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bobfloydssunniess-library · 11 months ago

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i love this story so much !!!

As You Wish, Chapter 13

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, drinking, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to pregnancy, swearing, references to the hospital, references to an accident

South Trail, Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

Charlie felt a chill run down her spine as their trail group walked steadily down the beaten dirt path. Dad was in the lead, as per usual, and Abby had beaten her in a game of rock, paper, scissors in order to come second. That left Charlie third, close enough to Savannah to hear every muttered complaint and snap of her camera as she took selfies.

“Jakey!!!” Savannah cried out as they emerged from the trees onto a lookout, the ledge watching over a field full of wildflowers. “We need to stop! I need photos of this for my followers!”

Charlie stifled a giggle as she saw her dad’s head slump forwards. This was the fifth time Savannah had whined about needed a photo opportunity since they had left the ranch, approximately five hours ago.

“Savannah, I—”

“This is the last one, I promise!” she squealed, clumsily pulling her horse to a stop and sliding down her side until her suede boots touched the ground. She practically threw her phone to Jake and went to stand on the edge of the cliff.

Jake grunted as he neatly dismounted and patted Firewall on the flank. “It has to be the last one or we won’t make it to the campground before nightfall.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever,” Savannah chirped as she struck pose after pose.

Charlie and Abby both dismounted and moved off the trail to stand in the shade of the trees.

“It would be mean to scare her and hope that she falls, right?” Charlie muttered under her breath.

“Charlie!” Abby let out a scandalized gasp. “She may be awful, but we can’t wish death upon her…though I would be lying if I said that the same thought hadn’t occurred to me as well.”

Charlie slumped against the tree, watching the horses drag their reins on the ground as they stood on the trail, waiting for their riders to be done. “She’s just…the worst.”

“I know. Why would Mum insist that she come with us instead?”

“She said that she wanted Savannah to have a chance to get to know us.”

Charlie smirked. “Alright then. Let’s let her get to know us. Then maybe she’ll wish she had never met us.”

“We’re not that awful,” Abby rolled her eyes.

“I know that, and you know that, but Savannah doesn’t know that. So, let’s make her think we’re the worst. Then she won’t want to marry Dad because it would mean having to spend time with us.”

Abby grinned, her eyes trained on a spot on the ground. “I think I know exactly how to start.”

Crouching to the ground, Abby scooped up a tiny chipmunk from where it was nestled in the roots of a tree.

“Hey buddy…” she whispered. “I bet you want to see what’s in our saddlebags.”

Charlie covered her mouth to muffle the sound of her giggles as they approached Angel.

“Do it now! Savannah’s got her back to us!”

Quiet as a mouse, Abby slid open the saddlebag and slipped the chipmunk inside. “And now we wait.”

Around noon, Buttercup wandered into the kitchen from the guest bedroom. She hadn’t been lying about having to work. Her deadline was rapidly approaching, and she had been struggling quite a bit with writer’s block, so she had taken advantage of the silence of the ranch house and the beauty of the view and spent the morning writing her heart out. Twenty pages later, and her groove had been interrupted by the grumble of her stomach. So, she saved her work and, slowly as to admire the pictures and paintings on the walls of her ex-husband’s home, she wandered out of her writing cave and into the kitchen, where she was faced with a sweaty Rooster.

“Oh…hey.”

He grunted at her as he dug through the fridge. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Technically, I’m in your way, since this is your home so…don’t worry about it.” All she received in return was another grunt, and she sighed. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you were against our divorce since the beginning, I know you hated the custody arrangement, and I know you blame me for moving to a different continent, but Rooster…” she sniffled. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of them for me, when I wasn’t here…when I wasn’t strong enough to do it myself.”

She watched as Rooster sighed, his head hanging between his shoulders before he slammed the fridge door shut and turned towards her.

“Listen, it isn’t your fault. You were sick. I remember my mom talking about how she got sick after havin’ me, and…and shit, Buttercup, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. And it didn’t help that we kept getting deployed. You were goin’ through it and none of us could see it. I know you fought like hell, and so does he. I just—”

“You know what its like to not have a dad around, so you wish things had been different for Abby. And you know what its like to not have a mom around, so you wish things had been different for Charlie. Right?”

He blinked at her. “Get your ass outta my head.”

She chuckled before the mood settled around them, still slightly somber.

“I should’ve been able to handle it,” she whispered, and Rooster sighed, leaning back against the fridge.

“Hangman should’ve been able to handle it too,” he shrugged. “I know I was pissed off at you for putting yourself first, and it wasn’t fair. I was more worried about how the divorce would affect the team dynamic, instead of worrying about how the divorce would affect you. But he screwed up too. He should’ve put you first, not the team. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Buttercup blinked up at him and he shrugged. “I started going to therapy after a bar fight when Charlie was like 2. Court mandated, but it helped. I let a lot of shit go.”

“Good for you,” she smiled. “I am grateful that they had you and Javy to lean on, you know. I’m not just trying to get back on your good side.”

“I know,” he shrugged and turned his back to her. “What do you want for lunch? I could hear your stomach grumbling from my room.”

She grinned and sat at the counter. “I imagine asking you for a salad wouldn’t fly?”

He scoffed without turning his back. “We eat healthy in this house, but we don’t eat rabbit food. What do you really want for lunch?”

She giggled. “What about taco salad?”

He turned and pointed at her. “Now that’s a damn good idea.”

It couldn’t have gone better if they had trained the chipmunk themselves. They had remounted and strolled along the trail for another fifteen minutes before Savannah started pawing at the saddlebag, looking for her oversized, bright pink water bottle. She was able to pry open the clasp of the bag and stick her hand inside. And then it happened…

The chipmunk launched into action, racing up her arm before Savannah could even realize what was happening and landed on her shoulder. Savannah freaked out, screaming and shaking her arm to try to dislodge it. Sweet Angel picked up on her rider’s anxious movements and started trotting down the trail, shaking her head this way and that.

Charlie and Abby watched from the rear as the chipmunk disappeared under the hem of Savannah’s designer t-shirt, Savannah screaming as the rodent searched for an escape. Angel reared up and Savannah clung to her neck. Both girls turned their heads to hide their giggles as their dad scooped the reins out of Savannah’s hands and gently pulled Angel back to the ground, soothing her in a calm voice. The chipmunk finally found an escape through the arm of her flannel, and leapt from Angel’s back to a nearby tree.

“Oh my goodness, Savannah!” Abby called, urging her horse forward. “Are you alright?”

“That was crazy!” Charlie gasped, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

She glared suspiciously at them but said, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Jake tied Angel’s reins to Firewall’s saddle and turned back to look at them. “We’re going to head to the campground now, okay, Charlie?”

Both girls gave him a thumbs up and he rolled his eyes. When he turned back to face forward, they leaned over and high-fived each other. Neither the chipmunk nor Angel had been hurt, but Savannah screams had been absolutely hilarious. Perhaps their dad suspected them (he knew enough about the great outdoors to know that a chipmunk wouldn’t just materialize inside a closed saddlebag), but perhaps their little prank had allowed their father to see a different side of Savannah.

Lunch with Rooster had been good. The taco salad he had whipped up had been absolutely delicious, the ground beef perfectly spiced, and the spinach base had been simple but brilliant. More than that though had been their conversation. He had filled her in on so much of Charlie’s life (and Jake’s life as well, since it was so tightly woven with Charlie’s). She had always known that Jake would be a brilliant father, but some of the stories that Rooster had shared with her had her torn between laughter and tears. The antics her husband and her youngest daughter had gotten up to were bittersweet to hear about. In her mind’s eye, she could see them happening. She could see Jake flying toddler Charlie over his head, could hear her phantom cries as he gathered her 8-year-old body in his arms and carried her to the car, her arm bent at a painful angle.

As she strolled along the gravel path towards the dude cabins, she could practically see the phantom figures of her family as they lived and grew here. Knowing she had missed so much of Charlie’s life here, she regretted her decision to stay behind on the trail ride, but she hoped that Savannah would be able to make a better impression on her daughters than she had made on her.

“Honestly…” she muttered as she approached Cabin 1, where her brother and Natasha were staying. “What kind of woman doesn’t want to write her own wedding vows?” She sighed and climbed up the few stairs to the porch. “And what kind of sadistic bullshit is it to ask your future husband’s ex-wife to write the vows for you?”

She shook off the question as she knocked on the door. It had obviously been some sort of territorial claim from Savannah, trying to show Buttercup that he was hers now, but Buttercup had no doubt about that. She’d hurt Jake too badly for things to ever go back to the simple, fun, and loving way it had been before.

Natasha threw open the door and groaned. “Thank god it’s you.”

She chuckled and entered the cozy, modern cabin. “Who did you think it was?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the comfy leather couch. “Javy. He keeps trying to come and talk to me.” Her friend shuddered dramatically.

Buttercup considered her carefully as she lowered onto the other side of the couch. “What’s the deal with you two? I thought Jake was the one you hated.”

Nat sighed and buried the scarred side of her face in the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Buttercup took the pillow from behind her and whacked her friend with it. “C’mon! You’re acting like he killed your dog or something!”

Nat snatched the pillow and tossed it back at her. “Why’re you being so pushy, bitch?”

“Because you and Javy have been at each other’s throats since we got here, and I had to kick you out of dinner last night before either of you said or did something inappropriate in front of my children. And I hated doing that.”

Natasha let out a low whine as she tried to bury herself deeper in the couch. “Sorry…I promise I won’t call him a self-important bastard in front of your children.”

Buttercup barked a laugh and cuddled down into her seat. “But why would you call him that? It’s so weird! I honestly thought you two were into each other back in the day.” Natasha shifted so that her back was towards her friend, and Buttercup read it all in the tense line of her back. “Oh my god, you were into him!”

“Shut up…” Natasha grumbled. “He was into me too.”

“Were you two hooking up?”

Natasha rolled to look at her again. “Yeah. For a couple of months. Whenever we were both at Top Gun.”

Buttercup squealed and crawled across the couch so that she was right next to Natasha. “I knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha grumbled, pushing her off.

“So, what happened? Bad breakup? You act like you want to kill him.”

Natasha groaned. “No, it wasn’t a bad breakup. It wasn’t a real relationship.”

“Did he want it to be?”

Natasha buried her head in the pillow. “Yeah…he wanted to make it official after that last deployment. We fought about it a lot. I didn’t want to risk it because…” Natasha paused and looked guiltily over at her.

“Because?” Buttercup prompted gently, having a sneaking suspicion that she knew where this was going.

“Because I saw how messed up you were after the divorce,” Natasha admitted. “Our jobs are–were–risky enough without being in a relationship. And if our relationship fell apart the way yours and Jake’s did?” She sighed. “I told him no, but he wouldn’t let it go. Then there was the crash, and he came to visit me in the hospital and…” Natasha’s fingers clenched into fists. “He told me he would ‘take care of me’. That he felt like it was time to retire and that he would stay with me and that it would all be okay.”

“And that’s…bad?” Buttercup leaned back, confused. “He cared and wanted to help you? Why is that a bad thing?”

Natasha shuddered. “I couldn’t stand him looking at me with all that pity. And besides, why did he retire? He had the best job in the whole damn world and he willingly gave it up? Are you kidding me? They all gave it up! I mean, okay, Bob makes sense because he wanted to help you but why the hell would the rest of them give it up? Fucking idiots.”

Buttercup bit her lip. A decade of living with the other woman told her that trying to talk to Natasha when she was this fired up would be like trying to draw blood from a stone. So instead, she said, “Where is Bob, anyway?”

Natasha shrugged. “He got a phone call and went for a walk.”

“What is up with him and these phone calls?” Buttercup mused as she folded her legs beneath her.

“No clue. But what is with you deciding to stay back and let Cowgirl Barbie go on the trail ride with your girls and your man?”

Buttercup grumbled at her. “He’s not my man, and you know it.”

“Does he know that?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Of course he does! He’s marrying Savannah, remember?”

Nat rolled her eyes and rolled off the couch before padding into the kitchen. “Of course I remember. That’s why I’m going to get wine. We’re going to need it.”

By the time they reached the campground, Abby was half convinced that Savannah had never been on a horse before. Even though she kept telling stories about her championship barrel racer back on her own ranch, poor Angel kept tossing her head at the confusing signals that her rider kept giving her. Charlie was fully confused. She’d done barrel racing before and the way Savannah was describing it, she knew she had never done it in her life. Her stories about shopping, drinking wine, and winning Miss Texas however, Charlie completely believed. No one could sound so excited about boring adult things if they hadn’t actually done them.

Luckily, they wouldn’t have to share a tent with her. That had been a stipulation of her joining them. Her own tent. Not even shared with their father, just her. Luckily, Jake had packed a hammock that he had already strung up between two sturdy trees for himself, leaving the other tent for his daughters.

All three Seresin’s watched Savannah as she primped in front of her cellphone camera, taking selfies of herself near the lake they were camping by. Jake shook his head with a sigh as he finished setting up her tent and stretched.

“What do we think about a dip in the lake before dinner?” he asked the girls, a wild grin on his face.

Both nodded eagerly and bolted into their tent to pull their swimsuits on.

“Did you bring it?” Charlie whispered, and Abby nodded, pulling out a packet from her backpack.

“Uncle Roo gave it to me and I tucked it away for safe keeping,” Abby replied. “You distract Dad, and I’ll make sure it reaches our target.”

“Deal.”

Both girls quickly changed and headed out of the tent.

“Dad!” Charlie called. Jake turned from where he was talking to Savannah, his hands soothingly rubbing her shoulders as she scowled at him. “Can you help me put sun block on my shoulders? Mom would kill me if I came back burned.”

Jake grinned. “She’d kill me first,” he called back, turning from Savannah and strolling over to Charlie.

Jake sufficiently distracted, Abby snuck into Savannah’s tent and ripped open her packet. She sprinkled the contents everywhere. In her sleeping bag, in her clothes, on her hairbrush, in her shoes, and definitely on the inside of her hat.

With a wicked grin, Abby crumpled up the evidence and crept back to her tent to hide it in her backpack. She emerged just in time for Jake to finish lathering her sister with sun block, the two of them turning to her.

“My turn?” she smiled at him sweetly.

“Yeah, baby, c’mere.”

Charlie turned to Savannah, who was still trying to find the just right angle for her selfie. “Will you be joining us in the water, Savannah?”

The petite blond couldn’t hide her sneer. “I think I’ll pass, sugar, but thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Charlie shrugged. “You might want to get changed then. It’s going to start cooling off soon.”

Savannah smiled, the pull of her lips a touch too saccharine to be sincere, and said, “Thanks, honey. I’ll do that.”

As Savannah strutted into her tent, Jake joined his daughters and mussed their hair. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

He took off running, his long legs eating up the ground as his daughters squealed and sprinted after him.

By the time they emerged from the chilly water, the sun was hanging low in the Texan sky and the air had adopted a slight nip that spoke of the coming autumn. Charlie and Abby raced to get dressed in their flannel pyjamas and their thick socks. As they pulled on their matching PJs, they heard Savannah whine and swapped grins.

“I HATE THE OUTDOORS!” she shrieked. “Everything hurts, I have bruises everywhere, my hair is so frizzy, and I must’ve been bitten a thousand times because I can’t. Stop. ITCHING!”

The girls could practically hear the frustrated look on their father’s face as he faced her. “I thought you said you’d been camping before?” he asked, his voice cool under pressure.

Savannah scoffed. “Yeah, in a cabin like civilized human beings. You know, electricity and indoor plumbing? And we never rode to the cabin! We drove there.”

“Who took care of that prize winning mare of yours while you were gone?”

“The staff, as usual,” she replied as though she were talking to a small child. “They do everything for her.”

The twins could feel the rising tension even from inside the shelter of their tent. “Even ride her?”

“Duh,” Savannah giggled. “Daddy paid top dollar for her because I wanted to try barrel racing, but I hate riding, so now she just has babies that we sell. Daddy lets me keep the profit since she’s mine and all. Two of her babies paid for my month-long trip to Paris.”

Jake huffed a sigh. “And you didn’t tell me this because?”

“What does it matter?” she replied coyly, a branch cracking under her foot as she moved closer to him. “We have loads of other things in common, sugar.”

Charlie rolled her eyes at Abby before leaping out of their tent. “Dad! We’re starving! Can we get the fire going so we can eat?”

Jake nodded, his eyes still fixed on Savannah. “You two go collect some firewood, and I’ll get everything ready.”

“Savannah, you want to come?” Abby called sweetly.

Savannah grumbled, her hands scrabbling against her chest and stomach. “Why am I so damn itchy!” she shouted, stomping her foot.

Jake huffed and turned to her. “You’re probably having an allergic reaction to something. Go wash off in the lake while the girls are gone. Take the calamine lotion from in my bag and make sure you cover all your itchy areas. I’ll get you some of my clothes to wear.”

“An allergic reaction to what?” she seethed, glaring at the twins as though she knew it was their fault.

“I think Uncle Rooster might have changed our laundry detergent,” Charlie supplied, grinning at her. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe…” Savannah snarled before stalking off, the sound of her complaining drowning out the twin’s peals of laughter.

Savannah complained that the hot dogs and smores they were eating weren’t on her diet plan for the wedding, but Jake promptly shut it all down by telling her they were her only choice. Grumpy and painted pink from the calamine lotion, she slowly munched on a hot dog, grimacing with every bite.

“Dad?”

Jake grinned at Abby and nodded. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“I know you’re supposed to tell us stories around the campfire…” Jake’s confirming nod gave her the courage to finish. “Could you tell us how you proposed to Mom?”

Savannah’s eyes went wide, and she looked as if she was about to complain again, but Jake cut her a look and she quieted.

“Sure, darlin’. If that’s what you want to hear…” Jake grunted as he settled himself further into his chair, his daughters watching him from a log across the crackling fire. “Let’s see…”

The San Diego Zoo, almost 13 years ago

Jake’s palms were sweating, which was saying something. He was the only pilot of his generation who had not one, but two air to air confirmed kills under his belt. He was ice cold under pressure. Nothing made him flinch. But strolling amongst the different animal exhibits with Buttercup had his hands damp and gross, no matter how many times he wiped them on his jeans.

She was pregnant. Pregnant. With his kid. His twins. This girl that he had known for all of what? Three months? Was having his children. His Buttercup was carrying two baby Seresins, and she wasn’t shrinking from the task either. In the last month since that fateful doctor’s appointment, she had dutifully taken her vitamins and avoided all alcohol, changed up her diet, started exercising more, and all in spite of the fact that she ended up on her knees in front of his toilet every damn morning. But she hadn’t complained. Not once.

My god, how he loved her. Her spark, her sass, that fire in her eyes that challenged him in all the right ways. She was brilliant. She was perfect. And he had to make sure she didn’t wise up and take off on him. Not that he thought she would. They’d exchanged their I Love Yous within the first six weeks of dating, and he knew they rang true, could feel it in every action she took. He wanted that. No, he needed that love every single damn day until the day he died.

“Giraffes are this way, darlin’,” he chuckled as he gently tugged her arm down the correct path.

Buttercup squealed and swung their hands between them. “I freaking love giraffes!”

He shook his head playfully. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“What?” she pouted. “My boyfriend takes me to the zoo to meet the giraffes and I’m not allowed to be excited about it?”

“No, you are,” he smiled, letting go of her hand in exchange for wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s cute.”

“You said it was weird,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but a good weird. I love your weird.”

“I love your weird too.”

He blinked. “I’m not weird.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the only person I know who can name every type of military jet. In order of the year they were made.”

“Lots of pilots can do that,” he blushed.

“No they can’t, and you know it.”

“Fine, whatever,” he teased. “The giraffes are here, you weirdo.”

She squealed again and tugged him along to the meeting area, where the tour guide was waiting for them.

The whole tour of the giraffe enclosure, Jake kept a close eye on Buttercup, who was drinking in all the information, and a close eye on his pocket, where the delicate emerald ring was hidden in a velvet box.

He’d had it for over a month. Funnily enough, he had bought it three days before the doctor’s appointment that had changed their lives forever. He hadn’t asked her yet because he didn’t want her to think it was just because he’d knocked her up. But he couldn’t wait much longer. The rumor mill was churning and whispers that members of Dagger Squad were going to be deployed had spread far and wide. He was one of the few members who hadn’t deployed in a while, so he knew it was likely that his number would be up, and he wanted a ring on her finger before he left.

Finally, the tour guide led them up close to the giraffes, who were milling about the wide paddock.

“I’m going to fill their food buckets so that they’ll come closer, and you can say hi, okay?” she grinned at him and, when Buttercup was distracted, shot him a quick thumbs up. She’d done an amazing job at acting like nothing suspicious was going on, and Jake knew that he owed her one hell of a tip.

Buttercup squealed softly as the giraffes came close, and Jake peeked over his shoulder to see the zoo’s cameraman ready at the fence.

“Buttercup?” she hummed in response. “Darlin’, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, and I know I’m not the easiest man to get along with.” She hummed again, completely entranced by the gentle giant that stood in front of her. “Despite all that, I know that I love you. More than any man has ever loved another. You, me, and our babies are gonna be a family, and I would love for us all to share the same name.”

At that, Buttercup turned, her eyes filling with tears as she saw Jake on bended knee in front of her. “Jake…”

He grinned. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

She sniffled and smiled, brighter than the force of a thousand suns. “Yes. Jake, yes. Of course, I will!” She flung her arms around his neck and cried.

As Charlie listened to the story, her tear-filled eyes watched Savannah stomp away to her tent in a huff.

Morning broke, and with it, so did the silence.

Savannah shrieked and, based on the racket she was making, her tent was probably about to fall down too, if it hadn’t already.

Abby and Charlie shared a startled look and bolted from their tent. They hadn’t done anything. They figured having to listen to a romantic zoo proposal story had been enough torture for one night. But there Savannah was, screaming and shoving at her tent, which had seemingly collapsed on her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jake shouted, his boots hitting the ground as he took in the sight. “Savannah, what is wrong with you?”

“They did this!” she screamed, a pink painted nail stabbing at Abby and Charlie. “I know they did!”

“Savannah—”

“No!” she shouted, whirling on him. “I know they put that chipmunk in my saddle bag. I know they put something itchy in my clothes. And I know that they made my tent fall down on top of me!”

Abby turned to her father. “We didn’t make the tent fall, Dad. I swear!”

“You see!” Savannah shrieked. “The little demon admits it!”

“Watch it!” Jake growled, stepping in front of Abby.

Charlie bent to look at the ground in front of Savannah’s collapsed tent. “There’s hoofprints here, Dad.” She followed the tracks over to where Angel stood, her reins dragging on the ground. A thin black fiber hung out of her mouth. The exact same colour as Savannah’s tent.

“You expect me to believe that a horse collapsed my tent?” Savannah seethed.

“It looks to be that way,” Jake replied icily. “Now, you owe my girls an apology.”

“An apology?” she laughed coldly. “You heard the little brat. She only denied collapsing my tent, which means she did the other things!” Savannah sneered at her. “I know you’re the British one. I can tell a fake accent a mile away. And let me tell you this. You showing up here was the worst day of my life. I never wanted to be a stepmother! I thought maybe I could handle one kid until I could convince you to send her to boarding school, but two? No one in their right mind would want to be a stepmother to two little brats!”

Jake stepped smoothly in between them, both Abby and Charlie huddled behind him as he faced his fiancée. “Who says I would’ve sent them to boarding school? They’re my girls.”

“I am your girl!” she shrieked. “ME! M.E.! And if you want to marry me, then you have to choose! Because I’m not playing second fiddle to two little she devils anymore! Got it?”

“Then…” Jake chuckled. “I choose them.”

“Excuse me?”

“T.H.E.M? Them. I choose my girls. Got it?”

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#jake seresin x reader

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

Text

moving in | roommate!jake x reader

18+, minors dni

summary: jake needs a roommate and you need a place to live

warnings: none! posting at work (as always) so don't berate me if there are errors.

a/n: happy friday, here's my first installment!!!

“Are you Jake? I'm–” You go to introduce yourself as soon as he opens the door, but he cuts you off, glaring down at you with a pained expression on his face.

“An Eagles fan? Seriously?” Despite his facial expression, you can detect a slight playfulness in his tone. You nod, unsure of how to proceed as he steps back into the house, giving you space to walk in. Slowly, you step over the threshold and look at where he's pointing. A Dallas Cowboys hat hangs on one of the hooks in the entryway and you can't help but let out a laugh.

“Starting off strong, I see.” You smile, pushing the door closed behind you and following Jake into the main living area.

You weren't expecting the owner of the house to be so attractive. Honestly, you were just praying he wasn't some balding creep putting an ad out for a spare room in his house to hopefully attract a young, single woman . The house was just too perfect to not look into. It has three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a covered patio, and a fenced in yard. For the price he's asking, too, it's quite the steal, even if you'd be a glorified guest in his house.

Jake is definitely not balding, and doesn't raise any red flags as he shows you around the main living area.

“So, what do you do?” You ask as he guides you through the house. It's as much of an interview for him as it is for you, and you have a tendency to be way too nosy. Does he work from home? Does he work the night shift and you’ll have to hear him banging around while you’re trying to sleep? Maybe he’s some sort of top sales associate at a fancy department store and can get you discounts on shoes and bags. Maybe…

“I’m in the Navy.” He puts his hands in his pockets and watches you look around the kitchen, opening every single cabinet like you're some sort of inspector. “I work long days, and sometimes I’m gone for a couple weeks at a time. I go out with friends from time to time, and don't typically have anyone over.” You’re making him so nervous that he over answers your question. You didn’t ask if he hangs out with his friends or if he has women over. He just wants to come across as normal because you might be the best person who’s been interested thus far.

He can't say you were what he was expecting when he got the text about setting up a tour. Out of all the people interested, you were the only woman. And you're an Eagles fan.

You're pleasantly surprised to find that there aren't any paper plates or plastic cutlery, and the dishwasher is running, which means he isn't allergic to housework. Being in the military explains how pristine everything is–there’s not even one wrinkle in the curtains–but what’s all that about him never having people over? You feel like you’ve gotten the message loud and clear.

“Hmm, gotcha. No sleepovers.” You note with a smirk, closing the last cabinet and making your way past him and into the hall where the first bathroom is. A beige hand towel hangs from the towel ring and a bottle of hand soap sits by the sink. The bathroom is cleaner than your current one, but it lacks any sort of personality. This place could definitely use a woman’s touch. “How long have you lived here?”

“San Diego? A couple of years. I bought this place last year, though. I feel like I'm never home, so I figured a roommate could be good…keep the plants alive, maybe get a cat.”

“So, you're hiring someone to be your housekeeper? Except, you don’t pay them…they pay you?” You're teasing him, of course, but you can hear him huff from behind you as you climb the stairs to the second story where the bedrooms are.

“No, I jus–”

“I’m joking. I can keep a plant alive, and I love cats.” You assure him. When you reach the top of the stairs you let him in front of you, leading you to the spare bedroom. When he opens the door, though, you see that it's his bedroom. The bed is made so perfectly you aren't sure it's ever been slept in before. You give him a questioning look, but follow him inside anyway. He walks to the other side of the bed and puts his hands on his hips.

“I'm thinking…if you were to move in, you'd probably want the bedroom with the en-suite bathroom, so here it is.”

Despite your refusal of taking his bedroom and the larger bathroom that accompanies it, that's the room that Jake carries your things to when you show up with a U-Haul the next Saturday to move in.

Jake is a self-proclaimed Southern gentleman, which is why he's spending his day off helping you move in on the hottest day of the year. That, and he's been really anxious to get to know you a little better. He chose you because out of the few people who were interested, you were the most like him. Similar age and interests–even if you root for a rival team. He liked the back and forth you had during the tour, and the fact that you weren't scared to joke around with a stranger. Maybe he also doesn’t mind the way you look, but that’s beside the point. You were clearly the best option by a landslide.

“I never asked why you needed to move in so quickly.” Jake comments as he takes a bite of a sandwich, leaning against the counter. You're sitting on the kitchen island drinking a smoothie. Both of you are tired as hell and drenched in sweat–taking a break before you start unpacking.

“My roommate got engaged and kicked me out.” You let out a dry chuckle. “But I was sick of living with her. She was kind of disgusting.” Jake lets out a laugh as you have traumatic flashbacks of the things she’d leave in the kitchen sink.

“I've said it before, women–way more disgusting than men.” You narrow your eyes at his statement and extend your leg out to give him a playful kick, but he dodges it, grabbing your ankle and giving you a look.

“I've got three sisters, so you're gonna have to try a little harder than that.” He smirks before dropping your ankle. You settle back into a seated position and raise your eyebrow.

“And you still wanted to live with me? You must be a glutton for punishment.” You're grinning from ear to ear, and if you weren't his new roommate, he might do something as bold as ask you out. Maybe that was part of the reason he wanted you to move in to begin with, but now he realizes that he can't do that to you. You need a place to live, not a boyfriend.

He sighs, defeated. “Guess so.”

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me @shanimallina87

#let me be his roommate right now #jake seresin x reader

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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there's a hole where something was...

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader (its not a main focus really)

Rating: PG they make some jokes but nothing crazy

Summary: The daggers find out about a couple little secrets Bob has been keeping

Word Count: 2k

Note: This was born from me talking about fall out boy songs I think Bob would listen to and then turned into this wonderful idea after talking about it with @bobgasm and @pinkdaisies9285

I am also posting this before I can talk myself out of it because I've reread it so many times in the last few days I'm starting to hate it just a little

(I may have hidden a couple fall out boy reference into this as well)

Since the mission months ago and the daggers getting stationed closer together more often than not this meant they would meet up and get drinks together. Every night out usually ended up with tipsy games of pool or just talking about life outside work and learning things about new friends.

Somehow on this particular night out at the hard deck the topic of what everyone looked like when we were younger before their navy days had come up. Which is how we all ended up seated at the tables not far from the pool tables swapping phones around with everyone showing off pictures of them at various stages of childhood and adolescence and everyone laughing at the questionable outfit choices or bad haircuts. Slowly everyone else had their turn and had left Bob to be the last one in the usual fashion because he had hoped staying quiet would save him from having to show off his own photos. “Alright Bob you are the only one left who hasn’t shared pictures so are we gonna see you in those dorky glasses as a kid of what” Jake threw out across the tables that had been grouped together for us. “No one wants to see them, trust me they are pretty boring compared to everyone else” Bob stuttered out avoiding looking at anyone at the table. Slowly everyone started begging to see pictures and poke fun at him for now wanting to show pictures of himself saying they couldn’t be as bad as some of the others we had seen from the others tonight. Eventually, Bob decided he had enough of the teasing and pulled his phone out, unlocked it, and started scrolling. After a bit of time he seemed to pause and look up at the table and he seemed nervous like whatever he was about to show us would change something. Jake caught on that he was hesitating to show the group his phone and snatched it out of his hand, “No way this is you” he exclaimed looking at the photo causing everyone to flock around him and the phone in his hand. Suddenly everyone was freaking out and throwing questions about his hair and the piercings on his face. “Is that really an eyebrow piercing?” Phoenix asked looking at her wso, Bob shrugged not knowing how to handle everyone asking things at the same time.

The picture in question showed a younger bob with a lip ring on the left side of his mouth, a silver barbell eyebrow piercing on the right, and his hair outside his normal look with it the top being longer and dyed dark with the ends of his hair being dyed red while the sides were cut shorter. “Who knew the little wallflower had an emo phase”, Bob laughed at that knowing there were other things about him that would surprise them more like the tattoos he has hiding on his ribs and upper thigh or the 3rd piercing he’s still got but managed to keep hidden all these years. I smirked after seeing Bob’s reaction knowing exactly what he was thinking. “What else are you hiding from us?” Bradley asked, noticing both our reactions. Bob gave me a look and I just shrugged back as if to say the ‘choice is yours’. “Let’s just say those are the only piercings I got done” he replied with a smirk, Bob was just messing with them now. Natasha watched you both like she was waiting for one of you to spill exactly what it was or where it was.

The others seemed to have calmed down from the news that their quiet wso had a secret past and were now making a list of different piercings that they thought he could have. You both knew they wouldn’t guess correctly because honestly, they wouldn’t expect Bob to have his nipples pierced. Bob looked good with the lip ring and eyebrow piercing, but him shirtless covered with a little sweat showing off the little collection of tattoos on his ribs and the nipple piercings was a whole other vision to behold. The list of piercings and where they had been/are included his ears (varying types for this one), his tongue,his nose, someone suggested a belly button piercing and they didn’t seem serious about it but someone joked about having a dick piercing.

As the others broke off into little side groups dropping the discussion of what other secret their friend has, Bob took it as a chance to go get drink refills up at the bar and leave me to my own thoughts. It would be easy to show off the piercing Bob has hidden away just not in the current setting we were all in because there is no way to really do it without Bob taking his shirt off in the middle of the bar and Penny probably wouldn’t appreciate that. But since hearing the list of piercings and the theories that up from the discovery about their teammate I could stop looking the general direction of Bob’s chest and how someone hadn’t caught on to the not so subtle staring was amazing because Bob was dressed in a loose button up outside his usual casual t-shirt and some nice jeans. And since talking about him I couldn’t stop thinking about what he has hidden under his civvies and uniforms. Near me someone cleared their throat breaking me from my thoughts and making me look away from Bob while he leaned up against the bar waiting for our drinks , I looked over to see Fanboy who seemed glad to have caught me looking at Bob “any thoughts to share with the group” he asked with a grin “ these aren’t ones y’all need to know about Bob” I reply feeling a heat creep onto my face “oh having some fantasies about baby on board” Jake jokes “at least someone thinks about me like that” Bob shot back as he returned from the bar.

After that it went back to being a normal night out just having drinks and catching up and playing darts, singing at the piano with Bradley and of course taking over the pool tables. When they eventually started up the games of pool it let you pick the best spot to watch Bob as he leaned over the table to take shots. He seemed to have caught up to why you had exactly picked the spot you had or had caught you staring earlier before rejoining the group because he seemed to have no shame in trying to find way that made sure his shirt moved just enough to show more of his chest of than necessary or he’d move just right to have the shirt rise up a bit had show off just a sliver of his stomach.

The current game was maybe half way through when a gasp fell from someone's lips you were unsure who’s but it seemed to silence the group and got Bob to look up from the shot he was about to take. A confused “what” came from the group but wasn’t answered instead I noticed Natasha staring at Bob from her place opposite him as the pool table “So nipples piercings is the other one you got'', Bob grinned “surprised Tash” he asked while pulling himself away from the table. “Gonna be honest, had you pegged more as a guy to go for a nose ring or maybe your ears” she replied smiling “I gotta keep y’all guessing I wouldn’t want to come off too boring” he joked. The others joined in joking about his choice of piercing and started asking a bunch of other questions about them. “Are you even allowed to have them like does it go against regs at all” Bradley asked “ I mean maybe but I’ve had them for awhile now and no one has said anything it's not like I can hide them really during physicals and med evaluations” Bob replied before standing next to you. “Why didn’t you get rid of them when you stopped wearing the other two?” Fanboy asked “Oh I got them after I joined and was done with basic and most of the training like I had a decent amount of leave saved up and just decided to do it one day” Bob explained like it was obvious. “Why are we just now finding out about them though like it’s not like its something easy to hide I mean I’m pretty sure we’ve all seen you change at some point at time in locker room or ready room at work” Payback asked from his spot beside Fanboy “I cover them up usually when I’m on base just to avoid people seeing them or any other problems like them getting caught or me forgetting to put in the right jewelry I’ve learned its better to prepare for a possible problem than to be unprepared and hope one doesn’t happen plus it make it easier for myself that’s some of why I wore my shirt that day during dogfight football before the mission” everyone was silent like they were trying to picture it or just come up with something else to say “you know I don’t think we’ve ever actually seen you shirtless” Jake said “thinking about Bob shirtless now Bagman” I joke “no, pretty sure that your job” he shot back “hey I don’t blame you I mean between the piercings and the tattoos it’s a nice view” I say looking at Bob, who had a flush to his skin after my comment. “Tattoos too!” “Oops” I said sheepishly. “It’s just like 8-10 small ones that are random little things on my ribs, and some on one of my thighs. It's not like some big piece," Bob said, shrugging it off. I felt a little bad letting it slip, he had tattoos but Bob didn’t seem to be upset with me and was just more uncomfortable to still be the center of attention.

The pool game was long forgotten at this point and the conversation had moved to everyone talking about their own tattoos and what they were getting next or already had ( everyone learned Bradley has a little goose on his ribs for his dad). I pulled Bob a bit aways from everyone to let us both have a moment together away from your friends “I’m sorry for telling them about the tattoos babe” I say holding his hand. “It’s alright darlin they would have found out eventually plus all this coming out makes it easier to add the new stuff we’ve been talking about” he smirked. You and Bob had been talking about him getting new tattoos and maybe looking into some other piercings (once you find the time to look through the navy regs to make sure it wouldn’t cause any problems for him at work) and the more time you had spent talking about it the more excited you both got it was probably for different reasons but you both wanted to see the art on Bob’s body grow. After a bit of time alone Bob takes us back over to our friends who are still stuck on talking about tattoos and what they can and can’t get done because of the navy rules. Natasha notices us both and pulls me to the empty chair next to her making me drag Bob along with me “Hey Tash” I say sitting down, “I can’t believe you never told me about all this that’s what our hang out are for we talk about our partners” she said pouting, okay so she’s a little tipsy “Trust me Tash I wanted to but I know Bob hasn’t told you and I didn’t want to share incase he didn’t want you knowing for some reason” I tell her honestly. Bob it seemed like had been roped into answering Payback and Fanboy’s questions about how much piercings hurt to get done when I heard Javy ask the question of night I’m sure “So you gonna try and get any more things done or is this are far are you’re going with the look”. Bob looked over at me and winked before responding “Who knows maybe inspiration will strike soon and I’ll show up with something new”.

#bob floyd x reader

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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im a sucker for a good vampire situation

Transference

Word Count: 2.6k+ Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader Warnings: Unprotected PiV but not graphic. Playing fast and loose (mostly loose) with vampire lore. Author's Note: If Stephanie Meyer can make them sparkle, I can make them ranchers.

“COWS?!”

He nods his head.

“You sound fucking insane, Rhett.”

“Do I? You ever think about how we’ve only been on dates that don’t involve food?”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Or how my family works the ranch at night or how my dad’s a little strange?”

Your arms wrap around your body. “And that’s supposed to mean you’re a vampire? God, baby, I know it’s called Devil’s Night, but you gotta execute this prank shit better. What’s next?” Your eyebrows pinch. “You gonna tell me you’re, like, a hundred years old?”

Rhett laughs. “Close to it.”

“God,” you roll your eyes. “My daddy already hates that you’re older than me, he’s absolutely gonna lose his shit when he finds out that Rhett Abbott is”—you throw your hands out—“immortal.”

“You think this is funny?” He asks. “I could rip your throat out right now if I wanted to.”

“You’re a man, sweetheart,” you say, sitting down on the couch. “Men could always rip out the throats of women and, yet, we still go home with you praying that you won’t. And now look at us.”

“You've never wondered about how I can go so many rounds between your legs?”

“Well,” you watch as he walks towards you, low light glinting off his belt buckle, “honestly I just figured you were the well practiced man that everybody said you were.” You gasp, “Rhett Abbott, did you fuck those girls moms in the eighties and their moms before them in the fifties.”

“Probably some of their dads too.”

Shaking your head, you lean over and begin to slip your shoes off, half a buckle on your heels undone before his hand catches yours. He’s kneeling in front of you, both knees pushed into the hard, wooden floor and lifts your ankle closer to him to begin pulling at the straps.

“A vampire with a foot fetish? How original.”

A smile splits his face. “Is that part of the lore now?”

“It's my understanding,” you tell him, fingers slipping into hair, “that backstory doesn’t have to be factual for something that is fake.”

“Fake, huh?”

Rhett pulls your shoes off and places them gently to the side, always so quiet and gentle despite what others may think of him, before running both hands up the length of your leg. Lips press to your knee as he shuffles closer, bending almost in prayer towards you.

“I'll let you make silly jokes more often,” you begin, “if this is how soft you behave for me.”

Laughter falls out of his open mouth, tongue flattening against the skin of your thigh. His grip tightens in its hold around your knee. “Soft, huh?” Kisses increase in pressure, pushing his face in so close you can feel his eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin.

“Mm.” You’re about to fall against the back of the couch, about to let your legs spread wide for him, when a sharp pain jolts through your body beneath his mouth. “What the fuck, Rhett?”

He looks up, a hint of red on his lips and lifts one eyebrow. “Am I still soft and fake to you, sweetheart?”

“You bit me?”

Flattening his palm, he smooths it up the length of your inner thigh and leans back in. “Don't worry, baby, I’ll make the pain stop soon.”

“What does that ev—oh.”

Everything becomes very sharp as he kisses down on the sting of the puncture wounds he left in your leg, very bright until all the edges begin to dull between the sucking motion of his mouth and the soothing movement of his thumb drawing little circles over and over.

The grip you have on his hair is slipping, breath weakening as waves crash between your ears. You’re leaning back on the couch when the heel of his palm presses hard between your legs, grounding you back in place.

Continuing to rub against your core, Rhett licks out against your thigh and everything is so cold.

“What the fuck was that, Rhett?”

Light reflects off his impossibly blue eyes as he looks up, lips pulled upward on one side, and he pushes himself towards you. “I don’t lie to you, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “I might withhold the truth, but I don’t lie to you.”

The tin can taste on his tongue proves as much when it darts out against yours, mouth opening easily beneath his. Your head is still light, easily manipulated in his hold.

He pulls away before you’ve fully registered the weight of him against you, still grasping for a bit of purchase on reality, and he’s back on his knees when you open your eyes again.

“Am I still bleeding?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Wound's not even there anymore.”

“Then how do I know it was real?”

He shrugs. “Would it be any more real if you saw the marks? You’d probably have another reasonable explanation like I just decided to stab you for a prank.”

"Isn't that what you did do, though?” You ask him. “Did you not make me bleed for the bit?”

Hands wrap around your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, and nails bite into your skin. “I just told you I don’t lie to you.” He slips the fabric down your legs. “When would I have found time to stab you? And if I stabbed you, why wouldn’t I finish the job, huh? Why would I be trying to”—one hand wraps around each of your knees and he pushes them apart—“get at this beautiful little cunt instead?”

“Rhett…”

He presses his lips back into the spot that stung with pain moments ago and moans into the skin. “There's a part of you that believes me,” he says, kissing his way up your leg. “There’s a transference in the blood. I can feel you and hear you—inside of you, all of you—just by taking in the smallest amount.”

Looking up, he finally kisses down on your mound, one hand landing across your lower belly to keep you down against the cushions of the couch. Everything’s still been that floaty feeling until now, a moment of pure clarity. Whatever he did, whatever the fuck it may mean, you’ve never felt this needy for him. Or this nervous

“Rhett.”

His name is punched out on half a breath and he glances up at you with a smile in his eyes as he moves down to kiss against you.

“Relax,” he throws up to your ears.

You can’t. Every part of your body is tensed up with him between your legs looking like this—like he could eat you. After all, is that not what he’s saying he can do?

He sits back on his heels again, “are you scared?”

Unsure of what you are, you shake your head. “Why would I be scared? It’s not like we haven’t fucked before, Rhett.”

Capable, callused hands cover the backs of yours, both of them clawed into the cushion at your side. “We've fucked plenty, sweetheart,” he agrees. “But my teeth have never been involved and your blood certainly hasn’t.” His eyes dart down to the apex of your thighs, exposed and on display for him, and smiles. “Well, that’s not exactly true but I hope you understand what I mean.”

You don’t.

With your head so full of cotton again, you barely register the small, circular motion of his thumbs against the pulse point of each wrist. Don’t even know when he flipped your palms upward towards the ceiling.

“Rhett, did you give me something?”

“Well, I think I may have bitten you a little too hard,” he says, eyes searching your face. “That's my fault, sweetheart. I should’ve gone easier on you”—he shrugs—“I probably shouldn’t have bitten your femoral artery either but here we are. I fucked up, I’m sorry. I haven’t done this in a while.”

“What do you mean you haven’t done this in a while?”

Rhett shrugs. “Bitten somebody ‘cause I love them.”

“You're being serious.”

“I already told you, sweetheart, I don’t lie to you.”

“Then what is this, Rhett?”

Between your legs, as he rises to his feet, his shadow falls over you in the soft light of the living room. “Honey, I—“ Running his hand across chin, he looses a half-choked sound from somewhere deep in his chest and leans back down towards you. “I’m trying to tell you what I am because I love you and I think you deserve it.”

“A monster?”

He nods, so close the tip of his nose runs against your own. “If that’s how you want to see me, sure.”

A beat passes and then another, his lips ghosting across your skin as he crawls over you and plants his knees into the cushion—one on each side of your hips.

“You sound sad.”

Two large hands frame your face rough calluses, from years—and years—of ranch hand and wrangling work, sliding across your sensitive windburned cheeks and smiles. “Little bit, baby,” he affirms, whispering into the cup of your mouth as he opens it with his own. “Little bit.”

This isn’t kissing, not really. He’s holding you against him, mouth still over yours as his body folds into you.

“Why are you sad, Rhett?” You ask, fingers trailing up his ribcage. “Hmm? Did I make you sad?”

“No, baby. I just thought this conversation would go different.”

Shushing you when you try to speak again, Rhett nudges your knee with his, encouraging you to open up for him, as his hands drop to your hips. By the time he readjusts himself, he’s pulled you up his body, rough jeans scraping against your sensitive core before pushing the flat of his cool belt buckle down on you.

“When I tell you I’m being serious,” he says, maneuvering his hand between the buckle and your heat, “I’m being serious.”

He catches your breath when he pushes in, the flat of his palm pressing down into your belly. When he bites your lip, there’s a sting to it followed by the taste of iron and that same intense feeling clouds up behind your eyes.

“My darling girl,” he whispers, his pace building steady, “I want you to know me—”

“Okay.”

“I want you to understand me,” he continues. “This is understanding me”—he pulls a high pitched whine from your throat on next thrust—“it might not be a well kept secret but that doesn’t mean I go around just telling anybody this shit. Okay?”

Crashing waves sound off between your ears, losing every other word he gives until all you can do is nod and hold on.

“You never wondered why I never pull out?” He goes on. “Never wondered why I don’t sleep when I’m with you, huh? His words are stunted with every thrust, falling against soft skin and tear stained cheeks. “Hey, hey, what are these?” He raises his hand to sweep the saltwater away with the back of his fingers. “Baby, am I hurting you?”

Maybe you’re shaking your head but you don’t know, the whole room is spinning and his cock is the only constant. “No,” you finally tell him, small hand wrapping around his, “you just feel so-so good, Rhett.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“For what?”

He shakes his head and leans down to kiss your temple. “I told you I think I bit a little too hard. Like I said, it’s been a while since I bit somebody I loved.”

“And what happened to them?” You ask. “Why aren’t they sitting here with you between their legs right now, Rhett Abbott?”

Everything—every movement, every word, every breath—stills as he looks down with something like fear in his eyes. “Because I bit them too hard.”

And that’s it. It has to be. He’s not a good actor or a good liar, you know that even on your dizziest days.

“How are you not cold?” You ask him. “You’re always so fucking warm, Rhett. How are you not cold?”

Laughing, he catches your lips again, head cradled gently in his hand as he starts building pace again. “Don't ask me to explain the specifics, baby girl. Just take it like I know you can right now and then maybe you can tell me just—fuck,” his hips stutter. “Maybe you can tell me just what the fuck I did to that pretty little head of yours,” he continues, “to make you grip me this tight.”

It feels like it’s been hours.

“Baby—“

“Shh. I fucking love you.”

Rhett nibbles into your jaw and down to your neck, teeth scraping across your fevered skin and replaced by his tongue on the return as head rush after head rush pulses through you.

The sounds between you both mute out to nothing as he speeds up, heat and cold and heat again running in your veins. You don’t even feel it when it hits, can only hear the quiet sobbing he’s covering with his own body until there's a tight groan fed back into you.

“Rhett, I—“

“No, stop. We can talk about it later.”

“But—“

“I know what you’re gonna ask,” he interrupts again. “I can hear you, remember? I can feel you.”

“You have fucked my brain,” you tell him. “I can’t feel my body.”

“Only me, right?”

“Only you,” you affirm.

“That's us, honey,” he whispers back, sweeping hair from your forehead. “That’s both of us together.”

Arms crossing around your back, he moves to lay you down against the cushions while he slips from between your legs. “I'll be right back,” he says, tucking himself back into his pants.

Time moves slower without him hovering over you, body temperature changing rapidly from hot to cold to hot again as you curl into the back of the couch. As your eyes slip closed, those same rough hands find you again to slide up your legs and back below your skirt.

“What—“

“It’s barely been an hour since we got home, baby.”

You nod, head falling easily back against the soft seat of the couch. Soft mouth sounds fall on your ears before you can even comment on the wet washcloth between your legs, almost seeming to change temperature as fast as you.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, Rhett?”

He squeezes himself behind you, chest flat and strong against your back and buries his nose into your hair.

“Yes,” he answers before you can ask if he can still smell. “And my question was gonna be if I’ve made you feel unsafe,” he breathes deep again, lips ghosting the shell of your ear with his impossibly low voice. “At all, ya know… ever.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Vulnerability permeates the space between you, palpable even in half sleep, and you push closer to the covered pillows in an attempt to make room.

“So you bit too hard?” You ask, a soft hum of affirmation buzzing against your neck before you’ve even finished. “Did they—“

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he cuts you off. “We’re here together now, that’s what matters.”

“Okay.”

He presses kiss after kiss into the crown of your head, thumb sweeping gentle circles into your breast bone over your clothes. Everything is evening back out again—your breathing, your heartbeat, the goosebumps on your arms—replaced by a dull ache everywhere his mouth had been.

Energy bursts through you and you sit up, looking down at Rhett, halfway off the edge of the couch now, the fabric of his shirt twisting between your fingers as every comes back into focus.

His eyes are wide in question as he tries to push himself up beside you but he can’t even get a word out of his mouth before you beat him to it.

“DID YOU SAY YOU SURVIVE OFF COWS?!”

#rhett abbott x reader #i giggled at the end

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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As You Wish, Chapter 4

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (though biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, arguing, cursing, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to early child rearing, crying, Uncle Bob (because he deserves his own warning), Uncle Rooster and Uncle Javy (because they also deserve their own warnings)

Clifton, Texas, 10 ½ years ago

“Dude, what are you doing? Don’t stop!”

“I’m telling you: my vocal cords are going to start to bleed any second! I need to stop!”

“I swear to God, if you stop, I’m going to find an actual rooster and sneak it into your bedroom at the ass crack of dawn!”

Jake rubbed at his forehead with one hand as he took another lap around his living room, bouncing a screaming Charlie in his arms as he went. The last nine months had been…rough, to say the least. Though his grandfather had graciously opened his home up to his grandson, great-granddaughter, and their two friends, it turned out that securing a home was the least of his worries.

Grandpa Wyatt had quickly hired Jake, Javy and Rooster on as farmhands, their physiques and familiarity with rising early making them ideal candidates for the jobs, but Jake wasn’t entirely comfortable with leaving his baby girl with a sitter all day just yet, so he did what chores he could with her strapped to his chest, and spent the rest of the day in the office, doing administrative work with his daughter asleep in her Moses basket behind the desk. Between the physical and mental labour, Jake was ready to hit the sack early almost every night.

However, clocking out for the day didn’t mean that his day was done. Charlie wasn’t a fussy baby, not by a long shot, but she still required an amount of work that Jake hadn’t been expecting. Her first pediatrician visit had revealed that Charlie was slightly behind on her goal weight, which meant Jake had to get up for an additional feeding during the night. But Charlie didn’t like the bottle, and Jake honestly couldn’t blame her. She’d gotten used to breastfeeding from her mother for her first four months of life, and Jake knew firsthand that Buttercup was infinitely better than some plastic bottle.

On top of trying to get her weight up, the Seresin family had also been battling sleep regression, teething, colic, Charlie’s first cold, and delayed milestones. If the doctor was saying that Charlie should be crawling by 8 months, she was doing it at 11 months. The whole thing had Jake lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, worrying about his baby girl, wondering how Buttercup had managed it all on her own, kicking himself for expecting her to manage it alone when he was deployed.

A loud, shrill shriek had him yanking his head away from his daughter as she sobbed unhappily, her tiny fist curling into his flannel shirt.

“C’mon, Charlie girl,” he murmured into her curling blond hair, pressing a small kiss to her head as he paced. “You just had your first birthday a few weeks ago. Can you be a big girl for your daddy and stop crying? Please?” Her green eyes glimmered with tears as she continued to sob in response.

“Rooster, please, man…” Javy groaned, half buried in a pile of Charlie’s toys that he had been shaking and tossing around in an attempt to get her to stop crying.

“My—”

“Rooster, I will buy you a new set of vocal cords,” Jake bargained as Charlie hiccupped before resuming her shrill shrieks. “Please, if not for me, then for Charlie. I need her to stop crying before she makes herself sick.”

Rooster whined before turning back to the piano against the wall. “You guys owe me so bad,” he grumbled before placing his hands on the keys and pressing out a familiar tune. “You shake my nerves, and you rattle my brain…”

Jake held his breath as the song came to an end, the air ringing with blessed quiet, punctuated by an angelic baby giggle. With a groan, he sank to his knees, his legs too tired to carry him the five feet needed to get to the couch.

“Thank god.” He hefted Charlie up to sit beside him on the floor, keeping his hand on her back as he sagged against the wall. “So, she clearly doesn’t like sweet potato,” he sighed, watching her crawl over to a sprawled-out Javy and snatch one of her toys from underneath his leg.

“You feed her sweet potato again, you’ll be the one getting the rooster in your bedroom,” Rooster grumbled, closing the piano with a light thud.

“You do that, and you’ll wake her up,” Javy pointed at the little blond baby currently chewing on her toy giraffe’s foot. “And then we’ll all be miserable.”

Jake fixed his oldest friend with a glare. “No shit talking my daughter, dude.”

Charlie’s head popped up at the shift in tone in her father’s voice, her green eyes searching the room until she found him, her face breaking out into a wide gummy smile. She pressed her tiny palm into Javy’s stomach and propelled herself to her feet, wavering unsteadily even as Javy’s hand automatically rose to cushion her back. Jake leaned forward, scrambling away from the wall to sit a few feet directly in front of her.

“Come here, Charlie,” he called, waggling his fingers at her, smiling back as she grinned. “Come on, baby girl, you can do it.”

Time seemed to slow down as Charlie looked towards him before taking a small, shaky step in his direction. Javy propped himself up on his elbows and Rooster turned on the piano bench to watch on bated breath as she took another step, then another.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ve got this!”

“Let’s go, Charlie!”

“Atta girl!”

Jake’s heart was in his throat, a feeling better than going Mach 10 racing through his body as his daughter took one last, final step before collapsing into his arms with a giggle. With a loud cheer, he scooped her up and paraded her around the room to the sound of Javy and Rooster’s applause before whisking her into the office and collapsing into his chair.

“I’m so proud of you, baby girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she cooed softly at him. He’d missed so much, and his heart panged when he thought about Abby and what he was missing from her life. His hand was halfway to his phone when he stopped himself, pulling it back to hold Charlie tighter against him. He’d tried before and he wouldn’t be putting himself through that again. He missed Abby, of course, but Mav had always told them that they couldn’t afford to be constantly looking backwards, that thinking would be the death of them, so he had to focus on the here and now, on the ranch, on the daughter he did have instead of on the one he missed.

“Da-da…” he looked down at the sound and smiled through the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Yeah, baby girl. Dada is here. And he’s not going anywhere. I promise.”

The Airport, Now

Charlie’s hands trembled around her passport as the camp bus pulled into the drop off lane of the Buffalo Niagara International Airport. She looked up as Abby gripped her wrist with a determined grin.

“Last chance to change our minds,” she whispered as the campers around them started to disembark with loud promises of keeping in touch.

“No,” Charlie whispered, handing the passport out to Abby. “I want to do this. I want to meet mum.”

Abby nodded, taking the outstretched passport and handing Charlie her own. “And I’m desperate to meet dad.”

“Remember, he’s going to meet you at the gate in Waco, so you’re going to have to bring your A Game right away.”

“I’ve got a five-hour flight in order to prepare,” Abby assured. “I’m more worried about you. Uncle Bob is meeting you at the security desk. Are you ready?”

Charlie nodded, a look of steely determination overtaking her face. “I didn’t cut my hair and let you pierce my ears for nothing.”

Charlie thought that Amelia was going to have a heart attack when she walked into the Brig on their last day of their punishment to find them looking identical, their hair the same length and an extra pair of Abby’s earrings studding Charlie’s ears. She’d nearly collapsed onto one of the beds when she heard that they didn’t want to return to their cabin, that they wanted to stay in the Brig. To her credit, she didn’t ask any questions, just shook her head and walked away.

Abby nodded, fiddling with her duffle bag nervously. “Remember, Uncle Bob will be taking you from the airport to meet mum at home. She—”

“Abby, breathe,” Charlie placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders and shook her lightly. “Dad is going to love you. And mum is going to love me. And they’re not going to figure out that we swapped until we tell them a week from tomorrow.”

Abby bit her lip and nodded. “I know. I just…I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I know…” she smiled back. “I’m so excited to meet mum.”

Abby smiled suddenly and tugged her into a hug. “I’m so glad I met you,” she whispered, and Charlie wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tight.

“Me too.”

Abby pulled back, wiping at her eyes. “Okay. You need to get to the security desk. Remember, Uncle Bob will be waiting for you. Brown hair, tall, glasses.”

“And Dad will be waiting for you at the gate in Waco. He might have Uncle Rooster or Uncle Javy with him. You remember who is who?”

Abby nodded. “Rooster’s got the moustache. Javy has tattoos.”

“Exactly.”

The girls looked up as an announcement came over the loudspeaker, calling an Abigail Floyd to the security desk.

Charlie bit her lip anxiously. “I guess this is it.”

Abby grabbed her up in a hug again. “You’re going to be great. Call me whenever you need, and I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon!”

Charlie took a deep breath and headed off in the direction of the security desk. Coming around the corner, she saw him. A tall man in a pilot’s uniform, with brown hair and glasses, his blue eyes scanning over the crowd until he spotted her, his eyes studying her for a moment before breaking into a smile.

Charlie took a moment to compose herself, whispering under her breath in the British accent she had been practicing for weeks, “You can do this. You have to do this.”

“U-Uncle Bob!” she finally called out, her accent ringing true as she rushed towards him, tossing her duffle bag to the floor before launching herself into his arms.

“Whoa! Easy, kiddo!” Bob chuckled, gathering her into his arms. “I missed you too!”

“S-sorry,” she murmured into his neck, her arms tightening around his neck. “I just missed you so much.”

“Six weeks was a long time, huh?”

Charlie pulled back, sniffling slightly. “Yeah. It…it felt like a lifetime.”

Bob crouched in front of her, his brown eyes tracing over her features like an X-ray machine, and Charlie gulped. There was no way he could know she wasn’t Abby, right? They were identical, save for a few freckles here and there, and a scar that Charlie had on her knee. But nobody could remember the exact pattern of someone’s freckles, and her knees were covered, so there’s no way he knew.

Finally, he smiled. “It felt like a lifetime for me too, sweetheart.” He reeled her back in, hugging her tightly before releasing her and drawing himself up to his full height. “Now, come on. We’ve got to get you checked in and ready to go for our flight back home.”

Charlie woke with a start as she felt the plane touch down onto the runway, a smooth landing executed by a skilled pilot. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Even though Bob had been with Dagger Squad, like her dad and uncles, he was a WSO, not a pilot, so she was surprised to hear that he was flying passenger aircrafts after retiring, but Abby had told her all about how Bob had gone for his pilot’s license after retiring from the Navy and how Nat had helped him study and prepare.

Charlie gulped nervously. She had had the whole transatlantic flight to soothe her nerves over meeting her mother for the first time, to convince herself that her father wouldn’t be too disappointed in her for running away, to assure herself that her and Abby’s plan would work. She had a sister. And a mother. And an uncle and an aunt that she had never met before. The risk of her father’s disappointment was worth it in order to meet them.

As Abby had instructed her, she waited patiently in her seat until all the other passengers had cleared out before taking the duffle that was being pulled out of the overhead compartment by one of the flight attendants and heading towards the front of the plane, where her uncle was waiting.

“You ready to go see your mom?”

Charlie felt her cheeks flush. “Yes!”

Bob chuckled, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s go see your mom.” Bob shouldered the duffle and led her off the plane, through customs, and down to a town car that was waiting for them. “From the last text she sent, your mom is working in her office at home, and Nat is at work,” Bob informed her quietly.

Right. Auntie Nat worked as a kickboxing instructor now since she was given a medical discharge from the Navy. And mom’s office was at the top of the stairs, two doors down on the right. Both Abby and Charlie had drawn maps of their houses, ensuring to include even the slightest detail so that there would be no surprises. Charlie had studied the map multiple times a day, until she felt like she could walk it in her sleep, even though she’d never been there before. Abby had also printed her a map of the neighbourhood when they were given their computer privileges back, as well as a map of the London tube system, though she had assured her that she would never have to take the tube alone if she didn’t want to.

“Abby?”

She hummed as her eyes darted here and there, taking in the old buildings and the people. They looked the same as the people in Texas, just less plaid and cowboy hats, but they seemed so different to her. She’d only been to a big city a few times, preferring to stick to her small ranching town, so everyone seemed so busy, rushing down the street, their cellphones stuck to their ears.

“Abigail?”

Everything was so new, so shiny. She gaped as an actual, real life red double decker bus drove by their town car, and her stomach was knotted over the fact that they were driving on the wrong side of the road.

“Abigail Floyd, for someone who hugged me so hard you almost cracked my rib, you sure seem intent on ignoring me right now.”

Charlie blinked. Abigail Floyd. That was her. Well, not her, but who she was supposed to be, at least for right now.

“Oh. Sorry, Uncle Bob,” she yanked her British accent into place. “I was just…reminiscing. You know, about camp…and about how homesick I was.”

Bob smiled softly at her, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “I’m glad you had such a good time. I know it’s a struggle to be away from home for so long, but I knew you’d have fun and make friends.”

“I did,” she replied quickly. “I met some great friends, and I downloaded WhatsApp onto my phone so I could keep in contact with them. Is that alright?”

“I’m sure your mom will be fine with that. That’s why she got you the phone, after all. To keep in touch with family and friends who are in the States,” Bob’s voice twinged with…something. Perhaps a hint of regret or maybe even anger.

“Good. Because I really like this one girl,” she grinned. “We became best friends.”

“That’s great, sweetheart,” he smiled back. “You never know where you’ll find your best friend.”

“Like you and Auntie Nat, right? You met at Top Gun.”

“That’s right, sweetheart.”

Charlie grinned. “Now the two of you are basically brother and sister.”

Bob chuckled. “Yeah, we basically are. Maybe you and this girl will be like sisters too,” he replied, shooting her a playful look out of the corner of his eye.

She gave him a tight-lipped grin in return. Uncle Bob had always been strangely intuitive, she knew that much from Abby’s stories, but he was hitting a lot of nails on their heads right now and it was spooking her like crazy. So much so, that she hadn’t even registered that the car had stopped moving.

“We’re here!” she cried, scrambling to unbuckle her seatbelt and get out of the car, her uncle’s echoing behind her as she launched herself out of the open door and up the stairs towards the bright red front door.

“The door’s open, sweetheart, so you can go on in,” Bob called, grabbing her duffle and his suitcase from the trunk of the car.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she opened the door into the flat that Abby shared with their mother, uncle, and aunt.

The interior was exactly as Abby had described. Homey and cozy, but still posh. The living room to the left of the door held brown leather couches, lots of bookcases, and a few plants hanging from the curtain rod. The window seat was where Abby and their mother read, together and separately. Charlie knew that the kitchen was just on the other side of the living room, where her family ate dinner together whenever Uncle Bob wasn’t flying.

But Charlie wasn’t interested in any of that, no matter how comfy it looked after a long international flight. No, her sights were set on the staircase in front of her, which she climbed slowly, her legs trembling with each step. She could picture Abby’s map so clearly in her mind: the first door on the right was the bathroom, the second was mom’s office, and the third was Bob’s bedroom. On the left came mom’s bedroom, then Abby’s, then Auntie Nat’s.

Charlie stepped onto the landing of the staircase, her eyes locked on the door of the second room on the right, which was cracked open just a touch. Her heart pounding in her chest, she slowly approached and, with a ringing in her ears, she quietly pressed the door open and walked inside.

There she was.

Charlie dashed at the tears that were welling in her eyes at the sight of her mother. Her mother. She wasn’t some imaginary figure anymore. She was solid flesh and bone. For years to come, Charlie would be able to picture the way her eyes scanned over the screen in front of her, the way her hair was piled up on top of her head, the way her slim fingers danced across the laptop keys, the way her buttercup tattoo peeked out from the neckline of her shirt. They weren’t images conjured up by her lonely mind anymore. They were real. She was real.

“M-Mum?” she whispered.

Her mother almost jumped out of her chair. “Oh my…Abby?”

Charlie swallowed hard as she nodded. “I’m home.”

“Oh, honey, I missed you so much!” Buttercup scooted her wheely chair across the floor and pulled her into a hug, and Charlie felt herself melt as she hugged her mother back just as tightly.

“I missed you too, mum,” she whispered.

“Six weeks is just way too long, love. I don’t care how much Auntie Nat raved about this camp, six weeks of you being across the ocean is just way too much for me.”

“I agree,” Charlie nodded into her shoulder. “I don’t want to be away from you for that long ever again.” She sniffled as she felt her mother press a kiss into her hair before pulling away.

“You won’t be, love. I promise.” Buttercup’s thumbs gently stroked away the tears from her daughter’s cheeks before tugging her into a hug again. “I meant to be finished with this chapter before you got home so we could spend the rest of the day together.”

“That’s alright. Is it coming along?”

Abby had filled her in on how their mother was a relatively successful author, Charlie even recognizing a few of her book titles from her bookshelf at home. Their mother’s writing was part of why Abby felt that their parents would fall in love again when they had to meet to switch them back. Buttercup’s current, more adult story was about a military man meeting and falling in love with an artistic woman, falling apart, and coming back together to live a happily ever after, and it had Abby convinced that their mother still had feelings for their father.

“I’m struggling, baby,” Buttercup sighed. “These two clearly love each other, but I can’t seem to figure out how to get them back together.” Buttercup looked up and smiled at her. “But they don’t matter right now,” she shut her laptop with a click. “What do you say you and I go out for lunch? You can fill me in on everything that happened at camp. I want to know everything. Six weeks is just way too long and I just know that you have stories to share.”

Charlie’s smile was so wide, it hurt her cheeks. “I’d love that, mum.”

Buttercup pulled her into another hug and kissed her hair. “Go get changed and I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.” Buttercup smiled as she pulled away from her. “I missed you so much, baby. I love you.”

Charlie’s heart sang in her chest. She knew, of course, that her mom thought she was talking to Abby, but it didn’t matter to her. Her mom loved her, it didn’t matter who she was directing those words to. No one would be able to take them away from her. They would echo in her mind for an eternity. She’d heard those words from her father a million times, and they meant the world to her, but from her mother? They were sacred, special. They felt like a gift she hadn’t know she was going to receive.

“I love you too, mum,” she whispered, hugging her tight before racing towards the bedroom Abby had marked out for her on the map.

She finally had a mother, and she wasn’t going to miss a second.

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#jake seresin x reader #this is literally one of my favorite stories right now #it’s so good

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

Text

Lost and Found | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

Part One of my Single dad!Bradley miniseries | part two | library blog

*all my works are 18+, minors DNI

Summary: When Bradley’s four-year old daughter goes missing during a trip to the mall, he doesn’t expect to find himself so taken with the pretty stranger who helps her find her way back to him.

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: I suck at titling my stories and summaries :), a bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy and abandonment, (briefly) missing child, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, but then so much fluff, Bradley’s kid being too cute for her own good, implied age gap, I feel like dilf Bradley needs his own warning

a/n: I wrote this months ago and I’m a bit nervous to share, but the response to the teaser was so amazing (thank you <3) and dilf Bradley lives in my head rent-free, so I’m excited about this one! Also the picture on the right just screams dad Bradley to me! Thank you for reading, as always I’d love to hear your feedback, so please leave a comment/reblog <3

• • •

Bradley directs his gaze away from the rack of little girls’ clothes he’d been perusing, injecting enthusiasm into his voice as he holds up a hanger with a small, baby pink t-shirt dress hanging on it. “Hey, Bug. What do you think of this–?”

He cuts himself off before the end of his question when he realizes that he’s talking to no one. “Where did she…?”

He trails off, brows furrowed. Still holding up the child-sized dress that looks especially tiny next to his large frame, Bradley spins around, perplexed. She was just here.

- - -

Bradley’s daughter, Caroline, who’d just recently turned four— and was growing up way too fast for his liking— was set to begin preschool next week. His little girl was growing right before his eyes and she needed a new wardrobe to accommodate that. So, Bradley had taken her to the mall to buy some new clothes for school. He didn’t know the first thing about little girls’ fashion, but he was sure he could manage.

He’d spent the last hour searching through clothing rack after clothing rack in the girl’s section of a department store, Caroline at his side, lips in a pout and shaking her little head ‘no’ at all of his choices, sandy brown curls bobbing along with her every movement. Bradley could tell the four-year old was getting bored, and he was becoming frustrated.

The buzzing of his phone with a text from Maverick granted him a brief reprieve from his predicament.

“One second, honey.” Bradley sighed, affectionately patting the top of his daughter’s head before looking toward his phone to answer some question Mav had about work.

He was happy for a moment’s distraction from getting ready to tear his hair out wondering if he was going to have to send his daughter to her first day of preschool wearing a trash bag because he didn’t know what the hell kind of clothes he’s supposed to buy for a picky four-year old girl.

Bradley had been a single parent for most of his daughter’s life. He and Caroline’s mother, Amber, had only been seeing each other for the better half of a year when they found out the news that they were expecting. And even then, their relationship was never really official.

The two met not long after the Uranium Mission, while Bradley was still on North Island taking some time to relax and awaiting another assignment. He’d gone to the little diner Amber was waitressing at, he thought she was cute and they’d hit it off straight away. Bradley got her number and the rest was history.

The Navy kept Bradley busy. He was always traveling for some assignment or deployments – sometimes gone for months at a time, so they only saw each other on the rare occasions he was in town.

They’d hang out and hook up, maybe go on a date here and there, a sort of friends-with-benefits situation. There was definitely a sense of care between Bradley and Amber, but the lack of time they were able to spend together meant it never went beyond that.

When they learned that Amber was pregnant, they both knew it wouldn’t be easy. But they thought that, together, they could make it work.

A few months after Caroline was born though, Amber admitted that she couldn’t handle things.

Bradley took to being a father so easily. From the moment their baby was born and she looked up at him with those big, honey brown eyes that matched his own, he knew that he’d do absolutely anything for her. Caroline instantly became his world.

Amber, on the other hand, really struggled. She loved her baby of course, but deep down she wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother. If she’d ever be.

She figured it was better if she’d gone while Caroline was still young enough that she wouldn’t remember her, and knew that their daughter would be just fine in Bradley’s loving hands. And just like that, she left the both of them.

Bradley resented Amber for a while, but in time he came to understand. Not everyone was meant to be a parent. Besides that, he knew that there was no time for resentment.

He was on his own with a four-month old baby and he needed to put all of his energy into taking care of her. So, he requested a more permanent position at Top Gun so that he could stay in one place to raise his daughter, and it’s been just the two of them ever since.

- - -

Bradley couldn’t have been turned around for more than thirty seconds before he pocketed his phone and reached back out to grab the little pink dress off the rack to show his daughter. But, when he turned back, Caroline was nowhere to be seen.

Ok, don’t panic, Bradley tells himself. She can’t have gone far.

“Caroline?” He calls out calmly, eyes darting around the surrounding area as he spins to look in every direction.

When he doesn’t receive a response, Bradley puts down the dress he was holding and begins to walk among the sea of clothing racks, still calling out his daughter’s name.

He searches the entire girl’s section of the store without success and decides to broaden his search, his heart beginning to speed up in his chest. Ok, he’s starting to panic.

Bradley picks up his pace, maneuvering from one section of the store to another, asking the other customers and few employees that mill about if they’ve seen his daughter.

He knows he must look crazed, practically sprinting, his sneakers squeaking as he moves across the shiny floors as his repeated calls of Caroline’s name become increasingly more frantic — panting and on the verge of tears by the time he’s finished searching the entirety of the large department store to no avail.

Bradley stands frozen in the middle of the store, tears pricking his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly on the brink of hyperventilating. He’s at a loss for what to do. His mind racing through all of the worst scenarios. What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her?

It’s his job to protect his little girl and make sure that she’s always safe, and he failed her. He’s all that Caroline has, and he feels like a failure of a father.

- - -

You’re walking through the busy mall with a couple of bags in hand, all finished with your shopping and ready to head home when you see her.

A little girl — tiny really, she can’t be older than five — with curls a golden shade bordering between both blonde and brown, standing by the bottom of the escalator, alone.

Playing with her little fingers as she looks around the crowd aimlessly with unshed tears in her big, brown eyes. The scared look on her adorable little face breaks your heart, and you know you can’t leave without making sure she’s okay.

You approach her slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, speaking softly so as not to scare her any further. “Hey, honey. Are you alright?”

The look she gives you is a shy one, eyes widening before she looks down at her light-up sneakers and shakes her head.

You can tell the little girl is apprehensive about talking to a stranger — smart.

Kneeling down to be at her eye-level before speaking again, and setting your shopping bags down at your sides, you tell her your name and ask for hers.

“I’m Caroline.” Her voice is sweet and shy, a near-whisper as she chances a glance up at you, eyes still shining with tears when she lifts her head.

“Are you here alone, Caroline? Are you with your mommy and daddy?” You ask her gently.

She shakes her head again, curls swaying along with the motion. “I was with my daddy, but I lost him.”

The adorable pout on her lips might’ve made you smile, if it weren’t for the tears that follow, finally spilling from her eyes and trailing down onto her rosy cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can help you find him!” You soothe as your thumb moves to brush her tears away. “Where did you last see him?”

Caroline sniffles and thinks for a moment before speaking, a little bit louder this time.

“We were buying me clothes for preschool in one of the big stores, and my daddy had to answer the phone so I was looking all by myself. And then I got lost and I couldn’t find him.”

You continue to wipe at Caroline’s tears as she talks in that rambling sort of way that all little kids do.

“Preschool, wow. That sounds fun!” You try to take her mind off of the scary situation for a second and she nods excitedly at that, still sniffling. “What’s your daddy’s name?”

Her tears finally begin to slow as she talks about her dad.

“His name’s Bradley, but everybody calls him Rooster! He flies planes!” Caroline explains excitedly.

You can’t help but chuckle as you tell her that her dad has a funny nickname, and that his job sounds fun. You’re happy to see Caroline give you a small smile back.

“Do you remember what store you and your daddy were shopping in?”

She has to think for a long moment, the most adorable, pensive pout you’ve ever seen on her face as she tries to remember.

She doesn’t know the name of the store, but she is able to describe it for you, and you’re able to make a distinction from there.

Standing back to your full height, you readjust your bags on one arm and extend your free hand out towards Caroline, offering her a reassuring smile.

“I know exactly where that is! Ready to go find him?” Caroline grins as she takes your hand with an excited nod, tears no longer visible in her big brown eyes.

The two of you walk on in search of her dad — Bradley, and Caroline talks your ear off the whole way. She is absolutely adorable, telling you more about herself and asking you questions about yourself too, and you find yourself falling more in love with her sweet disposition by the minute.

Within five minutes, you make it to the store that Caroline had been in last, hopeful to reunite her with her father who you figure must be worried sick.

- - -

Bradley isn’t quite sure how long he’s been scouring the massive department store looking for his four-year old daughter— though it feels like forever, time seeming to move in slow motion— on the brink of a panic attack and just about ready to phone the police when he hears a familiar high-pitched shriek of, “DADDY!”

He turns around at lightning speed — and practically gives himself whiplash — to see Caroline approaching him, holding a woman’s hand.

When she lets go and bounds right towards him, Bradley lets out a massive sigh of relief. Kneeling down to catch his little girl in his arms, he feels like he might cry all over again, overcome with a flurry of emotions now that his daughter is safe in his embrace once again.

“Caroline, baby, you scared me half to death!” Bradley can’t keep the emotion out of his voice as he lifts his daughter into his arms and stands back up to his full height, lying his head atop of hers and squeezing her tight. “You can’t just wander off like that, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

He tries his best not to sound angry — she is only four after all, and he’s just thankful that she’s okay. Caroline’s arms wrap around his neck as he holds her tight, her face burrowing into the crook of Bradley’s neck.

“Daddy, I’m fine!” She insists. “And I made a new friend!”

It’s only then that Bradley looks up at the woman who had reunited him with his little girl, standing a few feet away and watching them with a sweet smile.

Oh. It’s only then that he realizes, you are beautiful.

Bradley’s honestly convinced you might be an angel. Pretty, bright eyes and a glowing sweet smile that nearly takes his breath away. And, you’d been kind enough to help his daughter safely find her way back to him.

Bradley just stares for a moment, lips parted and still holding Caroline in his arms, and he hopes that you’ll chalk it up to the overwhelming nature of the situation.

“Uh– thank you so much for bringing Caroline back to me. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” He rushes out, hand cradling the back of his baby’s hair. “I-I’m…” Fuck, why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

“…Bradley,” You finish for him. “Or, Rooster. Right?”

His brows furrow, a pensive look on his very handsome face, a look that you realize matches the one you had seen on his daughter’s face earlier. Cute.

“How did you-” He begins to question how you know his name — and call-sign — but is promptly cut off by his four-year old practically screaming in his ear.

“I told her, Daddy!” Caroline exclaims proudly.

For a man called ‘Rooster’, you sure were not expecting Caroline’s dad to be this good looking. But, fuck, is he hot.

Though he’s clearly got a few years on you, Bradley’s all tall and sun-kissed, tan skin. Broad shoulders and big, muscular arms on display in his fitted black t-shirt while he holds up his little girl, sandy curls a shade or two darker than hers. Whiskey-colored eyes that match his daughter’s, that you can only describe as puppy dog eyes.

His deep, husky voice that sends tingles down your spine and beautifully shaped pink lips framed by a mustache that you’re surprised you find so attractive.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help.” You hope that he can’t see the flush you can feel blooming on your cheeks as you speak. “And, Caroline was great company!”

You wink at the little girl who giggles against his shoulder, and when Bradley smiles at you graciously, you can’t help but smile back. God, his smile is pretty.

Up in his arms, Caroline gets distracted playing with her dad's curls. There are a few moments of silence between you, though not uncomfortable, before Bradley speaks up again.

“Well, thank you again. I–uh,” Bradley clears his throat.

“I guess we should let you go. We’ve gotta find some clothes for this little troublemaker, otherwise she’ll have to go to school wearing a garbage bag.” Bradley jokes in a playful tone, bouncing his daughter around in his arms as she giggles, and you can’t help but laugh too at the infectious sound.

“Daddy, wait!” Caroline shouts out before you can answer him.

“What is it, little bug?” Bradley murmurs as he strokes a hand lovingly over her curls. Caroline turns in his hold, directing her next question toward you.

“Can you come with us?” Oh, her puppy dog eyes are even cuter than Bradley’s, and you imagine he probably has a hard time ever saying no to her. “Daddy has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to girl clothes.”

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your lips as Caroline dramatically rolls her eyes and Bradley lets out an offended huff, the two of them staring at each other with matching, petulant pouts. Adorable.

“That is not true!” Bradley practically shrieks at his daughter and it only makes you laugh more.

“And, honey, she probably doesn’t want–” Bradley begins to protest before you interject.

“I’d love to.” You chime in with a coy grin and Bradley looks back at you, bewildered.

Sure, you figure he probably has a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, but what’s the harm in spending just a little more time with a handsome pilot and his adorable daughter? So far, you’re having a lot of fun.

Bradley’s brows furrow skeptically. “Are you…sure?”

You purse your lips, staring up toward the ceiling for a moment as if you really need to think about it before you grin and offer him a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I’ve got nowhere to be.”

You hope you don’t seem too eager, but the matching smiles you receive from both Bradley and Caroline tell you they don’t mind.

Bradley’s honestly a bit shocked that you— a pretty, young, complete stranger, want to stick around to hang out with him and his kid, but he isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, once you assure him again that you’re happy to stay, he sets Caroline back on her feet and offers — more like insists — that he holds your shopping bags, and the three of you set off to peruse the oh-so daunting girl’s clothing section of the store once again.

Bradley watches in awe as Caroline grabs your hand, tugging you along as you help her pick out some articles of clothing.

The two of you chatter the whole time, bringing him into the conversations too, holding up articles of clothing and asking what he thinks, and Bradley is delighted to see how good you are with his daughter.

“This would look pretty on you!” Caroline holds out a little girl’s purple sweater dress in your direction. “Wouldn’t it, Daddy?”

You’re biting back a grin as Bradley looks to you and then back to his daughter and chuckles.

“I don’t think it comes in her size, Bug.” Bradley’s gaze returns to you, mirth in his eyes when he continues, “But yeah, it would look very pretty.”

You know he can see the obvious flush to your cheeks this time as his lips pull up into a smirk.

Shaking your head, you look back down to Caroline with a grin. “I think it’d look even prettier on your dad.” That pulls a giggle out of both of them.

Things go on like that as the three of you continue to shop, Bradley admiring how sweet and funny you are, how patient you are with his daughter.

The two of you discreetly sharing amused looks at some of the obscure things Caroline says that could only come out of a little kid’s mouth, banter coming easily between the three of you.

After a short while, Caroline has an array of new outfits for school— and a new stuffed animal after some begging and very convincing puppy dog eyes from his four-year old while you stood by and tried not to giggle, and Bradley knows that he wants to get to know you more.

He hasn’t done much in the way of dating since becoming a single father. Aside from the simple lack of time, Bradley’s always been afraid that most women won’t want to stick around when they find out he has a kid.

That they might not get along with his daughter or worse, be upset when they realize that Caroline will always be his number one priority.

Too scared to let his daughter get attached to someone only for them to leave, Caroline is his world and he’s been content with that.

But now, after seeing the way you are with his little girl — and in such a short time, he can’t help but think that he already likes you being a part of it.

With the clothing shopping done, the sun is setting by the time you're all ready leave the mall. Bradley and Caroline walk you out to your car, and both are reluctant to say goodbye to you just yet. You can't say you’re too happy to part with them either.

As he helps you put your bags in the trunk of your car, Bradley knows he needs to take his shot now — or as Hangman likes to tell him, he needs to get off his perch.

“Hey, could I possibly get your number?” Bradley asks, trying to sound as confident as his voice can possibly muster. “I’d love to see you again.”

Caroline pipes up from next to you, jumping up and down while she still holds your hand. “Me too!”

Is he asking you out? The breathless laugh you let out is one of shock, and you’re sure the look on your face matches as you glance between the adorable father-daughter duo.

You’re also sure that you’re blushing again.

For a moment, you can only stand frozen, lips parted, and when you realize you’ve yet to answer his question, you promptly close your mouth and attempt to school your features, quickly nodding your head.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You tell him shyly, and Bradley can’t help but smirk at the color that’s begun to paint your cheeks.

He hands over his phone and tries not to smile too hard as you type in your number, glancing up at him and biting back your own grin while you send yourself a text so that you’d have his too.

You kneel down to squeeze Caroline into a hug, the little girl happily wrapping her arms around your neck. You leave her with a promise that you’ll see them again soon, though the way you look up at her father over her shoulder lets Bradley know that that promise is directed at the both of them.

When you stand, Bradley gazes at you with a thoughtful smile before bringing you into a hug too.

“Have a good night, sweetheart.” The deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear, as well as the heat of his touch, leave your body feeling warm all over. That warmth never fading even as you watch Bradley and Caroline cross the parking lot, hand-in-hand, to get to their car.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him again soon.

- - -

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! x

Part 2 will be up next Wednesday! <3

UPDATE: you can read part two here ! ❤️

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @simonscumsock

also tagging some people who reblogged/replied to the sneak peek : @fanficfandomlove @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @maverick-wingman @teacupsandtopgun @katiemcrae @colourfulsuitwonderland @becks-things @bradshawsbaddie @bradshawsbitch @valhallaas @roger-that-cap @woodkiller

. . .

#bradley bradshaw x reader #this is adorable

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

Text

As You Wish, Chapter 3

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, swearing, verbal arguing, references to divorce, death of a character, injuries, misinformation about the US Navy and how it works (I tried my best)

Briefing Room, Classified Location, 11 years ago

Briefing rooms after missions go horrifically sideways were typically quiet. Those who were involved in the mission were usually too busy inside their own heads, trying to shove feelings and memories into tiny little lockboxes that would then get shoved into other boxes and hidden in the dark recesses of the mind, only springing free when things got…dark. The top brass was usually reading reports and gathering steam, preparing to bring the hand of God down upon the person (or people) who were responsible for the mission going…poorly. Therefore, the rooms were usually can-hear-a-pin-drop quiet, but they were never this…still. This silent.

The fifteen lieutenants stood in four rows and, while most of them were four people deep, the one missing a person stood out in cold contrast, as did the empty spot at the front of the room, where the team leader usually stood. Cyclone, Warlock and Hondo stood just past that spot; heads ducked together in a whispered conversation. Besides that, nobody moved. Nobody stirred. Not Bob, balancing on a pair of crutches with a cast bracing his leg up to his knee. Not Fritz, his arm strapped against his chest to immobilize it. Not Rooster, with a black and purple bruise on his temple, or Coyote, a neat row of stitches gracing his cheek, or Hangman, who felt a painful twinge every time he breathed, the binding protecting his bruised and fractured ribs pulling taut with every inhale. None dared to move or fidget.

Finally, Admiral Simpson moved into the empty space at the front of the room and sighed.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen…I don’t think I need to tell you what an absolute clusterfuck that was.” Fanboy flinched, his head ducking fractionally as the words carried clear across the gathering. “In fact, it was such an absolute clusterfuck that Rear Admiral Cain has decided to disband the Dagger Squad. Immediately.”

Jake heard Yale gasp behind him, and he would have too, if it weren’t for the sinking weight in his chest. The mission had been a clusterfuck, there was no doubt about it, but they had achieved their mission. He had risked his ass after watching Maverick’s plane get shot out of the sky, putting all thought of his little Charlie girl waiting for him at home and the whisper of ‘god damnit, Buttercup was right’ out of his head, and he had taken charge. He had been the one to pull Rooster out of his single-minded mission to avenge Mav’s death, he had been the one to take down the jet that had been targeting an ejected Bob and Natasha, and he, Payback and Fanboy had been the ones to deliver the payload in the end, effectively taking out the target.

He had brought all but one of them home safely, but he didn’t feel any sense of relief, or even grief over Mav’s death. All he felt was the warmth of his baby girls, curled up against his chest as he rocked them in their nursery. All he tasted was the sweetness of Buttercup’s kiss, all he smelled was that newborn baby smell that he swore to God was the best thing he’d ever smelled in his life. All he saw was Buttercup’s tear-stained face as she gathered Abby in her arms and left, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in his ears. If his reaction time had been even a millisecond slower, he could’ve been in Mav’s position, and then what? What would happen to his Charlie then?

“…because of the nature of this mission, disbanding the Dagger Squad, and because you all are the best of the best, the Rear Admiral has decided to make you an offer. As you know, the Navy doesn’t often let you make very many decisions, so I want you to think carefully before you respond, because we do need your answer today. Your first option is to be absorbed into another Squad; in which case you would be shipping out today for your new assignments. Yes, Lieutenant Fitch, if both members of your team decide to go with option one, you will be keeping your WSO. Your second option is—”

The clatter of metal against wood stole the words from Cyclone’s lips, and everyone turned towards the mild-mannered, quiet, shy WSO standing behind the glaringly empty space in the third row.

“—retirement, with a full pension and an honourable discharge,” Cyclone finished, staring down at Bob’s nameplate, lying on the desk beside him.

“I think it’s pretty clear what I choose,” the WSO spoke softly, but no one in the squad could miss the barely tempered rage in his voice.

“Lieutenant Floyd—”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” Warlock stepped up next to Cyclone.

“I almost died on this mission,” Bob stated frankly, his gaze never wavering from Cyclone’s face. “I had to eject Lieutenant Trace and I from our aircraft after she was struck in the face by shrapnel that broke through our windshield and destroyed her helmet. Debris that came from Maverick’s plane.” The silence was heavy, tension mounting with every word, but Bob pressed on. “Nat’s never going to fly again. They already told me. And frankly, sir? I don’t know if I have it in me to bond with another pilot after holding my best friend’s body as we waited for rescue, already knowing that our team lead was KIA.”

Cyclone opened his mouth to speak, but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I understand, son. If you, or anyone else, decide to retire, know that you’ll be going with the full gratitude of the US Navy,” Warlock responded.

“Thank you, sir,” Bob saluted, then propelled himself out of line, crutching past the waiting rows of his friends and coworkers as he headed for the door. “I’ll fill out any paperwork you need, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“There’s no need to pack and go so quickly.”

“All due respect, sir, but yes, there is,” he came to a stop in front of Jake and fixed him with a steely look. “My family needs me. And if I don’t help them, who will?”

Jake swallowed painfully, his heart pressing against his aching ribs with every heartbroken beat, the roar of fear and shame and anxiety swirling around in his head, blocking out every sound other than the whispers of his regrets.

This wasn’t how his life was supposed to go. Football captain, homecoming king, star pupil of the Naval Academy, he flew through OCS and aced his ASTB. He was the only pilot of his generation with a confirmed air to air kill, handpicked for Top Gun and their top-secret uranium mission. And, on top of all of that, up until six months ago, he’d had the most perfect, beautiful wife waiting for him at home with their precious newborn twins.

Now, he was a divorced single dad of one beautiful little girl. A beautiful little girl that he’d had to leave in the capable hands of Penny Benjamin when the Squad had been deployed. A beautiful little girl whose sister he missed so incredibly much that it threatened to bring him to his knees. Whose mother had been right about damn near everything.

“Lieutenant Seresin?”

Jake blinked, his vision and hearing coming back into focus as Cyclone stepped down to face him.

“I’m going to be frank with you, Lieutenant. You’re the best of the best,” Cyclone stated, stepping closer. “Your skills in the cockpit are unmatched and you showed the type of leadership qualities we need in this line of work. There are whispers of promoting you due to your actions on this last mission. With the loss of Captain Mitchell and your actions on this mission, you are now the only ace pilot that the Navy has to offer. You’d have your choice of assignments, should you choose to stay. It would be a damn shame to lose you, son.”

Jake felt something squeeze in his chest, and this time it wasn’t his busted ribs. Being a Naval aviator was the only thing he had ever wanted to be, and Jake Seresin always got what he wanted. He should be elated, planning for his move to the best naval base in the country, where they would probably let him lead his own squad after the way he led the Dagger Squad home safely, tearing victory from the jaws of defeat. He could be Lieutenant Commander Seresin.

Buttercup’s tears and the clicking of his apartment door as it swung shut.

Those bright baby blues that were just now starting to darken into the very same light green he saw in the mirror every morning.

The powdery scent of diaper powder and formula, and the solid warmth and weight of his baby girl in his arms.

“With all due respect, Admiral?” Jake pushed through the catch in his throat. “It would be even more of a damn shame for my daughter to lose her dad. I’m all she’s got. I…I can’t let her down. I can’t let her ever think there’s a chance in hell that her daddy ain’t comin’ back to her. I’m afraid I have to thank you for the opportunity and request that you tender my resignation. Sir.”

Cyclone sighed, a wave of disappointment cresting over his face as he opened his mouth to argue, to convince him to stay, but a firm hand gripped his shoulder.

“We understand,” Warlock reached out and shook his hand. “Thank you for your service, Lieutenant Seresin.”

Jake nodded, shaking his hand before turning and saluting Cyclone. “Thank you, sir.”

“I…I’m with him.” Jake turned and saw Javy saluting the two members of the brass.

“Coyote…”

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. I followed your ass on the football field, I followed your ass to the Naval Academy, and now I’m following your ass out the door. You’re not the only one Charlie’s got, man. You both got me.”

“And me.”

The two men turned to see Rooster fiddling with his name plate.

“Bradshaw…” Cyclone’s voice rose in shock.

“My mama never wanted this for me,” Bradley continued, as if he hadn’t heard him. “I know she didn’t. Hell, my mama never stepped another foot on a plane after my daddy died. She was too terrified of bein’ in the air, thinkin’ I might lose her too. I used to think that flying brought me closer to my dad, that I could feel him when I was alone in the cockpit.” He unpinned his name plate carefully, studying the engraving. Lt. Bradshaw. “I can’t feel him anymore,” he murmured. “I’m older than he ever got to be. And now Mav’s gone…” Rooster sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to shake this last mission, sir. I’d be a detriment to any team I join, and I don’t want to put anyone in that position. So…I’m walking away.”

“I…understand. Thank you, gentlemen, for your years of service.”

Rooster saluted, then the three men walked out of the briefing room, the weight of their actions blanketing them.

“So…what now?”

Jake rubbed at his ribs. “We go to Mav’s funeral…then I guess we go home.”

“And where exactly is home?” Rooster drawled. “I can’t imagine you want to stay in your apartment after…everything.”

Jake shook his head, his tactician’s brain kicking into high gear. “Javy?”

“Yeah, man?”

“I think it’s time we introduce Bradshaw here to some Texas barbecue.”

The Brig, Camp Silver Star, Present Day

“Amelia? You…you knew?” Charlie yanked at the t-shirt that felt like it was closing in around her neck.

Amelia kicked off her rainboots, shed her yellow raincoat, and shuffled towards them, gingerly taking a seat on Abby’s bed.

“Yeah…I knew.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlie’s hands clenched rhythmically as she tried to breathe.

“I didn’t know the two of you were here at the same time,” Amelia soothed. “I found out that day that cantaloupe ended up in the fruit salad. You both came to me to ask about it, and I went to find my mom right away. That’s when she told me that she had sent emails about the camp to your aunt and uncles, offering a friends and family discount if you came for these specific weeks.”

“A-Aunt Penny knew too?” Charlie croaked.

“She did. Charlie, I—”

Charlie shook her head, sending her blond braid flying, the end whipping at her face with the force of it. “No. No. This is all a coincidence. It has to be one big coincidence. My dad and your m-mom…them knowing each other doesn’t mean anything.”

“Charlie…” Amelia started, but Abby felt something snap inside of her.

“You’re not actually stupid enough to believe that, are you?” she spat. “Why can’t you just admit that it all makes sense? Our parents knew each other, they got married, and they had us. We have the same birthday, we look identical, and we have these pictures to prove it! Why is that so difficult for you to see?”

“Because it means he lied to me!” Charlie shrieked, burying her head in her hands. “He lied to me. My whole life. He hid my mom and my sister from me for twelve years! He’s my best friend, we tell each other everything, we do everything together, and he lied to me!”

Charlie’s shoulders shook with the force of heavy sobs as the wind whipped at the windows, making the cabin shake. She’d asked her dad about her mother for years, and he had never told her. And neither had Javy or Rooster, who so clearly knew her mother too. Her chest ached with the sting of betrayal, and she had no idea how she was supposed to go home and look her three favourite people in the eyes after finding out they had been hiding such a massive secret from her.

Charlie flinched as she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and she sniffled as her head was tugged onto Abby’s shoulder.

“W-why aren’t you angry?” she whispered.

“I honestly don’t know,” Abby murmured back, staring sightlessly out the window. “I know that I should be. I know that my mum and Uncle Bob and Auntie Nat lied by omission by not telling me about you and dad, but I just…can’t.”

“Why would they do this to us?” Charlie scrubbed at her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “How is it legal to say that each parent gets a kid, and they never have to see the other one?”

“They had a custody arrangement…” Amelia had moved to kneel at the edge of Charlie’s bed.

“What sick judge would agree to something like this?” Charlie hiccupped as Abby removed her arm and leaned forward, desperation shining in her eyes.

“No one,” Amelia sighed and turned her face downwards. “Now, I don’t have all the information. I was just a kid when your parents split up, and my mom and Mav tried to shield me from the worst of it. All I know is that they got engaged after dating for like a really short amount of time, then your mom found out she was pregnant with you two, and they eloped in Las Vegas. Mav was pissed.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t he like my mum?”

“He loved your parents, both of them. Hangman was a pain in the butt, but Mav wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. After that first mission they flew together, when Hangman saved Mav and Rooster’s life, nobody really cared that Hangman was cocky. The way he could needle at the other members of his squad, it only ever pushed them to be the best that they could be. I know Mav saw a lot of good in your dad, and he really cared about him. And your mom? I think Mav loved your mom because she really helped bring Hangman down to earth. He once told me, ‘Buttercup keeps Hangman’s feet on the ground while his brain is racing through the sky’,” Amelia chuckled. “God, I loved hanging around with your parents. They were so cool.”

“Wait…Buttercup?” Abby bit her lip. “That’s what my aunt and uncle call my mum. Well, that and kiddo.”

“Yeah, nicknames around Miramar kinda just…stuck. Your dad started calling your mom Buttercup, and that was that. She was Buttercup from then on.”

“She even has a buttercup tattoo on her collarbone,” Abby said excitedly, her mind racing with the implication.

“That’s great and all, but can we get back to the story? Why was Mav angry?”

“Because he wanted to be there when they got married,” Amelia laughed quietly. “The Dagger Squad got chosen to do an air show in Las Vegas, and Hangman was able to work it so that your mom could come. Mav didn’t question it at all, even though he knew they were engaged and expecting. Your dad had to do 200 pushups when he got back for not telling Mav the plan so that he could be there,” Amelia giggled. “But I never heard him complain about it. He thought your mom was worth it.”

“So then…what happened?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. My mom and dad split when I was younger, and I guess my mom thought that watching one of my favourite couples in the world split up might bring up some bad memories, so she and Mav sheltered me from a lot of it. I know they had a really bad fight, they both said some things, and then they split, and they each took one of you.”

“H-how did they decide who to take?” Charlie trembled.

“I honestly don’t know. But I know it was never supposed to be permanent. The custody arrangement, I mean.”

“Then what happened? Why did they keep us from each other?”

Amelia shrugged. “I know that it was partly your dad’s deployment schedule. It was hard to set up a visitation schedule when Dagger Squad was being called into action so often. Then, the pandemic hit, and nobody wanted to be sending really young kids on international flights where they could get sick and potentially have lasting complications. After that, I really don’t know.”

Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath as Abby chewed on her lower lip. The cabin was silent, save for the wind and rain lashing at the windows.

Finally, Amelia sighed. “I know this a big revelation for the two of you, and I hate to leave when you probably have a billion more questions. But I do have to get back. I’ll be back later tonight to collect your tray, and I’ll hopefully have more time to answer your questions. Okay?”

Abby nodded but Charlie sat stock still, staring into space.

“Charlie?” Amelia called softly, ducking her head to catch her gaze. “Are we okay, hon?”

Charlie nodded mutely and Amelia returning it with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll see you both later.”

“Bye Amelia,” Abby called softly as the door swung shut behind her.

Silence fell for a brief moment before Abby looked over at Charlie.

“What are you thinking?”

“Shhh…” Charlie hissed, but Abby didn’t take offense. It was clear from the deep set of Charlie’s eyebrows and the pensive look in her eyes that she was planning something. No…plotting something.

Abby shrugged and walked over to the small card table that held their trays of food. Two small Thermos’ of chili, an array of Ziploc bags filled with cheese, chili flakes, bacon bits, and sour cream, and two snack sized bags of tortilla chips were seated neatly on the silver trays, and Abby felt her stomach grumble.

She had just sat down to her freshly topped chili when Charlie moved, sitting across from her with a steely look in her eyes.

“Charlie?”

“I want to get to know my mom,” she stated simply, as though she was saying that the sky was blue or that grass was green.

Abby nodded eagerly. “I know! I can’t wait to get to know dad! Maybe we could call him together on Friday and talk to him together? And then we could do the same for mum!”

Charlie shook her head. “No. I mean really get to know her. I want to meet her in person. I want to be able to hug her. I want to spend time with her, and I want to be able to do that without having to spend time answering questions about how we found each other or her trying to tell me about what happened between her and dad.”

“I…I want that too,” Abby confessed, though Charlie’s words were confusing her. “And we can do that. Once they know that we know, we’ll be able to use that custody agreement and see mum and dad, and each other, more often.”

Charlie shook her head again. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to talk to dad. Or Rooster. Or Javy. They lied to me for my whole entire life! I’m so mad at them that I’ll probably just scream the whole time we’re talking to them. Besides, whose to say that they won’t make excuses and not let us see each other again? What happens if they just decide that I can’t see mom and you don’t get to see dad?”

“They wouldn’t do that!”

“Abby, they already did do that!” Charlie reached out and grabbed Abby’s wrist, her gaze pleading. “Don’t you want to get to know dad without having to deal with all of this? Don’t you want to be able to meet him and get to know him without all the awkward stuff, like him asking you what your favourite colour is or what you got for your tenth birthday?”

“Well…yeah. Of course, I do. But…how would we do that? It’s not like I could just go to Texas when camp is over.”

“Why not?” Charlie’s eyes shone bright with excitement. “Who says you couldn’t just take my boarding pass and fly to Texas to meet dad? Who says I couldn’t just take your boarding pass and fly to London to meet mom?”

“Charlie, you sound insane,” Abby gently removed her hand from her wrist and picked up her spoon. “First of all, I don’t have a boarding pass. I fly stand-by because my uncle is a pilot and gets me on the plane for free, so long as he’s the one flying. Second, we might look a like, but there are still some cosmetic differences! My hair is shorter than yours, I have pierced ears, and we have different accents. They would certainly notice all that. And third, our parents have known us since birth. Surely they would be able to tell that we’re not us!”

“We can fix those things!” Charlie leaned forward. “I can teach you all about my life in Texas. I can show you the layout of the ranch, which cows to avoid, how to tack up my horse at home. I can teach you all about dad and Javy and Rooster. I can cut my hair! And listen, it’s not even that hard to fake a British accent. Pip, pip, cheerio!”

Abby snorted. “And what? You expect me to teach you all about London? Where to catch the tube, the layout of the flat, where the best fish and chips are? You want me to tell you all about mum, and where Uncle Bob hides his glasses cleaning cloth, and how not to stare at Auntie Nat’s scar? You want me to start talking like a cowboy? And what about my ears being pierced?”

“Why not?” Charlie begged, her green eyes shining. “We’ve got like a month to teach each other everything we would ever need to know. And we both have cell phones, so it’s not like we would be completely cut off from each other. If I had a question, I could just text you and ask!”

“Charlie, you sound ridiculous!” Abby threw her spoon down and rubbed her eyes. “There’s no way I can teach you about my life in a month. You want us to try to pull one over on the people that know us best. It would never work.”

Charlie bit her lip then leaned in for the kill. “I saw the way you lit up when Amelia mentioned mom’s nickname being Buttercup. I know how excited you got when you realized that mom has a tattoo of a buttercup. I know you were thinking the exact same thing I was.”

“Which is?”

“That if the people around her still call her Buttercup, maybe she still has feelings for dad. The nickname obviously meant enough to her that she got it tattooed on her body, and she hasn’t tried to get it removed or anything.”

“Mum, she…she’s never dated,” Abby admitted quietly. “She always says she just doesn’t have the time, but…I’ve always hoped that maybe it’s because she still has feelings for my dad.”

“Dad is the same way,” Charlie whispered. “He says I’m his best girl, but I know from Rooster and Javy that dad could be going on lots of dates if he wanted to. They love to tease him about it, and he tells them that he’s too busy with me and the ranch. But I know it’s because he still loves mom.” Charlie reached for her wrist again and this time Abby didn’t pull away. “Abby, if we do this, they will eventually have to switch us back. I’m not suggesting we do this forever. We can get to know them for a bit, then tell them the truth, and they’ll have to meet to switch us back. And when they meet…”

“…they could fall in love again,” Abby murmured.

“They could. Or, at the very least, they can talk and figure out a schedule so we don’t have to be separated again. C’mon…isn’t it at least worth a shot?” Charlie blinked over at her; the puppy dog eyes she had learned from her dad shining in full force.

Abby sighed. “Do you really think we can do it?”

“We’ve got a month, we’ve got social media, and we’ve got access to the computers once a week. I don’t see how we couldn’t pull this off.”

Abby chewed on her bottom lip. “O-okay…but if I don’t feel comfortable with this later, I want to be able to change my mind.”

“Done.” Charlie stuck her hand out and Abby grasped it, pumping it twice in the air with a grin on her face. “Now…let’s get to work.”

Tags List: @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @seresinsbrat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @cierra715 @high-speed-r @helpmepleasethanks @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @princessliz86 @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @torimcc @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @hello7442 @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @ssa-sadboi @tgmavericklover @dempy @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @lovemarvelousfics @starkleila @magical-spit @whatislovevavy @simplyreading96 @vivalas-vega @itsdesiree86 @inky-sun @books-are-escapes @abaker74 @clockworkballerina

#this is so fun #jake seresin x reader

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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the legend of the great wizard bobernius | r.b.f. x reader

a/n: I would like to thank @roosterforme and @honeyedspace and the discord girlies (gn) for enabling me in my horny fantasies and @attapullman for creating International Bob Floyd Fucks Month, which I will be celebrating every January from here on out. This work is unsuitable for minors, 18+ ONLY THIS IS LITERALLY FILTH. As always, likes are nice, but comments and reblogs make the world go around. Do not repost my work. Yada yada yada frittata

summary: Bob Floyd likes D&D and fucking his girlfriend

warnings: Bob Floyd, bad d&d jokes, smut: oral, fingering, teasing, orgasm denial, pussy spanking, unprotected p-i-v

Bob trudged down the hall towards your shared apartment, weary down to the bone. Spending the day at Comic Con with Fanboy was an incredible, unforgettable experience. But now he was so tired and so late. And his phone died so he couldn't even call to let you know when he might be home.

Something smelled absolutely divine as he neared the door, making his stomach growl in earnest. He fumbled for his keys. He totally didn't spend far too much money on merch and materials for his and Fanboy’s D&D campaign. And of course, a few things for you. He dropped his keys, heaving a sigh when they clattered loudly on the hardwood floor. He wished he'd worn regular clothes instead of his wizard gear. Fanboy even dressed as Han Solo. But no. He wanted to be his D&D character; the great wizard Bobernius. Which was perfectly fine for most of the day. But now his arms were loaded down with everything he bought, his wizard robes were too hot and honestly a little itchy, his feet ached from walking all over downtown and the convention center in uncomfortable shoes, and he was just plain tired and hungry.

Just as he was about to drop everything and pick up his keys, the door creaked open. You stood before him with a wry smile, wearing one of his faded Navy tees and basketball shorts, holding a glass of wine.

“The great wizard Bobernius? To what do I owe this pleasure?” You teased, opening the door wider so he could shuffle inside. You'd helped him with his character sheet and often supplied refreshments when the campaign met at your apartment. The name ‘Bobernius’ was your idea.

“Hi, honey.” Bob grinned and kissed your cheek as he passed. He placed his bags on the coffee table and rolled out his shoulders. He then grabbed his keys, hung them on the hall tree, and closed the door.

“There's some soup left on the stove for you.”

“Are you an angel?” he asked, genuine gratefulness shining in his pretty blue eyes.

You hummed in response, shrugging your shoulders, “Mickey called. Said your phone died.”

“He might be an angel, too.” Bob said, walking over and sliding an arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss, “but I'd rather worship you.”

You melted into his arms. His kisses always had that effect on you. Even before you started dating and knew what it was like to be kissed by Bob Floyd, when you'd catch his eye in the mess hall and he smiled at you, your heart would flutter. Just like it was now.

“My, Bobernius,” you batted your lashes when he pulled away, “Aren't you forward?”

“Forgive me, fair maiden, I was overcome with gratitude.”

“Eat.” You nudged him towards the stove where a pot of his favorite soup simmered. “Restore your strength. Perhaps then you can show me how grateful you are.”

You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively and Bob nearly choked on his laughter.

“What did you buy?” You asked him, observing the bags strewn across the coffee table.

“You can take a peak if I can have you for dessert.”

“I don't know.” You teased, examining a set of starry night themed dice he purchased earlier that day, “Might have to roll for initiative.”

Bob groaned and hid his reddening face behind his hands. You chucked the quilted d-20 pillow you made for his birthday last year at his head but he blocked it easily, knocking it to the floor.

“Whaddya know?” He mused, “Natural 20.”

You stuck out your tongue and blew a raspberry.

It was sinful, really. The way such a soft, sweet, shy man became a beast when it came to sex.

When you first started dating he'd been hesitant to initiate sex; terrified of coming on too strong or hurting you. It took weeks of inviting him to stay the night, changing in front of him, and finally physically putting his hands on your chest for him to get the message.

And after he stopped blushing and stammering, Bob proved to be the best you would ever have. ‘Generous Lover' was an understatement. He always made sure you finished twice at minimum before he did. And if you didn't and wanted to tap out, he never held it against you; perfectly content to snuggle up and watch a movie or go to sleep instead.

You hadn't put panties on after your shower, just the shorts and shirt. The groan he'd let out not two minutes ago when he'd put his hand under the waistband to find you bare and already soaked from anticipation? Primal. Animalistic, even. He'd almost knocked you over in his haste to get you out of your clothes but you knew he'd never let you fall.

Now, with two bowls of soup eaten and the dishes washed and put away, Bob had you perched on the edge of a bar stool, T-shirt bunched around your waist and shorts somewhere on the floor, his head between your thighs with your legs over his shoulders.

He wanted you for dessert, after all.

“F-fuck, Bobby, oh my god.” you moaned, head tipped back. One hand in his soft blond hair and the other white-knuckling the edge of the counter for balance. He did the most wicked things with his tongue. If not tracing patterns on your clit, then licking into your cunt as far as he could reach while his nose rubbed against your clit and his glasses left imprints on your thighs.

He groaned, the vibration going straight through your core. You were white-hot and tingling all over and so, so close.

But just before you tipped over the edge of your orgasm, he pulled back and tossed you over his shoulder. He swatted you on the ass and got as far as the sofa before deciding that the chaise side of the sectional was good enough.

He laid you down carefully, like you were made of glass, peppering kisses all over your face and down your neck. He put a throw pillow under your lower back, massaging your hips with his large warm hands.

“Bobby…” You whined for his attention. Your legs were still trembling from how close you had been to finishing, your pussy walls clenching around nothing.

“I know honey, I know.” Bob pushed your shirt up to get his hands on your tits. He massaged the soft flesh, pinching and squeezing and teasing. “I'm gonna help you, don't you worry.”

He lavished hot, open mouthed kisses across your chest and down your stomach until returned to your still soaked cunt. But he didn't go back to eating you out. Instead, he left kisses and love bites all over your thighs and stomach until you were shaking with need and begging for him.

“Bobby, please. Need you.”

“I dunno, honey,” Bob mused, stroking through your folds with one hand and attempting to disrobe with the other. He liked his costume. Especially the pieces you helped him make. But there were far too many layers. “Maybe you should roll for persuasion.”

You hated him. You hated him so much.

No.

You didn't.

Not when he pushed two, long, thick fingers into your center and rubbed your clit with his thumb at the same time. You moaned, arching your back and pressing your hips up into his touch.

He scissored his fingers, stretching you open for his cock. He was aching in his trousers. In hindsight, he should have changed when he got home.

Somehow he managed to shuck his boots, pants and boxers, leaving him in his tunic and robes. You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your throat at the sight of him hovering over you, his deliciously long and thick cock caught in the hem of his tunic.

Bob withdrew his fingers and laid a spank to your pussy for laughing. Your legs shook at the harsh contact and you squealed. He gave you one more spank for good measure before going back to fingering you and licking at your clit.

This time, he let you come, happily humming against your pussy as he lapped up every last drop with slow, flat strokes of his tongue. He brought his hand up to your mouth so you could taste yourself, suckling his fingers clean with a soft moan.

“Think you're ready, honey?” He asked, chafing his hands along your kiss marked and trembling thighs. You nodded eagerly, pussy clenching in anticipation of what was to come.

To put it mildly, Bob was hung. Above average length and girth for your well above average boyfriend. He was pretty, veiny, and red at tip, precum staining his tunic.

He climbed over you on the chaise and adjusted your position to make sure you'd be comfortable. You pulled his tunic up for him, running your hands over his muscled back and chest. You gently scraped your nails over his pecs, making him hiss. He held himself up by one arm by your head and rubbed the fat head of his cock through your folds, slapping your clit a few times to make you shudder.

“Just the tip, okay?” He said, distracting you with a searing kiss. Liar. He pushed into you slowly, moaning your name. He kissed you softly when you groaned and scrunched your face at the stretch of him.

“That's my girl.” Bob murmured, burying his face in the crook of your neck almost the same way his cock was buried in your pussy. He rolled his hips into yours and you choked on a gasp. God, you never felt so full as you did when Bob was inside you.

“Love this perfect little pussy.” He grunted, “Always so tight for me.”

You clenched at his words. You loved him. You loved him and his fat cock and dirty mouth so much.

Hooking your legs over his arms for the deepest angle without mashing your cervix, Bob started with slow, languid thrusts so you could have more time to adjust.

“I think,” He said, thrusting a little harder, a little faster, “That the great wizard Bobernius is providing thorough proof of his gratitude. What do you think, honey?”

You can't even speak at this point. He’s overwhelmed your senses with his hand on your breast and his mouth at your neck and his cock splitting you in half in the most delicious way possible. You just nod and manage a soft “uh-huh” between moans.

“Aww,” Bob teased, “you like the wizard sex, don't you, honey?”

You're not even sure what he asked, but you nod anyway. Anything to keep him going.

“That's- my- girl-” he accentuated each word with a thrust, each one a little harder than the last.

You tangle one hand in his hair, tugging his mouth up to yours, the other still holding his tunic out of the way.

“Touch yourself.” Bob said between kisses. It was a suggestion more than a command, but you obeyed anyway. You slid your hand between your bodies, scraping your nails across his torso as you went until you reached the swollen, aching bundle of nerves between your legs. You tried to concentrate on swiping over your clit, but the way Bob was pounding you into the chaise made it difficult.

That white-hot tingling feeling was back. Heat rushed through your veins, making you clench, shudder, and shake. The only words you could manage aside from incoherent moans was a soft chant of, “fuck, fuck, fuck,”.

The combination of Bob's relentless pace, him sucking at your pulse point, and your fingers deftly stroking your clit brought your orgasm crashing down over you so suddenly you choked on air. Hot tears ran down your cheeks as you babbled how good you felt.

You were floating.

He slowed, lifting his head to make sure you were alright. He peppered kisses over your face until you were giggling and writhing under him.

“Don't stop,” you whined, moving your hands to his hips to pull him closer, “Feels good.”

He grinned down at you. Sweaty hair clung to his forehead and his glasses were askew. But he never looked more handsome. He sat back on his haunches and lifted you up with him, holding your hips so tightly as he drove his cock into your pussy you were sure you'd have bruises later.

All you could do was cling to his shoulders and mouth at his neck. You left little kisses up and down the column of his throat and sucked hickey over his collarbone where his uniform would cover it.

“Fuck, honey,” He moaned, closing his eyes shut and holding you tight as his hips stuttered a final few thrusts.

You and Bob stayed like that for a few minutes. Basking in the post-sex high. Giggling and kissing and catching your breath.

Bob carefully laid you down and pulled out, both of you wincing and hissing at the loss. He wrapped you up in a throw blanket from the back of the couch and helped you stand.

“I think we might need to have the couch cleaned.” He said, studying the dark, wet splotch left on the cushion.

“What, the great wizard Bobernius doesn't know any cleaning spells?”

“Not that kind.” He shrugged, sliding his arms around your waist and kneading at your lower back. You let out a happy sigh and rested your head against his chest.

“I think you may need a new tunic. Cum stains don't easily come out of this material.”

“Bobernius needs an armor upgrade anyway. Next week we're going to the Tower of Light.”

“Roll for persuasion and maybe a certain fair maiden can assist.”

“I think I used my action and my bonus action. What if you rolled initiative instead?”

You rolled your eyes, more amused than annoyed. Really, you wouldn't trade your giant nerd boyfriend for anything in the world.

“I love you.” He said, smudging a kiss to your temple.

“I know.” You replied.

#bob floyd x reader #giggling because nerdy bob has such a special place in my heart

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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i shared this on my main too but i just finished reading it again and it's just so good

bob fucks and i have THOUGHTS about it and I've been telling my friend about them for awhile

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone.

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit.

But.

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app.

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do.

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play.

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones.

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena.

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you.

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy.

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer.

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter.

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering.

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip.

Why did guys in real life never moan?

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure.

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low.

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only.

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you.

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste?

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy, acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin.

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.”

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his.

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?”

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper.

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you.

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper.

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him.

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?”

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds.

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you.

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly.

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl.

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy.

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?”

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against.

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded.

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.”

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect.

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there.

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow.

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to.

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear.

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set.

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you.

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door.

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time.

Some might even say, with a pep in your step.

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed.

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat.

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly.

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on.

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing).

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person.

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets.

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration.

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze.

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too.

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise.

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips.

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago.

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.”

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock.

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms.

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it).

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal.

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before??

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot.

A knock on your door startled you.

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically.

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door.

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused.

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it.

He looked the same.

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you.

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills.

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them.

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral.

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away.

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse.

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room.

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced.

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t.

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room.

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again.

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it.

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep.

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react.

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation.

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again.

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you.

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly.

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him.

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob.

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway.

Of course he did.

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately.

Objectively, Bob was the best.

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you.

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you.

He pushed himself off the bed.

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either.

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay.

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it.

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question.

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break.

You kissed him.

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer.

He was so soft.

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him.

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention.

“Can I show you?” you asked.

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry.

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely.

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous.

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him.

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard.

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on.

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze.

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently.

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you.

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually.

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked.

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob.

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered.

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them.

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett.

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard.

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him.

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need.

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch.

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations.

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing.

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing.

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it.

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric.

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob.

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again.

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob.

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering.

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob.

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking.

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did.

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled.

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him.

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.”

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him.

It was better with him.

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing.

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good.

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there.

You felt like you were floating.

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him.

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he?

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life.

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right.

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips.

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you.

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself.

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner.

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin.

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin.

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned.

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.”

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had.

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless.

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered.

He wasn’t done, either.

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…”

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses.

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man.

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace.

You loved the feeling of his skin.

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you.

Fuck.

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders.

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric.

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself.

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him.

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick.

Holy. Shit.

He looked like a work of art.

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl.

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky.

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat.

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it.

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact.

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you.

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him.

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them.

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking.

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster.

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much.

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly.

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot.

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you.

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more.

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn.

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect.

Fuck, he felt so good.

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon.

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked.

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything.

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop.

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying.

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core.

He knew, somehow.

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher.

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising.

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…”

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him.

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back.

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop.

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant.

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him.

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips.

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you.

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you.

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips.

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher.

And then.

And then he got close.

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you.

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it.

When you came back, you were on your side.

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction.

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

#bob floyd x reader

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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some of the fics will be 18+ so no minors here, please! I don’t want to block anyone but I will if you are under 18 or don’t have your age somewhere to show you are over 18.

my main blog is: bobfloydssunnies

a breakdown of characters you’ll see:

Top Gun Characters:

jake seresin

bradley bradshaw

Lewis Pullman Characters:

robert “bob” floyd

rhett abbott

Marvel Characters:

bucky barnes

steve rogers

tasm! peter parker

druig

Oscar Isaac Characters:

poe dameron

santiago garcia

marc spector

steve grant

Pedro Pascal Characters:

din djarin

oberyn martell

frankie morales

Stranger Things Characters:

steve harrington

i will update this as more characters get added or when i start noticing i reblog more from a certain person

#read the file [about the blog]#message in a bottle [aims talks]

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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this is lowkey reminding me of my summer trips to Montana cause we stay in a small town near some cattle ranches and i am always people watching checking out the ranchers and cowboys

Handsome Cowboy | B.F. + R.A.

Summary: An innocent trip for bread turns into meeting your boyfriend's doppelganger you can't get over.

Word Count: 470

Warnings + Notes: 18+ only mdni, gn!reader, smut mentions. This is the ending for a much longer fic that I ended up not loving, but a lil jealous Bob is such a treat I still wanted to share. It's like a baby fic with zero context 🤷‍♀️

The market feels like it’s all a dream as you make your way back to the parking lot. So similar, but so different. It’s not until you’re steps from the door that Bob points out you forgot the bread. He makes a mad dash back for it, politely waiting in line to pay behind some teenagers before joining you again. Your sweet boyfriend who packs you into the truck with a kiss to the temple before setting off to his parent’s house, bread on the console.

The entire drive home you can’t shut up about the handsome cowboy buying beer.

It blows your mind how similar Rhett looks to your Bobby. Still reeling at how their eyes are the exact matching shade of sapphire - Bob’s more mellow compared to Rhett’s storming gaze. The same broad shoulders, but a different swagger in their steps. Just as handsome as you, babe, you muse with a wink from the passenger seat. You amusedly make a joke about the sex appeal of cowboy hats and the tips of Bob’s ears turn vermilion.

However many miles later (long enough to talk about Rhett’s big silver buckle the entire length of a song on the radio) you’re finally back at Bob’s parent’s farm and sneaking through the back door like teenagers to not wake them. He places the bread in the cute little white bread box before tiptoeing upstairs with you. While sharing the guest bathroom to get ready for bed, you slide your hands around his waist from behind and peck Bob’s freckled shoulder.

“Have you ever considered growing stubble?”

In the mirror, Bob gives you a look - as if the military would allow that - and goes back to brushing his teeth. He’s never seen you this worked up about someone who isn’t him and the jealousy is consuming. You’re fully riding this cowboy train. All starry-eyed and dreamy smiles while you finish washing your face and excuse yourself to the guest room. Feet swinging over the edge of the bed as you compare and contrast your sweet, clean cut WSO and the rough-around-the-edges bull rider you happened across. Part of the appeal is the cowboy’s ranch drawl, an accent that only comes out of your boyfriend on special occasions, like when he’s between your legs.

Your attention is diverted by a figure at the open door. Bob looks at you from his spot, face contemplative and serious behind his glasses, hip popped against the doorjamb in his checkered pajama bottoms. He isn’t sure this is going to work but he’s desperate. You smile at him, curious.

“One summer in high school I went to a rodeo and bought some boots and a Stetson. They’re in the garage. If I put them on and make you cum, will you please stop talking about the handsome cowboy?”

taglist: @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @creatchie8 @hangmanapologist @just-in-case-iloveyou @maryelizabeth13 @mtnzen @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @yuckosworld

join the taglist for any and all fics

#oh this is a thought #i have sucha weakness for both of them #bob floyd x reader #rhett abbot x reader

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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i haven’t used this side blog for a hot minute but hi hello it’s going to be making a comeback as i start reading more and more top gun fics

#it’s 3am and i’ll make a tag for personal post later when im on my laptop and not my phone #but i’m back babes

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 1 year ago

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oral technique [part two] | b.f

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader word count: 2449 warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], oral sex [f & m receiving], reader rides bob’s face in a parking lot, a mind blowing blowjob, male moaning, whimpering, bob has a praise kink, bob gets head, bob’s a virgin in this, it’s pure filth

summary: in which you give bob head

author’s note: @attapullman convinced me to write this a while ago. everyone say “thank you morgan” 🤭

part one | oneshot | masterlist

If there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that you never wanted to be “just friends” with Bob. You’d had feelings for him for a while, enjoying the time you spent together that made your feelings develop tenfold.

He was smart, usually the smartest person in the room. His shyness and shy nature made it seem like whoever commandeered the conversation ruled him out of the running. But you knew – he’d mumble under his breath with correct facts, never needing anyone else to confirm for him. He didn’t want the recognition, or everyone’s attention on him.

But you? He craved your attention. He enjoyed the smug grin you wore whenever he corrected someone. The look you shared with him whenever the person he was correcting was Hangman. You understood he didn’t like being the centre of attention, and so you basked in his victory quietly.

A game of truth or drink brought forth your feelings for someone in the circle. While everyone tried to ask you questions about who it was, you’d always take a sip as you held Bob’s gaze. You understood how embarrassed he’d feel if the entire group knew; the merciless teasing and insistence on setting the two of you up. The way you viewed it, he’d act on it once he was ready to, once your hints and lingering touches became more obvious.

You hadn’t been surprised to watch Bob drink when the question about virginities came into play one night. He was a private person, and if he didn’t want to talk about his experience – or lack thereof, – you’d do what you could to draw the attention away from him. Even if that meant over exaggerating your own experience, everyone was quick to move on and forget that Bob had drank instead of telling a story.

It was how Bob decided to confide in you, and you soon learnt that he was still a virgin. He’d told you with his head hung in shame, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. You hadn’t made fun of him, no. Instead, you’d offered to teach him how to go down on a woman.

By practicing on you.

Sure, it was fuelling your own agenda, but Bob was eager to learn and you were more than willing.

Your mind still spun in circles whenever you remembered that night. The way his hands and mouth felt on you, inside you. His lust-blown pupils and crooked glasses, hair a mess from your hands and your slick coating his chin when you finally let him up.

“You taste so good,” he’d uttered, mouth barely an inch from your heat as he’d made the confession. You replayed it over and over again whenever your fingers expertly brought you over the edge.

You wanted him again, of course you did. Your skin felt alive whenever you were in close proximity to him, his cheeks always rosy whenever you looked in his direction. Your little secret.

He drove you wild.

He’d told you about his crush, and you’d finally confessed to yours. He’d been bashful and shy, asking, “wait, really?” It made you chuckle as you tenderly cupped his face and said, “yeah, Bobby, really.”

Getting it out in the open had been the first step. Sure, you’d skipped a bunch by offering to teach him how to eat you out, but it had been more than worth it. Since then, he’d asked for more “tutoring sessions,” which you were more than happy to oblige with.

It had reached the point where you’d catch him staring at you hungrily from across the room and you’d make an excuse about being tired. Bob would offer to drive you home, and he’d wind up with his mouth on your cunt, making you scream his name.

Tonight was much the same, except Bob was feeling a lot more confident about himself around you. He’d softly kissed the skin behind your ear as he’d given you a hug. His fingers wandered dangerously high under your dress. But tonight you had a plan to pitch a new idea to him, something new you could show him instead.

You wanted to switch places. You wanted to be the one on your knees, driving him wild with your mouth and hands. You wanted to make him come undone and listen to all the pretty noises he’d make.

You announced you were feeling tired not too long after catching Bob ogling your chest. He was being discreet about it, to the point you knew all your friends were oblivious, but you caught him. He blushed something fierce before offering to drive you home.

You had a routine down pat. No one questioned the two of you leaving together. No one questioned the blush on Bob’s cheeks. They all assumed he had a crush and would never act on it, but they underestimate you. Your own crush on Bob that only he knew about.

Outside, you marched towards Bob’s car with purpose, but he was hot on your heels.

“Eager, are we?” He asked cockily, catching your hand and spinning you around. Pressing his body against yours as he backed you up against the door, hands on your thighs under your dress.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, giving you almost what you wanted. You let out a small whine, “Bob,” and he chuckled.

“Here?” He teased, sliding his hands further under your dress. “Anyone could catch us.”

“Doesn’t it excite you just a little bit?” You countered, hands fisting his shirt as you cocked your head to the side. “The thought of me riding your face in a parking lot? On your knees, Lieutenant.”

Bob groaned as he sank to his knees on the gravel ground. He didn’t care about the large stone beneath his left kneecap. All he cared about was having you fuck his face and making you cum harder than you ever have before.

He started with the soft kisses along your thighs, fingertips pushing up the material of your dress as he inched his way higher. His mouth was hot against your already warm skin, teeth nipping and tongue laving at your soft skin. Your thighs were covered in his little ministrations, marks of his time spent between your legs making you come undone over and over and over again.

He kissed you over the material of your panties, taking a deep inhale of your delicious sex as he moved the material to the side.

“Spread your legs a little more,” he instructed, shuffling himself forward a little more. He wanted you perched on his face properly.

You did as he said, leaning back against the side of the car. One hand tangled itself in his hair, the other lifted your dress so you could see him. Bob wasted no time licking a bold stripe up your centre, flattening his tongue so he could taste all of you.

You whimpered as he found your swollen nub, his tongue dancing over it. Tasting, teasing.

He’d become more bold in his actions since his initial first time eating you out. You’d taught him what you liked, the failsafe combination of his mouth on your clit and two fingers hooked inside your cunt, drawing out an orgasm time and time again. But he’d wanted to try more, make shared experiences. You’d been more than willing to let him practice. More than willing to accept any time he wanted to spend with his face buried in your cunt.

You gasped as he stiffened his tongue and pressed into your tight entrance, arms hooked under your legs as you felt him bear your weight. The delicious squelching and slurping had your head falling back against the door with a soft ‘thunk’ that didn’t stop him. He moaned against you as you started bucking your hips, grinding your clit against his nose.

The gates to heaven were at the apex between your thighs and Bob’s tongue held the key.

“Bob,” you gasped, feeling the coil in your abdomen tighten.

But he didn’t stop. He helped guide your hips when your thrusts grew weaker, your hand growing tighter in his hair to the point of pain, making him moan against you one more time.

“‘m so close, baby,” you purred. “Fuck, just like that. Such a good boy.”

Bob’s groan was low and guttural, your words spurring him on. His cock strained against his pants almost painfully. His own hips bucking for any kind of friction as you used his face to come, body shuddering without any further warning and your slick gushing from your cunt with a vengeance.

He slurped and gulped and moaned up a storm as your legs closed around his head, eyes blinking out spots in your vision.

When he felt you gently stroking his hair, he helped you lower your legs to the ground before he gazed up at you. His glasses were askew, pupils lust-blown and and goofy, fucked out smile on his face. The lower half of his face was still covered with remnants of your orgasm, as well as spotted across the dark material of his shirt.

“Such a good boy,” you repeated, just to watch his eyelids flutter close under the praise. “C’mon.”

You helped him stand, admiring the wet patch staining his jeans. The first time he’d cum while eating you out, he’d been embarrassed. Now he felt pride, that getting you off was enough to get him off. You never made him feel bad for it, but you were hoping he’d be ready to go again by the time you got home.

Bob happily drove, holding your hand while you rested in the front seat. The silence was peaceful, and by the time you made it to Bob’s place, he kissed you hungrily.

“Want you to ride my face properly,” he told you. “Straddling my face while you use me to get off.”

Your breath hitched at the idea, your hands tangled in his hair as you tasted yourself on his lips. You shared a moan as he pressed you up against the door of his apartment, fumbling to get the key in the lock so you could continue inside.

“I have a better idea,” you told him, voice sultry as you kissed along his jaw, lips brushing against his air. “I want to reward you for being such a good boy.”

Bob whimpered as the key turned in the lock before the door opened. He held onto you as you stumbled a bit before kicking the door closed.

“What’s that?” He asked, voice thick with desire.

“Get on the couch, baby,” you instructed, watching him drunkenly stumble towards the couch and plop down. You slowly walked towards him, his eyes tracking you. His breath came out ragged as you reached for a decorative cushion and knelt on it in front of him.

“Oh, I–you don’t,” he stammered, swallowing thickly as you ran your hands up and down his thighs, slowly parting his legs.

“You’re always so good to me, baby. I wanna be good for you.”

Bob moaned as your hands reached for the button on his jeans. “Please. Please,” he begged. “Fuck, I don’t–I won’t last.”

His breath came in short pants as you peered up at him.

“It’s not about lasting long, baby. It’s about getting you off. Enjoying the feeling of my mouth,” you assured him. “Please? Please can I suck your cock?”

He keened in response. “Yes, fuck. Please.”

You smiled sweetly, enjoying how wound up he already was at the prospect of your mouth on his cock. He lifted his hips without much prompting, helping you to remove his soiled pants and underwear. His cock sprang to life and rested heavy against his stomach. Thick and long with an angry red tip and droplets of cum streaking down his length.

You rubbed your hands along his thighs, nails lightly raking down to just above his knees, still spotted with dents from the gravel. His cock twitched as you pressed a kiss to his pubic bone, a soft gasp falling past his lips.

You lightly wrapped your hand around his cock, peering up at him through your lashes as you licked and sucked his balls. Bob’s hips bucked of their own accord as you started to stroke your hand up and down his shaft. Precum oozed from his slit with each stroke from base to tip.

Taking a page from Bob’s own oral handbook, you licked him from base to tip, tongue delving into the puddle of precum.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whined, doing his best to watch your delicious assault on his cock.

You wrapped your lips around his tip and hummed, laying your tongue flat against the sensitive underside and gently sucking. Your mouth salivated as he groaned, hands fisting the couch cushion beneath him and you reached for one of them, bringing it up to your hair.

“Guide me slowly,” you instructed. “Find my limits.”

You let your spit trickle down his length, saving more in your mouth before you took him in again. He gently urged your head further down, eyes widening as his cock slowly disappeared in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted. “Takin’ me so well.”

You moaned around him, watching his head fall back at the sensation. You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, the other lightly playing with his balls. Working him into a state you’d only dreamed of.

When you gagged around his cock, his eyes flew open and his grip lessened in your hair. You held his gaze even as your eyes watered and you worked to take him in further.

When you slowly lifted your head, a large bridge of spit from your mouth to his cock had you grinning. You hands continue working his cock.

“How you feeling, baby?” You asked him.

“Good, so good,” he moaned, your thumb rubbing circles at the ridge under his cock. “Fuck, I need your mouth.”

You hummed as you obliged, sucking the tip of his cock while you continued to jerk him off. Slowly taking more of him into your mouth as he guided your head. Starting to quicken your motions as his hips bucked and his balls pulled in tight.

“I’m close. I’m gonna–fuck,” he grunted, whining as you continued your blissful assault until his seed filled your mouth. Hand wound tightly in your hair as you pulled off him with a ‘pop’, mouth full of his salty cum as you swallowed his load.

You hummed, swiping at the corner of your mouth before sucking it clean.

“Good boys should always be rewarded,” you praised.

JOIN THE TAGLIST: @callsigncowboy @cheyennep3107 @kmc1989 @auroraseddie @eloquentdreamer @mamachasesmayhem @yuckosworld @attapullman @sherlockstrangewolf

#it’s 3am and i’m reading this instead of sleeping but omg #this is so hot #bob floyd

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 2 years ago

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not in the fandom, not out of the fandom, but a secret third thing

#me with so many fandoms like i'm just here to vibe and have a good time you know

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 2 years ago

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coming back as we are

words: 4,178 | rating: T

“Chris,” is the first thing Buck says when he wakes up.

His throat is dry, his mouth is dry, his eyes are dry when he finally gets them to open. It takes a few tries, like his eyelashes have been dipped in concrete and left to set.

The world is blurry for a minute. Too bright. He sees a few figures: he recognizes Maddie right away, he’d always recognize her, but the two people closest to him take a few more seconds to place. He blinks a few more times, slow, like he’s been drenched in honey, and then.

Oh. Okay.

He’s never seen them at his bedside before.

“Maddie,” he tries, tries to move, too, and, “oh—ow.”

…or, wherever he was, Buck comes back.

read on ao3

#buddie #this so so perfect

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bobfloydssunniess-library · 3 years ago

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Bruises and Bat-Like Creatures (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Author's Note: Here you guys go, another Steve request! This one was very fun to write and I hope it's not too slow or snippy in the middle bit. I also didn't focus as much on the soulmate AU in the middle as I did in the beginning and end, so I don't know how to feel about that but oh well. As always, requests are open and feedback is appreciated! Thank you guys so much for everything!

Requested?: Yes, by @spideyboipete : "Oh so you want Steve requests???? What about a soulmate AU where your soulmates injuries show up on your skin and reader is just constantly like ???? because of how often Steve gets beat up, but then somehow they figure it out and fluff ensues!!!!"

Summary: Pretty much look at the request lol

Bruises and Bats

Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3,818

Warnings: ST4 Spoilers! Other than that...canon-typical violence, I guess? Nothing really

Another bruise. You’re not sure how many that is this week, but the number keeps adding up. You’re not sure how your soulmate is getting beat up so often, but you know better than to question it to anyone else. After all, what if he ends up being a gang member or something?

“Honey, what happened to your eye? Is that yours or your soulmates?” Your mom gives you a concerned look, rubbing a finger lightly over the decorative bruising that paints your face purple and black.

“Soulmates. You think I got a black eye myself, mom?” You snort. She gives you a look.

“Okay, yes, you don’t get into fights. I know. But still, it’s just unusual for someone to get so many--”

“Okay, mom, I love you! I gotta go to school, bye.” You cut her off, grabbing a biscuit for breakfast and heading out the door.

“Be careful sweetie! There’s a lot of scary things happening around this town right now!” She calls after you, and you wave behind you to signal that you heard her.

As you arrive at Hawkins High, where you work for the newspaper, you fall in line next to your best friend, Nancy Wheeler.

“Another black eye?” She chuckles.

“Yeah. He must like fights.” You shrug, biting into your biscuit. Nancy is quiet for a moment, deep in her thoughts. You look at her contemplative face and think for just a moment that maybe the Wheeler girl is hiding something from you, but it’s gone in a moment when she looks back at you and smiles.

“Huh? Sorry, did you say something? I was lost in my own head,” she says, waving dismissively.

“Nothing.” You shrug it off, giving her a thoughtful smile back. Nancy would never keep secrets from you.

“You know what your bruise kind of looks like?” She asks, stopping in front of the door to the newspaper room.

“What?” You ask amused.

“The same one that S--”

“Steve!” A teenage boy from down the hall calls. Dustin Henderson.

“Hey, Henderson, I’m just here for a moment. I don’t want to be in these halls any longer than I have to be, I’ve already graduated from this place.” Steve mutters as he crosses the hall to Dustin.

“What were you saying, Nance?” You redirect your attention back to her, but she’s just smirking.

“Oh, nothing. Nevermind. Hey, do you want to come over to my house tonight? We can have a girl's night. We haven’t had one in a long time.” She offers, pushing open the door and letting you walk into the room.

“Yeah, that sounds great. But…I don’t know, isn’t there a curfew with all of this weird stuff going on? I mean, Chrissy died. Shouldn’t we be a little more cautious?” You ask, lowering your voice at the mention of the late cheerleader. You both stop at Nancy’s work desk.

“I just want to feel like a normal teenager again despite all of this, can’t you indulge me this once? Besides, your mom will say yes when she knows you’ll be with me.” She insists.

“That’s right. You’re miss straight-A’s the goody-two-shoes girl.” You mumble, setting your stuff down at your own desk that sits next to hers.

“Don’t forget that we have been best friends for a long time and that you have the same reputation.” She points out.

“Okay, fine. I’ll come to your house tonight. I’ve got nothing better to do anyway.”

“Nothing better? Ouch.” She puts a hand mockingly to her chest in fake hurt. You give her a face and then you’re both sat down working on the latest news article to publish.

Later that night, after work, you hear the telephone ringing downstairs. You’re sitting on your bed, trying to piece some details together of a story you are working on for the newspaper. Something isn’t adding up about Chrissy’s death, and you wanted to get to the bottom of it, but you’re still not sure how to do that without coming across as either insensitive or crazy to the rest of the town. So, you’re working on it alone. Maybe Nancy would believe you when you said you weren’t buying the whole “Eddie Munson is evil” ploy that everyone seemed to take up so easily.

“Honey, it’s for you! Nancy’s on the other end!” Your mom calls from downstairs.

Crap, you forgot to go to her house.

“Coming!” You yell, scrambling to collect all of the strewn-about pieces of paper that connect your crazy theory.

You run down the stairs and grab the phone, hearing Nancy’s voice already speaking on the other end.

“Shh! I’ll get her here, don’t worry!”

What is she talking about? Was she meaning you?

“Nance?” You finally say something.

“(Y/n)! Hey! Were you gonna head to my house for a movie and girl’s night?” She asks nonchalantly. You pick up on a weird vibe from her.

“....uh, yeah, I was just about to leave.” You tell her. Your mom whips her head around to look at you, then gestures to the clock which flashes 7:13. You wave a hand dismissively at her, mouthing ‘it’s Nancy’. Your mother rolls her eyes at you but agrees and walks away.

“Great! See you in a few!” She hangs up almost immediately after. You set the phone on the wall, a weird pit in your stomach as you grab a change of clothes for the night over there. At the last second, you grab a small knife that you sometimes carry on you as a safety precaution. For some reason, you feel like you might need it tonight.

You arrive at the Wheelers’ house a few minutes later, bag in hand. You knock three times sharply and immediately the door swings open to reveal Nancy, Lucas Sinclair, and Max Mayfield. They usher you inside quickly.

“What’s going on? I thought this was a girl’s night?” You ask, looking around the living room.

“Yeah, um…I was lying, (Y/n). We need your help.” Nancy tells you.

“I knew it!” You point an accusatory finger at her.

“What?” Max asks, looking between the two of you.

“I knew you were hiding something, Nance. I saw it this morning. What’s going on?” You ask, looking between the three of them.

“You know the crazy stuff that’s been going on in Hawkins? Chrissy’s death?” Nancy asks.

“Yeah. I actually had a theory about that- I don’t think that Eddie killed her--”

“He didn’t. It was a monster. An otherworldly monster.” Max interjects.

“A…well…” You trail off, not really sure if she’s joking or not. She seems very, very serious.

“We’re serious, (Y/n). There’s this other world mirroring ours. We call it the Upside Down…”

About an hour later, after the multiple explanations and freak-outs, the four of you went through, you finally understood and accepted the concept of the upside down and all its weird creatures.

“Great. So, basically, we’re all going to die.” You grimace.

“No. That’s what we’re trying to stop.” Lucas shakes his head.

“Yeah, but how are we going to do that without the magic girl who has psychic powers, hmm?” You quirk an eyebrow at them. They fall silent.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. You can help us with that.” Nancy sighs, grabbing her stuff.

“What are you doing? What do you mean I can help?” You ask, grabbing your own things and following Nancy as she heads out the door with Lucas and Max in tow.

“We’re going to see some more people. Come on, we’ll explain your part in this along the way.” Nancy responds. You sigh.

You hate being in the dark about things. Just how many people know about the upside down? Why are you the last one being brought into the loop? Who else is there? Why do they get to know? Why do you need to know now?

“Nancy.” You stop dead in your tracks. You aren’t moving another foot until they tell you why you’re here.

“What? (Y/n), we gotta go.” Nancy groans, walking back to you. Lucas and Max look at each other, confused.

“Why am I here? Why am I going? What is my part in this?” You fire off the questions at her, dying to know the answers.

“That’s…I…” She looks at Lucas and Max, but they give her nothing.

“There’s got to be a reason. What is it?”

“You’re the best detective I know, (Y/n). If anyone can figure out where Vecna is and how to stop him, it’s you. I trust you more than I trust pretty much anyone on this earth, so I need you right now. Please.” She tells you, her voice dropping low as she hits you with her words. You give her a long look before cracking a small smile.

“I knew I was a better detective than you.” You grin at her.

“Seriously? That’s what you got out of that?” She asks incredulously, shaking her head as the four of you get into her car.

“Hey, you gave me a reason. That’s all I needed. Now let’s go take down a crazy monster.” You smile. Nancy hits the gas.

“Why are we in the middle of the woods?” You ask as the four of you come up on Skull Rock where another group of people is already waiting.

“There you guys are! Did you get (Y/n)?” A voice asks, and you see Robin Buckley standing before you. You blink. How does she get to know about all of this before you?

“(Y/n)’s here?” You turn to see Eddie Munson standing behind a few of the others, and your eyes light up. You’re glad they found him and that he’s safe, you always knew he wasn’t the criminal the town was painting him to be.

“Yeah, she’s here. Let’s go. Dustin, you got the compass?” Nancy asks.

“Right here.” Dustin answers.

“Then what are we waiting for, Henderson?” A new voice pipes up. You whip your head over to see Steve Harrington at the head of the group, waiting for Dustin to lead you guys to who knows where.

“Okay, what? How does Harrington get to know about the upside down before me? You dated him for like a few months in high school, Nance, I hardly think that tops your best friend of eight years.” You hiss at Nancy as the group starts to walk.

“I’ve been here since the beginning, (Y/l/n), you don’t even know the half of it,” Steve responds, overhearing your question.

“He kinda found out by accident the first time this all went down,” Nancy explains. You deadpan.

“I’m hurt, honestly.” You tsk, but they all know you’re joking.

“Shh! We’re coming up on the lake.” Dustin tells the group. Everyone gets quiet, and Steve hangs back to walk next to you for a moment.

“We haven’t really talked a whole lot before, have we?” He asks you quietly.

“No, not really. I mean, the last time we really talked you were my best friend’s boyfriend. Now you’re her ex.” You mumble.

“Harsh, but true.” He chuckles. You look over at him and smile slightly. Your smile almost instantly drops as you see the outline of a bruise around his eye.

“Is the black eye a hazard of the job?” You joke, gesturing to the events that are currently taking place.

“Ha, yeah I suppose it is. What about you?” He asks, motioning to the same one you have. You purse your lips, unsure if you should tell the truth or not. You don’t want him to think that you’re suggesting he’s your soulmate, so you shrug.

“Dunno, just showed up.”

“Ah. A soulmate mark, then?” He asks.

“I suppose so. Couldn’t be anything else that I know of.” You nod. He falls silent and the two of you don’t talk the rest of the way to the lake.

You get onto the boat with Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Eddie as the kids stay behind.

Once the boat is out in the middle of the lake, you think you know what’s happening. A high schooler just died here, so it probably has to do with the upside down and a gate opening, and now you guys are investigating it. Hence, why you’re here.

“Wait, wait, guys, look.” Nancy points at the compass which is going crazy spinning around now.

Steve starts to almost immediately take his clothes off.

“Steve, what are you doing?” You ask.

“Somebody’s gotta go check this thing out, unless one of you guys can top being a Hawkins High Swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then… it’s gotta be me. No complaints, alright?” Steve explains quickly, standing up and rocking the boat slightly to continue his stripping. You cough uncomfortably as Eddie says something about not complaining, but you’re not listening because you’re sort of side-tracked with Steve taking off his shirt. You don’t mean to stare, but you can’t help it. It’s like your eyes are drawn to him.

You miss the look that Nancy and Robin give to each other after seeing your gaze.

As Steve gets ready to jump in the water, you have the sudden urge to protect him. You’re not sure why, as you don’t know him all too well, but the feeling is overwhelming as you grab onto his forearm before he goes in.

“Steve?” You ask, unsure of why you’re even doing this. He gives you a quizzical look, but mostly out of curiosity about what you want to say, not weirded out by the gesture.

“Be careful.” You whisper to him, giving him a small smile that he returns gratefully with a nod. You’re not sure why, but you feel some kind of connection to him. A small spark, if you will. But you don’t want to catch feelings for a guy you barely know, not to mention your best friend’s ex.

Steve jumps into the water and you’re left a bubble of anxiety as you wait for him to resurface.

“What was that about, (Y/n)?” Nancy asks, trying to pass the time.

“What was what about?” You give her a confused look.

“Be careful? You barely know him. Why so sentimental?” Robin asks from the other side of you.

“I don’t know, I…I just had an urge to tell him. I want him to come back safely.” You shrug, not sure what it means.

“Okay. If that’s all it is, then, sure.” Robin nods.

“What does that mean?” You give her a look.

“Oh, nothing. Just…are you sure that’s all there is to it?” Nancy presses you. You turn to Eddie, asking him silently if he knows what’s going on.

“Don’t look at me. This is girl stuff, I don’t know.” Eddie holds his hands up defensively.

Before you can get another word in, Steve resurfaces.

“I’m back!” He exclaims, sucking in a deep breath.

“You found it?” You ask, launching yourself toward the side of the boat that he’s on.

“I found it.” He nods, grabbing onto the boat in front of you. You set your hand on top of his without thinking, turning back to grab the radio with your other hand.

“Dustin, you’re an Einstein. Steve found the gate.” You walkie-talkie the kids on land.

“It was pretty wild. More of a snack-size gate than the mama gate, but it’s still pretty big.” Steve explains the gate to you. You’re about to respond when he’s suddenly tugged underwater again.

“Steve!” All of you scream, grabbing at the water to see if you can catch him before he’s too far under. It’s to no avail as the four of you grasp at nothing, and Steve is gone.

In a split-second decision, you hop out of the boat after him. You hear the others scream your name behind you, but you hit the water before they can even try to stop you. You start to swim down as fast as you possibly can, trying your hardest to reach Steve. He’s too important to far too many people for him to go like this.

Once you’re a little over halfway down, you feel an intense pain scrape along your back. You let out a scream of pain and surprise at the feeling, turning around to fight the potential monster that has found you.

To your surprise, though, nothing is there. The searing pain continues, but you’re alone for as far as the eye can see. You fight off the pain and fear, continuing your dive deeper, when the pain stops. You see the red light of the gate and swim quickly to it before diving in and arriving on the other side. Into the upside down.

You stand up and look around you, seeing a human figure not too far from you.

“Steve?” You yell. Steve turns around and sees you, relief flooding his features at seeing a familiar face with him.

“Why did you follow me? You’ve never been to the upside down, you don’t know what it’s like here. You could get hurt!” He rushes to you, worry etching into his face.

“I’m fine! I’m fine, let’s get out of here!” You brush it off, trying to get him to walk back to the gate. Suddenly, shrieking and wailing bat-like creatures start to appear from the sky.

Steve looks around, running to the nearest thing that could make a weapon and grabbing it. You take the knife out of your waistband that you put in there before you went to Nancy’s house. You knew this would come in handy.

“Stay behind me!” Steve demands, holding his oar at the ready as the creatures descend upon you guys. They try to attack him, but he bats them away a few times. He only gets lucky the first couple of swings, though, because before you realize it, he’s on the ground with a bat’s tail around his throat.

You feel a similar choking pressure around your own throat, and what feels like barbed wires cutting into your skin. You gasp and clutch at your throat, falling to your knees, as Steve writhes against the creature on the ground. The two of you make eye contact and you immediately know.

Steve Harrington is your soulmate.

Fighting off the invisible pressure and pain, you drag your way over to the bat-like creature and sink your knife deep into its body. It cries out and falls limp, freeing Steve from its grasp. A creature flies down and sinks its teeth into your side and both you and Steve cry out similarly, feeling the same pain. You tear it off of yourself and slice clean through it right as Steve fights off another one. Robin, Nancy, and Eddie come running up to the two of you to finish off a couple of others that had joined their friends. You and Steve share a meaningful look, but you both silently agree to talk about it later as you fight off the creatures with your friends.

Once you’ve finished fighting them and Steve has torn the last one apart, Nancy rushes to the two of you.

“Are you okay?” She asks, checking both of you for injuries.

“I mean- they took about a pound of flesh. But otherwise, yeah, never been better.” Steve responds bitterly, looking over at you and giving you a once-over.

“We don’t have time to talk about it here.” You mumble, and he nods.

“Time to talk about what?” Robin asks.

“Nothing. Let’s move. We have to get back to--”

Before you can finish your sentence, more bat-like creatures have landed to guard the entrance of the gate back to the normal world.

“Alright… there’s not that many. We can take them, right?” Steve asks as your group starts to huddle together.

Before anyone can respond, a large swarm of creatures starts toward the same gate.

“You were saying?” Robin asks weakly.

“The woods! Come on!” Nancy grabs you and starts running. The others follow quickly behind. The five of you run until you find Skull Rock again, this time on the wrong side of the dimension. You sigh as you finally get to sit down, hidden from the giant swarm of death creatures that you hate.

As soon as you all catch your breath, you and Steve look at each other.

“You,” Steve murmurs, walking over to you. He lifts your chin lightly and looks at the marks on your neck, brushing his fingers over them softly.

“Ow-” You grimace, pushing his hand away as you give him a soft glare that holds no actual malice behind it.

“What’s going on, guys?” Robin asks.

“She never got hit in the neck by one of these things,” Steve announces to the group, still staring at your wounds.

“Then how does she have that?” Eddie asks, not connecting the dots.

“Steve did.” Nancy points out, looking between your wound and his.

“They’re identical.” Robin gasps, a small smile coming to her face despite the dire situation.

“Soulmates,” Nancy confirms, a smirk resting on her lips. You grimace.

“Now is not the time to--”

“The black eye, too. You had your suspicions earlier, didn’t you?” Steve asks you lowly, taking a step closer to you. The others get the hint and go to the other side of the rock to give you guys a little privacy.

“I didn’t know…” you murmur, looking down at your feet.

“Nancy always says you’re the best detective she knows.” He chuckles, lifting your chin again but this time only to look into your eyes.

“Okay, so maybe I had my suspicions, but I… I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to believe it?” You ask more than state, letting out a small sigh.

“What, is being with me such a horrible thing to think about?” Steve teases. You smile.

“No, I just didn’t want to start falling for someone I barely know. I didn’t want to be soulmates with practically a stranger.” You admit.

“Then let’s get to know each other. Starting now. We don’t have to be anything romantic until after we get to know each other, but…”

“But what?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks suddenly, reaching out a hand to gingerly touch your cheek.

“...yes.” You breathe out, not daring to say no as his skin against yours leaves you feeling electricity.

Without another word, Steve leans in closer before he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours. Your lips mold together perfectly and your arms wrap around his neck as his go around your waist. You lean into him and find peace in the midst of everything going on around you.

And at this moment you know that in spite of the upside down and the crazy creatures it may throw at you, you have found your soulmate, and no one is taking him away from you. Ever.

#steve harrington x reader #cute!

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