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creatchie8 · 11 months

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Matching Set

Summary: It was easy to hide away from telling people your truth, until you met a certain man on a Sunday night at the bar you worked at.

Pairing: Bob Floyd/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI! (18+), explicit smut, oral sex, p in v sex

Word Count: 21,000

10:38 PM, Sunday

“You know…” You said as you squeezed the dish sponge under the hot water at the double stainless steel sink, “You really treated your guy friend like total shit back there.”

You half jokingly laughed to Penny as you two finished up tonight's dishes. Baked mac and cheese. Incredibly tasty buy oh so cemented to the glassware you were slaving away at.

Penny chuckled at your comment as she expertly dried some deep blue drinking glasses with a lemon yellow rag, “He should have paid attention to my rules. It's not my fault he can't read.” She grinned devilishly and you just rolled your eyes.

You had heard your aunt talk a few times about Maverick, how he was sweet but at the same time an ignorant fuck. But truthfully, that is all you could get out of her. She chalked it up every time to an old flame, but you suspected that it was always still dimly lit within her by the faint fondness that lingered in her eyes.

Even when she would say the ‘ignorant fuck’ part she often smiled as if she was enjoying a sweet moment.

The final bit of cheesy crust dissolved within the now seemingly boiling water and you were free. Humming as you handed the glassware off to Penny to dry and then tossing your sponge next to the soap dispenser. The dish cloth was rough as you dried your hands with it, then handing it to Penny to dry hers off next.

Nights like this were nice.

Not that you didn't like it when sweet Amelia hung around you two instead of scurrying off to get out of chores, but being alone to talk about ‘grown up stuff’ was refreshing. The creamy yellow kitchen light flickered slightly as the two of you settled back down at the table again.

You were really blessed to live in a nice house like this, especially with people who loved you.

Penny propped her head up on her palm as she looked at you, “You seemed to get along really well with that girl back there.” she smiled.

Your fingers were busy picking at a knob in the wood grain, “Phoenix? Oh yeah. I don't even know what got into me.” You reminisced about the night, “She just ordered a beer and then we started talking. She's really funny.” You leaned back in the wooden chair and laughed, “She’s here on some top secret mission. Even when she got tipsy she still wouldn't tell me what it was about.”

Every so often a woman in uniform will come and hang at The Hard Deck. It is always refreshing when they do, especially when they are as sweet as Phoenix is. She came in with a few people trailing behind her, all of them comfortably chatting. You noticed that Phoenix seemed to lead them, not in a commanding way, but in a trustworthy way that really intrigued you.

Maybe her trustworthy aura and warm smile is what got you talking to her so quickly, because soon after she ordered a beer you two exchanged a greeting and some more conversation that led to her asking if you worked tomorrow night, then inviting you to hang out with her and her friends when you could get a chance.

“You know what I say about slacking on the job, hun.” Penny tsked and shook her head.

You knew she didn't mean it. Deep down she was happy that you were socializing.

Especially when you haven't found a friend to hang around since you got here, and you have been here since when? A freshman in university, and now you are twenty-two with your aunt and a fourteen year old girl as your two best friends. You cringed at the thought.

Both of your heads perked up at the sound of laughs coming from said teenager’s room.

Still cringing, you heaved yourself up and out of the chair, the legs squeaking against the floor as you pushed it back into the table. “I better head off to bed. Don't let Amelia bully you into letting her stay up later.” you smirked and left the kitchen, but not before you heard Penny snort, “What? But I wanna be a fun mom!” she whined sarcastically and got up herself.

The door to your bedroom was cracked slightly open like how you left it this afternoon before you went to work at The Hard Deck. It was smaller compared to the other two rooms, but that is because before you came here it used to be an office.

Penny had insisted multiple times that Amelia did not need her huge room, that it would go to much better use if you had it. But honestly, you loved the reclusiveness of your room. It was tucked away at the end of the hall next to the downstairs bathroom.

An optimal spot to claim the bathroom first on busy school mornings.

Thank god you didn’t live with your little brother anymore. It was like he had a sixth sense when you would attempt to go to the bathroom, always running out of wherever he was hiding at breakneck speed to push you out of the way (he grew about a foot and a half at eleven and has had a mischievous personality since four) and locked the door.

You flipped on the light switch and flopped into bed, still smelling like stale beer and cheap military man cologne. You should take a shower, like, now. Groaning as you kicked off your shoes, you sat up and looked with heavy lids around the decorated room. Much more homey than all your other usually shared rooms growing up.

The bedtime checklist formed in your head as you sat there in heavy silence. With the window cracked a bit you could hear the waves crashing outside, deep blue and full of memories from your time in California.

Tonight was fun. You weren't going to doubt the laughs you had with Phoenix and her other teammates she introduced you to, even if you did only stay behind the bar and serve them alcohol and bar food.

The Hard Deck catered to all things military, and with that comes two main reactions to a young woman like you serving alcohol. Being completely ignored or basically being immediately proposed to by the single (and sometimes taken) men. You had gotten used to it at this point.

How to act (sweet), how to dress (revealing, but leaving much up to the imagination), just to get a little something extra added to the tip jar (Navy men are bad tippers so it wasn't much more).

Sighing as you got up and strode over to your closet and picked out the first comfortable thing you found. Along you brought a shower cap and body lotion to the bathroom. You saw somewhere online that your hair would get healthier if you didnt wash it super often, and that you should be refreshing it with dry shampoo.

It worked for thousands of other people, so why not you?

In the bathroom you undressed and cranked the shower handle until you were sure it was set at a hot temperature. It was always a gamble with the downstairs bathroom.

While you waited you leaned against the white wood vanity and looked at your reflection. Sometimes, you hate looking in the mirror. Maybe it wasn't the mirror, but instead your appearance you hated. Scars littered your body, nothing major but nicks that reminded you of a past life. Feeling angry and miserable, desperately searching for something to satisfy your craving.

Shaking your head, you rubbed your eyes and stopped touching the larger scar on your left hip, jerking your hand away like it burned you.

God, you looked ridiculous with that shower cap on. No matter how far you slid it down or up your forehead it still looked laughable. Finally, you accepted defeat and shrugged, stepping into the now hot water.

Like most people, the shower is a safe space. No one was going to barge in on you asking if you could help them write their book report or ask if you could pick up a shift because one of the servers caught mono.

At least, it hasn't happened yet.

As you washed your body you mentally went over the names of people Phoenix briefly introduced to you at a distance from where she sat at the bar.

Fanboy had a really nice smile, almost boyish and cheeky. Payback is friends with him, and has a great booming laugh.

When Phoenix tried to introduce Hangman and his buddy Coyote, your nose wrinkled in disgust, causing her to laugh at you, taking they had already introduced themselves to you.

Unfortunately, Hangman especially had. Flirting with you shamelessly to a point where you dropped your sweet customer service voice and instead replaced it with a stern snap of, “Get off of my counter and out of my face.” Hangman scoffed and pushed himself off where he was leaning over the bar and sauntered over to the pool table to join Coyote.

Phoenix rolled her eyes in disgust as you told the story and shook her head in disbelief, “He’s a fucking shit head for sure. I won't doubt he’ll get us all killed ” she grumbled before she took a long swig of her drink.

She introduced her WSO last, whose callsign was Bob. Even now in the steamy shower you still think it is an odd callsign. It is simple and easy to say for sure, which is better than a complicated one you guess.

Bob’s glasses were the first thing that caught your attention, as not many who flew the aircraft needed glasses.

You already knew Goose’s kid, Rooster, who had always been nice to you. Well, more than nice to you. You had known him since you had been born, his family close to yours especially after his dad’s passing. He was always like a big brother to you, one who teased you but also made an effort to check in on you when you were struggling.

At this point you were just wasting water and decided to get out. The mirrors were steamy before you wiped them down with a light blue fluffy towel that came from the shelf beside the shower. After you dried yourself thoroughly, you ripped the shower cap off and tossed it onto the counter along with your things.

Even though you hated going to bed sticky, you vowed to always put lotion on after showers because of how dried out your skin got due to the hot temperature of the water.

It's a win lose situation.

Bob had gotten to the bar a little after Hangman and Coyote, but before it had gotten terribly busy. Never did you see him come in, and now that you think about it, you never saw him leave either. But he sure caught your attention.

You were thinking no one was at the bar so you crouched down next to the ice maker with the metal scoop in your hand, ready to do some major damage to the giant chunks that didn't separate.

The metal against the ice had this incredibly satisfying crunching noise, like little shards of glass.

You tossed the scoop with a clang into the ice maker after you had thoroughly finished the massacre and turned around, wiping your wet hands on your jean capris. Looking up from your hands you jolted in surprise as there was a man standing directly on the other side of the bar looking at you intently.

“Oh my god! I'm so sorry,” you breathed, “I didn't even see you come in. What can I get you?” Your hand goes to your chest in an attempt to calm your beating heart.

The man looks startled too, then immediately apologetic, “I’m sorry ma’am, I haven't been here for long.” He visibly gulped, then proceeded to open and close his mouth a few times before saying, “Peanuts?” You blinked at him and his cheeks immediately flush a bright red, “Oh uh.. Nevermind.” He says quickly and goes to turn around.

“Wait! Like, peanuts to eat?” You ask and he nods, the corners of his mouth quirking up the slightest bit. “I have peanuts with the shells still on, it's messy though.” You explain as you raise one eyebrow slightly and he nods again.

“That is alright with me, ma’am. Thank you.” He says as he pushes his silver glasses up the bridge of his nose.

He was slimmer than most of the meat heads who usually frequented the bar. In fact, you had never seen him here before. His Naval uniform was pressed neatly, especially around the collar where you could see his white undershirt peeking above the top buttons. You look at his name plate and see the last name ‘Floyd’.

Okay, nothing to write home about, you thought as you turned to the back of the bar and opened one of the bottom wood cabinets that kept the commercial cardboard box with the peanuts. Grabbing one of the matching cups, you note the other things within the space that are unbelievably messy.

You'll have to clean it up later.

He’s kept his gaze on you this entire time. Normally they don't have the patience to wait a minute or two so you have to chase them down to hand them what they ordered. This pulls a huff and a smile from you. His dirty blond hair is neatly combed over to the side, and not in a greasy way. In a freshly showered way.

He is clean shaven and smells good.

Handing over the full cup, you ask him if he needs anything else. He shakes his head no, smiling at you. “Have a good night, ma’am.” His crooked smile was handsome, and his southern accent was intriguing.

When Bradley showed up after everyone, it brought a huge smile to your face. He was searching the crowds till he saw you and made a beeline to where you stood behind the counter. Of course out of his pressed khakis and in a Hawaiian button up.

“So, are you willing to tell me more about this top secret mission?” You tease, playfully pushing at his broad shoulder. Bradley swatted away your hand, shaking his head. You never knew his dad but gosh, from all the old photos you had seen, Bradley was shaping up to be his exact replica.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’, “I take it you already tried to pry it out of some poor unsuspecting soldier?” He asked and you solemnly nodded, putting on a show. It made your heart ache that he had eventually grown away from your family, especially after his mother had passed. When you heard the news it was like your heart had sunk through your chest and to the floor.

“Yeah… Phoenix over there is much too smart for my mind tricks.” Your comment made Bradley laugh, glancing over to his new teammates by the pool table. Then, you exchanged a few pleasantries before you served him his alcohol of choice and sent him on his merry way.

Though, the certain man you were looking for had his body hidden behind one of the larger support beams. You knew he was there by the way he shifted his body and eventually took Phoenix's pool stick. Fanboy and him seemed to click instantly, when the game wasn't grabbing his attention, Bob leaned towards the shorter man and conversed intently with him.

At the piano, you admired him more. The goofy way he swung his head to the music, how easily his body interacted with Phoenix's when she tried to get him to dance more, you were captivated by the truly human movement of him.

Shaking your head brought you back to reality. Bob was a strange one. Once your skin is freshly moisturized and ready to get into clean sheets, you proceed to gather your things. A sudden knock at the bathroom door startled you, halting your movements so you could stare at the closed door.

“Hun? Can I ask a favor of you?”

A trapped sigh left your lips at the sound of your aunt’s voice.

“Of course, what is it?” You ask through the door, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Tomorrow, when you go running, could you please take the trash can out to the street? I have to take Amelia to school early and knowing how difficult it will be to get her out of bed I will probably forget.” She laughed, and you snorted, knowing that Penny is not exaggerating how grouchy her daughter is in the morning.

“Totally, good luck with her.” You respond, earning another laugh from Penny. The floor creaks a few seconds later and that is your signal to continue like normal.

After cleaning up the bathroom before heading to bed, you think about what the next night will bring in the darkness of your room.

Penny would let you play a game of pool or two with Phoenix, especially because she seemed to be your first real friend in years.

If it's not too busy of course.

__________________

6:03 AM, Monday

Waking up after a very late night was rough. Even more rough when you’re waking up at six o'clock in the morning.

Why do you do this to yourself?

You're not proving anything to anyone when you wake up at ungodly hours of the morning just to go on a run. But you just do. Running on Mondays and Wednesdays had become a routine ever since you took that Anatomy and Physiology class your sophomore year. You noticed after a while that it hurt less and made you eventually feel better.

So if you stopped now you would lose your streak and have the possibility of making you feel like shit the rest of your life.

Maybe you were just overthinking it now.

Morning runs were just better in a way. You tried running at night when it got cooler, but even with two pepper sprays, you were still paranoid of all the things that would possibly happen to you. The sunrise was also too beautiful to miss, you looked forward to seeing it every time. You had to remind yourself that although it is gorgeous, you do not need to take up all your photo space on your phone with millions of pictures of the ombre sunrise.

Once all of your running gear was on, you snugly put in your earbuds and locked the door behind you. The trash can was a little difficult to drag to the side of the road, same with the recycling. The driveway was slanted upwards going towards the main road, as the house was on a little bit of a slant. Moving to California was the best idea you've ever had in your entire life. The soft sand, the crisp sea, everything just looked perfect when you ran alone.

It was like the downstairs bathroom. No one to ask you what outfit looks good for a school dance, no one to ask to help fill out the accounting books for The Hard Deck.

Amelia was still asleep and Penny had absolutely no desire to run, so it was just you.

Soon, your nose started to drip due to the cool air around you and you wiped it on your light sport jacket sleeve as you jogged.

Teenage you would be in shock how you turned out.

You were the textbook definition of a wild child. Sneaking out to meet boys older than you, skipping school for weeks at a time. You basically became an addict in tenth grade, and all you wanted to do was leave home. The people you surrounded yourself with did not help in the slightest. You all fed off each other and encouraged one another to continue down a self destructive lifestyle.

If your folks hadn’t checked you into rehab, you would be dead by now, and that is ultimately what younger you wanted, was to be dead.

For the longest time you resented your parents for it. Resented them for helping you get better, and for a while you refused to even look at them when they came and saw you, even ignoring your brother who at the time was probably too young to understand why his big sister had gone away.

The hate in your heart was too great at the time to realize that they only wanted to help you.

You checked your watch, which was a pre-graduation gift from Penny. To be honest, you're not much of a watch wearer, but you'd wear it for her. Slowing down to a stop, you looked at the rising sun from the gritty sidewalk as you put your hands on your hips.

It was the barrier between the start of the sand and the residential neighborhood road.

Your lungs burned, which was a side effect from the vigorous exercise and the constant state of burning California always seemed to be in, especially at this time of year. Turning on the news was a bore now. Nothing new except for fires, fires, fires.

But, the ocean was absolutely stunning, as it always is. Stunning in the way it shimmered like a billion little fireflies, the way it smelled (salty, like iodine), and felt (cool humidity kissing your skin). Without realizing it, you found yourself walking across the sand and down to the shore.

Stopping before the wet earth, you took off your running shoes and socks to hold them in your left hand.

It was freezing on your feet, but that is exactly what you needed. It shocked you back to reality, back to the ache in your heart you always have had. The water was up to your knees now and you stopped, staring into the horizon.

Bright, glimmering, water constantly warping the reflection.

How did you go from the life of the party to this sad, depressing woman? Sure, you weren't getting blackout drunk every night and being reckless, but now all your days consist of the same three things.

School. Work. Sleep. Repeat.

Senior year will do that to you, but it won't last forever, Penny always tells you in her motherly voice. You just have to get through this semester then next, then you'll be free to get a job other than The Hard Deck, and maybe, just maybe find a place.

But you never know in a state like California, where the prices are always rising.

You were always tense too. Like a rubber band constantly at its max. Did masturbation count as sex? If not, you were totally a born again virgin. University did not have a good dating pool, because all but two of your classes were online so you were never there.

The Hard Deck was an extremely shallow dating pool, despite all of the flirtatious men throwing themselves at you. But, they would fuck anything with a pulse.

Bob flicks into your mind, and the sudden thought of him startles you. He has really nice hands, you noticed how neat his nails were when you handed him his cup of peanuts.

A few times he lingered near the bar, patiently waiting for you to get to him, never irritated by the long line of people in front of him. When he smiled at you, it was infectious. Never in your life had you been so eager to serve people to get to a specific customer. He had asked for Dr. Pepper with a few pumps of nonalcoholic raspberry syrup, so you pulled out your soda gun and a glass, making light conversation about the projected weather for the rest of the week.

A lull happened in the conversation while you were measuring out the syrup, the both of you completely focused on the drink.

“Your bracelets are very nice.” Bob said suddenly, catching you off guard.

“Oh, thanks!” You smiled and grabbed a clean bar spoon, “All Walmart I’m afraid, nothing designer here.” You laughed and gestured to your wrist where the metal chains hung. He laughed too, causing a warm feeling to bloom in your chest.

The veins in his forearms snaked up to his biceps and under his sleeves. Bob was handsome in a classical way. Like he would be a lord in some period drama tv show.

You definitely were not staring intently at the muscles in his arms when he was playing pool. Totally not fixed on the way his shoulders pulled at the fabric and made it stretch over them when he leaned down to take a shot.

When he blushed, it didn’t just stop at his cheeks. It trails down his neck and probably down his chest.

Your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, you have to stop thinking about this right now. Bob and you didn't even know each other! What makes it even worse is you are definitely going to see him tonight at the bar.

This is so fucked up, and you are for sure a sad lonely born again virgin.

The running shoes squelched just slightly as you put your feet in them after you got out of the water. Your legs were numb. The socks didn't do a very good job of soaking up the water on your feet but you didn't care. All you cared about was getting back home fast, even if you puke from the effort.

You had to get him out of your head.

Unfortunately, the puking did not happen when you got back to the house. You had hoped slightly that you would have, because then you could feign sickness and get out of going to work tonight. But it was easier pulling the two waste bins down the cement slope and to the side of the house.

“Penny! Penny, I'm home!” You shouted as you sorted through the mail on the kitchen table. Just bills, nothing special. Except for a neon orange sticky note on the fridge that caught your eye as you looked up.

Going to the grocery store,

text me if you need anything.

XOXO Penny

“You know, she could have just texted me that.” You chuckle to yourself as you walk down the hall and to your room. Amelia had already gone to school so you were completely alone in the house, which was usual for this time of day.

Classes and homework dragged by slowly for the next few hours. Not all of your classes had set online meeting times but some did, like the class you were in now. Thankfully, the teacher allows students to keep their mic and video off so no one has to see your disgruntled self doing anything but paying attention.

You then had a quick zoom meeting with your advisor, who assured you that you are on the right path to graduate this upcoming semester, spring. She helped you pick out the final classes needed to graduate and she sent you on your merry way.

It was finally happening. All the hard work you spent on each and every class was finally paying off, even if you did take an extra year to graduate. From your office chair you could see your tiny little closet that had no door, and you were already mentally picking out what you wanted to wear with your cap and gown. It would have to match navy and yellow, as those were school colors of U of C San Diego.

You should take Amelia into the city and go dress shopping with her when you get the time.

Did Bob ever go to college? It seemed unlikely by how young he looked. Maybe he was taking some online classes through like Purdue, weren't they known for being able to do that kind of thing? You had seen so many commercials for it and even considered applying there yourself before getting a good scholarship to U of C San Diego.

The next few hours drag by and your eyes are tired from reading some guy’s thesis on… something. You weren't sure at this point. The front door opens and slams shut before you hear feet running to your bedroom door. Two-thirty, Amelia’s home. You whip around to your bed and scan the room for inappropriate objects Amelia might see and you sigh in relief as you find none.

The bedroom door swings open and you smile at the fourteen year old in your doorway.

She grins back and goes to jump on your bed, which she swears is the comfiest place in the whole house.

“Hey girly, no shoes on the bed.” You warn as she starts climbing up onto it. She complies and kicks off her sneakers before completely messing up your blankets in an attempt to get comfy.

“How was school? Wasn't it one of your teachers' last days?” You ask as you turn to your desk and shut off your laptop.

“Mrs. Panchak? Yeah she's having her baby. I dont think I'm going to miss her though.” she says, her eyes on her phone, “School was fine. Nothing special, but Julia got her braces on over the weekend. She said they hurt even today.” Amelia mumbles off handedly, clearly distracted by something on her phone.

Penny liked to tease her for how glued she is to it, but you're just glad she has fun chatting with her friends even after the school day ends.

You slap your thighs and get up to stretch, your shoulders popping from being hunched over for the past however long. “Hey, where’s your mom?” You ask, scrunching your eyebrows. Penny hadn't come in yet, and you didn't notice because of school.

“Out with the boat, she texted me a while ago.” Amelia says and moves over so you can sit next to her.

“So how come she texts you can not me?” You ask, feigning hurt and Amelia shrugs, laughing, “Maybe she likes me more than you?” Groaning in fake pain you lean heavily on Amelia who laughs harder and then proceeds to push you off of her.

After bugging Amelia with more questions about school, you get up and convince her to come into the kitchen with you. Amelia requests a snack without chicken in it, as she had school lunch and today it was a ‘soggy gross chicken thing’ in her words. So you decide to make cheese quesadillas.

Colby jack for her and pepper jack for you. Amelia shows you funny videos on her phone while the two of you eat. After she runs out of videos to show you, Amelia then goes on to show you her wishlist on some clothing websites, asking if her mom would buy it for her or if she had to do more chores to get money.

She rolled her eyes so hard you thought they would get stuck in the back of her head when you unfortunately broke the news to her that Penny definitely would not be buying her the clothes without chores.

Finally, it is time to head over to the bar. It opens at five and you like to be there at least half an hour early to set up. Penny is not too fond of the idea of Amelia staying home alone for too long, despite her daughter’s pleadings. So she regularly comes with you to do her homework at the bar.

Thankfully, your hair wasn't a huge mess so you just spritzed that dry shampoo into your roots and mussed it around a bit before changing into some comfy jeans (that hugged your ass nicely) and a pretty knitted blouse that wouldn't make you too hot or cold while working. Then of course your trusty work sneakers.

They were actually marketed as nurses shoes online but that drew you in even more at the prospect of not wanting to chop your feet off at the end of every shift because they hurt so bad. So far, they worked pretty dang well.

The two of you hopped into your car and drove to The Hard Deck after you made sure Amelia took her backpack with so she could get some work done while she was there. It was always so weird to see the bar completely deserted. Your car was the only one there in the tiny parking lot as the two of you walked up to the double doors.

You let Amelia unlock them as she does every time she comes with you and the two of you walk in, breathing the scent of stale beer and wood.

Thankfully, Amelia gets straight to work at the bar so you have time to prepare for the upcoming night. There was always so much to be done.

A while later, the doors open and a man comes in, who you then recognize to be Maverick. You smile and finish wiping down the table you were working on.

“You know, the bar doesn't open until five, Mav.” You chuckle as he walks over to you.

“I know, I was just here to give your aunt something, is she here?” he asks as he pulls out a wad of cash from his jacket pocket. Your eyes widen at the sight and you take the tiniest step back, “Woah, you really didn't need to bring that here, I’m serious.”

“No, I insist.” Mav says firmly and hands over the cash to you.

You look up at him apologetically, “Thank you, I will let her know you came. She's going to be here a bit after five, and you're welcome to stay.” You offer as you walk over to the till and start placing the bills in their rightful place, then make sure Penny closed his tab last night.

“I think I might come back a bit later, nice seeing you again.” He smiles and leaves the two of you in the empty bar after talking to Amelia for a little bit, obviously amazed at how big she had gotten since the last time he had seen her.

__________________

6:24 PM, Monday

Oldies music and the conversations of people rang in your ears as you and Penny whirled around one another, serving people from all sides of the bar, opening tabs, and cleaning up spilled drinks. It was unusually busy for a Monday night, there must be a lot of people in town.

When you looked outside, the sun was setting, and it was just barely a sliver floating on the ocean.

A bit ago you saw Phoenix through the crowd, her sharp elbows jabbing at people who pushed against her. She was followed by Payback and Fanboy. And Bob. Unfortunately.

Your heart dropped straight through you as soon as you saw him, it was like a bucket of ice had been dropped on you.

Why were you even acting this way? He had literally never done anything to you. Just asked for a couple of fucking peanuts and complimented your bracelets. Which you had made sure to wear tonight, for some reason.

When your eyes meet Phoenix’s, she smiles a soft smile and dips her head in greeting before heading over to her spot at the pool tables. Her eyebrows had a crease in between them, as if something was deeply worrying her. Even though you too had smiled at her, it was quickly dropped as you had another customer snapping his fingers for your attention.

What a fucking asshole.

Half listening to his order, you watched the four of them settle at the pool table. They were all wearing civilian clothes tonight. It was interesting to see them all in outfits that expressed their own personalities. Like Bob. His long sleeve plaid button up sleeves were pushed over his elbows.

The veins in his forearms were raised and the muscles there flexed as he played pool.

You wondered how calloused his hands were from working.

This was a mess.

The night continued and Phoenix checked in on you a few times, always coming back to request more alcohol too.

“Probably can't play pool tonight, huh?” Sipping on her drink as she sat in front of you, cleaning some shot glasses with a rag.

“Maybe later. You never know with Mondays. Sometimes they are completely dead, and others busy,” you look around, “like this.” Your lips pressed together in a thin smile as you place the dry glasses upside down on a clean dish towel. Phoenix tsked and downed her glass of pretty amber whiskey.

She was drinking far more than last night, and so had the other people in her squad.

Her cheeks were ruddy and a few strands of her beautiful dark hair brushed her shoulders where they escaped the knot of the back of her head. You dared not ask about today. Everyone was looking in pretty rough shape, and they all seemed to have one permanent crease between their brows that Phoenix sported.

“So, is Bob a good partner?” you ask cautiously as you start placing the glasses under the bar, looking down so you can’t see her face. She shifts in her seat and leans her elbows on the counter.

“Yeah! He’s great. Real nice guy, super smart too. But he gets stepped on too easily, Hangman was giving him shit while we were flying today.” She scoffs, sounding annoyed. You look back up at her, a bit of relief washing through you that Bob is a confirmed nice man.

“Jeez, like what was he saying to him?” You ask, still taken aback that a grown man would belittle and pick on another like a child.

“Oh the normal dumb things. Snarky remarks about his glasses, his callsign too. Called him baby on board. God, what a freak. Like yes, Bob is a weird callsign, Robert is his real name so I feel kinda bad he didn't get a creative name.” Phoenix griped, clearly pissed off from today. It was actually almost funny how she was acting, the alcohol making her more animated and loose-lipped.

“Someone needs to knock him down a peg.” You mutter and she nods in agreement.

Phoenix asks for two more cups of the amber whiskey, eliciting a raised eyebrow from you. “Not for me.” She groans in an almost animated way, “I promised some others I would bring them back something too.”

She was most definitely tipsy, not surprising after all the drinks she had tonight. Were the others getting drunk too? Looking over you saw that the lot of them were more relaxed than they were when they arrived, laughing freely with one another, and for once Hangman was not making snide remarks, but instead swinging his arm around Phoenix’s shoulders in a friendly manner when she arrived with his drink.

Bob was relaxed too. A plastic water bottle in one hand and the other resting above his head and on one of the wooden support beams. He no longer stood straight and formal, but slouched slightly and leaned his weight on one foot. But god, his ass looked really nice in those bootcut jeans.

The night went on and the crowd thinned out a bit. Penny was casually chatting with a regular when you came up beside her to put some liquor away. She stopped you with a hand on your elbow.

“Hey, I can hold down the ship if you wanna go over there and hang.” She nods in the direction of the pool table, where currently Phoenix is whipping the guys asses in the game. Smiling meekly as you finish putting away the bottles, you shrug, leaning on the counter next to her.

“I’d rather not. Feels awkward to barge in on their game.” Looking in their general direction, “Plus, they are all very much not sober, and I would have to become a sober driver-friend.” Penny looks at you in a confused way, like she had no clue why you wouldn't jump at the opportunity to finish work early and play a game of pool. A customer raps his knuckles on the bar top at the other end, so you smile sheepishly at her to go serve him.

It’s not until a while later when you look up from organizing that damn peanut cupboard when you see the crew huddled around the jukebox, loudly arguing about music. It is not aggressive arguing, you breathe a sigh of relief at that.

Turning your attention back to the many other shelves that needed the same deep organizing treatment.

A whistle snaps you out of your cleaning trance and you stand up, knees creaking as you straighten them in your capris. You tilt your head to one side in an attempt to stretch it, as the concentration on the cupboards caused a crick in your neck.

Quickly pasting on a cheery smile, you turn over your left shoulder to greet the customer standing at the bar. Your smile falters a bit as you realize it is Hangman who called you over, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned skin.

“What can I get for you?” You ask, your friendly demeanor slipping the tiniest bit.

“Not happy to see me?” Hangman asks, his signature smirk growing bigger.

“Well although you are charming, you aren't really my type.” You leaned on the countertop, inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne.

“Not your type?” Challenge rose in his eyes, “You haven't even met me darlin’.”

“I’ve met enough of you to know that I am not coming home with you.” You say matter of factly, shifting your weight to one side. You could tell that despite your words of protest, Hangman took it as a game to play now.

“Not coming home with me?” He dropped his voice lower, a large warm hand catching your wrist, “Who said I wouldn't mind going to my truck?”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your wrist back, his fingertips dragging along the skin of your hand. “Listen Hangman-”

“It’s Jake. Call me Jake.” He interrupted, drumming his fingers on the bar top. The yellow lights behind him made it look like a halo was surrounding him. You scoffed.

“Jake,” You start, annoyed that he had cut you off, “It’s going to take a lot more than you batting your eyelashes to get in my pants.” You wrinkle your nose and hope the interaction between the two of you wasn't going to cause a scene.

A hopeful glimmer shone in his eyes. “So, what will get me into-” Jake starts, interrupted by a heavy hand on his shoulder. The two of you look over his shoulder, both equally in shock as you see two familiar faces behind him.

“Dude, leave the lady alone. She has more to worry about than getting with your sorry ass.” Fanboy quipped, his dark eyes watching the two of you as he stood by Bob. As Hangman stood up to his full height and turned around, Bob’s hand fell from his shoulder.

You could see his jaw muscles flexing as Hangman came nose to nose with him. You had expected Bob to shrink back, to let Hangman overpower him. But he stood his ground, fists clenching by his sides. It was like how cats act before a fight. Bristled and taught, their ears back as they stare each other down.

“Hangman was just leaving!” You say quickly, exchanging a worried glance to Fanboy, who took the hint and pressed his palm to Hangman’s chest, which snapped both him and Bob out from their staring contest.

“I’m cool, I’m cool.” Hangman assures Fanboy with a grimace, holding his hands up in defense as he backs away from the two of them, walking stiffly back to the pool table.

Fanboy laughs and slaps Bob’s back, urging him to sit next to him at the bar as he sat in a seat in front of you.

“Jesus! I had no idea you had it in you.” Fanboy says, a huge smile on his face as Bob joined him, his confidence dissolved almost completely now. You smile at the two of them, trying to shake the nervousness from your body. “A beer for me and-” He looks at Bob who shakes his head with a tight smile, “Nothing for my friend here.” Fanboy says as his attention is turned back to you.

Nodding, you walk over to the cooler and pull it out, your legs slightly wobbly from the adrenaline rush you just experienced. The brown bottle was icy and wet in your hands before you dried it with a rag that was hanging halfway off the bartop.

“You know, I was handling the situation just fine.” You said as you strode back over to the two of them, handing the uncapped beer to Fanboy who took a drink immediately upon placing it into his outstretched hand. Bob pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, placing his elbows and forearms on the bar.

There is that blush again, kissing the tops of his ears and cheeks. You remembered what you thought about at the beach, how you wondered if the redness crept below his plaid top.

“Just fine? Dude, he looked like he was going to eat you alive!” Fanboy laughs, nudging Bob with his elbow, “Plus, it was Romeo over here's idea. He saw you two and just about had an aneurysm!” Fanboy was rambling now and you laughed, turning your attention to Bob who looked utterly humiliated, eyes trained on his hands.

“Well, thank you for looking out for me. But really, I had it under control.” You say and place a hand softly on Bob’s, his eyes quickly looking up into yours. Impossibly, his blush deepened and he gave you a soft unsure smile. Fanboy noticed the tension between the two of you and excused himself with a snicker.

You watch him leave, brushing off what he might think about you and Bob.

“You sure I can't get anything for you?” You ask as you turn your attention back to Bob. The silver of his glasses glinted against the dim bar light, reflecting the tiniest bit onto his skin.

Once you had spent part of your summer in the middle of nowhere, Nevada with some extended family. The days were hot and long, baking the dry desert earth and plants. Sage was abundant there, the light green leaves clustering in thick patches along hiking trails.

That is exactly what Bob smelled like, sun baked sage.

His calloused hands shifted under yours, making you realize that yours was still resting on his. You remove them and shoot him an apologetic look. “No thank you ma’am. I hope you have a good rest of your night.” He says simply, tipping his head towards yours as a goodbye, that unsure smile still on his lips.

“Wait!” You call out, maybe a little too loud as a few nearby heads turn to look at you momentarily before returning back to their own lives.

Bob turns back around slowly, clearly confused as he makes his way back to you, wringing his hands together. That same yellow light that shone behind Jake was behind Bob, reflecting off the corners of his glasses. The halo was much more fitting for him.

“I just have to ask, if you don't mind me asking.” Pausing, you watched him sit, “What does your callsign mean? It is just so different and I-” You cut yourself off as you stare into his eyes, “I am just curious.” You finish, observing his fidgety behavior.

“It’s a long story.” He starts, “I am sure you are much too busy.” Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, “I don't want to bother you.”

Turning over your shoulder to Penny, you catch her eye and smile, “I’m gonna take a break, is that okay?” You ask and she nods, grinning at you before heading over to the computer situated in one of the corners of the bar top.

“There. Not too busy now.” You felt confident when you looked at him, wiping your hands off on your jeans before heading to the little cut out exit and towards him. Bob was frozen where he was, seemingly shocked you were leaving your responsibilities to hear his story. Leaning on your elbow next to him, you asked, “Wanna stay in here or go outside? It’s cooled off now.”

Bob ponders your question for a moment, looking around at all the people still left in the bar, “Outside I think, it's too hot in here.” You watch his Adam's apple jump before getting up. You lead the way to the doors outside, all your focus on what lies ahead and not the other people around you.

It is as cool as you imagined, the humidity unmistakable and clinging to you. But the soft breeze felt nice on the deck. The door shut behind Bob, blocking out some of the noise inside. Pulling out a shabby plastic chair from an equally shabby table, you sit down and urge him to do the same.

Dark water engulfs most of your sight when looking out towards the moon. Just a silver half and resting on a bed of clouds, like it is going to bed as well. Your gaze pulls from the sight and back to him, surprised he had been staring at you the whole time.

“Do you like being a WSO? You must be pretty good at it since you are here.” You start, shifting under his gaze. The sharp surge of confidence was fading quickly.

“Oh, uh, yeah I do. I have always been more into the technical side of things so it is really nice to be able to do that and be in the plane.” Bob answers, itching the side of his nose as he talks. The soft light made pretty reflections off his glasses.

Nodding, you smiled at his answer. He was probably really smart in highschool… and college if he was in it. In general too, he looked smart.

“So, Bob. How does one get that name?” Phoenix’s voice echos in your head, Snarky remarks about his glasses, his callsign too. Called him baby on board. God, what a freak… Quickly, you shoot him a genuine smile to let him know you were interested in his story, not here to humiliate him.

“I uh- well-” He stutters, eyes downcast as he struggles to start, “Well I’ll just start like this, you know that one song?” He pauses and you raise an eyebrow, signaling him to go on.

“You know, that one song by OutKast? B.O.B., Bombs Over Baghdad?” He asks, his voice wavering the tiniest bit. You nod, familiar with the song. It was released in two thousand, but made itself present to the American public on nine-eleven, becoming an anthem for war against the middle east. That’s all you really knew, it was referenced frequently in The Hard Deck when tensions were high between the two countries. Hell, even your dad had referenced it when you were growing up.

“Yeah I do, I’ve heard it a few times, it is quite popular with the military, right?” You ask, your voice becoming quiet. It is and will always be a touchy subject for people here.

“People made the correlation that Bob is a nickname for Robert, my real name, and it just stuck.” He says further, “But-” He adds quickly, as if he was trying to explain himself, “But, I want you to know that although it is what my callsign is, that song wasn’t originally made out to be pro-war. OutKast is a very anti-war band.”

The crashing waves were soft behind his voice, it was accompanying him like an instrument.

Bob shifts in his chair, his eyes wide and unmoving from your face like an owl, “I prefer to think of myself as the interpretation that came out before uhm, nine-eleven.” His voice had gotten quiet too.

Nodding, a light smile returned to your face, “No, I totally get it. I could see how confusing it is having that callsign when it is so iconic in the military but not for the reason you personally want it to be.” Bob visibly relaxed at your words, his tense shoulders slumping to their normal position. He nods and hums in agreement. It was clear he put in a lot of thought over his callsign. Probably mulled it over in his mind for a while.

Neither of you said anything for a while, just letting your eyes roam over one another.

You broke the silence first, “I wonder what kind of weather we will be having tomorrow?”

“Hot.” Bob answers simply. You hum in agreement back.

After work, Penny tried to get you to eat dinner, but you declined, making a beeline to your bedroom and shutting the door for the rest of the night, mumbling something about homework and class. Which was true, you did have to commute forty-five minutes to your eight AM class.

Sleep was horrible, you just laid in bed and stared with wide eyes at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over again. Was Bob doing the same? He seems like the type of guy to have a strict bedtime at nine PM, and to have a lengthy bedtime ritual.

What does he wear to bed? He seems like a matching set kind of guy (he presents himself too nicely to not care about his outward appearance). But what if he slept just in his underwear (boxer briefs or boxer shorts)?

The thought makes you groan, flipping your body so you are laying on your stomach.

Your head presses into your pillow, tempted to scream. This was so ridiculous. It was literally like you were in middle school having a crush. You are twenty-two for god sake.

__________________

7:05 AM, Tuesday

Sleep comes slow, and too soon you hear your alarm clock buzzing at you. Eyes puffy, mouth dry, you felt like shit. The light from the rising sun filtered through your curtains and made a light stain on your sheets. Rolling to a sitting position, you try to will yourself to get up.

Academic success is important to me. Academic success is important to me.

The mantra barely worked, but you found yourself able to shove your legs into some leggings and a light, flowy top. A jacket would probably be nice too, you think as you go back to your closet and sift around the hangers, till you find a black U of C branded quarter zip and throw it over your head.

This will have to do.

Penny is sitting on the couch, drinking what appears to be coffee and watching the morning news on mute. It was unusual to see her awake at this hour of the morning.

Leaning on the back of the couch with your water bottle in hand, she looks up at you with a weary smile.

“Couldn't sleep?” you ask, opening your bottle and taking a drink. Penny nods, “You too?” She asks and sips at her own mug.

“What? Could you tell by my unbelievably dark circles and bags under my eyes?” You say sarcastically before you screw the cap back on and put it in your backpack. Penny chuckles and pats the hand you have resting on the backrest of the couch.

“Hey, I know today is your day off-” She paused and your jaw clenched, lips tightening to form a thin line.

“Who called in sick?” You ask before she can finish, shifting your weight off the couch so you were fully standing up behind her.

“Olivia did. I would really appreciate it if you filled in for her.” She set her coffee down on the small side table, “Free food, remember?” Penny said as she turned to face you, her normally penciled eyebrows scrunching together in a pleading look.

A moment goes by before you let out a huff, a tiny smile gracing your features.

“Course I will. What time?”

__________________

2:31 PM, Tuesday

It smelled like fresh citrus when you got home, the sea blue wax warmer still on while it sat on the kitchen counter.

Lazily, you let your backpack slip off your shoulders and onto the floor, nudging it with your foot to the side of the entryway, promising yourself to pick it up before you leave.

Even though no one was in the house to witness you coming home, you still made a show of dragging your feet to the bathroom, comically groaning and muttering all the way there.

The shower scalded your skin, and you were pretty sure there were third degree burns developing on your back. Today was supposed to be your day off. Hadn’t you received enough bad luck already? You opened your eyes and stared at the water emptying down the drain. You wish you could melt under the water and get washed down there too.

If you were unlucky enough, you would see Bob today as well, and considering how today has gone, you could easily predict your future. Flashes of the night before enter your memory.

His eyes burning a hole into your soul, how he barely knew you yet injected himself between you and Hangman- which you had under control- but still. The thought of him feeling protective over you was enough to make your knees wobble. Maybe you were getting soft on account of not having anyone be interested in you besides your body.

Sage filled your nose when you got close to him, the smell smooth as it filled your lungs.

Closing your eyes again, imagining the previous night in full color.

Your hands went up your body and to your breasts, squeezing them hard.

It was easy to imagine him before you, sinking to his knees while his large hands explored your body, his lips kissing every square inch of you. It was as easy as breathing. You had no idea what he looked like under his naval khakis or jeans, but you assumed he was lean and strong. More lithe and limber rather than severely muscled up and bulging.

Your quick fingers trailed down your body and to your clit, legs automatically spreading eagerly. Starting out in smooth, languid circles, tipping your head back and out of the spray of water.

Already you ached with want as you imagined quiet, unassuming Bob taking the place of your fingers, looking up at you with those blue doe eyes. Your fingers hastened and your other hand met your core, pruney fingers slipping with ease in between your folds.

If you want to be at The Hard Deck on time, you should hurry up.

The voice in the back of your head warned, but it was quickly taken over by a vision of Bob laying you down gently against your plain cotton sheets, the smell of summer in the air.

Two of your fingers slip in with ease, starting at a medium pace, crooked and already coaxing pleasure from you.

He was above you, inside you, the feeling of being full almost too much. You lean against the cold of the tile shower wall, all thoughts of getting clean completely out of your head now. Imagining the look on his face, twisted is pure pleasure sends you into a frenzy, massaging your clit faster as you finger fucked yourself. Your hands were cramping, which realistically would hurt, but you were too consumed by your fantasy to stop.

Breaths gasping and stuttering, you thought of him in every compromising position with you, the balloon within you getting filled with more and more air, waiting to burst.

What eventually sends you over the edge is him right in your ear, moaning and whining your name, the way it rolls off his tongue purely immaculate, and you're convinced his voice was made just for you.

Your head flies back, the air punched out of your lungs and your core fluttering. Thank god you were leaning against the wall, because you surely would have collapsed on account of your thighs actively shaking and quivering.

__________________

9:45 PM, Tuesday

The yellow tinted light in the single toilet bathroom paints you in an unattractive bright beige. Under your nails stung from trying to scrub underneath them with the opposite hand’s nails. You were absolutely exhausted, mentally drained, physically beat if you will.

Thank god it was closing time though, the crowd nearly gone at the time of you excusing yourself to hide in the bathroom. You just needed to get away for just one second before you had to face the closing chores with Penny.

A buzz in your back pocket alerted you, causing you to turn off the silver knobs and flicking your hands before tearing off a sheet of brown paper towel. It was so thin it almost disintegrated in your hands.

After throwing it away in the dingey trash can, you leaned against the sink counter away from the mirror so you didn't have to see the sallowness of your completion, pulling out your phone.

Penny:

Leaving with Pete right now, can you finish up? Doesn’t have to be spotless. See you at home :)

Reading the text elicited a groan from you, shoving the phone back into your pocket without responding. No, it wouldn’t be a problem to close up by yourself, you had done it millions of times in the past.

It was just lonely having to finish, the only thing to keep you company was the jukebox in the corner, but even that too had to get unplugged sometime.

Taking a deep sigh, you push yourself off the counter and to the dark wood door. You stared at the gold knob for a second, wondering if you could hide away in here for a few more minutes. The thick smell of Hawaiian Aloha Febreze suddenly made itself known to you, and you evacuated the bathroom. Gosh, why did Penny like that smell so much?

If they made it into perfume you were sure she would have a never ending supply of it.

The supply closet was at the very end of the hall, the door rickety with a very flimsy lock on it. Right at your forehead hung a black plastic sign with white block letters, ‘Employees Only’. You grabbed the off brand bleach sitting on the shelf level with your knees, and a fading red bucket that had some dry rags hanging over the side.

Slowly, you uncapped the bleach bottle and poured a splash or two into the bucket, trying to avoid inhaling the strong odor.

The jukebox was now playing quieter, the rush of the crowd completely gone. You hummed along with the song that was playing as you walked to the doorframe at the end of the hall, making sure to step up on the three inch ledge at the opening. Too many times you had forgotten about the tiny step, and ate shit.

Not to mention it would be a complete disaster if you spilled the bleach on the wood floor.

You scanned the bar, relieved when you saw that no one was here. Not even a severely inebriated straggler left by their friends.

This had to be some sort of record!

You smiled to yourself, imagining a little plaque with tonight’s date on it, saying something like, ‘Hard Deck Record - No Stragglers To Call An Uber For’ or something stupid to monument today.

A chair creaked and you snapped your head to its general direction, all hopefulness leaving your body. It scraped against the wood floor and you walked over, preparing a stern voice to tell the remaining patron to leave. To your surprise, it wasn't just any old customer, but Bob.

Why did you choose this day to masturbate to his pretty face?

There he was, standing awkwardly next to one of the support beams, his chair hidden behind it. Both of you stood there for a moment before you broke the connection, heading over to the bar to fill up the rest of the bucket with warm water.

“Did you lose something?” You ask over the sound of the faucet, eyes trained on the slowly filling bucket. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was walking towards you, but never going behind the bar. The last thing you wanted was to look at him, to show some sort of hint that you were interested in him.

“No I uh-” He rubbed the back of his neck, watching your every move, “Penny was leaving with Maverick and I felt bad that you were going to be here by yourself. So I asked if I could stay.”

You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed as you stopped the faucet, using your fingers to swirl the water around. The rags plop in after being hit by your wrist. You were surprised he had offered to stay, even more surprised that Penny had let him. Mav must’ve assured her that he wasn't trouble and could be trusted.

Bob notices your confused expression, “I’ll help clean of course!” He says hurriedly, trying to assure you he wasn't going to just dick around while you worked. That brought the tiniest smile to your face. Sure, lots of guys tried to hang around after your shift.

But as soon as you shoved a broom in their hands, they were out of here quicker than a chicken on a junebug.

“Well, that is awfully sweet of you.” You smile, genuinely thankful he stuck around. Still, heat pooled lower in your stomach. Was it nervousness or arousal? You couldn't tell.

Bob was wearing another button up today. In his signature style of course, with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbows.

“Do you want anything to drink? It’s on me.” You say as you fish out a rag, wringing it out before setting it on the bartop in front of Bob, making small circles and watching the mixture bead up on the acrylic. You still refused to look at him, which was childish in a way.

But you were almost positive that if you did, he would be able to tell what you did in the shower.

Maybe you were just too superstitious.

“No thank you. I don’t drink actually.” Bob states, his voice quieter now that he was in such close proximity to you. There was that damn sage smell again.

“Religious?” You ask, finally looking at his impossibly blue eyes, “Not that it’s a bad thing.” You add on quickly, not wanting to offend him.

Bob chuckles softly, the noise almost startling you. Have you ever heard that noise from him before? It seemed so unlike his nervous and observant composure. “Not exactly. At first, yes I was religious. But now I don’t drink because it messes with my head.” He explains, now watching your hand, which had slowed its scrubbing to a snail’s pace.

“What do you mean, ‘at first’?”

“Well, I grew up in Oklahoma, which is in the bible belt of the United States. Southern Baptist to be exact. My whole family is, but soon after I left for the Navy, I stopped practicing.” Bob was now sitting in the stool in front of you, hands clasped between the two of you.

“Just grew apart.” You concluded for him, “So, tell me then. Why do you have a southern accent?” Your question was serious, but Bob just looked at you, bewilderment on his face.

“People in Oklahoma have southern accents. Just not strong ones.”

Oh. My. God.

“No way, really?” You now felt stupid, laughing in embarrassment. Your face heated up and you wanted nothing more than to crawl up in a ball and die. But you felt a little less embarrassed as Bob laughed along with you, his pretty eyes squinting under his glasses.

“So what about you, do you drink?” Bob asked after the two of you got done laughing.

“Nope. Four years sober this year actually.” You say cautiously as you start wiping down the bar with more intent to clean.

“Four years… If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” He wonders, confusion audibly in his voice.

“I don't mind, I'm twenty-two.” You started, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. “Didn’t hang around the best people growing up and in school, but I’m clean now. Have been since moving here with my aunt, Penny.”

Curiosity taking the best of you, you glanced up at Bob, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Wow, I’m sorry. Is it hard to be a bartender then?”

“Oh don’t be. Honestly, yes it was at first. But I didn’t start working here until I was about twenty.” You stop scrubbing and smile at him. He smiled back, warm and accepting.

It was weird to see such an open and honest reaction. Even the most seemingly accepting people shut down at the thought of being friends with a once-druggie.

“So, If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” You ask, parroting what he said earlier with a chuckle. You were becoming much more at ease with his presence, but that didn’t stop you from noticing the slight change in his facial expressions or how he picked at the skin around his fingernails.

“Twenty-six. Now could you hand me a rag so I can help too?” Bob was practically gleaming at you, sliding off the barstool. His palm was outstretched slightly, patiently waiting for you to hand him one.

Was he really twenty-six? It was only four years older than you, which wasn’t a huge age gap but the words twenty-six and twenty-two still felt so different. Especially considering you were still in school and he was already involved in a serious career.

After wringing out the rag and handing it to him, you both started working on tables, conversation fueling your motivation.

Bob talked highly about his family, how back in Oklahoma he had a plethora of sisters, all married with babies. He stopped what he was doing a few times and came over to you, showing pictures taken at family gatherings on his mom’s Facebook page. With every photo he showed you, you would be lying if it didn't cause a pang of want in your chest.

Even the photo which he swears is the most unattractive one of all time, was somehow making your face heat in jealousy. In the photo his hair was a mess, sticking up at all angles like a porcupine. He sported a sleepy smile with an even sleepier baby with its head resting on his shoulder, spit up covering a bit of his sleeve.

It was cute, adorable even.

Bob flips to a new photo, “Is that your dad?” You ask and point to an older man standing next to a young Bob. He nods and zooms in a bit. He couldn't have been more than ten years old in that picture.

“Well, now I see where you get your good looks.” The comment comes out offhandedly and you don’t really realize what you are saying until you look up at him. He bites his bottom lip slightly, a blush dusting the apples of his cheeks.

“Thanks.”

As you got back to work, he continued talking about the farm he grew up on. It was pretty secluded from the rest of the town, taking about thirty minutes to drive into civilization. Bob spoke fondly about the animals there, how cute it was to bottle feed calves and lambs. His dad had a strict policy on what animals could go inside, dogs not being one of them.

So, being the (in your words) sweet boy he was would secretly feed them extra scraps on cold mornings before he had to leave for school.

Bob asked you about university, wondering if you went to a community college nearby. You explained that you went to University of California San Diego, and yes, you did in fact drive forty-five minutes just for a few classes.

He seemed impressed by your major when you told him, and your heart skipped a beat at the small compliment. That snowballed into you rambling as you swept, gushing about all you wanted to do with it, that you were in your last year, and thankfully, you didn’t need to go to grad school unless you really wanted to.

Nervously, you explained that you took an extra year to graduate, but you were relieved when he spoke up.

“You know, people put too much pressure on others to finish a degree in four years. What matters is that you like what you do.” Bob explained simply, eyes trained on the task in front of him.

Bob was impressed by your passion for your studies, smiling secretly to himself as he dried drinking glasses.

Then you talked about the military, asking if it ran in his family. Turns out, his dad was the rebellious one in his family, the only one out of Bob’s uncles not to serve. Even his grandpa had served, and was awfully proud of Bob for enlisting right out of highschool.

He asked you the same, watching you carefully as you made your way over to him behind the bar to help him dry the clear pint glasses.

Your elbows brushed against one another as you worked, the clinking of glasses and friction of fabric accompanying the soft music in the background.

“Yeah I would say it runs in my family. My grandpa was an Admiral, who actually knew Mav when he was still at Top Gun. Long, long time ago” You laugh, “Mav and Penny have known eachother much longer than what they let on. I think he used to be one of her old sweethearts.”

“Really? Well now I see it, but before you just told me, I would have never guessed. What about your parents?”

You stiffen unintentionally, hands stilling on the glass you were working on. “My dad is Penny’s brother, he was in the Navy too. We moved around a lot, as most people do. But I wish we hadn’t. I think that if I had that one thing constant in my life, it would have saved my parents a lot in medical bills.” You laugh solemnly.

“But, I think my brother is graduating high school in the spring, and I would be in complete shock if he didn’t enlist right out like you did.” You add, trying to lighten the moment. Bob nodded silently, finishing the last glass of the night.

Finally, the two of you were done. Checking your watch, you noted the time, pleasantly surprised when you realized it was just a little past eleven. The outside world was completely dark, like an inky sheet of paper wrapped all the way around the building.

“One second.” Momentarily, you left him at the bar, heading quickly into the back to grab your bag. Once you came back, his anxious expression dissipated.

“Hey, thanks for staying with me. It would’ve been a real drag if I had to close up shop by myself.” Walking over to a table, you pull out a chair before sitting in it, your drawstring bag hanging over the backrest. You motioned him to do the same.

“It’s no problem, really. My pleasure, actually.” He smiles and heads over, taking a seat right next to yours. You could swear he actually moved it closer. The sudden lack of distance made you feel that dizziness again, a large knot in your throat, preventing you from swallowing.

“What do you think you would be doing? If you hadn’t joined the Navy I mean.” You ask, studying his features. His eyebrows raise the tiniest bit and you notice a beauty mark above his left one. Gosh, were you two really that close that you could see almost every detail of his face?

Bob ponders the question for a bit, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. He was still looking at you, and you could swear he was doing the same thing. Studying your looks, his blue eyes mapping you from forehead to chin. Eyes lingering a bit longer than normal at your lips, which you licked nervously.

“I’d probably be on a farm somewhere. Maybe not Oklahoma, but somewhere with lots of mountains and trees. I love to hike.” His eyes looked past you, as if he was in a dreamlike state imagining where he would be, “But, the beach is really nice too. Maybe the weather is a bit too hot for my liking, but beautiful nonetheless.” He added on quietly, eyes flitting to yours.

Nodding, you took a deep, almost shuddering breath. “Yeah, the beach is pretty gorgeous, isn't it?” The words came out almost as a whisper.

It was suddenly much too hot in the bar.

“I love to run.” You offered, trying to get rid of the silence that was settling around you two.

“Really? That’s cool, I like to run too.” Bob simply stated, like it was the most casual of conversations, like you two were not seconds away from jumping each other.

“Maybe when this is all over we could run together.” You gulped, realizing the underlying intentions of the offer. A possible date maybe? What would this simple run turn into? Maybe a picnic on the sand? The two of you laughing, sweaty in the ocean water?

“Yeah, I think we should.” He breathed, like it took all his effort to come up with that simple sentence.

The tension between the two of you was bubbling over like a pot left on the stove for too long. His foot nudged yours under the table, which you tapped back with a weak smile.

Before you could think, you found yourself leaning forward in your chair. So forward towards him in fact, your butt was lifting from the chair, leaving you in this odd ninety degree angle at the hips while your face was directly in front of his. Your hands came out to steady you, one on the table and one on the arm of his chair.

Bob looked startled, peering up at you through his glasses with wide owl-like eyes. His tongue poked out between his lips and passed over them quickly, looking rapidly between your eyes and lips.

A large hand grabbed at the base of your skull, and pulled you down to his face, the other hand cupping your cheek. His palm was rough with thick calluses, scratching the soft skin of your face. Big blue eyes were the last thing you saw before yours fluttered closed, the next sensation being the soft cushion of his lips melding with yours.

An earthy sage scent plugged up your nose, letting it envelope you like the salty water outside. They were soft kisses, gentle and tentative. Bob drew back to catch his breath, his cheeks reddened and freckled.

Were you always this lonely? The loss of his lips dug a pit in your stomach, making it known how long you have stayed away from intimacy. This feeling of need made you scared. You wanted to be independent, you had built up confidence to not rely on another person for so long. Yet you could feel it slipping away like sand just from a few kisses.

Your crisis was distracted by his lips on yours again, letting out a soft sound of happiness that had Bob smiling against your lips. Slowly, he pushed himself out of the chair, the tension in your muscles dissolving as you straightened out to your full height.

The tentative kisses did not stay for long as they were replaced by a desperate sense of urgency. Bob backed you more into the table, your ass hitting the ledge. Hands now free to explore, you planted your palms on his chest, digging your fingers into the soft fabric of his button up.

You hadn’t even noticed that his hands had moved from your face till you felt them slip down to your waist, his fingertips softly brushing the belt you had worn today. It was modest, the way he was touching you. Letting you take the lead of pushing and pulling with your two bodies.

Standing on your toes, you backed up more into the table and sat upon it, breaking the kiss only to get comfortable before you were tugging him closer. Bob settled himself between your legs. The sudden shifting against the inside of your thighs brought your attention down to your throbbing core.

It was almost embarrassing how turned on you were, the dampness and heat pulsing with every accidental touch to the insides of your thighs. Pulling him closer so he was almost flush with you must have awoken something within him as well because you could feel the kisses morphing into almost bruising. His mouth tasted like sweet peppermint candy, the white and red ones your grandma always had in her purse.

Dizzy, you raised your hand to tangle in the short hairs on his neck, pulling him back from your mouth. Looking at him through bleary eyes, a sharp gasp left your throat as he chose to continue the kisses down your jaw and to your exposed neck.

This couldn't be happening, right? You must have done something amazing in a past life to deserve this. It was almost too much. The coldness of the frames of his glasses, the hot, wet kisses he was pressing into your skin like his life depended on it, you could pass out from all of the attention.

Your mind wandered as your body went to putty in his hands.

It was a quick realization of what you had felt earlier. Lonely. So, so unbearably lonely.

But you were used to loneliness. It was scary to feel this sharp sense of want in your chest, this man you barely knew was breaking down your walls faster than even Penny, who basically knew all your deepest, darkest secrets.

“Stop, please-”

But before you could even finish, Bob was off of you in an instant. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he looked at you with worry.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times after, wanting to say something more as he put a few spaces of distance between the two of you.

“No, no. It’s me.” You gulped, “Please just- I need to finish and go home.” You let out a rush of a breath, still sitting on the table as you were not sure you could stand.

Nodding, he scrubbed his hand over his face and straightened out his shirt some, the wrinkles you caused on his chest still there. Then, he was gone. Just like that he left without a word.

The door closed softly though, you were bracing yourself to hear it slam but it never did. It was like he was making a point to close it softly, like he didn’t want to scare you.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stared up into the warm yellow glow of the lights above you.

__________________

3:26 PM, Friday

Even through the kitchen window above the sink, the sun was hot. Not exactly a record breaking temperature, but nonetheless sweltering for what was supposed to be fall.

The stainless steel basin sink was smooth under your fingertips, sun peeking through the window and reflecting off the silver metal. Your nail beds were burning under the heat, but also because of how hard they were gripping the basin. The sight outside on the sand was unbelievable.

Phoenix had mentioned to you several times how all their asses were getting beat day after day with little to no reward. How they were all scared shitless for the upcoming mission- which she told you nothing about- just what could be shared with people outside her circle.

Of handedly, she mentioned something about Mav having something planned to let them blow off some steam, but you had just figured Mav sweet talked Penny into renting out the bar for one night just for the crew so they could play and drink.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever expected to look out and see them playing football right in your backyard.

Penny hadn't warned you either. But she had known about this because Mav must have asked her. The two of them had become extremely close in the past few days, his motorcycle frequenting the house after he got off work.

You were shopping online in the coolness of your bedroom when you heard the door open and a bunch of loud voices travel down the hall to your room. Amelia’s birthday was in a few weeks and you couldn't wait to get a head start on the birthday presents, she was going to be fifteen. You swear you remember her being born like it was yesterday.

Not thinking much of it, you continued adding more stuff to your favorites to look at later.

But soon you realized that it was not Amelia and her friends, but a bunch of mature adults whooping and hollering in the house. Quickly, you got up after shutting your computer. Penny hasn't texted you at all today so you had no idea who it could be.

Hands shaking, you reached out and tried to grab the doorknob, sweaty palms making it almost impossible to turn. It had to be someone that knew your family. There were too many cheery voices for it to be intruders.

Slowly you opened the door and peeked your head out and looked towards the kitchen, and with no such luck, you saw no one. Damn that staircase blocking your view. So quietly, you step out into the hardwood hallway and shut the door, taking some cautious steps forward. God, even your feet were sweaty and sticking to the floor.

It was so much hotter in the rest of the house, even with the AC running. Penny loved natural light so unfortunately she always tried to keep the blinds open. Unlike your room with the single window, you only opened the blinds when you were sure it wouldn't cook everything you owned.

Twisting your hands together nervously, you finally made it within view of the kitchen, and the butterflies in your stomach turned into feral bats trying to escape a cave.

Everyone, and you mean everyone was in the kitchen. The whole crew. The Daggers, or whatever dumb name they decided to call themselves.

Frantically turning to leave, you heard Penny call out your name. You had been spotted.

Twisting your body back to face the group, most of whom were still chatting, thank god.

Penny was grinning ear to ear, sitting in a chair but turned around to face you, beckoning you forward with her left hand while her right held a glass with what you could only assume to be lemon water or a cocktail.

Plastering on the most genuine smile you could muster (you were sure you just looked like you were in pain though), your sticky feet led you to the familiar faces scattered about the room.

Phoenix was the first one to greet you, leaving her spot leaning against the chair Halo was sitting in to go and hug you. She smelled like outside and sweet perfume, her loose ponytail tickling your nose as she held you in a great bear hug. Pulling back, you noticed the clothes she was wearing. Not her usual khakis but black shorts and a loose fitting plain white tank top.

You tuned in as she was talking to you, your eyes trained on her face but your mind was busy with the noise around you.

“... good for our team work if we let loose and played some football.” She grinned as she moved out of the way for Payback as he made his way to the hall, probably to the bathroom.

Your hands came up and scrubbed your face, looking at her apologetically, “What did you say? It's rowdy in here.” Phoenix laughs, her drink tipping with her as she explains again, that Mav wanted them to work as a team, and what better way than an American pastime.

Agreeing with her, you turn to the fridge and grab a soda, frosty in your hands. It was like a swarm of bees had taken over the room. Even halfway behind the fridge door, people were brushing against you, their hands reaching for the crisp drinks they desperately needed in this heat.

“So, why my house?” You ask, making your way back to Phoenix and Halo at the table, smiling to let them know you are not upset, just curious. Phoenix’s eyes flit between Penny and Maverick, who were obviously flirting. You catch her eye and she tips her head towards them, indicating their obvious likeness for one another.

Nodding in response you look around the cramped kitchen. Rooster came up beside you, his left arm swinging casually around your shoulders. The shift of his arm caused your own clothing to suddenly move, making you hyper aware of what you were wearing.

Casual lounging shorts cut at mid thigh, and a ribbed t-shirt. What made this ensemble quite unfortunate was the low support sports bra you were wearing underneath. Perfect for the comfort of your bedroom, but never in front of company. You might as well be wearing no bra at all.

Crossing your arms protectively in front of you, you turned your head to look at Rooster, a small smile on your face.

“Been a while, huh?” Rooster says playfully, squeezing your shoulders just slightly.

Rolling your eyes, your elbow nudged him in the ribs, “You literally saw me yesterday, at the bar… and you never tipped me.” You add on, scoffing sarcastically.

“I mean,” He says with emphasis, “We haven't hung out in a while. With my work, and your school- You know the phone works both ways.” Rooster says in fake disapproval, mocking the least favored divorced parent.

Letting out a laugh, you look down at your feet. The smell of his deodorant and sweat enveloping you.

“I know, I’m just the worst aren't I? You know-” You start but get cut off by Maverick trying to get everyone’s attention as he stands up from the chair beside Penny’s.

Rooster’s arm drops from atop your shoulders and down to his side, his lips pressed into a thin line as Mav started talking. You knew all about his papers being pulled, how upset he was when it happened.

Mav started out by thanking Penny for letting them use her house as a meeting place, which elicited a few claps and ‘thank yous’ by some members. A soft blush creeped up her cheeks as she lowered her head a bit and smiled. God, she has it bad. Never in your life had you expected your aunt, who was full of quick answers and witty remarks to be in love.

The kitchen quieted down as Mav continued, explaining what they were going to do, the teams, and more. You stopped listening, and looked around the room. Your mouth went completely dry as you locked eyes with him.

Wearing a yellow shirt with a white design in the middle and basketball shorts, he looks wildly out of place. Not in a way that segregates him from others as they are all wearing casual workout wear, but in the way it was just so casual from all the times you had seen him.

He's standing almost at the polar opposite end of the kitchen from you, jaw flexing and eyes now at the ground, making a point not to stare at you. You wiped your clammy hands on your shorts, thinking back to your last interaction with him.

That night you had gotten so comfortable with him, opening up to him in that short amount of time more than you had with Penny your first year here. What pained you even more is how much he had opened up to you. You knew the real Bob. The one who eagerly shows you pictures of his nieces and nephews upon talking about them, the one who is passionate about agriculture and wishes to settle down to have a farm.

The one under his quiet, reserved outer shell that he projects to his colleagues.

Then, out of your own selfishness, you had to ruin it. The tension after you two had kissed could have been cut with a knife. You had felt betrayed by your body as you touched him, but relieved when he did the same. But, with all relationships, you pushed him away and out of your life, and the bar.

You were sure you could die of shame and embarrassment right there in the kitchen.

Finally, Maverick finished his spiel and instructed everyone to leave the house and head down to the beach. Phoenix patted your arm before she followed the crowd out, leaving her drink on the dining room table. You pressed yourself to the kitchen counter in an attempt to get out of anyone's way as they passed.

Penny got up and disappeared to the living room. You must talk to her about letting you know when people are coming over, especially when she knows you aren't decent.

As the kitchen emptied out, you let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding, but sucked another one right up after you realize the room was still not empty.

“Hey.” You grimaced, tipping your head at him. You meant to move closer but your feet were cemented to the ground.

“I have this,” Bob says as he leans down and picks up a smaller dark blue duffle bag, “Could I leave it here?” He asks shakily. You knew he was as nervous as you were, whether it was because he did not want to play football, or he was remembering that night as well.

Blinking at him, trying to formulate an answer as the silence became painful.

“Yes! Yeah, go right ahead. Sorry.” You finally get out, the words gushing out on a quick exhaled breath. “Just put it on a chair or under the table, so it doesn't get stepped on.” You continue and mentally shake yourself out, trying to put on a facade of cool, calm, and collected.

Bob nodded and slid out a chair to drop the duffle bag onto, before sliding it back into its original place. Looking back at you, his lips quirked up the tiniest bit (if your eyes hadn't been glued to his face you surely would have missed it) before tipping his head as a goodbye, and leaving.

The screen door closing brought you back to reality, thank god he was only going to be stationed here for a little more. You couldn't handle having to see him anymore. Penny finally emerged with two brown leather books in her arms, and you immediately recognized them as The Hard Deck’s financing books.

“Come out and join me,” She smiled as she shifted the two books to one side of her hips, holding them like someone would hold a toddler, “it'll be fun, and I need help with these.” She says, gesturing to the books.

“I'll be out in a minute.” You promise, the weak smile you had earlier coming back to your face. Before closing the door behind her, she quipped something at you, but the blood rushing in your ears was too loud.

So that's where you were. Fingers gripping the sink as your neck craned to watch the game from the window. Your focus solely trained on Bob, who had kept that yellow shirt on instead of shedding it like the others. Admittedly you were a little disappointed he kept it on.

If you were going outside, you had to change, you decided before heading back to your room.

As the door shut behind you, you sagged on it. Was it even worth changing? Everyone had already seen you in these clothes, and besides your obvious lack of chest support, it wasn't like you were wearing something egregious.

Even though you never open your blinds when it is hot out, you have to admit the rest of the house looked absolutely beautiful in the afternoon light. Making your way to the window, you grab an old baseball cap and put it snuggly atop your head, in an attempt to shade the sun you will surely get outside with Penny.

After opening the blinds up, you leave the room, the door cracked just slightly.

Slipping on a pair of sandals by the door, you take a deep breath. You had nothing to worry about. All you were going to do was manage the books with Penny and steal some looks at the team. No big deal.

Penny was sitting a ways away from the game in a beach chair, a book open in her lap and the end of the pen between her teeth, clearly not concentrating on the page in front of her. Plopping down beside her in the warm sand, you took the other book and flipped it to the most current page, studying the numbers.

You had to do this many times before, so managing it had become quite easy to you.

The two of you sat in silence, like an unspoken pact not to make a peep while you both concentrated on the pages, and the men in front of you.

You couldn't help but smile as you watched the game, especially when Bob was involved. He hung back from the game, but as it went on he became more confident. He was definitely the type to sit back and watch things unfold before inserting himself.

There is a reason why he is here over the millions of other WSOs in the Navy.

As the game progressed, it became less serious and more playful. You were sure none of them were keeping track of points at this time. You closed the book and leaned back on your elbows, as the numbers were becoming confusing in your brain. The game was coming to a close.

You laughed out loud when Rooster picked up Bob on his shoulders, Bob gleaming triumphantly with the ball in his hands. The group excitedly cheered around him, causing your heart to soar. It was an unfamiliar sight to see him at the center of attention, especially after observing him at the bar.

Soon, the heat became too much and you headed in, promising Penny that you had full intentions of returning, just that you needed to cool off.

Back inside the house, you filled up a blue drinking glass with the cold water from the pitcher in the fridge. The baseball cap suddenly felt too tight on your head, so you took it off and set it next to the sink, praying you didn't have too bad of hat hair. Your back was turned from the door, eyes looking over the many papers littering the fridge door, all held up by colorful magnets.

Not too long after you finished your first cup, you heard the door open behind you. Assuming it was Penny, you turned around ready to start firing off witty comments about her and Mav.

To your surprise Bob is standing in the doorway, breathing heavy, his cheeks flushed from exertion. Licking his lips, he walks over to the chair he placed his bag on, almost stumbling a bit.

“Do- do you need some water?” You ask, gesturing to the cup in your hand. He looked absolutely beat, his hair in disarray and a bit of wet sand smeared on his right cheek. Bob nods, his chest stuttering as if he couldn't get enough breath in his lungs.

Whipping around, you open the fridge door and fill up the cup in your hand, not even realizing how impolite it is not to get a clean cup for him. The whole world was completely silent, as if everyone was holding their breath as you let the door close and you made your way over to him, wasting no time to give him his drink.

Holding the glass up to him, you noted the condensation that had gathered around your fingers, how the cool water made your fingers slip right off as he took it from you. Standing so close to him you smelled a mixture of wet sand and the saltiness of the sea. You stared intently as Bob rose the glass to his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. A small bead of water escaped his lips and rolled slowly down his chin. Knees weak, you grasped the back of a dining chair right beside you.

You could swear you were drooling at the sight.

Bob set the glass down on the table, making a dull clinking sound against the wood.

The sudden noise snapped you back to reality, forcing you to realize the distance between you two was small, and that you were most definitely in his personal space.

Taking a step back, you noticed his hand was still grasping the duffle.

“Do you mind if I uh-” He cleared his throat, “go and change? In your bathroom?”

“Sure!” Your voice came out tight and squeaky, “Down the hall, last door on the left.” You gestured over your shoulder with your thumb in the direction of the bathroom, watching him smile softly and thank you.

As he started walking away from you, you noticed the deep red sunburn glaring on the back of his neck.

“Oh my god.” You say and he immediately turns on his heels, spinning abruptly to look at you with wide eyes, “What? What?” He repeats, concern washing over his features.

Feet unwillingly carrying you over to Bob, gesturing to the back of your own neck, “Your neck- it’s really burnt.” You stop in front of him, almost toe to toe. “Did you not use any sunscreen?” You ask, praying your tone doesn't make you sound like a disappointed parent.

You were trying to portray ‘chill, concerned, friend’.

Bob raises his hand to rub the back of his neck, wincing slightly at the hot skin, “No, I did. But it must've rubbed off.” He explains, a southern accent dripping through his words, making you melt.

Before you could even process what was going on, you had pushed past him, walking down the hallway down to the bathroom.

“I- I have some of that aloe vera stuff we can put on it.” You call over your shoulder, hoping he’s not too far along behind you, “It’s that green gel, feels really good on sunburns.”

Now you were just babbling, frantically twisting your hands. Jesus Christ, you should have asked him before totally assuming he would be fine with you putting your hands all over his body- well only his neck, but still!

When you realized this, you were already in the doorway of the bathroom. Your hand caught the door frame and turned around. Bob must've been following you closely because he stopped a couple inches short of barreling you over, his duffle bag hitting your leg. You can see the reflection of your face in his glasses.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I should've asked you first-” You start to say and he cuts you off.

“No, it’s a great idea. Thank you.” He breathed and you could feel it on your face. Nodding slowly as you bit your bottom lip, searching his eyes. You notice that freckle above his left eyebrow, the same as you did when you kissed him at the bar.

It was taking everything in your being to not crush your lips against him desperately, the sexual tension of that night drifting over to this moment.

Your fingers fumble with the light switch, grasping at anything to keep yourself grounded. As the light hums on, Bob’s eyes close tightly for a moment. You didn’t realize how dark the end of the hallway was till both of your eyes were assaulted by the fluorescents.

Crouching down to open the cupboards, you feel Bob’s shins rub against your lower back as he side shuffles his way into the room. God, there was so much junk in here. A lot of it was hardly ever used and dust was collecting on the bottles. Bob lowered his duffle onto the closed toilet seat, and you could hear him fiddling with the zipper to the bag.

Finally, you locate the bottle and stand up to your full height, closing the cupboard door with your knee. You fiddle with the cap before looking up at him, noticing how his eyes flit from your face to something behind you.

Looking over your shoulder you see nothing, so you bring your attention back to him, tilting your head in question, your fingers now picking at the hard plastic top of the aloe vera gel.

“Can we… close the door?” Bob asks, carefully choosing his words, hoping you will get the hint as he toys with the hem of his yellow shirt. Humming in agreement, you turn and close the door softly, gently turning the lock. Thankfully it didn't make too much noise, as you were not wanting to startle Bob and make him feel trapped in the room with you.

You were merely doing it for privacy.

Turning back to Bob, you notice yourself in the mirror. Lips chapped from the heat and licking them, your shirt bunched up a bit around your armpits (which you immediately adjusted by tugging at the hem), and your cheeks flushed from the sun.

You both knew what had to come next, and stalling wasn’t the answer to getting this done and over with. In order for you to accurately help him, he must take off his shirt.

This all felt so juvenile, christ it wasn’t like you had never seen a man without his shirt on, and he had been shirtless plenty of times. But right now, in the bathroom with the door locked, purposefully hiding away from the others, it felt like it was the gateway to possible disaster.

After standing there staring at one another for what seemed like ages, Bob grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head, ducking carefully in order for his glasses not to get knocked off his head. You held your breath as he dropped it to the tile floor, the yellow contrasting against the light tan squares. He was as handsome as you had imagined.

Broad shoulders, sprinkled with millions of freckles. His collarbone defined, tapering to his chest, the muscles rising with every breath. Abs softly there, but visible nonetheless.

Lower and lower, your vision got. Shamefully you peaked at his hips and you noticed a light v-line, practically begging for you to explore what was below.

Your eyes snapped back up to him, “Turn around, please.” You direct quietly as your hand reaches for his elbow, gently touching it as another signal to turn. He did as he was told, facing away from you and slightly lowering his head. The freckles trailed from his shoulders to his back.

Squeezing a small amount of the green gel in your palm, you set the bottle on the countertop. It was a thin consistency as you attempted to warm it up in your hands, trying to minimize the cold shock.

With no second thoughts, you swiped a flat palm across his neck, which was indeed burning. Bob’s shoulders moved the tiniest bit, probably because you gave him no warning. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed as you massaged the aloe into his neck, grabbing the bottle and squeezing more after you realized the first amount was not enough.

You couldn't tell if it was hot in here or if it was you. But the feeling of want pooled in your lower stomach, causing your thighs to clench closer together. Once you felt your hands had overstayed their welcome, you removed them, letting your fingertips ghost down his back, yearning to touch him more.

Bob paused for a beat before turning back to face you. His bottom lip was swollen and wet, as if he had been worrying it with his teeth the entire time. The sight was making you go absolutely feral.

“I want you.” You croaked out, mouth dry as a desert. Your eyes then widened in shock as you realized what you had just said, hand clamping over your mouth. The world was literally burning to the ground in front of you.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He looked like his brain had short circuited at what you said, trying to process three tiny words that had a life altering meaning. Faintly, you heard the front door open, then shut.

Voices distantly talking in the kitchen. But Bob seemed to not notice. Steely blue eyes burning into yours.

“You want…” He paused, his tongue wetting his bottom lip, “You want me.” He said it less like a question and more like a matter of fact statement. You almost expected him to blow up in your face, to angrily tell you how unfair it was for you to say that you wanted him. After you had rejected him at the bar. But to your surprise he was calm- well as calm as someone can be due to the vulnerability of this interaction.

Dropping your hand from your mouth, inhaling a sharp breath through your nose. “Yes.” You say dumbly, struggling to even think due to the environment. It was dreadfully humid, the aloe smell the only thing you could comprehend right now. You felt drunk on sight alone, and you swear Bob is now officially the most handsome man in the world.

So handsome it makes you want to sob and rip your heart out.

Suddenly, your whole world was flipped upside down. You stiffened as he took a quick step towards you, closing the already nonexistent distance. You felt his hands fly to your biceps, his strong fingers holding your whole body at his mercy. Not even giving you a second to think, his lips crushed into yours, a much different feeling than the tender first kiss you shared at the bar.

A much different Bob too. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever expect such a sudden force from him.

Realizing your eyes are still open in shock, you shut them and kiss back after a beat, feeling his bare chest pressed flush to yours. He is so sturdy and unmoving, like a boulder near the shore. His hands loosen their grip on your upper arms and you take the opportunity to raise your hands to either side of his face, pulling him in for deeper kisses, both of your mouths opening to let eachother explore.

In fractions of seconds, the kisses turned from wants to needs. Your back was now against the locked door, Bob’s thigh wedged between your own. It was pressed into the soft cotton juncture between your legs, the slight friction doing nothing to ease your now aching core. Bob had one hand curved around your hip, and the other on your upper back, pushing you into him even more.

Lungs screaming, you pushed his face back the smallest bit. Foreheads touching, and the silver metal of his glasses cooling the spot between your eyebrows. Strings of saliva connecting your mouths were disrupted by panting, the two of you trying to catch your breath.

Barely opening your eyes, you noticed his were still shut, a deep crease ran between his brows.

You gave him a quick kiss on his open mouth before gently pushing him back more, observing his whole face now. Bob looked absolutely wrecked, eyes dark, glasses threatening to slip off his nose, and his whole chest was blotchy and red (confirming your suspicion that his blush did in fact creep down below his shirt collar).

He looked disappointed that you had stopped kissing, searching your eyes for answers.

“W-We should go to my room.” You whisper, but not for privacy. You physically felt like your voice couldn't get any louder. “Just across the hall.” More voices could be heard from in the kitchen and your heart picked up even more, scared to get caught in such a compromising position with Bob. You considered the thought of stopping what was going on, to just compose yourselves and act normal until you could get more promising alone time.

But as Bob nodded, letting out a raspy noise of agreement, he got off of you.

This movement not only left your body strikingly cold without his, but as he removed his thigh it rubbed just right, leaving you on an upstroke of a very short high.

The thought of stopping seemed utterly ridiculous now, your body humming with need as Bob picked up his shirt and duffle, waiting for you to initiate the escape. Turning around, your shaky fingers silently turned the lock and then the knob.

You shot a quick glance over your shoulder at Bob, who was still in the exact same spot. With the doorknob still in one hand, you messily turned the light switch off with the other, leaving the two of you in complete darkness besides one sliver of faint light seeping through the cracked door.

Holding your breath, you peaked your head out. The voices were louder, and they were laughing. Bob’s hand grasped your hip in an attempt to not lose you in the dark. You couldn't tell who was here based on voices alone, but if you had to guess, there were probably half as many people here now than when you first emerged from your room.

Blindly, you reached back and grabbed his hand on your hip, holding it tightly as you pushed through the door and all but sprinted into your room. You were thankful for leaving it cracked earlier, saving you the time of loudly having to open it.

You stayed at the door while Bob went in, quietly closing and locking it. Hands shaking, you looked down at them, still facing the door. Only the quiet breaths from the both of you could be heard. The collar of your shirt was bugging your neck.

Bob seemed to read your mind because he reached out, brushing the hairs on your neck softly before tucking in the tag of your shirt.

It was a harmless gesture, something that anyone could do. But the way he did it, lingering fingertips, felt oddly domestic and sensual.

“I am sorry for the other night.”

Bob was the first to break the silence, even if it was a quiet muttering of words. His fingertips were still lightly brushing your upper back, as if he was trying to coax you to turn around to face him. You were still too scared to.

It made you gulp. The comment makes your lungs hitch as if you had been punched.

Your eyes searched the plain door in front of you. You probably looked utterly ridiculous, your whole body turned rigidly to the door without moving. Hands still clasped tightly on the knob.

But that didn’t phase him. Gently, his fingers smoothed out the wrinkles of your shirt, coming close enough to feel his breath on the back of your neck. Lightly, you felt him trace the backing of your sports bra. A simple cross-back, nothing special. But in this moment, it felt special. The way he was tracing it like it was the most delicate of lace, patterned with beautiful designs.

It wasn't until he dipped down and pressed his lips to your shoulder that you relaxed, cautiously laying your head back to touch his shoulder. He was beautiful, the same man as before, but amplified by his loving actions towards you.

The knob clacked as you let it go, hands going to his cheeks and jaw while your body followed to be facing him.

All the tension remaining in your body was gone when you started to kiss him. Bodies warmed up and humming with pleasure. Easily opening up to one another as you made your way to the bed, still attached at the lips.

You were the first to lay down, shimming up the bed so you rested on it until just your feet hang off the end. Bob stood between your spread legs, one hand reaching down to jostle your ankle in a friendly way before kneeling on the bed. Impatient by his slow crawl up to you, you sat up on an elbow while the other hand grasped at his shirtsleeve to try and urge him upwards.

He smiled bashfully, dipping his head before he found your lips again. Your hand wandered to the hem of his shirt, pushing upwards to grope at his stomach and chest.

His skin is smooth, despite the rounded bumps scattered sparsely about him, dark beauty marks that looked like stars on his skin. You were eager to see them again.

Bob took the hint and sat up to pull his shirt off, letting it fall off the bed with a light thump. You admired his body before tugging off your own shirt and bra. He looked at you hungrily and let his fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts, silently asking for approval. You nod, biting your lip as you watch him slip off your panties and shorts, moving off the bed to help you take them off your ankles.

Your heartbeat quickened, feeling very exposed in front of him so you promptly shut your legs, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. Remembering all your little scars and insecurities that you did not want him to see. They were human, something that made you- you, but you felt more than naked now.

Suddenly, you remembered all the people in the kitchen, their voices drifting back to you. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, you spread your legs, this time with the soles of your feet firmly planted on the comforter.

The man at the end of your bed seemed perplexed at your movements, watching you in real time how the wheels turned in your head. But he wasted no time dropping to his knees, making a thunking noise on the floor.

Large hands grabbed at your thighs, urging you closer to the end of the bed. You obeyed them and shuffled downwards till your naked pussy was inches away from the most handsome man you have ever seen.

The hungry look in his eyes made you visibly shiver, noting how his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, seemingly intoxicated by your musky scent. He took both of your legs and put them over his shoulders, the crook of your knees on each of his respective shoulders. Spread even more for him, he kissed and nibbled at your inner thighs.

Drawing out whimpers of desperation from you, making you impatient and driving you wild. You raised your head up from the bed and tugged on his hair, directing him to where you would rather have his mouth. His hot breath fanned over your glistening folds, and you could practically see him drooling. Right before he dove in you gave a sharp tug to his hair, forcing him to look at you.

“Glasses?” You choked out hoarsely, your fingers slipping from his hair to touch the frames of his glasses.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He mutters, eyes glazed over as he focuses on you before pulling off his glasses and folding them. Reaching behind himself, he places them on the floor and goes right back where he was. Giving you a quick kiss to your thigh, he dives in without warning.

It makes you jump, the flat of his tongue dragging a thick line from opening to clit. Your head drops back on the bed as you clamp a hand over your mouth, stifling a string of curse words threatening to get you in trouble by the volume of them.

In no time he has you quivering and panting, biting your lip almost hard enough to draw blood to block out the loud moans and whines. Never in your life had anyone you slept with got you to the edge this quickly with just their fingers and mouth. You were thankful for the locked door as his obscene slurping got increasingly louder. It was like he didn’t care, too lost in pleasuring you to contain his noises.

Your surroundings had gone blurry long ago, like your body was shutting down all unnecessary functions to just focus on this one delicious sensation between your legs.

Every time you glance down your heart stops at the scene before you.

Bob’s face red and glistening from sweat, eyes scrunched tight in concentration. When the lower half of his face isn't completely hidden by your mound, his nose peaks up and rests upon your pubic bone, extra wet with your juices. One hand rests between your legs, two long fingers stuffed inside your weeping hole, curling and massaging a spot even you have never found. While the other hand is wrapped around your thigh, the beds of his fingernails white with pressure as he grips the soft flesh of your leg, hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Fuuuuck-” You whine quietly, one hand tangled in your hair while the other scrabbling at the sheets beneath you. The feeling in your belly was unmistakable, it had your chest heaving in quick breaths. It felt like he had been between your legs for hours, but when you glanced up at the clock by your bedside (it took you longer than you liked to figure out the time) it had only been about ten or so minutes since he had started.

“Bobby-” The nickname slips out against your will, making him falter against your core.

You can see that his long eyelashes are fluttering against his cheeks before he returns to the pace he set earlier, maybe even a little more restored with vigor as he groans against you. The vibrations send a zing straight to your belly button.

“I’m close- fucking christ- I’m gonna cum-” You warn him almost seconds too late as your back snaps into an arch, the walls of your cunt pulsing around his still-moving fingers. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, only the faintest of guttural noises making themselves known as the waves of your orgasm crash over you.

You know real life isn't like the porno films. It is never glamorous or pretty with flattering angles. Because of that knowledge you always were hyper-aware of how you looked and sounded, wanting to be the prettiest version of yourself always. But in this moment, you forgot everything and just allowed yourself to feel.

It was earth-shattering, this amazing, otherworldly feeling all over your body. Bob was doing his best to draw it out, watching you with fascination. It did not even occur to him that your heels were digging into his back.

Nor did you realize until the ringing in your ears stopped that he was talking to you, only catching the tail end of his words.

“- at’s it, that's it. Good girl… fuck, so gorgeous.” Bob groaned into your thigh, watching you start to relax, slowing down the two fingers inside you to a light massage before slowly pulling out as if to not disturb you. Somehow, he had found that prominent scar on your left hip, stroking it lightly with his wet fingertips.

Even through your haze, you whined at the loss and tried to lift your head up but you were completely boneless. You feel your legs being lifted off his shoulders and the bed dips next to you before Bob nuzzles his nose into your sweaty hairline, the smell of you all over his face.

It makes you smile the tiniest bit, opening up your eyes to see him staring down at you, that glazed drunk look still on his face.

You reach out in search for his dick, your hand coming in contact with his lower belly first. You know you have found your final destination when your hand brushes over something rock hard and Bob hisses, his hips bucking into your hand.

“Want you to fuck me. Please?” You murmur up at him, palming his dick with more intention as he grinds his hips into your hand. He nods, looking down at you with searching eyes.

“Anything you want, baby.”

The pet name makes your smile grow, directing him to the condoms stored away on the top drawer of your dresser, under your camisoles. It takes no time at all before he is stripped naked in front of you and rolling the condom onto his aching cock. It is so fast in fact that you don’t even process it till he is crowding over you.

“Don’t think I’m gonna last long.” He admits sheepishly as you shift on the bed, trying to ignore how damp it feels with sweat.

His words make you huff out a laugh, moving closer to the headboard so you can lay back on a pillow, “Bobby, I could care less how long you last.” It was more than the truth, he just gave you the most mind blowing orgasm of your life and that alone would probably satisfy you for the rest of the year.

He crawls up after you, bracing himself on a hand beside your head, the other now swiping the head of his cock through your puffy folds.

The sting of the stretch was basically nonexistent by how relaxed you were, enjoying the slow slide of his dick in you. As his strokes got quicker, Bob chose to lean down, now bracing himself on his forearms bracketing either side of your head. The friction only got better as you lifted your legs up and hooked your ankles around his back, the head of his dick now rubbing deliciously against the spot he stimulated earlier.

To be honest, he lasted longer than you thought he would by the way he was acting. But soon his face crumpled and dropped into the crook of your neck, gasping against your sweaty skin while his hips snapped a few times but ultimately stilled while flush against you.

Your nails traced designs into his back as he caught his breath, light tremors shaking his body as he returned from his high.

The two of you said nothing but stayed how you were, inhaling the other’s scent peacefully. You could still hear people outside and in the kitchen of the house, but you were too far gone to really care.

“Bobby?” You ask quietly, stilling your fingers on his back.

“Hmm?” He mumbles from your shoulder, shifting to pepper a few kisses upon your neck.

“What do you wear to bed? Are you a matching set kinda guy or do you just sleep in your underwear?” You smile, looking up at the ceiling, waiting for his answer.

Bob answers after a short pause, “Matching set, why?”

Hope you enjoyed this! Check out my AO3 under Creatchie8 too!

#bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd fanfiction

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mothdruid · 10 months

Text

The Physics of Love - Prologue

series masterlist | part one

pairing.

robert 'bob' floyd x afab!reader

warnings.

insecurities, previously experienced misogyny in STEM, self-doubt. this content is meant for those who are 18 and older.

authors note.

professor coleman (hondo) is a real one who loves his students. but let me know what you think so far! i will be doing a tag list for this series, so if you would like to join that, let me know.

The red ink stared back at you menacingly. Every minus one, minus two, minus three points marks taunting you. Sixty-eight out of one hundred. It wasn’t the worst you had scored in the class, but it was too far into the semester for you to drop. If only you had actually considered it a few weeks ago. That foolish woman in STEM mentality got the better of you though.

“If there are any issues with scores, let me know after class.” Professor Coleman announced.

It was as if the whole classroom failed, many students hanging back to talk with Professor Coleman. And you were no exception, slowly packing your bag while leaving your test on the table. You flipped through it a little bit as you waited after packing. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed, you just weren’t sure what to do from here on out.

“Issue with your score?” Professor Coleman asked.

You shook your head, letting out a soft chuckle.

“No, I just,” your hand tightened on the marked up papers, “don’t know what to do.”

Professor Coleman gave you a questioning look. You watched as he adjusted his glasses, staring at you with an odd kindness. The tension in your shoulders started to dissipate, your body finally relaxing enough to let your frustration sift into worry.

“If I don’t pass this class, boom, bam, degree gone,” you set the packet on the table. It was annoying to think that this class would potentially make it or break it for you. Stripping you of that geology degree you had yearned for since junior high. Math? A struggle but doable. Chem? Not too bad. Physics? The bane of your existence.

“It’s not like the final is next week. You have passed both exams so far.”

“Barely,” your hands were starting to clench up. It was a nervous habit, one you couldn’t seem to shake.

“Still passed though,” Professor Coleman offered you a smile.

"My degree requires a C plus, something that looks impossible right now," you sighed, tightly running your forefinger and thumb across your forehead to block your vision. It was beyond frustrating.

"Have you thought about looking for a tutor?"

A tutor? Was he being serious? How could anyone help you learn this cursed subject? Let alone get you to retain the information. Plus, you had tried it last semester. It ended in a bit of a failure, on your part and the tutors.

"Yeah, last semester. Tutor got frustrated because I couldn't pick it up, and I got frustrated about not picking it up quickly and it was just," you removed your hand only to be greeted with a soft frown, "it didn't work."

"Would you be willing to give it another try?" Professor Coleman asked, pushing his hands in his pockets.

"I uh… I don't know. I'm not a huge fan of the tutor program here, especially after last semester." You looked over at him with a frown and shrugged. "Maybe this is the universe's way of telling me to give up on geology."

"Hey, some of the best things in life are hard to get, and this might be one of them." Coleman smiled softly at you.

Doubt with a hint of shame swirled around your mind. A storm cloud that didn't want to dissipate. As much as you wanted to believe his words, it was hard. It was hard enough to make it in this field anyways. Hell, any STEM major was hell to get into. It was exceptionally worse though being a female in the field though. You had had classmates and professors act as if you didn't belong among them. And now, it felt like it was all true.

"What if I found you a tutor? Hand picked by me," Coleman shrugged, his words catching your attention.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, I can just fail and go about taking it next semes-"

"I don't want to see you fail."

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Coleman had been the first professor that had seemed to actually care about how you did, which was rare for a STEM professor. Most of them had a sink or swim mentality with their subjects, but not him. Not good ole Hondo.

You had heard about Professor Coleman through a few of your other classmates in your program. He used to be an astrophysicist for NASA but then decided to pursue the field of teaching. Or at least that is what you heard through the grapevine. He taught a collection of undergrad students and grad students. You heard Professor Mitchell call him crazy one time for teaching so many students, but you didn't think that Professor Mitchell had much room to talk.

"I don't know if anyone you pick will put up with my incompetence for physics," you hate to admit it, but it was true. You were incompetent at the subject, basically hopeless.

"You're not incompetent, we all have areas we struggle with. I have the perfect person in mind anyways," Professor Coleman said with a smile while leaning back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah? Who?" You gave him a curious look.

"It will be a surprise," Coleman said as he pushed up off his desk. He took a few steps over to you. "He will be helpful and patient, because it sounds like you haven't had much of that so far."

"But what if–"

Professor Coleman held his hand up to stop your words.

"No buts, and please just trust me."

"Fine, but if this doesn't work out," you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, "you're paying for my second semester of Physics ll."

Professor Coleman grinned, holding his hand out for you to take. The two of you shook hands, sealing the deal. As much as you didn't want to, there was an overwhelming feeling about you failing flowing through you. It felt like the only outcome, all your insecurities about your place in the world bubbling to the surface. But somewhere, deep down inside of you was a bubble or two, telling you that this tutor would help you survive the rest of the semester.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x afab reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfic #the physics of love #tutor!bob floyd

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flash-the-readies · 8 days

Text

Building a house in the sims 4 but every room is a different pink floyd album

I built this ages ago and it just now occurred to me that I could share this here. I was inspired by a lilsimsie video where she did the same thing except each room is a different Taylor Swift album.

So I built this shell of a house with 14 rooms (+ the exterior so 15 total albums) and then randomised an album for each room and decorated accordingly. Since I wasn't planning on actually playing in the house I didn't bother with landscaping lmao. Sorry for the awkwardly wide shots, I got lazy taking screenshots.

Anyways I suggest making it into a game by going through the photos first and trying to guess which album they are before reading. Let me know if you get them all and what references you catch

As a bonus I added the interior design styles I was vaguely inspired by

Here's the downstairs and upstairs floorplans

The exterior: I cannot make this up. I got the Wall, I was cackling

Style: I wanted English cottage but not in a thatched roof way.. in a Georgian way... and then I remembered I started complaining about Georgian cottages so I added more...shape and ended up with this... eh...

The Entryway: Ummagumma

Style: a bit transitional, she's homey, she's relaxed

I started off thinking I was going to make a relatively ordinary house

Downstairs hallway: Endless River

That basegame gradient wallpaper was actually perfect. This is the second room I did and slowly started dropping any pretenses that this was going to be an ordinary house

Downstairs Powder room: Momentary Lapse of Reason

Style: coastal but in an extra silly goofy way

THIS is where I finally decided to embrace the chaos. Unfortunately I didn't get a bedroom for this album but I actually like how it turned out.

The dining room: Wish You Were Here

Style: brutalism and minimalism

I'm actually obsessed with how this one (pls notice the grate behind the table)

The kitchen: Meddle

Style: Rustic, cottage

This was difficult...I was heavily relying on the colour scheme and references to the lyrics since the album cover looks like.. well... that...

The office: A Saucerful of Secrets

Style: 60s space age and Mid-Century modern

I was so thrilled to use that 60s space age chair

The living room: Obscured by Clouds

Style: traditional

I shared this with my dad and this room made him laugh.. I too was cackling while decorating it

laundry/utility/mudroom: Division Bell

Style: .......... fuck if I know

pls tell me you see the vision because this was a struggle

Upstairs hallway: More

Style: Spanish revival, Spanish colonial

uh... there wasn't much to do here but that's what I had in mind. Not pictured is a nice wooden chandelier above the stairs.

.......... I take it back. This was even more of a struggle

Bedroom 1: Animals

Style: Industrial

This is probably my second favourite room

Bedroom 2: Atom Heart Mother

Style: She's rustic, she's farmhouse

I HAD to use that topiary

Bedroom 3: Dark Side of the Moon

Style: If I had to choose one I would say contemporary even though it's not actually reflected in the room

Discover University actually came with a Dark Side inspired poster so I KNEW I would be using it

Bedroom 4: The Final Cut

pls tell me why the two kids' rooms ended up being colour-drenched in black..

(the bed is a military cot....)

Upstairs bathroom: Piper at the Gates of Dawn

style:... she's ...... eclectic

Saved best for last. The Sims has a gnome obsession and I FINALLY got to use them all

#So more about me I guess... I love playing the Sims... both building and gameplay #I also REALLY like interior decor and would consider redoing the album and design style associations #^^ especially since this one was heavily based on the visuals of the album covers and just whatever I thought was hilarious #My regular builds are better than this I promise ;-;#this was minimally decorated and also a joke build #pink floyd #meme energy #sims 4 #irving rambles #photo post #had the albums out beside me while I was decorating

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jupitercomet · 1 year

Text

A Sky full of Glow in the Dark Stars

summary -

“Why do you like this place so much?”

Bob shrugged. “We think the stars are permanent, but they’re really not if you think about it. If you want to see them, you have to see them before they’re gone. I guess I just think that they’re something worth loving.”

Bob Floyd loves the stars and you don’t understand how you became a sky full of them.

warnings - doesn’t really follow the tgm timeline so ignore that, angst that ends in fluff, mental health, family issues (though I left it pretty ambiguous), mentions of pain relievers, brief mentions of blood, brief mentions of not eating, talks of death, the end, etc., naval inaccuracies probably, very brief allusions to sex

word count - 6.9k

the next part of tdbj will be out soon(ish) but I feel like we’ve had too many hehes and hahas and not enough crying on the floor of your shower in the fetal position, so enjoy

(p.s. 🧚‍♀️ anon this is for you bestie. here’s Bob, I hope I did him justice)

When Bob was eight, his dad surprised him with a telescope for Christmas.

He set it up in the boy’s bedroom, asking him for various tools with an outstretched hand that reminded Bob of the medical dramas his mom loved to watch. Many passes of a wrench and screwdriver later and Bob was staring in awe at the steel gray contraption in front of him. He knew then that it would be a permanent fixture in his room — and that his eye would probably be a permanent fixture inches from the looking glass.

“It’s cloudy out, Bobby,” his dad had tried to tell him, watching as the boy stood in front of the telescope excitedly. “You’re not gonna see anything tonight.”

He was mostly right, Bob watched the sky through his telescope for hours and only managed to spot one thing that remotely looked like it could be a star. But it was the most beautiful thing Bob had ever seen.

His mom could only laugh fondly when he came home the next day with every book about space he could find in the public library.

“Careful now, Bobby,” she picked up one of the books that had fallen from his stack, handing it back to him with a knowing look. “Don’t get so caught up with the stars that you forget about the rest of us down here, okay?”

Bob didn’t think it was possible to forget about his mom, not when she made the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the world, but he nodded anyway.

“I won’t, ma.”

And so Bob filled his head with constellations and orbit patterns, meteor showers and eclipses, anything that he could look at through his telescope. He plastered posters of the moon phases on every wall of his room and stuck glow in the dark stars all over his ceiling.

At night, he’d lie awake and look up at them, creating his own constellations and naming them. He knew every star’s size and temperature — how close they were to dying. Bob stared at the alien green glowing on his ceiling and studied his universe.

“You can’t put it there, ma,” he stopped his mom as she spread herself out to stick a fallen star back on his ceiling. “That one doesn’t go there.”

“Alright, Mr. Man on the Moon,” Mrs. Floyd teased lightly, handing the fallen star to Bob. “Where does it go then?”

“Over there,” he pointed to a spot on the ceiling near his telescope. “It’s part of the Donetello constellation.”

Bob wasn’t entirely sure how astrologers picked names for constellations and stars, but he liked to name them after his favorite TV and book characters. Raphael, Leonardo, and Michelangelo all had their own stars littered across his ceiling as well.

“Do you want me to put it back up for you then? I think we have some blu tack in the garage.”

Bob shook his head, looking at the milky white star in his hand. “It’s dead now. It exploded,” he mimed the explosion offhandedly.

“Don’t say that, Bobby,” his mom looked slightly shocked. “We can always put it back up, it doesn’t have to die.”

Bob held the star sticker — Spider-Man — between his fingers, flipping it over and pulling the adhesive sponge from off its back. It came off easily, no longer that sticky thanks to the dirt and dust that crept its way between the sticker and the ceiling.

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “But that’s space, ma. You look at a star without really ever knowing if you’re ever gonna look at it again.”

Mrs. Floyd watched Bob thoughtfully as he crouched down to pull an old shoe box out from under his bed. Pulling the lid off — and having to jiggle the box slightly to do so — Bob placed Spider-Man into the small pile of other stars that had fallen from his ceiling.

“Okay,” she kept her eyes on him with a small smile. “Just remember not to get so caught up with the stars that you forget about the rest of us down here.”

Bob still wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that.

Bob was 16 when he fell in love with the girl who worked at the planetarium gift shop. Her name was Sabrina — “Like the witch,” she joked and Bob laughed because he could vaguely piece together that she was making a reference.

Originally, he admired her from afar, sneaking glances at her after he’d finished the star show and engaging in minimal conversation when he routinely purchased a water bottle from the gift shop. But Sabrina pulled the rug out from under him when — during one of those water bottle transactions — she actually started talking to him with an engagement that fell outside the realm of customer service.

“Your name’s Robert?” She cocked her head.

Bob nodded. Because, yes, his name’s Robert.

Sabrina stared at him contemplatively. “I’m gonna call you Robby,” she said, finally. “You can go back to being Robert when you turn 50.”

And so Bob became Robby and Sabrina became his girlfriend.

Bob had never had a girlfriend before and the only things he knew about romance were what he saw on the medical dramas his mom loved to watch. But he and Sabrina never found themselves in a situation where she was bleeding out on an operating table, so they weren’t really all that useful to Bob.

Sabrina didn’t seem to mind though. She never got angry when he didn’t always hold her hand when he was supposed to or buy her flowers all the time. Sabrina had had lots of boyfriends — well, not lots, but enough to know what she was doing. She knew how to kiss and make out.

Bob learned that when they snuck onto his roof to watch a meteor shower. He’d been pointing out stars and planets and rattling on about random facts he’d learned when she kissed him like she knew how to do it.

By the end of the night, they both agreed that Bob now also knew how to do it.

Bob liked being with Sabrina. She never made fun of him or thought he was weird, but she was her own person too, who liked her own things that he also didn’t make fun of or think were weird. She showed Bob exactly what it meant to love and respect someone.

“How do you know you love me?” He’d asked her once.

“I’m not sure that you can know if you love a person,” she answered honestly, keeping her eyes trained on the star show above them. “I just know that I think you’re someone worth loving and I want to be one of the people to do it.”

Bob thought Sabrina was someone worth loving too.

Their relationship continued, she met his parents, he met hers. His mom loved her to the point that Bob thought, if they were still children, she definitely would have given Sabrina more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches than him. Bob wasn’t bitter about it though — he would’ve also given Sabrina all his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

They went to homecomings and proms together, dressed up in matching Halloween costumes. Sabrina ended up quitting her job at the planetarium, but they still returned to the building to celebrate every anniversary. Truthfully Bob had never stopped going — and Sabrina knew that — but he liked it better when she was with him.

“Why do you like this place so much?”

Sabrina grabbed his hand and Bob took his eyes off the stars to watch her smile. “That’s really beautiful, Robby.”

They broke up at the end of their senior year. It wasn’t painful, more bittersweet, they both saw it coming. They both knew it couldn’t be avoided. And, because Bob Floyd grew up loving the stars that were there one day and gone the next, he let Sabrina remain the wonderful experience she was. She would never be tainted by goodbyes.

“You’re gonna make someone so happy, Robby,” she pulled him into a tight hug as they stood by her opened trunk, tapped boxes stacked uniformly in any space they would fit. Bob had told her that she was bringing too much stuff to her dorm but, somehow, they made it work.

When she pulled away, Bob stuck his hand out. “It was a pleasure being your someone worth loving.”

Sabrina let out a tearful laugh, holding his hand in her own with a shake. “It was a pleasure being your someone worth loving, too.”

That night, Bob balanced on his mattress to take one of the glow in the dark stars off of his ceiling. Turning it over in his hand with deft fingers, he removed the adhesive from the back. Carefully, Bob put Sabrina in his box of stars.

Bob knew it was not the smartest idea to fall for the daughter of one of his admirals. But the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew it couldn’t be helped. Not even the menacing aura of Adm. George “Agony” Miller — Bob and the rest of the pilots called back to TOPGUN learned very quickly was that, yes, his callsign was self-explanatory — was enough to deter him.

And that was because, as terrifying as Adm. Miller was, you were far more intriguing. Bob realized, almost the second he met you, that you were an enigma. You were loud and friendly, but in a way that teetered on desperation. Like you didn’t want to think about what would happen if you weren’t.

You were kind — though that you did more quietly. Whether it was listening as Phoenix vented or sitting silently next to Rooster while you watched the sunset, you seemed to understand people. Hell, you even understood what Hangman needed most of the time.

You knew them. And it was in that discovery that Bob realized that they didn’t really know you.

You talked about yourself, shared things that, on the surface, seemed vulnerable. But you said them offhandedly — almost nonchalantly. They were things you didn’t care if people knew about you. You didn’t share them to be vulnerable, it almost seemed like the opposite.

The more Bob thought about it, the more he realized that you never seemed to talk about yourself in the present. You’d talked about your childhood, your struggles and successes with moving around all the time due to your father’s career, but you never talked about yourself now. You were on their mission’s analytics team, running numbers and probabilities to increase their chances of survival, and yet you never spoke of, what Bob imagined would be, the overwhelming pressure of feeling responsible for their lives.

You felt manufactured, like everything you allowed people to see of yourself had been vetted and calculated. So Bob watched you like you were a cloudy night and he was looking for stars. And it would usually take hours for him to spot something that remotely looked like it could be you. But, when he did, it was the most beautiful thing Bob had ever seen.

“Miller!” Rooster held out a pool stick. “You up for a game?”

Bob watched as you grinned, accepting the invitation. “Sure. Are we playing for anything? ‘Cause I wanna drive that Bronco.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

Bob wondered if you knew that watching you laugh felt like watching shooting stars.

Sometimes when Bob looked at you, he felt like he was 16 again. Like he was going to the planetarium every afternoon and purchasing so many water bottles just to be able to say “Hi” to you for a second.

He remembered the first time you’d introduced yourself to the team. It was a few days after their arrival and an hour or two into a night at the Hard Deck. Bob hadn’t thought anything unusual about it at the time, but knowing you now, he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d chosen that time for a reason.

“Miller?” Hangman had parroted back to you, because a few drinks had made him more comfortable to do so. “As in Agony’s your old man?”

You smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yup, that’s me. Mini Miller.”

“Damn,” Fanboy let out a whistle louder than intended as he spoke to Payback, because quite a few more drinks in had made him oblivious to the fact that he was doing so. “And I thought we had it rough. Imagine being raised by the guy.”

You’d heard him. Bob knew that you’d heard him, but you didn’t say anything. You kept smiling at Hangman and then followed Phoenix without complaint when she offered to get drinks with you. And not once, that entire night, did you falter the way you had when you first introduced yourself.

“Are you kidding? That was totally interference, Bradshaw!” You laughed incredulously, pointing at Fanboy accusingly. “He bumped into me as I was taking my shot.”

Rooster grinned. “I don’t know. Did you see Fanboy bump into Miss Miller?”

“Nope,” Payback shook his head, popping the “p” with a smirk.

“Looks like the jury has spoken,” Rooster turned back to you with contrived solemness, before lining up his shot.

You laughed. “You’re all a bunch of snakes, I tell you.”

“Well, this snake just beat you in pool,” Rooster got up from the pool table as the 8 ball sunk into one of the nets with a satisfying click. He shouldered you good-naturedly, handing his stick to Coyote who had called the next game. “Try to keep up next time, yeah?”

It had been a joke. Just something Rooster had said out of playful teasing. Bob knew that. You knew that. And yet, as soon as Rooster’s back was turned, your face fell slightly. It was small, and brief, but it was real. It wasn’t a version of yourself that you’d catered specifically for them. And as Bob noticed the melancholy that lingered in your eyes, he wondered why you felt that that was a person you needed to hide from them.

When you were eight, you dad surprised you with a My Little Pony Baby Alive for Christmas.

You’d looked at it skeptically when you’d unboxed in, watching as your dad stuck double A batteries into its back. The doll blinked to life, moving its hooves up and down and twisting its head slightly, and your dad handed it to you as you thanked him.

You sat watching it for most of the morning, fixing its glitter tutu and occasionally completing the tasks that it asked of you. It had a bunch of prerecorded phrases like “Hi, I’m Twilight Sparkle! Let’s be friends!” and you imagined it had some sort of motion sensor installed because, anytime you moved, it started talking again.

By the afternoon, you’d thrown it in the back of your closet so you wouldn’t have to listen to it’s high pitched, cheery voice anymore.

“Where’s your pony?” Your dad had asked when he entered your room a few days later.

You shrugged, pointing towards your closet. “It wouldn’t shut up.”

As if on cue, a faint “I want to play!” could be heard from inside your closet.

“Sorry,” your dad laughed with a shake of his head, you couldn’t help but giggle too. “I didn’t know what to get you.”

“I don’t really play with baby dolls,” you offered and you wondered if your dad would notice how you’d faltered slightly.

He nodded. “Yeah, I just guessed. Do you want me to take the batteries out for you?”

You swallowed. Twilight Sparkle made a cooing sound from inside your closet.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll, um, I’ll play with her.”

“Alright,” your dad ruffled your hair. “You have fun.”

It took a moment after your dad closed your bedroom door for you to get up, but eventually you made your way over to the closed door of your closet. Twilight Sparkle was knocked over haphazardly on a pile of clothes that had fallen off their hangers. You picked the pony up and it started making noises again.

“I’m hungry!”

“Okay,” you looked around for the bottle that came with the set.

It had been discarded on your desk and you reached for it, wrapping your fingers around the opaque white plastic as Twilight Sparkle continued to babble in your hand. Holding the bottle up to its mouth, you sighed.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d shown any interest in dolls or ponies. Maybe when you were really little, you’d liked them then. Was that the last time your dad had actually paid attention to you?

He’d gotten your brothers things that they actually liked. He gifted Ivan a model airplane he could build and he knew Teddy enough to know that he was no longer into football and was interested in tennis now. But you got a My Little Pony Baby Alive. Because he had guessed.

“Mmm, yummy in my tummy!”

You took the bottle away from Twilight Sparkle’s mouth. “What do you like to play with?”

If you were going to get a present for your Twilight Sparkle next Christmas, you wanted it to be something it actually liked. You didn’t really know what pony babies liked. Maybe carrots? But that’s why you were asking. Just in case your pony didn’t like carrots.

“I love you, mommy!”

Twilight Sparkle was thrown back into your closet and remained there long after its batteries had died.

“Are you okay?”

Bob blinked, trying to determine if your worried voice was real or something induced by all the pain relievers he was on. Then he felt a hand holding his own and he didn’t know if hallucinations were able to feel that real, so he deduced that you were really there.

“Rooster told me you guys had to eject,” you continued and Bob’s vision focused enough that he could see that the worry in your voice was paralleled in your eyes. “Phoenix is fine, but she said that you landed weird?”

Bob supposed that was true. He wasn’t in dire condition by any means — banged up and a little worse for wear sure, but nothing life altering. Though his were worse than the bruises Phoenix had sustained, he knew they’d both be back running simulations in the next few days. He imagined that was the reason they were pumping him full of pain relievers.

“Can you keep looking at me?” He asked finally. “I think I can see the Donetello constellation in your eyes.”

You just stared at him for a moment, before letting out an almost disbelieving laugh. “God, Bob. What did they put in your IV?”

Liquid courage, probably. At least, that’s what it felt like. And apparently Bob had said that out loud because you were laughing again — not at him, Bob somehow knew that even though he almost always felt like people were laughing at him.

“Are you hungry?” You asked after you composed yourself, pulling a chair up to his hospital bed and holding a plastic bag at his line of sight. “I raided the vending machine.”

Bob smiled tiredly. “Did you get any peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

You riffled through your bounty. “Only Uncrustables. Do you want one?”

At Bob’s nod, you opened the plastic casing and handed him the round sandwich. It was quiet as you both ate — you’d opted for a pack of cheese & cheddar sandwich crackers — and Bob didn’t say anything as he felt you playing with the hospital band around his wrist.

“What’s the Donetello constellation?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts and Bob realized that you’d finished your snack.

He sniffed. “My dad got me a telescope when I was a kid. After that, I never really stopped thinking about space. I put a bunch of glow in the dark star stickers all over my room and named them.”

“So Donetello’s a constellation of your stars?”

Bob nodded.

“Like the Ninja Turtle?”

Bob grinned. “Like the Ninja Turtle,” he confirmed.

Without prompting, you opened another Uncrustables for him and Bob took it gratefully. They weren’t nearly as good as the ones his mom used to make, but you’d gotten them for him so he liked them just as much.

“Can you recognize a lot of constellations then?”

Bob swallowed, nodding as he wiped a dollop of jelly from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “There’s not a whole lot of light out here, so it’s pretty easy to spot them.”

“Can you take me some time?” You looked down at his hospital bracelet timidly.

Bob was mildly surprised at your request. Out of the entire squad, you were definitely the closest to him and Phoenix, though he couldn’t fathom how his quiet way of studying you had founded that result. Much like Sabrina, you initiated conversation with him during a slow night at the Hard Deck. And, also like with Sabrina, he could pinpoint the exact moment you truly began talking to him.

“I don’t think I’m that scared,” he’d said when you’d wondered about his thoughts on the mission. “I’m used to viewing things like it might be the end.”

You traced the rim of your drink. “Isn’t that a sad way to live? To anticipate the end of everything?”

“You don’t anticipate it,” Bob corrected softly. “You accept that, one day, it’ll happen and so you appreciate it while you can.”

You turned to look at him then and Bob found another star.

“Yeah,” Bob agreed and your head snapped up to look at him. “I’ll take you.”

You smiled. “You promise to show me all the cool ones?”

“I promise.” And truly his pain relievers weren’t doing him any favors, because he then said, “I need to buy another pack of glow in the dark stars. I should name one after you.”

And you laughed — not at him, but almost like you were so happy that your body didn’t know any other way to convey it.

You promised yourself the second that Bob kissed you during one of your many nights of watching the stars that you weren’t going to fall in love with him. And, if you were firm on the promise, you would have ended it there. You would have had that one kiss and never kissed him again. But you couldn’t.

Because he was perfect.

He held your hand at all the right times. He bought you flowers, which had never happened before. And most importantly, it was in his very nature to have already excepted the end of your relationship. He wouldn’t hate you when you inevitably ruined it all.

Because you would. You knew you would. Because you were incapable of allowing someone to love you. Because, just like your My Little Pony Baby Alive, as soon as they did, you’d throw them in your closet until their batteries died.

And so you reasoned that it was okay to continue being with Bob. Because how could you love something you already accepted you’d have to let go of? So Bob could kiss you, and hold your hand, and invite you to stay the night, and that was okay because he’d never love you. And he’d never learn what a terrible thing that was.

He’d gotten a taste of the grueling task it was a few weeks after your first date.

You’d been avoiding him, though it wasn’t personal, you were avoiding everyone. You had just enough energy to drag yourself to work everyday — even you knew that it was more fueled by the fear of your father chewing you out in front of your entire team than motivation, but it worked. But it seemed that work was all you could force yourself to do.

You could only imagine what Bob must of thought of you when he took in your messy room, almost empty kitchen, and the fact that you couldn’t remember the last time you showered. You sat on your bed in silence as he did a quick clean of your room, just clearing your dirty laundry from the floor and turning a few lights on. You waited. As he finally finished and turned back to you, you waited for the inevitable.

“But you always seem so happy.”

“I mean, I get it but… you can’t even brush your teeth?”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What do you want to eat?”

He said it so calmly — so normally — you thought you imagined it.

“Probably something small, yeah?” Bob continued. “What about soup?”

You didn’t answer, but Bob didn’t seem surprised by it in the slightest. He made you soup and didn’t ask or chastise you about when you’d eaten last. Then he was helping you into the shower and you thought, for sure, he would say something about your appearance then.

He didn’t. He spoke quietly about his day, about how all your friends were doing, as he walked himself through your shower routine without instruction.

Bob popped open the cap of your shampoo. “Smells nice.”

You waited. And waited. Anticipating the moment that he would finally lose his patience. Tell you that you were acting childish and that you needed to get over yourself.

He helped you into your pajamas and put on a movie.

“Why aren’t you asking me what’s wrong with me?” You croaked out finally as he settled you both into bed — at some point during the evening, he’d changed the sheets without you realizing.

Bob looked at you earnestly, as if no part of what had just occurred had ruined his night. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Bob knew you thought he was someone worth loving when he found a pack of glow in the dark stars in his locker. He knew he probably should have been alarmed that you’d managed to break his locker combination, but you’d always been attentive and he always used the same passwords for everything so he wasn’t that surprised.

He picked the package up in his hands, smiling at the sticky note pressed to the front that he recognized to be your handwriting.

Potential Star Names:

The Power Puff Girls (Blossom, Buttercup, Bubbles)

Tom and Jerry

Spongebob

Flounder

Luke Skywalker

“What’s that?” Phoenix gestured to the pack as he put it in his duffel bag.

“Stars,” Bob said simply, giving her a soft goodbye before she could question him further.

Not that he was avoiding her, but he’d answered her question and he wanted to go home. He wanted to go home to you. At this point, he felt it was safe to say that you were his girlfriend. You were practically dating in everything but name and Bob had always been a labels guy. If your relationship was too intimate to be friends, then it needed another name.

But the two of you had never spoken about it. You weren’t like Sabrina in the sense that you didn’t have the definiteness in your feelings the way she had. Not that Bob wanted you to — he loved Sabrina like a memory, like a dead star. He loved you like a universe.

And that should have scared Bob. That he felt so strongly about you without you ever verbally indicating that you felt the same. But it didn’t scare him. Bob had spent his whole life loving the stars and they never once said they loved him back. He just knew.

And, in the same way that you’d gone out and bought him a pack of glow in the dark stars — that probably took a fair amount of time to track down as none of the stores on base sold them, he’d checked — he just knew that you loved him too.

“I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” was your greeting as he closed the front door of his house and made his way to the kitchen.

Bob’s response was a kiss to you cheek and a bite to his sandwich. “How’d you know I was craving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

“I guessed,” and then you panicked suddenly. “I mean, I didn’t guess. I just— You eat them a lot so I figured you like them.”

“I do,” he agreed, watching as you busied yourself with putting back everything you’d used in his kitchen.

It didn’t take very long — not much is needed to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich — and he intercepted you with a hand around your waist. “What do you want to do tonight?”

You shrugged. “I’m okay with anything.”

An hour and a half later, you and Bob were laying on the floor of his bedroom.

“So that’s the Phoenix constellation,” you pointed at a grouping of glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

Bob nodded. “Those two stars are Rooster and Hangman.”

“But they’re right next to each other?”

“Yeah, because that way they’ll fight over who obits the other,” Bob joked. “Just like they do in real life.”

You giggled. “You still haven’t told me which one’s named after me yet.”

He grabbed your hand. “That one,” he pointed to the one right above his bed. “There’s something special about the last star you see before you close your eyes so that’s why it’s yours.”

Bob felt you squeeze his hand and he ripped his gaze away from the ceiling to look at you. If he focused, he could see the glow in the dark stickers reflected in your eyes. Your hand that wasn’t holding his traveled up his neck to the back of his head and you held him to you as you kissed him slowly.

“I love you,” Bob whispered as you pulled away, because there wasn’t an atom in him that could hold back from saying it any longer.

You blinked, pulling away from him slightly. “How do you know?”

Bob smiled. “I’m not sure that you can know if you love a person. I just know that I think you’re someone worth loving and I want to be one of the people to do it.”

“What if I don’t know how?” You admitted quietly and this time, instead of pulling away from him, you moved a little closer. “What if I don’t know how to love you?”

He looked at you thoughtfully. “Do you want to love me?”

“Yes.” You didn’t have to think about it.

“Then that’s enough.”

That night, Bob experienced his first supernova with you. It wasn’t until he was staring at your star on his ceiling as you slept soundly on his chest that he realized he’d never asked you where you put his star.

It was only a matter of time before Bob wanted to commit to you, you knew that. Deep down you knew that, but you still weren’t prepared. Part of you was still clinging to the belief that Bob could let go of you and that he was someone you could let go of too.

You told yourself over and over again that he was just like everything else. Your father who you guessed loved you, your My Little Pony Baby Alive who loved you in a meaningless, deceitful recording. He loved you like they did — when it was easy. But the second you threw them in your closet they stopped.

Bob loved you like they did, so you threw him in your closet. And yet his batteries refused to die.

His question hung in the air, though you didn’t know how that was possible, not with the weight each word held. You mulled it over in your head. If you let this happen, if you said yes, Bob would support you, help you out of every cavern of your mind like a ladder. But then that ladder would become essential. If you got used to that ladder, what would you do when it was gone?

You swallowed. “I’m strong enough to be alone.”

“I know.” He whispered.

“I don’t need you.”

“I know.” He smiled.

“And—” Your voice wavered, getting caught on the thickness coating your throat. “And I’ll be okay when you leave.”

Bob shook his head. “I’m not going to leave.”

“Yes, you are,” you pursed your lips and Bob watched your chest flutter like a hummingbird. “You might not leave physically, but you’ll leave me.”

“And if I don’t?” Bob challenged softly. “If I don’t leave, what then?”

You could only look at him.

“When you realize that you’re not the burden you think you are, what then?”

Your bottom lip wobbled, his words almost suffocating, yet you played them over and over in your mind looking for any traces of deceit. But there weren’t any, because Bob had said them. Because Bob only looked at you like you hung the stars, like his purpose for existing was to follow you in an orbital pattern, like you were everything he marveled at in a telescope.

“I’ll never make you happy.”

That finally seemed to throw Bob off, as if the thought hadn’t ever crossed his mind once, and he cocked his head slightly. “Yes, you—”

“No, I won’t,” you interrupted firmly. “Do you want to know what a life with me is going to be like? We’ll get married and everything will be fine for a while. You’ll forgive me for everything that I am because you’ll still have hope. You’ll still think I have the capacity to get better. But then I won’t, and we’ll get older, and you’ll finally have dealt with me for as long as I have and you’ll realize that nothing is going to change. You’ll resent me for not giving you the life that you wanted. You’ll resent every time you had to pause your life to care for me like a child. So we’ll fight and I’ll say a bunch of things that I didn’t mean. But one day I’ll mean them. One day, you’ll look at me and not feel the same way anymore. One day, I’ll say things that make you cry and not care because they’re the most honest things I’ve said.”

You wiped at your cheek harshly.

“One day, I’ll make you hate me, Bob. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

Bob looked unperturbed at your confession, his resolve stronger than you felt it should have been given the current moment. “Is it my turn now?”

You waited for him wearily.

“We’ll get married,” he agreed. “And everything will be fine for a while. I’ll be understanding of everything that you are because I’ll know that you’re trying, that you’re giving the most that you can. And we’ll get older, and I’ll finally have had the privilege of knowing you for as long as you have. And even then, I’ll want a life with you. Even then, I’ll put my life on pause to be there for you because I can’t imagine doing anything but loving you. And we’ll probably fight, you might say things you don’t mean. But you’ll come back, and apologize, and make it all worth it. One day, I’ll look at you and wonder how I got so lucky. One day, you’ll say things that make me cry, but I like to imagine that they come in the form of jokes, and wedding vows, and your articulations of love. One day, you’ll say things that make me cry and you’ll mean them.”

Tears dripped down your chin, Bob’s own eyes misty as he took a step closer to you. And then another. And another.

“One day, you’ll make me love you more than I ever thought possible,” he cupped your cheek tenderly. “And that’s something you’ve always been good at.”

You stared at him, your throat too backed up to swallow, your thoughts too disorganized to piece together.

“I don’t want you to get tired of me,” you whispered finally.

Bob pulled you into his chest as you burst into body-wracking sobs, holding you to him as doubt, and insecurity, and certainty pulled you under repeatedly, like the crashes and ebbs of an ocean.

“I won’t get tired of you,” he promised. “I could never get tired of you.”

You peeked out from his shirt timidly, eyes red and lashes waterlogged. “Even if I never learn how to love you?”

“You already know how to love me,” Bob whispered proudly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And I’m very fond of it.”

You’d never been closer to screaming at your father than when he told you that you wouldn’t actually be needed on the day of the mission. Because that had been the only thing keeping you sane, the fact that you would know if Bob was okay or not. You might not be able to do anything about it, but you would know.

But you couldn’t exactly tell your dad that not knowing the condition of your boyfriend for the next few hours would most likely make you spiral into insanity. So you kept your mouth shut and pretended like you weren’t a moment away from flat out begging him.

Instead you sat on Bob’s bed as he made one last sweep and tried to do what he’d taught you. Bob was your star and, while you weren’t anticipating his demise, you knew that you’d loved him wholly and fully, with everything you had, for every second you’d had with him. And it was in that moment that you understood why Bob loved the stars so much, because when you love them with the knowledge that they aren’t permanent, you love them with no regrets.

Bob was your star and, if worst came to worst, while you might wish you had more time with him, you’d never wish that you loved him more than you already did.

Bob reemerged from the bathroom and you wiped your tears quickly. It wasn’t necessary though, because he already knew. He was Bob Floyd who loved you with everything he had, he couldn’t not know.

“I’ll be here first thing when we get back,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be waiting,” you did your best to stay composed.

Bob cupped your cheek with a soft smile. “I expect there to be many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

You let out a watery laugh. “Then you’ll have to be the one to explain to everyone why every store is out of peanut butter and jelly.”

Your tears could no longer be held back when Bob kissed you suddenly. You kissed him with just as much meaning and tried not to think about how this might be the last time you ever kissed him again.

“Thank you for being my someone worth loving,” he whispered against your lips.

“You’ll always be my someone worth loving,” you replied. And you meant it. And it made him cry.

Bob kissed you again. And then you let him go.

Bob was almost out of breath with how quickly he bolted into his house. Normally, he was more collected — or, at the very least, quiet — but normally he wasn’t arriving back home hours later than anticipated from a mission with the highest chance of mortality he’d faced yet. Normally he wasn’t having to assure the person he was coming home to that no, he hadn’t died and he was sorry for scaring you and yes, everyone had returned from the mission safely.

Bob had prepared himself to come home and spend the next several hours affirming his steady heartbeat to you. He had not prepared himself to come home to you making him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“I’m here,” he breathed, and even though he’d prepared a whole explanation for you that was all he could manage to say in the moment.

You put down the butter knife you were using to spread jelly onto a slice of toast and turned to face him. Bob couldn’t stop himself from colliding into you, one hand wrapping around your waist and the other cradling your head as he breathed in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

“I was just joking about the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” he murmured finally, tears dripping from where his head was buried in your hair.

“I wasn’t,” you pulled away slightly with a watery smile. “So you’re gonna have to come up with a good reason for why there’s a bread shortage now.”

“How’d you know I was coming home?”

“I didn’t. I guess I had hope,” you paused, reaching for the chain around your neck and pulling your necklace out from under your shirt. It was one Bob hadn’t seen before as he didn’t recognize the charm on it. Though maybe it wasn’t a charm, it was too big to be a charm but it also seemed to cheap to be a pendant.

“I know they’re supposed to go on the ceiling,” you looked at the plastic star hanging off your neck. “But I like it better when you’re with me.”

Bob only smiled widely, not taking his eyes off you as he reached into the pocket of his flightsuit. From it, he pulled out something enclosed in his fist. Slowly opening his hand in front of you, Bob revealed a milky white star resting in his palm.

The same milky white star that was normally stuck on the ceiling, right above his bed.

“I like it better when you’re with me, too.”

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gennyanydots · 1 year

Text

One Year Old Wingman

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x f!reader

Part of the Spitfire Universe

Christmas was your favorite holiday. You loved finding the perfect presents for people. You loved seeing all the lights people put up. You loved all the decorations everywhere. Your whole apartment was decorated. You were so excited once everyone else started to celebrate too. (You started the day after Halloween)

You’re especially excited for the Dagger Christmas party. This was your second year coming to the Dagger Squad Christmas party with Bob. Last year even though you had known everyone for almost a year you still felt a little weird going to the Christmas party. It was a new experience so you were ever so slightly uncomfortable. Bob said it was a white elephant but so many people did them differently.

This year however you were sooooo excited. You knew what you were getting into. You understood how their white elephant exchange worked. Plus you had the best gifts.

The gift exchange rules were that everyone brings three presents. The more random the better. Then everyone picks out one gift from the pile and opens it. You can trade presents but each present can only be traded three times. Once it’s been traded three times whoever ends up with it keeps it. Then it starts again. Sometimes the presents were bought with certain people in mind and sometimes they weren’t. There was a $20 limit on the presents. It was also decided that kids were excluded so they could get all the presents imaginable from their adopted extended family. Which meant Eli was about to be in heaven. Plus you heard that Grandpa Mav got him an entire platter of chicken nuggets just for him.

Last year had been pretty funny. You’re pretty sure you remember Rooster ending up with a lacy nightie and Payback going home with a Christmas cat sweater.

When Bobby picked you up you skipped to his truck with your gifts in a bag and a tray of cookies and homemade chocolates in your hand. You made a ton of fudge, Oreo balls, and so many Buckeyes since everyone had loved them last year. Nobody had heard of them before you brought them and now they were everyone’s favorite because who wouldn’t want a sweet peanut butter ball dipped in chocolate to look like a Buckeye? They’re the best Christmas time treat and a long standing tradition in your family.

On the drive to Maverick’s hanger Bob tried to swipe something off your tray at least five times like he hadn’t had at least one of each of the things last night when you made everything. He was your official taste tester, something he took very seriously. Every time he tried though you smacked his hand and glared at him. The whole tray has to at least make it in the door.

And it did. However the second you walked in Bob took it from you and the whole dagger squad was on it in an instant. You just rolled your eyes. It wasn’t like you didn’t have whole containers at home filled with more treats. Bobby knew about the containers but he didn’t care. It was more fun this way.

The party was fun. Lots of yummy food. Lots of singing along to Christmas songs old and new.

Soon it was time for the present exchange. Jake ended up with one of your gifts, a photo frame with a bunch of scratch lottery tickets. He guarded that with his life. His wife rolled her eyes at him. Fanboy ended up with another one of your presents, a candle you found that came in a tin that says “I love you for your personality but that dick is a huge bonus.” Payback got your third gift, a Snuggie. He immediately got it out and wrapped himself up in it. Someone had put in pregnancy tests, you’re pretty sure it was Jake’s wife, and Mav ended up with them. Poor guy just looked confused. Rooster ended up with a swear word coloring book with crayons. He almost missed the third round because he was coloring. Bob got a yodeling pickle. You ended up with a ugly Christmas sweater skirt. All in all it was a really fun time.

You all watched as Jake and his wife helped little Eli open his presents. He was so excited to get so many new toys. You and Bob got him a piano floor mat which you have a sneaking suspicion that Rooster is going to steal it from Eli one day and see if he can play ‘Great Balls of Fire’ on it. You saw him eyeing it when Eli opened it. Coyote got Eli a pair of aviator sunglasses. Eli hadn’t taken them off yet, clearly wanting to be cool like his dada.

After all the presents were opened everyone was just hanging around and spending time together before everyone parted ways for leave to visit family and friends. You were chatting with Jake’s wife and Phoenix. Eli came toddling over to the three of you. All three of you started to coo over him telling him how cute he is. It didn’t occur to you that he had changed onesies until Jake’s wife picked him up and turned to you.

“I think Eli has a question for you, babe,” She says and hands Eli to you.

You look at her confused and take Eli.

“Read his shirt,” She says winking at you.

You hold Eli out a little bit in front of you to get a better view of it, “‘Will you marry my Uncle Bobby?’ Huh?”

Jake’s wife smirks at you and takes Eli from your hands while Phoenix turns you around to see Bobby down on one knee holding out a velvet box. Both of your hands immediately cover your mouth as you stare at Bob.

“Eli is cuter than I am. He makes a good wingman,” Bob says with a chuckle. “So baby, will you? Please?”

You start nodding your head afraid to say anything because you’re pretty sure you’ll start sobbing.

Everyone cheers as Bob stands up. You practically throw yourself into Bob’s arms who catches you easily.

You kiss all over his face repeating “yes” over and over again while a few tears leak from your eyes.

Bob grins and holds you close before pulling away to grab your left hand to put the ring on your finger.

You knew Christmas was your favorite holiday for a reason.

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob x reader #spitfire universe #bob x female reader

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ohtobeleah · 10 months

Text

My Nightmares & You // A ToE Blurb

Summary: Jake is struggling with a reoccurring nightmare after the death of Bob Floyd. Amilia makes it so that Jake shouldn’t ever have to feel alone. Helping to release the stigma he so desperately wanted to shake.

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, eating disorders. Jake Seresin x Original Female Character. Mentions of death. Dark sense of humour surrounding mental health.

Word Count: 4.4k

-> Transport into the Terms of Endearment universe here. Read yesterday’s ToE blurb (Sticks & Tones) Here. & Rhett’s eulogy here.

“Don’t act so tough, Seresin.” Jaidyn scoffed as he pulled Bob up by his collar. “You already made your choice, remember?” Jake's heart sank as it all played out. Within seconds Bobs was lying in a heap on the floor as blood soaked into the cream carpet. The gunshot made Jake flitch in utter fear. Your terrified screams echoed off every wall it came into contact with. Bouncing left to right up and down.

“Remember this Jacob?” Jaiydn asked as he held the gun towards Jake's chest. “This was the part where you killed Robert Floyd.”

“I didn’t—“ Jake croaked out as tears ran down his face, mixing with blood that poured from his own ear wounds.

“Oh but you did Jakey boy, it was you who made it clear he wasn’t worth jack shit.” Jaidyn was ruthless as he stepped closer and closer to where Jake stood frozen, unable to move in his terrified state. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, because you couldn’t save them either.”

In the blink of an eye Jaidyn turned and fired a single bullet your way. Jake watched you fall to the ground in agony as Jaidyn turned and fired at Bradley—then Odette.

“NO—!”

In the middle of the night Amilia woke with a dastardly fright as the man who slept soundly beside her amongst a mess of bedsheets and pillows stirred and shouted into the darkness that encompassed them.

“NO—!”

“Jake?” She mumbled as she sat up and held the covers up to her chest to ward off the chill of the night. “Jake you right?”

“You couldn’t save her Jake—“ Jaidyn snarled as Jake fell to his knees completely heartbroken. His entire life had been torn apart at the seams right before his very eyes. “You couldn’t save them.”

Reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp that made her bedside table its humble abode, Amilia sat up in the dim orange hume to assess the situation going on beside her.

“Jake, baby? Open your eyes darling you’re dreaming—“ Jake laid in a pool of his own night sweats, shaking like he were as cold as ice. “You’re alright.”

“And you wanna know the best part Seresin?” Jaidyn laughed as minimally as he could as he lowered the gun—pressing it against Jake's temple as he closed his eyes. “The best part is that you’re the one who pulled the fucking trigger!!!”

In his nightmare, when Jake opened his eyes Jaidyns gun was in his blood stained hands.

“NO—!!”

“Jake! Wake up!” Amilia tried not to shake the six foot something aviator too aggressively but her heart broke in her chest listening to his whimpers. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks and settled in the stubble present and prominent on his cheeks. “You’re okay, you’re dreaming.”

The second Jake woke from what had been a reoccurring nightmare ever since that fateful day— he held in a breath so desperately full of fright that he just stared up at the ceiling, trying to coax himself away from the metaphorical ledge he was ready to jump off.

“Jake?” Amelia's sweet and gentle voice broke through the fear and soon enough Jake was turning to face the woman he’d fallen asleep next to. “You okay? Looks like you had a bit of a nightmare?” She was full of concern as Jake ran a casual hand through his golden locks and reached up to pull Amilia down into his sweaty but warm embrace. Amilia let out a soft “Oof—“ as she collided with Jakes exposed chest. She could hear the way his heart raced with adrenaline from the nightmare his subconscious had concocted to torture him with in the depths of the night. “It’s okay, I get them too.” Amilia admitted without hesitation as she held Jake in the embrace she knew he needed to ground him.

“I’m good—“ Jake grumbled as he let out that heavy breath that had been crushing his lungs. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Jake?” Amilia wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t press him to talk about it. Not now—not when sleep was pulling her back. “I can leave the light on, if you want?” Was all Amilia said as she yawned and kissed Jake's sternum.

“I’m good Oz, it was just a dream.” But it wasn’t just a dream, it was a reoccurring fuck of a nightmare Jake couldn’t shake and it was beginning to mess with him. “I’m fine—“ Amilia knew if anything that Jake was trying to convince himself that he was fine. “I’m fine.” Because he kept repeating it like a mantra. “I’m fine.”

“You need a dreamcatcher.” It was the middle of the night, Amilias eyelids grew heavier and heavier with every passing second as she laid her head on Jake's chest. Listening to his heartbeat settle.

Jake thought about the image of you and your little girl, Bradley and Bob all laying bloodied and dead before him as he held the very gun that killed you all in his hand. It terrified him to no end, that nightmare that had him in a vice grip.

His own subconscious was reminding him of his worst and greatest fear. Losing his family:

“I’ve already got one.” Jake tried to hide the way his voice shook as he held Amilia just a little tighter. Afraid if he let her go she’d be ripped away from him too. “Got her right here with me.”

***~***~***~***~****~****~***~

Javy Machado loved Chelsea Fitch’s chicken parmigianas with his whole ass heart. Every Wednesday night was Chicken Parmigiana night, with a chopped salad, garlic bread and homemade chips to go with.

Javy would race home from work, shower, change and head on over to Paybacks place with a six pack of beer in hand and a bunch of flowers for Chelsea. He appreciated her so much and the effort she went to to include his single ass in the Fitch Family Wednesday night dinner.

Soon enough it wasn’t just Coyote that was joining in on Parmi night. Amilia had officially moved into the spare room and had begun to make the space her own. You can call it a coincidence if you want but there was nothing coincidental about the way Wednesday night Fitch Family dinner went from an affair of four, to five, to six within the space of three weeks.

Because once Amilia Fisher had made her mark on Jake Seresin, there was not an excuse under the damn sun he wouldn’t use to spend more time with her.

So Chelsea Fitch’s Chicken Parmigiana’s were suddenly Jake Seresin favourite meal—and he suddenly wasn’t a Wednesday night regular at the Hard Deck anymore.

“Hey guys.” Chelsea cooed as she made herself busy in the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready, just waiting on the garlic bread.” Coyote leaned in to kiss the four foot nothing woman who stole their friends heart on the cheeks. She knew it was coming, so with a gentle grin and a side hug she accepted the warm gesture.

“As always, a beautiful bouquet for a beautiful lady.” Javy Machado was a flirt, that much was true, but the way he flirted with his friend's wife was as innocent as could be. Payback knew it was full of admiration for the woman who made her house a home with an open door to anyone.

Chelsea smiled ear to ear as she accepted the flowers she already had a vase set aside for. It was her favourite thing in the whole world. Those beautiful flowers she got every Wednesday as a show of appreciation from her husband's best friends.

“Thanks Javy—“ It wasn’t hard for Jake to see the similarities between Amilia and Chelsea, from the way they had the same intoxicating smile to the way they both seemed to twirl fabric between the pads of their fingers when they were thinking silently. Jake would watch Amilia do it with her bar apron—the same way Chelsea would do it with her dress. “Amilias out the back lover boy.” Chelsea chuckled softly as Jake came back into the conversation.

“Who says I’m here for Oz?” Jake tried to puff his chest as he greeted Mrs Fitch, towering over her with no trouble at all. “I’m here for you and your Parmigiana’s Chels, ain’t no ulterior motive.”

“Mmhmm, sure Hangman, I’ll bite.” Chelsea tapped his chest three times as he kissed her cheek, again, nothing but a loving gesture but the second Jake's lips were pressed against Chelsea cheek Payback was rounding the corner with a freshly showered Chase waddling beside him hand in hand.

“Hey, get your hands off my wife man—I don’t know where you’ve been.” Payback teased as Chase came running up to his mother. Tugging on her dress before she reached down to collect her four year old and sat him on the kitchen counter top.

“I know exactly where he’s been.” Chelsea turned to Jake and suddenly his cheeks were as hot as the surface of the sun—maybe he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he’d been leaving Amilias room this morning . Maybe it would have been a better idea if she had come to his. Perhaps that way he would have felt a little less awkward about his not so casual night terror. He’d been a little less than radio silent today—usually Jake would call or text whenever he got the chance. But after last night he had rendered himself speechless.

How exactly do you say sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night, I had a dream I killed everyone that ever meant anything to me.

“Again, she’s outside.”

“I’ll be right back.” Jake pressed his lips together into a fine line and headed in the direction of the backyard. He could see Amilia laying in the afternoon sun that was slowly starting to disappear over the horizon.

Everytime Jake saw Amilia his heart skipped a little beat inside his chest—he’d never felt that before. That little flip. They’d only been an ‘item’ for a few short weeks and yet Jake knew he was falling in love. Something he’d never been in before. It was all uncharted territory for him and it scared the ever living Christ from him. He wasn’t in love yet, but he could very much see himself hurtling uncontrollably in that direction.

“Hey!” Amilia had seen Jake standing in the sliding doorway out to the back patio before he even announced his presence. He’d gotten too caught up staring at her—wondering how to approach the situation he found herself in. “I didn’t know if you were coming over this afternoon or not.” Amilia admitted as she sat up from where she’d been lounging. The book she’d been reading was quickly discarded at her side. “You okay?”

That was the all important question these days wasn’t it. If Jake was okay—to be perfectly honest Jake hadn’t felt okay in weeks. Not since Bob. Not since he got Bob killed.

“Couldn’t get much worse I don’t think.” Jake shrugged as he stepped out to the back patio and shut the sliding glass door behind him. “So yeah—I think I’m okay.”

“I don’t think you should be in the business of tempting life, Jake—“ Amilia patted the space beside her on the lounge chair as an open invitation for Jake to come and sit beside her. He did without question or hesitation. “I’ll tell you something about tempting life—“

“Oh pray do tell Oz.” Jake smirked as he nudged at the woman who had come into his life in a whirlwind. “Pray do tell—“ Amilia smiled up at Jake as he sat beside her, pressed as close as he could be as they watched the sun disappear into the late afternoon sky.

“The first time I tried to kick my own bucket—“ Oh fuck this was not what Jake thought it was. “I decided to hang myself up in my closet like a new sweater—“ Amilia took a moment to pause before she continued, watching as Jake listened intently to what she was saying. She could tell he didn’t know how to react. “And the rack broke.” Jake didn’t mean to laugh, but the way Amilia said it had him letting out a little chuckle that he caught with a hand over his mouth and wide eyes to match, fear evident from the lack of empathy he failed to show. But that fear quickly softened as Amilia laughed too, she mimicked Jake's initial reaction almost instantly. “So then I had depression and an eating disorder.”

“Oh my god—“ Jake didn’t know how to react. “Oz—“ He and Amilia had spent many a night together talking about everything that made them uniquely themselves. “That’s so messed up.” The one thing they had in common that shocked the both of them was how they’re struggles with depression were so similar.

But the one thing Amilia had that Jake Seresin didn’t—was a dark sense of humour that helped her crawl her way back from the depth of her own personal hell.

“It’s okay you can laugh—“ Amilia nudged at the man who had stolen her heart from the moment she met him on the steps of the Miramar police station. “I laugh about it all the time, but the lesson still remains the same, don’t tempt life—it’ll just backhand you back—you think it can’t get any worse and then damn, you're still alive and afraid of carbs.”

“You’re just a plethora of knowledge aren’t you?” Jake shook his head as he reached around to pull Amilia into his side, his hand fell to her hip casually as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “But noted—don’t tempt life.”

“I’m gonna ask you again Jake.” Amilia already knew the answer, after the incident last night she knew that answer as clear as day. But she wanted Jake to tell her the truth. “Are you doing okay? Because I just keep noticing little things here and there that I'm a little concerned about.”

Jake paused as he let out a deep breath, the question his girlfriend asked lingered in the air like a bad taste would linger in your mouth. But ultimately—he told her the truth.

“No.” Jake shook his head as his shoulders slumped. “Yeah no I’m not doing too good.” Again there was a silence that lingered in the air.

“You wanna talk about it?” They were genuine and sincere questions. “I reckon Chels wouldn’t mind if we took those parmis to go?” It was a tempting offer that made the corner of Jake's lips pin into his cheeks. The idea of it just being him and Amilia, Amilia and him? Was far too enticing to refuse.

“Yeah, yeah I’d really like that.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“What do you mean you’re taking yours and Jakes to go?” Chelsea huffed as she dished up dinner like a pro. “Ams?” The only thing Chelsea got as a response was a look. A single look that Chelsea knew all too well, someone was spiralling— but the deep pit in Chelsea’s stomach told her that out of the two souls who stood side by side like love drunk teenagers asking to stay out a little later on a school night. She knew it wasn’t Amilia spiralling this time.

Not after the gut wrench shouting she heard Jake Seresin doing in the middle of the night last night. It had been loud enough to wake both Chelsea and Payback.

“You should go see if he’s okay Re—“ Chelsea whispered to her husband worryingly. All Reuben did was shake his head and pull his wife close.

“If I know one thing about Hangman it’s that he’ll only talk to who he’s ready to talk to.” Reuben explained as he kissed his wife’s temple. “Something tells me that’s not me.”

“Okay—“ Chelsea huffed. “Fine, but please don’t come barging in at all hours of the night.” It was more of a whine than a gruff. “I got a kid who’s got ears like a Hawk.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jake smiled as he watched Amilia shovel off the neatly organised food that Chelsea had made into two Tupperware containers she’d fished from the cupboard frantically. “We won’t, scouts honour.” The way Jake held his hand over his heart and swore to Chelsea Fitch they would sneak back in at all hours of the night made Amilia chuckle as she worked to collect their food.

“I'm gonna pinch a fizzy drink too–” Amilia added as she opened the fridge, Jake frowned for a split second when Chelsea instinctively took it from Amilias grapes and scratched at the label–peeling the sunkist logo right from the clear plastic bottle. Leaving it naked. “We’ll share?” Amilia asked as she looked at Jake, he simply nodded–still trying to figure out the label situation in his mind.

“Thanks again for dinner.” Jake made sure his appreciation for Chelsea was known one final time. “Really.”

“My pleasure, now go on before it gets dark and the sand flies come out.” The mere mention of those pesky things had Amilia darting to the medicine cabinet for an antihistamine or two. She was mildly allergic. “Drive safe, for the love of god—and by drive safe I mean Jake drives—!”

“I’m not feeling suicidal Chels.” Jake teased as Amilia deadpanned him. The joke was getting old already but it was justified. Amilia wasn’t the best driver around, especially when all the road rules were flipped on their axis. “Sorry—“ Jake cooed. “But I’m driving honey.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It wasn’t all that cold down by the beach, but there was an awfully present breeze that would pick up from time to time that made Amilia shiver. Jake—with his warm blooded furness like self, offered out his jumper to the woman who couldn’t have been more supportive of him even if she tried.

Jake would later grab the spare jacket he kept in the cab of his truck. He was feeling the brisk breeze too—but he knew Amilia liked that particular jumper and it smelt like him too.

“How long have you been having nightmares for?” Amilia asked softly as the waves carved on the shore, Jake didn't answer right away, he simply stared out over the horizon, just above Amilias head. He could smell the familiar notes in her shampoo–Strawberries and vanilla and just knew he was safe in every way there ever was to be safe. Amilia was his person.

“I think the first time I had it was a week after–” Amilia had never heard her jake sound so vulnerable before, but he was being honest, open, and oh so raw. It was a side to him he didn't let anyone see. The vulnerable side. The side his dad would have called weak. The side his mother would have told him to build a brick wall around. The side he never wanted you to see because how would you ever come to him with your problems if you thought he was struggling with his own. “It's the same damn dream, every time.”

“You never did tell me what happened.” Amilia knew what she had been told and was able to glue the broken pieces together to create a broken mosaic image of that fateful night. “And you don't have to if you don’t want to.” She added. “But if you do wanna talk about it, you can trust me.”

Again, Jake didn't answer right away, but the silence was comfortable as the gentle crashing of the soft waves lapped at the shoreline. The push and pull of the moon's force mimicked the caring nature Amilia approached his current predicament with.

“No!” Jaidyn snapped. He was spiralling out of control quickly. “No, I want you to choose Jake! Choose one of them because either easy its your decision that chooses who lives and who fucking does and she ends up hating you anyway.” Not a day went by that Jake didn't hear play in his mind. It was stuck on an endless loop.

“He wanted me to choose–” Jake finally spoke. He wasn't sure how much time had passed the pair of them but he was grateful that Amilia didn't press him. She sat between his legs with her back to his chest drawing unidentifiable objects into his jean clad knee. “Between Odette and Bob.” Amilia didn't know what to say, so all she did was listen to what Jake had to say. “I told him to shoot me.”

“Bold Strategy Seresin.” Amilia couldn't see it, but there was a soft smile that for a millisecond, crept across Jake's face as he leaned in to kiss the top of her head and took a deep breath in of the comforting aroma of strawberries and vanilla. “You dream about that choice?”

“Yeah–yeah and in my nightmares it's all of them, Bob, Fe, Bradshaw, even Dot.” Jake choked out as he tried to hold in the tears his eyes threatened to spill. “I can’t save any of them and every time I close my eyes it's all I see. Bob and his blood all over my hands.”

“Jake–” Amilia saw it as a good a time as any to shift between Jake's legs to face him. She moved so that she sat cross legged between Jakes. Cupping his face to pull him close. “You didn't kill Bob baby–Jaidyn was always going to do what he did.”

“I could have stopped him if I did more.'' Jake shook his head, it broke Amilias heart to see the man she’d started a relationship with break before her very eyes. But his tears were as pretty as he was. “I should have done more–”

“When you pray for rain you gotta deal with the mud too.” Jake chuckled as he sniffled up a sob. He needed his notes app right now.

“What the hell does that one mean?” Amilia smiled at the way Jake tried his hardest to keep himself from falling apart. Sitting this close face to face she noticed just how dark the bags under Jake's eyes really were. How tired he looked.

“It means that I think even if you had done more, someone still would have gotten hurt.” Amilia explained as she wiped away the tears that had fallen freely down Jake's cheeks. “It very well could have been Dot if you hadn't gotten the hell outta there when you did.”

“Rhett still hasn't spoken to me since.” That much was true. Rhett hadn’t really looked in Jake's direction since Bob’s funeral. Jake thought it was because Rhett blamed him, but it was because Rhett didn't know how to say thankyou for doing all that Jake could.

“Yeah well judging by Rhett's eulogy baby he's on his own path of trying to figure all this out.” Amilia smiled softly as she leaned in the press a gentle but all loving kiss against Jake's lips. She could taste the tears. It broke her heart. “Rhett doesn't blame anyone but the person who deserves the blame.”

“You reckon?” All Jake wanted was another kiss, his wish was granted as Amilia nodded and pressed her lips against his once again.

“I don't tell fibs Seresin, you’re just gonna have to trust me.”

“Do you trust me?’ Jake asked softly as he drank in Amilia's features. She was everything Jake thought his soulmate would be. If he ever had the chance to find his that was. Looking at Amilia now he thought he may have been the luckiest guy on earth.

“Eh–I did meet you on the steps at the police station so I may need a little more time to decide.” Amilia teases as she bit her bottom lip, Jake wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, leaning in and over to kiss her deeper than she had kissed him. “Yes, yes I trust you.”

“You trust me enough to tell me why your sister pulls the labels off your soda?” it was Amilias turn to not respond right away. She froze for a moment but ultimately decided if Jake could open up about the nightmares plaguing his subconscious, then she could open up about the nightmare she was living.

“It's so I can't count the calories.” Jake knew about Amilias struggles with food, she’d been pretty open about her past. But for some reason Jake thought it was just that–in the past. “It's just something our mum used to do when I was younger–so I couldn't spiral out of recovery and into a replace.”

“My dad used to make me a protein smoothie for breakfast every morning when I was a teenager–” Jake didn't know how to relate to Amilias struggles but he thought sharing his own, it may give her a sense that she could trust him just a little more. He wanted to know everything about her. “It had like two thousand calories in it with fifty grams of protein.” All her weaknesses and her flaws, along with all the beautiful things about her that made her, her.

“I'm sorry to tell you that your body would have only digested about twenty, twenty five of that fifty grams.”

“That explains the shitty digestive issues I had back then–.” Jake chuckled as Amilia looked up at him with her head in his lap as he looked down at her. “He used to do it because he thought I was a scrawny kid, thought he was helping, but it wasn't. If anything it just gave me a bad case of body dysmorphia.”

“Oh I know that bitch all too well.” Amilia scoffed to herself before the conversation died down to nothing. To a point were both Jake and Amilia just at and listened to the waves in a comfortable silence, falling deeper in love with one another than they had ever loved anyone before.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The next afternoon as Amilia made her way into work, Penny was sending her a smoke from behind the bar. It looked playful enough, so Amila bit.

“I got shit on my face or something Pen?”

“Lover boy left you a present.” Penny explained as she cleaned the top of the bar. “Said he’d be back a little later, but dropped this off before he dashed.” With intrigue, Amilias heart began to beat a little faster inside her chest as she looked at the small box of chocolates sitting on the counter. A card with Jake chicken scratch handwriting sat atop the box.

“Thanks for the therapy session last night Sigmund Freud, see you later–much love Hangman.” Read the card. Amilia could feel the heat rising to the apples of her cheeks as she tried to hide her smile. As she turned the box of chocolates over Amilia raised a brown in surprise.

The nutritional information had been scratched away.

Jake had listened as intently to her as she had listened to him.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse e @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila @criticalroleobssedperson @enchantingdreamergothprune @flrboyd @emma8895eb @endofdays56 @seresinsaint @topguncortez @mandylove1000 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989

#terms of endearment // jake seresin #terms of endearment universe #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x oc #top gun maverick hangman #tw: mental health

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