#robert floyd fic
Text
Some Things Take Time | Bob Floyd x Reader
Summary: Bob is a man well known for his patience. He never rushes things in the air, and he tries to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. You and he are both on the same page about welcoming a child into your home through foster care, but it's hard for him to watch you try to bond with her unsuccessfully. He soon realizes that Avery is a lot like him, and that some things are worth the extra time.
Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of infertility, mentions of foster care and adoption, Bob making all other men look like trash
Length: 5800 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader
Happy birthday @wkndwlff! Check my masterlist for more!
You were laying on the couch with your head resting on your husband's lap, spinning his wedding band around on his finger while you tried to put your thoughts into words. You could tell he knew you were on the verge of speaking, sending you several expectant glances as you and he both pretended to watch the movie he started an hour ago. But Bob would never rush you, and you were thankful for that, because you wanted to make sure you got this right.
"We've been trying for a long time," you whispered, and Bob's blue eyes met yours as you looked up at him. "Almost two years."
He nodded once and smiled softly. "We have," he murmured, squeezing your hand in his larger one. You pressed your lips together as tears stung your eyes. Bob never seemed upset that he was pushing forty years old and in spite of trying and trying, you'd never gotten pregnant. He never put pressure on you to keep trying or to stop. You were convinced he never would, but you wanted to know what he was really thinking.
"What if we... stopped. Stopped trying. And just went with an alternative?"
"Honey, I already told you I'm happy with things how they are. We can stop trying if you want to, or we can talk about alternatives if you want to do that. But there's nothing wrong with just you and me. In fact, I'm really quite enjoying myself."
You closed your eyes as his fingers drifted along the curves of your side. It would be delicious to get back into the habit of having sex when you wanted to instead of when your cycle demanded it. You and Bob sharing your undivided attention with each other was something you were craving, but you still wanted something else, too.
"What if I said I wanted to look into fostering and adoption again?" you asked softly as you started to sit up.
He pulled you closer so you were straddling his thigh. "Then I would say we can call our lawyer on Monday and get some answers."
You smiled as you nudged his glasses with your nose and kissed his cheek. "And what if I said I'm not fertile today, but I want you anyway?"
Bob reached for the remote and turned the movie off as a soft blush rose in his cheeks. "Then I would say it's time we got in bed, Honey."
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Bob was a man who was well known for his patience. He never rushed things in the air, and he tried to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. He knew he wanted to marry you about halfway through the first date. He also knew you would have looked at him like he was insane if he admitted that to you halfway through the first date. So instead of rushing things, he took the time to make sure you were on the same page he was and that you were comfortable. He always tried to do that.
When a baby just didn't seem to be happening, he was more than willing to keep trying, but he was also completely content with the idea of no kids at all. It wasn't worth rushing anything as long as he had you in his life. But you had recently convinced him of a third option, and his lawyer helped the two of you smooth out the details.
And this is how Avery ended up at Bob's house on a random Monday evening. She was eight years old and in need of a foster family, and you were adamant when you answered the phone call that you and Bob were more than ready for her to be dropped off even on such short notice.
"I'm so nervous," you whispered as you held Bob's hand and watched through the front window as a van pulled up.
"I'm excited," he told you with a soft laugh. When he thought about having kids, he always pictured a little girl. For some reason, the idea of reading princess stories and painting a bedroom a putrid shade of purple really appealed to him. As he watched Avery being led up the walkway, he realized she didn't look one bit like you or him. He also realized that having a child who resembled him was actually never part of his dreams.
As the doorbell rang, you bounced in place and whispered, "She's here. She's really here."
Bob pulled you in for a kiss as his heart thudded. He realized he needed to tamp down his excitement a little bit. The two of you were merely fostering Avery. Nothing was set in stone even though you told the lawyer you wanted to eventually adopt a child. But right now your eyes were glittering with hope and anticipation, and Bob couldn't take that away from you.
"Let's make her feel welcome," he said as you both headed for the door.
Avery stood there with an unreadable expression on her adorable face, and Bob noticed right away how the case worker seemed to rush through everything. There were papers to sign and a schedule to keep, and even though all of it pertained to Avery, she ended up sitting quietly at the kitchen table while everyone else talked about her.
It was late by the time you and Bob were alone with her, and now her unreadable expression looked something like sadness. "Avery," Bob said softly. "Do you want to see your bedroom?"
She looked up at him and nodded without saying a word, and then you helped her down from the chair. You had taken the time to freshen up the extra bedroom and buy a pink glitter toothbrush and a pair of pajamas in her size. But Avery just sat down on the edge of the bed with her bag and asked, "Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"
"Yes," Bob replied with a smile. "I'll drop you off on my way to work, and then I'll pick you up in the afternoon."
When she didn't respond, you asked, "Is there anything you want? A bedtime snack or something to drink? I could make you some hot chocolate or get you a cookie. Bob makes the best oatmeal cookies, and there are a few left from the weekend. Maybe you can help Bob make the next batch." You were rambling now, and Bob reached out to squeeze your hand as you said, "We're just excited that you're here."
But Avery shook her head and told you, "I'll just read my book. Thanks." Then she untied her shoes and took a well worn copy of The Secret Garden from her bag, but she sat on the bed with rigid posture, not looking at either of you.
Bob wasn't quite sure what to do. You'd already shown the child where the bathroom was, and she seemed to have all of her essentials. He swallowed hard, deciding not to rush Avery even though he could feel your disappointment radiating off of you. He cleared his throat and said, "We'll leave our bedroom door open in case you need anything. And we'll get you up around seven for school. Good night, Avery."
She just nodded and squinted down at the tattered book cover like she was going to cry. Bob led you down the hallway, through your room and into the en suite bathroom where he gathered you in his arms as tears filled your eyes. "I don't think she likes us," you gasped before you buried your face against his neck.
Bob kissed the top of your head and whispered, "I just think she needs some time. Let's not rush anything."
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You cried yourself to sleep the first night. You knew that your response wasn't fair to Bob or Avery or even to yourself, but you'd imagined meeting a little girl who was at least a little bit more talkative if not upbeat. You had your hopes set on fostering a child who at least gave the impression that your home was better than another alternative. You'd been given a vague picture of where Avery had come from, and you wanted her to be comfortable here, but now you felt stupid for buying the glitter toothbrush and the Minnie Mouse pajamas.
Bob's hand drew lazy circles on your back as you turned away from him and cried softly. "It's just the first night," he reminded you in that sweet, even tone that you loved so much.
"I know. I just wanted this so desperately," you admitted between shaky breaths. His hand on your body helped you eventually fall asleep, and the next morning, Bob was up before you, making breakfast. When you tapped on Avery's door which was ajar, you poked your head in to find her once again sitting on the bed reading.
"Did you sleep okay?" you asked, and she nodded in response. "That's great!" you said in a tone of forced excitement. "Do you need help getting ready for school?"
"No," she said softly, setting the book aside.
You took a deep breath and said, "Bob's making breakfast. Do you want to come downstairs and eat?"
"Yes."
That was the last word you heard her speak before Bob led her out to his car in his uniform. He smiled at you over his shoulder as he told you to have a good day working on your true crime novel, but you knew you weren't going to. You spend two hours trying to write, but you ended up with three and a half new sentences. Instead, you spent most of the day thinking you'd made a huge mistake and hating your own body. Avery would probably last two weeks tops with you and Bob before she was begging to go somewhere else. You didn't even know if you could stand to see her melancholy little expression when your husband brought her home from school today, but you didn't want to call her case worker for help yet.
In the afternoon, you bought everything you needed to make oatmeal cookies along with the rest of your usual groceries. You paused next to the checkout line where there was a display of children's books and grabbed a few of them. Avery appeared to like her book more than anything else, so maybe she would appreciate these ones, too.
But when Bob brought Avery home with him after school, she barely spoke. She didn't want to help make any cookies, and after dinner, she went back to her bedroom. Bob tried to help her with her homework, but she told him it was easy and she already finished it. When you dropped off the new books, she told you she already had a favorite.
"Oh," you said, standing in the doorway with your hands full of the unwanted books. "That's good... that you have a favorite. I have a favorite book, too."
She looked up at you and nodded, but soon you were backing out of the room and trying to hide your tears from Bob. "It takes time," he reassured you as you balled your hands into fists and cried on him again.
You knew you needed to be as patient as he always was, but you just weren't like him. And you started talking before you could stop yourself. "If we could have gotten pregnant, we'd have our own child," you sobbed. "One that we raised from day one who would love us and bake cookies and read new books."
Bob kissed your ear and whispered, "Nothing is easy, Honey. But sometimes the harder something is at first, the more rewarding it is later on."
You cried yourself to sleep again.
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Bob tried his best for that first week. He watched you start to pull away and retreat into yourself the more Avery kept to her bedroom. Every day when he dropped her off and picked her up, she thanked him for the ride. When he asked if she would rather start taking the bus, she told him it didn't matter. When he asked if there was something special she wanted to eat for dinner, she said she wasn't picky.
And all the while she just squinted down at her book. Just The Secret Garden even though you brought home some others. When he pulled up to the curb in front of her school one morning, he said, "Avery, would you like me to take you to the library one day? Or maybe a bookstore where you can pick out what you want?"
She looked at him as she grabbed her backpack in one hand and her book in the other. "Maybe." Then she climbed out of the car, and he waited to pull away until she was inside the school building. That was the most promising answer he'd received yet. He drove to work thinking about signing her up for a library card, and when he got there, he was in a much better mood.
Natasha was the only one who knew that Avery was under his care. He didn't want to give anyone too many details, but she sweetly asked him the same question every morning after they got to work. "How are you and the Mrs. making out with your houseguest?"
And this morning, he said, "Maybe a little better today, Nat. I'm just trying not to rush it."
She patted him on the chest and smiled. "You never do, Bob. You're a man of details."
She was right. He spent the day thinking about all of the details that he knew about Avery. She was eight years old and very quiet. She only wanted to read one book even though you offered her more. She seemed to find the most comfort when she was alone. She was honestly a lot like Bob.
When he picked Avery up from school, he watched as one of the teachers patted the top of her backpack and sent her on her way. She squinted toward his car before trudging over in his direction with a frown on her face. Bob sighed as she climbed into the backseat and buckled herself in. "How was your day, Avery?" he asked as he shifted into drive. But today he got no verbal response at all. Instead he heard her crying.
Without another word, Bob pulled his car around and into an empty parking spot before killing the engine. He opened his door and closed it before taking a few deep breaths, and then he climbed in the back door and settled in next to the crying child. He let one hand gently rest on her shoulder, giving her a small squeeze before asking, "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"
She just shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks, and she stared at her feet. "It's stupid."
Bob smiled slightly. "You might think so, but I'd probably find what you have to say fascinating."
She turned her head to look at him, examining his face to see if he was being honest. But of course he was. He just wanted her to tell him what was on her mind. It took a few minutes before she started to settle down, but eventually she said, "I failed my eye exam with the nurse today." She unzipped her bag and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper and handed it to him. "She told me my eyesight is terrible and that I need to get glasses."
Bob looked at the page and had to hide his alarm from her. Avery failed her eye exam spectacularly. It was a wonder to Bob that she was even able to see in her classroom. But now her squinting and her preference for one, well worn book were starting to make sense. As he filled in the blanks in his mind, he said, "Glasses aren't so bad," while he tapped his own silver frames. "They certainly make my day a lot easier."
She kind of rolled her eyes and said, "But you're an adult. People aren't going to make fun of you for wearing glasses."
"You think you'll get made fun of?" Bob asked softly, folding the yellow paper in half.
"Yes," she replied immediately as she wiped at her tears. "I already do. Glasses will make it so much worse."
Bob wanted to press her for more details, but he didn't think this was the right moment. Instead he asked, "Is that why you only like to read The Secret Garden? Because you already know most of the words by heart?"
Avery looked at him like she couldn't believe he solved a very complex riddle. "Yes."
He nodded and asked, "Would you like to be able to read other books, too? Because glasses would definitely help with that."
She shrugged and sniffed as she said, "I like books about gardens and flowers and fairies. I don't know of any other ones I would like anyway."
Bob patted her on the shoulder one more time and said, "I like those kinds of books, too. And I think I can help you get glasses that look cool and help you pick out more books. If you'll let me."
Another partial shrug was his only answer, but at least she wasn't telling him no. As he climbed back into the driver's seat, he sent you a quick text telling you that he and Avery were fine and to go ahead and have dinner on your own. Then he drove along to his optometrist's office, hoping they would squeeze an extra appointment into their schedule.
"You're in luck," the receptionist told him when they arrived. "There was a last minute cancellation. Have a seat, and we can take you back shortly."
The rack hanging on the wall was filled with books and magazines for people of all ages, but Bob watched Avery squint as she took a seat empty handed. He skimmed a magazine and offered to read an article to her, but she said no. When ten minutes had passed, Bob asked her, "Are the kids at school mean to you?"
He was already considering other options that might make her feel more comfortable when she said, "I just don't fit in. Everyone else has parents or grandparents. Everyone else is loud, and I like it better when it's quiet. Everyone else already made friends."
Bob nodded his head. It was like she was living his own childhood in many ways. "I like it better when it's quiet, too. So does my wife. And making friends can be hard at any age. I still struggle with it."
"You do?" she asked him, eyes wide and interested.
"Absolutely. Sometimes I still get nervous and stumble over what I want to say, and I'm thirty-nine. And you know what?"
"What?"
"There's nothing wrong with that."
He watched Avery take a deep breath and look down at her hands before both of their names were called. Once they were in the exam room, Bob got to witness her fail the test for the second time in one day, and then her tears started up again. The crying was only made worse when the receptionist popped in and tried to quietly tell Bob that Avery wasn't approved for any vision insurance.
The child was clearly smart as a whip, and if she was having a hard time fitting in at school, he didn't want to make it worse by making her feel like she didn't fit in with you and him either. "I was planning on paying out of pocket today," he told the receptionist who just nodded in response. Then he turned to Avery and said, "Looks like the nurse was right. How about we pick out some glasses?"
She looked at the displays while she wiped at her eyes with a tissue, but she wouldn't tell Bob which ones she wanted to try on. "Which ones are the cheapest?" she asked softly.
"I have no idea," Bob replied easily. "What's your favorite color?"
"Purple," she whispered, and Bob followed her squinting gaze to a purple frame sitting on a shelf above her head.
"I like purple, too," he said as he reached them down and handed them to her. She held them for a couple minutes, and Bob decided not to rush her. She finally slipped them on and looked in the mirror, and he told her, "I think they look cool."
She nodded a little bit. "They're pretty good. But nobody else at school has purple glasses."
As she removed them and tried to hand them back to him, Bob quickly looked at the adult sized frames. There was one pair that came in a deep purple, and he kind of liked them. "Just hang onto those for a minute. I need help picking out new glasses for myself, okay? What do you think about these?"
When he removed his wire frames and replaced them with the purple plastic, it seemed like Avery couldn't help but smile. "I like them."
He nodded once. "Then I'll get them. That way we can match since we both like purple. Thanks for your help."
"You're welcome," she replied quietly, looking at the glasses she was still holding before handing them to Bob.
He took both pairs in his hand before nodding toward the door. "I'm feeling like it's a good day to get ice cream for dinner and look around the bookstore. I can think of at least two more books that you might like to read once your glasses are ready for you to wear. Sound good?"
"Yes."
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You didn't know what to expect when Bob brought Avery home after seven o'clock on a school night, but you definitely weren't prepared to hear her laughter for the first time. You'd barely made any progress on your novel since Avery arrived a few weeks ago, merely existing in your own funk all day long. But the sound of Bob's voice followed by her light giggle as they walked inside left you feeling better than you had in ages.
"Hi," you said, your voice dripping with optimism as Bob headed your way with a shopping bag in his hand.
"Hi, Honey," he replied, kissing your cheek while Avery took her shoes off.
"How was school?" you asked her.
"Terrible," she told you with a smile aimed up at Bob. "I failed my eye exam."
"Oh," you gasped, already making a mental note to call the eye doctor first thing in the morning so she could get some glasses. "We can take care of it for you."
"Already did," Bob said as he squeezed your hand. "Stopped on the way home and picked them out. Should be ready next week."
"Really?" you asked in surprise as he pulled two books out of the bag. Both were covered in vines and flowers, but one was clearly a novel for an adult while the other was much slimmer and looked like it was for Avery's reading level.
"Yes," he replied softly. "Now, on the drive home, I told Avery that you're a writer, but that you're also really good at reading books out loud." When you nodded and looked at her, she was squinting up at you. Bob handed you the smaller book and said, "I didn't get to take a shower before I left work, so I need to go do that now. But I promised Avery that you'd read a chapter to her after she gets ready for bed." He patted her on the shoulder and then made his way upstairs.
Your head was swimming with information. New glasses and new books and a child who was looking up at you with hope in her eyes. A husband who set up some time for you to spend alone with her. Tears stung your eyes as you said, "I love reading books out loud. Do you want to change for bed and brush your teeth now?"
Ten minutes later, you were sitting next to Avery on the spare bed, reading to her about a magical garden filled with flowers that turned the characters into superheroes. You read all sixteen pages of the first chapter, and then she asked you to read more.
It was a little bit past bedtime when you finished the third chapter, and she was yawning. "How about I go get you one of my bookmarks from my office? And we can read more tomorrow night?"
"Okay," she replied easily, and when you returned a minute later with a bookmark that had a purple tassel, she smiled. "I like this book so far, but I think I'd like it a lot better if there were fairies, too. Thank you for reading to me."
"You're very welcome," you told her, barely shutting off the light in time for a tear to slide down your cheek. "Goodnight, Avery."
When you rushed into your own bedroom, Bob was in bed reading the other new book. "How did you do it?" you asked him, quickly climbing under the covers with him. "How did you get her to open up a little bit?"
He set the book down with a soft smile. "She just needed some time, Honey. She's a lot like me. She can't be rushed."
"No," you said, pushing your fingers through his hair as you cried a little bit. "That's not it. I think you're actually magical."
"Maybe," he agreed. "But her vision is so bad. That's why I think she kept reading The Secret Garden. She probably has it memorized and didn't want to tell anyone she couldn't see."
"Poor thing," you whispered, realizing that most of Bob's magic came from his patience as you fell asleep in his arms.
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A week later, Bob noticed you were exhausted, but you seemed a lot happier, because Avery seemed a lot happier. You had successfully read two books to her, and she was starting to become more vocal around the house. He was hoping she was having an easier time making friends at school now, too. But he was a little bit concerned with how late into the night you'd been working.
When he got a message around lunchtime letting him know both pairs of glasses were ready, he smiled. Pretty soon Avery would be able to attempt reading a new book on her own. He sent you a text letting you know that he'd be home with Avery after a quick stop back at the optometrist's office. And when he picked her up from school, she squinted at his car before climbing in the backseat.
"Ready to go get our new glasses?" he asked before pulling out onto the road.
"Yes," she replied softly. "I've decided that wearing glasses is a better alternative than not being able to read new books. At least until I can get contacts."
Bob chuckled. "A wise choice."
A few seconds later, she asked, "Will you take me to the library this weekend? There have to be more books there that I'd like."
"Of course I'll take you to the library. We can ask the librarian to help you find you as many books as you want to read."
He hoped that would make the new glasses an even easier decision for her. He parked and led her inside where the eye doctor got them both fitted correctly before handing them a mirror. "What do you think?" Bob asked as he smiled at Avery. "I think they look cool on you."
She shrugged. "They're okay."
"Can you see better?"
"Yes," she whispered. On the way outside, she said, "Thanks for getting new glasses with me. I like yours, too."
Bob checked himself in the mirror before he backed out of the parking spot. "I think it's kind of my color."
You were waiting in the living room for them when Bob opened the front door. The house smelled like dinner cooking, and you had a stack of bound pages on the couch next to you. When you jumped to your feet, you said, "You both look great!" as you bounced in place a little bit.
"Purple is kind of our color," Avery said, making Bob laugh as you covered your massive smile with your fingertips.
"It really is," you replied, wrapping Bob in a quick hug before cautiously placing your hand on Avery's shoulder for a beat. "I have something I wanted to show you. I was hoping to get your opinion."
"Me?" she asked, looking up at you, eyes wide behind her purple frames.
"Yes," you told her softly. "I've been working on a new story for the past week, and I really think you'll be able to help me with the ending."
"What kind of story?" she asked you, and Bob slowly made his way into the kitchen where he could still hear the two of you talking.
"Well," you told her as she joined you on the couch, "it's about a fairy who gets invited to live in a magic garden. And she starts to learn how to use magic herself while a friendly witch and a kind wizard supervise her. And the garden is really pretty, and she loves it there and starts to make friends with the other creatures. Do you want to take a look at it?"
"Okay."
Bob hovered in the doorway and watched you hand the bound manuscript to the little girl next to you while you chewed nervously on your lip. He knew you wanted this to work out; he did too. He was also very surprised that you'd been working on this for the past week without sharing your secret even with him. But it truthfully wasn't really for him. It was for her. And you.
The child looked up at you and whispered, "You named the fairy Avery."
You just nodded and smiled. "Your name is so pretty, and you remind me of the kind of little girl who would have magic inside her."
Avery turned back to the page in front of her and snuggled in a little bit closer to you. She started reading out loud, and after a few pages, handed it over to you for a little bit. The two of you went back and forth like this for an hour before Bob carried in two plates of dinner and set them on the coffee table.
"Even magic fairies get hungry," he said softly before leaving both of you to the story.
---------------------------
When you woke up a few weeks later on Avery's ninth birthday, you were beyond exhausted. The past few nights had been late ones for you as you tried to finish up and edit the story you'd been working on. The title that the two of you came up with was The Littlest Fairy in the Garden, and you were just as proud of this as your true crime releases.
Then you realized that there was actually a reason why you woke up. You could hear Bob talking. It sounded like he was on the phone even though it was barely eight o'clock. You climbed out of bed and stretched before finding him sitting on the floor in the walk-in closet talking softly on the phone in his pajama pants, undershirt and purple glasses.
"I'm sure she's going to agree with me. We want to move forward if that's what Avery wants, but I'll call you back in an hour or two. Thank you so much."
He ended the call right when you asked, "Who was that?"
Bob jumped a bit as he looked up at you with a tentative smile. "Our lawyer," he whispered.
"What did they say?" you whispered back as he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around you.
When Bob's lips found your ear, you shivered at his words. "It was just a preliminary conversation, but they asked if we would be interested in pursuing adoption."
"With Avery?" you gasped, and he nodded against you.
"Yes. With Avery."
Tears filled your eyes as you clung to him. You thought about all the books she'd been reading with you and the birthday cake waiting in the kitchen. You could practically still smell the oatmeal cookies she and Bob made a few days ago. You could picture her smile and imagine her laughter, both of which were coming more easily with each passing day. "I want to adopt her. She belongs here. With us."
"I think so, too," he replied immediately, and you could hear the unshed tears in her voice. "I think we should have a conversation with her about it today. The process could take a little time, but I want to be sure it's what she wants as well."
You nodded, a jerky motion against him as your heart pounded faster and faster. "Let's talk about it when she wakes up."
Bob led you downstairs to the kitchen, his fingers laced with yours, and he started to crack some eggs while you made coffee and fresh orange juice. Avery had picked the menu for each meal today for her birthday, and the plan was to take her to the zoo after lunch. There was currently a purple banner with flowers and fairies on it stretched across the kitchen along with a large assortment of balloons. You couldn't remember being this excited about something in such a long time.
"Good morning," came a soft voice from the bottom of the stairs, and you nearly dropped a mug on the floor as you turned to look at her.
"Happy birthday!" you and Bob replied in unison, and then all three of you started laughing.
Without another word, Avery made her way into the kitchen in her Minnie Mouse pajamas and gave you a hug around the waist. You gasped softly as you hugged her back, her purple glasses pressing against you. Then she tucked herself against Bob's side and hugged him right after that. "Thanks for all the birthday stuff. And thanks for being so nice to me and getting me glasses and everything."
You and Bob shared a look over her head as he rubbed his hand along her shoulder. "It makes us happy that you're here, Avery," he said softly, and you had to swipe at your tears. "Let's have your breakfast, and maybe we can talk about making this permanent."
"Permanent? Like me staying here for a while?" she asked softly as she looked up at him.
"Like you staying here forever."
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This is a little birthday treat for @wkndwlff! I hope you have a great day, Taylor! I set out to write a nice little story based on this mood board, but somehow it turned into this angsty thing instead. Thanks to @sylviebell @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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Bob and AdmiralsDaughter!Reader where the dagger squad finds out he's dating/engaged/married (whichever)
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 @bradshawsbitch 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱!!!
𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬
𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛
"Yeah, the little white one is Pearl," you excitedly tell the Dagger Squad as you scroll through the photos of your newest foster kittens. "And the little brown tabby is Poppy!"
You're leaning over a table in the training room, grinning ear-to-ear as you show off the billion pictures you've taken of the sweet little kittens that have been consuming your life.
The squad is doing everything in their power to show interest in the photos, swallowing yawns and making over-exaggerated nodding motions when you turn to look for their approval. It isn't just that they love you and genuinely wouldn't want to seem uninterested in something so important to you, but it's also that your dad could have their heads mounted on the walls if they so much as upset you.
You're a Simpson--Cyclone's only daughter and youngest child--but you couldn't be more opposite of your father. You're a bubbly person by nature, someone who could talk to a brick wall. You're the kind of person that could ruin their favorite jeans and still somehow have a good day.
Rooster and Phoenix have their arms crossed as you scroll through the endless pictures, one blurry picture of a little kitten to the next. But they adore you--you're grinning so big that you could light up a dark room. So they keep watching, smiling and nodding.
Bob's watching from across the room very subtly. At this point, the two of you have mastered subtly. As much as he wishes he could be one of the people that crowds around you to look at kitten pictures, he knows that he wouldn't be able to help himself from getting a little too close to you. He doesn't think he'd be able to stop himself from pecking your cheek or wrapping his arm around your waist. So he doesn't go out of his way to be overly affectionate to you when he sees you around on base, which is often. He's Bob, which means he's overtly polite and overly-nice, and he treats you the same as he'd treat anyone else on base. But it's these little stolen glances that keeps him going throughout the day--just ticking the minutes until the day is over and he can go home to you and your kittens. There he can do whatever he damn well pleases with you without having to worry about prying eyes.
"Oh, and just look at this video I got of Poppy..." you laugh, scrolling quickly through your camera roll in search of a video of Poppy trying to climb the sofa.
Your heart jumps in your throat when you pass the picture. It's quick, really, just a fleeting image across your screen. But you know what it is: it's the picture you took of Bob napping with the kittens the other day. It's unmistakably Bob, too, despite his stubble and un-gelled hair. You're praying no one else saw it, praying that everyone's lost interest by now.
But you have six of some of the world's greatest Fighter Pilots around you, watching your phone with their eagle-eyes. Nothing really gets past them.
"Wait," Hangman interrupts, pointing to the phone with furrowed brows. "Go back."
The rest of the squad makes a sound of agreement and you try to stutter something back, something that resembles an excuse, but then Rooster is reaching out himself and swiping back through the photos.
The chorus of gasps that fill the room draw Bob out of his trance. He looks away from where your fingers are curled around your phone and sees that all six of his squad-mates are staring at him with their jaws slacked and their eyes wide. Except Hangman--no, he's grinning ear-to-ear. You're already looking at Bob, too, apologetically grimacing and mouthing I'm so sorry to him.
"Bob Floyd," Phoenix starts lowly, glancing down at the picture again. Her voice is stained with disbelief--how could she have missed you and Bob? She loved both of you so much and Hell, she even trusted Bob with her life. How could she have not known before?
"You sly, sly dog," Coyote says, grinning, clapping you on the shoulder.
"Simpson's daughter?" Fanboy adds, like you aren't standing right there. "Floyd, you animal!"
What the squadron doesn't know is that your father is actually quite fond of Bob--he even insists that Bob call him Beau. They've shared a couple glasses of good scotch and Simpson has even invited Bob to play golf a couple of Sunday's. Really, your relationship is only a secret from the squadron--and you feel vindicated for making that decision as you watch all of them scramble to pat Bob on the shoulder.
"Well, I'll be damned," Rooster whistles with an impressed grin, squeezing your arm. "You and Bobby Floyd."
You're blushing something fierce, watching as Bob flushes at all the sudden attention, not confident enough to stand while the boys ruffle his hair.
"Guess the cat's out of the bag," Bob finally manages to say, laughing dryly at his poorly-timed pun.
Payback grins at you.
"You're a lucky lady, aren't you?"
The truth is you are a lucky lady. You and Bob have been together for longer than any of the squadron would ever guess, carefully tip-toeing around base when you see each other to not draw attention to situation. Bob makes your coffee every morning and you adopt kittens together. You iron Bob's uniform because you used to do it for your father and you think Bob is just as important. You dance on sunlit porches and share good wine with your family on Saturday nights after big dinners. Bob's the best person you've ever met.
And Bob knows that really, he's the lucky one here. Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to the world--period. You're funny, like the kind of funny that has him laughing before the sun's even come up and he didn't think that was possible. You still get excited every time he comes home, racing to the foyer and smashing your lips against his as you chatter about your day and help him unlace his boots. You're the kind of person that will bottle-feed kittens every two hours and not so much as complain about it, not even when the feedings are at three in the morning.
The two of you are totally and completely in love--you have been for a while. But, yes, Bob's right: the cat is out of the bag now.
"I am a lucky lady," you tell Payback, locking your phone and making your way over to Bob with a sweet, sweet smile.
here is my tag list!!
𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐊𝐨𝐟𝐢 ☺
#bobfucks#it is bob#bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#top gun bob#robert bob floyd#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd x you#robert floyd#robert floyd smut#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd fic#bob x reader#bob floyd fanfiction#robert floyd x y/n#bob floyd fic#bob floyd x you#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd x y/n#bob top gun#bob floyd blurb#bob floyd x female reader#bob floyd x oc#robert floyd fluff
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Abby! For the kiss prompts, could I request #9 (in public) with Bob and Teacher!Reader? 🍎 Very self-indulgent on my part 😂
- @bradshawsbaby 💕
But that's the joy of fanfic! We get to be self-indulgent!
"Mrs. Floyd? You're needed in the front office."
After hanging up the phone, you let out a sigh, looking at your lunch longingly.
This would happen during your lunch period, one of the few chances where you get time to yourself. No meetings, no kids, no questioning or yelling.
You loved your job. You weren't sure what else you'd want to do other than teaching. But the last few weeks had been seemingly endless and mentally draining.
It didn't help that your husband was gone.
By now, you should be a pro when it comes to Bob being deployed.
In a way, you were much better now at the beginning, had found enough projects and hobbies to occupy you, to keep your brain busy and far away from the fact your husband was somewhere halfway across the world.
But after a month, the loneliness and anxiety would seep in. Bob was out there, risking his life instead of being at home with you. Waking up alone to half of an empty bed instead of with him. His return always uncertain.
It made the long, particularly draining days of teaching much harder. Instead of being embraced by your husband's strong arms, you opened the door to an empty house.
Maybe things would be easier if you had a set return date. But even Bob wasn't sure of that.
So with a deep sigh, you put your lunch back in your bag, accepting it'll most likely go uneaten. The trek upstairs to the main office felt longer than usual, your feet feeling heavy with each step.
But instead of your useless principal or an irate parent waiting in the main office, you were met with a man who had eyes bluer than the ocean and a smile sweeter than honey.
"Bobby!"
No longer caring where you were, you threw your arms around your husband, kissing him for the first time in months.
"Hey darlin," Bob smiled into the kiss, also feeling relieved to have you back in his arms.
"What are you doing here?"
"Wanted to see my wife now that I'm back." His cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue that always managed to tug on your heartstrings.
"Couldn't wait until I was home?" You teased, not that you were complaining.
"And not spend time with you?"
Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, Bob knew you had to work, he was literally at your school-
"Your team arranged a sub for you. They made sub plans and everything. Just need to get your bag and we're good to leave," Bob revealed.
Your heart soared at the news, pulling him into another hug.
You were so happy, you nearly forgot that the main office was right by the cafeteria.
"Who is Mrs. Floyd kissing?"
"That's not Mrs. Floyd!"
"Yes it is!"
"She kissed him!"
"Is that Mr. Floyd?"
"That's not Mr. Floyd."
"Yes it is Liam!"
"I think we've been discovered," Bob whispered, unable to hide his smile as your students peered through the window.
#my writing#bob floyd#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x y/n#robert bob floyd#robert floyd#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd x you#robert floyd fic#robert floyd imagine#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fanfiction#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd fic#robert bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd fic#robert bob floyd imagine
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i want your midnights
synopsis: on the coldest new year's eve in a decade, bob floyd shows up at your door. prequel to delicate.
pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni, bob is really soft and cozy and lovestruck, swearing (barely), so much yearning and pining, kissing kissing kissing (wc: 2.2K)
note: surprise! i wasn't planning to write something for new year's, but i missed lovestruck bob. happy new year, loves! 🍾
summoning a few people who might be interested: @sometimesanalice @roosterbruiser @theharddeck @callsignspark @lewmagoo @gretagerwigsmuse @roosterforme @rhettabbotts
He shouldn't be here right now. For several reasons.
Technically, Bob should be on a plane right now – or on one of several planes because San Diego International doesn't offer any direct flights to the part of Montana Bob is from
He usually flies from San Diego to Los Angeles and Los Angeles to Bozeman and drives from there.
Except when half of California freezes over in the coldest storm in a decade on the very day Bob is supposed to head home for New Year's and grounds all of LAX.
This normally wouldn't be a big deal. He doesn't even care all that much about New Year's – New Year's is celebrated very casually in his family. He's usually in bed well before midnight. – but Bob already missed Christmas.
He and Phoenix were selected for a special detachment at the end of December, which – while an honor and a privilege, etcetera – meant Bob spent Christmas on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific. He didn't get back until December 28.
Phoenix immediately drove up to San Francisco to be with her nieces and nephews. He'd been waiting for New Year's.
Now, after countless delays and an eventual cancellation – which should've happened hours ago when Bob maybe could've found another way home, rented a car and driven the seventeen hours – Bob is stuck in San Diego.
Disappointed isn't a good enough word to express what Bob is feeling right now.
He could've driven back to his apartment – his sad apartment, already devoid of colorful lights and silver and gold decorations because Bob didn't expect to come back until January. He could've called Fanboy or gone to the New Year's Eve party at the Hard Deck, but Bob isn't in the mood to be around people right now.
He only wants to see one person.
And now Bob is here – standing outside of your apartment with a backpack and a carry-on, like Bob is about to clear out a drawer and move right in.
He probably looks like a weirdo. He definitely feels like a weirdo.
Damn. This was a mistake.
It's a brisk 40 degrees and dropping outside, and Coronado smells like ocean air and fireplace smoke. Pine needles, shed from the withering evergreens hauled onto the streets and abandoned the day after Christmas. Seawater and camphor and burning wood.
He shivers in the cold, broad shoulders rounding under the worn wool of his sweater. He should've worn something warmer – something nicer – but all of Bob's warmer coats are either deep in his suitcase or at his parents' house. He never expected to need them in San Diego.
A shaky puff of breath blows from his quivering lips.
He breathes in a deep and steadying breath. A bracing breath. And knocks on the door.
Minutes pass. Or maybe, just seconds.
Finally, Bob hears a voice from inside. Blessedly.
"Just a minute!"
Your calm voice is like a soothing balm, even muffled, even barely audible, and Bob feels like a loosed bowstring – held taut for hours on end and at the sound of your voice, finally let free. He can drop his shoulders and loosen his clenched jaw for the first time in the past day – in the past week.
Tension melts off of him like the last snow of late spring from the Montana pines. He can finally relax. He can breathe again.
A crack of light spills out of the creaking door, and Bob pulls his gaze from his scuffed brown Blundstones.
You are silhouetted in the doorway like a priceless Renaissance sculpture, glowing, curves highlighted and illuminated in the most beautiful dress Bob has ever seen.
Black satin, catching in the dim light and glimmering, like a blanket of stars on a cloudless December night.
He used to lay under stars like those in Montana and memorize the constellations. He feels the same sense of wonder, of awe looking at you.
He's always found you beautiful – even dressed in your coveralls with grease smudged on your cheeks, sometimes especially then – but now, fuck.
He's never seen your hair like that before, loose around your shoulders, curled like the ends of a ribbon on a beautifully wrapped present on Christmas morning. He shoves his hands in his pockets, slightly chapped and reddened from the dry cold, and pinches the denim between his palms, squashing the urge to reach out and wrap one of the delicate strands of hair around his finger.
A deep shade of red paints your lips, parting in a surprised smile. "Bob Floyd, is that you?" You shiver and hug your arms, and Bob, respectfully, keeps his eyes on your face. "Jesus Christ, when did it get so cold out here? Aren't you cold?"
"I, uh... run warm, I guess," Bob says. He lifts his baseball cap and runs his fingers through the mess of strands underneath, in desperate need of a trim. Sets it back on his head and squares his shoulders. "Are you headed out?"
You look down and absentmindedly shuffle your feet to look down at your heels – which reveals a slit in the fabric, exposing a line of bare skin all the way up to your thigh. God help him.
"Kind of. I'm supposed to meet up with some of the other mechanics at the Hard Deck. There’s some New Year’s thing there, I guess.” You fold your arms across your chest and look at him, still smiling curiously. “But what about you? What brings you here on New Year's Eve?"
He showed up out of the blue. Anyone else might be annoyed, but all Bob hears in your voice is gentle curiosity. Like Bob is the most pleasant of surprises.
"I spent 12 hours in the airport, only for my flight to get canceled, and I couldn't go back to my apartment after that and spend New Year's alone, but I couldn't go to the Hard Deck either. I'm sorry," Bob adds. "I shouldn't have shown up here like this. I should've called you. You have plans."
You regard him, expression calm. "Don't be sorry. I'm happy to see you."
You're happy to see him. You're happy to see him.
Is it cold enough for the pink in his cheeks to be mistaken for a different kind of flush? He hopes so.
"Do you wanna come in?"
His eyes grow wide. "Oh... well, what about your party?"
You drop your shoulder in a shrug. "New Year's is kind of lame anyway. I was really going as an excuse to get dressed up because I never go anywhere fancy enough to wear this dress. It's been in the back of my closet for months."
His eyes drop to the dress again, and absently, Bob wonders what the material would feel like between his fingers, what it'd feel like to run his hand over the elegant slope of your hip. He swallows.
"It's quite a dress," Bob croaks. His mouth is so damn dry. "You, uh... You look really beautiful. It's really... yeah."
You watch him, expression softening like warmed butter. "Thank you, Bob."
You look at him – look past the backpack and the scuffed carry-on and the slightly baggy sweater that once belonged to his older brother – and Bob feels seen, really seen. He feels safe.
You bump the door open wider with your hip and reach for his luggage, wiggling your fingers playfully until Bob passes the suitcase over. He's rewarded with a beaming smile, radiant and warm.
"Come on. You like Chinese?"
You change after Bob comes in, hanging up your dress and putting on an oversized gray sweater, pushed up at the sleeves, and a pair of fleece pajama pants that aren't quite the right length for your legs, covered in white dots and blue and white snowflakes.
You order the food and put on your favorite New Year's Eve movie while Bob calls his parents and gets comfortable, changing into sweatpants. His mom is pleased that Bob isn't spending New Year's alone, but Bob chooses his words carefully.
He is spending New Year's with a friend, not with a girl.
She'd ask questions Bob couldn't really answer in your hall bathroom.
When Bob comes back in, When Harry Met Sally is on.
You explain: "It's my favorite New Year's Eve movie. I watch it almost every year. If I start watching it 28 seconds after 10:30 PM – exactly, like down to the second – I can count down to midnight while Harry is confessing his love to Sally in the New Year’s scene."
You curl up on the couch, nursing a glass of champagne, while Bob sips from a chilled can of Ginger Ale while Harry and Sally banter and dance around each other and fall in love.
Admittedly, Bob is only half watching.
He likes this movie, but Bob is much more interested in you.
He is rarely alone with you.
He usually comes to see you on the Naval base – sometimes even making up questions as an excuse to come and talk to you, bringing coffee as a thank you for your answers – or seeks you out at the Hard Deck. He drove you home once when Bob was working late and spotted you in one of the hangars, but otherwise, Bob has never been here before.
About 30 minutes into the movie, Bob gets overheated and sheds his sweater, leaving him in a white short-sleeve and sweatpants underneath the oversized blanket from your bedroom. It's made of some kind of sherpa and smells like you.
Everything in here smells like you.
His legs are sprawled out in front of him, resting on the coffee table between a half-eaten plate of spring rolls and what’s left of his chicken chow mein. He ate his body weight in noodles and miso soup, and Bob feels warm and relaxed – if bordering on uncomfortably full.
He can barely focus with the smell of your perfume in his nostrils; excruciatingly aware of you underneath the blanket next to him, curled up with your legs folded underneath yourself, head lolling to the side, dangerously close to resting on his shoulder; smelling like cherries and champagne and vanilla and you.
A countdown begins in the background of the scene.
“Five…”
You sit up underneath the blanket, which brings you closer to him, inadvertently.
“Four…”
Your arm brushes against Bob’s.
“Three…”
You watch the screen, excited, and count along.
“Two…”
Your lips part in a wide and excited smile.
“One…”
Cheers erupt on the screen, but Bob isn’t even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He’s watching you.
You grin at him, eyes bright, looking so beautiful that Bob can’t hold the words in.
“Can I kiss you?”
Surprise flashes across your face, soon replaced with a small smile. Bob can see a lipstick stain at the corner of your mouth from where earlier, you'd messily wiped the red from your lips with a cocktail napkin. He wants to reach out and smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. He wants to kiss the spot where the smudge used to be.
Instead, Bob holds his breath. Waits.
He shouldn't have said anything. You've been such a good friend to him. You changed your plans, invited him in.
What if Bob's ruined everything now?
You've never been so close. You ask, "Like a New Year's kiss? Or like a real kiss?"
What if Bob hasn't ruined anything at all?
“Both,” Bob says softly, like a confession.
What if?
You're glowing in the sparkle of multi-colored lights, still strung along the walls, still decorating the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, blues and reds and greens, eyes glimmering, liquid warm. "Yeah. That'd be okay."
"Okay," Bob echoes, leaning in.
He presses his lips against yours in a gentle but firm kiss, cradling your jaw with a careful hand, stroking your cheek.
Bob doesn't linger. Doesn't press his luck.
He gives you a good and solid kiss and pulls back, eyes slowly opening.
"How was that?"
You lick your lips, and Bob follows the movement with his gaze, entranced.
"Kiss me again."
It's after midnight now, and uncertain, Bob asks, "Like a New Year's kiss?"
You shake your head, slow and clear, and lean in, and Bob meets you in the middle.
He kisses you in earnest now, kissing the smudge of red on the corner of your mouth, licking a drop of champagne from your bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth, running his hands over your skin.
You do the same, running your hands over his shoulders, over his neck, and knocking his baseball hat from his head, run your fingers through his hair. You pull on the ends of the strands, pull him closer, and god, it's all Bob can do not to moan into your mouth.
You're all warm skin and soft curves and sweet perfume, and Bob is drowning drowning drowning.
You knock the wind out of him, and eventually, Bob is forced to pull back and catch his breath. His chest is heaving. His cheeks are pink and warm.
You blink up at him, eyes wide and glassy, as if pulled from a dream, and give him a dazed smile. You murmur, low and breathless, "Happy New Year, Bob."
I think I'm in love with you.
"Happy New Year," Bob whispers instead.
end note: likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all!
#bob floyd fic#robert floyd fic#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd x you#bob floyd angst#bob floyd fluff#laracrofted writes#fic: delicate#fic: bob floyd
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Buzzing Romance
Robert "Bob" Floyd
Synopsis: You and Bob have always vibed, and now it's time for this budding romance to blossom.
Note: Hi, friends! I know I've been MIA around these parts. And I hate it, but priorities. Anywho, I wanted to stop by, drop this little gift and say happy Valentine's Day! And say thank you to those who continue to message, chat, tag and send asks 🖤 This fic is a companion to Vibe Check and Sending Vibes. Reading one or both will provide additional context but isn't mandatory. Enjoy!
Warnings: 18+ only, fluffy but sex toys.
Word count: 1.1k
Bob wanted tonight to be perfect. Along with dinner at a steakhouse you’d been jonesing to try, he had a beautiful bouquet of roses to give you.
Ever the perfectionist, Bob had called his florist friend, Riley. Since Bob always made sure Riley was on the shortlist for any local Navy events, he had an open line of favors ready for redemption.
A few days later, Bob spent over an hour in Riley’s shop, before she opened at seven in the morning, handpicking the biggest, reddest roses.
Later after work at home, Bob spent another 30 minutes adding the final touch. A 25th rose that would never die—as long as you kept it charged. He wanted to confirm that not even a petal was out of place, and the rose-shaped vibrator was well hidden so you didn’t notice at first glance.
Meanwhile, you were at your place—a rare occasion on its own. However, you were also giddy to get glammed up and go out on a real date with Bob. The thought made you laugh.
It was clear you and Bob were in this for the long haul, but nothing about your relationship was traditional. You’d been seeing each other exclusively—a mutual decision—for nearly a year but had yet to formally define the relationship.
Hell, you were still discovering new things about one another. Barely a month ago, Bob found out about your culinary skills when you cooked him his favorite meal as a welcome home surprise.
The same night he also saw you in something other than an oversized Naval Academy t-shirt for the first time. You thought Bob’s eyes might bulge out of his head when you donned a sheer nude bra and panty set embroidered with the most delicate flowers.
You were hoping Bob would have a similar reaction tonight when he saw you dressed up for something other than a work-related gala. Your gala gowns were always striking but also conservative since you were among colleagues and leadership. Secretly, you hoped Bob fantasized about what was under your garb during galas as much as you fantasized about what was under his dress uniform.
Your phone shook you from your fantasies. Bob messaged to check that a 6:45 pickup left you plenty of time to get ready. After responding, you put your phone back on the bathroom counter to inspect your face one more time before going to your room to put on your outfit.
Bob was having nearly the exact same thoughts about your relationship, firsts and fantasies as he stood in front of the mirror, deciding which switch shirt to pair with his slim-cut gray suit. It felt cliche, given the holiday, but he decided to go with a soft pink shirt. One last check of his carefully styled hair, and then Bob was sliding into his two-door 90s Silverado.
Fifteen minutes later, Bob rolled to a stop in front of your rental. Flowers in hand, he strode to the front door. He poked the doorbell and waited.
You didn’t even bother to look before you flung the door open. “Hi,” you sweetly greeted him. He nearly dropped the bouquet. Bob couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over your body.
The sheer bodice and the low sweetheart neckline of your top had him reminiscing about his first night home from his last deployment. The silk high-waisted midi skirt and strappy heels you paired it with were the perfect compliment.
Remembering he was standing on your doorstep, Bob’s wits came about him. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you.” You chuckled. There was no way Bob’s cheeks weren’t as red as the flowers in his hand.
“These are for you!” He gently held the bouquet out.
Your face lit up as you used both hands to take it. “These are gorgeous! Do I have time to put them in water?”
“Of course.” Bob smiled. “I’ll get the door.” You thanked him and turned to go inside. He closed the front door and trailed you into your kitchen.
“Here.” You gave him the bouquet back as you reached into the top of a cabinet to get a vase. While your back was turned, he adjusted the vibrator to be a smidge more obvious. “Come.” You waved a hand from him to join you at the sink.
While the vase filled with water, you grabbed some scissors, and then turned off the faucet. Then you pulled a rose from the bunch to snip the bottom. “These are gorgeous, Bob.”
His smile widened. “I hand picked them.” You stopped to look at him in disbelief. He shrugged. You smirked as you grabbed another rose and trimmed the end before placing it in the vase. Bob watched as you continued to pick roses and diagonally trim the ends.
Then, you saw it. You froze and looked at Bob. He was smirking. Your expression morphed to mirror his as you unearthed the rose-shaped vibrator. Your eyes flitted between him and the toy.
“It’s kinda our thing, isn’t it?” He said with a wink. Bob placed what was left of the uncut bouquet on the counter. You also sat the vibrator there, and then wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on your hips as he looked at you.
“You never cease to amaze me, Bobby.” Your gazes were locked. Your fingers brushed the short hairs at the back of his neck.
“I have to admit my intentions aren’t purely altruistic.”
“Oh?” Your eyebrow arched as he began to slightly sway you as if music were playing.
“I want to take my girlfriend to dinner.” Bob stopped moving and let his hands wander to the small of your back to pull you closer.
You bit your lip to cull the smile involuntarily pulling the corners of your mouth. “I would love for my boyfriend to take me to dinner.” You could feel the excitement in Bob’s embrace. “And afterward, I hope he’s willing to test out the gift he bought me.”
Bob’s face lit up with both a smile and rosy cheeks. He gladly accepted your lips against his and let his hand drop to cup your backside. You caught him off guard by nipping his lip when he gave you a squeeze. “Let’s skip dinner. I want to go straight to dessert,” he stated. You giggled as you uncoiled your arms from his neck and let a hand come to rest on his chest.
With a playful eye roll, you turned to the counter and finished trimming the roses. Patiently, Bob watched you situate the blooms. When you were done, you took the vase to the living room and sat it in the middle of the coffee table. While you admired your bouquet, Bob went to the bedroom to leave a single rose on the nightstand—ready to keep your romance buzzing.
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Can’t fight this feeling
A/N- well what started as a long forgotten blurb morphed into a full blown one shot in less than an hour, you guys seemed to love it so hopefully I do the rest of the story justice!
Pairing- Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader
Warnings- language, drinking.
“Damnit Rooster!!” You shriek as you slam your hand over his idiot mouth and the 6’1” monster of a man has the audacity to giggle. Giggle!
Ok, ok so maybe the two of you had gone a little too hard at the bar tonight, celebrating a super stressful mission ending, and maybe just maybe you had opened your mouth and let your best friend in on your big secret all but shouting at him to keep his mouth shut knowing full well he wasn’t capable of it.
You were disgustingly, overwhelmingly in love with one of your fellow lieutenants, and you had just blurted it out in the middle of the Hard Deck to the one person you KNOW can’t keep a secret.
Moving your hand and whispering close to your ear “Ok! I hear you bubs I just… Bob fucking Floyd? You’re telling me you’ve been harboring an 80s teen movie level crush for Baby Bob Floyd?!”
Just when the moment couldn’t be more awkward, you looked up and there he was. Bright blue eyes wide and mouth gaping. He definitely heard.
You were so fucking screwed.
To say you were embarrassed was an understatement, not only had you let Rooster blab about your big secret, you’d also turned tail and ran, dodging a flabbergasted Bob as you successfully made it to your car and home, shutting off your phone and then leaving it on do not disturb for the rest of the weekend. Was it childish? Oh absolutely, but you’d never really been good with feelings like this, your last serious boyfriend had been in college and you weren’t a one night stand kind of girl. So when you got stationed with your best friend from all the way back to basic training and then promptly introduced to the squad he flew with you were shocked at the butterflies that threatened to explode in your chest the moment you laid eyes on Robert Floyd. He was beautiful, bright blue eyes and a smile that lit up his entire countenance, classically handsome in that old Hollywood sort of way, but that wasn’t what kept you pining months later, it was his heart that drew you in. He was incredibly kind, always up to help any of his friends or even a stranger, he had a dry sarcastic wit that kept you in stitches, come on! who could possibly spend time with him and not fall for him? Certainly not you, everything about him drew you in and made it almost impossible to not get flustered, how he hadn’t noticed already was truly remarkable.
When Monday morning came and Rooster knocked on your door to pick you up you groaned at the thought that you might have to interact with Bob. You weren’t an aviator, the ability to avoid him across the flight line in the control tower was a welcome distraction, but you knew inevitably you’d run into him. Bradley had been apologizing all morning, he knew you liked to keep things close to the chest but he also knew that keeping everything bottled up was never good for anyone, so when he made his way into the classroom that morning he let it slip to Bob that you were holed up in your office.
He bounded down the hall to your office a little faster than he should have, skidding to a stop at your door as he tried to calm his breathing. He’d had all weekend to mull it over, too much time really when he knew exactly what he wanted to say to you and had for months. Honestly he’d been head over heels as long as you had, but he’d convinced himself that you were out of his league; too pretty, too popular for a quiet wallflower like him. When Rooster had loudly declared you had feelings too it had been like all the air left the room, he couldn’t gather his thoughts fast enough before he knew it you had already left, and when he’d called it had gone to voicemail. Natasha suggested to give it a few days which had been nearly impossible, but now standing at the door to your office he couldn’t bring himself to knock. He didn’t have a boom box blasting at your window, or some big dance number as a grand gesture to express his feelings like they showed in the movies but he knew what he wanted and that was you. Luckily, as if you’d sensed his presence the door swung open, shock crossing your face as you nearly stepped backwards to hide again, but that wouldn’t do; so he did the most logical thing he could think of and closed the gap, pulling you by the waist to press against him. It was out of character to be sure, but in his line of work life was too short and he’d wasted months of time getting to this point.
“I-ah Bob. Hi. Um I’m so sorry about Friday night”
He ran his thumb across your jawline and watched as your eyes widened and pupils dilated, you were flustered and it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “I feel the same way you know” he said as he continued to stroke your jaw and you melted into his embrace, surging forward to press your lips to his. It didn’t need to be like the movies, it just needed to be him.
Later that week you were again surprised by Robert visiting your office, only this time he had a to go box from your favorite lunch spot in his hands, sadly it was eaten cold and in a rush as you spent the hour wrapped up in your new boyfriend instead.
Tagging people who were interested/might be-
@attapullman @bobgasm @floydsglasses @roosterforme @nerdgirljen @sweetwhispersofchaos @topnerd03
#top gun maverick#bob floyd#robert floyd x you#robert floyd fic#robert bob floyd fic#robert floyd imagine#top gun bob#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fic#robert bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd#top gun maverick fanfiction
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Flyboy and the Florist-1
Bob Floyd x F!Reader
Warnings: None, Fluff
Word Count: 466
Author's Note: This is my first time writing for Bob and I hope I did him justice. Also, I tried to keep reader pretty neutral in features but she does have glasses and ear piercings!
It was an accident. One moment Bob was trying to find the perfect bouquet for Penny from Maverick because he trusted the quiet man. The next he’s surrounded by flowers on the ground and the prettiest eyes are staring at him with concern. Bob didn’t think that someone so beautiful would be the owner of the little florist shop he found on Google. It had the highest reviews and that was good enough for him. He was not expecting to be enamored with her when he first walked in. Hence why he missed the bucket with freshly cut peonies to the right of him. Which resulted in him slipping on the wet floor and landing flat on his ass.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Tilting her head which resulted in a soft jingle from the earrings she was wearing. The stars and moon twinkling in the sunlight added an almost ethereal appearance to her but maybe it was just in his head.
“Y-yeah. Sorry about knocking that over. I can pay for them if they’re ruined now?” he said while standing up quickly. He felt like a total idiot knocking over your perfect flowers and his momma raised him to be a gentleman. So his immediate thought was to somehow fix the silly little mistake he made.
“You’re totally fine,” she said with a chuckle while pushing up her glasses. “ They’re just flowers and besides I can repurpose them into one of my bath salts. An easy fix.”
All Bob could focus on was her pretty smile and how much her glasses fit her face perfectly. With his head in the clouds, he missed the question she just asked him.
“I’m sorry what was that again?” he felt completely flustered.
“I asked what type of bouquet are you looking for? Is it for a partner or a friend?” she asked with a curious look on her face.
“Oh! It's not for me. My superior wanted some help picking out something for his partner.” Bob immediately replied with a flush on his cheeks.
“Well, he must trust your insight a lot to give such an important task to you.” She turned around and picked up a bouquet that had morning glory, baby’s breath, and roses. “Here this bouquet will be perfect. Baby’s breath means everlasting love, Morning glory means affection, and pink and white roses together mean “I love you still and I always will.”
Bob stood there even more enamored than before, the way she rattled off the meaning of each flower with such excitement made him want to know more. About her or the language of flowers, he wasn’t sure but he knew that this wasn’t the last time he would be crossing paths with this enigma of a woman. He’ll make sure of it.
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#flyboy and the florist#bob floyd#bob floyd fic#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd fanfiction#bob floyd fanfic#robert bob floyd#robert bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd fanfiction#robert bob floyd fanfic#robert bob floyd fic#robert bob floyd fluff#robert floyd#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd fic#robert floyd fanfic#robert floyd fanfiction#robert floyd fluff#bob top gun#top gun maverick#top gun maverick fic#top gun maverick fanfic#top gun#top gun fic
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Baby On Board- B.Floyd
pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader
word count: 6k (its a long one)
type: angst
warnings: top gun shit, child birth, near death experiences, cursing.
synopsis: being placed on a top secret mission weeks before his wife's due date was not what Lt. Floyd had imagined married life would be like.
note: thank you so much for 600! it's crazy how much this blog has grown in such little time! keep sending in requests!
She was his highschool sweetheart. From the moment Bob laid eyes on Y/N their freshman year of highschool, even with braces and acne and a ridiculous haircut, he knew that she was going to be his wife. She was perfect, smart, popular, kind to everyone and he was. . . well he was just Bob. A dork, a nerd, sweet and kind and too pure for this world. He could remember how badly he was sweating and shaking as he approached her lunch table, some cheesy valentine’s day card in his hand and asked her to the school dance. He thought he would get laughed at, but his heart filled with even more love as she pulled out a valentine of her own to give to him.
Bob had shocked everyone when he decided to go into the navy, including Y/N. They had talked about their futures, and Bob had briefly mentioned going into the navy, but he wasn't certain. So when he came home and told her he enlisted, she was shocked but proud of him. Her heart broke when he left for boot camp, and would wait by the phone or mailbox for a call or letter from him. When he came home with a buzzed cut, a bouquet of flowers and a ring, they both knew they didn’t want to be apart from each other. They got married in a small ceremony in his parents backyard, it was like a fairytale for both of them.
Both Bob and Y/N had agreed that they wanted kids. They weren’t ever too keen on actively trying for kids, but they weren’t doing anything to actively prevent it either. At first, they were going to let nature do its thing, agreeing that it’ll happen when it happens. But after two years of nothing, they knew that it was time for some intervention. It broke Bob’s heart when the doctor told them it was going to be nearly impossible for them to have a baby of their own. He watched as the light in her eyes diminished. She told him that she was okay, that it would be fine, but Bob could hear her crying in the bathroom when she thought he was asleep.
Bob stood by her side though, never leaving her. He held her hand in doctors appointments, when they had decided on doing hormonal treatments, Bob was always on track with timing, and keeping track of everything. When he noticed that her body had started to change, and her mood was different and her period was late, he went out and bought every kind of pregnancy test there was to get. He sat by her side on the bed as they waited for the timer to go off, and was the first to look at the results.
Seven months later, Bob and Y/N were glaring at each other from across the kitchen. Her belly had popped some weeks ago, and she was now supporting a nice round bump. She looked on the verge of tears as Bob had explained the document that was sitting in between the two of them. He was being called back to TOPGUN, something that he never thought would happen. The first time around, they had been married for only about a year, and Bob was excited to be chosen to go. He got permission to take his wife with him, and that was all he needed. Now, things have changed.
Y/N was not thrilled at all about Bob being called back. There was no other information on the document other than time and place to be. They had arranged on base housing for the both of them, but they both knew that Y/N couldn’t leave Lemoore. It wasn’t a good idea for her to be far away from her doctor, not when time was ticking away closer to her due date.
“Why can’t they send someone else?” Y/N asked, running a hand through her hair, “Can you tell them I’m pregnant?”
“Did,” Bob sighed, “Technically the baby isn’t born yet so I don’t get any sort of paternity leave. I would still only get 21 days anyway.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, of course he didn't, “There’s nothing you can do?”
“It’s non negotiable. You can come with-”
“Come with!? Bob, look at me, I’m the size of a water buffalo-“
“No you’re not-“
“Shut up,” Y/N said, getting angry. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and turned on her heel and left the kitchen in tears. Bob sighed, knowing the majority of this was caused by pregnancy hormones but it still didn’t make it any easier. He knew that there was a possibility of him getting a last minute deployment or special detachment, like this one, that could take him away from Y/N and his unborn child. He just didn’t think it would ever come true. Bob grabbed the sheet of paper and read it over again. Doing the math in his head, he should be back in time before Y/N has their baby, but it still didn’t bring him any comfort.
He pushed himself from his spot, walking to the freezer to get an orange crush popsicle for Y/N, and then walked down the hall. He found her sitting on their shared bed, looking out the window. Bob sat down next to her and offered her the popsicle.
“Thanks,” She murmured.
“I know it’s not ideal-”
“No, it’s not,” Y/N sniffled as she opened up her popsicle.
“You could come with. . .”
“Bob, I’m seven months pregnant. I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“It’s also not a good idea to have you here alone either,” Bob said and Y/N sighed, “At least, if you’re in Miramar with me, I’d be there in a matter of minutes if something happened,” He grabbed her free hand and intertwined their fingers, “Up here, yeah we are alone, but you’ll be even more alone if something happened and I’m seven hours away. It would bring peace of mind to me, if you came with me.”
“Well,” Y/N sighed, “Looks like we’re both going back to TOPGUN.”
Bob smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek, and then slid off the bed to kneel in front of her, both hands going to her growing belly. It always made her giggle at how Bob’s large hands could cover her whole bump, but it also brought her a sense of security.
“You, my little one, can’t make any surprise appearances while we are there, you hear me? You stay right in here for the next six weeks and we won’t have an issue,” Bob said to her belly, and got a small kick in return, “I think they understood me,” He said looking up at you with his lopsided grin.
“I’m sure they did.”
— — —
It was almost too hot to do anything, even by the ocean in Miramar. Y/N had told herself when she got pregnant, she didn’t want to be pregnant during the hot months, but living in California, it was always hot. The drive down had been awful, having to stop almost every hour so she could pee, or being constantly uncomfortable. Bob felt bad, knowing that she was only doing this for him, but he let her complain as much as she wanted to. Bob had heard that everyone was gathering at the Hard Deck, a local bar that he and Y/N had frequented the first time around at TOPGUN. Y/N had opted not to go with him, as she wanted to just stay in the air conditioning of their tiny on base house.
Y/N had done what she could to make herself comfortable while being in Miramar. She went grocery shopping, to the beach a couple times, met with one of the OB’s on base (which Bob had gotten out of training early to do), but for the most part she kept a low profile, trying to stay as cool as she possibly could in the southern california heat. Her favorite part of the day was when Bob would come home, and lay his head in her lap and tell their child all about his day. His eyes always lit up as he talked about the simulations and the dogfighting. He would get so animated about it, it was adorable.
Y/N knew bits and pieces about the mission. She knew it was dangerous, that there was a lot at stake. Bob didn’t want to worry her too much at this stage in her pregnancy, but she had kind of gathered that them all being called back meant that it was serious. She tried not to think of a world where Bob Floyd wasn’t alive and she hated it. But Bob reassured her as much as he possibly could that he would make it back to her.
The team didn’t know much about Robert Floyd, other than he was a WSO and Phoenix’s back seater. He was quiet, kept to himself, and would speed off after showering at the end of the day. Phoenix had tried to pry some information out of him, but got nothing more than his full name, where he was from, and where he was currently stationed. Bob didn’t talk much about himself, and Phoenix kind of liked that. He was different from the usual cocky, arrogant (hangman) pilots she was used to working with.
“So Bob, what do you plan on doing when you get out of here?” Phoenix had asked him, as they were headed to the trial run zone. It was day four of doing the trial course, and no one had successfully completed it.
“I bet he is going to have himself a cold glass of ice water,” Coyote joked and Bob rolled his eyes.
“Oh shut it,” Phoenix laughed, “I bet he’ll go home and watch the office or something.”
“I prefer ‘friends’ over the office,” Bob said, thinking of his wife’s favorite show.
“Alright, dagger 1 easing in, time starting in 3, 2, 1,” Phoenix said as she started into the simulation.
Bob looked down at his radar, watching as Phoenix and Coyote made the twists and turns of the simulation, feeling his body jostle from side to side. It never got easier, the more that they ran the course, it seemed to somehow get worse. His body felt heavier, his lungs felt like they would explode. He would find bruises on his sides from hitting the side of the cockpit at such forces. Bob eyed their time, seeing that they were keeping up a good speed, until he caught another plane on the radar.
“Oh no, it’s Maverick!” Bob said.
“What?! Where is he!?” Phoenix called out, and Bob looked around the clear canopy into the sky, trying to see if he could spot Maverick.
“Lost him in the sun!” Bob called out, “Coyote, you see him!?”
“Man, he’s on my tail,” Coyote said, “Line it up, Bob.”
“Roger!” Bob said, controlling his laser to line up the shot, except he couldn’t get control of it. He swore under his breath as he tried but it was no use, “Dead eye! I can’t get it to lock!”
“Dropping in blind then,” Coyote said, and tried to line up the laser the best he could.
Bob could feel when Phoenix shifted the trajectory of the jet, sending them into a steep incline upward. Bob fought against the Gs being pushed on his body as he tried to keep his eyes open and himself conscious. Maverick had somehow shown back up, and stimulated a dogfight with them, until they realized they had lost comms with Coyote. He had gone into g-loc, and Maverick moved quickly to line up a shot, sending a loud buzzing sound into his cockpit. Bob took a sigh in relief as they got Coyote back, but the relief was short-lived when Maverick called out the bird strike.
“We’re on fire!” Bob called out, looking to see the left engine ablaze.
“Extinguishing!” Phoenix said, flipping a switch, “Lost hydraulics, losing altitude, I-I can’t control it!”
“Right engine on fire! We’re gonna burn in!” Bob’s voice was filled with panic, as he felt their jet start to drop from the sky.
“You have to eject!” Maverick called, “Phoenix, Bob! Eject, eject, eject!”
“Fuck! Eject, eject, eject!” Phoenix yelled out, as she hit the button to eject both of them. Bob covered his head as the canopy shot off, and he felt himself get pushed out of the cockpit. The next thing he felt was his feet hitting the ground.
— — —
The last thing any military wife ever wants is a call from the hospital saying that their husband had been injured. When Y/N arrived at the hospital, frantic with tears in her eyes, a nurse had guided her down to the room her husband was in. She felt the confused looks and stares of the aviators in the hallway as she passed by them on the way to Bob’s room. She had even heard one of them ask who she was and another say they didn’t know. Bob was busy flipping through the tv channels when she got to his room, he looked over at her and smiled weakly.
“Hey baby,” Bob said and Y/N rushed to his side, as Bob engulfed her in a hug, “Shh, I’m okay, I’m okay.” He soothed her, while rubbing her back as she cried as she sat on his bed.
“Jesus Christ Robert, don’t ever scare me like that again,” Y/N said, pulling away from him, and wiping her tears, “What the hell happened?”
“Bird Strike, lost control of the jet, had to eject. Nothing but a couple bruises and a sore tailbone,” Bob smiled, and Y/N shook her head, “Are you okay?”
“You’re asking me that?”
“You’re the pregnant one.”
“You’re the one who just ejected from a plane at 500 feet in the air.”
“Touche,” Bob said, as there was a knock on the door. Y/N turned her head to see a brunette woman peeking her head in with a shy smile on her face.
“The guys said you had company, I hope you don’t mind me coming to check on you?” The woman said, looking between the two of her.
Bob looked at you and you smiled, “No, not at all,” He said, “This is Phoenix, the main driver,” Bob said introducing the two of them, “Phoenix this is my wife, Y/N.”
“Oh- wow, Bob never-”
“Stealth pilot,” Y/N smiled and held her hand out to greet Phoenix, “It’s nice to meet you. He’s told me all about you. You’re pretty cool from what it sounds like.”
“You flatter me,” Phoenix said with a slight blush, “How far along?”
“Eight months. Not exactly my ideal location to be in, but,” Y/N shrugged and Bob smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her to sit back down on the bed, “How are you doing? I can’t imagine what it was like.”
“I’m okay, a little shaken up. I’m more concerned that Bob has hidden you away from us and made me suffer with the rest of the testosterone freaks out there.” Phoenix said and sat down in a chair by the bed.
Bob knew it was no use hiding Y/N from Phoenix, so he had told his pilot all about his wife, how they met, how he proposed, their wedding, their house, and even about their baby. Phoenix was surprised at how talkative Bob could be when he was talking about something he loved. She knew he could rattle off information about an F-18 and missiles and flight trajectory, but when it came to talking about his life, Phoenix was surprised. He had hardly let Y/N get a word in and Phoenix would laugh at how Y/N just looked at him.
Y/N would’ve liked it if Bob would’ve been able to stay home after having to eject from his plane, but the mission was still a go. It was only three days after the bird strike that he was packing his bags and headed to get on the carrier. Y/N had driven him to base, much to his dismay since he didn’t want her driving with her belly in the way. She tried to hide her tears as she put the car in park and looked at the daunting aircraft carrier.
“It’s only three days,” Bob said, looking at his hands, “Three days and-and I come home to you and our baby.” He placed his hand on her bump, feeling their little one move around.
“I know,” Y/N said, “Swear to God, if you don’t-”
“I will,” Bob said, cutting her off. He leaned over the console, holding her face in his hands and kissed her. It took her breath away, the type of kiss that is supposed to be a constant reminder. It left her lips tingling as he pulled back, “I’ll see you in three days.” Y/N nodded as Bob got out of the car. She saw Phoenix waiting next to her car and sent her a small smile and wave. Phoenix gave her a nod in response and hugged Bob.
Y/N let out a shaky breath as she watched the two of them walk towards the ship, “Three days little one, no sudden movement for three days.”
— — —
Y/N tried to keep herself distracted but she couldn’t help but stare at the clock, knowing that any second her husband’s plane would be taking off from the middle of the pacific ocean and would be flying towards a certain death. She knows that he promised to come home, but nothing is ever promised in this life. Y/N looked down at the hot mug of tea in front of her and felt a stray tear run down her cheek. She had gotten to the point in her pregnancy where she didn’t even know she was crying until the tear hit her shirt. She sniffled and placed her hand on her belly, just as she felt a cramping sensation.
“No. . .” She mumbled to herself and let out a shaky breath, “Please stop, don’t do this.” Y/N had been feeling contractions since Bob left. She knew that braxton hicks were common and had been feeling those since month seven, but now, these felt different. These felt stronger and she could feel her stomach dropping.
Y/N pushed herself away from the counter and slowly started making her way towards her bedroom. Laying down usually helped subside the contractions and the pelvic pain. Y/N paused as she felt the warmth of a liquid rushing down her legs as she stood in the hallway. She closed her eyes and clutched her stomach, hoping that maybe, just maybe this was all a dream and she had just peed herself in the hallway, rather than her water breaking. But when she opened her eyes at the feeling of a contraction, she knew it was very much real.
“No, no, no,” She felt tears in her eyes as she moved down the hallway towards the kitchen where she had left her phone. Her first instinct was to dial Bob’s number, which she did, but when it went straight to voicemail, she panicked even more. She gripped the counter as another contraction ripped through her body. This wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was not how this was supposed to happen. The next number she dialed was Penny’s, which the older woman had given to her after getting to know her at Iceman’s funeral.
“Hello?” Penny’s voice sounded through the receiver.
“Penny, I-I need your help,” Y/N’s voice cracked, “My water broke.”
“Oh my god,” Penny said, and Y/N could hear her get up and grab her keys, “Stay where you are, I am on my way. If you need to push, do it, don’t try and fight it.”
“I can’t have this baby alone!” Y/N cried.
“I know, I know, I’m on my way, just breathe okay,” Penny said and Y/N nodded.
Penny arrived after a short time, and helped Y/N get to the on base hospital. They had admitted her right away, and Y/N was thankful that Penny had decided to stay by her side. Penny had once been in Y/N’s shoes. Her now ex-husband had been on deployment when Amelia was born, and Penny was by herself in the delivery room, no family, no friends, just her and the nurses and doctor. Penny wasn’t going to leave Y/N alone, knowing very well she would’ve wanted someone to stay with her.
“Breathe through it, there ya go,” Penny said as she dabbed at the sweat collecting on Y/N’s forehead, “I left a message for Maverick and Hondo. I called in a favor from an old friend to hopefully contact the ship and get a message to Admiral Simpson.”
“I can’t have this baby without him,” Y/N cried, out of pure exhaustion. Even though her water broke, she was still going on hour eight of labor, waiting for her cervix to dilate and the baby to drop down even more. The nurses all shared a look, and Penny could read their faces. She had heard them say something to the doctor about being worried about maternal exhaustion.
“I know you don’t, but you might have to,” Penny said, and Y/N shook her head as another contraction hit. Y/N groaned in pain as she gripped the side rail, her knuckles turning white. Penny grabbed the white bucket next to her and placed it in front of her incase Y/N was sick again.
When Y/N felt her body relax, she let out a small cry and leaned back against the bed. Penny had hoped that the call she put in with her father would somehow reach the ship. She wished that Iceman was still alive, knowing he’d stop at nothing to get Bob from the ship and straight to the hospital. But all Penny could do was hold Y/N’s hand and wipe the sweat from her forehead. Y/N’s mind was wandering as she thought of the mission Bob was on, and prayed that he was alive and not dead somewhere in a European mountain range.
— — —
Life or death, Bob had seen the flash of death right in front of his eyes as Phoenix had navigated them through Coffin Corner. He felt his heart sink when he watched Maverick’s plane get shot down, and he felt like his heart stopped hearing Rooster go down too. Bob did what he could to comfort Phoenix as they flew back to the ship, placing a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off. They hadn’t been on the carrier long, when they heard that Rooster’s beacon had been turned back on, and Hangman had been instructed to go on the flight mission to bring them back.
The second Maverick buzzed by the tower, the tarmac broke out in cheer, as he landed and both of them had a large smile on their faces. Bob and Phoenix rushed over to Rooster, hugging him tightly. Bob had a bright smile on his face as he celebrated with his team.
“Lt Floyd!?” A voice called out for him. Bob turned around to see Admiral Simpson running towards him.
“Yes sir?” Bob asked, his heart racing slightly.
“You need to come with us right away, it’s a family emergency.”
Bob felt light headed as the Admiral’s words hit his ears. Bob had just escaped death with his team and now he felt a sudden rush of doom. Fanboy and Payback shared a look, confused on what the admiral had just said. As far as anyone knew, Bob didn’t have any family, Bob was a lone ranger. But the look on Phoenix’s face said otherwise.
“Go!” Phoenix said, pushing him towards the admiral. Bob stumbled on his feet but took off sprinting, trying not to let his mind go to the worse case scenario. Phoenix looked over her shoulder and noticed her fellow aviators looking at her confused, and sighed, “He’s married, and has a wife, who’s very pregnant.”
Hondo was waiting for Bob when he entered the tower, and relayed the information he had gathered from Admiral Bates. Bob couldn’t digest most of it, but what he gathered was that his wife was in labor and he was stuck on an aircraft carrier in the middle of nowhere after almost dying. Hondo directed him to the admiral’s office where they gave Bob some privacy to call his wife. Bob sat down in the chair, his hands shaking as he picked up the phone and dialed her number, something he memorized.
“Bob, thank god,” Penny answered.
“H-hey Penny, how is she?” Bob asked, trying to bite back tears.
“She’s getting checked by the nurses right now, I stepped out when I saw you call. She’s,” Penny sighed and looked down at her shoes, “They are worried about maternal exhaustion. She’s in hour 12 of labor, eight centimeters dilated and trying to fight it. She says she won’t do this without you.”
“She has too,” Bob said, feeling a tear run down his cheek, “She has to do this. And I swear to god, she will never have to do this alone again. I need to talk to her.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Penny said, and walked back into the room. Her heart broke seeing Y/N in such pain as she laid on her side. The nurse gave Penny a look, and she nodded, “Y/N, it’s Bob. I’m putting him on speaker.”
“Oh my god, Bob?” Y/N asked, her voice wavering in pain. Bob felt his heart break as he bit back a sob. He buried his face into his flight suit before speaking up.
“Hi babe,” Bob said, “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”
“No, not at all,” She sniffed, “God, why can’t you be here. Why now? They’ve been stubborn this whole time, but now?”
“I know,” He laughed, “But love, you have to stop trying to fight it, okay, you need to let them help you. It’ll only make things harder for you, for the baby.”
“Bob, I can’t do it,” Y/N protested and closed her eyes, feeling a contraction. Bob heard her suck in a breath and let out a whimper in pain. Penny grabbed her hand and helped her breathe through it. Bob wished so badly he could be there with her, all he ever wanted to do was be a father and he is completely missing it.
“She’s at ten,” A nurse said, “She keeps putting it off, she won’t be able to push.”
“Baby, you need to listen to them,” Bob said, sitting up straighter in his seat, “You need to do this okay. I’m right here, Penny is there. You need to bring our baby into the world.”
“No!” Y/N sobbed and Penny felt tears in her own eyes, “No! I won’t! I want to go home, let me go home!”
“You’re elevating your heart rate, Y/N,” Her nurse said, walking over to the bed and looking at the EEG reading, “If this continues we’ll have to do a c-section. Y/N, it’s time to push.”
Bob felt his heart stop. That was the absolutely last thing he wanted her to have to do. It was bad enough she was in labor by herself, he didn’t want to have her go under the knife alone. The nurses and the midwife started to move around, getting everything set up for delivery. Penny helped Y/N get to her back and sit up in the bed. The midwife put Y/N’s feet in the stirrups.
“Y/N, listen to me,” Bob said sternly, “You have to listen to them, you have to push, okay. I’m right here, I’m doing the best I possibly can.”
“This isn’t fucking fair,” Y/N cried, and gripped Penny and the nurse’s hand as she felt a contraction and what felt like the baby’s head dropping lower in her birth canal.
“I know,” Bob answered, “But you can do it okay, listen to the doctors.” Y/N nodded and Penny wiped her forehead.
The midwife looked up at Y/N and gave her a sad smile, “Alright, Y/N on the next contraction, I need you to push okay. You know your body better than any of us.”
Y/N nodded and let out a shaky breath. She felt the cramping of a contraction and sucked in a deep breath. When the contraction hit, she pushed, closing her eyes and letting out a groan. Bob closed his eyes, not being able to imagine the pain she was in. With every push that the midwife would count out, Y/N’s groans and cries got louder. He could tell as the time went on that she was getting more and more exhausted.
“Jesus Chrsit, I can’t do this,” Y/N said breathlessly as she leaned against the back of the bed.
“You’re so close, Y/N, I can see the baby’s head,” The midwife said, “Next one push as hard as you can.”
“You got this babe, come on,” Bob said. He heard the midwife tell her to push, “Come on sweetheart, push hard, you got this, come on love.”
“Crowning!” The midwife called out and Y/N let out a loud cry, “This is the hardest part, you are right here, you can do this. Give me a big push and bring this baby into the world.”
Y/N moved slightly, and beared down as she pushed hard, feeling a burning sensation as the baby’s head was pushed out of her birthing canal. She closed her eyes tightly, gripping on to Penny and the nurse’s hands for dear life. Bob was saying encouraging words but it was all drawn out as the pain subsided and Y/N felt her body relax.
“One more, give me one more,” The midwife said, “The hardest part is over, you can do it.”
“Bob,” Y/N’s voice shook.
“This is it, you can do it, bring our baby into the world.” Bob said.
She clenched her jaw tightly, she was surprised that she didn’t break her teeth as she pushed with all her might. It was like white hot pain, almost like breaking a bone, as she felt the baby being pulled from her womb. She let out a broken cry as she felt a weight being placed on her chest, a loud cry filling the room. Y/N’s hands went straight to the squirming newborn on her chest and looked down to see their big brown eyes. Her mind was so overclouded with stimulation that she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“It’s a girl!” She heard the midwife say and Y/N cried even harder.
Bob wasn’t fighting back tears anymore as he held his head in his hands and sobbed, hearing the cry of his daughter over the phone. This wasn’t how he expected the delivery of his rainbow baby to go. He always expected him to be right by his wife’s side, holding her hand, sitting behind her as she pushed, encouraging her, seeing his daughter the second she was brought into this world, being able to cut the cord. Instead, he was hearing her loud cries from the middle of the ocean.
“We’re going to weigh her and clean her up, then we’ll give her right back, okay,” The nurse said to Y/N. She was still so exhausted all she could do was nod, “Congrats momma, and you too, dad!”
Bob nodded, and wiped his tears, “I love you so much,” He cried out, his voice breaking.
“I love you too,” Y/N said.
“I’m going to let you go, okay, I promise, I will be there as soon as I get docked in Miramar. You need to sleep, you did so good, so good, I am so proud of you,” Bob said, knowing he was probably talking to her sleepy self.
“I love you, Bob,” Y/N said, “I’ll see you when you get here.”
They said their goodbyes and Bob hung up. He sat there with his head in hands for a bit longer, looking down at the ground. The events of the day started to hit him all at once, and the tears fell down his face uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop his body from shaking as he cried. He didn’t even notice Phoenix walked into the office. Phoenix’s mind went to the worst possible thing as she walked over to him, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Bob looked up at her, his brown eyes wet with tears.
“Bob-”
“I’m a dad,” He said, “I’m a fucking dad!”
“Oh my god!” Phoenix said, pulling Bob from his seat and hugged him. She pulled back from the hug and looked at him, “Is everything okay? Y/N? The baby?”
“A healthy little girl,” Bob smiled, “Y/N’s okay, the best she can be for having a baby on her own. But . . I’m a girl dad.”
— — —
She knew she had slept too long, even though she had been a mom for less than a day, she knew she still slept too long. Y/N groaned as she opened her eyes, squinting at the harsh light above her head. Her body was still sore, especially her lower region. Penny had been a godsend helping her through the night when she had to get up and pee or wanted to walk around. Y/N rubbed her eyes as she looked towards the small basnet that was placed by her bed, to find it empty. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked around the room frantically to hear the sweet voice she had been waiting to hear.
“Looks like Mom is up,” Bob said, walking over to his wife. Y/N’s heart settled back down as she saw the small bundle of blankets in his arms. He hadn’t even change18d bbout of his flight suit and it looked like he hadn’t slept in hours, but Bob still looked amazing, “You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you but the second I saw her I knew that I-”
“It’s okay,” She said, her voice still gravely from screaming during labor, “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” Bob said and sat down on her bed, “And you will never have to do that alone again, I promise.”
“Bob, I can’t ask you to give up what you love.”
“But I love this more,” Bob said, looking between his wife and his daughter.
“She looks like you,” Y/N said, “Those eyes are exactly like yours.” Bob smiled as his daughter opened her tired eyes, “She doesn’t have a name yet. I was waiting for you so we can name her.”
Bob studied his daughter. Names were something that the two of them had spent some time going back and forth on. Neither one was quite set on a certain name, agreeing that once they saw their child they would be able to know what their name should be. Bob ran his finger gently down her face as she yawned.
“Eleanor,” Bob said and looked at his wife, “Eleanor May Floyd.”
--- --- ---
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𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬.
pairing: robert "bob" floyd x reader
summary: bob leaves a bite mark on you that you wear proudly out to a game of pool with the dagger squad at the hard deck. it leaves bob a little flustered.
warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! sex in public, unprotected sex, strangulation, kinda dom!bob, bob's glasses attempting to make a getaway.
word count: 2.1k
author's notes: many thanks to the creator coven for ensuring that i will never know a moment's peace while in this fandom. y'all are a gift!
likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥
You probably should’ve been a little self conscious about the literal bite mark on your shoulder, but instead you wore it like some sort of badge of honour, along with a strappy sundress to show it off for all to see. You thought it was lovely in a macabre sort of way. The bite was on the cap of your shoulder, and it was blooming purple and blue, the colours looking remarkably striking against your skin and the yellow of your dress.
It was extremely obvious who had given it to you, and you relished in how Bob’s friends reacted upon seeing it. Jake had glanced from you to Bob, surprise on his features before turning back to his game of pool, Natasha had given an approving nod as she handed you a beer, and Bradley had looked away quickly before his stare became too obvious, then moving toward Bob and giving him a pat on the back.
Bob, who seemed so unassuming, did not seem the type to gnaw on his girlfriend, and leave her with remnants of their trysts. But the rest of the Dagger Squad were learning, perhaps much to their surprise, that Bob contained multitudes.
And who was having a very difficult time focusing on anything because his gaze kept drifting toward you, that look in his eyes that made you weak in the knees. He wanted something, and he wanted you. Giving you the occasional kiss on the cheek, or squeezing you around the waist wasn’t enough.
You excused yourself from the group to go to the washroom for the first time that evening, fully intending to only be gone for a few minutes.
Bob had alternate plans.
You were standing at the counter, having finished washing your hands, and were applying a tiny bit more lipstick when the door opened. You didn’t bother looking over and acknowledging at first, but the presence moving behind you commanded your attention.
“Bob!” you said, a little startled. “You know you’re in the ladies room, right?”
“Gender is a social construct,” Bob said in a matter of fact voice, resting his chin on your shoulder, the non-bitten one. He met your gaze in the mirror. “Also, you’re making me lose my entire mind out there.”
“What am I doing?” you asked, looking at Bob in the mirror. You honestly had no idea.
“Wearing this little dress,” he murmured, dropping his head and inhaling the scent of you. The feeling of his nose pressed along your neck had you sighing. “Parading around with my love bite on display.”
“Do you not like that people can see it?” you asked as Bob placed his hands on your hips, gently pressing himself against your ass.
“I love that people can see it. Know that you belong to me,” Bob replied. “It’s just … doing things to me, darlin’. I want to throw you down onto that pool table, make everyone watch as I push your dress up, fuck you until you’re screaming, get your pussy juices all over my cock.”
“Oh my god,” you murmured, bringing your thighs together tightly and closing your eyes. Bob never struck you as an exhibitionist, but you were learning a lot about him since you’d started sleeping together. Things like he could be bitey, and wanted to fuck you in a room full of people.
Bob pressed his hips against your ass, and you could feel his growing length through his jeans. Your heart was racing, someone could walk into the bathroom at any moment. The idea that someone might catch you thrilled you a little more than you thought it might.
Grabbing your throat, just under your chin, he lifted your head, forcing you to watch in the mirror as his tongue moved along the bite mark. You shuddered against him, your hands resting against the bathroom counter, pushing your ass back against his crotch.
You were trapped between his weight and the counter, there was nowhere for you to go.
It was at that moment that the roll of Bob’s hips stuttered against you, and he groaned into your shoulder. He’d finally realized something that you’d been waiting for him to figure out all night.
“You’re not wearing underwear?” he groaned, one of his hands moving just under your belly. “Shit. You’re torturing me, darlin’. Gonna soak the front of my jeans.”
He was still holding your chin, but his index finger made its way into your mouth. You gasped, sliding your tongue against the calloused pad of his finger, nibbling on it slowly.
“So take them off, Bobby.”
“Fuck.”
You kept your gaze focused on him in the mirror, watching as he undid his belt and pulled down the zipper of his jeans one handed, not relinquishing the hold he had on your throat. You groaned softly, seeing a flash of his cock head in the mirror. Fuck, you looked so wrecked already, and Bob looked like he was going to tear you apart.
Bob pushed the fabric of your dress up over your ass, and groaned as he looked down, giving it a very enthusiastic squeeze.
“You’re such a tease, baby,” Bob groaned, grabbing his cock and sliding it against your wet lips. You made a strangled noise, biting back something much louder lest someone outside hear you over the music. Bob continued to drag his cock through the wetness that had collected at your core, even when you pushed back against him. “You’ve spent the whole night teasing me. It’s my turn.”
“God damn it, Bobby,” you whined, your hand clenching into a fist and slamming against the counter.
You rolled your hips, grinding against his thick cock, desperate to get it inside of you. Bob was looking down, watching you move against him, and you watched in the mirror as his glasses began to fall down this nose, the damp strands of hair curling over his forehead.
“You want it bad, don’t you, darlin’?” he asked, lifting his head and making eye contact with you in the mirror again.
“Yes, Bobby,” you breathed, and he clutched at your throat a little harder. You gasped and tried to squeeze your legs together.
“No,” Bob scolded. “Keep your legs open for me.”
“Bobby.”
“Slut,” Bob gasped, and you watched the flush begin to spread against his cheeks. He only ever called you that when he was already too far gone. “You’re my little cock slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” you replied in a harsh whisper. “Bob, please -”
You felt him enter you and you let out a relieved sigh, eyelids closing for a moment. You were expecting him to keep going, but all he pressed inside of you was the tip of his cock, before pulling it out and doing it all over again. You whined, a pathetic sounding noise that reverberated off the walls of The Hard Deck’s ladies room, and leaned forward on the counter, pushing back, chasing his cock.
“Give it - give it to me,” you whined. “Please.”
Bob wrapped his free hand around his cock, and pushed it back inside, again, just the tip. You ground against the curl of his fingers, clit moving against the class ring that he wore. And again, he pulled it out.
“Bobby, I’ll scream so loud the whole bar will hear,” you threatened.
He grabbed you, pulling you back flush against him, squeezing your throat so hard that the blunt edges of his fingernails cut into your skin. You made a startled, delighted, almost frightened sound, and grabbed onto his side to steady yourself. You loved when he got like this.
“Do it,” Bob grunted against your ear. “Let them know how badly you want it. Little cock slut.”
He held you tight against him, and searched for your entrance once more with the head of his cock. Bob slammed his cock inside of you, and though you had threatened to scream, no sound came out when you parted your lips.
“Take it. Take it,” Bob groaned, biting at the column of your throat. “Take that dick, darlin’.”
You cried out as he manhandled you, pushing you forward, bending you over the counter. He grabbed one of your legs, behind the knee, and pushed it onto the counter as well, opening you up more for him. You glanced up to look in the mirror once more, unable to take your eyes off of him, watching as he tipped his head back, moaning to the ceiling as he slammed into you again and again.
“Fuck,” you whined, writhing against the counter, not knowing when the last time it was cleaned might be. Not caring. You tried to meet Bob’s thrusts, but there was no way that you could, each snap forward of his hips stuttering against you.
“Is this what you - what you wanted?” Bob panted, his fingers sinking into the supple flesh of your hips. “Huh? To take my dick in that tight little pussy where someone could walk in and see you? See you acting like the slut you are?”
You cried out softly, worming a hand between yourself and the counter, needing some manner of relief. Bob saw what you were doing, and reached for your wrist, pulling your hand away and holding it against the counter. He changed the angle of his thrusts so that the base of his cock hit your clit - again and again and again.
“Bobby,” you keened, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It was too good, and you were desperate to chase each feeling he gave you, that washed over you.
“Come on my cock,” Bob rasped, leaning over and pressing his lips against your ear. His tongue darted out to lick at the shell of it, before he pulled the lobe gently into his mouth with his teeth. “I - I wanna feel you all over me. Come on it, darlin’. Come on me.”
You slammed your open palm against the counter, crying out as softly as you could, though you were certain that someone would hear you. Your orgasm came in waves, leaving you shuddering and twitching against Bob as you gave him just what he had asked for.
Bob fucked you through your orgasm, your name a mantra on his lips that he cried out toward the ceiling as he came. You clenched around him, wanting to draw every drop he could give you deep inside. He grunted one last time and then leaned over you, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
“Oh fuck.”
The two of you stood there, sprawled out over the counter as you fought to catch your breath. Bob pushed your hair aside and gently kissed your neck, nuzzling at you with his nose.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered.
You nodded, letting out a contented sigh. “Yeah. I - wow.”
The two of you mournfully pulled apart, standing on the legs of newborn deer as opposed to your own, helping each other get cleaned up. You helped Bob readjust his glasses, and he got some damp paper towel to clean you up. The entire time you traded tender kisses and gentle touches, giggling about what you had just done. It was not like either of you, and it thrilled you both.
“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to Bob’s chin before making your way to the door.
Poking your head outside you spotted a wet floor sign in front of the door, and Bradley standing not too far away, more or less pacing back and forth.
“Rooster,” you began, stepping out of the bathroom, and Bob followed closely behind. “What the fuck?”
Bradley whirled around and let out an exasperated, “Finally! Nat thought something might be up so she went to check on you. Came back and told us we should take turns making sure no one else went in there until you came out.”
Bob turned a shade of red you hadn’t seen before, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.
“Oops,” you said, reaching for Bob’s hand and lacing your fingers together.
“Who’s idea was the wet floor sign?” Bob asked, gesturing to the sign near the door.
“Seresin’s.”
“Of course it was.”
You laughed, pulling Bob a little closer to you as the three of you made your way back to the rest of the group. No one said a damn thing, and new beers were fetched for you and Bob.
The night out had continued, though at one point while Bob was playing pool with Javy you pulled out your phone to text him.
Baby I can feel your come running down my leg.
You watched as Bob reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out. He looked at the screen, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, before he began furiously texting you back.
Call a cab. If we don’t get u home ASAP im gonna lick your cunt in front of everyone.
/end.
#bob fic#bob x reader#robert floyd x reader#reader x robert floyd#bob#robert floyd#robert floyd fic#robert bob floyd#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun: maverick#top gun maverick fanfiction#reader insert#writing#fic#antiquitea.fic
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not afraid
pairing: Bob Floyd x gn!reader (no pronouns)
warnings: none
summary: kinda the opposite of the 1D song 'She's Not Afraid." reader is afraid of a horror movie. Just fluffy little fluff tbh.
word count: 1.2k
A/N: Sorry that I haven't posted in so long. I don't know how much more frequent it's going to be but for now I have some time off, so it might be a little more. Thanks to everyone who's been reading my work even without me making new content. Love y'all.
Bob remembered the day you asked him out as clear as day. You worked in his favorite second hand bookstore. He had developed quite the crush on you and had acquired stacks of unread books all over his apartment. Some of them he had picked up without giving them a second look and spent the rest of his visit making small talk with you. One pile was dedicated to the books you had recommended him. That stack didn’t have the dust that the others did sitting atop the books. It had been about a month of him visiting the bookstore a couple times a week.
The day you asked him out he had lingered in the mystery section of the store. He knew it was your favorite. He was waiting, hoping you would come and suggest another book that he could read while thinking of you. You always did. Today you didn’t though, you stayed at the counter. He thought maybe you were upset with him or that he had waited too long to make a move. He finally picked a book, one by an author he thought you had picked for him before.
“Hi, Bob,” you greeted when he got to the counter.
“Hi,” he replied. You smiled at the anxiety present in his voice. He was trying to come up with the words to ask you out as you scanned the book. He handed you his card in silence and you wrapped the book up in paper and handed him back his card. You smiled at him. He looked back at you, his mouth slightly open.
“Do you–um–I mean…” Bob blushed brightly. He looked down at his feet.
“Do you want to go out with me?” You asked him. Bob turned his head up to look at you.
“Go out with you?” He asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, on a date. There’s a movie based on one of the books you bought here coming out this weekend. I thought we could go and then get dessert at that place you told me about last week,” you said. Bob blushed bright red. You listened to the things he said. You remembered them. You’d clearly been thinking about him too. He was thinking all of this while he stared at you blankly. You tilted your head slightly at him and Bob shook off the shock.
“Yes. Definitely yes,” he spit out.
“Great,” you said, holding in a chuckle. “Give me your phone number. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out the details.” Bob walked out of the bookstore that night with bright red cheeks and a wide grin. He was thoroughly smitten by you and you adored his nervous energy. You didn’t mind making the first move if it meant that you got to keep making the nerdy WSO blush the way that he had the first time you helped him check out.
The next three months of dating him had granted you just that. You kissed him first on your third date. You were the one who dragged him into your apartment when you spent your first night together. You were the one who asked him to be exclusive with you. You were the one who said ‘I love you’ first. You were also the one who proposed going to the horror movie you were seeing that night. Nevertheless, you had been curling into Bob’s shoulder the whole way through the movie. When you walked out you were still clinging to him.
“Bob, you have to sleep over. I can’t sleep alone after that,” you told him firmly.
“‘Bob’ huh? No nickname, you must really be scared,” he teased.
“You didn’t think it was scary?” You asked.
“A little,” he shrugged. “I don’t believe in ghosts though.” He was clearly holding back a chuckle. You were constantly telling him the bookstore you worked in was haunted. You scowled at him.
“The bookstore is haunted. If you come help me on one of the night shifts you’ll see,” you told him. He smiled at you.
“I’ll come help you whenever you want,” Bob said. He was happy to go home with you. He had gotten slightly used to the way it felt to have you in his arms. He was considering taking up an interest in horror movies purely to land himself in more situations like this. He was enjoying the feeling of being the brave one for once. He had always been protective of you, but he had never seen you needing his protection either. You were the most confident and capable person he’d ever met. If you hadn’t been you never even would have gone on a date.
Bob noticed the way you were lingering around him as you got ready for bed. You kept the bathroom door open while you brushed your teeth so you could have your eyes on Bob. You followed him to the kitchen when he went to get a glass of water. Bob had climbed into bed while you were taking off your jewelry. You took a deep breath as you approached the light switch. You flicked the lights off and then sprinted the short distance to your bed. You quickly tucked yourself under the covers and curled into Bob’s arms. He let out a small giggle, his chest shaking against your head.
“What are you laughing about?” You questioned, turning to look up at him.
“It’s nothing, baby,” Bob said. You prodded him in the side. “You’re just so much braver than me about everything else,” Bob explained. “It’s funny that some CGI ghosts are what gets you.”
“It said it was based on a true story!” You defended as you snuggled closer into Bob’s chest.
“I think they just meant that house was real,” Bob replied. You huffed in his arms. Bob let out another light chuckle. He kissed the top of your head.
“You have to stay over tomorrow too, Bobby,” you whispered shyly. Bob smiled above you. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard you being shy about asking him for something.
“I can do that, sweetheart,” he assured you. You tightened your hold on him and nuzzled your nose against his chest.
“And you can’t let go of me tonight,” you requested.
“Of course not,” he said. “The ghosts can’t get you if I’m here right?” He joked.
“Nothing can get me if you’re here.” Bob’s heart skipped a beat. There was an honesty in your words that made him feel so warm. You trusted him to protect you. This whole time he had seen you as the brave one–the one who was leading the two of you. But there you were in his arms telling him that he was what you wanted to chase away your fears. You didn’t seem to realize what your words meant to Bob though. You let out a soft snore. He smiled to himself at the sound.
“I love you,” Bob whispered into your hair, despite the fact that you were asleep. To his surprise you shifted in his arms. You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his chest. When you spoke it was only a mumble but Bob knew what you were saying.
“Love you too.”
#bob floyd x reader#robert floyd x reader#bob floyd x gn! reader#bob floyd fluff#robert floyd fluff#bob floyd fic#robert floyd fic#bob floyd imagine
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Peppermint [Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Reader]
Summary: i saw this tiktok of lewis pullman and it was so goddamn sexual my brain wouldn’t shut up until i wrote something about it. also know as--it’s 115 degrees in Lemoore and the AC in Bob’s truck is busted.
Warnings: swearing, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, hair pulling, please assume the reader is always on some sort of contraceptive in my fics unless i state otherwise, bob is a switch and no i will not be taking any questions at this time, minors DO not interact with me you lil shits
Word Count: 2.2k
Author’s Note: y’all were so nice with my last one regarding Rooster, I had to write one for my main man!!! also cannot get over I have like 300 new followers. never be afraid to come talk to me!!
“Fuck. Off,” you grumbled in the direction of the television as you heard the chipper weatherman inform you that the high today in Lemoore, California was going to be a record-breaking one hundred and fifteen degrees fahrenheit. One hundred and fifteen fucking degrees. You never hated the Navy more than you did in that moment. Who the fuck gets stationed in Lemoore? No beaches, no shade. Just heat, and lots of it. But where your husband goes, you go–and unfortunately, you both were stuck in Lemoore.
The July air was thick and it wasn’t even nine in the morning, so you made sure that you didn’t have a single thing to do that day except stay inside the apartment, laying upside-down on your couch directly in front of your tiny window AC unit. You’d always loved being a teacher, but days like this, when you thought you actually might melt if you went outside, you were sure as hell glad you had summers off.
Your day passed by lazily, only shuffling between the couch and the kitchen to get more water what seemed like every thirty minutes. Before you knew it, it was already four o’clock, and you were expecting Bob home any minute.
Bob had told you that morning he was heading out to run a few test flights on some newer planes, so you expected him to come home freshly showered from the Naval base locker rooms, smelling of Old Spice and car air freshener that had been blasted over his clothes from his aggressive truck air conditioning. But instead, when you lazily glanced over your shoulder to the sound of keys jingling, you were greeted with…well, certainly not that.
Bob’s hair was frizzed and stuck straight up in the back, almost as if he had just taken off his helmet. His clothes were stuck to his skin, large sweat stains covering most of the material of his t-shirt. His cheeks were a dark shade of red, and his eyes looked as though they were currently in the process of holding back unshed tears.
“Bobby?,” you frowned, quickly standing up, crossing the room, and quickly taking his duffel bag from his hand to toss on the floor. “Honey, whassamatter? You okay?,” you asked, putting the back of your hand on his forehead and physically wincing at how hot his skin was to the touch.
“Pipes burst,” was all he murmured out, bottom lip trembling just slightly, and it was quite literally breaking your heart to see him so miserable. “We landed and–and went to go shower and they told us a pipe burst, so the showers weren’t working. So I couldn’t shower and–,” he started to breathe a bit heavier, almost as if his own clothes were weighing him down worse than any g-force.
“I got to the truck and the AC was just blowing out hot air. So I rode all the way home with the windows down and I’m just so hot,” he finally whimpered, and you just brushed his wet hair out of his face with a soft coo.
You hated to see him like this. You couldn’t imagine how hot he had to be in that plane today, only to land and not be able to cool down like his body so desperately needed. An idea suddenly popped into your brain, and you were taking off down the hallway.
“Put your arms up, honey,” you purred ever so gently once you returned, producing a cold packet of wet wipes. You pulled one out of its bag, sighing softly at the gentle smell of peppermint, and you immediately began to wipe down Bob’s face and neck.
“Thank you-u-u-u,” he practically sobbed, arms stuck straight out at his sides as you began to slide the wipes under his t-shirt, along his shoulders, under his armpits, his chest, and his waist. “What does it do?,” he asked after a moment, almost afraid to open his eyes for fear that this was all some fever dream and he’d be standing back on the tarmac, dripping sweat.
“I keep these in my little fridge in the bathroom, with all my skin care stuff,” you hummed sweetly, pulling a fresh wipe out and continuing on the bit of skin where you left off. “It helps me freshen up before I go to bed at night, or when I come back from the gym and I’m just too tired to shower before bed,” you chuckle, ghosting a feather-light kiss over his brow as you continued to work on cooling him down.
“Feels so good,” he whimpered, and his once red cheeks were now only a soft pink, his breathing returning to a relatively normal pace.
“Good, baby. You’ll feel better in just a minute, yeah? Got this AC on you, and you smell all peppermint-y,” you teased, and you don’t know if it was the practically obscene noises Bob was letting out, or the way he was absolute putty in your hands, but you let the wipes in your hand dip a little lower into the waistband of his pants.
A strangled moan escaped Bob’s lips, and you just let one hand pop open the buttons of his pants, sliding them down his legs.
“Gotta get you completely covered,” you whispered, dropping down to your knees where you began to work on wiping down his thighs. After mere seconds, you glanced up to see a ten already forming in your husband’s boxers, and damn, if that didn’t make a girl’s ego soar.
“M’sorry,” he almost cried, shivering under your touch. “Just–feels so good. You make me feel so good.”
“I always wanna make you feel good, honey,” you purred, peppering his thighs with kisses and feeling the leftover peppermint oil tingle your lips. You eventually stood back up (despite a noise of protest from your husband) and stripped him down to only his boxers, getting a final fresh wipe out of the pack and letting it drag along his skin.
“Come sit,” you took his hand, leading him over so he was directly in front of the AC unit, resting on the plush couch as he immediately tossed his head back out let out a pornographic moan, which caused you to clench your thighs together in delight.
“Y’so good t’me,” Bob practically slurred, completely overwhelmed with the lavish attention he was receiving, and his skin began to prickle when the freezing cold air blew against his minty skin.
“You deserve it all, Bobby,” you whispered, moving to straddle his hips, your thin pajama pants and his boxers the only thing separating the two of you as you wiped his cheeks down for the final time, before pressing a chaste kiss to the apple of each one.
Bob said your name with a strangled cry, hips immediately rocking up to get some friction, any friction at all. And who were you to deny such a pretty boy something he wanted so desperately? So you just relaxed yourself slowly, lazily rocking down on his achingly hard cock and letting out a soft moan of your own.
Your nipples were hard from where they were currently being assaulted by a barrage of cold air from the unit, and they were settled right in front of your husband’s face, which proved to make his next task considerably easier. He hooked his fingers in the straps of your tank top and tugged them down your arms before his lips were wrapped around your right nipple, sucking on it lightly and letting it roll between his teeth. You let out a soft cry, your fingers tangling immediately in his damp hair as you began to rock yourself against him a bit faster.
It was only a few minutes before he pulled off with an obscenely wet ‘pop’, letting his head rest against your sternum.
“Y/N–,” Bob choked out, his hips stilling immediately.
“Okay, sweetheart,” was all you said, lifting yourself just slightly out of his lap to give him a moment to focus.
It didn’t take him long at all, because just a second later you were being pushed onto your back on the couch, with your lover’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. Not a moment was wasted as he immediately licked a long, hot stripe between your folds, fingers digging into your hips.
“Robert,” you gasped, and you swear you could feel that son of a bitch smirk, even face first in your cunt. If his hair wasn’t already a mess, it certainly was now, the way you were tugging on it and rocking your hips against his face to try and get the perfect rhythm.
It didn’t take long. It never did with Bob. He somehow knew exactly what to do to have you coming on his tongue in five minutes flat, keeping your hips pressed down to the couch.
“Bobby–,” you tried to warn, but it was too late. At your cry of his name, he gave a certain flick of his tongue and you were coming fast and hard, riding his face like your life depended on it, his tongue pressed flat against your clit as you shook with each pulse of your orgasm.
You barely had time to think, no less to actually say anything, before he was tugging you into a new position. You were bent over the back of the couch, face perfectly aligned with the air conditioning as Bob got behind you, one knee on the edge of the couch.
“You ready for me, darlin’?,” he asked, and God, you could have died right there.
“Always, baby.”
You felt him slide into you smoothly, using one hand to guide himself and the other slide up your body to your hair, gathering a handful and giving you a harsh tug. The way he bent you had your chest getting covered with cold air, nipples hard enough to cut diamonds.
“Fuck, you always feel so fuckin’ good,” he moaned, putting his other knee on the couch as he began to piston his hips against your ass, the slapping sounds your skin made filling your small apartment, loud enough to be heard even over the roaring AC.
You, however, were unable to respond, due to the absolute overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through your body. Your head and neck began to ache deliciously, and the way the head of Bob’s cock brushed against your sweet spot with each thrust had you mewling under his hands.
“I’m not gonna–,” Bob grunted, and you understood, Whenever he was needy, he never lasted long, and that was certainly fine by you. Like you said–it was an ego boost.
“S’okay, baby,” you panted, and he reached forward to play with one of your tits, his chest pressed to your back as he fucked you even harder.
“So good for me. Fuckin’--fillin’ my pussy up. Fuck, Bobby, you’re gonna make me come again,” you practically sobbed, and the fact that the two of you were sweating from exertion but also cool from the air conditioning made everything that more sensitive.
The praise went straight to Bob’s dick, and you could feel it twitching already.
“Please–,” he gasped, trying so hard to last until he could make you come again.
“Go ahead, honey. Come for me. Come for me, Bobby,” you groaned, wincing in pleasure at how your sensitive cunt was already teetering on the edge of orgasm.
You had barely finished your command before Bob was spilling himself inside of you, letting out a high-pitched whine as he emptied himself. He managed to let the hand that was in your hair slide down your body and move to your pussy, fingers rubbing quickly at your clit.
“Baby, come for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock,” he practically begged, even though he had already orgasmed, he would simply die for the chance to feel you clenching on his softening cock still inside of you, practically milking every bit of come he had given you.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, gripping tight at the back of the couch as you felt your orgasm wash over you for the second time that evening, cringing out softly each time your cunt squeezed your husband’s cock, feeling it nestled deep inside of you.
Soft whimpered and moans spilled from Bob’s lips, along with various words of filth that didn’t exactly form a coherent sentence, but they were so goddamn sexy all the same.
As he pulled out slowly, he leaned over to press a soft kiss to the small of your back before two of you landed in a messy pile on the couch, trying to catch your breath.
You curled up next to him, almost (dare you say) chilly from the constant cold air on your skin, and your eyes closed to enjoy those post-coital moments together before you had to get up and clean yourselves off.
“You know,” Bob started, fingertips brushing lightly over your sides. “Bet we could really cool down in the shower.”
taglist: @walkonthewiidside
people that might be interested in this idk: @bradshawsbaby @callsignbob @thebradleybradshaw
#top gun#top gun: maverick#top gun fic#top gun imagine#top gun: maverick fic#top gun: maverick imagine#robert floyd#bob floyd#robert 'bob' floyd#robert floyd x you#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd smut#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd fic#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd smut#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd fic#robert 'bob' floyd x reader#robert 'bob' floyd x you#robert 'bob' floyd smut#robert 'bob' floyd imagine#robert 'bob' floyd fic#my writing#smut#my fic#peppermint
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Covering the Classics Part 1 | Bob Floyd x OC
Summary: Bob is happy for his friends, but feeling like the fifth wheel every weekend has gotten old. Anna's main goal is to fly under the radar as she starts work at San Diego State University with her shiny, new graduate degree. She is convinced that the only company she needs is her own, but a specific flyer in the faculty lounge catches her interest.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+
Length: 2800 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)
Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!
Bob hated it when Natasha was deployed without him. He always ended up feeling like the fifth wheel now that Bradley was married and Jake was dating Jessica. Well, both of those were actually understatements. Bradley was devoted to his wife, and Jake was soppy now that Jessica moved in with him. And Bob's feelings on the matter were never more evident than on nights out at the Hard Deck.
Without fail, a girl or two or three would hit on one of the other guys, and they would deftly try to pawn said girl off on Bob only for the girl to look rather disappointed and kind of wander away. He just had that effect on women. He was a lot better with the written word than with the spoken, and something just didn't translate well for him when he was met face-to-face with an intriguing smile and an attractive body.
He groaned as he watched another woman head off in the direction of the bar as soon as he nervously stumbled his way through a sentence where he tried to introduce himself. How exactly was he supposed to compete with Jake Seresin anyway? Nobody who originally wanted him was going to settle for Bob.
"I got you more peanuts." Bob looked up to see Bradshaw's wife smiling at him and holding out a cup. Ever since he visited Chippy's bar, he didn't want to admit to Penny that hers weren't quite as good, but if someone went out of their way to bring him a cup full, he was going to eat them. And it was also nice of her to make sure he was included tonight while Mickey was babysitting his nephews.
"Thank you," he replied softly, and she patted his shoulder.
"I saw you talking to that girl?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bar. "She's really cute."
Bob shook his head as he looked down at his ginger ale. "I mean, yes, she was very pretty, but I wasn't really talking to her. She didn't want to talk to me, actually." He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he looked up at her from his stool. "She wanted to talk to Jake."
She rolled her eyes, and Bob kept his fingers occupied by cracking open a peanut. He craved the familiar intimacy he saw when he looked at his friends and their partners. Maybe jealousy wasn't the right word, but he always felt left out of the loop. They all knew something he didn't, and he craved to be on the inside with someone of his own.
"I'd choose you over Jake any day, Bob. You're smart, and I like talking to you."
He smiled at her as he said, "That may be the case, but you'd choose Bradley over me."
"You got me there," she said with a laugh as she kissed his cheek, making him avert his eyes to the floor. "I'm probably not the best judge of character though."
Bob looked toward where she was smiling now and saw Bradley with his hideous tie dye shirt and idiotic looking backwards baseball cap as Jessica slaughtered him in a game of pool. "Yes, you are," Bob told her quietly. Because as soon as Bradley looked at his wife, his expression became one of complete wonder.
"Sugar! Come here! Jessica is being mean to me again!"
She squeezed Bob's shoulder and then took him by the hand, bringing him along with her to the pool table. He blushed again as he looked a little nervously at Bradley, but everyone knew Bob was harmless. He was the one just drinking a ginger ale since he had to drive home.
"Baby," Bradley whined. "She won't even let me try to make a shot."
"That's not her being mean to you. That's her being better than you," his wife replied. "And what's the moral of the story again?"
"Women should never be underestimated," Bradley and Jake said in unison.
"That's right," Jessica said as she sunk the 8-ball into one of the corner pockets. "Especially ones who have a PhD and tenure." She handed her pool cue to Bradley and did a little dance. Then she reached into Bob's cup of peanuts and said, "Chippy's are better."
"They are," he agreed with a nod and a grin. He cleared his throat as Bradshaw's wife finally dropped his hand. "So I heard the new semester starts on Monday?"
"Yes," Jessica gushed as she fixed her glasses. "And Brian took a position at the community college, so this should be my best semester yet."
Bob already knew that Jake was relieved that his girlfriend would be going to work in a more comfortable environment every day, but it was nice to see how excited she was.
"You know what I was thinking?" Jessica asked Bradshaw's wife quietly. Bob wondered if he should step away and give them some privacy, but they both kept helping themselves to the cup of peanuts. "Maybe we could put something up on the notice board in the main building, kind of inviting the other female teachers at the school to have lunch together one day? I felt so embarrassed and excluded from things because of Brian, I just thought it might be nice for anyone else who feels marginalized?"
Bradley's wife nodded. "I think that's a great idea."
Bob listened to them for a few more minutes before he wished them good luck as they started back to school for the fall term, and then he excused himself for the night. He stood outside in the dark parking lot for a few minutes and listened to the sound of the ocean before he climbed into his truck and headed for his silent house.
--------------------------
"Dr. Webber."
Anna looked at the name placard on her office door and bounced up and down. "Dr. Webber," she read out loud again. She had the worst office on campus, no doubt about that. It was miniscule and kind of smelled like stale bread since it was so close to the cafeteria, but she loved it. All of the shelves were crammed with her books, and she could lock the rest of the world out when she needed a minute to herself. She just hoped that the tiny office wasn't a sign of bad things to come after San Diego State University willingly hired her less than a month before the start of the term.
In a matter of eight weeks, she had finally- finally- graduated with her PhD in English Literature and secured a job on the other side of the country. She sold everything she could think of, including her rings, and moved from gloomy New Jersey to a studio apartment in sunny southern California. Sure, all she had in her kitchen was a toaster oven and a mini fridge, but she was on her own. She had nobody to answer to. And she never would again.
"I guess everything is smaller here," Anna told herself as she locked her office door and went in search of the classroom where she would be holding the first lecture of her teaching career. She was too early for the class, but she was filled with nervous energy and decided that walking around would help.
She looked in classrooms and listened to a poetry lecture on the third floor. She found a really secluded ladies' bathroom as well as a reading nook. Eventually, she and her copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn managed to wander all the way to the main building where she found a faculty lounge.
It smelled like coffee, and there were snacks out on the counter, and everyone was talking in pairs or small groups. She should probably get to know her colleagues, but she also didn't mind the anonymity that came with observing everyone without engaging. She was good at that, and she'd spend too much time around people who needed to be in the spotlight all the time. As she reached for a donut with pink frosting, she saw a notice board across the room and went to take a look.
The hum of conversation around her was comforting as she read about a yoga class in the quad, alumni night, and a teacher appreciation banquet. Then her eyes caught on a single piece of paper with a plain black font. It wasn't flashy, and somehow it reminded her of a page from a favorite book.
WELCOME BACK FOR THE FALL SEMESTER, LADIES!
If you're interested in getting to know some other women who work on campus, let's meet for a friendly lunch on the first Tuesday of the term! Noon in the quad next to the weird tree.
Anna laughed. She knew where the quad was, but she wasn't sure which tree was the weird one. They actually all seemed a bit out of place to her since she wasn't used to living near palm trees. She started to skim a notice about how to recycle old textbooks, but she didn't get far before she was re-reading the one about meeting up for lunch.
If it was truly meant just for women, then it sounded kind of nice. She could eat her sandwich outside. She liked weird trees. The idea of having zero men around made it even more appealing. The last thing she wanted was to develop an interest in anyone right now. Or maybe ever again.
She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the page before checking the time and leaving with her donut. Twenty minutes later, with her class assembled before her in a small lecture hall, she cleared her throat and said, "Welcome to English 205. I'm Dr. Webber, and this semester we will be covering the classics."
------------------------
"You can do this. You'll be fine," Anna said as she walked slowly across the quad toward a palm tree that looked like it somehow started growing sideways about six feet up from the ground. "It's just some people."
But she wasn't good with people. Kevin had been quick to tell her that all the time. He liked to point out that she was awkward unless she was talking about literature or poetry or something from the New York Times bestseller list. Apparently she didn't know how to talk about normal things. Her hands started to sweat as she held onto her brown paper bag and can of ginger ale.
"Oh god," she groaned as she got a little closer. Truly, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was just two women smiling as they talked to each other with their lunches. But they were both beautiful. Like the kind of stunning girls that Anna was always afraid to talk to when she was a teenager. One was wearing a suit and high heels, and the other was wearing cute brown loafers and some tweed, and she felt like her own outfit looked awful now by comparison.
It wasn't too late to just walk past them and loop back toward her office and never try to socialize again. "Yes, let's do that." She nodded and picked up the pace a little bit. She could turn left at the weird tree and then maybe even make a run for it. "What are you doing?" she whispered, slowing down again. It was one thing to swear off men, but it wasn't going to be an enjoyable existence if she never tried to make a single friend here.
With a deep breath, she forced herself forward, and then soon two sets of eyes were on her. All she saw was matching smiles as she approached and said, "Hi. I'm Anna Webber. Is this the weird tree?"
"It's the weirdest tree I've ever seen," said the first woman as the other one jumped to her feet.
"Hi! Are you here for lunch?" she asked as she adjusted her glasses. "I told you someone would come," she whispered to the first woman before sticking her hand out. "I'm Jessica Reed! I work in the physics department, and this is my friend, and we are so, so happy you're joining us."
Anna smiled at how bubbly she was as she briefly shook her hand. "I just got here," she said with a wince. "I mean... it's my second day working here? I just got hired. In the English department. I'm teaching literature." God, could she sound like any more of an idiot right now?
But Jessica gasped in response. "Advanced Literature!" Then both women squealed, and soon the other one was introducing herself and talking about the math department and pointing out a building Anna had never been inside yet.
"It's silly, we know, but we kind of have code names for each other. I'm Advanced Calculus, and Jessica is Advanced Physics. You can be Advanced Literature. If you want." Now she looked a little uncertain while Jessica bounced in her high heels. "Wow, we sound like absolute nerds."
"We are nerds," Jessica confirmed with no shame as she looked at Anna. "I collect scientific journals. She uses math as foreplay with her husband. Do you want to eat lunch with us, Anna?"
Her response came with an ease that she hadn't felt in a long time. "Yes. Please." Then both women were shifting their lunches down and making room in the middle of the bench. Anna took a seat and watched Advanced Calculus pick a carrot stick out of the most beautifully organized lunch container she'd ever seen. She also had a tie dyed lunch box that was charming in a hideous way.
"How's your first week going?" Jessica asked as she bit into a delicious looking sandwich on fancy, multigrain bread. Anna knew she didn't fit in here at all as she pulled a plain turkey sandwich and some peanuts from her bag, but it was all she could afford right now.
"Well," she said with a sigh. "It's better than New Jersey."
Both women squealed again. "You're from the east coast!"
"Yeah," she replied as she opened her ginger ale. "I grew up in New Jersey. I went to college and grad school in New Jersey. I attempted to move to New York, and then somehow I ended up here." She left out the heartbreaking parts about Kevin, because he didn't really belong in a conversation where she was surprisingly kind of enjoying herself.
She learned the two women were from Massachusetts and Virginia, and that they both had PhDs from prestigious universities. They were both in committed relationships with naval aviators who also happened to work together. And both of the men loved packing their ladies lunches.
"Lucky," Anna muttered as she popped a peanut into her mouth and thought about the kitchen in her studio apartment. It was so small, it almost didn't exist. She was almost thirty and essentially still lived in a dormitory. How sad.
"Hey," Jessica said suddenly. "If you like peanuts, you'd probably love Chippy's!"
"What's Chippy's?" Anna asked curiously.
"Eww, no. Don't listen to Jess. Chippy's is a disgusting dive bar on the other side of campus."
"It's not disgusting! He just doesn't clean the floor."
Anna laughed. "I actually do love peanuts, but I'm not a big drinker." Then both women silently studied her, and she could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She'd said something wrong already. Of course things couldn't be this easy.
"Huh. You like ginger ale," said Advanced Calculus as she sat paused with a carrot stick halfway to her mouth.
Anna nodded as she said, "My... well, a guy I know used to make fun of me for being a ginger and loving ginger ale." She gestured to her auburn hair which was clipped up at the back of her head.
"Are you married? Or in a relationship?" she asked, and she finally bit into the carrot.
Anna didn't even have a chance to reply as Advanced Physics gasped on her other side. "You like peanuts. And ginger ale. How do you feel about men with glasses?"
"How do you feel about men with greenish blue eyes?"
"How do you feel about sweet men who blush?"
"Would you ever date a guy in the Navy?"
"Are you fond of beat up pickup trucks and country boys?"
"Do you want to come to the Hard Deck this weekend?"
Anna was starting to get whiplash as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wait, I'm sorry. What? I thought we were talking about a place called Chippy's?"
"We were. But now we're talking about a man called Bob."
-----------------------
Omg omg omg. Okay, here we are with a story for our lovable Bob. Thanks for reading about the Sugarverse. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 2
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#bob floyd x oc#robert floyd x oc#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#bob floyd imagine#robert floyd imagine#robert bob floyd x oc#bob floyd fic#bob floyd fanfiction#robert floyd fic#robert floyd#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#covering the classics
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘
“Do you think they’re gonna get too hot?” Bob asks, concern carving his voice into a pitched utterance. “Like--you know, is the sun too much? Should we just take ‘em home?”
Humming from beside Bob, settled onto the old sheets you have laid out across the sand, you just sigh with a fond smile tugging on your lips.
Of course he’s concerned about the babies in this heat--he’s a good father, one that never has to be told what to do or when to do it, one that literally leaps out of bed in the night to change diapers.
“They’re alright,” you assure Bob. “They’re covered! How could the sun get them at all?”
It’s true--the babies are thoroughly covered. Linen shorts and cotton shirts, floppy little sunhats, sunscreen covering every inch of them. Not to mention the umbrellas Bob has staked in the sand behind you--which casts shade over the entirety of your family.
“A freak accident,” Bob tells you, eyes slightly widened when he thinks about one of his precious babies--including you--getting burned. “Maybe we should--!”
“--Baby,” you interrupt, laughing as you glance at him from the top of your glasses. “It’s good that they’re outside! Immunity! Vitamin D! Fresh air! They’ll be alright!”
Bob sighs, glancing down at Jolene, who is sprawled out on your bent thighs, blinking in confusion at the floppy hat that just barely comes down over her eyes. Then he glances at Waylon, whose sound asleep on Bob’s thighs, little milk dribbling down his chin.
“It isn’t too late to tell them that they can meet us at the house,” Bob tells you. He looks up at the sky--endless blue and the sun a fiery hole puncturing the sky. “If we want to do that.”
“We don’t,” you assure him. “And, besides--I think it is too late.”
At that, Bob follows your gaze and turns. Yes--you’re right. It is too late. The squadron is already trailing down the beach, all in their aviators and swimming suits, grinning and zeroed in on yours and Bob’s beach setup.
“Oh, Lord,” Bob says softly, a fond smile tugging on his lips now. “Rooster’s gonna try and steal them, I think.”
“You’re only telling me this now?” You whisper, nudging him with your elbow teasingly.
He has told you before, though, about Rooster’s affinity for children. He can’t get enough of ‘em--he’s always hogging whatever admiral’s child he can get his hands on, playing airplanes or tea party or somehow getting them to nap. And you know, somehow, that Rooster is the goofy looking one with the unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt treading through the sand.
“Sorry, honey,” Bob chuckles.
You see how much this matters to Bob. Never mind that you know him better than anyone else in the world, having met in middle school and fallen in love straight away. Even if you didn’t know him better than anyone, if you were just a fly on the wall--you’d still know. He woke up too early this morning, pacing the kitchen as the coffee brewed, checking in on the twins every few minutes until he heard the first sounds of awakeness. He picked their outfits with you, chewing on his bottom lip. He had the car packed and ready to go before noon. He even called Phoenix a few times just to make sure that plans were still on--and was reminded, a few times, that the plans were absolutely still on.
“You’re shaking the beach,” you whisper, pressing a hand to his bouncing leg.
“Sorry,” Bob mutters, distracted. He stops bouncing his leg. “I’m…I’m really--!”
“--Nervous,” you finish for him, leaning forward to press your warm cheek against his bicep. You kiss him there, soft and sweet, and then sigh. “It’s alright, Bobby. The babies are perfect, the squadron loves you, I’m very personable, the sun is shining, the seagulls are crying! Everything’s gonna be okay!”
“Yeah,” Bob sighs, scratching his head and giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’m just--I don’t know. This is important to me.”
“I know it,” you say, heart swollen. “And I know it’s important to them, too. It’ll be good!”
“It’ll be good,” Bob repeats softly, glancing at you. You’re grinning at him--it makes his shoulders sink. “It’ll be good.”
“Well, well, well,” Hangman says as his feet sink into the hot, hot sand. He grins, squinting even behind his aviators as the sun beats down on his face. “If it ain’t baby on board and his babies on board.”
Bob grins at the sound of Jake’s voice--which surprises him, really. Before that never would’ve happened. But now Bob is back in Lemoore, with you and your babies, and everything feels distinctly better than it did before.
“Hangman,” Bob grins, sticking his hand out for Jake to take. “Good to see you, man.”
Hangman, who’s holding two comically large stuffed rabbits, shuffles to put them under one arm and take Bob’s hand in his.
“How goes it?” Jake asks. Then he glances at you--you’re grinning at him, holding your daughter still. “And this must be the Missus, huh? Pleasure to make your acquaintance!”
Jake crosses the sheets to take your hand, which he promptly brings to his mouth to kiss.
“Don’t mind him,” Rooster says as he appears, toting a cooler and a speaker. “The lack of oxygen in the cockpit really scrambled his brain.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” Hangman says, glancing at Rooster. “Did Bob tell you that Rooster is gonna try and steal them?” Jake asks, pointing to the babies with his brow perched.
“Actually, yes,” you answer, smiling softly. “He did.”
Rooster, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, sets the cooler in the sand before grinning at Bob and stretching his hands out.
“Baby me and I’ll beer you,” Rooster says.
“That doesn’t sound like a fair exchange,” Phoenix sighs, rounding out to clap Rooster on the shoulder before grinning at Bob and you. “Floyds!”
“Hey, Nat,” Bob grins. “How are you?”
“Oh, she’s great,” Payback answers, wiping sweat off his forehead as he sets his beach chair in the sand. “Super, even!”
“She got the aux in the van,” Fanboy explains, resting his elbow on Payback’s shoulder. “Two words: Def Leppard.”
“Lemme see those babies!” Coyote’s voice booms as he jogs up and rounds out the squadron. He’s grinning a broad grin, arms already outstretched.
“Hey, I already called dibs!” Rooster says.
“Yeah, but I got here first,” Hangman grins.
Everyone looks at Bob like he’s the tie-breaker.
“There’s only two of them,” Bob says, laughing quietly.
“You’re gonna have to choose,” Rooster says seriously.
“Here,” you suggest, leaning forward to put Jolene in Hangman’s extended arms. “Take one and pass it on.”
Everyone laughs--it’s music to Bob’s ears. He watches you carefully transfer Jolene into Hangman’s arms, watches him turn absolutely gooey at the sight of your infant daughter. He cups her little head, holds her close to him, grins down at her. You readjust her sunhat and then lean back.
“Oh, she’s too cute,” Hangman says, shaking his head seriously. “Rooster, you’re definitely gonna want to take this one.”
“Here,” Bob says, suddenly feeling more confident in his squadron’s ability than before. He leans forward and bestows Waylon upon Rooster, smiling softly and fondly as he Waylon coos and begins to blink himself awake. “You’re a natural.”
Rooster, delighted, sinks into the sand and holds Waylon close to him.
“Oh, I know,” he says--cocksure as ever. “Look at this little fella. Boy, does he look like a Floyd!”
“Yes,” you agree, laughing. “My DNA didn’t even try.”
As Hangman and Rooster hog the babies, everyone makes their rounds. You shake everyone’s hands, finally put faces to names, and collect all the presents for the babies and yourself. Bob keeps a watchful eye on the babies, but not because he’s stressed--but because he’s enamored that he has two perfect little beings to share with the important people in his life.
The afternoon drifts forward. Your little spot on the beach becomes the spot on the beach, everyone spreading their blankets out and overlapping, coolers abundant and drinks icy. The babies get passed around, hardly even fussing, but always somehow end up back in Rooster’s arms.
Even when everyone decides to get up and toss the pigskins, Rooster ends up staying on the palette with you and Bob and the babies. He’s somehow holding them both at the same time, grinning down at them as they blink up at him.
“You’re ridiculous,” Hangman had said to Rooster, rolling his eyes. “A giant, gushy, manchild.”
“Proud of it,” Rooster had said, cheeks pink.
“They really like you,” you tell Bradley, sighing softly. “I’m still getting used to having all this help, you know? I’m a bit mind-blown right now.”
“Well, I’m here for any babysitting services,” Rooster says. “Hell, I’ll pay you!”
“You’re my favorite already,” you tell Rooster.
Bob looks at you--you’re smiling softly at Rooster and the babies. Your eyes are heavy and your back is curved and he knows that you’re that special kind of tired that is special to new motherhood. Bob understands. He knows. But his heart still squeezes at your sentence. He had to leave only two weeks after they were born, which broke his heart and yours. Of course, because you’re you, you’d put on a very brave face for him. But there were a few times--a few more times than Bob is comfortable with--when you answered his call with a tearful sniffle and a deep sigh.
He reminds himself, as he gazes at you, that things are different now. He’s home for a while--and even after that, he’ll be close to home for the foreseeable future. He’ll never miss bath time or dinner or storytime. He’ll be here, beside you, through it all.
“They really are beautiful,” Rooster tells the both of you. He looks between the two of you, tired and unsure parents with glittering eyes and soft smiles. “You’re doing a damn fine job of it.”
“Thanks, man,” Bob says. “It’s all her.”
You have to swallow hard and roll your eyes, nudging him, to keep from crying pure tears of joy.
Rooster gasps suddenly. “Okay, don’t call me crazy, but I swear to God that Jolene just smiled at me!” He says, elated. “Oh, God. Hangman’s gonna be so pissed.”
#it is bob#bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#top gun bob#robert bob floyd#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd x you#robert floyd#robert floyd smut#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd fic#bob x reader#bob floyd fanfiction#robert floyd x y/n#bob floyd fic#bob floyd x you#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd x y/n#bob top gun#bob floyd blurb#bob floyd x female reader#bob floyd x oc#robert floyd fluff#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd is a dad#bob floyd is a twin dad#robert bob floyd imagine#robert bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd fic
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BOB FLOYD CODED
YES IT IS. It's also Bob with a confident woman coded, which I absolutely love.
It was cute how he tried to blend in with the background. His seat may have been in the corner, but his tall broad frame made him stand out. Unlike his friends, he was quiet, occasionally joining in on the conversation, though quite content to just listen and watch.
He was adorable and God, did you want him.
So when his friends got up to go play pool and sing by the piano, you swooped in. His bright blue eyes widened as he took you in, like a deer in headlights.
"H-hello," his voice was deep with a slight rasp to it. You couldn't tell the location of his accent, but it was definitely rural.
Had the Navy not worked out, he could make a killing recording audiobooks.
"Hi handsome," you smiled as you gently pushed a dark blonde curl away from his forehead, "How ya doing?"
"I'm uh, good!" He cleared his throat, trying to maintain some composure, "Just to let you know, the blonde is engaged and like head over heels in love with her. Basically she worships her. The guy playing piano is free, but he's not ready for a relationship, or a one night stand. The girl next to him is open if you're open. If not, you can go for Javy, he's the one who is-"
"Why are you telling me all of this?" You asked, moving so that you were standing in between his legs. The newly close proximity allowed you to take in the scent of his cologne.
"I, uh," he tried scooting backwards, only to hit the wall, "Isn't that why you're here?"
He thought you were here to get information on his friends, not him.
How cute.
You simply shook your head, leaning forward, "I'm here for you handsome. What's your name?"
"B-Bob," his eyes widened again, "Wait, you're here for, for me?"
The idea of being the one a beautiful stranger would go after was foreign to Bob. Usually it was anyone else in his friend group. He was used to being the one that folks would go to in order to get information about someone else. This was a change.
Not that he minded.
In fact, Bob liked it. A lot.
Once the initial shock had worn off, he found himself easily able to strike up a conversation with you. He was so expressive, using his large hands and big eyes to help tell his stories. You found Bob quite knowledgeable, but never cocky. He was born in Montana and raised there until he was ten, when his family moved to California as his dad was part of the Navy, which explained his accent.
Inexperience wasn't his problem. It was just when he was out with his friends, who were stereotypically attracted, Bob tend to got lost in the mix of things.
A true shame, even though it was greatly benefiting you.
"I love your voice," You murmured against his ear, breath hot on his skin.
"You-really?" Bob squeaked, trying not to focus on how soft your skin felt against his, or the sweet scent of your perfume.
You giggled, the noise sweeter than any song Bob had ever heard, "Yeah. Love how deep it is. Could listen to it all day."
"I uh, that's uh, really nice of ya to say," His voice was shaky as your attention to him made Bob remember what was happening. A beautiful stranger went up to talk, wanted to talk to him, wanted to hear him.
On the other hand, you just simply smiled. He was so cute, having no idea what kind of effect he had on you.
Perhaps it was time to let him know.
Your lips trailed down to his neck, the scent of his aftershave absolutely addicting.
The grip he had on your hips increased, fingernails digging into the soft fabric of your shirt.
"Yeah? Could say the same about you darlin." His voice was lower, purposely so, as he cooed in your ear, "Your voice is so pretty, I've been wondering what other noises you can make with it."
So he could play the game after all.
You could too.
Gently, you lifted one left, raising it up and towards his lap. To distract him, you began peppering his jawline with kisses as you continued to direct your lifted knee closer and closer to his crotch.
While Bob's sharp gasp audibly let you know you reached your desired destination, you didn't need the sound to know.
You could feel him.
It's always the quiet ones.
Bob's fingers dug into the soft fabric of your skirt, willing himself to not moan on the stop, trying to remind him how awkward it would be to explain to his parents why he was honorably discharged from the Navy.
So instead, he pulled your hips towards him, practically closing the space between your bodies.
Gone was that sweet, yet unsure smile. In it's place was a confident smirk, that made your thighs clench.
When he stood up from his seat, it was then you realized how tall he truly was. Not that you minded.
"Why don't we go somewhere a little more private," His voice was seductively low against your skin, "I'm not into sharing."
#my writing#Bob Floyd#Robert Bob Floyd#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#robert floyd#robert floyd x reader#Bob floyd fic#bob floyd fanfiction#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd smut#robert bob floyd x reader#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd x you#robert floyd fic
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delicate
synopsis: bob floyd is good at everything, except maybe expressing his feelings. based on delicate by taylor swift.
pairings: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)
warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, listen... if you're a delicate enjoyer, you should know to expect light angst here. expect softness too and also, semi-explicit sex, swearing, and the like. (wc: 2.2K)
note: so i've done nothing but listen to delicate and watch the lewis pullman pottery videos all week. be gentle with me.
written for the love is in the air challenge hosted by the lovely @roosterforme.
summoning a few fellow bob floyd enjoyers: @theharddeck @bradshawsbitch @rhettabbotts @roleycoleyreccenter @hangmanbrainrot @t-nd-rfoot
Another late night comes, and Bob Floyd is naked on the other side of your bed.
Moonlight shines in from the outside, slipping between the curtains that aren’t quite closed, and in the near dark, Bob looks almost contemplative, tracing the length of your spine with soft, barely there touches.
He is like a statue, something carved from marble, stretched out against your side, close enough for you to feel the warmth that radiates from his skin. You are a seasonal bloom, curving towards the sun, basking in his warmth.
He isn’t wearing his glasses and so, probably can’t make you out as much more than shadow and light, but Bob doesn’t seem to mind, content to admire you in the darkness, content to find the shape of you through gentle touches. Fingertips skim the curve of your waist, drum along your ribcage, making you giggle into the pillows.
He knows your ticklish spots, careful to press the kisses a little lighter on the back of your knee or skim his nose along the side of your neck, all slow and purposeful, depending on his mood. A smile pulls at his blushing mouth, swollen with kisses, paired with an amused exhale.
That was definitely on purpose.
The BCGs sit on the nightstand, set aside on a stack of books, next to the mug of chamomile tea, half-drunk and probably cold now. You don’t want him to reach for them, knowing that Bob only puts them back on to leave.
He doesn’t reach for them.
You have a few more minutes.
You don’t mean to let your eyes close, but Bob is warm and familiar and comforting. It is a losing battle.
He brushes a kiss across your hairline and settles there, muscles bulging in the folded arm under his head. His breaths, slow and steady and even, stir the escaping hairs there.
You drift in and out, lost in dreams of smoking planes and late-night texts and chamomile tea and a whispered confession against your brow. Come back to awareness in the cold absence of his warmth, his weight sinking the cheap mattress.
Between your lashes, Bob is a shadow at the nightstand, already dressed again in the black t-shirt and dark jeans that he'd been wearing at the Hard Deck tonight, sending you the I’m coming over message.
He doesn’t notice your gaze, staring down at the nightstand with a clenched jaw, still wearing that contemplative expression. It has soured somewhere in the middle, tinged with an internal debate.
He casts his gaze down to you, looking over your sleeping form, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek. You don’t open your eyes, not brave enough to pull him back down beside you and ask him not to leave.
Stay here. Don’t make me ask.
And after a few minutes, Bob picks up his glasses and leaves.
Bob Floyd is good and also, good at everything.
He’s not loud about it.
Not like Hangman is good at pool, cheering and fist-pumping after a trick shot to draw over a crowd, already recounting the shot in self-congratulatory to the nearest person who’ll listen. He preens at the attention, basking in it.
“Not just good,” Hangman said once, not one to let a compliment slide without making it into a thing, making you regret saying anything at all. “Too good to be true.”
Bob’s not dramatic about it either.
Like how Rooster will dance his fingers across the piano, playing a few teasing notes to make sure the Hard Deck quiets down around him, building the suspense of the moment, waiting for them to look at him.
Not like that at all.
He is unassuming, not expecting compliments or attention, and in the rare event that a Hard Deck patron or a fellow Naval avatar does notice how skilled Bob Floyd is at the pool table and the like, he is quick to dismiss the praise.
He is just… good. It is that simple.
You’d been a civilian mechanic on North Island for a good six months and were utterly convinced that no Naval aviator who’d graduated from Top Gun could be anything other than a walking and talking ego. Experience hadn’t changed your mind.
It is probably your own fault. You’d made it too easy for him.
All Bob Floyd needed to do was be good, quietly good in that way of his, and Bob had you.
It sneaks up on you. A startling realization.
You’ve never been this person, the one who is waiting for the text to light up your nightstand in the black, the one who is reaching across the still warm bed after, grasping for a ghost that’s already slipped out into the night. You aren’t supposed to want him like this.
You are supposed to be the cold one, the one with one foot out the door, ready to leave rather than get left. You don’t let anyone get close enough to hurt you, not anymore, and Bob Floyd isn’t supposed to be the exception.
He is though.
He’s your friend. You like him.
He’s more than that. You like him.
You let yourself dream for a while, imagining that maybe Bob Floyd could like you too. He could want to be with you – not just want you on dark nights, drenched in loneliness, looking for someone who would understand the life of a Naval aviator and not expect promises.
It doesn’t always seem like such a dream. That, at least, helps you feel less foolish.
He comes to check on the F-18 repairs that Phoenix used to spearhead and lingers to ask you more questions.
Another mechanic calls him your boyfriend. A tease meant to embarrass you, not him, but Bob flushes pink.
His next words come out stuttered, caught in a sharp wind and knocked off course, but Bob doesn’t correct him.
He doesn’t deny it, but Bob still leaves.
And after Bob accidentally knocks your favorite mug from the nightstand with an errant foot, shattering it into pieces too small to glue back together, Bob makes you a new one. It is dotted with little pink and green flowers and on the bottom, marked with his initials.
Didn’t want it to get mixed up in the kiln, Bob explained to you, showing you the little R.F. on the bottom.
He can easily hold it in one hand, fingers wrapping around the sides and meeting near the handle. You weigh that against the delicate flowers that line the glaze and feel fragile.
You don’t know anything about ceramics – other than that Bob does know about them. Just like he can play the drums and pick out the constellations on clear nights. You do know that Bob must’ve spent at least a few days making it, if not a week.
“It’s not perfect. Got a little misshapen around the handle because I didn’t…” He shows you, pointing out the imperfection. It is a little misshapen, endearingly so. Little pink flowers. You pinch your arm and miss his explanation. “Is it okay? I could try again.”
He looks nervous. Moisture pricks at your eyelids.
“It’s perfect.” No one’s ever given me anything so thoughtful. I like you so much. You bite down on your lip hard and bring the mug close to your chest, cradling it. "I’m never using another mug ever again. You’ll have to put it in my grave with me.”
He made it for you.
No one has ever made anything for you before, and Bob made something so beautiful and personal and precious with you in mind. You feel raw, flayed right open for him to pierce you through the heart.
He made it for you… and still, Bob leaves.
A message lights up your phone screen, set aside on the kitchen counter during your meal preparation. It is much earlier than Bob would usually send an I’m coming over text, but Bob does text you about other things. You are friends after all.
Need a pool partner at the Hard Deck. Come meet me in the back?
He comes home with you a little earlier that night, stays a little longer, holds you a little tighter, arms around you like steel bands; but eventually, like clockwork, Bob reaches for his glasses on the nightstand.
You should’ve ended it ages ago. Protected your own heart.
He looks so handsome, so beautiful in your bed, pressing your legs open to take you apart with his mouth, guiding your hands to stroke through his hair, silky and slightly damp from a late-night shower. Soaking in every sound that escapes from your mouth.
You almost say it then.
You don’t, instead filling the silence with moans and gasps and the reverent repetition of his name. Move your fingers through the soft strands, tugging when Bob slides his ring finger into you and nudges at a spot that makes your vision haze.
He moans against you, low and wanting, curling his fingers tighter around your thigh, hard enough to leave indents. You’ll check for bruises in the morning, even though Bob never leaves any. He’s always so careful with you.
“Please,” Bob whispers, before making you shatter on his tongue.
You almost tell him then, but manage to hold it in, blinking the stars from your eyes, until Bob is sprawled across your bed after, mouth shining with you, pressing a wet kiss to your temple.
Soft. Like a promise.
“I really like you.”
Half a second passes, and Bob is completely still.
Fuck. You pull back from him.
Why did you say that? You shouldn’t have said anything,
You’ve ruined it. It was good. You’ve ruined everything. You –
A creaking bedspring. Bob reaches over you to turn on the light and grabs his glasses from the nightstand. You are both bathed in the warm yellow light as Bob slides them on.
Not to leave. He wants to see your face better.
He pushes himself upright, sliding to lean against the headboard, forearms rippling with the movement. Bob doesn’t leave.
“You…” Bob hesitates, expression guarded. “You do?”
It would be easier to lie about it. You can’t do it anymore.
“I do. Is that… Is it okay that I said that? Is it too soon?”
You can hear your own hope in your voice, unbridled, and Bob searches your expression, eyes wide and blue behind the wire frames. You’d never seen that color blue before him.
In lieu of an answer, Bob says, “I love you.”
You might not be breathing. You’re definitely crying.
He cups your cheek in a large palm, catching a tear that spills across the bridge of your nose. His voice is low and tender, enough to warm you from the inside out. “I’ve loved you for months now, and I couldn’t...” Wetness shines on his own cheek, and Bob brushes it away. “It felt so delicate and new, and I couldn’t risk losing you, even if I only ever got to have pieces.”
A curl falls across his forehead. You brush it back, stroking your fingertips down his cheek, and Bob closes his eyes with a shuddering breath, leaning into your touch. He is shaking.
“Not just pieces. You’ve had me, all of me the whole time.”
And Bob rewards your confession with his own.
“I always wanted to stay with you. You never asked, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” And the corner of his mouth lifts in a wobbly smile. “That didn’t stop me from pushing my luck when I was feeling brave.”
You remember. He’d hold you a little longer, pull away a little slower. He’d whisper words too low for you to make out. You wonder now if Bob was saying these words; if Bob had really whispered I love you in your dreams or said it for real.
You need to know. “And if I ask you now?”
“I’d stay with you,” Bob promises, serious and solemn. “I'd hold you. And then, in the morning, I’d bring you breakfast. I make a mean scrambled egg.”
You laugh, and Bob smiles at the sound.
He lowers you onto your back, moving over you. He is broad enough to blot out the light, looking at you with such hope and love. His gaze moves between your eyes and your lips.
“Are you?” Bob asks, serious again. He raises your interlocked fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “Asking, I mean?”
You kiss him. It is answer enough.
For the rest of the night, Bob is all over you, kissing your cheeks, pinning your interlocked fingers into the soft sheets. He slides into you with your name on his lips, saying those three words over and over again, like a prayer.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
He lets go only once – to slide his glasses from his nose and deposit them back in their place on the nightstand.
And in the morning, Bob brings you coffee in a handmade mug with the little pink and green flowers. He stays.
end note: i'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings, especially since i've never written a bob floyd fic before. happy valentine's day!
#love is in the air tgm#bob floyd fic#robert floyd fic#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd x you#bob floyd angst#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd smut#laracrofted writes#fic: delicate#fic: bob floyd
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Chatterbox
prompt: bob helps his teacher assistant girlfriend get her mind off work.
warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni. fingering, oral (f receiving), slight size kink and dumbification if you squint.
a/n: dont ask me why im releasing one-shots before i even finish chapter one, because i dont know either okay. but anyway, here is a peak at bob and honeybee :).
word count: 2.3k
college au, frat boy au
the after party masterlist.
Bob never had a problem with how chatty you could get.
If there was one thing Bob was grateful for, it was his girlfriend's ability to fill in an awkward silence when needed. The blond was certain he could listen to you talk all day, running that pretty mouth of yours while he sat there nodding attentively. And it was just a plus that you looked so enamoring, eyes glittering in excitement and hands animatedly gesturing as you spoke.
However, Bob did have a problem with how chatty you got about your TA tasks—especially when you were supposed to be forgetting about them for now. The end of the semester always came with a bigger pile of work, but today was a Saturday. Yet, you're still thinking about school.
For once, the rowdy frat house was empty with everyone visiting home for spring break. It was a perfect opportunity for Bob to finally get you out of the grayed out dorm room you trapped yourself in, day in and day out. So, when he made the move to invite you over, he had every intention to ease your stress, hence the dress code of comfy attire only.
But this afternoon, it looks like Bob has to do more than just lay stomach down between the plush of your thighs, glasses set off to the side, letting you mindlessly braid his hair, and mindlessly run your mouth.
“Does he think I have no life?” Your pointed complaints are still ongoing, leaving you ignorant to the subtle movement below you.
While your brewing anger is very much directed at Professor Simpson, it’s currently being spewed towards Bob’s ceiling fan—which can do nothing to argue back—just how you like it. If looks could kill, the mean glare you’re giving the motionless object suspended over his bed would be on living its last day.
The remembrance of your professor’s threatening email to you about getting grades out, completely distracts you from the braid of blond hair in your hands, slowly losing its structure as your boyfriend shifts his weight under you.
Again, you let out an annoyed breath. “Five days of my spring break to grade some last minute assignment he just—conveniently forgot to mention to me?!”
You’re so lost in your story telling that you’re not even registering the hot breath dusting over your exposed tummy, and the gradual rise of your shirt as Bob uses his nose to drag the fabric upwards, ghosting his lips over your navel.
Bob shakes his head against you, mildly entertained by your cluelessness.
“Remind me to never work with the english department again,” you huff, hands now curling into fist at your sides, regretting your decision to assist with that course over the others available to you this semester.
“‘Cause now I have over eighty research papers to check ove–” With a light pull of his teeth, Bob loosens the drawstring of your sweatpants.
The sound of the thick cord coming undone from the knot is muted compared to your tangent, but your ears catch the noise, your stomach feels it, and your mouth clamps shut immediately.
Blinking at the ceiling dumbly, you open your mouth to say his name, but it just snaps shut again.
After a beat of silence, there’s two sets of fingers hooked into the loose band of your sweats next, giving your pants a suggestive tug.
Bob makes sure to keep his patience at bay, wanting to soak in your flustered state, just a bit more. Because, honestly, he would’ve ripped these sweats off you long ago if you weren’t so cute—already so meek and tiny under him.
With your eyes still refusing to meet his very own, you miss him running an intending gaze over the underside of your jaw, and making note of the bead of sweat running down your cheek. While you were the one mostly making him nervous in your relationship, it was a nice change of pace to inflict it back onto you once in a while. You were so obliging too.
Bob lowly hums, eyes dropping to the strappy pink lace sitting on your hip bone, revealed by his slight yank of your sweats. “Honeybee..” he commands your attention. “You gonna let me see these cute little panties you got on for me?”
Bashfully, you lift your butt off the mattress, letting him pull it off your waist. Because, yes, you will let him. Though, you’re sure they’re thoroughly soaked through at this point.
“There’s my good girl,” he sings, deep voice vibrating through his chest, pleased by your obedience.
If you weren’t very aware that his head was currently stationed between your legs, you would’ve clenched your thighs together at his raspy tone.
Finally, you suck in a nervous breath, redirecting your attention down to your boyfriend who’s starting to make his way down your legs—dragging down the thick fabric, leaving wet open mouthed kisses to the flesh of your thighs, to the side of your calves, and finally to your ankle.
Near the foot of the bed, he sits up momentarily to tear your pants off your feet. They go flying into his open closet. “B-Bobby,” your breath shallows at his sudden forwardness.
“What? Nothin’ to complain about anymore?” He quietly teases, a faint smirk playing on his lips, laying back between your ankles.
“Well…I—not really. No it’s just–,” you stammer, rubbing the wet pads of your fingers together.
“That’s what I thought,” he cuts you off.
Keeping his eyes locked onto yours, Bob makes his way back up your naked legs. All you can do is blink at him, arousal sitting heavy at your pulsating core. He almost looks unrecognizable. The baby blue eyes you’re so used to seeing are casted over in a thick, dark, cloud of lust.
With him settled between your thighs, Bob’s eyes snap down to your slick, leaking through the flowery lace pattern in front of him. “So fuckin’ wet for me honey,” he marvels, licking a slow, flat stripe to your covered folds, with a slight pressure against you, coating his tastebuds in your arousal. The tip of his tongue flicks your bud, teasingly, as he moves off.
“Please,” you thoughtlessly whine, heat blooming through your chest.
Without so much of a warning, Bob roughly tears off your panties with one hand, pocketing it for himself.
You raise your voice. “No! That was—” Again, he cuts you off.
In an instant, his front is pressed to yours, pushing you into the mattress, meeting you in a desperate, sloppy kiss. Eyes fluttering close, you return the eagerness, letting him swallow every small noise that sears through your throat. Then, a fuzz takes over your brain, eyes scrunching in pleasure as his knee nudges your exposed clit. The scratchy fabric of his plaid pants drives you on, more than you expected it to.
You can’t help but to buck your hips, chasing the feeling. But the moment you start a steady grind against him, Bob stills you, pressing a firm hand on your hip, ripping his mouth from you at the realization that you’re starting to get yourself off.
At the loss of his knee, a small whine escapes your lips, and your glossy eyes blink open again.
There’s a light threat resting on his tongue, but it immediately dies at the sight of you, pupils shot, underneath him.
Even with the steady hold of your lower half, you’re shaking as you struggle to remain still for him. The pinch of his eyebrows loosen, eyes dropping down to the heave of your chest under his t-shirt. But what finally does it, is the way his hand fully swallows the side of your hip. Experimentally, he stretches his fingers against you, scanning the amount of skin he covers with the move.
Biting your lip nervously, you start to pathetically plead with him again. “I’m sorry. I–I’ll be good. I–Please. Will be so good for you.”
He knows he should’ve held out longer, but for some reason—he’s spurred on to get his hands on you again.
In a matter of seconds, he dips back down, placing bites on your sweaty neck. You’re so sure it’s punishment for trying to ride his knee, because he’s leaving them in spots he knew would be hard to hide.
The hand that was previously keeping you steady, extends down to your swollen folds, forcing a pitched whine from your throat as he toys your clit. “Oh–Ah–F-Fuck,” you moan, clamping one hand around the back of his neck, as the other scrunches the sheet below you.
Dipping his thumb down to your dripping entrance, he collects your slick, before coating your bundle of nerves with it. Then, Bob bites down harshly on your collarbone, continuing to draw tight, uniformed circles as you mewl from the precision.
It’s almost heartless, the way his pointer and middle finger curl into you next, roughly working against your walls that instinctively tighten around him. You're glad no one's home, because you couldn’t be bothered to stifle the shaky moans and mindless string of pleas that falls from your lips, begging him for more. Because it just feels too good. But, even if some of his house-mates were present, you're not too sure if you could stay quiet.
"That good, huh?" He licks over one of the marks he's been littering across your skin.
Bob’s mouth pulls into a pleased smirk against the side of your neck, letting you chase his hand, hips snapping off the mattress as you soak him down to his wrist. With his other hand, Bob’s palm travels up your bunched up shirt, giving your left breast a quick squeeze before rolling the hardened bud between two fingers.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs in your ear, putting more pressure on your swollen clit, working in unison with the unrelenting drag of his fingers inside you. All you can do is blabber, brows knitted in pleasure—too caught up in the building knot in your stomach. “I—I want—” You careen off the mattress again, rolling against his drenched hand.
“What is it?” He clicks his tongue at your incoherent response, fucking his fingers into you harder.
In response, another jumble of unintelligible sentences is pushed out of you. “Want my mouth on that pretty pussy? Is that it?”
The palm under your shirt slips downward, as he removes himself from the crook of your neck, trailing down to your sopping core—all while keeping the bruising pace of his hand against you, eyes glued to the glossy sheen coating his entire forearm. It’s quick, the way he swaps from his thumb to his tongue, suctioning it around your clit, giving it all of his attention.
You’re not even sure you’re breathing anymore. There’s a burn rippling through your lungs as your jaw hangs open in a silent moan, unable to grapple the feeling of him groaning loudly against you.
With your orgasm growing in the pit of your stomach Bob pushes you closer to it, adding a third finger, splitting you open and hitting you at the exact spot that gets your thighs to clench around his head, muffling his ears. With the confirmation that you’re close, his eyes snap shut—lapping at you with such vigor that the intensity finally sends you over the edge.
The orgasm hits like a strong wave, washing over your trembling body as it racks every part of you. You're so sure, you felt your bones shake inside you. Underneath you, Bob slowly removes himself from your sensitive core, sweetly pressing his lips to your inner thigh, murmuring praise with each soft kiss.
You suck in a much-needed breath of air, trying to focus your vision. At the moment, Bob has two ceiling fans overlapping over each other.
“I–I don’t even care about the essays anymore,” you confess. How could you when your boyfriend ate you out like his life depended on it?
Tucking your chin, you curiously look down at him. With your wetness completely coating half his face, leading down to his bobbing Adam’s apple—he lightly laughs. He looks that good, and he has the audacity to laugh, causing your cheeks to heat up—as if you aren’t half naked in front of him.
You’ve always had trouble hiding your fluster when he smiled at you like that—So you’re certain, he can see how it’s affecting you.
“That was my intention, Honeybee,” he rises to sit his knees, gently scooping you into a sitting position.
The oversized tee drops down your upper body as you sit up in front of him. You shouldn’t be—but you’re embarrassed to feel his sticky hand on the small of your back as he holds you up. “I love you, but you gotta give yourself a break. I can listen to you all day, swear it. I just—don’t like seeing you stress yourself out for no reason.”
He kisses your forehead, almost as if he's implanting the reminder there. Bob then gives your back an affectionate rub, prompting your lips to twitch, a tell-tale sign they’re about to wobble next.
Biting down on your bottom lip to stop yourself, you lean forward, wrapping your weak arms around his neck. “I love you so much. Don’t deserve you,” you profess, brows knitted together—hit with the random urge to cry.
The only response you ever got from your incessant ranting were snappy remarks, telling you to shut up or go into another room if you were gonna talk to yourself. But here you are, in the arms of the first person to ever admit that they don’t mind it. On top of that, he even loves you—caring enough to voice his concerns about your habit of rambling, which only resulted in a build up of unwanted anxiety.
Bob softens, pulling you closer to him, petting the top of your head. “You deserve me,” he assures you. “And you deserve a bath too, with me,” he adds on.
You quietly sniffle. “And cuddles.”
“How could I forget,” he scolds himself jokingly, drawing a giggle from you. At that, his mouth breaks out in a smile. “Then you can catch me up on the stuff you were tellin’ me about last week. You haven’t told me what happened after Professor Benjamin was caught with Bradley’s uncle.”
“Oh! Right. So when I walked in on them…” Bob listens intently, coaxing you off his mattress, laughing at your—maybe too detailed—description of what you saw. Once you’re both inside the bathroom, you move onto your opinions and theories next. Bob leans in close to your seated figure on the bathtub ledge, letting you talk into his ear, tuning out the loud bath water shooting out the faucet.
His eyes widen, pulling back in surprise at your theory. “No way!”
“Yes, way!” You burst out in laughter, grabbing onto his shirt as he joins you. He makes sure to cradle your head so it doesn’t hit the sink by the tub. The sound of the running water can barely be heard over the obnoxious cries of laughter that come next.
After the bath, the rest of the day is spent with you playing with his hair as you stream through your gossip, updating your attentive boyfriend on what he missed out on. And he enjoys every second of it.
So, it just stamps it down further, that Bob never had a problem with how chatty you got.
note: thank you for reading, seeing that i'm struggling a bit to put something out for this series, i decided to put this out for now! :) as always, thank you for reading and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.
join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!
tags: @blueoorchid @queen-of-elves @cherrylipgloss-baby @purplevortexx @goosterroose @floralfloyd @doggo-and-goosey @chicomonks @maplesyurp07 @grxcisxhy-wp @anna1523 @laylaskywalker
#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd smut#robert floyd x reader#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x y/n#bob floyd x you#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd fic#bob x reader#tgm smut#tgm fic#bob floyd au
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