#Robert Cording | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clbrq · 6 months

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UH OH - C. BROCK & S. GOLBACH

warnings: SMUT, cursing/swearing, alcohol consumption. i love this idea (not requested)

MINORS DNI.

-/-

One night stand’s weren’t usually your thing—you found it distasteful. You preferred to get absolutely ruined by a guy who wanted you for you; not just for a quick fuck. Tonight, however, you were willing to bend your morals for the angel God had dropped from heaven in front of you.

Cole Robert Brock, more commonly known as Colby, had the hidden arousal inside you brewing from the second you laid your eyes upon his glorious presence. He was beautiful—gorgeous eyes, body, face and personality. You were practically drooling all over this man before he’d even introduced himself.

The club you were at was packed—sweaty bodies grinding together to the obnoxiously loud music that was blasting around the room. You weren’t a massive fan of clubs, either, but due to your ‘party animal’ friends birthday; you were forced to come along for her special night.

And whilst ordering a shot to ease the tiredness that bugged your brain, that’s where you bumped into Colby, sipping on a glass of whiskey, watching the scenery behind him.

“You not having a good night?” He had spoke up, drawing your attention away from the burning sensation in your throat.

Looking up to meet his ocean blue eyes, you chuckled at his words, “Nope. I’d rather be asleep right now.”

Returning the noise, Colby scooted close to you, “Me too,” He informed you, “My friend recently got out of a long relationships so he wants to get hammered to forget about her.”

“Damn,” You breathed, “I wish my story was that deep. It’s my friends birthday—she’s a wild card, so likes to get drunk every chance she can get.”

“You not that kind of girl?”

Smiling at him, his pearly whites flashing at you causing a feeling inside you hadn’t felt in a while, “I can when I want to be. Just not on a Wednesday night.”

Colby laughed with you, bringing the delicately decorated glass cup to his pink lips, letting the bitter drink slip down his throat, “I like girls like that.”

“You do?” You almost whispered, as if to hide the arousal in your body like it would be evident in your voice.

“Mhm.” He replied, your eyes meeting—your lips parting as his blue iris’ stared deeply into yours, sparking an unusual excitement in you.

And that’s how you ended up inside a cramped bathroom stall; sweaty and wet with Colby’s cock ramming inside you.

You’d never felt like this before. Every guy you’d ever been with sexually had never made you feel as good as Colby was right now. The way he would rub circles on your sensitive clit as he pounded his dick deep inside your aching hole made your legs shake with every thrust.

“Fuckkk,” Colby dragged, his head lolling forward to rest in the crevice of your shoulder, causing an arch in your back as you reacted to his hot, alcohol ridden breath on your skin.

Your nimble fingers were tugging on his hair, occasionally pulling at the brunette strands when the tip of his cock abused the sweet spot inside you, erupting a loud moan from your mouth.

To allow you to not get caught, Colby connected your swollen lips, kissing you swift and hard to erase the sound of your pornographic whines of pleasure. Your tongues danced around as the grip of his ring-filled hands against your hips grew tighter as his balls did too.

“Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum.” He mumbled against you, pulling away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the cord in your stomach snapped, ripping an aggressive orgasm out of you both. The way Colby’s desperate voice mixed with his quick fingers against your clit caused you to cream around his twitching cock. Colby spilt his warm seem deep inside your quivering hole, as he breathed deeply against your face. The stench of neat Whiskey wafting up your nose while you both came down from your highs.

Soon enough, Colby pulled out slowly, apologising quietly as you winced at the feeling. Then, proceeding to help you back into your clothes, and doing the same for himself.

An awkward silence erupted in the stall as you straightened out your small skirt, not looking at the man who had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“Hey, gimme your number,” He uttered, breaking the silence, “I don’t just fuck and dip.”

Agreeing with him quietly, you took his phone from his hands, typing in your number before handing it back. He thanked you, as he unlocked the bathroom door, letting you leave first.

After the encounter from the stall, you lost Colby in the crowd. You were doubtful he would text you, but the thought was nice. He was an attractive guy, and probably had a lot of girls he could do that with, whenever he wanted—you weren’t special.

Oh, boy, were you wrong.

As you climbed into bed that evening, feeling the alcohol rush through your body as you stilled for the first time this evening, a loud notification rang from your phone—causing you to jump in surprise. Picking up your phone, an unknown number had sent you a message.

Unknown: Hey, thank you for tonight. You’re definitely not the kind of girl you made yourself to be.

You chuckled at the message, thinking back at the conversation you had previously before your arousing fuck.

You: The pleasure is all mine. I don’t do that kinda stuff, so count yourself lucky.

Unknown: Believe me, I do. Hope you got home safe, goodnight stranger.

Smiling to yourself as you locked your phone, you fell asleep with a full heart—your mind swelling with the images of your night.

But you thought to yourself, that was only a one time thing—‘I won’t do that again.’

Again, how wrong you could be.

Approximately 3 days after your encounter with Colby, your found yourself at another public setting with your friends. This time, it was a friend of a friend’s party in downtown Los Angeles. And this ‘friend of a friend’ hosted massive, popular parties, where hundreds of people attended.

Not your usual thing you do for fun, but your earlier experience with Colby had sparked a confidence in you that you hadn’t seen before.

And that’s exactly how you got talking to Sam Golbach.

A famous, well-liked social media star, who was recently single, and at the party to socialise with as many new people as possible. And to ultimately get as drunk as he possible could withstand. After a few drinks of your own, Sam’s words were going in one ear, and out the other as you watched his face closely—thoroughly enjoying the way his eyes would trail down to your cleavage every now and again.

Gnawing on your lip as he spoke, you grabbed his hand boldly, “Hey, I saw something really cool upstairs, wanna come see?”

Sam could see blatantly past your lie, knowing exactly what was on your mind. And how that so obvious lie, and his incredible discovery skills was what lead to have Sam’s long cock down your throat in a random bedroom.

Music blared from downstairs as Sam pushed your head down onto his dick, groaning at the way your throat contracted around him as you gagged. Tears brimmed in your eyes as your tongue effortlessly licked the underside of his cock, adding to his pleasure.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He mumbled, his eyes never leaving your glossy ones as he watched you devour his member.

Moving your head upwards, you suckled on his angry tip, whining at the taste of his pre-cum as your hand crept up to jerk the base off. Sam’s head threw back as he lost himself in the pleasure while you worked your magic with your mouth. Sam’s dick was long, skinnier than most, but exceeding in length. The cause for your struggle as he fucked your throat.

Looking up to see his handsome face, you moaned around him as your eyes met. Sam had gorgeous eyes, blue and mesmerising—evidently drawing you in to the situation. He also had well-cared for hair, his blonde locks sticking to his forehead as he sweat from the heat erupting from his body. You know they’d feel good being pulling on as he fucked you.

Taking you by surprise, you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth as a string of curses fell from his lips—his salty cum shooting at the back of your throat.

“Yeah, take all my cum, baby.” Sam breathed, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy as he held tightly onto your hair, holding your head in place as he finished.

Swallowing his load, you lifted your lips from his cock, and wiping your mouth clean from any spillages. Sam was already staring down at you with a lopsided smile on his flushed face.

“You’re incredible.”

“I’ve been told.” You joked, cheekily giggling up at him, erupting a head shake from him.

Sam didn’t speak another word as he handed you his phone, “Put your number in, I wanna see you again.” You smiled as you put your information inside his contacts and handed it back to him.

As you both fixed yourselves up, and headed back down to that party, going your separate ways; you pondered about how on God’s green Earth did you manage to have some sort of sexual interaction with two different guys in the space of a few days.

You’re weren’t like that, you never had been. It was extremely out of character for you, leading you to not inform your friends about your situation. You knew they’d be shocked, and dim your spark.

Sighing deeply, you poured yourself a drink, practically inhaling the mixture as you grimaced at the taste. You wanted to feel something other than total arousal right now.

“Hey, stranger.”

A familiar voice rang in your ears as you swivelled round to be greeted by your first one night stand of the week, Colby Brock, in all his sexy glory.

“Hey,” You replied, suddenly feeling ashamed of the blowjob you just gave to another ‘stranger.’

“Will you come with me? I wanna introduce you to my best friend.” Colby queried, smiling sweetly at you.

Your heart melted at his expression, suddenly feeling the need to do as he asked, “Sure, lead the way.”

As Colby carefully navigated you through the bustling crowds, your stomach flipped with nerves at the feeling of his hand in yours. Colby was sweet—you knew he didn’t just want you for your body.

“So, this is my best friend, Sam. Sam, this is the girl I was telling you about.”

Sam. Sam. Sam.

Your face dropped as your eyes met with the all too recognisable blue ones that were just staring seductively down at you as he came down your throat. The acts from tonight and a few days prior flashed before your eyes as you realised what you had done.

“Uh oh.”

I NEED PROPER SLEEP IM SO SORRY MY POSTING ISNT AS REGULAR

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

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Radar // Bob Floyd

Summary: After Phoenix and Bob are forced to eject after a freak bird strike—the Top Gun class find out a little bit more about their quiet back seat weapons systems officer.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd paring. Jake ‘Hangman’ Sersin Antagonist Angst.

Author Note: Absolutely obsessed with Bob atm. Open to make this a concept train— Bobs just so pure. I could write about him forever. For the purpose of this fictional universe OS ranks over Lieutenant.

“Bird Strike!--” Phoenix shouted, the jet buffering for a second before swinging to the right. Alarms instantly began to blare, a warning light popping up with one of Bob’s biggest fears. Fire. looking behind him out to the left of the cockpit, Bob could feel the panic rising in his chest at the quickly escalating severity of the situation unfolding.

“Phoenix, left engines on fire.” Bob relayed what was going on, even though he knew Phoenix already knew from the amount of alarms ringing off.

“Climbing!” Phoenix shouted as she pulled back on the throttle. “Throttling back, shutting off fuel to the left engine, extinguishing fire.” Bob watched as the right engine began to diminish, not something you’d want to see at a time like this.

“Phoenix, right engines out I repeat! right engines out!”

“It's still spinning, trying to restart the right engine.”

“Phoenix it's on fire, don't try to restart it!” Maverick's voice came through the comms as Bob watched on from the back seat, his mind running wild. Was this how he was going to go out? Was this it? A fucking Bird Strike? Bob's mind was blurred with images of you, your smile, your laugh. He thought what you would do in a world post him, if you'd move on, if you’d ever have children. It was easy to live with ignorance, but in situations like these the certainty of death was all too confronting. Every small moment with you Bob treated it like it would be the last, not a second was taken for granted, because he knew that every time he climbed into that back seat ready for take off? He may not get to experience another.

“Throttling up!” Phoenix reported as she climbed a little higher trying to restart the engine, but it was to no use. The engines completely cut out, bursting into fire. Bob could feel the heat radiating behind him, panic setting in heavily.

“Phoenix we’re on fire, we’re on fire!” Bob shouted.

“Dammit–” Phoenix sighed, not sure what her next move was going to be, but whatever it was, she had to think fast. It wasn't just her life on the line, but her back seaters as well. Spinning out of control and hurtling towards the mountain range below, Mavericks voice came over the comms once again.

“Phoenix, Bob, punch out now, punch out!” Maverick shouted in desperation.

“There's warning lights everywhere Phoenix, were in hydraulic failure.” Bob reported, his mind made up–but he had to wait for Phoenix to confirm they were punching out.

“I can't control it–” Phoenix panicked as she pulled and pushed the throttle she gripped in her hands, trying to control the fall.

“We’re going down Phoenix, we’re going in where going in!” Bob repeated. Automated warning signals blasting throughout the cockpit.

“You can't save it, eject, eject!” maverick called. The three words of confirmation finally left Phoenixes mouth, Bob let out a heavy sigh as he grabbed his eject handles.

“Eject, eject, eject!” Phoenix shouted.

“Ejecting–” Bob replied, pulling harshly on his cords, only to smack into the lid of the cockpit on his way out. Shooting high into the sky in a picnic. His shoot had come loose. “Shit!” Bob panicked as he fell free towards the ground below, working frantically to pull his shoot to slow down. Only when doing so did it jerk him up fast, compressing his torso until he let out a blood curdling groan, blacking out as he descended to the ground.

—---

It was hard to get a read on Bob Floyd. His call sign was his nickname—short for Robert. Just plan, simple Bob. The other pilots at Miramar for the life of them couldn’t get a read on him. Bob was quiet and in all aspects, reserved. They kinda just decided as a collective unit to throw the call sign Bob back at him because in all honesty? Bob didn’t really try all that hard to give them any sort of personality.

He was simply a back -seater. A weapons system’s officer who was damn good at his job and just so happened to be in love with the Miramar Operations Specialist. His darling wife of two blissful years and best friend of five, Bob Floyd held that card close to his chest. Just as close as his wedding band strung around his dog tags, tucked under his flight suit.

Your name was Renée Spencer-Floyd, but everyone just called you by your call sign. Radar. To be fair, you and Bob couldn’t help but to laugh some nights. It had to have been the hyphenated last name that threw people off your scent. And to give a smidge of credit Floyd was a pretty common last name. So to have Spencer-Floyd and Floyd at Miramar at the same time? The reach wasn’t all that far.

“Well, there doesn't seem to be anything broken besides the few busted ribs Lieutenant Floyd, but I would like to keep you both overnight for observations. You know–” Doctor Chris tried to explain to the two obviously shaken aviators. “To be sure the signs of shock diminish and to double check that there's no internal bleeding anywhere.”

“Isn't that where the bloods supposed to be?” Bob tried to crack a joke, his ribs busted in three separate places from the impact of his shoot ripping him up, faulty– but still life saving. “Internal?”

“I guess you could put it that way.” Doctor Chris chuckled to himself as he quickly checked Bob’s pupils. One by one with a small flashlight. “You got any family we can call? A girlfriend perhaps?” Phoenix smirked to herself as she sat on the bed across the room, Bob didn't have a girlfriend did he? Surely he would have mentioned it.

“Uh, yeah actually, you could call my wife? She’s probably either not aware of what's happened or trying her best to manage expectations that she's cool, calm and collected one hundred percent of the time albeit while she's screaming on the inside.” Bob rambled, too afraid to look over at Phoenix.

“Wife got a name Bob?” Dr, Chris asked as he clicked his flash light back into the breast pocket of his coat. Pulling out a pen and notepad to write the details down.

“Uh, it's uh, OS Renee Spencer-Floyd–” Bob squinted at the squeal that left Phoenix’s mouth, her jaw dropping to the ground as Dr. Chris wrote down the details, leaving soon after to go contact you immediately about Bob's situation. There was a few months of silence before Bob had the courage to look over at Phoenix, still in shock. Not from the crash, but from the new revelations. “I don't wanna hear it.” Bob begged.

“You’re married!? More specifically to the OS!? Radar!? As in the radar, our all seeing eye in the sky?” Phoenix had always admired what you did just as much as you did her. “You and Radar are married?”

“For two years, yeah” Bob pulled out his dog tags that were tucked away into the pocket of his hospital gown. The nurse had made him take them off before he had his multiple x-rays, having given them back shortly after with his wedding band still strung around the chain. Holding it up so it spun in a small slow circle. “We both transferred over from Lemoore, try and stay as close as possible, whenever we can.”

“We've all been in a group together at the Hard Deck and not once have I seen either of you interact like any more than friends?” Phoenix questioned.

“How are you and Bob going?” Maverick asked as you sat with him at the bar. Sipping down the cold beer Penny had offered you as you sat. The pair of you had just made your way over from being briefed about this highly classified, dangerous and in your professional opinion— ridiculously suicidal mission.

“We’re good.” you nodded, pressing your lips together as you let the bottle rest on the bar. “You know, trying to keep things quiet while we’re stationed here, a need to know basis type quiet.” Pete Michell had always seen you as the daughter he never had, always keeping up to date with your life, both personal and professional.

“But if you had it your way he wouldn't be here right now would he?” Maverick smirked, watching as you looked over across the bar to where your husband sat, watching the other aviators play pool as he ate what you could only assume to be peanuts from a plastic cup. Taking the final sip of your first beer you quickly gestured at Penny for another, fishing some cash out of the pocket of your Naval skirt, accepting the fresh beer.

“After that briefing are you kidding me? Hell no, but I don't make the rules, do I?” you smirked, taking another sip, you still couldn't process what you had just been briefed on, but until you had a chance to sit down and really go through all the intricate details and program a simulation? You didn't want to think too much about it. Crossing the hard Deck you slowly approached your husband, god he looked good in his uniform. He always did.

“Is this seat taken?” you cooed, coming up beside Bob close enough to graze his shoulder. Small, undetected touches were always a go to for the pair of you, indiscrete but full of love and electricity. Turning to face you with a bright smile beaming Bob shoved over, making enough room for you to sit beside him. The blush across his cheeks made him feel like a teenager again, talking to girls was never a strong suit of his, but you always seemed to make it easy, well, as easy as it could be for a guy like Bob.

“Please, have a seat.” Bob replied softly. “When did you get in?” He asked curiously, drinking in the sight of you. Completely head over heels.

“I literally just got here, I went straight to the briefing room when I got off the plane.” you explained, having had to take a separate flight to Bob. “I feel like my heads going to explode.” You took a sip of your beer as Bob bummed your side.

“That bad huh?” he questioned, taking a sip of his own beverage— a cup of ice water. You nodded in response with a small sigh. Looking at Bob, he could see the worry swirling around in your eyes. “A need to know basis I’m assuming?”

“The Admiral will brief you and the guys tomorrow.” you smiled softly. Feeling a presence coming towards you. Catching your attention as you took just one more sip of your beer. “All due respect though–” you paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of your husband, taking into the bottle neck of your beer discretely. “If I had it my way, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” Bob understood where you were coming from, he never really had to worry about you being in life threatening danger as much as you did. More often than not you were stationed stateside, and when you weren’t? You mostly stuck to patrol boats, the non-combatant type that just sailed the seas on reconnaissance. Bob knew that after this mission was over you’d both had a total of two blissful months together before new stations were sent out, so in his mind? Any time he got to spend with you was a blessing, no matter the danger.

“And with all due respect, ma’am.” Bob teased, his fingers dancing discreetly with the hem of your naval skirt, his eyes roaming your face, taking in all the features, all the beautiful flaws that made you perfect in every respect. “I'm just thankful that I get to be stationed in the same place as you.” you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you smirked.

“And who would this lovely lady of the sea be?” Jake Seresin, you'd heard rumours but never had you ever had to encounter the man who had an ego the size out Mt Everest. “Bob? Care to introduce us to your friend here? One of Top Guns finest i presume?”

“Uh–” Bob stammered over his words as he cleaned peanut crumbs from his uniform. “This is uh–um i–” rolling your eyes as you chuckled as you stood, holding your hand out for Jack to shake.

“OS Renee ‘Radar’ Spencer-Floyd.” you introduced yourself. “I presume it's Hangman?” you saw the colour slightly fade from Jack’s face as he shook your hand. “Nice to meet you, and the rest of the Top Gun class.” you gestured to those who stood around the pool table.

“You're our operations specialist?” Jake questioned with a hint of disbelief in his tone. “God damn we’re all doomed boys.” Jake smirked, biting his bottom lip as he eyes you up and down.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.” you replied, slightly annoyed at the misogynist undertone Hangman had given you.

“Well, I'm keen to get to know more about you, so how about we go out to dinner sometime, you can tell me all about what it is you actually do and I can tell you how dangerous it is to fly fighter jets for a living?” You generally wanted to gag. Not only could you not process the severity of this mission but now you had Jake Hangman Seresin hitting on you in front of the class you had to get home safe to their families but also your husband. Rolling your eyes you handed Bob your beer.

“Listen, Hangman, I'm flattered really, but–” you paused, feeling Bob's hand slipping up and down the back of your thigh gently, complete secrecy to his gentle touch. “I've got my hands full right now keeping you all alive and you really really arent my type.”

“Are you not into pilot's Radar?” Hangman questions, trying to read you as you chuckled and sat back down next to Bob.

“Weapons systems officers are more my type.” you teased, Bob couldn't hold his drink in as he splattered a cough. Shocked, you'd be so bold. The group laughed at the way Bob reacted to your comment.

“Well you're in luck Radar, Bob here's a weapons systems officer.” Coyote pointed out, having no idea you already knew.

“We are friends.” Bob agreed wholeheartedly before correcting Phoenix a little. “Well technically she's my best friend but I mean you get the drift.” Bob couldn't help but to smirk. It hit a little harder then Phoenix expected it to, thinking back to what Maverick had said earlier in the week.

“Dont tell me, tell his family.'' At the time Phoenix didn't know Bob’s family, but the fact you were Bob’s wife, changed everything.

“Holy shit– I can't believe it, you and the radar!” Phoenix clapped her hands as she slightly giggled to herself. “Woah, that's got me, I'm too stunned to speak.” Bob let out a small scoff, looking down at his feet.

“Yeah well, we don't really like to mix our personal and professional lives all that much.” Bob explained. “Hence why we don't really announce our relationship, our marriage to the entire navy. Just a small need to know group.” Bob explained as Phoenix listened, understanding wholeheartedly.

“Well thanks for letting me in.'' Phoenix smiled softly from across the room, Bob simply pressed his lips together and nodded in response, nervous for you to find out. “How long have you two been together?” Phoenix tilted her head to the side, waiting for Bob to respond.

“All up? It will be seven years this August, and boy has time stood still with her.” Beside his job as a weapons system officer, Phoenix had never really heard Bob speak about anything else so passionately. It was like a flood gate had been let open. “I’m telling you Phoenix, that woman?” Bob smiled bright from across the room. “Is the absolute love of my life, so thank you for allowing me to come home to her one more day.” Bobs thank you was as sincere as it could be. Tears in his eyes as he held his emotions in.

“Radar seems like a really nice person Bob, I'm glad you have someone to go home to, especially after today.” Phoenix smiled softly, feeling confident in her choices today, the ones that led to both her and Bob both still being alive and breathing and most importantly, both in one piece. “She's quiet though? like you.”

“She's passionate too, loves her job Phoenix, she’s probably in that communications office yelling at the Admiral about something that needs to be altered or changed completely to keep us all safe up there.” Bob chuckled, knowing you were always fighting for everyone else. “Hell she’d challenge anyone to keep pilots safe, she doesn't believe in suicise missions.”

“Does she think this one is?” Phoenix asked sheepishly. “Does she think this missions a suicide mission?” Bob was quiet for a second or two, knowing how you felt about this one.

“She knows that there's a possibility someone won't be coming home, but, she's trying her best to make sure we all do, whoever ends up going.”

—--------

You weren't aware of what happened. You were in the middle of an operation that required all of your focus, time, and most importantly your expertise.

“Two minutes and fifteen seconds is an impossible time to match, with the combination of the steep climbs and the fact whoever flys this mission is going to have to withstand incredibly force, i highly recommend pushing to two thirty–”

“Unbelivable–” Admiral Bates groaned. “You played whatever stupid game on the beach with the aviators and got close!” Admiral Bates was up in your personal space in the commander's station. A dark room full of radars and operations systems. you felt your mind escaping back, not the the beach because of the dogfight football, but for something else, someone else. Bob.

“So—“ you cooed, walking with Bob up the beach along the water’s edge. “I'm a little pressed you didn’t take your shirt off.” you sighed playfully. Bob couldn’t hold back a laugh as he smiled bright, turning to you as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Oh yeah, no I uh—I didn’t want to bruise Hangman’s ego.” Bob teased kicking the water that lapped around his ankles. “You know, with how absolutely ripped I am.” You chuckled in response, letting the conforming silence fall between the pair of you. “Still would have enjoyed the show-“ you smirked, thinking about the way Bob felt, his warmth, his touch. “I think Rooster might be onto us–” Bob interjected with a worrisome tone. His fingertips danced with yours as you walked side by side. “I think he saw you sneaking into my bunk the other night.” you couldn't help the scoff that left your mouth. Nodding in response.

“Oh yeah, caught me red handed, but I told him the next morning we were doing paperwork–”

“Paperwork?” Bob questioned. “You couldn't have come up with any other excuse?”

“I was caught off guard!” you laughed, defending yourself as you bumped Bob's side, him doing the same to you with his hip. “Besides, if anyone was to know, I think Rooster would be the absolute least of our concerns.”

“Since when does Bob talk to girls?” Coyote couldn’t help but lock onto the pair of you as you walked up the beach. Rooster watched as you bumped into Bob before he bumped back into you. Laughing loudly. “I mean they were stationed at Lemoore together so maybe he’s just comfortable with her?” Rooster mentioned, sparking a questioning look from Coyote.

“What?”“Who told you that?” Coyote pressed, crossing his arms as he watched on.

“Radar did? We had lunch in the mess the other day, just ran into her, why?” Rooster explained as he watched Bob try to trip you up. Thinking back to when he had caught you sneaking into Bob bunk, he was sure paperwork did not involve the things he heard, but for what it was worth? Go Bob.

“Bob told me they’d never met before until last Thursday—“ Coyote questioned, dumbfounded at the sight he was seeing as Bob made you scream like a teenager as he wrapped his arms around your waist, tackling you gently into the water.

“I knew taking a chance on you was almost as incredibly risky as taking a chance on Maverick—at least he lives up to the expectations set for him.” Admiral Bates hissed your way, throwing insult after insult at you as you stood your ground. You’d run the systems, done the checks, done the math and the numbers, the risk to reward ratio wasn’t adding up. Rolling your eyes you proceeded with your judgment call, having simulated the mission over and over and over again.

“This is my professional opinion as an operations specialist, the numbers don't add up. It's gonna take one hell of a pilot to succeed and even then you have to accommodate for loss, he or she–” you hesitated for a moment. “Won't come home if you send them in at two fifteen.” you felt as if you were red in the face.

“I have no doubt in my mind that it is Radar, however, your judgment is skewed by the amount you have grown to know this class.” you could feel your heart racing. “They all accept this risks—“

“They all have families who love them?” You argued. “What excuse will be good enough when you tell them you had a choice to do this the right way and you pushed and pushed and pushed Admiral!” Slamming the stack of papers you held in your hand down on the table next to you in frustration. They never listened to you, a woman very much climbing the ladder in a man’s words.

“Those pilots have what it takes, Radar, it’s you who doesn’t have the faith—“

“It’s a god damn suicide mission!” You shouted, anger coursing through your veins. “And if you think it's doable, admiral, how about you fly it?” you hissed, gritting your teeth as you held your ground. “All due respect sir, this mission as important as it may be it isn't worth putting people's lives in danger any more than they have to be, if i can help it, i will, and in my expert opinion on the subject you either need to increase the time limit or find a damn good pilot who’s willing to self sacrifice.” A knock at the door interrupted the heavy moment between you and Admiral Bates. Taking a step back and a heavy sigh, you answered to the request harshly. Rooster popping his head through before standing to attention.

“Admiral Bates, OS Spencer-Floyd.” Rooster stood to attention before you waved him down.

“At ease, what can we do for you lieutenant?” you questioned frustratedly, still trying to regulate your anger at the situation.

“May I have a word Radar? In private?” Roosters concern was as clear as day even in such a dimly lit room. It worried you instantly as you followed him out of the communications office into the corridor.

“What's wrong whats, hey–!” you hissed as Rooster dragged you down the hall into a nearby room. Empty. “Rooster!” You and Rooster had always been friendly, your dad knew his dad. They’d flown together on the SS Hammerlock, before Goose and Maverick were sent to Miramar. Having always known each other, always finding comfort in each other’s presents. Rooster had always had a hunch you and Robert Floyd were slightly more than then friends, especially after he’d seen you and Bob leaving the Hard Deck together late one night after a few too many beers on the old timer, and even more so once he’d seen the way you and Bob interacted on the beach. And his suspensions were almost one hundred percent confirmed when he’d caught you red handed doing “paperwork” with Bob in his bunk. Almost as if you were still on your honeymoon, totally consumed and infatuated with one another. You and Bob were always careful about your levels of public displays of affection—but sometimes? You had to sneak a kiss or two in. Or in this case, Take ever inch he could give. Rooster had always had his suspicions, you and Bob were somewhat glued to the hip, best friends. Husband and wife.

“It's Bob'' Rooster signed, his hands coming down to slide across his face, pulling at his skin. “It's Bob, Renee.” Your heart sunk into your stomach, shit he had training today didn't he? Did something go wrong? Was he okay? Fuck, you could feel your face heating up, your heartbeat began to race as your voice cracked.

“What's– what's Bob got to do with me?” you asked, still trying to keep your composure. “Wouldn't–”

“A call came in from the Miramar Hospital–” you stopped listening after you heard the word hospital. Question after question spiraled uncontrollably out of your mouth. Rooster had just so happened to be passing by the administration office on base, one of the receptionists had kindly asked him to go find you. Fill you in on the situation. You were lucky it was Rooster who had been passing by, not someone like Hangman who would have spread this shit like wildfire.

“Hospital? What do you mean hospital Rooster? What happened? Is Bob okay?--” your mood instantly shifting to panic mode. Rooster interrupted you by placing his hands over your shoulders, looking his eyes on yours as he spoke as calmly as he could. Trying to keep you from panicking too much, grounding you by touch.

“There was an accident during the training session, Bob and Phoenix had to eject, that's it, that's all, he's alive, he's in one piece, but a Dr. Chris? called looking for Floyds emergency contact Renee, said Bob had asked for his wife to be contacted?” Rooster let his question hang in the air as you tried to read his concern, ultimately landing on the only possible explanation. The truth. Pulling out your dog tags from your naval uniform, you showed Rooster your wedding band. “Holy Shit–”

“Spencer-Floyd, Rooster, it's not rocket science.” You chuckled to yourself as you shook your head. “But it sure wasn't hard to keep a secret.” you smirked, tucking your tags back into your uniform. “Now can you save your questions for when you drive me over to the hospital?”

“You want me to drive you?” Rooster questioned. “I just came in here for like—damage control you know, I thought you’d want this to stay under wraps?” You didn’t have to ask again as a small sob escaped your mouth before you covered it with shaky hands. Tears forming in your waterline. Rooster pressed his lips together, nodding gently. “Okay, okay, I’ll drive you, c’mon Radar—let’s get you outta here ma’am“ rooster scooped you inside his arm as he led you out.

“Fuck this hurts—“ you sobbed. “You said he’s okay right?” You mumbled through your breaking composure. Your head, hanging low. “I don’t think I could handle it if he wasn’t.” Your mind was wandering back through your life spent with Bob. A rolodex of memories playing through your mind, you couldn’t stop them—you didn’t want to stop them. “Bob—“ you sobbed a little louder this time.

“He’s okay, I promise I wouldn’t lie to you.” Rooster led you all the way out to his truck, opening the passenger side door for you like the true gentleman he was. “Mrs Floyd.” He gestured as he opened the door for you, noticing the small almost undetectable smirk on your face as he did so. “So—“ Rooster started his truck and got to work. “Why Bob? If you don’t mind me asking?” Rooster focused on the road ahead. His glasses dark against the sun of Miramar.

“Why Bob? Don’t you think that’s a loaded question?” You replied as you thought of an answer. Sniffling. “He’s just Bob, has been for years I guess. That’s kinda what drew me to him, his naturally reserved nature, the quietness, but boy is he smart and funny and oh, he hates reptiles and amphibians because they freak him out and it’s just—“ you caught yourself spewing your guts as Rooster smiled as he drove. “Sorry, too much.” You mumbled, looking out the window as the desert turned to small in a middle of nowhere town.

“Hey I asked, so please, continue.” Rooster gestured as you repositioned in your seat. Thinking about Bob, hoping he was without a single scratch. “Besides, now I know lizards are gonna be a good prank.”

“You know Bradley—“ you paused for a moment, remembering just how wonderful your wedding day was. An elopement in your parents backyard with your family and Bobs. So simple and so small but exactly how you pictured it. “Someday, someone is gonna come into your life….and they are going to love every single atom of your being. They’re gonna adore every little thing about you. The way that you eat, the way that you smell, the way that you put your cold toes on them in the bed when they’re nice and toasty.” You turned to face Rooster, knowing it never really worked with anyone before. “And it’s gonna make so much sense why it never really worked with anyone else.”

“Does Bob love every atom of your being?’ Rooster replied as he turned the next corner. Nodding gentle re responded quietly.

“Every single one, so if he's not okay, please–”

“I know as much as you do Radar, he's alive.” Rooster cooed letting the silence linger for a moment before he was at it again. “So like, what's with the ginger and rice?” you couldn't help but to break out into a loud obnoxious laugh, looking over your shoulder at Rooster who wore curiosity well.

“It's an old wise tail, fresh ginger and white rice, apparently it helps settle your stomach.”

“Why doesn't he just eat a banana if he's got a weak constitution?” Rooster countered.

“Why would he eat a banana?” you questioned. Smirking as you waited for Rooster to reply with surely some smart ass remark.

“It tastes the same coming up as it did going down.”

——————

The moment you stepped foot into the general admissions area of the Miramar hospital, every single pair of eyes turned to look at you as you stood a few inches short of Rooster. Stopping dead in your tracks as you faced the class of Top Gun, all wearing the same expression of confusion on their faces.

What the hell is the OS doing here?

“Go, ill do my best to cover–” Rooster leaned in and whispered softly in your ear. Nodding with your lips pressed together, you headed over to the nurses station, Rooster heading towards a very curious class.

“I'm looking for Robert Floyd?” you were quiet in your request to the nurse who sat behind the glass. Chewing her gum that was probably the only thing she had time to eat in the past nine and a half hours. But you weren't quiet enough for the prying ears of Hangman, who’d somehow managed to slip past Rooster and follow you over to the nurses station, lingering behind you as you spoke. “Im his wife–”

“I'm sorry, what did you just say?” Hangman's voice scared the shit out of you, causing you to jump in fright as you turned to face him. Looking at Rooster over his shoulder, all he could do was shrug his shoulders in defeat.

Good one you idiot, you couldn't help but to sigh his way.

“Since when are you and Bob married, since when does Bob talk to girls, he barely talks to me?”

“Why would anyone willingly talk to you Hangman?” Rooster chimed in, coming to your defense. “In this moment Radar is still our OS, know your rank before you dig yourself a deeper hole to climb out of man.” Rooster turned to you, jerking his head slightly to tell you to leave. Wasting no time, you turned on your heels and ran down the hall, counting the room numbers that passed you by. The group followed shortly behind.

“What the hell is going on here?” Coyote questioned, all he was here for was to check up on Phoenix and Bob, his head wasn't processing why you were here. This didn't seem like a situation you as an OS needed to be involved in. “Why's radar he– oh damn, Bob pulled.” The group went absolutely silent as they finally reached Bob's room, you'd flung yourself over him as he laid in his hospital bed, sitting up with the covers pulled up over his legs reading some random book one of the nurses gave him. A true library dweller.

“You scared the hell outta me Bob!” you whispered into the crook of his neck, letting go as he groaned from the pressure you'd placed on his stomach, your eyes growing wide at the face he pulled. “What, what have I not been told?”

“It's nothing i promise, i'm good.” Bob led. “Just a few broken ribs to remember the moment.” you audibly gasped, sitting back in the chair you'd wasted no time in pulling to his bedside.

“I was in the command office, I didn't know you'd been in an accident–” you tried your best to explain, Bobs hand came to rest over yours, squeezing softly.

“Not a serious one, I'm all good here bub, you don't have to worry.” Bob was calmer than you, more level headed, if only you'd seen the way he reacted in the backseat of Phoenix's aircraft this morning. Then you wouldn't have thought he was so level headed. “I'm still here, hey i'm not going anywhere, without you by my side.” Bob cooed, his hand lifting your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your palm.

“This was too close this time–” you held back your tears, taking a deep breath and looking up to the ceiling. “Too close Bob, I hate the feeling I got when Rooster told me a call came in from Miramar hospital, I hate the emptiness and the not knowing if you were really okay.”

“Its our job Radar.” you smirked at the call sign, Bob never really called you by your call sign when it was just the two of you. “It's the risk we take.”

“Yeah but you aren't a job to me, you're my best friend, my husband for god sakes, every other person waiting out there is a job to me, but they still have friends and family who love them, who need them to be safe.” you explained as you looked into Bob's eyes, swimming with love for you. “You are and will never be a job to me, the quicker you understand that, Lieutenant, the quicker we can be on the same page going forward.” Bob chuckled as you leaned in to place a small and gentle kiss against his lips. Smirking against yours as he chuckled. The moment pure and fleeting, the way Bobs lips felt against yours was like a drug you’d become addicted to.

“Yes ma’am, understood.” Bob kissed you back a little harder, a little hungrier for the taste of you after having faced the possibility of never coming home to you again. “Not a job—“ silence fell over the pair of you as you pulled back, sinking into your chair with a sigh of relief. Knowing Bob was truly okay had you let out a breath of air you didn’t know you’d been holding in. Looking at the love of your life so vulnerable lying in that hospital bed when he was usually way up in the sky.

“I never told you this—“ you began, feeling a presence behind you, Rooster, Hangman, Coyote. “But I was in love with you long before I first told you.” It was an admission to the audience that had formed behind you, not just to Bob. “Hell, I’m pretty sure before you were sent to Top Gun the first time.”

“Renee—“ Bob tried to interrupt, but you kept speaking.

“From the very first second I saw you smile at me, I knew I was hooked for the rest of my life.” You let out a small chuckle. Looking at Bob looking at you. “If you ever don’t come home, that’s it, I’m nothing without you—so if you and Phoenix end up flying this mission, you better come home to me or I’ll be furious with you Robert Floyd.” You chuckled together, Bob nodding in response as his eyes wandered to the crowd behind you.

“I gather you’ve all met my wife?” Bob smirked at his team. Jaws wide open in shock. Questions after questions rattling around in their brains. “This doesn’t change a single thing—“

“It absolutely does Bob.” Hangman pushed forward. “How do we know you won’t go on this mission because dear old Radar here puts in a good word? Huh?” You scoffed in disbelief. “It all makes way too much sense now—“

“If I had it my way none of you would be flying this mission especially Bob—it’s a suicide mission Hangman.” You hissed, standing from where you sat next to your husband. “Day in day out, all I do is run this damn mission, over and over again and it’s never good enough to keep you from being the latest naval statistic.” You groaned. “Not even your egotistical arse.”

“It’s true—“ Rooster chimed in. “I heard Radar kinda giving Admiral Bates a piece of her mind before I knocked, they want us to run a time of two fifteen—Radar wants to push for more.” You stood silent, squaring your shoulders at Hangman who grit his teeth, looking down at you slightly as he towered over you.

“Let’s not forget, I’ve never left a single soul out to dry, we all know if Bob had been in your backseat he wouldn’t be here right now, so don’t test my limits lieutenant—Bob might be my husband but I know for damn sure he’s just a worthy as you think you are to be chosen for this ridiculous mission, he doesn’t need me blowing smoke up his ass—hence why we don’t disclose our relationship publicly.” You couldn’t help but let your emotions get to you. This whole situation had you sick to your stomach. Especially since you’d already had a blow out with Lieutenant Seresin previously.

“There’s more than one way to fly this mission—“ it was the combination of Rooster’s low baritone, the seriousness in his tone and the way his eyes held a deeper need for validation that had you standing a little taller, shoulders a little more pulled back. Mavrick had just told Phoenix to have a good enough excuse to tell Bob‘s family why she didn’t anticipate the next turn. One they would accept at the funeral. It got to you, got to Bob.

“How do you propose we go about it?“ pilot input was always incredibly important to you, especially when designing and coordinating mission flight sequencing. As Rooster looked you dead in the eyes ready to explain, Hangman couldn’t shut his mouth to save his own life.

“You really don’t get it—“ he hissed, turning to Rooster. “On a mission like this a man flies like Maverick here, or a man does not come back.” Chewing his gun too obnoxiously for your liking, Hangman took the moment to turn to where Phoenix sat. “No offence intended.”

“And yet somehow? You always manage—“ You smirked at how instinctively Bob had Natasha’s back. Smirking softly as you peered his way, making eye contact with your husband as he turned back to face you at the front of the class. Smirking back, Bob lowered his head to focus. “You’ve left two of your wingmen behind in the past 72hrs—“

“Three—“ you corrected Bob. “The back seater is included in Hangman’s casualty list.” Bob could hear the sadness in your tone the way you looked at him like he hung every single star in the sky just for you. It was hard to hide the disappointment you felt that someone who was meant to look out for your husband would leave him behind. “Three lives lost and for what? A failed mission.”

“There’s a reason why Bob here is a black seater.” Hangman interrupted, managing your expectations of him. “You have to be at least this tall to sit upfront.” It was childish, The way Hangman held his hand about three centimeters above the ground. “Isn’t that right Bobby Boy?”

“Don’t take this out on me, your egos been all out of whack since Radar turned you down at the Hard Deck—“ you were Bob's wife, point blank.

“It is absolutely imperative that you act like a team, a family, for this mission, otherwise? someone won’t come home, and you’ll have to carry that weight. Every day, every night.” You explained with as much seriousness as you could muster. Finding a slight gap before Hangman could make a comeback. “I can’t stress that enough.”

“It’s not my problem they can’t keep up—“ Hangman smirked, sinking into his chair as he tapped his own against his paper. That was probably then when your final very thin straw broke.

“Hangman—“ you began, walking closer as the heels clicked against the concrete of the empty hanger turned classroom. Arms behind you. “What is it that you think is so special about you that puts your life above every other person in this room?” You questioned, leaning in over his desk as you got in his face. “Because quite frankly the way I see it is those people who can’t keep up will end up being the ones who save your sorry ass when you take a wrong turn and end up needing support—“

“It’s incredibly hard to take advice from a non-combatant.” Hangman hissed. Bob's ears pricked as he sat up a little straighter.

“Watch it Bagman—“ Bob grumbled. “Radars—“ Bob went in to defend you, but before he could? Hangman was interrupting with a snicker.

“Oh sorry Floyd, don’t you think your girlfriend here can’t handle it?” Hangman teased, chewing his bottom lip as he turned back to you. Standing tall once again. “C’mon sunshine don’t pretend you can roll with the big boys.” You chuckled, smirking slightly as you looked around to the class—all eyes on you including Mavericks.

“Lieutenant Seresin, I have zero tolerance for pilots who think reckless endangerment is a damn personality trait.” You spoke firmly. “If there isn’t a dramatic attitude change in the next five seconds I will make sure come hell or high water you will be removed from this program no matter who good you think you are, and I will make sure that no commanding officer will want to work with you—“ spied briefly, leaning in once again. “Do I make myself clear?” You hissed through gritted teeth. It was completely silent on Hangmana behalf, you could hear a feather drop. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear!?” You shouted.

“Yes OS!” Hangman repeated. Sinking into his set. Turning on your heels you Gave Maverick and all knowing look—he knew it and you knew it more, Jake Seresin wasn’t the right fit to fly this mission.

“C’mon hangman, we all know it’s just the ego taking—“ Bob interrupted. “All those times you’ve made a move and yet somehow, you never noticed she was taken.” Bob chuckled.

“If you weren’t in a hospital bed right now I’d put you in one—“ Hangman hissed, you held your hand out against his chest—stepping in front of his path towards Bob.

“Don’t make this worse, walk it off—that’s an order.” Your eyes were cold as ice as you ordered Hangman to step outside. “Go—“ Bob watched on as you used your authority. It kinda got him going. Never really one to see you get so worked up. But the two most recent times he’d been present for? Had blood rushing to parts he only wished you had some time to give attention to. “You guys should go see Phoenix, I’m sure she’s waiting for you guys to check in on her?” It was more of an order than anything else. You wanted Bob all to yourself for a moment.

“Jesus—“ you sighed, sitting back into your chair, pulling yourself as close to Bob as you could. “What am I gonna do? I’m past damage control, this is a bloody shit show!” You groaned, your index finger and thumb coming to squeeze the bridge of your nose, releasing some pressure. Bob couldn’t help but to try and lighten to mood, smirking as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Would this be a bad time for me to mention I’m totally one hundred percent attracted to the way you just put Hangman in his place?”

***~***~***~***~**~

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