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skybrightpixie · 2 months

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like i said earlier, i wrote something from tóm's point of view. the setting is his bedroom in front of a mirror before he's about to go to work.

cw: mentions of abuse, relapsing, mentions of sex (but nothing beyond that)

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I look good.

Don’t I?

I feel like I look good. This is how I always dreamed of looking.

I…

…look…

…fine?

At the very least I look fine.

I keep myself hygienic. My hair is healthy. I’m not as fit as I could be, but it’s not like I’m usually planning to run a marathon.

I look. Fine.

I look fine. Other people think I look good. I feel good, and I’m confident, too.

Well, maybe that part about other people thinking I look good is true. I mean, it kind of is? No, what they mean is that they think Thomas looks good.

Thomas isn’t Tómur, to them.

It should never be.

I kind of wish it were, though…

I feel so nauseous hiding this part of me. And the fact I feel nauseous about it sickens me.

What right does Tóm have to feel sick about it? I’m a murderer. I’m selfish. But what I’m doing has got to be right.

No, people love Thomas because he does so much actual good for them. Thomas is confident—I’m confident. I make medicines and distribute them to everyone in need for absolutely nothing. I’ve made prosthetics and provide therapy and-

And I work so hard.

I work so hard… For what?

I’m trying to continue Mom’s work for her. She did so much. She did everything I’m doing better than I could. If she were alive, right now, she’d be so embarrassed of me…

I’m nothing like her. I’m so tired. I feel pathetic. I’m being selfish. I’m so selfish. I have to keep pushing. I have to keep working like she would have.

Dad said that she loved me. I think she loved me, she must have. She worked so hard for us and for everyone in the world. I have to keep pushing myself and continue to make them proud. I have to make my family proud. I hope they’re watching me.

God, please don’t be fucking watching me. I’m so embarrassed to be me. I wish I was never born. I’m embarrassed to be alive. I’m sorry I’m such an embarrassment to you. I have to keep going, but what for?

SELFISH. FUCKING SELFISH.

You’re doing this for everyone else! It doesn’t matter how tired you think you are. You’re a useless person and this is your retribution. Keep going. You have to help make everyone’s lives easier. Because it’s unfair.

Suck it up. Damn it, my face is covered in tears and I’m- I’m shaking. I can’t go to work like this… I need to call in—no! But I’m so tired—but people need me! I’m supposed to be there for them.

You’re going to let people down, either way.

…

I’m not going to work today. I wasted my time washing up and getting dressed because I can’t even look in the mirror for two fucking minutes without breaking down.

I’m so useless.

I feel like throwing up.

I wish I had someone to cuddle, right now… It would feel so nice…

Who would even want to look at somebody like me. Some sorry man on his knees in front of a mirror in his room. Alone. Alone.

How long has it been since I was with him? How long has it been since I-... I buried his fucking body in the ground. He’ll never touch me again. I’m happy he’s dead.

But… I miss him.

Oh god, why do I miss him, right now!?

I miss when he held me. I miss when he was gentle with me. I miss when it felt like he loved me. It felt like he loved me. But he was so… He was so bad for me. He lied… He LIED. And he used me. He was going to hurt Ei Phyu! I’m glad I killed him. It felt so good driving that knife into him. To watch him bleed. Watch him suffer like he made me suffer. I don’t want to miss that bastard.

But I wish I had somebody to hold me, right now…

Why would anybody want to hold some guy weeping on the floor? I’m so pathetic. I’m pathetic to miss him at all. How could you miss him? You really are desperate. To be so stupid that you would want him back just because he was the only person who held you.

I feel… needy. I want somebody to want my body, right now. What!? Where did this even come from? You’re lying on the floor crying and you want to have sex?

It feels good. It felt good. I haven’t been touched that way in so long. I thought I looked good. Why am I not desirable anymore? Maybe my body doesn’t actually look good. Maybe he did something to mess it up and I haven’t noticed this whole time. Or maybe I did. No, I didn’t. I like my body the way it is. But it isn’t desirable.

I feel so sick. Maybe I don’t deserve to have sex. I feel so disgusting. I feel messy. He did always say that I got messy during sex. But I couldn’t help it. I want to be held. I want my body to feel respected and loved. I want my body to be torn apart with how much they want me.

I’m nothing. I’m nothing. I’m never going to be touched again. People want commitment. I can’t give them that. I just can’t. But maybe I should consider pushing through it if I want to be fucked so badly. No, no—that would be disrespectful to them. I would be as bad as him.

I’m becoming as bad as him..?

I can’t even get hugs without asking first.

Because you made it a point to draw hard boundaries. Because you’re scared. And your friends respect your boundaries. It’s your fault.

It’s all my fault.

It’s always my fault.

I deserve all of this.

#tóm #my art #lots of repetitive phrases and dissociating in this one folks #so i hope you like it #i just wanted to do something freeform to put thoughts (hoohoo) down on paper #instead of commiting to a usual writing structure and then abandoning it sjfjdjfj

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bobfloydsbabe · 1 year

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now that you're close (i feel like coming undone) || robert "bob" floyd x oc

Rating: T+

Prompt/request: Bob and Abby at a navy ball (requested)

Summary: At a navy ball thrown in the Dagger Squad's honor, Bob and Abby reach a pivotal moment in their relationship. Part of the Golden Hour anthology series.

Warnings: Fluff, so much fluff, hot and heavy kissing, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of sex and nudes but neither actually happens, incorrect navy stuff because this is my fic and I can do what I want. Probably other things I've forgotten.

Word count: 3.3k (it was supposed to be a blurb. idk what happened either.)

A/N: First, I know the gif isn't from TGM, but it's perfect for this fic, so leave me alone. Second, I teased this fic endlessly over the weekend, but my perfectionist ass wasn't happy with it, so it took a while to post. Third, thank you so much to Lyra (@natrace) for requesting this. Special shout out to Anna for helping me name Bob's old pilot. Title is from Untouchable by Taylor Swift. Enjoy, friends.

likes are nice, but comments and reblogs are golden.

Technically, Abby wasn’t invited.

The celebratory gala was reserved for the people who actively ensured the success of the Uranium Plant mission, and Abby didn’t meet that requirement according to the higher ups.

So, when she walked into the hall, her arm linked with that of Admiral Bates, Bob nearly choked on his ginger ale.

“You okay there, Bob?”

Bob coughed a few times, his eyes never leaving Abby as the Admiral led her around the room making introductions.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, offering a quick glance at Hangman before looking back towards Abby, whose smile was bright and genuine as they shook hands with a two-star Admiral with graying hair.

The pilot’s eyes followed Bob’s line of sight, and a broad grin spread across his face, realization replacing the confusion. “Ah, your lady’s here.”

Bob’s head whipped back, eyes wide and alarmed. They had done everything they could to keep their relationship private. Of course, the other aviators knew they’d gone on a couple of dates, but besides Phoenix, none of them knew just how deep it was.

Bob opened his mouth to object, to correct him, but Hangman’s raised eyebrow made him close his mouth again.

Phoenix and Rooster joined the pair, champagne glasses in hand. “How the hell the Abby snag an invitation?”

Bob barely paid attention to them. His eyes continued to follow his girlfriend around the room.

The moniker still felt foreign in his mouth. The first time he saw Abby was burned in his mind, and he remembered his heart beating a little faster as he watched her.

She had rounded the corner of the opening to the hangar and walked with purposeful strides toward Admiral Bates. She’d stopped next to him, a small smile on her lips and friendly conversation had flowed between them. Bob remembered that his front seater, Oz, had admonished him for staring.

He couldn’t help it then, and he definitely couldn’t help it now.

“You’re just mad your girlfriend wasn’t invited,” Phoenix commented to Rooster, making Jake let out a loud laugh.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Bob took his eyes off Abby, his attention back to his friends and their bickering. Almost dying together had brought them closer, and Bob had never felt like he belonged more than with these people. It was a little odd to present them with a ribbon for a classified mission, but they were all here and alive, and that counted for something.

“I didn’t say a name,” Phoenix told Rooster, whose ears turned red.

Jake clapped a hand on Rooster’s shoulder. “Don’t play dumb, Bradshaw. We all know you and Kennedy are a thing, just like Baby on Board and Abby are banging like rabbits.”

Bob’s mouth fell open. “Wha… we’re not… no.”

Natasha had buried her face in her hand. Rooster was looking anywhere but at Hangman, and Hangman himself had a smug and self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Don’t take after Rooster and play dumb with me, Bob,” he drawled, his Texas twang permeating every word. “When was the last time you spent a night on base?”

Heat spread through Bob’s cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears, and though he wasn’t ashamed that he stayed with Abby most of the time, he was uncomfortable with knowing that someone had noticed. That Hangman had noticed.

Bob adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know how she got an invitation,” he said, assuming Hangman’s question was rhetorical, and even if it wasn’t, Bob couldn’t remember. He enjoyed staying with Abby.

Bob had left her apartment in the early afternoon with a promise to see her tonight after the event. He’d asked about her plans, and she said she was going to the Hard Deck with Kennedy for a couple of drinks since they weren’t invited.

He turned his attention back to Abby, who was still making the rounds with Warlock, smiling widely and shaking hands. Her silky dark hair fell in effortless waves over her shoulders and down her back. Her dress was midnight blue, simple and elegant, with thin straps that crossed delicately in the back. From her ears dangled small golden pendant earrings, and all Bob wanted to do was go to her and be next to her.

“You’re a lucky man, Bob,” Phoenix said, bumping his shoulder with hers, and Bob smiled down at his pilot.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

He sipped his ginger ale and made conversation with the other aviators. He shook hands with admirals and captains, and said thank you when they congratulated him on the squad’s success, all while his eyes were drawn to Abby.

After the mission, they’d all been granted extended leave. Bob had thought about going home to see his family, go back to his small town and see his friends from school, catch up with them. He could have gone home and spent more time with his brother and his niece, who was almost two now. He could have done all of that with his leave, but didn’t.

At first, it was just a couple of days. He wanted more time with Abby, and although they hadn’t had the conversation about what exactly they were then, he knew he couldn’t leave her right away. A couple of days turned into a week, then two weeks, and then he stayed. He FaceTimed with his family instead, and even though it broke his heart hearing his niece ask for Uncle Bob, he didn’t want to leave Abby.

Now his leave was almost up, and the idea of going back to Lemoore alone seemed like the hardest task in the world. It made his chest feel tight, and like his lungs couldn’t get enough air.

Before the Admiral and Abby could reach the squad, they were called to dinner, and Bob was left disappointed not to have a moment to talk to her. To ask how she got an invitation. To feel the warmth of her hand in his, although her hands were usually cold despite the California heat.

After they had cleared the main course from the table and they waited for dessert, Cyclone took the stage to address the gathering. He droned on about how he always had faith in the mission, in the squad. He knew Maverick could teach them and that Ice would be proud of what they’d accomplished.

Bob exchanged skeptical glances with his squad, knowing full-well that Cyclone had tried his hardest to get Maverick pulled off the mission, so he could take over himself. He hadn’t trusted any of them as far as he could throw them.

Then they were called to the stage to receive their ribbon. For a mission that was supposed to be top secret, they made a big spectacle out of it. After plenty of handshaking, a couple of photographs that would never see the light of day, and an awkward Oscar-worthy acceptance speech from Maverick, they were sent back to their seats for dessert.

On his way back, he finally caught Abby’s eye, and she beamed at him, pride in her dark eyes. Heat filled his cheeks again even as he offered her a wink he hoped was subtle enough for no one else to notice.

After dessert, the party spread. People danced to the sound of a string quartet, and Coyote complained it was boring while Fanboy argued it was classy. Payback had taken Nat for a turn about the makeshift dance floor, and Bob stood next to Rooster, who had his nose buried in his phone. Hangman headed back their way with a disappointed look on his face, having struck out with the aircrew member he’d flirted with relentlessly.

The poor girl was snickering with another aircrew member while his back was turned, and Bob smiled, knowing Jake’s charm didn’t win every time.

“Zero better be sending you nudes if you’re smiling like that at your phone,” Hangman said to Rooster once he reached them. “You look almost as love struck as Bob.”

“At least we have someone, Hangman,” Rooster fired back, slipping his phone into the pocket of his dress pants.

Jake opened his mouth to argue, but never got the chance to, interrupted by Phoenix and Payback coming back from the dance floor. “Leave them alone, Bagman,” she said, accepting her drink from Bob, who she’d asked to hold it while she danced. “You’re just mad that poor woman rejected you.”

Bob stifled a laugh.

“Whatever,” Hangman mumbled, stalking off towards the bar. Coyote and Payback followed him to get refills of their drinks, leaving Bob alone with the remaining aviators.

Fanboy joined him and Phoenix. “Isn’t that Abby dancing with Warlock?”

Bob followed his line of sight, and sure enough, towards the back wall among other dancing couples were Abby and Warlock.

Bob admired the relationship between Abby and her boss. They trusted each other, relied on each other, and though they were colleagues, Bob knew she considered Warlock a friend. He had been essential to her leaving Lemoore.

“Just go,” Phoenix encouraged, nudging her backseater in the ribs.

“But–”

“Bob,” she said, voice soft but firm. “Go dance with your girlfriend.”

He nodded with a small smile. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he made his way through the crowd, weaving in and out of dancing pairs to get to who he was searching for.

Abby and Admiral Bates came into his line of sight, and he stopped a few paces away, watching them for a moment. They swayed together and Abby laughed at something Warlock said; the sound carrying through the room. It was one of Bob’s favorite sounds, and he’d recognize it anywhere.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked the last few steps forward, tapping Admiral Bates on his shoulder, and though every part of him wanted to look at Abby, he couldn’t. He’d lose his resolve to interrupt if he did.

“Mind if I cut in, Sir?” He asked when Warlock looked at him over his shoulder. The older man smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes that had Bob wondering if Abby had let him in on the nature of their relationship.

“Not at all, Lieutenant,” he said, turning his attention back to Abby to thank her for dancing with him. Warlock stepped back from her and then placed a hand on Bob’s shoulder, looked him straight in the eye as if peering into his soul. Bob had to fight the shudder threatening to course through him. “You take care of her, okay?”

Bob’s eyes widened just a fraction. “Yes, Sir.” It wasn’t a threat, but it intimidated him.

“Good man,” Warlock said, tapping Bob’s arm before leaving the dance floor and heading towards the bar.

Bob turned to Abby. Her arms folded neatly in front of her, there was a soft upturn at the corners of her mouth. Bob stepped closer, offering his hand to her, which she accepted. He pulled her in and put his free hand on her lower back, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress.

Abby placed her free hand on his shoulder, and they started dancing slowly to the live string quartet providing the music. “Hi,” she whispered.

His smile spread. “Hi.”

Bob pulled her slightly closer. He could smell her intoxicating perfume mixed with the scent of her citrus body wash. This close, he could see all the different shades of brown in her eyes, and the light bounced off her loose, wavy hair. Bob could look at her for the rest of his life and never grow tired of it.

“You didn’t tell me they invited you.”

Abby chuckled softly, looking down at their feet briefly before meeting his eyes again. “I wasn’t,” she said. “Warlock made some calls, probably yelled at some higher-ranking admirals, and secured himself a plus one. He asked me. I didn’t know until after you left my apartment.”

“That was nice of him,” Bob said, spinning them around lightly.

She nodded. “It was.”

Comfortable silence spread between them as they continued to sway to the music. Over Abby’s shoulder, Bob could see the rest of the dagger squad chatting animatedly. An air of ease flowed around them, making Bob wish they could all stay here a little longer instead of going back to their respective squadrons. He didn’t want him and Phoenix to be split up as a team. He’d never felt more comfortable and safe in the air than with her as his pilot.

“What’s going on inside that big brain of yours?” Abby asked, squeezing his shoulder lightly, bringing him back to the present and the breath-taking woman in front of him.

“Just thinking,” he told her, pulling her closer again. It wasn’t proper for them to be this close, especially surrounded by a slew of superiors and high-ranking admirals who probably weren’t as forgiving as Warlock. “I hate that I can’t kiss you right now.”

Color flooded into her cheeks, and she shifted her eyes away from him, trying to hide her smile. She squeezed his shoulder lightly, and Bob offered her a toothy grin in return.

“Hey,” he said, bringing her attention back to him. Her beautiful dark eyes met his blue gaze expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “I’m going back to Lemoore next week.”

“Yeah,” Abby said, defeated.

They both knew this was coming, and it was the exact reason Bob hadn’t asked Abby out when he was at Top Gun and they’d first met. He would have to leave, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. This time was no different.

“I think we should…” Bob tried to start, but trailed off. “I mean,” he said, hesitating, “I don’t know what you’ll think, but…”

Abby raised a brow, looking at him expectantly. “But?”

Bob paused their dance. He grabbed her hand, leading her off the dance floor and to a secluded corner at the end of a hallway he’d noticed earlier when he arrived. Here they’d be out of sight from prying eyes and nosy superiors.

“Bob, what’s going on?” She asked, her eyes filled with confusion and alarm. He hated that he was the one who caused it.

He took a deep, steadying breath and cupped Abby’s cheeks lightly. He leaned down and pressed his lips gently against hers in one of those sweet kisses he’d grown so accustomed to over the weeks they’d spent together.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I think we should disclose our relationship,” he whispered.

Abby’s breath hitched, and she pulled back from Bob, looking at him seriously. He couldn’t read her in that moment, couldn’t tell if he’d come on too strong and this was the last thing she wanted. “Bob–”

“No,” he said firmly. “I love you.”

Abby’s jaw went slack, her mouth hung open, and Bob could feel the blood rushing in his veins, hear his heart racing, the sensation of his quickened pulse in his neck.

He opened his mouth to explain, to apologize, to take it back, but the words stuck in his throat as Abby’s lips crashed against his. The kiss was breathless and messy, heated and so good. He gently pushed her against the wall, swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, beckoning her to open up for him. Instead, she pulled away, breathing heavy.

Bob took a small step back, determined to give her some space, but she drew him back to her, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She peered up at him through her dark lashes that were so long it looked like they touched her cheeks.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

All the blooming anxiety, the discomfort of making such a strong declaration so early in the relationship, melted away when those words passed her lips. Bob grinned. How could he not? The woman of his dreams had just told him she loved him and everything in the world felt right. “Yeah?”

Abby let out a short, breathy laugh before she dragged him down by the back of his neck and kissed him, making him feel lightheaded and like the floor rotated under his feet.

He pushed her against the wall again, pressing his body flush with hers, wanting nothing more than to take her right there. To mark her up as his and his alone. He’d never been a possessive man, but Abby brought it out in full force.

He pulled his mouth off hers and started a trail of wet kisses on her jaw, her throat, that spot right below her ear where her pulse raced against his lips. She threw her head back with a delicious moan, giving him better access. Her hands were on his neck, keeping his mouth against her warm skin.

But Bob’s cap was in the way, bumping against Abby’s jaw, so he reluctantly pulled away.

Their heavy breathing filled the surrounding quietness, and somewhere in the distance, Bob heard the string quartet play a different tune.

He cupped Abby’s cheeks and ran his thumbs gently over her flushed skin. Her wide pupils made her eyes look almost black. “We should go back,” Bob said. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

She nodded, running a hand through her hair to smooth it out from where it had leaned against the wall. “How do I look?”

Bob gave her a quick peck. “Perfect,” he said and offered her his arm, which she accepted. They walked back to the gala where they found the Dagger Squad by the bar, shot glasses in hand, looking a little dazed.

“There they are,” Payback shouted across the expanse of the dance floor when he saw them heading their way.

Phoenix swept Abby into a hug, forcing Bob to let her go. She met Bob’s gaze over her shoulder with a smirk, but he shook his head, knowing exactly what his front seater was thinking.

Bob tried to adjust himself in his trousers subtly, but of course, Hangman noticed. He raised a brow at Bob with an obnoxiously smug smile on his face, and Bob almost flipped him off just to make a point. But Hangman said nothing, so Bob refrained from using the crude gesture. It probably wouldn’t land him on any admiral’s good side, anyway.

Rooster offered Abby a tequila shot, which she happily accepted, and started interrogating her about how she’d gotten invited to the gala while Kennedy hadn’t. The rest of the squad joined in the conversation, arguing that it made more sense for an administrator like Abby to be there than a mechanic like Kennedy.

Phoenix removed herself from the argument and joined Bob where he stood at the end of the bar, watching his friends and girlfriend laugh together.

She offered him a glass of water. “Where’d you disappear to?”

“Nowhere,” he said.

She raised a skeptical brow. “So, you didn’t sneak off to have sex in the bathroom?”

For the second time that night, Bob almost choked on his drink. “What? No.”

“No one would judge you if you did,” she told him, mischievous smile on her face. “But I would owe Hangman 20 bucks.”

“We didn’t,” Bob said, feeling his cheeks and ears grow hot, and sweat beaded on his forehead under his cap. “I didn’t want to risk getting caught.”

Phoenix barked out a loud laugh, and Bob couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him, too. She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, a gesture he’d grown entirely used to in the time he’d known her. “What are you going to do now that you’re leaving?”

“We’ll make it work,” Bob said, voice solemn and serious. They would make it work because he didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t.

Bob and Phoenix rejoined their friends, and he found his way to Abby’s side, pressing a small kiss to her temple, hoping the other aviators shielded them from view. He wanted to keep her to himself just a little longer.

❋❋❋

taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @arrthurpendragon, @ocappreciationtag, @chrissymunson, @cas-verse, @chickensarentcheap, @asirensrage, @misskatiewrites, @stanshollaand, @raith-way, @eddiemunscns, @wordspin-shares, @veetlegeuse

top gun taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @joaquinwhorres, @fantasias-creativebubble, @lostinwonderland314, @luckyladycreator2, @blue-aconite, @dempy, @alana4610, @littlebadariell, @cherrycola27, @whisperofsong, @another-tblr-fangirl, @flashyourgreeneyesatme, @seymour-cant-read, @wordspin-shares

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #top gun maverick #bob floyd x oc #robert floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #oc: abby lennox #otp: flennox #fic: golden hour #helenawrites #mywriting #writtenbyme #madebyme #this took me forever to get right #so i hope you like it

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