lottesreads

Charlotte(Lot-tea)_22_She/Her_Just a bored fangirl

[lottesreads]

Lotte's Masterlist

Bob Floyd

Why Me? - Series (Ongoing)

Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

[lottesreads]

Hi lovely 💞,

I'm just dropping in to tell you how utterly obsessed I am with "Why me?". I binged it recently and fell absolutely in love with it. Your storybuilding and development of these characters and their individual backgrounds (past their movie counterparts) is just admirable and so well thought out and I just wanted to let you know. This story does by far not get all the love it deserves (neither here nor on AO3).

It literally felt like reading a finished book where I'm now waiting for the next book in the series to be published. I love these characters so much and am so excited to see where this is going and how it will all play out. You just gotta love precious Bob 🥰 but admittedly, Rooster also makes me feel all the emotions from sympathy to rage.

Also, don't worry about the smut part it was definitely well written and enjoyable to read 😉

- 🩵

Ohmygod I love you anon 🥺 I'm definitely not crying or anything

I got both of your messages, thank you so much for taking the time to send them!! I do apologize for the (very) late response, but I do appreciate you SO much!

These are absolutely the kind of messages that make me feel like I might be ok at something, and that my creative outlet brings other people just as much joy as it brings me🥹

That being said I do think this unplanned break has been very helpful for me in multiple ways. One being that I was starting to have a bit of writer's block every time I sat down to write.

This only means that once I have the time, I am coming back swinging and I am ready to see this story out to the end. And that is in part because of these type of responses to my writing. You have no idea how much your words mean to me, so thank you 🫶

[lottesreads]

Happy Holidays my friend!!! I hope you have a wonderful and relaxing break!!!

-⛸️

Oh my god its been a damn hot MINUTE

I am so sorry to everyone (and especially you my lovely Tonya Harding anon) for my very long absence (unplanned hiatus).

I am currently in my last semester for my Bachelors and have been SO busy with both school and work. I quite literally have had no down time and tumblr was one of the last things on my mind.

I hope you're doing well and grad school isn't too stressful!! I promise I'm still alive and that Bob and Mantis are still thriving in my mind. That being said I don't know when I'll be able to pick up where we left off, but I hope you know how much I appreciate you!

[lottesreads]

Hey friend!

How have you been? Grad school has been so chaotic and stressful for me but I am trying to take it one day at a time.

I hope you're doing well! Just wanted to pop in and say hi!

-⛸️

Hello bestie!! I’ve missed you😭💕

School and work have kept me so busy which is why I’ve been away from tumblr for so long 🥲

I hope your days get less stressful! But exactly, I can only survive if I look at the semester one week at a time

It’s so good to hear from you!!🫶

[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 16

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, angst, fluff, lying, swearing, non accurate Navy stuff, drinking, talk of dying and cancer, shitty exes return, SMUT (I KNOW)

Word Count: 10.7k

Summary: You're counting down the days until the squadron is getting shipped out. And after details emerge from the new mission you start counting down how long you have left with the people you love.

A/N: Surprise!! Happy first day of school to me, so here's my gift to you all. There's a lot going on in this one so be prepared. This is also my first time writing smut so I have no idea what the reaction's gonna be on this one 🙃

Again, comments and reblogs make me cry all the happy tears. Anyway, enjoy! :)

p.s. I've also started cross posting on AO3 which will be linked in my bio so don't be alarmed if you see this over there

Masterlist

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since Cyclone dropped the bombshell on the squadron. Two weeks of drills, maneuvers, and still no new information. So that makes Cyclone a hard ass and a liar. 

It’s also two weeks of only seeing Bob on the weekends outside of work. Which, to say the least, you’re still seeing him every single day. But not in the ways you want. It’s still better than nothing at all.

Be grateful to see him while you still can, that voice in your head keeps telling you. 

Before-

Bob stops at your house. He gives you another tired smile, but not without effort. Because for you, he’ll always put in the effort. Even when he’s dead tired and one long blink away from passing out.

With a squeeze of his hand, he lets you go. You slip away into the house and into some much needed sleep that will shortly be interrupted by your alarm in the morning. Just to start the entire cycle over again.

In order to boost morale, perhaps coming from the former Admiral himself, your father has extended the invitation to Admiral Kazanzky’s retirement party to the rest of the squad. Just what everybody needs to see, someone making it to retirement age in the Navy. Well if you consider your dad that’s two at that age, but one just refuses to let it go.

—-----------------------

The day starts over and Bob picks you up for work. The aroma of coffee as you open the Chevy door isn’t unfamiliar these days. Ever since the new assignment, Bob’s been picking up coffee on his way over. Even if he insists it’s not out of his way (it is).

You try not to shit your pants every time you walk into the first briefing of the morning, hop in your plane, and fly the rest of the day. You’re just waiting to find out what the hell you’re training for.

Endurance is what you’re building. Or at least that’s what you and the rest of the team have figured you’ve been doing. Constant dogfights. Day in, day out. You’re not quite sure what you’re up against, but whatever it is can’t be good. Or easy. But what in life is?

Today has been particularly draining. You know there’s a point to the madness. There’s got to be. But it’s hard to find any motivation to keep burning yourself out everyday when you don’t know what it’s for.

That is until now.

You haven’t even been up yet, just getting ready to go over morning announcements in the classroom when your dad takes the podium. Clicker in hand, the screen behind him comes to life, displaying a geographical map of a slightly mountainous terrain.

“Starting today”, Mav announces, “All two-seaters will be focusing on precision bombing set targets. Single-seaters will remain dogfighting and practicing evasion.”

“Your target will be much bigger and easier to get to than our last mission.” The screen changes. “However, we are expecting more air-to-air combat from enemy jets. This is why our single seaters will be focusing on evasion. There will be no ‘if you come into contact with enemy fighters’, it’s only a matter of when.”

The energy is different. His actions are almost robotic. Like he’s reading off an invisible teleprompter, these aren’t his words.

Your sight is set at the screen, exposing five large hangers that house a multitude of aircraft. Your jaw strains from clenching your teeth.

“Your target”, he announces as the screen zooms in. You’re sure at least four F-18’s could fit in one. “These enemy jets have encroached on land that doesn’t belong to them, pushing their boundaries into borders that aren’t theirs. We are offering our assistance in eliminating any kind of threat that may arise from this.”

“Pilots and WSO’s will be focusing on the target, and not engaging in any other kind of combat. The combat we are expecting will be taken care of by our single-seaters exclusively. One F-18 will be sent out as a distraction. No stealth, just speed. Taking enemy jets farther off course while our two-seaters take care of their base.”

Everyone shifts forward in their seats. This has got to be some kind of joke.

“That’s not a distraction”, Rooster interrupts, “It’s bait.” Mav takes a look at all of you, something flickering behind his eyes as you all realize the danger that is to come.

“Only one F-18 for how many hangar’s worth of jets?”, Hangman adds. They’re making valid points, and Mav knows it.

“We’re starting out with one single-seater. As the hangars are destroyed by our two-seaters, we will send more backup out for that lone F-18. They will only be sent when it is deemed necessary.” His eyes flit over to Cyclone behind him as he clenches his jaw. He’s just as angry at the circumstances as the rest of you are. It’s not his plan. But he’s not telling you that.

“So that first F-18 will be fending off enemy fighters by themselves until you decide to send in someone else?”, you ask.

“In a sense, yes”, Cyclone takes over, making his way to Mav’s spot, “This mission accounts for one single F-18 and all of our two-seaters in order for us to make any kind of damage. Every other pilot will sit as backup.”

“Why not just send two singles in the first place? We’d stand a higher chance of survival if there are more of us”, Fritz adds as you all stare ahead at the men holding your lives in their hands.

“The idea is distraction. We don’t want to open fire unless needed. If we send more than one it seems like we’re looking for a fight. We just need to distract them long enough to destroy their base. The highest likelihood of the least amount of damage is if we stick to this plan.”

“And what about the likelihood that they already have five jets in the air? How is that one pilot supposed to fight them all off?”, you ask, getting impatient. This is a death sentence. Everyone in the room can see it. “You just said combat is inevitable, how is this in any way the best strategy?”

“We will play it by ear. If it’s too much for the pilot to handle, then we will send in reinforcements as needed. We don’t want to open fire right out of the gate, but once those hangars are destroyed in all likelihood it will turn violent.” You move your attention to Mav. He’s not looking at anyone, instead staring out the window. Coward, you think. At least give us the decency to look at us while you deliver our death sentence.

There are so many objections. So many things you need to reject in this stupid plan that would only land you in Cyclone’s office for insubordination. You can’t afford that.

So instead you bite your tongue, clench your fist, anything to ground you in this moment. The exact moment in time you realize this is something you might not come back from.

“We ship out in four weeks.”

—--------------------

You and Bob drive home in silence. He takes the long way, but neither of you says anything.

What could you say? That you’re scared out of your mind at the prospect of being the lone F-18 to be sent out as bait? That you’ve already talked to Mav about Cyclone keeping you in mind for something? That you’re most likely going to be picked to head this mission?

Halfway through the drive, Bob reaches over, unclenching your fist and entwining his fingers with yours. A silent I’m here.

Afterall, it’s not quite the same for him. He’ll have the backup of three other F-18’s. Your part in this is much more dangerous. Much more likely that something will go wrong.

When Bob pulls up to your house you don’t move to get out. He doesn’t push you to. You both just sit and stare out the windshield. Processing the news in your own kind of way.

Lawns are still being mowed, gardens watered, dogs walked. The world continues to turn for everyone else while you’re stuck in one thought. 

You don’t want to leave him. Don’t want to spend one precious second not with him. You want to tell him this, need to tell him this. But it’ll have to wait another day.

“I-” “Do-”, you both start at the same time. He gives you the floor.

“I should probably let you go”, he nods as you move to leave.

“I’m here if you need me”, he settles on his parting words.

“I know.”

—--------------------

You don’t see your father that night. He comes home later than usual. Even if you were staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, you don’t go down to greet him.

The only time you communicate with him is in a purely professional setting. As Captain and Lieutenant at work.

You go over your runs for the day. Everyone is a little more tense, a little less happy to be in competition with each other. The winner here is more likely to lose everything.

You try not to think about it.

Even when Captain Mitchell goes over your dogfights for the day, he doesn’t look at you. He motions to the screen, talking to everybody except you.

You’re not in the mood to be around anyone. Which is exactly why you ask Bob if you can go over after work. You need to destress. The both of you do.

You’re still in your flight suits, on his bed, holding each other. Sylvia lays at your feet.

This is what you’d like to come home to everyday, you think. Your brain tells you not to get ahead of yourself. That there’s a high chance you won’t come home at all. But your heart has other ideas as you wrap your arm tighter around Bob. They can’t take this from you quite yet.

But the countdown’s already begun. The clock in the back of your head has started ticking. You know, deep down somewhere beyond your levels of insecurity that you’re going to be picked.

Three and a half weeks. That’s what you’ve got left before this is all taken from you.

—--------------------

By the time you get home your dad is sitting on the back porch with a beer in his hand. You want to leave him be, let him isolate himself because he’s the one who can’t seem to look at you anymore. But the clock ticks.

24 days.

So with a deep breath, you walk out and take a seat in the empty chair next to him.

You don’t say anything. Just sit and watch the night sky swallow the last bit of sunshine left. The crickets start chirping around the outskirts of the yard while you struggle to come up with anything to say. Luckily enough for you, he cracks first.

“I didn’t know”, he starts rubbing his hands over his jeans, “When Cyclone told me there was something coming up. Something he wanted to keep you in mind for, I didn’t know it was going to be like this.” You scoff internally.

“What did you think it was going to be like?”

“Not like this.” He looks back at the sky. Anywhere but at you. “I would have stopped it if I knew-”

“How? How would you have stopped it?” He shakes his head. “Even if you wanted to, or if you had the power to, it would have made it worse for me.” The moonlight glistens off his eyes from where you bend your head. Willing him to look at you.

“Dad.” He shakes his head again. “Dad”, you say it firmer. He turns, albeit barely enough to make any kind of eye contact. Even when you stretch to see him, his eyes are devoid of any emotion other than remorse.

“I need you to understand that I know what I signed up for. I knew it when we got sent back to North Island, when I made it to Top Gun the first time, and when I sent in my application to the Naval Academy.”

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

“What are you talking about?”, your voice raises. “You most definitely signed up for this, and you kept re-signing whenever you got the chance-”

“I didn’t sign up for you to do this!”, he stands. “You think this is what I wanted for you? You were supposed to do better than me! Both of you were!” His chest heaves as he runs a hand through his hair. He walks over to the edge of the porch, squeezing his hands over the wooden railing.

“I never wanted this for you. I didn’t sign up to watch my only daughter fight for her life every time she steps out the door. All I wanted was for you to be safe, and I couldn’t even do that for you. Not here, not when you were a kid- I feel like I failed you.” Oh.

“Hey”, you follow him to the railing, grabbing his arm. “You did not fail me, at all. I don’t blame you for that. For any of it. I fell in love with this- and I couldn’t just walk away from it. I know you know how that feels.”

“I know. But I worry. It’s my job to worry about you.” You take a breath.

“Do you think I’m a good pilot?”, you ask him straight-faced. His brow wrinkles. “Or do you think I got myself through flight school, and Top Gun, and everything else through sheer luck?”

“What- of course you’re a good pilot.”

“Then why do you think I can’t do this?” His chest drops as he looks at you. Really looks at you for the first time in days. “I need you to have faith in me and my abilities if I am going to get through this at all. It’s one thing if I have a Captain who doesn’t believe in me, but my dad?” Your stop before your voice breaks on the last word. 

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I meant at all.” He struggles, trying to find a way to fix how he’s already made you feel. “You are a great pilot and an even better person. And when you put your mind to something it is impossible to step in your way. That is what worries me.”

In these moments, which don’t come often, you realize you play a part bigger than a pilot. You’re also his kid. Something he is going to hold onto for dear life. It creates this uncomfortable tingling in your chest. Like maybe a parent might miss you if you didn’t come home.

—--------------------

Your dad has been fidgeting in his seat the entire way over. Penny sits up front, laying a soothing hand on his arm while you sit in the back like a child.

You’ve already talked to him about this, and even though it’s one of his closest friends' parties, he is not looking forward to making small talk with any faces he might have had run-ins with over the years.

“I never forget a face”, he told you, “And they sure as hell haven’t forgotten mine.” Which may sound conceited, but you know what he means. He’s ruffled plenty of feathers in his long career.

Ice already greeted you with a hug, Sarah graciously accepting the bottle of champagne while placing it with the 26 other bottles on the dining table.

Everyone is sprawled across the spacious lawn, the sun dipping below the horizon with the last bit of light coming from the strings laced around the yard.

As rowdy a bunch as your squadron is, all of them are huddled in one spot at the far left corner, not too far from the in-ground pool. No doubt scared to mess up in front of the former Admiral. Or managing whatever damage might come out of Hangman’s mouth.

Bob and Phoenix are over by the drink table, Bob watching how much Phoenix downs. Even if she has never had a hangover in her entire life, he’s still monitoring so she gets home safely. All of you have been stressed lately, but no amount of alcohol is going to make you forget what’s coming in the next coming weeks.

Your dad’s in deep conversation with some old buddy when you wander off. The pool is illuminated through underground lights, the water gently moving back and forth.

Claiming a lonesome lounger, you look around the party. The squadron seems to be relaxed for once. Each in their own drink, laughing at the stupidity of another pointless joke.

Bob catches your eye, beckoning you over with a nod of his head. You grant him a small smile, but decline with a shake of yours.

You’ve deterred from the group back to staring at the pool. Small waves lapping at the tiled wall. If you look further beyond the backyard, the moon has started to reflect off the ocean’s waves. Hard and relentless waters that show no mercy.

Three weeks.

The same waters you’ll be flying over in a matter of days. The same waters that are the final resting places for pilots just like you-

The canvas of the lounger gives to the right of you, taking you out of your incessant and doomful thoughts. Ice grants you a small smile.

“Got sick of socializing, huh?”, you ask with a smirk. He rolls his eyes and gives you a nod.

“Yeah”, you rub your thumbs, “Me too.” His brow raises in your direction, urging you on.

“What?”, you ask. Sighing through his nose, he reaches for his phone. After typing something out, he pushes it in your direction.

What’s on your mind?

He scrolls down just before you have the mind to wave off his worries.

Don’t bullshit me.

You can’t help but smile. Even if what’s on your mind seems to be weighing you down most days.

You stare back at the blue tiled pool, taking in a shallow breath.

“Before you got sick”, you start without looking at him, “And before you became Admiral, did you ever think you would have made it this far?”

His phone screen makes a reappearance.

No.

But I’m still here.

Neither of you disrupt the surrounding silence. He waits for you.

“I’m starting to feel it. Like I might not make it back from this one.” You can hear him release a breath next to you. “And I can’t imagine what it would do to my dad, or-” You stop yourself, but can’t resist looking back at the squadron of people. More importantly, the one person who was already looking at you. “I don’t know.” 

He starts typing. A lot.

“Are you writing a novel over there?”, you try to lighten the mood. He ignores you before showing you his phone.

You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t scared or a little paranoid. But pushing away the people you love isn’t going to make it any more easier to carry the burden. Trust me.

There were times I didn’t think I was going to make it back, and all I wished for was a couple more moments with Sarah. With my children. You find your people and you hold them close. You aren’t doing yourself any favors by wondering what might happen. You need to live in the present, because soon it’s going to be a distant memory you look back on when you need something to fight for. To come back for.

Only when he puts his hand on your shoulder does he take you out of your daze. His gaze is firm, but his eyes hold nothing but empathy. Attempting to clear his throat he speaks.

“You are a good pilot. Stop doubting yourself.” Nodding, you bite your tongue to steel your features. He puts his arm around you, much like your father would, and you lean into him in a silent thank you.

“How’d you get to be so wise?”, he chuckles beside you. Only letting go to type on his screen.

Years and years of making mistakes.

He glances over your shoulder as you read, taking his phone back to type out something else.

Who’s the kid with the staring problem?

Your face scrunches up in confusion, turning to where Ice is looking. Right at the man in glasses who looks away once you stare back. Damn it Bob.

“That’s Bob… sometimes he zones out”, you casually lie while focusing back on the pool instead of the man next to you. You can feel him shake his head, but you don’t dare turn. Not if it will lead to a longer conversation on the subject.

Even if he’s almost all you can think about. Even if you are sneaking over to his place after this party is over. Even if you want him in every way you thought possible and more.

After a quiet moment, your dad saunters up to the two of you, beer in hand as he takes a seat on the opposite lounger.

“Don’t let her get too close to the pool Ice, we don’t want a repeat of last time”, the man next to you starts to chuckle as you look between the two in confusion. Like they have an inside joke they can’t wait for people to ask about.

“Um, what the hell are you talking about?”, you ask. Your dad looks away from Ice laughing back at you.

“Hell, you must have been four, so I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t remember.”

“Remember what?”

“We came to visit California when you were really little, because Ice was getting a promotion. Carole and Bradley came, it was a big deal.” He shakes his hand in a grand gesture.

“Anyway, we were staying with Ice in his nice new house, which came with a pool. Not unlike this one. And everyday you would ask me when we were going swimming. And everyday I would take you out there and we would swim. The entire time, Bradley refused to get in- He wasn’t a big fan of water. But the one day I told you ‘no’, you marched out to the backyard, unnoticed, and jumped in.” Your brows raise as you look at Ice, simply nodding along in memory.

“Nobody saw you go, but it wasn’t until I heard panicked screams for help that I found Bradley holding you afloat in the water, trying to get to the edge of the pool to get you out.”

You’re quiet. There’s not much you can say when someone has a traumatic story you don’t remember from your childhood.

“That was the first time he got in the water in years. All because you were too stubborn to wait for me”, he laughs.

“Really?”, you absentmindedly ask. Your eyes search and find Bradley to your left, picking at the snack table by himself.

Your dad doesn’t notice you drift off, only keeps talking to Ice about some recruit who barely knew how to swim when he was in training.

—--------------------

Grabbing a plate, you move closer to the brunette man in the Hawaiian shirt. You’re not entirely sure if he has anything else in his closet at this point.

You pick at the table in silence, waiting to see if he’ll say something. He doesn’t, but you can feel him looking at you out of the corner of your eye.

Without looking up you break the awkward tension.

“Do you remember coming here for Ice’s promotion?”

“Uh- I don’t think so.” He gives you a confused look, almost like he knows you have some ulterior motive.

“Ok…do you remember jumping in the pool and saving me from drowning when I was four?”

“Oh- how do you know about that?”, he visibly flinches as the memory washes over him.

“Is it some kind of secret?”

“No, I just didn’t think you would have remembered it.”

“I don’t. I just found out about it like two seconds ago.”

“Yeah, I remember that”, he tilts his head as if searching for the specifics tucked away in a file folder in his brain. “Your dad was talking to my mom in the living room, and when I went to go outside you were already jumping in. I immediately went in after you, I could barely hold myself up, let alone the both of us.” He’s tugging at your heartstrings without even meaning to.

“So you just jumped in? Even if you were scared of the water?”

“How’d you know about that?”, he furrows his brows. Like you were reaching into the far caverns of his brain to find this fact about himself nobody was supposed to know.

“The old man likes to talk when he drinks.” You motion over to your father, enraptured in a conversation. “Yeah”, he swallows, turning to face the rest of the party. “When I asked about what happened to my dad I got pretty terrified of swimming for a while.”

Your head snaps back to him. He just gave you this information like it was a piece of gum. Like it was that easy to share. And you have the feeling he wouldn’t have told anybody else.

“When did you get over that?”

“Probably when my feet hit the water.” You’re sure your face is giving you away. You can’t help it. Eyes that held him in such disdain for years are staring at him with a softness that you forgot was there. “Watching you struggle was scarier than anything I could make up in my head about my dad.”

“Thank you”, you genuinely tell him. He turns back to you. And for the first time in a long time you aren’t mad, or yelling, or crying at him.

“Well, I wasn’t about to let you drown”, he misses the point. “I’d do it again-”

“No”, you interrupt, “Thank you for telling me that.” Realization settles on his face, almost in an uncomfortable manner. Like no one had ever thanked him for sharing a deep part of himself. A key to the puzzle that is Bradley Bradshaw.

“You’re welcome.” The two of you let the silence stretch over the moment. And for a split second you’re reminded of who you thought Bradley to be before he left. A quiet, loyal kid who would do anything for you. Including jumping into water deeper than himself to save his little sister.

“How wasted do you think Mav will get tonight?”, he breaks your thoughts and you find him taking a swig of his drink while staring over at your dad.

Said dad is currently doubled over in laughter, attempting to catch his breath while holding onto Ice’s shoulder.

“Beyond what is appropriate”, you mutter into your champagne glass.

The two of you eventually make your way back to your own group, the majority of whom are the youngest people at this party. Save for the random grandchild of a higher up running around.

You find your place at Bob’s side, maintaining a socially appropriate distance while trying to resist your natural instinct to get closer.

You’re enjoying the time with your squadron, laughing about a story Payback’s telling about his daughter. But that’s when you turn at the sound of your dad’s voice.

He’s standing with the only two other people in this entire state that know your dirty little secret. Or what starts to feel like a dirty little secret when they look at you like that. Harry and Rich stand together and smile as your dad beckons you over with a wave of his hand. You don’t let your smile fall, but you can feel your heart rate increase as it falters.

As much as you want to reach for Bob, you settle with a slight brush of his hand, the only thing that grabs his attention before you pray to god this conversation doesn’t go the way you think it might.

You let Rooster make his way over first, watching as Bob stops himself from following the two of you to the belly of the beast.

“These are the kids”, your dad introduces you by name. And without flinching Harry and Rich shake your sweaty hand as if you’re meeting for the very first time. Harry for once has a twinkle in his eye he’s not trying very hard to hide, but maybe it’s just because you’re paranoid with your dad standing a foot away. “And then this is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Rooster’s fine”, he nods to the men. Rich’s eyes shift from you to him. Back to Mav, and then back to Rooster. This is the first time you’ve known the man to be speechless. Even if you’ve only met him a handful of times. Oh shit, he’s gonna spill. Your heart starts palpitating until you realize he’s not looking at you.

“Bradshaw?”, he asks a little more timidly. He tries to avert his eyes when Mav starts talking, but you see him make some kind of connection in his head. And when he eyes Bradley like he’s seen a ghost you start to understand why.

“Harry here, or Twister, used to fly with us for a little bit, but Rich was a Navy Rescue Swimmer at our time at Top Gun”, your dad explains. Small world you think to yourself. In all the neighborhoods in all of North Island, your… Bob happens to live next to two men who not only know your father, but worked with him at one point. You have the absolute best luck in the world.

Rooster must realize it a split second faster than you do. Because he’s never stopped thinking about the moment his life changed forever.

“You were a rescue swimmer when Mav was at Top Gun?”, he asks Rich directly.

“I was”, he nods solemnly. Bradley blinks a couple times, waiting to ask.

“So.. does that mean- you were there?”, Rich doesn’t make Rooster ask the hard part out loud. He simply nods his head again, granting him the utmost sympathy with one look. Like he’s been grieving with Bradley his whole life, just in a different way.

“You look just like him”, Bradley lets out a breath at his words. Shoulders dropping as he tries to process. You don’t think before laying a hand on his back. And like he would fall without you, he leans into it.

“Rich is the only reason we both got out of the water that day”, your dad explains, sobering up. “I didn’t want to let go, but he knew if I didn’t that I would have gone down with him.”

The overwhelming urge to hug Rich for saving your dads life is whisked away when Bradley reaches forward again. Shaking Rich’s hand in both of his as a thank you that can’t be measured. Because even if Rich didn’t end up saving Nick Bradshaw’s life, he made sure a dad was coming home to Bradley. And inadvertently, you wouldn’t be here without him.

—--------------------

Sarah declines any help with cleaning up, gesturing to her own kids that are already gathering chairs and tables.

You think you might have gotten away with the stolen glances throughout the night, but once your godfather eyes Bob up and down you know you haven’t.

You hug Ice goodbye one last time before heading out with the rest of the party. 

“Be careful”, he whispers in your ear. You can’t make a promise you won’t be able to keep so you just nod as he ruffles your hair.

—--------------------

Every time you get in a plane now, you’re reminded that it could be one of the last. And you give it your absolute all.

The tension between yourself and the other single flyers doesn’t help anyone. You’re all dogfighting against each other, pushing yourselves to the utmost limit. You almost don’t want to. Almost don’t want to get picked. But if not you, then who? So you double down.

It’s not playful anymore. It’s tense. Whenever you beat someone they’re reminded of how easily this could have been done by an actual jet meaning to cause harm. How easily it will be when they get sent out by themself.

Two and a half weeks.

You try not to let it get to you. Keep your head down and let your flying do the talking. But it’s hard.

The only thing keeping you going throughout the day is lunch. When you can sit with your squad and just be people. Not pilots fighting for a spot that is more or less going to kill them.

It starts with a laugh. One that you aren’t expecting to unleash, but when Fanboy knocks his entire tray over you can’t help but release it. Phoenix is already cackling with you when Bob follows along, eventually you all share parts of your meal to make up for the loss of his.

But when you see Rooster watch you laugh and move to sit at his lonesome table for the hundredth time you think of Ice’s words and give in. With a whistle, you catch his attention and motion for him to join the rest of you. You pretend not to watch everyone’s surprised looks as he sits at the only empty spot, but you ignore them.

Bob simply knocks his knee into yours and you try to suppress a smile.

The table eventually gets bigger the longer the days drag on. Chairs are pulled up, tables are pushed against each other. Anything to fit everyone together.

—--------------------

The warm lights of the Hard Deck welcome you back as you greet Penny at the bar. A well deserved night off if you say so yourself. 

You weren’t sure you wanted to go when Fanboy came up with the idea at lunch. But then the clock started ticking.

One week.

Everyone is feeling it.

The entire squad is hanging out by the pool table, and you notice Rachel as she waves with an excited grin. It’s been all smiles and laughs when you walked in, but you’re sure that’s bound to change when you get back to work Monday. So you’re enjoying the time out tonight.

You’ve barely brought your drink to your mouth when you hear it. That god awful nails on a chalkboard voice.

Out of all the assholes on the entire planet, the biggest one is standing smack dab in the middle of your group, talking louder than anyone else, about something no one wants to listen to.

“Oh Jesus Christ”, you mumble into your drink.

The wink he throws your way as you walk over has you just about spewing whatever you just drank back onto the pool felt.

“Princess”, he greets you, “Welcome to the party!”

“It’s Mantis, actually”, Bob corrects him before you have the chance. He raises his brow, eyeing Bob up and down.

“Ok”, he scoffs, “What was your name? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Bob”, he responds, standing at his full height. He’s always the first to defend others, just not himself.

“Knoxville”, Coyote interjects, “How ‘bout a round of darts?”

“See you around BCG”, Tyler smirks before following Coyote around the corner. All of you are pretty much glaring at his back as he walks away. You’d be surprised if he didn’t feel it.

“What does BCG mean?”, Rachel asks as Phoenix hands you a pool cue. Bob stares at his feet as he mumbles.

“Birth control goggles.” You just know some dumbass in flight school must have made fun of Bob for his glasses. And just like Lieutenant Douchebag, it’s childish and stupid.

“Why the hell is he still in town?”, Phoenix asks as she bends to shoot.

“No idea. The sooner he leaves the better.”

You miss your next shot, and move over to Bob as Phoenix takes her turn. Even if you know not to take anything Tyler says to heart, it still doesn’t take away the sting. And Bob’s been quieter than usual.

“You know”, you start talking to him as you twirl the chalk cube over your cue, “I think your glasses are kinda sexy.” He glances around your friends, checking to see if anyone heard you. But right now you don’t even care. And when you look at his bright red face you see a kind of quiet hunger that wasn’t there before.

You can feel his eyes on you as you strategically move for your turn, bending to strike a ball right in front of him.

Phoenix ends up taking this round, and when she lets Rachel re-rack the billiard balls, Hangman is waiting for you where Bob once was. You know Bob must have wandered over to Fanboy to cool himself off after your little stunt. So you swipe your drink from his hand, letting your fingers linger only enough for him to notice before begrudgingly moving over to where Hangman stands.

“Have you solved your little problem yet?”, he asks like you have any idea what he’s talking about.

“What problem?”

“Your dry spell”, he so plainly states. Your drink almost slips from your hand as you turn to ask where he finds the audacity.

“Excuse me?”, you ask maybe a little too loud.

“I was just wondering if you found anyone to pop your cherry yet”, he shrugs as you take a look around the table. Luckily enough for you everyone else is too involved with their own conversation or the game to pay attention. But Bob’s staring daggers into the table as Fanboy talks his ear off.

“News flash Bagman, my cherry was popped a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but after a certain amount of time things like that… grow back. Like a born again virgin or something.”

Clearing your throat, you watch as Phoenix hands her cue to Bob.

“You have just confirmed all my suspicions that you don’t have any clue about female anatomy.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re looking for someone I know a few people who might be up for the job.” You choke on your drink.

“Hangman”, you start, “For your sake I’m going to pretend we never had this conversation.”

“I know, I know”, he continues as Bob lines up his first shot.“You’d ‘bite my fucking head off’, but I’m just worried about you. You never know what might happen on deployments. Just wanna make sure you’re living it up before then. That’s all.”

“So you thought you’d volunteer yourself?” He grimaces and takes a step back.

“Gross, no. You’re like the squad’s little sister now, that would be disgusting.” You cross your arms, forgetting the game for a second. This man is baffling. “I’m just saying, we’re getting close to the deadline. It might be good for you to… relieve some tension” Bob’s cue slips as he hits a ball a tad bit hard and it goes flying off the table. Fanboy chases after it as you stop, and look at Hangman’s face. Really look at him.

The arrogant pilot you’re used to isn’t looking back, and you realize in his own perverted way he’s being sincere. God help you with these idiots.

“I appreciate your concern, but I am fine. I don’t need you trying to hook me up with one of your friends.” He shrugs in defeat and you return back to the game.

Bob’s not trying to be subtle as he stares at Hangman. His hands flex over the cue, and for a split second you’re distracted by the veins that run up his forearms and under the sleeves of his shirt.

It’s not that you don’t want to have sex with Bob. In fact, you really really do. It’s just- you’re tired. The both of you are. After your close call in his truck you haven’t made it further than making out on his couch. If- when you and Bob decide to go further you want to be fully aware for the whole thing. Not yawning every minute because your muscles are sore and you haven’t been sleeping right the whole week.

You try not to get in your head about the idea of sleeping with him, because then your mind starts to wander and your body starts heating up just thinking about how he might touch you- So you try to avoid thinking about it. But god. You want him. Bad.

Instead, you and Bob dance around the table. Swapping stolen glances and coy smiles while you try not to hand him the game on a silver platter. You don’t even notice the most unbearable man on the planet walking up behind you as you shoot.

Only when Bob takes his purposeful gaze off your own and focuses on something behind you as you’re bent over do you turn around.

Tyler’s eyes linger on your ass for a generous second before meeting your face.

“Can I help you?”, you stand your ground, positioning the pool cue in between you and the walking slimeball.

“I was about to ask you the same thing”, he smirks and takes a swig from his glass. His tongue swipes the foam sticking to his upper lip and you want to vomit. You move around the table, trying to get him as far away from you as possible. The only downfall of this move is now everyone can hear whatever bullshit he’s spewing. Though you’re sure he doesn’t mind. He’s always reveled in being the center of attention.

“Is it true then?”, he asks as he moves closer. You furrow your brow as Bob watches on. It’s still your turn but you don’t want to feel his eyes drag over your body as you take another shot.“

“Is what true?”, you ask, exasperated.

“You haven’t been with anyone since me?” His lips stretch across his teeth, as you don’t budge from your spot. Bob moves the few steps to stand behind you as you feel the tension being stretched thin around the table.

“That doesn’t seem like it’s any of your business”, you grit out.

“Oh but it is. ‘Cause if you’re waiting until you find someone as good as me to make you feel good, you’re gonna be waiting a long while, princess.”

Rooster grumbles something about getting another drink as he walks away, like he can’t get out of earshot of this conversation fast enough.

“I don’t know where you heard that, or where you get off on asking these kinds of questions. But I’m not interested.”

“That’s not what I heard”, he hums, granting Hangman a wink who simply bows his head in shame. “I heard you haven’t found someone to get the job done.” He steps closer, but you refuse to move. “So whaddya say we get outta here, and I make tonight actually worth your while .” His desperate attempt is really just embarrassing. Especially since he can’t seem to grasp what the word ‘no’ means.

You grimace at his insinuation, and at the face of the man who actually hadn’t been able to get the job done. Once. In all the time you’d been with him.

“Tyler”, you give a humorless laugh, “I’m gonna say this once and I hope for your own sake you listen-”, he quirks an eyebrow, just waiting for you to give the go ahead.

“Because you’re so curious, no. I haven’t found someone. If I wanted to find someone to fuck, I could go out and get someone. And you know what? For a night I would make them feel good, really good. Something it seems you were never able to do for a woman”, he scoffs with the smirk still on his face, but his eyes shifting to everyone in your circle fault his easygoing demeanor.

“So I highly doubt you would be able to find your way around a woman’s body, let alone get her to where she needs to go. So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll pass on your three minutes of sweating and grunting until you come, and spend my evening doing something more… worthwhile.”

You flash him a million dollar grin, tilting your head in a daring manner. Any kind of smile has been slowly wiped off his face as you’re met with silence. From him at least. All you can see surrounding the two of you are open mouths and red cheeks. Nat’s grin reads nothing but trouble and chaos as she sets her eyes on you in an approving manner. And just to add insult to injury, you turn back to him.

“Oh, and not to mention I would rather walk barefoot over glass than be anywhere near your shrimp dick.” Your friends break out into shocked laughs as he bites his tongue. You’ve never stood up to him before, and you know it is absolutely killing him you finally did it with an audience.

The bell rings, and all of you tear your gaze to Penny. Rooster’s leaning back on the bar with a beer in his hand.

“This one’s on you, Knoxville!”, he shouts across the room. “Disrespect a lady and you buy a round”, he smirks. You don’t even try to hide your smile as patrons flood their way to get a drink.

You turn back to him and shrug as his eyes hold nothing but contempt. He swipes his glass off the table and takes a deep swig. Bob hasn’t moved from behind you, if anything he’s slowly inched himself closer to your side.

“You know why I call you princess?”, his slimy voice asks absolutely no one and everyone. “Cause you’re such a stuck up bitch.” The room practically stops around you, the only thing moving is Bob to step in front of you.

“That’s enough”, he growls. “You don’t talk to her like that.”

“Oh really?”, he raises an eyebrow. “What are you gonna do about it BCG?”

Bob isn’t even able to take a step towards him before a cold liquid bounces off his shoulder and onto you. Tyler’s beer is running down both of your arms, absolutely soaking the floor from where it pours off of Bob.

Rooster appears out of nowhere, brushing past you as he and Bob swarm Tyler. Penny’s bell rings like crazy as everyone chants “Overboard!”, over and over again.

It only takes a soaking wet Bob and Rooster to carry him out the side door, but the rest of your squad follow. Tyler is thrown onto the sand, and he shrivels as Rooster pours the rest of his own glass all over his writhing body.

“You got off easy this time, she’s got a mean right hook”, he warns as he drops the glass next to his head.

You’re left in shock as Halo and Rachel check in on you. All you can see is Rooster patting Bob’s soaking back as he walks past you with a nod.

You wave them off as Bob heads straight toward you, worry in his eyes.

The concern melts off of Bob’s face as you laugh. His shirt is weighed down by the entire glass of beer that was thrown at him, and you realize you didn’t come out of it entirely unscathed. Your arms are suddenly feeling very sticky as you watch him try to shake the excess off his hands without creating a mess.

Penny is at your side in an instant with dish towels. They don’t do much but pat away the already dripping puddles at the floor.

“Are you alright?”, Bob asks through the chaos, choosing to help wipe your arms instead of himself.

“I am amazing”, you smile at your beer soaked savior in absolute wonder.

—--------------------

Bob tries to take you home first. He really does. But he starts sticking to the leather seat halfway through the drive and you absolutely make him go to his place instead.

You leave your shoes at the door, almost slipping out of them as they stick to the pavement on your way inside. Sylvia gives you two one sniff before trying to lick you clean. Bob has to close the door to his bedroom after it gets to be too much.

“At least it wasn’t nachos or something”, he responds after you tell him sorry for the millionth time.

“I know, but I still feel bad”, you grimace as he waddles over to where you stand. Not completely unlike a toddler who wet their pants.

“Don’t feel bad”, he grabs your hands, “Nobody should be comfortable enough to treat you like that.” Your hand unsticks from his as you rub his cheek.

“Thank you.” There’s specks of beer on his glasses, probably some in his hair at this point. You know there’s some in yours. “You have beer all over yourself”, you laugh as you move your hand to run through the clumps of hair that stick together.

He laughs, moving your palm to his lips, giving it a kiss. The gentlest man you’ve ever known would still stand between you and danger, drag a man out of a bar, and somehow be able to kiss you like you’re the most delicate thing on this planet.

“Thank you”, you tell him again.

“You don’t need to keep saying that”, he kisses your cheek.

“I know”, you gush, “But you need to hear it.” You grab his face in both your hands, bringing it to yours in a soft kiss. “Thank you”, you tell him once more when you part.

“You taste like beer”, he mumbles as he moves to nuzzle your neck.

“I know! And I didn’t even make it halfway through my own drink.” He huffs out a breath, tickling your skin. It tingles down through your spine. Your hands move to his crunchy hair.

“You should take a shower”, you tell him as his arms wrap around you.

“You can go first”, he resigns as his arms loosen. There is nothing behind his words. No ulterior motive. He’s not trying to guilt you into anything. He didn’t defend you tonight because you might be useful to him later. He did it because he’s a good person. You can trust him. He’s not Tyler.

Which is why you kiss him. And keep kissing him until you’re walking toward the bathroom. You trail your mouth down his neck, his stubble tickling your lips and cheek as you map his skin.

“Don’t you wanna take a shower?”, his voice rumbles through his throat, even if he runs his hands down your back like he doesn’t want to stop.

“Mm hmm”, you hum, making your way back to his lips. “You wanna join me?” His hand tenses at your hip and you stop. Maybe he doesn’t want this. Maybe he doesn’t want you as much as you want him.

“Are you sure?”, is all he asks as you stare into his twitching eyes. He’s worried.

“Bob, I want this. I want you.” Your voice is steady as your breathing falters. And just like that he’s opening the door and you fall through with him.

His hands cradle your head, as you push at his shirt. He breaks to take it off and before you can even look at him his mouth is back on yours. Tongue meeting with your own as your body heats up.

“Tell me if you wanna stop”, he mutters as he makes his way down your neck. Tongue reaching out between every kiss. You’re able to get a good look at his back and you can’t resist running your hands over the bare skin. Freckles adorn his broad shoulders, veins running over his forearms that reach under your own shirt.

Giving your permission you lift your arms, shirt falling to the floor as Bob turns the handle. The shower hisses to life as he nips at a particularly sensitive part of your neck.

Your hand moves to the waistband of his jeans, blindly fumbling to get them off as soon as possible. He places his hands on yours and you stop.

“Wait- wait a second”, he pants.

“Did I do something wrong?”, you move your head, eyes in a mad dash to look at his face.

“No, not at all. I just- I wanna take my time with you.” You can do that.

“Ok”, you smile after a breath, leaning back into him slowly.

He kisses you with reverence. Like he wants to savor every twitch, every sigh, every noise you make.

Eventually your pants are in a heap on the floor, right next to his. He stands in only his boxers and glasses. The latter of which are removed only once you shed your last garment and step into the shower.

The warm spray hits your chest, beginning to rid you of any residue that may have lingered.

Bob steps in, bare and holding you from behind. You lean your head back as he reaches for his body wash. You’re enveloped in his scent as he traces your skin with his calloused hands. He runs them over your shoulders, down your arms, grazing the edge of your breasts but never actually touching.

You turn in his arms, taking the time to admire his body. You can barely stand on your own two feet, you’re so nervous. It’s been a while. And it’s Bob.

Instead of backing away, you steal some soap, taking your turn to scrub the beer from his torso. His muscles inadvertently flex under your touch as you marvel at all that was previously hidden beneath flight suits and khaki. There’s a small scar on the lower side of his torso, you want to ask about it but you get distracted by what you’ve only felt through his jeans before this moment. Your body heats up just by looking at him.

You make your way back up his chest to his neck, and you can’t help but lean back into him. He deepens the kiss, not speeding it up in any way, just savoring you like he can’t get enough.

Your soapy hands reach to run through his hair, meeting a still crunchy mess. You laugh against his lips, positioning yourselves underneath the spray of the water.

“Where’s your shampoo”, you whisper, afraid to disrupt the heat simmering between you two. He silently gets the message, grabbing a bottle off the shelf and pours some in your hand, as well as his own. 

You start massaging his head, and he just about melts at the feeling. He turns to rinse it out of his hair, and you take the time to look at him from head to toe. You blush as he turns, catching you in the act.

“Were you checkin’ me out?”, he asks as he starts to massage the shampoo into your hair.

“Maybe”, you shrug. Once his lips are on yours you don’t hesitate to drag your hands down his body, aching to reach where you can feel him against you.

Once your hair is rinsed out by very gentle hand, his lips drag down your neck, slowing once they reach your chest. He tries to hesitate but you won’t let him. Grabbing one of his hands, you place it over your breast.

He exhales, moving his mouth to kiss along the opposite side. Your breath stutters as he licks and nips down your torso.

You watch as he gets down on his knees, and with the same quiet faith you would hold in prayer, he rests his head against your stomach. Only looking back up to ask, “Can I taste you?”.

“Yes please”, you breathe. He kisses your stomach in a silent thank you, gently guiding one of your legs over his shoulder. And once he starts- you don’t know if you ever want him to stop. You’ve never felt anything like it before in your life. His mouth is on you, tongue moving in slow circles over the most sensitive part of you. You’re already so close to coming undone by this man.

One of his hands is holding your leg steady on his shoulder, the other reaches up, trying to grasp at anything to ground you. 

He settles on your hip, but in a moment of absolute need you raise it. With the urging of your own grip, his hand molds around your breast once again. His confidence surges as he squeezes, and you grant him a moan in response.

Your head is thrown back against the shower tile at a particularly sensitive flick of his tongue. You drag your eyes back down to find your hand fisting his hair, and that’s when you see him already looking at you.

With one last gentle squeeze, his hand moves down to where his mouth meets you. His tongue and fingers start working together to bring you to the edge. His eyes flutter to close as you barrel over the cliff, your legs shaking. It takes everything in you to stay standing as he continues to lap and suck at you.

Your breathing slows down as he follows his trail of kisses back up your stomach and sternum, finally making it to your forehead.

“How was that?”, he whispers into your hair. You can’t help but smile, the ghost of a laugh on your lips.

“That was better than I ever thought it could be. Thank you.” You pull him into a kiss, tasting yourself as your hands roam over his torso. “No one’s ever done that before”, you absentmindedly comment against him.

He stops, both hands on your face with a notch in his forehead.

“No one’s ever gone down on you before?” You just shake your head as he stares at you with a half-lidded glaze.

“Baby they are missing out”. You’re sure he can hear your breath catch at the slip of the nickname. He barely allows you any time to breathe before his mouth is back on yours, and this time you don’t stop yourself from reaching out for him.

Your hand glides up and down his length, but he stops you when you move to kneel in front of him. His hand cradles the back of your head instead, the other caressing your cheek.

“Do you not want me to?”, you sheepishly ask.

“No- I mean yes! I mean-”, he sighs as you stare up at him, “Another time. But right now can I take you to bed?” You swallow, eyes full of anticipation as a yes falls from your lips.

He turns the shower off, immediately finding towels. He puts his glasses back on and you shiver. Now you know he can really see you, all of you. After deeming yourselves dry enough with a quick pat, he’s back on you.

Walking you to the edge of the bed, he lies you down against the comforter. Your wet hair is surely leaving spots where you fall back, but Bob doesn’t seem to care. 

Parting your legs, he finds his spot between them. Kissing you until you’re dizzy and then some. You feel yourself clenching around nothing, and you start to get a little impatient.

Your hand reaches towards him again. This time he doesn’t stop you as he rests his hands on your thighs. His lips hover above yours, almost teasing you. But his expression is anything but playful.

Without warning he moves away, reaching towards his bedside table. After fumbling around he emerges with a single foil packet dangling between his two fingers.

“We can stop whenever you want”, he tells you as he settles back. You’re already sure you’re not going to want to stop, but it’s nice of him to check in on you anyway.

“Ok”, you smile at him as he releases a breath. You watch him tear the condom open and roll it on. You have to stop yourself from tilting your head back in anticipation, but you just can’t look away.

“Are you ready?”, he asks with that same level of lightning running through his veins.

“I’ve been ready for a while”, he grants you another kiss to calm the nerves for your first time in a long time. In some way it kind of does feel like you’re losing your virginity again. Your first time wasn’t the best. You were clueless and just followed along with some loser who said he knew what he was doing.

Your hand flies out, grasping his forearm and he stops and stares back at you.

“Just- go slow please”, you ask in a nervous whisper. His arms bracket your head as he leans down, kissing you again.

“I’ll be slow, I promise”, he responds against your lips before taking his focus back to between your legs.

Bob cautiously starts to slide into you, and your hands fly to his back. It’s a stretch you can’t wait to get used to, but for now you’re cursing his size. He eases your discomfort by kissing down your chest, paying special attention to your breasts. You’re pleased to say it works.

His chest is already heaving above you once you’re fully wrapped around him. He starts peppering your face in kisses, saving your lips for last. You deepen the kiss once you adjust, and he begins to move.

Rocking into you, your legs bracket his hips, nails raking up and down his freckle-clad back. He’s still too far away. He’s inside of you and you still need to be closer.

With a hand to the back of his head, you pull him back down into a kiss, moaning into his mouth at a deep thrust.

“Bobby”, you whisper against his lips. He moves to nestle in your neck, laying kiss after kiss on your skin.

“Ya feel so good”, he mumbles into your hair. You can’t tell where he ends and you begin, especially when his hand trails down your body to where you connect. This pushes a breath out of you, and you feel yourself getting close again.

“Bobby”, you whine once more. He doesn’t let up, in fact if it’s at all possible you feel him go deeper. Hitting exactly where you need him to before your head is being thrown back in ecstasy.

He’s just on the edge with you, thrusting a few more times as he watches you. And then he’s twitching inside of you, falling as you’re both spent, chest to chest.

The two of you catch your breaths, and when he moves to look back at you he’s already pushing stray hair out of your face and granting you a kiss.

He gets up, giving you a great view on his way back to the bathroom. And then he’s moving to lay a blanket over the both of you, massaging your arms as he gazes down at you.

He’s just so…warm. And kind, and everything you didn’t know you were missing until he walked into your life. It makes you feel like your heart’s wrapped in the softest blanket. Healing a part of you he had no part in breaking.

“How’re you feelin’?”, he asks as you stare up at him in awe.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until he’s wiping away your tears with a wild look in his eye.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, he cups your face in his hands. “Did I hurt you?”

“No”, you sniffle, “You didn’t hurt me at all. Just… thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just being you.” He releases a breath at that, and you kiss him. Because you want to. And you don’t want to stop kissing him. Because tonight made you realize something you’ve had a sneaking suspicion of for the past few days. You are in love with Bob Floyd

It didn’t hit you when he took care of you like no man had before, or when he laid you down with so much reverence you weren’t sure if he was worshipping you. But when he stepped in front of you at the bar. And every time he picked you up for work without complaint, but with excitement. How he laid down with you in this very bed, fully clothed, because you were scared. Still are scared.

One week.

You won’t tell him tonight. Your lip wobbles again, but he doesn’t see it as he guides your head to his chest. It’s enough for you knowing that you have something worth fighting for. And if you don’t make it back, you can die happy knowing there’s someone out there who you feel safe enough to love in a way you never let yourself before.

Taglist:

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[lottesreads]

Also congrats on the new job!! That's so exciting! I also got a new job!! We're going to ace it this year!!

-⛸️

Yes we are bestie!!! (This job is already killing me and the semester is starting next week🥲)

But I actually wrote today so I’ll count that as a win😭

Congrats to you too!!

[lottesreads]

What made me emotional is finally seeing a Jewish character have such a meaningful scene regarding their faith. Having that moment in the shul with Roz made my heart so happy. A Jewish character created by a Jewish man (Jack Kirby) played by a Jew and they actually did him justice. Also it isn't confirmed but I saw an article that thinks Natasha Lyonne's character was named after Kirby's wife Rosalind "Roz" which is just so sweet. Ben Grimm I love you so.

YAY ON the boyfriend! That's wonderful!

-⛸️

ps on F4 I was like omg are they really going to you know what a main character but I am glad they didn't

That makes me so happy!! Actually seeing representation like that in a huge franchise is incredible (also they’re doing accurate representation???) love 🫶 Ben was also one of my favorites in this movie (having grown up on the Chris Evans F4 I did not like how they made him so angry 😭)

What a sweet tribute 🥹 I honestly had no clue she was in the movie until I was watching it and it was a wonderful surprise

Thank you!! It’s kinda crazy and we’ll see how it goes!❤️

[lottesreads]

Hi bestie!!

How is your summer going? As always I hope you are doing well! Did you see the new fantastic four movie? One part of it really made me emotional (I'm being vague in case you haven't seen it)

I'm on social media a lot less lately but I'm still seeing so much praise for Lewis' performance in Thunderbolts* which makes me happy!

-⛸️

Hello bestie!!!

It's going, I got a new job so I've been working a lot more🙃

I finally did!!! Girl you gotta tell me which part, cause toward the end there I thought I was gonna cry🥲

It makes me so happy seeing him be appreciated!! That boi's got some acting chops for real

As always, lovely to hear from you I hope you are doing great!!💕💕

(I also somehow got a boyfriend that I’ve been dating for the past month???)

[lottesreads]

do you know about how many parts why me will have?

Ok so sorry for the late reply, lotsa laptop and car troubles

But here’s the thing: I know it’s a LOT, but I’m thinking 20 or a little less.

When I started writing I did not think it would be this long, but here we are 🥲

So I thank each and every one of you for sticking around 🫶

[lottesreads]

I see your Kylo Ren and raise a Matt the radar technician. Idk if you've seen this SNL bit but Matt is from an undercover boss sketch but it is worth checking out! (if you're interested in doing so)

-⛸️

ps how do you feel about a happy ending for our friends bob and mantis? personally I love it

I LOVE MATT THE RADAR TECHNICIAN

(my family quotes that sketch all the time)

I can also see that, where his parents are so cool and he’s just a lil nerd 😭

And that would be nice, wouldn’t it…

[lottesreads]

The new chapter was amazing!!! When they were making out in the car I was so nervous they would be caught!!!

---

“Your favorite color?”, it’s a broad question, one that’s never left you feeling quite this elated to answer before. Because this time your answer is staring right back at you.

“Blue”, you respond.

---

Your writing is always marvelous but you outdid yourself with the above. Wow!!!

I hope you're doing well my friend :-)

-⛸️

ps I agree that Lewis absolutely needs to be in the new spaceballs movie

Hello bestie!!! Thank you so much! <3

(have I told you I feel famous whenever you quote my writing, nbd) Anyway, totally fine over here. I hope you're well! :)

I had to get through a bout of writer's block with this one, and them making out in the truck got me out of it so that was fun

AND PLEASE, I need him as a Kylo Ren type he would be so good

[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 15

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, some angst, fluff, lying, talk of abuse and bruises, swearing, brief mention of assault, just a tiny bit smutty (lotsa kissin'), shitty exes

Word Count: 11k (my bad)

Summary: You're on top of the world after your first real date with Bob. Things are starting to look up for not only you, but your dad when he asks for a favor. But of course, there's always something (or someone) from your past that will try to ruin any good thing you have.

A/N: This one only took like a month and a half rather than the regular three or four, it's a miracle! The story's really moving along now and I hope y'all are just as excited as I am. That being said I do love the comments and reblogs, they keep me motivated :)

Happy reading!

Masterlist

Bob pauses. Just for a second, allowing himself to rest his forehead against your own. Breathing you in, he brings his hand up to cup your jaw. Giving himself a view of your face, he gently caresses his thumb over your cheek as your eyes flutter to close. The Beach Boys are still echoing through the living space. A different song now, but he can’t place it at the moment when his thoughts are somewhere else.

“I wanted to be a gentleman, kiss you on the cheek after walking you to your door.” Your breathy laugh tickles his cheeks and he can’t help but smile.

“As nice as that sounds, I think I like this better.” He leans back, continuing to stroke your skin.

“I know, but you’re not supposed to kiss a girl on the first date.” A laugh escapes you. A genuine belly laugh as you try to turn your head away as you do so. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing”, you catch your breath, “It’s just, to be fair you did kiss me before a date was even a question.” He hums in thought.

“If my memory serves me correctly, you actually kissed me first”, he points out. Your jaw drops before you gather yourself.

“Ok, well you kissed me back”, you point a playful finger at him. “And then you felt me up in your driveway.” His jaw drops this time as he steps back from you, feigning offense. Even if he is joking, it’s obvious you caught him off guard through the sudden flush in his cheeks.

“I- I felt you up?”, he borderline scoffs. “That’s hilarious. You were the one with the wanderin’ hands”, he gestures wildly. You try hard to stifle a wild laugh you know is so close to breaking the surface.

“Oh really?” He nods, so sure. You bow your head, working up the courage to say what you want to. 

“Well, my memory’s kind of fuzzy. Wanna show me what I supposedly did?” His hands fall to his sides, back straightening as he gives you a wide eye stare. His chest rises and falls as you tilt your head in his direction. Daring him.

He steps toward you, reclaiming his spot with his hand against your cheek. You inhale a deep breath as his mouth gets closer toward your own. Closing your eyes in anticipation you can feel his lips just a hair’s breadth away from yours. 

KNOCK KNOCK

The sound coming from the door has you jumping out of your skin and far away from Bob. Somewhere Sylvia runs from the noise and retreats to Bob’s room. 

The fear running down your spine reminds you of everything outside the bubble Bob created. You shouldn’t be here. You’re not supposed to be in his arms, but that’s exactly where you found yourself just seconds ago.

The two of you still. As if you don’t move they won’t somehow realize that you’re there.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The pounding fist comes again, and this time Bob clears his throat, motioning for you to stay put. He leaves and you hear a familiar voice come from the other room.

“Harry sent me over for a cup of sugar, he’s in the middle of making a cake and didn’t realize we were out. Silly man.”

“Of course, lemme go grab that for you”, Bob answers him, a bit breathless.

“I’m so sorry to bother you about this.” The sound of the door closing and voices trailing closer has you desperately looking around the sparse living room for a place to hide. The position of the staircase gives you no way to head upstairs without passing right by them. You quickly realize this is a lost cause and you’ll have to face it head on.

“No, that’s alright. I didn’t know Harry baked.”

Bob walks in first, giving you a deer in the headlights look before turning right into the kitchen.

“You know him, that man is just full of surprises.” Rich follows right behind him, already searching the space. And when his eyes come up with you, he has the audacity to act shocked. “Miss Mitchell! What a surprise”, sure it is. The light must catch your face in the best way because his joy is spoiled as he gets a better look. “Oh my god, who’d you get in a fight with?”

You can’t help but greet him with a fast smile, albeit a little panicked. Bob is busy trying to get him a cup of sugar as quickly as he can, leaving you to entertain his guest.

“Oh, just a baseball. I’m fine. How are you and Harry doing?”, you eagerly redirect the conversation. He takes in your outfit choice and flushed cheeks while you twitch in your spot.

“We are just wonderful”, he can’t hide the satisfied smile on his face from your presence. You’re almost sure that he saw you walking down the street with Bob and has a bet going with Harry that you’re actually here.

Bob returns from the kitchen with the sugar, attempting to usher Rich to the exit.

“Have you had a fun night?”, he asks with an air of teasing.

“Oh yeah, just sitting around with Sylvia while Bob went on his date. We had a lot of fun watching The Office.”

“Really?”, he squints his eyes as if he knows. And you know he does. There’s always the  chance he saw Bob come back with you and not leave again until your walk.

Damn it. Your heart skips a beat and jumps back down to your stomach as you stumble through your words.

“Here’s your sugar Rich!”, Bob forces the container into his hands as he practically pushes him back to the front door.

“I should leave you two, lovely as always seeing you Miss Mitchell!”, he yells back as Bob shuts the door. Sliding his glasses off, Bob runs a hand down his face as he rests against the front door. Acting as a second barrier in case Rich decides Harry forgot something else for the “cake”. 

He finds you waiting in the hallway, chewing the inside of your cheek. He huffs out a laugh.

“So he definitely knows”, you assert as you lean against the wall.

“Yeah, that means that he and Harry know.” Bob decides against telling you that Harry saw the two of you against his truck the other week. He’ll just let you assume Rich is telling Harry what he saw tonight. He’s sure Harry hasn’t told Rich what he saw anyway. Pretty sure at least.

Bob reaches for your hand as you cross the remaining space. You should be heading back soon, and he knows it. Which is why he gathers you in his arms as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers into the silence. You look back at him, a furrow in your brow.

“For Rich?”, you ask with a confused smile. He shakes his head, but you stop him before he can start. “Listen to me, Bob. In spite of every hoop we’ve jumped through, you still managed to give me the best date I’ve ever been on.” His initial instinct is to scrunch his face.

“Really? What kind of losers have you been going on dates with?” You hide your face in his shoulder again. 

The kind where you hope you never see them again, that kind Bob. 

“I’m not kidding. The effort you put in makes a girl feel special.” He’s subconsciously starting to sway with you again in a quiet motion. It reminds you of the ocean. Not the furious tides and currents that sweep people under and drag them out. No. The kind that allows you to float along the surface. The calming ones that almost lull you to sleep while the water laps at your arms, sun kissing your skin. The kind that reminds you of Bob’s eyes. You could get lost at sea just looking at him.

“I’m glad”, he whispers into your hair, placing a kiss at the top of your head. You almost don’t feel deserving of this kind of attention. He’s too good. “Is it the kind of date that makes you wanna go on a second one?”

You lift your head and see him giving you a soft smile. Nervous, but still there. Your hand runs over his jaw as you nod your head. There’s no hesitance when the two of you meet in the middle, and you feel him smiling against your lips.

You’ve been lucky enough to never eject from your aircraft, but now you know what it must feel like. Falling.

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

Bob kissed you once more, much like a gentleman would. And then drove you home. You weren’t surprised to find both Rich and Harry sitting on their porch when you left. Maybe Harry finished baking his “cake” early.

As much as Bob wanted to walk you back up to your door, he refrains. Opting instead to squeeze your hand and watch you go until the door is safely shut.

“Hey, how’d it go?”, your dad asks as he lounges on the couch. He must have left the bar early.

“Good”, you tell him as you try to wipe the grin off your face. “Sylvia’s a doll.” You try your darndest to avoid any more questions as you undo your shoes at the door. Your dad stands directly in front of the staircase, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blocking your path.

“Did Bob say how his date went?” You expertly shrug it off as you avoid his eyes.

“Yeah, I think it went well. Said he’s going on a second date with her, so we’ll see what happens.”

“Wow.” “Wow what?”

“Didn’t know Bob was bold enough to ask for a second date while on the first, good for him.” He’s still standing directly in your way damn it. 

“Yeah”, you chuckle as you attempt to sidestep him, “You’d be surprised.” He stands his ground while he folds his arms across his chest. Something you only see him do when he gets serious. That or nervously running his hands together.

“Well, I’m gonna-”, you motion with your shoe to the stairs behind his head. He turns, but doesn’t move. You cock your head, squinting in his direction. “Why are you being so weird?” His brows fly up his forehead, but you can tell he’s not completely there.

“I’m- I’m not being weird. I was just wondering if we could have our catch up tonight.” Shit. This cannot be a coincidence.

“Oh our fortnightly meetings?”, you try to laugh it off. “Dad, I’m tired. Can we do this tomorrow?” He contemplates it for a moment, but lets you go.

“Yeah, I guess we can”, he forces a smile before kissing your head. “Goodnight, kid.”

As you reach the top of the stairs, you take a second to look down. He’s still standing there, but this time with his hand rubbing his temples. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this anxious.

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

You hardly get any sleep that night. Even if you had the most amazing time with Bob, your overthinking has wrecked your sleep schedule.

There’s no way your dad can know, right? Right. And even if he somehow thinks there’s a possibility that you even went on a date with Bob all you’re going to do is deny, deny, deny. He can’t possibly have any kind of proof. Damn you for wanting to wear a dress for once.

Your father is already up for the day. He must have an even worse internal clock than you do, because he’s always up and ready by 5:00 am. This time, he greets you with a cup of coffee as you meet him in the kitchen. Steeling your nerves, you try to ignore the way your hand shakes as you reach for the mug he’s prepared you.

He doesn’t even notice. There’s something else weighing on his mind, and you don’t think you can handle one more second not knowing.

“How’d you sleep?”, he asks.

“Ok, spit it out”, you take him off guard. “What is going on?” He sighs, shaking off his wide eyes from your bluntness as he sets his Navy emblazoned mug down. He rubs his worn hands together as you take a deep breath. Here it comes.

“I’m going to ask Penny to marry me.” Oh- that is not what you were expecting to hear. He peeks a look at you from under his bowed head and you’re silent before you gather your bearings.

“Dad”, you almost gasp, “That’s amazing!” He visibly relaxes at your words, shoulders falling from where they were at his ears. You get up and give him a hug he wasn’t expecting. You’re amazed he doesn’t know anything, but you’re also elated he’s finally taking things seriously with Penny. 

“Wait”, you push yourself away from him, “Have you talked to Amelia yet?”

“Not yet”, he rubs the back of his neck, “But I am going to. This is another reason why I wanted to talk to you.” He gives you a look. One that tells you he’s about to ask for a favor.

“What do you need?”, you eye him warily.

“I was hoping to get together and have a family dinner sometime this week. And maybe you can, I don’t know, talk to Amelia? Warm her up to the idea a little bit.”

“You think she’s going to be upset about it?” He weighs his head from side to side, turning to clean his mug. You down the rest of your drink, now able to stomach the topic when it’s not you.

“She’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“Dad, she’s just protective of her mom. You can’t blame her for being a little apprehensive when you’ve been in and out of her life for the better part of 30 years.” He pauses at the realization, you do as well as you say the words. He will always go back to Penny. No matter what. And this time he’s here to stay.

“I think once she knows that you plan on proposing it’ll just solidify whatever you’ve told her already. I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.” He scoffs, staring at a point on the counter.

It’s quiet as he contemplates your words, only interrupting as you start to scrub your own mug.

“Why don’t you ever go on dates?” The dish slips out of your hand, and by some miracle doesn’t break as it ricochets in the sink. You huff out a nervous laugh.

“What?”

“Sorry, I just mean I’ve never met anyone you’ve dated. And I know for sure you haven’t gone on any dates since we got here.” Oh if only you knew. You take a second to collect your thoughts, nodding along to whatever he’s saying.

“I don’t know”, you shrug, “Just hasn’t been something I’m seeking out.” Which is the definitive truth. You weren’t seeking Bob out in any capacity other than by making a friend. And now look at you, head over heels for the WSO.

“Why not?”

“Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”, you glare at him from the corner of your eye.

“I just want you to be happy”, he shrugs.

“I am happy”, you conclude. “ I genuinely am, and maybe I don’t want a man coming along and ruining that. Plus-”, you add as you dry your hands on a dish towel, “I’ve seen what mankind has to offer, and so far I’m not impressed.” Translation: I don’t want a repeat of past mistakes. One bad experience is enough to ruin any ideation of a future with a happy ending. 

Well, up until this point at least. This was sincerely your head space before you found out good men exist outside of fiction.

Bob is the first one to ever treat you like more than just a title, or a warm body. He treats you like a person. But not only that, he values and respects you. Something you didn’t think would be so hard to ask for.

He raises his hands in surrender, dropping the subject. For now.

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

You are ever so grateful for the reprieve Bob offered you over the weekend. Because Monday back at work is complete hell. Bob’s still driving you, which is nice to have some alone time where you can be yourselves. But when you get to work it’s a whole other story.

Thick packets are already at desks for the team to look at, and Mav goes over every single maneuver you’re expected to relearn and perfect in the next two weeks. All of them are evasive, which means more dogfights, which means more pushups to whoever loses.

By Wednesday you’re tasked with dogfight after dogfight, staying in the air as long as possible. It’s starting to put a strain on every muscle in your body, so even when you get to the tarmac you’re already flopping on your belly even if you didn’t lose. With the amount of dogfights each of you is competing in, it’s a miracle if you aren’t doing at least 300 pushups by the end of the day.

You can see it draining the rest of the team, as well as yourself. Bob almost has to wake you up when he stops at your house after work on Thursday.

“You ok?”, he asks, blinking hard under his glasses. His hair is almost completely slicked back from the amount of time it’s had to sit under his helmet today. Both of you reek of sweat and fuel, but it doesn’t stop the temptation to pull him closer. You stop yourself when you realize it’s broad daylight on your street, but god. You just wanna fall asleep with him next to you.

“Yeah”, you give him a tired smile, “Just wish I could go to sleep instead of dinner at Penny’s.”

“What about tomorrow? We can put on a movie and pretend to watch it while we’re asleep.” You don’t want to tell him your mind is wandering to a lazy makeout session on his couch as well, but a car whizzing by bursts your bubble.

“I think Fanboy said something about going to the Hard Deck tomorrow night”, you groan. “It might look weird if we’re the only two not there.” Not to mention that if Penny’s working your dad will most likely be moping around the house waiting until she gets done. He contemplates this for a second, and tries his best not to look any more deflated than he already is.

“Saturday?”, you suggest.

“Saturday”, he smiles. You squeeze his hand and hop out, resisting the temptation to do more. It’s been absolutely killing you to not kiss him hello or goodbye, but you know that will make it all the more sweeter when you’re actually alone this weekend. By then it will be more than a week of not feeling his lips on yours, god when did you get so desperate?

To be honest, even if you haven’t done more than holding hands in his truck, he’s made this week a lot easier than it would have been without him. It’s taking its toll on the entire squad, but even just catching his eye from across the room, or bumping his fist before take off sets you at ease.

It was an accident when you knocked your knee into his at the lunch table Monday, but he knocked you right back. It’s become your unspoken way of checking in with each other without anyone noticing. Just another part of your language no one else has the liberty of understanding or realizing is being communicated right under their noses.

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

“Jesus, dad. Calm down, she’s not gonna bite”, you tell him as you make your way up to Penny’s home. He’s tapping the side of the bowl with whatever concoction he mixed together last minute. You can’t help but yawn as you climb the last couple of steps to the door.

“Hey, look alive”, he almost scolds you, “You have a very important task here.”

“If I wasn’t in the air for five hours today or doing like a million pushups after, I might have the energy to argue with you.” Damn Hangman, getting the jump on you right before you were ready to finish for the day. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“You don’t know teenage girls.”

“Um, I think you’re forgetting I was one.” You knock at the door while giving him a lethal side eye.

“Yeah, but you weren’t-”, he weighs his words, “You didn’t do the normal teenage things.” You quirk an eyebrow.

“Oh you mean I didn’t steal cars or get drunk at parties?” His mouth falls open and he forgets his troubles for a split second. In all truth you were a very well mannered teenager. Respectable. Quiet. You had to be.

“Who told you I stole cars?”

“When did you steal a car?”, Amelia asks as the door cracks open. The two of you almost jump out of your skin at the sudden hormone riddled apparition at the front door.

“Hey Amelia!”, you greet in an over cheerful manner for someone who you would describe as a walking corpse. You’re sure your smile looks more painful than genuine. She must see the same thing you feel, because with a side eye that rivals your own she moves aside to let the two of you in.

Penny greets you in the kitchen, and you’re about to ask if she needs any help when your dad nods his head in the direction Amelia went in. You follow his lead, leaving the two of them.

Amelia is sitting in the living room, textbook open on her lap as she takes notes. She doesn’t acknowledge you as you sit on the other edge of the couch.

“What kind of homework are you working on?”

“Algebra”, she replies without looking up. You tap the sides of your thighs, glancing around the room, admiring the frames of pictures and seaside decor. The silence carries on as your fried brain tries finding another topic.

“How’s school going?”

“It’s fine”, she answers dryly. “How’s work?”, she surprises you by asking. But at least it gives you an in.

“It’s alright, Mav has been riding us pretty hard this week. But I know he means well.” She stops what she’s doing and quirks her head.

“Do you always call him Mav?”

“No, usually only in respect to work. That or Captain Mitchell. But at home he’s just dad.” She nods, hesitating for only a second before going back to her work. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know”, she shrugs, “I’m never sure whether to call him Pete or Mav, but if he’s gonna marry my mom I guess I should ask him what he prefers since I’ll be seeing him more often.”

“Well, if I know him he-”, you make a quick turn to stare at the girl, “Wait, how do you know about that?” She shrugs again.

“My mom’s talked to me about the possibility, it’s just a matter of time really”, she answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“So you’re not upset about it?”

“No”, she shakes her head, “He makes my mom happy, and he’s already promised me he’s not going to break her heart again. I want to believe him.” You laugh silently to yourself. You wished you had the attitude of this girl when you were her age.

“Trust me, if he does he’ll have more than just you to answer to. But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he will.” She nods at you, and then goes back to her homework. She leaves you feeling a little better, but still in silence as your dad “helps” Penny. You try to recall what you were talking about the last time you were together. Something about Amelia just being asked to a dance?

“So… you getting excited for Homecoming?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” She keeps her head down.

“Do what?”

“Try and make an effort”, she so plainly replies in an annoyed sigh. “I already have step-siblings, I know how this works. Just because our parents might be getting married doesn’t mean we have to have a relationship.” Her attitude leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and you try not to grimace from old feelings surfacing at the comment. You take a breath.

“You know, I had step-siblings, too. It was always awkward around them, and neither of our parents tried to make an effort to integrate our families. I tried to get to know them, but they never seemed interested.” Her pencil stops moving on her notebook paper, but she still won’t look up. “I don’t want it to be that way between the two of us. Even if I am older by a few years-”

“Try more than a decade”, she interrupts.

“Ok, fine- Even if I am old enough to be your teen mom”, you get her to crack on that one, “I’d still like to try and be somewhat of a step-sister to you. If you want.” Her eyes stop on a single word, not reading just…staring. She doesn’t say anything, and you’ve almost decided to give up before she speaks.

“I’ve never had a sister before.” You exhale in relief.

“Neither have I really. Do you want one?” Her eyes dart to you, but you don’t look away. Steadying your gaze, you wait for her to come to you.

“It might be nice”, she tries to shrug the gravity off of her words.

“I mean, you can come to me about stuff you don’t want to talk to your mom about, we can have girls nights, you can call me at any hour- oh! And you can tell me all about the boy who asked you to your dance.” You try not to get ahead of yourself, but the way Amelia lulls her head back and tries to hide her smile just makes you want to keep going.

“But I’m serious. Whatever kind of relationship you want, I’m here for it.” The two of you come to a silent agreement and she continues on with her homework. Or at least that’s what you thought was happening. You’re left to twiddle your thumbs again while Mav and Penny get up to god knows what in the kitchen- actually maybe you should go see if they need any help.

“Do you mean it?”, the confident girl you’ve gotten to know starts to shrink in on herself. Nervous and insecure in the way she’s asking if you’ll stick around and be there for her. This is the kind of thing that reminds you of yourself at her age.

“Tell you what”, you turn and offer her your pinkie finger, “we’ll swear on it.” Her insecurity vanishes as she raises a brow.

“A pinkie promise? Are you serious?”

“Just gimme your pinkie you little shit”, she fails to hold back her laugh and gives you what you ask. The two of you lock fingers and you give her an unwavering stare. And with a nod of your heads the two of you forge the way for something neither of you have been a part of before.

“So does that mean I can ask you anything?” You squint, suspicious of where this is going.

“You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll answer. Why?”

“Just wanted to know how you got the bruise”, she motions to your face. It had been fading nicely over the past week, now just a faint discoloration of your skin remains. You huff out a breath, it’s no use trying to lie to this girl.

“Rooster threw a baseball at me.” Her face screws up in curiosity.

“Is it because you punched him in the face?” Your brows scrunch as you try not to smile at her. Of course she knows. “You’re a good liar, he’s not”, she explains.

“He hit me by accident, he got punched in the face cause he’s an idiot.”

“What did he do?”. A humorless laugh escapes your lips.

“He said something extremely, extremely thoughtless and rude.”

“He probably deserved it”, she decides. You try to stifle your smile, but just like a sister would, she’s already taking your side.

“Soup’s on kids”, the two of you turn your heads at your dads arrival. You don’t know how long he was standing there, but if the smile that he gives you is any indication you know you got your job done for the night.

“We’re having soup?”, Amelia turns to you as you enter the kitchen.

“No, that’s just something old people say when dinner’s ready”, you joke. Your dad does not find it amusing.

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

The Hard Deck is bustling. Overflowing with aviators, sailors, and everyone in between. The setting sun casts a warm glow through the open windows, throwing every person in their best lighting. A carrier made port today, hence the warm welcome to those who haven’t been on land in months. If there was one place you’d go to get away from anything Navy related it would sure as shit not be the Hard Deck. But to you and others it’s a home away from home. Penny made sure of that.

The majority of your squadron showed up late to the party, opting to change into their civilian clothes rather than coming straight from work in your flight suits. Somehow you stick out like a sore thumb in a place like this.

Bob picked Fanboy up first, leaving you to awkwardly squish in between them on the way over. You gave Bob an awkward smile, knocking your knee against his as Fanboy did up his own seatbelt.

 Bob is more often than not Fanboy’s designated driver nowadays. Payback ends up leaving earlier than everyone else if he even comes out, he has a wife and kids after all. The rest of you… not so much.

Bob even relays the message Fanboy told him that he was either going to “get laid or fucked up” tonight. And you for one can’t wait to see how that works itself out.

Somehow there are always a gaggle of girls who just know when a deployment ends. And they’re always first in line to get into the Hard Deck. Fanboy being out of his uniform does not bode well in his favor tonight. Those just getting back from deployments are eager to let off some steam, and these women are just about willing to help anyone in a uniform.

Bob opens the door for you, and you give him a smile just a touch beyond polite as he tips his head. You catch Penny’s eye and give her a wave as you make your way through the crowd.

It’s all hustle and bustle before you finally find yourself at the pool table where Phoenix is showing Rachel how to play. You’re 99% sure she already knows how, and you give Nat a knowing smirk anyway as they stand up from their shot.

“Shit”, Fanboy reappears handing you a beer, “If I knew it was gonna be this busy I wouldn’t have suggested it.” He takes a swig of his own bottle as you eye the place. It’s shoulder to shoulder as people pack the bar, waiting for their drinks.

“All I know is that Penny and Jimmy better be swimming in tips by the end of the night”, you murmur into your bottle.

Phoenix moves over, handing the cues to you and Bob before heading back to get more drinks with Rachel. And that’s when you notice Bob’s cowboy boots peeking out from under his jeans. You try to subtly look up the expanse of his tall figure without him catching you. He’s busy re-racking the balls to notice, but that doesn’t mean other people haven’t.

Shaking him from your thoughts, you start the game. You circle around each other, throwing smart comments his way every once in a while. He tries to hide his mischievous smile, but you catch it as he bends for his turn. Usually Fanboy would be over here supervising whatever meticulous shot Bob’s attempting, but he’s disappeared somewhere around the room. Presumably to achieve one of his goals for the night.

Your teammates slowly appear and you greet them as you take your final shot, beating Bob. Again. You give him a sympathetic look and shrug. He just shakes his head at you. Not in disbelief from you winning, more of a way to tell you it’s no use.

“Sorry, Bob. But you did a lot better this time!”, you laugh.

“Where’s your fight Bob?”, Hangman interrupts, “Let me show you how it’s supposed to be done.” He grabs the cue out of his hand, and Bob makes his way over to stand next to you.

“You put up a good fight”, you console him with a shoulder pat. He laughs to cover the buzz he feels from the contact, but you let your hand slide away before you have the urge to let it linger on the muscle.

A quiet figure walks up beside you, and you know who it is before he even speaks. The Hawaiian shirt hanging from his shoulders is so loud you don’t even need to look over.

It’s been better with the team. Rooster’s kept his mouth shut long enough he hasn’t had the chance of shoving his foot up there. Or you shoving your foot so far up his ass it comes out the other end.

Bob nudges your shoulder with his own, pointing to the corner of the room. Fanboy is attempting and failing to keep a girl’s attention. Her eyes keep drifting over his shoulder to someone else in a khaki uniform. You chuckle as Bob leans down so you can hear him over the din of the bar. His breath warm on your cheek.

“How long do you think he’s gonna hold her hostage over there?”

“I don’t know”, you smile, “but I’d say he’s going home shitfaced tonight.” Bob chuckles as you reach for your empty bottle.

“I’m getting another beer”, you tell him before leaving. You catch sight of Rachel waving Rooster over to her and Phoenix while Hangman is explaining his shot to Bob.

“Another round, Mantis?”, Penny asks as you approach.

“Just one. Oh- and a cup of peanuts please.”

“You got it”, she gives you a smile as you wait. You watch as Jimmy shovels ice into a glass and you’re almost tempted to ask for a cup. It is too damn hot in here.

“Mitchell, is that you?” Your stomach drops, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. Your teeth clench so hard you’re sure one of them has cracked. Your ears start to ring as the world keeps spinning around you. You haven’t heard that voice since- 

“I knew it was.” Fuck.

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

“And that is how it’s done”, Hangman comments before the eight ball drops. “Did you see that, Bob?” He nods and feigns interest, as if he was watching the whole time. Fanboy dejectedly walks up to Bob’s side, huffing out a breath of frustration.

“That bad, huh?”, Bob asks him.

“I kept telling her I was in the Navy, but she didn’t seem to believe me.”

“Say she did believe you, what was your plan? You couldn’t have taken her back to your place, I drove you here.” Fanboy smirks.

“We coulda gone back to hers, or ya know- there are doors with locks around here.” Bob scrunches his face in disgust at the insinuation.

“What, the bathroom?” He simply shrugs, and returns to chugging his drink. The noise Bob makes gathers everyone else’s attention.

“Wouldn’t be the first time these bathrooms have seen some action”, Hangman joins in.

“That’s disgusting”, Rooster comments as he frowns, a beer bottle hanging from his fingers.

“Nah, you’re just too chicken shit to admit you did the deed in the ladies room.”

“Really Hangman?”, Phoenix adds in as she misses her shot, “You’re bragging about having sex where strangers shit?”

Bob is thoroughly enjoying the conversation, and knows you would find it just as amusing. You’ve actually been gone longer than it takes to get a beer, especially with Penny at the helm. He looks over his shoulder, eyes wandering the bar until he spots a glimpse of you behind a flight suit clad back. Everyone’s still arguing when he asks.

“Hey, who’s Mantis talking to?” A few of them stop and turn at the disruption. It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable as the man reaches to give you a hug. You don’t try to stop it, but you don’t reciprocate. Instead you wait until he’s done touching you before trying to create more distance.

You try to sidestep him, revealing the face of the stranger. He’s not ugly, but he has an air of pretentiousness that dissuades Bob from believing anything genuine is coming from his mouth.

“Is that Knoxville?”, Hangman asks with the pool cue in hand.

“Can’t be, last I heard he was with the Atlantic fleet”, Coyote adds.

“Who the hell is Knoxville?”, Rooster asks with a stern look. The man couldn’t look more concerned if he tried. If Bob knew any better he’d think he was ready to run over there himself. Bob’s just about to, but it looks like you’ve gained your footing as the surprise has worn off.

“Oh shit, that is Knoxville”, Coyote moves to get a better look.

“Again, who the hell is Knoxville?”, Bob asks this time, getting impatient.

“Just some jackass who thinks he’s too big for his britches", Coyote replies as he eyes the scene along with everyone else.

“What are we all looking at?”, Phoenix appears behind the wall of men. Intrigue twisting into a mix of disgust and shock. “Oh my god.”

“You know Knoxville, too?”, Bob asks as you start to make your way over, jackass in tow.

“Knoxville? No. That’s Lieutenant Douchebag.”

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

He appeared out of nowhere. And then he hugged you like he was owed your touch. And now here you are, dragging yourself back to your team with your tail between your legs. This is embarrassing, no it’s actually humiliating. And now everybody else is going to think the same.

Without looking, you hand Bob his cup of peanuts which he takes silently. You don’t think you can look at him right now. Even if everyone is watching you, expecting an explanation, you’re not in the mood to give them one.

“You gonna introduce me Princess?”, Tyler leans down to your ear, loud enough for everyone else to hear anyway. You want to twist your head away, ignore him for the rest of your life, but you stand your ground. His breath makes you shudder, and not in a good way.

“Knoxville!”, Coyote barks out before you can respond.

“Coyote! How’s it going man?”, Tyler claps him on the back and Coyote gives it right back. If not a touch harder. Hangman greets him as well, with a flat smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You’d almost be interested to ask how they know each other if you weren’t itching to get the hell out of here.

Across the pool table, Nat meets your eyes. An invisible conversation taking place as you try your best to ignore what’s happening right in front of you.

She stares more intently, subtly shifting her head to the side. Are you ok?

You steel your features and quietly raise your brow. What do you think?

“So how do you know Mantis here?”, Hangman finally asks him. You look up, paining a smile to appear. Covering any emotion that tries to surface. Before you can say anything, he’s already talking over you. Typical.

“Mantis, huh?”, he turns to you. He couldn’t be any more condescending if he were sitting on a throne with you at his feet. “She used to go by Princess when we were dating.” 

And it’s out.

You can feel Bob’s eyes flick to the side of your face. You don’t look at him. You can’t. You will break and crumble if you do.

“Yeah well, it’s Mantis now”, you don’t care if you sound snippy anymore. You never even liked the nickname. You didn’t “go by Princess”. That was his nickname for you. One you loathed with your entire being. It stemmed from an incessant reminder that you were “Navy royalty” as he so said. You felt more like Cinderella before she had a fairy godmother to make everything better.

“Aw come on, it’s all for old times sake, Princess”, you’re sure he thinks he’s being funny. He doesn’t know you well enough to know how to get under your skin. He doesn’t want to. Because you still might prove useful to him.

“How long are you in town?”, Rooster interrupts. He’s moved over to Phoenix’s side, and she’s stone-faced at the man. Like usual, Tyler hasn’t even noticed she’s there. She was never someone he could use and manipulate so he wrote her off.

“At least for a couple weeks.” Of course. Whenever he reappears he has to try to unravel all you’ve wound up since he left. Maybe you could get Penny to ban him from the bar. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name….” Rooster remains glued to his spot, arms crossed across his chest.

“Rooster”, he grumbles. He’s mad, but as far as you know he has no reason to be. Tyler catches sight of Phoenix and her face twitches. Surely a defense to not roll her eyes.

“Nat! How long has it been?”

“Not long enough apparently”, she speaks through painfully obvious gritted teeth. The fake smile does nothing to cover it.

“Wait, how do you two know each other?”, Coyote asks.

“Oh we all went to the Academy together, but it’s been a while. Not Princess though”, he turns back to you, a smug grin wiping over his teeth. Shut up, you will him.

“We ran into each other, what was it? Five years ago?”. Damn it. All you can do is pray that nobody remembers Nat’s party. The stupid question you answered. The game Hangman started just to make you squirm.

The shifting eyes and slowly growing smile on Hangman’s face prove your prayers go unanswered. It must click in everyone else’s minds. You can’t breathe.

The air is suffocating. They already know too much about you. This extremely intimate and personal part of your life is not something you were planning on disclosing to anyone.

“Five years you said?”, Hangman asks, looking at you and not at the man the question is directed to.

“Yeah, one of those hoity toity balls. Perfect place for royalty”, he laughs at you. You scrunch your face up at him, hiding how tight you’re clenching your teeth.

“So what have you been up to?”, Phoenix asks, redirecting his attention. Thank god for Natasha Trace. He forgets about you, never letting an opportunity to talk about himself get away. He drones on about getting transferred, getting promoted, yada yada yada. Whatever he thinks makes himself look good, even if he takes some liberties.

“Hey”, Bob steps in with a whisper, “Do you wanna leave?” You look at his feet, brown cowboy boots stare back. Straightening yourself, you give him a silent nod. Without another word, you catch Phoenix’s eye and she does her best to distract Tyler as you go.

She’ll have to do damage control by herself. Rooster watches as you leave, not saying anything but you’re sure he must be so disappointed that this was the kind of man you associated yourself with. There’s a small part of you that’s embarrassed he knows. And a part of you that’s disappointed in yourself, too.

He’s not at liberty to that part of your life. But now it’s out in the open, and for someone as stupid as him, he’s not a complete idiot. He’s already connected the dots.

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

You haven’t said a word. Bob’s not sure if you’re going to. Your jaw’s been clenched since you showed up with him, and the only shift was when you were grinding your teeth as he spoke. 

He’s about to turn the corner to your street when you speak up.

“Can we keep driving”, your voice cracks from disuse. Or just from how tight you’ve been holding yourself.

“Of course”, he agrees and reroutes. Where to, he’s not quite sure yet. You’re still quiet as he makes his way out of the suburbs, passing house after house until he finds a relatively empty beach. Only a few people remain, staggering back to their cars to head home. The sun is dipping below the horizon as he parks.

You stare forward, admiring the view. Huffing out a breath, he watches as you squeeze your fingers with one hand, rather harshly, almost until the blood stops flowing.

He checks the cup holder in his door, reaching down and fumbling with the loose change until he finds what he’s looking for.

With his free hand, he separates your own, giving them a gentle squeeze. And once they’re loose he drops the copper coin in your palm. But he doesn’t let go, not yet.

You exhale, the closest thing to a laugh he’ll get out of you. And then you look at him, biting the inside of your lip. Hesitating.

“Just an invitation”, he shrugs, “Feel free to decline.” That gets you to smile the tiniest bit. Progress.

You don’t let go of his hand, instead placing the penny in your pocket and opting to trace over his fingers. Your eyes drop from his, watching your own movements.

“Tyler- or Knoxville I guess, was my first boyfriend.” That much was obvious to Bob. But he doesn’t interrupt as you gather the courage for whatever else is coming his way.

“We met back at the Academy, I really didn’t know how to act in a relationship, and it was obvious later that he only started to become interested once he knew my dad was higher up, and that my god father was even higher than him.” You sigh, again. Getting worked up over every memory going through your mind.

“He used me- for a lot of things, but I still stayed with him longer than I should have.  He graduated the year before Phoenix, and then he broke up with me right before he left. Asking if we could still be friends, and whatever bullshit he used as an excuse. And that’s not even the worst part.” A humorless laugh escapes your lips. You scrunch your eyes before letting go of Bob’s hands, instead running them down your face. Hiding yourself from him.

“It was five years ago, when I ran into him at a gala”, you suck in a deep breath before continuing. Bob already knows where this is going, and he’s not sure he wants to hear it. But he listens intently to your words despite the gnawing ache in his chest.

“Ugh”, you huff, “I was lonely, and more than a little drunk. I regretted it when I came to my senses the next morning. It’s just-”, you stop and clench your teeth, hands balling into fists on your lap. You sound more frustrated with yourself than hurt.

Bob reaches to relax your fist with his hand, giving you something else to put your focus into. Releasing a breath, you hide from him beneath your lashes.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. He sounds like a real-”

“Douchebag?”, you venture to guess.

“Yeah.” He stops- thinking back on what you just told him. Furrowing his brow, he asks, “Was he also drunk when you uh…”, he chooses his words wisely, “Saw him last?”

“I don’t- I don’t remember”, you shake your head, “I try not to think about it. Wasn’t a very fun night for me.” You try to laugh it off. He doesn’t like where his mind is going, but he has to know.

“It already sounds like he took advantage of you, but did he-”

“No!”, you’re quick to cut him off, “No, nothing like that. I promise. It was just never… good for me?” You phrase it as if it’s a question. Like you don’t believe yourself.

“I don’t know, he always made it about his needs and I never- he never cared about mine. It never even felt like a relationship. He only cared or seemed interested when my clothes were off. I don’t even think he knew my birthday or what my favorite color was.” You wince, trying to pull your hand away from his to cover yourself up again. “This is so embarrassing.” His heart breaks for you. Right after you left your mom's, the world found some way to put you with a man who didn’t even care to get to know you. What a fucking loser.

“What’s so embarrassing about that?”, he wonders. Pulling your hand back to your lap, his other reaches to trace your jaw. “He’s the one who should be embarrassed, never taking you into consideration. That’s not what a real man does.”

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

Your brain falters. Almost resets from its original coding as Bob swipes his thumb across your jaw. Even as he mindlessly comforts you, his eyes never look away from yours. They never drift past the part of you he’s trying to reach.

Because that’s the thing. Even when discussing the intimate topic, evading the real words, he’s not trying to reach any other part of you except for you as a whole. Not just a body part he can use for his own gratification.

And in just being his wonderfully genuine self, you find yourself emotional but also incredibly turned on.

It might just be the bare minimum, but it feels like more. It feels like Bob.

“You ok?”, he asks a little quieter this time. You manage to blink yourself out of your daze, recentering yourself to his calloused hand’s gentle touch.

“Yeah”, you manage to breathe over a whisper, “What about you?” You dare to ask.

“What about me?”, he returns, not understanding your question.

“Do you-”, you swallow, “Take other people's needs into consideration?” He blinks, quickly. A twitch of a smile ghosts across his face, before he nods. He understands what you’re asking.

“Your needs are mine”, his voice, now husky, whispers back. You could tremble at the sound. Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage.

“In that case, I’m gonna need you to kiss me, Bob.” That lopsided smile makes an appearance before he slowly leans in, brushing his lips against yours. It’s gentle, soft. Not enough. He backs away, not daring to push you any further.

You let go of his hand, reaching for the back of his head to guide him back to you. Your foreheads touch, and his eyes flick between yours and down to your lips. A silent question you answer by attaching your lips back to his. He returns it with fervor.

Turning your head, you deepen the kiss, running your hand through his shorter hair. He gives you exactly what you give him, not trying to go any further than you’re willing. 

You dare to swipe your tongue over his lips and he welcomes it with a quiet hmmph.

His hand slides to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t ask for more, just massages where his fingers go. Or at least that’s what it feels like as your brows wrinkle in pure pleasure.

His touch has you aching for more, and as you try to scoot down the bench, your seatbelt stops you. Breaking away for a split second, you move to undo the barrier. Bob does the same, albeit much quicker than you’re able to with your shaky fingers.

The feeling of Bob’s lips moving down your tilted jaw certainly don’t help.

Your hand falters, and he stops.

“Is this ok?”, he asks under his breath.

“Yeah, more than”, you exhale. His mouth returns, trailing his lips from your jaw to the top of your neck. And you’re still too far away. His nose nudges against your jawline, moving to where he can get better access to what he wants. His glasses scrape against your cheek as he opens his mouth.

The seat belt clicks and you’re on the move. Hands fumbling to grip the back of his neck as he continues to kiss your skin. Your eyes flutter and close, your hand finds his knee, gripping on for dear life. 

His lips find their way back to yours, knees knocking into each other as you desperately try to get closer to him. You can feel yourself getting hotter by the second, butterflies making their descent.

You break to catch your breath, his fanning over your face and pushing loose strands of hair outwards. Braving to open your eyes, all you see are the fogging lenses of his glasses.

You don’t have time to admire the sight before his lips drag down your previously untouched skin, the other side of your neck he didn’t explore before. You hum in enjoyment, spurring on his tongue to trace over every inch of skin he’s kissed.

“Bobby”, you mumble, “So- so good.” Your hand drifts higher, dragging over the rough denim of his thigh. You’re trying and failing not to imagine what’s underneath, whining at the thought.

His large hand moves to splay over your hip. But what nearly does you in is his fingers landing right where your shirt rides up from your jeans. The touch sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming on your skin, hair sticking up on your arms.

He’s kissing you again, wet skin on your neck cooling against the air as it dries. Your knees bump his again, and you swear to god the next time will be the last.

You don’t even think really, just go on instinct as they knock into each other for another goddamn time. Lifting your leg, you swing it over his lap, where you now find yourself sitting. It’s more of an awkward hunch so your head doesn’t hit the roof. 

His hands aren’t on you anymore, they must have fallen off during the move. His head hits the headrest, eyes wide under those damn glasses. Oh shit, he doesn’t want this.

You both just sit there, chests falling and rising. You’re just as surprised as he is by your own position.

“I can move”, you quickly try to undo what you’ve already done. His hands shoot out to your hips, anchoring you to him.

“Please don’t”, he huffs and swallows. Hands twitching where they rest. Your hand reaches forward, moving through his hair as you settle into your position. For a split second, just as your fingers move, your brain so lovingly reminds you of where you’ve seen this familiar scene before.

Your dream- before it turned into a nightmare.

A flash of panic tries to run its course through your nervous system but then- a trace of his finger down your cheek, delicately pushing your hair behind your ear. He’s here. This is real.

“Where’d you go?”, he whispers. You don’t say anything. Instead, you push forward, needing to feel him again. To know this is a dream you aren’t waking up from.

His lips are just as warm and soft as they were two seconds ago, but there’s something different. Something deeper. A need in you that he’s more than happy to indulge.

And then. your hips graze right over his as you try to get closer. A deep sound comes from his throat, making your mouth vibrate. Interesting.

You test it again, and this time it’s a little louder, his grip on your hip just a tiny bit tighter. Not hurting in any way, just a sense of pressure that lets you know he feels you. You test again, feeling him harden under his jeans.

“Shit”, he hisses as you take your turn to kiss his sharp jawline. Just the slightest whisper of scruff tickling your lips. “Sweetheart yer killin’ me here-” His accent creeps out, and you smile against his skin. 

Your hand slides down the back of his shirt, just barely enough to feel what you have yet to see. His hips buck against yours in a twitch as you barely tug on his earlobe with your teeth. His back is warm beneath your touch and you’re aching to feel more of him.

You can feel yourself start to sweat, windows just starting to fog up the longer you stay hooked to each other.

A harsh bright light sears through your eyelids and you immediately unattach yourself from Bob’s neck, not unlike a leech. His hands remain in your hair and on your waist, but he goes rigid as you stop.

“Car”, you tap his shoulder.

“Shit”, he says as he pulls you under him, flat against the bench seat. You try not to yelp at the motion, but your legs are now wrapped around his hips which pin you to the fading leather. He rests his weight on his elbows, minding not to press anymore against you.

The headlights are bright enough to blind anyone who comes within 50 feet, but all you can see is the direction they turn in. And they’re getting closer.

“What if it’s someone we know?”, you whisper into the echo of your breathing. He looks down at you, and you see it. Fear.

Shifting his weight onto his hands, Bob lifts his head just enough to see through the passenger window. He sighs. Throat bobbing when he swallows. Where your mouth was just exploring. 

Jesus, how stupid are you? Why did you think it was ok to have a makeout session in a car like a teenager?

Well, you never actually did that as a teenager. But this makes you feel like one who’s out way past curfew with a boy her parents disapprove of.

“I don’t think we know them”, he whispers, ducking his head out of view.

You’re able to take a breath at that. Bob relaxes, head dropping to your shoulder to catch his own.

“What are they doing?”

“I don’t know, probably scoping out a makeout spot”, you hit him lightly on the shoulder and he shakes above you. You both stop and listen, just waiting to see if they get any closer.

“I’m sorry”, you have the urge to tell him after a minute.

“What’re you sorry for?”, he lifts his head.

“I got a little carried away.”

“We were having fun weren’t we?”, he asks through a laugh and you nod at him. “Just kinda forgot where we were.” Your smile falls.

“We have to be more careful.”

“I know”, he searches your eyes, “To be fair I had no ulterior motives when I parked here.” You know he didn’t. Technically you were the one to make the first move, which is something you never did with douchebag. He initiated everything, but with Bob it’s just different. You want him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before. And sometimes it makes it hard to hold back. Because you don’t just want his body. You want to talk to him, spend time with him. You want him as a whole.

You didn’t even catch yourself staring.

“Ok, I think they’re leaving.” He looks back at you and stops. “What?”, he asks with a twinge of a smile. And if you didn’t already feel like a teenager right now, the grin on his face makes you smitten like one. That and the fact that you can still feel how hard he is through his jeans. 

“Nothing”, you smile as your hand cards through his hair, “Thanks for taking me out here.”

“I’d say anytime, but I think next time we should find some place a little more private.”

“No, but seriously”, you stop him, “Thank you.” He searches your eyes and comes back with something you can’t place. Maybe he understands that it’s more than just taking you out here. That you’re thanking him for more than you can ever repay. But you start with pushing his glasses back up his nose because he’s too busy looking at you to notice they’ve been slowly sliding down.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Just lowers himself and presses his lips against yours one last time.

His head pops up, much like a groundhog’s would, before he slides off your body, leaving you cold in his wake. You watch as he shifts gears and- Jesus. When did his hands get so veiny? You remain in your laid-back position as he starts the truck up and peels out of the parking lot. His hand falls to your calf and you unabashedly check out the veins that trace up his forearms. God damn it Bob, it makes it hard to cool down when you know those hands were all over you just a few minutes ago.

Only when you round the corner do you sit back up, feeling a little safer to show your face. That was cutting it close. But at the same time you can’t find yourself caring. Things felt normal for a second. You were back in your Bob bubble. And even when something manages to pop it, he keeps you close enough so the fall doesn’t hurt.

His truck slows down in front of your house, and you turn to say goodbye. His face is still flushed, despite the fact that he rolled the windows down on the way over. 

“What is it then?”, he asks out of nowhere.

“What’s what?”, you ask confused.

“Your favorite color?”, it’s a broad question, one that’s never left you feeling quite this elated to answer before. Because this time your answer is staring right back at you.

“Blue”, you respond.

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

Monday back at work is more or less the same as the past week. Everyone of you is putting in your flight hours as you run over maneuvers before getting in the air.

No matter what kind of breeze is blowing in with the San Diego tides, it does nothing to cool you as you make your way back to the tarmac.

You were nervous walking in this morning. Phoenix must have threatened them with some less than kind words, or else you’re sure Hangman would have said something already. He might have given you a brief glance, but nothing else. He didn’t linger.

You asked her what happened after you left and she just shrugged.

“I feel kinda bad, but I pointed the Lieutenant in the direction of someone who was looking for a uniform to have some fun with. I had to drive Fanboy home after, and he almost threw up in my car, but we didn’t see Lieutenant Douchebag again.” So thanks to Nat, no one bothers you about it.

But then there’s Rooster. You’re not sure what happened with him after you left with Bob Friday night, but he’s having a hard time looking away. It’s not pointed at you per say. It feels almost like he keeps zoning out, but right at you. And when you feel his eyes on your face, he looks away when you turn.

You shake it off when you feel him staring as you settle yourself in your jet, in the classroom as you flip through the pages of your manual, and at your lunch table when Bob’s knee knocks into yours.

He doesn’t even look away from Fanboy when he does it. Just checking in. You knock him right back.

You did end up falling asleep on Bob while National Treasure played in the background Saturday afternoon. After what happened the previous night you didn’t get much sleep. Between Tyler, your little makeout sesh in Bob’s truck, and then the gnawing at the back of your head reminding you about your nightmare, you had plenty of material to keep you awake.

It was a lazy Saturday. What you both needed. Sleeping, actually sleeping, with Bob wasn’t something new to you, but a Saturday nap with you on his chest was something to behold. His slender figure might be unassuming, but it was possibly the best sleep you’ve had in the middle of the day. Actually, it might have been the best sleep you’ve ever had. Period.

And he had you home before too late. Or before someone asked why you were with Bob all day long. You did tell your dad you were out shopping with a couple friends. When he asked what you got, you pulled out a couple pieces you’re sure you’ve worn before but he believed he was seeing for the first time.

You tried not to let your cheeks heat up when he asked what else you got up to. Memories of Bob kissing you lazily, glasses forgotten on the coffee table, and his hands tracing up and down your back come to mind. 

“Not much else”, you had told him. He believed it, and moved on. Because why would he have any reason not to?

It’s not that you don’t feel guilty, because you do. You’re just not sure he would understand. You’re not lying to him because you’re ashamed or embarrassed, it’s because you want to keep this one good thing you have. It’s not like when you were young and hiding something because it hurt, you’re hiding it because it’s good. It doesn’t weigh you down, it lifts you up and it’s not anybody’s business but yours and Bob’s.

So by Wednesday when in any other instance you’d have huffed and puffed about all the pushups you’ve had to do, you get down to business. Hands sweaty on the tarmac as Hondo counts you and Rooster off. Fritz had gotten the better of him, Payback and Fanboy you.

Staring ahead, you watch as Phoenix and Bob get ready to head out. She stops before you, crouching as you go up and down. Giving you a great view of her groin.

“Be careful when you go back in there”, she warns you, “Mav and Cyclone are both watching and listening.”

“Thank you Nat’s crotch”, you sputter between breaths. Her and Bob walk off, laughter trailing after them, but you’re still wondering why Cyclone is bothering to watch. Surely he’s got better things to do than supervising your squadron.

It’s getting harder and harder not to kiss Bob hello or goodbye when he picks you up and drops you off. Your car is still being taken care of because of the extent of the damage, and even if it’s tough to not have your own car, you’re not heartbroken that he’s still driving you around. You almost invited him in that afternoon since your dad was staying late. But you thought better of it.

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

You walk up on Bob and Phoenix finishing with their pushups when you head up with Coyote. Glancing a last look at the tarmac, you watch as Cyclone approaches Hondo. Arms folded across his chest, sunglasses perched on his nose.

He’s been in and out of the classroom since yesterday. Exchanging quiet words with Mav, and occasionally Warlock. Mouth flat, eyes flicking over his shoulder every once in a while. Your dad hasn’t said anything. Not that you’d had any chance to ask him. He’s been staying later and later lately. Eyes tired when he walks in the door, a smile trying to cover it up. It never works.

Coyote’s jet roars to life, soaring in front of you and pulling you out of whatever conspiracy you might have been threading.

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

Descending your ladder, you watch as Coyote drops to the tarmac next to his jet to start his pushups. Serves him right for thinking he’d get the jump on you.

You’re wiping the sweat from your forehead as you notice Hondo walk over to Coyote, motioning for him to stand up.

“Hey, what’s going on?”. Coyote's furrowed brow mirrors your own as you rest your helmet on your hip.

“Mav wants everyone to report back to the classroom”, Hondo explains with a brooding expression.

“What?”, you laugh, “I beat him fair and square!”

“Don’t worry Mantis, next time when I win we’ll even it out so neither of us will have to do any”, Coyote jokes.

“Like I’d let you get the chance”, you mutter. He playfully scowls at you while Hondo remains with his hands behind his back.

“I don’t think there’ll be anymore pushups anytime soon”, Hondo interrupts as he ushers the two of you back to the building. You share a confused look with Coyote as you head inside.

Everyone’s back in their seats as you give Bob a questioning glance. He shrugs his shoulders, saying I know as much as you do. Right as you and Coyote sit down, everyone shifts to sit straighter in their seats as Cyclone stands at the podium, leaving Mav behind him.

“As you all know”, he starts, “for the past two weeks you’ve been tasked with practicing basic maneuvers, evasion, and endurance.” You shift in your seat, the sweat on the back of your neck dripping below your collar.

“What you don’t know is that this has been preliminary training for something much bigger. Starting tomorrow, you will be training for six weeks to take part in a mission you will learn more about in the following days.” Your lungs tighten, hands turning clammy at the new information.

“We can’t be putting energy into anything other than the tasks at hand. Which is why we will be putting an end to any bets involving physical activity of any kind”, his eyes flit over his shoulder at Mav. Your dad’s jaw clenches as he stares out the window. He can’t stand to look any of you in the eye.

And then it hits you.

The mission he told you about a few weeks ago. The mission Cyclone was keeping you in mind for.

“This isn’t going to be easy, which is why this squadron was selected. You have the best chance of successfully completing this mission and coming home. So keep your head down”, his eyes flick to you, “Put in the work, focus on the mission, and you won’t have anything to worry about.” You meet his gaze and then follow back to Mav who’s already looking at you. There’s no playfulness in the way he stares. All you can see is remorse. A man who’s sorry for what you’re about to go through.

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

Taglist:

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[lewisjpullmanfans]

‘Spaceballs’: Lewis Pullman in Talks to Join Father Bill Pullman in Sequel (Exclusive)

The actor's father starred in the original as the dashing Lone Starr, and will reprise the role.

Sources tell The Hollywood Reporter that Lewis Pullman will play a character named Starburst, the sun of Queen Vespa (Zuniga) and Lone Starr (Bill Pullman). Franchise newcomer Keke Palmer will play a role by the name of Destiny. The two, along with Gad, are the leads.

[lottesreads]

As someone who grew up on Spaceballs and discovered Lewis with TGM I have been saying this FOR THREE YEARS😭

[lottesreads]

ok so I have just read through your 'Why me?' series and oh my god!

i can't believe you're at work AND school when you're writing this because I have no idea where you'd find the time to weave such an intricate story.

your writing is so incredibly amazing, the pacing and the characters and their reaction and the slow burn? I think I might be in love with you.

I really hope to read more of your story but take all the time you need, I write a little myself and I know just how difficult it can be, especially if you're busy.

thank you so much for sharing your work!

💙

Oh um, don’t mind me definitely not crying 🥲

Literally, thank you so much! This story had been in my head for a while before I even started writing (work left lots of time for day dreaming) That’s also why it’s taken me almost 2 years to get fourteen parts out. So I appreciate your kindness🥹

And don’t worry, I’m working on the next part right now! So hopefully soon 🤞

But seriously, I hope you know how much your words mean to me so thank you 💕

[veejiez]

u know seeing regulars on my notifs makes me happy it's like i run a cafe and there's regular customers who stop by 😭

[theyneedhelplol]

me, a veteran top gun maverick fan and Bob girlie, seeing the Lewis Pullman/Bob character renaissance coming before my eyes:

(the fics have return)

[lottesreads]

(the readers have return)

[muddfloyd]

So, being chronically Top Gun brained has done a lot for me, but it has only recently become part of my Stardew Valley playing.

I decided to name my character Bobbette and romance Harvey and then name every animal after Top Gun things. So, here’s that list for y’all’s enjoyment:

Horse - FA-18 Hornet

Cow - Mooster

Chickens - Dogfight, Football, Fangirl, Coyote

Void Chicken - Phoenix

Blue Chicken - Icehen

Cat - Cruise Kazansky (get it!? Because it’s a TomCat?!)

Pig - HardDeck

Goat - Hondo (Hondo is the goat and I stand by that)

Sheep - GForce (cause of the sheer force of gravity)

Dinosaur - Old Relix

Ducks - Goose, Rooster

Rabbits - Maverick (I used to have a rabbit in real life named Mav), Mantis (shoutout to @lottesreads )

[lottesreads]

Ok all of these are amazing and Hondo is very much the goat BUT you named a rabbit after Mantis🥹

Never thought that would happen but here we are and I’m loving it 🫶