#bob floyd image

[withahappyrefrain]

mmm i’m thinking “When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?” with our beloved bobby. he’s very serious about face sitting, y’know 😌

He does!!!! Especially older BF! Bob ☺️☺️☺️ slight daddy kink at the end!

"You want me to what?" Surely, he couldn't have said what you thought he said.

Just moments ago, your limbs were tangled with your boyfriend's, hips jerking against one another. Bob's request made you stop in your tracks.

"I think you heard me darlin'," there was a twinkle in his eyes. Dare you say it, it looked almost mischievous. His normally bright blue eyes had darkened.

"Bob, if I sit on you, I'll cr-"

"When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?" The sternness of his deep voice made your thighs clench. Bob extended his arms out, motioning you to grab his hands.

With shaking legs, you began to move up Bob's body.

"No one's ever asked you to do this, have they?" You shook your head and Bob could feel his cock twitch. Why every partner of yours has treated you like shit was beyond him.

But he was delighted that he would be the first (and hopefully last) person to show you this way of pleasure.

"That's it, atta girl," He encourages as your core gets closer to his face.

His obscenely large hands grip your thighs, kneading the soft flesh, "Fuckin' love these thighs."

"Really?" It was a genuine question. You were used to people focusing on your tits and ass.

"'Course I do. So fucking soft but I know they could crush me if you tried," He places soft kisses up your thighs, gentle bites leaving you gasping, gripping the bedframe for some stability.

"Then there's this sweet lil' pussy," long fingers skim your soaked folds, eliciting a whimper. You didn't question him this time; when it came to your cunt, Bob would worship. He made that known early on.

He gets up on his elbows, placing a kiss dangerously close to your clit, "Fuck, she's already so wet for me. You excited sweet girl?"

You nodded, trying to muster up all the available strength you had so as to not collapse from his words, "Y-yes sir."

The title earns a low growl from Bob, your thighs clenching at the sound. He could probably see it but you weren't concerned. Despite being in such a vulnerable position, you felt mostly at ease.

Except for the fact you had no idea what you were doing.

As if Bob could sense it, he placed his hands on your thighs, "Alright, y'gonna lower yourself slowly, okay sweet girl?"

You nodded, following his instructions.

Bob usually was patient, it was one of the many qualities that helped him become an Admiral. But the sight of your soaked core, just dying to be touched, made him lose all sense of the trait.

His mouth eagerly latched onto your cunt, tongue exploring every inch of you. A loud moan vibrated off the walls of his bedroom. Your fingers gripped the wooden bed frame tightly as Bob's tongue lapped up your arousal.

His hands moved to your ass, gripping the ample flesh. Bob would be the first to admit he was addicted to your taste, to you. If Bob could spend the rest of his life pleasing you, he'd die a happy man.

You found your hips rocking back and forth. Immediately, you stilled them. After all, that would be too much, right?

"Don't stop," Bob murmurs, his voice slightly muffled, "I gotcha baby."

The pet name made you weak both in the knees and the heart. How could one man be simultaneously so hot but also so fucking sweet?

Beginning the motions again, one hand moves down to grip Bob's sun kissed locks. He hums in approval, vibrating against your core. His tongue alternated from exploring your entrance to sucking your throbbing clit. As he continued his ministrations, you found yourself unable to keep your voice level down, the room echoing with your moans.

Perks of owning a house, don't have to worry about noise complaints.

Every time his buttoned nose brushed against your clit, it sent you closer and closer to the edge. You tried to slow your hips, but thanks to his grip on your ass, Bob was able to move with you ease.

"Bob-Bobby, I'm close," your voice was desperate, almost pathetic. You hardly recognized it.

And yet, you felt no shame. Gone were the days of being overly self conscious during sex. You had Bob now, who made you feel safe.

Still, it was a shock when he continued his ministrations, rather than lift you off. Your hips now had a mind of their own, rocking against Bob's face in an attempt to chase the high that was just within reach.

When you looked down, the sight below you took your breath away.

Blue eyes half closed in pleasure, hands kneading your soft thighs, sandy brown hair disheveled, some strands having fallen over his forehead. His mouth greedily devouring you.

He looked beautiful. He looked like he was getting just as much pleasure out of this as you, maybe even more.

Your head lolled backwards as white hot pleasure coursed through your body. Your hands gripped his hair, hips rocking erratically.

His name echoed off the walls, his moans mixing with yours.

"Fuck! D-daddy!" The nickname slipped out. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about ever since you and Bob started dating. It was just the concept of bringing it up that you were still figuring out.

A downright feral growl escaped Bob's lips. The next thing you knew, you were lying on your back, Bob's hard cock teasing your soaked entrance.

"Say it," he growled, "Say it again."

"Daddy?" Bob sharply inhaled through his nose, his cock swiftly entering and filling you completely.

"Daddy!"

Bob panted in your ear, his hips driving into yours at a feral pace.

Now that he had you, he was never letting you go.

[almondcroissantsandink]

i've wanted to practice drawing cowboys for some time now and so the daggers have turned in their helmets and fighter jets for stetsons and horses! yeehawwww

[dirtfrosting]

some lew sketches from last year

the struggle to draw him never ends 😔

[sorchathered]

GIMME THE SMUT

how badly do you want me? + you better watch your fucking mouth.

Whooo Mo I’m about to give you some dirty smut with our sweet Bobby. Tw for anyone with body image issues, this deals a little with that and starts off kind of angsty.

You know the outfit looked good on you when you tried it on, but now getting dressed to go out to dinner you couldn’t help but notice every out of place detail that made you feel insecure. You struggled with how you viewed your body, even when you had the most supportive partner on earth (who definitely had zero issue with showing and telling you how much he wanted you.)

He peeked in the doorway of your shared bedroom to find you with a defeated look on your face, and he knew immediately that you weren’t being kind to yourself. That just wouldn’t do, and he had the remedy to fix it.

“Baby? You ready to go?” He knew you weren’t, but he wanted to hear you say what was going on in your head.

“I don’t know Robby- I just don’t think I should go tonight. Nothing fits right, I just think you’d have more fun without me sulking about how much weight I’ve put on-“

“You better watch your fucking mouth when you talk about my wife like that” he said with a cold gaze in his steely blue eyes. He wouldn’t have any of that, in his eyes you were and always would be perfection.

“Robby-“ you gasped out, whirling away from the mirror to look up at his face. He was no nonsense right now, not a lick of mirth in his eyes. It sends a shiver down your spine, he looked possessive and a little wild, and you knew you were no doubt in for a heap of trouble.

He turned you back to the mirror gently despite the anger in his tone, running his hands all over your body as he looked at you through the reflection.

“Look at you, so damn beautiful. You could wear a paper sack and be the sexiest woman I’d ever laid eyes on.” He slipped a hand down into your jeans, cupping your heat as he continued to praise you and make you watch while he used his hands to make you feel good. By the time he’d rattled off a list of his favorite things about you, you were a shaking mess. He kept you right there on the edge, over and over as he made you tell him at least five things you loved about yourself, never once letting you touch him despite feeling his hard on pressed against your ass.

By the time you’d stuttered out your last compliment you were tearing up, it felt so so good but he was only giving you enough to keep you on the brink.

“You did so good baby, you can’t be saying all that awful stuff about my girl ok? Your body is perfect, everything about you drives me absolutely wild and I want you to see what I see. I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel, you wouldn’t dare let me talk about myself like that so you shouldn’t either. Ok?” He said as he slipped a digit between your folds and you were sure you were going to combust right here in the middle of your bedroom.

“Robby! Please- I get it now I do, but I can’t- I can’t take much more. Need you-“ you cried out and arched into him desperately trying to seek some kind of relief.

“How badly do you want me sweetheart? Promise me you won’t talk down about yourself and I’ll give you what you want.”

[lonely-dog-draws]

is it boring to share studies....... idk but i found my drawings from when i couldn't stop thinking about The Wall

[tgmsunmontue]

I'm just imagining him rocking some boxers with Bob the Builder on them he got as a gag gift, but they're soft and comfortable and there are far worse callsigns to be stuck with than Bob, which everyone assumes is from his name anyway. Unless they know the backstory.

His nickname is actually Rob. And whoever he's brought home from the Dagger Squad to meet his family is confused...

"No one calls you Bob?"

"Nope. Bob's my callsign, not my name..."

"Huh."

And then he's pushing open the door to his bedroom and there, on the bed, is a giant Bob the Builder duvet. King sized.

[delopsia]

Del's Image Dump #1

Was cleaning out my screenshot folder and realized that I have...a lot of unused junk. Stuff for banners, profile photos, and icons that I just...don't feel like making something of.

It would be a shame to just delete them all, so here I am, dumping them upon you 💐You may need to crop and edit some of these, but do with these what you will ❤

Repost, make them your profile photo, print it out, crumble it into a ball, and throw it at my head; I don't care, lmao.

[bobfloydssunnies]

i don't know why but my brain just can't seem to get rid of the thought of bob singing fall out boy songs but specifically ones from their album from under the cork tree ( i talked the other day i think he's a fall out boy fan) but there's just something about him and this album my brain just won't let me know peace

[percys-lemons]

never knew roger waters wrote a book!

[xiaokuer-schmetterling]

[img id: a post that says

Bob: between rooster, hangman, and phoenix, there are three braincells ... and phoenix has all three of them

end id]

-----

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA BOBBY WITH THE FACTS

Bob: Between, Rooster, Hangman and Phoenix, there are three braincells.

Bob: And Phoenix has all three of them.

(x)

[f1ora1f1owerswrites]

the way he loves you

Summary: The Dagger Squad starts to notice the subtle ways Jake Seresin shows his love for you, from quiet moments at home to stolen glances at the Hard Deck. As each of them pieces it together, they realize Jake isn’t just Hangman—he’s yours.

Warnings: use of Y/N, she/her, fluff.

Word count: 1121 (oops i got a bit carried away)

A/N: someone reposted my last “curious gazes” and requested one with all the daggers, and i’ve been thinking about it ever since. i finally got time to write it so i hope you enjoy, i’ve been loving these!!

***

Jake “Hangman” Seresin had a reputation for being bold and larger than life. To most, nothing more than a cocky, overconfident pilot, the kind of guy who never seemed to take life too seriously. But when the Daggers met you, they began to see a side of Jake they’d never expected—a side that made them realize there was far more to him than they ever realized.

And it happened in little moments, each one chipping away at the image of Hangman and revealing Jake.

***

Phoenix

Natasha had always been sharp. She could read people easily, and Jake was no exception. She’d noticed the changes in him before anyone else: how he wasn’t as quick to boast, how he lingered on his phone more often, smiling at something no one else could see.

Still, it wasn’t until that night at the Hard Deck that she put the pieces together.

Jake walked in with you by his side, and Natasha immediately noticed the way he looked at you. It wasn’t the casual charm he used on everyone else—it was softer, almost reverent.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Jake said, his voice filled with a kind of pride that made Natasha blink in surprise.

You smiled and waved, introducing yourself as Jake’s girlfriend, though you didn’t need to. Natasha had already figured it out.

She watched as Jake stayed close to you all night, not in his usual attention-seeking way, but quietly, as if he couldn’t bear to let you out of his sight. When you laughed, he leaned in just a little closer. When you spoke, he listened like your words were the most important thing in the world.

Later, as Jake brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek and a soft smile, Natasha smirked and leaned over to Bob. “He’s gone.”

Bob

Bob Floyd noticed it in the details, in the quiet moments that others might overlook.

When Jake and you invited the squad over for dinner, Bob didn’t know what to expect. He’d never pictured Jake as the hosting type, but as he stepped into your cozy home, he could tell this was different.

“Make yourself at home,” you said warmly, handing Bob a glass of sweet tea.

Jake was in the kitchen, wearing an apron—an apron, of all things—as he stirred something on the stove. Bob couldn’t hide his surprise.

“You’re domesticated, Seresin,” Rooster teased, leaning against the counter.

Jake smirked without looking up. “Happy wife, happy life,” he said easily, earning a laugh from you.

“Not your wife yet,” you teased.

“Yet,” Jake said, glancing at you with a grin and tossing you a wink that made Bob’s chest ache with secondhand fondness.

Bob noticed the way you moved around each other, wordlessly passing utensils and dishes, finishing each other’s sentences. There was a quiet rhythm to it, a kind of unspoken understanding that came from deep love and trust.

When dessert came out, Jake set the plate in front of you first, brushing a kiss to your temple. Bob caught the way you smiled, the way Jake’s hand lingered on yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

Bob glanced at Phoenix, who raised her eyebrows knowingly. “That’s love,” she whispered, and Bob couldn’t agree more.

Rooster

Bradley Bradshaw noticed it during a pool game at the Hard Deck.

Jake had always been competitive, but tonight, he wasn’t playing to win against the squad—he was playing to impress you.

Every shot he made, he’d glance over at you, his grin widening when you clapped or cheered. But it wasn’t just the showmanship that caught Bradley’s attention. It was the way Jake handed you the pool cue, guiding you through your shots with a patience Bradley hadn’t thought him capable of.

“Am I doing this right?” you asked, laughing as you tried to line up your shot.

“You’re perfect,” Jake said softly, his voice so low that only you and Bradley heard.

Bradley rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “You’re whipped, Seresin.”

“And happy about it,” Jake shot back, winking.

Bradley couldn’t argue with that.

Payback & Fanboy

Fanboy and Payback noticed it on the beach.

It was a rare day off, and the squad had decided to hit the sand for some football and relaxation. You’d tagged along, sitting under an umbrella with a book in hand while the others played.

Jake kept sneaking glances at you between plays, his grin growing every time you looked up and smiled.

When the game ended, Jake jogged over to you, dropping to his knees in the sand beside your chair. “Having fun?” he asked, brushing sand off his hands.

You smiled, closing your book. “Always, when I’m with you.”

Mickey nudged Reuben, jerking his chin toward the two of you. “Look at him. That’s not the Hangman we know.”

“Nope,” Reuben said with a grin. “That’s Jake. Big difference.”

Coyote

Javy had known from the beginning.

He’d been there when Jake first mentioned you, his voice tinged with something Javy hadn’t heard before: vulnerability. He’d watched as Jake navigated the early days of your relationship, unsure of himself in a way that was both endearing and rare.

At a barbecue one weekend, Javy pulled Jake aside, nodding toward you as you chatted with Phoenix and Bob.

“She’s good for you, man,” Javy said.

Jake nodded, his gaze fixed on you. “Yeah. She is.”

“You ever gonna tell her how whipped you are?” Javy teased.

Jake smirked. “She already knows, no need to say it.”

The Moment They All Realized

The squad’s collective realization came during another gathering at your house.

It was late, and the group was sprawled across the living room, laughing and swapping stories. You were in the kitchen, tidying up, when Jake disappeared without a word.

A few minutes later, he returned with a dish towel over his shoulder, carefully carrying a handful of freshly washed glasses.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?” he asked, walking straight to you.

The room went silent as the squad watched him press a kiss to your temple before helping you dry the dishes.

Phoenix broke the silence first. “Holy shit. He’s a househusband.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Jake looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “Jealous?”

“Absolutely,” Natasha said, grinning.

As the laughter died down, Javy raised his beer. “To Y/N,” he said.

You looked up, surprised. “To me?”

Javy nodded. “Yeah. You turned Hangman into Jake. And we love you for it.”

The squad cheered, and as Jake’s hand found yours, you squeezed it, your heart full.

Because while Jake might not have always been the loudest about his love, the people who mattered most could see it clear as day.

[rooster-the-love-of-my-life]

Idiots At a Wedding pt3

Summary: Pretending to be Bob's girlfriend in front of his family has to be easy right? Right...?

Pairings: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing 😛😛, unholy thoughts, use of the phrase 'good girl' (cause I'm freaky like that), lies (as if the whole story isn't about that)

A/N: I love each and every single one of you so so so much, I can't even tell you. I've tried to fit everyone into the taglist, but it seems to be running out of my hands, so is any of you have a suggestion on what to do please help, also if your name was missed please tell me. Anyway, happy reading, and please don't be a stranger.

series masterlist || part 4

Even though Bob was away from you for the whole day, running errands with Jeff while you were with the ladies, you kept playing on his mind like a broken record. He couldn't stop the image of your tear stained face and puffy, red eyes from coming to him in the middle of home depot. He kept going over all that might have gone wrong, maybe he said something, maybe you didn't like being here with him. But none of it made any sense.

The only thing that stood out to him was how many times you had repeated that you really liked his family. He didn't know anything about your family, which now seemed fishy to him. You had even stopped yourself from speaking about them the day the two of you had arrived. It all felt wrong, incredibly wrong to Bob and his concern was just increasing as the hours went by.

He was lost in his own thoughts, sitting outside of a small local Cafe with Jeff when he was snapped out of them by his brother-in-law.

"Hey, Bob. Bob." He waved his hand in front of the younger man to gain his attention. "You okay? You've been awfully quiet today. More than usual."

"I'm fine Jeff. It's just-" He contemplated telling Jeff bout what had happend today, but he decided against it, not wanting to disrespect your privacy. "It's nothing."

"Come on man, you don't need to hide anything from me. What's up?" Jeff pushed and Bob gave in. He shifted in his seat, holding his up of coffee tightly in his hands, eyes fixed on the clouds made by the cream.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone, not even Annie."

"I swear." Jeff promised.

"Sunny was crying before we came here." Bob started carefully. "When I asked her what's wrong, she just said she really likes all of you. I-I can't shake the feeling somethings wrong Jeff, I just can't."

"Is somthing wrong at work?" Jeff offered, trying to come up with what could have gone wrong.

"No its not. If something would have happened at work I would have been notified as well." Bob shot down his suggestion quickly.

"Right, forgot yall work together." Jeff whispered, still thinking. "Maybe its somthing to do with her family. What's her relationship with them like?"

The question was simple enough, what is your equation like with your family. But Bob was at a loss for words. He didn't know anything about your family, he didn't even know if you had any siblings. Thinking about it now, he realized no one form the whole squad knew about your family. Everytime this topic was brought up, you would always go quiet or will others to talk about theris, never once reveling anything about your own.

"I-I don't know." Bob whispered.

"You don't know? How's that possible?" The older man asked, shocked.

"She never talks about them, to anyone. The entire squad is unaware of her family situation." Bob elaborated, his worry increasing by the second. "The other night, she even stopped herself before she accidentally let somthing slip out about them. I get that not everyone has the best relationship with their family and that she dosen't have to tell me of she dosen't want to. But I'm just really worried."

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, going over what they had just discussed in their minds, trying to come up with a solution.

Jeff was the one who broke the silence once again. "It's good that you gave her the space she needs right now. Let her have that for tonight, don't try and force anything out of her and don't treat her like glass. Just go to dinner with Peter's family today and be normal, just the way would be. She'll come and talk to you about whatever wrong whenever she feels like it, the more you push the more she'll shut down. Till then, just love her the way you do."

The advice was sound, go back home, pretend everything's okay. Go to dinner, pretending everything normal. With all the pretending Bob had done in the two days of the wedding, he was sure he'd make a fine con artist if he put his mind to it.

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

The sun was already setting by the time the two men finished their chores and came back home. For the duration of the wedding, everyone was living in the same house, causing chaos to erupt everywhere. But when they entered the house, they were met with utter silence insted of the usual mess. The living room, patio, backyard and kitchen were all empty, indicating that everyone was in their rooms.

Jeff excused himself to go find Annie, as Bob headed towards his room. He dreaded having to pretend things were alright with evey step he took, but deep down he was also glad he would get to see you again. With each passing day, he was growing fonder and fonder of you, of your company, of your laugh, of your eyes. He was still scared shitless, scared that he would screw this up in some way. But whenever he was with you, a his fears just seemed to vanish.

Upon reaching the door to his room, Bob knocked on it, gently calling out your name and waited for you to open the door. But a few moments had passed and you still hadn't opened it. He pushed it in softly and the sight that beheld him was like none other.

The orange hue of the sunset was peaking in through the curtains, casting a glow on your sleeping body. He crossed the room quietly and kneeled down in front of your peaceful face, getting ready to wake you up. But his heart just won't allow him to upon seeing how all the worries and tensions had disappeared from your face when you closed your eyes and went to sleep.

Your hair was a mess, spread over the pillow forming odd shapes, your mouth was agape as soft snores left it. Bob wanted to take a photo, seal this moment in his phone forever, but for now, his memory had to do. If anyone was to ask him what was the moment he know he wasin love, his mind would without a doubt go right back to this moment. The day he saw the sun sleep.

"Sunny, sunny, wake up." He whispered, placing his hand on your shoulder and shaking you gently to try and coax you out of slumber. "Wakie wakie. Rise and shine honey."

"5 more minutes." You mumbled, burying your face further into the pillow, making him smile at the sight.

"What dinner?" You mumbled, still half asleep.

"Come on sweetheart, you've gotta get up. Otherwise you're gonna miss the dinner party." He tried bribing you with dinner, which worked like a charm.

"I knew that would get you up." Bob chuckled. "We're going to have dinner at Peter's house tonight. We gotta get ready for that, we're leaving in a bit."

"But Bobby, I haven't had a nap in ages." You whined, stretching out your legs with a big yawn.

"I know, neither have I. Maverick doesn't really leave time for naps does he?"

"Nope, he's a little meanie." You babbled.

"That he is. But right now you've gotta get up and get dressed, or your gonna have to face ma's wrath. And believe me, she's a bigger meanie that Mav."

Reluctantly, you sat up straight in bed, sleep still swimming in your eyes.

"There she is." Bob remarked, clapping his hands together. He got up from near your bed and moved to his dresser to take out what he was going to wear tonight. "Now, be a good girl and get dressed. I'll go get ready in the downstairs bathroom. And no falling asleep again."

If there was any sleep left in your body, it had vanished upon hearing sweet, innocent Bob Floyd call you a good girl. It made you want to jump his bones right then and there, and go at it till the neighbors hated you. But thank god Bob had left the room by then.

You moved across the room, gathering all the stuff you needed to get ready and quickly hopped into the shower. The Texas heat was unforgiving, but you also need the cold shower to get the unholy thoughts out of your mind. After about twenty minutes, you were fully dressed, and in a conundrum. The biggest dilemma you had faced yet. You were racking your brain trying to figure out which shoes to wear, the heels or the flats.

Mid thought you realized you were in a house ull of women, you could just ask anyone of them for input. Slipping one of each shoe on you feet, you waddled down the stairs, not in the mood to trip and break your front teeth right before the wedding. The room was bustling with loud sonds of everyone getting ready. Lucy's hair dryer was humming on full blast as she dried her hair at the kitchen counter outlet cause the one in her room had blown up. Annie and Jeff were running after a half naked Andy who was enjoying giving his parents a hard time, Mary was frantically searching for her phone around the house as Bob kept calling it in order to here his mother.

"It's on silent Robert, I'm not going to be able to find it." She screamed, running from one place to another like a headless chicken.

"Is this a bad time to ask for fashion advice?" You spoke up, standing on the last step where Bob was leaning against the railing.

He whipped his head back to take a look at you with such speed, you feared he may have gotten whiplash.

"You look-" He said, mouth hanging open with awe. "Incredible."

"Only from the top." You responded, motioning towards your mismatched shoes.

"Oh, can't decide?" He diverted his eyes from your face to look at you shoes. "They both look good."

"I know they look good, the only thing is which one should I wear. The flats are nice, but the heels go better with the outfit. Only thing is, I don't wanna look taller than you, kinda throws everything off." You mused, inspecting both the shoes properly.

"You won't look taller than me." Bob replied. "Wear the heels."

"You sure? We're practically the sa-"

"Come here. Stand next to me." He grabbed you hand and helped you down, as you stood next to him. You were expecting Bob would be proved wrong and you'd have to go with he flats, but when you looked up at him, he still towered over you, tall and broad.

"See, I told you it won't happen. Now you can wear the heels in peace." He slipped the phone from his hand into his pocket and once again leaned against the railing.

"Hm, interesting." You noted, and turned around to go get the other shoe, when he stopped you.

"What's interesting?" He questioned.

"I could never wear heels with any of my exes." You replied. As soon as the world's came out, you realized he wasn't actually your boyfriend and quickly corrected yourself. "Of course you're not my-"

It seemed like it was you day of getting interrupted when Bob phone rang loudly, cutting you off midway.

"Mama, why are you calling me?" He asked with confusion, looking down at the caller ID.

"Didn't you lose your phone?" Mary shouted, appearing from behind the wall to see you two standing. "Oops, did I interrupt you two lovebird?"

"Weren't you the one who lost her phone?" Bob ignored his mother's remark, which clearly had an effect on him, seen clearly cause of his rosy cheeks. You just looked the other way, in attempts to hide your laughter and embarrassment.

"Oh did I? Well I found it now." Mary shrugged, about to leave you two when she noticed you mismatched shoes. "Oh you've got to different shoes on sweetie."

"Yeah, I was just asking Bob which one I should wear." You explained.

Mary gasped and the let put a breathy laugh with her head falling back. "I remember when I used to ask Daryl what to wear. His choices were so bad, I alway had go with the opposite of whatever he'd choose." She smiled fondly thinking of her husband, it was clear form her reaction there was a lot of love between the two of them. She walked away, patting Bob on his arm, leaving the two of you all alone once again.

"She never talks about dad." Bob whispered, bewildered at what his mother had just said.

"What?"

"She says it hurts too much." He elaborated. "I haven't heard her sound this happy while talking about him for a long, long time."

"Well, it's a good thing right?" You asked.

"The best."

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

Dinner was supposed to start at 7, but you all had reached Lucy's fiance's house thirty minutes late, fashionably late. Hugs were handed out like candy to everyone who entered and drinks were thrust in everyone's hands before they could even sit down. Soon enough, you all moved to the dinner table, where the food spread across the long table looked so appetizing.

Your mouth watered at the sight, your head immediately moving to look at Bob and whisper to him, "I'm so glad you woke me up for this."

He just laughed, a quiet, sincere laugh that reeked of peace and love.

Conversations on the dinner table flowed easy. Peter's family was busy recounting all the embarrassing moments in Lucy and Peter's life, from how they used to sneak in and out, to how they would always get caught when Andy stared fussing loudly.

"Everything alright?" Peter's mother, May, asked Annie who was no holding her son in her hands.

"He's a bit warm." She replied, causing Jeff to place his hand on Andy's forehead as well.

"He is." He confirmed. "Do you think he's sick?"

Annie didn't need to answer the question because the spurge of puke that came flying out of the child's mouth right onto his father's shirt was answer enough. They both immediately got up as chaos tool over the table.

"We should take him home." Annie said, as Jeff dug out his car keys out of his pocket.

"I'll come with you." Mary offered, taking Andy from the hands of her daughter, following her son-in-law towards the door.

"I'm so sorry May. I would have loved to stay and finish the meal. I know you worked hard on it." Annie apologized to the older woman.

"It's alright dear, it happens. You go and take care of Andy now. Make him all better in time for the wedding." She hugged Annie in a motherly fashion.

"If yall are ever thinking of having kids, don't." Annie warned the two couples left sitting at the table and then slipped right out the door.

"Look on the bright side," Peter's dad, Bill spoke up trying to lighthen the mood. "More food for us."

"I'll drink to that." You mumbled, bring your wine glass up to your lips.

"Right, where were we?" May mused. "Oh yes, we were about to tell you about the time we caught these two half naked in the pool."

"Okay mom. I think that's enough." Peter butted in, incredibly embarrassed. "They must be getting bored by all your stories."

"Oh not at all." Bob said, adding fuel the fire, earing a laugh out of you and a glare from his soon to be brother-in-law.

"Why don't you two tell us something about yourselves? Any embarrassing stories from when you two had stared dating?" Lucy asked innocently, not knowing thst she had put you in a tough spot.

You two had gone over the basics of your big fat lie, but this was something neither one of you knew how to answer. Bob looked at you, as you looked at him, desperation evident in both of your eyes. You could make up a story at the spot, but for both of you to come up with the same one would be impossible.

"Well, there was a time when-" Bob stopped mkd sentence, looking at you to come up with the rest of it.

"Our squad found out." You replied with the first thing that came to your mind. His eyes went wide with amusement, out of all the things you could have said, you chose to take the story in this absurd direction.

"They all lost their minds." He continued, a playful smirk taking over his face. "Especially Maverick."

"Especially Mav." You stressed. "He couldn't believe it at first, but when Rooster and Hangman brought him proof, boy did he believe us then."

"Maverick, Rooster, Hangman, what kind of names are these? Do they're parents don't like them?" May questioned confused.

"Oh they're callsigns." Bob cleared her confusion.

"What're yours?" Peter asked, intrigued.

"Well, mine is Bob." Bob said as if it was the most obvious thing in the word. "And her's is-"

"Sunshine." You took over. "But everyone just calls me Sunny. Anyways, our whole squad found out about us in the worst way possible, which Bob will tell you."

"Umm.. we were-" Bob looked at you helplessly when you threw him under the buss. "We accidentally kissed in front of everyone at the bar."

"Kissed?" You all but shouted, amused at the direction Bob was taking the story. "Oh yes, I remember that well. Quiet well."

"Everyone went absolutely silent, like they'd just seen a ghost or something."

"We didn't even realize what we'd done till we saw all their faces." You two played off of each other, coming up with the story, communicating to each other with your eyes, coming up with your greatest inside joke yet, leaving everyone else on the edges of their seats.

"They grilled us for two whole hours after that, got every little detail out of us, and then stupid Hangman went and ran his mouth off to Mav, landing us both a three hour lecture on workplace romances."

"Now now honey, Mav would have figure out any which way." You voiced, preparing to change the story.

"How?"

"Cause of your lovesick ogling throughout the day." The room erupted in laughter which snapped you both out of the little fantasy world you had created just between the two of you.

Even though you had just said it to continue the story, of Bob knew the truth of the matter. He did stare at you all lovesick the whole day, he only hoped you did the same.

The rest of the night went by quickly, or so it seemed. Through the mist of all the snicdotes and laughter, you had all lost track of time. By the time you decided it was time to go back home, it was already nearing midnight.

"There's no way in hell I'm walking all the way back home." Lucy sighed, slipping her heels off. "You two have fun walking down four blocks."

"Goodninght Lucy." You chucked, squeezing he shoulder, moving to May. "Thank you for dinner May, it was delicious."

"No thank you. I really enjoyed your company." She smiled.

"Especially cause we go to hear so much come out of Bobby's mouth." Bill added. "I swear this is the most I've heard the boy talk."

"It seems I have that effect on him." You said your goodbyes and walked out the door. The cool night breeze hit you instantly as you and Bob walked back home, shoulder to shoulder.

"Boy it's chilly out here." You whispered, pulling both your arms close close your chest.

"Don't worry, hell will be warm enough once we go their for all our lies." Bob replied, placing his arm on your shoulder in attempt to bring you some warmth.

"Oh come on Bobby, you've gotta admit it was fun." You leaned your head back on his arm, getting a glimpse of the stars, but the prettiest thing you saw in that moment was Bob. Just Bob.

"We do make a good team." Bob mused. "If I ever have to lie anywhere, best belive I'm taking you there with me."

"As am I." You said, a full, toothy smile adorning your face. You had reached the front porch, where a small yellow light shined.

In that moment, you didn't know what took over you as you leaned you on your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his beautiful lips. When he didn't reciprocate, you pulled back fast, taking steps back.

"I'm so sorry, I just-" You weren't giving a chance to complete your sentence because of yhe sheer speed with which Bob had pulled you closer to him and planted his hungry lips on yours. Maybe it was all the booze that had made it way into your systems over the course of the night, or maybe it was the intoxicating charm of his lips on yours, but you swore in the moment, you saw god.

Bob placed one of his hands on your lower back and one mounding around the side of your neck, pulling you in closer till there was no space left between you two. His mouth was engulfing yours, lips devouring the taste of yours, hanging onto them as if it was his last night alive. You buried your hand deeper into his blond locks, keeping his mouth in place, sacred if you'll pull away, this would all be just a dream.

As you two got lost I each other, the front door opened with a screech, making you to jump apart.

"Oh my, I'm sorry, did I interrupt something. "

Taglist

@rianavi @samzjiyuu @flores-and-sunshine @greenivygarden @keira-kaz2y5 @after8hore @jonnybernthalslover @one17 @peachyrue-777 @theamuz @confusedgemposts @khaylin27 @theonlyaphrodite @peepeepcherrihoe @sunflowrhaze @fangirlinc @futurecorps3 @thatchickwiththecamera @clairejpg @datingbtr @nana-love-bugzz @kvmitchell @4margaritasalex @thisisgracetrying @igotmajordaddyissues @alexwinchester23 @m3laniehearts @mayafatimakhan @starkleila @spookycupcakepirate @dcamelia @americaa @paulina1998 @lgg5989 @datingbtr @thatchickwiththecamera @luckyladycreator2 @kanevill @dempy @saramaple @hockeyboysarehot @redhoodedtoad @nobody7102 @alexwinchester23 @unstablecaffeinatedmind @teti-menchon0604 @my-name-is-baby @goth-detectives365 @ae-aeitch @articel1967 @fubbbubb

[torchflies]

My wifi is super spotty, but here’s Chapter 8!

💕🥰

This one’s gonna be a doozy, folks! 🧡💛

“Here’s the thing, the view from base camp is way better than reaching the summit. The best outcome would be leaving the mountain entirely. But you can't do that.

Still, base camp’s nice.

You can live a whole life at base camp.

Or: Jake’s survived nine years of brutal treatment, two kinds of cancer and a stem cell transplant — so, a bit of flak and a broken heart is nothing really.”

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

That's the Job

Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x (f) reader.

Tags: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, angst, betrayal, emotions, anxiety, heartbreak, workplace romance, coworkers to lovers, confessions, oral(f receiving), fingering.

Snippet:

You choked on the next words, eyes blurry now. "I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know it’d hit me like that."

He took another step. "So you left?"

"Wouldn't you? I mean—wouldn’t anyone?"

"And you lied." his voice took a tone of hurt.

☆☆☆☆☆

A week has passed since the nightmarish incident. That day, all staff at Top Gun were informed, as is protocol, of the crash that resulted from a sudden birdstrike during field training, nearly taking the lives of two pilots. Both of whom had been close friends of yours.

Thankfully, both Natasha and Bob survived. Although, they and Coyote were rushed to the hospital for urgent care and testing.

But part of your job description as a rookie R&D Analyst was to assess post-mortems, and when you got your eyes on the images of jet – completely destroyed and burned, your mind flooded with awful hypothetical images.

They were lucky – you realized. Because one minute longer, one detail off, and they could have been gone. He could have been gone. For good.

Images flashed in your mind. Blood and lifeless brown eyes...

Your chest hurt.

Before anyone in the office could notice, you turned away from your computer screen – leaving the images of the destroyed jet on display – and strode out of the room.

☆☆☆☆☆

Engineers — even brilliant ones — didn't go into a job expecting to confront the potential violent death of the people they worked with. It’s not part of their emotional framework. So as a young adult that was new to the field, watching Bob and Phoenix nearly die did something to your brain. Making it scramble for control. And the easiest way it could think to do that was Distance. Detachment. You never wanted to feel that way again.

Prior to the crash, you had been assigned a project; a request to improve the laser nav systems, submitted by Lt. Robert Floyd. You and the WSO had gotten along extremely well, right off the bat. He didn't discard your ideas like many members of your own team did, and you were extremely impressed by his expertise as a Weapons Systems Officer and overall badass.

And he was kind. He often came across as technical and serious, but you found yourself inspired by his dedication to his job.

He was also... distracting.

When you two worked together when you just couldn't help a glance over at him. Your eyes tended to linger.

On his lips pressing together when he would concentrate. On the movement of his arms – muscular under his uniform, muscular from days of training out in the sun as he disassembled and assembled the machine you were working on. On the gentle hums he would make when you had suggested an idea and the way he would listen with the most intense gaze, afraid to miss a detail. On the way, his hair was a curly blonde mess falling into his forehead after a long day of training – the only time he could come and assist you with the project.

And what's worse? He was brilliant! He knew his stuff almost too well. Every observation, every test, and every note was detailed to near obsession.

You pointed it out once.

It had been when he had disassembled the laser chamber, displaying each piece on the desk and labeling them to perfect accuracy.

"I didn't know pilots knew so much about the cogs and gears of the weapons systems." You had murmured, not thinking much of it.

"I'm a Weapons Systems Officer." He leveled you with a smirk.

Your face must have gone red, because his smirk widened into a laugh.

He offered you his hand as if to introduce himself. "Hi I'm Bob. It’s my job to use the systems in combat. If it fails, I take the hit."

"Sorry! I didn't mean it like that."

He shook his head, laughing. "Don't apologize, I get that a lot. Just know I’m not just here to press buttons and look good in a uniform.” He winked, a rare gesture from him, and it was enough to ease a smile out of you.

Alright, so he was smart, beautiful, snarky, and also a badass. Great.

You always looked forward to interacting with the aviators, but it was different with him. It made you giddy. And you often had to remind yourself to be professional.

Annoyingly, thoughts of him would often cut into your personal life. At the gym, you motivated yourself with memories of him doing push-ups with his fellow flyers on the concrete. Sweaty and tired but still determined, and God damned resilient. With your friends, you'd re-told some of you work stories, which mostly involved him. And when you were by yourself...

That aside, you two had even made great progress on your project to improve the laser systems. In fact, the day of the bird strike, Bob was testing out a new fix you two had come up with.

Now, it had been destroyed along with the rest of the plane. And what's worse, you were pretty sure what you did next was going to hurt him even more

Because that evening, after you dried your tears in the bathroom and got your breathing under control, you requested to be reassigned from working with Bob on the project.

☆☆☆☆☆

You went through the next few days on autopilot, burying yourself in your work. Your new projects were dull, but dull meant safe. Your coworkers helped. They joked, they complained, they distracted you. They left at reasonable hours.

The aviators were all back at the academy, too busy pushing their bodies past the edge of human capability. Their breaks were short, their evenings longer. You barely passed them in the halls, and you were grateful for it.

Occasionally, the uncomfortable conversation you'd had with Bob would replay in your head.

On the day he was discharged from the Military Hospital, it was 18:05 when Bob strode through the metal doors of the hangar. Boots, cargo pants, white shirt — the usual. He carried his tablet under one arm, his dog tags tapping softly against his chest.

“We lost the prototype with the last jet, so we’re back to square one,” he said as he walked up to your table. "We gotta move fast to catch up—"

He paused.

You were perched on the edge of the desk, your work bag at your side. Not unusual in itself — end of the day and all — but you weren’t unpacking, rearranging, or reviewing notes. You were just sitting there. Like you were done.

His expression shifted. "Are you going somewhere?"

You stood, shouldering your bag. Just say it, you told yourself. Be professional. Clean cut.

"Lieutenant," you said, voice steady, "it’s been an honor working with you. But I’m stepping away from the project."

He blinked. "...Can I ask why?"

You hesitated. He was waiting — not with anger or even with disappointment, just that open Bob-ness that made it worse somehow. So trusting.

"I’m just not interested in the project anymore," you said quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

There was a beat of silence.

"That’s… sudden," he said slowly.

You looked away.

Then, he spoke up softly. "Was it something I did?"

Your stomach twisted. "No," you answered too fast. "Not at all. It’s not you."

"I thought we worked well together," he said, softer now. "Didn’t we?"

"We did." You adjusted the strap on your shoulder. "This isn’t personal. I just… want to try something else."

He nodded, but not like someone who believed you. More like someone who was trying really hard not to push.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat and standing straighter. "Good luck with whatever’s next."

You nodded and offered a tight smile. "You too."

You'd jerk back and shake your head as if trying to force the thought away willingly.

☆☆☆☆☆

You’d stayed late in your cubicle, distracted by some calibration notes. You barely registered the footsteps in the hallway until a shadow fell over your desk.

"Hey."

You looked up.

He stood in the doorway, uniform loose on his frame, dark bags under his eyes, stubble on his chin, his dog tags still. 

Iceman's funeral was mere days ago. It had really hit the aviator's morale. The death of a legend. Someone who'd been a mentor to them.

One hand clutched the strap of his bag like it was the only thing grounding him.

"I’m flying out tomorrow," he said.

You blinked. " …you were picked."

An unsettling feeling began to grow in your stomach. Either anxiety. Or fear for his safety. You weren't sure at the moment.

"Phoenix and I." He nodded. "With Mav."

"Congratulations." Your throat closed. You set your pen down, bracing your hands on the desk to stop their tremble. "Who else?"

"Rooster. Payback. Fanboy."

You nodded slowly.

Then, your voice caught as you said. "Be careful."

He didn't react. Almost as if deliberately. At first, it looked like he was ready to leave, but then his gaze was back on you.

"You know," He took a small step forward. "I asked Phoenix and Hangman about you."

You raised your brow, unsure where he was going with that.

He took another step, coming closer. "Figured maybe you needed space. But… turns out they haven’t heard from you either. None of us have."

You backed up just a little until the edge of the desk pressed into your hip. "You were all busy."

"Oh, we’d have made time." He paused — not hurt, just searching. The rest of his sentence was implied in his furrowed brow. And you know it.

It was true. Being one of the youngest recruits, you were closer in age with the mission candidates and have grown quite close with all of them through your work. And you've been avoiding them like the plague in hopes you wouldn't have to see any of them possibly die...

"See…" Bob cleared his throat. "I was going crazy, trying to figure out what I did wrong. Thought maybe I’d said something. Maybe come off too strong."

You didn’t allow yourself to speak. How could you explain leaving them in a way that didn't make you sound childish?

"I saw you nearly die and it fucked me up. But since you do this for a living and something... worse could happen, I'm scared of what it would do to me, so the less we interact the better."

Yeah, good luck with that.

His voice softened. "And then I realized. It was that day. Wasn’t it?"

You inhaled sharply, eyes stinging.

He stepped closer. Not enough to crowd you, but enough to make you feel him. "The crash."

You looked down. "You nearly died, Bob."

"But we didn’t."

"But you still could have!" Your voice cracked. "And what if you... don't walk away next time?"

His tone lowered, serious. "That’s the job."

"Well, I don’t do what you do!" You sniffled. "I haven’t had friends die mid-air or disappear off the radar. I'm not used to this. I'm not wired for it. And hearing you drop like that—seeing what was left of the plane... if you were still inside—"

You choked on the next words, eyes blurry now. "I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know it’d hit me like that."

He took another step. "So you left?"

"Wouldn't you? I mean—wouldn’t anyone?"

You found yourself wondering this to no end for the past says.

"And you lied." his voice was hurt now.

You flinched.

But he didn't fill the silence, waiting for you to speak.

"I didn’t want to tell you because…" you swallowed. "Because if I said it out loud, it’d mean I couldn’t handle it. That I’m not strong enough for this. For any of this.”

That I don't belong here. At the job I've dreamed of since I first picked up a physics textbook back in elementary school.

Silence. A breathless, raw silence that pulsed between you like static.

Deep, beautiful brown eyes searched your face. He was so close bow. "You think I don’t get scared too?"

You swallowed hard. 

His hand brushed your cheek. Barely there. And still, you felt it like lightning.

He leaned in — close enough you could see the pale gold of his lashes that brushed his cheeks.

Then he stopped. Right there. Inches away. His breath uneven.

"I want to," he whispered.

Your breath caught. You looked up at him, eyes glossy. For a second, he leaned in — the moment hanging in the air like a held breath.

Your eyes held his, steady now.

The words were on the tip of your tongue.

If you're going to kiss me... you'd better come back.

He hesitated, then stepped back. A full, aching step. "This isn't right."

Your chest squeezed. He was walking away and taking his warmth with him and what if he wasn't coming back.

Timidly, your hands moved from their place behind you and grasped as his uniform, and you brought your lips to his.

He gasped. The soft intake of hair brushing your lips. Then his arms wrapped around your waste and tightened, pulling you into himself.

He deepened the kiss. Lips possessive over yours, brushing in a slow but powerful movement that barely gave you a chance to take a breath as he took a step forward. Your back was against your desk.

Capable hands brushed over your body, as if memorizing it.

You wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were. What if this was the first and last time?

Sometimes, his timid demeanors made it easy to forget he was an battle-hardened soldier, a fact that was very evident now by the way he lifted you up with ease and held you like you weighed nothing.

He groaned against your mouth, his glasses brushing your nose.

"Its not fair to do this." His tone was quiet but hard.

With a sinking feeling, you nodded, agreeing. But as your harms began to lower from around his neck, he began to kiss down your throat, not as keen on stopping as you thought he was. Each brush of his lips or his tongue on your sensitive neck sent you gasping arching into him.

Thank god you'd stayed late and most people had gone home for the day.

Your fingers curled into his dirty blonde locks, also attempting to memorize the feel of him.

"M-maybe we should stop?" You stammered.

"Yeah," he nodded, though his fingers were undoing the buttons of your long-sleeved shirt, pulling it out of your skirt. "After, we'll stop."

You couldn't help but giggle, then shudder against the cold air hitting your skin all at once. He gently pushed you to lay down with your back to the desk.

Most of your shirt was still mostly on, only open at the front. His movement was slow and deliberate, lowering your bra straps and cups like he was disassembling a machine. Then he took your breasts in his hands and rolled his thumbs over your nipples.

Your breath caught as pleasure shot through your beasts and you moaned before your could stop yourself. He lowered his mouth on yours to remind you to be quiet.

You felt one of his hands travel down from your breast to the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, making you shake. He pulled your panties aside and slid his finger into your heat.

"Oh fuck," he was struggling to keep quiet too.

You could feel how slick you were, how easily he could slide his digit in and around your pussy, spreading your slick around and over your clit.

You looked up at him, as your chest still rose and fell with his stimulation of your left nipple. Bob had his lower lip between his teeth, eyes scanning your face and body, committing them to memory.

Then he lowered to his knees. Your hand flew to cover your mouth as you felt his tongue join his fingers.

"Nhn!"

You were getting very close.

His mouth began to move your your folds. Kissing you, licking, sucking your clit. He added another finger inside you, curving and making you buck your hips.

Your hands grasped the edge of your desk. Everything he was doing was sending waves of pleasure through your body. Palm still over your mouth, you bit your finger to stop the moans slipping out.

Then, as if he sensed you were there, he sped up his mouth and fingers.

Oh god.

You couldn't stop panting loudly as you reached your orgasm. Hips shuddering and bucking against him, you fingers grasped hus hair, needing him closer.

His mouth was on you throughout. Still leaving slow, gentle kisses on your poor, sensitive cunt as you came down from the high.

Standing up, he cupped the nape of your neck and brought you up to taste yourself on his lips.

He kissed you for a long time. You don't know how long.

"I had to." He said against your mouth. "I had to know what you tasted like."

The words made your breath catch. "Promise me you'll come back," your voice broke.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck. "I can’t promise that," his voice barely audible in your ear.

You nodded, even though it cracked something in you.

Bob lingered in the doorway. Just before he turned, he looked back over his shoulder.

"Oh — by the way… the laser nav works perfectly." A faint smile. "We fixed it."

And then he was gone.

☆☆☆☆☆

[sargebarnesx]

Red Hot 🍒

Pairing: Bob Floyd x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Smut with some plot. Two horny humans with crushes that take over their entire existence. Bob Floyd is lowkey obsessed but so is she.

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Bob Floyd can’t stop thinking about the bartender with the cherry red nails. Little does he know, she can’t stop thinking about him either.

Author’s Note: I’ve been in love with Lewis Pullman since 2022 and have been watching/rewatching his entire filmography after seeing Thunderbolts* last month. However, this is my first time writing Bob Floyd so hopefully it’s not too ooc. I wrote him as I interpreted him, so probably a mix of canon and headcanon. Also, I wrote this on my phone and proofread it like 5 times but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are still some mistakes. Hope y’all enjoy! (Banner photos are from Pinterest)

Bob Floyd was usually very level-headed. He didn’t get hung up on trivial things. He was by the book - a master of military precision. But Bob Floyd was also very observant. And right now, he was quietly observing the bartender from across the room at The Hard Deck.

Her nails were painted a bright cherry red, and they flashed through a sea of beige, green, and navy blue every time she poured a drink or grabbed a beer. Hell, he kept replaying the image of her fingers curled around the neck of the beer bottle she’d handed him twenty minutes ago. She had some length to them, and he wondered how they’d feel running over his scalp - or down his chest.

Bob was a respectful man, but God, did he want to do disrespectful things with her. Honestly, he’d been spending time daydreaming about how that cherry red nail polish would look wrapped around his cock.

He’d met her on his first night in San Diego. She was a vision behind the bar - constantly moving, talking, laughing. He was amazed at how personable she was. And when she leaned over the bar and gazed at him with her beautiful eyes, he nearly fell to his knees right then and there.

“What can I getcha?” she’d asked in an easy tone, a smile playing on her lips as she took in his appearance. He blended in, the same beige uniform as his squadmates, but she looked at him like he was the only person in the bar.

He’d dreamt of her that night.

In the weeks following, she’d gotten to know him in ways that surprised him. Bob would mention a flight objective in passing one night, and the next time he walked into The Hard Deck, she’d ask how it went. She remembered his favorite beer and always made sure he had peanuts to snack on. She saw things in him he hadn’t realized he let show - and it made him feel things.

Now, he was staring. She was working, and he was just sitting there, staring.

“God, Floyd. Such a creep,” he muttered. “Get ahold of yourself.”

She looked at him then, with that same heart-stopping smile she’d given him the first night. He smiled back, feeling like his heart might flutter out of his chest.

Could he ask her out? Would she feel backed into a corner? He thought they’d grown close, and she knew him well enough to know he wasn’t trying to make her uncomfortable. But he’d hate for her to feel taken advantage of.

“You gonna come say hi, or just keep staring?”

Suddenly, she was right in front of him - looking particularly delectable in a pair of tight jeans and a black tee. His eyes dropped to his lap, and he chuckled.

“Sorry, I-I was just lost in thought,” he explained, looking up at her. He propped his leg up on the bottom rung of his stool to keep from bouncing it nervously.

“Thinking?” she asked. “Do tell, Lieutenant Floyd. You know I love hearing about the inner workings of your mind.”

She was smirking, and Bob could feel his skin heating under his collar. He just needed to be honest, be bold. And hope he didn’t ruin everything before it had even really started.

“I was actually wondering if maybe… maybe you’d want to get dinner sometime?” He rushed through the last few words, pushing them out in one breath, afraid he’d chicken out if he didn’t.

She looked at him for a moment, then cocked her hip.

“Bobby… you wanna take me to dinner?” she asked, tone light and borderline flirtatious.

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he said coolly, popping a peanut in his mouth as he watched her.

“How about Friday?” she suggested, flipping her hair to one side.

He watched it fall in a sheet over her chest. She was actually saying yes?

“Friday. Um-Friday actually sounds perfect.”

She smiled again. God, she was going to kill him.

She pulled a pen from her back pocket and leaned toward him, scrawling a number onto the napkin under his beer. Up close, he could smell her perfume - light, airy, an absolutely intoxicating vanilla.

“Text me for my address. Seven p.m. alright?”

Bob nodded, eyes following her as she took the napkin, folded it in half, and slid it into his breast pocket. He shivered as her nails lightly traced over his chest, trying not to let her see the tiny cartoon hearts no doubt bursting out of his pupils.

She gave his shoulder a light squeeze and turned to walk away.

“Alright, Bobby,” she called over her shoulder. “See you Friday.”

Bob raised his hand in goodbye, then pressed it over his heart. He had her number on a bar napkin in his pocket. He was taking her out on Friday.

Life was good.

**********

Friday came quickly - much to Bob’s delight.

His week on base had been a slow one, giving him plenty of time to imagine how the dinner date would go. What she was going to wear. What he was going to wear. Should he bring her flowers?

His grandpa once told him he brought his grandma a bouquet every time they went out. Bob made a mental note to stop by the florist on the way to her apartment that evening.

He’d landed on a simple button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and a pair of khaki pants. Instead of the fully gelled hair he wore to work every day, he let his natural curl come through. She’d noticed it once when he stopped in the bar on a day off and called him “cute” - which just about made him combust on the spot. He wasn’t sure he’d ever blushed so hard in his life.

Bob thought about that moment on the way to her apartment, a bouquet of daisies wrapped in kraft paper crinkling beside him. He had a lot of specific memories that made their rounds in his daydreams - when she called him cute, when she came to work with her hair piled on top of her head and no makeup on, when she leaned over the bar in a little black tank top and he caught a glimpse of the most perfect skin he’d ever seen.

He knew the moments he’d have with her tonight, especially with those red nails, would be added to the rotation soon enough.

He pulled up outside her apartment at exactly 6:56 and flipped down his visor. He cleaned his glasses, brushed a rogue curl off his forehead, and checked his teeth before grabbing the flowers and heading to her door. By 6:59 he was ringing the bell, and by 7:00, when the door swung open, he was pretty sure his heart stopped beating momentarily.

She was standing there in a white linen dress decorated with little red flowers. It hugged her figure perfectly, showing off the swell of her breasts, the slope of her waist, and the curve of her hips before stopping mid-thigh. Her legs looked soft and smooth, and she wore a pair of white sandals to complete the look.

Bob had never seen anyone look more beautiful in his life.

“Hi,” she said softly, a smile gracing her features. “Those pretty flowers for me?”

Bob opened and closed his mouth twice before finally speaking. “Um, yes. I got them for you.” He held them out, and she took them. “You look-I mean, damn, you look beautiful.”

“You look pretty damn good yourself, Bobby. Thank you for the flowers,” she said, pushing the door open a bit more and gesturing for him to come in. “Let me just put these in some water, and we can get out of here.”

Bob watched her as she filled an old spaghetti sauce jar and gave the stems a quick trim. She placed them on her kitchen island.

“There,” she said. “Gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Bob whispered. “Gorgeous.”

**********

Dinner was going so well that Bob thought he might propose by the end of the night.

He already knew from their conversations at The Hard Deck that she was intelligent, funny, and flirtatious. But tonight, she was all that and more. They had deep conversations, ones that almost felt too meaningful for a first date.

She wanted Bob to describe the feeling of flying, since she’d never been on a plane. She watched with wide eyes as he waxed poetic about being in a jet, describing the feeling of weightlessness he experienced every time he was among the clouds.

He asked about her dreams and aspirations. She told him her biggest dream was simply to live comfortably, surrounded by the love of a family she could call her own. She wanted to travel eventually, but admitted she was too scared to get on a plane, so she’d need a willing road trip buddy.

He’d given her a look then, as if to say you’re lookin’ at him. She laughed, and he smiled. He realized in that moment he never wanted to stop making her laugh.

Her delicate fingers traced the rim of her wine glass, practically putting a spell on him as he watched the cherry red tips circle.

“Pretty nails,” he murmured after a sip of his own wine.

She lifted her hand. “Oh, thank you. Red is my favorite color.”

Bob gently placed his glass down. “Noted,” he said, tapping his temple.

She giggled.

“Filing it away for later?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Bob said with a laugh. “Adding it to your file as we speak. Hoping you’ll also mention your favorite flower and favorite candy while we’re at it.”

She smirked. The alcohol had him feeling bolder than usual, clearly. She knew he was on the shy side, and she didn’t mind, but she had always been curious about the Bob she saw around his squad: laughing, cracking jokes, sometimes sitting on the outskirts, but never an outsider.

“Daisies,” she replied. “And Reese’s Cups.”

Bob nodded twice. “Good to know, good to know,” he chuckled.

She looked at him then - truly studied him, from the slight curl of his hair to the pure blue of his eyes behind the wire frames of his glasses, to his strong jawline, broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest. She wondered if he had any idea how gone she was for him, how much she always looked forward to seeing him at the bar.

“So, when do I get to learn all of your deep, dark secrets?” she teased, finishing her glass of wine. Bob was placing his credit card on the table, and the waitress grabbed it as she skirted by.

“I think… maybe our second date?” Bob suggested.

She reached for his hand across the table and wrapped her fingers around it.

“A second date sounds perfect.”

**********

She kept her hand in his the entire ride back to her apartment.

Bob was, honestly, sweating. He wanted to kiss her. God, he wanted that more than anything. He didn’t want to be presumptuous, but the way she’d looked at him across the table had him thinking that maybe she wanted it too.

“I had a really great time tonight,” she said from the passenger seat, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Oh, me too. A great time,” Bob replied, giving her a quick glance before training his eyes back on the road. When they pulled into her apartment complex, he threw the car in park. He jogged around to her side to help her out, and she took his hand.

“You know, Bobby, you’re kinda full of surprises,” she said once they reached her door.

Bob chuckled, knitting his eyebrows together. “Really? I feel like I’m pretty black and white.”

She faced him, clasping her hands behind his neck. Bob’s heart was beating like he’d just finished running a marathon.

“I think you’re the whole package. Smart, hilarious, hardworking…” She traced a finger down his chest. “And sexy as hell.”

Bob gulped as she looked up at him.

“You think so?” he asked, his voice thick with anticipation.

She nodded. “I’ve thought that ever since the first day we met.”

Bob let out a deep breath. “Wow, I-“

She cut him off with a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Before he could speak, before he could even breathe, she pressed her lips to his, and he was sure his knees were about to give out.

When she pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve been thinking about that for months,” he murmured.

She didn’t answer - just nodded.

Then she said something that rocked his entire world:

“Wanna come in?”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands finding her hips and pulling her flush against him. She let out a surprised sound, low in her throat. Her hands tightened around his neck, playing with his hair.

“Is that a yes?” she asked against his lips.

Bob chuckled. “It’s a resounding yes.”

She fidgeted with her keys then, struggling to get one into the lock. She took a deep breath, and Bob smirked behind her. She was slightly nervous, maybe even flustered, just like him.

“You got it?” he asked, glancing over her shoulder as the key slid into the hole and she pushed the door open.

She turned back to him, fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him over the threshold. His hands found her hips again, but he noticed a slight shift in her expression.

“Hey, hey, is everything alright?” he asked softly, his hands moving from her hips to her waist.

She pressed her hands against his chest, her nails lightly biting into him.

“I just don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to move too fast, you know?” she said. “I’ve liked you for so long, and I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.”

Bob couldn’t help but smile at her. The corners of her mouth twitched up in her own smile after that.

“You could never ruin this for me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her mouth before moving his lips to her jaw. He kissed up her jawline to her ear. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he admitted.

Her cheeks burned pink under the low light. She dug her nails deeper into his chest before moving her hands to the buttons on his shirt. She started to pop them open, one by one, with those cherry red nails. Bob slid his hands down her hips, his fingertips skimming her thighs.

“God, this dress…” he groaned, looking down at her.

“You like it?” she asked as she reached the final button and pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

The thin tank top he wore underneath hugged his body in a way that made her breath catch. She could see the lines of his muscles through it and couldn’t wait to touch him.

“I love it,” he said, gripping the fabric at her hips and exposing the bottom of her ass. He slid his hands underneath, cupping her cheeks and giving them a squeeze. “The red matches your nails.”

He begrudgingly moved his hands to pull his shirt off the rest of the way. She watched him, her eyes trained on his biceps. She then traced the veins on his forearms.

“This…” she murmured, not meeting his eye. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” he asked, flexing his hands.

She nodded, gripping the bottom of his tank top. He sucked in a breath when he finally felt her fingertips against his bare skin.

“Do you know how sexy you are, Bobby?”

She pulled his tank top off, immediately attaching her lips to his collarbone. Bob couldn’t help but moan - this was something he’d played over and over in his mind while fisting his hard cock in the shower. And now that it was actually happening? He felt like his body was on fire.

Before he knew it, her hands were popping open the button on his khakis and pulling the zipper down. When she squeezed him, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. He sank his teeth into her bottom lip, and the whimper she let out went straight to his dick.

“Baby, that feels so good,” he whined, his hips bucking into her hand. “I want you naked. I’ve been dreaming about it… about you.”

She laughed then - not at him, but at the sheer fact that they’d both wanted each other so badly for so long, yet continued to dance around it like it could never happen.

“Take me to bed, Lieutenant Floyd.”

They stumbled through her apartment until she took him by the arm and pulled him into her bedroom. The smell of her perfume was overwhelming by that point, and her room felt warm, like her.

His pants hit the floor, and his hand found the zipper on the back of her dress, pressed against her spine. As he pulled it down, she kissed his chest and dragged her nails over his nipples. Goosebumps rose across his skin, and his cock jerked when her dress joined his pants on the carpet.

She wasn’t wearing lingerie, but the soft cotton panties and matching bra were doing things to him he couldn’t describe.

“I wasn’t expecting this. You, wanting me,” he admitted, his knuckles skimming over her breasts. Her chest heaved as she pulled him closer.

“Why not? I thought I made my interest very clear,” she said, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Maybe you did,” Bob replied, looking down at her. “But I didn’t pick up on it at all.”

“Well,” she said, smirking, “now you know.”

She dropped to her knees. Her nose brushed against the bulge in his boxer briefs, her red nails popping against the black fabric as she peeled them down his thighs. And then it happened.

Those fingers, fingers he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for the last two weeks, wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, and he saw her head snap up at him in surprise. She gave a small smile as she twisted her fist around him, dragging it from base to tip. When she took him in her mouth, he was sure he’d ascended to heaven.

His hand flew to the back of her head, fisting in her hair. His hips snapped forward, and his cock brushed the back of her throat. She watched him, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill every time she took him deeper.

“You can fuck my mouth, Bobby,” she said. “If you want to.”

He looked down at her - mascara running, lips glistening, his cock rock-hard between them.

“I wanna fuck you,” he murmured. “Wanna see that body.”

She stood up, her arms twisting behind her back to unhook her bra. Her panties hit the floor next, leaving her fully bare in front of him. She reached for him, taking his wrists and guiding them - placing one of his hands on her waist and the other on her breast, silently pleading for him to touch her. He leaned down and placed wet, open-mouthed kisses across her chest. Her head fell back, and she moaned softly.

“More,” she whimpered. “Please.”

Bob licked one nipple, teasing the other with his fingers. He sucked the peak into his mouth, and she arched into him. Every sound that fell from her lips made his cock ache. He craved being inside her, craved feeling just how wet he’d made her.

She pulled away from him abruptly and moved to her nightstand. He watched as she dug through the drawer and fished out a little foil packet. She handed him the condom, and he took it without taking his eyes off her.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

She smiled. “Very sure.”

She climbed onto the bed, her eyes falling to his dick as he rolled the condom on. He crawled toward her, settling between her thighs.

“I-I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admitted sheepishly, tracing his fingers down her stomach. He dipped them into her pussy, reveling in the feel of her heat wrapped around him. She squirmed beneath him as he slowly pulled his fingers in and out, pressing his thumb to her clit.

“You keep doing that,” she said, breathless, “and I won’t either.”

He circled her clit twice more before pushing his length into her. He kissed her as he did, moaning into her mouth as he bottomed out.

“God, baby…” His voice came out in a strangled whine as he fucked her. “You feel so good. So damn good, baby.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, pressing her lips to his neck as she moaned. “I like it when you call me that,” she drawled, her eyes half-open. She was tight around him, her climax building with every drag of his cock.

He lifted his head from her shoulder, and she cupped his jaw. Her thumb ran across his bottom lip, and he kissed it softly.

“So sweet,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. She used her pointer finger to gently push his glasses back up his nose.

Bob smiled. She… God, she was good. So good. Too good.

“Baby, I’m close.”

His hands gripped her thighs, and his hips snapped into her, his movements ragged.

“Keep going, Bobby. Please.”

She watched him - the way he bit his lip, the way he concentrated so hard on her pleasure before his own. She almost couldn’t believe this was her life. Lieutenant Robert Floyd, who came into The Hard Deck multiple times a week with his squad, who watched her from across the bar, who was so damn cute she practically fell in love with him over beer and peanuts, was fucking her senseless.

And then he pushed her over the edge. Her back arched off the mattress, her climax overtaking every sense. She was moaning so loudly she was sure her neighbors would file a noise complaint. But she didn’t care. All she cared about was Bob Floyd.

Once her body stopped trembling, she pushed herself up. “Wanna get on top,” she said simply. “Please.”

Bob moved immediately, rolling them over with his cock still buried inside her. She settled onto him, her hands pressed to his chest—those damn nails on display just for him.

“Gonna make you come like this, Bobby,” she whispered in his ear, gently biting his lobe. “I can’t wait to feel you come apart inside me.”

Bob squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted it to last longer, wanted her to ride him into oblivion, but he was so close. She bounced on him, and the noises that erupted from his chest surprised him. It was animalistic. It was hot. It was heavy.

He was done for.

“Baby, I’m gonna-”

He gripped her hips tightly, holding her against him as he came, his hips jutting up into her. Bob saw stars behind his eyelids; he was pretty sure his soul had just left his body.

She collapsed onto his chest, her hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his skin. She laughed.

“Bobby, that was-”

He chuckled too, taking a deep breath. “I know, I know.”

They lay next to each other on her bed, not touching, reveling in the air circulating from the ceiling fan.

“Bob?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m really glad you asked me out.”

Bob turned his head to look at her. She was on her side facing him, curled up against her pillow. He smiled.

“Me too.”

[fairydustttx]

M2M.

Bob Floyd x reader

“Maybe it’s our matching rings and that time that we kissed, I don’t understand why they never think what we do is totally platonic”

A/N: I have so many different ways I’ve wrote about this man but I can’t seem to write an enemies to lovers type story for him so here’s a lil platonicish one shot instead.

Wc: 1985

Summary: Everyone thinks you’re dating. Sometimes even you think you are but you’re just best friends. Maybe soulmates. Maybe something else. It’s complicated.

PART TWO

Bob's shoulder knocks gently into yours as you both stand in front of the ancient vending machine that lives just outside the rec room at the base.

It's midnight. The air smells like jet fuel and cold metal. You're both exhausted from the day and ready to go home with you still in your flight suit.

You groan softly hitting the vending machine with your fist, not at all impressed with the selection of snacks. "How is this stupid thing always out of the only decent chips?"

Bob leans in close to the scratched-up vending machine, the flickering light above casting a dim glow over his face. He squints at the smeared glass like it's a math equation and not a lineup of overpriced, over-salted snacks. The keypad sticks slightly as he punches in the code, the machine giving a low mechanical groan in protest.

"You say that like barbecue Lays aren't trash," he mutters, half to himself, half to you.

You shoot him a look, elbowing him hard in the side—not enough to hurt, just enough to make a point. "You have the taste buds of a sleep-deprived toddler. It's actually kind of worrying."

Bob grins, easy and boyish. "But you love me anyway."

The words hang there, soft but loud. He says them without weight, without a second thought, like they're part of some long-standing bit between you. And maybe they are. Maybe that's the problem.

Your breath catches—not audibly, not visibly, but you feel it. A pause just long enough to make it real. Your eyes flick to his face, studying it for any sign that he meant something by it, anything more than the careless comfort of familiarity.

But Bob just stands there, relaxed, like he hasn't just knocked the wind out of you. And you? You don't respond. You never do.

The machine sputters and jerks to life with a final groan, spitting out a sad bag of salt and vinegar chips like it's exhausted by the effort. The plastic packaging flops to the bottom bin with an anticlimactic thud.

You both stare down at it.

"I absolutely hate those," you mutter, nose wrinkling. The smell alone makes your mouth feel dry.

Bob shrugs, bending to retrieve the bag. His shoulders are broad under the soft gray hoodie he wears when he's too tired to care about uniform or image. He straightens, turns, and holds the chips out to you anyway, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's daring you to take them.

"Guess that makes us even."

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes on the crumpled bag in his hand. It crackles faintly as he holds it out, his fingers steady.

It would be easy to take it—say something quick and sarcastic, keep the rhythm the two of you always fall into. But tonight feels different. Off-balance in a way you can't explain.

So you don't reach out. You just say it.

"Bob, you know people think we're dating."

He pauses, caught mid-shift, the easy amusement faltering for a second. He looks at you, not surprised exactly—just waiting.

"Because of the vending machine?" he says eventually, with a hint of a smile.

"No." You exhale slowly. "Just... in general."

Bob tilts his head, like he's actually considering it. "Is it that obvious?"

You glance over at him, and he's already watching you. He's got that quiet way of looking—focused, careful. Like he never wants to make you uncomfortable, but he still wants the truth.

"Yeah," you say. "I think it is."

There's a pause. Not awkward. Just full.

"You want to correct them?" he asks.

You shift your weight, leaning back against the wall. "And say what? 'We're just... really close and maybe a little emotionally entangled but not in a romantic way, definitely not, absolutely not'?"

That makes him laugh, soft and tired. "You forgot 'definitely not sleeping together.' That part is also very important."

You smile faintly but don't laugh. It's quiet again.

He leans next to you, shoulders a careful distance away. His presence is familiar. He always has been, even when you didn't ask him to be.

The thing is, you've both had this conversation before. Not out loud. But in sidelong glances, in the way your fingers brush when you pass something between you, in the moments when you're too tired to pretend this connection doesn't run deeper than it should.

People ask all the time.

Phoenix asked once, outright, smirking across a crowded bar: "You two ever gonna admit you're disgustingly in love, or should we just start placing bets?"

Hangman's been cruder, but not entirely wrong. "No one stares at their so called 'friend' like that, Bob."

You always shut it down. "We're just close."

Bob always nods. "She's like family.”

But lately, even that doesn't sound right. Because it isn't just closeness. And you're not family—not really. You're something in between. Some unnamed liminal space neither of you dares to step out of.

Bob shifts again. "You ever wish it was easier?"

You glance sideways. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, eyes down. "I don't know. That we could either be all the way in or all the way out. Instead of... whatever this is."

You don't answer for a long moment.

Then quietly, "Sometimes."

The silence grows heavier, but it doesn't crush you. It wraps around you both, familiar, like a blanket you've grown used to sharing.

Finally, he says, "We're still okay, right?"

You meet his eyes. Honest, open, as always.

"Yeah," you say. "We're okay."

And for now, that's true.

He doesn't press the bag into your hand again. Doesn't push. Just keeps it held between you, like the answer might live there, in that space you never quite cross.

You think about stepping closer but you don't.

                   ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It happened on a Tuesday.

No alcohol. No party. No high-stakes adrenaline or moment you could pin it on later. Just two people sitting too close on a couch they'd half-fallen asleep on more times than either of them would admit. The overhead light was dim, the television humming softly in the background, casting flickers across the walls like distant lightning.

You were leaning sideways, legs curled under you, thighs brushing Bob's. He was laughing—quiet and breathless, hand half-covering his mouth the way he always did when he didn't want to laugh too loud. You'd just finished a downright horrible impression of Maverick giving a safety briefing, complete with squinted eyes and a hand gesture that didn't mean anything.

"You're gonna get us both court-martialed," Bob said, shaking his head, still laughing.

"Worth it," you murmured, grinning.

And then came the silence.

Not the awkward kind. The kind that settles between people who know each other a little too well. Who've seen each other wrecked and scared and messily human—and never looked away. The kind of quiet that says I know you and I don't need you to perform for me.

Bob turned to look at you. Just a little. But long enough and you didn't look away.

The moment wasn't big or dramatic. Just... slow. Soft. The air shifted, and suddenly your pulse was too loud in your ears. His eyes searched yours like he was looking for something he didn't quite dare to name.

And then his hand was on your jaw—tentative, warm, reverent and you didn't stop him.

The kiss was slow, unsure. The kind of kiss that starts like a question. You felt it catch low in your throat and twist somewhere deep in your chest, the kind of ache you weren't expecting. It made your skin feel too tight, your thoughts too loud. It didn't feel like crossing a line—it felt like remembering something you'd forgotten.

Bob pulled back first. Barely.

His breath caught, lips still close enough to brush yours when he spoke.

"I—"

You pressed your fingers gently to his shoulder. "Don't."

"No," he said softly. "I care about you. So much it makes my chest hurt sometimes. But...”

You nodded, even though your heart was still galloping at one hundred miles per hour. "Yeah. But."

The silence after that wasn't awkward, either. Just heavy. Full.

Bob swallowed hard. "You mean too much to me to mess it up."

You leaned your head back, eyes slipping shut for a second. "Same."

When you looked at him again, his expression was unreadable. Soft. Guarded. Like he wasn't sure what he wanted to say next, only that it would matter too much.

"You're my person," he said, almost a whisper.

A breath hitched behind your ribs. You smiled.

"Always."

                  ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The next morning, nothing was different. Not really.

He handed you your coffee like he always did—two creams, one sugar, lid already on, still warm. You slid his breakfast sandwich across the table toward him without glancing up from your phone. You both settled into the rhythm like muscle memory.

But the difference was there—in the quiet places.

When your fingers brushed reaching for the same file, you froze just a second too long. When he laughed at something you said, his gaze lingered a little more than it used to. When someone on base cracked a joke "God, you two are like an old married couple" neither of you denied it.

You just looked at each other. You smiled. He didn't look away.

No explanations. No disclaimers.

It became the truth between you, unspoken but always there.

Halo raised a brow, catching the tail end of a too-soft conversation between you and Bob during the maintenance delay. "You two sure you're not secretly married?"

You'd waved her off, sarcastic and dismissive as always. "Please. I'd eat my wings before marrying Bob Floyd."

But later, when you were walking back to your quarters, Bob had murmured, "She's not going to be last person to ask."

You knew that. Of course you did because this wasn't normal. It wasn't nothing, either.

You were each other's first call. The name saved with little stars or dumb nicknames in your phones. The person who noticed first when the other was too quiet. Too tired. On the edge.

Bob was the one who'd driven an hour and a half once just to sit in your living room when you couldn't sleep. You were the one who'd pulled him off base after a rough week and sat with him in a 24-hour diner, playing stupid songs off the jukebox until he started smiling again.

It wasn't romance.

But it wasn't friendship the way people meant it, either. It was something else.

That night on the couch still echoes between you—still sits like dust in the spaces where your fingers almost touch. You think about it sometimes when he brushes a stray hair from your face without thinking. When he falls asleep next to you on long flights, his shoulder warm against yours. When someone else flirts with him, and you feel something twist in your stomach that you pretend not to name.

You lie awake some nights, wondering what if the two of you tried?

Would you make it work? Would you ruin everything?

But you never speak the questions out loud. Neither does he and maybe that's the point.

You live in that quiet middle place. In the long glances. In the unspoken loyalty. In the way you trust each other more than anyone else without ever needing to say it.

You don't say "I love you," but it's there. In the little things. In the constant showing up. In the comfort of knowing that when everything else is falling apart, you'll always have each other.

Bob Floyd is your anchor. Your calm. Your constant.

Not a love story in the traditional sense but something real. Something lasting.

And maybe, just maybe, that's more than enough.