teach her to play darts which made bobs face light up , the coy act as she stood unsurely throw the first one missing reeling them in til she turned to bob not even paying attention to the way their jaws drop when she hit the bullseye while taking about her day of unpacking. 

“ would ya look at that “ she winked before heading to get another drink . 

“ look like  your game isn’t working tonight boys “ nat snorted 

“ i’ve a better shot then hangman “ 

“ you wish chicken boy “ 

“I don’t think either of you two  have a chance” payback announced as he shot the WSO  a quick glance . being the married man and obsessed with one woman in his life he could spot something the others didn’t. Her eyes didn’t devour them  any of them  , she only looked to answer or tell them a story but other than that her full attention was on bob and bob alone . heart in those eyes   and it was returned what he didn’t know was there wasn’t more to it , how two people undeniably in love and yet just friends maybe he would find out but for now he observed see how long it took the other  but only  the knowing look on phoenix face  he wasn’t the only one that spotted it , the rest would need to get  over the egos first . 

After week one fanboy spotted it followed by javy at week three   but rooster and hangman were two busy in a silent competition it didn't hit them til six months of y/n being around.  The two men saying they totally spotted it way be for then but they couldn’t hide when it clicked now they were waiting for those two to see it , would their be harm in helping  a gentle nudge in the right direction so to speak. Another new favorite in the shift of the routine was eating dinner in y/n which the name was a distant memory as sweetpea continued  to live on in san diego , even pete mitchell addressed her as such .   they decided maybe it was best to skip one  dinner night even though the idea of it had some of them pouting like spoiled children . 

“ you better not mess it up “ was all the message from hangman and rooster read  as he stood on the porch ready to knock not knowing what his friends where on about .  then when the door opened  the thought went straight out of his head as she standing head tilt in pair of cotton shorts and tank , brows furrow. 

“ i thought the squad was busy?” god her voice something as simple as her voice had him in a puddle . sometimes he would get her to talk about her hobbies , things she loved just to hear her ramble excitedly . 

“I .. not all the squad i guess , i’ll call for pizza and you pick out the movie” he chuckled letting himself in . 

“ beers in the fridge or ginger ale” she called and yet he couldn’t help it watching her walking away how it made the blood rush sound and his mouth run dry .  he felt the buzz of his phone to see the text in the group chat.  

Phoenix : please make a move or i’ve suffered the whining of bradshaw and seresin for nothing.

Baby on board : what you mean ?

Bagman : either get the girl or i will 

Rooster: i’ll get her before bagman  

“ bobby? “ she called as he pocketed the phone a gulp as he looked up  nervous was it that obvious , it was clearly it was plain as day for his friends to spot it and  now he was scared on her catching on what if he scared her away .. what if he lost his best friend because he couldn’t contain the feelings . maybe it was better tell her , face the rejection and get over it so he could get on with his life . 

“ yeah .. yep coming sweetpea “ he walked probably slowest he’s ever walk in hope of the short distance he could sort himself out . that would of been blown away as she sat looking up his eyes straining to stay on her face and not the plush of her thigh as she sat on the sofa feet tucked underneath her legs and big bright smile on her face. 

“ ya coming or what” she snorted looking to the tv eyes scanning through the potential choices . when he finally took his seat as far away as he could get without being in a different room . 

“  Do I smell?” she arched her brows to which he shook his head so fast she thought his glasses would fall off . “  well come over here” she patted the seat beside her .  

“ you wanna drink like i said beer if you wanna stay over or ginger ale” she asked getting up . 

“ you hate ginger ale why you always get it  “ 

“Cause  you don’t” she easily said . “ same way i get those nuts ya like or the chips which honestly  i’m starting to think something wrong with ya taste buds” she snorted heading off to the kitchen .  

“ given the chance i’d taste you “ he mumbled .

“What was that “ she carried in the beers  .

“ i said nothing wrong with my taste thank you” he coughed bringing the bottle to his lips least he couldn’t have slip ups if it was occupied right. 

“ you ok “ she asked concern on his face as he nodded.  “ ya sure like a bag of cats since you got in here “ . 

“ just thinking of something that well is a big risk and  i don’t know what to do , it’s classified” he sighed. 

“ take it i mean  risks are scary sure but if it something you love or something in your life that needs changing  , i’d say go for it once it not life on the line that that risk , i moved out her away from everything i knew and i think it was best decision i made ” she smiled  softly and yet it did comfort him but same time the fear was winning . “ think on what i said decided then but for now lets watch this movie” she giggled hitting play and the lights . of course she would pick the movie he said he loved , she always done little or big things like this having his favorites for when he was over , packing extra things when they were out like sun cream and aloe vera when he did burn .  wipes for his glasses .  little things that didn’t feel that little they meant a lot to him. He kept thinking it over the movie long forgotten as she cuddle into his side nothing new but still he was trying to think , trying to decide  take the risk or not. 

“ fuck this “ he finally said only he didn’t mean to say it so loud making her startle and sit up right . 

“ What's going on? What's got all worked up “ she ask pausing the moving .  “ I know you said classified what is it” . 

“   it’s you “ his head fell back eyes closed fuck it may aswell do it cause if he didn’t he was going to be in a padded room . 

“ me? What i do?” he could hear it the hurt in her voice , he knew her too well knew how her mind worked and he knew she was worried she done something wrong. 

“ nothing wrong i mean it’s more me than anything  before i could do i think being deployed and stationed places helped  i was able to hide it better  , now others see it too and then your gonna see it  , but i’m taking your advice and it feel life risking but shit i need to tell you i’ve been in love with you since we met shit i don’t think theres a time i haven’t been  and i understand if this changes things between us i mean if you want me to walk out that door  i will as much as it kills me but i can’t pretend i’m not anymore and no i’m gonna loose my best friend and  jake and bradley are gonna hate they miss the food for me fucking everything up but i love you  , in love with you “ he could lie and say that the beating of his heart help since he couldn’t hear anything  yet her mouth fell open and her eyes wide , she was frozen to the spot and now he wanted to run literally run his ass out that door and keep running maybe start a life somewhere new .. like the moon . “ please say something… anything” he was more quiet   , vulnerable and small in his voice. 

“ you fucker …. Asshole ..” that was not the words he was expecting to hear. “ your telling me you felt the same all this fucking time… .asshole what was the whole thing of constantly added  the fact we’re bestfriends in any conversation you shit i thought  i was so deep in the friendzone the titanic would of been found before anyone found me down there” she quipped . 

“ i more said that to myself than you “ he winced 

“ why didn’t you tell me sooner “ she asked . 

“ i was afraid i’d lose you why didn’t you tell me”. 

“ because you dick i thought you friendzoned me “ she huffed and yet the smile she was fighting it was , winning  as her lips twitched up . 

“ so we both love like in love with each other “ he asked shyly . 

“ i guess we are” she nodded. 

“ so i can kiss you”. 

“ i’d be pissed if you didn’t” she turned only for his hands on her cheeks and lips crashing against her. It was soft at first , almost  testing the waters   , crossing new bound and borders and yet it felt like it was most right thing to do , it was like the whole cliche puzzles pieces souls connecting goodness wrapped in a bow that would make the hallmark channel proud . til the kiss got hungry , heat , sensual .  nip to her bottom lip granting the entrance , tongues dancing along side each. Pulling her closer , needing her closer lifting her to his lap , where she always should of been his hand on her hip  , the other tangled in her hair . her own at the nape of his neck the soft tug pulling him for her lips as she kissed  down his jaw .  wet open mouth kissing along his neck setting his skin a blaze  the room suddenly feeling like a sauna as she nips and lick the skin .  his now free hand  , fingers under her chin pulling her face to his , his eyes darkened  that made her gulp and her thighs willing to clench under the almost burning gaze . 

“ baby girl i need  know you want this “ he voice few octaves lower  if he wasn’t holding her by her chin her mouth would of fell open . 

“ i want this i want you please” she whine her eyes full of needed , lust blown pupils  and kiss bitten lips made his cock throb straining against his pants  . the gasp from her lips when she felt it pressed again her , her panties soaking , clothes feeling tight  as she ground her hips  down showing him how much she wanted him , needing him .  the delicious friction his hand falling down to her ass squeezing as the moan spilled from from her lips like a flip of a switch , the resolved that was holding on  by thread snapping  . Instant he stood lips crashing against her harder , hungrier , her legs wrapped around him as he carried her to her bedroom. Her top thrown to one corner and her short to another like the clothing personal offended him . the groan when he seen it she been sitting beside him all night nothing underneath  , laying bare beneath him as he pull his own clothes off in record speed. His grip under her legs pulling her close  her chest rising and falling, her eyes pleading him to continue shit he had to of died to get this piece of heaven .  kissing down her legs not once did his eyes moved , her mouth open as he place sloppy kisses slow , tortuous she needed him to do something before she was driven crazy . closer and closer til she felt it  , felt his tongue broad stroke from her entrance to her clit . head falling back as sound that came from her lips almost had him blowing his lips .  paradise if it had a taste it would be her sweet pussy if he could he’d spend the rest of his life between her plush thighs. A grip on his hair as she cried out his name a sound he imagine and yet it didn’t do it justice , none of this was even close to what his mind tried to conjure.

“ fuck bobby don’t stop “  her hips following his movement as  his tongue swirling around her clit as his finger pumping in and out hitting spots she never knew existed , the fact he ate her pussy like it was first and last meal , like it was his first taste of wandering the desert . robert floyd ate pussy like it was an olympic sport and he was going for gold  . he had her ruined  knowing nothing , not even her own fingers could ever feel as good. Build and building  , winding so tight she could feel it coming to the point she was already trembling crying not to stop it was coming and coming til stopped . 

“ the fuck” she panted as he rose cocky smirk on his face she felt like sobbing and slapping him all at one . 

“ when you cum  for me for first  baby it gonna be on my cock “ he kissed her nose . she went to argue but what ever argument she had turned to a moan inch by inch he filling her. 

“ fuck so tight .. she made for me huh.. All mine” he groan his forehead on her  kissing her lips til  she bucked her hips a sign for him to move his hand on her cheek kissing  almost swallowing the moans , trust slow at first feeling  his cock stretching her velvet walls . soft sensual movement til his pace got faster and fast hold her face in place as he looked down . his other hand coming between her bodie , teasing her puffy clit he could feel it feel her getting closer and closer the way she was sucking him in , how being buried in her sweat cunt was addictive. 

“ i’m gonna fuckk … like that gonna “ she couldn’t get it out everytime  she tried to get the sentence out of her mouth he would hit the spot so deep in side she was going brainless .  pressure building crying his name like it was only word she knew in that moment was . like a explosion her eyes rolling back as her legs clenched around him walls tight on his cock . 

“ good fucking girl “ he growled his own movement sloppy til he was shooting his own release painting her cervix with thick ropes of cum .  body cover in sheen of sweat his lips peppering her face with delicate kisses before he got her lips . a collective wince as he pulled out collapsing beside her pulling her to his chest.

“ that…” 

“Is happening all the time agreed .. your a dick” she sigh happily.

“ why’s that baby girl “ he chucking looking down at blissed out grin on her face. 

“ we could of been doing that all this time .. but hey least i was right risk are worth taking “ she giggled as he pounced on her kissing her once more , kiss his best friend and his girl .

[ddejavvu]

m.list - jake 'hangman' seresin

thoughts: #let's talk about hangman !!

fics:

spring fling (series)

hungman

pizza box puzzle pieces

sun-kissed

blurbs:

rooster x reader x hangman | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

surprising jake for christmas

outlaw!hangman

living on a ranch with hangman

being feral for hangman

jake + clingy!reader

personal trainer!jake

vampire!hangman

hangman + casual dominance

hangman's dirty talk

waxing jake's chest

jake's skincare routine is longer than your own

jealous!hangman

hangman is shy around you | 2

hangman likes proving you're his

hangman + rivals to lovers

dbf!hangman | 2 | 3

drunk!hangman

jake x pregnant!reader

jake x bradshaw!reader

showering with jake

the dagger squad as mechanics

cuddling with the top gun pilots

jake with a secret wife

whipped!hangman

jake x shy!reader

booktok with husband!hangman

jake buying you flowers

bathing with jake

hangman x florist!reader

hangman's gf has a bonfire with the dagger squad

hangman comforts you after a botched haircut

top gun x criminal minds crossover

ceo!hangman

hangman corrals his drunk girlfriend

you wear jake's cowboy hat

hangman + dumbification

hangman doesn't recognize you with your new hair

hooking up with hangman

jake lets you into the bar's bathroom

jake taking you in the locker room

you're hangman's girl

decorating jake's car

asking jake to leave while you change

hangman alphabet: N O P

[allbark-no-bite]

call it brotherhood (not love).

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.2k)

summary: jake meets his match in a soldier rather than a sailor. you’re a bit more war torn than he expected, but it’s okay because maybe he is too

warnings: 18+ smut, * graphic descriptions of injuries and death ⚠️

* if you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t read

author’s note: spoiler alert, i know this isn’t the Jake fic that you’ve all been wanting but i swear that one is in the works. i’m about to go back to school and wanted to get this out there for y’all :) (ps i apologize for the lazy ending)

————————————————————————

"At ease, gentlemen —And woman," Admiral Simpson adds after a moment, shooting an uncharacteristically apprehensive look in Phoenix's direction. Payback snorts at his hasty correction, and Jake is surprised when the admiral doesn't fix him with a nasty look.

If the man's cursory show of inclusion perturbs the female pilot, she doesn't show it, and instead she takes a seat with all the rest of them. Jake turns back towards the front of the ready room, sinking down into his chair just a bit, toothpick clenched between his teeth as he waits for the admiral to address them.

However routine, this training meeting was a bit out of left field, especially for a Sunday afternoon. The Dagger squad typically had one weekly, but it was usually led by Maverick and much more informal. That wasn't to say that seeing Beau was surprising, but the man usually steered clear of the wayward captain and left him to his own devices when it came to training the Daggers.

Today the captain sits in the ready room beside the rest of the pilots. Jake watches as Bradley sends his godfather an inquisitive brow from across the room, to which the older man just shrugs. Interesting.

Cyclone clears his throat. "Good afternoon. I apologize for keeping you all, but I promise this will only take a minute of your time. As I'm sure you are all aware, the United States Department of Defense takes immense pride in maintaining one of the most well integrated military forces in the world. It's our job to work closely with other service members to ensure their safety and the safety of our nation." He pauses. "As experienced as you all are, your time here at Topgun has not reflected that."

Jake's brow furrows, his tongue worrying at the toothpick clenched between his teeth as he listens to the admiral go on. Javy shoots him a look but Jake stares ahead, waiting for Beau to continue.

"The permanent installment of your squad here at Miramar was to create a tightly knit group of elite fighter pilots who would be available at a moment's notice, and however successful that may have been, I cannot neglect the fact that comfort builds complacency. Later today, a squad of U.S. Army soldiers will be arriving to aide in your training for the next six weeks. The integration of mixed branch training units has been widely effective around the country, and it's about time we do the same here at Miramar."

With that, the screen positioned on the wall behind him lights up, displaying enlarged headshots of about eight soldiers. The first seven are males of varying ages, but none older than probably thirty. Jake quickly skims over their names and credentials, but when he gets to the last profile, his eyes stop.

The last solider is the only female projected on the screen, but even so she stands out as compared to all the other members of her squad. He can't quite put his finger on why though.

She's uncharacteristically pretty. And by that he means that to most, her appearance would be inherently off putting— even without the straight-mouthed scowl on her face. She's got a square, almost masculine like jawline that hardens her features considerably. Her hair is light, worn from spending too much time in the sun regardless of however dark it may have been naturally. The same goes for her skin, which is comparably bronze in contrast to the tan line on her forehead, he would assume from wearing a patrol cap out in the field.

Her eyes are wild.

And that's when it hits him.

She'd been all over the news just a few months ago. Something about a patrol gone wrong out in the Middle East, which ultimately turned into a high stakes rescue mission to extract the surviving soldiers. They went in hoping to bring back nine men and came out with one. Apparently they didn't even get to recover the bodies.

Jake can't imagine what that'll do to a person.

Before he can stare at her profile any longer, Cyclone quickly clicks off the projection and the image disappears. This time he appears almost nervous as he stares back at them. "These soldiers are recently returning from a deployment in the Middle East, so I trust that you all will do your best to make them feel welcome. If none of you have any questions, that is all. You're dismissed."

---

The following morning, the Jake receives word from Maverick that the Admiral wants to see him in his office. It's not a strange request but certainly raises Jake's attention as to why specifically he was needed.

Upon entering the room, Jake finds not only the Admiral but Maverick and another female that he's yet to have seen before. All heads turn towards him when he enters, as if he were interrupting something. Immediately, Jake snaps to attention, his heels clicking together and his fingers brushing his brow with a sharpness that would make the academy proud.

Cyclone nods in his direction, acknowledging Jake's customary greeting and dismissing him with the notion. "Lt. Seresin," he begins, gesturing to the female standing across the room. "This is Lt. (L/n). She's uh—a member of the squad that I briefed you on yesterday."

He hadn't noticed that she was wearing Army OCPs but he connects the dots as soon as the admiral mentions her name. He remembers reading it on the projector during the meeting.

Rather than introducing herself, the soldier stands rigidly across from him, her arms folded in front of her chest with a look on her face that Jake can only describe as fucking pissed. Unsure of what to do but aware from personal experience with Phoenix that he shouldn't try to cross any unknown boundaries, Jake settles for offering her a respectful nod. She glares back at him.

"You're two of our only service members with active combat experience," Cyclone continues, obviously ignoring the girl's crossed disposition. "I'm hoping that you and Lt. (L/n) can find some common ground. Perhaps it would do you both some good to—"

"Respectfully, sir, if I wanted to vent to someone about my feelings, I'd go see a shrink," the woman growls. "I recommend you do the same, Lt. Seresin." Her tone makes Jake's brow raise slightly in surprise. No one talks to an admiral like that, not even Pete Mitchell.

"Lt. (L/n)," Cyclone snaps. "That's quite enough."

This time, she rolls her eyes with a scoff. "You can't just—"

"Get out."

She clamps her jaw shut but doesn't budge from where her feet are planted in the ground.

"I said, Get. Out," Cyclone reiterates.

The eyes that had caught Jake's attention in the first place fix the admiral with a chilling stare. To Jake, there's something familiar in those eyes. Some sort of unmistakably justifiable rage that runs deeper than just being dismissed from the conversation. Jake watches, his breath stalled as she sets her jaw, unwilling to move, when it hits him. Identical jawlines and untwitching scowls mirror each other.

The illegitimate child of Admiral Beau Simpson stands before him.

He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, granted they don't share a last name, but Jake was aware that the Admiral was divorced, had been for a while. Allegedly he wasn't the marrying type. Jake isn't surprised by the statement. Beau Simpson is a hard man to deal with.

Jake watches in silence as the girl ultimately releases an irritated huff and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her. He can hear the loud, petulant stomp of her boots as she retreats down the hall. Evidently her looks weren't the only thing that she got from her dad. She had a temper that rivaled even Bradshaw's.

The clearing of the Admiral's throat removes Jake's eyes from the door. "I hope you can forgive my daughter's behavior. Her return to the states has been...difficult."

"I'm sure difficult is the way she would describe you too sir," Maverick jokes.

Cyclone fixes him with a perturbed glare but decidedly ignores his comment in favor of addressing Jake. "Lt. (L/n)'s squadron was ambushed six months ago. Just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and she was the only survivor. As her father, I wanted her to accept the Purple Heart and retire." He gestures flippantly towards the door. "Obviously that's not what she did."

Jake speaks for the first time since he entered the room. "Respectfully, sir, I don't blame her. I'm taking this career to the grave. I'm sure both your daughter and Captain Mitchell can agree," he adds glancing over at his instructor.

Before Maverick can voice his agreement, the admiral cuts him off.

"As I'm sure Captain Mitchell can attest to, as her father, I'm just trying to look out for her."

With his preexisting connection to Rooster, the godson that he would risk his career to protect, Maverick has no room to disagree with the admiral. For once, the captain, who usually always has something to say, stands with his palms folded behind his back and keeps his mouth shut.

"As I was saying," Cyclone continues, taking a seat behind his desk and kicking back as if to signal that he's won the conversation. "It is my hope that given your own—" the admiral hesitates for just a moment too long for Jake's liking "—personal experience, you'll be able to get through to her."

Jake swallows and hopes that he doesn't look as uneasy as the insinuation makes him feel. He has to take a moment to reassure himself that the psych unit has repeatedly cleared him for duty and that no one's threatening to take his wings away.

The nights that he wakes up, drenched in sweat, with his fingers wrapped around imaginary joysticks hard enough to make his palms bleed are few and far in between these days. And even those he's gotten good enough at faking like they don't bother him because he hasn't failed a psych evaluation in months.

It doesn't mean he likes to talk about it or that he won't hear the fear in Rooster's voice if he does.

But he's more scared of not flying than anything, so all Jake does is nod and offer a dry, "I'll do my best, sir."

———

PTSD or modern day shell-shock is what they like to call it. You call it waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Because there is always another shoe.

The slam of a beer bottle down on the bar top lights your nerves up like nothing else. It sends your heart straight to your stomach and makes your palms sweat like when you miss a step on the stairs and for a split second, you think you're going to die. You never do of course, but your body is hard wired that way to keep you alive.

There's a flaw in your system that hasn't been right since the east.

You knew that a popular naval bar on a Friday night wasn't the best place for you these days but your nerves had been yearning for an ice cold beer and fuck all if you weren't going to get one. The alcohol would soothe your nerves anyhow.

But after thirty minutes of waiting on said beer, you were beginning to lose your patience. Normally you weren't bothered by that kind of thing. The place was obviously busy and the lone woman behind the bar was doing her best to satisfy the flock of servicemen that only seemed to accumulate with every beer that she handed out.

Just when you're about to give up and leave, a large hand covers your lower back, pressing you forwards through the crowd and toward the bar top.

"Two more on me, please, Penny."

The voice belongs to the tall man standing behind you. He's removed his firm, but respectfully placed palm from your back and is now leaning over you to accept the two dripping bottles of beer. It doesn't take you long to recognize the green of his eyes from a few days prior.

"My dad didn't put you up to this did he?" you ask, somewhat reluctantly taking the bottle that he offers you. It's finger numbing cold, just how you like it.

He kind of just slowly smiles and shakes his head.

Immediately you feel like a jerk. You sigh, dropping your shoulders and smile softly back. "Sorry. That was rude."

"No, ma'am, he didn't. Just had to find out if you smiled like that all the time."

The part of you that's a little bit of a bitch makes you clench your teeth together, tightening the smile that was once spread across your lips. "I'm not looking for that kind of thing right now," is all you say.

You want to tell him that you used to not be so mean.

At the realization that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he was going for, the guy graciously extends his hand. "Look I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to say hi."

Despite not being keen on his advances, you aren't going to be rude so you accept his outstretched hand. You're surprised by his gentleness. It's not the rough, over-masculine shake you are expecting.

"Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know your name," he admits with a light, almost embarrassed laugh. "I think everybody in here knows your name."

Your skin prickles. You stare at him stoney faced, bracing yourself for what's going to come out of his mouth. "Why's that?"

The guy—Lt. Seresin—you're remembering, shrugs. "I mean, you're quite the story back here in the states. A bit of a ghost story, I must say."

Ghost story is right. Because who survives that? How the fuck does a twenty-two year old girl survive an outnumbered ambush and not eight men with years of experience? Not someone who deserves to be called a hero, that's for sure.

You're trying your best to keep your cool with him. You know that you're in a public space and he's just being friendly. You used to be so good at this kind of thing, the flirting and small talk.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is what you need. Maybe this will make you feel normal again. You need to feel normal again.

Maybe that is why you let him lean in closer, buy you another drink when yours runs dry, and another one after that. Maybe that is why you make an effort to laugh when he does, and you close your eyes when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You let out the breath that's been tightening your ribcage and do your best to smile. "Thank you for the beer. You didn't have to do that." You hope the words sound as genuine as they're intended to.

He smiles back like he's supposed to, all polite and inherently forgiving of your original attitude. You catch onto the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You're not sure why but it makes you think maybe he's just a bit sad too.

Maybe that is why he lets you wordlessly take his hand and lead him to the back of the bar. Maybe that is why he lets you sink to your knees on the cold, sticky tiles of the men's bathroom floor, his hands already fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

It smells like beer and piss, and you don't even wait for him to get fully hard before you take him in your mouth, your nose buried into his pelvis, where it smells like sweat. It's all wrong and right at the same time, and he won't ask you to stop. He just curls his fingers into a fistful of your hair, pinpricks stinging at your scalp the same way tears sting at your eyes.

He—Jake—he'd told you a while ago, has a pretty cock. At least as pretty as cocks go. Pink and ruddy at the tip, where it mushroomed beautifully. Almost dauntingly long but not grossly so with a throbbing vein on the underside. You run your tongue along it and he muffles a whimper, his fingers wrapping harder around your hair in an effort not to buck up into your mouth. At least he's a gentleman about it.

He's heavy and twitching in your mouth. You feel heavy. He is standing above you, a harsh line of a man against the buzzing bathroom light. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose and he punches himself further, the head of his cock skimming the back of your throat.

You swallow around him, trying to hold together what little is left of your remaining sense of self. It's been a while since you've been so careless as to place yourself in someone else's hands, rolled over and showed your belly to someone who could easily take advantage of you.

Your jaw aches, uncomfortable and familiar, like something you don't want to remember. Tears well up behind your eyes, the threat of an unwanted but unknown feeling looming just out of reach. Jake's hand in your hair hold your head firmly against his pelvis, hips rocking up into your mouth. He sighs like he can finally breathe.

You can't breathe.

You try to and something rasps inside of you, choking. The feeling that had been looming threateningly sparkles through you. Panic.

You know that he tries to settle you, does his best to wipe the tears leaking from your eyes with his thumbs and murmurs softly to you. "Breathe. It's okay, breathe for me."

You can't. You can't breathe.

Your head is pounding and suddenly you aren't kneeling on the bathroom floor of the bar. You're on the ground, crying, screaming like a wounded animal and no one is coming to help. You can almost feel the dirt under your knees, taste the blood in your mouth.

"Y/N, you have to breathe."

Someone's grabbing you, hauling your useless feet across the floor. Your chest hurts like you've been punched with a bowling ball.

"C'mon, let's get some air."

How you end up outside the bathroom is beside you. All you know is one minute you're dying on your knees back in the desert and the next you're being sat down on the back steps of the bar. 

The cool air of the San Diego evening brings you back. That and the press of a cup of ice water to your lips, the condensation dripping from the glass and rolling down your throat. You swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe your burning throat.

You're aware of Jake sitting down beside you, close enough to touch if he wanted to but still keeping his distance. You can feel his eyes on you, watching carefully for a moment before he turns to stare out at the not so distance shoreline.

Your stomach feels odd, like you might be sick.

He probably thinks you're insane. You would think the same. But if he's dying to ask what the hell that was, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

How do you tell him that sometimes you think that you should have died, that sometimes the memories almost kill you?

"I hid."

He looks up from peeling off the label around the neck of his bottle. "What?"

You swallow, trying to collect yourself before your words fail you.

"I hid. A—After I was shot, I didn't get back up. I crawled under the humvee and... and I just laid there. I laid there and I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed that they wouldn't notice me lying under there or that they if they did, they would think I was already dead."

A mixture of sweat and dust burns your eyes. When you blink, you can feel the sandy grit trapped between them. You squeeze them shut while trying to swallow back the dryness of your throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, but it doesn't do much. An unwarranted tear escapes and runs down the track of your nose.

With your rifle held closely to your chest, you let it slide down and collect on the bow of your lip. It joins the puddle of sweat that has already accumulated there. Out here, the sun cooks you alive. You swear it's a constant one thousand degrees. The twenty pounds of kevlar doesn't help.

Dirt kicks up beside you and gravel showers your helmet as a round of bullets buries themselves into the ground a mere six inches from your face. You hardly flinch.

Somebody is screaming. The sound of machine gun fire is ringing in your ears. Somebody is screaming.

"(L/N), C'MON. LET'S MOVE."

It's Cain. He's grabbing the strap of your kevlar vest and yanking you to your feet. You scramble after him, desperate not to be left behind. Bullets explode at your feet the moment the two of you emerge from the concealment of the dirt mound. Fear makes you run faster.

You spot Manny crouched behind the tire of the SUV to your right. He's firing rounds into the brush. You can tell that he's bleeding from a wound to his arm and you're about to veer off to help him when his head jerks backwards, the scattered remains of his brain plastered onto the white side of the truck.

You stop running, the words caught in your throat.

"RUN," Cain screams. He'd backtracked a few paces and grabs hold of your vest once again to drag you behind a second SUV. You stumble over him, falling haphazardly onto your rear once he lets go of you. He immediately turns to fire over the hood of the truck, and the bullets hitting the truck stop momentarily.

Clawing at the gravel on the ground, you hurry to scramble to your feet. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry and gritty. Huffing, you glance between Cain, who is fumbling to reload his magazine, and the crumpled figure of Manny a few yards away. You can only hope Ronny is still out there somewhere.

Before you can even try to locate him or any other members of the squad, movement to your left springs your muscles into action. You slam your back into the side door of the SUV just as a round of bullets pelt the spot where you were standing just moments before. Automatically, you raise your gun, returning the fire. There are a few more shots fired in retaliation, but they stop a second later.

Once you're sure they're subdued, you lower your gun, breathing hard. There's so much smoke and debris in the air that you can hardly even see Cain ten feet away. He's shuffling towards you in a low crouch.

"Let's move, (L/n). They know where we are. We've got to find different cover."

You nod, your finger still pressed tightly to the trigger of your weapon. You drop into a crouch and follow behind him as he creeps towards the back of the truck. He pauses a moment, scanning the landscape before looking back at you. His blue eyes are a startling contrast to the dirt and sweat covering his tanned face. He lifts his gun in the direction of a flipped humvee about fifty yards away. His mouth moves in a silent command.

One.

Two.

Three.

The gunfire starts up as soon as the two of you spring from behind the vehicle. You can hear the whizzing of bullets as they just barely miss your head. All you can do is pray you don't trip as you struggle to keep up with Cain. Your lungs burn and your boots feel impossibly heavy.

The terrain is barren but the ground loose, and rocks threaten to upend your footing, slipping out from beneath your feet as the two of you flee towards the vehicle.

30 yards from the humvee, Cain tumbles to the ground with a broken cry. The bullet catches him in the thigh, stopping him mid stride. He hits the ground hard.

Without even thinking, you skid to a stop. Bullets spray the ground around you. Somehow you're more afraid of leaving him than being shot.

"Go!" he yells at you, already trying to shove you away. "Go, I'm coming!"

Already, there's a lake of blood beneath him. You step in it and the ground squelches under your boot. Crimson gushes from his left thigh, effectively saturating the fabric of his pants. His face is terrifyingly pale. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Like hell," you snap at him, your pervious fear suddenly boiling into the purest form of anger you've ever felt. Angry for being in this situation in the first place. Angry that of all people, Cain is going to die.

It's terrifying how quickly the realization comes to you, how easily you accept it as the truth. There's already too much blood. Without a tourniquet, he'll bleed out in minutes and there's not quite time for that.

"Leaving him behind wasn't an option. It never even occurred to me that it was," you confess, as if saying it aloud will somehow explain away this title of heroism that everyone wants to pin on you. "Dead or alive, he was coming with me."

You shoulder your rifle and use both hands to grab onto the straps of his vest, hefting him backwards towards the truck.

He must clamp onto his bottom lip to stop the scream that threatens to escape because the noise that comes from his mouth is garbled.

You drag Cain about ten feet before you realize how just heavy he is. There's sweat leaking into your eyes and all you can see is the bloody lake that's left behind as you drag him through the dust. Cain's gone quiet, his head lulled to the side, eyes almost shut.

"C'mon, Cain. We're almost there."

His boot snags on a rock, and when you tug him free, he doesn't utter a word.

Something inside of you knows he's gone, was gone long before you started dragging him. You're still ten yards from the SUV.

POP. POP. POP.

You pause, your eyes fixed ahead of you. "Have you ever been shot before?"

Beside you, Jake shakes his head.

"It feels like someone has shot a bowling ball into your chest. Knocks the breath right out of you."

Pain explodes straight through your ribcage. Your vision clouds and you're vaguely aware of your knees buckling beneath you.

When you come to, all of the wind has been knocked out of you from hitting the ground so hard and your immediate reflex is to suck in a reviving breath. Instead all that comes out is a gurgle, the tell tale sign that your chest cavity is filling with blood.

You swallow, looking off at the dark shoreline of the beach, watching as the waves crash against the sand. "I knew that I wasn't dead yet—I did— I just—" Your throat constricts and when you speak again your voice is quieter. "He was already gone so maybe a part of me had already gone with him."

Jake nods slowly, as if putting together the pieces that you're laying down bit by bit. Somehow his green eyes have remained soft this entire time and maybe that's where you find the courage to continue.

Lifting your head, you crane your neck to see the damage, but the thick layer of kevlar strapped to your chest obstructs your view of the lower half of your body. Grunting in frustration, you reach blindly in the direction that the pain is radiating from. Numbly, your fingers find the gushing hole in your side. The bullet had buried itself in the exposed inch of your stomach between your belt and your vest.

There mustn't be an exit wound because there isn't a ton of blood surrounding you. If the wet cough you emit is anything to go by, it's probably pooling in your abdominal cavity instead.

You're going to die.

"I don't know how long I laid there," you admit. "I knew that the clock was ticking, had been since the moment I hit the ground. It was only a matter of time before I blacked out or bled out... I guess I was just waiting to see which one came first."

The scattered rounds hitting the ground around you become muffled background noise as the lull of unconsciousness begins to sweep over you, dulling the world as you know it. Through the haze of your fading senses, your eyes fall on Cain's motionless figure a few feet beside you.

He's lying face up, his desert tan uniform seeped a muddy crimson. You'd known he was dead a while ago. Still, you carried him. He'd have done the same for you. He was your brother, dead or alive.

Blood bubbles from your nose as you struggle to keep yourself breathing. The fact that you have to remind yourself to do that isn't a promising sign. Your body is shutting down, doing anything it can to keep your heart pumping, even if it means shutting down everything else.

Somewhere through the dullness, you hear Cain's voice. MOVE, (L/N).

You close your eyes, trying to picture his face from what had been just a few minutes ago. You remember the urgency in his blue eyes, the intensity of his fear overridden by adrenaline. How had that been only moments ago?

MOVE, (L/N).

"I—I heard his voice," you state, your tone not open for discussion. "Not the gun fire, not God, not anyone else's. I heard his voice."

So many people had tried to convince you otherwise, tried to tell you that it was because of the shock and your brain was shutting down, that you were hearing things. But you know what you heard.

"He saved my life, Jake."

You can see the gears turning in his head, the question carefully forming on his lips. "Were you two— I mean was he—"

It's the first time you have to suck back tears, your chest rattling with a longing emptiness as you fight the urge to cry. Memories of his wild blue eyes and wide smile that could only ever mean he was misbehaving flash through your mind.

You met Sergeant Anthony Cain not long after you commissioned as a Lieutenant. You were still a green officer when you were charged with your first platoon and given orders to deploy out East. You were scared as hell and Cain was your saving grace. He came in as if he'd always known you needed him and the rest was history.

There was never any question about intentions or commitment to each other. Cain was as honest as they came and you left it at that. You never imagined that's where your story would begin and end.

"I don't know, Jake. We didn't get that far."

Forcing your eyes open, you access the area around you. The sound of enemy fire has slowed but that doesn't mean movement won't trigger a return of bullets your way. Still, you know they'll be looking for survivors once the dust settles, and you don't want to be around when they do.

The humvee is only a little over ten yards away. You might would say it was crawling distance if it weren't for the fact that you were actively bleeding out. Even so, you don't really have any other option.

You take as deep of a breath as you can, your chest rasping as you do so, before lifting your right leg and using the weight of it to swing yourself over onto your stomach. Immediately, searing hot pain radiates through your chest and legs. You cry out, curling in on yourself, writhing on the ground like a wounded animal.

Sputtering, trying to breathe through the pain long enough so that you can move, you feel hot tears track down your face. They're tears of insurmountable pain and hopeless desperation.

"All I kept thinking was 'how does anyone survive this?' It was unimaginable, the pain. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it. I don't think I could do it again if I had to," you admit.

Softly, as not to scare you, you feel the gentle weight of Jake's palm on your knee. "You won't have to," he promises. "But you did it. You survived."

You stare down at his hand on your knee.

With a trembling, blood stained hand, you reach out in front of you and dig your fingers into the ground. Heaving, you draw yourself forward, your legs dragging limply through the dust. It takes an unimaginable amount of strength to pull yourself even six inches.

Sniffling back tears and out of breath, you curl your fingers into the ground and drag yourself forward again. This time, you probably only move half as far. You have to fight the urge to just lay your cheek against the ground and cry.

You do this again and again, keeping one hand pressed into the gushing wound at your side while the other drags you forward. Your lower half has become increasingly heavier with each passing minute, your legs nothing but dead weight to pull along. You don't think you could move them if you tried.

It takes you forty minutes to drag yourself to the humvee. By the time you get yourself fully under the abandoned vehicle, your fingers are torn and bleeding, the tips ripped open and embedded with bits of gravel.

Your muscles collapse the very second you give them the chance. Your forehead drops down to rest against the ground, and you finally have a moment to shudder out a sob. Your throat is dry and cracked, and dust coats the inside of your mouth. You're dimly aware that your breaths are dangerously shallow. You just know that you're miserably nauseous and each passing moment is more unbearable than the next.

You turn your own palm over, staring at the scars of your ruined finger tips, scars that tell a story of how you survived. They're ugly, and you wish you didn't have to look at the all of the time. At least your torso is mostly hidden. You've moved to a beach town and will never be able to put on a swimsuit.

Jake’s eyes follow yours and after a moment he flips his palm over, his fingers spread and inviting. His hands are large and calloused from years of flying. There are fingernail divots in his palm.

Almost shyly, his green eyes meet yours. You see a bit of that sadness you saw earlier. “I know it’s not my job to be your shrink or whatever,” he adds with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him. “But you’re not alone. We’re all a bit fucked up if you haven’t noticed.” He shrugs. “It comes with the job.”

You can’t help yourself. You trace a finger over the scarred palm of his hand. “My dad would disagree.”

Jake is fighting the urge to close his palm around yours, not wanting to overstep, and so he’s pleased when you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Family dinner must be interesting.”

Jake came from a military family himself and so he knows how deep the ties run. His old man was a sailor and so he knew better than to come home sporting anything other than his dress whites.

You laugh out loud because he’s not wrong at all. Jake squeezes your fingers in response. His hand feels good in yours. Safe and heavy in the way a padlock feels. Like he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s not all ‘Go Army, Beat Navy’ believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised a Navy brat and I have a hell of a lot of respect for my old man, but at the end of the day, I had to choose myself. I couldn’t do that with him watching over my shoulder. The Army’s been both the greatest and the worst thing that could have happened to me,” you confess.

Jake hums, dare you say almost disbelievingly.

“What?”

“A few weeks here and you’ll change your mind. No one does it like the Navy does.”

It’s your turn to make a noise of disbelief.

“I guess you’ll just have to impress me, Flyboy.”

Jake squeezes your hand again. “Oh I plan to.”

[awaywith-thefaeries]

YOU MIGHT WANT TO STEP ASIDE | j.seresin

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x floyd!reader

summary: two times your boyfriend and twin brother had to stand up for you, and the one time you shocked them by doing it yourself

warnings: anxiety, shy reader, protective Hangman, protective Bob, insecure reader, self doubt.

a/n: this idea came about when @cherieann-2001 and I were discussing the dagger squad with twin siblings, and we came up with Bob’s twin sis. @cherieann-2001 i’m sorry this took me so long! I hope you like 😊.

word count: 4K

masterlist

the time where your brother introduces you to his friends…

The noise coming from the beachfront bar makes you pause as you follow behind your twin brother. Your hand reaches up unconsciously to grab at the back of Robert's uniform, tugging just hard enough to make your brother pause and turn around to see your eyes shooting from side to side, one of your clear tells when you're nervous.

"You're ok, y/n/n," Robert says gently, bringing his hands up to rest on your shoulder's, knowing from experience that the weight of it brings you comfort when you start to get anxious.

"I...I d....don't think I w...want to g...go in there, Robbie," you say, tripping over your words as your breathing starts to get heavy.

"It's gonna be okay, y/n/n, you're gonna be just fine," Robert says again, pulling you into a tight hug in which you manage to get your breathing under control, "it's just gonna be Nat and some of my squad, we'll have our own table and you don't have to talk to anyone else for the entire night if you want."

Robert can see the exact moment when you make the decision to come into the bar, the spark of curiosity lighting in your eyes at the mention of your brother's co-pilot. You had met Natasha "Phoenix" Trace shortly after your brother's squadron had been permanently assigned to the San Diego base, where you had been working as a kindergarten teacher for the on-base school for the past two years. Being so close to your brother again has been so fun, with the two of you hanging out in every spare moment you had.

The two of you had grown up very close, with Robert being the protective older brother (by three minutes, you had always been quick to whisper sarcastically under your breath whenever he had tried to pull rank) to your quiet, unconfrontational manner.

"Are you ready to go in, or do you need a minute?" Robert asks, hand coming up to rest on the top of your head.

"I...I'm ready," you say, reaching out to tug on your brother's arm and follow after him as he puts his arm around your shoulders and steers you toward the entrance to the bar, under the shining sign reading THE HARD DECK.

Immediately, the noise of the bar makes you flinch and Robert's arm around your shoulders squeezes slightly, and you turn to look at him, finding him already looking at you, asking you if you're okay with his eyes.

You nod at him and tap on his hand, which he lets fall off of your shoulder as he nods towards a booth near the back of the bar, situated right by a pool table. You drop slightly behind him as you follow, preferring to take in your new surroundings from your slightly hidden vantage point behind your brother.

"Bob!" A voice calls from the direction of the table, and you peek slightly around your brother's shoulder to watch as a tall blonde man with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen saunters up to Robert and swings an arm around his shoulders, pulling him forward into a light headlock. You watch, slightly frozen as your brother laughs and fake punches the new man in the stomach, causing him to release Robert, and take a step back, hands going to his hips, stance relaxed as he smiles.

You're so entranced with watching your brother and his pretty friend that you don't notice Natasha coming up on your right, holding a glass of sparkling water in one hand.

"Hey, Y/n," she says softly, just loud enough for you to hear, but not so loud as to startle you.

You turn to look at her, and the first real smile of the night graces your lips.

"Hi Nat," you say, voice quiet as she smiles. She gently holds out the glass of sparkling water to you.

"For you!"

You look down and take the drink from her, thanking her shyly as she smiles at you and tips her head towards the booth, inviting you to go sit with her.

You glance at your brother, finding him already watching you, the tiniest gleam of pride in his eyes as he nods encouragingly. You smile and as you’re turning back to Nat, your eyes meet those of the man who had greeted your brother. He’s looking at you, not staring so much as just observing, and you shiver a little under the the intensity of his green eyed gaze.

Taking a tiny leap of faith, that has your stomach whooshing from the unfamiliarity of it all, you shoot the stranger a shy smile, before quickly ducking your head and sitting down next to your friend.

Much later, you’ve loosened up enough to laugh a little with Nat, who has been sitting with you at the table since you’d arrived. You have even met some of your brothers other pilot friends, including the first guy who had approached the two of you. You’ve learned that his name was Jake, but everyone calls him Hangman. You haven’t had the courage to ask why they call him that, but you noticed your eyes straying to the tall blonde more times than you care to admit. He just has this aura around him that makes you gravitate towards him, although your anxiety won’t let you do more than watch from afar.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the ladies room, are you good here for a bit?” Nat asks you, scooting out of the booth and standing, waiting near the head of the table. You smile, nodding as you wave her away, scooting out of the booth as well.

“Yeah, I’m gonna g…go get another drink, I think,” you say and Nat nods, before heading towards the back of the bar.

You watch her go for a second, then glance around to spot your brother in the middle of a game of pool with one of his friends, Coyote, you remember.

You steal yourself and then make your way through the crowded space, ducking between people until you stand at an open space at the bar.

You watch as the pretty bartender, smiles at the brown haired man she was talking to, who you remember is called Maverick, before making her way over to you.

“Hey, can I grab you a refill?” The woman asks, nodding to the empty glass in your hand.

“Um y…yes pl….please,” you say, stuttering through your words.

The woman’s smile puts you a little bit more at ease, as she asks what you’re drinking.

“Just sp…sparkling w….water.”

The woman nods at you and takes the cup from you. As she uses the soda spout to refill your glass, she introduces herself as Penny, the owner of the Hard Deck.

“We don’t usually get a lot of new customers this time of year,” she says, pushing the newly full glass back towards you, “are you new to town, or just passing through?”

Something about the way she seems so at ease puts you immediately at ease, and you only trip over your words once as you answer, voice getting a little stronger with each word.

“I live about t…ten minutes away, and my brother is in the Navy, he was just recently assigned here. I don’t usually go out by myself, but he asked me to meet some of his friends here tonight.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, who’s your brother?” Penny inquires.

“Um Robert Floyd? You’d probably know him as Bob.”

You wave a hand in the direction of your brother. Penny nods, turning back to you with a smile.

“Well you are always welcome at the Hard Deck! I didn’t catch your name, dear.”

You give your name, and Penny smiles at you once more, before heading off to help another customer.

You look down at your glass to hide the small smile that plays across your lips at the idea that you just met someone without the buffer of your brother.

You’re so caught up in your own head as you make your way back through the tables, you don’t notice the man until it’s too late.

A body slams into yours from the front, causing your water to splash over your hands and down your front as you stumble backwards. Just as you feel yourself falling, a warm presence appears at your back, steadying you with an arm around your shoulders as another pushes out in front of you. The tan hand shoves the man who had hit you, sending him away from you with such a force that he staggers before righting himself.

You look up at the person who saved you, only slightly surprised to see Jake already staring down at you, concern apparent in his gorgeous green eyes.

“What the fuck man?!” The man who had shoved you says loudly, causing you to jump slightly and subconsciously move in closer to Jake’s side.

“Watch where you’re going!” Jake’s voice holds the slightest hint of anger and you instinctively deflate a bit as you open your mouth to apologize.

“Not you, sweets,” Jake says, unknowingly making your heart flutter wildly in your chest at the name, “you did nothing wrong.”

Jake’s hand smooths over your shoulder, as he glares at the other man. The guy scoffs and looks around, as if making sure he doesn’t have an audience, before swinging his glare back to you and Jake.

“Um, I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was the one not looking where she was going!” He accuses, gesturing at you and making you shrink even further into Jake’s side, shame rising when you feel your eyes start to burn with tears.

“You’re gonna want to watch how you speak to her, jackass.”

Jake’s voice is so hard that the guy visibly blanches, and not so subtly takes a step back and away from the angry pilot at your side.

“Apologize to her for spilling her drink, and then fuck right off.” Jake commands, and the guy mutters the quietist apology you’ve ever heard and then disappears into the crowd.

Jake’s hand strokes over your shoulder one more time and then it’s gone. You turn to look up at the man who had come to your rescue, and Jake gently smiles down at you.

“You alright, y/n?” He asks, gaze sweeping quickly over the front of your dress, clearly soaked through from your spilled water, before flicking back up to your face.

“I….I’m o…okay,” you stutter, shame rising at the idea of this handsome man seeing you so humiliated, “th…thank y…you for rescuing m…me.”

“It’s no trouble, sweets,” Jake says easily, swinging his big green jacket off of his shoulders and draping it over your form.

“What do you need?” He asks, once you’ve settled into the material, hiding your soaked dress, noticing your eyes darting around quickly.

Jake’s niece is a shy little thing who has many of the same tendencies that Jake has recognized in you throughout the evening as he watched you sitting with Phoenix. He saw the way your natural tendency is to roll your shoulders forward slightly and curl in on yourself, your hair falling forward to hide that beautiful face from the world.

You stand staring at him in shock for a few seconds, before mentally shaking yourself.

“I’m o…okay, just maybe to sit back down,” you say, and Jake nods, guiding you back over to the booth.

“Wait right here, I’m gonna go grab you another soda water, and then we’ll just sit here until everyone’s ready to go, okay?” Jake asks as you sit down. You nod at him, playing with your fingers as you wait. Once you hear him walk away, you glance up and survey the bar, spotting Nat and your brother engaged in a pool game with Coyote and Rooster watching on.

You shuffle yourself a little deeper into Jake’s jacket, and close your eyes for a few moments, breathing deeply to let the shocking encounter roll off your shoulders.

“You doing okay, y/n/n?” Robert asks as he slides into the booth next to you. You smile up at him, letting your head fall on his shoulder as his arm comes up to rest over your shoulders.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You feel your lips pull up into a smile as you watch Jake lean against the bar and chat with Penny and Maverick, while Penny pours another sparkling water.

“Good.” Your brother is smiling at you when you turn your head to look at him. You grin back, and then let your head drop back onto his shoulder, waiting for Jake to come back with your drink and letting yourself relax into the evening. You might have been anxious going into this evening, but you feel perfectly at ease right now, with your brothers arm around your shoulders and your new (and ridiculously handsome) friend sinking down into the other side of the booth and sliding a fresh glass across the table to you, eyes bright as he settles into a comfortable conversation with your brother.

✯✯✯✯

the time where someone makes the mistake of cutting in front of jake’s girlfriend in line…

The sun is glistening brightly over the ocean as you sit back against your boyfriend’s chest, a soft beach towel beneath you and a book in hand.

The waves lapping against the sand, and the familiar feel of Jake’s fingers combing through your hair lull you comfortably towards sleep, and you close your book, setting it beside you on the towel as you lay your head back against Jake’s shoulder. You eyes are closed as you feel your boyfriend’s arm come up to drape across your chest, caging you into his embrace.

“What are you doing, sweets?” Jake’s voice brings you back from the edge of sleep, his lips brushing across your forehead as his arm across your chest squeezes gently, his fingers drawing small nonsensical patterns on you collar bone.

“Just taking in the moment,” you sigh, shifting to meet his eyes, head still resting on his shoulder. His green eyes gleam with mischief as he meets your gaze.

“But I want to know who she picks,” he says, gesturing to the novel you had put down.

Embarrassment flushes through you as you think about the romance book you had been reading, with its drama filled love triangle.

“Y…you were r…reading it?” You ask, tripping over a few of your words, face burning as you turned your head back to the ocean, away from Jake.

“Hey,” Jake drops his face to your neck, nuzzling you and pressing kisses to the sensitive skin there, “don’t be embarrassed. It was quite an interesting story.”

“Y…you really think so?”

“Of course, y/n/n! I like everything you read.”

“O…okay,” you smile, getting distracted by the attention your boyfriend is lavishing on your neck. You squirm in his grasp as he blows into your neck, causing the two of you to start laughing, as you shake him off and then immediately curl back into his chest, yawning as you snuggle into him.

“What do you wanna do for the afternoon then, Sweets?” Jake asks, fingers going back to trace across your collarbone.

“I don’t know, but I know I’m going to need a coffee for it if it involves being awake,” you say, the heat of the day and the general sense of comfort you feel around your boyfriend contributing to your sleepiness.

“Alright then, baby, let’s get you caffeinated!” Jake says, putting your book into the tote bag lying next to him, before helping you up and shaking out your towel, “Call me selfish, but I’m definitely gonna be wanting your sweet company for a lot longer today.”

You giggle as you hold the bag open for him to deposit the now folded towel in, grinning as Jake uses the opportunity to brush a kiss over your nose. He grins back at you, taking the tote from your hands and slinging it over his shoulder, crooking his elbow so that you can hold his arm.

You snuggle in as close to his side as possible while walking, letting him lead you toward the beaches parking lot and his truck.

You climb into the passenger side after Jake opens the door for you, settling into the well worn leather seat, as your boyfriend starts the engine, pulling out of the beachside parking lot, through a neighborhood, and onto the little high street of your seaside town.

A few minutes later, you’re standing in line outside your favorite coffee truck. Jake has run to the restroom in the shop across the street, leaving you to keep your place in the line, which due to the popularity of the truck, wraps quite far down the sidewalk. You are standing quietly, content to just observe the going’s on of the little high street, when you feel more than see a body push in front of you in line, knocking you back and off balance. You stumble, bumping into the woman behind you, who kindly steadies you, smiling as you stutter out an apology, face flushing in embarrassment.

“No worries, my dear, it wasn’t your fault,” she says, shooting a dirty look over your shoulder at the line cutter, before smiling at you once more and going back to reading the magazine she’s holding.

You turn back to face the man now standing in front of you, as if he’d been waiting in line like the rest of you. You start to think about just letting him stay in the line in front of you, before thinking fuck it and clearing your throat loudly.

The stranger turns around, and the look in his eyes makes you wish you had just let him cut the line. But you’ve come this far and you can hear your brother’s voice in your head telling you to stand up for yourself and not let anyone push you around, so you lift your chin, and ball your hands to stop them from shaking.

“Yes?” The stranger grunts, glowering at you as if you were the one in the wrong.

“Y..you just c..cut in the line. It actually starts b..back there,” you say, pointing down the sidewalk to where the last person in line is standing. You’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, wanting to believe that he had just accidentally just into the line.

The guy just stares at you for a long moment, and you grow more and more uncomfortable by the second. You eventually drop your arm, and wait for him to step back out of the line.

“I…i…i…is it r…r…really,” he scoffs, exaggerating the stutter he puts on as he takes a step closer to you, staring down at you with a mena glint in his eye. “What are you going to do about it, huh?���

Your stomach drops as he crowds you, eyes welling with unwanted tears, which you try furiously to not let escape. You take a deep breath, something which he notices and smirks at, eyes portraying that he’s fully confident in his victory.

Just as you open your mouth to say something, you feel a familiar presence at you back, as your boyfriend slings an arm around your chest, pulling you back into his.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do, buddy,” Jake’s voice is all authority, as he stares down the other man, while simultaneously providing you comfort by letting his fingers stroke over your shoulder as his arm across your chest acts as a protective, comforting barrier, “you’re gonna back the fuck off from my girl, you’re gonna apologize, and then you’re gonna march yourself right to the back of the line and wait, just like everyone else is.

The two men seem locked in a stare down for a few tense moments, as your hands come up to grip Jake’s forearm. The line cutter holds strong for a solid five seconds longer before blinking and taking a step back.

“Fine, whatever.” You and Jake watch him as he walks away, not even in the direction of the end of the line.

You feel Jake’s arm tighten briefly across your front, before it fell away, one hand gripping your hand, spinning you around and into his arms. You hands land on his chest, and you stare up at him, struck breathless from the clear adoration in your boyfriends eyes.

“You okay, Sweets?” He asks, on hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and he searches your eyes for a few moments, no doubt making ure you were being truthful, before dropping his head to brush his lips against yours.

“Well aren’t you two just the sweetest.”

You pull away from Jake and look towards the voice, seeing the woman who you’d stumbled into. She was smiling, the skin around her eyes crinkling as she does. You smile back, slightly apologetically.

“I’m sorry again for knocking into you,” you say, still feeling guilty despite knowing that it hadn’t really been your fault. The woman waves you off.

“It’s no problem at all, dear,” she says, before glancing between you and Jake. Jake nods at her, silently thanking her for helping you out. She smiles back, eyes glazing over for a second.

“You two have a beautiful day, alright,” she says, before gesturing to the coffee truck’s open window, which you hadn’t even realized had gotten closer, till you were the next people in line.

“You too, Ma’am,” Jake says, hooking an arm around your waist, “now, let’s get you caffeinated, baby.”

✯✯✯✯

the time where someone makes the mistake of hitting on Jake in front of his girl…

🎶Slow Ride. Take it Easy🎶

You laugh, bright and open as you and Jake walk in to THE HARD DECK to the first strains of “Slow Ride” coming from the jukebox in the corner. When you look over towards the music corner, you laugh even harder as you spot your brother and Rooster grinning back at you, and the man next to you.

“Of course, it was them,” Jake laughs, and guides you towards the group of pilots who had quickly become your friends after Bob introduced you that first night at the Hard Deck.

When you reach the table, you sit next to Phoenix and Jake scoots in after you.

“How has everyone been?” You asks, shifting into Jake’s side as his arm takes up its usual spot around your shoulders. Your brother scoots into the booth across from you, and pushes your favorite drink towards you.

“Thanks Robbie,” you smile, raising the drink to your lips and taking a sip.

Much later, you and Natasha are coming back from the bathroom together, where you both had been freshening up after an intense match of darts between Jake and Bradley had left you both crying with laughter, which subsequently caused your mascara to run.

“Omg, look y/n/n,” Nat says, pointing towards the bar, where a fake busty blonde is currently trying to shove her boobs into your boyfriends face.

“Not again,” you complain, which causes Nat to laugh and loop her arm through yours, as you make your way through the throngs of bar patrons to your table. You keep you eyes on the blonde currently chatting up your Jake, although he remains completely un-responsive to her advances.

It’s only when she starts to brush her hand along Jake’s arm, and leans in the closest she’s ever attempted that you and Nat both stand up, and Natasha looks to you for a moment.

“You want me to deal with her?” She asks, rolling her shoulders as if preparing to physically remove the woman from the bar. You love your friend for being so ready to come to your aid, but based on the fact that regardless of Jake’s repeated dismissal of the blonde, this is the third week in a row that she has tried, even you and your non confrontational nature are getting frustrated. Natasha and Bob have dealt with distracting the woman away from Jake every other time she has attempted to put the moves on, but this time, you shake your head at your friend and motion for her to sit down again.

“No, thank you Nat, but I think I’m going to go over there tonight,” you say, the two drinks you had had earlier giving you a courage you normally didn’t possess as you push your hair away from your face and turn to walk over to the blonde to hopefully, finally get this woman to back off from your man, leaving Nat cackling gleefully in your wake.

Meanwhile, Jake drums his fingers in a nonsensical pattern on the bar as he keeps his gaze firmly off of the woman on his right, currently crossing her arms under her breasts, so that her tiny top strains to keep her breasts in.

Penny smiles at him as she slides his beer over to him.

“There you are, soldier.” She says, and Jake laughs at her, shooting her his signature grin as he lifts the pint to his lips ad takes a swig.

“Thanks a million, Penny Pie,” Jake says, jokingly using the nickname that the squad had given Penny when she and Maverick had announced to them that they were getting married.

As Penny walks away, the blonde, Jake thinks her name was Jessica?, moves closer to Jake, brushing his arm with her chest and blinking her heavily lined eyes up at him.

“Oh, the bartenders taken, stud,” she says, in a tone which suggests she thinks that she is saving Jake from a horrible heartbreak. He shifts away from her again and is about to ask her to please leave him alone, when someone beats him to it.

“So is he.”

A grin immediately finds its way onto Jake’s face at the sound of your voice and he turns around, immediately spotting you a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest, eyes glaring at Jessica and an adorable pout on your lips.

“Hi, baby,” he says, opening his free arm for you. You move towards him and wrap your arms around his middle, leaning against him. You kept your glare on Jessica, as the blonde looked between you and Jake, mouth slightly agape.

“Really?” She asks, tone biting and frankly mean, “this is who a stud like you is with?”

Jake frowns, arm tightening around you, as he opens his mouth to defend you. But again, for the second time that night, you beat him to it.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, smiling at the blonde who glares back at you, “and I’m also the person who he’s going to continue to be with, so you might wanna step aside and take your desperate attempts elsewhere.”

You flick your hand at her, still riding the high of your drinks from earlier and then once she leaves, you turn your head you look up at your boyfriend. Jake is gazing down at you, the look in his eyes heated.

“Baby…” he trails off, hand coming up to brush across your cheek, “that was…”

You smile a little sheepishly up at him.

“A little out of character I know,” you say, feeling a little dramatic and self-conscious for what you just did.

“…extremely hot.” Jake finishes his sentence, grinning as he brings you in for a kiss.

“I love you, Jake,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too, baby.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading! My requests are open, so if there is anything you’d like to see me write, please check my rules and feel free to ask! I should be able to get to a lot more because I’m free from college for the summer! I always love to chat and appreciate every reblog, comment and like. Happy Reading!