#and the way Wes keeps looking at Sam while he's dancing like he's trying to make one of the Buckingham Palace Royal Guards crack

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

~ Dancing Noodle Boys ~

Bonus:

[buckyalpine]

Some shy Bucky with meddling Sam and Steve and a cute little baker. 

Bucky hummed at the warm drink that danced on his tongue, a new creation that the sweet girl at the bakery had insisted he try. He wasn’t big on experimenting but ever since he’d visited the shop, he couldn’t say no to the human form of sunshine that stood behind the counter, always offering him something new to she’d made. Today, the flavors of vanilla and praline were infused in his coffee, your latest combination you had made just for him.

“So, thoughts?” You smiled hopefully, the twinkle in your eyes making Bucky blush like a school boy. 

“It’s delicious doll, thank you” He slid you a 5, shaking his head when you tried to give him back change, “Keep it, if anything I should be paying you more for something that good”

You giggled, waving goodbye to the handsome super soldier as he left, the dainty bell to the door of your shop ringing on his way out. What started off as a one time thing became a daily occurrence; Bucky would go for a morning walk or run and stop by the bakery before making his way back. He enjoyed his new routine, getting a coffee, talking to the angel that worked there, grabbing a cookie, getting to see her smile, trying a new drink, fuck, that sweet laugh. 

Now that it was getting warmer, you’d started to introduce him to cold drinks with fruit flavors and different colors. It had been almost three months since he’d first visited; your bakery was a sold part of his day now and he going to change it any time soon. 

“I’ll be able to open a whole new shop with how much you keep tipping me Jamie” you shook your head while he chuckled, sliding the change back to you. 

“Well if there's anyone that deserves it, it’s you” The smirk he gave you caused butterflies to fly madly around your tummy; you had no business crushing on the handsome soldier but he made it so hard! 

Bucky couldn’t stop smiling as he walked back to the compound, humming to himself with another new creation of yours to try. He wouldn’t quite remember the name of what you’d given him but he loved it nonetheless, adoring the sprinkles you added on top just because. 

"I thought you only drank black coffee” Sam cocked an eyebrow from where he was sitting in the kitchen as Bucky walked in, seeing the bright pink and blue drink the brunette was holding. A shit eating grin made it’s way to his face while Bucky groaned.

“Don’t start-

“Who is she. C’mon, big grumpy, staring machine like you drinking unicorn in a cup?” 

“There is no she” Bucky hissed while Sam raised his hands in defeat, not the least bit convinced. 

“Whatever you say” 

One nosy, sneaky Sam and Steve mission later,

“For fucks sake, Dear God” Bucky groaned seeing his two best friends already sitting at the counter chatting up his angel, both men grinning when they heard Bucky walk in. 

“Hi Jamie!” you smiled while Steve chuckled to himself seeing the brunette glower at them. 

“Awww, hi Jamie” Sam cooed, making a kissy face that Bucky would’ve smacked off if you weren’t standing right there. “We didn’t know you came to this place” 

“Jamie comes here all the time” You smiled, making his regular order while Bucky huffed, his annoyance melting away watching you flit behind the counter, handing him his coffee and a fresh cookie. 

“Does he now” Steve snorted, looking at Bucky watching you with heart eyes, 

“Y’know, y/n was saying she wanted to see that movie you’ve been going on about” Sam stated, nudging Bucky’s shoulder, “You know the one you’ve been dying to see too? Maybe you could both go. Thanks for the coffee y/n” 

Bucky stared at Sam with panicked wide eyes, the pink on his cheeks spreading to his neck and ears. Sam and Steve made their way out while Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze along with a knowing smile. 

Go for it. 

“You - wouldn’t-with me- would-would you want to?” He sputtered out while you giggled with a nod making him relax. “Sorry, it’s been so long” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, collecting himself. “and my friends are idiots” 

“I’d love you” you whispered, leaning over to give he blushing soldier a peck on his cheek.

“It’s a date, doll” Bucky winked, loving the bashful smile you gave him, his charming self slowly coming back. He’d eventually owe Sam and Steve $20 each when they end up being the best men at his wedding but it would be worth it. 

[samwinchesterswifu]

Million Dollar Baby (Castiel x Reader) Smut

Song Inspo: "Million Dollar Baby" by Tommy Richman

Warnings: grace!kink

MINORS DNI

A/N: I wanted to write more into it, but felt like i havent been able to write full blow p in v type smut, so i am sorrry for the cocktease. But let me know if you want the full version <3

Word Count: 1140

Summary: On a hunt with the boys and the angel she's infatuated with, what could possibly happen?

She shifts awkwardly on her heels while adjusting the length of the tight red dress she was wearing. Dean chose her and Cas as the primary subjects to try to lure in a Witch that was causing havoc with some love spell. The two of them where supposed to go to a club that the Witch frequented under suggestion of Crowley. She couldn’t imagine Castiel all dressed up. Having an infatuation of the angel was hard enough to keep a secret, just picturing him in a proper suit had her mind buzzing. But that thought was interrupted by a loud knock on the bathroom door of the crappy motel they were in for the week.

“Hurry up Y/N!” Dean yelled.

“Alright!” She yelled back in response.

Heat was already rising to her cheeks due to the nerves. She turns to the door and grabs the door knob. Taking a deep breath, she opens up the door to find Castiel entering the motel room with Sam on his trail and shit eating grin plastered to his face.

Both of them stopped in their tracks at the sight of each other. A low whistle is heard from Dean.

“Damn Y/N I didn’t know you cleaned up like that.” She could feel Dean undress her with his eyes and she shoots him a glare before turning her attention back to Castiel.

Sam leaned up against the door of the motel, with arms crossed he seemed pleased by her reaction. When Sam had offered to help Castiel get “cleaned up” this wasn’t what she had imagined.

Castiel had black pleated dress pants on, accompanied by a midnight blue knitted polo short-sleeved shirt with some buttons undone. The shortened sleeves seemed to show off some muscle she didn’t even know he had. He was also wearing a simple chain necklace, and presumably a watch. All pulled together with a leather jacket.

The two of them eyed each other up and down before a cough came from Deans direction.

“Well, we should get going, we need to get there before dark to set up surveillance.” Dean says, grabbing the keys to the Impala and ushering the two to the car.

They each sit in the backseat while the boys sat up front. As they journeyed towards the venue, she would steal glances of the angel in the reared view mirror. Not realizing he was doing the same thing.

Finally, after what seemed forever in an awkward silenced car, they arrive at the scene.

“Okay, remember the plan, you two on the dance floor, we’ll try to catch the Witch before anything happens, got it?” Dean asks.

She nods in agreeance and anxiously exits the car. Going around to Castiel’s side of the Impala and forcefully grabs his hand and leads him into the place. Once inside, she makes a beeline towards the bar. Ordering a shot for both her and Castiel.

“Y/N you know I don’t get drunk,” the angel besides her comments.

“I know but if we want this to look believable then I need you to drink something for the time being.” She sighs, taking her shot and asking for another round for the two of them.

This was also mainly an excuse to try to help calm her nerves. It wasn’t the fear of the Witch planting some dangerous love spell on them, it was that she was already so hot and bothered by him and the way that he cleaned up.

After a 3rd round of shots, she felt a small buzz and felt ready to hit the dance floor while Castiel presumably looked unbothered. Grabbing his hand again, she leads him towards the center of the dance floor. As a few different songs came on, she tried to dance around Castiel. Not really knowing what to do, but more so moving along with the beat.

That was until a newer song came on. Castiel had twirled her out, and brought her back in at the beginning of the song. Placing her back flushed against his chest and the two of them moved comorbidly to the beat. Castiel’s head dipped to her shoulder and his breath was hot on her neck. Closing her eyes, she squirmed against him trying to create some form of friction. Both of Castiel’s hands where placed on her hips helping control her movement. But a third form of heat began to climb down her chest and a squeezing sensation was felt on her breasts. Her eyes shot open, looking down to find nothing there. She looks up to Castiel to see his eyes shining blue. This man was using his grace on her. She could feel the grace began to move down her body. Making her breath hitch, how ballsy could this man be?

Castiel appeared to have a new founded confidence because he seemed more cocky then ever. He didn’t need sex pollen, or a sex spell, the man was drunk off her alone. Getting loss in the moment, her breath hitched as the grace came over her core. As the anticipation built, Castiel stopped. He grabbed onto her hand, and twirled her back out. But as he was pulling in, he made sure that they were facing each other. His eyes still shimmered a bright blue tone different than his normal.

“Castiel?” She whispers his name in confusion.

“Motel, now.” Castiel responded through gritted teeth.  

Nodding in response, they were gone in a moment. Poofing back into the motel room instantly, she realized that Cas had teleported them there. Her phone began to ring off the hook assumingly it was Dean or Sam calling to see what happened. But she didn’t have a care in the world. She was ready to worship the man in front of her. Cas grabs tightly on her hips looking at her eyes and down to her lips.

“Do you have any idea how much you drove me crazy in there? I’ve never felt this way towards a human,” he says walking her back up against the bed. The back of her knees flushed against the bed frame.

Cas’s head drop to her neck and attaches his lips to the skin. Kissing up and down nibbling softly along the way. Breathy moans of pleasure leaves her lips as her head dips back. The warm feeling of grace making its return on her body made her feel even more drunk than she could be on a Saturday night. Cas takes a moment away from attacking her neck to look her dead in the eyes.

“I need permission love, I need you, so please, let me show you what a man can’t do that I can do, all for you,” he whispers sultrily.

“Please Castiel,” she breathes out.

Castiel eyes deepen as a smile forms across his face.

“Anything for you love.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Fellow turns around after feeling the distinct sensation of someone’s hand in his pocket.

“…ah. Shishishi~ Nice collections of wallets you’ve got there, mister! Aren’t they heavy? I swear I was just trying to help you lighten the load! Isn’t that right, Leona-san?” -Ruggie, caught red-handed.

“…” -Leona, just passing by and torn between narrowing his eyes at Fellow’s presence at NRC or putting a palm to his face, absolutely done with everything.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“Hey now, hands off my pockets!” Fellow shooed the hyena off, keeping protecting hands over his wallets. “I earned these fair and square. Find some other suckers to prey on—and next time, be less obvious about it!”

“Nishishishishi! I dunno, Leona-san~ Ya think we should let this criminal run free?”

“Tch, hell if I care. Don’t get me involved in your personal squabbles. I ain’t cleanin’ up after ya.”

“Wow, harsh.” Ruggie swiveled to Fellow. “You see how he treats me? Awful. After I work my tail off for him, too. The Mystery Shop’s a better gig. Sam still makes me clean, but at least he pays me for my time.”

The emerald of Leona’s eyes cut narrow.

With an impish grin, Ruggie continued. “Geez~ Rich people seriously are the worst!”

“They are,” Fellow agreed in a grumble. He thought of his own employer—well, ex-employer—a shadowy man screaming abuse at him through the phone. “So full of themselves and entitled to service.”

“See, you get me!!” Ruggie elbowed him in the ribs. “Us poors gotta band together and rise up against’m. Let’s eat the rich!”

“Oi, Ruggie,” his dorm leader growled at last, “Quit talkin’ about me like I’m not standing right in front of you.”

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings, Leona-san?”

“Yeah, you’re really breaking my heart,” he drawled sarcastically. “I’m choking up over here.”

“Charming boss you’ve got here.” Fellow’s laugh as light as fairy floss. “I’ll bet he’s a riot with the snooty elites.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe. Well, when he feels like turning on the charm. Works wonders for a distraction while I liberate them of their valuables~”

“Really! That’s usually my job. Sometimes I pull double duty. Giddie ain’t exactly good at keeping people’s attention or being slick with his hands.”

“You have a partner? Convincing Leona-san to play along’s like pulling teeth. He whines all the time and makes demands like some overgrown cub—”

“Ruggie,” Leona snapped. Low, threatening—a command to stay silent.

“My bad!! My lips are sealed!” the hyena pledged. He comically dipped into a bow and slunk back.

Leona stepped up.

“Ohoh?”

Here comes the king.

The regal lion rolled his shoulders, inclining his head back—looking down on Fellow. “… Hey, scammer. I held my tongue before since you were slinking around town being sketchy—but now you’re in my territory, and I make the rules around here.

“I don’t care if you go around plucking wallets from unsuspecting herbivores. Just don’t cross me, not again. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tread lightly. Got that?”

His tone was familiar. Assured and full of arrogance. A luxury afforded to this beat thanks to immense power and privilege.

Fellow gritted his teeth. He managed to force out a measured response, despite his surging hatred.

He knew this song and dance. How to keep his head down, how to swallow his pride and comply. Kowtowing was a skill, and Fellow had mastered it.

“Completely. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way, good sir!” he chirped with a pearly smile.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

Leona turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He strolled off without so much as another word or gesture.

Ruggie tore off after him. “Ah—wait up! You know I was just joking, right? Heeey, don’t ignore me, Leona-san!”

Fellow carefully watched their retreating figures. When their shaped had vanished entirely, he angrily kicked at the ground and shouted at the skies.

“I can’t stand these damn rich people!!”

[pparacxosm]

hunger is ugly

(blue-eyed son 3 !! which, as any third and final installation of a franchise ((back to the future and spiderman withstanding !!!)), is obviously the best one; i’m only half kidding; homeless era!patrick zweig x jaded businesswoman!reader; see parts one and two; tw eggnog; tw coworkers; cw smut but nothing crazy; if you’re seeking closure don’t hold your breath; i’m sick of these two; they clearly don’t know what they want; and i refuse to take blame; tw fitted sheets; tw cocaine talk)

He once told you he couldn’t wear a suit. I couldn’t, he’d said, I’d look ridiculous in a suit. But he cleans up quite nicely, actually.

In fact, he looks good, and you’re not above admitting that. He looks better, actually. Healthier. And he looks handsome in his casual blazer and charcoal linen slacks. Oh God, are you gonna look frumpy beside him?

“I’ve always wanted to go to an office Christmas party,” he says.

You’re on the floor before him, straddling your full length mirror, and all your tumbledown, halfway gutted makeup products are strewn wildly about you.

Your bed, behind you, is a skeleton state, too. When he’d come over, he’d nearly laughed at the fact that you’ve apparently been so busy, your clean bedding is still sitting in a laundry hamper in the corner of the room, and you’ve been sleeping in the inserts on a bare mattress for who knows how long.

Patrick doesn’t pass judgment on the mess in your apartment. He still feels he owes you in some weird, kiss-the-hand-that-fed-you sort of way.

You’re not a slob. You always look put together when you leave the house. You’ve just had to focus on work. You can’t stumble at the finish line. Or… the glass ceiling. Or the penultimate rung on the corporate ladder. Whatever. If you can successfully execute this next product launch, who knows what other doors might open for you. Probably doors in buildings very similar to the one you’re already working in. But that’s nothing to sneeze at. Every morning, you see your reflection in those immaculate windows.

So anyway, it shouldn’t matter. Things just get away from you sometimes.

Patrick’s standing above you pensively reflecting how many undone buttons says Corporate Shindig Eyecandy (Please Give My Date That Promotion) as opposed to Reformed Tennis Heartthrob. His shins are sort of bracketing your hips.

“Well, it’s half an office Christmas party, and half—like—a congratulatory… thing. For Deirdre’s successful proposal,” you murmur, leaning forward, tugging your temple to flatten your eyelid and flick on your liner.

“Aw, what?” he frowns, “Deirdre? We fucking hate Deirdre.”

You laugh. You try not to delude yourself, not to let these moments exist in some flowery vacuum in the eye of your mind, not to ask him to fix your bedding for you. But it’s hard.

Whoever let Sam replace the DJ halfway through the party was either a genius anarchist or too drunk to care.

You know it’s probably the latter. You down the cognacheavy eggnog from your glass and make a disgruntled face. You don’t know what you expected. Shania Twain is belting from the speakers while Sam wiggles his headphones in a dumb, awkward dance.

He’s pretty funny, all things considered, but you’d still like nothing better than to whack him up the head with an ink cartridge.

One of the blousy interns from your department is haplessly flirting with Patrick, pretending he bumped into her and made her plash some eggnog on herself, but she’s trying to be selfaware about it.

“Oh gosh, isn’t this such a cliché: the boss’ plus one wiping a dairybased drink from the subordinate’s—… oh no, I know she’s not technically my boss, but she’s sort of my senior within the company, like on the general corporate ladder, argh, I know, I hate it!”

She could’ve said superior, you think, instead of senior.

You’re feeling too pissy to go and save him from that failed interaction. You turn your back to the crowd and look out of the glossy black windows. That chorus keeps stomping its pointed heels over your fragile nerves.

The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun!

Do you have a little fun? Are you a Good Time? You have to laugh. It’s just a stupid song. But you need the validation.

That’s why Patrick picks the wrong moment to come and talk to you.

“Hey, this chick is chasing me with a napkin around the room.”

You snort. “Not my problem.”

Patrick leans against the buffet, delivering a wry salute when Sam points at him from the DJ booth and winks. “That guy’s something,” Patrick chuckles, “He asked me to sign his dick.”

“Did you?”

Patrick hums like he’s ambivalent and places a large hand on the small of your back. “Would that be good for you, if I did?”

“I’m fun, right?”

You swirl the remains of eggnog in your glass. You ask the question like he’s been holding out some big secret from you.

Patrick blinks. He scoffs in disbelief, but also smirks pointedly at your glass. “You’re asking me?”

You stare at him through the briar lace of your eyelashes. Everyone who’s met him today has had their own lashes drenched in laughter. You hadn’t realised it first. You’d figured those were mutually exclusive things, downandout charm and the breathing room of comfortable success. But no. He’s charming, anyway. It’s just that he’s not haggling for scraps of generosity anymore so much as he’s lapping at the fleeting dregs of likability. And you hate that you notice that, and you hate that you notice him, that you know him, in a sense. Because what are you supposed to do about it?

“Everybody loves you. Just… be objective.”

Patrick still laughs. He rubs his stubble. He should’ve shaved this morning. He thought he was doing something for you, something nice, by coming with you to this thing and wooing everybody’s pants a little tighter, but maybe he’d missed the mark. “You know I can’t be objective.”

“Why not?” You sound petulant, leaning angrily against the buffet. You’re old enough to know what he’s saying, of course. He’s being nice. He’s telling you he thinks you’re fun, that the rest shouldn’t matter, but then he doesn’t need anything. Even when he had nothing. So he wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t notice.

Patrick tilts his head and narrows his eyes in that way he does when he’s vivisecting you, then clears his throat. “You’re drunk.” He laughs again, a little gratuitous. Then, after a while, “I have fun with you. You’re engaging.”

“Engaging?” you echo, frowning. “Seriously? What am I, an essay?”

“No, I just— Jesus, what do you want me to say?”

You clench your jaw. Okay, you are drunk and you’re at this office party from hell and a hard rain’s a-gonna fall, so goddamn it, he will call you fun.

So you get right into his face. You’re good at that, even if you barely reach his shoulder. “Tell me I’m fun, because I am, and you think I am.”

You try to swat his hand away, but his palm stays put, a hot magnet just above your tailbone, and he doesn’t even look like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just that he feels an emptiness in his stomach, depressing but also thrilling. Like taking a hit. Like you’re a little bag of white powder. Beyond the dark windows it starts to snow. He used to do a bit of coke, when everything around him dropped dead and started to rot, and he couldn’t stomach the smell. He doesn’t seem like the poster kid for moderation, but the coke was good, and he didn’t let it be any more than that. In fact, at times, the coke was great. The coke was fun. But he couldn’t live with the coke. You understand? He couldn’t settle down in New England and raise a cat with the coke.

“I don’t think I can win with you,” he murmurs, and, for his part, he at least sounds like he needs to change that.

It’s supposed to be a comfort fuck—and you call it fuck in your head dismissively—but it’s too raw and unknown. You’ve spent so much time in this questionable relationship with existence in his life. In and out. You thought you’d learned him, or at least learned the both of you, but his hands on you, his mouth on you—it’s frightening, finite, foreign. Somehow divorced from this man who, for all his egofueled casual mania, doles out intimacy like free samples.

This is what it feels like to watch him unravel, but it’s not just beggar’s desperation. No, he’s making room for someone else beside him in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

He keeps touching every part of you, frantically, trying to feel all of you, sinking his head between your thighs with a groan of relief, immersing himself in another body. But not just any body, because he keeps mouthing your name. As if to remind you that he is here, and you let him in. Because it matters that it’s you, that someone who knows him is letting him in. He’s humming to himself as you come against his fingers and mouth.

... hunger is ugly... souls are forgotten... I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it...

You like his full weight on you, sinking you into your undressed mattress, trapping you, suffocating you under his bottomless gloom. He has one hand on your thigh. He lifts it at an uncomfortable angle, sinking his cock deeper into you, making it ache. How does he know you like that, anyway? He doesn’t. He noticed.

You want to resent what he’s doing here, which is trying to ‘win with you’. Because he’s been on a winning streak, and you’re not about to spoil that.

And these demeaning, mechanical thoughts probably aren’t reflective of his inner monologue at the moment, but it’s easier to believe he doesn’t respect you than to contend with this whole thing.

You want to tell him, you don’t know what I like, but he starts talking about this tournament. There’s a match in Boston, for real this time. You’re having trouble paying attention.

You fall asleep with him still inside you, head on your chest, and you, crushed comfortably by his weight.  

You wake up before him. He must have rolled off you in the middle of the night. He’s sleeping next to you, one hand stretched towards you, head on the pillow at a strange angle.

You turn away quickly.

You sit on the edge of the bed, breathing in and out, staring at the heap of his cocktail wear on the floor. You feel sore and stupefied. You feel cramps in your muscles. You feel weak in the best and worst way possible. You keep breathing in and out, hoping you’re keeping quiet.

But he wakes up anyway.

You can feel his gentle eyes on the slightly hunched line of your back.

“Hey.”

“Morning,” you mumble, throat dry. Why does it have to be morning? Why does it always have to be morning?

“Come back here,” he says, as if it weren’t morning.

You shake your head softly.

His silence is edifying. It goes on for too long.

“You’re not gonna stay, are you?” you ask, serious and formal, gripping the edge of the mattress. You clench your jaw, body taut.

You can hear him swallow, throat working to get the syllables out.

“I’m not, like… leaving you.”

You close your eyes.

“No, I mean—yeah,” you chuckle miserably. “You’re probably doing the right thing. The best thing for you.”

You feel the tears slide out one by one, and your shoulders shake slightly.

“Please don’t cry.” He’s using that soft and primordially tentative voice he uses with your cat. “I’m not worth it.”

You look over your shoulder at him. “Then why is it so fucking hard to watch you go?”

It’s only recently you’ve started getting angry with him. You used to get grudgingly amused, perhaps vaguely reproachful, but now his stupid face just makes you livid.

His eyes tremble pensively. “I don’t know. But that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You turn your head away, rolling and wiping your eyes at the same time. “I just don’t see how it could work.”

And there’s a door he could open for you. There’s something he could say at this juncture to reassure you, momentarily, that it could. But he can’t bring himself to lie, because he cares about you too much to take a bump of that powder.

He hangs his head and looks at the beautiful line of your back, memorising it.

Then he gets up.

“I’m gonna make coffee, then we can get that fucking fitted sheet on, alright?”

You nod absently. You don’t turn to look at him as he puts on his clothes.

He comes up to you before he leaves. He runs his finger under your chin and lifts it up. There’s a kitten scratch on his cuticle.

You could come watch the match.

But he doesn’t say that. You haven’t seen him play since New Rochelle. “I’ll fill the demon’s bowl. I think she’s starting to like me.”

You laugh, wiping more tears.

Patrick takes that hand, your hand, wet with tears, and brings it to his mouth. He kisses and licks the salt away. He keeps it there for a moment longer than he should. You gently pull away.

You only exhale when he’s gone.

Toby slinks out from behind your mirror, swishing her tail back and forth in contempt.

You narrow your eyes. “Oh, shut up,” you whisper.

[leahsflwer]

LOTR pref - Y/N being drunk and flirting with them 🫣🤪

Warnings: Not much Really.. fluff mixed with very light smut :)

LOTR characters x Reader 🌸

Aragorn -

At first he was laughing at you when you started drinking and just let you do you, but when you came over to him and started outlining his jawline he became panicked. As much as he wanted it he wouldn’t try anything while you’re drunk. So off to bed for you, don’t bother trying to say anything else because it will be a simple

“No. You’re drunk doll. Now sleep.”

Legolas -

He felt his fingers begin to tingle from the alcohol he was not used to. Only elvish alcohol was what he could take. But he was still slightly there to notice how drunk you got. You were a runaway elf, so you were used to running to different places and drinking different alcohols none like him. But he became instantly flustered when you sat on his lap and started playing with his hair. He just admired you with a smile and you both eventually passed out.

Boromir -

You never thought of him in a dirty way until that alcohol hit your system. You couldn’t take your eyes off him and it bothered you. But you couldn’t deny how good he looked and it helped you realised that you actually liked him. Making you confident enough to straddle his lap and kiss him. He would be shocked but quickly grin and melt into the kiss. Gradually pulling back and looking into your eyes.

“I’d kiss you again if you weren’t drunk love.”

Faramir -

You had your little pouch of goodies which secretly included little bottle of alcohol. Which due to the terrible state you were in with the war soon to be, you drank it. Faramir noticed you drinking and sat beside you, taking it a having the last amount for himself. But he wasn’t expecting you to grab his chin and make him look at you. You complimented his eyes and he got flustered but just laughed and thanked you for the drink.

“Now we should sleep, we have a long journey ahead of us darling.”

Merry -

He was dancing like a maniac with Pippin and only stopped when he was exhausted, leaning on the wall and closing his eyes as he laughed, trying to bring himself back together. Only to feel hands cupping his cheeks. He got shy when he saw you looking at him. You wanted a kiss and your eyes said it all but Merry knew it was was odd. But he was drunk as well so he also had a side that wanted to.

“Be careful Angel. I might have to ignore my mature thoughts and kiss you if you keep staring at me like that” he chuckles.

Frodo -

He was immediately flustered and confused when you gave him a back hug. Your lips placed a warm, yet soft kiss on his neck. It sent shivers throughout his body. You were only slight taller than him, but he liked that. Turning his head to look at you just shyly smiling, trying to laugh it off like he was all good and not panicking inside.

“H-Hey! It’s a fun.. ah.. party?” Shy king

Pippin -

Pippin already noticed how drunk you got and saw you checking him out as he danced. So right at the end he made the move by pulling you onto the table and kissing you. Merry laughing and everyone else clapping. You were drunk and were the one however to try and continue the kiss after you both got off the table. You grabbed his hand and took him to a private area, but Pippin didn’t care he kissed you until Aragorn showed up and asked you to the get a room. Cringing and ruining the moment making you both laugh.

Sam -

He was so sweet and kind. Not knowing how to feel when you started being all affectionate. He enjoyed it but was confused by it coming from you who was usually stubborn and nothing like that. He just panicked and talked about the first thing that came to his mind. Blushing anytime you got closer to him.

“Ah.. potatoes.. are- what are you! Potatoes I said.. they’re delicious, yes?”

Arwen -

She was just having fun with the group and smiled as you laid your head on her lap, playing with the lace on her dress. She loved how soft you looked in your drunk state. When you gently tugged on her dress and pulled her down to your level, she blushed and was fine until she noticed her father in the area and she shyly backed away and sat back up, shyly giggling.

Lindir -

You were a dwarf-human and he was not expecting you to actually enjoy elvish wine so much. But you did and he just admired you, leaning on the table and laughing at you as he swirled his wine around in his glass. Blushing when he felt your hand on his thigh under the table. Elrond was across the table from him and he would be in a whole lot of trouble if he got caught. He placed his hand on yours to try and stop you from moving at all. He definitely had a red face and was asked if he was alright by other elves.

“Yes. I’m quite alright Lord Elrond.”

[vilf-lover]

i’m not one of those cool fanfic writers so don’t expect greatness and i’m idk how to make a title and fancy specifications but

this is how i imagine darlin getting everyone kicked out of the club because of them fighting went down ⭐️

gn!darlin

1400 words 😭😭😭 certified yapper

“I LOVE THIS SONG!!” angel shouted into darlin’s ear while an intense edm rendition of ‘baby’ by justin bieber roared from every crevice of the club

they were wondering if anyone was going to be able to hear after tonight, but they didn’t care because of how much fun they were having. though, they were questioning angel’s taste in music…

“OKAY I AM GOING TO GO GET A WATER AND GO SIT DOWN WITH MR PARTY POOPER OVER THERE” obviously darlin was referring to their wonderful mate that just happened to come to the club again- even after last time ;))

he claimed he came again for safety reasons but they knew it’s because he had a blast, even before their “dance lesson”. sam may not be a dancer, but he always talks about how music makes him feel truly alive, how he felt when he was human. a reminder of his livelihood.

darlin ends up sitting next to their mate the rest of their night as they both enjoy shirley temples and nice cold waters.

as the night grows older, the pack decides they’ll stay for 30 more minutes before leaving.

about five minutes before they plan to leave-“darlin’ i’m gonna use the restroom before we head out. don’t get in any trouble without me.” he chuckles as he jostles out of his seat and makes his way to the back.

about a minute passes before a man, about 6’0, shoulder-length hair, one full sleeve of tattoos sits on the chair next to them; in the seat sam was occupying.

“so gorgeous, you leaving here with that guy? because i know something that would make you much happier” he smiles smugly as the words leave his lips

they’re a bit taken aback. while this was not their first rodeo, no cowboy pun intended, they now felt way different when being hit on. as though it was an insult to them and sam.

“oh really.” they say in such an unenthused tone that most people would stand up and walk away right then and there.

it seems as though he takes this as a challenge. “yeah hun, i’m sure i could treat you better than he could. tenfold. how about i prove it?” you can hear the smirk on his face.

this is when darlin’ decides to stop being civil. there is nothing they hate more than a person that won’t take no for an answer. they would know after being in a relationship with one for way too long. boundaries are boundaries.

“listen. i am trying to give you the chance to leave this conversation right now. rejection is hard, i know. i’m sure you’re horny and lonely, but i’m not. so leave me alone.” they scoff and turn their chair back to the bar

“well didn’t know you were such a fucking bitch who didn’t know how to have fun but whatever” he starts mumbling to himself as he walks off, head hanging low

sam appears in the crowd of people, making his way back to his seat. “phew- sorry, the line was so long. how’re you doin’ darlin?”

“well- other than a guy poorly hitting on me, i’m doing okay” they scoff thinking about the interaction

sam is puzzled. “who did what? i left for like two minutes and you’re being ambushed. what am i going to do with such a fine specimen of a mate”

he leans in for a kiss as they both laugh and get up from their seats to meet everyone at the front

darlin and sam are walking out of the club with ash, milo, david and their mates when they hear something behind them

an agitated voice yells at the group, “oh so you have a little posse. and there’s your little boyfriend too. cute.”

confused, they all give glances to each other before darlin’ says to just keep looking forward and walk.

soon it would become obvious that this was not the end of the interaction.

“ignoring me? it’s good to know they’re all fucking bitches! just like you!” the man slurring his words and getting progressively louder as his sentences drag on

darlin’, upset, turns around and approaches the man while still keeping a good five feet of distance to try and maintain some civility. “can you leave me and my friends alone. you are obviously tipsy so i’m giving you this last warning”

they go to turn around before getting kicked in the stomach

“i’m not scared of you or your little friends! and i won’t take a pathetic ass threat!” he says, now screaming.

everyone is in shock- a person they don’t know is now attempting to hurt the person they all know won’t take shit.

“holy shit!” milo gasps, possibly for dramatic effect

david sighs while rubbing his temples, “this is not going to end well for him”

darlin is now standing up after falling into the ground, brushing the rubble off of their hands. there’s an annoyed look on their face as they walk over to sam. “i really did not want to do this tonight but can you take my bag and my rings?”

the man is standing there distraught, wondering why they are acting so leisurely after getting kicked.

darlin’ gives sam a kiss on the cheek and looks at the pack, “enjoy the show, i guess” they roll their eyes before turning back to the man

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing, you think this is some kind of jo-“ he tries to mutter a sentence, before getting punched square in the face

usually, darlin likes making fighting a game. something they can drag out and feel some adrenaline before ending it. but tonight? no, not tonight.

the man looks up, his nose is bleeding immensely. he looks terrified, skittering back on his feet and hands as darlin’ approaches them.

darlin’ is now towering over him, the dim illumination of a streetlight overhead creates a silhouette of their figure thats spine-chilling, they look menacing as ever

“i’ll let you stand up once.” they say under their breath, “give you some dignity. so it won’t be so embarrassing to remember tomorrow.”

they walk back as he very slowly gets up

the man laughs, “giving pity? not a good idea. i can destroy you hun. i just wasn’t prepared.”

he goes to throw a right jab after swinging his left leg in between their feet to knock them over.

in theory, it’s a good idea. make them unstable then hit them when they’re not excepting it. unfortunately for him- that’s not how it went…

darlin is not affected by the leg, and instead squeezes his leg in between their feet. making him stuck- falling directly on his side. a painful landing to say the least

as the pack is watching, they’re also making full commentary. not loud enough for them to hear, as that would be a detrimental mistake.

“do you think they’re going easy?” david asks

“oh absolutely” sam chuckles, “this is nothin’”

asher laughs, “yeah i think they’ve thrown a punch harder than that at me!”

the man is now in fetal position on his left side, wincing in pain.

darlin’ leans down to a crouch, frightenly close, and whispers, “next time, know. no means fucking no. don’t do this ever again. prick.”

the emphasis of their words would’ve been enough to make him topple over in the first place

he does nothing but nod as they walk off.

with impeccable timing, the security guard from the back of the club walks up to the group.

“i’ve been asked to escort you and your party off of the premises.” the man had a deep voice and is quite taller than anyone in the group.

darlin’ chuckles, “are you joking? i mean- this dude was harassing me and then my “party” this whole time and you didn’t feel the need to interject.”

the guard seems to give a glance that says “yeah, i know. i’m just doing my job” which everyone in that group has given before.

“okay. we were just leaving anyway. thanks sir, have a good night” david seems to be the only peaceful one at the moment. at most moments actually.

there’s silence in the pack as they continue walking away from the club until a overly-enthusiastic “wow! that was awesome!” spouts from asher

i am not a fic writer to say the least but i have a very active imagination and i hope this lives up to standard in one way or another

@rarelyisa

@infinitelovewithoutfulfillment

@aimedis

i hope you guys enjoy :>>

[longlivedelusion]

Bit O' Swing

Bucky x Reader / No use of Y/N / Drabble

Summary: You've been begging Bucky to teach you some 40s dances for a while now, and he finally gave in. Little hint of Sam and Steve commentary too 😏

Warnings: Fluffy, no warnings. Some insecurity but that's it.

A/N: had a dream last night that Bucky literally taught me how to 40s dance so this is how this came to life. Woke up and was like "write that down, write that down!!!" And so I did. Enjoy this little drabble that's definitely just been written at like 7am.

Masterlist

Bucky's hand slipped around your waist, slightly hesitant at first. His other hand moved to yours and he pulled you in.

"Uh- yeah- so you just follow my lead and uh- feel the music. We'll take it slow." Bucky said, the sound of 40s music blaring around the room.

~

"You think he's gonna trip before even getting a step out?" Sam said low to Steve, a small smirk on his face as he leaned back against the couch watching the whole thing play out.

Steve's eyes stayed on his best friend and his dance partner, "Bucky was always a hell of a dancer. He got a lot of girls that way, so I think he'll be fine."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, but you see who he's dancing with?" Sam vaguely gesturing in your direction.

Steve smiled. "You may have a point there."

~

Bucky started off slow, despite the fast music. He lightly pulled on my body to show where he was going, matching the beat but slower. "See, you gotta swing your hips a bit this way, and your feet will uh-" He tripped, quickly collecting himself. "Shit, sorry, they'll kind of move this way but faster."

I smiled, easily mirroring Bucky's movements, "Like this?"

He nodded, "Yeah, yeah that's perfect." He then slipped his hand from my waist but kept one hand on mine. "Then you, we, usually dance like this where I'll kind of swing you around and pull you in, and kinda repeat that. Any of this makin' any sense?"

I followed his movements, watching the pattern and beat he was talking about. "Yeah, it's all makes sense. Keep going."

"Great, okay, yeah so you move your feet like this when we're out-" he started to show the movements before losing his grip a bit on me. "Shit, sorry, maybe I'm not actually the best to show you this." He stopped his movements.

"You're doing great James." I slow down with him, eyes trying to meet his. I gently squeezing his hand. "I think I'm getting it down, keep going."

He nodded, quickly glancing at me. "I swear I'm a good dancer. Just been'a while."

"I know you are. I can tell. Just relax, ok? This is just some fun." I nudge him encouragingly.

He let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, right. Okay." He pulled me back in and swung me out, his feet moving still slower than the beat to show me the movements.

I noticed the pattern and looked back up. "Can we try it a bit faster?"

He nodded before taking me through the motions, now on time. I could really tell good a dancer he was despite his earlier little hiccups, his body matching pace of the song easily. He was a bit tense, like he always was, but had this definite groove to him. Like it was built into his body.

And despite his nerves, he was a damn good lead.

He pulled me forward, eyes never leaving mine as he twisted back and forth, my movements following his. It was like a wave, pushing and pulling before eventually his hand would find my waist again. Just for a second, two, moving me across the floor before leaving again.

Slowly the nerves seemed to fade.

I started to add my own groove to it too, swinging my hips back and forth, feeling him spin me around as I came back. I could see his body started to relax and the way his lips went from a thin line of concentration to eventually a small smile.

"You're pretty good at this." Bucky said, pulling me back in and keeping me there for longer than usual.

"I had a good teacher." I smiled back.

"Yeah, well looks like the student definitely passed the master." He spinned me out.

I laughed as I swung out and then felt him tug me back in. I moved in closer at the swing in, not pulling away as I held on a big smile. "Maybe I could show you a few tricks then."

Who knew the ex-assassin could blush.

[sucker4colby]

This is my first time writing and posting on tumblr so I’m still trying to figure some things out. If you guys have any tips our suggestions please feel free in voicing them!

Lip Stick

Warning !! Slight smut , mentions of alcohol

I could see him watching me from the corner of my eye but I pretended to pay him no mind while I applied my lipstick. I rubbed my lips together making sure the pigment was even and fluffed my hair turning to look at him. " so what do you think?" I asked him putting my hands on hips showing him the outfit I had bought earlier in the week for the party we were about to attend. Colby raised an eyebrow at me letting his eyes run down my body making my heart speed up.  He pushed himself off the bed and walked over to me grabbing a hold of the back of my neck bringing his lips down to mine making my eyes flutter shut. He pulled away and smiled down at me " I'm glad I'm the one your bringing home."  He said grabbing my hips causing my hands to wrap around and rest on his shoulders and brought me closer , he teased his lips along the side of my jaw and down to my neck placing a gentle kiss there. I sighed in contentment rubbing my hand around his back pulling him in closer for a hug. " I don't think I could imagine someone else but you coming home with me." I told him pulling him back in for another kiss.

“Baby we need to get going." He said between kisses but I refused to stop kissing him wanting to feel his lips on mine. I smiled into the kiss humming a quick sound of approval before pulling away before giggling at the smeared lipstick on his lips. He looked at me unamused knowing what was there from how often I left traces of lipstick on him. I walked over to my vanity to grab a makeup wipe for Colby and to reapply my lipstick since half of it was left on Colby.  "Let's go Bebe ?" I asked him since he had been waiting on me. He agreed following me out the room and grabbing his keys from the kitchen before grabbing my hand and leading me to the car.

When we had arrived the party had already been in full swing and we found our friends fairly quickly. We were currently sitting in the living area with them talking and drinking. I was tucked into Colby side his arm laying on the back of the couch occasionally smoothing my hair down with his hand and kissing my head while he talked to his best friend Brennen. They would occasionally include me in the conversation but I was fine just being in the moment. Everyone else had their own conversations going on but at some point Katrina and Stass decided they wanted to dance so they came and pulled me from Colbys side to join them. I happily joined them but not before giving Colby a quick peck on the cheek.

..........

Brennen laughed noticing Colby had something on his cheek, he pointing at his own cheek." Brother you got a little something right there." Colby rolled his eyes but he couldn't help the smile he had on his face. He didn't even attempt to wipe it of knowing it would only smear but he didn't mind, he seemed to love when she left her lipstick stains on him.

Apparently Sam had heard brennens remark before commenting himself " at this point you should just tattoo her lips on you." He teased bring his beer up to his lips. " Doesn't sound like a bad idea." Colby replied looking over at his girlfriend who was laughing with her friends while they danced to the music.

.........

At some point during the party I had gotten a bit to tipsy and Colby decided it was time to go home so we were in the car. He had a bit of music playing in the background while he drove. I sat quickly in the passenger seat silently admiring him. I couldn't keep my eyes of his as if I was in a daze from the way he looked. The only light visible was from the street lamps and other cars headlights but they illuminated his features capturing my attention. We rolled up to a red light where he looked over at me and smiled once he saw me giving him bedroom eyes. " what?" He raised his eyebrows at me reaching over for my hand which I gave him willingly. " I like looking at you. You're pretty." I told him shifting in my seat as the light turned green. " I'm pretty ?" He asked laughing finding amusement in my drunk thoughts. I hummed at him agreeing.

I really wanting to kiss his face to show him how much affection I had for him so I stretched my seatbelt and leaned over the middle console, I ignored Colby's question about what about what I was doing and tilted my head so I could have better access to pepper kisses on his skin. He laughed pushing me away " baby were like 2 minutes away ok? Once we get home you can give me all the kisses you want." He told me causing me to pout which made him laugh again." Bebe we don't want to crash. We're almost home." He tried to explain to me but I wasn't having it crossing my arms and pointing my knees towards the door.

Once he parked the car I refused to look at him still facing away from him acting childish since my kisses were rejected. He saw he wasn't getting my attention so he got out and came to my side opening my door and unbuckling me while I pouted at him. He smiled at me leaning down to kiss my lips but I refused to give in and turned my head causing him to kiss my cheek. "Babe come on." He groaned reaching down and wrapping a hand under my knees and the other behind my back lifting me up causing me to squeal and wrap my arms around him. He smiled and kicked the car door shut bringing me inside. I completely forgot about my grudge against him once I set my eyes on him once more admiring my boyfriend. He made his way up the stairs and I decided it was the perfect moment to pepper more kisses along his neck leaving more smeared marks along his skin.

He shut his door placing me gently on his Bed, he was about to walk away from me but I grabbed his hand pulling him towards me while I sat on my knees on the bed wanting to keep kissing him. " lets change baby so we can rest." He mumbled between kisses running his hands along my sides. "Ill help you ." I mumbled unbuttoning his shirt. My fingers grazed his smooth skin as I undid all the buttons. I leaned down placing open mouth kisses down his neck onto his chest. Colby moaned as I started leaving more permanent marks then ones that were already littered along his cheeks and neck. He tangled his fingers in my hair guiding me back to his lips causing a small gasp to leave my swollen lips. He placed one last kiss on them before pulling away and running his thumb over them. " lets get ready for bed." He whispered as I parted my lips letting the tip of my tongue lick at his thumb.

I didn't want to get ready for bed when I had Colby in front of me like this. His eyes were hooded as he looked at me , body on display with his button up shirt open, red lipstick stains and purple love bites scattered along his upper body.

He groaned as my once red lips wrapped around his finger gently sucking on it. I released it looking up at him "I'm not tired" I told him running my hands down his torso to the hem of his jeans. Pulling him closer to my body by his waistband leaning up to connect our lips. He silently agreed giving into me for the night.

I hope you guys enjoyed my first post and imagine !! I posted this on Wattpad as well but I own this story and I have all copyright.. please don’t steal my work.

[bad268]

Tweets Pt. 2 (Colby Brock X Actor! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co

Requested: Yee by @richardsamboramylove55

Warnings: None

POV: First Person (I/me/They/them)

W.C. 1533

Summary: Maybe the date didn't go as planned, but it worked.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<- Part 1

~~(^@/Colby's insta from November 16, 2023)

So, the plan was mini golfing. That’s not what actually transpired after we left the house. Sam practically shoved us out of the house after the meeting before shouting at us to be safe (and throwing a wink at Colby who brushed it off with a laugh). However, as soon as Colby pulled out onto the freeway, it started pouring. That’s the joy of living in a desert. Sure, I knew it was going to rain a bit, but I should have known it was going to turn into a full monsoon. 

That put a little damper on our plans. Either way, neither of us were against a change in plans. It just meant we had to alter it a little.

“I spy with my little eye,” I dragged out as I looked around the scenery to find something, anything, I could see clearly enough to use for the game, “Something…something wet.”

“Everything?” Colby chuckled as he briefly looked my way before putting his eyes back on the road. There were not a lot of cars on the road, but it was still dangerous because of the rain. At this point, he had decided to get off the freeway and decided to just drive around surface streets until either of us found somewhere we wanted to stop. 

“No way! How did you guess that?” I gasped mockingly as I leaned into his side over the console and wrapped an arm around his arm. He had it resting against the gear stick, and when I leaned in, he moved it to rest against my leg as we intertwined our hands. We sat in a comfortable silence for a second before I looked at his profile and whispered, “Is this alright?”

“If you’re comfortable, I’m good,” Colby said in the same tone as he rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. “Are you seeing anywhere you want to stop?”

“Not exactly,” I chuckled, pulling away a little to look out the window while keeping my hand in his. He drove on for a couple more minutes before I saw the sign of one of my favorite diners, so I pointed it out. “That’s one of my favorites! Wanna go there?”

“Works for me,” Colby smiled at my enthusiasm as he pulled into the lot and a parking spot closest to the door. When he shut off the car, he immediately opened his door and ran around the car to hold my door open for me. He had his jacket off as he held it over my head, covering it from the rain. I stepped out, quickly pressing myself against him, so we could both fit under the makeshift umbrella.

The diner itself was not busy at all. There were maybe a couple of people there and a single waitress. It made for a perfect place to stop. We got seated by the window, and we looked over the menus. I already knew what I wanted since I came here a lot when I was younger, but Colby took a couple extra minutes to really contemplate his options.

“I’ll tell you, this is the best thing here,” I said as I pointed at one of the items on the menu. It wasn’t my go-to order, but it was still a top choice, and the friends I recommended it to seemed to really enjoy it. 

“I guess that’s what I’ll get if you recommend it,” Colby flirted shamelessly as he set his menu down and grabbed my hand from across the table. “So what do you wanna talk about?” “I wanna talk about how you’re a simp,” I chuckled as I hid my face behind a hand. “I mean, using your jacket as a cover, ordering what I recommend, what’s next? Are you gonna take me out dancing in the rain when we’re done?”

“If that’s what you wanna do,” Colby teased, only half serious but he was down to go with the flow. He didn’t even realize he was coming across like that. It was just his nature to be nice like that, and he hadn’t been to the diner before. Everything just sounded good to him, so he had no problem with trying something recommended. “And who said being a simp was a bad thing?”

“I never said it was,” I said simply with a smirk when the waitress came over and took our orders before taking them to the kitchen quickly. “So, what do people usually talk about on dates? I haven’t been on one in a while.”

“What are your hobbies? What are your aspirations? Where do you see yourself in five years? Do you want kids?” Colby dragged on in a mocking tone, causing me to laugh with him. “Usually that kind of stuff, but while I do what to know about that, I think we just let the conversation flow normally.”

“Valid point,” I said with a nod. “Well, acting is one, obviously, but not a lot of people would think I like (hobby).”

“No way,” Colby gasped before tilting his head, “Actually, I can see it.”

“Aspirations, I want an Oscar one day,” I said as I got a little lost in my head. It was true, but then again, every actor dreamed of getting an Oscar. “In five years, maybe I’m still acting. Maybe not. I do see myself with a house by then, maybe settling down, but it’s always up in the air with this kind of profession.”

“I get that. It’s the same here,” Colby agreed. “I thought Sam and I were gonna stay in California for longer, but there just seemed to be better opportunities in Vegas. Not exactly what I envisioned, but it worked out for the better, I think.”

“I totally agree. As for a family, I see myself with pets first,” I laughed. “I never pictured myself with kids, but I guess if I met the right person, I’d consider it.”

“You would consider it?” Colby chuckled. “I thought in an interview you said you dreamed of being a parent?”

“A dog/cat parent,” I clarified. “I am still in my 20s! I wanna live while I’m young! Not that kids wouldn’t be fun, but I am still a child at heart. I don’t think I’d be a good parent right now.”

“At least you’re aware of your limits,” Colby commended.

“Thank you,” I said seriously. “You’d be surprised how many dates ended that quickly because I said my position on a family. Most guys don’t want to ever try a relationship unless you are already on board with the idea.”

“No, that’s so stupid! It’s a team, and it’s gotta be a mutual decision based on mutual goals,” Colby ranted. “Any guy you’ve gone out that said that, point them out and I’ll punch them.”

“Oh, please do,” I sighed with a smile. Colby looked up shocked that I would willingly let him punch my exs faces. He probably expected me to deny it or try to steer the conversation away. “It’s not like it’s a big deal anymore. They’re in the past for a reason. I’m focusing on the future now.”

“We’ll, would you see more of me in your future?” Colby asked slowly, almost testing the waters.

“Absolutely,” I answered immediately. “I have really enjoyed hanging out and getting to know you, and it’s reassuring we are pretty much on the same page in most things. I also don’t think I’ve ever clicked this easily with someone before.”

“Glad to hear it,” Colby smiled as the waitress came back before he stopped her, “Actually could we get these to go?”

“What?” I asked, confused about where he was going with this.

“Why don’t we go driving around some more? The rain is letting up a bit, and I’ve got a super secret place we could eat at,” Colby explained as the waitress left and came back with the food in boxes. Colby handed her a couple of twenties, told her to keep the change, and stood up to leave. 

When we got into the car, I took over the music, playing some quiet music as we continued our already flowing conversation. It did not take long before Colby pulled into a parking lot, and that’s when I looked out of the window to see we were at a mountainside. The view of the city was gorgeous. The lights were breathtaking and with the water reflecting, it made the view that much better. It took a few minutes of me lost in thought before I looked over to Colby, seeing him already staring at me.

“What are you looking at?” I chuckled lightly, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Just the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” He whispered as he leaned in slowly, and it was like time slowed. Without even realizing it, I started leaning in as well, but right before we connected, he stopped. He was so close, I could feel his breath against my lips. It almost made me want to just pull him in. That’s when he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

“Always,” I replied in the same tone before our lips crashed together for the first of many times.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[be-my-ally]

The Seatbelt Sign is On

A Big Bunny Vignette.

Bunny wants to get tied up, so uh, here we are. Playboy!Reader x 76/77 Elvis - this little plot-less smutty fic is set between The Lisa-Marie & Crash Landing. Although I think it could be read as a standalone. This is pretty much totally unedited, so apologies for any typos.

warnings: 18+ 18+ 18+. Light bondage. No safewords or anything but it is clearly pretty ssc**. Oral, and penetrative sex (p in v), slight overstimulation. 

75-77 elvis x playboybunny!reader (established relationship - here's the link for the rest of the series)

wc: 4.2k (miss concise smut is back baby!!)

** ((Spoiler: Elvis does say he has scissors in case she needs to be cut out - but he’s pretty much just holding her down with some ribbon and a seatbelt.))

Elvis often climbed up the stairs with his last burst of energy post-show - happy to collapse and settle in or onto the nearest chair, sometimes not even making it to his bed, taking in the precious hours of rest before the next stop. It meant that even though you were spending a serious number of hours with Elvis, it didn’t leave a whole lot of time that he was lucid or awake enough to actually spend it with you. 

You’d worried it was you, to start with, but you’d heard the guys whispering about him lately. About his lack of interest in the girls he flew out to meet him, or the ones waiting back home for him. You’d watched Sam looking you up and down a little smugly in the middle of the conversation as if saying without a word that there was a lack of interest in you too. The rumours that he couldn’t get it up at the moment followed raucous retellings of salacious events from years before that you were sure were heavily embellished if they’d even happened at all.  But, despite what they would gossip about, you never would describe Elvis as lacking in some way, and certainly not out loud. Sure, he didn’t always (or even often) have the energy to be intimate with you but when he did he was as considerate and, usually, as fun as ever.

Sometimes though you couldn’t help but feel like it was just…a bit bland. You still blush when you think about those first few flights on Big Bunny, meeting him in next to nothing for that rehearsal. Nothing has really come close in a long time. He certainly wasn’t behaving in the same way, and you felt a little like maybe you had become too comfortable together, or like a married couple or something. A distinct lack of excitement together. 

The issue, you thought while brainstorming ways of keeping it interesting, was that despite how brash and forward Elvis could be, he ultimately became quite shy and almost too respectful towards you while you were alone. You knew enough about how his brain worked to know that part of the appeal of the opposite sex was, for him, the perceived softness and ability to at least perform an act of gentle innocence. He could be brazen and arrogant while ordering you to dance for him, to roll his latest dirty film acquisition, yet when he had you alone he’d be almost apologetic, gentle. You didn’t want him to be mean to you, but maybe a little less of the…desperation. If he could just take a little more control again. 

It was at the end of a run of shows, Elvis tired but with it, when the answer came to you. He’d been carefully kissing the inside of your thighs, where you lay, still fully dressed on the bed of the Lisa-Marie when you’d moved your hands onto his head in an attempt to impatiently guide him. He’d tutted at you, immediately pulling away from your fingertips trying to bury themselves into his longer hair. 

“No, no, no, keep your hands outta the way, baby, gotta let me work.” He returned, but a kiss to a sensitive crease sent your leg knocking into his shoulder. It’s been a while. You can feel his grin even as he pulls away again to look up his lashes at you. 

“I told you you gotta stay still, I need my hands for this, can’t be holdin’ you down.” You’re not sure the noise that came out of your mouth could be heard by anything but dogs but he laughs, shaking his head, “What m’I gonna do with you?” You wiggle a little, and there’s a clunk of metal hitting the floor. You both turn to look, and your wide eyes meet his calculating ones. 

“You can. You know, if you want.” He stares at the seatbelt now trailing on the floor for a moment longer before responding, turning bashful; 

“Uh, well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t wanna pin you - I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable… I was really only jokin-“ He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead. 

“El- it’s ok, really, I think I’d like it.” 

“I didn’t, uh, I didn’t - do girls, do ya, do ya, uh, really like that kinda thing?” 

“Uh-huh, I think so, or well, maybe not every girl, but I like the sound of it, all tied up and ready for you, just having to take whatever you wanted to give me? Doesn’t that sound good to you too?” While you were talking you could see him looking at the belt, gently stroking your wrist as he considered the proposition, he swallows. You can tell he likes the idea. 

“You’d… you just, you’d just let me know if you want out right?” You laugh at his nervous questioning; 

“Lord Elvis, what’s running through that mind of yours to do to me that I’d want out?” He shrugs, glancing at the clock. 

“Well, not today, baby, gotta be ready for the show in an hour, ‘m gonna, gonna freshen’ up.” And with a pat to your side, he headed to the bathroom, leaving you there.

You realised you might have made an error in judgement bringing it up just then, just when he’d started to get going now you were left with your panties twisted to one side, skirt hitched, alone on the bed with the plane seemingly whizzing past any prospect of an orgasm today. 

——————————————————————

“We’re uh, going to Denver, you know, for the uh, burgers.” You pull the headset from your ear, as if blinking at it was staring at him and he would offer you more explanations.

“Oh, yeah… sure, ok.”

“Well, don’t ya wanna come too?” He sounds offended at your noncommittal response, but you don’t really. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite feel like you were rested from the tour yet and you knew it was only a matter of days before you’d be up all hours of the night and day and running ragged after him again. But, he made that dejected sort of hopeful hum that made you cringe at the mere thought of not agreeing to his plans. 

“Of course I do - I’ll uh, I’ll be there just as soon as I can.” It’s silent on the other end, and then, 

“We’re leavin’ now, so hurry.” Of course he was. 

It didn’t occur to you until much later that he didn’t want to go to Denver at all, and definitely not for the burgers - you’d heard Joe ringing from the comfort of Elvis’ fancy car-phone to make sure someone, presumably a pretty Miss Colorado of some sort, was home. Assuring them down the line that Elvis couldn’t come to the phone right now, but if they made sure they were at the airport he’d be there in a few hours for a flying visit. Somehow, you were able to listen to this - your legs nudging his, and his nudging Joe’s, without the slightest jealousy - just a mild sympathy for this girl desperate for the crumbs he was willing to lay. It would be much later that you would realise Denver had nothing to do with this girl either, that it was all an excuse for you. You’d realised there was some kind of ulterior motive to a lesser extent though as soon as you were, quite frankly,  shoved into the bedroom as soon as you had boarded. 

“Elvis! I’ve got a job to do!” He shakes his head, grinning at you and standing in the way of the door, 

“Nu-uh baby, I been thinking about what you said last time.” You didn’t expect that. 

“Oh?” 

“Yes ma’am, and you’re right.” You really didn’t expect that, 

“Oh! Well I can’t say I’m surpr-” You yelp as he pinches your side, 

“‘Nough of that, on the bed! I got ‘quipment.” You pause your stride towards the bed, looking at him grinning with his hands on his hips, it was all a bit sudden.

“Um, I didn’t, I mean, I’m not su-” He grins at you, 

“I thought you were Miss Confident?” He gets that sly look on his face, his eyes narrowing and crinkling in their corners, “You know… I’ve been readin’ up and I don’t know if I oughta be worried, liking this kind of thing is listed in the DSM you know…” You gulp, your stomach twisting a little, feeling a flush rise up from your chest to your cheeks. 

“Jesus El - I’m not the one with equipment! I just like a little…I’m an adult, and I know what I like and I think it’s unfair of you to say that kind of thing, especially when I know what you’ve been up to, and you know Hugh -  Elvis stop laughing at me!” 

“You’d have thought I was secretly sending you off to the nuthouse baby, the way you were carrying on then,” He manages to get the words out past his giggles, “ ‘s just a bit of ribbon, honey-bunny.” You both feel the rumble of the engine starting up, “C’mon we’re on a time limit.” 

“Well, if you’re - if you’re sure…” You bite your lip in nerves. 

“Where’d my conf’dent l’il bunny go huh? C’mon baby, ‘s no worries - you’ll like it .” 

“Are you - you know what you’re doing?” His mouth gapes a little, wide-eyed. 

“Of course!” He looks genuinely offended, for a second before grinning, “I got good at knots in the army don’t you worry.” He winks at you as he salutes, his feet knocking together and you giggle, your tension relieving itself.

“I’d be more reassured if you’d been in the navy.” He swats at you, 

“ ‘M better than any of them boys playin’ out on their little boats I tell ya, now hush and let me work here.”  Your breath catches again, “don’t worry darlin’ I saw this in a uh, blue movie, don’t ya worry, I know how you like it.” 

That did little to calm your nerves - his reassurance that he knew what he was doing too often led to some kind of mild disaster. “Well, ok, but - you’ve got, you’re prepared, right? You got some scissors or, something, haven’t you? In case you hafta get me out quick?” 

Elvis puts the bag back onto the bed, holding three fingers up - but his solemn face belies the comedy of the action; “I swear, swear to you, I’ll get you out if you want to be. Not gonna let anythin’ happen to my best bunny.” You look into his eyes pausing for a moment and nod, lying back on the bed. He situates himself between your legs, bending to place a feather-light kiss on the corner of your mouth, 

“Aren’t you gonna…?” You shake your wrists at him and he huffs a laugh, his breath fanning over you, 

“Gotta get you worked up first baby, ain’t no fun if you’re not ready to wriggle and jiggle around, is it? Now, hush,” He whispers against your skin, “let me work my magic.” 

He might not have been focussing his energy through his ‘healing hands’ this time, but you couldn’t deny he did have the magic touch, he barely had to brush his fingers over you, press a thigh against your side, and you were gone from the world, levitating above the bed, above the plane, into the sky above. You’re embarrassingly quick to turn on, making out with Elvis enough to make you squirm. After a minute or so he presses kisses against your clavicle, open-mouthed while his fingers fumble with opening the buttons that stretch from your neck to your thighs, almost immediately shoving his hands around the waistband of your tights and he tugs hard enough that there’s the tell-tale ripping sound of the nylon falling apart - if you’d been more conscious of it you would have rolled your eyes, somehow you never seem to be able to keep a pair for long around Elvis. As it was you were far too distracted to care, relieved simply to be divested of the fabric and you lift your hips to let him roll them off - throwing the destroyed fabric to the corner of the room. His hand supports your back as you lean forward, pulling your arms out of your dress, immediately wrapping them around his neck once you were free. 

He’s all-encompassing, someone else might find him smothering, the way his arms seem to be everywhere all at once, caging you against him. But you can’t get enough. Your underwear ends up somewhere, god knows where. You’re reminded again of that revelatory first time when he’s biting nibbling kisses across your chest, tiny pink bruises sucked onto your soft skin, Elvis’ hands pawing at you in that somehow hot clumsy way. He tweaks a nipple and your back arches to meet him, you don’t know when your eyes closed but you open them at the sudden loss of any sensation, 

Elvis is sat back on his heels, assessing you, rubbing your thighs firmly. He nods with satisfaction at whatever he sees, reaching up the bed for the ribbon and tugging your wrists towards him. He kisses your pulse, and you wonder if he can feel how it jumps. He tuts when the ribbon twists, wrapping it around several times and looping it over and under before finishing it off with his best attempt at a bow. You make eye contact with each other, and you open your mouth to tease him about it, but he stops you with a pointed finger, his eyes alight. 

“Don’t say a word.” You swallow your words, playfully snapping at his finger instead, and he laughs, holding your newly tied wrists above your head as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s somehow dirtier this time, whether because you just feel that way, or because he doesn’t take his time, biting your lip and pushing his tongue into you; forcefully mapping out your mouth. He works his way down, sucking a small, darker bruise on the underside of your left breast, you wonder if it was intentionally close to your heart. You tremble, wriggling against him and after a moment he evidently grows tired of pinning your wrists, his long arms not able to keep them pressed flat while he works down your body and he looks for a way to secure them better. 

“Well, I guess we didn’t think this through, honey, it’s not the right kind of headboard, so I s’pose you’ll just hafta keep ‘em there.” He presses your newly tied wrists against the pillows, fingertips brushing the velvet of the headboard and your back arches with the effort of keeping them there. His breath tickles when he returns to his place, and the air over the sticky wetness of your inner thighs makes your arms involuntarily attempt to come back down to hold him in place. Elvis tuts at you, leaning back.

“’S no good. You’re wriggling around too much.” He stands up, his hands on his hips to assess your predicament. He sits back down and peers down the side of the bed. “C’mere.” He hauls your body up and you wriggle up with him until you were high enough up the bed that your back was now supported by one of the cream-golden reading cushions and he was able to pull the seatbelt across your stomach.“Keep your hands there.” He pats them at the top, and you grip the top of the headboard as best you can. “Where was I?” 

You’ve lost all ability to speak, simply too turned on to comprehend what’s going on. There’s the barest hint of sweat beading above his eyebrow and glistening on his dark, longer, sideburns. Your hands twitch to cup his face and you whine in frustration, unable to reach where he kneels between your legs, your fingers clutching the dusty top of the headboard, desperate not to ruin the game. He grins, tongue running over his teeth, and you thump your head back against the hard cushion, 

“Elvis, c’mon.”

“I’m havin’ fun now, baby,” He sing-songs it delicately and you shiver, “Gonna get you so worked up.” His thick hands grasp your thighs, fingertips digging in, “C’mon, bunny, open up for me.” You have no idea if the growl that comes from his mouth was intentional, or if it just had the unintended side effect of your legs immediately spreading, your breath hitching. He leans in and you feel yourself tense, hairs pricking with the tension of the moment, desperately anticipating his next move. 

Elvis is clearly not unaffected by the sight of you - his breathing much harder than before and it tickles as he gently kisses your inner thigh, his pouty lips open. The very tip of his tongue ghosts across your skin, and you shudder at the sensation, aching for him. 

“Elvis you’ve gotta - you’ve gotta touch me.” 

“I am touching you.” His fingertips continue to dance, and you try to squirm a little, the seatbelt trapping you in place. 

“Nooo. Properly.” He chuckles, 

“Properly” He teases with a shake of his head and you whine again, 

“Ssh, shhh, I’mma take real good care of you, bunny, just relax baby,” He firmly rubs at your thighs, as if he wasn’t the reason you were squirming. You let your head roll back again, suddenly distracted as he teases you by the sight of yourself in the mirror at the end of the room, the dark mahogany of the wood-covered room and the dim light reflecting off of the creamy ceiling putting you into a soft-glow focus. You can barely see yourself beyond him, he takes up the majority of your view, and though the concept is hot to you, fully clothed as he was, it left little to look at - just your twitching tied wrists, above both of your bodies, really visible. 

Finally he’s kissing across your bare skin and you’d forgotten somehow, impossibly, in the time since you’d last been together like this, just how good he was at this. You’re already so sensitive, you can feel the cooling dampness in the air, and yet it still comes as a surprise at his first kitten licks how responsive you were to him. He presses one hand against your thigh, fingers leaving bruises from his tight grip, holding you totally open to him. Elvis leans back a little, grinning at your attempts to grind on nothing, and you might be ashamed at such a wanton display in the morning but right now you just need the pressure back. He spreads your slick folds with his flattened tongue, moving his fingers in to keep you spread open so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on the little nub and sending you shuddering. 

Your legs are the only part of you able to move, and you wrap them around his, now thicker, waist holding him against you until the movement of his talented tongue and fingers make them kick out. For some reason, even though he wasn’t doing anything new, being secured down like this was making everything feel ten times more - like someone had turned your sensitivity up on a dial. He tongue-fucks into you, and it’s so hard to keep your hands where they are, writhing around as you were, desperate to hold him in place - gain better purchase to grind against his clever, talented tongue.

The singular focus he dedicates to this task always reminds you of that first time and having him so committed only adds to your enjoyment. Elvis renews his efforts, suckling like he needs you for oxygen, and the warm wet pressure builds until finally, you’re shuddering over the edge of orgasm, legs spasming and your back arching as much as it was able to do so - and the tension of the seatbelt across your body - pinning you down far more than you would usually be held, has you electrified, adding to your startling passion. You pant, trembling as he leans back, it’s scandalous how he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick and you try to form words to tell him how earth-shattering that vision is, but you struggle from the sheer anticipation of watching him stand up. 

“El- Honestl-El, how’d you, it’s so good. You need, I need you -“

You cut yourself off, panting, as Elvis finally, finally, slips out of his lounge pants and jacket.  His tanned hairy chest unveiled itself, a perfect trail leading down to his hard cock, its pink head poking out, glossy with his precum. You shudder, and he grins at you wildly for a moment, before seemingly focussing on the task at hand, clambering back atop you. He mutters the same thing he always mutters as he presses himself into you, 

“Y’re good, y’re a good girl, bunny, swear it - y’re so, fuck, so tight.” It probably shouldn’t make your chest glow so much. He presses a hand on your stomach, just below where the seatbelt pins you to the bed - holding you in place for him to get himself situated. The firm pressure is almost enough to tip you over the cliff again. You realise you’re babbling, muttering pleas when Elvis kisses your sweaty cheek, hushing you. He jerks his hips once, twice, in time with your gasps before he growls, evidently incapable of getting the angle right and you suddenly feel yourself being tugged down the bed, hands leaving the headboard and seatbelt scraping your skin until you were lying mainly flat, mostly immobile.

“That’s it, that’s - that’s better - that good for you Bunny?” He doesn’t give you time to respond, laughing to himself, “ ‘course it is. You’re like one of them kids toys, what’re they called, those, those, slip n’, slip n’ slides. So fucking wet down here.” You nod frantically in agreement, stuttering out that you were fine, it was all good - but please, Elvis, please, just move. 

It’s a strange sensation, being unable to use yourself to get leverage, and it feels almost objectifying. Lying there just to be used, but you liked it, and Elvis took advantage, pulling and tugging to exactly the pace and angle he needed to chase his own pleasure. You plant your feet, when you manage to get purchase, able to use your thighs to your advantage a little. You can feel the edge rising, but before you get there Elvis stills, his mouth agape, sweat beading at his forehead and eyebrow, upper lip aglow with it, and you feel him pulsing. His hand comes down to stroke between your folds, as he slowly pulls out, and you shake your head - it was almost too much, but he hushes you, 

“Shh. Wanna see you go again, it’s only fair - ’n’t that the reason I got you all tied up like this.” You tremble, and he presses his thumb against you, it’s filthy, the viscous mix of your fluids. Elvis deftly rubs your clit, and your body shakes through the waves of orgasm until you squirm away from his fingers, completely overstimulated, 

“El- El, that’s that’s enough, I can’t - fuck, that’s too much - too much,” He laughs at you, stroking you a final time as your legs twitch. You lie there panting for a long while, and Elvis gets up before you do, cutting the ribbon off of you, not bothering to deal with the knots that had tightened as you struggled, and heading to grab a drink from the little dressing table alcove at the end of the room while you caught your breath.

The ribbon had done pretty well at keeping your hands together, he’d done them up tight enough that they’d laid fairly flat and untwisted, but still, when you rubbed your wrists there was a light mark and the hint of soreness, especially around the outside edge of your forearm. You unbuckle yourself, sitting upright slowly.

Clearly, there’s a reason people don’t usually use seatbelts like this. The rough edge of the nylon had rubbed you where you’d wriggled around, the lines criss-crossing, while the heavy weight of the gold buckle had left indents - several of which you were sure were going to bruise. You didn’t mind that so much, pressing a finger into the darkest of the marks. 

“Good Lord Elvis, I look like I’ve been whipped or something!” He glances back at you in the mirror where you’re now fully upright, brushing your fingers over the pink marks. He points a finger at your reflection, 

“No chance in goddamn hell. Nope. There’s not enough space - don’t you go gettin’ any ideas now, li’l girl. Absolutely fuckin’ no.” 

---------

taglist: @lookingforrainbows @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel  @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1 @amydarcimarie @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @i-r-i-n-a-a @saintomie @literally-just-elvis-fics @missmaywemeetagain @rainyday10-4 @chelsaiswerid @landlockedmermaid77 @mydarlingelvis @ooihcnoiwlerh @from-memphis-with-love

[peachhcs]

for the celly prompt 12 is so samy and will now that the season is over and it’s getting closer to the semester ending i think that sam would drag will into the kitchen and they would just dance and soak up life with eachother

dancing like nobody's watching

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will blurb)

finals always makes everyone stressed, so samy drags some of her friends to the lake house for a weekend getaway.

0.9k words

i'm beginning to write all of the requests sent in for the 700 followers celly, so thank you again for everyone requesting things! i may be a little slow with getting them out, so bare with me. please feel free to keep requesting as i roll the fics out for everyone you wanted to see though! it means a lot to me :)

700 celly masterlist | au masterlist

there were perks about having older brothers who owned their own lake house that loved their little sister so much that they let her crash in it for the weekend. classes were winding down, but that meant finals were quickly approaching. what better way to take some time off studying other than driving an hour north for the weekend? 

when samy went to jack with the proposal he told her two things: “no parties and no having sex with your boyfriend anywhere but your room.” once they agreed on those two things, he placed the keys to the house in her hand with a smile. he enjoyed seeing his little sister do things he wished he could’ve done when he was her age, so agreeing to let her stay in the lake house for the weekend wasn’t a hard decision. 

“i can’t believe we’re already done with freshman year,” hannah commented as she helped samy unpack some food in the kitchen. the boys already rushed towards the dock, wanting to get the first dip in. 

“me neither. feels like yesterday we just started. i’m excited for summer though, i think it’s gonna be a good ome,” the brunette smiled when she saw will, moldy, and luca running back towards the house, soaking wet from the lake. 

the door burst open and will went straight for samy. he trapped her in his arms, shaking his wet hair out on her like a dog. “will!” samy exclaimed, trying to escape his grasp. 

nick and luca did the same to hannah leaving both girls struggling to run away from the boys. “you love me anyway,” will hummed with a kiss against samy’s temple. 

“maybe not anymore. go shower off or something, you smell like the lake,” the girl ducked out of his arms earning a playful eye roll from the blonde. 

“come with me?” will dared to say in front of everyone else. luca and nick whistled while samy’s own face flushed. 

“been here for twenty minutes and the couple’s already going at each other,” nick teased, roughing up will’s shoulder. he had a mix of pride and embarrassment washed into his features. 

“you’re so annoying. go get clean. all of you,” the brunette eyed all three boys, her harsher tone finally settling them down. nick saluted. 

“yes, ma’am.” 

the three of them disappeared into different bathrooms. samy rolled her eyes, spinning back to hannah who was a fit of giggles. “god, i can’t wait for summer when everyone’s here,” the girl hummed. 

—

later that night, will helped samy in the kitchen making dinner. soft hums of the speaker drifted through the room along with luca, nick, and hannah trying to play a game of uno in the other room. the couple worked in comfortable silence beside one another—will cutting up the vegetables that samy added to the soup she was trying to make. 

he’d steal glances at her every so often when she wasn’t looking just to look at her. her curls fell down her back, frizzing at the ends from the spring heat. one of his boston college t-shirts hung loosely at her hips, probably one she stole from him when she visited last. somehow, he lost more shirts every time she came to visit, so he knew she most likely had a collection of them back in her dorm. 

“you should’ve come to boston with how many shirts of mine you have,” will teased a bit, poking her side. 

“don’t worry, i have about twenty more back at umich,” the girl giggled. she dumped the last of the cut up veggies into the pot and placed the lid on so the soup could cook for a bit. will watched as she rinsed the dishes off before plopping them into the dishwasher. his eyes never left her figure, so when samy found his gaze again, she was surprised when he was already looking at her. 

“what? do i look bad or something?” samy raised her eyebrow. 

the blonde quickly shook his head, moving to snake his hands around samy’s waist, “no, not at all. just admiring you.” 

his words earned a blush across samy’s cheeks as she pressed her cheek into his chest. they stood like that for a second until the song changed and sounds of the backseat lovers’ voices drifted through the speakers singing kirby girl. samy’s eyes lit up hearing her favorite summer song playing. 

“i overhead that she was 19. got a fake a id and a nose ring. those kind of girls tend to know things better than i do,” samy and will quickly sung along. 

as the beat picked up, will spun samy around before pulling her back into his chest. they swayed to the song, singing along to the lyrics together with big smiles on their faces. hearing these songs along with the warmer days meant summer was so soon and so was being able to spend an entire three months together. freshman year was fun, but the two couldn’t wait until they weren’t separated by states and nightly facetime calls turned into falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

the next song was another one of samy’s favorites that she played nonstop during the summer. declan mckenna always knew how to make the best summer songs. the guitar riff got the two excited as samy spun will around the kitchen. 

“i heard you sold the amazon to show the country that you’re from,” the brunette began. 

her and will started jumping when the chorus started. their commotion caused the other three to go investigate and samy quickly urged them to join. soon all five of them were jumping around the kitchen—the idea of finals and the end of the school year far from their minds while screaming declan’s song at the top of their lungs because that was the only thing that mattered in the moment. 

[cheynovak]

She's like the wind part 2

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary:  After a heavy hunt, Y/N and Dean are driving home late at night. Y/N, with her eyes closed, pretends to sleep, while Dean drives, believing she’s out. Patrick Swayze's "She's Like the Wind" plays on the radio. Creating a whole new moment for them.

Warnings: Fluff!

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

Sorry it took a while but here is part 2 and final part.

A few days had passed since that quiet, intimate car ride, but Y/N couldn't shake the feeling. The way Dean had sung along to the radio, the rawness in his voice—it was all still fresh in her mind. She’d been too chicken to say anything back then, but the thought kept gnawing at her. So when she came across a flyer for a pop-up drive-in movie a few towns over, an idea formed.

Casually, she approached Dean, leaning against the Impala as he worked on the engine. "Hey, Dean," she began, trying to keep her voice light. "Feel like a movie night? There's this pop-up car cinema a few towns over. Could be fun."

Dean paused, wiping his hands on a rag before turning to look at her, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What’s this? You asking me on a date, sweetheart?"

Y/N’s face flushed immediately, her heart doing an uncomfortable flip in her chest. She sputtered, quickly turning away from his teasing grin. "What? No! Pfft... just thought it’d be something to do." Her eyes darted toward Sam, who was sitting at the table. "Sam, you’re coming too, right?"

Sam, who had been watching the exchange with an amused smile, shook his head. "Actually, I’ve got plans with Eileen tonight," he said, a knowing glint in his eye. "You two enjoy yourselves."

Y/N felt the heat in her cheeks intensify, cursing inwardly at how transparent she must have looked. Dean’s smirk only grew, his green eyes twinkling with amusement. "Guess it’s just you and me then," he said, tossing the rag aside. "I’ll go grab my jacket."

As he headed inside, Y/N exhaled sharply, her heart still racing. She was so going to kill Sam later for ditching her like that.

They had barely settled into their spot at the drive-in when Y/N suggested they grab some popcorn. The evening air was cool, but the excitement of being out together made it easy to ignore. As they approached the concession stand, Y/N tried to push away the lingering nerves that had stuck with her since Dean’s teasing earlier.

The woman at the counter gave them a warm smile as she handed over the popcorn. "You two make such a cute couple," she said, voice light and friendly.

Y/N’s breath caught, her heart jumping at the unexpected comment, but before she could even process it, Dean cut in with a quick, "Oh, we’re not a couple." His tone was casual, nonchalant, like he didn’t give the comment a second thought.

Y/N forced a smile, but the words stung more than she’d expected. She knew Dean wasn’t trying to be mean; he probably didn’t even notice the way her shoulders stiffened at his quick correction. But still, the dismissal felt sharp, a cold reminder of the line they never crossed.

They walked back to the Impala in silence, popcorn in hand. Dean threw a quick glance at her, sensing something was off, but said nothing. Once they were settled back in the car, Dean turned to her with his trademark grin. "So, what are we watching?"

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip before mumbling, "Uh… *Dirty Dancing*."

Dean’s face remained neutral, no teasing comeback this time. He simply leaned back in his seat, eyes on the screen as the movie started. Y/N felt a small wave of relief wash over her. He didn’t seem to mind, though the tension still lingered in the air.

As the night crept on, the temperature began to drop, and Y/N couldn’t ignore the chill creeping into the car. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, subtly inching closer to Dean, hoping the warmth radiating from his body would help. Her heart raced a little as her shoulder brushed his arm, but before she could get comfortable, Dean suddenly shot up.

"Uh, you need more popcorn?" he asked, almost too quickly, avoiding eye contact as he climbed out of the car.

Y/N blinked in surprise, staring at the now-empty space beside her. "Dean, I—" But he was already heading back toward the concession stand, leaving her sitting there, cold and alone.

She watched his retreating figure, the pang in her chest growing stronger. It wasn’t like Dean to act skittish, especially around her. They were best friends, always comfortable, always in sync. But tonight, something felt off—like an invisible wall had sprung up between them, one she didn’t know how to break through.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat as the movie played on, trying to focus on the screen but finding it hard to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut.

Y/N slipped out of the Impala as soon as Dean was out of sight, heading to the trunk where they kept an emergency blanket. She tugged it out, her hands shaking just a little, but she blamed it on the cold. Wrapping it around herself tightly, she climbed back into the car, settling as far from Dean's side as the cramped space would allow. Her eyes fixed on the screen, but her mind was far from the movie.

The cold felt more bearable now, but the ache in her chest was harder to shake. She had never felt this distance from him before, this strange wall that seemed to be growing between them. She didn’t know if it was her fault or his, or maybe it was just all in her head.

Dean returned a few moments later, the car door squeaking softly as he slid back into his seat. He had a small bag in his hand, and without looking at her, he held it out. "Got you your favorite," he said quietly, his voice softer than usual.

Y/N glanced at the bag—a small pack of her favorite candy. Normally, she would have smiled and thanked him, maybe even teased him about how thoughtful he could be when he wanted. But tonight, it was different. She took the candy without a word, her gaze drifting back to the screen, her body rigid under the blanket.

Dean frowned, the silence between them thick and uncomfortable. He glanced over at her, noticing the way she was sitting so far from him now, how her body was curled in on itself, closed off, if someone opened the car door now she would fall out.

His stomach twisted, sensing this was his fault for leaving her like that, but unsure of what to say or how to fix it.

"Y/N?" he tried, his voice gentle, but she didn’t respond. She kept her eyes glued to the movie, blinking rapidly as tears filled her eyes, the weight of everything suddenly too much to hold in.

Dean’s chest tightened when he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes, his heart pounding with a mixture of panic and guilt. He hadn’t meant to upset her—hell, he didn’t even know what he’d done. But seeing her like this, pulling away from him, was almost unbearable.

"Hey," he tried again, his voice softer now, uncertain. "Y/N… "

But she didn’t answer, and the silence stretched on between them, heavier than it had ever been before. Dean swallowed, at a complete loss. He’d faced down monsters, demons, the worst kind of evil, but this? It terrified him more than anything.

The movie played on, but neither of them were really watching anymore.

The soft, familiar notes of She's Like the Wind began to play, the sound filling the cat. Y/N shifted in her seat, feeling the tension rise in the air between her and Dean, her heart pounding harder with each second. The movie may have been unfolding on the screen in front of them, but the real intensity was happening inside the Impala.

Dean's hand tightened slightly around the steering wheel as he glanced over at her, catching the way her face softened, even with her eyes focused intently on the screen. But then, as if drawn by something deeper, their eyes met—tentative, searching. Dean’s stomach twisted, nervousness creeping in. Did she know? Could she have heard him that night, quietly singing She's Like the Wind while she slept?

His chest tightened as he struggled to act normal, but the tension was undeniable now, thick in the air between them, as awkward as the goodbye happening on screen. Dean tried to play it off, tried to push the feelings down as he often did.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

His voice was low, almost shy, with a nervous chuckle he mouthed Johnny's lines in the goodbye scene. "Maybe they saw you into seven pieces now…" He glanced at her, his green eyes hesitant but filled with something more than friendship.

"I'll never be sorry."

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart nearly stopping at the way he looked at her. His words hung between them, not lost in the chaos of the moment.

She didn’t blink, didn’t pull away, instead locking eyes with him. And then, almost as if she was channeling the movie’s energy, she whispered Baby’s lines, her voice soft but certain.

"Neither will I."

The words were a confession of their own, layered with all the things unsaid between them. The air in the car grew heavier, the tension almost unbearable as the song continued playing, the crescendo of emotions on screen mirroring their own.

Just as Johnny kissed Baby in the movie, Dean made his move, pulling Y/N closer to him, almost instinctively. His arm wrapped around her, bringing her into the warmth of his chest. The scent of his leather jacket surrounded her, grounding her even as her heart raced faster.

Dean’s eyes flicked down to her lips, lingering there for a split second, his breath coming out shaky. For a moment, it felt like the entire world had slowed down, the weight of the moment pressing in on both of them.

But instead of kissing her, Dean swallowed hard and simply held her, his arm tightening around her shoulders as he turned his eyes back to the screen, his heart hammering in his chest.

The soft strains of the song continued to play, the lyrics filling the quiet space of the Impala. Y/N had settled into the warmth of Dean’s side, the tension still palpable but unspoken. Her mind was racing, trying to process everything—the closeness, the lingering looks, the words exchanged earlier.

But when Dean started to hum again, her heart skipped a beat. His voice was low, almost vulnerable. "Somebody close to me... can't look in her eyes... she's out of my league..."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced up at him, her eyes searching his face, wondering if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. And then, as if pulled by some invisible force, their eyes locked. The way he looked at her, like she was the only person in the world, made her heart pound so hard she thought he could probably hear it.

Dean didn't stop, even though his voice grew softer. "Just a fool to believe... I'm anything she needs..." His gaze never left hers, the words heavy with meaning, his vulnerability laid bare in the dim light of the car.

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the song, his focus entirely on Y/N now. The world outside the Impala faded away, and all that existed was the space between them, shrinking with each passing second. Her lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling faster as her emotions swirled in a wild storm inside her.

Dean’s hand moved, tentatively reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. His thumb lingered at her cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. The song carried on in the background, but neither of them was listening anymore. It was just them, the charged air between them thick with everything unsaid.

When the last line of the song played, Dean couldn't hold back anymore.

Without a word, he closed the remaining distance between them, his lips crashing into hers in a deep, desperate kiss. It was everything she had been waiting for, soft yet intense, filled with all the emotion they had kept bottled up for so long.

His hand cupped her cheek, pulling her closer, his other arm wrapping around her waist to hold her tightly against him. Y/N melted into him, her hands clutching his jacket as if to anchor herself in the moment, her heart beating wildly in sync with his.

Time seemed to stop as they lost themselves in each other, the movie, the song, everything else fading into the background. It was just Dean and Y/N, wrapped up in a kiss that felt like it had been building forever.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Dean rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed as if he was afraid to open them, afraid to break whatever magic had just sparked between them.

He exhaled slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve wanted to do that for a long time."

Y/N smiled softly, her hand resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "Me too."

--

Taglist:

@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @kamisobsessed @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @ferrersbiggestfan @spxideyver @kamisobsessed @deans-queen @yvonneeeee @libby99hb @star-yawnznn @lmg14

[audrey-carr1]

The Heiress and the Lady of the House (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out where I want this story to go. I think I have an idea now. I have also decided to switch to first person, I find it way easier to write that way and hopefully you all find it easier to read. I am going to switch over the other parts as well. We even have two new characters to join the fun!

word count: 3k

warnings/tags: fem!reader, original characters, usual shenanigans, mentions of hetty/trevor

End of November- end of month 1 

Hetty's been avoiding me. It's been two weeks since we danced and kissed, and she hasn't spoken a word. Now she'll barely look at me, and if she does it's like she sees straight through me. I notice her hang around Trevor more. Whilst at first, I thought it was Hetty being her usual cryptic self, I notice that her touches on him linger more than she usually does. Recently, thought I saw Trevor checking her out. Yet again it’s Trevor he checks every girl within the Woodstone property line out, so I’m not sure I can look into that entirely. 

“What is wrong, you have long face like horse,” Thor asks.

“Oh nothing, just silly girl stuff,” I say 

“Would you like to talk about it? Thor really good at listening and giving advice. If you have enemy, I show you how to crush skull. Very easy,”

“She’s not having enemy trouble, she’s having love trouble.” Sass interrupts

“Shush!” I say hoping he lowers his voice. 

“Am I wrong?” Sass says with a know-it-all all smirk.

My lack of answer causes his smirk to grow into a smile. 

“I appreciate the concern, but I feel like I should talk to Het-” I catch myself, “I should talk to the person who is giving me a long face before I go sharing my feelings,”

“Nice save,” Sass says before leaving with Thor. I groan inwardly. 

I don’t have much time in the day to talk to Hetty as I'm constantly tied up with guests. The upcoming holidays have brought a larger amount than what I had initially thought, so I feel like I’m being pulled in hundreds of directions. I barely have time to spend with the ghosts, let alone any time to myself. Thankfully Sam and Jay had the insight to allow me to hire a little holiday help. A couple of friends from university have been wanting to meet up with each other, so I offered them seasonal positions. It’s like killing two birds with one stone. Before they arrive, I sit the ghosts down to tell them of the upcoming changes. 

“Everyone I want to let you know that I will have a couple of friends helping me to keep this place running. They do know that I can see ghosts, and they as of recently know about you. They will only be here until after the New Year, then it’ll be just us all over again,” I explain, “My friend Nadine is going to stay with me in my room while my friend Riley will be staying at my house. This way we don’t lose any rooms, and I do not have to have any shenanigans from trying to bunk you people up. Nadine is a chef, so she’ll help me with the cooking. Riley is my jack of all trades so he’ll do anything I ask.” 

The ghosts nod their heads in agreement and simply go about to milling around as they usually do. 

“y/n can we help with decorations? Now that we have you around, we can help get the house all festive since we can touch things!” Flower suggests.

“I love it! That’s a great idea Flower!” I say.

“What is?”  Flower questions

Oh, Flower. “Alright, I should have expected that,” I say before going off to the basement.

Soon the ghosts and I begin to bring out the holiday decorations. Instead of putting up a commercial tree, Thor and I went out to the forest to cut down a pine on the property and brought it back to the house. Pete and Trevor string the lights while Flower begins to sort through the ornaments under the guidance of Sass. Alberta and Isaac string together the popcorn garland, and Hetty oversees the entire operation. 

“Aren’t you going to help Hetty?” Isaac asks

“As Lady of the House, I am helping! By supervising,” Hetty says nose slightly in the air

The front door chimes before a familiar voice yells out “Hello!” 

I gasp, quickly leaving my post at the popcorn bowl to go to the lobby. 

“Nadine! Riley!” I practically squeal. 

I first run to Nadine, we exchange kisses on the cheek before embracing in a hug. Then I go to Riley who picks me up and spins me with ease. 

“Oh, it’s been too long!” He says squeezing me in his arms. 

“Alright, you can put me down, stronghold,” I laugh as he places me back down on my feet. As he puts me down, I happen to look in the direction of the room I just left. I see the ghosts peering their heads around the corner like children before quickly going back into the room. The only one who does not move positions and stands in full view is Hetty with an unreadable expression. I assume it’s Hetty being curious, and I shoot her a wink before I take Nadine and Riley into the kitchen.

“How have you been since graduation?” Nadine asks while she and Riley sit at the table

“The same, honestly just trying to find my place in the world. Now that I’ve become a heiress, I feel as if I’ve been operating on autopilot,” I reply. I grab a snack tray from the fridge before making my way to them

“Yeah, how come you never knew your grandmother was super loaded?” Riley questions before popping a grape in his mouth. 

“Honestly, we never talked about it. She always made sure I knew the importance of hard work probably so when I became an heiress I wouldn’t act like an entitled one. My parents said they saved for me to go to any school I chose. The money I received from their death went to an account I only used to pay for my car and rent. Now I work to keep myself busy, and this isn’t bad gig. I have 8 forms of entertainment plus guests to keep me busy ” I say

“Speaking of 8 forms of entertainment, what about that ghost you said was cute,” Nadine asks.

“Can you keep your voice down? They’re dead, but they hear everything. They would never let me live that down if they found out,” I say feeling a blush on my cheeks.

“Have you told them how you can see them yet?” Riley asks.

“I haven’t spoken to anyone about it, besides my two trusted friends,” I say referring to them. 

“They don’t ask questions?” Nadine questions

“Oh they are plenty curious, but I tend to avoid the subject as much as I can. We just figured out that I can do more than see them. Anything I touch, they can also touch,” I tell them. 

“Oh, so they can eat and drink now?” Riley asks now sitting up in his seat. 

“Not necessarily. We tried that, and it ended with a lot of food ending up on the floor,” I say remembering the memory of Sass trying to eat pizza and failing miserably. 

“I guess you can say it goes straight through them,” Riley says knocking his head back in laughter. Nadine and I look at each other and roll our eyes. 

“Oh come on guys, that was funny!” Riley says trying to get us on his side. 

“Sure it was,” Nadine mocks. 

“But back to before, how is it exactly that you can see them? We know that you had that drowning incident, but that doesn’t really explain how you can see them,” 

“Well, it’s not like exactly read up on it. I just know that I had a near-death experience, and I guess since I was in between two worlds, I can see both sides,”

“Yeah, but you’re saying only the ghosts have powers. Your boss Sam sees ghosts, but she doesn’t have a power,”

“She was only clinically dead for 3 minutes. I had a full-blown Meredith Grey incident, and I was dead for a while,” I say. 

“Well “Meredith Grey” maybe a part of you is still trapped on the other side, you never fully returned,” Nadine says

“I don’t know Nadine, like I said I don’t really read up on it. I just accepted that it happened. In fact this is the longest I’ve talked about the incident outside of therapy,” 

“Sorry, we don’t mean to push,” Riley says putting his hand on mine

“No, I understand, I would be curious too,” I say turning my hand over and giving her hand a squeeze. 

“Are any of them in the room now?” Nadine asks looking around for a sign of them

“No, in fact, I don’t hear them either. Let me check that they haven’t fallen in some hole or have been ghost-napped again,”

“Again?” Riley asks.

“Long story,” I say getting up from the table.

I turn the corner exiting to be met with 6 guilty faces. It’s like watching children getting their hands caught in the cookie jar.

“Oh, this is the kitchen guys, not the living room. Onward men…and women,” Isaac says as they hurriedly leave. 

“I thought we were going to the kitchen to eavesdrop on the living to see if we could get any hot gossip,” Flower says before Alberta drags her along with the rest of the group. 

“They were eavesdropping weren’t they?” Nadine asks.

“Oh most definitely,” I say chuckling to myself.

“Were they all there?” Riley asks.

“Most of them, Trevor and Hetty were missing, but they tend to go off a lot more often as of late,” I reply walking back to the table.

Riley and Nadine share a quick look before quickly returning their gaze to me. 

“How about I give y’all a tour?” I ask. 

Beginning of December - month 2 

I turn the corner to go towards the lobby, and I almost trip over a left-out decorations box. Before I fall to the floor, Riley is there to catch me. Thor was right, I really need to watch my step around here. 

“Watch it, Princess, would hate to break the merchandise,” Riley laughs as he steadies me on my feet.

“Oh, you two get a room already!” Nadine teases from the top of the stairs having seen the scene from the top of the stairs. She descends the stairs and goes out the front door. No doubt going on her morning run. 

“Oh my knight in shining armor, you couldn’t afford me if you tried. I’m quite expensive with the most expensive tastes,” I tease back. 

“Oh you wish,” Riley says picking the box and taking it to the basement. 

I roll my eyes. “Oh, I most definitely do. I’d take a night with those muscles any day,” I say before he’s out of earshot. I turn back to my task, and I see Hetty.

“Hey Hetty,” I say giving her a smile.

“What is the relationship between you and this Riley?” Hetty asks looking me in my eyes. 

“Um friendly? I guess,” I say raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“You guess?” Hetty’s eyebrow also raises in question. I try not to focus on the warm feeling I get when she looks at me like that. 

“Riley and I are just friends, and we have been since my freshman year of university,” I tell her. 

“So you recently saying you "wouldn’t mind a night with those muscles" meant nothing? ” Hetty questions

“Meant nothing,” I assure Hetty. 

Hetty purses her lips, pondering my answer. She lets out a “hmph” before going on her way. 

“Hetty?” I ask before she leaves completely

“Sorry, I have to meet with Trevor,” Hetty says without missing a beat

“Oh, I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a walk. The guests don’t check in for another couple of hours and-” I begin. 

“Sorry dear, I simply must go,” Hetty says before trotting off. 

I try to ignore the burn in my throat. I shake my head at the feeling of loss and jealousy. 

I try to keep my mind focused on the guests and running the B&B as efficiently as I can. “No use crying over spilled milk,” I tell myself. 

Riley, Nadine, and I work quite well together. Riley is a great fit at the front desk charming the guests as they check in. Nadine has been a great help in the kitchen, she always seems to know exactly what it is that I need. I dip my tasting spoon into a new pasta sauce recipe I’ve been wanting to try. 

“How does it taste?” Nadine asks

“It’s fine, I think I’m missing something,” I say. 

“Here let me taste,” Nadine says. I hand her the tasting spoon. 

“Taste like you need just a pinch more garlic and maybe a dash more of the red wine,” Nadine says handing the spoon back to me

I do as she suggests, and I moan in delight as I taste the now-perfected sauce.

“Oh this should be bottled,” I say. 

“The heiress is going to start a sauce company? What will Ragu do?” Nadine laughs as she finishes dipping the dessert fruit in chocolate. 

“You want some of the leftover chocolate?” Nadine asks dipping her finger into the bowl. 

“Is the sky blue?” I ask turning my sauce off and putting it off the heat. I wash my hands and also dip my finger in the bowl. As I bring my finger to my mouth, a bit of chocolate falls on my chest. Before I can get to it, Nadine has reaches her finger over to grab the missed chocolate and brings it to her mouth. 

Hetty enters the kitchen at the exact moment Nadine's finger swipes the chocolate from my chest and to her lips. 

“Oh I see we just let everyone eat off of each other,” Hetty says in annoyance before exiting the kitchen. “She might as well just lick it off you the next time,” 

“Nadine, excuse me for a moment. Ghost duty calls,” I excuse myself placing the dish towel in my hand on the counter. 

“Oh yeah, of course, I’m going to finish putting up the small decorations if you don’t mind,” Nadine says untying her apron. 

“No you go ahead, I’ll finish in the kitchen once I’m done,” I say leaving the kitchen to catch up with Hetty. 

“Save me some chocolate!” Riley calls from the lobby.

I find Hetty upstairs living room. 

“Hetty, what is going on? Your temper with me seems to be at a short fuse,”

“It has not,” Hetty says avoiding my gaze. 

I hear Riley call for me, and I wish he had better timing. 

“You might want to go see what your muscled desk boy wants,” Hetty says. 

I nearly scream in annoyance and frustration, but I decide not to.

“This conversation is not over,” I say before I storm past Alberta heading down the stairs. Alberta heads into the living room with Hetty and blocks Hetty from exiting. 

“Hetty what is going on?” Alberta asks

“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about,” Hetty says 

“You are driving that girl up a wall, and not in a good way,”

“I have not. I have been simply-” Hetty begins.

“Ignoring her,” Isaac says cutting Hetty off as he enters the room. 

“Oh great another gossip,” Hetty says as she sits on the couch,” Please tell me what my other grievances are.”

“Hetty we are worried about you. When she first got here, you were so excited to have as you said “another woman of high status” to join you. Then you walked around like the cat who got the cream once you finally kissed her,”

“I did not,” Hetty says fidgeting with her hands. 

“You most certainly did!” Alberta laughs, “ She must be some kisser because it was almost as if you sat on the washing machine again. 

Hetty blushes at the memory, she hates her how her friends can see through her facade.

“Hetty what is it that makes you act like this?” Isaac says sitting next to Hetty

“That’s the issue, Isaac. I do not know! I haven’t felt like this since I tried to run off with that painter,”

It dawns on Isaac,” Hetty do you know what it means?”

“Obviously not,” Hetty says waiting for Isaac to enlighten her. 

“Hetty, you two were practically inseparable. The two of you were practically finishing each other’s sentences, going on walks, and having movie dates,”

“Oh remember when you told me that you enjoyed how the sun made her eyes sparkle on your walks,” Alberta chimes in. 

“Remember that one time, we caught them cuddled up watching Bodices and Barons?” Isaac adds.

“Oh, how could I forget they looked so cute! (y/n) draped over Hetty with Hetty’s arms possesively wrapped around her,” Alberta says. 

“The both of you are absolutely incorrigible,” Hetty says in defeat.  

“And you’re blushing and in love!” Isaac says kicking his feet in the air. 

“I most absolutely am not,” Hetty says snatching her hands away. 

“Hetty and (y/n) sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Alberta begins to sing. 

Hetty simply puts her face in her hands. Hetty was so out of sorts even her mannerisms were becoming too unladylike for her. Hetty decides it’s time to grab the bull by the horns.

“If you two are done acting so childly, I am going to go and find and talk to (y/n),” Hetty says rising from the couch. She blames the butterflies in her stomach on the sudden change of posture rather than nerves. 

“Finally! Have fun and don’t come back until you look like you’ve had fun with the washer,” Alberta calls. This sends Isaac and Hetty in a fit of laughter. 

Hetty leaves the room and goes to enter your bedroom. Hetty begins to debate on whether she should enter or not, and then on a whim decides to enter the room. Upon entry, she has to fight to keep down a gasp as she watches Nadine kiss you. She quickly leaves the room and feels the butterflies in her stomach turn to lead.

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part I

The Night We Met

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 20k

Author’s Note: This story feels like it’s been living in my head for so long, and I’m so excited to finally have Part I up and ready! It’s a long one, I admit. The majority of the story is going to be told through letters, so I wanted to take the time early on to set up the narrative and introduce you to the major characters. I suggest curling up with a nice cup of tea and a cozy blanket. I hope you enjoy!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

Songs specifically featured in this chapter: Sandman // Tuxedo Junction // The Way You Look Tonight // Someone to Watch Over Me // Moonglow // A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square

Dedication: This story is dedicated to my sweet friend, Clara, also known as @luminousnotmatter​! Her support and input have been invaluable, and she’s a big reason why this story got off the ground. Thank you, Clara! Love you!

Warnings: Alternating POV, allusions to social anxiety, references to war, extremely subtle innuendos brought up in conversations between friends, fluff.

May 9, 1942

Bob’s POV

Naval Air Station Charleston

Goose Creek, South Carolina

“Come on, Floyd, it’s our last night stateside!”

“Don’t be a killjoy!”

“Come with us to the dance!”

“There’ll be lots of pretty girls!”

Sighing softly, Bob lifted his head and lowered the pen he’d been using to compose a letter to his parents back home in Iowa. He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to send another one, so he’d been trying to concentrate on getting everything down on paper that he wanted to tell them. But his fellow officers were evidently determined to distract him.

Sliding his glasses up his nose, Bob’s gaze shifted from face to face, taking in the group of men who had stealthily surrounded his bunk while he’d been focused on assuring his mother he would keep safe and see her soon. They were all dressed to the nines, decked in their dress blues and looking as eager as anything to get off base.

He couldn’t say he blamed them. Tonight was their last night stateside, as Andrews had pointed out, and who knew when the next time they’d have an opportunity to go to a dance or talk to a pretty girl would be? Of course, based on the conversations he’d heard buzzing around base all day, talking wasn’t the only thing the boys had on their minds for tonight.

He couldn’t say he blamed them for that either. Most of the guys in his squadron were young officers like him, recent graduates of Annapolis who’d finished school just in time for the United States to plunge itself into another world war. They’d barely had a moment to celebrate their commissioning into the United States Navy before Uncle Sam was calling them up to the frontlines. Some of the boys had sweethearts back home, pretty young things whose pictures served as talismans and whose letters promised that they’d be faithful and true. But most of them, like Bob, had no one but Mom and Pop to write letters to. And they were more than happy to seek out a little bit of tender loving care, if only for a night, in the arms of pretty volunteers at the USO dances.

Well, they were. Bob wasn’t. Sure, he’d gone to plenty of dances the USO had graciously hosted in an attempt to boost the morale of boys who were shipping out, knowing in the back of their minds that there was a good chance they’d never be coming home again. And he’d even danced with a few lovely girls. But he found that he always got tongue tied around them, always said the wrong thing or got too flustered to be smooth and suave the way his fellow officers were. He also wasn’t one for dancing, as many an unfortunate partner had learned.

So even though tonight was his last night on American soil, and the USO was hosting a dance just thirty minutes away in Charleston, Bob had made the decision to stay behind. He’d finish his letter to his parents and try to get some shuteye so that he’d be well rested for their deployment come tomorrow morning.

The thought was apparently inconceivable to the rest of his squadron.

“What are you gonna do? Stay here by yourself and rot?” Andrews demanded, flicking a bit of lint off the sleeve of his uniform. Thomas Andrews, or Tommy Boy as everyone referred to him, was the sort of good-natured guy who always had a beautiful woman on his arm, but wanted to make sure that all his buddies did, too.

“I don’t think I’d rot in just a few hours,” Bob replied, shaking his head as he turned over the page of the letter he’d been writing, not necessarily needing all the guys to see the message he’d been penning for his mother.

“That’s Floyd for you. Always taking things too literally,” Johnston grinned, plopping down beside Bob on his bunk and slinging an arm around him. Benjamin Johnston—Benny, as he preferred to be called—had been one of Bob’s roommates at Annapolis. He was as good a guy and dependable a friend as you could come by, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love to rib Bob, and anybody else, whenever he got the opportunity.

“We leave tomorrow, boys. I’ve got a few loose ends to tie up here, letters to write and things to see to before we leave. You go have fun at the dance. You won’t even notice I’m not there,” Bob insisted, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses once more.

“Trace, would you come talk some sense into your rear-seater?” Tommy Boy scoffed, hooking his thumb in Bob’s direction with a shake of his head.

A familiar chuckle rippled across the space between them as Paul made his way into the room, clearly wondering where everyone had gone, considering they were supposed to be leaving soon for the dance.

Paul Trace was not only a fellow Annapolis graduate and Bob’s front seat pilot, but his best friend. The two of them had grown up together in Linn County, just outside Cedar Rapids. With both their fathers being officers in the Navy, and veterans of the Great War to boot, it hadn’t exactly come as a surprise to anyone when the two of them had ended up at the Naval Academy.

“Come on, fellas, leave Bob alone,” Paul said, smirking knowingly in Bob’s direction as he approached the group of them. 

The rest of the guys shifted instantly, making room for him. Paul had always had that way about him, that quality that made everyone else in the room pay attention to him and listen to whatever he had to say. Bob had always admired that about him. He knew it was certainly a quality he didn’t possess. Even on his best days, he never seemed to be able to do more than fade into the background, unnoticed by almost everyone around him. But Paul never made him feel small for that, and that was something for which Bob had always been grateful. He was a good friend, and an even better pilot, and Bob thanked his lucky stars every day that they’d managed to be paired together.

“It’s hopeless, Trace. We’ve tried everything. Talk some sense into this best buddy of yours and convince him to come to the dance with us tonight,” Benny begged, clasping his hands in a pleading fashion and shooting Paul his best wounded puppy expression.

“And convince him soon,” Tommy Boy added, glancing down at his watch. “We’ve got to get a move on soon if we want to make it to Charleston in time for the dance.”

“Gotta get there early if you want to dance with the prettiest girls,” Benny added with a wink, rising from Bob’s bunk and straightening out his uniform. “We’ll wait for you outside, Trace,” he said, lightly slapping Paul’s arm. “And you better be with him, Floyd!” he called out as the group of them started to walk away, pointing at Bob before ducking out of the room.

Bob chuckled softly, shaking his head once again and rubbing the back of his neck.

Paul sat down at the end of the bed, clasping his hands in his lap and lounging comfortably. “You know you’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t come with us, right?” he grinned.

“I really am busy,” Bob told him, gesturing at the papers he had scattered across his bed and picking his pen up once more.

“One last letter home?” Paul asked, peering over at the papers without prying.

“One last letter home,” Bob nodded, sighing softly as his eyes quickly skimmed what he’d already written. “I’m just not sure when I’ll get an opportunity to write to them again. They know we’re shipping out tomorrow, but I just want to give them a few more updates before we leave.”

“I understand, Robby,” he replied, using the nickname he’d had for him since childhood. And he did. That was the great thing about Paul. He was the kind of guy who meant what he said. And Bob knew that he understood better than most.

“Did you write any last letters home for Natasha and the kids?” Bob asked, lowering his pen to focus on his friend.

Paul smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes as he nodded. “Just yesterday. Promised them I’d write as often as I’m able. Nat gave me this before I left,” he murmured, reaching into the breast pocket of his uniform and pulling out a small photograph. It looked to be new, though the edges were already starting to fade from where Paul had obviously been clutching it tightly. He handed it off to Bob with a proud grin.

Taking the photo from Paul’s grasp, Bob smiled at the sight. It was taken at Christmas, Paul and Natasha smiling brightly for the camera, their three-year-old daughter, Clara holding up her baby doll proudly, while their newborn son, Paul, Jr. lay nestled in his mother’s arms.

“It’s a beautiful picture, Paul,” Bob said sincerely, handing it back to him.

“That’s all Natasha and the kids,” Paul beamed, pressing a kiss to the photograph before slipping it back into the pocket right above his heart, patting it as if for security. “Certainly doesn’t have anything to do with this ugly mug,” he laughed self-deprecatingly.

Bob laughed as well, knowing from the way girls had always ogled his best friend that that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Speaking of Natasha, how’s she going to feel about you going to this USO dance tonight, huh?” he teased, lifting an eyebrow.

Natasha and Paul were childhood sweethearts. Bob couldn’t recall a single memory growing up that didn’t involve both of them. He’d been proud to stand beside Paul as his best man when the two of them had gotten hitched the summer before they left for Annapolis, and even prouder when his friends had asked him to be their daughter’s godfather.

“Nat knows she’s the only one for me,” Paul replied with a wave of his hand, as if the thought of him having eyes for any woman but his wife was preposterous. And that’s because it was. “She told me she’s more concerned with finding you a nice girl, and she’s tasked me with making it happen,” he went on, waggling his eyebrows.

Bob groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Not you, too, Paul. Weren’t you just telling the other guys to leave me alone about the dance tonight?”

“That was the other guys,” Paul smirked, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Now this is me asking. Your very best friend in the whole world. You’re not gonna let me down, are you, Robby?”

Bob groaned again in response, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know how I get at these things, Paul. I can’t get through a dance without stomping all over some poor girl’s feet, and I can’t flirt worth a lick. What’s the point?”

“The point is that this is your last night stateside, buddy o’ mine. You’re about to get shipped off halfway around the world, risking your neck to defend your country and all those pretty girls you’re so convinced you can’t talk to. You deserve one last night of fun,” Paul insisted, his expression serious even as his lips turned up in a cajoling smile. “Who cares if you can’t dance? Just come and have some drinks with me and the fellas. Let’s celebrate our last night together in the land of the free, home of the brave,” he grinned.

Bob’s eyes flickered down to his unfinished letter, hesitation written all over his face as he mentally debated what to do.

“Come on, Robby, do it for me! And for Natasha! She’ll never let me hear the end of it if I let you stay in tonight,” Paul pleaded, nudging him teasingly.

How could he argue with that? Shoulders slumping in defeat, Bob felt his resolve crumble as he mumbled. “Alright, fine. I’ll come with you.”

Paul let out a whoop of victory. “Break out those dress blues, pal. What girl in her right mind will be able to resist?”

Bob chuckled softly at that, organizing the pages of his letter and slipping them into his trunk before moving to get changed. “You better not make me regret this decision,” he joked.

Paul just smirked, leaning against the wall as he waited for Bob to get ready. “Nah, you won’t regret it. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

Your POV

Charleston, South Carolina

“Stop fidgeting,” Dottie chided, poking you playfully in the side. “I’m nearly done,” she hummed, applying a light coating of rouge to the apples of your cheeks and then brushing it up along your cheekbones with a practiced hand.

“I can’t help but fidget. It feels like we’ve been at this for hours,” you laughed softly, dutifully keeping your eyes closed and your chin tilted upward as your older sister finished up her careful ministrations.

“Well, perfection takes time,” came Dottie’s quick retort. Even with your eyes closed, you could hear the smile in her voice. “And perfect you look, my darling,” she added gleefully, tapping the tip of your nose with affection. “Open your eyes and take a look.”

Slowly opening your eyes, you swiveled on the vanity chair in your sister’s bedroom and faced the mirror. Your breath caught slightly in your throat and your eyes widened, something that Dottie didn’t fail to notice.

“You look stunning, sweetheart,” she grinned, wrapping her arms around you and bringing her face down to your level, beaming at your dual reflections.

Normally, you would have shyly brushed off the compliment, deflecting by pointing out something lovelier about Dottie or changing the subject altogether. But gazing at your reflection in the mirror tonight, you found it hard to deny that your sister had certainly worked wonders. You felt like a movie star. Between the victory rolls that Dottie had spent hours setting, ensuring your hair fell in the softest, sleekest ringlets imaginable, the light pink rouge that accentuated your cheeks, and the dark black mascara that framed your eyes, you had never felt more beautiful or grown up in all your life.

“Oh, Sissy,” you breathed out, unconsciously reverting to the affectionate childhood nickname you’d had for your older sister when the two of you were growing up.

“You’re gonna knock ’em dead tonight, kid! The boys are going to be lining up for the chance at a dance with you,” Dottie told you, with that air of cool confidence that she had always seemed to possess, even when you were little girls.

“Oh, no, I don’t think—”

“Hush,” Dottie silenced you immediately with a finger to your lips. “None of that now. You’re going to be the prettiest girl in the room, I just know it. Not to mention the sweetest,” she smiled with a wink, chucking you under the chin.

You knew there was no point in arguing with her, so you just smiled and kept your mouth shut. You did look pretty. You felt pretty, too. But you knew that would only get you so far when your own painful shyness kept you from being able to string two sentences together.

Dottie was the social butterfly. She was the one who could carry on a conversation with anyone about anything. You’d always admired that about her, and looked up to her in every way imaginable. But you’d also come to accept long ago that you were never going to be like your big sister. You panicked at the mere thought of holding a conversation with someone you’d just met, and when you threw handsome men into the mix, it turned you into an awkward fool who fumbled over the few words you managed to squeak out.

Yet, despite all that, you’d somehow allowed your very persuasive older sister to talk you into volunteering with the USO.

“It’ll be a good opportunity for you to get out of your shell a little bit! Meet new people. Including handsome men,” Dottie had told you with a wink and a playful nudge. “Plus you’ll be doing your part for the war effort!”

You knew Dottie would never let you hear the end of it if you didn’t agree, so you had. And the truth was that you did enjoy helping out at events, offering refreshments and kind smiles to the men who were leaving everything behind to serve on the frontlines of the war. But there had been no love connections, much to your sister’s chagrin.

Dottie was certain that the dance tonight was going to change that.

“Here, sweetheart, can’t forget this,” she told you, holding out a gold tube of red lipstick. “It’ll match your nails perfectly.”

“You’ve really thought of every detail, hm?” you asked teasingly, smiling as you leaned in closer to the mirror to carefully apply the lipstick. It was bright and flashy, just like the polish that Dottie had insisted on painting your nails with yesterday.

“Of course,” Dottie giggled, disappearing into her spacious closet for a moment. “Including this!” she exclaimed a moment later, reappearing with her most stunning party dress in hand. It was cream-colored and covered in a design of delicate pink flowers, with pearl buttons adorning the back.

“Oh, Dottie, I couldn’t!” you gasped, nearly dropping the tube of lipstick in your rush to rise from the vanity seat.

“You absolutely could,” your sister insisted, laying the dress out on her bed and smoothing it with gentle fingers. “It doesn’t even fit me anymore after the baby. My hips are stretched beyond repair,” she laughed, sliding her hands down her curvy figure. “You’ll be doing me a favor by wearing it. At least then I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing it’s being enjoyed by someone.”

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” you murmured, stepping beside your sister and wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Says the angel who dropped everything back home to come to Charleston and help me keep my head on straight,” Dottie smiled, hugging you back and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love being here with you and Paddy and Frankie,” you told her, taking her hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze.

“Not as much as we love having you,” Dottie replied, cupping your face in her hands and smiling warmly. “Oh, but look at me! I’m going to muss your makeup! And we have to finish getting you ready!”

Five minutes later, you were twirling dutifully in front of the mirror in the prettiest dress you’d ever worn, Dottie eyeing you carefully from every angle to make sure everything was perfect.

“Oh, I’m just sad I’m going to miss you being the belle of the ball tonight!” she sighed dramatically, eyes twinkling with humor when you rolled your eyes at her. “Come on, let’s show you off to the boys,” she beamed, taking your hand and practically dragging you out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

“Dottie, I’m going to twist my ankle and then I won’t be able to go to the dance at all,” you laughed breathlessly, straightening out the dress as the two of you bounded into the living room.

“Paddy, look!” Dottie announced, holding out her arms to show you off as if you were one of Hollywood’s newest starlets.

Your brother-in-law let out a loud whistle, grinning jovially as he looked you up and down. “Hey, look at you, kid! I think you might be a little lost. The MGM lot is over in Hollywood,” he teased.

Blushing slightly at the compliment, you waved it off. “Oh, stop,” you smiled, walking over to him and lifting your soon-to-be five month old nephew out of his arms, nuzzling his soft head.

Frankie babbled happily in your arms, reaching up to tug at the pearl necklace you were wearing, the one your parents had bought you for your sixteenth birthday.

“Oh no you don’t, little monster,” Dottie laughed, taking her son out of your arms and pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of his head. “Auntie’s going out tonight, so there will be no pulling on her jewelry or tugging on her hair.”

“Or spitting up on her dress,” Paddy sighed, indicating a large stain on his shirt.

“Yes, none of that either,” Dottie gasped, looking horrified at the prospect.

You laughed, gazing with love at your family. “You act as if I’m off to be crowned Queen of England. It’s hardly so serious as all that, Sissy,” you winked.

Dottie just shook her head, bouncing her baby boy in her arms. “You’re going to break so many hearts tonight, baby doll. Don’t you agree, Paddy?”

“Don’t indulge her,” you laughed, reaching for your purse and making sure that your wallet and house keys were inside.

“Listen to me, kiddo,” Paddy said, moving beside you and wrapping a brotherly arm around your shoulders. “None of these lugheads are worthy of you, you hear me? And if even one of them looks at you the wrong way, or hurts you, I’ll give him a knuckle sandwich, okay?”

“Oh, Paddy!” Dottie huffed in exasperation, lowering Frankie into his bassinet and crossing her arms over her chest. “Shush! Don’t listen to him!”

You just laughed softly, shaking your head. “Thank you, Paddy, I appreciate it,” you grinned, pressing a kiss to your brother-in-law’s cheek.

“You sure you don’t need me to give you a ride over to the dance, kid?” Paddy asked, resting his hands on his hips. He was in a jolly mood, like he always was, but you could tell from the pinched look around his eyes that he was exhausted from a long day of work.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about me,” you insisted, reaching for the white sweater you’d left sitting on the back of the armchair. “I’m walking over with some of the other girls. And the community center isn’t far. Plus, it’s a nice night.”

“Mhm, it is. A perfect night, in fact,” Dottie nodded innocently, slipping her arm around her husband’s waist. “Perfect for a little evening stroll with a handsome fella, wouldn’t you say so, Paddy?”

“Why, Dot, are you proposing to take me on an evening stroll? Or are you just hoping your baby sister comes home with a marriage proposal tonight?” Paddy smirked, loud laughter booming from his chest when his wife smacked his arm.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Dottie laughed as well, a huge smile breaking out across her face as Paddy bent his head to press a kiss to her cheek.

Even as you smiled, you felt that familiar ache bloom in your chest as you witnessed the easy affection and love that your sister and her husband shared with one another. You’d always desired a relationship like that, a marriage like that. You’d just never seemed to find the right man.

Maybe Dottie was right. Maybe he would be at the dance tonight. As improbable as it felt, crazier things had surely happened. And evidently your sister had given you permission to stay out as long as you wanted, taking moonlit strolls with perfect strangers.

“We’ll be here, kid, if you need anything,” Paddy told you, resting a protective hand on your shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

“But also don’t hesitate to spend all the time you need with whatever handsome man happens to catch your eye,” Dottie winked, shooting both you and Paddy an impish grin.

“Okay, on that note, I think it’s time I took my leave,” you giggled, draping your sweater over your arm and checking your purse one more time as you headed towards the front door, Paddy and Dottie following behind you.

“Have fun, kiddo. Be safe,” Paddy murmured as you turned to give him a hug goodbye.

“I will,” you promised, moving to wrap your sister in a tight hug. “Thanks for everything, Sissy,” you whispered to her, squeezing her hand before slipping out the front door.

“Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Dottie called after you with a laugh, waving you off excitedly.

A block away from your sister’s house, you met up with a few of the other girls who were volunteering with the USO, including your friend, Emily. The two of you met at the first USO event you’d volunteered at, and had become fast friends.

“You look beautiful!” Emily exclaimed brightly, slipping her arm through yours as your group began strolling in the direction of the community center, all the other girls chirping and babbling excitedly.

“So do you,” you smiled, knowing the boys wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off your friend. She never had a shortage of dance partners at these sorts of events.

“Oh, I’m so excited!” she giggled, beaming up at you. “Tonight is going to be special. I can just feel it.”

You hoped Emily and Dottie were right.

Bob’s POV

“Here we are, boys!” Tommy Boy grinned as the squadron pulled up in front of the Charleston Community Center, the red, white, and blue balloons and streamers floating in the warm spring breeze a good sign that they were in the right place. “Our last night stateside,” he announced loudly, rubbing his hands together with a cheeky smirk. “Better make it count!”

The rest of the guys let out a loud whoop of agreement, laughing and shoving each other as they each hurried up the stairs, hoping to be the first inside and the first in the arms of the prettiest volunteers.

“What do you say, Bobby Boy?” Benny beamed, squeezing Bob’s shoulders as he came up behind him. “Gonna get yourself a girl tonight?”

“Oh, I just—I don’t think that I—” Bob stuttered, his ears burning red as he adjusted his glasses, pushing them up firmly onto the bridge of his nose.

Benny guffawed amicably, not actually possessing a mean bone in his body. “Aw, c’mon, Floyd,” he coaxed, slinging a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Think of it as a little ‘going away’ present for yourself. Lots of pretty girls who can’t resist a man in uniform—especially an officer’s uniform,” he winked, nudging Bob with a devilish expression.

When Bob just continued to stammer and blush, Paul stepped in smoothly, giving Benny a teasing punch to the arm. “C’mon, Benny, leave him alone. He’s here, isn’t he? Let the man have a drink in peace. We haven’t even gotten inside yet.”

“Trace here is the perfect wingman, Bob,” Benny went on, clearly determined to get his old classmate a girl before the night was through. “He’s already got himself a pretty girl—”

“The prettiest,” Paul cut in, grinning.

“Alright, the prettiest girl,” Benny amended, smirking. “So he’s not on the prowl like the rest of us lugheads. Let him help you find a nice girl to give you a proper sendoff.”

“If I say I will, will you let us go inside?” Bob asked, smiling ruefully.

Benny laughed at that, smacking Bob on the back. “You crack me up, Floyd. You really do. Fine, fine. Let’s go inside. I’m getting myself a girl, even if you aren’t,” he insisted, waggling his eyebrows suggestively before hurrying up the stairs with a shameless grin.

“Just have fun tonight, pal,” Paul smiled, patting Bob on the back. “Our last night stateside. Let’s make it one to remember, huh?” He held out his hand for Bob to shake, the way they’d always done as kids before embarking on some grand adventure.

“Yeah,” Bob grinned, nodding as he reached out and clasped Paul’s hand, shaking firmly. “Let’s make it count.”

Chuckling, the two friends shook their heads in amusement and followed the path their fellow officers had already disappeared along, their long legs carrying them up the stairs and into the central foyer, the sound of music and raucous laughter drawing them in the right direction.

Pushing open the doors to the main hall, Bob and Paul were instantly met by a sea of uniformed men from all branches of the service and pretty girls in all their finery whirling across the dance floor. The band was enthusiastically giving their best rendition of Benny Goodman’s “Sandman,” the music reverberating throughout the room and setting a jovial atmosphere that almost made them forget they were shipping off to war tomorrow morning.

“At least we know the men we’re flying with are true to their word,” Paul called out over the din, grinning as he pointed in the direction of Tommy Boy, Benny, and the rest of their friends, who were already chatting away with a group of giggling girls, each one more dolled up than the last.

Bob grinned as well, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously. “I never doubted for a minute they’d find the girls they were after,” he shouted back, finding it difficult to make himself heard over the music and loud conversations buzzing around them.

“C’mon, let’s go grab a drink,” Paul suggested, nodding his head in the direction of the punch table that was situated across the room.

Bob trailed behind his best friend, keeping his head down as he passed by flirtatious couples and older volunteers who were trying to maintain an ounce of decorum in the dance hall. It was a difficult job that he didn’t envy. With the war on, and the majority of the men in the room tonight deploying within the next few days, there was a sense of urgency pulsating in the air—a desperate, hungry need to cling to anything and anyone that reminded them, if only for this moment, that they were alive. Lingering glances from across the room, longing touches on the dance floor, stolen kisses in the shadows—they would all be traded soon for bitter nights in the trenches and the deafening boom of gunfire and the stench of death. So tonight, they had to squeeze every last drop out of life. Because who knew when it would be their last?

Bob was jolted out of his silent musings when he realized that Paul had come to a halt in front of him, joining the ring of men waiting for a glass of punch. Clearing his throat and trying to shake all dire thoughts from his mind, Bob raised his head and fixed his gaze straight ahead.

And suddenly he forgot how to breathe.

There, standing behind the punch table with a couple other volunteers, was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in all his life. Hollywood could keep their Judy Garland, Rita Hayworth, Joan Fontaine, and all the rest—she outshone them all. She wasn’t looking in his direction, but he couldn’t help but stare as she handed a small glass of punch to a young sailor, her lips curving in the sweetest smile and her eyes sparkling brightly in the loveliest face he had ever beheld. The pink flowers on her dress brought out the rosiness in her cheeks, and Bob was certain that she had to be an angel sent down from heaven. She just had to be.

He only became aware of the sound of Paul loudly clearing his throat when his friend nudged him sharply in the ribcage, bringing him back down to earth. He tore his gaze away from the lovely angel hesitantly, half afraid she’d disappear forever if he lost sight of her.

“Welcome back to earth, pal,” Paul laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “See something you like? Or, should I say, someone?” he winked, craning his neck to seek out the object of Bob’s intense focus. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, nodding sagely. “A very pretty someone. I think Nat would approve of her for you.”

“Paul, no,” Bob stammered, his cheeks flaming red in embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I—I was just—”

“You were just what? Hm?” Paul demanded, smiling knowingly. “Are you really going to stand here and tell me—me—that you weren’t just looking at that girl like she hung the moon and stars?”

“Well—I just—I mean—” Bob fumbled hopelessly, scuffing one of his newly polished shoes across the hardwood floor.

“Robby,” Paul cut him off, grinning as he grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him once for good measure. “Go talk to her.”

“Me? T-talk to her? Oh no, I couldn’t,” Bob insisted, shaking his head determinedly.

“It’s the perfect opportunity! She’s handing out punch to all the guys,” Paul said, indicating the table just a few feet away from them. “Just say something nice to her—compliment her dress or her hair or that string of pearls around her neck. Anything. C’mon, Robby, you can do it. I have faith in you,” he encouraged.

“I—I—” Bob turned his head to look at her again. Maybe he’d just been feeling lightheaded and she wouldn’t have so much of an effect on him this time. But as soon as he caught sight of her once more, his stomach promptly performed an Olympic-style somersault, his mouth suddenly feeling as dry as Iowa farmland in the middle of a summer drought.

She was so beautiful. A girl that beautiful would never want to talk to him. Not when she could have any man in the room that she wanted.

“I—I’m actually not thirsty,” Bob declared, turning quickly on his heel and making a beeline as far away from the punch table as possible.

“Bob!”

He could hear Paul calling after him, but he had to get as far away from the angel in the dress with the pink flowers as possible.

God, he was a coward. He could ship off halfway across the world to face the Nazis in Europe, but he couldn’t talk to a girl at a dance? Pathetic.

Why had he let the guys talk him into coming tonight?

Your POV

“Emily, why don’t you go dance? I can handle things here,” you offered, not failing to notice the wistful glances your friend kept tossing towards the center of the room—most notably in the direction of a cluster of handsome officers.

“Oh, no!” Emily exclaimed, pulling her attention back round towards the task at hand and shaking her head. “I wouldn’t leave you and Marilyn all alone,” she insisted, referring to the bubbly redhead who’d been put on punch table duty with the two of you this evening.

“It’s not such a hard job,” you laughed softly, ladling some of the fruity drink into a set of fresh glasses. “And I don’t mind. Really. I can tell how much you’re itching to get out there,” you smiled, shooting her a knowing look.

Emily bit her lip, seemingly contemplating your offer for a moment, but then shook her head once, firmly. “No, I’ll stay here. Some of the other volunteers will rotate in soon, and then we’ll both get a chance to dance,” she chittered brightly.

Your smile waned somewhat at that, and it was your turn to shake your head. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not much for dancing,” you admitted quietly, chewing on your lower lip. It took you a moment to recall the red lipstick Dottie had given you, and you flushed, hoping you hadn’t gotten it all over your teeth.

“Oh, don’t be silly! You volunteered for a dance and you don’t want to dance?” Emily teased gently, nudging your arm as she handed a glass of punch to a soldier who looked like he couldn’t possibly be a day older than eighteen. “I’m sure the fellas will be lining up to dance with you!”

Emily was so sweet and earnest that you didn’t have the heart to tell her that the boys would be lining up to dance with her, not with you. So you just smiled tightly and offered her a small nod in response, handing off a couple glasses of punch to a young couple who looked wholly out of breath after a few turns on the dance floor.

“The men look so handsome, don’t you think so?” Emily chattered excitedly, carefully setting out a new stack of napkins on the table. “And so many officers are here tonight!” she giggled, blushing prettily.

Marilyn suddenly leaned over at that, lowering her voice conspiratorially. She always was one to know the latest gossip. “I heard there’s a whole squadron of naval officers here tonight who are shipping out first thing tomorrow morning. It’s their last night in town, so you know what that means,” she finished with a wink.

You just blushed furiously at her innuendo, but Emily’s eyes widened innocently.

“No,” she murmured, admitting to her naivete. “What does that mean?”

Marilyn giggled in a way that indicated she had rather intimate experience with servicemen who were spending their last night stateside. Covering her mouth with her hand, she leaned in closer and whispered, “They’re looking for girls to give them a fun sendoff, if you catch my meaning.” She winked, flipping her red curls over her shoulder.

If possible, Emily’s eyes widened even further, looking like a pair of light blue china saucers. “Oh,” was all she managed to squeak out, her cheeks turning bright red.

Giggling some more, Marilyn turned away to resume her punch table duties, while Emily turned to gape at you.

“I never—well, I mean, I’ve flirted with a few boys and even kissed one or two,” Emily confessed, her blush extending down her throat and up to the tips of her ears. “But I never—did you know that? About their last night in town, I mean?”

You shrugged a little bit in embarrassment, thinking of the things you’d heard from Dottie and Paddy. “Well, I’ve heard. But I wouldn’t know from personal experience,” you hastily amended, clearing your throat shyly.

“Hm,” Emily murmured, more to herself than anybody else, turning to look out at the sea of eligible men with fresh eyes. “Well a dance and maybe a kiss is all they’re getting from me,” she announced firmly, her expression so serious that you couldn’t help but giggle slightly.

“I mean it!” she laughed, playfully slapping you on the arm. “Oh, there are a lot of cute ones out there though, aren’t there?” she simpered, her eyes turning big and doe-like once more. “Do you have your eye on any of them?” she asked curiously.

“Me? Oh, no,” you replied, shaking your head. “I’ve found that I’m much better off keeping to myself and doing my job at events like these,” you explained, biting down on your lower lip again.

“That’s nonsense!” Emily scoffed, almost looking offended on your behalf. “You’re beautiful! The boys here can’t stop looking at you!”

You grimaced slightly at that, face flushing in awkward embarrassment. The boys might be looking, but as soon as any of them tried to strike up a conversation, they quickly discovered what a shy, nervous little churchmouse you were, and their interest quickly faded.

You’d already fumbled clumsily over three flirtatious interactions with a sailor, a soldier, and a pilot. One poor Marine had even ended up with bright red punch spilled down the front of his uniform. You’d been mortified, and he’d been gracious, but you could tell he planned to stay as far away from you as possible for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet somebody. In fact, you wanted that more than anything. Living with your sister and brother-in-law for these past few months had only solidified the yearning that had long since taken up residence in your heart, the aching desire to find someone to love and cherish—someone who would love and cherish you in return. But as soon as any nice, handsome, eligible man approached you, you suddenly found yourself wishing the earth would swallow you whole. Dottie was always telling you how smart and funny and sweet you were, but you never seemed to be able to show that to any man who talked to you. Instead, you clammed up like an oyster and stammered and stuttered over all your words. It was humiliating.

You’d learned to accept long ago that you weren’t the kind of girl who got asked to dance. You were the girl who handed out punch and offered kind smiles and volunteered to man the table alone so that the other girls could dance. Even your big sister’s prettiest party dress wouldn’t change that.

But you didn’t mind. It made you smile to see how excited all the other girls, like Emily and Marilyn, got when they were pulled out onto the dance floor, swept up in the arms of handsome strangers. You might not get to experience it yourself, but you enjoyed living vicariously through them.

Lost in your private reverie, you almost didn’t notice the handsome gentleman who approached you, his dark gaze fixed on you as opposed to Marilyn or Emily.

“Evenin’,” he smiled, tipping his hat respectfully. He looked to be an officer in the Navy, judging by his uniform.

“H-hello,” you stuttered shyly, mentally kicking yourself. All he’d done was wish you a good evening. There was no need to be nervous about that.

Your nervousness didn’t seem to be off-putting to him, however. In fact, he smiled even wider.

“Ensign Paul Trace,” he introduced himself, offering you his hand in a gentlemanly manner. Again, he didn’t seem to be disconcerted by the fact that you just stared dumbly at him for a moment.

Coming to your senses, you reached out and slipped your hand into his, shaking gently and telling him your name.

“A very pretty name,” he told you with a smile, which had you staring at your shoes and avoiding all eye contact. “And that’s a very pretty necklace you’ve got there,” he added. You could tell from your peripheral vision that he was indicating the pearls strung around your neck.

“Oh, th-thank you,” you murmured, tripping slightly over your words. You wanted to mention that they were a gift from your parents—anything to keep the conversation moving forward, as Dottie often reminded you—but the words got stuck in your throat.

“I’ve been meaning to buy my wife a necklace like that,” Ensign Trace said kindly, his smile friendly and warm.

Oh, thank goodness, you thought to yourself. He’s married. Strangely enough, the revelation was a relief. Knowing that he was a married man instantly put you at ease. He wasn’t trying to flirt or make time with you. He was just being nice. And that you could handle much more easily.

“I’m sure she would love that very much,” you smiled, lifting your chin slightly so that you could meet his gaze once more.

He grinned in a way that seemed to indicate that he was aware the pronouncement of his marital status had made you more comfortable. “I think she would, too. Maybe for her birthday,” he mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully and shooting you another good-natured grin.

“That sounds nice,” you nodded, feeling the familiar tug of anxiety that the conversation would lag. “Oh, would you like some punch?” you asked. As you reached out to grab him a glass, however, you accidentally tipped one over with your hand, spilling the sticky liquid across the table.

Ensign Trace immediately jumped to grab some napkins as you gasped, cheeks flaming as you rushed to fix the mess you’d made.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, soaking up the punch with a handful of napkins. You felt the tips of your ears burning and you wanted nothing more than to flee the dance hall at that moment. “Did any of it get on you? I can go get some more napkins,” you stammered, trying to look anywhere but directly at him.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he insisted, shaking his head as he helped you sop up the juice. “I’m right as rain. Accidents happen,” he told you with a comforting smile.

“They should probably take me off punch duty,” you mumbled, tossing the soaked napkins into a garbage pail. “That’s the second glass I’ve spilled tonight.”

Ensign Trace just chuckled at that, gazing at you thoughtfully.

You grew even more self-conscious under his scrutiny, brushing your hair behind your ear and shifting nervously from foot to foot. He seemed to become aware of this, and held up a hand in atonement.

“I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he apologized, taking a step back to put you more at ease. “I just—I just can’t help but think how perfect you’d be for a buddy of mine,” he laughed, grinning again. The man seemed incapable of going more than a few seconds without smiling.

Your heart plummeted at his comment, however. After your foolish display, you couldn’t help but suddenly feel like the butt of a joke. Why would this handsome officer’s friend have any interest in a klutz like you?

Your face must have given away your inner turmoil because Ensign Trace’s grin suddenly faltered and his eyes filled with a glow of compassionate awareness. “Oh, I’m not trying to make a joke, miss,” he told you earnestly, placing his hand over his heart. “I would never insult a lady like that.” His expression was open and sincere. “I really do have a friend who I think you’d get on with real well. He’s here tonight, too! He just—” He turned at that moment, peering around the room. “Well, he’s here somewhere!”

“It’s alright, Ensign Trace,” you told him with a small smile, holding out a fresh cup of punch for him.

“No, no, he really is here. Darn fool’s just gone off and—”

“If you find him, you can send him over for a glass of punch,” you suggested, having a feeling his friend would probably be much more interested in Emily or Marilyn anyway.

The naval officer looked at you seriously, nodding his head. “I’ll do that, miss. Have a nice night,” he said, tipping his hat once more before taking his punch and walking away, a rather determined look in his gait.

Sighing softly to yourself, you turned and went back to replenishing the glasses of punch, putting all thoughts of Ensign Trace’s mysterious buddy out of your mind.

Bob’s POV

“Where the hell did you go?” Paul demanded, punching Bob in the arm when he finally found him in the main foyer, near the front doors of the community center.

“Ow,” Bob frowned, rubbing his arm with a slight scowl. For all his congeniality, Paul also had one hell of a right hook and he wasn’t afraid to use it. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot!” Paul exclaimed, shaking his head. The severity of his words was softened by the reluctant grin that slowly spread across his face. Natasha had always joked that Paul couldn’t stay mad at anyone for longer than the span of two breaths.

“I was just…getting some air,” Bob said lamely, giving his sore bicep one last quick rub and adjusting his glasses. Though he’d worn them for most of his life, the darn things never seemed to want to sit correctly on his face.

“Sure,” Paul shot back skeptically. He was the best, most supportive buddy a guy could ask for, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t quick to call Bob out when he felt he needed a swift kick in the pants.

“I—I was just—I said I’m not thirsty,” Bob explained, knowing before the words even left his mouth that it was a paltry excuse. “What does it matter?” he asked, trying hard not to conjure up in his mind’s eye the image of that vision of loveliness standing behind the punch table.

“What does it matter? I’ll tell you what it matters,” Paul declared, shoving his untouched glass of punch into Bob’s hand. “The girl who gave me that may very well be your future wife, Robert Floyd. And as your best friend and wingman, I’m not going to stand by and let you throw an opportunity like that away!”

Bob’s blue eyes widened at his friend’s impassioned speech and he stood silent for a moment or two, too dumbfounded to speak. Gazing down at the glass of punch in his hand, he cleared his throat and stammered, “You—you talked to her?”

“Yes, I talked to her,” Paul nodded emphatically. “Since you were too scared to do it,” he added with a teasing grin, nudging Bob’s other arm—the one he hadn’t punched. “Aw, she’s a doll, Robby. A real doll. Sweet as apple pie and timid as a rabbit. I know you’re scared to talk to her, but you’ve got no reason to be. Trust me when I say she’s probably more scared to talk to you,” he said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Bob’s jaw fell open at that, flabbergasted. “She’s more—are you sure you talked to the right girl? The one in the dress with the pink flowers?” he questioned, hardly daring to believe a girl that beautiful would be scared to talk to anyone, least of all him.

“The very one,” Paul beamed. “You’ve got a good eye, Bobby Boy, because I’ve never met a girl more perfect for you in all my life,” he insisted, slapping Bob on the chest for good measure. “Go talk to her! Ask her to dance!”

“Aw, gosh, I don’t know, Paul,” Bob faltered, shaking his head and staring down at his feet. “She’s just so—and I’m so—and, well, we leave tomorrow,” he reminded him plaintively, as if it wasn’t something his best friend was already keenly aware of. “What’s the point in trying to get tangled up in something when we ship out in less than twelve hours?” He deflated slightly, tugging nervously on the cuff of his uniform jacket.

Paul sighed softly, nodding his head in understanding. “I get where you’re coming from, pal. I really do,” he said sincerely, lowering his voice as their conversation took a more serious turn. “Look, I don’t know what tomorrow’s gonna bring. I don’t know what the weeks and months and—hell—years ahead are gonna bring. And I’m not telling you to walk back in there and marry the girl. But if there’s anything we’ve learned these past few months, Robby, it’s that life turns on a damn dime. Not one of us knows when everything will go to hell. So we might as well enjoy the bits of heaven while we’ve got ’em, huh? Who’s to say that girl in there isn’t your little slice of heaven?”

Bob looked up and met his best friend’s dark gaze, seeing the sincerity shining there. Paul truly believed every word he said. And Bob couldn’t deny the way his words had stirred something deep inside his heart, a desire to make this night count—to make his life count—before he lost the chance forever.

“Go talk to her, Robby,” Paul told him encouragingly, patting his back with a firm hand. “At the very least, she’ll be a nice girl to dance with the night before we ship off. And who knows? At most, maybe she’s the girl who’ll turn your world upside down,” he grinned, winking pointedly.

“Well…” Bob stammered, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Paul chuckled, taking the glass of punch out of his hand. “Go,” he said again, lightly pushing his best friend in the direction of the dance hall.

Doing his very best not to stumble over his own two feet, Bob adjusted his uniform and straightened his tie, clearing his throat once, twice, three times before pushing open the doors, the brassy instruments of the band slamming him in the face once more as he reentered the hall. The notes blended together in a familiar fashion as Bob nervously crossed the room—he recognized it as ”Tuxedo Junction.” He’d always liked that one. His mother was a big fan of Glenn Miller and played his records all the time back home. Maybe he should take that as a good sign.

“Hello,” he murmured softly under his breath, ducking as he moved across the dance floor to avoid bumping into twirling couples. “My name’s Robert Floyd. Would you like to dance with me?” He scoffed at himself in frustration. “No, too stiff,” he decided. “Hiya, my name’s Bob. Care to dance?” he tried again. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Too…stupid. Oh, God, I can’t do this,” he moaned, nearly turning on his heel right then and hightailing it out of there.

He was halted in his second attempt to flee, however, when he thought once more of Paul’s words.

“Gotta enjoy the bits of heaven while we’ve got ’em,” Bob echoed, taking a deep breath. “You can do this, Floyd. Quit being such a coward,” he chastised himself. He blushed crimson when he realized a couple of the older volunteers were staring at him, obviously having overheard his one-sided argument “Uh, ’scuse me,” he mumbled, hurrying off.

Craning his neck, he tried to scan the crowd, wondering if maybe the angel from the punch table had been relieved of her shift in the time he’d been hiding out like a scared little boy. But as his eyes alighted on the refreshment table, his heart squeezed painfully inside his chest.

There she was.

He wanted so badly to ask her to dance.

He was going to ask her to dance.

Oh, God, no. He couldn’t.

No, he could.

He couldn’t.

He stood there like a fool, floundering as he frantically went back and forth in his mind, wanting so desperately to overcome his fears and go talk to her.

She was right there.

If he could only muster up the nerve… 

Your POV

“That Navy man you were chatting with was a real looker,” Marilyn grinned, sidling up beside you and nudging you surreptitiously as you fanned out a new stack of napkins on the refreshment table with nimble fingers.

“Yes, I suppose he was,” you nodded in agreement, cheeks warming slightly, as they were wont to do whenever discussions of attractive men took place.

“You suppose?” Marilyn teased, smirking salaciously. “He was gorgeous. I couldn’t take my eyes off him! Lucky you. I wish he’d asked me for some punch,” she pouted, fluffing her red locks.

“He’s married,” you clarified, feeling strangely defensive of the kind naval officer you’d just met, even after you’d made a fool of yourself in front of him.

“So?” the redhead asked, her eyes twinkling wickedly.

“Marilyn!” you gasped, horrified at her implication.

Marilyn threw back her head, laughing. “Oh, don’t get your nylons in a twist, I’m just teasing,” she told you, resting a hand on her slender waist. “Besides, there’s plenty of unmarried fish in this sea,” she dimpled, nodding towards the massive congregation of servicemen. “And I think it’s time I found myself one! You and Emily don’t mind keeping an eye on the table without me, do you?” she asked expectantly.

“Um, well, I don’t, but—”

“Great! Thanks, doll!” Marilyn beamed, blowing a kiss in your general direction and flouncing off towards the dance floor without a backwards glance.

“Where’s she going?” Emily asked, reappearing at your elbow with a new stack of punch glasses.

“Off to dance, it would seem,” you sighed softly, sharing a knowing glance with your friend. “I told her that I didn’t mind, but I’m sorry if you—”

“Don’t apologize,” Emily said, waving off your concern. “I don’t think anyone can stop Marilyn once she has her mind made up about something,” she added with a giggle.

“No, that’s true,” you agreed, smiling ruefully. Helping your friend fill the new glasses, you glanced over at her. “You can go dance, too. Emily. Really. It’s like I told you before—I don’t mind.”

“I’m not going to leave you here all by yourself!” Emily exclaimed, relentless in her determination not to abandon you. She was a good friend.

The crowd around the refreshment table slowly began to thin out as more and more couples made their way onto the dance floor, allured by the heady beat of the music and the intoxicating possibilities of what they might discover in one another’s arms.

Emily sighed softly as she tapped her feet along to the swing music. You were tempted to try to nudge her towards the dance floor for the third time, but you knew she’d just refuse, so you kept quiet. The two of you chatted softly, handing out glasses of punch to anyone who walked by and offering sweet words of thanks to the men.

“Oh, I love this song!” Emily cried out, clapping her hands excitedly as a young singer stepped up to the microphone and began crooning “The Way You Look Tonight,” wrapping her hands around the mic stand and accentuating each word.

The couples that had been kicking their feet frenetically and swinging their arms wildly on the dance floor gradually shifted into a slower, gentler rhythm, hands pressing against waists and cheeks resting upon shoulders as their bodies intertwined, allowing the romantic lyrics to wrap around them like a cozy shawl.

Emily began softly singing along, caught up in a dreamy haze as she watched the couples dancing with a gentle grin curving her lips.

You just smiled at how much your friend seemed to be enjoying herself, wiping up a small spill as you hummed quietly under your breath. You also loved this song.

“Excuse me, miss?” a masculine voice cut through the hazy silence, catching you off guard. Your head snapped up in surprise, and you found yourself looking into the eyes of a young Army corporal. He looked a little nervous, which only ratcheted up your own anxious feelings.

“Yes?” you murmured softly, cheeks growing warm despite yourself.

“I—” He cleared his throat slightly, shifting from foot to foot. “Well, um, I was just wondering if—”

Oh my goodness, you thought to yourself, butterflies batting their wings violently in your stomach. Is he going to ask me to dance?

The thought terrified you, but also filled you with a kind of giddy excitement. You’d never been asked to dance at any of the USO events. Was this finally your chance? Maybe Dottie had been right about tonight.

The soldier rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. He looked so nervous, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. “I was wondering if—do you think your friend would like to dance with me?” he finally asked, his gaze moving away from your face and landing on Emily.

You felt your heart sink like a stone.

Turning slightly, you caught sight of your friend, who was still swaying to the music, lost in her own little world. Of course this handsome soldier wanted to dance with Emily, your sweet, bubbly, extroverted friend. It shouldn’t have necessarily come as a surprise that he saw you as more of a gatekeeper than a viable dancer partner, but that didn’t make the reality of it hurt any less.

Pasting a bright smile on your face, you nodded your head, not missing the way the young man’s eyes lit up excitedly. “I’m sure she would love to,” you assured him, swallowing past the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. “Her name is Emily,” you told him, fisting your hands in the folds of your dress and watching as he shyly approached her.

Emily looked surprised when the corporal tapped her on the shoulder, but she beamed immediately, offering him one of her megawatt smiles. You couldn’t hear their conversation from the angle where you were standing, but you saw him offer his hand to her, which she eagerly accepted. Seconds later, however, she tilted her head to catch your eye, a questioning look on her face.

“Go have fun,” you told her, waving her off with a delicate hand.

“Thank you!” she mouthed back, grinning happily as her new partner whisked her off onto the dance floor.

Lifting your chin and straightening your back, you did your best to focus on the tasks that were in front of you—rearranging the napkins, replenishing the punch bowl, filling the glasses. Never mind the fact that you were crumbling inside, feeling near tears.

Dottie was going to be so disappointed. The thought made you sad. Despite your big sister’s best efforts with your hair and make-up—even lending you her prettiest dress—it didn’t change the fact that her baby sister was a wilting wallflower, too shy to earn anyone’s attention.

It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You were used to remaining on the sidelines during dances. You always told everyone you were more comfortable that way.

You had just hoped tonight would be different.

Bob’s POV

Bob generally considered himself to be a pretty mild-mannered, level-headed guy. There wasn’t much that got his temper flaring, but as he watched that corporal waltz off towards the dance floor with one of the other girls who’d been working behind the punch table, he felt his hand instinctively curl into an angry fist, his nails biting sharply into his palm.

He’d been pacing back and forth a few feet away from the refreshment table, anxiously trying to work up the nerve to finally approach the angel in the pink and white dress, when he spotted the Army officer making his way straight towards her.

That’s what you get, Floyd, he thought to himself. You waited too long, like a coward, and now someone else is seizing the opportunity you missed.

Shoulders sagging in disappointment, Bob was about to turn and go find Paul to tell him that he was heading out early. There didn’t seem any point in staying any longer. He’d just return to base and finish the letter he’d been writing for his parents, then get some sleep and try to avoid dreaming about the reality that he’d be on his way to Europe tomorrow morning—and not for the Grand Tour, either.

Just as he’d determined to walk away without a backwards glance, however, a lull in the music allowed him to catch a snatch of the conversation happening behind him. He froze. He couldn’t have heard that right.

“I was wondering if—do you think your friend would like to dance with me?”

Bob’s mouth hung agape as he swung back around, certain he would find the soldier talking to some other girl. But no! He was talking to her!

He was talking to her and asking if he could dance with some other girl? What was wrong with him?!

“I’m sure she would love to,” came the soft reply, so soft, in fact, that Bob was surprised he could hear it at all. It was the first time he’d heard her speak—God, she even had a beautiful voice.

A beautiful voice that was very clearly trying to hold back tears.

Bob’s eyes narrowed behind his square, wire-framed glasses and he felt his pulse begin racing in his veins, a dark flush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks. How big of an idiot could one guy be? How could that corporal see the stunning treasure that was standing before him and just toss her aside like yesterday’s newspaper? How could he be so unfeeling, to get a girl’s hopes up like that, only to choose her friend over her?

Taking a deep breath, Bob unclenched his fist and tore his gaze away from the moronic Army officer, turning his attention back to the one person who really deserved it.

He felt his heart sink like a stone.

She looked so sad. So crushed and defeated. He ached as he watched her put on a brave face and attend to the tasks set before her. Anyone else might have walked right by her and not even realized that anything was wrong, but not Bob. He knew. He could see it in her eyes, read it in her body language—the woundedness of being overlooked. Disregarded. Forgotten.

He knew what that felt like, and he hated to think that she did, too. He hated to think that she had spent one moment wondering what she could have done differently to make people take notice of her; that she had spent even a fraction of a second thinking that there was something wrong with her, something she needed to change. He hated to think that anyone had failed to make her feel as beautiful and special as he knew she was.

Maybe Paul had been right. Maybe she really was the one for him—his little slice of heaven right in the middle of hell.

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he became aware of the fact that the band was striking up another song. Keeping his blue gaze fixed on the beauty before him, he observed her lift her head and stare out at the dance floor, an honest and painful expression of yearning crossing her lovely features.

Bob actually had to look away in that moment, feeling like he was intruding upon her in her most private, intimate moment. Obviously she believed herself to be alone, he was sure of it. When he looked up again a few seconds later, too weak to tear his eyes away for long, he caught her brushing at one of her eyes.

He couldn’t stand there and let her hurt like that.

As nervous as he was to approach her, as terrified as he was to ask her to dance, Robert Floyd would never leave a lady all alone on the sidelines. No one deserved that, least of all her.

Breathing in a lungful of air, Bob started moving before his brain could try to stop him again, placing one foot in front of the other until he was finally standing right in front of the refreshment table.

She lifted her head in surprise and he cleared his throat nervously, trying not to get thrown by those gorgeous eyes staring up at him.

“Hello,” he smiled shyly.

Some opening, Floyd.

Your POV

You wanted to go home.

As much as you were trying not to let your interaction with the corporal get to you, the truth was that your feelings had been hurt and you weren’t sure how much more your battered pride could take. At the same time, however, you knew you were being ridiculous.

You came here tonight to volunteer, not to meet a husband, you mentally chided yourself. You can’t just up and leave now because your ego was wounded.

Clenching your jaw determinedly, you doubled down on your efforts to continue performing the duty you’d been tasked with for the night. As you wiped away sticky stains, straightened the tablecloth, and set out fresh glasses of punch, you forcibly quashed any feelings of self-pity that threatened to bubble to the surface against your will.

You were here in a strictly professional capacity. You were a volunteer, not some serviceman’s date.

So why had you allowed your hopes to peak when it seemed as though you might finally receive an invitation to dance? That had been a foolish mistake on your part.

Sighing softly under your breath, you nervously fidgeted with your hands, realizing there wasn’t much more you could do at the refreshment table until someone actually approached in search of some punch. Lifting your head, you took in the sight of all the happy couples on the dance floor with a broken smile. You didn’t begrudge a single one of them their excitement and joy, but oh, how you wished you could be out there among them, twirling around in the arms of a man who thought you were the bee’s knees.

Your heart yearned so acutely in that moment that it was almost a palpable ache, your body practically vibrating with a need that you couldn’t quite put into words. You pressed your hands to your chest, as if that could somehow stanch the desire that was throbbing in your heart—the desire to be seen, known, and loved exactly as you were.

Oh, stop it, you scolded yourself when you felt one fat, hot tear roll down your cheek unbidden. There’s certainly no need for tears.

Reaching up with delicate fingers, you carefully brushed away the tears that were pooling against your bottom lashes, not wanting to make a mess of the make-up Dottie had worked so diligently on.

So caught up in your own thoughts were you that you didn’t even notice the man who was approaching the table until he was suddenly standing before you, clearing his throat and smiling shyly.

A little startled, you looked up at him and felt your heart flutter softly against your ribcage. For some reason, the feeling reminded you of the pretty yellow canary that your family had kept when you were a little girl, its soft, delicate wings flapping gently within the confines of its gilded cage.

“Hello,” the young man—another officer in the Navy from the looks of it—greeted you. Was it your imagination that his voice trembled slightly? Even if it had, it didn’t matter. He had a nice voice, one that somehow managed to make you feel comfortable and at ease, even though he had only uttered one word.

“Hello,” you smiled back, your cheeks growing warm when you realized you were staring at him. You couldn’t help it. He had the most breathtaking blue eyes you had ever seen. It wasn’t just the color of his eyes that drew you in, however. It was the kindness and gentleness that you saw residing there, something that struck you as so utterly paradoxical in a man about to ship out to war. They were the most captivating eyes you had ever seen.

He just stood there for a moment, not saying anything, and you felt yourself start to grow nervous once more. You realized, at that moment, that he’d probably just come over to the table because he was thirsty. Not wanting to make the same mistake you’d made with the corporal in getting your hopes up, you quickly reached for a glass of punch and held it out to him, expecting him to thank you and be on his way.

“Oh,” he murmured, those blue eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. He shook his head, removing his hat and playing with it in his hands. “Oh, no, I didn’t—I mean to say that I wasn’t—I mean, I’m not thirsty,” he stammered, sounding a bit unsure of himself.

Not quite knowing what to say in response to that, you lowered the cup of punch back to the table, unable to tear your eyes away from him for more than a few seconds at a time. You noticed, as you gazed at him, that the tips of his ears were turning pink, as were his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Your heart did that strange little flutter once again, and you felt yourself drawn to him in the most inexplicable of ways.

You didn’t even know his name, and yet you knew this man was different from all the rest.

“I–I’m sorry, that must have sounded terribly rude,” he apologized, clearing his throat and putting his hat back on. “What I meant to say was—well, the reason I came over here was—would you, um, like to dance with me?”

It was your eyes that widened now, your heart fluttering more rapidly in your chest. You were reminded again of that tiny yellow canary, the one that had seemed to yearn so ardently for freedom from its little gilded cage.

“M-me?” you asked softly, pointing to yourself as if there was anyone else around for him to be talking about instead. “You want to dance with me?”

“I do,” he nodded, his cheeks growing even more pink, which you found incredibly endearing. “Very much so. I mean—um—only if you want to, that is,” he added hastily, seeming even more unsure of himself than before.

Never in your life had you ever seen your own shy heart so clearly reflected in the heart of another.

“I—I want to,” you told him with a little nod, a soft smile curving your lips. You couldn’t help but notice the look of relief that washed over his face, and it almost made you want to giggle with giddiness. But you didn’t want him to think you were laughing at him, so you swallowed it down. You hesitated for a moment, then shyly asked, “May I ask who’s asking?”

The young officer nearly smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry, miss, where have my manners gone?” he asked, his voice lilting in a sweet midwestern accent. “I’m Robert Floyd. Um, Ensign Robert Floyd,” he amended, seeming to remember his rank at the last second. He held out his hand to you and you couldn’t help but notice how large and well-shaped it was. Was it odd to admire how lovely a man’s hands were? You’d have to ask Dottie about that.

Ensign. The same rank as the kindhearted Paul Trace. You suddenly recalled Ensign Trace’s comments about his friend who’d slipped away, the one he claimed you would be perfect for. This couldn’t possibly be—could it?

You told him your name as you slipped your hand into his warm, surprisingly soft palm, and shook gently. He echoed it, almost reverently, and it made you shiver in delight and feel your skin grow warm.

“I’m not normally one for dancing,” he confessed sheepishly, looking a bit embarrassed.

Feeling an almost instantaneous urge to comfort him, you hurried to reassure him. “Don’t worry. That makes two of us then,” you confided, offering him a bashful smile.

His face lit up at your words in one of the most beautiful, charming smiles you’d ever seen. “Should we give it a try then? They do say practice makes perfect,” he murmured with a soft chuckle, holding out his hand to you, this time with his palm upturned in an invitation to lead you out onto the dance floor.

Your heart fluttered in your chest for the third time, reminding you once again of the precious little canary from your girlhood—the canary that had wanted nothing more than to be free. One night, watching the pretty yellow bird flap its wings desperately against the bars of its cage, you made the choice to grant it the freedom it so desired, carrying it outside into the backyard and opening the cage, allowing it to spread its wings and soar.

Maybe tonight, you could let your heart be just as free as that yellow canary.

Lightly resting your hand in Ensign Floyd’s, you let out a hushed laugh and nodded shyly.

“Yes. Let’s give it a try.”

Bob’s POV

She said yes!

He could scarcely believe it, the whole thing feeling like a dream. It couldn’t possibly be real.

And yet, when she placed her hand in his, her hand so delicate and soft and solid against his palm, it dawned on him that their conversation had not just been a figment of his fantasy after all. This beautiful girl—sweet as apple pie and timid as a rabbit, just as Paul had described her—had really agreed to dance with him.

He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Fingers closing gently over hers, he held her hand as she made her away around the refreshment table, the manicured fingers of her other hand brushing at an invisible wrinkle in her dress. He recognized it as a nervous tick. He did the same thing all the time when he was feeling shy or anxious—picking at an imaginary piece of lint or rubbing at a stain that wasn’t there; anything to make himself small and avoid feeling like people’s eyes were on him.

In that instant, he felt a deep sense of kindred connectedness to her. He’d met her only moments before, but he felt he knew her better than some people he’d known his whole life. Paul had seen it, too, and Bob was immediately flooded with a sense of gratitude that he’d listened to his bullheaded best friend.

Suddenly remembering Paul’s advice from earlier in the evening, he looked down at the lovely young woman whose fingers were intertwined with his and opened his mouth to say something, just as his glasses started to slide down his nose.

She looked up at that moment, and he could swear that the smile that lit up her face could stop traffic. Maybe if the War Department had used her likeness instead of Uncle Sam’s on their recruitment posters, more men would have been lining up to serve.

“You have a beautiful smile,” he told her, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Blushing, he pushed his glasses back up his nose, shoving them firmly against his face. The darn things refused to stay in place.

He heard her slight intake of breath, saw the way she ducked her head at his words, and for a moment he panicked that he’d said the wrong thing and turned her off. But then he spotted the shy, almost tentative smile touching her lips and he relaxed slightly. His words seemed to have more of an impact on her than he could have imagined.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice so sweet and light. It reminded him of the soft summer breezes back home. “So do you,” she added, blurting the words out just as he had done and then looking flustered.

Bob chuckled at that, pleasantly surprised by the compliment. He squeezed her hand ever so slightly, wordlessly letting her know that she had no reason to be embarrassed about what she’d said.

Just as they made their way onto the dance floor, Bob making sure to find them a spot that wasn’t too crowded, the singer in the blue gown made her way back up to the microphone, smiling out at the sea of couples as the band struck up a familiar Gershwin tune.

“Oh, I love this song,” she breathed out, looking up at him with bright eyes. She had the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen, rimmed in dark lashes that kissed the tops of her cheeks whenever she blinked or lowered her gaze.

“I’m glad,” Bob murmured softly in response, his voice almost a whisper as he drank in the sight of her, standing so close to him that he thought his heart might jump straight out of his chest.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind,” the singer crooned, closing her eyes as she began warbling “Someone to Watch Over Me,” a song that Bob had heard many times without ever really listening to. After tonight, he thought it might just be his new favorite song.

She fidgeted subtly as she stood before him, twisting her hands in the folds of her dress, and it struck him that she was just as nervous as he was. She had, after all, admitted that she wasn’t much for dancing herself.

“Still we’re often told, seek and ye shall find. So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind…”

Clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses for what felt like the millionth time, Bob held out a hand to her, wanting to make her feel comfortable and at ease. His pulse hammered as she smiled at him again and gratefully slipped her hand into his, lifting her chin and meeting his eye.

“Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet. He's the big affair I cannot forget. Only man I ever think of with regret…”

Trying to quell the butterflies exploding in his stomach, Bob slowly reached out and placed his other hand on her waist, keeping his touch light and almost stiff. He didn’t want to presume any intimacies with her or scare her off.

“I'd like to add his initial to my monogram. Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she raised her free hand and rested it on his shoulder, her touch just as sheepish and reticent as his. Anyone looking on might think that they looked tense and even a tad bit uncomfortable, their body language stiff and fumbling. But they were each dipping a toe into the water, trying to wade across the chasm and safely find a way to one another.

“There's a somebody I'm longin' to see. I hope that he turns out to be…someone who'll watch over me…”

As the chorus of the song reverberated throughout the room, they began slowly moving in rhythm with the music, swaying side to side as they gazed silently at one another. It wasn’t the anxious silence Bob so often experienced when he was trying to talk to someone new—it was the comfortable silence of two people who knew that words weren’t always what was most important.

“I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood. I know I could always be good…to one who'll watch over me…”

It took him a second to realize that she was softly humming underneath her breath, her body relaxing in increments as the song went on. His was, too, he realized with some surprise. And he hadn’t stepped on her foot once. As he felt her hand start to melt into his shoulder, becoming almost an extension of his own body, his hand slowly slid around to her lower back, instinctively pulling her closer.

She followed his lead without hesitation.

“Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart, he carries the key…”

“You have a real pretty voice,” he said softly, gazing down at her with a look of awe etched into his features.

Her eyes widened and she grinned sheepishly, as if a little embarrassed to have been caught humming. “How can you be sure? I wasn’t even singing,” she giggled, a sound that would be seared into his brain and his heart for the rest of his days, he was sure of it.

“Oh, I can tell,” Bob nodded sagely, grinning in return. “It’s lovely.” Just like you.

“Thank you,” she murmured, beaming. He felt a rush of pride that he’d been the one to put that smile on her face.

“Won't you tell him please to put on some speed. Follow my lead. Oh, how I need…someone to watch over me…”

As the song reached a crescendo, she suddenly leaned closer and rested her cheek against his shoulder, her eyes closing as they continued to sway to the beat of the music.

Bob had never wished for anything in his life the way he suddenly wished that time could stand still, his pulse stuttering in his veins as he held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head as they moved almost in slow motion.

“Someone to watch over me.”

The music came to an end and the crowd burst into applause, but neither of them moved, holding onto one another even as the band struck up a new song.

Bob never wanted to let her go.

Your POV

You never wanted to let him go.

You had always considered “Someone to Watch Over Me” to be a perfect song, but now you realized it had one flaw—it was too short.

Though you’d admittedly been filled with trepidation when Ensign Floyd had first led you out onto the dance floor, you’d been shocked at the speed in which you found yourself growing more relaxed in his arms. The chivalry of his gestures, the gentleness of his touch, the kindness in his eyes and smile—you’d never felt more at ease with a man in your life, especially one you’d just met. Towards the end of the song, you’d even felt brave enough to rest against his chest, which somehow felt warm and comforting, even within the confines of his austere officer’s uniform.

So when the song sadly reached its conclusion, you found that you weren’t quite ready to let him go.

Much to your pleasant surprise, he seemed to feel the same way. Even as the band struck up a rendition of “Moonglow,” his hand remained resting firmly against the small of your back, holding you close to his chest in a way that set your heart racing faster than a freight train.

“I’ve always liked this song,” he murmured quietly as the two of you swayed from side to side, hardly moving at all as the music washed over you.

“Me, too,” you nodded with a smile, lifting your head off his shoulder so that you could gaze up into his piercing cerulean eyes once more. “My sister has a Jack Teagarden record, and this one has always been one of my favorites.”

“I had a feeling you were a girl with good taste,” he replied with a grin that made your stomach do a couple quick flips.

You giggled shyly at that, biting down on your lower lip. You’d always been terrible at flirting. Dottie always tried to give you tips, but you never knew what coquettish, cute things to say to gain and keep a man’s attention. If you were as witty as girls like Marilyn or Emily, you might be able to come up with some little quip to volley back at him, but as it was, you just smiled and rested your head on his shoulder once more.

Thankfully, Ensign Robert Floyd didn’t seem to be a man who minded. In fact, he didn’t seem to be a man who needed many words at all. The two of you were perfectly content to dance in companionable silence for the rest of “Moonglow,” and then for the next couple songs after that.

You knew the room was packed to the rafters with couples, but for a while, it felt like it was only the two of you, lost in your own blissful bubble. It was only when you felt someone bumping into you from behind that you were startled back to reality, turning your head to see another naval officer grinning at you. You instantly recognized the redhead in his arms. It looked like Marilyn had found herself one of those unmarried fish after all.

“Hey, buddy boy! Looks like you did find yourself a pretty girl after all,” the officer guffawed, winking at Robert and then smiling at you. “Has Floyd here been treating you well?” he asked teasingly. “I’ll have to report him to our superiors otherwise.”

Obviously the men were friends, but you still felt your cheeks growing warm as you lowered your gaze and stammered softly, “Oh, yes, very well.”

At the feel of Robert squeezing your hand gently, you looked up and caught his eye. He was smiling at you warmly, comfortingly.

“Good, good,” the other man went on, his expression open and friendly. “You know, this guy—”

“Okay, Benny,” Robert cut his fellow officer off, smiling sheepishly. “Good to see you. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay, pal, okay. I can take a hint,” the man—Benny—nodded, winking over at Marilyn. “Come on, doll, we’ll give the kids some privacy,” he chuckled, twirling her away from you and your dance partner.

“Sorry about that,” Robert chuckled, shaking his head and flushing slightly. His glasses started to slide down his nose, and he quickly pushed them back up. You noticed that it was something that seemed to keep happening, and you thought it was adorable.

“I don’t mind,” you told him, smiling. “Friend of yours, obviously?”

“Yes,” he nodded, grinning fondly. “Former classmate, too. We went to Annapolis together. Commissioned at the same time,” he explained, spinning you gently in time with the music.

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding, glancing down at his uniform jacket before looking back up at his face again. “So you always wanted to be in the Navy then?” you asked curiously.

“Oh, yes,” he replied without missing a beat, the tilt of his head confident and firm. It was clear that this was something that meant a great deal to him. “My father is a captain in the Navy. He went to Annapolis, too, and served during the Great War. Or, I suppose I should call it the first world war now,” he said with a grimace. He cleared his throat slightly before continuing. “Anyway, I’ve always been proud of my father. He was awarded the Navy Cross for his service in the war, and he’s always been the most stand-up guy that I know. I guess I always just wanted to follow in his footsteps.”

You smiled warmly at that, touched by the obvious love that he felt for his father. “I’m sure he’s very proud of you,” you told him.

“I think so. I hope so, at least,” he laughed softly, his blue eyes settling on your face in an expression so soft that it made your heart ache slightly.

“My father served in the Army during the first world war,” you said, finding it easier and easier to make conversation as the moments slipped by. “He doesn’t like to talk about it much.”

“That’s fair,” Robert replied solemnly, his eyes glowing with understanding. “I don’t think it’s an easy thing for anyone to talk about.” A pregnant silence fell between the two of you for a few moments, unspoken words hanging delicately in the air. He finally broke the silence with a bashful grin. “Army, huh? Maybe we shouldn’t be seen together then. The Army and the Navy are notorious rivals,” he joked.

A surprised laugh burst from your mouth at his words, your eyes crinkling in the corners as you smiled wide. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” you teased in return.

The two of you stood there, no longer swaying with the music, but simply smiling at one another, still wrapped together in each other’s arms.

A thought seemed to strike him as he gazed down at you, but whatever it was must have made him nervous, because he suddenly averted his eyes and started clearing his throat again, looking as shy as he had when he first approached you.

“Um, say,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at a point just over your shoulder, as if too afraid to look directly in your eyes. “I hope this doesn’t seem too forward or anything, but I was just wondering—do you think you’d maybe like to take a walk with me?”

“Tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at him. Your pulse quickened at the notion.

“Um, well, yes,” he nodded, his cheeks turning a dark shade of red. His glasses even seemed to be fogging up slightly.

You bit your lower lip, glancing around the room. “Well, it’s just that I’m a volunteer with the USO. I don’t think I can leave until my shift is over,” you explained, stepping back and twisting your fingers together.

“Oh, of course,” Robert mumbled, deflating slightly. You hated the look of defeat in his expression. “I understand. Thank you for the dances. I’m sorry if I—”

“My shift is over at ten o’ clock,” you hastened to interject, not wanting him to get the impression that you weren’t interested. You had never been more interested in your life. “I know you’ll have to be getting back to your base, but maybe—”

“Oh, that’s perfect,” he cut in, the two of you pausing and laughing bashfully at his enthusiasm. “Ten o’clock works just fine,” he grinned.

“Okay,” you beamed, feeling your own cheeks grow warm as he smiled at you. “I’ll just go help clean up a little bit. Should I meet you by the front doors at ten?”

“That sounds perfect,” he agreed, his expression bright and uplifted once more.

“Okay,” you said again, finding it hard to get your feet to move in the direction you needed them to.

“Okay,” he echoed, continuing to stand there as well, a foot or two away from you.

The both of you laughed sheepishly when you realized neither of you had moved, each of you looking away shyly.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon then, Ensign Floyd,” you murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Please, it’s Robert. Or Bob. Lots of people call me Bob,” he amended.

“What about Bobby?” The question popped out of your mouth before the thought had even been fully formed in your mind. You had no idea what on earth had possessed you to ask it.

He smiled at your question. “No, no one really calls me that. It’s usually either Bob or Robby, depending on who it is,” he explained. He paused for a moment, thoughtful, then added, “But you can call me Bobby.”

Your cheeks, which had just been starting to cool down, grew instantly hot at his words, which gave you more of a rush than they had any right to.

“Okay,” you nodded, the tiniest of smiles curving your lips. “I’ll see you soon then, Bobby.”

Bob’s POV

Bob felt like he was floating on air as he made his way across the dance floor, spotting his friends near the doors through which they’d entered the large hall.

She was without a doubt the most extraordinary woman he had ever met. Beautiful, sweet, kind, thoughtful—an angel, just as he had thought from the very beginning. And she actually seemed to like him! What kind of lucky star had he fallen under tonight? Whatever it was, he hoped that the pixie dust from it didn’t wear off anytime soon.

As he got closer to the gathered members of his squadron, he noticed that the redhead Benny had been dancing with was still firmly attached to his side. Tommy Boy had a stunning blonde on his arm—though Bob would argue she was nowhere near as gorgeous as his girl—and most of the other guys had pretty young things draped around them as well.

The only member of the group, in fact, who was standing on his own was Paul. Bob could tell that behind his best friend’s happy-go-lucky smile, there was a tinge of sadness. He knew that Paul wished more than anything that he could be holding Natasha right now. That was, Bob realized with painful clarity, the cost of loving someone so much.

“Hey, there he is!” Benny exclaimed with a cheerful grin when he turned and caught sight of Bob. “Floyd! The man of the hour! Where’s your pretty date?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows and ignoring the way the redhead smacked his chest with a huff.

Bob blushed at Benny’s choice of words, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger.

He was saved from answering Benny’s question directly when Tommy Boy cut in, grinning smugly. “See? I told you it was a good idea for you to come to the dance with us tonight, didn’t I?” He chuckled, slapping Bob good-naturedly on the arm. “We’re all getting ready to head out to The Tropicana Room,” he went on, referring to a nightclub downtown that their squadron had frequented a couple times in the past. “You’ll come with us, won’t you? Bring your pretty date,” he added with a knowing smirk.

“Oh, well, um, actually I was just coming to let you guys know that I’m going to be going for a walk with, um—with my—”

“Your date?” Benny drawled slowly, grinning impishly. “A walk, huh? Is that what they’re calling it now?” he teased with a mischievous laugh.

“Oh, shut up, Benny,” Paul interjected, his tone friendly, but firm enough to let Benny know that he meant it. Their fellow officer put a lid on it immediately.

“That sounds real nice, Bob,” Tommy Boy jumped back in, nodding at him with an encouraging smile. For a guy as popular and handsome as Tom, a guy who could have any woman he wanted without lifting a finger, he really was one of the nicest and most supportive friends a guy like Bob could ask for. “So we’ll see you back at base then?”

Bob nodded, having a feeling some of his friends would be out much later than he expected to be. “I’ll see you back at base. Have fun at The Tropicana Room,” he told them all with a little wave.

Paul hung back as the rest of their group began making their way out of the dance hall, loudly laughing and letting out whoops of excitement as they headed into the final stretch of their last night stateside. At his knowing smile, which teetered right on the edge of being smug, Bob chuckled and held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can admit when you’re right,” Bob said, shaking his head with a good-humored smile. “Thank you for pushing me to go talk to her. She’s—she’s amazing, Paul,” he gushed, still in awe. “What you said—you know, about her maybe being the girl for me? I—I don’t know, Paul. I think you might have actually been right.”

“When am I not right?” Paul smirked, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Ah, I’m just kidding. But I am happy for you, Robby,” he told him sincerely. “You deserve a nice girl. And wait until I write and tell Nat that it was me who helped you find her,” he grinned.

Bob laughed, jokingly pushing his friend away from him. “Okay, sure, take all the credit. I am the one who asked her to dance, you know,” he playfully shot back.

“At my insistence,” Paul emphasized, winking. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, then asked, “Leaving soon then?”

“At ten, when her volunteer shift ends,” Bob explained, glancing across the room and spotting her helping to clean up at the refreshment table where he’d first spotted her. His heart warmed at the sight.

“Have fun, buddy. I mean it. You really do deserve it,” Paul said, more seriously this time.

“Thank you, Paul,” Bob replied. “Are you going to The Tropicana Room with the others?”

“I’ll probably swing by for a quick drink,” Paul told him with a shrug. “Maybe it’ll take my mind off how much I miss Nat and the kids, at least for a little while,” he added, a touch of melancholy in his voice.

“You’ll see them again soon,” Bob said quietly, patting his friend’s shoulder. “And they’re always with you,” he added comfortingly, tapping the pocket where he knew Paul was carrying his family photograph.

“Yeah,” Paul nodded, forcing himself to smile once more. “You’re right. Have fun, Robby. I’ll see you back at base,” he said, holding his hand out to give Bob a quick shake.

“See you later,” Bob nodded, firmly shaking Paul’s hand before he, too, slipped out of the dance hall.

Figuring a little fresh air would do him some good, and since there had been an arrangement to meet by the front doors anyway, Bob slipped out of the dance hall and made his way through the foyer of the community center. Evidently some of the USO volunteers had also determined that some fresh spring air would do everyone some good, for some of them had propped the front doors open, revealing an inky black Charleston sky peppered with stars.

Stepping up to the doorway, Bob dragged in a lungful of the balmy air, grinning up at the sky. Not for the first time in the past hour or so, he found himself eternally grateful that he’d listened to his friends, particularly Paul, and come to the dance tonight. The reality of his deployment still hung heavy in the back of his mind, but for this brief, blissful moment in time, he was giving himself over to the joy he felt bubbling up inside his chest.

So enamored was he of the warm southern air and the happy thoughts filling his mind that he lost all sense of time until he felt a gentle finger tapping him on the shoulder. Turning around, he felt his heart squeeze inside his chest when he took in the sight of her standing before him, a sweater draped over her arm and her purse in her hand.

“Ready, Bobby?” she asked with a shy grin.

With her, he felt ready for anything.

Your POV

When Bob informed you that he was originally from Iowa and that this was his first time being in Charleston, you immediately suggested taking your stroll down King Street, one of the most historic and lively streets in the whole city. 

The street was bustling and busy almost every night of the week, but this Saturday night in particular, it was practically bursting at the seams. Servicemen from all branches of the military took to the streets in droves, most with a girl or two on each arm, all of them looking for a good time as the reality of a global war loomed heavily over everyone.

Robert—or Bobby, as you were giddily becoming accustomed to calling him—had been a perfect gentleman when you’d left the community center, carefully draping your sweater over your shoulders and offering you his arm, which you’d happily accepted. As the two of you walked along, you pointed out different sites and interesting spots to him, all of which he drank in eagerly, as if every word that fell from your lips was a fascinating treasure. No one had ever made you feel that way before—it was a heady sensation.

“So you’ve lived in Charleston all your life then?” Bobby asked interestedly, his warm fingers coming to rest over yours where they lay in the crook of his elbow.

“Oh, no,” you told him, shaking your head with a smile. “I’ve actually only been living here for the last five months,” you confessed, which seemed to surprise him. “I’m originally from Georgia.”

“You don’t say!” he exclaimed, smiling down at you. “They’re known for their peaches down in Georgia, aren’t they?”

“They are,” you giggled, nodding your head. “We have very sweet peaches back home.”

“Makes sense that you’d be from there then” he mused softly. When you looked up at him with a curious expression, he explained, “You’re as sweet and pretty as a Georgia peach.” He blushed at his own words, perhaps worried that you’d find his comment too hokey.

You thought it was wonderful. Just like him.

“Thank you, Bobby,” you smiled, lowering your eyes demurely.

He smiled in return, and you heard the soft sigh of relief he let out under his breath. “So what brought you to Charleston from Georgia then? If you don’t mind me asking,” he added quickly.

“My sister,” you replied with a smile. “Her name is Dorothy, but everyone calls her Dottie. She and her husband moved to Charleston after they got married, and she just had her first baby back in December. My nephew,” you added with a proud and affectionate grin. “His name is Frankie—well, Francis, but we call him Frankie. He’ll be five months old in just a few days.” You could scarcely believe it. “To answer your question, I moved to Charleston not long after Frankie was born. He came just a week after the attack at Pearl Harbor,” you explained, sobering slightly.

Bobby let out a soft hum in response to your words, his eyes flickering with emotion. Pearl Harbor had been a naval base, which must have made the attack feel all the more personal to him.

“My brother-in-law is a naval engineer,” you went on, eyes twinkling softly. “So I do have a connection to the Navy after all,” you told him teasingly. “When we entered the war, his work hours doubled overnight, and it became really tough for Dottie, trying to care for Frankie and the house all on her own. So I offered to come stay with her to help out.”

“I’m not surprised by that at all,” Bobby said with a tender smile, squeezing your fingers lightly. “You seem to be a very good volunteer.”

You flushed at his compliment, sheepishly trying to brush off his words of praise. “I’m afraid it was purely selfish on my part. I missed my sister terribly, and was desperate to spend time with my new nephew,” you laughed.

“Sounds like it was a win-win for all of you,” Bobby chuckled. He gazed down at you curiously. “Where does your brother-in-law work?”

“He works mainly at the naval air station in Goose Creek. It’s only about thirty minutes away from here,” you replied.

“That’s where I’ve been stationed!” Bobby said brightly. “What’s his name? Not to say that I know him, but it’s always possible.”

“What a small world!” you noted. It made sense that Bobby would be stationed in Goose Creek, so you weren’t sure why you were so surprised, but it was a funny coincidence all the same. “His name is Patrick Sheridan, but everyone calls him Paddy.”

“No kidding!” Bobby gaped, eyes wide. “You’re Paddy Sheridan’s sister-in-law?”

“You do know him?” you gasped, your eyes widening as well. Then you laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone knows Paddy,” you grinned, your heart warming at the thought of your jovial brother-in-law, who had become more like a big brother to you over the years.

“Aw, he’s a great guy,” Bobby insisted, smiling from ear to ear. “He’s played cards with us fellas a few times on our lunch breaks. What a personality. Your sister must be some firecracker to put up with him,” he joked. Then his smile faltered slightly. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend—”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, laughing. “No, you’re right. Trust me, if you think Paddy is a handful, your head would spin if you met Dottie. They’re quite the pair,” you giggled, covering your mouth with your hand.

Bobby laughed, grinning thoughtfully down at you. He was quiet for a moment before saying, “I can tell how much you love them from the way you talk about them. Your whole face lights up.”

You smiled warmly at that, your eyes meeting his. “I do love them. Very much. I’m glad to have this time with them.”

“I’m glad for you. Family is important,” Bobby nodded, pressing himself a little bit closer to you as a cool evening breeze passed by.

“Would you tell me about your family?” you asked shyly, not wanting to press him.

He did. As you continued your peaceful stroll down King Street, he told you all about his life back in Iowa, about his family’s farm and his hardworking parents and his two little brothers who were still in grade school. He told you about all the things he missed from home—home cooked meals with his family around the dinner table his great-grandfather had made, his mother’s sweet tea, long chats with his father on the porch in the evening, playing with his brothers and their family dog.

“I can tell you love your family, too,” you told him, echoing his words from earlier. “They sound very special.”

“They are,” Bobby nodded, a soft, almost faraway smile on his face. “It’s nice having Paul with me at least. Feels like a little piece of home,” he said.

“Paul?” you asked curiously.

“Paul Trace,” he explained. “He and I have been best friends since we were kids. We went to the Naval Academy together, and now we’re flying together, too.”

“Oh!” you gasped, eyes sparking in remembrance. So you had been right about his connection to Ensign Paul Trace! “I met him earlier tonight. He seems very kind. He was talking to me about buying his wife a set of pearls like mine,” you said, fingering your necklace.

Bobby grinned at that. “Sounds about right. He adores his wife, Natasha. She grew up with us, too. They’re childhood sweethearts.”

“How romantic,” you sighed softly, smiling at the thought.

“They have two children. Clara is three and Paul, Jr. is only about a month older than your nephew, Frankie,” he told you.

“Oh, I’m sure he must miss them all terribly,” you murmured sympathetically.

“He does,” Bobby nodded, his smile slipping. “I try to remind him that it’ll all be alright in the end. That he’ll see them again soon. But I know I’m one to talk. No wife, no kids.”

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t have people you love. People you’ll miss,” you assured him, squeezing his arm gently. “I’m sure he appreciates you very much, and is just as grateful to be stationed with you as you are to be stationed with him.”

“Thank you,” Bobby whispered, looking touched by your words. “I know he’ll always have my back, and I’ll always have his. Literally. I’m his rear-seater,” he chuckled.

You grinned. “And what does that mean exactly, in layman’s terms?” you asked with a giggle.

Bobby laughed sheepishly. “Of course. I’m sorry. We’re fighter pilots for the Navy. Paul and I fly together in a double-seat aircraft—he sits up front and I sit in the rear, handling the radio and the guns.”

“Sounds dangerous,” you murmured, suddenly feeling frightened for him. You’d known since you met him that he was going off to war, but somehow hearing a description of what his job actually entailed had your stomach turning sour.

“It is,” Bobby admitted, the smile gone from his face as he looked down at you. “But we’ve been well-trained. And I trust Paul with my life.”

You nodded, not saying anything as you lowered your head.

“Hey,” Bobby said suddenly, drawing your attention upwards once more as he pointed to a storefront across the street. “What do you say to some ice cream?”

Smiling slowly, you nodded in response.

Ten minutes later, the two of you resumed your stroll down King Street, two large ice cream cones in hand. Bobby had opted for classic vanilla with chocolate sprinkles, while you’d gone with chocolate ice cream and rainbow sprinkles.

“Wait, wait, so why do you all call him Tommy Boy?” you asked with a laugh. Bobby had started telling you about his other friends from his squadron while you were in the ice cream parlor, and you were still seeking some clarification.

Bobby laughed as well, licking up the ice cream that was starting to melt down the side of his cone. “Honestly? I can’t even remember. His name is Thomas, so we all naturally started calling him Tom. Then Tom turned into Tommy. And somewhere along the line it transformed into Tommy Boy. Now that’s what everyone calls him, and I guess we’ve never thought much of it,” he admitted with a grin.

“And Benny is the one we bumped into on the dance floor?” you questioned, licking your ice cream quickly so that it wouldn’t drip onto Dottie’s dress.

“Yes. Loudmouth Benny. One of my roommates at Annapolis,” Bobby chortled, shaking his head with obvious affection for his friend.

“I know the girl he was dancing with,” you said, glancing up at him. “She’s a talker, too, so they’re very well matched,” you giggled.

“Oh, good,” Bobby grinned. “A perfect way for Benny to spend his last night stateside.”

“Last night?” you repeated, startled. Suddenly, in the back of your mind, you recalled something Marilyn had been saying about a squadron of officers who were spending their last night on American soil at the USO dance. You felt your stomach drop.

Bobby sobered immediately, realizing what he’d said. “I–I’m sorry,” he apologized instantaneously, lowering his ice cream cone. “I should have said something earlier. I just—would you like to sit down for a minute?” he asked, indicating an open bench just a few feet away.

Nodding wordlessly, you followed him over to the wrought iron bench and took a seat, the blood rushing in your ears and your heart suddenly pounding painfully in your chest.

He said your name softly, waiting until you turned your head and looked up at him. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you tonight was my last night in town. I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I just…didn’t know how,” he admitted slowly. “We’ve been having such a wonderful time—or at least, I have—and I guess I didn’t want to ruin that. But that was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”

You were quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. “You don’t have to be sorry, Bobby,” you said softly, staring down at your lap. “I’m not upset that you didn’t say anything about it. I just—I wasn’t expecting you to have to leave already,” you murmured, feeling tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

Oh, how embarrassing. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You’d just met him! He’d think you were insane if you started crying over losing him already.

But you were losing him. The first man you’d ever met who made you feel safe enough to come out of your shell, and he would be gone by morning light. Fate could be so unkind sometimes.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” he said again, reaching out with a tentative hand and lightly brushing his thumb across your cheek. His touch was so gentle that it made you want to weep. “I’ve been preparing to ship out for weeks now. And I thought I was ready. I really did. But now—meeting you tonight—now I wish I didn’t have to go,” he whispered, leaning in closer to you.

A soft sob caught in your throat at his words. “I know it sounds so silly, but I feel as if I’ve known you for longer than just one night,” you confessed, biting down on your lower lip.

“I feel the same way,” Bobby breathed out, making your heart ache all the more. “I—I don’t want to presume anything, and I probably don’t deserve it after not even telling you the whole truth, but do you think—would it be alright if I wrote to you?”

You let out a soft little gasp at his words, eyes widening. He wanted to write to you? You?

“You don’t have to say yes,” Bobby stammered, blushing furiously. “I understand if you don’t want me to. I just—I’ve enjoyed getting to know you so much, and I hate thinking that I’ll never get to talk to you again after tonight and I was just hoping that maybe, if you don’t mind, we could maybe write to each other sometimes while I’m away,” he rambled, growing breathless.

“Yes,” you told him, nodding your head vigorously.

“Y-yes?” he asked, blue eyes widening behind his square glasses.

“Yes,” you repeated, laughing softly. “Yes, I would like that very much, Bobby.”

He looked as if he might fall over, his eyes as wide as saucers and his mouth hanging open. You had to bite back a laugh as the butterflies danced in your stomach.

“I’ll be staying with Dottie and Paddy for the foreseeable future, so I’ll give you their address, if that’s alright?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Of course! Of course that’s alright,” Bob agreed enthusiastically. “I just need to get you some—oh, gosh, I need some paper,” he scrambled, searching in his pockets with the hand that wasn’t holding his ice cream cone. The look on his face told you that he was coming up empty.

“Wait a second,” you told him, an idea suddenly sparking in your mind. You carefully tore off the paper that was wrapped around your ice cream cone, spreading it out on your lap. “Would you mind holding this for a moment?” you asked, holding your cone up to him. He took it instantly without complaint.

Reaching into your purse, you found the short little pencil stub that you thankfully hadn’t taken out. Flattening out the ice cream cone wrapper with your fingertips, you carefully wrote out your full name, as well as your sister’s address, in a clear hand.

“Here you go,” you told him with a smile, holding out the paper and taking your ice cream cone back from him.

Bobby looked down at that little piece of paper as if it was a priceless treasure map, carefully slipping it into the breast pocket of his uniform jacket. “Thank you,” he murmured, putting his hand over it. “As soon as I get to where I’m going, I’ll write you and let you know how you can get in touch with me. If you still want to, that is,” he hastily added.

“I’ll want to,” you assured him with a smile, scooting a little closer to him on the bench.

The two of you sat side by side, eating the rest of your ice cream in comfortable silence. You rested your free hand down on the edge of the bench between the two of you, your manicured fingers curling around the wrought iron. A few seconds later, Bobby’s hand was resting next to yours, his pinky finger brushing lightly against yours, which caused goosebumps to rise on your skin.

Suddenly, the sound of either a radio or someone’s record player began trickling down onto the street from one of the open windows above. You recognized the tune almost instantly as Glenn Miller and his orchestra’s version of “A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square.”

“I love Glenn Miller,” you said aloud, smiling.

Bobby smiled, turning his head to look at you. “So does my mom. She plays his records all the time.” At that, he stood from his spot on the bench, brushing the remnants of crumbs from his ice cream cone off his hands and pants. Then he held his hand out to you. “Would you like to dance?”

You looked up in surprise, your heart fluttering. “I thought you said you weren’t much for dancing,” you smiled.

“I’m not,” Bobby shrugged. “But for you, I’m happy to make an exception,” he beamed brightly.

With a bashful giggle, you rose and accepted his proffered hand, allowing him to hold you close as the two of you finished your evening together the same way you’d begun it—dancing in each other’s arms. It didn’t matter to you that you were swaying in the middle of the sidewalk to the muted sound of someone’s record player as opposed to on the dance floor to the accompaniment of a big band. All that mattered was the way he made you feel and the way you felt your heart blazing to life inside your chest.

All too soon, the song came to an end and Bobby pulled back slightly, gazing down at you.

“I should get you home,” he whispered, a tinge of regret coloring his voice.

You nodded, biting back a sigh as you slipped your arm through his once more, pointing him in the direction of your sister’s house.

There was still so much more to be said, so much more to be learned, but you and Bobby opted for a peaceful silence instead. You knew he wouldn’t have much peace and quiet in the weeks and months ahead, so you wanted to give that to him on his last night.

All too soon, you were standing outside Dottie and Paddy’s house, the lights still on in the front room. Your sister had given you full license to stay out, but you knew that didn’t mean that she and Paddy weren’t going to be sitting up waiting for you.

“This is me,” you murmured, a little sadly. You looked up at him, wanting to get to memorize his face one last time, especially those beautiful blue eyes. “I had such a wonderful time tonight. Thank you, Bobby.”

“No, thank you,” he replied, reaching out and taking one of your hands in his. “Thank you for everything. This was the best last night I ever could have hoped for.”

You smiled wistfully at that, wanting to hug him or give him some proper goodbye, but not wanting to come across as too forward. The two of you just stood staring at each other for a few minutes, both of you too shy to move or say anything.

“I promise I’ll write,” he finally told you, patting the pocket where he’d slipped your address.

“And I promise I’ll write back,” you vowed, twisting your hand in the pleats of your dress.

“Good night” he breathed softly, reaching out to lightly touch your cheek.

“Good night, Bobby,” you whispered back, feeling a small crack form in the crevice of your heart.

He hesitated a moment, looking as if there was something more he wanted to say—or do. “Can—c-can I kiss you?” he asked shyly, his blush evident even in the moonlight.

When you nodded slowly, he leaned in close and brushed his lips against your cheek in a kiss so soft and chaste that you felt tears forming against your lashes. “Goodbye,” he murmured against your ear, pulling back respectfully.

Thinking of the words he said he often shared with Paul, you smiled at him. “We’ll see each other again, Bobby.”

He smiled at that. “I certainly hope so.”

Bobby watched as you made your way to the front of the house, pulling your keys out of your purse and unlocking the door. You turned and waved. He waved back.

Stepping inside and closing the door behind you suddenly felt like the hardest thing you’d ever had to do.

Before you even had time to process any of what had just happened, Dottie suddenly came bounding in from the family room, looking like a cat who got the cream.

“Who was that?” she demanded eagerly, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing tightly.

“Dottie! Were you spying on me?” you gaped, your cheeks growing hot in embarrassment.

Your older sister threw back her head, laughing. “Of course I was!” she told you. “Paddy!” she called over her shoulder. “Put on a kettle for some tea!” Turning back to you, she grinned excitedly and cupped your face in her hands. “I want to hear all about your night!”

For once, you finally had a story to tell.

Bob’s POV

Bob had never quite known what it was to both ache and rejoice in equal measure, but now he did. As he strolled away from the Sheridan residence, hands in his pockets, his heart ached at the possibility of never getting to see that beautiful face again. Yet at the same time, he rejoiced at the wonder of getting to meet her, of getting to hear her laugh and make her smile.

Even more, he rejoiced at the little scrap of paper pressed against his heart, the paper that reminded him of the endless possibilities that lay ahead. He was leaving her, that was true, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that he could carry her with him through it all—a little slice of heaven in the midst of hell.

Smiling brightly as he strolled the streets of Charleston for the last time, Bob began penning his first letter to her in his heart.

[crazyunsexycool]

The second date

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff and that’s about it

A/N: some people asked for a second part so here it is. Maybe I’ll make this into like a mini series type thing!!

Part 1

Steve couldn’t stop smiling as he walked into the tower. He couldn’t wait to see you again but first he knew Sam and Bucky would be waiting to see what happened afterwards. Just as he suspected Sam and Bucky were waiting by the elevators. At least they had the decency to look worried that they ruined everything.

“So?” Bucky asks cautiously.

“So what?” Steve shrugs his shoulders and does his best to look upset.

“Are you going out tomorrow or what?”

Steve just shook his head as he walked toward his apartment. He had to keep his head down to avoid getting caught in his lie. At his apartment door he stops and turns towards his friends.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to be alone tomorrow. Hopefully I can think of a way to fix this.”

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you need.” Sam says. “Call us if you want to talk.”

“Ok, night guys.”

Steve walks into his apartment leaving Bucky and Sam at the door. He just hoped it would work.

“We have to fix this.”

“Yeah but how?” Bucky asks as he and Sam walk out to one of the shared living rooms.

“We’ll talk to her on Monday. Let her know it was our idea not Steve’s. I know she likes him too.”

“Ok, but after this I never want to work with you again. You’re an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot? You should’ve known better, you’re too old to be pulling a stunt like this.”

“You know considering you’re the one that flies, you're a horrible wingman.” Bucky replies.

“I’m a horrible wingman? You’ve known him longer. You’re a horrible friend.”

They continue bickering for a while before they actually sit down and try to figure out what they’re going to tell you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following morning you found yourself looking at your outfit in the mirror. There was not a hair out of place, your dress was cute and had a 1940’s style to it you even paired it with heels and pearls. The buzzer goes off right on time. You grab your purse and head out the door.

“You look beautiful.” Are the first words out of Steve’s mouth when he sees you.

“Thank you, you look very handsome yourself.”

His cheeks flush pink but he smiles anyway. He’s dressed in a black three piece suit with a white button up shirt and a blue tie that just so happens to match his eyes. His hair was slicked back the same way he used it when he first woke up from the ice.

“Shall we?” He offers you his arm and you take it.

“We shall.”

****

The park that was holding the big band music festival felt like stepping back in time. Most of the crowd was dressed to impress. Women wore dresses and heels, some even had on gloves and hats. Men wore suits or something more along the lines of 30s/40s streetwear. There were stalls everywhere and a stage at the center accompanied by a dance floor. The best part was that no one really seemed to notice Steve or wanted a picture with him. He relaxed the further into the park he went.

“So what would you like to do first?” Steve asks as he looks around.

“I don’t know, this is your area of expertise.”

“Ok,” Steve looked around unsure of where to start just as the band began to play a slower song. “How about we start with a dance?”

“I’d love that.”

Steve leads you to the dance floor. One hand goes to your waist while the other holds your hand. Your free hand holds on to his shoulder and he begins to lead you in a slow dance. The look in his eyes is soft, sweet and almost loving. Steve holds you close while he rests his cheek against your temple and hims along to the song. A content sigh escapes your lips as you close your eyes.

“This is a much better date.” You whisper and can feel him chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

You smile up at him when he pulls back to look at you. Then he spins you and dips you. When Steve pulls you back up your lips are almost touching. You smile and close the very minuscule distance. Steve is taken by surprise but it doesn't take him long to kiss you back.

Both of you have matching smiles as the date goes on. You stop to look around the stalls and what was being sold and even buy some records. Including one that had the song you first danced to with Steve. Ever the gentleman he offers to carry your bags. You get some snacks that were popular in his time and he really opens up by telling you stories of his childhood and his mom.

By the end of the afternoon you’re sharing a booth at a diner. Steve sat beside you instead of across, his arm was thrown across the back of the booth and his attention was all on you as you spoke.

“Oh I meant to ask earlier. How did you get out dressed like this without Sam or Bucky noticing?”

“Well I actually set it up last night. I told them that I wanted to be myself today to think of a way to make things right with you.” Steve says with a rather proud look on his face.

“You, Steven Rogers, lied?”

“Yup. It was not easy.”

You giggled. “Do you think they’ll try to talk to me on Monday so they can fix it?”

“Oh absolutely.”

~~~~~~~~

On Monday morning you’re busy with meetings and texting Steve in between them. When you get to your office a smile appears on your lips. On the desk is a beautiful floral arrangement, the card attached to it just says see you at noon and Steve’s initials at the bottom.

You look at your watch and realize you only have a few minutes before Steve stops by. After putting away the meeting documents and the tablet you normally use you grab a small mirror you keep in your desk and check your appearance. There’s a knock on your door and you allow whoever it is to come in.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you doing?” Bucky says, he flashes you a reserved smile.

“Do you have a minute?” Sam asks as he closes the door in order to have some privacy.

“Actually I am going out but I can schedule a meeting for later today.”

“We just wanted to let you know that the whole earpiece thing was not Steve’s idea. He’s a really great guy and I know he really likes you.”

“Oh ok.” You say as you grab your purse and start heading out. You’re trying to hide your smile as you head toward the door.

“Seriously Y/N,” Sam adds. “He didn’t really want to do it, we just didn’t give him much of a choice.”

“Ok.” You say as you open the door. Steve is standing right there and you can’t help but smile up at him.

“Ready to go?”

“I am if you are.”

“Well let’s go then.” He kisses your cheek before offering you his arm. “See you guys at training later.” He says over his shoulder.

Sam and Bucky stood there completely speechless, a first for the duo.

“When did this happen?”

“We went out Saturday.”

“To the music festival?” Bucky shouts the question.

“Yup.”

“Steve you little shit!”

“I can write you up for that Barnes.” You say as you turn to look at them. With a laugh you wink in their direction and get lost in the crowd as Steve leads you out of the building for your lunch date.

Part 3

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