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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Text

No Words

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST. Miscarriage in the second trimester, intense grief, marital struggles, brief reference to a D&E procedure, mentions of blood, a hopeful ending.

Author’s Note: This was not an easy story for me to write, but it was one I really wanted to tell. Though I have not personally experienced a miscarriage, it’s something that has deeply affected my family, and an experience that many women I know, love, and care about have been impacted by. I don’t think it’s talked about nearly as much as it should be, which is what leads so many people to grieve and suffer in silence. This story is a tribute to the experiences that many people I know have gone through. Please know that if you or someone you know has experienced a miscarriage, you are allowed to grieve and mourn in the ways that you need to. My heart is truly with you.

This story was written for @cherrycola27’s #top gun taylors version challenge. It was inspired by the song Bigger Than the Whole Sky, particularly these lyrics:

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye You were bigger than the whole sky You were more than just a short time And I've got a lot to pine about I've got a lot to live without I'm never gonna meet What could've been, would've been What should've been you

There were no words.

As the days faded into weeks, and the weeks melted into months, you tried and failed more times than you could count to find the words to make those around you understand the devastation and grief that you were grappling with.

But there were no words.

How could there be?

How could there be words sufficient enough to explain the way you cried yourself to sleep every night, salty tears soaking your pillow until your body finally took pity on you and allowed you to fall into a restless, miserable slumber?

What could you say to make people understand that the throbbing ache in your body, the pain that still robbed you of breath when you were least expecting it, was surpassed only by the unbearable agony in your heart?

How could mere words convey the thousands of ways your world had fallen apart, the way your dreams had shattered, the way your soul would never be whole again?

They couldn’t. They wouldn’t.

And so you had stopped trying.

You had stopped responding to texts from friends. You no longer picked up the phone when your family called. You had groceries delivered to the house.

The kitchen counters, which had once been covered with home-cooked meals and baking supplies, were now littered with restaurant menus and take-out containers.

On the days when you did manage to drag yourself out of bed, you usually made it only as far as the couch, where you’d curl up under your favorite blanket and stare blankly at the walls surrounding you, walls that had been home for well over a year, but which now felt as foreign as the mysterious, far-flung kingdoms you’d read about in the fairytales you’d loved so much when you were a little girl.

But you were no longer a little girl. And this wasn’t a fairytale.

He was worried about you. You knew he was.

You could see it in his blue eyes every time he looked at you, his gaze brimming with the tenderness and deep love that had always made you confident he was going to be yours forever.

“Sweetheart,” he would whisper every night when he came home from work, kneeling beside you where you lay on the couch and gently stroking your cheek with his calloused fingertips.

His name, so precious and beloved to you, always sat right on the edge of your tongue, but you weren’t able to get it out past the lump that seemed determined to remain permanently embedded in your throat. So you’d just look up at him, the sadness in your eyes mirrored in his as he brushed your hot tears away.

And every night, he’d carry you to the bath where he would wash your body clean with gentle hands. If only he could do the same for your heart.

Tucking you into bed, he’d lay beside you and hold you close as you sobbed, “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.” Over and over and over again, his name falling from your lips like a litany, your voice raw with desperation.

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing your back with his strong, sure hands and pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “I know, sweetheart.”

But did he know? He was the only one who could understand what you were going through, but did he really know?

You weren’t sure that he did, and that knowledge cut you deeper than words could express.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You and Bob were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to be glowing and bursting with anticipation, waiting any day now for the newest member of your family, your sweet little bundle of joy, to arrive.

But instead, your womb and your arms were empty, and your husband came home every night to a wife who could barely make it through the day without falling apart, a wife who turned away from him when he reached for you, determined to hide from him the tears that still choked you every night, even four months later.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Everything had been going so well. The joy you’d felt when you first saw that little positive sign on your pregnancy test had been exceeded only by the look of pure awe on Bob’s face when you told him the news that he was going to be a father.

You’d had so many grand plans for how you were going to tell him, so many sweet ideas swirling in your brain for how you were going to make this life-changing announcement. But in the end, your excitement had gotten the better of you and you’d found yourself flinging your arms around your husband as soon as he walked through the door, sobbing and laughing in tandem as you shouted, “We’re having a baby!”

You’d done everything right. You took all your prenatal vitamins, went to all your appointments, took care not to put too much strain on your body. Every time you and Bob walked out of your doctor’s office, hand in hand with a new ultrasound picture of your growing babe, you felt like you were floating on air. Was it possible to be so happy?

Turns out, it wasn’t.

Because despite doing everything right, despite taking all your vitamins and eating all the right foods and following all the prenatal exercise plans, despite every appointment going perfectly, despite making it to your second trimester and telling all your family and friends, you were still met with the most devastating words you’d ever been on the receiving end of:

Your baby no longer has a heartbeat.

You had known something was wrong the second you saw the ultrasound technician’s smile falter, her brow furrowing as she gazed intensely at the black screen. The smile she quickly pasted on as she turned to you was tight, though not nearly as tight as Bobby’s grip on your hand as she rose from her stool with a murmured “Please excuse me for a moment” and hurried out of the examination room without a backwards glance.

Your mind knew what your heart refused to accept as the technician returned several painfully long minutes later with your doctor, who took the stool she’d vacated and lifted the ultrasound wand once more, pressing it firmly to your rounded belly. You felt the sob catch in your throat, saw Bobby lower his head as your doctor turned to face you with a sorrowful look in his kind eyes.

“Mr. and Mrs. Floyd, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I’m afraid your baby no longer has a heartbeat.”

It was all a blur after that. You were aware that your doctor was talking, but he suddenly sounded so far away. You could feel your husband’s eyes on you, his large hands gently squeezing and caressing, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the ceiling of the examination room. Had you ever noticed that it was painted light blue before?

The words came to you in fragmented pieces, none of them seeming to make sense.

Late miscarriage.

Often caused by chromosomal abnormalities or congenital defects.

Never detected in any of your scans.

Sometimes these things just happened, and no one could explain why.

Sometimes these things just happened.

Being so far along…it would have to be a D&E…could be performed right here in the office…recovery could take up to a couple weeks…

Sometimes these things just happened.

No one could explain why.

Sometimes these things just happened.

Why?

That was the only question, the only thought at all, that kept echoing in your mind after it was all said and done and Bobby finally brought you home, your body feeling battered beyond repair.

You didn’t cry at all those first couple days, when the anesthesia and the grogginess were still working their way out of your system. You saw the silent tears that streamed down Bob’s face as he held you—he’d taken off two weeks from work to take care of you in the aftermath of the procedure—but you just couldn’t understand. It was like your mind was trying to shield you from the awful reality, from the truth that your baby was gone, by blocking out any consciousness of it.

But that fragile illusion could only last so long.

When you woke one morning to painful cramps, tears glistening on your lashes before you had even opened your eyes, you sat up with a gasp and pushed the covers back, only to find your inner thighs and sheets soaked with blood.

You didn’t even realize you were screaming until Bob came frantically running into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the sight before him as he rushed to your side, cradling your face in his hands until you met his gaze.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he assured you, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “I’m here.”

“The blood, Bobby, the bl—”

“The doctor said it was normal. That it might happen for a couple weeks after the—after the—”

He couldn’t say it, but you knew. With sudden, sickening clarity, the pieces fell into place inside your brain and you could no longer hide from the truth of it.

Your baby was gone.

Once the tears came, they couldn’t stop.

Bob tried everything in his power to give you the comfort that you needed. He held you tightly as you sobbed for hours on end. He patiently accepted how you pushed him away whenever your paralyzing grief turned to raging anger, and he was quick to offer words of forgiveness when you tearfully apologized afterwards. He made sure you ate, made sure you took your medication, made sure you bathed each day, even when the thought of getting out of bed seemed an insurmountable task.

He was so good to you. He loved you so much. Through the haze of your own grief, you knew he was grieving, too. And yet, as the weeks passed into months, you found it harder and harder to talk to him.

There were just no words. Not even for the man who shared the burden of a grief as heavy and desperate as your own.

You had tried so hard in the beginning to make everyone see. To help them understand how you felt. But how could they? Your friends and family were so supportive, constantly checking in and asking what they could do to help, but the answer was nothing. They could do nothing to help. They couldn’t bring your baby back, and that was all you wanted.

Your grief was all-encompassing. You felt like you were drowning in it, and you couldn’t figure out how to make them understand that. You couldn’t make them see that you didn’t know how you were supposed to go on, living with this giant hole in your heart. It felt impossible that someone could still be able to breathe and walk and talk and go through life when their heart had been destroyed so completely.

But still, you tried. For weeks, you tried. You saw the sympathy, the sadness, the desire to help in your loved ones’ eyes. But you never saw that flicker of understanding.

No one understood.

A month after your miscarriage, you decided to try going back to work.

“Are you sure?” Bob asked, worry furrowing his brow after you told him of your intentions. “Mr. Buchanan said you could take as much time as you needed,” he reminded you. Your boss had always been a kind man, and that had proven to be even more the case in the wake of your unimaginable loss.

“I know, but I think it might be good to try getting out of the house. Maybe it will help start to take my mind off things,” you told him, trying to offer him a smile, though you had a feeling it came out more like a grimace.

“Okay, sweetheart. But only if you’re sure,” Bob nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He drove you to work the next day, squeezing your hand encouragingly before you could climb out of the car. “I’m going to keep my phone on me at work today. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

As it turned out, you needed him much more quickly than you could have anticipated.

After only being back in the office for a few hours, you locked yourself in the bathroom, the tears streaming down your face as you pulled out your cell phone with trembling hands and called your husband.

“Sweetheart?” Bob’s voice sounded anxious over the line as he picked up after only one ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Bobby, please,” you sniffled, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “I need you to come get me.”

Your husband didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Bob was the one who spoke to Mr. Buchanan, wrapping his arm around you and shielding you from the curious glances of co-workers as he led you out of the office building where you’d been working for the past few years.

Neither of you spoke on the drive home. Bob kept his gaze firmly on the road ahead, and you stared out the window, tears streaming down your cheeks.

It wasn’t until the two of you were finally back inside your house and seated on the couch in the living room that Bob slowly asked, “Sweetie, what happened?”

That was when you broke down completely.

“They didn’t even care!” you sobbed, your voice breaking as your shoulders slumped forward and you buried your face in your hands. “They didn’t even—they didn’t—” You could barely catch your breath, you were crying so hard.

“Hey, hey,” Bob murmured soothingly, moving closer to you and wrapping one strong arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his chest and resting his chin atop your head. “Slow down, sweetheart. You’re going to make yourself sick,” he told you in a gentle voice, rubbing slow circles on your back until you calmed down somewhat, small hiccups escaping your lips. “They didn’t what?” he prompted carefully, once he thought you had regained some of your composure.

You looked up at him then, your face streaked with tears and your eyes brimming with a pain he would have given anything in the world to take away from you.

“I—I wanted to t-talk about the—the baby,” you explained in a shaky voice, laying your head on his shoulder as he continued to rub your back. “I just—I wanted to talk. But—but no one would let me. Every time I tried, they just told me how sorry they were and then changed the subject. One w-woman even told me that it would be okay because soon I’d have another b-baby and then I’d forget all about this.” When you looked up at your husband, you saw the pained expression on his face at your words. “Forget about it? How could I ever forget about it? How?” you wailed.

Bob’s jaw clenched as he held you closer, brushing your hair away from your face and pressing kisses to your temple and the top of your head. “People try to be nice, but sometimes they don’t understand how ignorant their words are—how hurtful they can be, whether they mean them to be or not,” he said, his voice pinched as he tried to remain calm and steady for you.

“No one cared, Bobby! They didn’t even want to know his name! It’s like he didn’t matter, like he didn’t even exist. But he did!” you cried, wrapping your arms around your husband’s neck and clinging to him as you fell apart.

“Yes, he did, sweetheart. He did. He was our son,” Bob whispered, leaning back on the couch and pulling you onto his chest as you continued to weep.

You and Bob had known you were having a baby boy. You’d found out just a few weeks before you’d lost him.

“A boy! Oh my goodness, Bobby, a boy!” you’d exclaimed happily when you’d opened the envelope from your doctor’s office. “Are you happy, honey?” you asked, wrapping your arms around your husband and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Bob beamed proudly, turning slightly so that he could capture your lips with his own in a sweet kiss. “So happy, sweetheart. I love you so much,” he whispered, resting a hand on your small bump. “You and our little guy.”

The two of you had even picked out a name—Oliver Robert Floyd.

“We could call him Ollie,” you giggled one night as you and Bob were lying together in bed, fingers intertwined as you dreamed together of who your baby would be.

“I like that,” Bob nodded, his face splitting into a wide grin as he gazed at you. “And who knows? Maybe he’ll end up with a call sign of his own one day,” he teased.

“Oh, would you like that? To be an aviator like Daddy?” you asked, glancing down at your belly and poking gently. You felt a tiny flutter in response, which made your heart sing. “He says he’d like that,” you told Bob, laughing brightly as your husband lowered his head to kiss you.

But Ollie would never get to be an aviator like his daddy. He would never get to be a little boy with big dreams. He would never get to be a man who carried on all the things you and Bob had taught him. He would never get to be anything.

Your son was gone.

But he had been here once. He had been real. You had felt him.

You couldn’t just forget him. You would never forget him.

And yet your co-workers and colleagues didn’t even care to know that he had a name.

After that disastrous first day back to work, everything started to go downhill. Mr. Buchanan said you could take as much time off as you needed, and you did. You didn’t want to go anywhere. You didn’t want to do anything. You didn’t want to see anyone. You just wanted to be left alone.

No one understood. No one knew what it was like to have to say goodbye to the child you had never even gotten to meet, never gotten to hold in your arms or give gentle kisses to. No one knew what it was to wake up every day and wonder who your child could have been, would have been, should have been.

It was a pain, a grief, an agony that you carried alone.

As time continued to pass, and the hurt only seemed to get worse and not better, you found it too difficult even to talk to your husband about it. And that hurt, because you loved your Bobby more than anything in the world. But as the weeks continued to slip by, it felt like he was able to move forward, to continue with his life, while you were caught in this intangible place of mourning. He was moving on, and you were stuck here, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do much of anything.

Bob could feel the distance growing between the two of you. You knew he could. He’d reach for you, and you’d stiffen or pull away. He’d try to talk, and you’d tell him you were tired and needed to lay down.

The hurt that flashed across his face each time you pulled away was like a constant knife in your heart, but you didn’t know what to do. The chasm just kept widening every day, and you no longer knew how to cross it.

“I stopped by Dr. Morales’ office today on my lunch break and picked this up,” Bob told you one night when he returned home from work. You were sitting on the couch and just blinked at him blankly. He set the glossy pamphlet down in front of you. “It’s for a support group at the hospital. For women who have miscarried or lost their babies. Dr. Morales highly recommended it. He thinks it would be good for you.”

You just stared down at the pamphlet, but didn’t make a move to grab it. You didn’t say anything either, just continued to sit in silence.

“Sweetheart, I really think that we should—”

“I’m tired,” you said flatly, rising off the couch slowly and turning in the direction of your bedroom.

“Sweetie, please.” Bob begged, reaching for your hand, which you swiftly pulled out of his grasp.

“I just want to be alone,” you snapped, more harshly than you intended. Swallowing, you tried to look away from the pain that bloomed across your husband’s face.

“Of course, I’m sorry. I just…” Bob sighed, hanging his head. “Go get some rest.”

Turning away and fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over once more, you wrapped your arms around yourself and stumbled on unsteady feet towards your room. You resolutely refused to look at the door on your right as you passed by it, the door that had remained firmly shut since the day you had been given the news that your baby had no heartbeat.

All you wanted to do was sleep. At least when you were asleep, you could escape the pain that had been your constant companion these past four months. Not to mention, you could also escape the reality of the constant pain you’d been inflicting on your husband lately.

He was so good, so full of gentleness and love and compassion, and you just felt so broken.

Crawling under the covers, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to think about how perfect things had seemed just a few months ago.

When you woke with a start a few hours later, your bedroom swathed in darkness, you were startled to realize your husband wasn’t beside you. It felt as though he’d never come to bed at all. Trying to swallow back the nausea you sensed rising up your throat, you pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed slowly, padding across the room on quiet feet.

When you opened your bedroom door, you were met with darkness in the rest of the house.

Where was he?

Taking a tentative step into the hallway, you began moving slowly in the direction of the living room and that was when you saw the light up ahead. It was faint, as it was spilling from behind a door that was only partially ajar.

The door you hadn’t opened in four months.

You felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, but you forced your feet to keep moving, one in front of the other Your pulse quickened in your veins and your breathing grew more shallow the closer you came, until you were standing right outside the room.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you carefully pushed on the door to your son’s nursery, widening the opening without stepping inside.

You had thought your heart was already broken beyond repair, but what you saw in that moment proved that that must not have been true, because you surely felt your heart break all over again.

There, kneeling on the floor beside the crib that he had proudly spent hours putting together with his own two hands, was your sweet husband, cradling the little teddy bear that the two of you had bought not long after you first discovered you were pregnant. The first gift you’d purchased for your baby boy.

Bob had his face buried in the bear’s fuzzy belly, his back turned so that he didn’t see you standing in the doorway. You were fairly certain he wouldn’t have been able to see you anyway, not through the tears.

Your husband was weeping, a heart wrenching sound that immediately cut through the fog that had been blanketing your heart and mind for weeks.

Letting out a soft cry, you immediately raced into the room that you had sworn you would never look at again—the nursery that you and Bob had spent so many happy weeks designing and decorating and organizing before all your big dreams had come to a crashing halt. Collapsing on the floor beside your husband, you wrapped your arms around him and held him close as he cried.

“Why?” Bob rasped, the tears streaming down his face as he lifted his head slightly, still clutching the teddy bear tightly to his chest. “Why?”

You felt the tears running down your own face as you shook your head, cradling his head against your chest and running your fingers through his honeyed hair. “I don’t know. I keep asking myself that same thing, but I don’t know. I don’t have any answers,” you admitted, resting your cheek against his soft hair.

Bob clung to you desperately, like a drowning man would cling to a life preserver. You held him just as tightly, the two of you weeping together in the center of the nursery your son would never get to see.

“I miss him,” Bob confessed quietly, his voice laced with such agony that it pierced you straight through. “He should be here with us, and he isn’t, and it isn’t right. It isn’t right,” he sniffed, his tears soaking the front of your shirt. “I miss him so much.”

“Oh, honey, I miss him, too. More than words can describe,” you cried, stroking his hair. “Every day, I wake up and for a second I think I’m going to feel him still inside me, or hear him crying in the nursery, and then reality hits me and I—I just can’t do it. I can’t even get out of bed some days.”

“I don’t want to either most days,” Bob told you, looking up to meet your gaze with his watery blue eyes. He’d never told you that before. “I wake up in the morning and I go through the motions and I get in the car and drive to work and I cry the whole way there.”

“You do?” you asked in surprise, eyes widening slightly. “You never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Bob admitted, suddenly looking ashamed. “I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to be your rock.”

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, reaching to cup your husband’s face in your hands.

“You’ve been through so much, and you’ve been suffering, and I didn’t want to add to any of your pain or make it harder for you in any way. I wanted to take it all away. And I knew I couldn’t do that if you were worrying about me on top of everything else,” he explained, a few stray tears trickling down his cheeks, which you brushed away with your thumbs.

“We’ve both been through so much,” you insisted, caressing his cheek lightly. “And you shouldn’t have to carry your grief alone. We’re supposed to carry it together,” you told him, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes for a moment. You took a deep breath before opening them again and continuing, “I thought—I thought maybe you were moving on.”

“What? No! Never,” Bob shook his head adamantly, cupping the back of your head and holding you close to him. “Did you think—oh, God, you didn’t think that I was just getting over it, did you?”

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as you choked back a sob. “I didn’t know what to think. It felt like—I knew you were grieving, but our grieving looked so different and I didn’t understand yours and it felt like you were moving forward and I was just stuck here and I was going to be left behind because you were learning how to live with it and how to move on and I couldn’t and I—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bob gasped, the teddy bear still clutched in one of his hands as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his nose against yours, seeking an intimate, close contact with you. “Oh, my love. No, no, no. I would never leave you behind. Never,” he promised, his lips brushing warmly against your forehead. “I was struggling because I didn’t know how to help you. It felt like everything I said was the wrong thing and every time I tried to get closer, you kept pulling back, and I was so scared to see you withdrawing like that, and I just didn’t want to push you too far. But I should have been honest with you. I should have let you see that I’ve been struggling, too. So much.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry,” you apologized tearfully, burying your face in his neck. “It’s been so hard trying to make people understand how I’m feeling. But I realize now that, as much as they may love me and want to help, they’ll never really be able to understand. But you do. You lost him, the same way that I did. You’re the only person I can share this grief with. And I’m so sorry that I pushed you away instead.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Bob murmured softly, wiping your tears away with gentle fingers. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. Grief is messy, and right now we’re in the middle of the mess. I don’t know how long we’ll be here. Maybe a part of us will be here forever. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone but you. And I want us to get through this together,” he said, taking your hand in his and squeezing it tenderly.

“I want that, too,” you whispered, your voice cracking on the last word.

Bob pulled you into his lap and the two of you sat for a while in silence, your husband rocking you slowly back and forth as you sat on the floor of the nursery. You looked around at the walls, which you and Bob had painted a light blue—“Like the sky,” Bob had smiled when you’d chosen the color.

“I thought I’d never be able to come in here again,” you confessed, biting down on your lower lip. “I thought—I thought it would hurt too much.”

“I know,” Bob nodded, kissing the tip of your nose. “I know you never wanted this door open. But tonight, I just felt like I had to come in here. And when I did—well, it felt like a moment frozen in time, y’know? I looked at the crib and the rocking chair and the toys and the clothes and I just…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I just broke down. I just kept thinking about what could have been. What should have been. And who he would have been,” he murmured, running his fingers through the ends of your hair. “Sometimes I feel so broken, and other times I feel so angry.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” you told him, curling up against his chest. “I feel the same way.” You paused for a moment, turning something over in your mind before you went on. “I think part of me is afraid to let go of all this grief and anger because—well, because it’s all I have left. And if I let it go, I feel like it means I’m letting him go,” you admitted, your voice breaking as you started to cry again. “And I don’t want to let him go. I don’t.”

“Oh, honey,” Bob whispered comfortingly, squeezing you close to his chest. “I don’t want to let him go either. But you know what?”

“What?” you sniffled, wiping at your nose and looking up at your husband.

“We don’t have to,” he told you, grasping your chin in his hand and gazing deeply into your eyes. “He will always be our son. Always. No matter what some lady at work or anybody else says. He wasn’t just some moment, here one minute and gone the next. We’ll always have him.”

You nodded at that, your tears trickling down your cheeks and soaking his hand, which was still holding onto your chin firmly.

“But I don’t think that means we have to hold onto the pain forever,” Bob continued, kissing away your tears with gentle lips. “The grief will always be with us. We’ll carry it in our hearts forever. But I do believe that we’re going to be happy again. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But soon. We’re going to be okay, sweetheart. I know we are.”

And for the first time in four months, you really believed that. For the first time since your life had come to a standstill, you had hope that tomorrow would be a brighter day. Like Bob said, the grief would always be there, a pain that you would have to learn to live with over time. And you would learn to live with it, so long as you had this man by your side.

Shifting in Bob’s arms so that you were facing him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, a bit shyly at first and then with more confidence. “I love you so much, Robert Floyd. I always will. Forever.”

Bob smiled, a genuine smile, and cupped your cheek in his hand as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “I love you with all my heart. Forever and always.”

The two of you sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a while longer until Bob finally rose, lifting you up as well. “Do you mind if I bring this with us to our room?” he asked, holding up the teddy bear he’d been holding tightly to all this time.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you told him with a small smile, leaning against his side as he led you out of the nursery. Once the both of you were out in the hallway, he reached back to shut the lights off and was going to close the door, when you suddenly said, “Leave it open.”

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked down at you.

You were quiet for a moment, but then you nodded. “I’m sure.”

Gazing at you proudly, Bob slipped his arm around your waist and led you down the hallway to your bedroom, where the two of you slipped under the covers and found your way back into one another’s arms.

And as you slowly fell asleep, resting safely atop your husband’s chest, you realized the ache in your chest had lessened for the very first time.

You and Bob would survive this grief, together.

You would be okay.

Your husband had finally given you the words you had been searching for.

#top gun taylors version #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x wife!reader #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman

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ouralcohol · 1 year

Text

Blurbs with Bob

AN: A little snippet of domestic life with Bob. Fluff, fluff and more fluff. @withahappyrefrain for you my darling girl.

He was an early riser. Always had been. Ever since he was a small kid he had been one to wake up early. Bob liked to wake up with the sun. Today was no different. It had been the first time in a long time that he was home with you. Needless to say, the night before had been eventful.

You and Bob had gotten lost underneath the sheets– like lovers do. He had made you see heaven multiple times– a high feeling that only he could make you reach. Of course, you had done the same for him. A picture of you could only do so much for him. Thankfully, last night had proven just how much you had missed each other. With the bed being so warm thanks to your husband being home, it was a welcomed feeling. It was something that you always cherished since you knew that time with him was limited. Which was a surprise when you turned on your side and didn’t find the warmth that you had so much craved after the past couple of months.

You forgot how long he had been gone for, and you should be used to it by now, but it was always a missing feeling when he wasn’t there. You opened one eye and groaned to yourself, knowing full well exactly where he would be in your home. You see, Robert loved to read the newspaper every morning while the sun rose on the windowsill with a coffee in his hand. He always walked out to the front porch to grab it. Which was exactly where you found him.

The smell of coffee filled your senses as you stretched while quietly walking up to where he was sitting. This was how you always pictured him. This was home. This was the life that you envisioned every day even when he wasn’t around. Robert had a way of making you picture things without feeling afraid for the future. “Mornin’ sweet girl.” Robert said while a soft smile grazed his lips. You twiddled with your wedding ring as you made yourself cozy on his lap with a soft smile on your face.

Bob absentmindedly wrapped his arm around your waist while holding the paper with one hand and the coffee mug with his other. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his lenses today, eyebrows furrowed, “Eyes are tired. I can read it just fine.” He told you, immediately making you wonder how the hell he even knew what you were thinking without having to say anything. Then again, he had known you for a long part of your life. Should it be a surprise? Not really, but he always kept you on your toes without meaning to. You nodded silently and placed a soft kiss to his cheek, enjoying the company he gave you more than anything in the world. When he was around, he complimented you so well. When he wasn’t, you only thought about how he made you feel when he was. It was a cycle, and it only made you miss him more.

Bob leaned his head to where it was resting on the crook of your neck as he continued to read, your heart picking up a pace. He always made you feel this way, especially on quiet mornings like this. “You know I love you right?” Bob mumbled while still looking at the paper, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks. You softly nodded, eyes averted to the newspaper to ignore the feeling it gave you. “Always and forever.” You replied. “Ever mine, ever thine, ever ours.” He promised you.

Bob always knew what to say to make you feel like the only person in the world that belonged to him.

#robert bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #top gun fanfiction #top gun edit #top gun bob #robert bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #sweet girl #alch's blurbs #top gun #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x wife reader #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic

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nobitchs-world · 1 year

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That dreadful feeling when I realize the character I like doesn’t sell drugs or have a blaccent so there won’t be any x black reader with said character

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #jimmy darling x reader #kit walker x reader #jpm x reader #there should be kit walker x black reader fics didn’t he have black wife #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #adrian chase x reader #black reader #black yn

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girl-in-the-chairs-void · 1 year

Note

Hug prompts

[ OH MY GOD ] for a hug in response to one muse learning that the other’s still alive.

Bob x pilot!reader where a mission goes a little wrong and someone has to eject out of their plane while the other listens on comms.

This idea reminds me so much of the last few chapters of antidotes and poisons…BUT we must stay focused!!

Bob Floyd x pilot!wife!reader

Bob was a reserved person. Everyone was aware of it. Having trained as a WSO his entire piloting career, he had learned not to overstate. Especially when it came down to his personal life.

He was serving in Lemoore when he got the call from Admiral Cyclone to come back to Top gun. What was more of a surprise was when he found out that you had been ordered to do the same that night.

Not many people knew about your relationship, both of you weren’t in contact with a lot of your fellow graduates from Top Gun but you knew of a few. Some of the names being: Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia. They were one of the best being called back. You met all of them in your first day at the Hard Deck. Sat next to Bob as you both quietly sipped on your drinks.

This mission was not going to be an ordinary one.

Turns out it wasn’t an ordinary one. Top gun had called back 14 of its best graduates for a uranium transplant mission. Even Pete “Maverick” Mitchell was called back to train all of you for this.

It was the second week of training that was the most difficult. G-LOC was a terrifying experience for any aviator, especially when death was around the corner.

You sat in the radio room. The rest of the teams dispersed around the room as you all listened to the exercise play out. Phoenix, Bob and Coyote were up for the exercise. Coffin corner, as Mav had called it, was meant to be the extreme hill climb.

So far, no one had made out of it the same. It wasn’t looking any good for your husband that was in the air either.

“bird strike!”

You heard his frantic voice over the radio, leaning forward in the tiny stool, fingers rotating your wedding bad anxiously. The cackling only got louder and all you could hear was your heart pumping through your brain and Mav screaming;

“EJECT EJECT EJECT”

Before you could register anything else, you were on your feet and running to the tarmac. Praying that they were okay.

He landed a couple minuets later, two air ambulances had passed by in that time you were pacing back and forth.

“They’ve taken them to the hospital, they don’t know what is going to happen but they are most likely to be kept overnight.” Maverick greeted you with a small tight lipped smile, a sign of reassurance if anything.

“I can give you the address, if you’d like?” He questioned tentatively, not knowing the depth of your and Bob’s relationship but the fact that you two were close.

“That would be great, captain.”

His eyes landed on the wedding band in your grasp and he was able to put two and two together, handing you the address immediately. But before he could say anything about the situation you were taking off in the direction of your car.

Entering the hospital in a short of breath, you reached the reception desk, handing them the names of your husband and friend.

“May I ask your relationship to the patient?”

“I’m his wife. And Ph-Natasha’s friend.” You clarified.

“Thank you,” she affirmed before typing away on her computer, “they are in room 421, 2nd floor.”

“Thank you so much.”

The elevator took too long for your liking as you shifted on one door to the other. It was then you took notice of the amount of stares you were being give and realised you were still in your flight suit. Your badge and gear still attached. You gave the old lady next to you a small smile as she scrunched her nose the smell of sweat that you were giving off in the stuffy elevator.

You let out a thankful breath as the doors to the second floor opened, running through the corridor to look for their room.

418…419…420…421. Stopping in your tracks, you stood outside his room. The small window giving you a peek of him being examined by a doctor. A wave of fresh tears rolled down your cheeks as you noticed the bandaged and scratches on him.

Reluctantly you opened the door, both men looking in the direction of your intrusion.

“Hello…” you began, stumbling into the room.

“You must be Mrs. Floyd. We were just talking about you.”

“Oh, uhh, is it alright if I come in?” You asked the bearded man. He gave you a reassuring smile before taking a step back, motioning to Bob;

“He is all yours, Ma’am.”

You chuckled, stepping away from the was you let the man take his leave. You and Bob were the only ones left in the room. The only noise that came was from the AC that was mounted on the wall, blowing cold air in the small room causing you to shiver.

You slowly made your way towards him, careful not to trip in your worry. His eyes were glossy as you neared him, glasses long forgotten about on the bedside table as he opened his arms to let you in. He took notice of your tear stained face, he felt guilty about causing you pain, he always did even when it wasn’t his fault.

You clutched onto him for dear life, mindful of avoiding any bandaged areas to not cause him further pain. He tucked your head into his neck, rubbing your back up and down as your sniffles became quiet sobs.

“Oh my god..”

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. I’m here.”

“I- I thought..you..” you hiccuped, struggling to let out the words but he caught on. Carefully cradling you in his arms as he kissed the side of your head gently.

“I know baby. I’m okay, I’m with you here. You didn’t have to come all the way here, I was going to call you.”

You pulled back from him slightly, not letting go of his sides. Your brows were scrunched in confusion as you looked up at your husband.

“What do you mean you were going to call? In sickness and in health, do you not remember?”

His heart skipped a beat at the reminder of your vows. One he had taken all those years ago, of course he remembers them. But you were in the middle of training and it would have caused suspicion between the squad that you left immediately after.

Regardless, he smiled lovingly at you. Kissing your brows to smooth out the dents of confusion.

“Of course I remember. But…”

Nah uh, no buts. You are okay, that’s all that matters.” You kissed his jaw gently, cupping his cheeks before moving to his lips. They were chapped and rough but regardless you kissed him.

You heart skipped multiple bears in that moment, fireworks blasting their way into your stomach as you kissed him. It never felt tedious to kiss him, he always managed to make it feel like the first time. Causing you to act like a giddy teenager.

You pulled away, resting your forehead against his as you let out a shaky breath.

“Please don’t die on me, okay?”

“As long as you promise to do the same.” He raised his hand to his chest, extending his pinky finger towards you, encouraging you to take it.

You chuckled through your tears, wrapping your pinky finger around his as he shook it up and down before leaning in to kiss you again.

A/n; I apologise for taking so long to respond to all your requests btw. but where can I get a Bob husband??? Thank you so much anon for awaking my need to get a husband like Bob Floyd. 😭😭 Regardless than kyiu so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it?? Let me know what you think (feedback is always appreciated)?🫶🏻🫶🏻

Tags:

@lemur46 @elicheel @arson-tm @bussyslayer333 @roosterbruiser @roostersrooster @tongue-like-a-razor @ravenhood2792

#robert bob floyd #bob Floyd #bob Floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #Bob Floyd x wife reader #top gun maverick #Pav answers #Requests

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sebsxphia · 1 year

Note

Older greying daddy admiral bob and corruption kink? 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

all this greying and admiral talk is actually going to make my last shred of sanity slip

let me propose this. recently divorced daddy bob who’s starting to grey because of the stress of the divorce and using his power as admiral to fuck his pretty receptionist.

he’s taken quite the liking to you and although you always dress professionally he wishes you would show more of your thighs or more of your cleavage in those tight shirts. he hasn’t felt a warm cunt in weeks and it’s itching away at him. slowly day by day he gets in your head until you’re on your knees under his desk to relieve some of the stress he’s been talking about for weeks.

“admiral, sir. should we really do this? what if we get caught, we’ll be fired.”

“we’ll be fired? no, you’ll be fired sweetheart. i’ll be fine. now, please put that pretty mouth to good use for your admiral.”

he asks you to deep throat him and when you mutter out that you’ve never done that before he goes practically giddy and nearly spills his cum over your face then and there. he settles for a simple blowjob for today, but he’s cradling your jaw and telling you, “we can change that. daddy will teach you.”

over the course of time he gives you throat training and teaches you a number of other sexual acts, all the confines of his office. he gets rock hard when he sees you wearing shorter skirts and low cut blouses knowing he’s corrupting you to the point where you’ll do anything he asks and won’t question his intentions.

he even got you to hide under his desk one after noon and sit patiently with his cock resting heavy in your mouth while he spoke to the other admirals. when they left he pulled away from his desk and looked down at you, gently stroking your cheek.

“there’s my good girl. look at you, on your knees for daddy while there’s other admirals in the office. maybe one day i’ll fuck you in front of them, you’d like that wouldn’t you? your admiral making you come on his cock while they watch.”

i’ll see myself out :) thank you so much for this insane combination of thots my wife!! fuck me!! 💌💖🫶🏼

#💌you’ve got mail #hangmanapologist 💍#💍 my wife #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x y/n #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader

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daughter-of-aphrodite · 1 year

Text

Gravy Day

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x wife!reader (no mention of Y/N)

Written for @notroosterbradshaw's #hellodecemberplaylistchallenge. The song I chose is How to Make Gravy by Paul Kelly. If you're Aussie, you know Gravy Day. It's not Christmas without this song, and your family (and friends) must be belting it out in whatever venue you hear it.

This is so very very very late, but life got very very busy in December. Nevertheless, its here. I don't know if I like it. I also don't know if there's the side effect of having been thinking about it endlessly since December 21.

Warnings: flufffffff. Mentions infertility, pregnancy and some mental health issues.

Bob wasn’t even sure Australians spoke English half the time. Sure, some of the words sounded familiar, but there was a rough twang to each syllable. Each word shortened and oh sounds added as often as possible. What was a servo? Or an arvo, for that matter? Occasionally they used words that rhymed with the actual word they intended; his Australian wife had once referred to something as ‘tin fruited’ and then giggled for ten solid minutes at his confusion. He still wasn’t quite sure how tin fruited was code for ‘broken’.

He stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled to the elbows and hands plunged into the hot water, washing the last few Christmas dinner dishes. When she floated into view, wedding ring glinting on her finger and belly swollen beneath her velvet dress, his heart soared. There she was, his darling wife. Radiant and smiling as her mother and sister fussed after her. The absolute joy of her family here for their first Christmas with her in four years, writ large on her face.

"Can you believe it? Your last Christmas as just the two of you," his mother said, beginning to dry dishes and pile them on the bench.

"Everything okay? You look tense, Robert, dear," his mother, Lillian, whispered as she picked up a dishtowel.

Bob nudged his glasses further up his nose carefully with the back of his wrist, blushing slightly.

"Just thinking," he muttered, turning his attention back to the sink.

He dipped his hands back into the water, fishing for the cutlery he'd dumped in half an hour ago.

Bob didn't say anything. He'd hardly dared to let himself imagine life beyond the birth, terrified that he'd jinx it somehow. Each negative test, every tearful doctor's visit, every needle and anguished cry played across his mind in painful detail. It had taken so long, and now it felt so fragile. They'd waited in silent fear as each week passed until they'd reached the 'safe' time, but Bob still counted every day.

He dropped a handful of clean silverware into the dish rack, watching his father-in-law settle alongside her at the table. The pair of them bent over an instruction manual, presumably for the new Bluetooth speaker she'd gifted him.

"She's okay, Robert."

Lillian peered at him over the wire rim of her glasses, her blue eyes meeting his own. He gave a small smile.

The gentle quiet of the kitchen was suddenly broken by the loud twang of guitar chords and a loud cheer from the dining table. The bluetooth speaker roared into life, playing a song Bob didn't recognise. It was melancholy and gentle.

"Hello Dan, it's Joe here," his father-in-law's voice rolled around the room, singing along.

He offered his hand to his daughter, gently pulling her to her feet and slowly waltzing with her. Slow shuffles from side to side. She seemed to glow from the inside out.

Bob watched as his wife swayed back and forth, before he realised she was singing too. Her soft voice joining in as she looked at her father, beaming.

Hope you're keepin' well

It's the 21st of December

And now they're ringing the last bells

If he had to guess, Bob would have said the song was quintessentially Australian somehow. His wife, having let go of her father, clutched dramatic dramatically at her chest as she belted out the next line.

If I get good behaviour

I'll be outta here by July

Won't kiss my kids on Christmas Day?

"Pleeeeeeeease don't let them cry for me," they chorused, before dissolving into giggles.

Somewhere deep within Bob, something shifted. A crack in the wall anxiety built and the stones shifted and clicked. The tiniest spark of sunlight crept in and Bob felt calm settle over his heart for the first time in a long time. His ribs expanded just that little bit more as he breathed, his smile grew just that little bit wider.

Bob dried his hands and peeled away from the kitchen bench. His hands rested gently on her waist, brushing across her belly as she turned easily. Her smile still made his breath hitch and he adored the way her eyes sparkled, even beneath the kitchen lights. He took her hand in his, resting the other on her lower back, restarting the slow, lazy waltz she'd been doing with her father. The song picked up.

"What is this song about?" Bob interrupted his wife's singing as they swayed.

I guess the brothers are driving down from Queensland

And Stella's flyin' in from the coast

Her lips curled upward in a smile but she didn't answer, instead continuing on with the next line. Bob hoped their baby would have her smile.

Bob listened as she and her family, also dancing scattered around the edges of the room, reeled off the next few lines in perfect cadence.

They say it's gonna be a hundred degrees, even more maybe

But that won't stop roast

"Was that a recipe for gravy? In a song?" Bob laughed.

And give my love to Angus, and to Frank and Dolly

They'd reached the peak now, voices ringing clear across the house, drenched in amusement as they laughed through the rest of the chorus. Heads tipped back, smiles broad across their faces as they shared in the song.

Bob had no idea who Angus, Frank or Dolly were, and highly suspected this was an Australian in-joke of some sort, but the look of pure happiness on his wife's face rendered all else irrelevant.

She leaned against him, arms looped around him best she could. The feeling of her belly bumping against him with each movement made him smile, wider than he had in a while.

"Oh, I'm really starting to get in the way now," she murmured.

Bob laughed, leaning over her to kiss her head.

Oh, praise the Baby Jesus, have a Merry Christmas.

#hello december playlist challenge #notroosterbradshaw #bob fic #bob x wife!reader #christmas fic #top fun fic #robert bob floyd fic #cate wrote a thing

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daughterofthereaper02 · 2 years

Text

Okay, real quick to kinda continue with that football ask. ( The Bob x Rooster x Hangman x reader where they're playing with their kids).

They had four kids... Imagine during the pregnancy them holding the readers belly for her. Like in that tik tok trend. Especially with the twins later on in the pregnancy. And their are three of them to help her. Literally started to cry in relief and they all vowed to do this again if she ever got pregnant again. So when she had Carole, the whole pregnancy they helped her like that when she needed relief 🥺

#top gun #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x wife! reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #robert bob floyd #robert 'bob' floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader

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roosterforme · 2 months

Text

Some Things Take Time | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob is a man well known for his patience. He never rushes things in the air, and he tries to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. You and he are both on the same page about welcoming a child into your home through foster care, but it's hard for him to watch you try to bond with her unsuccessfully. He soon realizes that Avery is a lot like him, and that some things are worth the extra time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of infertility, mentions of foster care and adoption, Bob making all other men look like trash

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader

Happy birthday @wkndwlff! Check my masterlist for more!

You were laying on the couch with your head resting on your husband's lap, spinning his wedding band around on his finger while you tried to put your thoughts into words. You could tell he knew you were on the verge of speaking, sending you several expectant glances as you and he both pretended to watch the movie he started an hour ago. But Bob would never rush you, and you were thankful for that, because you wanted to make sure you got this right.

"We've been trying for a long time," you whispered, and Bob's blue eyes met yours as you looked up at him. "Almost two years."

He nodded once and smiled softly. "We have," he murmured, squeezing your hand in his larger one. You pressed your lips together as tears stung your eyes. Bob never seemed upset that he was pushing forty years old and in spite of trying and trying, you'd never gotten pregnant. He never put pressure on you to keep trying or to stop. You were convinced he never would, but you wanted to know what he was really thinking.

"What if we... stopped. Stopped trying. And just went with an alternative?"

"Honey, I already told you I'm happy with things how they are. We can stop trying if you want to, or we can talk about alternatives if you want to do that. But there's nothing wrong with just you and me. In fact, I'm really quite enjoying myself."

You closed your eyes as his fingers drifted along the curves of your side. It would be delicious to get back into the habit of having sex when you wanted to instead of when your cycle demanded it. You and Bob sharing your undivided attention with each other was something you were craving, but you still wanted something else, too.

"What if I said I wanted to look into fostering and adoption again?" you asked softly as you started to sit up.

He pulled you closer so you were straddling his thigh. "Then I would say we can call our lawyer on Monday and get some answers."

You smiled as you nudged his glasses with your nose and kissed his cheek. "And what if I said I'm not fertile today, but I want you anyway?"

Bob reached for the remote and turned the movie off as a soft blush rose in his cheeks. "Then I would say it's time we got in bed, Honey."

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

Bob was a man who was well known for his patience. He never rushed things in the air, and he tried to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. He knew he wanted to marry you about halfway through the first date. He also knew you would have looked at him like he was insane if he admitted that to you halfway through the first date. So instead of rushing things, he took the time to make sure you were on the same page he was and that you were comfortable. He always tried to do that.

When a baby just didn't seem to be happening, he was more than willing to keep trying, but he was also completely content with the idea of no kids at all. It wasn't worth rushing anything as long as he had you in his life. But you had recently convinced him of a third option, and his lawyer helped the two of you smooth out the details.

And this is how Avery ended up at Bob's house on a random Monday evening. She was eight years old and in need of a foster family, and you were adamant when you answered the phone call that you and Bob were more than ready for her to be dropped off even on such short notice.

"I'm so nervous," you whispered as you held Bob's hand and watched through the front window as a van pulled up.

"I'm excited," he told you with a soft laugh. When he thought about having kids, he always pictured a little girl. For some reason, the idea of reading princess stories and painting a bedroom a putrid shade of purple really appealed to him. As he watched Avery being led up the walkway, he realized she didn't look one bit like you or him. He also realized that having a child who resembled him was actually never part of his dreams.

As the doorbell rang, you bounced in place and whispered, "She's here. She's really here."

Bob pulled you in for a kiss as his heart thudded. He realized he needed to tamp down his excitement a little bit. The two of you were merely fostering Avery. Nothing was set in stone even though you told the lawyer you wanted to eventually adopt a child. But right now your eyes were glittering with hope and anticipation, and Bob couldn't take that away from you.

"Let's make her feel welcome," he said as you both headed for the door.

Avery stood there with an unreadable expression on her adorable face, and Bob noticed right away how the case worker seemed to rush through everything. There were papers to sign and a schedule to keep, and even though all of it pertained to Avery, she ended up sitting quietly at the kitchen table while everyone else talked about her.

It was late by the time you and Bob were alone with her, and now her unreadable expression looked something like sadness. "Avery," Bob said softly. "Do you want to see your bedroom?"

She looked up at him and nodded without saying a word, and then you helped her down from the chair. You had taken the time to freshen up the extra bedroom and buy a pink glitter toothbrush and a pair of pajamas in her size. But Avery just sat down on the edge of the bed with her bag and asked, "Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"

"Yes," Bob replied with a smile. "I'll drop you off on my way to work, and then I'll pick you up in the afternoon."

When she didn't respond, you asked, "Is there anything you want? A bedtime snack or something to drink? I could make you some hot chocolate or get you a cookie. Bob makes the best oatmeal cookies, and there are a few left from the weekend. Maybe you can help Bob make the next batch." You were rambling now, and Bob reached out to squeeze your hand as you said, "We're just excited that you're here."

But Avery shook her head and told you, "I'll just read my book. Thanks." Then she untied her shoes and took a well worn copy of The Secret Garden from her bag, but she sat on the bed with rigid posture, not looking at either of you.

Bob wasn't quite sure what to do. You'd already shown the child where the bathroom was, and she seemed to have all of her essentials. He swallowed hard, deciding not to rush Avery even though he could feel your disappointment radiating off of you. He cleared his throat and said, "We'll leave our bedroom door open in case you need anything. And we'll get you up around seven for school. Good night, Avery."

She just nodded and squinted down at the tattered book cover like she was going to cry. Bob led you down the hallway, through your room and into the en suite bathroom where he gathered you in his arms as tears filled your eyes. "I don't think she likes us," you gasped before you buried your face against his neck.

Bob kissed the top of your head and whispered, "I just think she needs some time. Let's not rush anything."

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

You cried yourself to sleep the first night. You knew that your response wasn't fair to Bob or Avery or even to yourself, but you'd imagined meeting a little girl who was at least a little bit more talkative if not upbeat. You had your hopes set on fostering a child who at least gave the impression that your home was better than another alternative. You'd been given a vague picture of where Avery had come from, and you wanted her to be comfortable here, but now you felt stupid for buying the glitter toothbrush and the Minnie Mouse pajamas.

Bob's hand drew lazy circles on your back as you turned away from him and cried softly. "It's just the first night," he reminded you in that sweet, even tone that you loved so much.

"I know. I just wanted this so desperately," you admitted between shaky breaths. His hand on your body helped you eventually fall asleep, and the next morning, Bob was up before you, making breakfast. When you tapped on Avery's door which was ajar, you poked your head in to find her once again sitting on the bed reading.

"Did you sleep okay?" you asked, and she nodded in response. "That's great!" you said in a tone of forced excitement. "Do you need help getting ready for school?"

"No," she said softly, setting the book aside.

You took a deep breath and said, "Bob's making breakfast. Do you want to come downstairs and eat?"

"Yes."

That was the last word you heard her speak before Bob led her out to his car in his uniform. He smiled at you over his shoulder as he told you to have a good day working on your true crime novel, but you knew you weren't going to. You spend two hours trying to write, but you ended up with three and a half new sentences. Instead, you spent most of the day thinking you'd made a huge mistake and hating your own body. Avery would probably last two weeks tops with you and Bob before she was begging to go somewhere else. You didn't even know if you could stand to see her melancholy little expression when your husband brought her home from school today, but you didn't want to call her case worker for help yet.

In the afternoon, you bought everything you needed to make oatmeal cookies along with the rest of your usual groceries. You paused next to the checkout line where there was a display of children's books and grabbed a few of them. Avery appeared to like her book more than anything else, so maybe she would appreciate these ones, too.

But when Bob brought Avery home with him after school, she barely spoke. She didn't want to help make any cookies, and after dinner, she went back to her bedroom. Bob tried to help her with her homework, but she told him it was easy and she already finished it. When you dropped off the new books, she told you she already had a favorite.

"Oh," you said, standing in the doorway with your hands full of the unwanted books. "That's good... that you have a favorite. I have a favorite book, too."

She looked up at you and nodded, but soon you were backing out of the room and trying to hide your tears from Bob. "It takes time," he reassured you as you balled your hands into fists and cried on him again.

You knew you needed to be as patient as he always was, but you just weren't like him. And you started talking before you could stop yourself. "If we could have gotten pregnant, we'd have our own child," you sobbed. "One that we raised from day one who would love us and bake cookies and read new books."

Bob kissed your ear and whispered, "Nothing is easy, Honey. But sometimes the harder something is at first, the more rewarding it is later on."

You cried yourself to sleep again.

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

Bob tried his best for that first week. He watched you start to pull away and retreat into yourself the more Avery kept to her bedroom. Every day when he dropped her off and picked her up, she thanked him for the ride. When he asked if she would rather start taking the bus, she told him it didn't matter. When he asked if there was something special she wanted to eat for dinner, she said she wasn't picky.

And all the while she just squinted down at her book. Just The Secret Garden even though you brought home some others. When he pulled up to the curb in front of her school one morning, he said, "Avery, would you like me to take you to the library one day? Or maybe a bookstore where you can pick out what you want?"

She looked at him as she grabbed her backpack in one hand and her book in the other. "Maybe." Then she climbed out of the car, and he waited to pull away until she was inside the school building. That was the most promising answer he'd received yet. He drove to work thinking about signing her up for a library card, and when he got there, he was in a much better mood.

Natasha was the only one who knew that Avery was under his care. He didn't want to give anyone too many details, but she sweetly asked him the same question every morning after they got to work. "How are you and the Mrs. making out with your houseguest?"

And this morning, he said, "Maybe a little better today, Nat. I'm just trying not to rush it."

She patted him on the chest and smiled. "You never do, Bob. You're a man of details."

She was right. He spent the day thinking about all of the details that he knew about Avery. She was eight years old and very quiet. She only wanted to read one book even though you offered her more. She seemed to find the most comfort when she was alone. She was honestly a lot like Bob.

When he picked Avery up from school, he watched as one of the teachers patted the top of her backpack and sent her on her way. She squinted toward his car before trudging over in his direction with a frown on her face. Bob sighed as she climbed into the backseat and buckled herself in. "How was your day, Avery?" he asked as he shifted into drive. But today he got no verbal response at all. Instead he heard her crying.

Without another word, Bob pulled his car around and into an empty parking spot before killing the engine. He opened his door and closed it before taking a few deep breaths, and then he climbed in the back door and settled in next to the crying child. He let one hand gently rest on her shoulder, giving her a small squeeze before asking, "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

She just shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks, and she stared at her feet. "It's stupid."

Bob smiled slightly. "You might think so, but I'd probably find what you have to say fascinating."

She turned her head to look at him, examining his face to see if he was being honest. But of course he was. He just wanted her to tell him what was on her mind. It took a few minutes before she started to settle down, but eventually she said, "I failed my eye exam with the nurse today." She unzipped her bag and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper and handed it to him. "She told me my eyesight is terrible and that I need to get glasses."

Bob looked at the page and had to hide his alarm from her. Avery failed her eye exam spectacularly. It was a wonder to Bob that she was even able to see in her classroom. But now her squinting and her preference for one, well worn book were starting to make sense. As he filled in the blanks in his mind, he said, "Glasses aren't so bad," while he tapped his own silver frames. "They certainly make my day a lot easier."

She kind of rolled her eyes and said, "But you're an adult. People aren't going to make fun of you for wearing glasses."

"You think you'll get made fun of?" Bob asked softly, folding the yellow paper in half.

"Yes," she replied immediately as she wiped at her tears. "I already do. Glasses will make it so much worse."

Bob wanted to press her for more details, but he didn't think this was the right moment. Instead he asked, "Is that why you only like to read The Secret Garden? Because you already know most of the words by heart?"

Avery looked at him like she couldn't believe he solved a very complex riddle. "Yes."

He nodded and asked, "Would you like to be able to read other books, too? Because glasses would definitely help with that."

She shrugged and sniffed as she said, "I like books about gardens and flowers and fairies. I don't know of any other ones I would like anyway."

Bob patted her on the shoulder one more time and said, "I like those kinds of books, too. And I think I can help you get glasses that look cool and help you pick out more books. If you'll let me."

Another partial shrug was his only answer, but at least she wasn't telling him no. As he climbed back into the driver's seat, he sent you a quick text telling you that he and Avery were fine and to go ahead and have dinner on your own. Then he drove along to his optometrist's office, hoping they would squeeze an extra appointment into their schedule.

"You're in luck," the receptionist told him when they arrived. "There was a last minute cancellation. Have a seat, and we can take you back shortly."

The rack hanging on the wall was filled with books and magazines for people of all ages, but Bob watched Avery squint as she took a seat empty handed. He skimmed a magazine and offered to read an article to her, but she said no. When ten minutes had passed, Bob asked her, "Are the kids at school mean to you?"

He was already considering other options that might make her feel more comfortable when she said, "I just don't fit in. Everyone else has parents or grandparents. Everyone else is loud, and I like it better when it's quiet. Everyone else already made friends."

Bob nodded his head. It was like she was living his own childhood in many ways. "I like it better when it's quiet, too. So does my wife. And making friends can be hard at any age. I still struggle with it."

"You do?" she asked him, eyes wide and interested.

"Absolutely. Sometimes I still get nervous and stumble over what I want to say, and I'm thirty-nine. And you know what?"

"What?"

"There's nothing wrong with that."

He watched Avery take a deep breath and look down at her hands before both of their names were called. Once they were in the exam room, Bob got to witness her fail the test for the second time in one day, and then her tears started up again. The crying was only made worse when the receptionist popped in and tried to quietly tell Bob that Avery wasn't approved for any vision insurance.

The child was clearly smart as a whip, and if she was having a hard time fitting in at school, he didn't want to make it worse by making her feel like she didn't fit in with you and him either. "I was planning on paying out of pocket today," he told the receptionist who just nodded in response. Then he turned to Avery and said, "Looks like the nurse was right. How about we pick out some glasses?"

She looked at the displays while she wiped at her eyes with a tissue, but she wouldn't tell Bob which ones she wanted to try on. "Which ones are the cheapest?" she asked softly.

"I have no idea," Bob replied easily. "What's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she whispered, and Bob followed her squinting gaze to a purple frame sitting on a shelf above her head.

"I like purple, too," he said as he reached them down and handed them to her. She held them for a couple minutes, and Bob decided not to rush her. She finally slipped them on and looked in the mirror, and he told her, "I think they look cool."

She nodded a little bit. "They're pretty good. But nobody else at school has purple glasses."

As she removed them and tried to hand them back to him, Bob quickly looked at the adult sized frames. There was one pair that came in a deep purple, and he kind of liked them. "Just hang onto those for a minute. I need help picking out new glasses for myself, okay? What do you think about these?"

When he removed his wire frames and replaced them with the purple plastic, it seemed like Avery couldn't help but smile. "I like them."

He nodded once. "Then I'll get them. That way we can match since we both like purple. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome," she replied quietly, looking at the glasses she was still holding before handing them to Bob.

He took both pairs in his hand before nodding toward the door. "I'm feeling like it's a good day to get ice cream for dinner and look around the bookstore. I can think of at least two more books that you might like to read once your glasses are ready for you to wear. Sound good?"

"Yes."

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

You didn't know what to expect when Bob brought Avery home after seven o'clock on a school night, but you definitely weren't prepared to hear her laughter for the first time. You'd barely made any progress on your novel since Avery arrived a few weeks ago, merely existing in your own funk all day long. But the sound of Bob's voice followed by her light giggle as they walked inside left you feeling better than you had in ages.

"Hi," you said, your voice dripping with optimism as Bob headed your way with a shopping bag in his hand.

"Hi, Honey," he replied, kissing your cheek while Avery took her shoes off.

"How was school?" you asked her.

"Terrible," she told you with a smile aimed up at Bob. "I failed my eye exam."

"Oh," you gasped, already making a mental note to call the eye doctor first thing in the morning so she could get some glasses. "We can take care of it for you."

"Already did," Bob said as he squeezed your hand. "Stopped on the way home and picked them out. Should be ready next week."

"Really?" you asked in surprise as he pulled two books out of the bag. Both were covered in vines and flowers, but one was clearly a novel for an adult while the other was much slimmer and looked like it was for Avery's reading level.

"Yes," he replied softly. "Now, on the drive home, I told Avery that you're a writer, but that you're also really good at reading books out loud." When you nodded and looked at her, she was squinting up at you. Bob handed you the smaller book and said, "I didn't get to take a shower before I left work, so I need to go do that now. But I promised Avery that you'd read a chapter to her after she gets ready for bed." He patted her on the shoulder and then made his way upstairs.

Your head was swimming with information. New glasses and new books and a child who was looking up at you with hope in her eyes. A husband who set up some time for you to spend alone with her. Tears stung your eyes as you said, "I love reading books out loud. Do you want to change for bed and brush your teeth now?"

Ten minutes later, you were sitting next to Avery on the spare bed, reading to her about a magical garden filled with flowers that turned the characters into superheroes. You read all sixteen pages of the first chapter, and then she asked you to read more.

It was a little bit past bedtime when you finished the third chapter, and she was yawning. "How about I go get you one of my bookmarks from my office? And we can read more tomorrow night?"

"Okay," she replied easily, and when you returned a minute later with a bookmark that had a purple tassel, she smiled. "I like this book so far, but I think I'd like it a lot better if there were fairies, too. Thank you for reading to me."

"You're very welcome," you told her, barely shutting off the light in time for a tear to slide down your cheek. "Goodnight, Avery."

When you rushed into your own bedroom, Bob was in bed reading the other new book. "How did you do it?" you asked him, quickly climbing under the covers with him. "How did you get her to open up a little bit?"

He set the book down with a soft smile. "She just needed some time, Honey. She's a lot like me. She can't be rushed."

"No," you said, pushing your fingers through his hair as you cried a little bit. "That's not it. I think you're actually magical."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But her vision is so bad. That's why I think she kept reading The Secret Garden. She probably has it memorized and didn't want to tell anyone she couldn't see."

"Poor thing," you whispered, realizing that most of Bob's magic came from his patience as you fell asleep in his arms.

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

A week later, Bob noticed you were exhausted, but you seemed a lot happier, because Avery seemed a lot happier. You had successfully read two books to her, and she was starting to become more vocal around the house. He was hoping she was having an easier time making friends at school now, too. But he was a little bit concerned with how late into the night you'd been working.

When he got a message around lunchtime letting him know both pairs of glasses were ready, he smiled. Pretty soon Avery would be able to attempt reading a new book on her own. He sent you a text letting you know that he'd be home with Avery after a quick stop back at the optometrist's office. And when he picked her up from school, she squinted at his car before climbing in the backseat.

"Ready to go get our new glasses?" he asked before pulling out onto the road.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I've decided that wearing glasses is a better alternative than not being able to read new books. At least until I can get contacts."

Bob chuckled. "A wise choice."

A few seconds later, she asked, "Will you take me to the library this weekend? There have to be more books there that I'd like."

"Of course I'll take you to the library. We can ask the librarian to help you find you as many books as you want to read."

He hoped that would make the new glasses an even easier decision for her. He parked and led her inside where the eye doctor got them both fitted correctly before handing them a mirror. "What do you think?" Bob asked as he smiled at Avery. "I think they look cool on you."

She shrugged. "They're okay."

"Can you see better?"

"Yes," she whispered. On the way outside, she said, "Thanks for getting new glasses with me. I like yours, too."

Bob checked himself in the mirror before he backed out of the parking spot. "I think it's kind of my color."

You were waiting in the living room for them when Bob opened the front door. The house smelled like dinner cooking, and you had a stack of bound pages on the couch next to you. When you jumped to your feet, you said, "You both look great!" as you bounced in place a little bit.

"Purple is kind of our color," Avery said, making Bob laugh as you covered your massive smile with your fingertips.

"It really is," you replied, wrapping Bob in a quick hug before cautiously placing your hand on Avery's shoulder for a beat. "I have something I wanted to show you. I was hoping to get your opinion."

"Me?" she asked, looking up at you, eyes wide behind her purple frames.

"Yes," you told her softly. "I've been working on a new story for the past week, and I really think you'll be able to help me with the ending."

"What kind of story?" she asked you, and Bob slowly made his way into the kitchen where he could still hear the two of you talking.

"Well," you told her as she joined you on the couch, "it's about a fairy who gets invited to live in a magic garden. And she starts to learn how to use magic herself while a friendly witch and a kind wizard supervise her. And the garden is really pretty, and she loves it there and starts to make friends with the other creatures. Do you want to take a look at it?"

"Okay."

Bob hovered in the doorway and watched you hand the bound manuscript to the little girl next to you while you chewed nervously on your lip. He knew you wanted this to work out; he did too. He was also very surprised that you'd been working on this for the past week without sharing your secret even with him. But it truthfully wasn't really for him. It was for her. And you.

The child looked up at you and whispered, "You named the fairy Avery."

You just nodded and smiled. "Your name is so pretty, and you remind me of the kind of little girl who would have magic inside her."

Avery turned back to the page in front of her and snuggled in a little bit closer to you. She started reading out loud, and after a few pages, handed it over to you for a little bit. The two of you went back and forth like this for an hour before Bob carried in two plates of dinner and set them on the coffee table.

"Even magic fairies get hungry," he said softly before leaving both of you to the story.

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

When you woke up a few weeks later on Avery's ninth birthday, you were beyond exhausted. The past few nights had been late ones for you as you tried to finish up and edit the story you'd been working on. The title that the two of you came up with was The Littlest Fairy in the Garden, and you were just as proud of this as your true crime releases.

Then you realized that there was actually a reason why you woke up. You could hear Bob talking. It sounded like he was on the phone even though it was barely eight o'clock. You climbed out of bed and stretched before finding him sitting on the floor in the walk-in closet talking softly on the phone in his pajama pants, undershirt and purple glasses.

"I'm sure she's going to agree with me. We want to move forward if that's what Avery wants, but I'll call you back in an hour or two. Thank you so much."

He ended the call right when you asked, "Who was that?"

Bob jumped a bit as he looked up at you with a tentative smile. "Our lawyer," he whispered.

"What did they say?" you whispered back as he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around you.

When Bob's lips found your ear, you shivered at his words. "It was just a preliminary conversation, but they asked if we would be interested in pursuing adoption."

"With Avery?" you gasped, and he nodded against you.

"Yes. With Avery."

Tears filled your eyes as you clung to him. You thought about all the books she'd been reading with you and the birthday cake waiting in the kitchen. You could practically still smell the oatmeal cookies she and Bob made a few days ago. You could picture her smile and imagine her laughter, both of which were coming more easily with each passing day. "I want to adopt her. She belongs here. With us."

"I think so, too," he replied immediately, and you could hear the unshed tears in her voice. "I think we should have a conversation with her about it today. The process could take a little time, but I want to be sure it's what she wants as well."

You nodded, a jerky motion against him as your heart pounded faster and faster. "Let's talk about it when she wakes up."

Bob led you downstairs to the kitchen, his fingers laced with yours, and he started to crack some eggs while you made coffee and fresh orange juice. Avery had picked the menu for each meal today for her birthday, and the plan was to take her to the zoo after lunch. There was currently a purple banner with flowers and fairies on it stretched across the kitchen along with a large assortment of balloons. You couldn't remember being this excited about something in such a long time.

"Good morning," came a soft voice from the bottom of the stairs, and you nearly dropped a mug on the floor as you turned to look at her.

"Happy birthday!" you and Bob replied in unison, and then all three of you started laughing.

Without another word, Avery made her way into the kitchen in her Minnie Mouse pajamas and gave you a hug around the waist. You gasped softly as you hugged her back, her purple glasses pressing against you. Then she tucked herself against Bob's side and hugged him right after that. "Thanks for all the birthday stuff. And thanks for being so nice to me and getting me glasses and everything."

You and Bob shared a look over her head as he rubbed his hand along her shoulder. "It makes us happy that you're here, Avery," he said softly, and you had to swipe at your tears. "Let's have your breakfast, and maybe we can talk about making this permanent."

"Permanent? Like me staying here for a while?" she asked softly as she looked up at him.

"Like you staying here forever."

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

This is a little birthday treat for @wkndwlff! I hope you have a great day, Taylor! I set out to write a nice little story based on this mood board, but somehow it turned into this angsty thing instead. Thanks to @sylviebell @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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mamsieur · 6 months

Text

Ink and Smoke I Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary : Reuben's wife wants to play matchmakers with Bob. It usually fails until the whole squad has a tattoo appointment.

TW : none, full fluff, hyper self indulgent

Length : 3664 words

AN : maybe it's kind of a self insert fic because of the whole "reader is a tattooed girly" and maybe the bee tattoo is the one I have. Maybe.

posted on AO3 November 8, 2023

A few months had passed since the uranium mission and the squadron was settled to San Diego for good, and Bob had never been happier. He finally had everything and everyone he needed in one place. The squad was a new family for him, he grew close to each of them, even Jake.

Work was easier now that he was permanently stationed here, and he was glad that the squadron was a permanent unit as well ; they were always working together and getting missions as a special task force. He was able to teach new graduates with Phoenix, and he enjoyed being an instructor.

Life was good. His little found family fell into an easy routine of Sunday brunches at each other's houses, days off at the beach playing dogfight football, evenings at the Hard Deck. Each of them got to meet the family of the others ; mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, partners… Reuben was the first to introduce his wife, Josie, to the squadron and everyone loved her. They were expecting their first child and Mickey had appointed himself as godfather (not that Reuben had anything against it, but he had to talk it over with his wife). Josie had some sort of maternal aura that made them so comfortable, much like Penny ; even Bradley opened up to her about his past, and Jake always seemed to calm down when the pregnant woman gave him the "mommy" look.

As for his own love life, Bob’s friends had tried so many times to set him up on dates, and each time it had failed. The girls he was set up with had nothing to do with it for the most part ; Bob was sure they were great people, but they were always too much for him. He was a discreet and somewhat shy type of guy, he wasn't really comfortable with their extroverted behavior. And it wasn't like he was actively looking for a relationship; he liked being single most of the time. He had his ways, his habits, his comfort zone, and he wasn't in any hurry to leave it. His life was perfect as he saw it. But he couldn't deny that sometimes he felt lonely. He felt that way when he couldn't go home to his family, when he was on leave from work, or when he was asked to write his marital status on some paperwork. He felt that way when he listened to Natasha talk about her dates with her pretty hairdresser and how everything was going smoothly. He felt that way when he saw the girls at the bar only looking at Bradley, Javy, Jake or Mickey; he was right there but invisible. He felt that way when he was the last of his siblings and cousins to be single; his younger brother even got married this year. He felt that way when his father seemed to have to remind him that his last relationship was from before he left for naval school, and when his mother whined about her baby being all alone in San Diego.

Other than that, Bob didn't feel lonely. Not too much.

When he arrived at the Hard Deck after another failed date, Josie sighed with a confused pout.

"Why didn't it work out this time, Bobby?"

He shrugged as he sat between her and Natasha on the stool across from the pool table where Jake and Bradley were playing. "She's just passing through San Diego and she... I don't know, she talked a lot about herself, I didn't have time to get a word in. And when I did, she didn't seem too interested in what I had to say."

"Yickes," Natasha grimaced, "you did well to leave that date early."

"Oh, well, in fact, I didn't... She actually was the one who cut it short, she had to meet a friend apparently. Not that I'm complaining," he smiled slightly at the girls, and Reuben’s wife rolled her eyes before finishing her ginger ale, rubbing her round belly.

"I give up, Bob. You'll find someone eventually, but I'm done trying to set you up. I hate seeing you like this."

"Like what?" he frowned a little, not understanding.

"Like a puppy that's been thrown out," Reuben said as he kissed his wife's temple, joining their conversation. She rolled her eyes, half amused. "That's the idea. You always look so disappointed and sad after these dates. And I know it makes you question your self-worth, and I don't want that. So we won't set you up anymore, consider this my early birthday present to you," she smiled.

"Finally - Ouch!" he chuckled, stroking his side where Josie had elbowed him. She sighed with a smile and they moved on to more casual conversation. It was another casual night, and Bob was loving it. The brunette was right, he'll find someone eventually, why force fate?

As the night went on, one particular topic was brought back to the table; their matching tattoo project. The seven of them still hadn't decided what to get, but Reuben had already made an appointment with a tattoo artist that he and Josie had been to a few times; she had four tattoos, and three of them were by that artist. It was fine line, discreet; that style was perfect for the squad.

"So, except for Reuben, this will be everyone's first tattoo?" Mickey asked, reading everyone's ideas again on Javy's phone. They all nodded and Natasha scoffed.

"Robert Floyd, stop lying to us! You have a tattoo!"

Bob blushed under the curious gaze of his friends, and if his eyes could throw knives, Phoenix would be dead.

"Come to think of it, we've never seen him without a shirt on," Mickey remarked, narrowing his eyes. The other boys agreed and Jake grinned.

"What kind of embarrassing ink you got Baby on board?"

"If it's the name of an ex-girlfriend, I swear we'll ask for the whole story!" Javy insisted. Everyone tried to guess, making Bob more and more embarrassed and Natasha smirked, proud of her. She saw his tattoo once, after a water fight.

"Come on Robby, show them, it's not that bad..." she encouraged him, gently squeezing his forearm. The blond man pouted and sighed, pulling out his phone to find photos. He showed the screen to his friends when he found the picture he was looking for. The tattoo was on his ribs and it was a quote with a carnation flower underneath. Mickey couldn't help but gasp in surprise as he read the quote, his eyes shining with admiration, "Is that a Star Wars reference?"

"It is..." Bob muttered, "And my older cousin has the other half of the quote."

He swiped and showed them a picture of their tattoos side by side; his cousin’s said "Do or do not." with the flower above it, and Bob’s one said "There is no try."

"Nerd," Jake snorted, earning a nudge from Reuben.

"In our defense, we were barely eighteen when we made them, just before I went to naval school," he shrugged.

"I think it's cute," Josie smiled and Bradley hummed in agreement, siping his beer.

"How come you never told me you were Star Wars fans?" Mickey accused, "What do you think of the series? Without the last three movies, of course. They don't exist," and he chatted with Bob for a good half hour.

Bradley cleared his throat to stop the rumbling, "Can we get back to the tattoo topic? We have less than fifteen hours to decide".

After some discussion and a few scribbles of their ideas on some napkins, they settled on three designs that the tattoo artist would be able to work with.

Bob carefully saved the napkins, and one by one the group went home. He decided to take a walk on the beach before he left.

He liked the silence, broken only by the gentle sounds of the waves and the wind. His week had been exhausting and quite stressful, and being here soothed him. The moonlight guided his steps home. As he made his way to his little house, he lit a cigarette. He was not much of a smoker, but every now and then it helped calm his nerves. Truth to be told, he was a little nervous to get tattooed. He wasn’t a big fan of needles. He just hoped that the final design would be simple enough so he didn’t have to stay too long under the hands and tools of the tattoo artist.

The next day, after a nice lunch together, the group finally went to the tattoo parlor. Josie was with them, even more excited than they were. They walked in, making the little bell above the door ring. Soft rock was playing at a low volume, and some of the artist's work was hanging on the walls.

Bob looked around curiously. This parlor was nothing like the one he'd been in with his cousin almost twelve years before. Here, the large windows let in daylight, and the reception and waiting areas were beautifully decorated with green plants (though Bob suspected they were fake). On the coffee table across from the couches was a binder containing the flashes that were still available. And on the walls were photos of several finished tattoos and some awards the artist seemed to have won at conventions around the country. The whole atmosphere was comfortable and reassuring.

"I'll be there in two seconds!" your voice came from the back of the room.

The curtain at the back of the shop opened and you stepped out, dusting your hands. Your arms were covered with tattoos of all kinds; some colored, some not. Bob watched you for a moment, impressed by the number of tattoos you had. His eye fell on the one under and on your collarbones; two daffodils with a bee in the middle. He found it gorgeous.

He was jolted out of his contemplation when Josie threw herself in your arms.

"Bee! It's so good to see you!"

"Hello to you too, Jo’ !" you chuckled, returning her hug, "I assume this is the famous Dagger Squad you've been talking about."

You gave them your real name with a smile and shook hands with everyone, "You can call me Bee though, it doesn't bother me!". Your eyes locked with Bob's for a few seconds and he thought he saw you blushing a little. But maybe he had hallucinated.

You offered them some tea or coffee while grabbing your sketchbook and pen. "Okay, so what were your ideas? Jo’ and Reuben here told me you had quite a few," you asked with a smile, and the group began to explain what they had in mind. Bob, sitting in front of you, wasn't listening. He was mesmerized ; you had such a sweet voice and a warm, inviting aura. Your eyes shone with interest behind your glasses as you took notes on what Bob's friends were saying. Your soft smile sent butterflies to his stomach, and he felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears blush whenever he made eye contact with you.

He was drawn out of his contemplation by Bradley, who nudged him discreetly. You had asked him something, but he didn't seem to have heard.

"Sorry, what?"

"Your friends said you had some papers with your ideas. May I see them?" you chuckled with a sweet smile.

"Oh... Oh! The napkins, yes!" he mumbled and took them out of his pocket. He displayed them on the coffee table in front of you. He blushed as your fingers brushed over his, and Josie and Natasha noticed. They looked at each other and wiggled their eyebrows. An idea had blossomed in their minds…

***

A few sketches later, you had a design that everyone in the group loved. It was simple enough that you could make the seven of them that afternoon. While you were getting everything ready, the Daggers argued about who would go after Reuben, who volunteered to go first. But Bob seemed a little lost and couldn't say anything. Josie sighed and intervened, hands on hips, like a mother scolding her children.

"Okay, everybody, calm down. Jake will go second, Mickey third and then Javy."

"But why?" Jake gasped and Mickey pouted.

"Because you three are too afraid, I can feel it. Look at it this way: the sooner you get it done, the sooner it's over."

"Good thinking..." Javy muttered.

"Thank you. Then Natasha, Bradley, and finally Bob. As soon as you're done, go to the little store next door and get yourself a snack, okay?"

The five nodded like children, but Natasha had a little mischievous smile on her lips that matched Josie's. But the boys, except for Reuben, didn't seem to notice. The latter gave his wife a knowing look and shook his head with a smile when she just shrugged.

Bob wasn't sure what to do. He looked at you a few times as you finished cleaning Reuben’s finished tattoo. You laughed with him and Bob blushed. He'd never seen anyone laugh so beautifully. His heart raced a little, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were mesmerizing, a work of art.

"... Bob?"

"Huh?" he hummed, still lost in contemplation.

"Bobby, stop staring, you're not discreet," Josie giggled and Bob blushed wildly. He looked around and to his relief the others didn't seem to be paying too much attention to him. "You know, Bee is single... you should ask her out. You're totally her type."

"Am I?" he mumbled, blushing as Nat and Josie giggled, "I-I mean, I, uh… she’s-" Bob stuttered. He was busted. Natasha wrapped her arm around his and looked at you.

"From what Josie and Reuben have told me, Bee is really sweet," she said.

"She loves sci-fi, has two cats, builds Legos, and she absolutely loves quiet walks on the beach, just like you," Josie informed him with a smile, and Bob's cheeks turned even redder. He watched as you reassured Jake and explained how the machine worked. Your smile definitely made Bob's heart flutter. He wanted it to be directed at him. Not at Jake who was certainly flirting with you… although you didn’t seem that affected by it.

"She's a great girl, Bobby, and yes, I said I'd stop to set you up, but this isn't technically a date. It's up to you if you want to ask her out," Josie argued and he nodded, playing nervously with his fingers.

"I... I'll try?" he murmured, clearly worried about the situation, "but what if you're wrong and I'm not her type? Or what if I make it all awkward? or what if-"

"Calm down Floyd, it'll be fine! She won't reject you like that. Look at her, she's too nice for that. You have the whole afternoon to relax and just be yourself with her. We'll keep the others out," Natasha smiled as she gave him a friendly nudge. He sighed and nodded, trying to keep his composure. But then he frowned and turned to the two women beside him. "That's why you wanted me to go last?"

They just chuckled and shrugged. Bob sighed again and shook his head, "You two are a menace," he groaned.

As the afternoon wore on, Bob had to go out twice to catch his breath. He tried not to smoke right now, but the urge got stronger as his turn to get tattooed approached. He watched you laugh with Bradley as you tattooed him on the inside of his bicep. Then Bradley pointed at Bob and said something to you. You smiled a little and waved to him. He blushed so hard he thought his whole face was on fire. He shyly waved back and thought he saw you blush again. But you quickly turned your attention back to Bradley.

Bob's heart was pounding, he was filling up like a 10-year-old facing his first crush.

And finally it was his turn. Josie and Natasha managed to get everyone out by pretending to go shopping for dinner - which wasn't exactly a lie. Bob was worriedly silent as you cleaned your station. You turned to him and smiled.

"Would you like something to drink while I finish preparing the area? I have some ginger ale, Reuben told me you usually like it?"

Bob just nodded, speechless. How can you be so thoughtful?

He thanked you as you handed him the glass and watched you print the last stencil.

"Nervous?" you asked, tilting your head to meet his gaze, "Where do you want it?"

"Y-Yeah, a little bit," he swallowed and scratched his neck nervously, "I, uh... maybe here?" he gestured to his ribs, the side that had no tattoos.

"Josie told me you already had a tattoo, right? Do you want them mirrored, like symmetrical?" you asked as he took off his shirt. You blushed. This man was really, really beautiful. His friends were too, you'd seen Jake and Mickey shirtless, but Bob... Bob had this charming boyish face and a body that you could see yourself curling up against in your bed for a cuddle in rainy weather. He had that old American charm with his wire-rimmed glasses, that little curl of hair that fell perfectly on his forehead, and that shy smile. You wanted him to take you out on a date anywhere he wanted and listen to his surprisingly raspy voice talk about absolutely anything... but you had to be professional.

"Yes," he replied, "I think it could be quite harmonious..."

"I think so too," you smiled at him and prepared his skin before placing the stencil. You let him check to see if he liked the placement. He turned to you and his crooked smile made you feel all warm inside. He was absolutely adorable.

"I love it," he said, excited like a little boy on Christmas Eve, "it looks amazing!"

"Well, let's get to work then, Lieutenant!" you chuckled and let him lie down. You put on your gloves and turned on the machine. You saw him take a deep breath and exhale slowly; surely to calm his nerves. "Ready?" you asked quietly and he nodded.

He didn't flinch or move once during the session. You saw him grimace from time to time, but he was perfectly still. You tried to talk to him to ease the process without pushing him too hard, and to your own surprise, he was quite talkative. The two of you debated which was the best Lego set you owned - it was obviously the Millenium Falcon. He really made you laugh when he explained how Bradley accidentally broke his glasses and how Josie scolded them for being reckless while playing soccer on the beach. And you both agreed that Reuben and Josie would make great parents. He walked you outside when you said you needed a smoke break.

"I don't smoke that much, I'm trying to quit," you shrugged, "but some days are harder than others."

"Yeah, I get it, I'm not a heavy smoker either, but it helps... relax, I guess," he said, lighting your cigarette and then his. You smiled and agreed. In the distance, the sun was slowly setting, casting orange and pink hues in the sky. Bob blew his smoke slowly through his nose and sighed.

"I love sunsets," he said, "it's always a different color show..."

"I'm sure it's nicer when you're actually in the sky, isn't it?"

"Oh yes it is!" he replied excitedly, "Sometimes with the clouds it's like being surrounded by cotton candy. It's so pretty, but it makes me hungry."

You laughed and his smile grew wider.

"So you have a sweet tooth?"

"The worst," he sighed with a soft grin, "I think I might be addicted to sugar. I mean, we all are a little, but sweet things are my weakness."

The way he looked at you when he said that made you blush furiously. And he blushed too, surprised at his own behavior. But you didn't seem bothered, so he wasn't embarrassed. You bit your lip and sighed with a smile before looking back at him.

"So if I asked you to come with me to the fair and eat our body weight in candy and cake on Sunday, would you agree?"

"Yes," he blushed, surprised at his own eagerness to accept your proposition. He chuckled and nodded, "I would gladly agree."

"It's a date then..." you smiled and exchanged numbers. Then you resumed your conversation about whatever was on your minds. Bob had never felt so comfortable with anyone, and neither had you. Unfortunately, the rest of the Daggers made their way back to your shop to pay you for the tattoos and take some pictures of them. They were all happy with the results and Mickey promised to come back for more. Bob couldn't stop smiling and looking at you as if you were holding the stars, and neither could you. You said goodbye to everyone, hugged Reuben and Josie - asking their growing baby in her belly to behave - and kissed Bob on the cheek when he last existed. You had to stand on tiptoe to do it, which he found adorable.

"See you Sunday, Bob," you almost whispered.

"Gladly Bee, can't wait," he smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You waved him goodbye and he felt all light and happy on his way to his car.

The rest of the group was completely forgotten, but they were watching from a distance. They were surprised and so lost by what they had just witnessed, except for Nat and Josie who were really proud of their part in it. They discreetly high-fived and giggled.

"What did you do?" Reuben finally asked his wife, curious.

"Me? Nothing," she smiled at him before looking at Bob, who didn't stop smiling. She took her husband's hand on the way to their car and chuckled, "I just encouraged fate."

#top gun maverick #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #tattoos #natasha trace #jake seresin #javy machado #mickey garcia #bradley bradshaw #reuben fitch #original character #bob floyd imagine

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lewmagoo · 7 months

Text

to my heart, he carries the key | bob floyd

sequel to someone to watch over me (i recommend reading the first part beforehand so this makes more sense)

description: in which a threat is made against the president’s daughter’s life, and agent robert floyd is tasked with carrying out ‘operation hidden angel’

characters: secret service agent bob floyd x f!reader, pete mitchell, beau simpson, dagger squad as their own respective characters

warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic terrorism, military, secret service and us gov’t inaccuracies, smut, unprotected sex, forbidden love, gun violence, attempted kidnapping, hospitals, broken bones, angst, hopeful ending

Things had changed in The White House.

It had been three months since that fateful night during a charity event, where a man in the crowd targeted the First Daughter of the United States. Agents Robert Floyd, Jacob Seresin, and Reuben Fitch intercepted the perpetrator, and he was disarmed before he could harm anyone. He had been taken into custody, and after weeks of extensive questioning and investigation, The Department of Homeland Security had determined that this man was not working alone. He was a member of a homegrown terrorist organization.

The only thing they couldn’t get out of him was the location of the organization. He refused to give them up, but he was adamant that in a few short months, they were going to go through with their next act of violence. And this time, people were going to die.

It was very calculated. Every last detail was planned out. How they would get the attention of the American public. How they would carry out their threat against the US government. And the way that they planned to do that?

Why, kidnapping the president’s daughter, of course.

During the time it took to obtain that information from the perpetrator, there was unrest in The White House. A changing of the guard, so to speak, was taking place. Tragedy had struck in the personal life of Pete Mitchell, head of White House security.

His husband of over thirty years, Tom Kazansky, had passed away after a bout with cancer. Pete took it hard. Hard enough that after the funeral and the burial and everything in between, he decided that it was time to retire from his decade long position as head of security.

It was not a decision that he took lightly. In fact, he’d agonized over it before finally biting the bullet and placing his letter of resignation upon the president’s desk.

“The truth is, I’m getting too old for this,” he told his team of agents, as he addressed them on the day he left. “I know, I know, it’s shocking to most of you,” he teased, as lighthearted chuckles filled the room. “But…it’s time for me to step down. Tom’s death showed me how fragile life is, and how much I should be cherishing it. I have grandchildren on the way, and I plan to be here to watch them grow up.” He glanced at Bradley Bradshaw, and the pair shared a silent understanding. Bradley’s wife was expecting. Pete didn’t want to miss a moment of that little one’s life.

“So, in my stead, Beau Simpson has agreed to take on the position as the new White House Head of Security.”

And thus, new leadership walked onto the stage.

At first, things weren’t that much difference. Your personal security detail, with Bob as the head, remained the same. Everyone missed Agent Mitchell, but life had to go on. And go on, it did.

Bob, for one, wasn’t the biggest fan of change. But change was part of the job, it was part of life, so he couldn’t make a big deal about it. When Simpson began to implement subtle changes into the way things were done, Bob bristled, but he didn’t speak out. He held his tongue, because he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to rebel against Simpson’s leadership, he’d lose his job faster than he could even blink.

So he simply observed silently and waited to see just how many changes Simpson was going to make.

And then, one day, Bob was called into the president’s office, where he stood before Agent Simpson and POTUS himself. “Do you know why we’ve brought you in, Agent Floyd?” Beau asked.

“No sir,” came Bob’s simple response. He didn’t get the sense that he was losing his job, so he had no idea why he was standing here in the Oval Office.

“I’m sure you recall three months ago, when a threat was made against the president’s daughter.”

“Yes sir, vividly.” He’d never forget that night. Never forget the terror in your voice as you called out for him.

Then, the president interjected. “As Agent Mitchell previously briefed you, the perpetrator was part of a domestic terrorist organization here on our soil. Recently, he confessed to agents that this group will be carrying out an act of violence upon the American people. We aren’t sure where, or when exactly, but what we are sure of, is that they’re going to go after my daughter again.”

Agent Simpson picked up where the man left off. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. What we talk about here is strictly confidential. It is a matter of national security.” Then he leaned closer toward Bob. “I am going to give you a set of coordinates. No one else but you, me, and the president know them. Once I give them to you, I want you to be prepared for my signal. When I deem it necessary, you will go to the Residence, retrieve his daughter, and escort her to this location. You will not bring any other agents with you. Just you, and herself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir. But why am I being given coordinates contrary to the location of the safe house that was already put in place?”

“Because that location has been compromised. You must only escort her to the coordinates I give you. Her life depends on it.”

“And when we get there?”

“You wait for my all clear. It won’t be safe to bring her back home until the threat is neutralized. Can you carry out these orders?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now memorize these coordinates.” Agent Simpson recited the numbers twice. Bob had an excellent memory, and stored away the information easily. Once he confirmed the coordinates by reciting them back to the man, Beau nodded. “From here on out, you will be prepared at all times to carry out Operation Hidden Angel.”

Bob breathed in, then out. Then he nodded. “I will be standing by awaiting further orders.”

The president stood from behind his desk. “I trust you to do whatever it takes to protect my only child, Agent Floyd. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.”

He was dismissed from the office, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he was burdened with a deep sense of pressure. The need to do his job well. Not because your father and the entire country was depending on him, but because you were depending on him.

He had taken an oath to serve and protect. And he meant it. Even before he knew he loved you, he had made good on that oath. And now, even more so. You were infinitely precious to him, and he would do whatever it took to ensure your safety.

Even if it meant giving his life to ensure it. He was fully prepared to go to that length if he needed to.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept drifting to you. To how much he loved you. How much he missed you. He saw you everyday. He escorted you to wherever you needed to go. But those moments did not allow him to be alone with you in the way that you both wanted. There were always prying eyes. Other members of your security detail. Cameras. Nosey reporters. Your relationship had remained secret all this time, and you couldn’t risk exposing it.

So he would continue pining for you, desiring you, hoping for a private moment to at least hold you in his arms. Little did he know he was about to get that opportunity, just not in the way that he was expecting.

The orders came one Friday afternoon. The work day was coming to a close. At that moment, you were in your quarters getting ready. That evening, you had a dinner engagement with a friend from college. Bob had only just finished briefing the rest of your detail on what the itinerary was for the night. Everyone was prepped and on the same page.

And then, Agent Simpson’s voice spoke into his earpiece.

“Agent Floyd, it’s time to enact Operation Hidden Angel.”

He tensed, his heart seizing in his chest as a shock of dread shuddered down his spine. This was it. His worst fear was coming true. Your life had been directly threatened, and it was time to take you to the designated safe house deep in the Virginia mountains.

And when Bob received that command, he had no choice but to act on it. He touched his fingers to his earpiece and responded. “Copy that. Operation Hidden Angel commencing.”

And then he was off, his shoes tapping rhythmically against the polished wooden floors as he rushed down each hallway and corridor. Adrenaline drove him forward, and he soon came to the entrance to the residence. Breathing in deeply to steady himself, he knocked twice before he opened the doors.

He knew where you were. He didn’t have to search. You were in your bedroom, readying yourself for the night ahead. For propriety’s sake, he knocked softly. If he hadn’t been afraid that someone might see him, he would’ve just burst into the room.

He still had to keep up the appearance that you were not romantically involved.

On the other side of the door, you were just setting out the outfit you would wear that night. You were entirely oblivious to the looming danger, eager for an eveningof catching up with an old friend. “Come in!” You called out as you debated which accessories to add to your outfit.

You were surprised to see Bob in your doorway. You smiled at the unexpected visit, but your smile soon faded when you saw the urgent look on his face. “You need to grab your emergency bag and come with me. Now.”

Your stomach dropped. “Bobby, what—”

“Just come. It’s not safe for you to be here right now.”

Deciding it best not to ask any further questions in the moment, you rushed to your closet, trembling hands yanking out the bag of packed necessities you kept for emergencies such as this. Then you shoved your feet into your shoes and rushed after him.

“What’s happening?” You asked as you followed Bob out of your room and down the corridor that led out of the residence.

“Can’t tell you the details. Just need to get you somewhere safe.”

“But-”

He turned, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you trust me?” He asked, blazing blue eyes locked with yours.

“With my life,” you replied without hesitation.

“Then stick with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

So you stopped asking questions. You followed Bob through the back hallways of the White House, allowing him to lead you, trusting in his guidance. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would protect you. He always had. When there was a threat against your safety, he was the first to run toward the danger.

But now, you were both running from it. You knew it had to be serious if you were being removed from The White House. Someone had likely made a significant threat, and Agent Simpson had advised you be removed from the premises until the threat was neutralized.

But would the danger ever be gone? Even if this particular instance was taken care of, others would come up in the future. You would never be safe, because that was just your life as the president’s one and only child.

You did, however, feel safe with the man in front of you. His large, warm hand engulfed your own as he led you down beneath the building. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure your protection. Not only because it was his duty, but because he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you. He loved you too much.

And that was the sticky part of the situation. No one knew about your secret love for one another. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Someone did know. Bradley Bradshaw, Bob’s secondhand man on your security detail, had silently put two and two together. He’d never outright told either of you that he knew, but there seemed to be a silent understanding between him and Bob. A way of communicating that had come with years of working alongside each other in the same military branch. Neither one of them had to say a word, but they knew what the other was thinking.

Bradley had kept your secret all this time. You were often surprised that no one had found out, and both you and Bob lived in fear that one day, your father would find out. And if that were to happen, you would lose Bob. He would be dismissed from his duties and you would likely never see him again. The thought broke your heart.

But for the time being, you were able to slip under the radar. Now, especially, because it was just the two of you. And for a moment, you wondered why the rest of your detail wasn’t with you. “Bob, where’s the rest of the team?” You asked as he pulled you to a stop outside a sleek black sedan. He grabbed your bag and threw it in the backseat before motioning for you to climb in alongside it.

“I’ll explain later.” He ushered you into your seat before he scurried to the driver’s side and slipped into the seat. The engine roared to life seconds later, and he glanced back at you. “Buckle up.”

You did.

Then he was taking off, headed out of the parking garage. As he hit the gas, he spoke into his earpiece. “Angel is flying.”

“Bob, why is it just the two of us?” You reiterated your question from a few moments earlier.

He glanced at you through the rearview, debating just how much he should tell you. “The more people that know where we’re going, the more danger it puts you in. Only your dad and Agent Simpson know where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just…just don’t ask questions, okay, honey? The less you know, the safer you are.”

You heeded his words and settled back into your seat, your heart racing against your ribcage. This was more serious than you realized, wasn’t it? And as you thought about it, the more fearful you became. Your life was in danger, and it was an odd feeling.

Who were you, that someone wanted to kill you? Your father’s decisions were not a reflection of your own morals or beliefs. You had no control over the way he chose to run the country. But there were times when his decisions put a target on his family’s back. Yours especially, because as his child, you were his biggest weakness. Remove you from the equation, and one would have the President of the United States in the palm of their hand, willing to do whatever they asked just to get you back.

This was why proactive measures were being taken. You couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip if you were in hiding. But oh, how you hated it. This was your father’s second term. You had been living in the White House for much too long, and you were tired of it. Tired of the world’s eyes being on you at all times. Tired of the politics and the responsibility. You had never asked for this. This was your father’s endeavor, you were just along for the ride.

But it had resulted in you being placed into the back of a bulletproof car and driven off to some top-secret location just to keep you safe. And from the back of that seat, your eyes observed the singular agent in charge of maintaining that safety. He wasn’t looking at you through the rearview, his eyes were on the road where they belonged. But you could see the conflict in those beautiful blues. You could see the fear.

Whatever this threat was had scared him. And that was saying something, because Bob Floyd didn’t scare easily. But when it came to protecting you, he did get scared. Terrified, even. He just didn’t let you see it. He wanted you to trust him, to feel secure. And you did. In fact, no one else made you feel as secure as he did. Yes, the rest of your detail did a wonderful job. You knew you could trust them with your life.

But because you loved Bob so much, you sought him out for shelter and protection. He was the first you turned to when you were frightened or felt unsafe. And he loved being that for you. Loved that you looked to him for those things.

However, he sometimes thought about the day he might fail you. Would his feelings for you hinder his ability to protect you effectively? Would he be blinded by love? It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew if he was even a smidge off his game, Agent Simpson would be able to sniff it out. And he would not let Bob off the hook for it, either. He’d instruct him to end his relationship with you immediately. And there would be no second chance. Beau would tell the president, and Bob’s position would be terminated.

But it had not gotten to that point, and you prayed it never would. You much preferred sharing this intimate little secret. It did make maintaining your relationship a little difficult, because there were times when you wished you had the guts to tell your father, to tell the world. But the thought of the repercussions that would follow always made you decide against it.

You wanted to relish in this secret for a little longer. If the time ever did come to reveal your relationship, you would know. Until then, you remained under the radar, stealing private moments when you could, and otherwise keeping your distance when it was appropriate.

But now you were entirely alone. No prying eyes. No risk of being caught. You were alone, because Bob was the only one your father trusted to watch over you. Because some unhinged madman had made a threat against your life and Bob would sooner die than let any harm come to you.

“You’re taking me to the safe house, aren’t you?” You spoke up. You had no idea where the house was located, but you had heard of presidents in the past utilizing safe houses. If you were being physically removed from The White House and taken elsewhere, a safe house was the only logical destination you could think of.

Bob caught your eye through the rearview mirror. His expression was bleak, and he said nothing, but it confirmed what you were asking.

The drive to the safe house was two hours. You left behind the bustling area of Washington, D.C. and headed into the mountains of Virginia. And as you went, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, allowing eventide to grace the land.

You and Bob hardly spoke, which was uncommon. But you could tell he was harrowed by this situation, and in turn, you were just as scared. It rendered you both silent for the rest of the ride. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the landscape go by, wondering how long you would have to stay here. A night? A week? A month? How serious was this threat made against you? How immediate was the danger?

All these questions swirled in your mind as Bob drove up a winding, dirt drive. It seemed to go on forever, and the farther he went, the darker it got. But he kept going, until finally, he was pulling up outside a small cabin.

You stared in confusion. Surely this couldn’t be it, right? When thinking of a safe house, you imagined concrete walls and impenetrable security systems. This was just a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Bob was confused as well. An odd feeling churned to life in his gut. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, but these were the coordinates he was given. He had not made a mistake in his navigation. You were where you were supposed to be.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked as he pulled the car behind the house, intending to keep it hidden from view so as not to raise any suspicions if anyone were to happen upon the place.

“These are the coordinates I was given. I followed orders,” Bob replied, a little sharply, but his annoyance wasn’t directed at you. It was at whoever had designated this as a safe house. Surely the US government could afford something more than this, right?

“I just…was expecting something more grand. A fortress or something,” came your explanation.

Bob softened. “Honestly, me too. I didn’t know what to expect. They gave me the coordinates when I first took charge of your detail. I always assumed the safe house was a bunker.”

Both of you were wrong. Instead, it was a quaint cabin that looked like any normal cabin in the forest might look. However, when you got up to the porch, you found a keypad on the door. It had to be unlocked by a code.

Bob spoke into his mic. “Angel has landed safely.”

Seconds later, Agent Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “Copy that,” he said. And then, “zero one zero two nine three.”

Bob typed the numbers into the keypad, and the sound of a lock turning reached his ears. Seconds later, the door was unlocked. He opened the door and took a look inside, scoping out the place.

It looked like a typical hunting cabin, except more well furnished. a seating area off to the left, complete with a bearskin rug. A small kitchen off to the right. An old oak dining table in the middle of the main room.

“Let me see,” you spoke up from behind him.

He stepped forward into the house and allowed you to follow suit. As soon as you were both safely inside, he shut the door, manually locking it. He was surprised at the addition of windows to the cabin. As you wandered around and explored the place, he parted the blackout curtain that hung upon one of the front windows, tapping the glass with his fingertips. It was bulletproof.

He eyed the architecture of the house, assessing what it was made out of. It he had to guess, there was also bulletproof material within the wall panels. Although the cabin looked normal, it was anything but. It was designed to blend in, to not raise suspicion.

And then his eyes traveled to the bearskin rug, and something told him to check it out. As you were rifling around in the kitchen, he stepped over to the seating area and kicked at the rug with his foot. It seemed to be fastened to the floor. So he knelt down and pulled at each edge until one gave way, lifting up to reveal a hiding space beneath the floor.

He grabbed his small utility flashlight he kept on his belt and shined the light inside. This was the bunker he’d assumed he was taking you to. It was very clearly designed to withstand any sort of disaster. I hoped he wouldn’t have to utilize it.

“What’s that?” You came up behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“Bunker.” He slammed the door shut. With the rug overtop of it, it didn’t look out of place at all. Bob turned to you, his expression serious. “If anything happens, we go down there.”

You held his gaze, your own fearful. “Bobby…how bad is it?” You wanted to know the severity of the threat. You wanted to know if you’d be forced to hide in that bunker.

Bob stepped closer to you, allowing himself the physical connection he’d deprived you both of in his haste to get you here safely. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Bad enough that your dad was spooked. Bad enough that Simpson thought we should bring you to the safe house.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, lifting your hand to rest it gently overtop of his own. “I’m tired of this,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. He wanted to assure you that he’d protect you. That you were safe with him. But the words felt so insignificant. Yes, he would protect you, but that didn’t change the fact that a threat had still been made to your life. You, the most precious soul he’d ever known. You, kind and giving and compassionate. You, the one who loved him. How could anyone target you?

You leaned in close, and his mind ceased its wandering. Your free hand was placed gently against his chest, over his heart. And then you spoke. “Do you think that maybe…we could pretend, just for a little bit, that life is normal? That we’re just two people living in their little cabin in the woods, who aren’t actually in danger of a terrorist trying to take their lives?”

Bob’s mouth curled into a halfhearted smile. “Yeah…yeah, we can do that, little love. Whatever you want.”

Little love. The endearing nickname always made your heart warm in your chest. You nestled yourself against him, lifting your head and seeking out his kiss. He gladly returned the affection, mouth fitting against yours like it was always meant to, lips meeting in a tender kiss.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt alright. There was no looming danger. No president’s daughter and secret service agent. It was just two people, very much in love, sharing an impassioned kiss in their living room.

And then you parted, and as Bob rested his forehead against yours, you said, “You hungry? I found a box of MREs stored away in the kitchen.”

He smiled, humming softly in amusement. “Mm, my favorite,” he teasingly replied.

Your hands now rested on his chest. “I’ll get them ready.”

You shared one more kiss before you slipped away to saunter over to the kitchen. As you did so, Bob grabbed your duffel bag and carried it to what he assumed was a bedroom. When he opened the door, his assumption was confirmed.

A double sized bed was positioned in the middle of the sparsely furnished room. There was a nightstand on one side of the bed and a dresser along the opposite wall, facing the bed. An empty closet was across the room.

Bob set your bag down on the bed, and he assumed the two of you would be sharing this bed. His heart yearned for it. It had been a while since the two of you had shared a bed and spent the night snuggled up close. He missed it so.

Although the situation that had brought you here was less than ideal, at least you would be able to spend time with each other, without having to sneak around.

With a soft sigh, Bob stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut before he quickly made his way back outside, with intentions of doing a perimeter sweep to make sure the area was secure. Once he was satisfied, he made his way back to the house, stopping only to grab his own overnight bag that had been stashed in the trunk of the sedan.

Moments later, he was inside with you again, the door locked securely behind him.

In the meantime, you were at work in the kitchen, reading the directions on your MRE packet. When he entered the room, you looked up, and then motioned to the bin of pre-packaged food kits you had found.

“Take your pick. There’s macaroni in tomato sauce, chili, spaghetti, and some bean and cheese thing.”

He chose the macaroni in tomato sauce, assuming it would be the safest option. Together, you prepared your respective meals, and you couldn’t help but find it a little humorous that your first time cooking together consisted of making military grade survival meals.

“I haven’t eaten one of these in years,” Bob mused, as he activated the heating element. A memory flashed in his mind. A not so happy one. “Last time I had one was when my plane went down during a mission. Natasha was flying with me then. We were stuck in the woods for days.”

You frowned softly at his admission. “How did you make it back?”

“Some nice farmer saw us along the road and we were able to hitch a ride with him into the nearest town. We radioed for help.”

“Why didn’t search and rescue come for you?”

“Partly because we went down in enemy territory. And because our plane literally exploded into a million pieces. We were presumed dead.”

Your previously chipper mood was dampened a bit as you imagined him and Natasha, yet another trusted agent in your security detail, lost and potentially injured in unfamiliar territory. “Did you get hurt when the plane went down?” You asked.

He nodded. “Got some nasty cuts. Some burns, too. You know the scar on my side?”

You hummed in realization. You did know it. You’d run your fingers over the six inch long scar many times while laying in bed with him.

“That was shrapnel from the blow. Cut me pretty good. Nat stitched it up for me, actually. Kind of embarrassed to admit I passed out during it.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I can’t even imagine, Bobby. That must’ve been awful.”

He nodded. “But we got through it. Nat’s one determined gal. She told me she was gonna get me home safe. And she did. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Your hand moved from his arm, resting against his back, thumb stroking circles along his spine. Your touch grounded him. “Remind me to thank her.”

He smiled softly as he finished preparing his food. He was beyond grateful that the Fates had decided to spare him. Had they not, he never would have met you, the best thing to ever happen to him.

Joining the Secret Service had never been part of Bob’s plan. He’d never even considered it. But Agent Mitchell had recommended him to the president, and after Bob had fulfilled his commitment of time to the Navy, he’d moved over to The White House, where he became part of security.

In fact, the entirety of your personal security detail had been recommended to your father by Pete Mitchell. With you making more public appearances and doing charity work, it put you on the radar. Your father wanted the best security detail possible for you, and because he trusted Pete’s judgment, he brought them in to begin the interview process. In the end, all of them were hired.

But only one was the head of your detail. Only Bob was entrusted with every minute detail of your safety. Not because the others couldn’t be trusted, or because they were incapable. Far from it. It was his sharpness and his ability to assess threats quickly. It was his respectfulness and penchant for following the rules (or so everyone thought). Out of the group of agents assigned to you, Bob stood out above the rest.

In the words of your father, Seresin was too cocky, Bradshaw too aloof, and Trace too emotional. You strongly disagreed with his words. You didn’t like the assessments he’d made of each agent. You thought he was being unfair and harsh. Especially with Natasha. Calling her too emotional was crossing over into sexist territory, you felt. If anything, Bradley was the emotional one. But you didn’t argue with your dad. Whatever POTUS says, goes.

None of the supposed “downfalls” your father saw in each agent affected their ability to protect you. All of them put their lives on the line every single day to ensure your safety.

But in the end, they hadn’t been put solely in charge of your security team. Bob had. And now here you stood, in safe house in the middle of the Virginia wilderness, eating survival food and pretending everything was fine. Just you and him.

Strangely enough, you were grateful. Grateful that he was the one you were with. And maybe it was for selfish reasons, but you didn’t care. You just hated that your only opportunity to be alone with him as of late was because of the imminent danger posed to your life.

But you would cherish the time you were allotted.

That night, in the quietness of that little cabin in the woods, the two of you sat at the oak dining table adjacent to the kitchen, with your feet resting in Bob’s lap. You drank the electrolyte drink mixes that were provided in your MREs, pretending they were some sort of fancy alcoholic cocktail, if only for your sanity’s sake.

For the rest of the evening, you didn’t acknowledge the circumstances that had brought you here. Instead, you talked of anything and everything. It wasn’t often that you had a chance to have such meaningful conversations with one another. Your time together was usually short. Secret meetings under the cover of darkness. Stolen moments of passion in hotel rooms. Intimate embraces where no prying eyes could see.

But flashes of reality still shocked you like a splash of cold water to the face. Such as the fact that Bob’s gun was still strapped to his hip. Or the fact that he went around the house making sure all the blackout curtains were drawn, and double checking the lock system on the door.

You tried to ignore it. Focused on cleaning up your haphazard dinner instead. But there was still a feeling of unease in your gut. Bob seemed to notice your anxiety, ever observant, and he approached you as you wiped down the table with a dish cloth you’d found in one of the drawers. His arms encircled your waist, and you sighed, leaning back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Hey,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You turned around in his hold, placing your hands upon his chest. “I know. I just…I’m trying to pretend everything is fine but it’s hard when there’s a literal bunker beneath us, and you’re walking around with your gun on your hip, and checking the state of the art locking system on the door over there.”

Bob glanced down at the weapon in its holster. “Here,” he said. He stepped back, removing his belt, and taking the holster along with it. He took the gun and carried it into the bedroom, where he placed it on the singular nightstand beside the bed. Then he rejoined you in the main room.

“Is that better?” He asked.

“A little,” you replied with a nod, welcoming him into your arms again.

He dipped his head low, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Your chest warmed. “I love you too.”

A large hand lifted up, fingers stroking your cheek. “You want to play pretend? We’ll play pretend.” His arm then came down to wrap around your waist, palm pressed into the small of your back. “This is our homestead, right? And you…you are my pretty little wife.” His free hand tapped your nose with his fingers.

“Oh? I like the sound of that,” came your soft reply.

His arm tightened around you. “Mhm. And I just came in from a long day of workin’ the land. Looks like we’re gonna have a good harvest, too. Won’t go hungry this winter.”

Your mouth curved into a fond smile. His accent was coming through. Picked up from summers spent on his granddaddy’s ranch. “Take such good care of me,” you said. “My strong, handsome man.”

He kissed you again, this time more languidly. “Always gonna take care of my wife.”

That promise translated outside of this silly little roleplay, too. You knew he’d always look out for you. “What would I do without my Bobby?” You asked.

He gently bumped noses with you, enjoying the closeness. It made you a little dizzy. You hadn’t been in his big, strong arms like this in a while. You’d missed it more than you realized. The close proximity of your bodies had you growing breathless, and your fingers grasped at the fabric of his button down.

“I…can we…” You couldn’t get the words out. But he knew what you wanted.

“You need me, honey?”

You nodded, caught off guard when tears welled in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully. It hit you hard, like a blow to the chest. You hadn’t expected the feeling to be so intense, but now you were leaning into him for support, afraid your knees would give way if you tried to stand on your own.

“I’ve got you. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay?”

With his arm secured around you, he led you to the room. There, he guided you to sit on the bed before he turned on the little beside lamp on the nightstand. It didn’t give off much light, but it did cast a soft, warm glow over the bed.

And then he was in front of you again, but this time, he was kneeling, placing his hands on your knees as he looked up at you. “If you want to stop at any time, you tell me, alright?”

You nodded.

“Words, lovey.”

“Yes sir.”

He wanted to be a little more careful with you in this moment. Not that he wasn’t careful with you all the time, but he had a feeling you needed a little more tenderness than usual. Having your life threatened was a harrowing experience. He wanted to give you the intimacy and closeness you needed. He wanted to be a comfort to you.

As he rose to his feet, a big, gentle hand cupped your cheek. You lifted your head, gazing up at him. His thumb lovingly stroked your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the digit.

He watched in awe as your eyes began to grow glassy, and your gaze softened. All it took was his thumb in your mouth to turn you pliant. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling.

And what beautiful eyes they were. You gazed up into them, so clear and blue, but somehow dark in the lowlight, as if the bright blue had turned brown. You could feel the tension leaving your body as you suckled on his thumb. The taste of his skin was familiar and soothing.

“Poor thing. Just needed to shut your brain off for a bit, huh?” He murmured.

“Mhm,” you hummed around his thumb.

“I’ve got you. Don’t have to do any thinking with me. I’ll do it all for you.”

You liked the sound of that. You could let go of the stressors. Your circumstances. Your position as daughter of the President of the United States. Your political commitments. All of it could be forgotten, if only for a little while.

So you gave yourself to him. To your Bobby. You let him take care of you, because he knew what was best at that moment in time.

“C’mere,” he said. He took a seat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. As you scrambled over to him, he caught you, pulling you into his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands rested at your hips. Your own fell to his broad shoulders. The muscles rippled beneath your touch.

With your body slotted against his like this, you felt so warm and secure. Like you were meant to fit together. In the warm glow of the lamp, and in the softness of the bed, it all felt so domestic. As if you truly were husband and wife, living in your little cabin in the woods.

And then your mind began to wander, and you considered what it might be like if he truly was your husband. If you were allowed to live out your relationship without fear of being found out.

You wanted that, you realized. You wanted it so badly. But you couldn’t have it. Not yet. So instead, you played pretend. You dove forward, connecting your lips with his, kissing him deeply, pouring all the passion you had into it. And he kissed you back with just as much fervor.

Your hands moved from his shoulders to rest upon the sides of his neck. Your fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails ever so lightly scraping at the skin, making him shiver against you and moan into your mouth.

You rotated your hips downward in the process, and he gasped, his grip tightening on your waist. So you moved your hips again. And again. Soon, you were rutting against him, searching out that delicious friction. The seam of your shorts caught against you in just the right place, and the stimulation had his cock hardening beneath you.

He let his head thunk back against the headboard, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “Oh, just like that, honey,” he encouraged, breathless.

“Feels so good,” you whined.

“I know. Been too long, hasn’t it?” he cooed, bringing you closer so your forehead was pressed to his.

“H-how long?” you wondered, shivering as he lifted his hips to meet your own.

He remembered. Of course he did. “Last month. When you visited that one university.”

Oh, yes. Now you remembered. You’d really gone an entire month without touching him? No wonder you ached so terribly inside. You needed him.

“Bobby,” you whimpered then.

“I know, baby. I know.”

He was kissing you again, except this time, he rotated you, gently easing you onto the bed so he could hover over you. Then he began the reverent undressing of your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving a kiss against your clavicle as he easily rid you of your undergarments. Then came your shorts and panties, tossed aside carelessly.

This left you entirely bare to him, and oh, how naked you felt. But he distracted you from any trepidation you felt. He took your hands in his own, lifting them to his shirt, prompting you to unbutton it. Those big hands hovered over yours as you did, there to help if you were trembling too much to do it.

In no time, the shirt was unbuttoned, and he tossed it to the floor before he made quick work of removing his white undershirt. Immediately, your hands splayed across his chest. Well-defined because he worked his ass off staying fit. His job was not for the faint of heart or body. He had to stay on top of his game.

“If ya can stop ogling my chest for a minute, I’ll get my pants off,” he teased.

You looked up at him before turning your head away shyly. He couldn’t help but hum in gentle amusement. You were just the most precious thing.

Quickly, he shoved his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them asunder, leaving you both naked as the day you were born. As soon as his body was slotted against yours, you sighed in deep relief. Finally.

His mouth was on yours again, and his arms were at either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He overwhelmed your every sense, and it was glorious. In such close proximity, you could smell his cologne, and that natural, heady scent that could only be described as him.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered in awe, his mouth trailing down your jaw, across your neck, over your collarbone. Reverence. Worship.

As he kissed your heated skin, he moved to slip his hand between your thighs. Deft fingers tenderly parted your delicate folds, prodding at your entrance. First one finger, slid in deep. Then two. You whined into his mouth as he crooked those fingers upward, intent on locating that spongey little spot that made you shiver.

It didn’t take him long. He knew your body so well. Knew exactly what to do to have you purring for him. You were so responsive to his touch as it was.

“Gotta open you up for me, lovey,” he soothed. “Been a while since you took all of me.”

Those fingers pumped in and out of you, and his thumb came up to swirl around your clit as he did so. You were oversensitive. Not only had you not been touched by him in over a month, but you hadn’t touched yourself, either. You’d hardly had any downtime, and when you did, you spent it resting. Now, you were so pent up that Bob’s gentle stimulation of your neglected pussy was already beginning to overwhelm you.

In the meantime, he continued to trail searing kisses across your skin. Over the softness of your breasts. Teeth gently tugging at your pebbled nipples. Tongue soothing the sting.

In the meantime, you grew wetter around his fingers, your body opening up to him, welcoming him in. And then he added a third finger, and you squealed, jolting against him. You felt his mouth curl into a smile against you.

Then he lifted his head to gaze down at the way your cunt stretched around those fingers. “Oh, look at this sweet little pussy. My fingers barely fit. I don’t know if it’ll be able to take my cock.”

He was teasing you. But in your hazy state, you took him seriously. “No! No, I can take it! Please, I need it!” You gasped.

This prompted him to place his thumb in your mouth again. “Shh, I know. I’m gonna give it to you, I promise.” A gentle kiss to your lips before he leaned back. He removed his fingers from you, and you watched as he used the slick of your arousal as lubricant for his cock, smearing it over the velvety skin. You whimpered at the sight.

You so desperately needed that cock inside you. Thick and heavy, with a blushed tip that was dripping with his own desire. You found yourself reaching for it, wrapping your fingers around him, longing to feel the heaviness in your hand.

He gasped softly as your grip tightened and your thumb brushed over that pretty pink head, gathering the wetness that had gathered at the slit. You found yourself salivating, suddenly wishing he was in your mouth, warm on your tongue. But at the same time, you wanted to be filled by him so badly. It made you ache.

Gently, he lifted your hand away, replacing it with his own. He slid the underside of his cock through your slick, and you both moaned lowly when the plush head caught at your clit. Again, he thrust his hips forward, teasing you. When he pulled back, he positioned himself at your entrance, slipping in only ever so slightly, enough to pull a desirous whine from you before he pulled back.

“D-don’t tease,” you squeaked out.

“I know. Just tryin’ to savor it. Might not get to do this again for a while.”

You pulled him down, kissing him deeply. “Don’t think about that right now. Just fuck me, Bobby. Please.”

“Uh-huh.” With his mouth open against your own, he finally inched his hips forward, moving so his arms were at either side of your head again, and his chest was pressed to yours. Forward, forward, forward, until…

“Oh!”

He was fully sheathed inside you, every last inch. It was the thickness that took your breath away. He felt so big, yet at the same time, it felt as if he was made to fit inside you in this way. You would never tire of the feeling of his body connected to yours.

Bob couldn’t help but glance down, marveling at the way you stretched around him. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of the snug warmth. He had missed it so much. Missed you so much. “I love you,” he said with conviction. It warmed you to your core.

“Love you too,” you sighed out blissfully, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around those broad shoulders of his.

His hand caressed your face as he began to move, nudging his hips into yours. He kept things slow to begin with, intending to build up to a glorious crescendo. All the while, he held you close, resting his weight upon your body, grounding you, surrounding you. He cherished it all. The feeling of your warmth, the beating of your heart. A reminder that you were safe, that you were alive, that you were here, with him.

His mouth found its way to yours again, trailing down further to lave his tongue against your pulse point. “You are everything to me,” he breathed against your feverish skin. You were his life, his love, his angel.

You couldn’t speak, for you were too overwhelmed. Your heart sang, and the true reason for being here in thise safe house seemed to fade into the background as white noise. Your Bobby was on the forefront, infiltrating every one of your senses, wrapping you up in his love and adoration. You never wanted it to end.

As he began to quicken his pace, you held onto him tightly, every inch of your bodies touching, warm and familiar, safe and secure. You let yourself be vulnerable, let him chip away at the armor you always protected herself with. Oh, how good it felt to let him be your protector. He encased you in his warmth, and that warmth began to radiate throughout your body, thrumming deep within your belly. He kissed yu repeatedly, lips ever brushing against yours, swallowing your precious whimpers and moans, holding onto those sounds, locking them away in his memory.

In the back of his mind, he partly wondered if this would be the last time you were able to make love to each other. What if he slipped up and was dismissed from his duties, effectively barring him from ever being with you again? He hated that his mind went to such a morbid place, but it was hard to ignore.

But then you were drawing him in again with those soft sounds, sighing out his name, and your sweet pussy was fluttering around him, and he was brought back to the present moment. How could he let himself be anywhere else but here, with you in his arms? How could he let himself be distracted when the love of his life sighed and shivered in pleasure beneath him? Because of him?

“Feel so good,” you squeaked. Your eyes were closed, your brow furrowed in utter bliss. You looked rather adorable this way. He was so in love.

You were so wet, and he realized that you were quickly growing wetter by the minute. He could feel you dripping down against his heavy balls, and onto the bed covers below, and it only urged him to change his pace. You tightened your legs around his waist, inviting him deeper inside. As he thrust particularly deeply into you, you cried out softly. He’d bumped into that wonderful spot within you, sending you tightening around him, arousal slicking down the base of his cock.

“Oh, right there!” You exclaimed, fingernails pressing crescent shapes into the skin of his back. He ducked a hand between you then, stimulating your sensitive little clit in such a way that your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. The way you clenched around him again had him growling lowly, the heat of impending release already beginning to warm in his pelvis. How was he already so close? And then he remembered how long it had been since he’d had you like this, and it made sense.

He applied more pressure with his fingers, driving his hips forward with more force. He was hit with a sudden wave of desperation, wanting, needing you to come before he did. He’d stave off his own pleasure for as long as possible if it meant making you feel good. Beneath him, you were on fire, arousal rushing through your very being like raw electricity, consuming every part of you in its wake. And you let yourself be swallowed up in the feeling, suddenly overcome with intense emotion as tears began sliding down your cheeks.

Bob cradled you against his chest, though he didn’t slow down. You needed him to keep going, and he wasn’t going to stop until you fell apart. And it was so close you could taste it, building and building and building. A vibration that began in your core, a peak that you were hurtling towards but couldn’t quite reach yet. It was a height that only your lover could bring you to.

Sweet, tender love making turned into something so much more primal. His chest heaved against yours, and he growled deeply, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kissed you. Warmth blossomed between you both, growing into a wild flame. Your bodies fell into a desperate push and pull, faster and harder and deeper, chasing the pleasure high that you knew was inevitable.

He could feel you tighten around him like a vice, and he knew you were close. He let his forehead rest against yours, though he never stopped his movements. “You’re close, I can feel it,” he spoke in a broken whisper.

“I-I am,” you whimpered pathetically, clinging to him tightly.

“Then come for me, my love. Just let go.”

He continued to work you over, carrying you toward that edge. You trembled fiercely, breathing labored, growing even more so. Pleasure began to fizz through you like a firework brought to life, or a pack of Pop Rocks sprinkled on the tongue. Starting at your core and bubbling all the way to your fingers and toes.

Your body went taut against his as the first waves of it began to hit you. Almost there, almost there, almost there. And then, without warning, it hit you. Washing over you like an enormous wave, intense as could be. Seconds later, you came with a wail, convulsing beneath him as the fire of your orgasm ravaged you, surging through the entirety of your being. You cried out his name, and he was there, holding you in his arms as he watched you come apart, losing yourself because of him.

And as you came down, you sobbed. You buried your face against his chest, crying openly, still wrapped tightly around him. And he let you cry, keeping you close. But he also needed to find his own release, you realized. Even in your state of emotion, she pulled back a little, looking into his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blown, but there was still a tenderness in his gaze. He wouldn’t pressure you for more if you weren’t ready to move on yet.

“P-please, Bobby. Wan’ you to come in me.”

How could he ever say no when you asked so sweetly?

Satisfied with your plea, he began moving again, finding the rhythm that he needed to bring himself to his end. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up, lovey?” He breathlessly spoke.

Glassy eyed, you nodded, bottom lip quivering. “Need it so bad,” you begged.

His face contorted into a look of beautiful euphoria. His jaw went slack, his eyes fell shut, and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck as the climax began to overwhelm him entirely. It washed over him with great force, rendering him absolutely boneless as he keened, your name falling from his lips in a soft whimper. Beneath him, you relished in the feeling of his essence seeping into you, even as tears continued to stain your cheeks.

His hips stuttered a few more times against yours as he made sure to fill you with everything he had to give. And as he came down, trying to catch his breath, you made no move to part from one another.

There you lay, holding each other, basking in the afterglow as the weight of his body settled atop yours. When your tears ceased, Bob very carefully slid out of you, soothing your mewl of protest with an open-mouthed kiss. As he moved to rest upon his back, he tucked you into his side, and you rested your head on his chest, right over his still racing heart.

Gentle fingers traced circles along your arm. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out a little, still drunk off pleasure, until his touch brought it back down to earth.

You placed your hand against his chest, eyeing the rise and fall of each breath he took. For a while, neither of you said anything. And when the silence finally did break, it was Bob who broke it.

“Need to get you cleaned up, lovey. Can’t let you fall asleep like this.”

Despite your murmur of protest, he gathered you into his arms and carried you out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just a few feet away.

You were so sleepy, it seemed that the events of the day were finally catching up with you, paired with the romp in the sheets you’d just gone on with Bob. You were in a haze as he tenderly cleaned you up and urged you to use the restroom.

“I’ve got you,” his low, comforting voice assured you. You could allow yourself to remain in that hazy state, because you knew he would take care of you. He always did.

He led you back to the bedroom, where he helped you change into the pajamas you had brought. Once you were taken care of, he tucked you into bed and kissed you on the forehead before he proceeded to ready himself for bed. A shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Easy, in case he needed to jump out of bed and tend to a threat in the middle of the night.

Then he slipped into bed beside you, and you immediately snuggled into him, content to be in his arms, enjoying his warmth. You would cherish every last moment you had with him. Safe and secure, your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. Oh, how you loved him.

You were lulled into a deep, comforting slumber. In fact, it was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks. Just his presence alone gave you rest.

But while you slept peacefully, Bob remained awake. He couldn’t sleep, not when he had to watch over you. He was tempted to get up and do a perimeter sweep outside, just to make sure everything was safe. But you were sleeping so peacefully in his arms that he didn’t want to disturb you.

At some point during the night, he did drift off into a light slumber, still partially alert, always ready to address danger, should it come knocking on the door.

And, unfortunately, it did.

At around 0400 hours, Bob was alerted to movement outside. It wasn’t loud. But there was a strange rustling in the woods, and the snapping of twigs. Instantly, his eyes were open, and he held his breath, hoping he’d just dreamt the sounds. But then he heard it again, and his heart seized in his chest.

Without hesitation, he eased you out of his arms, and you remained sleeping while he slipped out of bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and rushing to put his earpiece back in his ear so he could communicate with White House security if need be.

There were no windows in the bedroom, so he quickly and quietly scrambled to the front of the house, where he stopped at the window and discreetly lifted the edge of the curtain to peer outside. Sure enough, he saw two figures dressed in black gear approaching from the tree line.

And that’s when he realized one of them was already at the door, working on the security keypad. Bob knew, in that moment, that he should have trusted his gut feeling from the beginning. Where the hell had Agent Simpson sent the two of you? Because there was no way this was a safe house if it was this easy to get into.

But there was no time to debate the security of the house. Danger was right on the doorstep, and his first priority was protecting you. So he sprang into action, rushing back to the bedroom where you slept peacefully.

“Safe house is compromised,” he reported into his mic, just before he leaned down to shake you awake.

“Copy. Get into the bunker. Sending backup now,” Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear.

Bob didn’t reply. He was too focused on waking you. “Hey, hey, need you to wake up for me, honey.” He shook you vigorously until you stirred from your slumber.

You stared up at him in confusion, your eyes bleary. “Bobby? Wha-?”

“No time. Get up, we need to get under the house now. They found us.”

That woke you up. Your eyes widened, and you sat upright, throwing the covers from your body as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “How?!”

“I don’t know! Just come with me!” He yanked you to your feet, hands tight on your arms, catching you when you stumbled.

Adrenaline coursed through you, wiping away the sleep-induced fog that had been cast over your brain. Bob’s remained closed firmly around your wrist and he pulled you after him out of the bedroom, intending to take you down into the bunker. But in a split second, he stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back with a surprised gasp.

He could only just catch sight of the door coming open. There was no time to make it to the trap door that would lead you to safety beneath the house. Going for it would result in the two of you being spotted and killed instantly. He had a split second to make a decision. This was life or death.

He whirled around, and in the darkness, you could see the wildness in his eyes, and it sent an icy shock of terror through you. Without a word, he clamped his hand over your mouth, silencing you before he pushed you back toward the bedroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your entire body trembling with fear as he released you and turned to shut the bedroom door silently. Thank God there was a lock on it, which he promptly turned, careful to do it silently. Then he whirled back around to face you. “Get under the bed. No matter what happens, you do not come out unless I tell you to.” His voice was so low it was barely audible, but you heard every word. And then, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, sinking to your knees and maneuvering your body underneath the bed. Bob yanked the covers down so they were hanging from the edge of the mattress, effectively obscuring you from view. It was only a temporary solution, but it would do.

Then, his hand closed around the cool metal of his gun, which he pulled from his waistband and positioned himself a few feet away from the door, weapon drawn, hands steady as he flipped the safety off. He could hear Simpson’s voice in his earpiece, asking for confirmation that the two of you had made it down into the bunker. But Bob couldn’t answer. Silence was what was going to keep you alive at the moment.

He placed his finger against the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. Whoever was on the other side of the door was quiet, but he could still hear them. Creeping closer and closer, inch by inch. And then, the doorknob rattled, and Bob felt his breath catch in his throat.

You pressed your own hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. Bob’s eyes never left that door. He counted down in his head. Five. The silence was broken as the person threw their weight against the door. Four. Again, their body thudded against the door. Three. Two steps backward. Two. Bob realized what was about to happen. One. He threw his body to the side just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the house. Wood splintered. Smoke curled through the air.

Bob had moved aside just in time. A second too late and he would be suffering from a gunshot wound. But just as quickly as he moved, his gun was in the air again, held steadily in front of him. As soon as he had the assailant in his sights, he fired.

Beneath the bed, your hands came up to your ears, protecting them from the awful sound. You couldn’t see around the quilt obscuring your vision. You prayed silently that Bob was unharmed. And he was. He’d just put one perpetrator down. You’d heard the thud of the body hitting the floor.

But he had no idea how many more there were.

He would soon find out.

Seconds later, more footsteps. Bob fired. But the second man was expecting it, and kept his body partially hidden by the doorway as he lifted his rifle and aimed it at Bob. The secret service agent ducked quickly, firing his own weapon in retaliation.

He put up a good fight. Really, he did. Bob had always been seen as a pacifist, and by nature, he was. But that didn’t mean he shied away from a fight. And when he did have to utilize physical force, there was a calculated tenacity with which he fought. He was a worthy opponent.

He disarmed the second man quickly. Grazed his cheek with a bullet and used that split-second distraction to dive for the gun that belonged to the dead man on the floor. But then, a voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Bob looked up to find three men pointing rifles at his head. He was cornered.

“Drop the fuckin’ weapon.”

He did. He was severely outnumbered. If he tried anything, he’d be shot dead on the spot. That would leave you entirely vulnerable and alone.

The one in the middle stepped forward. He was tall. Dark hair. Beard. couldn’t have been much older than Bob himself. Dark eyes stared murderously at the agent kneeling on the ground. He never lowered his rifle.

“We’re just here for the girl. Tell us where she is.”

“She’s not here,” Bob lied through his teeth.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. We staked you out. We know you brought her here. Now where is she, huh?” Then, he called out into the room in a singsong voice that made your skin crawl, “come out, come out wherever you are!”

“She’s not going to come out, because she’s not here!”

The stranger rolled his eyes. “Alright, then you won’t mind if I fire a couple of precautionary shots, right? Just to make doubly sure?” He aimed his gun at the bed you were currently stowed beneath.

Bob’s stomach dropped. “Hey, there’s no reason to waste ammunition on–”

“Ah! So she is here!”

And just like that, it all fell apart.

One of the assailants forced Bob into a prone position on the floor, his gun pressed to the back of his head. He reached down and ripped Bob’s earpiece out of his ear, tossing it to the hardwood floor and stomping on it, effectively cutting off any and all communication with The White House. And then, Bob watched helplessly as you were dragged from beneath the bed, kicking and screaming.

And all he could think, was that he’d failed you.

“Bobby!” You wailed.

“Hey! What is it that you want, huh?! Money?! We’ll give it to you, I can make a call to Washington, get it wired to–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” the man above him snarled, smacking him square in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Bob’s vision went white as searing pain radiated through his skull.

“It’s not about money,” said the one who had wrestled you from beneath the bed. “It’s about sending a message to her daddy.”

You whimpered in fright as he grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks hard. His expression was full of hatred. It chilled you to your very core. “We’ll make him wish he’d never taken office.”

“Let her go!” Bob cried desperately from the floor, though he was in no position to be making demands.

“No, I don’t think we will.” The man began to haul you out of the room, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams. He glanced at the one standing over Bob. “Make sure he can’t follow us.”

As you were dragged into the hall, you heard the sound of a single shot ring out, and you sobbed behind the hand pressed to your mouth. No!

But Bob wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, his teeth clenched so hard he was sure he would break them, letting out a muffled, tormented scream behind them. White hot pain traveled up his thigh, and with it, a violent sense of nausea overwhelmed him. His assailant had shot him in the leg.

And then he was left alone in that bedroom, helpless to do anything as you were carried away, putting up a fight despite being overpowered. Crying out in absolute agony, Bob fought to drag himself upright, though his head spun and his leg throbbed wickedly. He had to stop them. Had to get to you.

It took every ounce of strength in his being to pull himself upright, but by that time, it was too late. They had taken you outside. He’d never reach you in time. After everything he had done to keep you safe, he had lost you in the end. He would never forgive himself as long as he lived.

But then, hope.

All of the sudden, the sound of a helicopter approaching could be heart, and not long after, blinding white light shone through the front door. Moments later, a magnified voice called out, “Homeland Security! We have you surrounded!”

What happened next was a blur. There was shouting. So much shouting. Outside, you were blinded by the lights, reaching your hands up to shield your eyes. The sounds around you were deafening. Someone fired a shot. Then another. Hands grabbed at you. You had no idea who they belonged to. But they pulled you away from the men who had taken you, guiding you to the sidelines, away from the danger.

But you didn’t want to go to the sidelines. You wanted to run back to your Bobby. “Let go! I need to see if Bobby’s alright!”

“Miss, we can send someone to check on him, right now I need you to—”

“No! They shot him! I have to know that he’s okay!”

You argued back and forth for a moment before you got the drop on the agent trying to restrain you. You threw your weight downwards and she released you out of surprise. You didn’t feel bad when you elbowed your way past her. You probably should have, because after all, she was just trying to do her job. But nothing else mattered to you in that moment than knowing Bob’s fate. If he was dying, you needed to be by his side to say goodbye. You weren’t about to miss your last chance to be with him.

So you made a dash for the house, ducking back inside, frantic.

“Bobby!” You cried out, scrambling toward the bedroom. Sickening dread coursed through you. What were you about to walk in on? Would you find the love of your life dead on the ground?

But then, you heard it. “I-in here!”

As soon as you burst into the room, you saw him. He’d tried to stand, but had crumpled to the ground in severe pain, and was now leaning back against the side of the bed, injured leg stretched out in front of him.

“Oh dear God.” You rushed to his aid, dropping to your knees beside him. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

His pant leg was soaked with crimson, and he’d placed his hand over the wound, in effort to slow the bleeding. “I-I’m okay,” he assured you, gazing into your frightened face. “Can you get my belt for me? It’s on the floor on the other side of the bed.” It sounded as if it took great labor for him to get the words out.

You didn’t hesitate. You jumped up and ran around to the other side of the bed, grabbing his belt. As soon as you handed it to him, he got to work tightening it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet.

Voices could be heard out in the main room of the cabin. You knew that you would soon be separated. It sent a terrible wave of dread through you, and you reached for Bob.

“Bobby,” you tearfully spoke.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, his tourniquet finished. His clean hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you again real soon.”

“But I don’t—”

“Honey, listen to me. Need you to be my brave girl, okay? I can’t go with you. They’re gonna take me to the hospital. And after that there’s a whole protocol I have to go through. But those agents out there, they’ll get you to safety. I promise you.”

Weeping, you wrapped your arms around his neck once more before you pulled back, just as none other than Agent Simpson walked into the room, his gun drawn.

Bob protectively placed an arm in front of you. “It’s all clear!” He called out. The assailant on the floor a few feet away from you both had long since been dead and did not pose a threat. Simpson still turned him over with his foot just to make absolutely certain that he was dead.

Beau approached you, kneeling so that he was eye level with you. His expression was neutral, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “I need you to come with me. I’ll see to it that you get back home safely. The threat to your life has been neutralized.”

“Agent Simpson, he’s been shot,” you whimpered, motioning to Bob.

“I see it. I’ve got a medic chopper on the way. We’ll transport him to the hospital. Right now, you’ve got two parents who are worried sick about you. Let’s get you back to them.”

“But—”

“Go with him,” Bob gently coaxed. “There’s nothing else you can do for me here. I’ll be fine.”

You gazed into his face, tears blurring your vision. “O-okay,” you whispered.

You wanted so badly to kiss him goodbye. But even now, you were hyper aware of Simpson’s presence and you knew you couldn’t openly show romantic affection to Bob in front of him.

So you allowed Agent Simpson to escort you from the room. You cast one more glance over your shoulder at your injured lover, before you finally left him behind. It felt like your heart was being torn in two. You longed to stay by his side, to board that medical helicopter with him and wait at the hospital while they tended to his injury.

But you supposed you did have one thing to be grateful for. At least he wasn’t dead.

As you were led outside, the early morning light was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It illuminated the carnage that had taken place. You gasped as you realized that the three remaining men who had tried to take you were dead. But there were others. Others you hadn’t seen. They were in custody, ready to be taken in for questioning. In one night, Homeland Security had succeeded in taking down a homegrown terrorist organization.

But that begged the question: why on earth had they been after you? It didn’t matter, because no one would answer your question, anyway.

You were led to a waiting car, where you realized Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were waiting for you. After what you had been through, you were relieved to see them.

“Hey kid,” Bradley greeted you.

“I sure am glad to see you,” you breathed.

“We’re glad to see you, too,” Natasha replied.

Bradley opened the door, and Nat slid into the seat first before you took your place in the middle, while he brought up the rear and closed the door behind him.

Javy Machado, who was driving, glanced back at you. “Good to see you safe and sound,” he said with a small smile.

You didn’t feel safe and sound. You felt harrowed and anxious.

The entire drive to The White House, you didn’t say a word. You stared out the window and fought to hold back your tears. What had gone wrong? How had those men found you? It seemed too easy. As if you and Bob had been nothing more than sitting ducks.

You were fortunate that all he had sustained was a shot to the leg. And you were even more fortunate that you had not been physically harmed. You were more emotionally scarred than anything. You weren’t sure how long it would take you to recover, but you knew you needed time. And most of all, you needed Bob.

But that was out of the question.

Instead, you had to hold your head high as you climbed out of the car once you had arrived at The White House. Waiting for you were Jake, Reuben, and Mickey. They reported your safe arrival through their mics, and then carefully led you into the building.

“Glad you’re home safe,” Jake softly told you.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t muster one. You were already steeling yourself for being reunited with your parents. You knew your mother would be teetering toward hysterics, and your father would likely be stoic, as he often was. You loved them, but you were overwhelmed.

Your mind was elsewhere, longing for your Bobby.

Meanwhile, he was just arriving at the hospital, where a team of medical personnel had already been warned of his arrival. He was a little delirious from the blood loss and the pain, but he could hear the terms they were throwing back and forth.

They were going to operate immediately.

“Agent Floyd?” A woman’s voice filled his ears. She was strawberry blonde, with kind blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s. “I’m Doctor Vitarella. We’re gonna get this bullet outta you as fast as we can, alright?”

He mumbled something in reply, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Then an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he found himself slipping into a dark and dreamless slumber. The first thing he noticed when he woke a few hours later was the cast.

As consciousness washed over him, he gazed down at it, stretching from his foot to the top of his thigh. Still groggy, he glanced around the room, and saw a nurse walking into the room with a clipboard in hand. She looked up and realized that he was awake.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Floyd,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go get the doctor. She’ll want to talk to you.”

She scurried away before he could say anything. About five minutes later, the woman he vaguely remembered as Doctor Vitarella walked into the room. “You, sir, gave me a run for my money in the operating room,” she said.

Bob looked at her confusedly, still not fully out of his anesthesia-induced haze.

“When the bullet entered your leg, it fractured your femur. I inserted a rod into your leg to provide solid support to the bone. But you should know that the second it came in contact with the bone, the bullet broke into a bunch of tiny little pieces. My team and I did the best that we could, but I must inform you that there are still leftover fragments in your leg. I could not get those out without causing more damage.”

As he mulled over her words, Bob only had one question. “Will I be able to use my leg again?”

“With proper physical therapy, yes. But you’ll likely live with lasting pain. I wish I had a better prognosis for you, but what matters is that we stopped the bleeding and set the bone.”

He nodded solemnly. There were still bullet fragments in his body. A constant reminder of what he had been through. He felt as if he hadn’t let it fully sink in yet. Everything had been such a blur. Being carried on a stretcher out of the safe house because he couldn’t walk. Being placed into a helicopter and then rushed into the hospital.

And now here he was, on his back in a hospital bed, his leg aching something fierce. No, not aching. Throbbing. As the fog began to clear from his brain, the pain set in, and he groaned softly. His head was pounding. His leg hurt enough to prompt him to clench his teeth. “Could I get some, uh, pain meds?” He asked.

“I’ll have the nurse bring you some.”

A while later, he had been given his medicine, but it just barely took the edge off the pain. There was no distraction from it. He didn’t want to watch whatever mindless show that was playing on the television. He didn’t have his phone to scroll through. He had nothing. The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was the thought of you.

He wondered how you were faring. He wondered if you even knew of his condition. Had anyone updated you? He imagined that you were demanding to know how he was.

And you were. You had informed Agent Simpson yourself that you wanted a report of Bob’s health. You had to know that he was okay. Thankfully, as soon as Beau knew something, he called you right away.

“He’s gonna be okay, kid,” he said, “bullet fractured his femur, and they put him in a cast. But he’s gonna be okay.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanked Beau for the update, and hung up the phone. Seconds later, you burst into tears. Your Bobby was going to be okay.

But his worries were far from over.

He was given a couple days to rest, but on his third day in the hospital, Agent Simpson walked through the door of his hospital room, and he knew it had begun.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, making courteous small talk.

“Like hell,” Bob muttered in reply.

Beau nodded. “Sorry to hear that.” And then, he brandished a folder from a briefcase. “I hate to jump right into business, but…I have no other choice.” He pulled up a chair and sat at Bob’s bedside. “There are a few things I need to clear up.”

“Go ahead.”

“First and foremost, why did you not utilize the bunker beneath the house? The two of you were sitting ducks where you were.”

Bob stared at his superior. “I tried. But they were in the house before I could get her there. So I hid her under the bed.”

“And why were you not aware of the threat before then? Did you not do a thorough enough perimeter sweep?”

His tone was slightly accusatory. At least, Bob took it as such. His eyes narrowed. “No disrespect, sir, but what the hell kind of safe house was that? They never should have been able to breach it that easily.” He paused for a beat, awaiting an explanation.

“I think you might already know the answer to that, agent.”

“It wasn’t a safe house at all, was it?”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Now Bob was angry. “Y’know, my gut told me that something wasn’t right, and I just brushed it off. But I should’ve listened. You used her as bait, didn’t you? And I went right along with it like a fool.”

“Floyd, this was a tricky situation we were dealing with here. We’ve been tracking this group for months. Our only chance at luring them out was to use her as a decoy. By doing that, we in turn saved her life.”

“How is that any better?! You can’t just use someone as live bait!”

“I didn’t like doing it either, in fact it was my absolute last resort. But it worked, didn’t it? President’s daughter is safe and sound. Terrorist group has been disbanded. We have the few remaining ones in custody. It’s over. The threat to her life and our government has been neutralized.”

“And what if it didn’t work? What if she’d been killed?”

“But she wasn’t. There’s no use thinking about the what ifs. What’s done is done.”

“Does she know she was used as bait?”

Simpson shook his head, his gaze hard. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”

Several moments of silence passed. Bob processed what he’d just been told. This entire time, he had tried so hard to keep you safe. Tried so hard to keep the danger away. And yet, the danger had still found you, all because the very administration he worked for had led them right to you.

A sick feeling churned in his gut. He felt dirty. He hadn’t been protecting you at all. He’d been offering you up to the very men who were after you, and he didn’t even know it.

“What did the president think about his daughter being used to lure her potential killers in?” His tone was bitter. He couldn’t help it.

“He was in agreement that it was the most effective way of eliminating the threat.”

“So I was the only one who wasn’t clued in to this plan?”

The agent looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Yes, because just from my own personal assessments and observations of you as an agent, I knew you wouldn’t go along with it otherwise. And she needed to be kept entirely in the dark. It was better that way.”

Bob’s head was spinning. “So really I was just used as a pawn?”

“You have to understand that this was a matter of national security. And sometimes you have to play dirty for the sake of the greater good.” He firmly believed that this had been the most effective course of action.

“I…I’m gonna need a minute to sit with this,” Bob continued.

“You don’t have a minute, Bob. I’m going to need you to fill out a report about what happened. You do not say one word about what I just shared with you. Just report what you saw, how you reacted, and nothing more or less.”

“So you want me to lie.”

“Some things are meant to be confidential. This is one of those things. Just report what you witnessed, agent. I’ll handle the rest.” He placed the folder, marked CONFIDENTIAL, onto Bob’s lap. Then he clicked a pen and set it on top.

Bob stared at it. Could he really do this? His superior expected him to. The president expected him to. But his mind wandered to you, and the senseless trauma you had endured because of it. In his heart, he knew that if Agent Mitchell was still in charge, this situation would have been handled differently. He would have done everything in his power to ensure you were not used as bait.

But Pete Mitchell’s days in The White House were over. Bob had no choice but to follow the new leadership put in place. So he went along with what was being asked of him, even though it went against everything he stood for, everything he believed.

He penned a lie on that report. Described what had happened, as if he had no idea about the plot to use you to lure your attackers straight to you. He dotted every i and crossed every t. And when he was done, he shoved the file back into Beau Simpson’s hands.

“You got what you came for. Now get out.” Bob didn’t care that he was speaking disrespectfully to a superior. It didn’t matter anymore.

Simpson left without a word. And Bob was alone again.

That interaction changed everything for Bob. It made him question his very morals. Could he really allow himself to be part of an administration that purposely put the very members it was supposed to be protecting in harm’s way? This left him with much to consider. He had a decision to make.

He finalized that decision the day you came to visit him.

Escorted by Bradley, Jake, and Natasha, who all respectfully waited outside the room once they brought you to it, you came through the door, so eager to see the man you loved. You shut the door behind you, allowing you both some privacy.

As you took in his form, tears sprang to your eyes. His left leg was in a full cast. There was a bandage around his head from the injury he’d sustained from being hit in the head with a gun. But what mattered was that he was alive, and he was going to be okay.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered as you approached him, unable to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

He mustered a smile. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

You leaned down, oh so carefully wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. I’m okay.”

You pulled back, looking into his face before you lovingly stroked his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut, relishing in your touch, so comforting and familiar. It distracted him from his pain and made him feel less alone.

“They told me the bullet fractured your femur?” You finally found your voice a few moments later. As you spoke, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Bob’s hand lifted to rest in your lap, and you placed your own hands over top of it.

“Yeah. They put a pin in me. Got a bionic leg now,” he teased. But then, he grew serious. “When the bullet hit my bone, it broke into a bunch of little fragments. They took out most of them, but I’ve still got some floating around in there.”

You frowned, wiping at your tear dampened cheeks with the back of your hand. “How does that work? Will they ever be able to get them out?”

“The doc told me she couldn’t. Said it would cause more damage if she tried. So I’ll just have them inside me forever.”

Your heart broke for him. “I’m sorry they did this to you. All because you were trying to protect me.”

“Hey,” he interjected, hand moving to tip your chin up. “Don’t you ever think of blaming yourself. I’d do it again a million times over as long as it meant that you were safe. You’re what matters most to me in this world. I don’t want to live in one without you in it.”

“And I don’t want to live in one without you in it, either,” came your reply.

His fingers wiped away your tears. There was so much he longed to say. He wanted so badly to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What good would it do? It would only bring more grief upon your shoulders. He didn’t want to cause you anymore pain than you’d already been through.

But, with his next words, he ended up hurting you anyway.

“I need to tell you something.”

His tone gave you pause. He was serious. “What is it?” You cautiously asked.

“I…I’ve decided to step down from my job.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He sighed softly. “This injury’s going to have me out for months. And honestly, by the time it does heal, I just have this feeling that it won’t ever be the same again. I won’t be as effective at my job as I was before. So I’m making the decision to resign.”

But you were shaking your head, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. “Bobby, no. You can’t leave. I need you.”

“Sweetheart, my mind is made up.”

“Why? Because I know this isn’t just because of your leg. What happened? Did my dad threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He sighed, shaking his head. How could he word it in a way that wouldn’t expose what he’d just sworn to keep secret? “I…I was asked to do something that goes against everything I believe. And I just can’t remain with this administration while knowing I was asked to do it.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What—”

“That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Then what? You’re just going to leave? What does that mean for us?”

“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.”

You paused for a moment, looking down at your intertwined hands. More tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whimpered. “You’re the one I feel safest with. I-I know everyone else is just as capable of looking after me but I want you, Bobby.”

It broke his heart to do this to you. And it filled him with uncertainty, too. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for your relationship. But he knew he couldn’t keep going on in secret. And he couldn’t continue to serve an administration that could potentially put you in danger again in the name of national security.

“I don’t want to leave, either. But I have to.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. You should be allowed to make this decision without me causing a fuss about it. Do what you feel is best. I’ll support you no matter what.”

He lovingly stroked your cheek. “That means the world to me, honey. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, after everything you went through. But I just wanted you to know before anyone else. I haven’t even told your dad or Agent Simpson yet.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. But I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself, not seeing you everyday. God, I’m going to miss you so much, Bobby.” Your voice wavered. You were barely holding it together.

“Hey, c’mere.” He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest, over his heart. “We’re gonna be okay, you and me. We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way.” He kissed the top of your head.

You hoped he was right.

After that initial visit to the hospital, you tried to visit him as often as possible. Your security team was more than happy to tag along each day, because they loved Bob, too. And you cherished those quiet moments in that hospital room, without the eyes of the world on you.

Outside of that hospital, you had to face the public. Had to deliver statements about what happened that night in the safe house. Had to assure the American people that you were just fine, that the brave United States Secret Service and Homeland Security agents did their jobs well. Because of them, an entire domestic terrorist organization had been quashed. In America’s eyes, it was a great victory.

But you couldn’t help but feel like a spectacle. The girl who’d survived a harrowing attack on her life. You were made to relive that night over and over and over again. And finally, in the end, you’d had enough. In the following weeks, you came to terms with a lot of personal things.

Namely, you came to terms with wanting to separate yourself from your family’s administration. You would never be able to erase the fact that you were the president’s daughter. And your life would never be normal. You would need a security detail for the rest of your life. But you were done living within the confines of The White House.

The only time you had ever been away from it was when you were at college. After graduation, you came back to work as part of your father’s administration. But for your own sanity, you knew you needed to step down and find your own path.

So you told your parents as much. You informed them that your mind was made up, that you were going to buy a home for yourself and live your life separate from them. You no longer wanted a foot in the door of politics. It was time to pursue your true passions.

And that was just what you did.

You bought a house deep in Wyoming, of all places. A nice plot of land, spacious enough for owning horses or cows, and for planting a nice sized garden. It was quiet and secluded and the perfect respite after spending the last six years in The White House.

In the time leading up to your move, Bob was in the throes of physical therapy. His leg was healing well, and he was working hard to regain his strength. During those months, the two of you decided that it would be best to distance yourselves from one another, only because you did not want to raise suspicions about your relationship. You attending each one of his physical therapy sessions came across as suspicious, in your mind.

So you allowed him to focus on getting better, while you focused on starting your new life. You missed him so deeply, but your separation was only temporary. You planned to meet again, as soon as he was ready to travel, and you were situated in your new home. You also wanted the media attention on your safe house to die down.

Eventually, it did, and the world moved on to something else to panic about.

But you? You tuned it all out. You stayed out of the news, you stayed out of politics, and you tried to bring some sense of calm normalcy to your life. You no longer needed a full security detail. It was with a heavy heart that you bid farewell to a few of them, leaving only Natasha, Mickey, and Bradley as your remaining security. They helped ensure that your home was always safe, and that you were protected.

But there was still one part of your life that remained incomplete. A void that could only be filled by your Bobby.

And finally, after several months, the day came that you would be reunited. He was strong enough to travel again. He had officially resigned from his job in The White House. He returned to civilian life, and packed up the minimal amount of belongings he had, placing them in the trunk and backseat of his car.

He drove over fifteen hours just to get to you. And it was worth it to him. After not seeing you for months, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and never let go. So he drove. And he drove. And he drove. Until finally, he was standing at your front door, his hands trembling as Natasha let him in, and informed him that you were out back, in the stable.

So he ran. Ignoring the residual ache in his bad leg, he dashed behind the house, where the stable was, and he kept going into he was standing in the wide doorway. His feet skidded against concrete and hay, and his eyes searched. There you were. Dressed in jeans, riding boots, and a t-shirt. One he recognized as an old shirt of his, which you had snagged from him in the early days of your secret relationship.

You heard him approaching. Heard his feet skid to a halt at the doorway. And your heart quickened in your chest. You turned in what felt like slow motion, your gaze falling upon the man you loved, standing at the entrance of your stable, breathless.

“Bobby,” you whispered.

You weren’t sure who moved first. But in an instant, you were both running toward each other. You met halfway, arms coming out to catch the other, to embrace the other. “You’re here! You’re really here!” Came your cry.

“I’m here.” And then he was kissing you. Arms secure around your body, lips soft and familiar. He kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. And you kissed back. Not even your mingled tears caused you to part. You didn’t want to. It was as if you were afraid this would all be a dream if you pulled away.

When you did part, he was smiling. That sweet smile that made his eyes disappear behind his cheeks. That sweet smile that made your heart sing. “Oh, I missed you!” you sobbed.

“I missed you too, honey. So, so much.”

You embraced again. He spun you around in a circle, and you giggled musically, overjoyed. He was finally here, with you, where he belonged. After months of waiting, months of agony, months of uncertainty, he was in your arms. No longer as the head of your security detail, but as the man you loved.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” came your soft confession.

“Believe it. This couldn’t be more real,” he assured you.

You held his face in your hands. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful man. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

“Good, because I’m here to stay.”

You shared several more moments in that stable, holding each other, still in disbelief that it was finally over. The years of secrecy, the sneaking around behind the scenes. You didn’t have to hide anymore. You were allowed to love each other freely and openly.

Together, you walked back to your house that night, arms around each other, swaying as you walked, happy and content and relieved. You enjoyed a wonderful dinner, just the two of you, as the three remaining members of your security team had excused themselves to their own quarters to allow you privacy.

A lot had changed in the time that you’d been apart. You told Bob all you’d been doing, and he informed you what stepping down from his job, and enduring all that physical therapy, had been like.

He was no longer part of the secret service, and he never would be again. The fear of being found out and losing his position was no longer on the table. There were no superiors to appease. No presidents to serve. He was free to be his own man. To live his life. To love who he wanted.

To love you.

Things were not automatically perfect now that he was with you. But they were better. You would have to figure out some things. And eventually, you would have to tell your family that you were in a relationship with him. But for now, you could live in peace, if only for a brief moment in time. You were safe, on your little farm in Wyoming, with the man you loved. It was your own little slice of heaven.

And after all the difficulty you had endured, you were more than content with that. You could figure everything else out later. For now, you would live in that domestic bliss for just a little while longer. You’d earned it, after all.

Finally, it was your turn to live your life the way you wanted to, and not the way others dictated you should.

taglist (a mix of those already on the list/who might be interested):

@bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @delopsia @milesmillergf @ohtobeleah @purelyfiction @honeymurdock @ihavealewproblem @high-speed-r @happyrebelruins @chasing-fics @roostersgirlfrxend @bradshawsbaby @whisperofsong @hangmanapologist @callsign-magnolia @callsignmedusa @withahappyrefrain @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @damrlova @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @bobfloydsbabe @nobody7102 @agentorange9595

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years

Note

💍 What about Rooster and Mrs Bradshaw celebrating one of their child's birthday with all of the squadron there, I think it would be so cute 😍

Happy birthday btw, I hope you're having an amazing day ❤️

(Sorry if my english is bad, not my first language😖)

For the 2K/Birthday Celebration!

(Your English is perfect, Anon! I hope you enjoy! ❤️)

“Smile, Goose! Goose! Over here, honey!” Penny called, holding up her cell phone and trying to snap a clear photograph.

“Goose, look at Aunt Penny! Smile for Aunt Penny, baby,” you cooed in a sing-song voice, pointing towards the camera.

“Come on, buddy,” Bradley said encouragingly, squeezing your son’s stomach playfully. “One big smile for the paparazzi.”

You and Bradley were squatting on either side of Goose’s high chair, trying as hard as you possibly could to get your son to look up so that you could get a nice family picture to commemorate his first birthday. But it was hopeless. Your son had no interest in anything besides the cake that was sitting in front of him, which he was currently digging his fingers into.

“Maybe we should try taking the cake away,” you whispered over Goose’s head, blowing a lock of hair out of your face as you looked over at your husband.

“A suicide mission if I’ve ever heard,” Bradley grimaced, glancing down at the slice of cake, which was now being crushed in both of Goose’s chubby fists.

Sighing softly, you glanced up. “It’s okay, Penny. I’m sure the candids you got are great,” you told her, starting to rise from your position on the grass.

Penny had been gracious enough to host Goose’s first birthday party in her beautifully manicured backyard. She’d insisted on it, in fact. You, Penny, and Amelia had spent all morning decorating—you’d unsurprisingly decided to go with an aviator theme—while Bradley and Mav had prepared all the food on the grill. Your friends had all cleared their schedules to make sure they were available to celebrate the first Dagger Squad baby’s birthday.

“Oh, no, we’ll get it!” Penny insisted, waving you back to your spot. “Goose!” she called again, waving her hand over her head to try to get his attention.

“Baby Bradshaw, you are just as stubborn as your old man,” Hangman smirked, walking over to get a closer view of your failed attempts to capture your son’s attention.

“Oh, shut up,” Phoenix laughed, smacking his stomach as she stepped up beside him. She and Jake had returned from their honeymoon just in time to make it to Goose’s birthday party. “Goose! Look over here at Aunt Phoenix and Uncle Bagman!” she called out, waving her hands over her head.

“Phoenix! He’s going to seriously think that’s my name!” Hangman groaned, waving his hands above his wife’s head as well.

“You guys still haven’t gotten a picture?” Coyote laughed as he walked over, a plate filled with cookies in his hand.

“Seriously?” Payback asked, grinning and shaking his head.

“Come on, Goose! We’re waiting on you to eat cake!” Fanboy joked, stepping up on the other side of Penny and waving his hands in the air as well.

“With the grip he’s got on that thing, I don’t know if any of us are getting cake,” Bob chuckled, pointing at where Goose was now squishing his slice of cake beneath both hands.

“Alright, new mission, Dagger Squad,” you called out, standing up and resting your hands on your hips. “One of you has got to be able to get Goose’s attention. Extra cake for whoever can do it,” you told them with a grin.

Everyone immediately sprang into action, waving their hands and making silly faces and calling out Goose’s name over and over again.

“Come on, Goose, please. For us? For Mommy and Daddy?” Bradley begged, nudging Goose’s arm gently.

“C’mon, talk to me, Goose!” Mav’s voice suddenly boomed across the backyard, startling everyone else. He was standing on the back porch right behind where Penny was standing, waving one of Goose’s birthday gifts in the air. It was a toy jet, attached to a string so that Mav was able to whirl it around his head.

That finally caught your son’s attention. Lifting his head, his eyes crinkled as he smiled and let out a loud laugh. “Mav! Mav!” he cried, waving a frosting-covered hand in the air.

Gasping, Penny held up her cell phone. “Smile! Smile!” she exclaimed.

You and Bradley hurriedly leaned in closer to your son, smiling brightly as Penny snapped away.

“Beautiful!” she beamed, holding up her phone in success.

“That’s a good-looking family right there,” Payback noted with a smile, looking over Penny’s shoulder at the pictures she’d taken.

“Of course it’s Mav who gets the extra cake,” Hangman grumbled, earning another nudge from Phoenix.

“Thank you, Mav!” you called out, grinning widely at him.

“Saving the day, as always,” Bradley smiled, bending down to lift Goose out of his high chair. As soon as he did, however, your son reached up and smashed the cake he’d been holding into your husband’s face.

Everyone burst out laughing at the sight, including you, even as you grabbed a napkin to wipe his face.

“Oh, yeah, that’s your son alright, Bradshaw,” Hangman guffawed, shaking his head in amusement.

“That’s my son,” Bradley nodded, smiling affectionately. “Happy Birthday, Goose.”

#💍#2k/birthday celebration #drabble #the bradshaw family #rooster x wife!reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #penny benjamin #pete maverick mitchell #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #hannix #javy coyote machado #reuben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia #robert bob floyd #top gun: maverick #anon

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ouralcohol · 1 year

Text

Ever Mine

Pairing: fem!reader* x Lt. Robert 'Bob' Floyd

Summary: lovers, a bunch of memories put together because alcohol had no plot, just fluff and soft things, domestic adorable life [wc: roughly 4k]

Tags: 18+ explicit, lovers, so much fluff, smut (i tried.. My first time…), nudity, vaginal sex, oral sex (both F receiving), slight choking, daddy kink (we all love a daddy kink), all characters are 18+.

Author’s note: This was for the dicked down December that my dear Abby put together and I only hope I do it justice because to get as someone as spectacular as @withahappyrefrain is absolutely astronomical… love ya bud.

The moments that made you fall even more in love with Robert Floyd.

The first time he held your hand was the first time you felt the moonlight shine upon your face. There wasn’t a person in sight, but you honestly didn’t care. It was finally happening. It was all finally happening with him. He took you by the hand as you began to stroll down the street filled with little antique shops after dinner. It had been a while in the making, as you had been a friend since middle school. Robert always returned home regardless of where he was stationed. Sometimes he flew in just to spend a few hours with his parents before heading out again. While he left, you stayed put. You went to college in your town and you decided to become a teacher. Only because the kids were so damn adorable and you knew that in your heart you felt like you could make a difference.

And you were.

So while he was there, you were here, achieving your dream just as much as he. During the first few years he came home almost every time. You hung out and caught up with each other. Things slowly started shifting when you graduated from school as you wanted more. You wanted to continue your studies, but now you were in the classroom. The years took a toll as teaching was no easy feat. There was a reason why summers were needed for the well deserved break. Robert had come home one summer and you decided that that was when you were going to tell him everything. You knew you were. Apparently so did he as he laid it all out on the line. You will never forget the words he spoke to you in that quiet, dimly lit restaurant.

“It’s you, sweet girl. It’s always been you.” He simply said while adjusting his glasses and staring at you with hooded eyes. Sweet girl had been a term he had adopted ever since you both had graduated high school. It was something that you never found to mean something more. Until tonight. Had he felt this way all along? The way the curls of his lips turned into a soft smile while he continued to stare at you waiting for some sort of reciprocation.

You had been preparing a small little speech from the time you found out that he was coming to see you. You had been thinking of a few words to share. It wasn’t a coincidence that you never had any guys when Robert wasn’t around. You kept thinking to yourself that someone else was going to come along, but alas, that was not the case. It was not the case at all and you learned this from the first time that Robert left for deployment. The empty and hollow feeling that was left in your heart because your best friend had gone to pursue his dream was unlike any other. Though, you felt a thousand times better when he came back and your heart did little flips while your stomach felt all warm and bubbly.

“Why now? Why wait until now? Because I was going to tell you something…” You teased him while taking a sip of your ice water, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow. There was a quizzical look on his face which only made you let out a soft laugh. “I’ve thought about it for a long time… and there really isn’t a reason why we shouldn’t be together.” There was a serious tone in his voice which only made you close your thighs together as he had awakened something deep within your core. The glimmer in your eyes could be seen from thousands of miles away as you couldn’t help it anymore and confessed your feelings for him, “You’re weird Bob Floyd. I was planning to tell you that I’ve had feelings for you for a while… you’re my best friend and you always come back here, to me.” There was a finality to your tone meaning that you were not going back now.

Robert’s eyes never left yours as you ate your food, and now you were leaving the restaurant as a couple. A new beginning to your life that you never wanted to end. The butterflies in your stomach were out of control as the beating of your heart was slow and steady, just like Bob was. He was steady and his movements were so calculated. The man knew exactly what he was doing to you, but you didn’t care. He was yours. Now and forever. Robert brought your hands clasped together up to his lips as he whispered, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.”

You will never forget the first time you danced as his wife. The way the lights dimmed only to have the light from the candles that were sitting on the tables filled with guests that were so happy for the both of you. A lot of people saw it coming, you and Bob becoming one together, but you didn’t care. You had gotten to know him as your best friend and the transition to a lover was easier than you had imagined. He was still your best friend, you were just now kissing and doing other ungodly things to him.

When he placed a kiss upon your bare shoulder right before the music started, you couldn’t help but feel as though the world had decided to give you the best gift of all. Your best friend was someone whom you’ve come to rely on as an equal, a lover, a soul mate. Bob begins to sway you in the middle of the dance floor as a sweet and slow melody starts to play. He kisses your bare neck right under your ear before he whispers some sweet nothings, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.”

A soft smile that had not left your lips for the whole night was on your face. You couldn’t fathom anyone else, nor did you want to. You couldn’t picture anyone else by your side as you looked at Robert in the face, his beautiful crystal eyes staring right into your soul. Suddenly feeling like nobody was in the room and time seemed to slow down just this once for the both of you. The day the Earth stood still for you and him, as if it were made to just be your world for this little slice of life. There was something in the air that night and you never wanted to be awakened from the dream that was Robert Floyd. He was everything that you wanted in someone to call your partner. He was the person that you knew you could fully trust with everything including mind, body, and soul. You leaned up to plant a soft kiss on his lips while whispering, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.” A saying that had carried you both throughout your time apart, now meaning something even more as you danced with your best friend.

Being married to him was a dream and more. Robert Floyd knew how to be a damn good husband to you. He knew exactly what to do and what to say to make things better than ever. It had been easy to fall in love with him. You had an inkling that you had always been in love with him since the beginning but never wanted to admit it to yourself. What a fool you were, but how could you not be? Especially when he had opened up to you throughout the years while he barely said a peep to most people. He had opened up his heart without even knowing it, and now you were both here, two years into your marriage and you couldn’t be happier.

It was a good thing that you kept yourself busy with teaching because if you hadn’t, then you would be a sitting duck waiting for your husband to come home. The times he was home though, it was always valuable and you cherished every second of it. He had been able to take some time off during December which allowed you to get the gifts for the children done faster.

Every year you got your students some crayons, a coloring book, a pop it, and a pencil to take with them. It was something that you did as a tradition, you weren’t sure if your students celebrated Christmas or not, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that you did it because you wanted to. Every year, most years, Bob wasn’t home to help you with your task, but this year was special because he was here with you. So of course, Bob was sitting in the living room with all twenty-two bags in front of him. He was going down the line making sure he had put everything in each bag correctly. It was moments like these that made your heart flutter with love for this man. He just flew almost ten hours, with a connecting flight delay, came home, and got to work on what you had asked him to help with. Robert never ceased to amaze you in every way, and just when you thought you finally had him figured out… nope. The Lieutenant had something up his sleeve that would make your heart swoon in other ways.

He wasn’t a man of many words. Bob Floyd only said what he needed to say when he needed to say it. So, while he was helping you put the bags together in the living room, you were in the kitchen baking some fresh cookies. Tomorrow was your last day before the winter break. A time that would be forever cherished with your lover. You had paid no attention to the time, simply enjoying his company, enjoying playing house with him.

There was a soft Christmas tune playing in the background while you prepared the baking sheets. At that moment, everything was perfect. Your hands picked up the sheet as the door to the oven was opened for you to put the cookies to bake. Once you closed the door securely with the cookies inside, you felt a pair of hands on your waist with a pair of lips to go with them at the base of your neck. “My beautiful wife.” He simply said.

“Yes, Mr. Floyd?” You queried while sighing dreamily and letting your body sink into his. “Have I told you lately just how much I love you?” He asked again in a gentle manner. Your eyes closed at the sound of his velvety voice while your head leaned back. “Once or twice, I’m sure.” You teased him. Bob didn’t miss a beat when it came to physical touch and tonight was no different. He began to slowly move to the rhythm of the song that was playing on this soft winter’s night. “Hmmmm.” A sign of content from you as Bob twirled you so you would face him now.

“You are home for me, sweet girl.” The pilot spoke toward you. The emotion that he was conveying from what he was saying made your heart melt into putty as the warmth in your cheeks was evident. You always knew that Bob was special. However, after you had become a couple things had changed, and he opened up more to you than before. You found himself telling you things that he wouldn’t normally tell others, that’s how comfortable you made him.

Your eyes never strayed from him as you continued to dance in your small kitchen, not even paying attention that time was cruel. Time always flew by when he was home with you. “You know, you’re pretty charming when you want to be, but even then, you don’t really have to try, Robbie.” You shared in a soft whisper with him as he continued to sway you in the middle of the kitchen. “I can’t help it. All I know is that you’re everything right now. You’ve always been everything, sweet girl. Thanks for marrying me. I know this part of the gig isn’t easy…” A soft laugh escaped your lips, “that’s stupid. It isn’t but, someone has to and it might as well be me. You’re worth it all, just promise to always come home to me. Or would you prefer we move closer to Top Gun?” A query that had been simmering in your mind like a faucet dripping, constant, never letting you free from the torment of his job and what it all entailed. “You’d do that for me?” His voice sounded surprised as his eyebrows raised to match his tone. “I’d do anything for you Robert Floyd.” You leaned in for a kiss at the corner of his lips as you whispered, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.”

And that was that.

Even though you had moved closer to his base, he was still on deployment. Somehow as the years went by, the deployments were longer which made your home feel a bit emptier than usual. The transition to teaching hadn’t been easy as it was just a different place and therefore you had to learn a new curriculum. The people you worked with were not the same as the ones back home, and it took you a while for them to warm up to you, but you liked them.

They took you in when you felt like you had no one. Technology could only go so far and sometimes it was radio silent for a few weeks before you heard a response from your husband. It didn’t matter though, as you knew deep down in your heart that he would always come home to you. Always.

A surprise happened when you came home one day, not knowing that he had been able to come home early. When you walked through the door you found a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table. That could only mean one thing right? That could only mean that your beloved was here in the house, somewhere. Your heart skipped a beat as you scrambled to find him, thinking to look in your bedroom first. Robert Floyd was laying in bed, mouth slightly agape while his eyes were closed, glasses resting at the bottom of the bridge of his nose. A warm feeling crept inside you as you stared at the sleeping man for a second before walking over quietly and taking his glasses off.

You quickly took off your shoes and walked to the other side of the bed to get in. You didn’t bother undressing as Robert would most certainly do that for you when he woke. You were sure of it. The immediate sinking of the bed caused the pilot to turn and instinctively wrap his arm around your waist, as if it were second nature.

The feeling in your heart grew four times the size as your hand slowly caressed his cheek. With the simple touch you felt that everything was perfect right in this moment. Not because you were together, but because the faintest smile could be seen on Bob’s face as your warm hand touched it. What kind of effect did you have on the man that he subconsciously knew how to react to the simplest of touches from you that even in the essence of dreams he was able to feel you? You liked to think that he was dreaming about you, the skin contact awakening something in your belly, waking up from a slumber.

You didn’t realize how long you laid there with your husband, you didn’t care. Time stopped for a second time in your life as you just stared at him and even wondered how he could be so real. How someone like him could love and cherish someone like you. How he was sacrificing so much so you could be safe, how he had given every part of himself to you to keep while he went away. How everything that you both did in your relationship was for each other. How someone so perfect was made just for you.

The grip on your waist tightened only meaning that he was aware you were there. “Hmmm.” A content sigh left his lips. “Good morning, sleep okay?” You asked him softly as your hand went from his cheek toward his neck to rest on his shoulder. “Hmmm.” He said again, eyes closed still. “I didn’t know you were coming home early… very nice surprise.” You said barely above a whisper as you leaned down to kiss his lips softly. A craving you’d had since he left you last time.

You never tired of Bob’s lips. You never tired of Bob anything if you were honest with yourself. “Yeah?” He said with a low chuckle. “Yes… lieutenant.”

That did things to him as he flipped you so you were under him while he brought his arms next to your face to rest on each side. Robert looked you in the eyes as he whispered, “Do you have any idea just exactly,” he said when planting a kiss on your jaw, “how” another kiss, “beautiful” and another, “you are?” A slight giggle left your lips as you said, “I have an idea, but you might have to show me, daddy.” The last word that said with a hint of a whine to let him know just how much you needed him at that moment. There was no stalling this time, not with how long he had been gone and out of your embrace.

One of Bob’s hands began to travel throughout your body, starting with the top of your head to caress your hair, down to your cheek and your neck, toward your shoulder, on the side of your ribcage and under your blouse his fingers crept making your skin burn with every touch he made. A delicious shiver went down your spine as this had been something that you missed doing with him. Your hands trailed down his back to grab the hem of his shirt. A simple movement and it was discarded on the floor. “Sweet girl, I missed you so much,” he said barely above a whisper. His voice dropped an octave lower as you could tell that Bob wasn’t playing around right now. A lot of times he liked to tease you, but right now he wanted to cherish you and let you know exactly just how much he missed you.

“Lieutenant Floyd…” you audibly gasped out loud for him as all the sensations in your body coursed through you. “Yes, sweet girl?” He asked playfully while taking your shirt off. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, feeling him harden. You looked into his eyes, a silent plea, but knowing Bob, “Tell me.” He said quietly as he attacked your clavicle which caused you to arch your back in response. His hand wandered under the waistband of your pants and on top of the lace fabric of your panties.

You closed your eyes for a split second relishing on what your husband was doing to you, causing you to squeeze him tighter, a whimper leaving you, “please.” You begged. Bob cupped your cheek as you opened your eyes again to see him staring at you, while his other hand went under the fabric and began to rub that sweet spot. A moan was heard. You took matters into your own hands as you untangled yourself from your husband and took the rest of your clothes off. Another chuckle was heard from your husband as you quickly unbuttoned his pants. He stopped you on what you were doing, “no, sweet girl. It’s about you right now…” you frowned, “but I missed you too.” “Don’t worry, you’ll have time to show me, let me take care of you right now.”

Both of you moved back into position as his hand traveled down to the curves of your breast, squeezing the round bud of your nipple until it hardened causing you to arch your back once more and letting out a gasp. His other hand went back to where it was as he began to work on your clit, knowing exactly how much pressure to put on it. The multiple sensations that your body was feeling caused you to squirm a little in protest, “let go, sweet girl. Let go.” Bob demanded by your ear as you closed your eyes once more to focus on what he was doing to you. Sometimes you forgot just how tensed up you could be, but when he spoke those words to you, you began to relax and enjoy the feeling he was giving you. His lips continued to attack your other breast, giving them both equal attention before moving down your abdomen. Hand tracing circles on your side as he continued to rub your clit at an agonizingly slow pace.

You let out a moan, “Daddy.” You said. Bob grunted as his lips left a trail of his saliva to reach what they were looking for. Now, replacing his hands with his lips, you gasped for air, as one of your hands grabbed a handful of hair. Bob Floyd knew exactly how to work you and you had no complaints about it. He slipped a finger inside of you between your folds while continuing his attack making you rock your hips with his face. A content him left his lips as he sucked and licked at your clit. “Bob… I’m so close…” and you were. Your free hand extended out to grab the sheet as Bob knew what you wanted. His free hand pinched your nipple while he continued to pump two fingers inside of you, quickening up the pace as he knew that you were getting close to your climax.

The rocking of your hips became quicker as he licked as fast as he could causing you to let out a loud moan. You reached your orgasm as your body lost control and shook from the ecstasy that your husband had given you. Your hand gripped his hair as he rode your orgasm out before coming to a full stop and going back up to plant a kiss to your lips so you could taste yourself, “so yummy, my sweet girl.” He told you. You could only smile at him as you flipped him over so now he was under you.

“My turn, lieutenant.” You simply stated before attacking his lips while your hands roamed all over his body and down to the buttons of his pants. You unbuttoned them with ease and helped him out of them and his underwear letting his hardened cock be free from the containment. Your hand immediately wrapped around it as you pumped it a few times, causing him to close his eyes in delight, his mouth slightly agape. A smirk formed on your lips as you soon realized he missed you as much as you missed him. A few more pumps and he was squirming with your touch, but you weren’t going to let him off that easy.

You positioned yourself so the tip was at your entrance, “Lieutenant Floyd.” You said in a sultry voice. “Yes ma’am?” He said with eyes still closed, hands around your hips to serve as a guide if needed. “Let me see you.” You responded. Bob opened his eyes the second that you slowly began to sink down on him, your walls getting used to him before beginning to rock your hips while he bucked his. A low hiss escaped his throat as you arched your head back, enjoying the feel of him inside of you.

The pace was slow, slower than most times as you wanted to cherish this time with him. Your hands rested on his forearms while you continued to rock into him, as he bucked his hips making you moan every time he went as deep as he could go.

“Sweet girl…” he said in a raspy voice.

“Yes, daddy?”

The response that met your ears was a grunt, indicating that the pace needed to be quicker. Without hesitation you began to grind faster as you moaned his name. One of his hands crept up to your neck as he closed his hand around enough to were you could still breathe. The pilot knew how much that turned you on, and the waves of pleasure that were going through your body now were enough for a second wave of an orgasm that started to build once again. Bob bucked his hips quicker. The man sat up as his lips attacked your breasts while letting out a loud grunt and moan as he was also nearing his climax, “sweet girl…” you continued to grind your hips as he sucked on your nipple, making you moan louder, “I’m so close, lieutenant,” you managed to say, as Bob commanded, “let go.” The coil in your belly snapped as he hit the right spot in your clit with each thrust he managed to make, with Bob soon following as his movements became more erratic as you both rode your orgasms together.

Bob fell backwards on the bed, with you following on top of him, not wanting to let go of such closeness just yet.

Robert kissed the top of your head as he whispered, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.”

And he truly was ever yours.

a/n: let a girl know what ya thought, reblogs make the world go round!

#bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x female reader #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fluff #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #alcohol writing #top gun bob #top gun smut #bob floyd smut #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x wife reader

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topguncortez · 2 years

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Baby On Board- B.Floyd

pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader word count: 6k (its a long one) type: angst warnings: top gun shit, child birth, near death experiences, cursing. synopsis: being placed on a top secret mission weeks before his wife's due date was not what Lt. Floyd had imagined married life would be like.

note: thank you so much for 600! it's crazy how much this blog has grown in such little time! keep sending in requests!

She was his highschool sweetheart. From the moment Bob laid eyes on Y/N their freshman year of highschool, even with braces and acne and a ridiculous haircut, he knew that she was going to be his wife. She was perfect, smart, popular, kind to everyone and he was. . . well he was just Bob. A dork, a nerd, sweet and kind and too pure for this world. He could remember how badly he was sweating and shaking as he approached her lunch table, some cheesy valentine’s day card in his hand and asked her to the school dance. He thought he would get laughed at, but his heart filled with even more love as she pulled out a valentine of her own to give to him.

Bob had shocked everyone when he decided to go into the navy, including Y/N. They had talked about their futures, and Bob had briefly mentioned going into the navy, but he wasn't certain. So when he came home and told her he enlisted, she was shocked but proud of him. Her heart broke when he left for boot camp, and would wait by the phone or mailbox for a call or letter from him. When he came home with a buzzed cut, a bouquet of flowers and a ring, they both knew they didn’t want to be apart from each other. They got married in a small ceremony in his parents backyard, it was like a fairytale for both of them.

Both Bob and Y/N had agreed that they wanted kids. They weren’t ever too keen on actively trying for kids, but they weren’t doing anything to actively prevent it either. At first, they were going to let nature do its thing, agreeing that it’ll happen when it happens. But after two years of nothing, they knew that it was time for some intervention. It broke Bob’s heart when the doctor told them it was going to be nearly impossible for them to have a baby of their own. He watched as the light in her eyes diminished. She told him that she was okay, that it would be fine, but Bob could hear her crying in the bathroom when she thought he was asleep.

Bob stood by her side though, never leaving her. He held her hand in doctors appointments, when they had decided on doing hormonal treatments, Bob was always on track with timing, and keeping track of everything. When he noticed that her body had started to change, and her mood was different and her period was late, he went out and bought every kind of pregnancy test there was to get. He sat by her side on the bed as they waited for the timer to go off, and was the first to look at the results.

Seven months later, Bob and Y/N were glaring at each other from across the kitchen. Her belly had popped some weeks ago, and she was now supporting a nice round bump. She looked on the verge of tears as Bob had explained the document that was sitting in between the two of them. He was being called back to TOPGUN, something that he never thought would happen. The first time around, they had been married for only about a year, and Bob was excited to be chosen to go. He got permission to take his wife with him, and that was all he needed. Now, things have changed.

Y/N was not thrilled at all about Bob being called back. There was no other information on the document other than time and place to be. They had arranged on base housing for the both of them, but they both knew that Y/N couldn’t leave Lemoore. It wasn’t a good idea for her to be far away from her doctor, not when time was ticking away closer to her due date.

“Why can’t they send someone else?” Y/N asked, running a hand through her hair, “Can you tell them I’m pregnant?”

“Did,” Bob sighed, “Technically the baby isn’t born yet so I don’t get any sort of paternity leave. I would still only get 21 days anyway.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, of course he didn't, “There’s nothing you can do?”

“It’s non negotiable. You can come with-”

“Come with!? Bob, look at me, I’m the size of a water buffalo-“

“No you’re not-“

“Shut up,” Y/N said, getting angry. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and turned on her heel and left the kitchen in tears. Bob sighed, knowing the majority of this was caused by pregnancy hormones but it still didn’t make it any easier. He knew that there was a possibility of him getting a last minute deployment or special detachment, like this one, that could take him away from Y/N and his unborn child. He just didn’t think it would ever come true. Bob grabbed the sheet of paper and read it over again. Doing the math in his head, he should be back in time before Y/N has their baby, but it still didn’t bring him any comfort.

He pushed himself from his spot, walking to the freezer to get an orange crush popsicle for Y/N, and then walked down the hall. He found her sitting on their shared bed, looking out the window. Bob sat down next to her and offered her the popsicle.

“Thanks,” She murmured.

“I know it’s not ideal-”

“No, it’s not,” Y/N sniffled as she opened up her popsicle.

“You could come with. . .”

“Bob, I’m seven months pregnant. I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

“It’s also not a good idea to have you here alone either,” Bob said and Y/N sighed, “At least, if you’re in Miramar with me, I’d be there in a matter of minutes if something happened,” He grabbed her free hand and intertwined their fingers, “Up here, yeah we are alone, but you’ll be even more alone if something happened and I’m seven hours away. It would bring peace of mind to me, if you came with me.”

“Well,” Y/N sighed, “Looks like we’re both going back to TOPGUN.”

Bob smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek, and then slid off the bed to kneel in front of her, both hands going to her growing belly. It always made her giggle at how Bob’s large hands could cover her whole bump, but it also brought her a sense of security.

“You, my little one, can’t make any surprise appearances while we are there, you hear me? You stay right in here for the next six weeks and we won’t have an issue,” Bob said to her belly, and got a small kick in return, “I think they understood me,” He said looking up at you with his lopsided grin.

“I’m sure they did.”

— — —

It was almost too hot to do anything, even by the ocean in Miramar. Y/N had told herself when she got pregnant, she didn’t want to be pregnant during the hot months, but living in California, it was always hot. The drive down had been awful, having to stop almost every hour so she could pee, or being constantly uncomfortable. Bob felt bad, knowing that she was only doing this for him, but he let her complain as much as she wanted to. Bob had heard that everyone was gathering at the Hard Deck, a local bar that he and Y/N had frequented the first time around at TOPGUN. Y/N had opted not to go with him, as she wanted to just stay in the air conditioning of their tiny on base house.

Y/N had done what she could to make herself comfortable while being in Miramar. She went grocery shopping, to the beach a couple times, met with one of the OB’s on base (which Bob had gotten out of training early to do), but for the most part she kept a low profile, trying to stay as cool as she possibly could in the southern california heat. Her favorite part of the day was when Bob would come home, and lay his head in her lap and tell their child all about his day. His eyes always lit up as he talked about the simulations and the dogfighting. He would get so animated about it, it was adorable.

Y/N knew bits and pieces about the mission. She knew it was dangerous, that there was a lot at stake. Bob didn’t want to worry her too much at this stage in her pregnancy, but she had kind of gathered that them all being called back meant that it was serious. She tried not to think of a world where Bob Floyd wasn’t alive and she hated it. But Bob reassured her as much as he possibly could that he would make it back to her.

The team didn’t know much about Robert Floyd, other than he was a WSO and Phoenix’s back seater. He was quiet, kept to himself, and would speed off after showering at the end of the day. Phoenix had tried to pry some information out of him, but got nothing more than his full name, where he was from, and where he was currently stationed. Bob didn’t talk much about himself, and Phoenix kind of liked that. He was different from the usual cocky, arrogant (hangman) pilots she was used to working with.

“So Bob, what do you plan on doing when you get out of here?” Phoenix had asked him, as they were headed to the trial run zone. It was day four of doing the trial course, and no one had successfully completed it.

“I bet he is going to have himself a cold glass of ice water,” Coyote joked and Bob rolled his eyes.

“Oh shut it,” Phoenix laughed, “I bet he’ll go home and watch the office or something.”

“I prefer ‘friends’ over the office,” Bob said, thinking of his wife’s favorite show.

“Alright, dagger 1 easing in, time starting in 3, 2, 1,” Phoenix said as she started into the simulation.

Bob looked down at his radar, watching as Phoenix and Coyote made the twists and turns of the simulation, feeling his body jostle from side to side. It never got easier, the more that they ran the course, it seemed to somehow get worse. His body felt heavier, his lungs felt like they would explode. He would find bruises on his sides from hitting the side of the cockpit at such forces. Bob eyed their time, seeing that they were keeping up a good speed, until he caught another plane on the radar.

“Oh no, it’s Maverick!” Bob said.

“What?! Where is he!?” Phoenix called out, and Bob looked around the clear canopy into the sky, trying to see if he could spot Maverick.

“Lost him in the sun!” Bob called out, “Coyote, you see him!?”

“Man, he’s on my tail,” Coyote said, “Line it up, Bob.”

“Roger!” Bob said, controlling his laser to line up the shot, except he couldn’t get control of it. He swore under his breath as he tried but it was no use, “Dead eye! I can’t get it to lock!”

“Dropping in blind then,” Coyote said, and tried to line up the laser the best he could.

Bob could feel when Phoenix shifted the trajectory of the jet, sending them into a steep incline upward. Bob fought against the Gs being pushed on his body as he tried to keep his eyes open and himself conscious. Maverick had somehow shown back up, and stimulated a dogfight with them, until they realized they had lost comms with Coyote. He had gone into g-loc, and Maverick moved quickly to line up a shot, sending a loud buzzing sound into his cockpit. Bob took a sigh in relief as they got Coyote back, but the relief was short-lived when Maverick called out the bird strike.

“We’re on fire!” Bob called out, looking to see the left engine ablaze.

“Extinguishing!” Phoenix said, flipping a switch, “Lost hydraulics, losing altitude, I-I can’t control it!”

“Right engine on fire! We’re gonna burn in!” Bob’s voice was filled with panic, as he felt their jet start to drop from the sky.

“You have to eject!” Maverick called, “Phoenix, Bob! Eject, eject, eject!”

“Fuck! Eject, eject, eject!” Phoenix yelled out, as she hit the button to eject both of them. Bob covered his head as the canopy shot off, and he felt himself get pushed out of the cockpit. The next thing he felt was his feet hitting the ground.

— — —

The last thing any military wife ever wants is a call from the hospital saying that their husband had been injured. When Y/N arrived at the hospital, frantic with tears in her eyes, a nurse had guided her down to the room her husband was in. She felt the confused looks and stares of the aviators in the hallway as she passed by them on the way to Bob’s room. She had even heard one of them ask who she was and another say they didn’t know. Bob was busy flipping through the tv channels when she got to his room, he looked over at her and smiled weakly.

“Hey baby,” Bob said and Y/N rushed to his side, as Bob engulfed her in a hug, “Shh, I’m okay, I’m okay.” He soothed her, while rubbing her back as she cried as she sat on his bed.

“Jesus Christ Robert, don’t ever scare me like that again,” Y/N said, pulling away from him, and wiping her tears, “What the hell happened?”

“Bird Strike, lost control of the jet, had to eject. Nothing but a couple bruises and a sore tailbone,” Bob smiled, and Y/N shook her head, “Are you okay?”

“You’re asking me that?”

“You’re the pregnant one.”

“You’re the one who just ejected from a plane at 500 feet in the air.”

“Touche,” Bob said, as there was a knock on the door. Y/N turned her head to see a brunette woman peeking her head in with a shy smile on her face.

“The guys said you had company, I hope you don’t mind me coming to check on you?” The woman said, looking between the two of her.

Bob looked at you and you smiled, “No, not at all,” He said, “This is Phoenix, the main driver,” Bob said introducing the two of them, “Phoenix this is my wife, Y/N.”

“Oh- wow, Bob never-”

“Stealth pilot,” Y/N smiled and held her hand out to greet Phoenix, “It’s nice to meet you. He’s told me all about you. You’re pretty cool from what it sounds like.”

“You flatter me,” Phoenix said with a slight blush, “How far along?”

“Eight months. Not exactly my ideal location to be in, but,” Y/N shrugged and Bob smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her to sit back down on the bed, “How are you doing? I can’t imagine what it was like.”

“I’m okay, a little shaken up. I’m more concerned that Bob has hidden you away from us and made me suffer with the rest of the testosterone freaks out there.” Phoenix said and sat down in a chair by the bed.

Bob knew it was no use hiding Y/N from Phoenix, so he had told his pilot all about his wife, how they met, how he proposed, their wedding, their house, and even about their baby. Phoenix was surprised at how talkative Bob could be when he was talking about something he loved. She knew he could rattle off information about an F-18 and missiles and flight trajectory, but when it came to talking about his life, Phoenix was surprised. He had hardly let Y/N get a word in and Phoenix would laugh at how Y/N just looked at him.

Y/N would’ve liked it if Bob would’ve been able to stay home after having to eject from his plane, but the mission was still a go. It was only three days after the bird strike that he was packing his bags and headed to get on the carrier. Y/N had driven him to base, much to his dismay since he didn’t want her driving with her belly in the way. She tried to hide her tears as she put the car in park and looked at the daunting aircraft carrier.

“It’s only three days,” Bob said, looking at his hands, “Three days and-and I come home to you and our baby.” He placed his hand on her bump, feeling their little one move around.

“I know,” Y/N said, “Swear to God, if you don’t-”

“I will,” Bob said, cutting her off. He leaned over the console, holding her face in his hands and kissed her. It took her breath away, the type of kiss that is supposed to be a constant reminder. It left her lips tingling as he pulled back, “I’ll see you in three days.” Y/N nodded as Bob got out of the car. She saw Phoenix waiting next to her car and sent her a small smile and wave. Phoenix gave her a nod in response and hugged Bob.

Y/N let out a shaky breath as she watched the two of them walk towards the ship, “Three days little one, no sudden movement for three days.”

— — —

Y/N tried to keep herself distracted but she couldn’t help but stare at the clock, knowing that any second her husband’s plane would be taking off from the middle of the pacific ocean and would be flying towards a certain death. She knows that he promised to come home, but nothing is ever promised in this life. Y/N looked down at the hot mug of tea in front of her and felt a stray tear run down her cheek. She had gotten to the point in her pregnancy where she didn’t even know she was crying until the tear hit her shirt. She sniffled and placed her hand on her belly, just as she felt a cramping sensation.

“No. . .” She mumbled to herself and let out a shaky breath, “Please stop, don’t do this.” Y/N had been feeling contractions since Bob left. She knew that braxton hicks were common and had been feeling those since month seven, but now, these felt different. These felt stronger and she could feel her stomach dropping.

Y/N pushed herself away from the counter and slowly started making her way towards her bedroom. Laying down usually helped subside the contractions and the pelvic pain. Y/N paused as she felt the warmth of a liquid rushing down her legs as she stood in the hallway. She closed her eyes and clutched her stomach, hoping that maybe, just maybe this was all a dream and she had just peed herself in the hallway, rather than her water breaking. But when she opened her eyes at the feeling of a contraction, she knew it was very much real.

“No, no, no,” She felt tears in her eyes as she moved down the hallway towards the kitchen where she had left her phone. Her first instinct was to dial Bob’s number, which she did, but when it went straight to voicemail, she panicked even more. She gripped the counter as another contraction ripped through her body. This wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was not how this was supposed to happen. The next number she dialed was Penny’s, which the older woman had given to her after getting to know her at Iceman’s funeral.

“Hello?” Penny’s voice sounded through the receiver.

“Penny, I-I need your help,” Y/N’s voice cracked, “My water broke.”

“Oh my god,” Penny said, and Y/N could hear her get up and grab her keys, “Stay where you are, I am on my way. If you need to push, do it, don’t try and fight it.”

“I can’t have this baby alone!” Y/N cried.

“I know, I know, I’m on my way, just breathe okay,” Penny said and Y/N nodded.

Penny arrived after a short time, and helped Y/N get to the on base hospital. They had admitted her right away, and Y/N was thankful that Penny had decided to stay by her side. Penny had once been in Y/N’s shoes. Her now ex-husband had been on deployment when Amelia was born, and Penny was by herself in the delivery room, no family, no friends, just her and the nurses and doctor. Penny wasn’t going to leave Y/N alone, knowing very well she would’ve wanted someone to stay with her.

“Breathe through it, there ya go,” Penny said as she dabbed at the sweat collecting on Y/N’s forehead, “I left a message for Maverick and Hondo. I called in a favor from an old friend to hopefully contact the ship and get a message to Admiral Simpson.”

“I can’t have this baby without him,” Y/N cried, out of pure exhaustion. Even though her water broke, she was still going on hour eight of labor, waiting for her cervix to dilate and the baby to drop down even more. The nurses all shared a look, and Penny could read their faces. She had heard them say something to the doctor about being worried about maternal exhaustion.

“I know you don’t, but you might have to,” Penny said, and Y/N shook her head as another contraction hit. Y/N groaned in pain as she gripped the side rail, her knuckles turning white. Penny grabbed the white bucket next to her and placed it in front of her incase Y/N was sick again.

When Y/N felt her body relax, she let out a small cry and leaned back against the bed. Penny had hoped that the call she put in with her father would somehow reach the ship. She wished that Iceman was still alive, knowing he’d stop at nothing to get Bob from the ship and straight to the hospital. But all Penny could do was hold Y/N’s hand and wipe the sweat from her forehead. Y/N’s mind was wandering as she thought of the mission Bob was on, and prayed that he was alive and not dead somewhere in a European mountain range.

— — —

Life or death, Bob had seen the flash of death right in front of his eyes as Phoenix had navigated them through Coffin Corner. He felt his heart sink when he watched Maverick’s plane get shot down, and he felt like his heart stopped hearing Rooster go down too. Bob did what he could to comfort Phoenix as they flew back to the ship, placing a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off. They hadn’t been on the carrier long, when they heard that Rooster’s beacon had been turned back on, and Hangman had been instructed to go on the flight mission to bring them back.

The second Maverick buzzed by the tower, the tarmac broke out in cheer, as he landed and both of them had a large smile on their faces. Bob and Phoenix rushed over to Rooster, hugging him tightly. Bob had a bright smile on his face as he celebrated with his team.

“Lt Floyd!?” A voice called out for him. Bob turned around to see Admiral Simpson running towards him.

“Yes sir?” Bob asked, his heart racing slightly.

“You need to come with us right away, it’s a family emergency.”

Bob felt light headed as the Admiral’s words hit his ears. Bob had just escaped death with his team and now he felt a sudden rush of doom. Fanboy and Payback shared a look, confused on what the admiral had just said. As far as anyone knew, Bob didn’t have any family, Bob was a lone ranger. But the look on Phoenix’s face said otherwise.

“Go!” Phoenix said, pushing him towards the admiral. Bob stumbled on his feet but took off sprinting, trying not to let his mind go to the worse case scenario. Phoenix looked over her shoulder and noticed her fellow aviators looking at her confused, and sighed, “He’s married, and has a wife, who’s very pregnant.”

Hondo was waiting for Bob when he entered the tower, and relayed the information he had gathered from Admiral Bates. Bob couldn’t digest most of it, but what he gathered was that his wife was in labor and he was stuck on an aircraft carrier in the middle of nowhere after almost dying. Hondo directed him to the admiral’s office where they gave Bob some privacy to call his wife. Bob sat down in the chair, his hands shaking as he picked up the phone and dialed her number, something he memorized.

“Bob, thank god,” Penny answered.

“H-hey Penny, how is she?” Bob asked, trying to bite back tears.

“She’s getting checked by the nurses right now, I stepped out when I saw you call. She’s,” Penny sighed and looked down at her shoes, “They are worried about maternal exhaustion. She’s in hour 12 of labor, eight centimeters dilated and trying to fight it. She says she won’t do this without you.”

“She has too,” Bob said, feeling a tear run down his cheek, “She has to do this. And I swear to god, she will never have to do this alone again. I need to talk to her.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Penny said, and walked back into the room. Her heart broke seeing Y/N in such pain as she laid on her side. The nurse gave Penny a look, and she nodded, “Y/N, it’s Bob. I’m putting him on speaker.”

“Oh my god, Bob?” Y/N asked, her voice wavering in pain. Bob felt his heart break as he bit back a sob. He buried his face into his flight suit before speaking up.

“Hi babe,” Bob said, “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“No, not at all,” She sniffed, “God, why can’t you be here. Why now? They’ve been stubborn this whole time, but now?”

“I know,” He laughed, “But love, you have to stop trying to fight it, okay, you need to let them help you. It’ll only make things harder for you, for the baby.”

“Bob, I can’t do it,” Y/N protested and closed her eyes, feeling a contraction. Bob heard her suck in a breath and let out a whimper in pain. Penny grabbed her hand and helped her breathe through it. Bob wished so badly he could be there with her, all he ever wanted to do was be a father and he is completely missing it.

“She’s at ten,” A nurse said, “She keeps putting it off, she won’t be able to push.”

“Baby, you need to listen to them,” Bob said, sitting up straighter in his seat, “You need to do this okay. I’m right here, Penny is there. You need to bring our baby into the world.”

“No!” Y/N sobbed and Penny felt tears in her own eyes, “No! I won’t! I want to go home, let me go home!”

“You’re elevating your heart rate, Y/N,” Her nurse said, walking over to the bed and looking at the EEG reading, “If this continues we’ll have to do a c-section. Y/N, it’s time to push.”

Bob felt his heart stop. That was the absolutely last thing he wanted her to have to do. It was bad enough she was in labor by herself, he didn’t want to have her go under the knife alone. The nurses and the midwife started to move around, getting everything set up for delivery. Penny helped Y/N get to her back and sit up in the bed. The midwife put Y/N’s feet in the stirrups.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Bob said sternly, “You have to listen to them, you have to push, okay. I’m right here, I’m doing the best I possibly can.”

“This isn’t fucking fair,” Y/N cried, and gripped Penny and the nurse’s hand as she felt a contraction and what felt like the baby’s head dropping lower in her birth canal.

“I know,” Bob answered, “But you can do it okay, listen to the doctors.” Y/N nodded and Penny wiped her forehead.

The midwife looked up at Y/N and gave her a sad smile, “Alright, Y/N on the next contraction, I need you to push okay. You know your body better than any of us.”

Y/N nodded and let out a shaky breath. She felt the cramping of a contraction and sucked in a deep breath. When the contraction hit, she pushed, closing her eyes and letting out a groan. Bob closed his eyes, not being able to imagine the pain she was in. With every push that the midwife would count out, Y/N’s groans and cries got louder. He could tell as the time went on that she was getting more and more exhausted.

“Jesus Chrsit, I can’t do this,” Y/N said breathlessly as she leaned against the back of the bed.

“You’re so close, Y/N, I can see the baby’s head,” The midwife said, “Next one push as hard as you can.”

“You got this babe, come on,” Bob said. He heard the midwife tell her to push, “Come on sweetheart, push hard, you got this, come on love.”

“Crowning!” The midwife called out and Y/N let out a loud cry, “This is the hardest part, you are right here, you can do this. Give me a big push and bring this baby into the world.”

Y/N moved slightly, and beared down as she pushed hard, feeling a burning sensation as the baby’s head was pushed out of her birthing canal. She closed her eyes tightly, gripping on to Penny and the nurse’s hands for dear life. Bob was saying encouraging words but it was all drawn out as the pain subsided and Y/N felt her body relax.

“One more, give me one more,” The midwife said, “The hardest part is over, you can do it.”

“Bob,” Y/N’s voice shook.

“This is it, you can do it, bring our baby into the world.” Bob said.

She clenched her jaw tightly, she was surprised that she didn’t break her teeth as she pushed with all her might. It was like white hot pain, almost like breaking a bone, as she felt the baby being pulled from her womb. She let out a broken cry as she felt a weight being placed on her chest, a loud cry filling the room. Y/N’s hands went straight to the squirming newborn on her chest and looked down to see their big brown eyes. Her mind was so overclouded with stimulation that she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“It’s a girl!” She heard the midwife say and Y/N cried even harder.

Bob wasn’t fighting back tears anymore as he held his head in his hands and sobbed, hearing the cry of his daughter over the phone. This wasn’t how he expected the delivery of his rainbow baby to go. He always expected him to be right by his wife’s side, holding her hand, sitting behind her as she pushed, encouraging her, seeing his daughter the second she was brought into this world, being able to cut the cord. Instead, he was hearing her loud cries from the middle of the ocean.

“We’re going to weigh her and clean her up, then we’ll give her right back, okay,” The nurse said to Y/N. She was still so exhausted all she could do was nod, “Congrats momma, and you too, dad!”

Bob nodded, and wiped his tears, “I love you so much,” He cried out, his voice breaking.

“I love you too,” Y/N said.

“I’m going to let you go, okay, I promise, I will be there as soon as I get docked in Miramar. You need to sleep, you did so good, so good, I am so proud of you,” Bob said, knowing he was probably talking to her sleepy self.

“I love you, Bob,” Y/N said, “I’ll see you when you get here.”

They said their goodbyes and Bob hung up. He sat there with his head in hands for a bit longer, looking down at the ground. The events of the day started to hit him all at once, and the tears fell down his face uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop his body from shaking as he cried. He didn’t even notice Phoenix walked into the office. Phoenix’s mind went to the worst possible thing as she walked over to him, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Bob looked up at her, his brown eyes wet with tears.

“Bob-”

“I’m a dad,” He said, “I’m a fucking dad!”

“Oh my god!” Phoenix said, pulling Bob from his seat and hugged him. She pulled back from the hug and looked at him, “Is everything okay? Y/N? The baby?”

“A healthy little girl,” Bob smiled, “Y/N’s okay, the best she can be for having a baby on her own. But . . I’m a girl dad.”

— — —

She knew she had slept too long, even though she had been a mom for less than a day, she knew she still slept too long. Y/N groaned as she opened her eyes, squinting at the harsh light above her head. Her body was still sore, especially her lower region. Penny had been a godsend helping her through the night when she had to get up and pee or wanted to walk around. Y/N rubbed her eyes as she looked towards the small basnet that was placed by her bed, to find it empty. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked around the room frantically to hear the sweet voice she had been waiting to hear.

“Looks like Mom is up,” Bob said, walking over to his wife. Y/N’s heart settled back down as she saw the small bundle of blankets in his arms. He hadn’t even change18d bbout of his flight suit and it looked like he hadn’t slept in hours, but Bob still looked amazing, “You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you but the second I saw her I knew that I-”

“It’s okay,” She said, her voice still gravely from screaming during labor, “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Bob said and sat down on her bed, “And you will never have to do that alone again, I promise.”

“Bob, I can’t ask you to give up what you love.”

“But I love this more,” Bob said, looking between his wife and his daughter.

“She looks like you,” Y/N said, “Those eyes are exactly like yours.” Bob smiled as his daughter opened her tired eyes, “She doesn’t have a name yet. I was waiting for you so we can name her.”

Bob studied his daughter. Names were something that the two of them had spent some time going back and forth on. Neither one was quite set on a certain name, agreeing that once they saw their child they would be able to know what their name should be. Bob ran his finger gently down her face as she yawned.

“Eleanor,” Bob said and looked at his wife, “Eleanor May Floyd.”

--- --- ---

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