#bob floyd x gn!reader

[az-cain]

Az, I’m dizzy thinking of meeting bob’s family for the first time and he just admired the way you fit in so quickly. Talking to everyone and he just knows he wants to marry you???

NO LITERALLY i was having such a bad night and now i’m better 😭😭 thank you

i used wife but as past tense, in the sense of little bob asking for a ring for his future wife when he was younger. maybe he’s gay or bi, who knows, but reader is gender neutral.

—

He takes you home as his lover, the first person he’d ever done that with. His little car pulls onto the long stretch of driveway that led to his parents’ farm house, and his palms get sweaty. He starts to speak, stumbles, pauses, and tries again. He gets out something along the lines of “They might be a lot, but they’ll love you,” before you put your hand on top of his knee and laugh quietly and tell him not to worry.

He feels his heart leap out of his chest and his foot stop tapping against the dead pedal. He nods and smiles shakily, wiping each hand separately before slowing to a stop and shifting into park. Turning his head to kiss you gently on the lips, he opens the door and walks around to let you out. You straighten your sweater and grab his tacky hand with a bright smile as the two of you approach the door.

As soon as he opens the door with a shout, his grandma is bolting out of the kitchen to see her Robby. Exclaims of “You took so long to visit!” and “Oh, we missed you, baby!” filled the small foyer, the smell of home-baked bread suffusing the house. His mom’s head pops out of the kitchen doorway and you recognize that smile: it’s the same one you wear when you look at her son. It strikes you how happy this family is, and you feel safe. Entirely safe.

His mom also recognizes the look on your face and her son’s face and loves you immediately. She beckons you into the kitchen. “It’s so amazing to meet you,” she blurts out, opening her arms for a hug. Of course, you oblige immediately.

“So good to meet you too.” You grin broadly. “You raised an amazing man.”

“And you found him,” she sighs happily, clasping your upper arms.

Silently, Robby watches from the doorway, his grandma’s hand in his, before Roberta tugs lightly on it. The older lady gestures towards the stairs with her head and pulls him away from the doorway, having spent the last few minutes watching her grandson’s heart rest in his throat with joy and love. Walking up the stairs, she squeezes Robby’s hand and told him she loves the person he brought.

“So do I, Grandma.”

They reach her bedroom and she pushed open the door, pulling him in before dropping his hand in favor of opening her jewelry box. “You asked when you were ten if you could have this for your future wife, remember?”

He feels his hands shake again as he nods, wiping his palms on his jeans. “You said I could have it when I asked again.”

“You don’t need to ask this time, Robby.”

He smiles as she reaches out, ring in hand. “Thank you, Grandma.”

—

Downstairs, his mother knows exactly where her mother and son were returning from as you ask her if you could set the table. She shakes her head and scoffs, shouting light-heartedly for her husband to come do it and gesturing at your boyfriend to come take care of you. As George, his father, enters the dining room, you smile and shake his hand, Robby’s hand around your waist.

He watches his father and lover make easy conversation after George apologizes for his lack of greeting and you dismiss it with a wave of your hand and an easy grin.

Robby’s eyes and smile are bright as he feels the ring in his pocket like a brand, burning through his thigh, and he knows he’ll have to get it on your finger before the night is out.

#robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fluff #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #bob floyd x gn!reader #az writes #pav my love

[angelic-dreams13]

Snow at the beach is so Bob Floyd coded and I will elaborate on that.

#bob floyd x gn!reader #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #top gun bob #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x you

[attapullman]

Robert From Next Door | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings & Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x gn!reader, extremely fluffy, food mentions, heavy making out, shirtless Bob, only referred to as Robert for the series, unrealistic expectations of next door neighbors, 18+ as always. This idea hit me like a bus while walking the dog (where I almost was hit by a bus) and has been fully unable to leave my brain since then. Cozy, sweet, overly helpful Neighbor!Bob is literally all I want for Christmas. And he's my holiday present to all of you!

robert from next door | if only the neighbors knew

“I have a ladder you can borrow.” You look up from the box of Christmas lights you’re detangling in the garage to see your neighbor standing in the opening to the street. Coffee mug in hand as he watches you loop out another knot. He’d noticed your garage open that morning, too early for a Saturday, and came to investigate or possibly offer assistance. If there is one thing Robert Floyd does best, it’s help his neighbors.

You had moved into the tidy bungalow just under a year ago, placing a potted fern on the doorstep and painting over the dated beige walls. It was finally starting to feel like a home. Now with the holidays approaching (as reminded by the entirely too jolly Santas everywhere in town) you were excited to start new traditions in your humble home. And it started with putting twinkling lights on the house, lights currently tangled in the cardboard box you haphazardly threw them in twelve months ago. 

Threading out another knot, you give him a playful smile. “How do you know I don’t have a ladder?”

“Lucky guess?” He’s not going to admit he’s scanned and memorized nearly every inch of your garage.

The day after the moving truck came and went, you were thrilled when your first new neighbor rang your doorbell. While you had expected some middle aged woman with a plate of brownies and a plea for babysitting, you were pleasantly surprised at the man in a flight suit (Lt. Robert Floyd according to the stitching) with the striking blue eyes who stood there instead. He didn’t have brownies, but he happily gave you the lowdown on the neighborhood as you sat amongst moving boxes drinking lemonade out of paper cups. 

As the months passed, an easy friendship had developed amongst neighbors. In the morning before making his way to base, Robert would scoop up your morning paper and walk it up the seven steps to your porch. The paper boy always threw it short. And despite numerous pleas to leave it be - you didn’t mind the short walk - every morning when you went for the paper, there it sat neatly on your mat along with any misdelivered mail.

And when he wasn’t saving kittens from trees in his free time, Robert was a shining example of a great neighbor. Driving his truck for a trip to get plants at the nursery, lending his mower when yours broke in the heat of July, cleaning your gutters when the leaves fell…you shouldn’t be surprised he’s now offering up his ladder so you can enjoy your Christmas lights. Looking down at the tangled mess, you hadn’t even thought about how you were going to get them actually on the house. Nails? Did you even own nails?

Not even an hour later you’re standing on the sidewalk facing your home with a hot cup of coffee in your chilly hands. Propped up on a ladder with detangled lights in one hand - and a tool belt around his waist like your personal Mr. Fix It - Robert hums to himself as he hammers nails into the trim before wrapping the first strand of lights in place. 

You had accepted his ladder graciously, but mentioned you needed to hit the hardware store first for nails. With a nod of his head he left your garage and you continued on the lights. It was a tedious project, but rewarding once the final strand lay flat against the concrete floor. You were digging around in boxes for tools when your neighbor reappeared. He had a ladder and his tool belt, a full box of nails clutched in his large hand. Cheeks warm, you assured him you would buy your own. He let out a playful pfft.

“Nonsense. It’s Saturday, the hardware store will be packed. Consider them an early Christmas gift.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Let me at least trade you for them? A cup of coffee?”

“Do you still have those Kona beans?” His ocean blue eyes are hopeful.

Your smile widened as you nodded. The overpriced beans you had expensively shipped every month were a favourite of the weapons systems officer. Last month you had hosted the homeowners association meeting (for the first and hopefully only time) and Robert had raved about the coffee you served. He was used to the basic stuff they made on base, his own home brewing not much better. Your coffee was the best.

When you came back to the garage after whipping up a carafe - hot mug in hand - you shouldn’t have been surprised to see your neighbor already up the ladder, deep into the project.

You holler up to him. “Robert, get down! You don’t need to do that!”

But he waves you off, insisting that he had already started and might as well finish the job. He would just drink your delicious coffee once he was done. And so you were relegated to the sidewalk to make sure everything looked straight from the street. 

From this distance you could admire him innocently. The military-issue wire frames that catch the morning sun. Broad shoulders under the neat canvas barn coat he recently replaced when the corduroy collar ripped. His strong hands shielded from the chilled wind under his workman’s gloves. Because someone like Robert Floyd follows safety precautions and owns workman’s gloves. 

At this angle you can see the slight smile on his lips as he strings lights along your porch. For the next hour you watch him put up lights, him occasionally turning back and asking you how they look.

“Are you sure they’re straight?” You promise him they are, but he meticulously checks his work anyway. He wants your house to look perfect. 

The wind has tinged both your cheeks a deep pink and the cold is starting to seep through boots. Robert has nailed the last of your lights to the trim and deemed them faultless. He comes down the ladder and walks to stand beside you to admire his handiwork. Hands on hips - with that damn tool belt still astride his waist - he turns to you beaming at a job well done. It’s impossible not to beam back, thinking how long it would have taken you to do even a job half as good.

“Thank you for putting up the lights. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” He isn’t sure whether your cheeks are red from the cold or something else. “I’m so lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

His smile is permanently stuck at your compliment. He opens his mouth to make a joking comment about the coffee you owe him - anything for more time together - when he feels the telltale buzz in his pocket. Pulling it reluctantly out after shedding a glove, he sees it’s Phoenix and is only semi-annoyed. They have lunch plans, which he’s running late for. And while he’s sure his front seater would approve of him blowing her off for the neighbor he can’t stop talking about, he’s a better friend than that.

Turning back to you, where you’re enjoying your freshly strung twinkling lights, Robert rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I have to head out…lunch plans. Rain check on that coffee?”

Nodding through your disappointment, you help him gather up his ladder and assure him that coffee is his whenever he wants.

The following morning you pad toward your front door, eyes bleary from a deep sleep. The house was cold and you pull your robe tighter around you. Through the glass panel in the door you can see your paper on the mat, as always, ready for you to consume over coffee and toast. As you open the oak door and scurry to shut it with the paper secured, something - or rather someone - catches your eye. 

Robert stands in the doorway of his own bungalow, calmly watching the neighborhood. The thick fair isle sweater covering his wide shoulders looks incredibly cozy, and he nurses a mug between both hands. He exists in that moment without worry, and you’re envious. 

His placid expression is broken when he feels your eyes, turning his head to see you, bedhead and newspaper clutched in your fist. His lips turn in a warm smile and he raises one hand in a slow, friendly wave. Your heart flutters, utterly taken away with how surely he carries himself, how sweetly he treats others. An emotion quickly squashed when you realize you are still standing in a bathrobe and knobby socks, flying back inside and shutting the door with heated cheeks. 

As you go about working on your Sunday chores, you keep picturing Robert’s face, that small happy smile you can’t get out of your head.

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in the sheets unable to find peace, you finally trudge down the hall into the living room, settling under blankets on the plush couch with a cup of chamomile. You’ve lost details of the plot of the movie you started, brain racing as your fingers fidget with the mug. 

The faint trill of your phone on the coffee table breaks you from your thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Bo-Robert…from next door?” You yawn a hello while checking the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. “I just wanted to check if everything was alright? Noticed your lights were on.” 

A warm feeling spreads through your chest at his concern. Picturing him peering out his kitchen window with the striped cotton curtains, filling up his own kettle, distressed that your house lights were on so late. You’d like to think he wore tartan pajamas, neatly buttoned. Those would suit him. 

You settle back into the cushions as you reply. “Everything’s fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

His thoughtful nod can practically be heard through the phone.

“Better question is, what are you doing up so late?” 

The whistle and clink of boiling water and china crash over the line. A sigh pulled from his lips before responding. “I was going to make myself a cup of tea while I finished some reports, but appears that I am out.”

You glance down at your own mug of tea. It’s late, but not that late.

“What kind of tea do you like?” He muses on about his lack of preference - an equal opportunity tea lover - before admitting he was looking forward to a cup of peppermint. You make your way to the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you both open your cupboards. Your voice feels small as you offer, “I think I might have some.”

A silence lingers on the line. An unspoken late night implication that neither of you knows what to make of it. Your fingers flip through boxes of tea that take up too much cupboard space. Pomegranate, green, oolong. You don’t even drink tea that often. But right as you think you have too many white teas, you see the striped box of peppermint tea, one lone bag waiting for its turn.

You empty the box and walk to the window in your kitchen, where you can see the faint light on through his curtains. You clear your throat. “Look out your kitchen window.”

To your disappointment, Robert does not wear tartan pajamas to sleep. Although you are delighted to see his shirtless chest, defined from years of Navy training. He waves at you through your respective kitchen windows, holding up his mug of hot water. You lift up the tea bag, and his face splits into a toothy smile.

Before you can offer to bring it to him, he’s already turning toward his front door, speaking into the phone, “I’ll be over, just a minute. Need to find my coat.”

By the time there’s a soft knock on the door, you’ve turned on the kettle and gotten a fresh mug for him. You open the door, greeted by the tip of his nose and ears a merry red, the cold kissing his features. He’s been outside all of a minute. You usher your neighbor in, watching him observe how you’ve put up garlands and festive knickknacks in the entry since his last visit.

He slips off his boots, bare feet settling on the cold hardwood, and fingers the collar of his canvas barn coat. In his rush to come over he’d thrown his coat on forgetting his bare chest. It feels obnoxious to be half naked in your home, so he keeps his coat on and follows you to the kitchen. 

“Peppermint still good?” You tease, the packet of tea leaves in your hand. He nods, slightly distracted by how cozy you look in your soft loungewear and the robe from this morning. Dunking the bag into the hot water, you search for a topic to pass the steeping time. But when you turn to talk to him, words catch in your throat because he’s right there.

Eyes so blue the sky is jealous. Shy smile so friendly it warms the room. Your thoughts dirtily flit to the tool belt around his waist on the ladder, fingers adeptly wielding a hammer. Fingers that brush yours in the proximity. He’s so close and your brain blanks as bodies simultaneously take action.

Your mouths find each other effortlessly, bodies pressing together as if they know the moves the two of you were just figuring out. The low-lying tension building for the past year breaking the surface as the dark of the house gives you both the bravery needed. His hands are cold as they find your waist, your hands too warm on his chilled jaw.

His mouth is all soft lips and hard pressure, the faint hint of toothpaste in his taste. It’s exactly as you imagined, but better.

Lips become more desperate the longer you connect, your back suddenly against the counter as he presses into you. This moment has been building since he’d watched you first walk up the front steps with that too big moving box. A hand slips into his sun-bleached locks he always has so perfectly combed. He moans into your mouth, a sinful noise in the quiet kitchen. 

Before sense can interrupt, you’re reaching for the zipper of his coat, revealing every inch of his toned pale chest as the zipper slowly comes down. You slide a hand over the skin, a low gasp slipping out at the strong muscle. You’ve been attracted to his mind for so long, it feels unfair his body should be attractive too.

He shrugs out of the barn coat and follows you to the lowly lit living room, where the couch is softer on your back than the counter edge. Sitting side by side, knees knocking, he’s more hesitant to touch you in this context. Despite his body screaming to explore every inch of his pretty neighbor’s mind and body, he knows he’s basically barged into your home and immediately stuck his tongue in your sweet mouth. You get to set the pace. 

“This okay?” His hand encompasses your knee, thumb rubbing smoothly through the fabric. You nod, tilting your head toward him to continue kissing. He’s warmed up now, your home and body bringing him to temperature. Robert smiles into your kiss. You can’t get enough of him, wanting to consume him fully. He’s delicate with you in the most delicious of ways; gentle kisses pressed to your soft lips before sliding his tongue across to politely ask for access.

Your mouth can’t open fast enough.

You place you hand on his hip, enjoying the warm skin and lean muscle beneath your fingertips. Groaning lightly into your mouth, he blindly reaches for your hips to bring you into his lap. His tongue takes its time to taste you, learn every intricacy of your flavor. Administration so thorough your eyes roll back in your head. The sounds escaping you music in the darkened room.

Fingers dance across skin, finding purchase on thighs, shoulders, chests. You can’t get close enough to him, resting one hand on the back of his neck as your swollen lips press harder to his. Robert loves the way your thighs straddle him as he leans against the couch cushions, his warm, large hands along your back bringing you closer to him. Your sharp inhale as one hand toys with the waistband of your lounge pants.

When his lips trail down your neck, praising the delicate skin, you can’t hold back your declaration any longer. “I…I’ve wanted this for a while.”

His lips pause, brow furrowed. “This?”

“You.”

That gratified smile will forever be imprinted along your neck. “I’ve wanted you since the day you moved in.”

The whimpers that rip through you when he nips the thin skin behind your ear have him grabbing your chin and swallowing your sounds. Reveling in the shared passion you’ve both had simmering beneath the surface. Can’t help his hips rutting up into yours, glorious friction he’s been craving satisfied. You giggle through a moan against his lips.

“So, we could have been doing this all year long? What a shame, lieutenant.” 

You ground down in his lap, running your own tongue along his lips and savoring his taste. Thoughts of what he tastes like after his peppermint tea have you wrapping your arms tighter around his bare shoulders. Behind his head, outside the window, the faint glow of the Christmas lights he strung up shines in the winter night. How did you find this perfect man, and how is he your neighbor?

You express your gratitude for him with your mouth along his jaw, licking along the skin while he deliciously whimpers in your ear.You can only take so much before you’re sealing your lips over his again, inhaling his every breath.

As lips finally reach exhaustion - brains well past tired as the clock strikes a new hour - Robert and you pull apart with content smiles. Already cold without his warmth, you immediately lean back into him. He’s practically a furnace now under your ministrations. Unspoken words pass between as you invite him to sleep on your couch with you. A throw blanket produced from the nearby chair as the two of you tangle your limbs. There’s something comforting in the way he rests your head upon his arm, your knee upon his thigh. Again, it’s like your bodies know the actions like they’ve been waiting for you to finally figure them out.

You’ve just settled your head upon his warm chest when a thought strikes you, prompting you to lean up to look at those sleepy cerulean eyes. The small curious smile he gives you melting your heart.

“Did you still want your tea?” 

He shakes his head with a chuckle, using the last of his energy to tuck the blanket tighter around your body. “It’s okay. I got what I really wanted.”

Your heart feels two sizes too big as he presses a kiss to your temple before sleep takes you both. 

When the winter sunrise streams through your curtains the next morning, you refuse to get up. Perfectly warm wrapped up in the thin throw and your neighbor’s arms, you are purely too content. When Robert blinks open his eyes and gazes at your face, he sees the same placid smile he wore the morning before. The same one he’s had since you moved in next door. 

Despite both being all too happy to remain entangled on the couch, sharing small kisses on any skin within reach, the responsibilities of Monday morning dawn and you must get up. Reluctantly you release him, watching him fold the throw neatly upon the sofa arm before helping you stand. Warmth blossoms down your spine the more you’re in Robert’s presence, the little things he does meaning so much to you. Especially as he strides through your home shirtless, musing about the whereabouts of his coat on the kitchen floor.

Your eyes flit to the cold mug of abandoned peppermint tea as you offer him coffee. But he’s intent on getting home for his flight suit, the drive to base longer than he’d like. Of course, he would ideally spend the morning drinking your expensive delicious coffee and listen to you go on about the neighbors down the street with the atrocious holiday decorations. If you’d let him, he would spend every morning like that for the rest of time. But his admiral would put him in drills all week if he was any later.

You walk him to the door, robe pulled tight across your chest to keep out the cold. He’s pulled on his boots for the short walk and wraps his arms around you in an intimate embrace, disappointed this perfect night must come to an end. You bury your nose in his jacket-covered chest to enjoy the last of his herbal and citrus scent, hands reluctantly slipping from his middle. He turns to leave and both your hearts pang.

When Robert reaches the end of your path, he bends down and picks up the paper, thrown too short as always. He turns around and retraces his steps, walking back up the steps and straight up to where you reside in the doorway still. Fingers brush as he hands you the newspaper, saving you the walk as he always does. Only this morning he tips his head to press a kiss to your lips.

You’re already adding peppermint tea to your shopping list as you walk back into the house. Just for him.

see what antics happen at the next HOA meeting

taglist: @callsign-mongoose

#robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fan fiction #top gun maverick fan fiction #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #x reader #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fluff #gn!reader #neighbor!bob

[moonbeamoclock]

Hot take that shouldn’t be a hot take:

my biggest pet peeve is when people tag something as a x reader but it’s actually an oc…..i got to the last chapter of a fic only for the description of the ‘reader’ to be of a white person.

then the author got nasty with me after i called her out about it but that’s whatever

it takes an extra 2 mins to have a generic description of a person rather then give the details of their appearance but some of y’all are just too lazy to do even that

#x reader #reader insert #x oc #fan fiction #fem reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #original character #x you fluff #x you #x y/n #poc reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #billy hargrove x reader #jake seresin x reader #bob floyd x reader #joel miller x reader #ghost simon riley #harry potter x reader #steve harrington x reader #aot x you #klaus mikaelson x reader #dick grayson x reader #konig x reader #eddie munson x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writers #poc representation

[writingdumpster]

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

[auroracalisto]

good enough

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x gn!reader, 8k words tw: MAJOR MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE. divorce, cussing (lots of f bombs at some point), lots of arguing, angst, at one point, reader is said to have had depression before. the reader and bradley are both idiots and neither one of them can properly deal with shit. macho man rooster ends up letting fear gets the best of him and he literally ruins his own life bc of it LMAO, possibly ooc if you squint, possibly questionable actions when it comes to friends, this is dramatic as hell (and i loved every minute of it), self-doubt, angry characters, regret is strong here, rooster fears death and makes it a personality trait™ a/n: based on the song "good enough" by maisie peters. sorry for all of the tws, but i just wanted to try and mark all the boxes. but fr i love bradley. this is purely a play on the song i named, and is just a piece of fiction. a dramatic piece of fiction. like literally take rooster and place him in some angsty romance novel, but cut out the smut. that's this. i am also so sorry for the length of this. i just... started going and i couldn't stop. LMAO

Your heart lurched to your throat as you stood there, his head turned away from your lips—he was avoiding your touch. He didn’t have to say it for you to realize it.

You hesitantly smiled, backing down. Maybe he just had a bad day. It happened pretty often, so taking it personally wouldn’t have benefited you in any way.

He was your favorite person, and you knew you were his. You two were best friends until the end of time. That’s how it had been since even before you two got married—that’s how it would stay.

The television that sat in the living room had long since been turned off. The fan perched in the corner of the room silently hummed along, providing little relief to the California heat that plagued your home.

"Rooster," you began, rubbing the back of your neck. Sweat stuck to the palm of your hand, and you grimaced as you quickly wiped your hand off on the seat of your pants. "How was your day? I know it's been busy—"

"—we need to talk," he said, cutting you off.

He didn't even give you a chance to question things as he walked past you, sitting down on the sofa in your shared condominium. You blinked slowly at your husband, but you gave a small nod. Your feet moved on their own accord as you sat beside him. You placed a hand on his knee, and he only pulled himself away from you.

You swallowed thickly, nerves getting the best of you. Had you done something to offend him recently? Did something happen with Maverick again? You had thought they were doing well—the videos Natasha had sent you were proof enough of that. It warmed your heart to know that he was finally finding himself in this crazy world.

Maybe it was just hot. Yes, that’s it. The heat was getting to him. It had been getting to everyone on base, and at work. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was the same thing here.

"Bradley…?" You said nothing more than his name, watching him with nothing but pure adoration behind your eyes. He meant the world to you. There was nothing he could say or do to change this, even if he was avoiding you.

The man looked at anything but you. His dark brown eyes stared at the black television, and then they moved to the grey carpet just beneath his boot-clad feet.

You must have just vacuumed. He could see the indentations, and that’s what he chose to focus on as he searched for the right words to say. But they never came.

"I want a divorce," he said.

It was so simple. Those four words.

And just like that, your world came crashing around you.

Where was this coming from? Did you do something to upset him?

The words swirled around in your brain, repeating over and over until it hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your chest. He wants a divorce.

You sat on the edge of the black sofa, eyes fluttering shut as you took in a deep breath. Your hands rested in fists on top of your thighs as you wracked your mind for an explanation. You couldn't find one.

There was nothing that could justify whatever this was.

How long had he been thinking about this?

"Where… where is this coming from?" you asked. You just had to know.

"I don't want to talk about it. Just… please."

"What?" You looked up at him in disbelief. "You—you want to divorce me but you won't even give me a reason?" you asked. Your eyes burned as you held back your tears. You couldn't cry. Not now. If you cried that first tear, then surely, they would never stop.

"I have never asked you for anything, Y/n. Please, just say yes.”

"I don't understand where this is coming from, Bradley," you said, reaching forward to take ahold of his hand. "Please. Talk to me. I want to understand what's going on."

Rooster clenched his jaw, looking down at your hands. Your wedding band glinted in the soft glow of the light overhead. The beautiful piece glared at him as he fought to find the right words to say—but nothing he could say would make this better. Not now.

The words left him without a second thought.

"I don't love you."

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no, no. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be telling you the truth right now. He did love you. He married you! Why would he ever ask you to marry him if he didn't love you?

Why would you plan your life together if he didn’t love you?

But even though you could create more and more questions in your mind, trying to placate every emotion coursing through your veins, nothing made sense.

You pulled your hand away as your tears finally began to fall. If he didn't love you, you wouldn't force him to be with you any more than he wanted.

Rooster inwardly grimaced, but he wasn’t about to let you see that. He needed to be strong—he needed to save face and keep on digging in the same grave he had started.

"Just… just tell me when."

"When what?"

"When did this happen? When did you fall out of love? I—I thought you loved me, Bradley. I love you."

He pursed his lips. He seemed to hesitate as he allowed his eyes to meet yours. Rooster's blood rushed to his ears, and his fingers itched to grab onto something. To grab onto you. But he couldn’t. He couldn't even look at you properly when you looked so sad, but he forced himself to do so anyway. You deserved that, at least. You deserved to be looked at when he was ending the relationship you fought so hard to keep.

"I don't know. It just… happened."

He was lying. He had to be lying. There was no way he was being honest—he loves you. He loves you, and this was all just some bad dream. Some bad joke that Hangman put him up to. Maybe Fanboy was in on it, too. Surely, someone put him up to this. They had money in a bowl somewhere, waiting for your reaction so they would know who won. He’d whip out his phone soon and text them the result.

But the way he looked at you… you knew he was telling you the truth. He wanted a divorce. This was happening, whether you wanted it to or not. There was no cruel bet, no ulterior motive.

This was happening.

Every moment of the past three years pierced your brain—Bradley asking you out in the middle of the Hard Deck. Meeting his friends. Picking out your wedding rings. Becoming Y/n Bradshaw. The kisses you shared. The whispered conversations, the happy smiles, the—

He was your life. He is your life. You love him more than life itself.

But he loved you.

Loved. Past-tense.

He did love you. Something changed. What had changed?

You abruptly stood up, roughly wiping your tears away. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be near him right now. Your heart was far too heavy, weighed down by the immense burden of his confession.

"Alright," you said. "I… I won't force you to stay with me. I would never do that to you, Bradley. I would… I would never, ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You held back a sob, fists balled at your sides. “We can get a divorce."

Relief spread across his face. He couldn't smile, though. This ended up being a lot harder than he expected it to be.

"Thank you," he said. He stood up, towering over you like usual. "I appreciate it."

You gave a curt nod, averting your gaze. Your tongue poked out, nervously wetting your lips as you cleared your throat. He appreciated it.

Were you just a joke to him?

"I will… I will make arrangements. I will leave by next week."

"What? You don't have to do that. There's no rush—"

"—I'll leave by next week," you cut him off, no longer looking at him.

What was he doing? You didn’t need this. You didn’t need him. As you took a step forward, the tears began to fall. Your husband forced himself to stay put as you rushed off to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You found little comfort in the blankets that now surrounded you, tears wetting the pillow on which you rested your head night after night. You found little comfort in the place you spent with your husband, time after time, lamenting how much you loved each other. Planning the future of your life—of your family. Of your relationship that should have only grown in love.

The memories of this bed burned in the back of your mind. You could hardly breathe as the sobs plowed through your body.

This wasn’t fair.

This couldn’t be real.

Rooster slowly sat back down, burying his face in his hands. His elbows dug into his thighs, a choked sob catching in the back of his throat. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to say that to you. It was far from the truth. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

This was for the best.

This would keep you safe.

As the sun peered through the grey curtains, setting just beyond the horizon, Rooster stood up. He wiped his tears away, instantly hardening. He had done this time and time again. He would hide, folding back into himself like a metal chair—he’d be there for people when he was needed, but he would be just out of the way until then. He wouldn’t bother you any longer than he needed to.

This was for the best—you wouldn’t have to live your life wondering what could have been.

If he died, that was that. You would move on, and he could rest peacefully in the afterlife.

His father hadn’t ever given his mother a chance to do something like that. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake.

Three years had passed.

Three, long and grueling years had inched by, taking your misery along with you. The New Year would pass over and over, and the only thing you would write on your resolution list was: Move on.

But you never could. That list ended up in the garbage only weeks after drafting it up.

How could you when the love of your life left as he did? How could you when you knew he was the only thing that kept you going, even if you were hundreds of miles away?

They would never say it out loud, but your friends never quite said anything about why he divorced you—why he fell out of love. But why would he tell them something like that? Rooster generally kept to himself. It wasn't something that he would have been very honest about, to begin with.

You knew they knew something more, but they never said anything. You never expected them to, either. They were your friends as much as they were his, and they had been his friend for far longer. You couldn't blame them. Whatever they knew—that was his business. But you kept silent, allowing yourself to wallow in self-pity for more than you should have.

But just like you couldn't blame them for keeping his secrets… who could blame you?

You had your own life before Rooster, yes, you did. You didn’t depend on him. You were independent, and you had your own interests and everything. You didn’t need him. But with his confession, it was as if everything you had ever known had been tossed out of the window of a speeding car in an instant, shattering against the run-down pavement. Pieces flew everywhere—you'd never be able to find them again, let alone put them back together.

You'd never have enough glue for something like that.

You would never be able to repair the gaping hole that was in your heart.

And you knew it was silly. You shouldn’t have ever let yourself trust someone so completely. But you never thought something like that would happen. Rooster was so easy to love.

He was such a happy person—he exuded confidence. He was the epitome of an amazing human being. And yet, he still fell out of love with you.

You never believed someone could just fall out of love so easily.

So, instead of remaining in the very place you felt like you were sinking in, you did what you thought was best. You packed your things and moved to Virginia. At least there, you'd be far enough away that he'd never find you. The mileage did little to comfort you, but it was something.

At least here, you felt like you could breathe.

Changing from the west coast to the east coast was drastic—but you adapted. You had to. You couldn't continue living in the very place that was threatening you at every given minute. You couldn’t continue on in a place where at every corner, something reminded you of him. It was driving you into a familiar depression—one that you had known before Rooster, and one that you would now know after Rooster.

When you left, Phoenix was devastated. Other than Bob, you were her closest friend. She never stopped talking to you—she never stopped being friends with you, even when you moved across the country. When Phoenix asked you to come in to visit, you hesitated. But then she promised you that Rooster wouldn't be there. That he would be visiting some family he had up north—his girlfriend's family. He would be using this free time to get to know them better.

You wouldn't say you were happy for him. Hell, that was far from the truth. Despite the fact you no longer wore your ring on your finger, it was always on a chain around your neck. Your heart still beats for him, no matter how many times you had tried to move on. And you did it all. You tried everything that Google said to do. One night stands, going out with strangers, having people set you up, hell, you even tried therapy. But it never worked.

Why would it? Rooster was the love of your life. He was the one you had seen yourself dying with—he was the one you wanted to grow old with. And he didn't want that in you. He didn't see the same things.

He didn’t see your relationship as a rising sun just beyond the mountain tops. He was already there with the setting sun, disappearing beyond the horizon. He had been there, at the end of your relationship, far before you even had a chance to find the middle. He had made peace with the end. You couldn’t even find peace in the beginning.

After much pestering and a FaceTime call from both Phoenix and Bob, you were convinced to join them back in California for a week. But your only condition was that Phoenix would be paying half for your plane ticket. She agreed in a heartbeat.

So that's why you stood here now, in front of the old dormitory in which you used to visit your friends in. You had already been to the hotel you'd be staying at, and you took a taxi to the base.

The grey building towered over you, making you feel far smaller than you actually were. Memories sat behind those walls, waiting for you to relive them, even if you didn’t want to.

It only took one text message to Natasha before she came barreling down the sidewalk, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Bob was not far behind, and Hangman was taking his sweet ole time. You didn't know he'd be around, but you felt better knowing he was—you had been close before Rooster sent in the papers. He helped you pack and get your things to Virginia.

You hugged Phoenix tightly, smiling up at her.

"It's been too long!" she nearly shouted, excitement running through her body. As she pulled away, Bob pulled you into a hug. He greeted you as he had so many times, with a hug and a simple ‘hello.’

Last but not least, Hangman sent you a smile. He pulled you into a hug, despite the fact he used to be one of the last people you would expect it from. You melted into the hug, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"It's… it's good to be back. I'm glad to see you guys."

"Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy are already at the bar. Said they'd just meet us there. You ready?" Phoenix grinned.

You were as ready as you would ever be. You gave a small nod to your friend, and before you knew it, you were on your way to the very place you met your ex-husband. The Hard Deck.

It was suffocating, standing in that corner all alone. Your friends played pool, and you watched as the different colored balls sunk into the pockets that lined the edge. Hangman stood off to the side, beating some stranger in darts.

Rooster had always been good at that.

Lost in your mind like you had been so many times before, the sound of a glass falling at the bar made you jump.

And then you saw him. Your own glass slipped through your fingertips, crashing onto the floor. Shards littered the wood floor. Phoenix yelped your name in surprise, coming to your side immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on your arm to try and comfort you. You continued to stare, and she eventually looked in the direction of your gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as she tried to find something to say.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near you.

And he was looking right at you.

"Y/n, it's okay, he's not—"

You pulled your arm away from Phoenix, taking a couple of steps back before you took off running in the direction of the restrooms. It was as good of a hiding spot as anywhere, and you'd be able to collect yourself before going back out there. You couldn’t possibly run past him—he’d stop you. Or at least, try to follow you. Phoenix would make him leave. Surely, she wouldn't just let him stay.

You locked yourself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat. You took in a deep, releasing a shaky breath as tears clouded your vision. A hand pressed to your mouth, elbows digging into the meat of your thighs as you tried to keep yourself calm.

This wasn't happening! She promised he wasn't here. Why would she lie?

Maybe she didn't know.

The bright light in the bathroom was far too much.

The dripping water from the sink struck the porcelain—plip, plip, plip.

The noise from the bar was deafening as you sat there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Loud voices echoed through the building, striking your ears in an instant. But the more you cried, the more your sobs became the only thing you heard.

It had been ages since you cried over him, so why now? Why were you so triggered by just seeing him?

You tried to calm yourself down but to no avail.

You loved him. You love him. You never stopped. You couldn't just stop.

You tried so hard. You spent years trying to forget the man who ripped your heart in two with four simple words.

But the universe had a funny way of working. It seemed to work against you in every way possible, no matter what.

You could never win.

You would never win.

No matter what, you were never good enough.

You hadn't been good enough in school. You weren't good enough at work. And you hadn't been good enough for Rooster, even when you were married. You weren't good enough for him, now, either.

There was a knock at the bathroom door before you heard it creak open. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to keep quiet, choked sobs caught in your chest.

Worn shoes popped up underneath the stall door you found refuge in. Those same damn shoes you bought him once for Christmas, four years ago. He had been so excited—they were almost the exact same pair his mother had bought him one year for his birthday. His father's favorite brand—his favorite style of shoe.

God, you searched everywhere for those damn shoes.

And he kept them.

Silence enveloped the bathroom, save for your stifled sobs. You rested your shoulder against the old paneled walls, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore him. But he knew you were there. It was far too late, now.

Rooster stood there, fist raised to knock on the stall door. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What would he even say? What would have been good enough?

Three years had come and gone without you. Three long years in which he felt as if he was drowning, just existing. He would have been better off launching himself into that ocean, the same as his father. His wedding band was stuffed away in some kind of pocket, always near him or on his person in some way. He tried to get over you—one-night stands, blind dates, even going as far as asking Hangman to find him a girl.

It worked, for a while.

He started dating Kristie—a sweet woman who worked as a nurse on base. But she saw right through him. She knew who he was, and what was going on in that head of his.

She wasn't mad—a bit disappointed, yes, but it didn't stop her from breaking up with him and canceling their planned vacation up north together.

She wasn’t you. She would never be you.

And he didn’t think he would ever see you again.

Rooster found himself in the middle of the Hard Deck, never once expecting you to be there. None of the Dagger Squad had said anything about you. He didn't know you were even going to be in town.

He felt like he couldn't breathe when he laid eyes on you.

The yellow lighting cast a soft glow on your skin. You were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but damn, you looked even more beautiful now. Maybe it was just the years that had passed him by.

The walls of his small corner of the world couldn’t fall on him sooner.

The glass that crunched under your shoes became the only thing he heard until he watched as you ran back into the hallway.

In a split second, Hangman was beside him, obviously pissed.

"What the hell, man? Why aren't you with Kristie?"

"She broke it off."

Hangman clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe this was happening, but then again, Rooster had his head far up his ass more often than not. Hangman punched him in the arm, just enough for it to hurt.

"You need to leave," he said, watching as Rooster recoiled in pain.

"What?" Rooster looked at him in surprise. "No."

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Was this idiot really that much of an asshole?

This time, Phoenix spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. "We promised you wouldn't be here. You're supposed to be up north. You're supposed to be far away from here!"

"You promised?" Rooster stared her down.

"Well, yeah, you asshole! You broke their heart. They didn't even want to come here in the first place. God, I should've just gone to see them instead of dragging them out here," Phoenix groaned, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

Rooster hesitantly took a step forward.

"Rooster, get out," Hangman said, voice low.

He shook his head. He needed to talk to you.

"Rooster!"

He broke out into a run, and before Hangman could follow, Phoenix grabbed his arm.

"What the hell?" he stared at her in disbelief.

"Just let it happen," she said.

"Let what happen? Watch Y/n get their heart stepped on all over again?"

"Just… just let it happen."

Phoenix would wait for you to berate her, later. But for now, she could only wish her friends would try to make up. She could only wish that Rooster would gain a pair and grow up. Her heart ached for you as she watched Rooster run back to the bathrooms, knowing that she couldn’t ever take the pain away from you. The only one who could do that was Rooster, himself, and even then, she wasn’t sure if that would happen.

And now, he found himself standing there, the silence deafening in the small space. The light was bright in the enclosure—brighter than he remembered. His hand was still hovering, his arm growing heavy as he debated on knocking.

Should he just leave? Should he do as Hangman said and walk out? But he couldn't just leave. Not now. Not when he knew he made the biggest mistake of his life, telling you all that bullshit.

You used your sleeves to wipe your tears away as you shakily got to your feet. Your fingers struggled to even unlock the stall door, but when you did, you swung it open. Rooster had to back up just to avoid being hit with the metal.

The two of you just stood there, bright light casting shadows onto the old tile floor. Not a word was said as Rooster stared at you.

You were exactly as he remembered, if not better. You had changed your hair since the last time he saw you. He kept the mustache, and his hair was still cut the same. You kept the same style and the same makeup (or lack thereof).

You still looked at him the same… even if it quickly changed into one of anger.

You were still so beautiful.

His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to talk to you, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to you. Nothing he could say would make things better.

He was such an idiot.

You stepped forward, walking to the stark white sink. You grabbed a few paper towels and wet them before carefully wiping the remnants of your tears. You stared at your reflection in the rounded mirror, your lip caught between your teeth as you hiccuped.

"Y/n?" Rooster tentatively began. He raised a hand to touch your shoulder.

You immediately moved away from his touch, glaring in his direction.

His fist clenched beside him as he watched you.

You tossed the paper towels in the trash and pushed past him, quickly leaving the bathroom.

"Y/n," he repeated.

As you walked, he followed.

Your friends stood in their respective corner, knowing they should intervene. Yet they stayed, hoping that somehow, Rooster would fix his fuck up. They couldn’t keep watching the two of you fight some imaginary battle—they couldn’t watch the two of you wish your life away for something that was quite literally at the tips of your fingers.

Phoenix wasn't too sure if he'd be able to fix this. Hangman honestly wanted to hang a man.

You shoved the doors open, walking into the cool California night. It wasn’t like the cold in Virginia. Virginia’s winters were unforgiving—the snow that would fall would chill you to your very core. Virginia winters would put southern California to shame in an instant. At this very moment, you wished you were there, standing in the chilling wind, begging for some kind of relief—at least then, your body would become numb even if your mind was still running a mile a minute.

Nothing could have prepared you for what had transpired. Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man you fought so hard to forget.

With no car, you continued walking. You'd call a taxi at some point. Right now, you just needed to breathe.

But you had yet to realize Rooster was still following you.

The man grabbed ahold of your wrist, making you stop in the middle of the damn parking lot. Cars and trucks alike littered the parking spots. A few people walked past you as they went into the bar, ignoring the tension that stood in the middle of it all.

You whipped around, jerking your arm away from him with wide eyes. "What's your fucking problem?!"

Rooster paused, body going rigid as he waited for you to continue.

You had never yelled at him, even when he asked for a divorce.

"Why the fuck are you even here? You're not supposed to be here! You have a fucking girlfriend. Get away from me. I don't ever want to see you again."

Tears sprung to your eyes once more. You tilted your head back, wishing they would just stop. The stars stared down at you, mocking you where you stood. The sky was so close, and yet so far away.

God, would this man ever make you stop crying?

"Y/n—"

"—just go away! I don't want you here!"

"Please," he began, "I need to talk to you. I need to apologize."

"Apologize?! Oh, that's rich! Just leave me alone. You did enough damage when you asked for a divorce. Just leave me alone."

"Y/n, please," he continued. "You… please just hear me out."

"I heard you out once, and it was the worst fucking time of my life," you said. "I'm not listening to you ever again."

You turned back around, set on leaving—this time a bit faster. But his words grounded you in your spot, heart leaping to your throat once more.

"It was a mistake!"

You stared at the gravel that crunched underneath your feet. You could feel your pulse rushing through your body, fast and unsteady.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

"It was a mistake, Y/n," he said, his voice far quieter this time. "I never should have asked for a divorce. I never should have said anything. I should—I should have just—"

"—what, toughed it out? Let me realize you stopped loving me when you started cheating on me or some shit?"

His eyes widened in surprise.

"What? No. No, Y/n… I… I never should have said anything. I never stopped loving you."

What?

You couldn't breathe—your lungs constricted in your chest, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Your body burned as you looked up at the night sky, stars littering the vast ocean of darkness. They still mocked you, but this time, dark clouds rolled in. Perhaps the sky knew just how you felt. The moon cast a soft glow on everything in its path.

Tears blurred your vision once more.

He never stopped loving you.

You let out a sob, turning to face him.

"What?"

"I never stopped loving you," Rooster lamented. "I… still love you."

"Then… then… why?"

"I couldn't do it to you."

"What? Do what?"

"I couldn't die! I couldn't die and leave you a widow. I couldn't end up with the same fate my dad had, leaving you just the same as my mom," he said.

"Well you're not fucking dead, are you?!"

Rooster paused, lips parting to speak.

"You're not dead. You're standing right in front of me, telling me that the reason you fucking divorced me was because you didn't want me to be a widow?! I would have been less upset if you had fucking died!" You took in a deep breath, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You did not have to do that. You did not have to make me miserable. You did not have to make me feel like the one person who loved me was an entire lie!”

Rooster winced. Your words pierced his soul like a sharp bullet, ricocheting off the crevices of his very soul.

"Fuck off, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, fists clenched at your sides. "I never want to see you again."

"But Y/n—"

"—no! No, I'm over you, you bastard! I don't love you anymore. I haven't in years. You're still in love with me? That's great. Fucking deal with it. You deserve to feel the pain of not knowing. You deserve to lose yourself in everything you thought was yours.”

Bradley Bradshaw had never felt as if he wasn't good enough. When he was faced with adversity, he worked harder. When he felt bad about something, he did more to try and overcome that. He had never felt as if anything he did wasn't good enough. But in this very moment, he stood there, wondering how in the world he could have fucked up so badly.

He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough, for you. That much was evident as he watched you once again walk away from him, disappearing into the night.

His eyes fluttered shut and he held back his tears as he stood there, waiting for lightning to strike him where he stood. Surely, it'd be better than having to go back into the Hard Deck after a screaming match like that.

He deserved it.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He opened his eyes, head darting in the person's direction. Hangman watched him for a moment before he patted his back.

"You fucked up, man," he began, averting his gaze. "Now you've gotta fix it."

"But how?"

"For fucks sake, Rooster," he groaned. He ran a hand through his perfect hair, musing it from the stress of his friend. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought Rooster might actually be a pretty smart guy. This dude was dumber than a box of rocks, and this just proved it.

"They still love you, you know," Bob said, arms crossed over his chest. "We heard what they said, but they're just hurt. You really did a number on them."

He glanced over his shoulder. The Dagger Squad stood there, all watching him as he stood there, in the middle of the parking lot.

This… was all his fault.

Those four simple words should have never left his mouth. He should have been spending the last three years with you, not trying to forget you. Because if he were to have died in that time, it would have at least been with you and not with the overwhelming ghost of you haunting his every waking move. He could have at least left you behind knowing you were loved instead of wondering if he ever truly loved you at all.

Time passed slowly in the month it took you to finally calm down from the emotional rollercoaster Rooster had you on. You were back in your apartment, the east coast calling your name (even though the west coast screamed for your return; the sandy beaches and the salty water just weren’t the same, here).

Your heart ached—every romantic thing you saw made you want to cry. It all reminded you of your ex-husband, and now, there was no changing things. In your anger, you had told him you never wanted to see him again—that you didn't love him. You made sure he knew that when you left him standing in the middle of that damned parking lot.

What a lie that was.

But if he could tell lies, why couldn't you? Why couldn't you force him to live with the idea that you didn't love him, just the way he did that to you?

Regret became you.

You wondered if that’s how he felt all this time—regretful.

Did Rooster even have a bone in his body that was capable of feeling anything other than pride?

Maverick would know.

Did he know about all of this? He had been Rooster’s best man at the wedding. Surely, he knew something.

Your arm rested over your eyes, blocking out the sunlight that peaked through your curtains. Saturday mornings never got easier for you. Hell, no morning did. Getting up was a constant chore. You had already gotten ready for the morning, but you slipped right back into bed, not wanting to deal with the idea of being a live, somewhat functioning adult at the moment.

Your phone began to ring, loud and in your ear as you lay in bed, staring at the back of your arm. With a groan, you rolled over and picked it up.

Phoenix was calling you.

You answered after a moment of your fingers hovering over the bright buttons. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone.

"Hello?"

"Y/n? Hey! So, uh, quick thing, and I promise you I didn't know about it until Bagman just said something, but he gave Rooster your address."

Silence enveloped your bedroom as you processed what she had just said.

"What?!" You immediately sat up in your bed, gripping your phone with unforgiving strength. "What the hell!"

"I know," she continued, voice laced with worry—she didn’t know how you were going to take this. "I know, and I'm sorry. But, uh, he said that Rooster is probably gonna show up within the next hour or so. He caught the earliest flight out there."

"Why?"

"Why?" Natasha echoed. "Y/n, why do you think?"

You fell silent. You stared down at the blankets that pooled at your feet.

Day after day, you wondered if Rooster would show up, begging you to take him back. But the sun continued to set, day in and day out, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.

"Y/n, I know he's an asshole,” Natasha said. “I know he broke your heart. But… Rooster's been through a lot. He might not have realized how bad of an idea it was until he went through with it. He’s… he’s done nothing but regret it ever since.”

"I know he's been through a lot," you said, voice far quieter than it had been. "I know he has. But… but that's no excuse. We were married. I was his partner. He took that away… he took that all away.”

"There's no excuse for him," Phoenix said. "I’m not making one. You’re… you’re my very best friend. But if he shows up and you don't know what to do, you have two options. Turn him away, or… hear him out. Whatever you do, I’m here one hundred percent of the way.”

You swallowed thickly. Without saying anything else, you hung up the phone, tossing it onto your bed. You buried your face in your hands—it seemed to be the only thing you could do recently that would actually allow you to catch your breath.

And then, your doorbell rang.

That was far less than an hour.

The shrill ding of the bell resounded in your brain. You would have to get that changed to something less annoying.

Getting out of your bed and walking down the hallway was the easy part. It was opening the front door that made you want to die as your hand slowly grabbed onto the knob.

You can just turn him away. It'll be okay, you told yourself. He will leave if you want him to.

With much hesitation, you opened the door.

Rooster stood there, worried he had gotten the wrong door and Hangman had given him some shit directions. But as you appeared in the doorway, relief spread across his features. He was dressed in those same shoes you had given him. He wore a pair of jeans, and he wore one of those stupid Hawaiian shirts that he loved so much.

You still had the pink and yellow one you had stolen before you left him in the top left drawer of your dresser. It still smelled like Rooster… but the laundry detergent you had was the same exact one you had used when you were married to him.

Everything you owned reminded you of him.

"Y/n?"

"Bradley."

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. He nervously wrung his hands together as his eyes looked anywhere but you. This wasn’t that confident, macho man you knew. This wasn’t Rooster.

This was Bradley Bradshaw, in the flesh.

His heart was on the line, and he could only hope that the universe would grant him one last wish—let you believe him. Let you understand him.

He would understand if you turned him away. He would leave, and he would never bother you again. But he hoped that you’d accept him for who he is—for everything he has been.

Again.

Even though it took him so long to realize his mistake. Even though he made so many mistakes just to find himself trying to take it all back.

Rooster never thought he was perfect, but hell. The universe really didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, did it?

"Listen, I know you said you didn't want to see me," he began. "But I can't… I can't keep doing this."

You stayed silent.

Bradley was a lot of things. Stupid, funny, a great, flaming ball of firey anxiety. And still, the love of your life, even now.

Nothing would ever stop that from happening, even if he shoved his hand in your chest, pulled out your heart, and crushed it right in front of you.

Even now, after all this time, you knew you loved him.

He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I love you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never stopped. I just… fucked up. God, Y/n, I fucked up so bad. I never should have asked you for a divorce. I never should have said any of that shit. I thought I was protecting you. But the only thing I ended up doing was hurting you more, and I never wanted that to happen.

"I love you, so much, Y/n. I never stopped. I… you are the love of my life. But… but even if I loved you, it wouldn't stop life from standing in the way. My dad died. He left my mom all alone. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering, all alone, wondering what the hell you could have done to make things different. I couldn't let you have the same fate as my mom."

You stared at him, hands gripping the door.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

"I… I know I should have."

"So why didn't you?"

"I had already made up my mind…"

And once Bradley Bradshaw made up his mind, that was that. Most of the time, anyway.

Silence enveloped the two of you once more. Birds chirped in the background, cars honking in the backed-up traffic on the interstate not too far from your home. Life was still going on, just like it always would. Life would continue to find a way, even if someone left it behind—even if someone felt as if their world was crashing to an end.

Three years ago, if Bradley Bradshaw had shown up at your door, telling you he had made a mistake, you would have believed him. But watching him as he stood at your door this very moment, you weren't sure. You had every right to slam the door in his face, burning the image of his scared self in the back of your mind. But as you stood here, hands dangling down by your thighs, you knew you couldn't.

Were you stupid for what you were about to do?

Maybe.

But so was Bradley.

"I've started seeing a therapist," Bradley spoke, breaking the silence. "He said it would be good for me to at least… try to tell you why."

"Why you left me?"

He gave a small nod. "Yes. And… he made me realize it never should have happened. It was my fault. It was never yours."

You rubbed your eyes out of frustration, unable to stop yourself from sniffling. A groan escaped you, and he frowned in response.

"Y/n, I… words can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. I can't take back what I said. I can't change the fact that I asked you for a divorce because I was terrified of dying and leaving you alone. But… but I can do this," he said, licking his lips as he watched you.

You tilted your head in confusion, not sure where he was going with this.

Time moved slowly—just as slowly as it had when your world came to a startling halt.

He suddenly held out his hand, locking eyes with you once more. Dark brown eyes peered into yours; those same brown eyes you used to watch until you fell asleep in his arms. Those same brown eyes you stared into when you first said, “I do.” Those same brown eyes you looked into when he asked you for a divorce.

"Hi," the man said, a small smile appearing on his mustache-clad lips. "I'm Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw."

Your eyes widened, your heart leaping to your chest once more, but not because you were scared to face him. But because you couldn't believe this was really happening.

He… was starting over.

You were starting over.

Hesitantly, you took his hand, firmly grasping it before you shook it.

"It's so nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw," you said. Your eyes were still red from your tears, but you began to smile, pushing down the pain and regret of the last three years. It wasn’t worth it. The utter buffoon standing in front of you was worth it. "I'm Y/n Bradshaw," you continued with a grin. "Quite a coincidence, huh?"

Bradley just smiled, tilting his head to the side. You had never changed your name. In fact, you stayed the same, despite the icy shield around your heart. Not that he could blame you.

You were his Y/n. The love of his life—the reason he continued on, and the reason he believed in love, despite the fear that sucked the rational thinking out of him.

Because even when death knocked at his door, he knew you would be there. You would be there, just like his mom was for his dad.

Nothing could change that.

Not the divorce, not his lie that lasted for years. Not the untimely “confession” that left the two of you reeling for each other.

Nothing could change how he felt for you.

And with one instant, you knew your world was mending itself. You'd have problems—that you were sure. You’d have to work on communication; on both sides. But as you moved out of the way for Rooster to come in, you knew it would be worth it.

Love, no matter how much it hurt, was worth it.

Good enough or not.

"Why don't you come in, Mr. Bradshaw? I think we have a lot to catch up on."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, taking ahold of your hand.

"Only if you'll have me."

"Of course, I will."

This was a start. A new start.

A good start.

You were both starting over. And although you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, a part of you was starting to realize that you may have always been good enough—sometimes, fear was stronger than anyone’s resolve. Fear could make even the bravest people pause; it could cause stupid decisions and brash opinions that change everything a person knows. Minds were a powerful tool that could hurt everyone in its path.

You lived it.

You were still living it.

But like any great thing, sometimes starting over is the best way to go. Sometimes, opening your heart back up is the only thing you can do to move on.

Those same brown eyes you fell in love with peered down at yours, and for once in the past three years, you finally felt at peace. You were good enough. You always had been.

And Bradley Bradshaw was a good man. A great man, even. But even great men can fall short. Even great men can make mistakes. It takes an even greater person to face those mistakes head-on, and an equally great person to forgive and continue on loving, even if they never stopped, to begin with.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x male reader #bradley bradshaw x gn!reader #bradley x you #bradley bradshaw x you #fanfiction #tgm #tgm imagine #tgm x reader #rooster #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun hangman #top gun phoenix #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick x reader #dagger squad #dagger squad x reader #miles teller #rooster bradshaw #top gun fanfiction

[aliorsboxostuff]

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS (TEMP) CLOSED !

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. I find them kind of weird for me to write so my fics are mostly 1st Person POV. I write most of my fics based off on Fixations that may last a couple weeks, months, years. If you've requested something but havent seen the fic, that might be because i've lost interest!

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut 

Platonic or Romantic relationships

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST! Or, characters I will definitely write about if requested!

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

Tim Rockford (yes from the Ad)

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

MARVEL & XMCU

Miguel O'hara (ATSV)

Hobie Brown (Platonic/fluff only)

Pavitr Prabhakar (Platonic/fluff only)

Kurt Wagner (xmcu)

Loki Laufeyson

Bucky Barnes

Moon Knight System

Deadpool

Daredevil

Eddie and Venom (They come as a pair)

BULLET TRAIN

Tangerine

Ladybug

Jujutsu Kaisen

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands. 

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

#male reader #x male reader #gender neutral reader #writing requests #for my dudes and no genders ! #robert bob floyd x male! eader #robert bob floyd x gn!reader #jake hangman x male reader #jake hangman x gn!reader #bradley rooster x male reader #kurt wagner x male reader #loki laufeyson x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #moon knight system x male reader #deadpool x male reader #symbrock x male reader #tangerine x male reader #ladybug x male reader #hannibal x male reader #ezra prospect x m!reader #joel miller x male reader #agent whiskey x male reader #javi gutierrez x male reader #leon s kennedy x male reader #luis serra x male reader #Gojo x male reader #Satoru x male reader #sukuna x male reader #higuruma x male reader #nanami x male reader

[erebuscanread]

Why Bob is called 'BOB'

Hello Humans! It's the vice curator Tae the lizard. I have finally let hooman out for some enrichment time! Below the cut is what they've created. Hooman hopes you enjoy it. Leave a like, reblog or even hit up the ask button. Any feedback is really appreciated.

Pairing(s): Bob/!gn reader (nicknamed Sunshine)

Warnings: Fluff, Bob being a garden fairy, no beta we die like Goose.

Bob doesn’t stand for baby on board as his new team thought. He grew up on a ranch and learned how to fix things early on. That translated into him fixing anything that needed fixing even when he went through the Naval aviation academy. If a table was wobbly, the next day it wasn’t. The sink was leaking, it suddenly was fixed a few hours later. He was like a handyman ghost. His past team members finally caught on to his stealth fixing and dubbed him Bob the Builder. The nickname made him feel bashful because he wasn’t looking to be praised for the work he did, he just wanted to help anyone he could. 

After the Dagger squad became a permanent fixture in Fighter Town, Bob purchased a home close enough to the base that it was an easy commute and was still close to the beach. He loved waking up to the sounds of waves crashing on the beach and smelling the saltiness of the sea. Another thing he liked about his new home, which he was shy to admit, was his neighbor. He caught glimpses of them in the morning when he went on his morning run and they were headed to work. He would also spot them after work when he sat on the back porch to watch the sunset over the water. He hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to them yet. He gave them a small nod and smile every them they crossed paths.

Bob’s love language was acts of service so when he noticed that part of the small fence that separated his neighbor's yard from Bob’s was broken he spent a weeknight fixing it while his neighbor was out for the evening. It started off with little things like that. Much to his chagrin, he was caught by his enchanting neighbor when he was working on building flower boxes for his neighbor's blossoming garden. He was going to drop them off at their front door and run away like usual. He felt slightly creepy about how he was acting but his nerves still prevented him from reaching out and introducing himself. As he went to put the flower boxes on the front porch the door opened and Bob jumped, the flower boxes clattering onto the porch. Bob was a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and mouth formed into an ‘o’. 

“Uh- I- uhh.” Bob sputtered as he tried to find words to say. 

“Good morning, my garden gnome,”

  His neighbor was smiling at him with a mischievous glint in their eyes. 

“G-good morning, I’m so sorry. I noticed that your flower boxes were no longer working for your garden and I was making myself a pair so I thought I would make you a couple too. Now I realize that probably comes off as creepy.” 

Bob rambled needless in front of his neighbor who was smiling at him. 

“I was wondering who was sneaking into my garden and making it look better than I ever could. I thought maybe it was a water sprite, maybe a smart seagull or a garden gnome.” They regarded him with a bright smile that lit up their eyes. 

“I’m relieved that it was you in my garden and not anything other mischievous creature.”

Bob was stunned. Not only was his neighbor stunning in the morning light, but was full of an internal light that warmed Bob’s heart. He immediately nicknamed them Sunshine in his head. Bob tried to collect himself to form a coherent sentence.

“I’m Bob, not a fairy, spirit, or otherwise. At least as for as I know.” 

Bob chuckled, the sound filling the air and making his neighbors smile even brighter. 

“It’s nice to meet you Bob.” 

His neighbor stuck out their hand and introduced themselves. Bob grasped their hand with a grin and a flushed face. The flower boxes were forgotten on the porch until his foot nudged one of the boxes. He did even realize that he was gravitating closer to his neighbor. He let go of their hand and picked up the flower boxes. 

“It’s really thoughtful of you to make extra flower boxes for me. I’ve been meaning to buy new ones but life has been a bit busy for me.”

They took the flower boxes into their arms and started to turn towards the door to their beach home. 

“Do you want to come in for coffee and help me set up the boxes?” 

“I would like that a lot.” 

The two of them walked into Sunshine’s home. This was the beginning of a beautiful story of two souls intertwining effortlessly. 

#robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #tmg2 #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Aftermath (Dagger Squad Drabble)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Dagger Squad, gn!reader

Summary: You wake up on the floor, woozy and aching. After pulling yourself together, you go looking for the rest of the Dagger Squad.

Word Count: 648

TW: I reserve the right to not give warnings that may spoil the story (but it isn't bad I promise and there is a happy ending)

Notes: Thank you to @loverhymeswith for requesting “Against my better judgment, I’m alive" with Hangman. Though he does say the line, I made the fic a more general Dagger Squad story.

Every inch of you aches. Your head is throbbing painfully with every beat of your heart, your mind feels muddled and fuzzy, and you can taste the remains of bile in your mouth from the night before. You press your cheek into the cold tile floor beneath you in the hope it will numb some of the pain, but it does little to help. When you try to open your eyes even a fraction of an inch, the dim light in the room has you instantly retreating to the darkness behind your eyelids. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you work up the courage to try again, and this time you manage to keep your eyes open, though squinted. The next step is getting to your feet which is another Herculean task, but after a few woozy attempts, you somehow get yourself vertical. 

You take a few unsteady steps before you notice someone else laying on the floor on the other side of the room. Stumbling over, you see Hangman laying on his back on the floor, one arm laying under him at an odd angle. 

Gently shaking his shoulder, you mutter, “Hangman. Hey, Hangman. Come on, get up. You better not have died on me.”

“Against my better judgment, I’m alive.” The response is muffled and slurred, but at least he’s coherent enough to be making wisecracks.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” He lifts his head slightly and squints up at you. “But why are there three of you?”

Shaking your head, you sigh, “Come on, big boy. Let’s get you on your feet.”

You help him sit up but when he tries to move the arm that had been pinned beneath him, he hisses in pain and holds it tight against his chest. He looks up at you with pleading eyes, but you just shrug.

“Don’t look at me like that. We’re only in this mess because of you. Now, I need to see how bad it is out there so either stay here or follow me.”

Reluctantly, Hangman allows you to help him to his feet, his arm still clutched against his chest. You let him lean on you slightly while he tries to regain his balance, but as uneasy as you currently are on your own two feet, it is a bit of a disaster. However, the two of you finally make it to the door and you open it. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe as you take in the destruction on the other side.

The bodies of your friends, your squad, lay scattered around the room. Some are splayed deadly still on the carpet or across the couch but others are in various stages of struggling to sit up or attempting to rise to their feet. Broken glass litters the floor and there is a set of bloody footprints where someone had stepped in it barefoot. The table has been flipped over and the chairs are laying on their sides on opposite sides of the room. The place is a complete disaster.

Rooster catches your eye from where he is seated leaning heavily against the wall, but as he opens his mouth to say something, suddenly, there is the sound of a key rattling in a lock and all eyes fly to the door on the other side of the room. As it swings open, Bob strolls in humming softly to himself and carrying a box of donuts. However, he stumbles to a halt as he takes in the scene before him.

For a few seconds, his mouth hangs open in utter disbelief. When he manages to pull himself together, he chokes out, “Ar-are you guys okay? What the hell happened after I left last night?”

Groaning, you plop down next to the still-unconscious Fanboy on the couch. “That’s it. We are never letting Hangman make the drinks for game night ever again.”

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @lorecraft, @green-socks, @heart-0n-fire, @marvelousmermaid, @mayhem24-7forever, @wildbornsiren, @hederasgarden, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-fox, @imjess-themess, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @imjess-themess, @footprintsinthesxnd

#drabble #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #dagger squad #dagger squad x reader #hangman #jake hangman seresin #bob #robert bob floyd #gn!reader

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Aftermath (Dagger Squad Drabble)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Dagger Squad, gn!reader

Summary: You wake up on the floor, woozy and aching. After pulling yourself together, you go looking for the rest of the Dagger Squad.

Word Count: 648

TW: I reserve the right to not give warnings that may spoil the story (but it isn't bad I promise and there is a happy ending)

Notes: Thank you to @loverhymeswith for requesting “Against my better judgment, I’m alive" with Hangman. Though he does say the line, I made the fic a more general Dagger Squad story.

Every inch of you aches. Your head is throbbing painfully with every beat of your heart, your mind feels muddled and fuzzy, and you can taste the remains of bile in your mouth from the night before. You press your cheek into the cold tile floor beneath you in the hope it will numb some of the pain, but it does little to help. When you try to open your eyes even a fraction of an inch, the dim light in the room has you instantly retreating to the darkness behind your eyelids. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you work up the courage to try again, and this time you manage to keep your eyes open, though squinted. The next step is getting to your feet which is another Herculean task, but after a few woozy attempts, you somehow get yourself vertical. 

You take a few unsteady steps before you notice someone else laying on the floor on the other side of the room. Stumbling over, you see Hangman laying on his back on the floor, one arm laying under him at an odd angle. 

Gently shaking his shoulder, you mutter, “Hangman. Hey, Hangman. Come on, get up. You better not have died on me.”

“Against my better judgment, I’m alive.” The response is muffled and slurred, but at least he’s coherent enough to be making wisecracks.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” He lifts his head slightly and squints up at you. “But why are there three of you?”

Shaking your head, you sigh, “Come on, big boy. Let’s get you on your feet.”

You help him sit up but when he tries to move the arm that had been pinned beneath him, he hisses in pain and holds it tight against his chest. He looks up at you with pleading eyes, but you just shrug.

“Don’t look at me like that. We’re only in this mess because of you. Now, I need to see how bad it is out there so either stay here or follow me.”

Reluctantly, Hangman allows you to help him to his feet, his arm still clutched against his chest. You let him lean on you slightly while he tries to regain his balance, but as uneasy as you currently are on your own two feet, it is a bit of a disaster. However, the two of you finally make it to the door and you open it. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe as you take in the destruction on the other side.

The bodies of your friends, your squad, lay scattered around the room. Some are splayed deadly still on the carpet or across the couch but others are in various stages of struggling to sit up or attempting to rise to their feet. Broken glass litters the floor and there is a set of bloody footprints where someone had stepped in it barefoot. The table has been flipped over and the chairs are laying on their sides on opposite sides of the room. The place is a complete disaster.

Rooster catches your eye from where he is seated leaning heavily against the wall, but as he opens his mouth to say something, suddenly, there is the sound of a key rattling in a lock and all eyes fly to the door on the other side of the room. As it swings open, Bob strolls in humming softly to himself and carrying a box of donuts. However, he stumbles to a halt as he takes in the scene before him.

For a few seconds, his mouth hangs open in utter disbelief. When he manages to pull himself together, he chokes out, “Ar-are you guys okay? What the hell happened after I left last night?”

Groaning, you plop down next to the still-unconscious Fanboy on the couch. “That’s it. We are never letting Hangman make the drinks for game night ever again.”

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog,  @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae

#drabble #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #dagger squad #dagger squad x reader #hangman #jake hangman seresin #bob #robert bob floyd #gn!reader

[attapullman]

Step Into Christmas | Robert "Bob" Floyd

POV: It’s the first Christmas with your husband Bob in your new (to you) home. He pulls out all the stops to make it special.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings & Notes: gn! reader. no warnings except mentions of food and excessive Christmas fluffiness! Happy December 1st! I was thrilled when @lewmagoo announced their Christmas celebration because Christmas is the best time of year! Tried something different with a little mood board and then doing clips of scenes paired with the song (listen to it here). And then basically indulged myself in imagining living in an old house with Bob at Christmas where he made me dinner (I wish!) I hope you enjoy and happy holidays!

Welcome to my Christmas song I'd like to thank you for the year So I'm sending you this Christmas card To say it's nice to have you here

The whistling creaks of this old house echo. Its charm and unique coziness you both fell in love with disappears without the lamp normally in the corner of the living room. And now a tall tree looms over the furniture, grim.

There's a rustle, and Bob’s smiling earnest face peaks out from behind a few branches, eager to see your expression at what he does next. He slots the plug into the outlet and bundles of warm lights come to life, filling the room with seasonal delight. The house is suddenly so alive, not a relic at all! He is delighted by the wide grin that splits your face in two. 

As he bends over the ornament boxes - matte, glitter, pendants, glossy, oversized, metallic, his broad shoulders shrugging as he decides which ornaments deserve top spot - he is bathed in the tree lights like a bespectacled angel, frames glimmering in the light as his forehead scrunches. The slightly scratchy sweater his great aunt knit him during his first deployment sits a little lopsided on his collarbone. His hair messy from crawling under the branches. A Christmas angel in your midst.

Your husband - husband, you were still adjusting to that - comes to stand beside you, hips kissing with the perfect ornament in hand. His lips brush your cheek discreetly. “Would you like to put on the first ornament?”

Together, you string on the first ornament to a prime spot - in the center, a little higher than the middle. Just Married sits among the pine needles, and it brings a fresh joy to your heart. You glance at your husband again, and smile. Celebrating your first Christmas freshly married in your new home. It’s so good to be here.

I'd like to sing about all the things Your eyes and mind can see So hop aboard the turntable Oh step into Christmas with me

The house casts a cheery glow, the decorated tree lighting up even the most desolate of corners. The star on top twinkles with its shimmering surface. The Christmas spirit is alive and well in this room and will quickly flood the rest of the Floyd homestead.

Behind you, Bob puts on a record, the upbeat sounds of his favorite Christmas tunes creating the playlist for the beautiful night. He catches your eye across the room, blue eyes sparkling in the low light. 

He holds out his hand to you, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. You haven’t danced together since your wedding. Enveloped in his grasp, he immediately begins twirling you around the room giddily. The air is light, frivolity directing your movements. He dips you slightly during the downbeats, and wiggles your hips at the crescendos. Giggles escape as he brings you to his chest, softly swaying one beat off. 

A slower song rounds out the side, sweet harpsichord ringing out. Eyes close as your foreheads connect, grounding you to each other. Small puffs of air against your lips as he softly sings the lyrics to you. The universe existing only in this song you share.

Let's join together We can watch the snow fall forever and ever

Coats scrape against hooks. Boots thump against the hardwood. Laughter fills the mudroom as you watch Bob wrap his scarf a few too many times. From the window, fat, lazy snowflakes swim down from the inky sky. Bob rests himself against your back, watching the flakes float down softly onto the ground. Fluffy and inviting. 

Before either of you can brace yourselves, the door is swung open and the cold air attacks your uncovered cheeks. You’re dragging him out into the snow, endearingly watching how his breath fogs his glasses as he finds his footing. He sticks out his tongue as you mimic him trying not to slip on the icy pavement.

Neither of you are sure who started it, but soon you’re both ducking behind trees in the neighborhood, packed snow in your mittened hands. Bob’s gotten you once - on the shoulder - and you’ve done nothing but grow his ego with how quick he is. 

“You can’t catch me, sweetheart!” He jokingly taunts, wiggling his fingers at you. Your quiet, reserved man dissolved into giggles and childish gestures the second snow falls. Your breathless laughs disrupt the night air as you trudge after him. A second look at a new car on the street distracts him, and you catch up to him, finally in better firing range. The densely packed snowball makes contact with the side of his chest and he turns to you, all wide cobalt eyes. Big hands snap up to clutch the lapels of his jacket. He mimics a slow, dramatic death silently in the snow, clutching at where your snowball has annihilated him. 

As you stand over his still form, he blinks open one eyes. “Best two out of three?”

By the end of the afternoon you are both soaked in melted snow, cheeks drenched in deep pink. Your husband takes your hand, threading your mittened hands together, and you watch the fresh powder fall as he walks you home.

Eat, drink and be merry Come along with me

There’s a tinkling in the kitchen. You follow the sounds of Elton John and the scent of alfredo sauce. Pushing open the door, there’s Bob humming along as he stirs this and salts that. Not wanting to disturb him, you slip onto one of the stools at the counter, leaning on your elbows as you watch him nod his head along to the beat. 

He glances over his shoulder to check the recipe and jumps at your unexpected, but welcome, company. “Didn’t hear you come in, sweets. You want something to drink?”

You shrug a shoulder and stretch your neck to see what he’s making. But your husband shakes his head and shields your view with his broad frame. He’s been excited to surprise you all day. Leaning over the counter to place a short peck to your lips, he busies himself with pouring you both a beverage, cheersing over the salad bowl. 

“Thank you for making dinner.” You’re still trying to steal peeks over his shoulder, where he’s putting on the finishing touches. He glances back at you grinning, acts of service his love language. Those metal frames gleaming in the stovetop light. 

After making sure you’re fully settled at the counter - albeit impatiently - he finally brings the pot over to serve up.

“Christmas fettuccine!” The glossy off-white noodles freckled with bits of pepper shine as he twirls the fork above your plate. The nests of noodles on your plates are stunning as he garnishes with a bit of parsley, asking if you’d like extra parmesan. The joyous grin on your face makes his surprise worth every moment over that hot stove. 

Taking the stool beside you, elbows just inches from each other, Bob tips his glass to yours. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

And keep smiling through the days If we can help to entertain you Oh we will find the ways

Bob stokes the fireplace and adds a new log, keeping up the cozy atmosphere. The sound of crackling fire soothing over the natural creaks of the ancient house. He hands you a mug of cocoa and leads you to the sofa, resting your backs against the soft fabric as you sit on the floor, legs tangled. He grabs the new Boeing manual he’s been working his way through and flips it open, semi-reading aloud as he explains trajectory and basic mechanics. 

His voice is soothing, the soft vibrations of his chest against your back making your eyes sleepy.

“Am I boring you?” His voice is worried. “Sorry, sweets, not doing a good job entertaining you, am I?”

You shake your head, assuring him you are fine looking through the manual. But he’s already tucking it into the magazine rack on the side, his fingers going through what else is available. He huffs that it’s mostly old copies of Consumer Digest and a random Skymall catalog. But your husband refuses to let the moment go to waste and pulls out his phone, internet searching with the screen tilted away from you.

When he finally settles, his temple pressed to yours, one hand caressing your skin caringly, you see he’s looked up Christmas stories for children. You watch familiar characters taking over the screen, a round-headed boy and his canine friend finding the real meaning of Christmas. Bob’s voice crackles like the fire, and you are safe.

So merry Christmas one and all There's no place I'd rather be Than asking you if you'd oblige Stepping into Christmas with me

Cocoa is brewing and the record player is alive with another festive record. The jaunty Santa hat on Bob’s head threatens to fall off as he perfectly arranges the presents in the order he would like you to open them. The scents of the room fight to be noticed - rosemary, peppermint, and the cinnamon-y sugar of the rolls you just put in the oven. 

You join your husband by the tree, letting him wrap his arms around you like a big human bow. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus.”

He laugh is infectious, and quickly you’re both giggling as he walks you through his gift madness. He’s spoiled you as usual, always thoughtfully selecting a gift only to find something even better after he’s arrived home. With a flourish, Bob places a package into your waiting hands, instantly eager to see your reaction.

“Thank you, Santa,” you tease. As your fingers untwine the bow, you look up at him. “Thank you for making this holiday so special.”

His cheeks match his hat as he accepts your gratitude. His hand strokes your knee as he praises you. “Thanks for stepping into Christmas with me, honey, I wanted it to be big. First year in the house and all.”

Your smile conveys all your thanks, gooey warmth inside your chest. He impatiently gestures to the gift in your lap again, he’s ready to see your reaction!

Step into Christmas The admission's free

The late afternoon sun streams through the aging windows, bright light bouncing off the freshly fallen snow. A quieter record plays and Bob is snoozing on your shoulder, a little cinnamon sugar still on his lip. This first Christmas in this old house with the big windows that show off the tree is perfect. Your husband is perfect from where he wraps his arm around your waist, curling into you sleepily with his floppy red hat.

And this memory? This memory will be like stepping into Christmas every time it passes your mind.

#a lew magoo christmas #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fan fiction #bob floyd fan fiction #top gun maverick fan fiction #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x you #gn!reader #robert bob floyd fluff #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #christmas!bob #moodboards by mo

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

AHH OMG, THIS IS HUGE, I’ve reached 400 followers on this hellsite??? YES I HAVE!!

Here is a compiled list of prompts that you guys can send in over the next few weeks for the following characters;

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado

Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace

Reuben ‘Payback’ Fitch

Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Grace

Peter Parker

And any other criminal minds, marvel or other character you’d like me to write for <333

Please do bear in mind that my exams are underway and the requests will take longer to write. I apologise to f you’re request/ask takes longer to write.

Prompts;

Fluff

“Honey, you punch like a girl.”

"i love you more than i did yesterday."

"i made a playlist for you, come sit and listen."

“i never want to leave this bed.”

"Why do you insist so much?" "Because I want to hear it from that pretty mouth of yours."

"move, you're on my side of the couch."

"oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch."

“If anything ever happens to you, call me.” 

“Let me know when you get home, yeah?” (…) “actually- on second thought- I’ll drop you”

Angst

"Come here, let me hold you for a sec"

“I almost lost you.”

“When will you come back?"

“Please, and for the love of god, please, don’t die. Come back to me.”

“I don't believe you! There- there's no way they're gone..."

"Denial isn't going to bring them back”

"I trusted you!"

“Our love is six feet under.”

"I can't lose you too..."

"I don't need you dragging me down,"

Smut

“I don’t know, maybe you should hop off my dick for a second. Just a thought.” / “That’s not what you said last night.”

“I love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me.”

“keep your pretty eyes on me”

“you could put those pretty lips of yours to better use than talking that bullshit, sweetheart”

“you feel- heavenly, angel”

“stop staring.” “i can't, you're so pretty like this”

“we’re really going to fuck here? what if someone sees us?”

Misc

Public sex

Phone sex while the other one is away

Meeting after deployment

Lifting someone up out of excitement.

Dancing in the rain.

I wanna be closer to you

The morning after

You can send these prompts through my ask box! I’m looking forward to writing these.

Much love, Pav <3333

#pav rambles #pavs 0.4k celebration #jake seresin x gn!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bob Floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #Peter Parker x reader #Spider-Man x reader

[calcifiedunderland]

Shrimply Yours~

In which you invoke your shrimp privileges to cheer Floyd up.

Floyd x GN Reader! Enjoy, shrimpies!!~

—————

“Y’know Floyd, I’d say you’re the shrimp, not me.”

Maybe you really did have a death-by-squeezing wish. Or maybe your plot-armor protection had finally worn off. The eel in question lifted his head slowly at your words and side-eyed you, his golden eye glinting ominously in the Mostro Lounge kitchen’s light.

You’d been washing the dishes after asking Azul for a job in exchange for a little extra madol on the side. For the most part, your day had been as peaceful as it could’ve (the life of a magicless prefect was always maniacal), until you heard arguing from outside the kitchen. You all but jumped when Floyd slammed the door open and wordlessly stalked to the stove, and you spotted Azul walking off shaking his head to himself. Floyd shoved pan on the heat and began frying something, completely ignoring your presence. Was it even possible to fry chicken so aggressively?

In any case, Floyd seemed a little more volatile than usual at the moment, even considering it was him. The other students who’d been in the kitchen with you before had scuttled out before Floyd could snap at them too. But in any case, you knew that Floyd’s mood flipped faster than Crowley leaving all his work to you. So, you thought you’d try to lighten the mood.

At your words, Floyd slowly brought his head up from his deep-frying, golden-and-olive colored eyes zeroing in on you, baring his sharp, shiny teeth at you in a scowl. And in that split second, you suddenly remembered that Floyd was, in fact, a mer-eel. Moray, specifically. A predator. A predator that probably ate shrimpies like you. Who was now looking at you predatorily.

“What did ya just say, shrimpy?” His pupils were practically pin-pricks, and for a moment you swore you could hear the Jaws theme song in your head. You could remember, time and time again, your friends and upperclassmen telling you not to engage Floyd when he was in one of his moods. Even up until now, you’d never been on the awful end of his anger, especially alone. But you weren’t called beast-tamer for nothing, damn it, and maybe that title could extend to taming angry Floyd’s too. An angry Floyd that was still your friend.

“I said, you’re the shrimp, not me.” You maintained eye-contact with him, almost challenging him, ‘come at me, bro.’ You tried to keep a straight face, although you were deflating rapidly by the second because by Sevens this was so stupid but-

“Because you’re shrimply amazing.”

One second passed. Two. Three.

Then Floyd broke into a wide, sharp-toothed grin. He surged towards you, completely forgetting the frying food. “D’awww, SHRIMPY!!!”

He swooped behind you, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up. Your legs flailed around and now your arms were locked in as Floyd spun around the kitchen haphazardly with you in his arms. “Shrimpy knows just how to cheer me up! I knew this is why I kept you around!” He laughed cheerily, bobbing you up and down.

“FLOYD!” You cried, “PUT ME DOWN-“ the kitchen swirled crazily around you, as Floyd babbled some song or other cheerfully. Thankfully he’d stopped spinning, but began shaking you side to side while humming, “Shrimpy’s so brave n’ nice, all the other guppies left when they saw me but only Shrimpy stayed!”

He started pouting, and squished his cheek into yours. “Azul was bein’ mean to me, making me work now. Just ‘cause I roughed up a few customers doesn’t mean it was my fault! They shoulda been nice to me~”

Even though you were basically suspended in the air by him, you smiled at Floyd’s words. “Glad I could help Floyd, that was so mean of Azul,” you consoled him, hoping he’d put you down. He bent over until your feet were safely on the sweet, sweet ground, but didn’t let you go from his arms. The two of you swayed together, basking in each other’s company in the subpar lighting of the kitchen, until you frowned.

“…Hey, is something burning?”

“Ah shit, I burned the chicken.”

———

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst yuu #floyd leech #twst floyd #twst floyd leech #twst floyd x reader #floyd leech x yuu #floyd leech x reader #octavinelle #octavinelle x reader #mostro lounge #calcified writing

[writingdumpster]

movie night

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings: no use of pronouns or gendered language. non sexual undressing

summary: you fall asleep during your movie night at Bob’s.

word count: .4k

“Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you’re crazy for…”

Bob looked over at you as the end of his favorite movie played. Your legs had been over his lap since the lunch scene. He saw that your body was curled into the corner of his couch as you slept. He smiled. He found you completely adorable. He couldn’t help the way that his heart was beating while he reveled in the fact that you felt comfortable enough in his home to accidentally fall asleep on his couch. It felt so intimate to him. He knew it wasn’t the time, but he was itching to tell you he loved you as he watched the way your chest rose and fell steadily. He carefully lifted your legs from his lap and then kneeled down beside you.

“Come on, angel. Let’s go to bed,” Bob cooed to you as he gently shook your shoulder. You blinked your eyes open to see Bob’s blue ones looking at you fondly.

“What happened?” You murmured in question as you raised your head. Bob reached up and smoothed out your hair.

“You fell asleep, love,” Bob said quietly, not wanting to tear you too far away from sleep.

“Sorry, Bobby. I know it’s your favorite movie,” you said.

“We’ve watched it before, angel. It’s fine,” Bob assured you. “Let’s get you to bed.” You rose and followed him to his room, his fingers tangled with yours.

When you got to his room Bob pulled out the pajamas you had in your designated drawer in his dresser while you brushed your teeth. When you came back Bob was already in his pajamas. You gave him a warm smile.

“C’mere,” Bob called. You moved into his arms and let him hug you. He released you after a moment and kissed your forehead. “Arms up,” he requested. You smiled. You raised your arms and Bob pulled your shirt off, tossing it into his hamper. He helped you into your pajamas. Some part of him was determined to take care of you in any way he could at that moment. He would come to find out that the feeling would never go away. He tucked you into bed before crawling in beside you. You immediately curled into his chest and Bob felt his heart skip a beat.

“You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Bobby,” you murmured. Bob smiled and kissed your temple. You were already snoring softly. Bob couldn’t think anything except that he was determined to always be the best boyfriend you had.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x reader fluff #bob floyd blurb #top gun imagine #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd x gn! reader

[auroracalisto]

would you still love me?

robert "bob" floyd x gn!reader, 1.2k words tw: drunk reader, drinking, coding reader as a clingy drunk idk a/n: the reader has some "philosophical" questions to ask bob. courtesy of the tiktoks i've seen floating around from time to time. it's actually pretty light-hearted, despite the title. i promise. expect drunken fluff.

The night had stretched into the early hours of the morning, which didn't often happen. But the next day was an off day, and the drinks were just too liberating to give up yet.

As the hours continued, Bob wondered if he should have gone home already, finding comfort in the idea that you'd go back with him.

Too late. It would be hell to try and find you at this point—the bar was packed, despite the time ticking closer to two in the morning. He'd let you find him first. You were somewhere, off with your shared friends. You would be fine.

He hoped.

He leaned back in his seat, watching as Fanboy lined up his shot. Bob hadn't wanted to play this round, but he couldn't help from watching. It was monotonous, and yet, it brought him a sense of comfort at times—just to exist.

At times, just existing was more than enough for Bob.

He felt himself getting all wrapped up in his head—something that happened far too often than it should. With a sigh, he let his head fall back, eyes falling shut.

And that's when it happened.

"Bob," you hiccuped, voice loud as you alerted him of your arrival. You threw an arm around the pilot's neck, with enough force pressed to his throat to cause an issue (even though you clearly were far too inebriated to realize it). In response, he quickly placed a hand over it, effectively keeping you from accidentally choking him with your drunken deadweight.

"Bobby, I have an important question. And you have to be honest! Don't lie. I'll know if you lie," you said, giggling.

Your free hand pointed at his cheek, making a small dent as your finger pressed into his skin. Your lips inched close to his ears as he looked over at Phoenix, eyes wide.

"How much did they drink?" he asked.

You were never like this—hell, he didn't remember the last time you had drunk much at all in front of him. Leave it up to the one night he's far too absorbed in pool (and his own mind) to realize what was going on.

Phoenix shrugged, hands raised defensively—she wasn't about to be blamed for this. "Don't ask me. I've been over here with you this whole time, Bob. Blame Bradshaw."

She pointed behind him, directly at the Lieutenant.

Bob looked over his shoulder, seeing the drunken pilot just smile in response. He plopped down beside Fanboy, who waited for Phoenix to play her turn. Hangman was nowhere to be found, and until he returned, they'd be skipping his turn (Phoenix just said, "you snooze, you lose" when Payback questioned them before he himself left for the bar as well).

"Bobby, look at me," you pouted, lips brushing against his soft, warm skin. "Please."

The golden glow of the lighting cast a glare on his glasses. He let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes before he turned to face you. The glare momentarily flashed you and you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to stop yourself from smiling. You truly did have an important question—it had been on your mind for the last ten minutes, and if you didn't ask him now, you knew you would forget it.

"What's up, honey?" he softly asked, sending you a smile. He'd have to drag you home, at this rate. He could only hope you'd come willingly.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

The sound of choking came from Fanboy's way as he sat his drink back down on the pool table, hand covering his mouth to keep the liquid in. He looked up in surprise. Phoenix held back a laugh, albeit poorly. She hid her smile behind her drink.

"What?" Bob asked, nose scrunching at the question. Did he hear you right?

You leaned forward, chest pressed against his back. Your hands gently gripped onto the fabric of his shirt, chin moving to rest against his shoulder. He could practically feel your quickened heartbeat the closer you got to him.

"You heard me, Bobby," you whined. "Would you... would you still love me... if I was a wom?"

"A wom?" Bob looked at you, perplexed.

"A worm!"

His eyes softened and with a sigh, he completely turned to face you. With gentle hands, he placed your arms by your sides, standing up in the process. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Yes. I would still love you if you were a worm," he said.

Phoenix burst out laughing, her drink slamming down on the table as Fanboy missed his shot in pool. He melted into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Rooster snickered in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the conversation unfold. It might have just been the alcohol, but damn, you were killing them.

Phoenix was not about to let this go—she was going to tease you relentlessly for the next couple of days. The both of you.

Bob glared back at his friends, but when you grabbed onto his shirt once more, he averted his gaze back to you. His lips softened into another smile—one that made you weak in the knees.

You couldn't help it. You loved this man. Even in your drunken stupor, you knew he was the one you wanted to do everything with.

You were all smiles. "I love you, Bobby."

"I love you, too, honey," he said. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"Hmm, one more drink?" you asked, your smile only growing wider. "Please? Pretty please?"

"I think you've had enough, sweetheart."

Your smile dissolved into a pout. "Bob..."

"Come on," he said, grabbing your coat off of the chair. He helped you put it on, and while you didn't want to, you didn't protest.

The two of you promptly left, Bob leading you out of the crowded bar and into the night.

Hangman at last had returned to the pool table, two beers in hand—one for himself, and one for you. Payback remained at the bar, having struck up a conversation with some pretty lady. Hangman said something about how busy the bar had been that night under his breath, not realizing how quiet things had gotten before he came back. He looked at the empty spots, before looking towards the two pilots who were only just now calming down.

"What did I miss?" he asked, confused.

Rooster reached over and plucked one of the beers out of his hand. "Y/n."

He tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in response. He shook his head and took a swig before he grabbed his pool cue, prepared to win against the giggling school girls across from him.

Bob helped you into the car, buckling you in in the process. You grabbed the edge of his collar, pulling him close to your face with a grin.

"You're so cute, Bobby. You know that, right?"

"So I've been told," he said, a pink blush coating his cheeks. He pried your fingers away, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You just giggled dreamily, leaning back in your seat. You let your eyes fall shut as Bob shut the car door.

He ran a hand through his hair, thankful that the air was quite chilly that night. The heat from his cheeks was enough to make him even more flustered than he already was.

You were a handful—but like everything else in his life, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

In some weird world, in some faraway galaxy, Bob knew he would love you, even if you were a worm.

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun bob x reader #top gun bob #bob x reader #robert bob floyd x gn!reader #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #reader #imagine #top gun #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun fluff #fluff #top gun fic #tgm #tgm x reader #tgm imagine #tgm fanfiction #lewis pullman

[treysimp]

“I don’t know how else to say this… do you want to make out on my couch?”

Part 3

GN!Reader x Octavinelle (Azul, Floyd, Jade)

Smooching, implied mutual pining and suggestive themes, but nothing explicit. Reader is not physically described.

Other chapters:

Savannahclaw | Scarabia | Octinavielle | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Heartslabyul | Diasomnia

🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜

Want more TWST? Here's my Masterlist!

“Prefect, if you wanted to make a deal you could have just…” Azul seems to have begun reciting a canned response, one hand splayed on his chest and the other beginning to push up his glasses until he perfectly freezes in place at the realization of just what it was you asked him.

His icy eyes snap to yours in bewilderment and for once the ever-prepared businessman looks like he got hit by a truck. You weren’t going to pass this chance by.

“Oh? So you are on the table? I guess everything has a price, huh?” You giggle, smoothing your hands around the hem of his collar. You take advantage of the proximity to stare at his nervously bobbing adam's apple as Azul thickly swallows. Oh man, it’s mean to tease him like this… but…

“If having you were my wish, what would it cost me?” you say, looking up your lashes at Azul to gauge his reaction.

Azul’s mouth opens and closes uselessly, his ears flush crimson as he desperately tries to will the stalled gears in his head to turn again. You weren’t sure if he’d even looked cuter than he did right now.

“Ahah… well, I mean… this is an unprecedented request so I would need to calculate my uh expenses, the payroll deductions, line item taxes and…” his babbling trails off, clearly not sure of what he possibly is supposed to do in this situation.

He studied night and day, he voraciously devoured every single written word he could, academic and… less so as well… but in the index cards of his learning that he shuffled desperately through to find an answer, he was drawing a blank.

Azul finally broke eye contact with you and gazed towards the ground in thought, crossing his arms as his face spread into a soft smile.

“F-For you…” he pointed his finger into the distance as if he was indicating a point on a map you should see. He complimented this pose by tilting his head inquisitively to the side, handsomely framing his face with the longest curl of his silver hair

“It’s… it’s on the house.” he finally finished. Unfortunately, his attempt at a suave swoon-worthy line did not quite deliver the impact he wanted it to. Azul was flushing even deeper than he had been before trying to lay a cringy line on you. Oh god, why is he trying to be cool right now?

“Oh…” you gasped softly, “well, aren’t I just the luckiest?” you say with a grin. Taking the opportunity of your response causing Azul to lower his arms in relief, you grasped Azul by his lapels and pulled him forward into you. You carefully placed and most gentle kiss you could manage on him.

At first, Azul’s arms hovered at his sides, seemingly mirroring the frozen state he was in when you had first asked your scandalously forward question.

Within a brief second of pause, his hands were on you, desperately grasping and groping at every bit of you he could touch. Azul’s breathing sped up as he quietly moaned and gasped into your rapidly intensifying kiss.

When you two finally separated, Azul’s chest was heaving, his eyes were glassy and his perfect waves were mussed and thrown about.

Setting his mouth in a straight line, Azul looks at you with determination. Just as you were about to ask him why he was screwing up his lovely face, you felt yourself being lifted from the ground and Azul quickly tromped the both of you across the ratty living room, over to your well-worn couch.

You gasped in surprise but quickly remembered just how strong mermen seemed to be, even if they weren’t the most graceful on land. While Azul had never been one for flying during PE, you had caught him lifting suspiciously heavy objects more than once in other scenarios.

Throwing you down in a way that was perhaps less graceful than he intended, Azul nevertheless climbed on top of you in a hurry, his breath being barely visible in the air of the cool night.

His blue eyes shined from the moonlight streaming into the Ramshackle lounge, but the low light did little to hide the sheen of spit on his lips and the reddening of every square inch of his visible body.

Azul’s hands were all over you yet again, and with the amount he was able to do so quickly, you would think that he had more than two of them. Lovingly stroking, tugging, testing, caressing, it felt like he was afraid that if he stopped for even a moment he would miss something vitally important.

Hat on the ground, scarf tossed to the side, Azul set upon the rest of the garters and contraptions that held his dapper uniform to his body. He repeatedly got distracted by seeing you below him, and just as soon as he would remove one glove, he would jump back to you, smothering your skin with his touch and then undoing one or two buttons of your own. It was slow going, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Look… prefect…” Azul began, his eyes earnestly staring into yours with an indiscernible emotion. He sighed deeply and started his full sentence again.

“You… you’re not signing a contract with me but… regardless I’m…” his eyes drifted off to the side, clearly contemplating how to finish his declaration.

“I am swearing to you right now. I will-! I will write it down if you want me to…” he said, his voice getting louder and more confident.

“Regardless I… I am going to do everything I can to make sure that you will never forget tonight.”

----------

“Oh? Are you trying to come on to a poor innocent eel, like me, shrimpy?”

Floyd’s eyes seem to practically glow with mirth as he leans close to examine your face, cocking his head to the side as he slips ever closer. His ever-present slouch seems to against all reason make him seem even larger when he’s using it to crowd you like this.

“I never thought that you would try to take advantage of my innocence, you know? Poor sweet me. A naive little moray amongst all of these cunning humans…” Floyd's shoulders are visibly shaking as he seems to barely be able to contain his giggles.

You came this far though, and he hasn’t said no.

Calling his bluff, you snake closer to his ear and push his long strand of dark hair back behind it.

“Do you want that, Floyd? Do you want me to sully your squeaky-clean reputation? To take advantage of you? ”

Floyd’s eyes widen as he stands eerily still for just a moment. After a few seconds of you genuinely worrying if he needed to blink, Floyd finally closed his eyes and fully shook with the laughter that he had been holding back through the entire conversation.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he gasped a few more times until finally settling down, eyes sparkling as he again leaned back down to crowd you just as he had been a minute before, quickly getting back into the character. You weren't sure why he was so attached to this bit, but you were willing to play along.

Putting his hands on either side of your head, he grinned in a way that best put his sharp teeth on display as Floyd proceeded to pin you to the door like a butterfly waiting to be mounted on a frame. All this talk about being helpless and he was going to be the one pinning you down, huh?

“I hope you understand what you’re getting into.” He whispers before finally closing the gap between his mouth and yours.

His kisses are messy and unrefined, but even so, you could tell that he wanted them just as badly as you had.

You could hear Floyd quietly whimper and sigh against your lips, chasing you every time you tried to separate from him to grab a breath and insistently pulling you back against him.

“Heya… shrimpy…” Floyd finally pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, speaking in between labored pants, his bright eyes boring into your own.

“You really want me, right? This is really happening, right?”

You weren’t sure why he was asking, but you nodded.

“Yes… I really…” he cuts you off with his mouth again and his left-hand drifts to the doorknob behind you to throw it open, tripping you both in the process.

You land on the ground with a yelp, while Floyd just lands on top of you, eyes dreamy and grin wide.

“Hey…. Can I? Do you want to?”

You sigh at him in fond exasperation.

“Do I want to do what, Floyd?”

Floyd’s giggles seem to keep him from speaking as he lowers his face to your neck to nip and playfully pepper you with the ghosts of kisses.

“Do you want to go further?”

You were mildly surprised to hear Floyd ask so respectfully, but were a little less impressed to see that he had been stripping without waiting to hear your answer.

“Floyd! You’re not even gonna wait to see if I say yes?” His eyes widen for just a moment as he stops himself with his shirt tangled around his head and the long sleeves wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold. He blinks owlishly and then puts his arms down carefully, trying not to rip the clothes that you feel he would have shredded if he were in a worse mood.

“...oh, yeah.” He pulls down his shirt for just a moment as he stares at you, holding perfectly still as he stares at you expectantly.

“The answer is yes.' you say, immediately flinching at the happy squeal that erupts from Floyd as he resumes tossing the clothing that was already partially hanging off of his body halfway across the room.

Floyd tackles you back to the floor and peppers your face in small ticklish kisses, you giggle and swat at him but he refuses to give it up.

“Shrimpy?”

“Yes, Floyd?”

“I hope you’re ready to take responsibility for being such a bad influence on sweet, little ol’ me.” he says, a malicious grin once again spreading across his face.

“It might take all night.”

----------

Complete and utter silence. If you didn’t know better you would have thought that Jade didn’t hear you, but you were well aware that he had.

You turned slowly to look at him, preparing yourself to be turned down. People don’t just sit in silence because they’re stoked about what just happened, right?

To your surprise, Jade seemed to just be observing you, hand on his chin like you were a specimen under his watch, a slight smile washing over his features as he waited patiently.

He seemed to be waiting for something, which honestly pisses you off considering the fact that the person who had just risked it all in a moment of horny weakness was you and not him. You could feel the tips of your ears burning as you tried to keep your composure.

“… Jade?”

“Yes, Prefect?”

“Are you going to respond?”

Jade tapped his gloved finger to his chin, innocently tilting his head to the side in a facade of faux confusion that greatly contrasted with the smug air that oozed out of his every pore.

“I was just basking in the moment,” Jade stated frankly, finally taking a slow step to close the gap between you.

Jade peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his jacket pocket, trailing his now bare hand down your forearm to lace his fingers in between yours.

It felt strangely intimate, to tell the truth. His skin was shockingly soft and you marvel at how immaculate his hands appear to be even though both his job and hobbies involve working with his hands.

Jade slowly tugs you inside and proceeds to elegantly settle himself on your couch, allowing you to flop unceremoniously opposite him.

He’s staring again, but his smile seems more genuine this time, not like his usual grin that never touches his eyes. This smile felt fond and disarming, a smile that you were not sure you ever had the pleasure of seeing before.

Jade reached over and threaded his fingers at the base of your head, tangling his grasp in your hair and gently tugging at your roots. Soft but still insistent, he pulls you forward to him.

His other hand deftly began unbuttoning your collar, pushing the fabric to the side to get a better view of your clavicle. Jade’s hand drifted lower and pressed firmly against the left side of your chest. At first glance, you might think that he was feeling you up, but you soon realized that he was actually trying to feel your heartbeat.

“Can I conduct an experiment? I promise it will be a pleasant one,” he said softly, his mismatched eyes drifting to your lips thoughtfully.

With a swallow, you slowly nodded. You could only hope he was telling the truth.

Jade’s body pushed further into yours until you could finally feel his petal-soft lips gliding over yours, warm breath mixing in gasps and murmurs.

“Hahh… just as I thought,” Jade mumbles as you part reluctantly from a particularly heated kiss. “It sped up. That means you meant it, right?”

Your face flushed at his implication. Does he think you would try to come on to him as a joke?

“Of course I meant it!” you said with a frown.

“I know,” Jade responded, lowering his face to kiss at the point where your shoulder met your neck. “I just had to prove it.”

Your breathing sped up as you tried not to make pathetic noises while Jade nursed on your pulse point. After a moment, his forehead landed on your shoulder with a quiet thump, and Jade heaved a quiet sigh. You look down at him questioningly, smoothing down his hair with your palm as he sat in silence.

“I think I am going to have to spend some time finding out just how fast I can make it beat,” he said finally, springing up from his place against your shoulder to push you back-first onto the couch.

His hands were quick, one working up the hem of your shirt as the other traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Alas, there’s only one way to find out for sure, hmm? This will be a fine study, don't you think?”

Who do y’all want to see next? I realize that I probably shouldn’t have made this a side blog because I can’t respond to your lovely comments in the replies 🥲 should I remake/repost these you think?

Inbox me your requests and suggestions and I would love to write more.

Also tomorrow is my birthday so if you want to scream about these boys with me that would be a great present. 🥰

Also: would any of you be interested in NSFW continuations or nah?

Thanks for reading! Love you!

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