#lt robert bob floyd

[averagewriter-inthedark]

She’s Still Preoccupied With 1985 🎤 | Bob Floyd x Rockstar!reader Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x modern-day rockstar!reader (childhood best friends/romantic), dagger squad (platonic), Bob x female!oc (past romance), male!oc x reader (past romance), The 1985’s!BandOCs (platonic)

Content Warnings: major fluff, angst, profanity, canon divergence (Bob is born in 1985 in this, making him roughly 34 during TGM & 37 in the year 2022), pop culture references, second chance romance troupe, suggestive content and light smut + implied smut (MINORS DNI!!) inspired by the song ‘1985,’ by Bowling For Soup | Female!reader—afab!reader (she/her) | wc: 17.2k

Premise: Join Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd as he looks back on his fairytale love story with childhood best friend and real life rockstar, who’s set to perform one last time on the country’s most iconic stage, in her band’s final show of their farewell tour.

Note: so after I wrote ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top’ with Maverick x 80sRockstar!reader, I had inspiration for someone from the dagger squad x modern-day rockstar!reader. I was going back and forth between Rooster and Phoenix, but this anon suggested Bob with a rekindled childhood best friend and I thought that was the bullseye. Once again feel free to imagine your friends as your bandmates, I just gave names to make it easier to write. I do not own any of the song or pop culture references, this is for fictional purposes. Let me know what you think! - Bee 🐝

Songs that are real life songs, but are used as ‘your’ songs in this imagine: ‘1985’ by Bowling For Soup, ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, ‘Some Nights,’ by Fun, ‘Pompeii’ by Bastille, ‘Payphone,’ by Maroon 5, ‘Let’s Get Lost,’ by Bats for Lashes & Beck, ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ & ‘Little Black Dress’ by One Direction.

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Lt. Robert Floyd had seen a lot in his 37 years of life. Growing up on the plains of Montana, there wasn’t much for him until it came time to leave for college. There, life seemed to pass by quicker than the night sky. He’d experienced the hype of a Navy vs Army football game, getting wasted to the point he hated alcohol. Endless nights of studying that paid off when he received not only his diploma but also the rank of Ensign in the U.S. Navy. Then there was that time he nearly married his college sweetheart only to end things weeks before the wedding because he realized his heart belonged to someone else. In his career Bob pulled Gs with his pilot against the speed of sound in an F-18 and most recently, dogfighting SAMs out of enemy territory.

But no words could describe what Bob felt as he stood on the floor of Madison Square Garden with the people he called his best friends, waiting for the appearance of his one true love on stage.

The love that was once thought to be impossible, until fate was like, “These souls belong together. Once the time is right, I will work my magic.”

17 years prior in 2005, Bob was certain he’d never get the chance to tell Y/n L/n he had loved her since they were fifteen years old after hearing her voice on the radio.

“That was Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Since U Been Gone,’ part of her Grammy nominated album Breakaway released last summer. Clarkson is the favorite to win the award for ‘Album of the Year’ at next year’s Grammys. Up next is a new group recently signed to Capitol Records….here is ‘1985’ by, funny enough, The 1985s”

Something about the name of the group and title of the song had an odd feeling swirl through the then college student. Driving the car he was in was his roomate Derek and their buddy Adrian along with Derek’s girlfriend Willow.

Nothing could’ve prepared Bob for the voice coming through the speakers, the lyrics bringing back the memory of when she showed him the paper with them written down in her semi-sloppy handwriting.

“Debbie just hit the wall, she never had it all.”

“One Prozac a day, husband’s a CPA.”

“Bob, you okay?” Adrian tapped him on the shoulder, “You look a little pale.”

“Her dreams went out the door when she turned twenty-four.”

“Only been with one man, what happened to her plan?”

“This has a good beat,” Willow bopped her head.

“She was gonna be an actress, she was gonna be a star.”

“She was gonna shake her ass on the hood of Whitesnake’s car.”

“My mom could definitely relate to that,” Derek joked, stopping at a red light. He too was enjoying the song. It gave that classic rock feel that the 80s music his parents listened to had. Nowadays Hip-Hop and Pop are becoming the main genres of music on the radio.

“Her yellow SUV is now the enemy.”

“Looks at her average life and nothin’,” *guitar riff* “has been,” *guitar riff* “alright.”

Bob, who’s eyes were wide and heart racing, breathed in awe, “No way.”

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna,”

“Way before Nirvana,”

“There was U2 and Blondie,”

“And music still on MTV.”

“Her two kids in high school,”

“They tell her that she’s uncool.”

“‘Cause she’s still preoccupied,”

Tears spring in Bob’s eyes, wiping them away before his friends could see when Y/n sang the final line of the chorus.

“With 19, 19…1985.”

That was how the future naval aviator discovered his childhood best friend had accomplished her dream. Breaking into the music industry. It’d been nearly four years since he’d seen Y/n, the two parting ways after her father took an accounting job in California, uprooting the teenager and her family from their home state of Montana.

They’d grown up on the same street, both their moms teaching at the elementary school. The two had pretty much gone through every grade together considering their school was small with few teachers. Every year they were in the same class, often sitting next to each other and spending time after school on the playground while their moms finished up for the day. Bob spent nearly every moment with Y/n as kids, becoming best friends when they were only five years old. But it wasn’t until the boy was twelve that he realized what a crush was….and boy did he have one on her.

Cherishing their friendship, poor Bob didn’t say anything about his surfacing feelings for his best friend. Even when the news of her moving was announced when they were 16, Bob remained quiet. It pained him to do so but he’d rather have her in his life than risk losing her if she didn’t feel the same.

In all the years Bob Floyd knew Y/n L/n, music was her life. It consumed her entire being with the young girl always humming a tune or singing along on the radio. When she was given a keyboard and guitar for Christmas, Y/n self-taught herself how to play until they could afford to put her in lessons. Then there were the notebooks.

At first it started as sticky notes with a verse or two, then it turned into loose pages of lyrics before finally the teenager wrote them all into notebooks. Anytime inspiration came to Y/n she was writing it down on whatever she could find. Napkins at a restaurant, receipts from her mother’s grocery run, hell even on her arm Y/n was writing lyrics so she wouldn’t forget. Sometimes she’d have the whole song complete before settling on a title, or a catchy title would come to mind but the lyrics would take time. Bob would always get annoyed when she’d steal his pen from out of his hand, but would let it go, understanding she had to write it down before she lost it.

At a football game he witnessed her unable to find a pen in time to write something on her arm before the lyric faded away. The teenager nearly sobbed right there in the middle of the stands, face in her hands as though to will herself to remember. “Are you okay,” Bob whispered, to which he received a sad groan.

“No….please don’t interrupt my thinking. I’m having a crisis, Robby.”

Y/n’s mom, who mentally still lived in the 80s, was the inspiration for her song ‘1985’, Y/n wrote at 15. Bob could still remember the day she raced up to their reserved lunch table, planting the paper in front of him, “Read this,” she was out of breath, but smiling nonetheless. Picking it up, Bob adjusted his glasses and let his eyes read over the words scribbled down that were separated into: intro, verse 1, chorus, verse 2, chorus, bridge, chorus, & outro.

“Wow,” he reads over the lyrics again, brows raised and feeling a connection to the song. It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact it was likely titled ‘1985,’ which also happened to be the year they were born. “This is amazing, Y/n. Almost like….wait is this about your mom?” As her best friend growing up, Y/n’s mother was like a second mom to him….so Bob knew her obsession with the 80s and how she had plans to be an actress before she and her high school sweetheart, Y/n’s father, got married after college and had Y/n when they were 24. Then they had her siblings afterward and both changed their course of careers in order to raise them. The line that said ‘husband’s a CPA,’ is what really gave it away considering her father was an accountant. Debbie wasn’t her mother’s name, but even a rocket scientist could piece it together Debbie represented her.

Glancing up, he sees her guilty expression, offering a light shrug. “Is it that obvious?”

Bob never forgot that song. Even with all the ones Y/n showed him afterwards and when they lost touch two years after she moved, he never once forgot the song, ‘1985’.

It was a sad day when she told him the news. They were halfway through junior year, college applications around the corner and setting up for SATs/ACTs when she dropped the bomb, “My dad’s being transferred to California.”

The Coca-Cola he’d been drinking nearly went all over his steering wheel when he coughed, her words sending him into shock. “W-what-you’re moving?!”

“Next month,” she mumbled, head down to hide her face from his view. “My dad is there now looking at places for us. In the meantime Mom is dealing with the house while also applying to schools in the area my dad’s gonna be working.”

“Where?” Bob asks after a moment of silence, allowing him to fully process the news.

His best friend—who he was in love with—was leaving him.

Y/n sighed before replying with a sad chuckle, “Los Angeles. You know I would feel excited, seeing it was my plan to move to L.A after graduation, but I just can’t bring myself to.”

“Why?” Bob says softly with a frown, “This is your dream, Y/n. All you’ve wanted was to go there and audition for American Idol—or whatever that singing show is.” He was trying really hard to cheer her up, pushing down his heartbreak all the while. “This is your chance.”

“Yeah, but….” She glanced out the window, “what if it doesn’t work out? I don’t even know if I wanna go to college—which my mom still scolds me every time she gets the chance because she thinks I’m a fool to wanna pursue music. You know how it is,” Y/n gives Bob a knowing look, “she thinks of her life and wants me to go to school before selling my life away to a 9-5. I know she’s looking out for me, but God, let me make my own mistakes.” Her head leans on the window, “If it doesn't work out then that’s on me. But I’m not gonna give it up just because it seems out of reach. That’s what back up plans are for.”

Silence fills the car, the two letting their thoughts wonder. “Promise me something, Robby.”

“Anything,” he doesn’t hesitate.

“Promise me that even though I’m leaving, we’ll still be best friends. We’ll still write letters or talk on the phone…just don’t give up on me.”

Taking her hand in his, hoping she doesn’t feel the slight tremor as the words he so desperately wants to say are on the tip of his tongue, Bob gives her a look of love which she likely would believe is one of sincerity, “you’re my best friend, Y/n. I believe you will accomplish everything you set your mind to. When you make it big, I’ll be cheering you on every second and until then, we’ll talk every day if we have to,” he makes a face after thinking, “though maybe narrow it down to once a week so my mom doesn’t kill me for the phone bill.”

That makes Y/n laugh before reaching over the console to hug him. Arms go around his neck while his one arm awkwardly wraps around her side.

“I love you, Robby,” she tells him, sending his heart soaring. “You’re the only person I can count on in this whole damn world.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” ‘More than what you could possibly know.’ “I’ll always be here for you. Forever.”

He never thought he’d break that promise. But around the time of graduation things became so hectic in Bob’s life on top of the fact he was hurting. Hurting because he loved Y/n, and anytime they would talk on the phone or send letters he was reminded of the fact she was in California while he was stuck in Montana and they could never be together. Bob felt the only way he could save his heart and move on from that love was by cutting contact. It was his fault and he knew it when the letters eventually stopped coming and the phone stopped ringing every Friday. His mother could only relay an excuse to the girl so many times before Y/n eventually gave up. The last letter she sent him came two months after their last phone call, “So much for always being there, Robby. Have a good life, I hope it treats you well. -Y/n.”

He didn’t know what happened to her until two years later when ‘1985’ played for the first time on the radio for the whole world to hear. Tears lined his eyes, the man having to look out the window away from his friends. The flooding of emotion was overpowering, forming a sob in his throat.

She did it. She’s on the radio like she always dreamed.

“That was ‘1985’ the debut single of incoming rock band, The 1985s. Hits the nostalgia I gotta say—I feel we’re looking at some fresh new faces to the scene. Can’t wait to see what they have to offer in the future.”

The prediction of the radio host came true, when in 2006 the group released their debut album Established in 1985. Like their name, it referenced the year all members were born in which included frontwoman and occasional guitar player Y/n L/n, bassist Thomas Quinn, guitarist Farrah Cortez, drummer Xavier Hernandez, and keyboardist Pepper Renolds. All met at the University of California Los Angeles, and funny enough none were students in the music program. They were all in STEM/humanities with Y/n studying sociology with a minor in music, meeting the others when they formed a study group after they all had the same prerequisite classes their second semester.

It was at one of their meetups that Y/n couldn’t help but sing along to Journey’s ‘Faithfully’ and The Who’s ‘We Don’t Get Fooled Again,’ as they played on the little radio in the corner. “Damn Y/n,” Thomas looked amazed, “You got a voice, girl. How come you’re not studying music?”

“Same reason why you aren’t—don’t give me that look, Quinn, I saw that bass in your place when we were there last week.”

Next thing they knew Pepper mentioned she was a pianist who was progressing onto keyboard. Then Farrah said she played guitar and Xavier smirked, “all y’all need is a drummer and you can be a band….oh wait, have I ever told y’all I play drums?”

And thus, the 1985’s were born.

Months were dedicated to them building their sound and learning to be a band all while keeping up with their school work. Y/n was the brain behind all their songs, literally dropping the pile of notebooks onto the table one day saying, “I’ve got at least four albums worth of songs in these…maybe even more.” Working little by little they eventually got the tunes for several that they knew they’d want to release first if they managed to get discovered. MySpace was just starting out and Y/n took it upon herself to be bold, creating a profile for them. She listed her information since they didn’t have a band email set up. That would hopefully come in the future.

It was on MySpace that their lives changed forever.

Roughly after a year of working nonstop to create songs and develop their sound, the band uploaded a video onto the platform for ‘1985,’ in May of 2004. It almost looked like a music video, teaming up with students from the drama programs who were in need of doing their end of semester project. They had someone play Debbie, her husband, the two kids, and a group of extras. Even the yellow SUV Y/n’s mom drove was used as well as a poster of Duran Duran for the line in the second verse. The band would be in clips throughout the video, Y/n singing and playing the guitar. It took them the whole night spray painting a makeshift logo of ‘The 1985’s’ onto Xavier’s drum set.

When they first uploaded the video they were all like, “Even if no one sees it, this was still fun as hell to make.”

But little did they know it was going to be seen by many eyes…..including an executive of Capitol Records.

Y/n was just coming home from her shift at a local diner when she checked her email, dropping the water bottle in her hand and letting out an ear-piercing scream that woke her roommates.

“Y/n, my name is Martin Plaza and I’m a talent exec at Capitol Records. A member of my team came across your video on MySpace and we were impressed by your band and song, ‘1985’. We’d like to set up a meeting if you all are interested and please bring any demos you may have. Email me back as soon as possible or give me a call using the number listed below. Hope to hear from you soon. Regards, Martin Plaza.”

Y/n and the group could hardly contain their reaction at the meeting when Martin and a few members of Capitol Records were visibly pleased with what they were hearing. With so many songs they had recorded, they settled on bringing five, including ‘1985,’ and ‘Some Nights,’ which they were planning on uploading to MySpace next.

Martin and the team had excused themselves briefly before returning with the offer: a six year contract with Capitol Records releasing at least three albums during that period.

You can bet your ass they agreed. Signing their names before the sun could set on the horizon.

Champagne popped that night with Y/n crying against the receiver of her pink Motorola as she informed the news to her family. Her mother cried with her, her dad celebrating in the background while her siblings were like, “Don’t forget me when you become famous, sis.” What made her sad though after the call ended was when she went to dial Robby’s number, only to close the phone with a sigh. It’d been over a year since they last spoke, Y/n unsure where he even was or if he had a cell phone. The only number she knew was his home phone.

Curiosity and slight anger rising, Y/n dialed the number saved as his home landline, not surprised when his mother answered. “Y/n! Why hello, darling, I wasn’t expecting your call tonight.”

“Hi, Mrs. Floyd,” she sniffed, feeling tears prick in her eyes again. Y/n was not used to addressing the older woman by her last name. It felt awkward now to call her by her first. “I know he’s probably not going to come to the phone…but if Robby—Robert is there, could I…could I just speak with him please? It’s important.”

“Oh honey,” that was enough to indicate it wouldn’t happen. Y/n looked up to the sky, heart breaking in two at the fact her so called best friend, who she loved more than anything in the world, had completely discarded her. “Robert is uhh—he’s at the Naval Academy, sweetheart, I can give you his email or cell number—.”

“No-no-no,” Y/n interrupted, stunned by the news. “It’s fine. Uh, just never mind.”

“Honey—.”

“Sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Floyd. Take care and thank you for your help.” Placing the phone in her pocket, Y/n allowed the tears to flow freely before moving back inside to where the party was. Only she could hardly enjoy it now. Instead she let her feet carry her over to the notebook placed on her backpack, removing a pen hastily from the pencil pouch and scribbling down the lyrics that were screaming in her head. The words that took over the paper went onto become their Grammy award winning singles, ‘Iris,’ and ‘Payphone.’ Iris became so popular it was used in several movies and tv shows after its release in 2006, earning the band the Grammy for ‘Record of the Year,’ to go along with their ‘Best Rock Performance by a Duo/Group’ and ‘Album of the Year’, three MTV moonmen including ‘Video of the Year’ and the American Music Award for ‘Song of the Year.’ Payphone was just as successful, topping the Billboard Hot 100 for 20 consecutive weeks and winning just as many awards as Iris.

Anytime the songs played on the radio or wherever he was, Bob had to change the station or frown until it ended. Deep down, he could feel they were about him—hurting him even more at the realization Payphone was basically saying how Y/n loved him and was trying to move on. Just in the way Y/n sang combined with the lyrics telling a story, it was obvious he had broken her heart. And they weren’t even together. They were just best friends…..who were too stupid enough to not admit their feelings for each other.

His senior year of college Y/n and the group were starting to become big, all the members taking a break from college in order to build their careers as musicians. Often Bob would check in to see how Y/n was, tuning into award shows to watch them perform. Pride and awe filled him watching her sing, living her dream just as he believed she would. He hated that he broke his word to her, and it seemed to affect Y/n whenever she performed Iris and Payphone, putting every ounce of emotion into each lyric.

At 21 Bob had finally entered a relationship with a nice girl from the Naval Academy. The possibility of him reuniting with Y/n was long out of the picture and his friends were getting on him to finally break out of his shell. They had no idea of his connection to the rockstar, but they could tell anytime they were on the radio Bob’s demeanor changed. Abby, a sweet pre-law student at the Naval Academy, was his first serious commitment, the two bonding over similar interests and plans for the future. Hope rose at what it could hold.

Until she and their friends decided they wanted to go see The 1985’s concert.

It was 2007, they’d just graduated and were commissioned to the rank of Ensign’s waiting to be shipped off to their respective duty stations. And Bob was engaged…..but he hadn’t really proposed in the traditional way. It was more of Abby pointing out if they wanted to get stationed together then it was best for them to get married and he just agreed. But a big part of him was hesitant to go through with it.

The news of Abby and their friends' desire to go to the concert made his stomach drop and head spin. Still in Maryland, they had gotten tickets to the show in New York at Madison Square Garden which was only a couple hours away. Abby had went ahead and got them as a surprise for Bob, not telling him until the day before the show.

“You guys go,” Bob initially said, praying she couldn’t pick up on the anxiety in his voice. “I—uh—I’ve got some things to get done—.”

“What things?” She scoffed, shaking her head as she laid out the outfit she planned to wear. “School is over, you aren’t planning to see your family until next week, and you don’t leave for flight school till the end of summer. What could you possibly do tomorrow night, Bobby?” He mentally cringed at the nickname, unconsciously thinking of how Y/n would call him Robby.

This wasn’t a good idea and he knew it. Already he was starting to think of her again. More and more by the second. Feelings were resurfacing, and Bob was fighting them hard. If he saw her on stage it was only going to confirm what he already knew.

That Y/n owned his heart. And no one else would have it. Not even Abby.

In the end, Bob found himself on the floor of Madison Square Garden of all places, wondering just how the hell their friends managed to get the area. The band was touring for their debut album, selling out within seconds and what made it more historic were they managed to get The Garden in their first ever tour. Usually groups/artists had years before they played at the Garden, settling for smaller venues in New York, but the 1985’s had become sensations.

The entire time they waited for the band Bob’s hands were shaking, the man unable to contain his tremor with each minute. Abby asked at one point, but brushed it off as him being excited when he didn’t give her an answer.

He was a little excited….but mostly fucking terrified.

Especially because they were very close to the stage. Like if one of the members happened to walk close to where they were standing they’d be spotted.

Bob should’ve fucking knocked on wood.

When the band came out Madison Square Garden erupted, Y/n belting out the lyrics to their opening number, looking like an actual dream. Her look was more of a modern take on rock n roll but still looked classic. Black leather adorned her body with cutouts to showcase some skin, arms covered in ink from the various tattoos and hips rolling to the beat of the drums causing the crowd to go crazy.

Y/n really knew how to work the stage and make it her bitch.

Bob was mesmerized. Utterly speechless as his eyes glued to the woman he once called his best friend. All he could do was stand there and stare, while willing his heart to calm down by how fast it was beating.

It was to be a two hour show at the least, and Bob didn’t know if he wanted to leave as quickly as he could or wishing the show would last forever. Seeing Y/n up close and performing before a crowd made him feel things he didn’t know were possible. Her dazzling smile, dancing across the stage and playing the guitar was everything he could’ve dreamed for her.

He loved her. Bottom line, Bob loved Y/n like no other.

When their eyes connected 30 minutes before the concert ended, causing Y/n to drop the microphone and throw her off for the remainder of the concert, Bob knew he couldn’t marry Abby.

He wasn’t sure if Y/n recognized him at first, but the rockstar had approached the side he was standing at to interact with the crowd when her gaze landed on his. Eyes widening, Y/n literally dropped the microphone causing the impact to echo through the speakers. Bob’s cheeks went bright red, unable to look away in their 2-second staring contest until Y/n blinked rapidly and cursed.

“Shit,” he saw her mouth as soon as the microphone hit the platform, bending down quickly to pick it up. “Sorry about that guys,” she nervously laughed, eyes glancing at Bob as though to make sure they weren’t deceiving her. A sharp intake of breath indicated she realized it wasn’t a trick. Walking backwards until she was back to the middle of the stage where the band was, Y/n’s tone became flustered, “U-uh, we only got a couple songs left in the show. We’re gonna take a quick five minute break so just hang tight.”

Bob could see the looks of concern from her friends/bandmates as she ran off stage, the group following behind. His heart dropped, rubbing a hand over his face to calm down the anxiety in his veins.

“What the hell was that about?” Derek laughed, “It was like she saw a ghost or something.” Everyone besides Bob agreed, none seeing the way Abby was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

When the band returned for the final act Y/n did her best to not look at the section Bob was in. Unlike everyone else in attendance, the Navy officer could pick up on the fact she was more tense than at the start of the show. Her voice shook lightly when delivering the lyrics to ‘Iris’, although it was as though she was putting more emotion than ever into the song, bringing tears to Bob’s eyes. Y/n also appeared to hold back tears, quickly transitioning the song to their next to avoid breaking down.

‘1985’ was the last in their set, everyone in MSG jumping up and down to the chorus and screaming the lyrics. Y/n smiled the entire time, finally letting a tear slip when the concert came to an end. To everyone it may have looked like the rockstar was overwhelmed with emotion at the fact she just played Madison Square Garden before a sold out crowd. But for Robert Floyd, he knew those tears were because of him.

Especially when they connected eyes again, Y/n’s lip quivering before turning away to hide her face. When she walked off with the band Bob felt his heart go with her.

“You’re hiding something,” Abby said with a soft tone when they arrived back home late that night. It was nearly 3 in the morning, the concert having ended at 11.

Bob tilted his head back, eyes closing to block off the rest of the world, “Please, let’s not do this.” He just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.

“You know, I always wondered why your knuckles would tighten around the steering wheel when their songs played on the radio, or why you look like you wanna cry anytime I sing ‘Iris’ at karaoke, why you can’t even look at me when I do,” she lists off, voice slightly rising. “Then there’s that box of letters you hide in the closet. And….and the photo album you won’t even let me look at. We’ve been together for a year, and you have not once told me you loved me.” By now Abby’s voice wavered, sniffing as she continued.

“I’ve been a fan of The 1985’s for close to a year now, but it wasn’t until tonight I actually read up on them. On Y/n…..” she saw how his body reacted, confirming her suspicion even more. “How she was living in L.A when they got discovered, but she grew up somewhere else…..She’s from Montana. The same town as you, Robert.”

“That’s just a coincidence—.”

“She went to the same high school as you!” Abby shouted, pushing off the wall she was leaning against. “You told me your town had less than four-thousand people—and only one high school. She would’ve gone there, Robert—in fact it said her mom was a teacher at the elementary school. The same one your mom taught at!”

By now Bob had enough, mouth tightening as he spoke calmly to his ‘fiancé’, “What do you want to know, Abby?”

“Who was she to you? Don’t fucking say shit like ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’—I saw her look at you,” tears pricked in her blue eyes. “How she looked like she’d been punched straight through the heart. She fucking dropped the microphone—and looked like she wanted to faint! Like you were a walking ghost. And you….you looked the same.” Pausing, she thought back to his face at the concert. There was no doubt Y/n and him had locked eyes, she heard him audibly react despite the noise.

“You looked like someone with deep regret. Someone who longed for a second chance. You looked like someone in love, Robert. Never have you looked at me that way.” Abby waited for him to respond, but Bob was unable to speak, expression unreadable causing her heart to break.

“Just please,” she breathed out, “tell me the truth, Bob. What was she to you?”

Silence filled the room, causing the tension to rise. It stayed that way until Bob finally sighed, face falling as he admitted what she already knew.

“She was everything. She is everything.”

When it came time to ship out two months later Bob was not the married man he expected to be. In all honesty, he was relieved. That night the argument had ended with Bob telling Abby he couldn’t marry her—he’d be hurting her even more if he followed through with it. Never could he love her the way he did Y/n and wouldn't put her through that. Going their separate ways was for the best. Even though he’d likely never be with Y/n, no one could compare to her.

Abby was angry as one could expect but part of her knew it was for the best. What good was it getting into a loveless marriage? She almost resented the rockstar, feeling like she could never enjoy the 1985’s anymore knowing the man she thought she spent the rest of her life with was hopelessly in love with his former best friend, who was the frontwoman of her favorite band. But then Abby took some time to think, and felt her heart break for Bob. She couldn’t imagine what it was like loving someone you couldn’t have.

Ending their engagement and agreeing to be friends, Bob told stories about growing up with Y/n—even bringing out the letters and photo album for her to see. It amazed the woman, flipping through the pages to see the singer when she was a child and teenager. It was almost funny to see how polar opposites the two best friends were, Y/n with her 80s band t-shirts and ripped jeans next to a Bob in his cowboy hat and flannels. As teenagers Y/n dabbled more in the grunge makeup. One photo made Abby laugh as it showed Bob with black eyeliner and glitter on his cheeks.

Coming across the end of the album was a half of a ‘Best Friends Forever’ necklace taped to the page. Abby frowned, “What happened between the two of you?”

This was a question he never thought he’d answer, thinking he’d go the rest of his life without anyone finding out his history with Y/n.

“After she moved we stayed in contact for about two years. We’d call every Friday—send letters from time to time ....” He paused, biting his lip as the frown took over. “But I stopped responding and answering.”

“Why?”

“It hurt too much,” he admitted, hating the way his heart clenched. “I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose what we had,” he looked to the ground, “but then it just became too overwhelming and I thought if we….if we drifted apart then I eventually could move on.”

Abby is silent, glancing at the picture of him and Y/n before looking back at the necklace, “Wanna hear something, Bob? Something you probably won’t believe, but I promise you it’s more likely than you think?” He looks up from the floor, brow raised slightly.

“What?”

“I think Y/n loves you.”

“Not in the way you think, Abby,” Bob deflects with a shake of the head. “And she definitely doesn’t anymore—she hates me no doubt.”

“No, listen to me,” she closes the album, setting it aside. “When did you two stop talking?”

“Around fall of 2003,” he tells her, look of regret in his visage, “in 2004 was the last time she phoned the house.”

Abby thinks back in her research of the band, shoulders dropping slightly, “That’s when they got signed to Capitol Records. ‘Payphone’ and ‘Iris’ came out last year, but Y/n said in an interview she wrote them the night they were signed—which had people confused because they’re sad songs that were written on a night that was supposed to be happy. Don’t you see?” She waves her hand at his now confused gaze, making her huff. “She probably had called your house hoping to tell you the news! Anyone who hears those songs knows it’s about heartbreak. And not the type of heartbreak you get by a friendship disintegrating, Bob. That’s the heartbreak when someone you love with your entire soul hurts you.”

“Abby please,” Bob pleads with her, water lining his eyes. Falling silent the woman leans away, solemn in her expression.

“All I’m saying is she loved you more than you think. And judging by her reaction to you tonight, I think I’m right when I say Y/n would give anything for you to talk to her again…..”

For years Bob thought about what Abby had told him that night they broke up. It kept him up at night especially when The 1985’s came up that day either in conversation or on the radio. There were times he was tempted to write a letter, but life would get crazy with the Navy and then in 2011 he was invited to Top Gun.

Devastated couldn’t even be the right word to describe how Bob felt when it was revealed Y/n had eloped with a Hollywood heartthrob. Not a fan of social media, Bob had just returned back to his squadron after graduating from Top Gun to turn on E! News where they were covering the story.

“Wedding bells are in store for rockstar Y/n L/n of The 1985s and actor Enrique Lorenzo from The Walking Dead. The two have been spotted throughout the year looking cozy at award shows and Lorenzo attending The 1985’s concerts in L.A and Atlanta. An inside source has gotten word the two applied for a marriage license two days ago and earlier this morning had a private ceremony with close friends and family in West Hollywood. Neither has confirmed if they have in fact tied the knot, but I would keep your eyes out. In the meantime, congratulations to the happy couple and we’re looking forward to seeing Y/n’s ring.”

It seemed like all the air had left Bob, turning off the tv in a flash but still pointing the remote as he stood stunned. Then his phone buzzed with messages.

“Honey, just checking in. Call me when you get home,” was from his mom, trying to avoid the obvious elephant and would rather discuss it over the phone.

“Have you heard the news?” Abby wrote. “I’m so sorry, Bob.” He actually appreciated that she wasn’t walking on eggshells. That she was upfront with him. Though it’d been over four years since their breakup, and Abby was now married with children, the two remained friends and often checked in with each other occasionally.

“It was bound to happen some time,” he replied before turning off his phone so he couldn’t receive any more messages.

The rest of the night he was pretty much a walking shell, then as the years went on Bob closed himself off. Hardly did he date, and when he did they only lasted a few months before the girls realized he was not ready for the commitment they were wanting. Some understood, others were more aggressive when spitting out their feelings. Never did he admit why he couldn’t love them the way they wanted. The only people who knew who his heart belonged to were Abby and his family.

2015 Bob was transferred to Lemoore when the news broke that Y/n and Enrique had divorced after nearly four years of marriage, however, they had been secretly separated for almost a year before it was finalized. Cursing mentally, Bob couldn’t help but feel a slight relief—which was completely fucked up knowing Y/n was going through a difficult time and here he was silently celebrating, as though he really had a chance now to make things right.

That should’ve been his sign to call her mother and ask for Y/n’s number, with the hope she’d give it to him. But then Bob felt it was too soon. Her divorce had just been finalized, he didn’t know the exact reason despite the former couple citing irreconcilable differences. Whatever it was, Bob wasn’t sure he wanted to know but at the same time couldn’t help but be curious.

He’d get his answer almost two years later in January of 2017 when he flew home to Montana to celebrate his birthday. It was his 32nd and his mother literally begged him to come home so they could all be together now that Bob’s sister had recently had twins and were there to visit. Wanting to meet his nieces, the WSO relented and booked a flight for the weekend after confirming his leave.

Suspicion filled him with the way his family was acting when he arrived. Almost like they were excited but nervous, which only confused the officer. He was in his service khakis, pulling his cap off when they got inside and removing his windbreaker before setting it on the coat rack.

That’s when he saw the black suitcase in the corner.

“Who’s is that?” He asked with a raised brow, noticing his mother slightly tense. It wasn’t a luggage he recognized as one of theirs, and it was as though it had just been placed there.

And his sister had already unpacked in her old room. So it wasn’t hers.

Blushing, his mother tried to find the right words, “Oh-um, It’s—.”

“It’s mine.”

32 years had gone by in Bob’s life and never did he think he’d experience anything close to cardiac arrest. But hearing Y/n’s voice, so close as though she was behind him, made him think he was about to die right then and there.

Then he turned around, slowly, heart beating so fast it was about to explode from his chest, and she was there. Standing at the end of the staircase in a beautiful black leather dress with matching knee high boots, her hair slicked back into a bun and minimal makeup showcasing her gorgeous face.

She was ethereal. Absolutely breathtaking.

The last time he saw her in person was when they were 22, before that was 16. Here she was a grown woman who’d been through a hell of a life. She looked beyond gorgeous, and Bob felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

Only her gaze was not as warm as the emotions Bob was feeling. Honestly he felt like he could be six feet in the ground with how she was looking at him. Betrayal, heartbreak, anger, but underneath it there was love and hope.

“Hello, Robert.”

He didn’t even know how to react. All he could do was stand there, speechless with his mouth slightly agape. Eventually he just breathed out, “Y/n.”

Stoic, Y/n glanced at his mother, “Mrs. Floyd, could you please give us a moment.”

“Of course,” the older woman nodded, bidding her son a glance, “We’ll all be out on the porch.”

Nodding in thanks, Y/n waited until she and everyone in the house had moved outside before facing Bob again. Chills ran up his arms when she let her eyes trail over his figure, remaining emotionless.

An awkward silence passed, neither really knowing what to say. Bob was hesitant to break it, hoping she would but Y/n just continued to stare at him. Both unable to form the words.

Finally he tried to say, “y-you uhh, wow.” He swore he heard her scoff under her breath.

“Yeah, wow,” her tone broke his heart, but then again Bob couldn’t blame her. After all, he’s the reason they drifted apart. When he didn’t reply, instead glancing to the ground, she scoffed louder, “That’s all you can really say? ‘Wow’? After thirteen years, Robert, all you have to fucking say to me is ‘wow’? No, ‘I’m sorry,’ no ‘I can explain everything.’”

Anxiety rising, Bob sighed which only made her angrier. “Y/n, I-I—.”

She couldn’t stop herself, “Why?” The question haunted her for over a decade. “Why did you just throw me away like trash—a-after everything we’d been through? You owe me the reason why you broke your word to me and made me feel like shit. I have waited and waited for years, Robert, hoping you would call or send a letter but now I’ve had enough so you can’t run away from me now. So start talking.”

“Y/n, I didn’t mean for y-you to feel like that,” he tried to explain, but the words were not the best, causing her to explode.

“How else was it supposed to make me feel!?” She threw her hands out. “That’s how it came off as to me! ‘All always be here for you,’ my ass, Robert. You remember telling me that? It was only two years—two years of us doing so well with the distance—I was even planning on surprising you for fucking Christmas and then it was just gone in the blink of an eye,” snapping her fingers, Y/n emphasized her point. “No explanation, no warning. Nothing to tell me you didn’t want to be friends anymore, having your mom give me excuse after excuse why you wouldn't come to the phone.” She pauses to calm herself, her tone kept rising with each word.

Bob takes the moment to speak, “It’s…Y/n, you have to understand it was never my intention to hurt you,” when she made a sound of, ‘yeah right,’ he rushed out, “Please! I fucked up, I know I did and I’ve regretted every second of it since then—and as much as I wanted to reach out and apologize, explain to why it happened…I just felt so ashamed and then I heard you on the radio,” a sad smile comes to his lips, seeing her stiffen at the mention of her debut. “And when I heard your voice, I just thought that was it. You didn’t need me anymore and believed you would forget about me eventually.”

“Forget about you?” Her tone went soft, eyes glistening. “You were my best friend—since we were fucking five, Robert!” He flinched, shame filling his veins. “We did everything together, I shared everything with you. My music—some of which were inspired by the fucking things we did,” the confession had his eyes widened a bit, “You think I would just forget all of that? Thirteen years worth of friendship down the drain? Sorry, but I’m not like you—I wouldn’t just ditch the only person I trusted most in this world because I was starting to become something. Did your mom tell you I called?” She suddenly asked, not letting him answer before she was ranting again, “It was almost a year after you threw me to the winds. The night I fucking met with Capitol Records and got offered the opportunity of a lifetime….I wanted to share that with you. Despite the fact we hadn’t talked for almost a goddamn year, I desperately wanted to hear your voice and tell you I did it,” her voice cracked at the end, causing tears to prick in Bob’s eyes at the sight she was fighting back her own.

“That I did it,” Y/n held back the sob threatening to escape. “You were the only one who believed in me, and I couldn’t even share that with you. Because you didn’t want me in your life anymore—and you know what that’s okay. Friendships come and go, but you couldn’t even give me the fucking respect to tell me. And then you come to my show!” Now she was shouting, “Yeah I know that was you, don’t even try to deny it. It may have been four years at that time but I know damn well that was you in New York. I cannot fucking believe you would come to my show and not even tell me! And then to not reach out after was a fucking slap to my face.” Her breathing was starting to get heavy, the woman pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t even recognize you honestly. The Robert I knew would’ve never hurt me like you did. He would’ve at least shown me some respect. He wouldn't leave me to wonder what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said sternly.

“Well it doesn’t feel that way now does it?” She said just as harsh, “Why?”

“Y/n, it’s complicated,” he put his hands to his neck, looking at the ceiling as he started to lose composure.

“Then tell me why!”

“Because I fucking love you that’s why!”

The words had left Bob’s mouth before he could stop himself. Silence ignited, the WSO covering his mouth with a hand as he went pale, staring at Y/n whose own mouth was parted. The confession had hit her full blast, causing her to stumble back as though she physically felt them possess her. A shaky hand came to her own mouth, looking away from the man when her eyes closed allowing the tears to spill on her cheeks.

“I love you,” Bob whispered, mirroring her expression. “I’ve loved you since we were fifteen, Y/n. I knew I felt something when we were twelve, but I just brushed it off thinking I was confused. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about you—and what we could have. But I didn’t want to lose you if you didn’t feel the same.” Opening his eyes, they locked on hers. God even when she cried she looked beautiful. “When you left…I thought it would be easier to move on. But then we talked every week and the feelings wouldn’t go away. No matter how much I tried. You took my heart with you to L.A. and you’ve had it ever since.”

He waited for her to respond, chest on fire with how bad his heart was racing. Fingertips were going numb as Bob stared at her with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back in time and change it as much as I wish I could. Please know, Y/n, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you. I won’t ask for your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. I won’t blame you if you walk out that door and we never see each other again. But just when you do, know that I’m truly, deeply, sorry.”

Time seemed to slow now with the two adults staring at each other. Now that it was all out in the open, Y/n seemed to be processing the whole thing. Bob couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n’s brain was screaming, as was her heart. Lips quivering, the woman sniffed.

“You love me?”

“I do,” Bob signed after a moment. He no longer could keep it in, feeling the immense relief at being able to finally say it aloud.

“For years?”

“Almost seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” she repeated with an unreadable tone. “Y-you, I thought—your mom told me you were engaged.”

“That was in college,” he explained softly. “She was at the show with me that night. Saw how we reacted to each other and realized things I tried to hide. I ended things with her—I couldn’t trap her in a marriage that would make her unhappy—make me unhappy. She understood after a while and we stayed friends.” Bob rubbed his jaw, adding, “everyone else that came along was the same. I couldn’t love them the way they wanted me to. My heart wouldn’t allow it.”

Y/n leaned her head against the wall behind her, gazing at the ceiling, “A-and you were just going to go through life alone? Never planning to settle or be happy?”

“What good would it be hurting someone by committing to them when I couldn’t offer everything they would give me in return. They could love me, but I couldn’t love them, Y/n, and that’s unfair.” He wiped away a tear that slipped from his eye, no doubt his irises were red, “I’d rather be alone than do that to someone.”

She took a sharp inhale at that, more tears falling. “You should’ve told me,” her voice cracked, making him look away. Only to freeze when she said in almost a whisper, “Because we could’ve had all this time.”

“Wh-what?” Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or did she really just say what he thought she did?

Y/n chuckled, but it was more of laughing at how sad the situation was. Shaking her head, her eyes stayed on her boots as she said, “Did you ever wonder why I rejected Tyler Davies when he asked me to homecoming junior year, insisting I wanted to go with you instead?” Tyler was the quarterback of their high school football team. A senior, who asked Y/n to the dance and became the talk of the school when she said no. Many were jealous she even got his attention, riddled with shock she would reject the star player.

“Because you felt sorry for me I didn’t ask anyone?” He asked like it was obvious, causing her to huff.

“Because I wanted you to ask me,” his heart skipped again, “And whenever Melinda Perry would flirt with you in government I would literally send her daggers because of how jealous I was. Why do you think I warned you not to go out with her when you asked for my advice? Yeah I knew she was a snake to most of her boyfriends, but I was also selfish because I didn’t want you dating someone else. God, Robby, you were so blind. Even with your glasses you still couldn’t see that I loved you.” It was though he was on cloud 9, disbelief at what he was hearing.

Y/n loved him. At least she did when they were teenagers.

The next question couldn’t even form in his mind before she was lifting her head back up, shrugging when allowing the confession to fall from her lips. “And as much as I want to hate you right, I can’t bring myself to. Because I’m still hopelessly in love with you, Robby.”

Now he was the one stumbling back. “Y-you do?”

“I do. I’ve loved you since I was sixteen.”

He didn’t recall much that happened after that. Just that his feet were carrying him over to her, cupping her face in his hands and moving their faces close together. Lips just barely brushing over, he waited for her to make the next move. Y/n wasted no time, pressing her mouth to his and the two felt the eruption of warmth and love consume their bodies. Her arms around his neck, her fingers ran through his blonde hair causing Bob to groan. The sound made her gasp, allowing Bob to slip his tongue past her lips and heat up the kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, bringing them back together.

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” His arms went to cradle her, pressing her against the wall. She simply nodded before kissing him back, “I forgive you, Robby.” God he missed that name. Only she could make him feel some type of way when she said it. He chuckled when she added, “Even though I should slap the fuck out of you.”

It was a miracle they made it up the stairs and into his childhood bedroom which was now a guest room. He had to remember to lock the door after setting her on the bed, praying to God his family would stay outside. There was music playing from what he could hear through the window so it made things easier when the two got lost in each other.

Clothes scattered the floor, kisses and hushed whispers shared between the two. Bob worshiped Y/n, letting his mouth kiss along every inch of her, trailing down any tattoos that coated her skin and paying extra attention in the places that brought her the most pleasure.

When he entered her they both sighed in bliss, moving as one until they reached a climax that brought them both to tears. All the time Bob whispered how much he loved her, Y/n repeating it each time. She moaned with each thrust and whenever she pleaded with him to do something Bob delivered it without hesitation. With her leg over his shoulder, chests pressed and mouths attached together the officer believed if he died right there it would be with a smile on his face. They came together, Y/n gasping his name as he eased them through their climax. When it was over Bob leaned down to capture her lips, wiping away her tears before removing himself to clean her. They basked in the afterglow, Y/n laying her head on his chest while he lightly traced the tattoos on her arm with his finger.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked, making her humm in response. “Enrique…”

The woman made a sound, lifting her head to gaze at him. “Enrique and I had been friends for some time—and we did drunkenly hook up once to get the sexual tension out of the way but that was it,” Bob controlled his reaction, though he couldn't say anything for he too had his fair share of one night stands. “The band’s contract was renewed and The Walking Dead was just starting out. The label and his producers thought it was a good idea for us to be seen together. Just to bring in some press for our upcoming album and the show. But we never felt anything more than friends for each other.”

Bob sat up a bit, causing her to lean on her elbows as she rested on her stomach. His expression was unreadable, “but you two were married.” Again Y/n let out a sigh.

“Enrique and I were friends so we shared things. He confided in me, I confided in him—Enrique was in love with someone who he couldn’t have. Ring a bell?” She raised a brow at him. “I was in the same boat. Just like how you said you couldn’t bring yourself to love anyone else, I couldn’t either. But at the time I thought you were married, Robby.” That had his eyes widened. “I called your mom after the concert that night, hoping to get to you and she told me you were engaged. So when I met Enrique and we both were going through the same thing, we thought ‘instead of being miserable alone, let’s be miserable together.’ Our publicists hated the idea, but we both believed we wouldn’t get our fairytale ending.”

Something in the way she said that last sentence had Bob think about Enrique Lorenzo. Most recently it was revealed he was in a relationship with fellow costar Simon Zahir, coming out as bisexual to the world with an instagram post of the two sharing a kiss.

“So you married him even though you didn’t love him?” Kinda like how he almost did with Abby. It made Bob frown thinking about it.

“I did love him, just not the way a wife should love their husband. And he understood because he couldn’t love me the way a husband would their wife,” she sadly smiled, “It was a mutual understanding where we would go and support each other at premiers and award shows, kiss for the cameras, all that was needed to show the media we were a happy couple. But behind closed doors we actually lived separately.”

Hesitant to ask, Bob waited a moment before saying what was on his mind the last couple years. “What made you two divorce?” The question made her give a small smile.

“Simon confessed to Enrique he loved him after they finished filming season four, and that he and his wife were divorcing. When Enrique told me… I could just see the hope in his eyes, and who was I to deny him his chance at happiness just because I didn’t want to be alone. It would have been selfish of me to. No, I told him the first thing the next morning we’d file but our publicists called and asked to wait until Simon was divorced before we went through with ours. That’s why we were ‘separated’ for a year,” she put quotes around ‘separated’. “We didn’t want to cite irreconcilable differences since it was a mutual decision, but the lawyers thought that was the best route to go.”

Bringing a hand up to caress her cheek, Bob asked the second question he wanted to know, “What made you come here?” She leaned into his touch, “you said you thought I was married. How did you even get here?” The last question was more due to the fact The 1985’s were currently on tour. It was another reason why he was so shocked to see her there when he arrived.

“We played in Helena last night. After the show I had this feeling I needed to come here, so I called my mom to get your mom’s number. That’s when she told me you were flying in today.” Her face turned to one of guilt, “I sorta feel like a bitch because tomorrow is your birthday and I came here knowing there would likely be an argument. Even though I thought you were married, I just really wanted to know the truth. It was eating me up. And with that feeling I needed to come here again after so many years, it sorta felt like a sign—if you can call it that.”

Leaning more into his hand, Y/n added, “I didn’t come with the intentions of winning you over or anything—especially under the impression you were married. I wanted answers, that was all. Although,” she kisses his wrist, “I’m not complaining with how things turned out.”

“Me either,” he agreed with a laugh. As he moved in to kiss her, a knock on the door interrupted causing the two to look like deer in headlights.

“If you two are presentable,” it was his sister, “then we’d be happy if y’all joined us for dinner sometime soon. But by all means, take your time.” She ended with a cheeky laugh before footsteps indicated she had walked away.

Bob let his head fall back into the pillow with a groan while Y/n giggled. She went to get up, but the man wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled into her neck. “I’ve waited too long for this.” Humming, he felt her hands go to his air, maneuvering them so he was on top of her.

Y/n gasped at the feeling of him becoming hard again, causing Bob to smirk as she wrapped her legs around him to offer assistance. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

In the haze of it all and as the weeks passed, the two began to live the life they dreamed of with each other. Neither realized they had forgotten protection that night….until Y/n was puking on the tour bus and counted the days since her last period.

“Look at me,” Bob held her hands. They sat in her hotel room in Sacramento, the band finishing out their tour in California before setting to work on their next album. When she called him that morning about her possibly being pregnant Bob got in his car and drove straight there. Thankfully it was a Saturday so he was off and had great timing. Pepper was kind enough to give her a spare pregnancy test she had on her, so Y/n waited until Bob arrived to take it.

Relieving herself on the stick, she kept it in the bathroom to wait for the results while she sat with him on the bed. She was crying, unsure how to feel. Part of her was excited at the idea of being pregnant and having a baby with Bob, but also feared it was too soon. They had just started dating, she was on tour until the end of the month, and they had been keeping their relationship quiet from the public so she was scared of what could happen.

For the WSO, he was going to be happy regardless of the outcome. “Look at me, Y/n. Everything is going to be okay. I am not leaving you—I swear to you, baby. If that says positive, then believe me when I say I will be the happiest man alive,” she whimpered, making him press kisses her cheek lovingly, “We’ll get through it together. You’re gonna be done with the tour in a few weeks and then we can take it from there. And if it’s negative then that’s completely okay too.”

When the results did come, the stick reading in small letters pregnant, the couple cried together with Bob pulling Y/n into his lap. “I love you—I love you,” he kissed all over her face, her cries turning into giggles. “It’s going to be okay, Y/n. I’m so happy, darlin’. So so happy. I want nothing more in this world than to have a baby with you. You’re going to be the best momma ever. I know it.”

October of 2017 brought Marcel Brandon Floyd into the world. Keeping her pregnancy a secret, no one besides the band and their families had knowledge of the birth of their son. Thankfully Bob’s identity was still hidden, both very careful to not let paparazzi catch them together. Especially with Y/n being pregnant they didn’t want to add on the stress of the media discovering their relationship. They planned to announce it on their own at some point once the baby had arrived.

It wasn’t until Marcel was roughly a month old that Y/n posted an Instagram picture with his tiny hand wrapped around her finger, ‘my world has arrived 🤍 10.20.17.’ The announcement had Y/n trending #1 on Twitter and talk show hosts calling to have her on the show. Y/n declined, she only really made television appearances with the band if they were performing, but that was only when they released new music.

Around the holidays was when Bob proposed. They were sitting by the fire, Y/n in his lap with Marcel in her arms when Bob simply said, “Marry me.”

At first she thought he was joking, but then he removed a velvet box from his pocket. Her eyes watered, “Are you serious?”

“More than I’ve ever been. You’re my person, baby. I’ve waited for this moment my whole life—and I won’t waste another second. Marry me, Y/n. Be my wife and I promise to love you even after death.”

He truly meant it when he said he didn’t want to waste another second. After she said yes, they put Marcel to bed and Bob made an appointment at the courthouse, both agreeing to get legally married and wait for a big ceremony some other time. They made love all through the night until the sun rose. In the morning the little family and the band gathered in the courthouse and tied the knot.

Y/n already knew the media was going to have stuff to say about her when the news broke. This was her second marriage, also happening in the spur of the moment like her first one. Only this time around it was with her soulmate so the rockstar couldn’t give a fuck what they had to say. She and Bob were coming up on a year, had a child, and planned to spend every second of their lives together. She loved him with every ounce of her being.

On instagram the picture posted was of their rings followed by one of them kissing where his face was hidden. “I’ve been keeping a secret from all of you. In January I reunited with my childhood best friend, who I was in love with way before The 1985’s were even thought of. Things happened in life causing us to drift apart, but we recently found our way back to each other and I plan to never let him go. He is my second half. The person I was meant to grow old with. I can’t put into words how happy I am and with the birth of our son, our little fairytale seems to be working out. Some of you may think this is all too fast but let me tell you this, we’ve waited a long time for this moment. I ask that you please respect our privacy and thank you to all who have supported me over the years. Much love, Y/n ♥️”

For almost two years the two kept their relationship under wraps from the media. Then in October of 2019, just before Marcel’s birthday Bob was called back to Top Gun. It’d been several years since he graduated from the program, surprised they even wanted him for the mission. With how timing was the WSO would have to report to Fightertown a couple days after his son turned two. Y/n had a beach house in San Diego, deciding her and Marcel would stay there while Bob was in his detachment and what made it better was Xavier and Farrah—who fell in love over the course of their years as a band— were both from San Diego, both currently there while the band took a small break. Bob would have to stay on base with candidates, but after training ended he’d come to the house to be with them.

Pepper and Thomas were back in L.A, but we’re working on beats for their upcoming album and sending the three what they had for them to add on or scrap if they felt it didn’t fit. They had a meeting with the two Zoom with Xavier and Farrah and their two young kids at Y/n’s place the day she got the call Bob was in an accident.

“Hello?” She answered the phone, moving to the side away from where Xavier was drumming. Marcel was in his little playpen, a pair of baby earmuffs over his ears to protect them from the loud noise.

“Hi….” The guy on the opposite end let out a soft chuckle. “I’m looking for uh, Y/n L/n?” His tone was that of someone who found it funny he was asking for someone he definitely thought wouldn’t be on the other end of the phone. Like he saw the name on the card and said, “there’s no fucking way this is the guy married to Y/n L/n,” but because of his job he had to call the number anyway.

“This is her. Who am I speaking to?”

The man went silent for a moment, before clearing his throat. “This is Lieutenant Royce from NAS Miramar medical group,” Y/n’s heart picked up as dread filled her, “Can you confirm you are the spouse of Lieutenant Robert Floyd.”

“Yes,” she rushed out. “I am. Is he okay? Did something happen?” Closing her eyes, she prayed she wasn’t about to receive the worst news imaginable. No, Bob had to be okay.

“There was an accident with his F-18 this afternoon, he had to eject—.”

“Excuse me one second,” she apologized before bringing the phone back slightly to yell at the drummer, “Xavier! Stop drumming for five seconds—I need to fucking hear right now!” The man winced as he mouthed, ‘sorry’ catching the ashen look on her face. Both he and Farrah set aside their instruments, watching Y/n turn away to speak again, this time more calmly. “Please repeat that for me, Lieutenant.”

When Royce heard the name of The 1985’s drummer being shouted at, the Lieutenant nearly forgot what he was calling for, “U-uh, yes. There was an emergency ejection in your husband’s F-18 this afternoon during training. He is okay minus a few bruises, but he will be staying overnight in our facility for observation.”

“Oh my gosh, okay,” she breathed in relief, bringing a hand to her mouth to calm herself. “Is there any way I can see him?”

“Do you have a dependent ID card?” She tells him yes and he says with a light cough, “Then yes you can come onto base and see him.” Royce gave the address, still finding it hard to believe he may have been talking with the frontwoman of the most popular rock band in the last 15 years. He really thought it was just someone who shared a name with her. But then again, they sounded very alike.

Thanking the officer, Y/n wrote down the address and rushed to grab her purse. “I have to go to base—something happened with Bob. Can you guys watch Marcel until I get back?”

“Of course,” Farrah told her, “go go, we’ll stay here and clean everything up.”

Practically speeding onto base, it was the first time she ever had to use her military ID, which had the guard at the front gate jaw drop. He maintained professionalism, scanning her card and nodding to the rockstar. As much as he wanted to ask for a photo the guy could tell she was in distress and it wasn’t a good idea. “Have a good day, Ms. L/n.”

“Thank you, sir. You too.” She waved apologetically, recognizing the look she often got from fans. Had the situation been different she would’ve happily chatted a little longer.

It was the same when she got to the infirmary. The receptionist, who looked to be in her mid twenties, dropped the apple in her hand while other young servicemen were doing double takes and whispering. “That’s fucking Y/n L/n.” “Are you sure?” “I’m serious! I had a huge crush on her in college. I’d recognize her anywhere.”

“Hi,” she offered a small smile, aware the guy to her left had his phone out trying to sneak a picture, likely tweeting the fact she was in a Navy hospital. “I’m looking for my husband, Lieutenant Robert Floyd. I received a call from a Lieutenant Royce saying he was here.”

Upon hearing his name, the gentlemen seated behind the girl with his back to her spun around, eyes bulging when they landed on Y/n. The chair almost fell when he stood abruptly. “T-that’s me. Yes I’m the one who called you, Ms. L/n. If you would follow me I’ll take you to him.”

“Thank you,” she walked behind him, ignoring the whispers and comments made by those around. By now TMZ probably got tipped off, she could already feel her phone buzzing—no doubt from her publicist wondering what the hell was going on. She made a mental note to call her back later to explain.

Royce knocked gently on the door before opening it, “Lieutenant—oh you have visitors I apologize,” he glanced over his shoulder to Y/n, still in disbelief on what he was about to say. Turning back to Bob, Royce gives a nod, “your wife is here.”

“She is?” Y/n heard Bob, and some murmurs of voices going, “Wife?” “When the hell did he get married?”

Pushing past Royce, thanking him briefly, Y/n entered the room only to stop short at the several pairs of eyes landing on her. Off to the side she saw a man with a buzz cut drop his bag of chips, choking on the one in his mouth, “What. the. fuck.”

The two standing in front of the bed—mouths agape—parted away allowing Y/n to see Bob sitting with his flight suit unzipped and tied around his waist. Exhaling in utter relief the woman rushes to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Robby.” She felt his arms go to her waist, pulling her closer as she hid her face in his neck. Y/n could literally cry with how happy she was to see him in one piece.

“I’m okay, darlin’.” He rubbed her back, aware his fellow aviators were staring at them with mixed expressions. They looked confused, disbelieved, shocked, and in awe.

The quiet, reserved, yet sometimes sassy WSO is married to the woman who's been ruling the radio over the last decade.

Who had seven fucking Grammy’s under her band’s name.

Pulling away, Y/n ran her hands along his shoulders, checking for any visible wounds. “What happened? Lieutenant Royce told me you had to eject?”

“There was a bird strike,” he explained, taking her hands and soothing them with his thumbs. “We lost both engines—Phoenix tried to get back control but we were going too fast and couldn’t save the jet. Had to eject at the last second—we’re okay though, I promise. Just a little shaken.”

“Thank God you’re alright,” she sniffed, hugging him again while kissing his cheek. “Leave it to you getting in an accident that makes me use my ID for the first time.”

“How was that?”

“Interesting. I was tempted to run the gate because I had no patience, but controlled myself. Getting arrested would not have been good.”

“No it wouldn’t,” he chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead.

The clearing of someone’s throat ended the moment, Y/n removing herself from Bob to face the group of aviators who were still speechless by the scene. Smiling shyly, Y/n took in each of them. “Hello, I’m Y/n.”

“Oh we know who you are,” Fanboy said with awe, groaning when Payback smacked his shoulder with a disapproving look. “Sorry that was not the best thing to say. What I-I meant was we’re all fans of your work.”

“And by that he means we were all jamming to your music on the tarmac just yesterday, not understanding why Bobby here looked so smug when Seresin said he could totally get a shot with you if he ever got the chance,” Rooster added on, resulting in the blonde pilot to glare at him before blushing when the others started to laugh.

“Well now I sure as hell won’t try—I’m not that shallow to hit on a married woman, Bradshaw. Made that mistake ages ago and it was not pretty. Anyways, sorry Bob for what I said,” he held a hand up, “but let me be the first to say what a fucking G you are. And Y/n, it’s an honor to be in your presence. Big fan.”

Y/n raised a brow, smirking to her husband to see his reaction. He sure did look smug, keeping his arm around her waist. “A fucking G, huh?”

“He’s the one who said it,” he smiles before noticing she was alone when she arrived, “Where’s Marcel?”

“With Xav and Farrah. They were at the house when I got the call—we were working on some songs.” In the corner of her eye she saw Coyote and Fanboy visibly react to the mention of her bandmates.

“Forgive me for asking,” Phoenix finally spoke from her bed that was seated right next to Bob’s. “But weren’t you two childhood best friends if I’m not mistaken? Sorry if it’s too personal, but I remember seeing your post on instagram two years ago and I thought it said something like that.”

The couple smiled, confirming her wonders. “Yeah,” Bob looked at Y/n with love in his eyes. “We grew up together. Took a hell of a long time before we could get our chance at love, but it was worth the wait.”

For almost an hour the aviators learned more about Y/n and Bob’s relationship, literally saying it should be a romance novel with what life threw at them. The hopeless romantic in Phoenix couldn’t help but awe, feeling so much happiness for her backseater and the rockstar she’d been listening to since sixteen. They truly were the ultimate love story.

When it came time for the mission with Bob and Phoenix selected as one of two foxtrot teams, Y/n held onto him the entire night prior to him shipping out. He made love to her for hours, very slow and sensual ensuring she felt every inch of him. And when they climaxed a tear spilled from her eyes, “You better come home to me.”

He kept a picture of her and Marcel in his pocket the entire time. Before the jet took off of the carrier Bob gave it a small kiss before keeping it safe in his flight suit. The second they got back after successfully completing the mission he called his wife to tell her he was coming home. She practically catapulted into his arms when she picked him up from the docks, not giving a shit that the paparazzi had followed her there. By now the whole world knew who Bob was to her.

The rest of 2019 seemed to go by in a blur. They first thought 2020 would be the best year of their lives when it was discovered Y/n was pregnant again, having conceived the night Bob had left for his mission. She was just at the end of her first trimester when the entire globe shut down. When the rumors spread of a possible pandemic with the outbreak happening across the ocean, the 1985’s all took up camp in San Diego now that Bob had become an instructor with Phoenix at Top Gun. Thomas and his fiancé, who was an actress, didn’t mind moving, neither did Pepper and her girlfriend. The group were working on their sixth studio album and had celebrated 15 years as a group.

But they were starting to get burnt out, thinking it was time to go on hiatus.

Concerned with the virus and what it could have on her pregnancy, the two were very strict on keeping up with covid restriction. For at least three months Bob was working from home, the base shutting down with only certain personnel allowed on. Marcel was still too young to be in pre-school and daycare wasn’t needed since Y/n was home most days. And when she did have business meetings to attend or studio sessions he often traveled with her. Zoom became their best friend during the lockdown, with meetings happening frequently at the beginning to figure out what they were going to do going forward.

Y/n spent weeks going through what were the best records to put on the album. If this was going to be their last for a while then she wanted it to be their best. Two songs she knew she wanted were ‘Pompeii’ and ‘Little Black Dress’, while the other 13 were going to take time to decide. ‘Pompeii’ could definitely have people relate with how this lockdown was making them feel. On the other hand, ‘Little Black Dress’ was mostly for her, inspired by the time Bob went absolutely feral when she walked into the room wearing a little black dress.

It was one of her favorite memories.

And so the months went on and before they knew it they were welcoming a baby girl in July—right smack in the middle of a pandemic. The whole ordeal was unlike anything they ever imagined. Only Bob was allowed in the room, not even their son could come visit so little Marcel didn’t even get to meet his sister until days later. He was with Y/n’s mother who traveled down from L.A and quarantined in the weeks leading to her due date. Y/n hated hospitals, looking forward to bringing their daughter Brenda Rose home. Unfortunately no one else in their family or friends could meet the baby girl until spring of 2021 when things were starting to settle out.

That was also when The 1985s made the decision to go on hiatus, planning to release their album that summer before going on a final tour in 2022.

“This just in, pop rock group ,The 1985s, have announced a hiatus following the release of their upcoming album End of An Era set to drop at the end July. Frontwoman, Y/n L/n, posted on her Twitter a photo of the group in a sweet embrace with the caption, ‘when one chapter ends, another begins. Join us in 2022 as we say goodbye to the stage—thank you to everyone who has supported us since we were kids on MySpace. We hope to see you as we close this chapter in our lives, but don’t worry, the future can always surprise you. In the meantime, as Elvis would say, ‘The 1985s have left the building.’”

“It’s a sad day for fans of Grammy award winning rock band The 1985s. Earlier it was announced they are going on an indefinite hiatus once completing their impending world tour for their sixth studio album. Formed in 2003, the 1985s skyrocketed to the Billboard charts after debuting with their single ‘1985’ in 2005, going on to dominate the late 2000s and early 2010s with features on The Twilight Saga: Eclipse soundtrack, the 25th anniversary of We Are The World to raise charity for the Haiti earthquake, and accumulating a total of seven Grammys including taking home the big three: ‘Record of The Year,’ ‘Song of The Year,’ and ‘Album of The Year’ in 2008 for their second studio album Sugar, Spice, and A Little Bit of Rock ‘N’ Roll. The announcement of the hiatus has succeeded the news of bassist Thomas Quinn tying the knot with longtime girlfriend, Oscar Winner Amelia Bandera, who recently revealed she was pregnant with the couple’s first child. Last year frontwoman Y/n L/n welcomed a daughter with her husband—the couple’s second child since they wed in a private ceremony in 2017. And word on the street is keyboardist Pepper Renolyds is looking to adopt with partner Jenna Langdon. The married pair of the band, Xavier and Farrah Hernandez have had two children following their wedding in 2010 and have hinted at possibly wanting to have a third. It is unsure when the group is likely to regroup after 2022 comes to an end, but one thing is for sure: The 1985s have embedded their name as one of the bestselling groups of the 21st century. I’d say we could be looking at a possible induction to the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame in the future, and a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.”

Now here they were, November of 2022 at Madison Square Garden to take the stage one last time. Would they ever come back? Probably, but it would be some time before they did.

So they were gonna go out with a bang.

“I have twenty minutes until my ass needs to be on stage, Robby,” Y/n mumbled between kisses, back pressed against the door of her dressing room. His mouth went to her neck, roaming his hands all over her body that was covered in her usual leather, “That’s plenty of time.” The response had her giggle, moaning when he attacked her sweet spot making him smirk.

“Then you better do double time…we’re on the clock.”

Her glam team was going to be pissed when she came out with messy hair, glistening of sweat, and slightly smudged makeup, but she didn’t care. Not when her husband was rocking her world as he had her bent over the couch. His chest pressed to her back and hair in his fist, whispering absolute filth into her ear—saying he was going to have her on stage full of him and only he would know. But Bob also gave words of praise and love.

It wasn’t the first time he snuck backstage to rile her up before a concert. When they started the American leg of the tour in California he was at almost every show and would bring her flowers. Sometimes the kids came along, other times they stayed with Phoenix, but each time Bob would either get her pent up by teasing her as the minutes counted down…or would full on rail her. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t get off on the thrill of almost getting caught….or the fact anyone passing the dressing room could figure out what they were making their own music.

This time around in The Garden their kids were with Phoenix and Rooster, who were all waiting to get to their spots on the floor after wishing her and the band good luck. The others were already there, ready to have the time of their lives with the sold out arena. Bob needed to hurry because the stage manager was going to be knocking on her door any second.

They finished with minutes to spare, out of breath and panting with a light layer of sweat coating Y/n. Fuck she looked sexy in her leather and messed up hair, glistening as the light hit her. A smug look took over Bob, winking at his wife who just shook her head with a smile, “I’m gonna miss that now that the tour is over.”

“Don’t worry, baby. We still got after party.”

The rockstar ushered him out when the stage manager appeared, the aviator delivering a smack to her ass as he told her good luck. She smacked his in return causing him to yelp, “Naughty boy.”

Yeah he got some looks from his fellow officers when they got to the floor, Jake whistling under his breath as he went to check his watch. “Jesus Bob, you two were at it for a while. Were you trying to go for baby number three? I hope she’s able to walk on stage.” The comment had Phoenix slap his shoulder, “Can you not? We have kids with us,” she gestured to not only Bob’s children but also Payback's ten year old son and Hondo’s seven year old daughter. Then there was Mickey’s girlfriend carrying their toddler with baby earmuffs, the same Brenda and Marcel were wearing. “My bad,” Jake said, though the smirk remained on his face when Bob sent him a wink.

When the show started it was the most amazing thing any of the squad had witnessed. Some of them had seen the band in their college days, but it was obvious they were gonna top what they did ten years ago. There was a light rumble to Madison Square Garden with how loud it was. Flashing lights and smoke covered the stage, the countdown with a video montage hitting zero before The 1985’s opened with ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go,’ sending everyone who was still sitting on their feet. Bob put Brenda on his shoulders, Rooster doing the same with Marcel who were clapping and pointing to their mother, “Mommy!”

“Now, I’m searching every lonely place,” Y/n belted out the first line of the chorus, moving down the stage’s elongated platform that split the floor. “Every corner calling out your name. Tryna find you, but I just don’t know.” Xavier hit the drums with Farrah’s riff, Y/n holding a hand to chest, “Where do broken hearts go?”

“Are you sleeping, baby, by yourself? Or are you giving it to someone else? Tryna find you, but I just don’t know,” Pepper and Thomas joined the vocals, “Where do broken hearts go? Where do broken hearts go?”

When the song came to an end, Y/n let the audience scream for a moment before introducing the band. “Madison Square Garden!! New York City!!” The crowd screamed again, smiles on every member. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, theys and thems and anyone in between…. welcome to the ‘End of An Era’ world tour—our final show as we close out an actual end of an era,” Y/n moves closer to her friends with a sad laugh, hearing the sounds of protest from some fans.

“Let’s start off by introducing ourselves…..Mr. Thomas Quinn on the bass!” Tom hits some chords against the audience’s cheers, Y/n doing a little dance off to the side. “Miss. Pepper Reynolds on keys everyone!” The former pianist lets her fingers move along the keys, grinning wide and waving when she finishes. “Show me what you can do, Ms. Farrah Cortez,” the guitar solo sends the crowd into a frenzy, which only increases when Y/n introduces Xavier. “And last but not least, Mr. Farrah Cortez,” laughter rings out before she corrects herself, “I meant Mr. Xavier Hernandez,” the drums go crazy when his last name leaves her lips. She waits till he’s finished to do a bow.

“And I’m Y/n L/n,” she has to pull her mic away to hide her laugh, cheers ringing from every corner in the sold out stadium. “And we’re The 1985s.”

The energy throughout the concert was insane. Even during intermission and 5-minute breaks the audience was having a blast. The dagger squad, plus Hondo and even Maverick were dancing and singing along—the older man getting a literal PowerPoint lesson from his former students on everything there was to know about the group.

Y/n was very entertained when Bob told her that night, saying Maverick aced his test they’d given him. “You gave your old instructor, the famous Captain Mitchell….a test on our band and music? And he got a 100%?” His little nod and smile had Y/n jump in his arms, kissing all over his face, “You’re so fucking adorable, Robby. I love you so much.”

The first part of the show was mostly dedicated to songs on their most recent album, including ‘Pompeii’ and ‘Little Black Dress’. The latter had Bob blushing mad during the set, especially when Y/n came over to where they were at, eyes on him and curing a finger to get him to come to the edge of the floor. There the stadium exploded when she practically laid on the platform to lean over and kiss him, the cameras catching the scene to display on the giant screens.

Blowing kisses to her kids, she got back up and finished the song, smirking at how the dagger squad were whistling and howling in cheers. “Sorry I couldn’t help myself,” she giggled, moving back to her bandmates to prepare for the next set.

Though the tour mainly focused on their songs from their latest work, they called back to some old hits, including ‘Let’s Get Lost,’ which was written for the third Twilight movie soundtrack. “We got any Twilight fans here tonight?” Y/n chuckled at the screams, “I got one thing to ask then….Team Edward or Jacob?”

‘Some Nights’ was one of her favorites to perform, feeling a wave of nostalgia each time she did. It was a fan favorite as it was their second single ever released. The band harmonized on the track, all of them showing off their vocals with the ‘Oh come on,’ part of the song.

Y/n was hesitant to sing ‘Iris’ and ‘Payphone,’ considering they were about her husband, but he assured her when they were planning the tour set list that he wouldn’t be offended. They were some of her greatest works, the audience should hear them.

They even covered the iconic, ‘Don’t You Forget About Me,’ from the Simple Minds—most notably from the movie The Breakfast Club. “I hope you never forget about us, New York,” Y/n said when they finished, “Cause we’ll never forget you.”

Finally they were coming down to the final ten minutes and they had yet to play the song that started it all. “As we come to the end of tonight’s show, we just wanna thank each and every one of you for the support and love you have shown us tonight and through the years. None of this would’ve happened without you all—and we cannot thank you enough for sticking by us, you all play a giant role in what we do. And we’re going to miss you the most as we close this chapter in our lives,” Y/n pauses, feeling the tears prick her eyes. Glancing at her friends, she could see they were fighting back their own. They knew it would be an emotional night, and now they were minutes away from stepping off the stage for the final time.

“We started this journey when we were only seventeen and eighteen—and it’s been a hell of a ride since. Next year marks twenty years since we became The 1985s, seventeen since we made our radio debut, back when MySpace was still a thing,” she has to laugh at that, “What better way to end this tour—end this chapter, than by traveling back in time to the year that started it all.”

The reaction in the dome had little Brenda have to cover her hands over her muffs because it was so loud, Bob holding her on his hip and asking if she was alright. “Loud,” she said in her small voice, causing him to mentally awe.

“I know, baby, it’s loud. But the show is almost over and then mommy will be done, then we go home. Can you hold on for one more song? It’s your favorite one,” Brenda’s eyes brightened at the mention of her favorite song, nodding frantically making him laugh. “Okay munchkin, I expect to hear you sing along—except don’t say the bad word in it, understood?”

“Yes, dada.”

Phoenix was jumping up and down with Marcel in her arms, head banging with the little boy along with Rooster and Javy. Everyone was in delight, rockin out to the final number. Brenda sang along with Bob, the crowd harmonizing with them.

“She’s seen all the classics,” Y/n belted the second verse, hands moving on her guitar, “She knows every line. Breakfast Club, Pretty In Pink, even St. Elmo’s Fire.”

“She rocked out to Wham, not a big Limp Bizkit fan. Thought she’d get a hand on a member of Duran Duran.”

Her and Farrah were leaning their backs against one another, “Where’s the mini-skirt made of snakeskin? And who’s the other guy that’s singin’ in Van Halen? When did reality become TV? Whatever happened to,” she hit a riff, “sitcoms,” she hit another, “game shows? Sing it!”

The entire squad, the kids, and Madison Square Garden echoed, “ON THE RADIO!”

“Was Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana there was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. ‘Cause she’s still preoccupied with 19…19…1985!”

Her mini solo before the bridge had the crowd wild. Smiling the entire time, Y/n even went to the side where her friends and family were, making them all go crazy. “She hates time, make it stop. When did Motley Crue become classic rock?”

“Classic rock,” the band repeated.

“And when did Ozzy become an actor? Please make this stop,” Y/n hit a riff, “stop,” another, “stop!” Only the cheers could be heard during the slight pause before Y/n brought her hand back on the chords.

“And bring back Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana. There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. ‘Cause she’s still preoccupied—sing it!”

“1985!!!”

“One last time Madison Square Garden!!” Not a single person in them dome didn’t sing along, everyone shouting the final chorus at the top of their lungs.

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana. There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. But she’s still preoccupied, with 19….19….1985!!!”

All the band members continued playing an extended outro, lights flashing all around as the crowd whistled and screamed. Y/n ran over to each side of the stage before coming to the middle, waving a hand to her band who were still going hard on the instruments before raising it and finally bowing.

On the floor, Brenda still in his arms, Bob wiped away the tears falling from his cheeks with his free hand. His friends were cheering, the entire scene overwhelming for the WSO as he stared at his true love as she took her final bow. Y/n was also crying, as were her friends when they finally closed the show shouting, “Madison Square Garden—New York City we love you! Thank you so much for being here with us and being the best crowd ever. Safe travels wherever you’re going and we hope all your dreams come true. Until we meet again….as Elvis would say, The 1985s have left the building!”

The crowd was still screaming, the five adults coming to the middle of the stage holding hands in the air before bowing. Then they all met in a tearful embrace, Y/n full on sobbing with Farrah and Pepper, overcome with emotion that it was all over. Waving to the crowd, they spotted dozens of fans in their line of vision crying, some even throwing flowers onto the stage. They all went to each side of the platform to blow kisses and wave, until finally walking off into the arms of their crew who’d been with them since 2005–where another heartfelt moment took place.

As soon as their families made it backstage, Y/n was dropping to her knees to allow Brenda and Marcel to run into her open arms. “My babies!!” Peppering kisses against their cheeks, Y/n held them tight as they said words of praise. “You were amazing, mommy!” “That was so fun!”

“Thank you, baby,” she kissed Marcel’s head, looking up to see Bob staring at her with absolute love and admiration. Gently moving him and Brenda to the side, Y/n stood up, only to squeal when Bob’s hands went to her thighs to lift her up, spinning them around.

“You were incredible!” He exclaims, stopping still but still holding her up. Their lips met in a searing kiss, “absolutely spectacular.” Her hands came up to cup his face, deepening the kiss as their children wrapped their arms around Bob’s legs. It was like they were in their own little world, oblivious to everyone celebrating around them. The band were with their kids and partners, the crew were popping off champagne.

“I love you so much, Robby,” she said against his lips, kissing him again when he said, “I love you too, baby. More than anything in this world. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

When they pulled away, Y/n was a flustered mess, mirroring that of Bob who was looking at her like she was a goddess. “Don’t give me that look, Floyd. Not until we get to the hotel.”

“Can’t help myself, darlin’,” he chuckled, adjusting her in his arms before giving her another kiss.

“Eww,” Marcel groaned, making the couple laugh into the kiss. Bob set Y/n down, but pulled her close as Brenda and Marcel squeezed in between them.

“So what’s next then?” Bob whispered in her ear. “I know you can take the girl out of rock n roll…but she’ll always be a rockstar.” Y/n laughed, pulling away to gaze deeply in his beautiful blue eyes that she fell in love with as a teenager.

“Now, we live our lives. One day at a time. Together.”

Y/n really needed to thank her mom one day. It was because of her that the woman got to live her dream. After all, she was the one still preoccupied with 1985.

……….

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Lewis Pullman really landed two major movie franchises as guys named Bob

Which means…if we ever get a live-action Bob the Builder movie…hmm…

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Full of Surprises - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Inspired by @galaxy-of-stories's post

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: virgin!bob x fem reader, oral (f receiving), p in v, swearing, hangman actually being a decent friend towards bob.

word count: 3k

minors dni below the cut

Bob chewed on his bottom lip nervously as he watched you from across the beach, his dark blue eyes watching you intensely from behind his wire framed glasses. He rarely took part in off-base activities with the rest of the Dagger squad, but today, he’d been coaxed out by Rooster and Phoenix to join the team for a relaxing beach day. What he didn’t know though, was that you would be there. You were Maverick’s niece, and Bob had pretty much instantly fallen for you. Smart, funny, beautiful and friendly - Bob thought you were the whole package. He loved the way your eyes lit up whenever you spoke about something you were interested in, the way your cheeks blushed whenever Maverick and Rooster started reminiscing about your childhood, having grown up playing with Rooster on occasion when you were little, and he loved the way you were so outgoing, and so unlike him. He always hated his incurable shyness, the fact that he struggled so hard to come out of his shell, he resented it, especially now that it made it next to impossible for him to hold a conversation with you. 

“Hey, Baby-on-Board, you coming?” 

Bob turned his head around to face one of the pilots on his squad, Hangman, calling over to him. Bob rolled his eyes at the nickname Hangman had given him and shook his head quickly, his cheeks turning red again. He prayed that the UV rays were strong enough that day that he could lie and say the reddening of his face was due to too much sun exposure, but he knew that wasn’t likely going to work as an excuse on anyone, much less Hangman. The tall blonde pilot raised an eyebrow at Bob as he folded his arms over his broad chest. 

“Jeez, Bagman, don’t you ever wear a shirt?” Bob laughed dryly as he poked fun at Hangman, who had long ditched his t-shirt to show off his sunkissed skin, trying desperately to attract any female attention he could get on the beach.

“Hey, at least I don’t keep mine on the whole time at the beach.” Hangman shrugged as he sat down on the sand beside Bob. “Why do you anyway? I mean, you do all the same workouts as the rest of us do. It’s because you’re covered in chest hair isn’t it?” Hangman smirked as he playfully shoved Bob, flipping his sunglasses down over his eyes.

“No, I just don’t like to,” Bob shrugged his shoulders, “You know me, I’m not one to draw attention to myself.” 

“I hate to break it to you, Bobby, but you’ve definitely drawn someone’s attention,” Hangman grinned at him as he pointed towards you with his thumb as he spoke, “Mav’s niece hasn’t been able to stop herself from giving you the bedroom eyes, it’s hilarious that you haven’t noticed it yet though.”

“Bedroom eyes?” Bob laughed and shook his head, “What the hell are bedroom eyes?” 

“You know,” Hangman put his sunglasses atop his short blonde hair and grinned, imitating the lustful look he was referring to, the one he was so convinced you had for Bob.

“I have never seen anyone make that face in my life, Bagman. Are you bullshitting me?” Bob raised an eyebrow as he leaned back on his palms in the sand and sighed softly as he watched you again. The breeze blew your long hair back and the sunlight hit your tanned skin just right, making you appear to have a sunkissed glow. The sight alone was almost enough to drive Bob crazy. 

“Hah!” Hangman grinned as he pointed at Bob’s facial expression as he watched you, “You’re doing it to her right now!”

“I am not!” Bob protested, shaking his head. “Look, don’t you have something better to do?”

“No, I know I’m a shitty wingman half the time, but this time, I’m making it my personal mission to be yours.” 

Bob sighed again as he rolled his eyes. He knew he wasn’t winning on this one, and Hangman wasn’t going to leave him alone anytime soon. He just wasn’t ready to make a move on you yet. He’d had a handful of girlfriends over the years, but he’d never gone any further than making out for one reason or another, usually due to nerves. As badly as Bob wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to be humiliated in front of you.

“I’m fine,” Bob said through clenched teeth. 

“Dude, you can tell me what your hang up is. I’m not gonna go blab it, I promise,” Hangman said, placing his hand over his heart playfully to show that Bob’s secret would be safe with him.

“Fine…” Bob exhaled and shook his head, “I don’t know what the bedroom eyes are or anything because I’ve never, you know…gone to the bedroom…with anyone,” He said as he gave Hangman a pleading look, his facial expression begging him for some sympathy and compassion instead of the relentless teasing he expected from him.

“You mean, never?”

“Never. Not even close. I think I’ve made out with a girl once. I was like 18 though.” 

“Wow,” was all that Hangman could muster out.

“So now you get it?” Bob asked softly, “It’s not that I don’t want to ask her out. It’s that I’m scared I’ll screw it up because of that.”

Bob sighed and shook his head again as he stood up. He brushed the sand off his shorts and forced a laugh.

“I’m gonna head home, Hangman. See you later.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hangman laughed as he put a hand on Bob’s shoulder, his firm grip stopping Bob from walking away, “You’re at least gonna talk to this poor girl. She’s been interested in you the whole time she’s been here visiting Mav. Christ, even Mav’s noticed it,, and we all know how observant he is.”

“What if you’re wrong though and she’s not interested in me? Maybe she’s just being nice. I bet you’re more her type anyway.” Bob frowned.

“Me? No, she’s uh…she’s made it very clear I am not her type,” He laughed softly, shaking his head, “I tried. She outright told me “the cute guy with glasses” is her type. And how many guys with glasses are on our squad?”

“Just me…unless she meant sunglasses. Then it could be anyone.”

“Robert, I swear, you’re the dumbest guy I’ve ever met sometimes,” Hangman laughed as he rolled his eyes, “She meant you, jackass. She likes you. She told me. Now, what are you going to do with this information?”

“Talk to her…?” Bob tried, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he thought about it.

“Attaboy, Baby-on-Board, you got this,” Hangman grinned as he stood up, “Now, do me a favour? Try to look a little less like you’re about to shit your pants over this ok?” 

Bob rolled his eyes and took a deep breath as he approached you, a friendly smile on his lips as he nodded his head towards you. 

“Hi, I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself,” Bob offered his hand out to shake and smiled, “Lt. Robert Floyd, everyone calls me Bob, sometimes Bobby though.” 

“Hi Bob,” you grinned and shook his hand, “Y/N. Nice to meet you. My uncle’s told me a lot about you. You’re a WSO, right?”

“Yeah, I’m the backseater, it’s kinda fun, I’m a big nerd, so I get to use a lot of math in it to calculate where to aim the lasers and all that.”

You let out a giggle as he explained his role to you and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with you. Hours passed between the two of you conversing together, Hangman proudly watching Bob impress you from the background. After a while, the rest of the squad cleared out from the beach, leaving just you and Bob there by yourselves. It was beginning to get dark outside when you stood up beside Bob and smiled warmly.

“Want to come back to my aunt Penny’s? She’s not gonna care if I bring you over, she and Uncle Mav speak very highly of you. Aunt Penny always says you’re incredibly polite, and Uncle Mav called you a “good kid” so I doubt they’d mind if you came back to hangout for a little while.”

Bob nodded his head and smiled politely at you, the sunset making his eyes shine as he turned to face you. He leaned forward gently and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled away after a moment and shook his head. 

“God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that. I’m not usually that forward. I mean, I wanted to, obviously,  I just normally ask first. And now I’m rambling, fuck sake,” He laughed and shook his head again.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, quieting his anxieties and insecurities as your lips met once again. He moved his lips in time with yours as he kissed you, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip, as if he was asking permission for it to enter your mouth. Your tongues swirled together with passion and lust as you made your way across the sand and over to the front steps of your aunt and uncle’s home where you were staying, your lips barely breaking contact as you walked. You felt Bob put a hand gently on your waist as you pulled him inside through the patio door, into the sunroom where you were staying. You breathlessly pulled away from Bob to come up for air, shrugging your cardigan off your shoulders as you did so. Bob, finding a sudden burst of confidence, grabbed you by the waist with one hand and pulled you into his body tightly, pressing his lips to your neck. As his lips found your sensitive spot on your neck, his hands palmed their way over your breasts, gently cupping them and squeezing them as he felt you up. 

“Mhmm, Bob,” you groaned softly as he made contact with your sensitive skin. 

Bob pulled away for a moment and frowned slightly, remembering his earlier confession to Hangman. He let out a deep exhale before turning to face you, his facial expression full of concern as he spoke.

“Listen, I have to tell you something before we go any further, ok?” His voice was quiet and low, almost in a whisper as he spoke.

You nodded in response and waited, listening intently as Bob spoke.

“I’ve never…you know,” He finally said.

“Never?”

“No, never.”

“Do you want to though…?” You asked after a few moments of contemplation.

Bob bit his lip and laughed softly as he nodded his head quickly. 

“Believe me, I really do.”

“Then I’m honoured to be your first,” You nodded your head and kissed his cheek gently.

His cheeks flushed a bright scarlet red as you spoke. Without further hesitation, Bob leaned in and kissed you passionately again, tangling his fingers gently in your hair as he pulled you in closer to him. He pulled away ever so slightly as he spoke and laughed nervously.

“You’re going to have to tell me if I’m doing any of this right, ok? Kissing is about the only thing I know how to do.”

You giggled softly as you nodded your head reassuringly to Bob as he drifted his lips down your neck to your collarbone. He gently ran his hand up your leg, his fingers brushing against the hemline of your sundress as his hand drifted slowly up your thigh. You felt him take a deep breath as he pressed his lips to your collarbone again, his fingertips grazing your underwear gently. He looked up at you without saying a word, his lips still hovering above your collarbone, as if to ask for permission to keep going. You bit your lip, holding back a grin as you nodded your head, giving him the signal to continue.

Bob’s fingertips grazed against the dampening fabric of your underwear again, moaning softly into your collarbone, he looked up at you as he slowly dragged them down off your legs and laughed softly. 

“Wow.” he said, trying to hide his mix of arousal and curiosity, “You’re uh…you’re pretty into this, aren’t you?” He laughed as he tossed your underwear to the floor. 

“Mhmm,” You smirked at him as you guided his hand, his fingers gently brushing against your folds, feeling your arousal as it began to gather on you. 

“Shit,” Bob laughed softly as he shook his head, “This is where I start to not know what I’m doing.” He gave you an apologetic look.

“Everyone has a first time, Bob, I’ll show you what to do,” You smiled reassuringly at him as you continued to guide his hand along your core. He smirked as his wandering hand found your clit, two of his fingers pressing against the sensitive nub as he discovered it. The sound that fell from your lips was almost enough to make Bob lose all self-control on the spot. He arched his eyebrow at you as he continued to gently draw circles on it with his finger. 

“Y-you can use your mouth there too,” you nodded, trying your best to think clearly as he pleasured you.

Bob bit his lip gently as he positioned himself between your legs. He took his glasses off and sat them beside your leg as he ducked his head down in between your legs. He gently pressed soft kisses to your folds, his tongue carefully lapping up your wet arousal as he kissed at you. You let out a loud moan as Bob’s lips made contact, but before he could lift his head up to see if you were ok, your hand was grabbing a handful of his sandy blonde hair, pulling his head into you gently to tell him to keep going.

Taking the hint, Bob continued to leave soft kisses on you, grinning as he heard you moan out. 

“Feels s’good, honey, keep doing that,” You encouraged as he began using his lips to suck at your sensitive clit, your hips bucking upwards against his mouth, your body craving being as close to him as humanly possible.

Your compliment to Bob’s skill turned something on in him, and suddenly, he began moving his lips in the same rhythm but with more passion, like he’d just discovered his God-given talent on this earth was using his mouth to pleasure you into oblivion. As you reached your boiling point, Bob continued to lap his tongue at you, his lips sucking on your clit as you rode it out. He pulled his mouth away from you before pulling his t-shirt over his head. He wiped his mouth on his shirt before discarding it to the floor and working to unbuckle his belt before dropping his shorts to the ground. His boxers were tenting with arousal as he looked down at you, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. 

“Do you…do we need anything?” He asked as he tried build up the confidence to do what he was about to.

“I’m clean and on the pill,” You nodded your head and laughed softly, “So you’re good.”

“Right,” Bob chuckled softly as he nodded his head before peeling his boxer briefs down off his body. 

Bob stroked his length before lining his hips up with yours. He took a deep breath and looked to you for an indication that you were ready, that you were sure you wanted to go through with this. As you flitted your gaze to him, biting your lip as you sized him up, you couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. Bob looked at you, somewhat mortified as his eyes widened.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing, you’re just…bigger than I’d pictured, if you get me. You might need to take a pause once you get started so I can adjust to you, mkay?”

“Gotcha, don’t worry darlin’,” Bob nodded knowingly and laughed as he ran a hand through his hair. 

You let out a sharp exhale as Bob lined his hips up with yours and gently pushed himself into you. As promised, he paused for you to adjust to his size, waiting for you to tell him you were ready for him to start. Once he heard you give the ok, he began thrusting his hips in and out of you, a deep grunt escaping his lips as he felt your body tighten around him, your arousal dripping from you and onto his cock. 

“Fuck,” Bob groaned as he thrusted deeper into you, finding his rhythm, “You feel so good, darlin’.”

“Keep going, baby,” you purred at him, encouraging him to continue before throwing your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name loudly.

Bob felt your walls clenching against him, gripping his erection tightly as he pumped himself in and out of your body. He felt as you arched your back against the bed, bucking your hips upwards into his thrusts as you came close to your climax again. He groaned loudly in pleasure as his thrusts became sloppier and more frantic.

“Fuck, darlin’, I’m so close,” He hissed as he let out another flurry of sinful sounding moans and grunts as he came.

The two of you sighed in unison as you rode your pleasure out together. Bob panted as he pulled himself out of you, his cheeks red from breathlessness as he tried to compose himself. He hovered over you, a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. You pressed your lips to his passionately, moaning softly against them as your overstimulated body struggled between wanting more from him, and wanting to take a break.

“How was I for my first time then?” He grinned at you. 

“I never would have believed you if you told me that was your first time after we’d done it. I also don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before this either.”

Bob smirked as he laid himself down beside you in bed, putting his glasses back on.

“Well, apparently I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?

[cherrycola27]

Whoever's in Lemoore

Hello, loves! I wrote this for @roosterforme 's #tgmrocktober challenge!

This fic is based on the Reba McEntire song "Whoever's in New England"

Warnings: Language, cheating, pregnancy and related complications. Angst

...........................................

Bob Floyd was the best husband you could have ever asked for. He was kind, smart, hard-working, and attentive.

You were an elementary teacher, and Bob was a WSO. The two of you probably never would have met, had your best friend Jennifer "Boston" Lyons not set the two of you up. The two of you grew up together, and Jeni was a member of Bob's squadron in Lemoore.

Unfortunately, when Bob was called back to Top Gun and then eventually given a permanent station in San Diego, you had to leave her behind, but it was fine. You two had always made a long-distance friendship work. Honestly, it had helped prepare you for the times that your husband was deployed.

You were thankful though, that with his new station, deployments would be less frequent.

After buying a house and settling down, the two of you decided to start trying for children. Bob had three siblings, and while you didn't have any, both of you agreed on the fact that you wanted at least three kids.

You both also knew how stressful it could be on a couple when trying for children, so you decided to stop taking your birth control and have fun for a year. If you got pregnant, great, if not, after a year, the two of you would get serious, start tracking cycles, and see a specialist if needed.

You had really hoped that each month, you'd get a positive pregnancy test, but month after month, they came up negative.

Bob was extremely supportive of you, and after a year, the two of you buckled down. You tracked your cycle, both of you watched your diet, and you even saw a fertility doctor who assured you that both of you were healthy and to give it time.

Give it time.

You tried to give it time, you really did. But you were so desperate to be a mother that it started to take a toll on you, Bob, and your marriage.

Suddenly, trying for a baby wasn't as fun as it once was. Sex became more of a chore rather than a thing of enjoyment.

But finally—finally you and Bob got the miracle you'd been hoping for. Only, you seemed to be more excited about it than he was.

You chalked it up to shock.

Unfortunately, pregnancy was not easy for you. Early on, you were diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, which caused you to experience dehydration and a short hospital stay. Your blood pressure was also dangerously high, and your blood sugar wasn't at a level that the doctors were happy with.

Which is why, at sixteen weeks, you were put on bed rest until your child was born.

It was hard for both of you. You couldn't eat or sleep. You were moody and irritable. You libido was also in the toilet. You hated your life, but you knew it would all be worth it.

At first, Bob seemed so supportive, but as time passed, be became cold and distant.

Looking at it now, you can pinpoint where the cracks in the foundation of your marriage started. If only you'd seen them sooner.

................

"Honey, I'm home." Bob called as he entered the kitchen. You were sitting on the couch watching TV. It was late. Almost 8pm. You had already eaten dinner, showered and changed into some comfy clothes.

You offered Bob a weak hello as he came in the door. He'd been getting home from work later and later.

In the darkest part of your mind, you thought the worst—that he had someone else. But he wouldn't do that to you. He was your Robby. You were carrying his son for crying out loud.

On a particularly bad day, you asked him about it. He was almost heartbroken that you could even think that.

He soothed your worries by telling you, "I'm working on important things for our future. I'm an officer on his way up. I'm trying to make sure you and the baby are taken care of." You believed him. You cried as you apologized to him.

"How's my favorite girl and my favorite little guy?" Bob asked as he came and kneeled in front of you on the couch. He pressed a few kisses to your stomach before moving to your lips.

"We are fine." You sighed as he trailed his lips across your jaw to your ear. "Fine? Is that so?" He whispered. His hot breath fanning across your skin.

Bob trailed one of his hands to the apex of your thighs before you stopped him.

"Bob, not tonight. I've been sick all day, and I've finally been able to keep something down." You told him with an apologetic smile.

He didn't say anything. He stood up, muttered something under his breath, and wordlessly went to shower.

You sat there and wept. You hated yourself. You felt like the worst wife on the planet.

Later that night, you tried to make it up to Bob, but you got sick halfway through. After you had puked your guts out, Bob had tried to hold you, but you didn't want to be touched. It led to an argument and him sleeping on the couch. What a Monday.

Tuesday, Bob came home and told you he'd be going to Lemoore Wednesday afternoon to help with a training workshop on Thursday and Friday and he would be back late Saturday evening.

"Again?" You sighed. "Bob, that's the third time this month! And you went several times the past two months. Doesn't Admiral Simpson understand that you have a pregnant wife at home who is high risk?" You ask him.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry, but just a few more weeks and everything will dial down. I promise." Bob said as he kissed your head and went to pack a bag.

The only thing you had to look forward to was that Jeni—or Boston, as she typically went by her call sign now, was supposed to visit this weekend.

However, se called you Wednesday night telling you that she was sick and wouldn't make it.

So, you spent the rest of the week alone, sulking, in your all too quiet house.

When Bob came home on Saturday, you were feeling good. The best you had in all thirty weeks of your pregnancy.

You made him his favorite dinner and greeted him at the door with a big kiss. He was more than happy to sit down and have a meal with you.

After dinner, you urged him to shower, with the hope that you'd be able to spend some sensual time together.

While he was showering, you grabbed his bag to unpack it and do some laundry.

As you were taking his clothes out, a feminine scent washed over your extra sensitive nose.

Perfume—and it wasn't yours. But you were sure you smelled it before, you just couldn't place it.

You shook your head before letting your mind wander. Bob worked with women, and he was friendly—one of them probably gave him a hug and was wearing a lot of perfume—it made sense. Bob wasn't that kind of guy.

You dismissed the feeling in your gut and started the washing machine.

A few minutes later, Bob's phone rang. You checked the caller ID only to see that Jeni—your best friend was calling him.

"Jeni?" You said as you answered the phone.

"Y/N!" She exclaimed, almost as if she was surprised to hear your voice.

"Jeni, why are you calling Bob?" You asked her. There was a long pause.

"Jeni—why are you calling my husband?" You ask, this time a little more forcefully.

"Oh, Y/N, it was supposed to be a surprise. I'm coming down at the end of the month because I was going to throw you a surprise baby shower, and Bob has been helping me with it." She tells you.

"Aww, Jeni, that's so sweet. Well, I'll have him call you back so I don't ruin anything else!" You cheer into the phone before hanging up.

"Why do you have my phone?" Bob asks you. You turn around, surprised to see him.

"Jeni—er—Boston, I guess, called you to talk about the baby shower that you're helping her plan. I'm sorry I ruined the surprise, but Robby, you're the sweetest!" You say as you wrap him in a hug.

"Baby shower—right." Bob breathes out. "Let me call her back." Bob says as he takes his phone. You leave to give him privacy, but before you can make it down the hall, you hear him speak in harsh, angry whispers. You hate that you ruined his surprise, but you wish he wouldn't be so hard om Jeni. It's not her fault.

Another week passes, and Bob becomes more distant from you. You hyperemesis gravidarum is acting up again and your mood is all over the place.

He's coming home from work later, and you can't help but wonder if something is amiss. But you dismiss it time and time again.

One Wednesday afternoon, you decide to surprise Bob on base with his favorite lunch.

You walk into the rec room where his fellow aviators are waiting and they look at you like you have three heads.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Rooster asks you.

"I came to bring Bob some lunch. Where is he?" You ask them.

"Bob left early today. He said the two of you had some appointments this afternoon." Phoenix tells you.

In that moment, the world around you stops. The container of chicken pot pie and chocolate chip cookies slip from your hands and crash to the floor.

"Shit!" You exclaimed as you saw the mess you made.

"Y/N! Are you okay?" Hangman asks as he grabs some paper towels to clean up the mess.

"Yes, it's just I forgot, and I'm so late." You say as you turn on your heels to go to the hallway as you try to hold back tears.

"Y/N!" Phoenix calls after you. She intercepts you in the hallway.

"Is everything alright?" She asks you.

There's no point in lying.

"No. Nothing is alright. Between how hard this pregnancy has been and Bob having to go to Lemoore to teach classes, and him lying about where he is today. I think—I think he's having an affair." You finally admit.

"What do you mean he's been going to Lemoore?" Phoenix asks you.

You look at her blankly.

"Oh my god, I'm so fucking stupid. He's told me that almost every other weekend that he's had to help teach some classes in Lemoore. But that's when—that's when he has been going to see his mistress! That's where he is now! Oh my god!" You cried. Phoenix took you into her arms before leading you down the hallway to her office.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, maybe there is another explanation." Phoenix offers, but you can tell she isn't sincere. "I smelled perfume on his clothes, and he's been hiding his phone. I should have seen the signs, but I've been busy growing a human." You cry harder.

"It's all my fault. I've pushed him away. I've been so moody and sex—I haven't had the desire to—I drove him into another woman's arms." You sigh.

"Hey now, this isn't your fault." Phoenix tells you. "Let me take you home. You're in no shape to drive." Phoenix says. You agree and she helps you to her car.

"I need to call my best friend, Boston, she's a pilot, too. She was supposed to come down next weekend to throw me a baby shower, but now I don't want her to. I can't—I can't believe this." You sob as you dail her number, but it goes to voicemail.

"Your best friend's name is Boston?" Phoenix asks you. "It's her call sign." You tell her.

Phoenix swallowed thickly, praying her gut was wrong.

Phoenix offers to stay with you until Bob shows up, but you tell her you need to be alone.

You grab one of Bob's duffle bags and start stuffing his things in it. There's no way you are letting him stay in your house. At thirty-three weeks pregnant, you probably shouldn't be stomping up and down the stairs, especially with you being high risk, but you have to.

You make your way through the house every time you see a picture of you and Bob. You tear it off the wall or shelf it's on and throw it across the room.

He comes home late that night and hears you screaming. He rushes in the house and finds the living room destroyed and sees one of his duffle bags packed on the couch.

"Honey, Y/N, are you okay?" Bob asks you. You look at him, he looks so concerned.

You don't say anything to him. Instead, you march up to him and slap him so hard that his glasses fall off his face. He picks them up and looks at you like you're a wild animal.

"What the fuck was that for?" He curses at you.

"You know exactly what it's for, you liar." You spit at him.

"Honey, what are you talking about?" He asks.

"How long? How long has it been going on?" You question him.

"How long has what been going on?" He feigns ignorance.

"How long have you been sleeping with someone in Lemoore?" You accuse him. Bob tenses at your words. A day he had hoped would never happen, has.

"Don't even try to deny it. I looked through our credit card statements and saw the hotel charges." You say to him.

"Y/N, I'm sorry." Bob says.

"Sorry? You're sorry? Why? Because you cheated or because you got caught?" You laugh. "It doesn't even matter. I packed you a bag. You can go stay with your mistress. And when whoever is in Lemoore is through with you, don't try to come back to me. Also, I'm telling you now, you will not be a part of this baby's life." You say as you try not to cry.

"Y/N, please, don't do this, I'm sorry, Boston, and I never meant to hurt you, it just—"

"Boston? Boston—as in Jeni? As in my best fucking friend who is like a sister to me? As in the person who introduced us? You've been fucking her?" Rage thrums through your veins. "I can't believe you, Robert. Take your things and leave. There's the door."

You turn away from him.

"Well, what did you expect, Y/N? You've pushed me away. You're moody and sick all the time. You never want to be physical. I was lonely. I needed someone, and Boston was there for me." Bob defends himself.

"You needed someone? You were lonely? That's rich. You don't think I've been lonely? You don't think I needed someone? The two people who were supposed to be there for me are the ones who betrayed me.

Bob opens his mouth to speak, but he quickly shuts it again.

"I packed a bag for you. We can work out a day where you can come get the rest of your things. Because when Boston decides she has better things to do, you don't have a home here anymore." You tell him as you sit down in the kitchen.

"Also, I called your mother, and while she and your family are more than welcome to be in this child's life, you won't be." You say.

"You called my mother?" Bob asks is disbelief. "Yes, Rebecca is very disappointed in you and told me to say that you weren't welcome in her home." You state.

Bob shakes his head. "So that's it? You're just giving up on us?" Bob asks as he stands at the door with his bag in hand.

"Don't try to spin this around on me. You're the one who gave up on us, Robert Floyd." You deadpan. There's no remorse in your voice as you ask him to leave.

Bob knows there is no point in trying to argue. He hangs his head and walks out the door.

That night, the Dagger Squad comes over to comfort you. Maverick asks you if you'd like to move to have Bob and Jeni dishonorbly discharged for their actions, but you turn him down. There's no sense in dragging it out.

Coyote and Hangman work to change all the locks for you in the house. Payback and Fanboy clean up the broken glass and thrown items in your floor.

You tell Maverick and Rooster where to find Bob's things, and they pack all of them in trash bags for you.

Phoenix sits with you on the couch, your head on her shoulder and she holds you as you cry.

Two weeks later, you find out that Bob put in a transfer to Lemoore after you serve him with divorce papers. You make sure to clean out your joint accounts before he can touch them.

Four weeks after that, your son is born.

Connor James Y/L/N is absolutely perfect when he is born. He has your features, and you're thankful for that. You don't know what you would have done if he'd come out looking like his father.

The Daggers and your family rally around you. True to your word, you let Bob's parents and sisters be in Connor's life. It's not their fault that Bob messed everything up.

You know, one day that your son will ask about his father, by then, you hope you'll have the words to tell him.

You also know that one day, you'll see Bob again. When you do, you'll ask him if whoever was in Lemoore was worth it.

You hope he's says no.

Taging somw who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @wkndwlff @thedroneranger @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook01-blog @desert-fern @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @lt-spork @multifandomlover4life @beccaanne814 @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @rhettabbotts @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @sunlightmurdock

[averyhotchner]

Avery's TopGun:Maverick recs pt.2

alrighty, almost 3 months later, here is my list of favourite TopGun: Maverick fics that no one asked for. like last time, it's mostly hangman, rooster and a bit of bobby boy. but i am slowly starting to fall for mickey and coyote.

please make sure to follow the age limit set by the writers!

jake "hangman" seresin

Fuck: The Universe (mini-series) by @roosterbruiser

okay maybe this is recency bias, because i did read this whole mini series yesterday and today, but still. it checks all the boxes, and of course i love the trope of jake is an ass to everyone but his girl, who also happens to be way better than him. also part 7 cracked me up.

real friends (series) by @starlightstories

i read real friends then found fuck: the universe, and i realized i really really really like the loverboy jake grumpy reader trope. i have no shame.

hey stupid, i love you (one shot) by @callsignseagull

okay this fic is very personal to me. i genuinely felt like the reader in this fic because i'm going through a very similar thing right now, and it tamed so many of my insecurities. i can't wait to reread soon!

loving you is... (series) by @demxters

guys frat hangman. that's all.

sleepy baby (series) by @discount-shades

the lengths at which this man goes just to find his princess, goals.

Where I'm From (one-shot) by @sometimes-i-write-good

sweet man jake, back at it again stealing hearts

Minimal Losses (series) by @ohtobeleah

this series and the rooster prequel NCIS ARE SO GOOD. im a sucker for this shit.

Sweet Nothings (series) by @sweetlittlegingy

yup! yup! yup! make sure you get your blood sugar checked before reading this because it's so damn sweeeeeet

Seeing Red (series) by @call-sign-jinx

picture this: its 2015, you're on wattpad and every single fic is a social media fic. but THIS? this is everything. the amount of work that goes into making a single text screenshot, not to mention the plot! its truly incredible and had be crying, laughing and sitting on the edge of my seat. i can't praise this series, and the other fics in this universe, enough.

yours (one-shot) by @theharddeck

this one... yeah its cute. but its down right sinful as well

bradley "rooster" bradshaw

I Will Always Love You (one-shot) by @amysteryspot

this one is short and sweet and honestly made me cry while eating my blt quarter pounder.

Pamper Night (on-shot) by @dagger-wren

okay this fic started as a cute little date night/self care night fic. BUT THEN, the ending had me falling in love with this dysfunctional squad. of course rooster and his girl are mom and dad, like who else.

Eat It, Twilight (one-shot) by @fandomxpreferences

okay i know this is a hangman fic, but i dont care. the rooster bff part was what i loved the most. also the plot is highlarious, and its probably because i was high when i read it, but still. chefs kiss.

Terms of Endearment (series) by @ohtobeleah

this series will be the death of me. each time a new chapter gets released im holding my breath on whether its gonna be all angst or all fluff. but either way i know its beautifully written.

And They Were Roommates (series) by @starryeyedstories

this. its hilarious and i cannot wait for more!

robert "bob" floyd

Christmas Gift (on-shot) by @call-sign-jinx

one of the most common bob fics i see is him with a teacher, and honestly i love it. who else would be as sweet and as patient as this man. i have the utmost respect for anyone who works in education, ESPECIALLY those who work with kids under 13. anyways, love this fic.

King of My Heart (one-shot) by @croimilis

dunk bob is the sweetest person ever!

Apple pie (mini-series) by @andorskenobi

the warning is very real, pls take it seriously <3

honorable mentions:

@sunlightmurdock @callsignvalley @toms-gf @make-me-imagine @callsignsaturn @madsnowstorm @jupitercomet @katsu28 @sehnsuchts-trunken @roosterforme (literally anything emily writes will be on a rec list i make)

i just wanna send my love to all the writers on this platform. whether you're just posting your first fic, or just finishing your 5th series, i appreciate you so much. i don't always have the time to comment and i'm dumb and don't understand how to reblog efficiently (working on it), but please know that all the effort and time you put in to making these works is truly admirable and i wish i was as talented as any of you.

okay thats all for now. i need to start making these more often cause theres so many i left out, i was just too lazy to scroll and find them.

[sweetwhispersofchaos]

If Bob Floyd was from a tiny one or two stop light town, what state would it be in? Like wrap around porches, everyone knows everyone and their business. That sort of place. Don’t just pick your own state either. Really think about it.

Please vote and share! Working on something new.

[highwaytothedangerzone86]

Lots of great Top Gun stickers available in my small shop!

Shop can be found here

Please share my post if you can, I had to move over to Shopify, so my website is still new ❤️

[mccarthaevita]

Bob Floyd Aestetic Inspired by Letters to My Love by @bradshawsbaby

[averagewriter-inthedark]

When It’s Cold, I’d Like To Die 🌨 | TGM Imagine- Apocalypse AU

Set in an alternate world during a zombie apocalypse

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: female!reader x Dagger Squad (platonic), slight Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader (implied romance), sister!oc x female reader (platonic/sisters)

Content Warnings: MAJOR angst & MAJOR character death (read at your own risk). Profanity. Emotional, sad, light fluff at the end (sorta a happy ending), apocalypse!au, light spoilers for TLOU (one scene is loosely inspired by one from Ep.2) | female!reader (she/her) wc: 7.5k

Premise: 2019 was the last year humanity could laugh and have fun without a care in the world. Then in November the world was turned upside down when a deadly virus swept though causing humans to turn into beings they only saw in movies. Seven years after the outbreak, the Top Gun special detachment have remained a team, but in the way they predicted obviously. They’ve survived things no training from the Navy could’ve prepared them for. Now years later, they’ve wondered to Seattle with hopes of returning to California by down….but for a couple of them, it’s their last stop.

Note: I’m sorry. Again. - Bee 🐝

———————————————

Date: 30 November 2026 –7 Years, 0 Months, and 20 Days since the outbreak

It’s been 12 hours. Another 12 and my brain will be consumed by the virus making me one of the things I’ve spent years fighting. No one knows. Everything happened so fast after the ambush that I rushed to get my gloves on before anyone could notice the bite mark just below my thumb. The veins have already started to appear, my muscles aching with light spasms I try to hide when no one is looking. So far they’ve only reached my elbow…but once they reach my neck It’s rapid from there. Then the foam will leave my mouth, my pupils will dilate to the point you can barely make out the white. I guess I should start figuring out what to do before I either lose my mind or end things before it gets worse.

I fear Maverick is onto me, but maybe he fears I’m onto him. His behavior has changed just as mine, becoming drawn away from the rest as we set sights on heading south for the winter. When he thinks I’m not looking I catch him fidgeting with his pant leg. Like he’s trying to make sure it’s covering his skin…..Maybe I wasn’t the only one to be bitten—not sure if I should find comfort at the fact I may not have to go through this alone, or just as hopeless with the fact it’s Mav. Once the others discover our my secret I’m scared they’re gonna lose faith. We’re so close to the rumored safe haven—so so close that we could get there by the end of the week…..but it looks like they're gonna have to continue without me.

We’ve been together as a team for seven years—before the outbreak even happened. I still remember the smell of the ocean and the feel of the felt on the pool table against my fingertips. The taste of draft beer that I once hated almost seems nostalgic since I haven’t had it in years. I can still hear the laughter from Bradley and Javy when Jake tried chatting up a pretty blonde who turned out to be married to an admiral. I wonder what happened to her….did she survive that night? Did she last a week? A year? Is she out there now wondering about the country like us?

With my eyes closed I can still picture the news coverage. The initial confusion filling my veins followed by a rush of anxiety that what I was witnessing was real. Then the panic erupting from everyone in the bar. Some rushed out immediately, likely rushing to get to their families. All of us who stayed did our best to board up the windows and doors with whatever we could find. Those of us with weapons in our cars were all so nervous about using them for the first time. Poor Bob didn’t know how to handle his gun and Mav being the saint he is, helped Bob when chaos was happening around them. Just picturing myself that night…shooting a person that didn’t even look human trying to break through the barrier. The revolver in my hand shook by how horrified I was and when I looked at Nat she mirrored my expression. I forgot what happened to my little revolver…it lasted me a good six months into the outbreak before we snuck on base and stole everything we could.

It’s crazy how everything changed in the blink of an eye. One second we’re all celebrating the success of an impossible mission, the Navy’s best fighter pilots. The next…we’re fighting for our lives in a war we only saw in movies. For the first year as humanity attempted to adapt to the new reality, we all traveled across different areas of the country to find our families. Radio and communications were lost early, with the only relying source was to go to our homes and see if they were there. Unfortunately, we never found most of the team’s loved ones. And those we did were already turned or on the brink of. I’ll never forget Javy’s face having to put his parents out of their misery. Same with Nat to her siblings. The only people we found who were healthy and joined our expedition were Bob’s cousin, Mickey’s brothers, and my sister, Jamie. While there was joy finding them, it came with heartbreak.

We lost Omaha first, then Harvard and Yale in one night. Fritz was shortly after marking one year of the outbreak when we thought a building was clear and turned out a stray was lurking underground. Every now and then I’m surprised Rooster and Hangman haven’t killed each other. In the beginning they were always butting heads on what to do, with a knife being pulled out one time that ended with Mav threatening to send them on their own if they couldn’t get their act together.

I’m still mad about losing Hondo, Halo, Penny, and Amelia—It wasn’t even one of the bastards who got them, the damn war between the army and these militia groups has taken more lives nowadays than the virus. The large cities are where most of it happens—and unfortunately we happened to be passing Vegas during turmoil. The conflict arose in the months after the outbreak. It’s understandable really—everyone was pissed that the government failed to prepare after it was revealed they had knowledge that a possible deadly virus would be on the loose. But it’s gotten out of hand. Too out of hand.

I know Mav hasn’t been the same since Penny died. Maybe that’s why he’s not looking too panicked at the idea he could be reuniting with her by the end of the day.

Nothing good came out of that night besides stealing military armored vehicles. That’s made traveling from coast to coast easier with the new jobs we’ve taken up. Fightertown, the once home of Top Gun, is now our base of operations. We’re currently in Seattle with the plan to leave for California tonight, but I won’t be making that drive. Not when I’m already feeling the changes in my psychological well being shift. Jaime is now 16 and I want nothing more than for her to survive this damn apocalypse—to go on and actually live the life she deserves. Not waking up every morning with the fear it would be her last. She’s been traumatized enough with everything she’s seen and I know it’s going to be difficult for her without me. But she’s the strongest girl I’ve ever met. She can survive this all. And I know the squad will take care of her. They’ll keep her safe until their final breath.

That last mission I’ll keep close to me even after I’m gone. They’re my family—my only family I’ve known for the last seven years. We’ve survived so much together. And I pray that whoever stands above all will keep them safe from here on out. Maybe one day they’ll see the world how it once was. That’s my last wish for them.

To find peace.

6 Hours later

Twirling the match box in her hand, Lt. Y/n ‘Pepper’ L/n, relished in watching the sun make its descent on her final day of life. The colors were beautiful, painting the sky an array of pinks and oranges. Sunsets in the Pacific Northwest were always beautiful. She was glad she got to witness another one last time.

She was sitting on the steps of a courthouse, the others inside behind her going over plans or packing the vehicles. Jaime was tossing a ball she found with Mickey’s brothers, giggling when it accidentally hit one of them in the head. Trying to remain composed, she closed her eyes and breathed in the air. It almost felt fresh and clean. Not the polluted with lingering decomposition of human flesh scent she was accustomed to.

No. Tonight it was nice. Actually comforting with the cool breeze of the wind.

“Twenty minutes we’re out,” Jake called from the doorway. “Pep, we need ya in her’.”

“Alright,” she signed, pulling herself up and putting the match box in her jacket pocket. Making sure the clothing was zipped all the way, Pepper cranked her neck to make it look like she was stretching, all while fighting the urge to twitch. Adjusting her gloves next she grabbed the canteen of water off the step and moved inside where the team were holding up. The teenagers behind her raced in after, only to receive some looks when they made a lot of noise.

When scouting the area for refuge the squad checked the surrounding proximity for any undead. Big cities were hives for them, and one loud noise such as an explosion or a simple blast of a shotgun could trigger a mob. Since they started their cargo transport ‘business’ they’ve mastered avoiding the undead when traveling to populated cities.

A moment passes, everyone glancing around for the sounds of disturbance. When nothing happened they visibly relaxed and signaled it was okay to talk.

“Sorry,” Ray, the oldest of Mickey’s two brothers, mumbled.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he told him, “Just remember to be careful next time. Okay?” The teen nodded, moving to sit next to Sammy, and Bob’s cousin Allison.

“What’s it looking like?” Nat was the first to ask, Bob coming to stand in front of the table with the large map displayed.

“The gas we have in the trucks will last us till the Oregon-California border. Portland is four hours from here, and then it’ll likely be another four or so to the border if we don’t run into any trouble. We’re gonna have to stop to refill the takes and then we can either decide to haul it to Sacramento— where I’ve already notified the base camp there we’re planning to stop so they’re getting stuff ready for us—or we can try to find a place at the border to rest.”

“I say we go to the base,” Javy said, rummaging through his pack for a snack. “I wouldn’t trust the border—could be scavengers hiding out for passerbyers.”

“Yeah, but Sacramento’s being hit with conflict,” Payback pointed out with a tired sigh.

“But if we haul for the long run tonight then it should die down by morning. You know how it is…It’s at night these things usually happen.”

“Both of you are right,” Rooster steps in, frowning down at the map with his arms crossed. “We stop at the border we could be ambushed, but if we go to Sacramento we’ll walk right into a war.”

None noticed how quiet Y/n was, fidgeting with her thumbs as they discussed. There was no need for her to give input. Not when she was gonna be likely dead within the hour.

“Well we need to decide,” Nat says sternly, the exhaustion evident in her tone. “I want us to be out of here in fifteen minutes—so either we vote, you two rock, paper, scissors it or we flip a coin.” Rooster almost considers it but then turns to the oldest member of their squadron.

“What do you think, Mav?”

The former pilot blinked several times, not realizing his name had been said and quickly recovered. Pepper’s anxiety rose…he was showing signs. “I-I yeah..I think you-we, we should go to Sacramento.”

‘Fuck,’ Y/n dropped her head in silent thought.

The others didn’t seem to notice the slip up and continued on. “Well that settles it,” Jake clapped his hands, “Let’s finish packin’ up and get the hell outta her’.” There was distress expressed by those who were worried about what lay ahead in Sacramento. For Y/n, her heart was racing by what she needed to do next.

“Jaime,” she called her sister over softly, the teen coming to stop in front of her. “How are you doing tonight?”

“Fine,” she drawled with a shrug. “Not looking forward to being cooped up in a van for the next eight plus hours…but I plan to sleep the entire time.”

“Good,” Y/n brushed some hair behind Jaime’s ear, letting her gloved hand softly liner against her cheek. It was shaking lightly, but Y/n managed to not let her sister notice. “Me too. That sounds like a good plan. I uh—,” she reached into her pants pocket, removing a small booklet. “I’ve been hanging onto this for a while and I thought you should have it. Maybe you can keep it safe since I almost lost it when we were in Denver.”

Jaime took the booklet, examining it. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

Doing so, Jaime felt tears spring in her eyes when the booklet revealed Polaroid photos of not just the team from the past years, but ones of her and Y/n’s family. “W-where did you get this?”

“When we found you back at the house and after I….I won’t say,” she was referring to having to shoot their parents and brother who had turned. Jaime was hiding in the attic when they found her, malnourished and living off of rice cakes and water. “But I went through the house to find things that were sentimental. And well, I made sure to grab photos so we could always remember what they looked like.” Y/n felt a bile of emotion in her throat, swallowing it down. “It’s yours now. Take care of it.”

Jaime closes the book and wraps the thread around it to keep it together. Then her arms go around Y/n’s waist, causing her to stumble a bit, but hold her sister nonetheless. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll keep it safe. I promise.”

The booklet was the last piece Y/n had of their family. All it contained were the photographs. Keeping their memory alive as a happy one rather than the painful last image of having to execute them to put them out of their misery. Only a few times a year Y/n would flip through the photos, and read over the handwritten notes of her mother and father she found. Now it was time to pass them to Jaime. So she could have them and also remember Y/n.

Pulling away from the hug, Y/n places her hands on Jaime’s shoulders and looks deep into her eyes. “Promise me something, kiddo.” The teen gave a short nod and Y/n took a sharp breath. “Promise me that whatever happens to me, you’ll always fight. You’ll move forward and continue to survive. Promise that you won’t give up no matter what happens okay?” Jaime appeared taken aback by the request, not liking the idea she may have to one day continue without her sister. “Promise, kiddo. I need to hear you say it.”

“Why are you asking me this now, Y/n?”

“Because It would bring me peace knowing you are going to be okay,” Y/n offers a small smile. “I want reassurance you would never give up just because I’m not there. You’re stronger than that. And I need you to promise me you will be.”

Eyes still watery, Jaime sniffs and gives her sister a nod, “I promise I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can, kiddo. For you to try,” she brings her into another hug, feeling eyes on her and looks up to see Maverick with a sympathetic expression.

He knows.

“It’s you and me against the world, right?” Y/n holds her close, resting her head on top of Jaime’s, who then repeats, “You and me against the world.”

“Go wait in the van with the others while we finish up here,” before sending her off, Y/n places a comforting kiss on Jaime's head with the soft whisper of ‘I love you.’ The teenager wanted to question her sister’s behavior, but followed the order anyway despite the feeling in her gut starting to form.

Once Jaime, Sammy, Ray, and Allison were outside, leaving just the squad, Y/n’s voice echoed against the silence, “I can’t go with you.” Everyone stopped what they were doing, Maverick off to the side with his hands on his hips and all of them waiting for the former pilot to say she was joking. Holding her hands together, she keeps her gaze on the floor.

Jake scoffed, “Now’s not the time to joke, Pep. We’re leaving in five—.”

“I’m not going,” she snaps, “I can’t go.” Her arm twitches, catching the attention of Rooster, who unconsciously takes a step forward causing her to move back. “Don’t get close to me, please,” she falls to a whisper, letting her eyes drift up to find the mixed reactions from her friends. Some were ashen—already understanding what she was trying to say while a couple appeared confused, not yet catching on.

“Y/n…” Nat’s tone becomes strained. Not wanting to accept the possibility.

“I’m sorry,” she looks at each of them, but Jake just shakes his head and demands, “Show us.” Removing the gloves first, Y/n’s hand trembles as she reaches up to unzip her jacket, shrugging it off her body to reveal the veins taking up the entire right side of her body. Her tank top showed where it was heading. They crept just halfway up her neck, meaning she was far into the infection that she only had a few hours before she fully succumbed.

“Fucking hell,” Jake turned away as Mickey and Bob immediately went distraught. Rooster and Nat simply remained frozen.

“When did this happen, Pepper?” Payback gently asked, trying to contain his reaction. All of them were already feeling the impending loss, and were all thinking the same thing: Who’s gonna be the one to do it?

“Eighteen hours ago…”

“During that ambush at the Hospital?” Javy was next to question her.

“Yeah,” she sadly replied, moving her hand a bit to show the bite. “Fucker that tackled me from the side got me as I was knifing him.”

“And you kept it from us?” Jake shouted, anger in his eyes. Y/n remained calm, knowing his reaction was justified. “This whole time you knew you were infected. And you didn’t say a word until now. Why?”

She tilted her head like it was obvious, “what the hell was I supposed to do, Jake? What would have you done? Shoot me right there?” She saw him still, making her scoff, “Forgive me for wanting a few more hours of peace with you guys and my sister before I end things.” Now that had everyone, minus Mav, eyes to go wide. Again she scoffed, “You really think I was gonna let it consume me? Or put one of y’all in the position to kill me? No,” she shakes her head, “no, I wanted you guys to be off to California before that happened. Honestly I would’ve just left hours ago with no word to spare you all, but…you probably would’ve searched for me.”

Some had to look away at that. She was right, they would have come looking for her. Even if they feared she had turned they’d at least want closure instead of wondering what happened.

“Seven years though,” she tried to laugh. “Not bad when you think about it. Would’ve hoped to make it to ten but life surprises you in mysterious ways. Now I’ll just have to root for Y’all on the side lines. I’ll kinda be pissed though if they somehow find a cure within the next month.”

No one knew how to respond. Quite frankly they didn’t want to. They were all dealing with having to adjust without Y/n going forward. Some didn’t want to accept it.

“Pep, we can try to figure something out—,” Nat tries to say, but Y/n spins to face her.

“What? figure out what, Nat?” She gestures to her arm. “I’m too far gone, okay? I have less than six hours at most—I won’t make it to Sacramento. And even if I were to….they’ll shoot me the second they see me. I’m not letting Jaime see that.” Y/n faces Rooster with a desperate look, tears threatening her eyes. “She doesn’t know,” she could see the heartbreak in his gaze.

Over the years Rooster and Pepper had grown close. At first it was just solely due to the connection they formed in the Navy which grew more at Top Gun. But when the end of the world is happening and there’s not many people in your life….things tend to happen.

They never put a label on it. At no point referring to the other as their ‘partner/significant other,’ but at night they’d bunk together. Rode in the same trucks. Had each other’s six. Sometimes they’d get involved in more intimate scenarios….. Maybe one can call it love, but they had a deep respect and admiration for each other.

“Take care of her for me,” she tells him. “Promise me you will.”

Rooster doesn’t hesitate, “I will.” Y/n swallows, nodding with thanks before adding, “She may fight you when she realizes you’re leaving without me. Sedate if you have to. Keep her from trying to come back.”

They had just gone to an abandoned hospital to retrieve supplies. It was where Y/n, and possibly Mav, got bit. In their search they got plenty of medical equipment including sedatives.

“I’ll do it,” Nat says, bringing a hand up to wipe her eyes. There were tears already escaping. The woman goes over to one of the backpacks and pulls out a bottle with a syringe to prepare it just in case she had to use it. Her hands were shaking, and before she knew it Mav was crouching beside her to take the syringe and do it himself.

“Here,” he hands it back to her, now full of the liquid. She thanks him softly before placing it in her jacket pocket.

At that moment an ugly screech fills the space, many reaching for their weapons in time to light up the undead that wandered in. Another one followed, and lastly a third, all dropping to the ground with bullets filling them. The rapid fire of the sound had Ray come rushing in to which Mickey yelled, “get back to the truck now!” They could hear faint noise in the distance, coming from the direction the three had run in from.

“There’s gonna be more. They must’ve snuck in from the sewers and came through the back,” Payback said in a rush, scanning for any more that could be lurking. “We gotta go.”

“But—,” Bob raised a hand to Y/n, who cut him off by saying, “I can hold them off. Buy you some time,” she paused a bit, looking at her shotgun and then said, “Leave the diesel.” She was referring to the large containers of diesel gasoline that had been on the streets. They didn’t know what to do with them since none of their vehicles took that type of gas. Y/n saw them and instantly thought of a plan.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Jake asked when she started to cut into the containers to let the liquid leak onto the floor.

“I’m gonna drown them in diesel,” she says sarcastically, making him glare. “I’m gonna fucking blow the place up, Jake. Do you want to sit and watch or are you gonna get your ass in that truck and make it tomorrow?”

He doesn’t answer, instead he marches up to her and pulls her into a near bone breaking hug. “I’m gonna miss you, Pep. You’re the best fucking wingman I could’ve asked for.”

Y/n’s lip quivered, hugging him back. “Don’t get sentimental on me now, Seresin,” she attempted to joke. “We both know you’ve been wanting to get rid of me for a while.” She feels him shake his head, though he chuckles.

“Never. You’ve been the glue of this team. I don’t know how we’ll get through this hell without ya, but we’ll try.”

“Thank you,” she pulls away, seeing a stray tear fall from his eyes. “Take care of each other.” He squeezes her shoulder that’s not covered in veins, patting it before stepping away.

“Let’s get a move on.” Everyone takes turns saying goodbye to Y/n and gathering their packs. There’s not a dry eye in the room, Nat holding onto her tightly and not wanting to let go.

“C’mon, Phee,” Y/n’s tone is soft, “you rise from the ashes. You’ve been doing it since I’ve known ya. You’ll get through this. I know you will.”

Nat whimpers, wiping her face as she says, “You better save me a drink up there. Because we’ll have a lot to discuss when I join you.”

“That’ll be years from now,” she assures her, pulling away from the hug, “But I’ll have your favorite ready to go when that happens.”

It was hard with each goodbye. Reuben and Javy understandably made theirs quick. Mickey said how he was gonna miss sharing the excitement with Y/n when he would find an old comic book. Sweet Bob’s face was bright red as the tears ran down his face unapologetically. “I’ll never forget you, Y/n.” She choked back a sob as she replied, “I would hope not, Bobby Boy.”

Rooster’s hug lasted longer than the others, kissing the side of her head lovely as he whispered into her ear, “Thank you for everything. I promise I won’t let anything happen to Jaime. You can count on it. And Y/n…I-I just want you to know that I lo—.”

“I know,” she cups his face, staring into the beautiful hazel eyes she adored. “I know, Roo. I’ve known for a while. And I feel the same, always have.” He wanted to kiss her one last time, but the infection had a chance of transferring through saliva and they couldn’t risk him getting it. It pained him that he couldn’t offer one last kiss to her.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, making them narrow in confusion. “Mav, what are you doing?” The question came at the sight of the older man cutting into the containers and bringing the gas further out to the hall where they could hear the approaching noise increase. They had maybe less than two minutes before they had company.

Mav threw his bag down as he pushed away the empty canister. “I’m staying.” The reaction was immediate.

“The hell you—!”

“I’m infected too,” at the gasp from Nat and stunned looks from everyone, besides Y/n, Pete bent down to pull up his pant leg. When he did the same ugly veins coated his skin. Then he lifted the end of his t-shirt, revealing more. “I don't have much time either.”

The reaction from Bradley could best be described with one word: agony.

“No,” he rubbed his face before his hands went to his hair. “No. This can’t be happening.” He wouldn’t accept it. Losing Y/n was one thing, but also losing Mav—his second father, in the same night? His entire soul was being ripped apart.

“Bradley—.”

“This can’t fucking be real!” Rooster shouted, not caring the tears were falling from his eyes. “Not you too!” The sounds from the distant hallways were getting louder, Payback and Jake rushing to close the doors of the room they were in to block them off before pushing desks and tables in front of them. It wouldn’t last much, but it’d at least buy them some seconds.

“Guys we really need to go,” Jake rushed out, pushing Coyote to the door. “Now! We can’t stay here!” It was a scene of distraught. They were now faced with the reality of losing both Y/n and their team leader. Fear of the incoming undead is what made them not break down right then and there. Nat knew once she got in the van she’d would lose it.

Rooster was already starting to break down. His face was red and riddled with tears, breathing heavily as he tried to fight back against Payback and Bob’s grip. “Don’t do this to me, Mav! N-no! Fucking dammit-I’m not leaving them! Mav! Please!”

“I’m sorry, kid,” Pete removes his dog tags and tosses them to Bradley to catch. He doesn’t know how he caught them, but the action hurts him even more. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ll see you again one day.”

“Don’t fucking tell me that! I don’t want that, Mav. C’mon—we were supposed to survive this together!”

“I know,” Mav sighs, green eyes red from crying. “I’m sorry, Bradley. But you’re gonna have to do it without me.” The former pilot releases a heartbreaking sound, making Y/n put her hand to her mouth to cover her sobs.

“Rooster, we have to go!” Reuben tells him sadly, practically shoving his friend backward. “I’m sorry, man, but it’s over.”

“Don’t make us have to sedate you, Bradshaw,” Jake threatens with an unreadable tone. He hated doing so, but if they didn’t leave in the next ten seconds they were about to be sitting ducks for a mob of undead.

“Mav!” Bradley screams as they finally get him out the door and out from their sights. Y/n is having to catch her breath from how hard she was crying. Seeing the man she loved in such a state did absolute destruction to her heart.

“Give these to Jaime,” she removes her own dog tags that were around her neck. She passes them to Natasha, who was the last in the building and fighting back the urge to collapse. “I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too,” Nat sobs, glancing between Pepper and Mav. “Both of you. I-I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t—this shouldn't have happened.”

Y/n just sighs, trying to smile at her friend, “It was an honor serving with you, Nat.” She sees the woman let out a shaky breath, nodding before turning on her heel and racing out of the building. When the trucks started she felt some relief, feeling more of it when the sound of them driving off could be heard.

Now it was just her and Pete.

“When did you figure it out?” She hesitated to ask, finally looking up from the ground she had been staring at for a good five seconds.

“When I noticed you were quieter than usual,” he replied, then asked, “What about you?”

“When you kept messing with your pants and checking if someone noticed.”

“Yeah,” he cracked his neck, then said, “I take it you got something to light this place up?” Instead of answering, Y/n removes the match box from her pocket.

Together they pull two chairs into the middle of the floor, facing the doors the undead were currently running for. A loud bang indicated they breached whatever obstacle in their path. It would be maybe thirty seconds before they arrived. Sitting down, Y/n opened the match box to find two cigatters hidden with only one match.

“How fucking ironic,” she chuckled, removing one to place between her lips before offering one to Maverick. Though he didn’t smoke, the occasion called for it so he took the tobacco and allowed her to light it with the last match before doing the same to hers.

Leaning forward in her chair, Y/n inhaled deeply before releasing the smoke, “What do you think we’ll find?”

“Hopefully…peace,” he breathes out, smoke filling the air. “But I hope to find my parents, maybe Ice and Goose. Hondo. Penny and Amelia,” his voice turns softer at the last couple names. “But mostly I hope to find peace. You?”

“The same,” she gives a small smile, leaning back in the chair as the noise gets louder. Fifteen seconds. “I sorta hope to find The Hard Deck. Maybe that’s where everyone is waiting for us.”

“That would be nice,” Mav agrees. Ten seconds.

Y/n gulps, “Mav?” The growls and moans were closing in.

“Yeah,” he says calmly. Five seconds.

“It’s been an honor serving with you.” He takes her hand in his. Three.

“The honor is mine, Pepper.” Two.

The cigarette bud flicked from her hand at the same moment the doors busted open. One.

Nothing could describe the flooding of anxiety that filled Jaime L/n when she heard the commotion from inside the courthouse, followed by the guys practically dragging Rooster out. Javy, Jake, and Mickey hopped into the armored van in front of the one she was in where Mickey’s brothers were. Meanwhile Bob, Payback and Nat were coming to the one she and Allison were in, hauling Rooster who was in evident distraught.

“What’s happening?” She said aloud, receiving no answer as Bob and Payback threw Bradley into the back seat, with Nat hopping in after them. Payback immediately got into the driver's seat with Bob in the passenger. Turning around to the courthouse, Jaime awaited Y/n to run out with Maverick. But neither came and she realized Payback was starting up the vehicle. “Where’s Y/n? And Maverick?” When none answered, only hearing the light cries from the former pilots.

This time with her blood running cold, she asked in a more demanding tone, “Where’s my sister? Wha—what are you doing!” She shouted when the van started to move, following behind Jake and the others. “Wait!” She turned in her seat, still no sight of the two. “No! What are you doing!? Stop—my sister’s still in there!” When Jaime turned back to scream at Payback to stop the van, she was met with the heartbreaking eyes of Natasha, who simply extended her hand over the seat to hand over something. Snatching it, Jaime felt her entire world collapsed seeing it was Y/n’s dog tags.

“N-no,” she croaked, lifting her gaze to Nat to find she was shaking her head. “No…”

“I’m sorry, Jaime. She was bit—.”

“NO!!” Jaime screamed, turning to look at the courthouse in hopes it was a joke and Y/n would run after the van. “You’re lying! She would’ve said something.”

“Honey, she didn’t want you to know—s-she was gonna have to leave us eventually.”

The teenager wailed at the news. Not wanting to believe her sister would send her off without saying. Not without a goodbye. Now it made sense why she was asking her to promise her all those. It was because she knew it would be the last time they saw each other. Jaime cried at the realization.

She slapped the seat, “Go back! Go back now! I won’t fucking leave her there! Ple-ease!” She hiccuped, beginning to crawl over the seats so she could get to the doors. Immediately Rooster was taking a hold of her, causing her to thrash. “No-fuck you! Let me go! That’s m-my sister! Please, Rooster—we have to go-oo back!”

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he shot Nat a look when she removed the syringe, mouthing, ‘not yet.’

“No-no-no-no-no-nooo,” she cried, fighting against him but to no avail. “Please! Don’t leave her—go back!

They were some distance away, but still in sight of the courthouse when an explosion rattled the ground. Jaime got enough away from Rooster’s grip to look up and see the building was on fire. “NOOO!!!!” She broke down in despair, falling against the man who just held onto her as his own tears rolled down. Everyone in the van was in the same state, Payback was gripping the steering wheel so tight and Bob had his head in his hands.

Jaime just kept screaming and crying, occasionally fighting against Rooster and at one point her panic attack became too much that Nat had to sedate her when she actually threw a punch at him. He wasn’t angry or upset of course. He understood exactly what she was going through.

Both of them just lost the only family they had.

It would be an image that would haunt them forever. The ablazed courthouse where their friends layed. They didn’t want to picture what they looked like, instead focusing on their final days. Where Y/n was dancing with Mickey to an old song that came on the radio. Where Maverick was showing the teenagers how to change a tire in case the vans were to break down. The nights by the fires reminiscing on what it was like before the outbreak. Shooting pool and darts at the Hard Deck, before it became a graveyard to the undead.

Those things are what they would remember. The feeling of warmth and nostalgia from reliving those memories would help them in their grief. They were in denial at first, then angry, followed by bargaining as they asked, “it should’ve been me.” The depression lasted a long time. Mostly for Rooster and Jaime who had trouble adjusting to life without their loved ones. The nightmares were horrible, keeping them from getting sleep. Jaime went from an optimistic, bright, teenager to cold and detached. It took some time before she reached the final stage of grief: acceptance.

It was roughly two years after Y/n died that she understood why her sister didn’t tell her during that final conversation. Why she made sure she was out in the van before she realized Y/n was staying behind. It was so Jaime could remember her in a healthy, happy, light. So she wasn’t faced with the devastation of seeing her become undead.

Everyday she wore her dog tags, fiddling with them whenever she became anxious. The days she felt lonely and depressed she’d glance through the booklet with all the photographs Y/n had gifted her. Shortly after the incident Jaime discovered Y/n’s notebook with all her entries starting from the day after the outbreak, to the most recent being the one six hours before she died. Jaime felt her heart break and repair each time she read an entry. She cried a lot at the one detailing the day the squad found her, where Y/n spoke of how she had to execute their infected parents and brother. There were entries that made her laugh, some made her angry—especially one talking about the night they lost Halo, Hondo, Penny, and Amelia. It was so unfair how it happened. The team was just trying to get through Vegas and bombs were going off due to the conflict between the army and rebelled militia groups.

The last entry, Jaime trailed her fingertips over Y/n’s handwriting, hoping she would feel closer to her sister. Feel her warmth again, hear her laugh, see her smile. She wasn’t the only one. Every now and then Jaime would catch Rooster looking at his own Polaroids with Y/n and Mav.

Years passed. Summers turned to fall and then winter and spring. The tenth anniversary of the outbreak came and went, with their group losing Javy, Ray, Bob, and Allison along the way. Jake died around the fifteenth, with Mickey not too far behind due to an injury to his leg. They finally decided to stop their ‘transport’ business when that happened, no longer able to do the work they once were able to as Bradley, Nat, and Rueben were all approaching their fifties. Jaime was now in her thirties and had met a nice man on their travels, falling in love when she never thought it was possible.

She wasn’t the only one to find love. Nat married, so did Payback though neither had children. Rooster was the only one to not do so. Even when it was obvious men and women they met in their travels expressed attraction to him, Bradley denied their advances. When asked he simply said, “I had my love. There wasn’t anyone like her and my heart won’t belong to someone else. She took it with her when she left.”

Rumors started to spread around the twentieth year that the new generation of children being born were immune to the virus. Pregnant, Jaime felt a mix of fear and hope at the thought her baby was immune. Hope that maybe a cure could be discovered, but fear at what the government planned to do with the children. Surely they were ripping them from their families to be taken to testing locations. Immediately Jaimie, her husband and the remaining squad members with their loved ones they found and created all went into hiding in Fightertown.

Humanity began to rebuild in the 25th year. An announcement was made just shortly after the outbreak anniversary that countries working together were able to create an effective vaccine. It was to be distributed immediately, with no human being denied the access to be cured. Jaime had just had her second child when they got it. Within six months every remaining human had received the vaccination.

Finally, after 25 years. They could breathe a sigh of relief.

The team remained in contact despite going their separate ways. Rooster traveled back to Virginia where his parents rested, sending a vintage postcard to Jaime when he arrived. Nat and her husband remained in San Diego, Reuben and his wife traveled to Colorado. Jaime, having seen every inch of the country, ended up landing in Washington state. She didn’t go to Seattle, it was still too painful, but she went close to the Canadian border.

The reason: the sunsets.

“Look at how the sky just lights up. So many colors—a beautiful array of orange and pinks,” she heard Y/n’s voice when she closed her eyes the first time she sat on the porch steps of her new home, the sun descending on the horizon. “I’ve seen many sunsets in my days, kiddo. But nothing compares to the ones on the PNW. They by far are the most mesmerizing to look at.”

Breathing in the fresh air, the most refreshing she’d ever inhaled now that she was away from most of civilization as the cities were being rebuilt, Jaime felt the weight finally lift from her shoulders. “You and me against the world, right kiddo?”

“You and me against the world.”

Acceptance. It was finally here. Jaime thought she had accepted her sister’s death ages ago, but really she had pushed it to the back burner to focus on other things. Never did she truly accept Y/n’s death, she just adapted to it like everything else.

Being able to come back to Washington, the place she lost her sister, and watching the sunsets she knew Y/n loved is what really brought Jaime peace.

She finally reached the final stage of grief.

40 years later

The bright welcomed Jaime with warmth spreading throughout her body. Gasping, she opened her eyes and glanced down to find she was no longer sleeping in her bed with her children holding onto her hands. Instead she was wearing an old flannel she remembered she loved as a teenager, with light wash jeans and converse. Her hands were no longer wrinkled and rail, she felt like she was back in the body of her young self.

Ocean waves filled her ears, and when she turned around she found the sea ahead with a familiar building she only knew by the memories her sister would tell her.

The Hard Deck.

All around was a hue she couldn’t explain. It was bright, almost luminescent with the sun’s rays beating down. Something in the building was calling to her.

“Go,” a voice said. She didn’t recognize it, but it was telling her to go inside. “They’re waiting for you.”

Her feet carried her across the parking lot. No cars were there which made it unusual for a bar that read ‘open’ on its glowing sign. Still Jaime approached the door, hearing the faint sounds of conversation and music. When she pushed the door open, the music stopped and she was frozen at the sight before her.

The whole Dagger Squad were dressed in their service khakis looking the same as they did the night of the outbreak. Penny and Amelia were behind the bar, where Mav was seated with Hondo, Warlock, and Cyclone. Ray, Sammy, and Allison were by the jukebox, beaming at Jaime and her heart picked up at the sight of her husband of nearly 50 years beside them. The Dagger Squad were smiling. Especially Rooster who looked young and handsome again, throwing Jaime a wink as if to say, ‘about time you showed up. We’ve been waiting ages.’

Heart beating, she felt the emotion surge in her causing tears to prick in eyes. Jaime’s eyes drifted over, bringing a hand to her mouth when they landed on her parents and brother seated in a booth, her father standing from his seat.

She wanted to rush over to them but something was stopping her. Almost like she needed to see one last person before she could.

And there was only one missing.

Before the name could leave her lips, Jaime heard her voice. After years of wondering if she had found peace, the answer came with a simple greeting of, “Hey, kiddo.”

……………………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse, @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Forever and Ever, Amen - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Inspired by the song Forever and Ever, Amen by Randy Travis. It's a cute song and it feels Bob coded imo. It's not a religious song other than the word "amen" being used.

pairing:  Bob Floyd x reader

warnings/content: sickeningly sweet Bob fluff.

word count: 1k

Mornings were never particularly easy for you, but mornings before Bob had to leave for a mission were on the verge of unbearable. At the start of your relationship, they were less frequent, only a few times scattered throughout those first few months of the honeymoon period, spoiling you with plenty of opportunities to spend time together in the early stages. Now at the end of your first year together, it felt like Bob was gone every 4-6 weeks, sometimes just to come home and leave again a day or two later. 

You breathed a heavy, reluctant sigh as you hit snooze on your phone and rolled over to face Bob in bed, who was just reaching over for his glasses. He adjusted them on his face and hummed softly, almost looking defeated as he faced you.

“That time already?” He sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, “I don’t want to go this time.”

“I don’t want you to go either, but I don’t think we get a choice in the matter, Bobby,” you sighed heavily as you turned on to your side, a frown forming on your lips as you looked at him. He shut his deep blue eyes for a minute and sighed.

“Alright, we have time for breakfast together first, right?” He said quietly, a strained smile on his face as he looked to you, trying to mask his sadness and frustration with his chosen line of work in this moment.

“Of course we do, you start getting ready, I’ll go make breakfast, yeah?”

Bob pressed his lips to your cheek in a loving kiss as he sat up, frowning as he looked out the window. You reluctantly got yourself up, padding down the hall to the kitchen, leaving Bob alone for a moment to collect his thoughts as he got himself prepared to go out again. The smell of fresh cooked bacon and eggs wafted through the house as you made breakfast for the two of you, the warm rays of the early morning sun came pouring through the window. 

Bob came up behind you, gently snaking his arm around your waist as you poured him a cup of orange juice. He pressed his nose into the back of your hair as he murmured a soft spoken “I love you”. You set the glass down on the counter before turning to face him, forcing a happy smile to hide the tears that were threatening to well up in your eyes as you caught sight of him in his uniform khakis. You adjusted his name tag for him, nodding your head once as you brushed any lint off his shoulders. You breathed in the smell of his aftershave, cupping your hands on either side of his face as you leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“There, now you look perfect,” You gave him a nod of approval as you handed him his glass from the counter.

“Wait,” He shook his head and laughed as he set the glass on the table, “I need you to promise me something.”

“Promise you what, exactly?” Your brows furrowed together into a frown that probably appeared more like a pout than mild frustration.

“Promise me you don’t forget that I love you?”

“What on earth kind of promise is that, Bobby? Of course I’m not going to forget.”

“Just promise me, ok? You’ve had to be without me a lot lately, and I feel bad, but I want you to always remember that I love you, and I spend the entire time thinking about how I want to come home to you.”

“Alright,” you nodded your head as you looked at your feet, blinking back tears as you took a breath to collect yourself before looking back up at him, “I promise.”

 “Good, don’t make me sing that song to you,” He flashed a bright grin at you before pressing his lips to your forehead in an affectionate kiss. 

“What song might that be?”

“You’re really gonna make me sing it, aren’t you?” 

“You betcha, Robert”

Bob let out a playful sigh as he grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate on the table and bit into it carefully, being mindful not to make a mess out of his uniform. He swallowed his mouthful and rolled his eyes before clearing his throat and breaking out into song. 

“Oh baby, I’m gonna love you forever, forever and ever amen, As long as old men sit and talk about the weather–”

“As long as old women sit and talk about old men —” you chimed in, harmonizing with Bob as he sang.

“If you wonder how long I’ll be faithful, I’d be happy to tell you again, I’m gonna love you, forever and ever, forever and ever, amen”.

Bob smirked as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Happy now?”

“Mhmm, how long was it you said you’d love me for again?” You returned his smirking glance, biting your lip to hold back a giggle. 

“Forever and ever, baby.”

“That’s what I thought. If I ever feel like I’m forgetting, I’ll just listen to that song until I remember, deal?”

“Perfect,” Bob nodded his head as he kissed you again before taking his seat at the table, quickly tucking into his breakfast.

A half hour later, as you say your goodbyes to one another at the base, you wave to Bob and give him a smile, refusing to let him see you upset as he leaves. Bob wraps you in his strong arms, enveloping your body as he gave you a passionate kiss. 

“Remember, forever and ever, baby,” he whispered softly as he held you tight.

“Forever and ever,” Your voice echoing his as you gave a subtle nod, breathing in his scent and taking in as much of him as you could, committing it all to memory before letting him go for any stretch of time again.

“Forever and ever, amen,” Bob grinned.

[cherrycola27]

Other Uses

This was inspired by this ask for my 2k celly!

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI

...........................................

You remember the day you met Robert Floyd. You'd just come to California to help open a new branch of your law firm, and you were celebrating a job well done with some of your friends at a Navy bar one of them knew.

You'd immediately spotted him, a wallflower amongst his friend group. He was shy, quiet, and reserved. Just your type. Most people would think that someone like you, a cut throat lawyer who'd been compared to Hades more times than you cared to count, would be drawn to someone loud and in your face.

But just how Hades longed for a breath of spring in Persephone, you desired someone to complete you. Reel you in and bring you back to earth when you became too much.

And that's exactly what Robby did. You'll never forget the look on his face when you confirmed that you were, in fact, talking to him. You spent all night getting to know him. Two days later, he was taking you on a date.

You were now three months into your relationship, and Robby's birthday was approaching. You planned to take him out of town and get a nice hotel suite and hopefully cross that final line in your relationship.

You had suspected that Bob didn't have much experience in the bedroom. What you hadn't expected was for him to almost shamefully admit to you that he was a virgin after the two of you had been making out on your couch and he'd cum in his pants.

You took his face in your hands and told him that there was nothing to be ashamed of, and whenever he was ready, you would cross that line together.

These past two weeks, Bob had been getting bolder when he kissed you. Touching you, pulling your hair, trying to dominate the kiss. You knew that he was ready.

This weekend, the two of you would be alone, and Robby would be all yours, to kiss, to love, to corrupt, to enjoy.

You were giddy the whole drive to La Jolla. You sat in the passenger seat of Bob's truck singing along to a playlist you'd made just for the occasion.

You were beaming when you checked in the hotel, and you were practically bouncing up and down in the elevator and down the hallway to your room. As soon you slid the key into the lock, you were practically dragging your Bob into the room.

He quickly rolled in the luggage and took in the suite.

"Wow, Honeybee, this is amazing. There is only one problem." He said as he faced you.

"What? What's wrong?" You asked him, slightly panicked.

"There is only one bed. Where are we both going to sleep?" He asked you. You threw your head back and chuckled. "We are going to share. We are a couple." You reminded him.

"Right." He said as a blush crept across his cheeks. "Well, it does look pretty comfortable. We should be able to sleep pretty well on it." He says. You can't help but laugh at your clueless boyfriend.

"Oh, Robby, there are so many more things that we can use it for other than sleeping. How about I show you." You purred into his ear as you lead him further into the hotel room.

Bob swallowed thickly as you pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed. You kissed him a few times before stepping back and pulling your sundress over your head.

Bob's eyes went wide as you revealed a black lace bodysuit with some tasteful cutouts. He swallowed thickly as you sank to your knees in front of him. You made quick work of his belt, and when you tapped his hips, he lifted them so you could bring his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion.

His cock sprang free and slapped against his abdomen. You licked your lips as you looked at it. He was long and thick and girthy, with pretty veins wrapping around it. The tip was flushed, the same shade of pink that spread across his cheeks.

"Has anyone ever given you a blow job, Robby?" You asked him as you peered up at him through your lashes.

"N—no." He stuttered out. A wicked smile spread across your red lips before you leaned forward and licked the vein that ran from the base to the tip.

And long groan left his lips as you did so. Determined to see what other sounds you could draw from him, you kitten licked the head, lapping up beads of precum before taking the tip between your lips.

You bobbed your head further down his length, swallowing around him once you reached the neat thatch of hair at his base.

His hips bucked involuntarily, causing you to gag. You moaned at the sensation, hoping he would do it again, but Bob was too polite. You grabbed one of his white knuckled hands and placed it on the back of your head. His fingers tangled in your hair, but he was still frozen as you pleasured him.

You pulled off of him completely and told him, "Robby, you can be a little rough with me. I want you to fuck my face. Okay?" He sucked in a breath and nodded.

You resumed your work, and soon, his hips were bucking into your mouth, and both of his hands tangled in your hair. Bob couldn't stop the cries of pleasure from leaving his mouth as you worked him faster and faster.

"Honeybee, I'm gonna—" but Bob didn't have time to finish his warning before he was shooting thick, hot ropes of his salty cum down your throat.

You swallowed and pulled off of him before sticking out your tongue and showing him that you'd taken all of his release. He looked at you mystified.

"Did you like that, Robby?" You asked him innocently.

"I fucking loved it, Honeybee." He growled as he pulled you into his lap. You moan. Bob rarely cursed, and hearing is pretty mouth say something filthy just did it for you. You quickly whipped his shirt off before he brought your lips together.

His hands roamed all over you body. Eagerly taking in the lace number you were wearing.

"Can I— can I taste you?" Bob asked. This time, you were the one caught off guard shaking your head.

Bob manhandled you on your back as you nestled against the pillows.

He took his time kissing down your body. Your gasps and moans and words of praise spurred him on. He spread your legs wide before settling between your thighs.

"Have you ever done this, Robby?" You ask him. "I tried with my last girlfriend, but I didn't know what I was doing, and she didn't like it." He admits sheepishly.

"It's okay, baby. I'll help you. I'll teach you to eat pussy like a king, but only for me." You smirk at him. He blushes, and you give him the go-ahead. He peppers a few kisses along your thighs before pulling the crotch of the bodysuit to the side.

He placed a few kisses along your glistening cunt before tentatively licking a broad swipe over your folds.

You let out a high-pitched whine. Bob looks up and checks for reassurances before continuing.

He licks your folds over and over before deciding to try something he saw in a porno. He uses his thumbs to open your folds before spitting directly on your clit and sucking it into his mouth.

"Fuck, Robby!" You cry as you arch off the bed. "Was that bad?" He asks you with a panicked look.

"No, fuck, do it again baby." You tell him. Bob smirks at you before repeating the action.

You card your fingers through his hair to help guide him, but soon, Bob has your legs shaking as he buries his face in your sopping cunt.

You're teetering on the edge of an orgasm, slightly afraid he won't get you there when Bob surprises you and sinks two of his thick fingers inside you and strokes your walls.

You can tell he's looking for your g-spot. Once he finds it. Like a good WSO, he zeros in on it and drags his calloused finger tips along it over and over again.

You grind your core against his face and grip his hair tighter before arching of the bed and crying out his name as you cum.

Bob emerges from your thighs with a dopey grin on his face.

"Where did you learn to do that?" You pant out.

"I watched some porn, and I may or may not have asked Phoenix for some pointers." He tells you. "Remind me to send her a fruit basket as a thank you." You chuckle as Bob slides up the bed to join you.

The two of you kisses for what seems like hours. "If you don't want to do anything else today, we can stop." You tell him. "I want to. I'm just—can you be on top? Please." He asks.

"Of course, Robby. Can you help me take this off?" You gesture to your bodysuit.

Bob nods eagrly as he tries to undo the laces of it. He fumbles with them as he hands shake with excitement before he accidentally rips the garment. A look of fear flashes across his face.

You laugh before telling him it's okay. He finishes ripping the entire thing off. You help him lay down on the bed before straddling his waist.

"Wait! Do we need protection?" Bob asks you.

"I'm clean, and I have an IUD. Are you comfortable without it?" You ask him. "Yes. Please. I want to feel you." Bob groans. You smile at him before rubbing your slick folds across the underside of his length.

He grips the sheets for dear life when you take his length into your hand before slowly sinking down on him. Even with his fingers helping to prep you, it's still a stretch. Bob is easily the biggest man you've ever been with.

Once you're fully seated on him, his hands come to your hips as both of you adjust.

You start our nice and slow with your pace. Gauging his reaction the whole time. Once you find a rhythm that has him a panting, mewling mess underneath you, you speed up and ride him with earnest. His grip on your hips tightens as you throw your head back.

"You look so pretty under me, Robby, like a fucking dream." You praise him. He's a sight to behold. A blush spreading from his chest to the tips of his ears, glasses slightly askew, his brow knit, his mouth open and pretty sounds falling from it.

"Honeybee, baby." He groans out. "Yes?" You ask him.

"Can I— can I be on top now? Please?" Bob grits out.

You both whine when you still your hips. Bob sits up but moves a little too fast, causing the two of you to topple over. You land on your back with a oof. Bob's forehead accidentally bangs into yours, and you both laugh.

"Sorry." He mumbles. You reassure him that it's fine. He gives you a kiss on the lips before leaning back on his haunches.

Bob makes a few experimental thrusts before settling on wrapping both of your legs around his slim hips and pushing into your deeply. You can tell his trying to find your g-spot again because he is desperate to make you cum again.

He knows the moment he finds it because you're clawing at his back. He drags the fat head of his cock against it over and over again.

With each stroke, it feels like the tip kisses your cervix with how deep he is. You frantically claw at him and cry out his name over and over again.

"Robby! So close. Please!" You beg him. The truth is Bob is close, too. He's trying to hold out for you. One of his hands leaves its spot beside your head and he brings his thumb to your neglected clit.

"Me too, Bee. You feel so fukcing good." He pants out.

He draws tight circles on it, praying it is enough to get you there. His thrusts become sloppy as he loses his pace and hips stutter.

Bob can't fight it anymore and he cums deep inside of you, crying out your name. Your walls clench around him as his release triggers your own finish. They flutter around his cock as the milk him dry.

Bob collapses on top of you and buries his head in the crook of your neck.

You run your hands through his hair and sooth him with whispered praises as he comes down from his high. He's trembling in your arms.

The two of you stay like that until Bob can form real words.

"That was amazing, Bee. God, I love you. Thank you for being patient with me." Bob says as he kisses your nose a lips.

"Of course, Robby. It was wonderful. I love you too. Now, why don't we get a hot shower, and then we can cuddle." You say. Bob's face falls and he looks a little disappointed.

"Oh." He whispers. "Robby. What's wrong?" You ask.

"I was just hoping we could do it again. There were a few more positions I wanted to try." He grins.

You laugh and smile at him. "Okay, birthday boy. But let's pace ourselves. We have all weekend." You tell him.

Bob grins and reaches for you. It's a good thing that you didn't make any other plans for the two of you because neither of you leaves that suite for the entire weekend.

I wrote this for my "Dagger Deities Extravaganza" shout out to @withahappyrefrain for sending in the ask for this! The like to all the other blurbs can be found here

Tagging some folks who might be interested: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @seresinsweetie @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @clancycucumber230 @lt-spork @multifandomlover4life @lewmagoo @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloydsbabe @ohtobeleah @rhettabbotts @bradshawsbaby

[sweetwhispersofchaos]

They’re my absolute favorite! I need another movie to see more of their dynamic!

Is anyone available to talk about Top Gun: Maverick? Specifically, is anyone available to talk about Phoenix and Bob’s dynamic in Top Gun: Maverick?

Phoenix literally knew Bob for only 10 minutes and was like:

(graphic via @tcmiv)

And Bob was like:

They were the best team in the squadron. I love them, your honor.

[highwaytothedangerzone86]

I also still have the Bobs Football shirt available too in my small shop.

Link is here

[attapullman]

Robert From Next Door | Robert "Bob" Floyd

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

Word Count: 3.6k

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

robert from next door | if only the neighbors knew

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

His thoughtful nod can practically be heard through the phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth can’t open fast enough.

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

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

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

His lips pause, brow furrowed. “This?”

“You.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you still want your tea?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

see what antics happen at the next HOA meeting

taglist: @callsign-mongoose

[rockpaperscissuhs]

Band of Brothers Birthdays

January

1 John S. Zielinski Jr. (b. 1925)

21 Richard D. “Dick” Winters (b. 1918)

26 Herbert M. Sobel (b. 1912)

30 Clifford Carwood "Lip" Lipton (b. 1920)

31 Warren H. “Skip” Muck (b. 1922) & Robert B. Brewer (b. 1924)

February

8 Clarence R. Hester (b. 1916)

18 Thomas A. Peacock (b. 1920)

23 Lester A. “Les” Hashey (b. 1925)

March

1 Charles E. “Chuck” Grant (b. 1922)

2 Colonel Robert L. “Bob” Strayer (b. 1910)

4 Wayne “Skinny” Sisk (b. 1922)

10 Frank J. Perconte (b. 1917)

13 Darrell C. “Shifty” Powers (b. 1923)

14 Joseph J. “Joe” Toye (b. 1919)

24 John D. “Cowboy” Halls (b. 1922)

26 George Lavenson (b. 1917) & George H. Smith Jr. (1922)

27 Gerald J. Loraine (b. 1913)

April

3 Colonel Robert F. “Bob” Sink (b. 1905) & Patrick S. “Patty” O’Keefe (b. 1926)

5 John T. “Johnny” Julian (b. 1924)

10 Renée B. E. Lemaire (b. 1914)

11 James W. Miller (b. 1924)

15 Walter S. “Smokey” Gordon Jr. (b. 1920)

20 Ronald C. “Sparky” Speirs (b. 1920)

23 Alton M. More (b. 1920)

27 Earl E. “One Lung” McClung (b. 1923) & Henry S. “Hank” Jones Jr. (b. 1924)

28 William J. “Wild Bill” Guarnere (b. 1923)

May

12 John W. “Johnny” Martin (b. 1922)

16 Edward J. “Babe” Heffron (b. 1923)

17 Joseph D. “Joe” Liebgott (b. 1915)

19 Norman S. Dike Jr. (b. 1918) & Cleveland O. Petty (b. 1924)

25 Albert L. "Al" Mampre (b. 1922)

June

2 David K. "Web" Webster (b. 1922)

6 Augusta M. Chiwy ("Anna") (b. 1921)

13 Edward D. Shames (b. 1922)

17 George Luz (b. 1921)

18 Roy W. Cobb (b. 1914)

23 Frederick T. “Moose” Heyliger (b. 1916)

25 Albert Blithe (b. 1923)

28 Donald B. "Hoob" Hoobler (b. 1922)

July

2 Gen. Anthony C. "Nuts" McAuliffe (b. 1898)

7 Francis J. “Frank” Mellet (b. 1920)

8 Thomas Meehan III (b. 1921)

9 John A. Janovec (b. 1925)

10 Robert E. “Popeye” Wynn (b. 1921)

16 William S. Evans (b. 1910)

20 James H. “Moe” Alley Jr. (b. 1922)

23 Burton P. “Pat” Christenson (b. 1922)

29 Eugene E. Jackson (b. 1922)

31 Donald G. "Don" Malarkey (b. 1921)

August

3 Edward J. “Ed” Tipper (b. 1921)

10 Allen E. Vest (b. 1924)

15 Kenneth J. Webb (b. 1920)

18 Jack E. Foley (b. 1922)

26 Floyd M. “Tab” Talbert (b. 1923) & General Maxwell D. Taylor (b. 1901)

29 Joseph A. Lesniewski (b. 1920)

31 Alex M. Penkala Jr. (b. 1924)

September

3 William H. Dukeman Jr. (b. 1921)

11 Harold D. Webb (b. 1925)

12 Major Oliver M. Horton (b. 1912)

27 Harry F. Welsh (b. 1918)

30 Lewis “Nix” Nixon III (b. 1918)

October

5 Joseph “Joe” Ramirez (b. 1921) & Ralph F. “Doc” Spina (b. 1919) & Terrence C. "Salty" Harris (b. 1920)

6 Leo D. Boyle (b. 1913)

10 William F. “Bill” Kiehn (b. 1921)

15 Antonio C. “Tony” Garcia (b. 1924)

17 Eugene G. "Doc" Roe (b. 1922)

21 Lt. Cl. David T. Dobie (b. 1912)

28 Herbert J. Suerth Jr. (b. 1924)

31 Robert "Bob" van Klinken (b. 1919)

November

11 Myron N. “Mike” Ranney (b. 1922)

20 Denver “Bull” Randleman (b. 1920)

December

12 John “Jack” McGrath (b. 1919)

31 Lynn D. “Buck” Compton (b. 1921)

Unknown Date

Joseph P. Domingus

Richard J. Hughes (b. 1925)

Maj. Louis Kent

Father John Mahoney

George C. Rice

SOURCES

Military History Fandom Wiki

Band of Brothers Fandom Wiki

Traces of War

Find a Grave

[bradshawssugarbaby]

i didn't know i needed this in my life before today but i'm glad i found it.

delicate

synopsis: bob floyd is good at everything, except maybe expressing his feelings. based on delicate by taylor swift.

pairings: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

warnings: 18+, minors dni, listen... if you're a delicate enjoyer, you should know to expect light angst here. expect softness too and also, semi-explicit sex, swearing, and the like. (wc: 2.2K)

note: so i've done nothing but listen to delicate and watch the lewis pullman pottery videos all week. be gentle with me.

written for the love is in the air challenge hosted by the lovely @roosterforme.

summoning a few fellow bob floyd enjoyers: @theharddeck @bradshawsbitch @rhettabbotts @roleycoleyreccenter @hangmanbrainrot @t-nd-rfoot

Another late night comes, and Bob Floyd is naked on the other side of your bed. 

Moonlight shines in from the outside, slipping between the curtains that aren’t quite closed, and in the near dark, Bob looks almost contemplative, tracing the length of your spine with soft, barely there touches. 

He is like a statue, something carved from marble, stretched out against your side, close enough for you to feel the warmth that radiates from his skin. You are a seasonal bloom, curving towards the sun, basking in his warmth.

He isn’t wearing his glasses and so, probably can’t make you out as much more than shadow and light, but Bob doesn’t seem to mind, content to admire you in the darkness, content to find the shape of you through gentle touches. Fingertips skim the curve of your waist, drum along your ribcage, making you giggle into the pillows. 

He knows your ticklish spots, careful to press the kisses a little lighter on the back of your knee or skim his nose along the side of your neck, all slow and purposeful, depending on his mood. A smile pulls at his blushing mouth, swollen with kisses, paired with an amused exhale. 

That was definitely on purpose. 

The BCGs sit on the nightstand, set aside on a stack of books, next to the mug of chamomile tea, half-drunk and probably cold now. You don’t want him to reach for them, knowing that Bob only puts them back on to leave. 

He doesn’t reach for them. 

You have a few more minutes. 

You don’t mean to let your eyes close, but Bob is warm and familiar and comforting. It is a losing battle. 

He brushes a kiss across your hairline and settles there, muscles bulging in the folded arm under his head. His breaths, slow and steady and even, stir the escaping hairs there. 

You drift in and out, lost in dreams of smoking planes and late-night texts and chamomile tea and a whispered confession against your brow. Come back to awareness in the cold absence of his warmth, his weight sinking the cheap mattress.

Between your lashes, Bob is a shadow at the nightstand, already dressed again in the black t-shirt and dark jeans that he'd been wearing at the Hard Deck tonight, sending you the I’m coming over message. 

He doesn’t notice your gaze, staring down at the nightstand with a clenched jaw, still wearing that contemplative expression. It has soured somewhere in the middle, tinged with an internal debate. 

He casts his gaze down to you, looking over your sleeping form, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek. You don’t open your eyes, not brave enough to pull him back down beside you and ask him not to leave. 

Stay here. Don’t make me ask. 

And after a few minutes, Bob picks up his glasses and leaves. 

Bob Floyd is good and also, good at everything. 

He’s not loud about it. 

Not like Hangman is good at pool, cheering and fist-pumping after a trick shot to draw over a crowd, already recounting the shot in self-congratulatory to the nearest person who’ll listen. He preens at the attention, basking in it. 

“Not just good,” Hangman said once, not one to let a compliment slide without making it into a thing, making you regret saying anything at all. “Too good to be true.”

Bob’s not dramatic about it either. 

Like how Rooster will dance his fingers across the piano, playing a few teasing notes to make sure the Hard Deck quiets down around him, building the suspense of the moment, waiting for them to look at him. 

Not like that at all. 

He is unassuming, not expecting compliments or attention, and in the rare event that a Hard Deck patron or a fellow Naval avatar does notice how skilled Bob Floyd is at the pool table and the like, he is quick to dismiss the praise. 

He is just… good. It is that simple.

You’d been a civilian mechanic on North Island for a good six months and were utterly convinced that no Naval aviator who’d graduated from Top Gun could be anything other than a walking and talking ego. Experience hadn’t changed your mind.

It is probably your own fault. You’d made it too easy for him.

All Bob Floyd needed to do was be good, quietly good in that way of his, and Bob had you. 

It sneaks up on you. A startling realization.

You’ve never been this person, the one who is waiting for the text to light up your nightstand in the black, the one who is reaching across the still warm bed after, grasping for a ghost that’s already slipped out into the night. You aren’t supposed to want him like this.

You are supposed to be the cold one, the one with one foot out the door, ready to leave rather than get left. You don’t let anyone get close enough to hurt you, not anymore, and Bob Floyd isn’t supposed to be the exception.

He is though. 

He’s your friend. You like him.

He’s more than that. You like him. 

You let yourself dream for a while, imagining that maybe Bob Floyd could like you too. He could want to be with you – not just want you on dark nights, drenched in loneliness, looking for someone who would understand the life of a Naval aviator and not expect promises. 

It doesn’t always seem like such a dream. That, at least, helps you feel less foolish. 

He comes to check on the F-18 repairs that Phoenix used to spearhead and lingers to ask you more questions.

Another mechanic calls him your boyfriend. A tease meant to embarrass you, not him, but Bob flushes pink. 

His next words come out stuttered, caught in a sharp wind and knocked off course, but Bob doesn’t correct him. 

He doesn’t deny it, but Bob still leaves. 

And after Bob accidentally knocks your favorite mug from the nightstand with an errant foot, shattering it into pieces too small to glue back together, Bob makes you a new one. It is dotted with little pink and green flowers and on the bottom, marked with his initials.

Didn’t want it to get mixed up in the kiln, Bob explained to you, showing you the little R.F. on the bottom.

He can easily hold it in one hand, fingers wrapping around the sides and meeting near the handle. You weigh that against the delicate flowers that line the glaze and feel fragile.

You don’t know anything about ceramics – other than that Bob does know about them. Just like he can play the drums and pick out the constellations on clear nights. You do know that Bob must’ve spent at least a few days making it, if not a week. 

“It’s not perfect. Got a little misshapen around the handle because I didn’t…” He shows you, pointing out the imperfection. It is a little misshapen, endearingly so. Little pink flowers. You pinch your arm and miss his explanation. “Is it okay? I could try again.” 

He looks nervous. Moisture pricks at your eyelids.

“It’s perfect.” No one’s ever given me anything so thoughtful. I like you so much. You bite down on your lip hard and bring the mug close to your chest, cradling it. "I’m never using another mug ever again. You’ll have to put it in my grave with me.” 

He made it for you. 

No one has ever made anything for you before, and Bob made something so beautiful and personal and precious with you in mind. You feel raw, flayed right open for him to pierce you through the heart. 

He made it for you… and still, Bob leaves. 

A message lights up your phone screen, set aside on the kitchen counter during your meal preparation. It is much earlier than Bob would usually send an I’m coming over text, but Bob does text you about other things. You are friends after all. 

Need a pool partner at the Hard Deck. Come meet me in the back?

He comes home with you a little earlier that night, stays a little longer, holds you a little tighter, arms around you like steel bands; but eventually, like clockwork, Bob reaches for his glasses on the nightstand.  

You should’ve ended it ages ago. Protected your own heart. 

He looks so handsome, so beautiful in your bed, pressing your legs open to take you apart with his mouth, guiding your hands to stroke through his hair, silky and slightly damp from a late-night shower. Soaking in every sound that escapes from your mouth.

You almost say it then. 

You don’t, instead filling the silence with moans and gasps and the reverent repetition of his name. Move your fingers through the soft strands, tugging when Bob slides his ring finger into you and nudges at a spot that makes your vision haze. 

He moans against you, low and wanting, curling his fingers tighter around your thigh, hard enough to leave indents. You’ll check for bruises in the morning, even though Bob never leaves any. He’s always so careful with you. 

“Please,” Bob whispers, before making you shatter on his tongue.

You almost tell him then, but manage to hold it in, blinking the stars from your eyes, until Bob is sprawled across your bed after, mouth shining with you, pressing a wet kiss to your temple. 

Soft. Like a promise. 

“I really like you.” 

Half a second passes, and Bob is completely still. 

Fuck. You pull back from him.

Why did you say that? You shouldn’t have said anything, 

You’ve ruined it. It was good. You’ve ruined everything. You – 

A creaking bedspring. Bob reaches over you to turn on the light and grabs his glasses from the nightstand. You are both bathed in the warm yellow light as Bob slides them on.

Not to leave. He wants to see your face better.

He pushes himself upright, sliding to lean against the headboard, forearms rippling with the movement. Bob doesn’t leave. 

“You…” Bob hesitates, expression guarded. “You do?” 

It would be easier to lie about it. You can’t do it anymore. 

“I do. Is that… Is it okay that I said that? Is it too soon?” 

You can hear your own hope in your voice, unbridled, and Bob searches your expression, eyes wide and blue behind the wire frames. You’d never seen that color blue before him.

In lieu of an answer, Bob says, “I love you.” 

You might not be breathing. You’re definitely crying. 

He cups your cheek in a large palm, catching a tear that spills across the bridge of your nose. His voice is low and tender, enough to warm you from the inside out. “I’ve loved you for months now, and I couldn’t...” Wetness shines on his own cheek, and Bob brushes it away. “It felt so delicate and new, and I couldn’t risk losing you, even if I only ever got to have pieces.” 

A curl falls across his forehead. You brush it back, stroking your fingertips down his cheek, and Bob closes his eyes with a shuddering breath, leaning into your touch. He is shaking. 

“Not just pieces. You’ve had me, all of me the whole time.” 

And Bob rewards your confession with his own.

“I always wanted to stay with you. You never asked, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” And the corner of his mouth lifts in a wobbly smile. “That didn’t stop me from pushing my luck when I was feeling brave.” 

You remember. He’d hold you a little longer, pull away a little slower. He’d whisper words too low for you to make out. You wonder now if Bob was saying these words; if Bob had really whispered I love you in your dreams or said it for real. 

You need to know. “And if I ask you now?” 

“I’d stay with you,” Bob promises, serious and solemn. “I'd hold you. And then, in the morning, I’d bring you breakfast. I make a mean scrambled egg.” 

You laugh, and Bob smiles at the sound.

He lowers you onto your back, moving over you. He is broad enough to blot out the light, looking at you with such hope and love. His gaze moves between your eyes and your lips.

“Are you?” Bob asks, serious again. He raises your interlocked fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “Asking, I mean?” 

You kiss him. It is answer enough. 

For the rest of the night, Bob is all over you, kissing your cheeks, pinning your interlocked fingers into the soft sheets. He slides into you with your name on his lips, saying those three words over and over again, like a prayer.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He lets go only once – to slide his glasses from his nose and deposit them back in their place on the nightstand.

And in the morning, Bob brings you coffee in a handmade mug with the little pink and green flowers. He stays. 

end note: i'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings, especially since i've never written a bob floyd fic before. happy valentine's day!

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