#BoB fan fiction

[aestheticaltcow]

The Ball (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Kinktober 2024

(Divider credit to @strangergraphics)

“You look so handsome.” you complimented Bob for the millionth time that evening. Tonight had been your first Naval Ball and the first time you’d seen Bob in his dress whites. He chuckled and placed a hand on your waist as the two of you exited the hall that had been rented out for the occasion, “You’re into the uniform, aren’t you?”

His question was met with a giggle. As Bob guided you back to his truck, you couldn’t help but admire how Bob’s uniform wrapped around his body. There was something about white dress pants that made him utterly irresistible.

As Bob turned the key in the ignition, you noticed the subtle spread of his thighs. When he placed his right hand on your thigh and gave it a soft squeeze, “You’re so beautiful, angel.” he cooed. You giggled and put your hand on his. You sat back in your seat and let your head fall back to stare at Bob for the rest of the way home. 

When the two of you arrived home, Bob moved to remove his jacket, “Hey- leave that on.” you said as you kicked your heels off. Bob shot you a quizzical look as you pulled the top of your dress down, “Oh.” he said, his eyes lighting up at your now-exposed breasts. “Come and get me… but leave the uniform on..” you said, biting your lip as you hurried to the bedroom, shedding your dress as you went. Bob let out a huff of air and followed suit.

You loved a man in uniform.

[indigo-graves]

Warmth | Eugene Roe

When the curtains were no longer able to block out the sun, there was a shift beside Roe, which caused him to stir. There was a moment where he found himself struggling to orient himself to the room. It had been all too easy to forget he was in a bedroom, under warm linens, and not in the snow-dusted forest of Bastogne. A warmth he never would quite be able to replicate radiated from beside him, something he had an even harder time orienting himself to. Even more recent than their arrival at the Eagle’s Nest, was the bedfellow he had found once they got there. 

Gene turned, inhaling her scent. The soap had found in that bathroom was lovely, of course, but he found himself dizzy with desire when he leaned closer, his head tilted to inhale the spot where her hair lingered on her neck. He took a deep breath in, taking in the soft, sweet natural scent, the depth of the warmth that grew in his belly was new. Would he ever get used to being this close? The smokey bite from the fireplace that lingered in her hair felt familiar. He had recalled it from close, accidental brushes when he worked beside her on the battlefield. 

She stirred again, humming as she readjusted herself into the pillow, the mattress, into him. He felt a hum of appreciation rumble deep in his chest. He pressed his lips gently to the back of her shoulder, taking his time to feel the warmth of her skin. Wordlessly, she reached over, taking his hand in hers. He grinned against her skin when she held his hand in hers, lining the length of her fingers up with his. Their two hands became one shadow, blocking the direct light of the sun shining in on the pair. She tipped her fingers between his and pulled it down across her body. His fingers still flexed, hers gripping at his hand, she brought each of the tips of his fingers to her mouth. A kiss was placed on the pad of each finger slowly. Taking her time to recall memories of watching them work tirelessly to keep the Company alive. 

Roe chuckled, the muscles in his cheeks ached from smiling. She felt it against her skin, thanking God for the smile. Few and far between had he shared it with her as they navigated their way across Europe, attempting to keep the Easy Company in one piece. Since finding a place away from mortar rounds and gunfire, both seemed to share those far more freely. And they were not the only two that noticed. 

“Do you think they’ll notice if we both come down to get something to eat at the same time?” She whispered against the back of his hand as she kissed it. He chuckled and moved closer. 

“I don’t think so,” He responded, kissing the back of her neck in kind. “But again, mon cher, it’s not me who is worried about getting caught.” 

She rolled her eyes. She was certainly not going to have this argument on an empty stomach. It had nothing to do with him, of course. Any woman would have tripped over themselves to have a chance to be so adored by a man like Eugene Roe. But it was not something she wanted to be decided until they knew whether or not they would be sent to the Pacific. 

“Gene,” she sighed, turning to face him. He had spent 28 days across from her in Bastogne. They had locked eyes hundreds, if not thousands of times. But each time she focused those large blue eyes on his, he felt a tension in his stomach that no woman had ever caused before. 

“I know,” he nodded. He felt goosebumps raise on his skin as her hand rested on his chest. A soft smile played at his lips in contrast to the pout that had pulled at hers. He kissed her forehead softly, inhaling deeply at the crown of her head. “You stay here. I’ll go get you something to eat.” 

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, “you go down first. Get yourself something. I’ve got to wash up first anyhow.” 

Eugene nodded. He brushed his lips over hers in a whisper of a movement. He swallowed his words. She smiled, pressed a more forceful kiss to his mouth, and rolled out of bed. Again, he thought, he would never be able to replicate that warmth anywhere else in the world. 

[topguncortez]

31. "If we insist on not dating, why do we always cuddle after sex?" "Aftercare is a fundamental right."

Shit Bob would say after sex 🤣

The Fundamental Right | Floydsin

Hangman Masterlist | Bob Masterlist | prompts list

synopsis: Bob isn't sure what they are doing, but he's pretty sure him and Jake are dating

warnings: mentions of gay sex, jacking off, unprotected sex

Jake's loud grunts filled the air as he fucked himself into his fist. His orgasm was fast approaching as he watched Bob's back rise and fall rapidly, still trying to ground himself after his orgasm. Jake's toes curled as he felt the all too familiar feeling in his body. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back.

"Oh fuck, fuck, I'm cumming, I'm cumming," Jake panted out as his body convulsed and his warm seed painted Bob's lower back. Bob let out something that sounded between a hum and moan at the warmth now on his back. Jake leaned his hand against the headboard as he milked his orgasm, squeezing out every last drop of cum.

"Shit," Jake huffed, wiping sweat away from his forehead. He placed a hand on Bob's bare ass, tapping the skin, "That was so fucking good."

"Mhm," Bob nodded, "Can you get up now? I need to take a leak."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, "Lemme get you a towel real quick." Jake carefully crawled off of Bob's bed and shuffled his way to the bathroom. Jake cleaned himself up quickly, taking a quick piss before getting a warm washcloth and going back to Bob.

The two of them had been messing around for a couple months now, and they did little to keep it a secret. When Jake wanted Bob, he made sure that everyone knew it. Jake would walk up to Bob, put his arm around his waist, whisper something dirty in the WSO's ear, and place a soft kiss right below his ear before heading out to his supped up ford f-250.

But besides that affection that Jake showed when he was keyed up, the dagger squad started to notice the small changes in him. It took anyone with a pair of eyes to know that Bob had a crush on Jake. Anytime the blonde pilot would walk into a room, his blue eyes were searching for the other blonde pilot. Whenever Jake would open his mouth to speak, Bob took in every word like he was modern day Jesus Christ. Jake even went as far as inviting Bob as his plus one to his sister's wedding. Jake could tell if Bob wasn't have a good day by the way he would sit in his chair.

What really set everyone on the track that Jake was crushing on Bob just as hard as Bob was crushing on him, was when Bob had called out of work because he was sick.

Jake was worried sick because Bob hadn't shown up to first formation on time, and wasn't answering his phone. He nearly tore the hinges off of Maverick's office door trying to find out where Bob was and why he wasn't answering. Jake left base so fast, he was surprised the MPs weren't after him, and went to Bob's house, finding the WSO shivering under a pile of blankets. Jake basically nursed him back to health, using some types and tricks from his mom.

Bob pushed himself up on his elbows as the bed shifted under Jake's weight. The texan placed a small kiss on Bob's bare shoulder before cleaning up the mess he had made. Although Bob liked what they were doing, he was confused. He liked Jake and Jake liked him, but there was something holding Jake back from taking that step with him. Phoenix had warned Bob when he first started fooling around with Jake, to guard his heart. That things with the infamous Hangman never ended well.

"Jake?" Bob asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Hm?" Jake asked, looking at him.

"What are we doing?"

Jake scoffed, "Well I am cleaning my cum from your ass crack-"

"No, I mean not that," Bob blushed, "I mean this. . . us. . . Are we, are we dating?"

"No."

The quickness of Jake's answer made Bob's heart drop. Jake shuffled off the bed, and dropped the dirty washcloth into the hamper by the bathroom door. Bob sat up in bed and looked at Jake, who was pulling his boxers up his perfectly toned legs.

"Can you pee so we can cuddle?" Jake asked, running a hand through his hair. Bob shook his head, laughing slightly to himself. Jake furrowed his eyebrows, "What, Floyd?"

"I don't get you," Bob said, "One moment, you look like you are gonna strangle that guy at the bar who was talking-"

"Flirting," Jake rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Next, you're telling me we aren't together, but you and I both know that we aren't seeing other people. And now you want me to hurry up and piss so we can cuddle. If we insist on not dating, why do we always cuddle after sex?"

"Aftercare is a fundamental right, Robert," Jake deadpanned, "I am a good partner, a great partner even. Aftercare is a must. And cuddles are a part of aftercare.

Bob's jaw dropped as he stared at the pilot dumbfounded. Jake always had a way of rendering Bob speechless, and usually it was from the bed room talk in his ear, not from his stupid reasoning behind cuddles after sex.

"I don't-"

"Do not argue with the founding fathers, Robert," Jake pointed, "Now, do you want a UTI, or not?" Bob scoffed as he got off the bed, and walked to the bathroom, grumbling under his breath about how ridiculous Jake is being. Jake smirked and grabbed Bob by the hip, pulling him back against his chest.

"I am not going to ask you to be my boyfriend after I just screwed your brains out," Jake placed a kiss on Bob's neck, "Momma raised a gentleman. Now, go clean yourself and come back to me." Jake turned Bob's head to look up at him, flicking his eyes from his blue eyes to his lips, "You're cute when you're mad."

Bob opened his mouth to say something, but Jake placed a kiss on his lips and slapped his ass, sending him into the bathroom to clean himself off.

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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[roosterforme]

Brighter Than a Supernova | Bob Floyd x Phoenix's Little Sister

Summary: Bob planned to simply stop by Phoenix's Hanukkah party for a few minutes before heading back home. He'd hang out with the guys for a bit, even though he never quite felt like he fit in with them, and he'd meet the little sister Phoenix often referred to as annoying. But he had no idea how bright and magical one night could be compared to every other night that had come before.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, feeling insecure, loss of virginity, smut, drinking

Length: 9000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Phoenix's Little Sister (OC)

This was written for the Winter RomCom Challenge hosted by @bellaireland1981! Check my masterlist for more. Beautiful banner made by @ryebecca

"Bob, you're coming over tomorrow night, right?"

When he turned to look at his friend, Bob couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that washed over him. "I think so."

Natasha sighed and reached for his hand and gave him a little squeeze. He hadn't been at Top Gun as long as everyone else, and he felt like he didn't really fit in with them. Even now, the other guys were all hooting and playing keep away with Reuben's phone while Bob stood off to the side on the tarmac. 

"There's nothing to be nervous about. It's just a Hanukkah party," she whispered with a smile. She always seemed to be able to tell when he got lost in his own thoughts, and he would be forever grateful that she was the pilot he got to fly with. 

He shook his head and looked over at their Super Hornet. "I've never been to one before," he muttered. "And I'll probably just end up sitting quietly all night."

Now Natasha was squeezing both of his hands. "But we already drew names for our gift exchange. And you won't be the only one newer to the group. My obnoxious little sister, Nova, is coming in from New York, remember? She's graduating from college in the spring? She hasn't met any of the guys yet."

"But-"

"Bob, I really want you to come," she said firmly, looking up at him with her dark brown eyes. He trusted her in the air, he might as well trust her on the ground, too. 

"Okay. I'll be there."

But when Bob parked his truck in front of Phoenix's tiny house on Saturday evening, his hands were shaking slightly as he held the wrapped gift. He absolutely hated that he got this way around the guys. They hadn't done anything to make him feel this way, really. He just generally didn't fit in anywhere, something he was very aware of at age twenty eight. But he would do this for Natasha. 

He climbed out of his truck with the gift and a bottle of wine and walked up to the front door. Should he knock? Or just walk inside? It sounded noisy even out here, so after he tapped on the door a few times and nobody opened it, he just let himself in.

"Bob's here!" Jake called out from the couch, waving him over to where he was drinking a beer while Javy tried to spin two dreidels at the same time.  

"Bob!" Natasha practically shouted as she ran his way. He had to juggle the bottle of wine so he didn't drop it. "Can you help me make latkes? Nova and I have been peeling potatoes for what feels like hours, and now we're heating up the oil."

"I don't know how to make latkes," he told her, but his eyes caught on the woman standing in the kitchen laughing at Bradley. He could only see her profile, but she had long, dark brown hair just like Natasha. Only she was a little taller and a bit curvier, and when she turned to look over her shoulder, he wanted to run and hide. 

"It's easy, Bob. It's just a potato pancake. Nothing scary," Natasha whispered, trying to sound reassuring. "Come meet Nova, and you can help us cook."

He swallowed hard, realizing that the brunette goddess holding a potato peeler in one while she smiled directly at him was Natasha's little sister. The one she always referred to as obnoxious and annoying. This was... decidedly not what he had imagined. 

Bob didn't know where to look. Every part of her was so pretty. She was wearing black leggings and a cropped long sleeve shirt that was purple and said NYU on the front. He could see some of the soft looking skin just above her leggings, and his eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment. She was barefoot with neon orange painted toenails that for some reason made Bob a little short of breath.

"Bob, this is my sister Nova," Nat told him, rubbing his back gently as his gaze wandered back up along her curves. His eyes landed on her face as Natasha said, "Nova, this is Bob. Please don't annoy him."

"Hi," she said with a little smirk on her face. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached her hand out to him. "I've heard a lot about you, Bob."

He was terrified that he would stutter or trip over his words, but he just said something stupid instead. "You don't look annoying."

She laughed as she shook his hand. "Oh, I can assure you, I am." Her eyes were the same color as her sister's, but they were looking at him playfully as she nibbled on her lip. It was easy to tell Nova and Natasha were sisters, but there were some differences, too. Bob had the fleeting thought that he wouldn't mind just looking at her all night until he identified them all. 

"Feel free to ignore her," Nat told him as she went to stand in front of the stove. "I usually do."

"I don't see how that would be possible," Bob murmured, and Nova laughed again before he realized what he'd said. He could feel his cheeks flush as he tried to look at anything besides her, but as soon as he did, Bradley dove for her attention. 

"So tell me all about New York CIty," he said as if he'd never heard of it before. This was fine though. Better even. Nova and Bradley could just flirt all night, and Bob could help cook and then probably leave soon. That way everyone would win. 

After a few minutes, he desperately wanted to ask Natasha if they could cook any faster so he could open his impersonal gift from one of the guys and get going. But he found that making latkes was actually pretty enjoyable. 

"That's too much egg," she told him, laughing at his messy hands as his glasses slid down his nose. "You need more flour." But her hands were a mess, too, and Bob was trying to adjust his glasses on his shoulder. 

When he turned to the side, he saw Bradley, Mickey and Jake all talking to Nova, but she was actually looking right at him as he very awkwardly shrugged his shoulder against his glasses. "I got you, Bob," she said, closing the distance to him and helping him out. She adjusted his frames on his face, and then she ran her fingers along his hair and behind his ears. "Better?"

He watched her pull her hands away and wished she wouldn't. "Yes," he whispered. "Thank you." Then he just stared at her as she made no move to back away. 

"You're welcome. Do you celebrate Hanukkah?"

He swallowed hard as he washed his hands and shook his head. "This is my... first time."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Perfect! You can help me light the candles, and I can teach you the prayers."

"Might as well light the menorah now," Natasha told her as she flipped some of the squishy looking potato blobs over in the hot oil. The kitchen smelled like fried food, and there was a huge box of donuts that the other guys already got into. Javy brought the dreidels into the kitchen, and he was currently spinning five at one time. This holiday actually didn't seem so bad. Especially when Nova reached for his hand. 

"Gather around," she announced with the kind of confidence Bob would never have, and all the guys followed her to the other side of the island. But she kept Bob right there with her and smiled up at him. "Here you go," she said, handing him the lighter. Then she stuck some candles in the menorah. 

"Don't you light them from left to right?" Bradley asked as he sipped a beer and ate a jelly donut while glaring at Bob.

"Yes!" she replied as she put the last candle in for the eighth night. 

"You want me to light them for you, Bob?" Bradley asked, and Bob was just about to hand the lighter over when Nova reached for his hand.

"I'm going to say a really pretty prayer in Hebrew about how Hanukkah is a time to celebrate miracles," she told him, seemingly ignoring the rest of the guys as Jake started whining that he was hungry. But Bob was transfixed. He was suddenly dying to hear this prayer. He could see the light smattering of freckles on Nova's cheeks as he stood this close to her. He never noticed before if Nat had freckles.

It would be a Hanukkah miracle if Bob could get through the evening. When she told him to light the center candle and then pick it up, he did. And then her hand joined his as they lit the candles together, but Bob wasn't looking at the menorah. He was looking at her face and the way her lips moved as she almost sang the prayer. Then he kept his hand on hers as long as he could, the warm candlelight making her face glow. 

When she dropped her hand to her side, Bob could feel her fingers kind of tangle with his, and he had no idea what to do about it. He was suddenly painfully aware that he'd never had a girlfriend before, and he almost wished she was paying this much attention to someone else. 

"Latkes are done!" Natasha announced, and Bob took a step away from Nova. He cleared his throat and then turned to leave the kitchen as everyone else made a dash for the food. When he retreated for the relative quiet of the powder room, he could feel dark eyes on his back.

Bob realized he'd been in the bathroom for long enough that someone might think he was sick, but he couldn't stop splashing cool water on his face. He had been prepared for something else tonight, but not this. Maybe Nova was just an annoying little sister to Phoenix, but to him, she was exquisite. He needed to leave now before he could embarrass himself more. 

After he dried his hands, he quietly opened the door, but then he paused. He could hear voices. Two female voices, and he could easily tell them apart as he stood there eavesdropping.

"Natasha, you lied to me," Nova whispered loudly. "You said Bob was kind of nerdy!"

Oh no. She must have thought Bob was extremely nerdy. Perhaps he could make a run for the front door, and maybe nobody would notice he'd gone.

"I mean, he is," Natasha replied softly. 

"No, he's not!" Nova hissed. "He's hot! You know I have a thing for glasses and biceps, you rotten liar!"

Now Bob was frozen in place. He was pretty sure they were talking about him, but there was a chance he misheard.

"Nova," Natasha snapped a little louder this time. "Bob is one of my best friends, and he's very kind. Do not toy with him."

There was a pause, but then Bob heard her soft response. "I wouldn't. You can tell how sweet he is from a mile away."

He looked in the mirror one more time before leaving the powder room. It wasn't that he was bad looking, it was just that he was awkward. Compared to the other guys, he was a joke. Maybe Nova somehow hadn't noticed that yet. He forced himself out to the small hallway where the two sisters were standing close together near the kitchen, and the way Nova looked at him just didn't make sense. 

"Grab some latkes," she said as he walked past. "I'll save you a spot on the couch for the gift exchange?"

Bob swallowed hard. "Sure. Thank you."

When he ducked into the kitchen, he heard her whisper to Nat, "He has nice manners, too."

Nat groaned. "I can't believe you have a crush on my WSO."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have kept this information from me."

Bob was anxiously piling a plate with more latkes than he could probably finish when Nova flounced into the room, picked up her half empty glass of wine along with an unused one and winked at him. "I'll be in the living room, and I have a glass for you," she said.

He looked down at the potato concoctions on his plate, and they looked good. He tried a bite, and it was delicious, but he'd lost his appetite. Nova Trace had a crush on him, and now he had to go sit with her and drink some wine without looking like a moron. 

After a few more bites, he pushed his plate aside and headed to the living room where she was sitting right next to Bradley. He had his arm draped across the back of the couch a little possessively, and Bob froze, blinking at the scene before him. He had the undeniable urge to remove Bradley's arm and wrap her up with own. 

"Bob," she called, scooting away from Bradley and patting the cushion. Once he squeezed in between her and Bradley, he realized he was touching her no matter what he did. And then she took his arm and draped it around her shoulders, leaning back against his chest a little bit. "It's a tight fit," she said, handing him a glass of wine. 

"Seriously?" Bradley grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. Bob wasn't sure what to say as he had an armful of the cute girl who was in demand. This was all new to him. So he just drank all of his wine and pretended to watch everyone open their gifts. 

When he set his empty glass down on the table, Nat handed him a small box wrapped in silver paper. He didn't recognize the pretty handwriting that said To: Bob.

"Oh," Nova whispered, reaching for it. "You don't have to open it."

"It's from you?" Bob asked, and she looked up at him over her shoulder, face just inches from his.

"Yeah, but it just seems kind of dumb now," she muttered, playing with the hem of her top. "Nat made it seem like you were super nerdy or something," she laughed. "And clearly that's not the case. You're hot."

Bob chuckled; this whole entire night was completely absurd. "I've never been called hot before."

Nova rolled her eyes. "You know what? Just go ahead and open your present," she said, shoving the small box closer to his chest while she blushed. 

Bob started to carefully tear into the paper when Bradley leaned across Bob and asked, "I'm sorry, Nova, but did you just call Bob hot?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. 

Bradley stood and grunted while he put on the hat that Javy just gave him that said 100% Certified Fuckboy. "She picked Bob. Nice work man," he said, patting Bob's shoulder. "Who needs a beer?"

"I do," Nat told him as she eyed Bob and Nova together on the couch with curiosity. Bob wasn't sure what he should even say to her. It wasn't like he was going to date her sister or something. She lived in New York.

"Open it," Nova whispered. "Just open it so I can get my embarrassment over with."

Bob couldn't believe she seemed more embarrassed about the gift than she did about announcing to the room at large that she found him attractive. When he took the lid off the box and looked inside, it was filled with a set of sky blue dice. 

"I'm sorry," she said with a laugh. "Nat said you play Dungeons and Dragons, and I found the dice and thought they were pretty, and now I'm noticing that they're kind of the same shade as your eyes." She took the box from him, put the lid on and set it aside.

"Wait," he said, reaching across her to pick it up again. "I do play. And light blue is my favorite color. How did you know?"

"I didn't," she said, cheeks pink. "It's my favorite color, too."

He could see her freckles again as she grinned so close to him. Bob suddenly realized that the living room was getting loud as he held the box between his body and hers. "Thank you. I really like them. I was a little afraid to see what the guys were going to buy for me, so I'm glad it was from you."

"Nat dropped down on the couch on the other side of Bob as she spun the keychain around her finger that Bob got for her. "Thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek as the airplane charm hit her palm. The guys were spinning as many dreidels on the coffee table as they could while fighting over the mound of chocolate candy coins. "You know, if it's a little too loud, you could always step outside for a minute," she told him, patting his thigh before joining the guys. 

"Let's take a break," Nova said as she stood and pulled him to his feet. Bob felt like Nat had just given him some sort of permission. But for what? "I could use a break as well. It's hot in here." 

She opened the front door and slipped out into the darkness on the small porch, and Bob joined her, closing the door and stifling the sounds inside. "Aren't your feet going to get cold?" he asked softly, looking down at her neon toenails.

"Good call," she replied before wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on the tops of his shoes. Bob's hands went to the soft curve of her waist immediately, startled by the sudden turn of events that had Nova's body pressed to his. "Is this okay?" she asked casually, looking up at him as she let her fingers trail down his neck.

His body was throbbing in delight as his brain cried out in terror. "Y-Yes. It's... very okay. You're very pretty." His eyes went wide as she laughed, and it sounded too intimate this close. He could feel her bare skin against his fingertips, and it was so soft. Softer than anything. He couldn't help the way he let his palms spread out on her back, as he blurted out, "I like you."

He noticed her soft smile first, and then her eyes closed. Bob was admiring how her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she said, "I like you, too." And then she kissed him. She just kissed him. It was suddenly time for kissing. And then it was over before Bob really got to enjoy it. Nova was looking up at him like she was trying to gauge his reaction, but he just stood there trying to figure out what to do next. 

Her fingers stilled on his neck before she released him and tried to step away, her face falling into a much shyer look. But he kept his hands on her back. Her lips were softly parted, and Bob wanted them on his again. Even though he wasn't quite sure if he was doing any of it right, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers a little too hard at first. 

She moaned softly as she brought her hands back up around his neck, and Bob eased himself back a little bit, making the kiss softer. This felt good. She had smooth skin and eager lips, and now her fingers were in his hair as her cheek bumped his glasses. He felt like he was getting the hang of things when she parted her lips and tasted his tongue. 

Bob's hands slid down to grab at her hips through her leggings, and Nova laughed softly as she tasted him again. The soft vibrations against his lips had him more aware of his body than he ever had been before, but not in a bad way. He seemed to be making her feel excited as she wiggled her curvy hips back and forth slightly in his hands. 

Nova broke the kiss and raked her fingers along his forehead and back through his tidy hair. "You smell good," she told him, leaning in close again and running her nose along his neck. "Like... something outdoorsy mixed with a fried potato."

He couldn't help but laugh as she kissed the spot next to his Adam's apple. "That sounds like it would smell bad."

"It doesn't," she reassured him with a giggle. "It just makes me want to taste you." Bob had to press his lips together and count to ten in his head as Nova ran her tongue in a slow and steady stripe up his neck to his ear. When her lips met his earlobe, his hands on her hips were pulling her body closer to his as she said, "I could eat you up."

She was still standing on the tops of his feet, but now Bob had her back pressed against the doorframe. They were making out, and it was all coming pretty naturally for him. She kissed his neck and told him something sweet, so he decided to go ahead and try the same thing. "I think I love kissing you," he said, his voice raspier than normal as she tipped her head back.

Nova was moaning his name as he kissed the front of her neck, and she pressed her thigh against him. And oh no... Bob had an erection. She didn't seem bothered, but he pulled himself a few inches away from her and looked down at her pretty face. "Do you want to go back inside?" she asked, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. 

"Should we?" he asked softly, sliding his hands back up to her waist as she shrugged. 

"Probably. But I'm sure they all know exactly what we're doing out here."

His eyes went wide. "They do?"

She smiled and ran her fingers along his cheek. "Yeah, I'd venture to guess they know we were making out, Bob."

How was he supposed to go back inside now? He thought about just leaving; his truck was parked right there on the street. But he didn't want to go without his new dice. Or Nova.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah... maybe we should go back in."

"Okay." But first she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and pressed one more soft kiss to his lips. "Just let me know if you want to take another break, because I'd be more than happy to tag along."

Then she opened the door, and the bright light and loud laughter coming from inside were enough to have him reaching for Nova's hand as she stepped down from his feet and onto the living room floor. She looked back at him with a coy smile as she laced her fingers with his. It was so obvious that they had been kissing. Bob knew he was blushing, and her lips looked a little puffy from the way he'd been enjoying them. When Jake fist bumped him as they walked past, Javy winked, and Bradley was on the couch with Nat pouting. 

But Nat smiled and shook her head as Nova led Bob into the kitchen. "Want some more wine?" she asked, pulling a bottle from the refrigerator. There was something about the way she looked in the semi darkness as the candles from the menorah burned low. Her face was cast in warm light as well as shadows, and Bob found that leaning down to kiss her again was the most natural thing in the world. 

The cold bottle was pressed to his arm, and she kissed him back. When Bob opened his eyes again, his glasses were crooked and two of the candles had burned out. The kitchen was even darker now as she pecked his cheek and then strolled out into the living room. He took a few seconds to consider that now he'd initiated more kisses than she had. The desire to follow her and kiss her again was so strong, he almost tripped when he thought about her going back to New York. Had he ever felt this way about a girl after a few hours? No. Absolutely not.

He knew he should have found another place to sit in Nat's tiny, loud living room, but when he saw the spot on the couch next to Nova was empty, he couldn't force his steps in any other direction. She tracked him with her eyes, clearly feeling no shame about what was happening here. 

"How much have the rest of you had to drink?" she asked the guys. Jake was laying on the floor laughing while Javy tried to spin a dreidel on his nose. Bradley's cheeks were bright red, and he was half asleep at the other end of the couch. Mickey actually was asleep in the armchair. The only one who looked okay was Reuben. 

"A lot," Javy said. "We turned dreidels into a drinking game, and clearly Nat is better than the rest of us." Nat winked at Nova who winked back. "And Mickey can't hold his liquor for shit."

Nova laughed at him in the armchair. "Is that a WSO thing, Bob? Or can you handle another glass of wine?" she teased. 

"I can handle what you give me," he replied before he could consider how that might sound. She gasped softly and kind of nodded as she poured some more into his glass from earlier. 

"I guess we'll find out."

She tapped her glass to his, and they joined in the game with the others. Bob had never played before, but he was a quick study. It certainly didn't hurt that Nova kept touching his hands as she taught him what to do. And two glasses of wine later, Bob felt lighter and more carefree. His right hand was resting on her lower back, and she leaned in to his side as the game progressed. And the best part was, Nat seemed more than okay with this.

In fact, as midnight was fast approaching, Nat stood and stretched. "I'm beat. I don't care who stays over, but Nova is in the extra bedroom, so the rest of you can fight over the couches."

Bradley and Mickey both snored in response while Reuben started to gather Jake and Javy off the floor. "I'll drop the two of you off," he said. "It was nice to meet you, Nova. Thanks, Nat."

"Thanks, Nat," Javy and Jake echoed as Nat waved. Nova blew them each a kiss. 

Once they were gone, Nat started to gather up the empty wine bottles to take them into the kitchen, and Bob figured he should get ready to go as well. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked his friend, but she just waved him off. "No, I insist," he added.

He picked up some more of the trash the guys left, and as soon as he and Nova both stood, Bradley stretched out on the couch. "Just leave the rest of the mess. It's honestly fine. We can clean it up tomorrow," Nat said as she looked at her sister. 

Nova nodded. "Yeah, I'll help you clean everything when we wake up." 

They carried the trash they had already gathered in their arms to the kitchen, and then Nat hugged her sister before kissing Bob's cheek. "I'm assuming I'll see you again quite soon," she told him with an amused expression before she headed for the stairs. 

Bob wasn't sure exactly what that was supposed to mean, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. Right now he had to figure out a way to say goodbye to the woman in front of him. He wondered if there was some way he could tell her that the few hours he spent with her somehow meant something to him. If she lived in San Diego, he thought he would very much like to take her to dinner. Maybe he could figure out a way to say so without completely ruining the moments they'd shared tonight.

"Nova, I-"

It was time for more kissing. She didn't hesitate at all, almost like she felt as comfortable with this as he did. Her hand found the bottom of Bob's tee shirt and eased the fabric up so her palm could rest flat on his abs. She nibbled gently on his lip before she let him taste her tongue. She was sweet like wine. Then his hands were back on her hips again as she eased his shirt up a little further. 

"You had a lot to drink," she whispered with a wink, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. "Maybe you should come upstairs with me?" Bob wasn't drunk in the least, and he thought he knew what she meant. When his posture stiffened, she looked up at him. "It's just a twin bed, but we can both fit. If you want."

"You mean to... sleep?" he asked, embarrassed that he had to confirm instead of just knowing how to do things. 

Her hand glided down to the top of his jeans, and she laughed softly. "We don't have to mess around," she said as she kissed his lips softly. "But I don't think I can keep my lips away from yours."

When Bob nodded in agreement, heart pounding rapidly, she took him by the hand. Mickey and Bradley were both sound asleep in the living room where Bob made sure to grab his box of dice. Then he let Nova lead him upstairs. 

She looked back to smile at him a few times and tugged on his hand when he started to fall behind. Once they were in the extra bedroom with the soft lamplight and the door closed, Nova seemed a little more hesitant.

"Well, there's the twin bed," she said, gesturing toward it before putting her hands on her hips. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and laughed as she looked at the floor. "And I mean, obviously this was all a ploy to get to spend more time with you. But also, I don't think you should drive home after drinking so much wine." She paused before adding, "But mostly I just kind of thought maybe you and I could keep talking and making out."

Bob smiled when she looked up at him. "Yeah, I would like that."

She bit her lip, and Bob swore he had never in his life seen a woman who was so eager to be around him. He toed off his shoes before reaching for her hand again. And then he decided he was going to go for it. He was going to say what was on his mind as they both sat down on the edge of the bed together. 

"Hey, Nova? I..." he paused as he looked at her pretty face, and he had to clear his throat before he kept going. "You're really... I like you a lot, and I just wanted you to know that if you lived in San Diego, I would ask you on a date."

She scooted a little closer and let her hand come to rest on his thigh. "Where would you take me?" she asked, pressing her lips to his jaw as he stuttered.

"I would... I'd take you to um, a restaurant that I like called Starlite. It's in the city. It's really pretty inside at night, and they have fairy lights and champagne. And I think you'd look beautiful sitting at one of the tables with me."

"Oh my god," she moaned against his jaw, and Bob had absolutely no control over how his body was reacting to her. "Tell me more."

He tried to keep talking as she moved her hand further up his thigh, but he wasn't sure he was making sense. "I'd get you whatever you wanted, of course. But the steak is really good, so I'd ask if you wanted that. And. And I'd be hoping the waiter was really slow, because you'd look so pretty with the soft lights all around you. I'd want to keep you there with me as long as I could."

"I want to go," Nova whispered, kissing his ear. "I can practically picture it."

Bob closed his eyes, willing his cock to stop having a mind of its own as her fingers went as high as the bottoms of his boxer briefs. If she kept this up, Bob would have to excuse himself, and he really didn't want to leave her right now. Then she straddled his thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck, and Bob's arms were full of her. 

"I wish we could," he whispered, unsure what to do with his hands. "I'd take you there tomorrow, but Nat told me you're flying back east in the evening." He finally let his hands settle on her waist as she nodded sadly. 

"I am," she said as her lips brushed his. "But just humor me. Would you kiss me at Starlite?"

"I'd have to," he replied immediately. "It would be mandatory. All the light and shadows on your face... you'd be ethereal. And if you were looking at me, I wouldn't be able to help myself."

"Bob," she moaned against his lips, nibbling on him softly as her fingers went to his hair. "And where would you take me for our second date?"

He laughed as she licked his tongue. "You'd go out with me a second time?"

"You're joking right?" Nova asked, pulling back a few inches as she played with his hair. "This is all hypothetical, and it's still the best date I've ever been on."

"Okay," Bob replied, and he couldn't help but smile as she nodded for him to go on. "For our second date, I'd take you to the Mission Hills Rooftop Theater."

"What would we watch?" she asked, smiling as Bob let his hands drift up a little bit under her shirt. 

He shrugged. "Probably a foreign film. You'd think it was cool, but I'd just be watching the way the colorful lights flickered across your face."

She squeaked softly. "Can we pretend we're at the theater now?"

"Sure," he whispered with a smile. "We're at the theater. You look beautiful, reading all the subtitles. But I lost track of the plot of the film already."

"Why's that?" she asked with a grin.

"Can't pay attention to anything except you."

She pushed on his chest until he was laying on his back, her long hair brushing the side of his face as she leaned down to kiss him. She was rubbing herself against his hard length through his jeans and making little sounds that he'd never heard before. His hands were stroking higher, and he could feel her bra with his fingertips. He didn't want any of this to stop.

"Now you seem like a respectable guy, Bob," she murmured. "Would you take me home with you after our second date or make me wait until our third?"

Oh no. Bob loosened his grip on her as he went silent. Nova was still kissing her way across his cheek to his ear when her movements slowed. She eyed him curiously before nudging the rim of his glasses with her nose. 

"Bob?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "I don't know. I've never... taken a girl home before."

She looked down at him with a soft smile on her lips. "What?" she asked as she pushed her fingers back through his hair. 

Bob was terrified that she would stop touching him as soon as he said the words. She was so lovely, gravitating right to him all night just the same way he subconsciously felt like he wanted to be near her. He already recognized that he could fall for his friend's little sister. Maybe he already had. 

He took a deep breath as he adjusted his glasses. She was waiting for him to respond, and there was no point in lying about it now. "I'm a virgin."

Nova's brow creased, and her lips parted wordlessly. She examined his face, probably trying to see if he was lying, because there's no way someone his age shouldn't have lost his virginity by now. And it was a million times worse for a guy than for a girl. He knew that. It was all so very embarrassing. 

She didn't laugh, rather she kissed the corner of his lips and simply asked, "How?"

Bob shrugged. "I'm awkward."

"No. You're hot," she replied, shaking her head. "That's not it."

He tried to turn his head and look away, but she followed his gaze until he returned her soft smile. "I'm not really sure," he whispered. "I got close a few times, but it just didn't seem right. That sounds dumb."

"No, it doesn't," she replied, surprising Bob as she kissed him again. "Are you picky?" she asked between each soft press of her lips to his.

"Yeah. Kind of," he told her honestly. "Always have been. Picky about who I spend time with.

She brushed her fingers back through his hair again, and Bob melted at her touch. "That makes sense. A guy like you should be picky."

Somehow Nova was making him feel a lot more normal about this as she wasn't shying away from him. "Picky," he confirmed. "And the timing was never right."

"That's important," she said with a smile. "You have to do what feels good to you."

Bob swallowed hard. He was picky, but he really liked Nova. And for some reason, tonight out of all nights kind of felt right. He could easily blame Nat's Hanukkah party and the soft glow of the menorah candles on Nova's face for getting him to this point. She was on top of him, still kissing him, and he didn't want this to end. 

"This feels good to me," he blurted out, reaching up to push his fingers through her dark hair. "Tonight feels right."

She nodded, smiling as she crawled off of him, leaving Bob a little cold as he missed the feeling of her immediately. He sat up on the bed as she crawled up to the pillows and whispered, "Come here." She coaxed him along until she was laying on the pillows and he was on top of her, bracing himself with his arms so he didn't hurt her. 

"Okay, so, we already went to Starlite for dinner and then to the Mission Hills Rooftop Theater. I'll give you until our third date to make your move," she whispered, grinning up at him as she ran he hands up his biceps. "Where are you taking me?"

He took a deep breath; now was not the time for this wave of confidence to falter. "Cliffs beach. I'm packing a picnic, and we can sit in the bed of my truck and watch the sunset while we eat."

Nova moaned again and hooked her leg around Bob's thigh, pulling him impossibly closer. "Dinner was perfect. But now that the sun went down, I'm a little chilly."

"Well, I could keep you warm." He kissed her. "I'd hold you as I tried to work up the nerve to ask you if you wanted to come back to my place."

"I'm wrapped up in your arms, patiently waiting for you to ask," she replied with a smirk.

He nodded, and he knew he was blushing. This whole thing was kind of silly, but it just made sense. "I really like you. I could probably fall for you. If I let myself," he whispered, and she whimpered softly. "Do you want to come back to my place, Nova?"

"Absolutely."

Her hands were all over his face and in his hair, and eventually she took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand. She kissed him slowly as she rolled her hips up against his, and Bob blushed as he got hard again. When she carefully pulled his shirt off, she set it next to the pillow, and then she explored his body with her hands. But as soon as she pulled her own NYU shirt off and was laying beneath him, she arched her back. 

Bob reached beneath her, and he fumbled for a few seconds before he unhooked her bra. As he pulled the black lace away from her body and looked down at her breasts and her confident face, he marked this as the furthest he'd ever gone with a woman. She seemed to sense he needed a moment as she ran her fingers through his hair as he stuttered, "You're gorgeous."

Nova looked up at him with her playful dark eyes, but right now they seemed a little more serious. "I could probably fall for you, too."

Then his lips were on hers, and his hands went to her breasts gently stroking each soft handful. He could fall for this, he was sure of it. He wanted to take her on all of those dates, and he would have if he could have. He was charmed by her, and she seemed equally interested in him. 

"Bob," she moaned, breaking the kiss and tipping her head back as he pushed himself against her core. He brought his lips down to taste her breasts, and soon she was rolling her hips a little faster. "That feels good," she whispered as she looked up at him. "I like that."

Nova responded just like that to everything he did. When he kissed the side of her neck, she blushed a pretty shade of pink. She shivered for him when he ran his fingers down her side. When he paused with his hand just above the top of her leggings, she whispered, "Bob, you're making me kind of crazy."

She guided his hand down a few more inches with her own, but she didn't get annoyed when he took his time pulling her leggings and underwear off. His heart was pounding as he looked at her, completely naked. Maybe she could sense his hesitation, because she sat up, too, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'll tell you if I don't like something, okay? And you do the same?"

He nodded. "I like everything so far. I just don't want to mess this up."

"You won't," she promised, taking his face in both of her hands and kissing him softly at first. Then her lips became more demanding, and Bob wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her on top of him. She giggled against his lips before swiping his tongue with her own. 

Her fingers roamed his bare torso and found the light trail of hair below his belly button. "I'm going to take your jeans off," she whispered, carefully unbuttoning and unzipping them. Her hair was already kind of a mess, and he knew his must have been as well. But then all thoughts left his mind as she started to pull his pants down. Bob wasn't dumb; he knew he was at least average size from the amount of time he'd spent in naval locker rooms. But he was surprised by her soft gasp when she pulled his underwear down far enough that his erection sprang free. Then his jeans, socks and underwear were in a pile at the bottom of the small bed, and he was naked, too.

He grunted as she wrapped her hand around him. This was the best thing he ever felt. Until she kissed him there. "Oh god, Nova. Wait," he moaned, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Don't we need a condom?"

She responded by licking his length before crawling up his body to kiss his lips. "I can go ask my sister if she has any if you want to use one." 

"No!" he gasped, nearly headbutting her as he sat up. "No, don't do that." Bob wasn't sure that Natasha would respond kindly to that question coming from her sister. "Please don't."

But Nova was all smiles as she straddled his waist. "Okay," she whispered as he braced himself with his hand behind him on the bed. "I won't alert Natasha to the fact that we're about to have sex."

Bob sighed in relief and reached out to push her hair behind her ear. "Actually, if you could not mention her again right now, that would be great." 

Now she was laughing softly as she scooted up until Bob could feel her wet pussy rubbing his cock. "Promise," she confirmed as he looked up at her face. When he glanced down between them, all he could see was her perfect body and his cock jumping against her in excitement. "I'm on birth control anyway," she whispered, kissing along his jaw. "And I know you're a little nervous, but so am I."

"Why?" he asked, surprised by her words. 

Nova hummed as she kissed her way back to his lips. "I want this to feel good for you." She wrapped her arms around his neck as she slowly rolled her hips against him and made the softest sounds. His heart rate picked up as she added, "I want you to think about our hypothetical dates after I'm gone."

He was sure he would be thinking about Nova for a very long time. She was all gentle fingers in his hair and confident smiles. She was beautiful, and Bob could easily get addicted to this. 

She guided him to lay back on the pillows as she asked, "You ready?" 

"Yeah." His voice sounded hoarse as he looked up at her and pushed her hair over one shoulder. When he let his hands trail over the soft skin of her shoulders, breasts and sides, she shivered as she kissed him. Bob could feel her hand around his length, and then his head tipped away from her as he moaned. "Does that feel good?"

Good. That didn't seem like the right word for it, but now his brain felt a little hazy. Nova's lips ghosted over his as he moaned again. She felt tight and inviting, and when she rolled her hips with him inside her like this, Bob gripped her hip a little tighter. His other hand ended up tangled in her hair as he traced her freckled cheek with his thumb. "Nova," he gasped against her lips before devouring her. 

Her soft noises got a little louder, and each roll of her hips had Bob praying that this would never end. Every passing second was better than the last. Every time she whispered his name and tasted his tongue was too exciting. When she ended up on her back, looking up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, he kissed her neck and pushed himself deep inside her.

"Oh," she moaned, and he had to slowly shake his head to keep his focus. Her leg was hooked up around his hip, and he was suddenly very aware that he didn't know how to make her orgasm. 

"Nova?" he gasped as she reached for his hand. But he should have known she'd be willing to help him with this as she showed him where and how to rub her. 

"Fuck," she whined, taking a few gasping breaths. "That feels so good." He kept moving his hips, too, and a few seconds later, as she was nibbling on his lip and whining, he felt her squeezing around him. "Bob. Bob. Bob!"

Her back was arched off the bed, and her breasts bounced with every wild breath she took, and then he had no idea it would all happen so fast for him. He tucked his face against her neck and shoulder as he bucked into her without finesse. He couldn't control it. He came so hard, his vision looked like a kaleidoscope of colors when he opened his eyes. But she was right there, and she was perfect.

He half collapsed against her chest as she played with his hair, and it felt like it might have been a long time before he moved. Bob wrapped his arms a little tighter around her, and even though he thought he should feel timid, he didn't. He felt so relaxed and almost loved as she touched him like this. When he tipped his face up to look at her, she was smiling. 

He was picky, and the timing never felt right before now. But Nova was lovely, and tonight was the right night. "My Hanukkah wish is to go on all of those dates with you," he whispered, and she closed her eyes as she blushed. "And see how pretty you'd look with the sun setting and all the fairy lights."

She leaned up slightly to kiss his lips. "I wish we could."

As she laced her fingers with his, Bob whispered, "Maybe we can trade phone numbers? And talk until you get tired of me."

She nodded and asked, "And what if I don't ever get tired of you?"

Bob studied her face as she ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder. "Then we'll go on the dates for real."

Eventually they fell asleep around four in the morning after talking and having sex again. When Bob woke up at nine, it was to Nova's lips on his neck and her voice in his ear. "Morning, Bob." 

He just held her a little tighter. When they went downstairs, nobody was surprised they'd spent the night together, not even Nat. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, and he ended up staying all day, even after Bradley and Mickey both left. He just wanted to be around Nova for as long as possible, but eventually he had to leave so her sister could take her to the airport. So she could go back to New York.

"I'll miss you," she promised when she walked him out to his truck. She took his phone and saved her number for him. 

"Should I text you now? So you have mine, too?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "Fair warning, once you text me, I'll write back and probably never stop."

Bob laughed softly and quickly typed up a text to her while she kissed his neck. 

I miss you already, and I didn't even leave yet.

Then he kissed her back until her sister started yelling out the front door about going to the airport. "Bye, Bob," Nova whispered before kissing his cheek and bounding back in the house. As he drove away, his phone lit up in the cup holder with a series of texts from her, and he hoped she was telling the truth when she said she wouldn't stop.

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

Five months later...

"Are you really this nervous to see her again?" Natasha asked him as they walked through JFK airport together. "You've talked to her everyday for months. Hell, you flew out to see her for a weekend in March."

Bob blushed as he thought about those three days when he'd been here during a late winter snowstorm that kept him and Nova inside her apartment for most of the weekend. She'd hardly let him out of her bed. And while they weren't dating, not exactly, Bob knew he wanted to be.

"Yeah, I'm a little nervous. She has no idea I'm here for her graduation. Do you know how hard it was to lie to her?"

Nat laughed as they walked outside in the May sunlight to get a cab to Nova's apartment. Bob was slightly afraid she'd be upset when they got there. Or maybe there would be evidence of another guy. It might break his heart, but he'd have to accept it. But he just couldn't get past that night they spent together during Hanukkah, and he'd been falling in love with her since then. Even over the phone.

"I'm sure she'll be happier to see you than me," Nat told him. It seemed like no time passed at all before they were pulling up to the building he'd only seen once when it was surrounded by a layer of snow. 

He got out of the cab and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk as Natasha got her phone out. She looked up at him with a smile as she called her sister. "I'm here," she said before looking at the blank screen. "She screamed and then hung up."

Bob laughed nervously with his backpack on and Nat's hand rubbing his arm in a soothing circle. "If she's not excited to see me, I'll just get a hotel room or try to exchange my ticket for something earlier," he mumbled. 

But the next thing he knew, Nova was throwing open the door to her building. She barely looked at her sister before she gasped, "Bob!" and launched herself down the stairs and into his arms. 

"Hi," he whispered as she clung to the front of him and shamelessly kissed his lips and neck right in front of her sister. "I missed you."

She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around him as she let her cheek rest on his chest. "You brought me Bob? Is he my graduation present?" she asked Natasha as Bob ran his fingers through her hair and chuckled.

"Something like that," she replied, reaching for the key that was still in Nova's hand. "I'll meet the two of you inside." 

As Nat let herself in the building, Nova looked up at him. "You lied to me. You said you had to work this weekend."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll never do it again." She was melting into his touch as he cleared his throat and added, "I know you're still going on interviews and trying to decide on a job, but I took next week off just in case I could persuade you to come back to San Diego for a bit."

She smiled. "Now why would I want to do that?"

Bob shrugged. "I just really think we should go on those three dates before I ask you to be my girlfriend."

"Starlite. Mission Hills Rooftop Theater. Cliffs beach," she said softly.

"In that order," he confirmed. "But I'd be taking you home with me after each one."

"Then yes."

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

Happy Holidays! I'll be thinking about Bob and Nova through the New Year. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @ryebecca

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[moonbeamoclock]

Hot take that shouldn’t be a hot take:

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

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

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

[bucksboobs]

God at this point I hope Buck fists Tommy in the loft kitchen so y’all stop making this exact post every week.

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 10 - Mount Everest

📜All I'm saying for this one is... Natasha had it coming...

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Angst, Yelling, Verbal arguments and fights, standing up for friends, Minor Bob Floyd x Original Female Character, Minor Mickey Garica x Orginal Female Character, Third Person POV, Privacy invasion, Angst, Grace and Cora are done with the BS, missing persons, mentions of a parent passing away from cancer, panic, and bullying.

Thank you, @sarahsmi13s and @tgmreader, for beta-reading this before I posted! I felt the pressure on this one!!!

#6.5k

Part 9 | Masterlist | Part 11

*Grace*

Grace didn't live up to her namesake when she found Mickey and Cora. The couple was lurking near the entrance to the waterfall, wondering what the hell was going on. Grace ran to them rapidly, panic seizing near breaking heart.

"Jake and Maeve are in trouble," she cried as she grabbed Cora's wrist.

Neither Cora nor Mickey said a word, willingly letting Grace drag them away towards the rocky slope. Once they reached the base, Cora finally asked her what she had meant. But Grace paid her no mind, already starting to march up that ridge, rocks and mud be damned.

Unknown to her, Grace hadn't realized she had been openly crying at this point. But it had roused the attention of the rest of the group, who had scattered in the aftermath of the failed proposal. One by one, they shot off from wherever they had been, hoping to figure out why she had suddenly started crying.

Or, for some, relishing in whatever drama was currently unfolding

Grace ditched Cora’s wrist halfway up, instinct pressuring her to let go to get there faster. She nearly slipped in the mud because of it, not that she cared.

Maeve needed someone. Nothing else mattered.

But once Grace reached the top of that ridge, half expecting to find her boyfriend, she let out a haunting cry instead.

She wasn’t there. Jake wasn’t there. And neither was Bob.

She cried out his name. Once and twice, down the riverbank and off into the thick bush. All three of them could have been further off, but to Grace, it only affirmed that something had happened. Mickey and Cora kept trying to get her to explain, but Grace didn’t notice. Her concern for Maeve and Jake morphed into desperate concern for Bob, wondering if he had succumbed to the same fate. 

And it was then Grace sucked in a sharp, desperate breath. She was alone in a group that wouldn’t stand up for Maeve when it mattered. Would they believe her when she thought something had happened to her? To Jake? 

There was also the little fact Natasha had been the only one to come back down from this hill. Grace didn’t think she could bring herself to harm Maeve physically, but after her failed proposal, who's to say she was incapable of holding back her anger? 

Whose to say Maeve tried to apologize, and Natasha shoved it back in her face? Whose to say Natasha was planning to do the same thing to the poor girl she fucked over in her first year of college? 

Everyone made it to the top of the ridge, forming a circle around Grace. Bradley, Javy, and Rueben were the first to follow. They instantly asked Mickey and Cora what was happening, though they had no idea and relied only on what Grace had told them. Then Veronica, Jessica, and Natasha joined, though they remained silent, watching Grace try to count her breath.

Grace’s eyes searched the faces of those who stood around her. To say any single person in the group would believe her if she told them, Grace was almost sure they wouldn’t. At least, not without the weight of Bob’s voice. Ironically, maybe even Jake’s, if he wasn’t missing. 

And even then, with the knowledge she had now, she wasn’t sure anyone would go against Natasha for fear of history repeating itself. 

Standing in the centre of this horrible group, Grace realized she was alone, facing the possibility that she might have to do what she had mentioned to Bob after all. And she wondered if, without him here, she lacked the faith and courage to do so. 

She’d have to do it alone. And Grace was utterly terrified of the fact. 

Bradley stepped forward, reached for her elbow, and asked softly, "Grace, what the hell is going on?"

It was the worst possible thing Bradley could have done.

Grace whipped around violently, yanking her arm from his grasp, spitting out harshly, "Wow, now you all fucking care what's going on!"

Bradley jumped back, his hands in the air like Grace was wielding a gun, finger poised on the trigger. He was horrified - as was everyone else. Grace Mitchell was swearing for the first time they had all known her - Bradley included. And he couldn't help but shudder like ice had shot up his spine.

Never in a million years did he imagine this - his childhood friend, practically his adoptive sister - raising her voice and cussing him out, making him feel unusually vulnerable, like a child who had scraped their knee on the sidewalk.

One person was undeterred by Grace’s reaction. She calmly stepped forward in front of Bradley, softly reaching for Grace's cheeks with both hands. Framing her face, Grace could see nothing but a pair of sheer ice-blue eyes staring back at her. And for a moment, Grace finally felt like she could breathe.

Because Cora Kazansky's eyes had a softness to them that only Grace could perceive.

"Grace?" she asked softly.

Grace whimpered, uncaring who was around her. "They aren't here. He's not here. It's too quiet, Cora. Jake and Maeve should be tearing into one another, but they aren't... and... and..."

She had to take a pause, sucking in another deep breath before she choked over her vocal cords. " Somebody saw them, and Nat came up here, but only Nat came back down... so Bob went up, and now..."

Cora interrupted her before she could continue rambling, flexing her hands and shaking Grace's head slightly. "It's okay, Grace. We will find them. We won't leave this park until we do."

Grace laughed softly in her head. It was such an optimistic thing to say. It wouldn’t be that easy. 

And as if to prove her entire point to Bob and the whole reason she panicked in the first place, Natasha's voice and words followed like clockwork. “She walked off upset when I last saw her, back here, towards the falls. I’m sure she’s okay, Grace.”

“What about Jake?” Mickey suddenly asked. “Where is he then?”

Bradley scratched the back of his head. “He ah… might have tried to go after Maeve.”

All eyes shot to Bradley. “What?” he shrugged. “He found me after… and apologized. He’s been trying to work on fixing things with Maeve… I might have encouraged him to go find her.”

"You forgave him for that?" Natasha's voice was sharp.

Bradley squinted his eyes at her. "Why wouldn't I? He apologized. And meant it." 

Something appeared in Natasha's eyes that made Grace's stomach uneasy. Even as they narrowed and Natasha pressed her lips into a fine line, Grace couldn't help but wonder if Bradley had unknowingly struck a nerve.

"So Jake is likely with Maeve?” Cora asked, then turned to face Grace. “And they are in trouble.”

Grace nodded. "Think about it, Cora. The way those two have always gone at it? We'd hear them." 

Cora's brow furrowed. She couldn't deny Grace was right. 

“Oh, come on, Grace. We all know Maeve is a bit… Melodramatic…” Natasha remarked. “They are probably off in the forest shitting on each other, and sooner than later, they’ll come back with their tails between their legs.” 

Jessica and Veronica laughed, and Grace couldn’t hide how she stiffened. But Cora… Cora looked like she was actively struggling to hold back her anger. And Grace knew, at that moment, she should never have assumed she had been alone in the first place. 

“Melodramatic?” Cora hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “Are you seriously shitting me right now? Do you even know why you followed Grace up onto this ridge? Were you just going to stand around and make nasty ass comments about her? Or were you waiting for the right moment to ask what the fuck happened to your supposed best friend? What happened to Jake? Even Bob ?” 

Bradley watched Natasha anxiously for her reply, wondering why Natasha seemed so eager to dismiss her best friend. Looking at the bigger picture, if something did happen to Maeve and Jake, the proposal didn’t matter. He could always try again. 

Grace stepped forward, silently taking Cora’s hand in support. Cora’s grip could have rivalled her own, nearby bent on cutting off her circulation. Her voice was steady and cold when she said, “You were the only one to come down from this hill. Maeve didn't. Jake didn't either. Who's to say you didn't do something to her, huh?!"

Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her jaw clenching tightly. She called out defensively, “I didn’t do shit to her! I told her how her actions made me feel! She stormed off and told me she didn’t want to see me again!"

Grace scoffed, murmuring to herself under her breath. "That’s debatable."

There was a pause. Natasha opened her mouth, firmly stating, "I’m probably right! She’s on a walk, stewing over what she did. She’ll come back. She always does!"

That was Grace's breaking point. The cry crawled its way out of her throat, the gut-wrenching, frustrated sound making her curl her spine and tilt her head back with force as if she had been possessed. The desperate shout reverberated against the trees, the ground, and the stones, a disturbance more profound than anything else the forest had encountered that afternoon.

And it had encountered more than its fair share already.

Her voice croaked into silence, only for her eyes to single out the person she had deemed responsible for this entire fucking mess. Even Jessica and Veronica had the decency to step back from her target, leaving Natasha alone to face the wrath of Grace's upcoming remarks.

"You are a shitty ass friend, Natasha Trace!"

And like a stack of lined-up dominoes, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Reuben, and Javy stiffened hard.

"I'm not a shitty friend!" She gasped. Grace was even more pissed off at Natasha's reaction, looking confused and upset over why she'd ever say such a thing in the first place. She didn't even let Natasha speak before the following words flew out of her mouth. "Nobody talks about it! Nobody dares utter a word about how you treat her, use her, walk over her?"

"Grace..." Bradley cautioned. The fallout over this would be massive, and even if they didn’t have all the facts, Bradley knew no matter what, there was no going back to the way things had been. While he had questioned Natasha's treatment of Maeve, this was neither the time nor place to handle this.

But Grace was too far gone to care about hurting her childhood friend’s feelings. She whipped up her hand, a single pointed finger shoved at eye level between them. Bradley shut up, though fear coursed through his stomach at the realization Grace would not let this go.

"Why the hell would you treat your supposed best friend the way you have?" Grace roared. "Why would you force two people together who hate each other all to watch you get engaged?! Why wouldn’t you tell her Jake was coming along?!”

There was a stunned silence that pressed down on everyone like a heavyweight. Natasha’s eyes widened, and her mouth still opened and closed like a fish to form words, though no sound came out.

“I’ve kept my mouth shut for too long because Bob asked me, but I can’t. I just fucking can’t anymore.”

Mickey stepped forward, his hands reaching out towards Grace. “Grace, you should…”

“No!” she shouted. “This needs to be said! Who the fuck cares what happens in the aftermath!”

Natasha finally found her voice, but it was weak and trembling. Grace, in her fury, couldn't tell if she was being sincere. "I thought they could handle it and figure their shit out for this. I thought this mattered enough..."

Grace recognizes what Natasha left out instantly. ' *I thought they could figure out their shit for me.'*

“You thought they could figure out their shit for you? Of course, your engagement mattered!" Grace shot back. "Why do you think they agreed to come along in the fucking first place? Why do you believe Maeve agreed, even knowing she’d forcibly be spending a week out here with Jake? You mattered to her, and you know it!” 

Natasha's face crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes. “They ruined everything! They couldn't shut up for one day or a week and just be civil! They had to make it all about them!"

Grace didn't soften; she couldn't. Not after all the times she stood by and kept her mouth shut. “What did you expect, Natasha? You forced them together, knowing they hate each other. You punished Maeve for surviving in the only way she knew how. And you never once tried hard enough to figure out what the hell happened between those two?!” 

Grace’s breath hitched as she tried to steady herself. 

“A good friend would have ensured she felt safe coming out here! A good friend would have grabbed Jake by the ear and laid into him! A good friend would have helped her try to work through her feelings. A good friend wouldn’t sit back and watch the chaos ensue when they have two hands and a heart to shoulder the burden! A good friend would say fuck the chaos! I'll burn in those flames with you!"

Natasha cried out. “What about me? Don’t I deserve to be happy too?!” 

Grace’s entire body shook with a mix of rage and anguish, her voice raw and piercing once more as she screamed, “It’s not always about you!” 

The intensity of her words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unyielding. But Grace pushed on. 

"Maeve has been drowning the entire trip, drowning between making sure you saw none of her struggles and handling Jake. You've been too busy with twit one and two to realize it!"

"Wow, thanks, Grace," one of them barked.

Grace didn't look at them when she spat, "Trust me, I'm not losing sleep over the loss of the two of you."

The group fell silent, and no one dared to interrupt Grace as she continued. Natasha's eyes darted around, looking for support, but found only cold, unyielding stares.

 "Maeve never said a damn thing about what happened between her and Jake to you. How would she rather endure someone she hates for your friendship than tell you why? Did you ever stop for one second and wonder why?!”

 Natasha swallowed hard, her throat working visibly as she tried to push down the lump.

"You weren't the one who held her hand when Jake challenged her, or who heard her crying in her sleep in the tent beside her, or who offered to get someone to bandage her wrist after she got hurt!"

Mickey kicked a rock beside his foot, the stone skittering on the hard ground. "I can't even take credit for that," he said.

"Mick..." Cora warned gently. "Now isn't..."

"What?" he shrugged. "I can't. Jake asked me to check her wrist. I didn't even think to, and you didn't either."

Cora dropped her chin to her chest. "You didn't, Cora," he stressed before turning to the whole group. "None of us did. And the one person who did ask, Maeve, doesn't get along with him. What does that say about us?"

He turned towards Nat. "What does that say about her supposed best friend?"

Everyone shuffled uncomfortably, eyes darting to the ground or finding sudden interest in the surrounding trees. No one wanted to be the first to break the following silence, heavy with unspoken thoughts and fears. The shared belief resonated through the group that everything would be worse if they did.

A panicked shout of Grace's name took care of that for them, startling them all.

Bob tore from the bushes, half covered in spiky burs and small pieces of broken wood. He was panting hard, his arms bleeding with scratches and mud, and his legs not faring much better.

Grace cried out his name the second she saw him, bolting from where she stood, nearly tripping in relief. She slammed herself into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him, ensuring not a single inch was between them.

Bob returned her hug, shushing comforting words into her hair. “I’m here, Grace. I’m okay. I’m fine.” 

He wrapped a single arm around her body, looped up above her shoulder but down below her opposite arm, mindful of the mud and his wounds. Not that anyone noticed his injured state.

Everyone was too busy staring at his other hand, hanging lowly at his side, for Maeve’s map was tightly in his grasp, covered in dirt, damp, and practically ripped to shreds.

Mickey was closest, reaching for it only to hold the pieces with dangling fingers. The battered pieces of paper turned in his grasp, revealing three single gaping lines through the centre. It spun a few times before he declared, "These were made with claw marks."

"Claw marks?!" Bradley exclaimed, urged by Mickey's statement to rush forward. But inspecting the marks and the threads barely holding it together, he was horrified to see something else marking the page.

As soon as he had taken those steps closer, he stumbled back with a gasp. "That's a bear's footprint."

"A bear?!" Jessica and Veronica's voices overlapped, the shrieking making Cora and Grace roll their eyes.

Releasing Grace, Bob took the map back from Mickey, turning over to find what Bradley had seen. Nestled in the corner, streaked with mud and at the end of the claw marks, a collection of oblong and rounded marks, with the largest pad imprint dominating the centre only to extend beyond the page.

Bob saw bear tracks when he reached the end of Maeve and Jake's trail, the two of them having chased each other off into the dense forest. He hadn't thought much of it. Not until he saw the mud-stained rocks and the map six inches deep in the mud. He had panicked, grabbed the piece of paper and tore back through the bush, each step filling him with dread.

"Where did you..."

"There was a cliff just off the break in the treeline," Bob offered to Bradley.

"A cliff?" Bradley asked, his eyes wide. Bob could only nod in reply, his Adam's apple rolling in his throat as he swallowed.

"Did you .... look?" Mickey asked with caution. “Was there…”

Bob nodded and then shook his head, offering a quiet "They weren't there."

If anyone had let out a sigh of relief, nobody heard it. As if a gunshot had gone off to signal the start of a race, voices immediately launched into different explanations of what could have possibly happened. 

Someone shouted Maeve lost the map. 

Jake was elsewhere and coming back. 

Both of them got lost. Separately. Or together. 

Either one was on a walk. 

The bear came around long after they had been there.

If someone could say it, it was said aloud. The only thing anyone refused to entertain was the possibility of either one ending up dead. 

Grace and Bob remained quiet, hand in hand amongst the competing voices. Bradley was hurling something at Jessica. Mickey was hurling something at Veronica. Even Cora was fueling the fire by trying to get Natasha to admit she didn’t care about what happened to Maeve. 

One thing was obvious, though - they already believed they were right. No new information or confirmation from Bob, who found evidence of their whereabouts, would have been enough to stop them. Their need to be right had long won out over why they had been arguing in the first place.

Grace wondered if this was how Maeve felt and why she hadn’t told anyone about Jake. Given the chance, they probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.

There was a pause in the fighting, and somebody gave a high-pitched scoff. Everyone turned towards the sound and faced the brunette standing next to Natasha. Cora and Grace closed their eyes, almost bracing for whatever vapid comment would come hurling out her mouth next. 

Nothing could have prepared Grace for the reality of it, though. Jessica flicked one of her manicured nails off the other, seemingly sending a speck of dirt into the air. 

“Is no one going to point out the obvious? She probably ran off just to get attention, expecting Jake to chase after her. It's no coincidence she's named after a fly—always buzzing around him, thinking their ridiculous love-hate game will make him fall for her. Honestly, it's pathetic."

Grace’s hand tightened into a fist, her knuckles cracking under the force. Already on thin ice and running off embers, she was ready to throw that first punch despite knowing she shouldn’t. She opened her mouth, lips poised around the words ‘You bitch’ as she swung her hand back, ready to strike. 

But Cora, ever so calmly, stopped her. Grabbing Grace’s elbows from behind, she pulled her off her path. The words stalled on Grace's lips as she was tugged behind Cora's body, her friend already taking her place.

Where Grace had stepped forward in a fury, Cora’s attempt was more reserved, though no less scary. She slithered forward like a snake; her head tilted at such an angle that it looked like she was stalking her prey. Her blue eyes, wide and clear, never blinked or twitched, serving as what would have been poisonous teeth primed to strike. And with her hands carefully held behind her back, it was clear Cora had no intentions of holding back whatever truthful venom needed to be shared.

She didn’t even try to hide the hatred in her voice. "What the fuck is your point? Why the hell would you need to say that out loud or in general? Hmm?"

Not expecting the sudden calm, aggressive onslaught, Jessica stumbled back two steps, her back hitting a thorny bush. She squealed the sharp prick of the thorns against her skin through her thin shirt, making her jump forward and right back into Cora's path.

Something clattered to the ground, and both girls followed the sound. Jessica's bright pink phone lay upright in the dirt, the screen black except for a bright red dot and a counter slowly ticking away the seconds on opposing ends of the screen. When Cora lifted her head, eyes wide with wild fury, Jessica's face turned a shade paler.

Cora was not surprised in the slightest. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. She bent down, scooping up the phone before Jessica could even bend down to get it.

“Give it back!” Jessica screamed, trying to swipe at Cora’s hand. But Cora merely lifted her hand out of reach, sending Jessica a nasty glare. “You were recording me without my permission. I have every right to get rid of it!”

Bringing the phone back down, Cora stopped the recording only to realize Jessica's phone was unlocked. She had seen those two at the falls and heard what they had bitched into their cameras. It hadn’t struck her then, Maeve not reacting to less than apparent remarks, but it did strike her now, the idea that maybe these two had more than anyone truly realized. 

Without hesitation, she pressed on the window in the bottom corner, opening Jessica’s album. She began scrolling through the content, her anger deepening when she saw the extent of Jessica's recordings—videos and audio clips of everyone. But most of all, there were recordings of interactions with Maeve. And Cora knew, without a doubt, they only had them with the intent to manufacture them later.

Cora’s face hardened. “You've been recording all of us, haven't you? All our conversations, private conversations... and Maeve. You've been targeting her the most!"

Jessica opened her mouth to protest, her eyes darting around as she searched for an escape. She quickly snarled out, "You can't tell me Midge acts the way she does for shits and giggles?"

It was clear Cora was dead set on nailing these two to a wall when she followed up with, "Do you act the way you do for shits and giggles? Cause let me inform you, Maeve's - and yes, her name is Maeve, use it- actions aren't constructed around gaining attention. Or manipulation!"

Jessica's defiance flickered, but she stayed silent. Cora took a step closer, her voice steady and cold. "You realize talking or spreading shit about another person says more about you than it does about the person you're talking about, right? No matter how you frame it, it just shows how insecure and malicious you are, trying to twist everything to fit your narrative."

Cora looked down at the phone, her mind already made up. "If people wanted their private lives plastered all over the internet rooted in someone else's fucked up opinion, they would do it themselves! But you?"

With her anger boiling over, Cora navigated towards the phone's settings and found the factory reset button. "This ends now," she growled. She hit the button with a sharp jab, watching as the phone started wiping itself clean.

Jessica lunged forward, trying to grab her phone. "You can't do that! That's my phone, you psycho!"

Cora stepped backwards, holding her hand high and out of reach. "Watch me."

Turning her head to her hand in the air, Cora watched as the phone’s screen went dark momentarily, then flickered back to life. A logo appeared, followed by a progress bar slowly moving across the screen. She tossed it back to Jessica with a controlled flick of her wrist.

“There you go. Must be tough, watching all that potential disappear right in front of you, with nothing else left to hide behind.”

But there were two in this equation, and Cora would be damned if she didn’t acknowledge Veronica was probably in on this too. Cora's gaze snapped to her, instantly feeling suspicious.

"And what about you, Veronica? You've been quiet through all this. Were you doing the same thing? Recording us behind our backs?"

Veronica took a step back, her face flushing. "I... I didn't..."

Cora's voice cut through her stammering. "Give me your phone."

Veronica hesitated, glancing at Jessica, who was silently pleading for her not to give in. She spared a glance at Javy, hoping he’d step in and stand up for her. But both he and Rueben remained silent, neither saying a word. Javy had his arms crossed, a frown marking his usually calm face, while Rueben’s jaw was set, his eyes throwing daggers at Jessica.

The intensity of Cora’s anger left Veronica feeling like she had no choice. With trembling hands, she unlocked and handed over her phone like a child caught red-handed by a stern parent.

Cora quickly navigated through Veronica's phone, and her suspicion was confirmed when she found similar recordings. "Unbelievable," she muttered. She repeated the process, resetting Veronica's phone and deleting all the content she could find.

"I have half a mind to throw them over the side of the waterfall, but I'm not that fucking heartless to leave you without help should you get lost."

"God, you're such a bitch," Veronica sniped. But Cora merely smiled, tossing her phone back, uncaring if she caught it.

"Why would that concern me? My daddy didn't raise me to take shit from the opinions of someone who doesn't like it when they stand up for themselves or others. I should have done it from the start, but I shouldn't have been scared to walk alone."

Veronica's eyes narrowed, her mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. “If your 'daddy' had been around more, maybe you wouldn't have turned out to be such a mess.”

A flicker of pain crossed Cora's brow. She steadied herself, taking a deep breath before she lifted her chin, staring her down. "My dad passed away from cancer, Veronica. And it's not something I'd wish for anyone to experience. Taking cheap shots because you're mad is low, even for someone like you."

If Natasha sucked in a sharp breath at Cora’s words, nobody heard nor saw it.

Veronica’s smirk faltered, her brow furrowing as the realization hit. The usual venom in her eyes was replaced with a spark of irritation at being backed into a corner with no response. She went after the girl with the parent who passed away from cancer. Any remark she could fathom wouldn't gain her any sympathy from those here. Not even Natasha. 

 So, she shifted her gaze to the ground as if it would magically enable her to bury herself six feet under as if a turtle was retreating into its shell. Some shell it was, for Javy and Reuben shook their heads, having stood slightly apart from the group as everything unfolded. 

Reuben’s voice was deathly quiet when he asked, “Were you really going to do that all to Maeve?”

Veronica stuttered a reply, sputtering nonsense about how Maeve had it coming, that she and Jessica were in the right. Meave had treated them horribly and was anything but less than accommodating. 

 Unfortunately for them, Cora wasn't done, not by a long shot.

 "Oh really?  Then you really should be more careful about who is listening to you go on to Natasha about "just how horrible" Maeve has been when the two of you were gaslighting yourselves into thinking you weren't at fault for your horrible remarks to her!"

"But she was!" Jessica pouted. 

Bob leaned over to peer behind Bradley almost comedically, eyeing Veronica. "Never thought you'd get out of the studio,' 'Sold any of your paintings yet?', 'Just thought I'd check in on your little hobby,'" he mocked. "Each one you struck at her until you elbowed her and caused all her brushes and paints to tumble out of her bag!" 

All eyes shot to Veronica: Javy is the hardest of them all. Nat's eyes, however, widened in shock. 

"Maeve has always said if you throw shit at her, she'd throw it right back. You honestly can't expect her not to defend herself,"  Grace snapped. "Trust me, she's capable of far worse than what she did to you. She’s done worse to Jake." 

"What, you mean that video they took for all their followers at the falls?” Cora added. “Shit talking about Maeve without mentioning her name? What did Jessica say, Mickey?"

Mickey's reply was instant. "It's just so petty, right?" he mocked her nasally voice, though he failed miserably. " But I'm the bigger person, and I wouldn't stop at that level." 

Rueben cussed, throwing his head back on his shoulders. "I can’t believe it, Jake was right." 

Natasha's eyes widened when Bob asked him what he meant. 

"I thought he was being an ass and flaunting it. But the morning after Maeve hurt her wrist when he went after Jessica, he whispered in my ear he thought Jess was trying to make a move on him…I guess he was right." 

Jessica blushed. Hard. And what could Ruben do next but close his eyes and shake his head? He didn’t want to believe Jake and had spent the rest of the trip trying to ignore his words. But with everything being revealed here and now, he felt utterly stupid. He had been blind to all of it. The nasty remarks, the advances on Jake. His girlfriend and her best friend bullying Maeve right under his nose.

"I'm not okay with how you treat people, Jess. How… how you’ve been treating me."

“Either you, Ronnie.” Javy pitched in, making her stare at him in shock. "You are just as bad. Why didn't I see this sooner, either?"

Veronica and Jessica shrank under their boyfriend's disappointed glares. Grace could only focus on Natasha, who had remained silent the entire time. Something was turning in her head—something that was clearly bothering her about the whole exchange. Grace wasn’t a vindictive person. She wasn’t even this forward. But she hoped, here and now, Natasha had seen the damage she had wrought and would want to change. 

But Natasha never owned up to it or apologized, neither did Jessica nor Veronica, though Grace honestly did not expect them to.

It was Mickey who finally broke the silence. His mind worked a mile a minute to piece together all the facts, trying to distract himself from all the fighting and tension. His words come tumbling out of his mouth of their own accord, his second nature of helping those in need his driving force. 

"The map was on the cliff, and there were prints—human or bear or both—but one set walking away, not two...." He paused, his eyes glazing over. "There's a high chance they went over. And survived."

"If they didn't, they probably would be back with us."

Bob didn't dare spare another glance at the rest of the group when he made that remark, but he did turn his head to Grace. Her eyes were already pleading with him. She didn't need to, for Bob already had the same ask on his mind.

Bob gave her a nod, letting the damaged map in his other hand drop to the ground. "Grace and I are going after them. Whether you want to join or not that's up to you. But Maeve deserves more than whatever the fuck all of you have been doing to her."

Grace silently joined him, threading her fingers through Bob's once at his side. Yet, she could only watch as the entire group stared at the ground.

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone saw Bradley stepping forward, standing before Bob and Grace. “They’re here because of me. Because they are my friends… and… I owe it to Maeve.”

Mickey and Cora shared a quick look, their eyes travelling in sync to how they gripped each other's hands. They wordlessly joined the other three, keeping the same gait and foot forward, not needing to say anything. It was clear from the moment they followed Grace that they were in this from the get-go.

"What would you like us to do?" Javy asked, gesturing to himself and then to Rueben. Then, in a silent message, his gaze extended toward the two girls holding each other in silent support at the edge of the group. Grace and Cora could see the silent message hidden in his words.

'How can we help and deal with these two at the same time?'

Anyone looking at those two knew of their upcoming fate, soon-to-be pallbearers of the title Ex-Girlfriends. Yet, Grace had a different thought emerge in her mind, which had her unable to separate them from the famous lines of a T.S. Elliot poem. 

Seeing them huddled together, holding on to each other and having witnessed them hanging on to each other’s actions by every thread they could find, they still believed they were not at fault. Vile threats and horrible words were being held back by something, though Grace couldn’t figure out what it was, nor did she want to. 

But those famous last lines flashed across her mind once again. 

This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper.

She didn't tear her eyes away when she answered his question; her response was solely directed at Jessica and Veronica. As the words flew out of her mouth without a second thought, she prayed this would be the last time they saw their faces. And that while she would forget about them, she hoped they would never forget what they had done to Maeve.

"I think it's best you and your little sick kicks go with Javy and Rueben and find a park ranger or return to the entrance and let them know what happened."

Rueben adjusted the straps of his bags when he asked, "What should we tell them when we say you went off after them?"

Bob shrugged his shoulders as if to say make something up. "Last I heard, getting lost in a national park isn't illegal."

But there singled out among the group left Natasha. She had been strangely quiet, watching everything with Jessica and Veronica unfold. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her body, and on the verge of tears, she was struggling to breathe.

Only Bradley was the one to approach her, though Grace couldn’t hide her wince when Bradley didn’t reach out to touch her. Not even once.

When Natasha’s eyes locked on Bradley’s, he didn’t even return her glance or lift his head. Her voice was strangled when she asked, “Does everyone hate me that much?”

Bradley didn’t hesitate. “Not Maeve. Not Really.”

She bit down on her lip, a breath escaping through her teeth. His reply made everything that much worse.

"It's the right thing to do. It'd be stupid not to acknowledge it, Nat. We dragged them out here," Bradley tried to encourage her.

A voice inside Bob's head screamed liar—Jake willingly came when he realized Maeve would be here. He wasn't dragged. Bradley was trying to share the blame. But even if he had some part to play, most of the burden didn't lie with him - and everyone who mattered knew that fact.

"If I am the first person to admit it, then so be it," Bradley continued. "We should have never come out here in the first place. It was selfish... and the ruined proposal? That one is on us, not them."

Natasha took a sharp, trembling breath, holding it longer than necessary. Her lungs strained against the effort, and she didn't realize why she resisted the urge to breathe until the need overwhelmed her. And even then, when she let it out and was forced to take that much-needed breath, her lungs ached under the strain.

"Did I somehow kill them both?"

Bradley didn't miss a beat when he offered, not unkindly, "If you did, then you have to live with it for the rest of your life."

Natasha winced at that, though Bradley didn't notice, staring down at his hands as he spoke. "But I intend to try to fix this while we can... if we still can."

She gulped, turning her head to stare at the ground, already turning green at his words. She nodded once—one single firm jut of her chin that had everyone suddenly preparing to set off into the bush. Natasha still tried to reach for Bradley, but he had already turned around to grab something from Rueben.

And it was then and there that Bradley's words hit her.

"Not Maeve."

But not not him.

She tried not to give into the weakness behind her knees at that.

So, she followed him without a word, without glancing up from the ground—not even when he offered to carry a bag of food gathered from the cooler or when Mickey offered to take Bob's pack so he could focus on the path ahead. Standing together, Cora and Grace didn't even spare Natasha a glance. The way their bodies were angled made it obvious she was not welcomed in the slightest.

It left Natasha lurking at the back of the forming group, the same place you had been for the past two days, the irony not lost on her.

Javy and Rueben said their goodbyes, leading Jessica and Veronica back down the hill without a word. And in that very moment, a determined boy scout led a firefighter, a nurse, a professional Quarterback, an altruistic protector, and a human being with a debatable guilty conscience out into the Washington wilderness to rescue their friends.

Yet, they knew that setting out into that forest, even if they found both of them alive and well, wouldn't be enough to mend the years of damage that had already been done.

"Let's go," Bob called out firmly. "They're either in trouble or, knowing those two, about to kill each other— Hell, it's probably both."

This isn't the last we see of this group <3

Tag List:

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Taglist -> I've been off on here, so if you've messaged or commented and I haven't seen it, please let me know, and I will add you as so long as i am sticking around.

Lucky ☘️

[senawashere]

Let me come home,cause home is wherever when i am with you..

A/n: i am soo in love with this one. It is inspired from the song "Home" by Edith Whiskers.

Bob floyd × fem!reader

Summary: Bringing the newest member of your family home.

Everything felt so unreal. Like a dream.

It was so quiet.

And it was so peaceful.

After everything that happened that morning.

Screamings,cryings,yellings,and tears of joy.

The room was as silent as the color white.

The soft beeping sounds of machines could be heard every few minutes, but other than that, it was a void.

Compared to a few hours ago, it was peaceful now. The sounds of a crying newborn and a suffering mother were gone. Both of them were in a deep sleep, immersed in the world of dreams.

The only things visible when tiredness took over was happiness

However, sleep would have to wait since someone gently started poking your shoulder. You could tell it was Bob from the softness of the hands. His hands felt bare, except for one, due to the rings, and it was a rare and strange sight. Normally, he would even sleep with his rings on, but covering them with placenta and blood was not exactly what he wanted so he took off it and put it on his wallet,right next to your wedding polaroid.

"Baby? Sweetheart? Wake up." There was no softness in his words; he didn't want to alarm you.

As you opened your eyes, you had to squint a few times to sharpen the image. The light was quite dazzling, but it was only because you had just woken up. As always, you first focused on Bob and couldn't help but smile at his sleepy face. You knew that the smile was filled with pride and love.

"Where is he?" Even though Bob was the first thing you saw, this was the first thing on your mind.

Newest member to your little family.

All you could think of was the little bundle of love. Your greatest achievement and your greatest love. Your little birdie - as Bob called him.

Harrison Grant Floyd was born at 2:07 in the morning, weighing 3.48 kilograms. Although the pain from severe blood loss was almost as excruciating as coming out of an armed conflict, if you had to hold Harrison in your arms, you would do it all over again.

Your little birdie was born prematurely,around 4 weeks earlier, so he was smaller than most babies. He was, as both you and Bob accepted, the most delicate and delightful creature you had ever laid eyes on.

He was your creation, the most perfect thing created by both of you.

The moment he was brought to your arms, he immediately calmed down as if by magic and softened his body in your embrace. Bob watched both of you in awe, shedding tears at how strong you both were.

He was in love with both of you.

He never thought he would fall in love with you again but at that moment,he did.

And he didn't thought he would fall in love with someone else rather than you but at that moment,he did.

He was indeed a father.

The little birdie was here, and he was completely in love with him.

He was made for him.

He would give him everything he wanted.

Whenever he needed him, he would be there.

For any broken heart he suffered, he would be there to fix it.

He would always be by his side.

He would always support him.

He was in love with him…

"Sleeping over there." Bob pointed to the warm and cozy incubator that kept the newborn birdie asleep.

"Are you okay?" Wondering why he woke you up, you took his hand in yours.

With a protective stance, he stood over you, and as his forehead began to stick to your forehead, he parted your hair. His other hand was in yours, and you had never felt so safe.

When you caught the tears streaming down your cheeks, you saw the bouquet of happiness fly away as soon as you saw him running away. But he couldn't run away.

He was bound to both of you forever, and it was more than gratitude.

He couldn't leave you and your birdie; he didn't have the strength to do that because he had fallen in love with both of you again.

"Yes, my love. The doctors said we could take him home after tomorrow if we want to, but they recommend keeping him here a little longer. It's up to us." Bob looked at you with love. You couldn't help but gaze into those blue eyes that melted your heart years ago.

"I don't want to risk anything. If it's okay for you, can we keep him here a little longer?" You asked gently.

"Of course, honey. No problem. I just want what's best for him and you, okay?" He bent down to kiss your forehead and answered with a soft murmur before returning to his seat besides your bed.

...

Your dad was a complete mess.

A few hours after you woke up, your parents and Bob's parents came to the hospital to see your newborn birdie, and your mother had taken you into a relentless frenzy—she managed to do so when Bob's mother came and succeeded in getting her away from you.

Your dad had gone straight to the sleeping Harrison and stood at the head of the incubator.

He would sacrifice his life for him.

Probably everyone would.

It didn't take long for him to realize that he had the world in his hands. Harrison cried so loudly that you could swear Bob’s heart split in two—he hated that. Still, Bob came to save him and picked him up from the crib, calming him down with his lullabies.

"That's enough, my birdie. I'm here." He whispered softly, feeling his fatherly instincts kick in.

Then, Harrison was in your dad's arms, gazing at him with innocent eyes, his cries turning into quiet whimpers.

And at that moment, your father was a goner.

"Hey,man. What do you think about being a grandfather?" Bob's father, Bill, patted your father's back, trying to bring him back to reality.

"Wow. We have a birdie in the family now." Your mother commented with tears in her eyes.

"I can't believe I'm a grandmother." Bill’s wife, Tamara, was smiling from ear to ear.

Bob’s mother, Tamara, approached you and Bob with a big happy smile.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Sarah said, looking at Harrison in Bob's arms.

"He's perfect, just like her mother." Bob replied, exchanging a loving glance with you.

"Don't flatter me Ms.Floyd" you laughed.

....

The next few days were like a dream.

You, Bob, and Harrison spent few days in the hospital room, surrounded by the love and joy of your families. The room was filled with laughter, stories, and the occasional baby talk.

Even the whole squad came for a visit.

Bob’s parents and your parents took turns visiting, bringing gifts and expressing their excitement about the new addition to the family. They all took turns holding Harrsion, marveling at his tiny features and cooing at his cuteness.

As the days passed, Harrison’s health improved, and the doctors were pleased with his progress. The time finally came when they said you could take him home.

Bob swore he couldn't be more happy. You and Harrison being by his side and being happy.

...

Four days later, you could swear that Harrison was almost the size of a watermelon.

Okay, maybe he wasn't that big, but he was growing faster than you'd ever want to admit. He wasn't a chubby baby like both you and Bob were. He was a bundle of sweet little joy.

Last night, you fully realized that your life was about to change indefinitely, and you couldn't be more excited to take your new family home.

Both your families and Bob's had returned to your home to take care of small things for you. For example, your mom had cooked enough lasagna, pies, and curry to last you two weeks, so you and Bob didn't have to worry about cooking dinner yet. His mom had baked plenty of cakes and cleaned the house. Your dad had watered the garden and planted new flowers in pots. They were the greatest support team you could ever ask for.

Bob was currently talking about the adventures he would have with Harrison while dressing him in a blue onesie. First, he would take him home and show him his beautiful blue room and then he was already planning to take him to the base.

He would teach him how to crawl, walk, talk, swim, and run. He even added, "And no breaking hearts" looking at him with a serious face, but Harrison seemed unfazed.

"Bob!" You raised your eyebrows, he was overly protective, but oh, you loved him.

"Don't say that," you laughed to yourself while putting on the hoodie he brought for you. Getting out of that ugly hospital gown and back into your own clothes felt good. Your pregnant leggings fit you perfectly and made you feel strong. Bob couldn't keep his hands off you, so you handed him the task of dressing your son to keep him out of trouble. You were busy preparing the baby travel bag to leave.

"Stop waving your arms like that, sweetheart! Your dad is doing his best, but you're not helping, my love." Bob chattered to your son, who was attempting to put his hands in his mouth. You could already tell he would be curious about everything and anything. Whether alone or as a family, he would love life - you were sure of it.

You smiled as you watched their interaction. The perfect family. Your perfect family.

Collecting the bags, you went over to Bob, who attacked you when he saw you.

"For God's sake, drop these damn bags on the floor right now! Oh, woman, stop doing something and just rest." Bob made you put the bags next to the door, and you chose to join him in his stress.

"First, shut up," you said sternly to him, not liking the idea of him thinking you were helpless just because you gave birth. "And second, would you calm down?" You finally chuckled as you finished dressing your son. How adorable they looked, indescribable. So cute and soft. Just too innocent.

You looked at him with so much love as he looked at your son. You hoped the universe could contain all the love for him,as it wasn't big enough, it was infinite.

"Okay, I'm sorry." Bob sighed, slumping his shoulders slightly.

"Hey, talk to me. What's up?" You asked him, going to him and leaning your head against his chest. Often, near his chest, buried in his neck, even within you, was where she found the most comfort, he would say.

"He's just perfect. I don't want to mess things up," he admitted, holding you closer.

"You can't ruin anything. There's no rule for parenting. As long as you love him, keep him safe, and let him be happy, he'll know you're the best dad. You were born for this. Still, I know you are," you reassured him. You told him that your birdie was watching him. You knew Bob was watching him - how could he not? He was everything to him.

"I'm so glad I found you," Bob thanked you by kissing the top of your head. Whatever the situation, he always knew how to handle it.

Muttering in response, you pulled him a little closer. Both of you, unexpectedly, witnessed your baby boy-wrapped sneeze the quietest sneeze.

The first time.

Many firsts.

Even if he had a wet nose and hands now, this sight made your eyes watery. Harrison looked at both of you, confused about what just happened.

"Bless you!" You laughed at him, wiping him nose and hands on your sweater sleeve.

"Did you just sneeze, sweetheart? Did you do that?" Bob asked rhetorically, with a tired expression on his face. You saw him wipe his arm on his face, clearly being as teary as you were. He saw you looking at him and blushed.

"Shut your mouth." He told you what he had said to himself.

Every moment was so beautiful...

Car ride to home was quite but peaceful.

Fresh flowers filled the air.

A few days ago, when you rushed to the hospital, the house didn't look the same as you left it. Now, it was covered in flowers, cards,ballons and gifts. Notes from everyone,your friends,whole squad,some relatives,bob's frienfs collegues and some other people.

Roses bloomed on the bushes in the garden. Tulips in various colors wrapped in brown paper adorned every inch of your kitchen counter. Lavish vases that looked extravagantly expensive stood in your living and dining rooms. Yet, the only flowers in your bedroom were the ones Bob brought for you. He had taken them this morning before you came home, claiming that he was proud of you and proud to call you his.

The whole house smelled like a botanical garden. This morning, in addition to that, there were the scents of freshly baked pastries your mom had made for you before you came home. Croissants and cakes waited proudly on the kitchen side.

Passing through the front door of your house, you hadn't felt this grateful for being home. Everyone had left; it was just you, Bob, and your baby boy heading home together.

Before leaving, they insisted on all of you spending a few days and nights together. It was crucial for all of you to bond comfortably in the comfort of your own home. The next few days would be tough, but you hoped that being together would help you get through it.

Getting out of the car with Bob carrying the bags, you went to the front door and opened it carefully. After entering, he turned to close the door tightly behind him, but before he could go too far down the hallway, you had to cough to get his attention.

"Did we forget something?" You looked at him as if he were a madman.

"What?" Ethan stared at you in confusion, furrowing his brows until lines appeared on his forehead.

"Maybe our 4-day-old son is behind our car?" You asked him rhetorically, wondering how he could forget so quickly - dad brain.

"Right. Yes. Our son." Bob muttered to himself as he turned to open the front door and went outside to fetch your precious birdie.

"My baby,my baby!" You burst into laughter at his shoutsas he went. He returned with a beaming smile, holding Harrison who was hiding in his car seat, sleeping as peacefully as a bug in a rug.

"Thanks, Mr. Floyd." You teased, thinking how if you had married Joe from high school instead of Bob, you would never have so many gifts and flowers. Or this much love.

Still, you wouldn't want anyone else but him. He was perfect. He was more than enough. In fact, he was more.

"Yeah, what can I say? I'm a damn good dad now!" He inflated his ego, but a swift hit to his upper arm quickly deflated it.

"I'll do more than hit your arm if you curse in front of our son again," you warned, not wanting your son's first word to be a bad one - even if it meant months of silence from him.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded sternly, grinning at the turn of events, acknowledging your newfound authority. He left the room before getting into more trouble, announcing that he was heading to Harrison's crib in the living room.

You sighed as you looked around the room. Tonight, you didn't want to deal with it, so you turned around, left the room, and followed Bob's footsteps. He had already knelt beside the crib, tucking your precious little birdie under a blanket carefully knitted by Penny.

Bob's mom had knitted a hat and gloves for him to wear outside in the winter. For now, he would sleep safely under your roof until he was ready for the world to see him.

"I want him to be ours forever," you whispered to bob, kneeling beside him and leaning over, bending your knees towards the floor.

"Me too, love." He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. The two of you watched him, as quiet as he slept.

He was an angel in its truest form.

He was your blessing.

"I love him so much." You told Bob and in return, you received a sigh of contentment.

He was trying so hard to hold back tears, but seeing your little boy sleeping so peacefully, he couldn't be strong enough to withhold the tears.

Then silence enveloped you again.

There was no need for words between you two; both of you knew what you were thinking:

How lucky you both were.

Having each other was a miracle, but having him was another thing entirely. He was everything. All soft and delicate, but even at a few days old, heartbreakingly beautiful. He was everything you and Bob had ever wanted. All the tears, morning sickness, and pains were worth it for this moment - and all the moments after.

"Do you still think he's breathing?" Bob broke the silence, and as you followed him, he did seem to be not breathing.

Though as still as a statue, you could see his tiny chest rising and falling, up and down. His little hands were by hishead, as if he were trying to cheer himself up, and his face was tilted to the side, looking at both of you. Even though he looked lifeless, you could see her efforts.

"Shut your mouth, you're scaring me!" You laughed at his ridiculous comment. Tears of happiness. Tears of relief and joy.

Family life had just begun, and you were so ready for it…

Thank you for reading💙💙

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @seresinsbrat @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaby @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern

[bethanydelleman]

I just stumbled across another Darcy Has Amnesia and Has Been Living as a Lower Class X and I need to say this:

DARCY WOULD BE IDENTIFED AS RICH BEFORE HE WOKE UP!

First, clothes. In Jane Eyre, despite her tramping through a bog, they knew her clothes are upper/middle class before she woke up. If Darcy is wearing anything he's gentry or merchant class on sight.

So lets say he's naked. People today kind of just look like people, but in the past, no. Lower class men in this era especially would wear their profession on their skin. Fishermen and farm workers would be tanned like crazy, carpenters would have lost bits of finger, blacksmiths burn marks and developed muscles. Do you know that winemaking can stain your hands purple for weeks? Aside from profession, Darcy would look soft to lower class people, but at the same time well fed. The lower classes were struggling with food insecurity during this era or for all time...

And then he wakes up, now I am not sure if they trained provincial accents out of kids in this era, BUT HAVE YOU HEARD DARCY TALK? Jane Austen doesn't have many servants talk, but sound like Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy they do not! He has perfect grammar and a huge vocabulary! He will be known as a clergyman, lawyer, merchant, gentry or even an aristocrat the second he speaks.

So what then? These are poor people, they aren't dumb. They would advertise that they have found a rich injured person and hope for a reward. Darcy would be fairly well known by face and they have artists and newspapers and printing presses. He also would be known to be missing, he has a family, he writes his sister on a regular basis.

I give it a month tops before he's safely back home.

And that's not even getting into the fact that erasing a person's entire memory is basically neurologically impossible...

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

E.E. Bell AKA Bob Rooney

Featuring character actor E.E. Bell

I met this sexy motherfucker a few years ago at a bar where he was a judge for a wet t-shirt contest. E.E. Bell was just my type, teddy bearish, probably in his mid-60’s, huskily built, more importantly, that body was covered with gorgeous hair, which was my weakness. My eyes were zeroed in on his wide, hairy chest, imagining running my hands through that dense forest as I fuck his ass.

I didn’t see his wife and decided to make a bold move. So, my girlfriend at the time and I took the chairs next to him. He looked at me, nodded, and we introduced ourselves. His voice alone was seducing me as he told us E.E. stands for Edward Earle, but to call him Eddie. Now my girlfriend Susan, had a nice set on her, and he couldn't take his eyes off her chest as I kept staring at his bulge just to get an idea. Never saw much, but everything else about him made me horny.

Sensing his attraction to my girl, we chatted about how much of a whore my girlfriend Susan was. She loved gang bangs, stripping, deep throat, and loved women as well. Well, one thing led to another, and our conversation turned into how Eddie and I could fuck her. It didn’t take long before the three of us were at a hotel room and found ourselves naked, with Susan to be in the middle.

Eddie and I both had a tit in our mouths and sucking. Susan was already aroused just like the rest of us and her breathing was beginning to speed up as we sucked on her hard erect nipples. While Eddie and I took turns fingering her fuck hole, I noticed Susan fondling Eddie's cock. He now had a solid hard on and I knew he was enjoying it. I knew it wouldn't be long before one of us would cum, but Susan decided it was time for me to change position.

"Someone get their cock in me." She moaned, slowly spread her legs.

I let her tit slip out of my mouth and repositioned myself between her legs. Her pussy smelled so good as I slowly began to lick up and down on her slit and it quickly began to open for me revealing a wet pink interior. I buried my tongue into her as deeply as I could. She softly began moaning as her tit was being sucked and her pussy stimulated.

Looking up, I could see Eddie's cock was throbbing as I knew he could hear the slurping I was doing on Susan. Just when I got into a good pattern of licking, I started on her asshole. She was squealing as my tongue was in as deep as I could push it into her asshole. And as I tongue fucked her ass, Eddie sucked her tits hard. I thought I would cum any second as I experienced the smell and sounds of rimming my girlfriend in the presence of Bell.

But I had other plans though. I told Eddie to lay on his back and for Susan to begin sucking him. She slowly began licking and bobbing on Eddie's hard cock as I move in behind her and fuck her doggy style. My cock slid in with no resistance as I began slamming her pussy, forcing Susan to deep throat Eddie's cock. I savored the treat my senses were experiencing. The sight of Eddie beneath us, the smell of sex in the room and the sounds of flesh smacking together. Their gasping and moaning in pure pleasure cause me to grip Susan's hips tighter while fucking her at an increasingly harder pace. Wishing it was Bell.

I continued at this pace for what seemed like eons. I never wanted this to end, ever. However all good things must come to an end, and I had the most mindblowing orgasm I had ever experienced. I buried my cock deep into her cunt and held it there as I pumped a full load of cum into her cunt. She was sucking Eddie's cock as I finished squirting the last drops into her warm pussy. I noticed the strained look on his face, like he was about to cum. So, I motioned Susan to slow down so I could continue to enjoy both of them.

Then asked him if he'd like to fuck me. It didn’t take much for Eddie to get around to my end as I was slowly pulling out. Susan moaned in a delighted tone then arched her ass as high as she could in the air, inviting Eddie to fuck her.

By now Eddie's cock was rock hard and aligned his sausage with her cunt. I moved aside and watched as the tip of the old cock was rubbed against her soaking pussy lips. It wasn't so much the length but the girth. About 7 inches long and twice as fat as mine. I kept looking back and forth from Susan to Eddie and wishing that it was me that was going to be the receiver of that huge tool. His cock was finally wet enough that he began pushing in and penetrating and stretching her pussy walls.

Susan screamed from the size of the cock inside her as she was really enjoying herself at this point, rocking onto the huge donkey size cock. Oh, how that must feel I thought as Eddie plunged his cock into her hot, wet pussy. This guy was a real fucker, knew exactly how to please himself and in return give me pure satisfaction.

Eddie used her hips as handlebars to massage his cock to his rhythm, bringing him to emptying his seed. As if it were planned, they both began to jerk. Susan was screaming like a wild animal as she came hard, screaming, and releasing her cum so that it squirted down Eddie's shaft as he pumped in and out. Suddenly, he pulled out of her jerking his cock. He was moaning loud, his hand stroking faster and faster on his wet cock.

"Oh yeah, I'm going to cum, oh yes! UGH!!!!!" Eddie screamed.

I couldn't resist the temptation and stuck my tongue out to catch it. His cum shot out all over my face and chest. . I closed my eyes, still feeling squirts of cum shoot over my body and face. Eddie then stood up slowly, exhausted from the fuck fest. Realizing what I was doing, he pushed his cock in my mouth.

"There's still some left for you." He said as he leaned forward enough for me to suck on him.

I could feel Eddie squeezing out the last few gobs of cum into my mouth. Only when he was sucked dry did I allow Eddie's cock to slide out of my mouth. As it did Pat manipulated it so that it slid up my face and through my hair before he pulled back and began to pull himself together. I wanted to go at it right away again and I think Susan did as well but we both followed Eddie's lead and proceeded to get cleaned up and get dressed.

[aestheticaltcow]

Birthday Blurbs: 06/10

Always such a goofball…  Happy birthday my love @ Y/N

Making people laugh was your specialty, and it was one of Bob’s favorite things about you. When your birthday came around, he wasn’t sure what to do. He ended up getting tickets for a comedy show in Venice. The two of you stayed in a hotel by the beach and had a good seafood dinner. It was everything you could ask for.

[indigo-graves]

Rusty pt. 2 |Lewis Nixon|

---SMUT AHEAD--- 18+

Nixon knew better than to respond to her words with the force of every kiss he had stopped himself from planting on her full, pouted lips over the past three years. There were moments where he was so intoxicated (both figuratively and literally) by her that he thought he may reach his breaking point. Had he known there was a similar eagerness within her, this day may have come far sooner. 

The way she looked up at him through her long lashes caused a tension in his lower abdomen that she would soon feel the result of, pressed so close against her form. He surveyed the room, taking inventory of just who in the company was even paying attention to the heat radiating from the pair of them in the center of the room. With a war won and a store of alcohol to last them years, they were little more than just furniture for the rest of them to oscillate around. 

“Nina…” Nixon spoke gently, leaning forward so his lips were nearly against the shell of her ear. “Tell me I’m dreaming.” 

She giggled at the softness of his breath on her skin, “meet me upstairs in five minutes.” When she moved away from him, he immediately felt the ghost of her against his body. There was not a single man in Easy Company, despite how chivalrous they had always been to her, that would not shoot off a toe to be in his position. 

Five minutes was both five seconds and five lifetimes while he attempted to make his way naturally towards the doorway of the main room. Grateful for his tendency to disappear to a footlocker full of booze, he realized that it was not likely that many would notice his absence anyway. As he climbed the stairs, he wondered if there was going to be a moment where she would realize that it was him that she was taking to bed, not some other more decorated man from the Company. It was only when he missed a step at the top of the staircase that he reminded himself that wallowing could happen any other inebriated night of his life. Tonight, he steeled himself, he was going to get the girl. 

Two light knocks on Nina’s bedroom door with the back of his knuckles was as coy as he could play it. When she said “come in” from behind the oak barrier, he found the knot in his stomach clench. 

“Why do you look so pale, Nix?” Nina giggled. She was standing at the dresser in the bedroom, slowly unpinning her hair from its once meticulous place. As he watched each curl bounce free, he felt the heat in his neck and ears. The intimacy of watching a woman take down the trappings of pristine femininity to their natural state was something that had only occurred in his marital bedroom. Never before, never since.

He watched as she placed the pins in a trinket dish on the dresser, crossed the room in her bare feet, the line she drew in her stride slightly askew from the alcohol. He felt the effects the liquor had on himself as well, hopeful that it would not impede his performance--should he make it that far. 

Nixon watched as Nina’s tongue wet her lips, watched as they parted into a sweet smile. She reached up and gently touched the hair at his forehead, tucking it back to the side. His eyes studied her face as if he was going to be tested on the slope of her nose, the freckles on her cheeks, the slight gap between her two front teeth, the scar in her right eyebrow. 

“Kiss me,” she whispered. Her voice took on a tone he had never heard from her before. He had heard her scream, yell, cheer, and laugh, but the siren song he was hearing in that moment was something entirely new. As new as the flicker that darkened her eyes. 

The moment Nixon leaned down to close the space between them, it was if every inch of self doubt had been resolved. The way she hummed against his mouth let him know that she was just as hungry for him as he had been for her. He reached up and held her jaw softly, his other hand tracing her back and down over her hips. She flicked the softness of her tongue into his eager mouth and he felt a twitch grow into a throb in the confines of his uniform. Never in his life had he felt himself light ablaze under the simplest of touches. 

When Nina pulled back, she was breathless. Her swollen lips were parted, ghosts of red lipstick on both of their mouths. She gripped his shirt in a fist that loosened as she composed herself. 

“Lew…” She breathed, it was only the second time she had ever used his first name, the first time it had been shortened by her affection for him. 

“I can’t tell you how fucking long I’ve waited to do that,” his confession bubbled from his lips before he could tell her. Drunk on liquor or passion, he couldn’t tell where one stopped and the other began. 

“Well, if you can’t tell me,” she breathed, reaching up and starting to unbutton his shirt with delicate fingers. She looked up into his eyes and smiled coyly, “can you show me?” 

“Fuck,” he sighed as she ran her fingertips down over his chest, just the undershirt between them. “Absolutely.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss her deeply. 

They worked together to get his shirt over his shoulders and onto the floor. His undershirt was soon after. Every muscle that she had watched move beneath his uniform was exposed. Every single one she had considered in her idle time over the last three years were soon to be hers to touch. 

There was a beat between the two of them where he checked her eyes for any hesitation while his fingers gently toyed with the zipper at the back of her dress. She nodded, a small smile of appreciation at her lips. When he started to pull down the zipper, his fingertips traced over the exposed skin over her spine. Her skin erupted in goosebumps under his touch. She bit her lip and pulled her shoulders in as he worked to get the fabric down over her arms. With every piece of her that became more and more exposed, he felt his heart start to race. 

There was a part of her that worried about the amount of women he had undressed and how the curves of her body compared. Before the war, there had only been one other man to peel away both physical and emotional layers to her to connect so deeply. She wondered if the significance of the fire they were dancing dangerously close to meant just as much to him. One thing was certain, she decided, Lewis Nixon’s hands were the only hands she wanted on her body from this moment forward. 

When her dress hit the floor and she stood there, vulnerable, in front of him, Nixon felt something animalistic ignite in him. It took everything in him not to tear the remaining fabric from her body and cover every inch of her with his mouth. In attempts to avoid acting on this instinct, he met her lips in a deep, hungry kiss. He guided her backward toward the bed, her hands working deftly on the buckle of his belt. She groaned when her hand made contact with the anticipation growing in his pants. He sucked in a breath and bit playfully at her lower lip. He left a trail of eager kisses from her lips down over her jaw, feeling the giggle that resounded in her throat vibrating against his mouth. 

When his pants hit the floor, he felt the immediate relief from the confines of the fabric. She toyed with the elastic of his boxers, watching him shudder in response. He reached up and tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her close for another kiss to distract her. If she got too handsy, he may not make it to the main event. When he kicked himself out of the legs of his pants, he reached around and skillfully unclasped her bra. 

There was no sexy, coordinated way for Nina to get herself back onto the bed. As she crawled, Nixon admired her figure from behind, wondering what he had done in his lifetime to find himself this lucky. Unable to tally it, he shook away the thought and watched as she giggled, laying herself back on the pillows, her hair fanning out around her. Unconsciously, he adjusted the length in his boxers, pulled his socks from his feet, and followed her onto the bed. 

“God,” he let his eyes dance over her in appraisal. “You’re incredible.” 

Nina rolled her eyes, the heat in her cheeks was not foreign to her. Lewis Nixon had a way of making her flush pink that had been a noteworthy occurrence Easy had not let her forget. She often told them it was only his rank that made her nervous, not the man himself. But God, it was everything about him. 

“So,” he leaned down and kissed her lips tenderly, “god,” he kissed her cheek, “damned,” he kissed her neck, “beautiful.” She giggled when he pressed the kiss to her shoulder, his hands cupped both of her breasts. When his thumbs simultaneously brushed against her nipples, she whimpered softly, arching up into his palms. Her hand gently, toyed with his hair, running her fingers back through it as he leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth. Slowly circling his tongue in an effort to elicit more gorgeous new sounds from her parted lips. 

Nixon groaned as he worked his tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers over her exposed chest. At the same time, the placement of his body between her legs encouraged her hips to connect with his, calling forth a growl from his throat he had not anticipated. He was beginning to recognize the need he had for her was something wildly foreign and exciting to him. The fear that lingered in the back of his thoughts would have to be tended to in the moments following the plans he had to explore every inch of her body.

When he kissed down over her stomach, he started to feel her muscles tense in her abdomen under his lips. He looked up at her as he toyed with the waistband of her underwear, searching for permission. She bit her lip, eyebrows furrowed with concern. 

“What is it?” He asked, gently placing a hand on her thigh. He traced a delicate pattern on her skin. 

“I..” There was that pink in her cheeks he had often worked so hard for. He smiled gently and kissed her hip.

“You can talk to me,” he repositioned himself so that he was at eye level with her once more. 

“I’ve never had anyone…” She nodded down toward her underwear, where Nixon idly was toying with the satin bow at the elastic. “Use their mouth.” Nixon’s eyebrows raised and he grinned. He leaned down and he kissed her temple gently, his hand reaching up and fingering a strand of her hair. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to…”  He couldn’t help but let out a throaty laugh. He rolled on top of her, brushing his nose against hers, then his lips against hers. “You can’t make me do something I’ve spent half the damn war thinking about.” He captured her lips in an urgent kiss, his hand slithering down over her stomach and dipping confidently into her underwear. “Mmm,” he groaned, the moment his finger dipped into the heat between her legs. When she gasped, he caught it in a kiss, greedily swallowing every sound that he earned with the deft work of his fingers.

[topguncortez]

A Change of Plans | B. Floyd

Bob Floyd Masterlist | Main masterlist

synopsis: Bob has been trying to find the perfect way to propose to you.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, cursing, cute shit

If there was one thing about Bob Floyd, it was that he is a perfectionist.

It was your birthday, and Bob had set up the whole day for you to spend with Penny, Phoenix and Amelia. Bob had planned the whole thing for you. You were doing brunch at 10, manicures at noon, followed by massages, and then dinner with the whole dagger squad at the end of the day, with a very special gift at the end.

Bob had been planning on proposing to you for months, but could never find the right time. The dagger squad was growing tired of him waiting for the moment to be perfect. The first time he was going to do it, Javy caused a bar fight and he had to step in. The second time, Fanboy had accidentally elbowed you while playing darts and gave you a bloody nose. The third time, Bob forgot the ring at home. Now, tonight would be the fourth time, and he was going to do it come hell or high water.

Bob was wrapping up the ring box when he heard the front door open. He looked like a deer in the headlights as there was wrapping paper, scissors, tape and the black velvet ring box on the bed. Frantically he pushed everything on the floor away from the door and threw a blanket on top of it as you walked into the bedroom, your eyes bloodshot and red.

"Hey," Bob scrambled off the bed and over to you, "What's wrong?" He gently touched your face and you pushed him away, running straight for the ensuite bathroom. He followed you in, wincing as you crashed down to the floor and pushed the toilet lid up, and getting sick. Without hesitation he walked over to you and kneeled down behind you, holding your hair back and rubbing your back.

You took a couple deep breaths as you leaned over, "Got sick at brunch."

"Oh my god," Bob said and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, "You're not hot. Maybe it was something you ate, or did you drink too much?"

"I," You gagged again, and shook your head, "I hardly ate or drank. It all just. . . .taste weird. I just need to lay down, I feel like a trash can." You grimaced as you closed the toilet lid and flushed it. Bob sat down on the floor and guided you back to sit against him.

'Well. . . . looks like fourth time is not the charm,' Bob thought as he gently ran his hands up and down your arms, and rested his chin on top of his head. You couldn't help but close your eyes and start to doze off in his arms, Bob smiling softly at you.

"Let's get you to bed," Bob said to you softly. You sat up a bit, letting Bob move from behind you. You reached both your arms up towards him and he pulled you off the ground. He walked you to bed with a gentle hand on your back, and helped you get settled, "Do you want anything?" He asked running a hand over your hair.

"Yes but we don't have them," You said.

"What is it?" Bob shook his head.

"Dill pickle chips," You said with a smile on your face, "God, I have been craving pickles non-stop, and I hate pickles."

Bob chuckled, "I'll door dash 'em," He kissed your forehead. He closed the bedroom door softly, pulling his phone out from his pocket and texting the group chat, canceling the plans for the night.

'Badass on Board: plan D is a no go. Y/N is sick. Plan E is now in affect'

'Hangman: How many more plans do we let him try before we just take over?'

--- --- ---

Four days. That's currently how many days in a row you spent every single night with your head in the toilet. You weren't sure what was going on. You felt fine until about five clock on the dot and you were vomiting everything you had ate that day. Bob was growing extremely concerned by it.

"I think you should go to the doctor," Bob said as he placed a cool rag on your face. You were laying in his La-Z-boy recliner, with about five blankets on you and a puke bucket next to you.

"I'm fine," You said, "Now give me the remote, the Bachelor-"

"Y/N," Bob warned and snatched the remote away, "Only way I'll let you watch that awful show is if you promise me you'll go to the doctor tomorrow."

"It is not an awful show, Robert," You argued, missing the point.

Bob sighed, putting his hands on his hips, "Y/N M/N-"

"Did you just middle name me?" You gasped.

"Sweetheart!"

"Fine!" You rolled your eyes, "I'll go to urgent care tomorrow, now please, the Bachelor."

Bob smiled and kissed your forehead giving you the remote, "Turn it on. I wanna know if Melody got a rose or not."

--- --- ---

Bob made you text him a picture of yourself at Urgent Care, so he knew that you actually went (cause he knew you well enough that you wouldn't). He smiled at the dorky selfie you sent him of you pointing at an anatomy poster.

"So we are on plan E," Hangman said, walking into the Rec room and sitting down on the couch next to Bob, "How many more plans do we got there Bobby boy?"

"As many as I need," Bob answered and tucked his phone back into his flight suit, "Couldn't help that she got sick. Didn't feel like the right time to try and make her come to dinner and ask her when she didn't feel well."

"Why do you have to do it front of all of us at all?" Rooster asked, and Bob looked up at him, "Yeah, you wanna make it special have your friends and family there, but I mean, maybe it's just not in fate for it to happen like that."

Bob and Jake shared a look, never have they ever heard Rooster say the word "fate" in a sentence.

Rooster rolled his eyes, "I'm dating a girl who's into astrology alright."

Jake blinked a couple of times and shook his head, "Anyway, Birdbrain is right. Maybe it's just meant to be a thing between you two. We can celebrate after you pop the question."

Bob nodded, and stood up from the couch, and walked briskly to the door.

"Where are you going?!"

"Executing plan E: everyone stays away!"

Bob wasn't shocked to find your car in the driveway when he arrived home. He also wasn't shocked when he saw the light from the hall bathroom on. He walked over to the bookshelf in the hallway, pulling one of the books out. He had cut a whole into the pages to hide the ring in. Smiling, he grabbed the black box and walked down the hallway.

"Y/N," Bob said, as he walked in. You picked your head up and looked at him.

"Bob," You sighed.

"Marry me?" "I'm pregnant" the two of you said at the same time.

"What?!" "What?!"

"Marry you?!" "You're pregnant?!"

Bob shook his head, "Okay, you first."

"I went to urgent care like you instructed, and I guess the every day throwing up is actually delayed morning sickness, and I'm pregnant," You said, "Your turn."

Bob looked down at the ring box in his hand, and held it up shyly, "I've been trying to find the right time-"

"I know," You said, and Bob looked shocked, again.

"You know!? What do you mean, you know?"

You laughed, and pushed yourself up from the bathroom floor. You were a bit shaky and Bob reached his hands out to steady you. You grabbed his hands and squeezed them.

"Bob, honey, I love you a lot, but you are horrible at hiding things," You said, "Baby, I found the ring box the day you came home with it cause you left it sitting on the counter."

Bob's jaw dropped, "I wondered how it got in my sock drawer. . . But, what do you say? Will you marry me?" He opened the black box, showing the square cut diamond and gold band.

"Bob Floyd, I would've married you the first time you tried to ask me."

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[attapullman]

That's Mine | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: Bob likes Rooster. He does. So why does he suddenly hate him when his childhood best friend agrees to go out on a date with the pilot?

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: f!reader, 18+ ONLY as always, smut, protected pinv, oral (f receiving), praise!kink, fluff, dirty humour, alcohol mentions, sorry to all the Rooster girlies

Author's Note: This is my official jealous best friend!bob entry for my event International Bob Floyd Fucks Month. Thank you to everyone who has celebrated this silly little thing and continued the Bob Fucks agenda. I just love him so much. Save a Rooster, ride a Bob!

“What do you mean Rooster asked you out?” 

He’s hot on your heels through the house, following you out to where you’re watering the ferns on the deck. You can’t see his face, but the simmering annoyance is palpable. In your mind’s eye you can see the little vein that pops out only when he’s seriously irritated. An emotion he reserves only for you.

Who would have guessed that two strangers pairing up for a Mommy & Me class decades ago would evolve into the inseparable, eye-rolling, belly laughing attachment of you and your best friend. He keeps you focused, eyes on the prize and safely home by ten. You bring Robby out of his shell, actually wanting to jump in and join the crowd. Occasionally both giving each other a headache, but always ending with a punch on the shoulder while sharing a carton of Haagen Daas. 

You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. He’s being so annoying about this Rooster thing.

It’s been four months since you followed him out to San Diego. A quick summons to Top Gun that led to him out in the middle of the ocean while you whined to your roommate about what if he doesn’t come home this time? How could you possibly survive without him infodumping about WWI missiles and whether milk or dark chocolate made better cookies? 

And then you’d gotten the call,  B.O.B. flashing across the screen and the photo from that summer in high school where he let you paint a butterfly on his face. The mission was successful. He was safe. And he was staying in Fightertown permanently with this squadron. A few months later, when your roommate accidentally lit your stove on fire, he asked if you wanted to come down and stay for a few weeks. By the end of the month you had rented a small craftsman and his truck was a regular fixture outside.

Then a month ago, when he’d swung by after work, khaki uniform freshly pressed, and asked if you wanted to come to the local Navy bar to meet the names he spent so much time talking to you about. Fiddling with the edge of his glasses, nervous you wouldn’t like his new crew as well as the Lemoore squadron you’d spent years befriending. But if they were good enough for Bob, they were good enough for you.

Rooster was hot. All curly auburn hair and big brown eyes. You’d hit it off quickly, the two of you against Phoenix and Bob, sharing stories about your beloved bespectacled WSO and his sassy quip of the day. Phoenix still couldn’t believe that Bob had used a Superbad quote for the high school yearbook. You still remember the horrified look on his mom’s face.

But last night had been different. Phoenix and Bob had huddled a Budweiser cup of peanuts and discussed strategy most of the night, Fanboy rounding off the table once he heard “electronic warfare”. Your best friend’s dedication to work was commendable, but what were you supposed to do at a Navy bar when he was busy? Luckily the baby cow-eyed pilot had taken pity and bought you a round, taking you out to the back deck to appreciate the beach while Hangman rowdily dominated the pool table. 

Rooster had been sweet, asking about your childhood with Bob and what you thought of San Diego. Between the kind male attention and the slutty light wash jeans, you were only human for looking up at him through your lashes and flirting a little. And you felt light as air when Bob came outside ready to take you home, your number in Rooster’s phone and a date secured for Friday. 

“Seriously? You’re not going to answer me?” Why was annoying Robby so fun? So sweet and calm under the most pressured of situations, every once in a while he prickled. 

You finish with the deck plants and retreat back inside, making sure the windowsill babies are plenty hydrated in the late afternoon sun. “Why do you care? You like Rooster.”

It’s alarmingly loud in the silence as he thinks through that one.

Because Bob does like Rooster. He’s a little older, outgoing, the kind of guy he trusts on a life-or-death mission. In the last few months he would even venture to say they’d become more friends than coworkers, Natasha always bringing them together for a night out. So why did it bother him so much when you said you were going out with Rooster tomorrow night?

Instead of answering, he keeps his conflicted thoughts to himself and starts helping with the plants. There’s no point in an argument he’s not going to win, especially when he’s not sure what he’s even fighting for.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, metal frames glinting in the low afternoon light, gelled hair out of formation from training with his helmet on all day. Maybe you did overstep by agreeing to go out with one of his coworkers. “You want to get street tacos and make fun of C-list celebrities?” 

His eyes light up as he nods and overwaters your calathea.

Half a six pack of Mexican lager later and the two of you are sprawled across the living room furniture, Bob’s socked feet up on the coffee table and yours over the arm of the wingback he helped you haul home four years ago. Save the fuzzy tipsiness clouding your senses, you’re transported back to weekend nights in high school. Watching old John Hughes movies and laughing so hard soda shot up your nose. Life has been full of so many incredible opportunities, but evenings in front of the TV with Robby are your most cherished memories.

“Oh my god!” you squeal. “Could he be any more cringeworthy? Put a shirt on!” Your fingers cover your eyes, pretending to be offended by the young twentysomething currently stripping off on your trashy television show of choice. 

Bob laughs from his spot on the sofa, beer can dwarfed in that massive hand. “Oh please, you love when they’re half naked for no reason.” He feels that weird tug in his chest for the second time today, but chalks it up to the meat from his street tacos. 

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him that toothy smile you’ve perfected since elementary school. “Ya,” you slur a little. “But as my best friend you’re not allowed to judge.”

As if he could find fault in you.

Payback has been talking to him for the past twenty minutes. Bob hasn’t heard a word. Just continues staring at the front door of the Hard Deck like it will magically conjure you. 

You’re out with Rooster right now, at that restaurant with the breathtaking ocean view and spicy mozzarella sticks. And while you didn’t tell him, he knows you’re wearing the dress with the eyelet lace and your hair down for once. And you’re probably giving him that toothy grin while he talks about 80’s music and shows you photos of working on the Bronco. You’re likely planning your second date already.

He likes Rooster. He likes Rooster. He likes Rooster. So why does he suddenly hate him?

Payback has completely given up on conversation when the door opens and in strides that floral print smug son of a bitch. Bob’s hand grips the table, grounding himself that it’s not a hallucination. Rooster’s hand is respectfully on your waist, leading you through the throng of Friday night patrons. And you look pretty as can be in that dress, your hair slightly covering your warm cheeks and bashful eyes as a strong man looks after you. 

The pilot grins at his squadron, tipping his chin in greeting, knowing he’s got the prettiest girl in the room on his arm. You give Bob a goofy lopsided grin, happy to see him after a lovely night out. Happy that Rooster offered to drop you by before taking you home so you could see your best friend. 

There’s nervous energy bubbling under your skin, eager to download about your dinner and drinks, and you wish you were back at home in the kitchen, mugs of hot chocolate in your hands while you and Robby gabbed about your latest romantic excursions like back in the day.

Things were so much simpler when you were seventeen.

Especially because back then he wasn’t weird when you had crushes, or met someone on Hinge. And he certainly didn’t give you that tight lipped frown that you want to smooth off his face. It’s you and him against the world, so why does it suddenly feel like it’s you against him?

“Hey Robby,” you start, giving him your gentlest smile. “You win darts?” He gives a half shrug, picking at his cup of peanuts. Cool, that’s how he’s gonna play it.

You sit next to Rooster at the piano, letting him play a few songs and rally the crowd. You’re a little bored of the repertoire you’ve heard on repeat since your first Hard Deck visit, but give him an encouraging smile nonetheless to be polite. 

You like Rooster. But even after a nice night, you know you don’t want to pursue this. Not at the sake of your friendship with Bob.

Everyone’s stomping their feet and slapping their hands to Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” when exhaustion hits you. The back of your hand against your mouth signaling that you’ve had enough for one day. The sweet chocolate eyes of your piano partner give you a caring look as he asks if you want him to drive you home. The hope for a goodnight kiss twinkles in his eye.

“No need, I can take her!” It’s instant adrenaline the way the WSO has launched across the room. You rush to thank Rooster for a nice night as he’s left behind on the piano bench. Bob hasn’t said a single word to you all night and yet he’s borderline dragging you out to his truck. The calloused edges of his fingers digging into your bare arm, the soft flannel of his shirt brushing against your hands when he helps you into the truck. They’re all familiar feelings, yet tonight feels different.

He’s completely silent on the drive, the radio playing some alternative rock music barely audible over the silence. He may be quiet with others, happy to take a back seat, but he’s never had an issue piping up with you. It’s punishment. Punishment for trying to have a good time with a guy who you’ve decided you don’t want. 

When he parks in front of your cozy craftsman - the house he toured with you, helped you with the paperwork, bought the bubbly to commemorate the occasion - you’re both at a standstill. Last night you’d been able to put your differences aside for trashy television and tacos. Tonight…you’re just hoping he’ll come inside.

“Who do I gotta bang around here to get you to come inside?” His chuckle is weak, eyes looking anywhere but you.

Because while you’re trying to figure out where you’ve gone wrong, Bob has been having an existential crisis since Bradley fuckin’ Bradshaw put his hand on your waist. A crisis that’s been gaining speed since you followed him out to Lemoore all those years ago and has arrived at a screeching halt, crawling out of his throat. And he’s too shy to tell his lifelong best friend what’s been bothering him for as long as he’s known.

You’re…it. 

It’s the way you laugh with your entire face. How you always have a comeback. Your endless love for others. The endearing way you order a pancake for the table at brunch. You’ve been the entire package this whole time. And someone seeing it before him is infuriating.

He follows you inside, watching the way the light radiates at the high points of your face. This is going to be harder than expected.

Robert Floyd has known for years that his best friend is amazing. Practically his whole life. Not a single doubt they’d make an incredible partner. The tiniest crush forming at just how good of a partner. Daydreaming about their current arrangement - the movie nights, the early morning beach walks, the Sunday afternoon bubble tea runs - with a dash of domestic bliss had his heart thudding in his chest.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was Wednesday night, when he came to collect you for the drive home. Sitting next to Rooster, a cup of peanuts loosely hanging from your hand as you looked up at the pilot with long lashed eyes and a seductive twitch of a smile. The way you’d bitten your lip when you said goodbye, turning back to Robby with that flirty glint still in your eye; instantly resetting to friendly excitement as you followed him to the parking lot.

He needed to make you look at him like that.

And now here, in your living room, while you hand him a glass of water and look at him with those impossibly pretty eyes - fuck. How does he explain?

You’re concerned, watching the turmoil on his face and convinced you’ve seriously crossed a line this time. You’ve always been the troublemaker of the dynamic, the bursting bubbly energy to his impossibly sweet silence. Won’t he please share what’s on his mind?

He’s not sure if it’s the burning need to release this tension from his body, or the way your face looks so upset at his indecision, but suddenly the dam bursts. All rational thought out the window as he finally speaks up.

“If I don’t fuck you right now I think I might die.”

It’s impossible to tell whose eyes are wider. His in embarrassment that came out and so whiny. Yours in total shock. Your brain has blue screened and all you can do is blink slowly back into focus, centering on the pink cheeks and bashful baby blue eyes in front of you.

Licking your lips, you sputter out, “W-what?”

You both know you heard him. It was impossible not to with the intense neediness dripping out of every syllable. His carnal need to know what you feel like, taste like. The way those thick, long fingers of his tensed on his knee.

A thousand emotions pass behind your eyes, reflected in his glasses. A handful of ways to handle this situation, but only one makes sense. 

“Come over here. We can’t have you dying, now can we?”

There is nothing graceful about the collision of bodies that happens. Navy-trained strength meeting enthusiastic energy. He’s across the room before you can finish your sentence, the slight pause of uncertainty met with your bound into his arms. Warm lips finding each other, hesitant yet sure. The hands on your hips are familiar in a different circumstance. 

The waves crashing down on Bob’s brain slow, and he’s instantly soothed as he enjoys the subtle tang to your taste. You’ve worn the same perfume for the last decade, yet this is the first time it’s driven him wild. Pulling back, he takes a deep breath to fill his lungs with the perfect scent. His fingers, fast as light when he works controls, are slow and controlled over the curve of your waist. 

“I hate that Rooster touched you. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours?’

He leans forward, gaze level, breaths intermingling. “You’re mine.”

Eyes wide, glossy lip between your teeth…Bob hasn’t seen anything sexier in his life. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers scratching along his scalp as you fight for dominance in your kisses. He’s gaining confidence the longer you moan into his mouth, a sinful sound he wasn’t prepared to hear. Years of listening to you talk about dates and crushes, and now he’s experiencing it first hand.

You’re caught up in the way he’s trailing his large hands up and down your torso, tentatively brushing against the curve of your ass. Waiting for him to call the shots for what happens next. Frustrated he hasn’t already spread you out on the stupidly expensive cotton duvet he convinced you to buy.

“Robby?” He hums, lips preoccupied with your neck. “Not to be ungrateful, but I thought you were going to fuck me?”

The deep scarlet that spreads across your best friend’s cheeks is one for the record books. Jackpot.

He’s practically falling over himself, hands everywhere at once as he collects his thoughts. “You’re sure…you’re sure you want this?”

The seething jealousy that’s consumed him since Wednesday has dissipated, and the horny fog has lifted temporarily. All that’s left is ensuring you’re both on the same page. Once this happens, there’s no going back. As much as he’s looking forward to taking off that pretty dress, you need to be ready to make the same leap.

Swallowing a deep breath, drowning in those eager cerulean blues, you shift your thigh to press against the bulge in his jeans. A bulge all the girls in Lemoore talked about when they thought you weren’t listening. There’s a curiosity burning in you, a need to know if he’s just as sweet in bed as he is when he’s picking you up or helping with dinner. Things have always been platonic - they needed to be, you wouldn’t have survived a childhood crushing on the bespectacled sweetheart who grew up to be an incredible man.

You know the risks, but the rewards are greater. Life is too short to not experience fucking Robert Floyd.

A kiss to his lips. A wink. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

You sound like children giggling on the playground as you run down the hall to your bedroom, trying not to trip on the hall runner as he presses you against the wall to pepper you in scorching kisses. Breathy laughs as you explore this new part to your dynamic. Overwhelming lust mixed with lifelong companionship.

Once you make it to the bedroom - that supima bedspread underneath you, his hips cradled against yours - the innocent giggles dissipate as you take in the man above you. No longer the pink-cheeked child, the gawky teenager, Robby is nothing but height and strength and…broad? When did he get so broad? Naturally so meek and unassuming, the pure size of him is unexpected. But pinning you to the bed with those veiny hands and strong thighs, a collision of attraction overwhelms you.

There’s nothing delicate about the way he grinds his hips into yours, whimpers leaving both your lips. Your panties are soaked, he’s stretching the front of his jeans. Desperation fills the space between you.

His lips wander from your jaw, your neck, the space behind your ear, all the way to your passion-swollen lips. His voice is unsure, but hopeful, as he whispers against them, “Can I go down on you?”

Your eyes bloom wide - not only because you’d like nothing more, but you’ve remembered something from years ago. Something at the time you’d tried to forget. A night out with the Lemoore crew at that shoddy bar, everyone drunk after being out at sea for weeks, and you sat near the back waiting for Bob to come back with drinks. A small group of female aviators sat at the next table over, having clocked the shy WSO on his way to the bar. One had giggled, her friends shooting her a questioning glance. You’ll never forget when she replied, “I’d heard the rumors and didn’t believe them, but can confirm that Bob Floyd eats pussy like a starving man. Best hour of my life.”

As soon as he sees your slightly too eager nod, he’s working his way down your body, appreciating the feel of your dress and soft skin. Breath held as he officially breaches out of friend territory and lifts the hem, treating himself to the satin he can’t wait to pull aside. 

Lip worried between your teeth, a whimper is punched out of you when a hot mouth secures itself around your mound, thick tongue exploring the crevices of your covered folds. A finger slips itself along your entrance, bringing to attention the soaked material.

“Someone’s excited.” The lust-driven chuckle against your thigh has you shivering. “You want me to eat your sweet little pussy?”

He’s never used that voice on you, husky and mocking. You’re shaking with desire, for him to stop teasing and give you what you want. An hour ago he was just your friend, and now you’ve never felt so needy for a man’s touch. So far gone you don’t even notice the desperate nod you give him.

He presses another wet kiss to your clothed clit before wrapping his long fingers in the fabric. Prompting you to lift up slightly so he can have unimpeded access to this feast. Skimming his nose along your thighs, hot air directly on your slick cunt. The whimpers escaping you doing nothing but prolonging the teasing.

Bob can feel how you tremble, the way your fingers are smoothing over the bedspread in an effort to self-soothe. He’s satisfied that he’s gotten you as frustrated and ill-content as he’s felt for years. Needing something, not knowing if you’ll like it, but knowing that if you don’t have it you’ll never feel satisfied.

His fingers spread you out. Head dips. The lightest touch of his tongue to damp arousal.

Holy fuck. He does eat pussy like a starving man. Pushing his face in closer and closer, his tongue reaching for every inch of the promised land. His fingers wrapped around your thighs, pulling you in. Hot, wet muscle opening you up as he drools. 

Eyes unfocused, you’re in a new dimension and yet he’s enjoying it more. 

That deliciously fuzzy feeling starts to tingle in your stomach, pressure building between your thighs as your best friend helps himself. Blunt nails raking up and down your legs to ground you in the experience. The sharp edge of his metal frames occasionally snagging on the skin. They alone make you want to cry to the heavens. But it’s the way he’s sloppily forcing his tongue into your cunt, lewd noises ringing around the room, that has you clamping your lips shut to not wake all of San Diego.

He senses that you’re holding back, not giving him everything he wants. You’ve been best friends since day one, he knows when you not being authentic.

That delicious tongue withdraws from your thighs and you can feel his stare on you. Waiting patiently for you to make eye contact. The pussy drunk, yet concerned look he gives you as he nudges you. “It’s okay, it’s me. I’m never going to judge you.”

Blue eyes meet yours. The same blue eyes that have consistently seen you safely out the other side of any bad situation the two of you have faced. That always comes home from deployment so matter how much you worry. The same ones that you know will guide and protect you on this journey as well. He’s your best friend. No one else can keep you this safe.

After your nod, he dips his slick lips back to your core, his smile upon your skin. Quickly losing himself in your flavor as he nudges you back open. His own hips rocking against the mattress as you allow your bitten lips to part, moans and whimpers and sharp intakes of breath filling the air. Losing yourself in his over-and-above technique to bring you to the edge.

His own muted moans vibrate against your core. Dexterous tongue and calloused middle finger (followed quickly by another) sliding in and out with ease. It’s too much and not enough, overwhelming your senses and making your brain whirr. Skin slick with sweat as that fuzzy feeling in your stomach returns and your feet tingle. Your eyes gazing unfocused down at Robby, hopelessly turned on at his dedication to making you feel good.

“C’mon, be good for me.”

His muffled words stretch the string and bring you home, thighs clamping around his damp face as a scream escapes your throat. Fingers twisting in the bedspread. Back arching. The view has him slack jawed and starry eyed, fingers still pumping in and out to prolong your orgasm. A slight tilt of his lips into a smile at how content you are when he finally catches your gaze through labored breaths.

Your brain slowly comes back to you, thoughts racing through sludge. Eyes fixed on cerulean as a smile stretches your lips. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

He laughs, a surprised, carefree sound as he uses your thighs to help himself up the bed. Gives you a little wink as he grins, “It can get kind of boring on deployment.”

“Recon and intelligence protection missions are boring?”

“Yeah, when you’re not there to annoy me.” His dimples are out in full force, laughter twinkling out of every pore on his perfect face. You slug him a little, your orgasm still working its way through your body. The urge to roll over and sleep just as strong as the urge to shove him in your cunt through his jeans. 

You’ve had a taste and you need more.

He’s already one step ahead of you, shrugging the soft flannel and faded tshirt from his body. Gently cranes you in his arms as he helps unzip and lift your dress above your head. The garbled choking sound and intake of breath when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra makes you proud. You’ve always thought Bob was attractive in an understated, sweet way. To know he’s attracted to you makes any doubt about this situation indefinitely fade.

Sitting in front of him, not a scrap of fabric on you, you feel good. He’s the best guy you know, the one you have always sung his praises because there’s literally no one better. The only difference between a friendship and a relationship is sex. That’s all that’s been missing.

It’s time to take the plunge.

You swallow his lips with yours, fingers twisting in his sun-lightened hair. His arms wrapping around you, holding you secure to him. Both of you gasping at the feeling of your bare torsos touching. It’s electric. It’s satisfying. It’s grounding.

Hands quick to unzip his jeans, laughing as he tries to help only for you to bat him away. “You got to undress me, I want to undress you.”

The groan he emits reverberates. You’re so sexy and it’s driving him crazy. There was his fleeting crush in high school, but this…this is beyond his wildest dreams. Allowing your soft fingers to dip below the waist of his boxers, shimmying the denim and cotton down his legs. Your lips struck open in awe at the heavy, hard, thick appendage resting against his thigh. 

“You tell me every secret you have, and yet you keep the python in your pants to yourself?” He laughs, a hand wrapping around the base as you flounder to mentally combine Robby, your meek best friend, with the red-tipped joyride protruding from his pelvis. 

He helps himself to a condom from the box in the nightstand - the one you jokingly said you’d never use when he watched you unpack. You’re almost worried it’s going to be too small, but he glides it on with ease before lowering you both onto the bed, biceps straining as he adjusts. Bob can feel your slick center against the bottom of his dick and it’s taking everything in him to not make himself at home.

As you prepare yourself for what’s about to be a hell of a stretch, he kisses the top of your breasts, skimming his nose against your soft skin. Even in this moment his main priority is making you comfortable and feel safe. “We can go slow, it’s okay.”

But where Bob is safe and secure, you’re adventurous, curious. You want to know what he feels like now. 

The wild fire of your eyes bores into his calm ocean blue. “Where’s the fun in that?”

A shift of hips and he’s slipping through, arousal and spit gently gliding the tip of him in. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling on the Navy-approved length at the nape of his neck. A sharp tug that prompts a yelp as he drives his hips forward, slipping inch after inch into you. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you struggle to adjust. Fuck, he’s so big.

He’s kissing your temple, whispering how good you’re being for him. I know it hurts, you’re doing so well, almost there, baby. His thumb sliding between your bodies to rub pointed circles on your clit. He’s barely started and you’re already leaving your body, watching yourself be stuffed to the brim.

The neatly trimmed hairs of his pelvis poke along your clit and you’re proud of yourself for taking all of him. Nudging Bob softly to move because you’re uncomfortably full. Back arching into his strong chest as he explores parts of you that you didn’t know existed. 

In no time at all he’s thrusting with all his power, leaving you a moaning mess. Fingers clutching to any sweaty skin you can find, nails leaving their mark. He’s red-faced and huffing above you, eyes switching between your blissed out expression and the way your breasts sway with his heavy thrusts. This is heaven. This is everything. Why did he wait to say anything?

Suddenly you’re pawing at his chest, pushing him to roll over. “C’mon Floyd, let me rock your world now.”

He’s pretty sure you could blow him a kiss and rock his world, but he’s definitely not complaining about the view. The silhouette of you against the San Diego moon - big beaming smile and tight nipples. Wishes he had a camera to forever commemorate the first of many times you ask to ride him. A picture book of your perfect face all the way down to you split over his dick with different backgrounds.

From this angle it’s tight, but you’re not a quitter. Rocking your hips to loosen up, hands finding purchase on his chest. His big smile is back, eyes completely dilated while he can’t decide where to look. You’re seeing stars and he’s seeing diamonds. 

Once rhythm comes to you, you’re bouncing, loving the way he fills you to the hilt each time. His encouraging smile behind golden rims. You’re with someone who knows the real you, who encourages you to be your best self. And with his strong, veiny hands wrapped around your waist, helping along your movements, you know he’s…it.

It’s hard to tell where your moans end and his start, both of you polluting the air with inhales and groans mixed with the occasional squelch of sex. Your skin is shimmering, thighs begging for reprieve. You can’t get enough of the way he perfectly fills you every time. 

Sensing your exhaustion, he brings you closer, slotting his mouth over yours in a filthy, sloppy kiss. Starting to meet your thrusts as you inch closer and closer to your orgasm. Having to calm himself before he ruins your rhythm. The idea of you cumming on his cock has him dizzy. You rake your fingers through his hair one last time, eyes unable to meet as your lashes flutter, and he knows. You’re here, he’s gotten you to the edge.

That big hand on your lower back soothes as you clench for the final time, pulsing. You’ve officially left Earth, watching yourself convulse on top of Robby while he rocks himself up into you. “Good girl…yeah, that’s right…feels so good, huh?” 

Forget the best sex of your life, this orgasm can never be topped.

You’re half-heartedly pressing kisses to his forehead as he begin the descent to his own orgasm. Feet flat to the mattresses as he cants his hips up, desperate to drive every inch into you. The fluttering of your cunt the most amazing thing he’s ever felt, catapulting him over the edge quicker than any partner he’s had before. Shoving his face into your neck, licking at your salty skin, he knows his release is inevitable.

“C’mon Robby, cum for me.”

All reason leaves him and he bites down, lips securing over the delicate slope of your neck. A while light flashes behind his eyes and he’s filling up the condom, squeezing out every ounce of release. He suckles the skin, soothing himself as his spent body blinks back to life. Smiles sheepishly when he meets your eyes, as you smile at him sweetly.

Words don’t exist as you hold each other under the covers, tracing skin and giggling when the other finds a ticklish spot. At some point he disposes of the condom, but you’re still not fully there. Everything is good and special and you want to live in this moment forever.

When Bob strolls into the Hard Deck Saturday night, one arm looped around your waist, everything was right in his world.

His colleagues and friends sat in the back near the pool table, sipping beers and winning a game against another squadron. The two of you stroll up, looking decidedly more friendly than they’ve ever seen. Especially when Bob won’t let go of your waist and you keep touching him. 

You can’t help it. You’ve gotten a taste and now you’re insatiable.

The group takes in their WSO, standing a little taller than usual with his uncontrollable grin. And then they take in you, beaming, all smiles, looking right at home by Bob’s side in your tight jeans and cute little top. A cute little top that perfectly shows off the dark purpling mark mottling on your collar - teeth marks still visible in the right light.

While Robby confirms your drink order, there is stunned silence from the other half of the pool table. Mouths agape, a gleam of pride in Jake’s eye. Phoenix picks herself up first, eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden realization of last night’s events. Clocks that you went out with Rooster, yet went home with Floyd. 

“So, uh, what happened there?” She gestures to the obvious love bite. One that definitely wasn’t there when the group saw you last.

You bite your lip and look at your lifelong best friend. The guy who showed you his love last night…and then several more times this morning. His crinkled eyes drift from yours to the spot where he bit down as he came for you for the first time.

Turning to look at his squadron, he plays it cool and  shrugs, mumbling through his blush, “Can’t blame me for making sure no one else plays with my toys.”

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[floydsglasses]

Dagger Squad as Bath and Body Works Smells

So its January and its time for B&BW to roll out the good not fruity smells so why not do this, so enjoy my unhinged ness.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰-𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲

This was not that hard for me to choose, he reminds me of an old car smell, like a jeep that was hidden in a garage for to long and is now being driven. This candle smells like warm leather, amber woods and aged brandy, its described as a nightcap in your recliner.

𝐉𝐚���𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧- 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

The irony of me finding this candle name, when i think of him like i think some type of hickory sweet honey smell, like a dive bar in the mountains. This candle smells like Warm Whiskey, Bergamot, Cedarwood & Amber and its described as warm, friendly aroma of a fresh & clean southern gentleman on date night

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 "𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐱" 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞- 𝐑𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 & 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Honestly this whole candle to me scream's her, like the coloring remind's me of her and the whole smell, she seem's like the kind of person to wear a flannel when lounging around her house. This candle smells like, pink raspberries, strawberry vanilla bean and sugared lemon drops. and Its described as : a lightly tart and perfectly creamy treat.

𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 "𝐁𝐨𝐛" 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝-𝐋𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

When I think of him I think a type of sweet airy smell, like watching the morning sun in the mountains during the summer, and you cant tell me that this man doesn't remind you of just that. This candle smells like crisp autumn air, white driftwood and a hint of green apple. and is described as cool, sweet, fresh alone time on the dock.

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲 "𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐲" 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐚- 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

I will not lie he was kind of hard to choose for, I imagine him having a sweet smell but also obtaining this masculine wood like smell, like I can just see it. This candle smells like Red Apple, Plum, Soft Pear, Jasmine, Peony, Cedarwood, Patchouli, Vanilla, Musk and is also described as crisp woodland walk with sweet apple aroma in the air.

𝐑𝐮𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐧 "𝐏𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤" 𝐅𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡- 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐧

I know that this might be like so basic as a masculine type smell but he just for some reason seems like he would smell like a wood barrel that has been aged perfectly, like if you opened a perfect bottle of bourbon and it tasted perfect. This candle smells like a bold, smooth, barrel-aged pour. Fragrance notes: white pepper, dark amber and Kentucky oak. and is also described as such, bold, smooth, barrel-aged pour.

𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐲 "𝐂𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐭𝐞" 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨- 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭

It's literally in the name, he reminds me of a beach plain and simple like that, like anything this man is like golden coast. This candle smells like Bright Citrus, Cool Waters, Sea Breeze & Beach Woods. And like my description this is told to be like, The smell of cool ocean waters fills the California coast.

By the way you all can get these candle's, i dont remember the price though so dont ask me lol.