#bob and nova

[mothdruid]

The Physics of Love- Part Two

series masterlist | prologue | part one | part three

pairing.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x afab!reader (nickname Nova)

word count.

2.8k

warnings.

kind of fluff, insecurities, swearing, mild sexual content, this content is meant for those who are 18 and older.

authors note.

bob did it! he asked nova on a date finally!! i figured since i'm writing this story so broken up, i'll upload it as a 'series' still, but it'll be more like an anthology. i've been best with writing a lot in concise order. so this is the best you're gonna get from me.

“How’d it go?”

Bob looked over at Mickey, a confused look on his face. Bob knew exactly what Mickey was talking about, obviously. He had told Mickey and Nat, but not the rest of their friend group. Who were all currently sitting at the table in Jake’s house.

“How’d what go?” Jake asked.

Bob looked away from Mickey, now realizing that everyone was focused on him. A rosy tint covered his cheeks now with the spotlight in him. Bob took his glasses off, setting them on the table. He ran his palms over his face, anxiety immediately starting to bubble. There was a reason that Bob didn’t bring up his dating life. It wasn’t that he didn’t have one, it was just limited in a sense.

He grew up in a small town in North Carolina. A limited amount of people lived there, and most other people his age weren’t interested in the things he liked. He kept to himself for the most part, not getting his first girlfriend until college. Which only happened thanks to the help of Mickey and Javy. That only lasted a few months, like every relationship he had been in. They all ran the same course in his mind. Meet, date, fuck, leave. It didn’t help that with college, it seemed like everything had a time limit on it.

“Bob here had a little date the other morning,” Natasha teased from the kitchen.

It was their monthly dinner night. The one night a month that all of them made sure to reunite. Since graduating college they had limited time together. They made sure to do this though, not wanting their friendships to rust and potentially crumble.

“A date?” One of Jake’s eyebrows lifted.

“No, it wasn’t a date,” Bob corrected.

“No?” Mickey asked.

“No.”

“Then what was it?” Jake questioned before taking a drink from his beer.

“I tutored someone,” Bob answered.

Jake looked at Natasha and Mickey with a certain look. Bob slipped his glasses back on before explaining more.

“Professor Coleman told me that he has a student that needs tutoring. Said he thought it’d be a good graduate opportunity for me, so I agreed to do it. And that student just so happens to be female, who needs help with a subject that I’m good at.”

"Ooo, I didn’t realize you were into the whole student teacher thing,” Jake quipped, smile plastered on his face.

“I’m no-”

“Oh, Professor Floyd, I need all this help, pretty please,” Mickey mocked. He posed outrageously a few times, trying to appear flirtatious.

Bob rolled his eyes, deciding that this was his own personal hell. Just as he was about to respond the doorbell rang. Bob quickly got up, heading to the door and away from the dining and kitchen areas. Even though he wasn’t in the room, he could still hear Jake and Mickey going on about Bob’s, apparently, new teacher student kink. Behind the door was Bradley and Reuben, Reuben holding two nice bottles of wine.

“Thank god,” Bob muttered.

“What a greeting,” Bradley said with a confused smile.

Bob shrugged not exactly sure what to say.

“Is Jake being Jake?” Reuben asked as they stepped in.

Bob closed the door behind them. He took the bottles from Reuben, allowing for Reuben to take his coat off.

“Mickey and Jake are bein-”

“Hey!”

All of them jumped a little bit. They all turned to see Natasha in the archway to the kitchen. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest.

“What the hell took you two so long?”

“Well, Reuben took forever to decide on a wine.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said no reds,” Reuben chimed in.

“Yeah, cause reds are gross,” Bradley said.

All of them made their way to the kitchen. Bob was beyond thankful that Jake and Mickey had stopped their jokes about Bob’s tutoring. The dislike for red wine continued as they got into the kitchen. Natasha and Bob got their own glasses of wine while everyone greeted each other. Eventually, it was finally reinstated that Reuben was the only person who actually liked red wines.

“You guys are just so uncultured,” Reuben joked.

“Uh-uh, you don’t get to call me uncultured,” Mickey pointed a finger at Reuben, “my culture is very different from all of yours.”

All of them erupted with laughter. They all got settled, now only waiting for Javy to show up. It was going to be a little late for that, Javy informing them earlier about the last minute emergency that came into the clinic.

“Seriously, Bob, how’d the tutoring go though?” Jake asked after a sip of beer.

“It was, it was good. She’s bright, doesn’t give herself enough credit.” Bob explained.

“Freshman?” Bradley asked.

“No, junior,” Bob replied.

“A junior taking Physics two? Isn’t that a little late?” Natasha added.

“Woe, woe, physics two is what you’re tutoring?” Jake seemed shocked.

Bob took a drink of wine, silently thanking Bradley for making Reuben get a pink wine.

“Yeah, physics two to a geology major.”

“Isn’t that basically their whole degree?” Jake asked.

“No, bagman, it’s not,” Natasha’s tone was stern.

Jake put his hands up, not wanting Natasha to get upset.

“I didn’t mean anything by that, I’m just asking.” Jake was cautious with his words this time.

“Well, however much physics they need,” Bradley started, “Bob’s the man for the job.”

Bob smiled as they all agreed, toasting to Bob and his success with tutoring.

-

“Check?” You asked, pushing your paper towards Bob.

“Check,” Bob said, his fingers brushing yours as he grabbed your paper.

You leaned back in the chair, heat pooling in your cheeks, waiting to hear that you were wrong. Again.

The day had been long, two classes that morning, then study hall, and now tutoring. Your brain felt fried at this point. And optic equations weren’t really helping. The one thing that did seem to help was Bob though. Ever since exchanging numbers the two of you had been texting.

Was it as often as you wanted? No. But were you complaining? A little bit.

Ever since meeting him you wanted to know more. What was his favorite food? Movie? Where did he come from? Why for the love of god was he pursuing astrophysics for his masters?

No matter what the answers, you would show up to these meetings every week. They had slowly become the highlight of your weeks. Being able to watch Bob work, flipping through pages while writing down equations with no issue. It was oddly captivating, seeing his brain work at such a high level seamlessly. Like a super computer at work.

“Three is wrong,” Bob said, offering the paper back to you.

“Seriously?” You snatched the paper, looking the equation over again.

“Very,” Bob had a small smile on his face, soft wrinkles forming near his eyes.

You sat the paper back down, flipping to the page in your text book breaking down the equation. After pulling up the notes on your computer you another attempt.

“So, why astrophysics?” You asked.

Bob watched you try the problem again, not paying any attention to him when you asked the question.

“It’s cool,” Bob awkwardly answered.

Not a lot of people asked Bob about his interests, aside from Nat and Mickey. Hell, even when Jake asked him about things he got a little surprised. Obviously he was more than a little surprised right now. The cute girl he was tutoring was asking him about himself, how could he not be surprised?

Yeah, he had been texting you, but they were pretty surface level texts. Simple things like ‘when do you have class?’ or ‘hope you have a good day’, and even ‘do you want a coffee today?’. In all honestly, it was mainly you texting him and him responding with surface level answers. He just wasn’t exactly sure what to say or what to do. As much as he wanted to ‘shoot his shot’ as Bradley would say, he was afraid of scaring you off.

“Just cool?” You peaked up from your paper, “That’s it? No other reason?”

Bob noticed a little bit of a playful tone in your words.

“Yeah, kind of,” Bob said with a small smile.

“Well, what makes it kind of cool then?” You honestly just wanted to have a little bit of distraction while trying the equation.

“Space, stars, black holes, rockets, all of it. It’s just really cool.” Bob watched your pencil etch on the paper. “It’s just cool to learn about the things that are hard to understand. The intangible being somewhat tangible? I just want to understand it all more, help others understand it too. Kind of like you and geology.”

You looked up at Bob smiling.

“But geology is tangible,” you joked.

“I’m pretty sure there are things that you can’t touch in geology, like lava,” Bob said. He put his elbows on the table, reaching over to your paper, “Now let me see this.”

“Why, it’s probably not right this time either,” you offered him the paper reluctantly.

“Don’t doubt yourself,” Bob reassured you, taking the paper from you.

“Doubting is all I’ve been taught to do in this field.”

It was meant to come out as a joke, nothing more. But the way Bob face changed almost broke you. It wasn’t a big change, but it was still enough of one. A silence started to hang between the two of you. It felt as if your body was going to cave in on yourself, shoulders drawing closer together as you made yourself smaller.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize.” Bob’s gaze locked with yours, sincerity in his blue eyes.

“Being in STEM hasn’t been easy on me,” you let out a soft chuckle.

Bob sat there, staring, waiting for you to say something. He adjusted his glasses before you spoke again.

“This isn't anything towards you, cause you’ve been nothing but kind to me,” you crossed your arms and pulled them close, “but my life in STEM has been man after man telling me that this isn’t for me. No matter how hard I’ve tried, easy or hard the subject, it’s been a big fat you’re not good enough. It really starts to weigh on you after a while, why do you think I took physics so late?” The word vomit was followed with an awkward laugh, “Sorry, I-”

“I said don’t apologize, and I meant it,” Bob reached out, offering a hand to you across the table. “I know it might not mean much from me, especially because I’m not in your field, but you do belong here.”

Something had started to well up in your throat, tears pricking your eyes lightly. The muscles through your body started to relax. Your shoulder straightening out a little, arms not held so closely together. The soft shell you had created was dissipating, cracking at the seams. You reached out, taking his hand and focusing on the soft skin of his palm.

“I- thank you, but are you sure? I mean, I can’t even figure out optical equations.”

“Listen,” Bob’s hand squeezed yours, “I can only imagine what people have said to you, but they are all wrong. Like I said, you belong here, probably more than all those people who told you those things.”

His other hand came down to cover your clasped hands, provoking you to do the same. The two of you sat there for a moment, staring at each other and holding hands. You gave him a sarcastic ‘okay’ look, earning you a playful ‘I’m being serious’ look. The both of you broke into smiles while continuing to hold each others hands. A rosy color had started to appear on Bob’s cheeks.

“Have you ever been to the Cranbrook Institute of Science?”

The question took you a little off guard, but it warmed your heart.

“Everyone in STEM here has, but I’d be happy to go again,” you looked away for a moment as warmth filled your cheeks.

A bit of surprise touched Bob’s features, surprised by your answer. He thought it might be a long shot, asking you on a date, but he was hoping that after the last few weeks you’d be up for it. He really wanted to ask you prior to this session, but his nerves got the better of him. The possibility of tutoring becoming awkward would be the death of him.

“Are you sure? Because if you think that would make it awkward or anything, I don’t want that for you. And I don’t want it to seem like you have to come with me or anything. I promise that even if you say no, I’ll tutor you to the best of my abilities.” Bob’s nerves always made him word vomit.

“Hey,” it was your turn to squeeze his hands, “I’d be more than happy to go, especially with you, starboy.”

Excitement blossomed through Bob, the nickname making his heart ache. Most nicknames he earned were full of teasing, and maybe yours was to a degree. But he liked it. It felt personal, something full of love, something he wanted more of.

“Okay,” Bob said while nodding softly.

You squeezed his hands one more time before letting go. The two of you adjusted yourselves, sitting across from each other once again. A smile cracked across your face as you watched Bob adjust his glasses once more. There was a small grin plastered on his lips. He grabbed your paper once again, looking it over.

“Oh, and number three is right.”

-

It felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Barely balancing on the balls of your feet on each step, you ran up the steps to your apartment. You had to tell your roommates immediately, they would get a kick out of it. Once you got to the door you punched your code into the keypad, hearing the tone of acceptance and unlocking of the deadbolt. You took your backpack off as you opened the door, setting it on the floor as the door closed.

The hard material of the door caught you, keeping you up straight when you fell back onto it. You rested your head back on the door, smile plastered on your face. You couldn’t stop thinking about it all.

The way he had looked at you. Those words coming out of his mouth with a type of shy confidence. Every time he had adjusted his glasses made your heart flutter. God, it was so fucking nerdy and you loved it. The seriousness that took over his face when double checking your work. It was the face you had been dreaming about for weeks.

The dreams had ranged from innocent to devious. Hand holding, cuddles, and coffee dates were some of the softer things, thoughts that lingered for hours after you woke up. Then there were the dreams that had you craving more. Hands on your hips, head between your thighs, and a sensation of being filled up. Those thoughts lingered for more than a few hours. Honestly, those thoughts never left your mind.

“You good?” A familiar voice asked.

You opened your eyes to see Mara and Alex staring at you. They were sitting at the kitchen table, books and laptops open with papers all over the place. You toed your shoes off before lugging your backpack to the table. It made a thump as you placed it on a chair you pulled out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, "a-ok.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, Mara smiled and shook her head.

“Spill,” Mara said.

“Did you guys fuck in the study room?” Alex asked.

“Oh my god, no. Alex why-”

“Tell, now.” Mara demanded.

“I may or may not have a date on Saturday,” you smiled and put your hands flat under your chin, jokingly showing your face off.

“Fucking finally, it’s been weeks since you two started whatever this is,” Alex explained, “the slow burn was becoming too slow for my taste.”

You stuck your tongue out while flipping Alex off, moving over to the cabinet for a glass.

“Where’s it at?” Mara asked in a cheerful tone.

“Cranbrook,” you answered, pulling the water pitcher out of the fridge to fill your glass.

“Of course,” Alex chuckled a little.

“What?”

“It’s just a little,” Alex paused for a moment, “nerdy.”

“Says the one who took your last date to an arcade.” You stated.

Mara laughed and agreed with you. You made your way back to the table, moving your bag from the chair and sitting down.

“It’s a different nerdy and you know it,” Alex said.

“It’s a smart nerdy,” Mara added.

Alex rolled her eyes at the both of you.

For the rest of the night you three sat at the table, working on homework and scrolling through tiktok on occasion. You had explained everything to them, the way he asked you and the time you’d be meeting with him on Saturday. Mara and Alex had been teasing you ever since you started your tutoring sessions. They had both convinced themselves that he was the one for you, so they made sure you looked your best on the day of.

tags:

@wkndwlff

@thedroneranger

@callsign-sprout

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Burned Into The Sky

Bob Floyd x Fem!aviator!reader

call sign: Nova

There’s something sickening about coming back to a place that once felt like home. Like slipping into a flight suit that still fits but chafes in all the wrong places.

North Island hadn’t changed. Not in any way that mattered. Same salt in the air. Same whir of turbines spinning up just before dawn. Same hangar shadows stretching long across the tarmac. Only now, it all felt quieter. Hollow. Like a stage set rebuilt after the show was already over.

I adjusted the strap of my duffel and kept my eyes forward. Don’t look back. Don’t look too long at anything. Especially not the ghosts.

A sharp whistle broke through my focus. “I’ll be damned,” came a voice I hadn’t heard in two years. Warm, familiar, stubborn as hell.

I turned just in time to see Phoenix jogging toward me, aviators in her hand, her dark braid bouncing behind her.

She didn’t ask permission. Just pulled me into a tight hug, one arm around my shoulders, her free hand fisting the back of my flight suit.

“You actually came,” she breathed, like she hadn’t quite believed I would.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” I muttered into her shoulder, before pulling back.

She looked me over like I was something fragile and half-lost, and I hated how seen it made me feel.

“You look like hell,” she said, grinning.

“Thanks. You look annoying as ever.”

Phoenix laughed and looped her arm through mine. “C’mon. Let’s go remind the boys why you made Top Gun look easy.”

⸻

The briefing room looked like every other one I’d ever walked into.

Sterile walls. Blinking lights. A dull, nervous hum in the air.

Maverick was already at the front, leaning casually against the table like he didn’t own every room he walked into. I recognized a few faces in the group gathered—by reputation, not by memory. They looked like they knew each other. Tight-knit. Loud.

“Eyes up,” Phoenix whispered, bumping my hip. “The one in the sunglasses smirking like he’s God’s gift to aviation is Hangman. The tall one with the ‘I swear I’m not cocky’ expression is Rooster. And the guy standing next to me, quiet as ever, is Bob.”

“Bob?” I echoed, raising a brow.

“Don’t underestimate him.”

I glanced over at the one she meant—tall, serious, and almost too calm. He met my gaze without flinching. I looked away first.

I didn’t miss the way conversation dipped the second I entered. The way Hangman raised a brow, how Rooster leaned subtly toward Payback to say something low under his breath. They didn’t know me—but they knew ofme.

“Is that—?” I heard someone start.

“That’s Nova,” another voice answered. “She flew black ops for a while. Solo. Fast as hell.”

“No one gets assigned to solo runs unless—”

“Exactly.”

I tuned them out.

⸻

Maverick cleared his throat. “You’ve all been brought back here for one reason: to become better. Smarter. Faster. Deadlier. You’re the best of the best—but that doesn’t mean you can’t be pushed harder.”

He turned toward the projector and tapped a few controls. A grid of rotating names and callsigns lit the screen.

“You’ll be flying in rotating pairs for the next few weeks. No permanent teams yet. I want to see how you adapt under pressure—with people you don’t know, and can’t predict.”

My stomach turned.

Not because of the challenge. Because of the partners part.

Phoenix was already watching me carefully, reading it on my face like a second language.

⸻

After the briefing, the squad lingered in loose clusters. The mood was light, teasing, competitive. I stood near the edge, scanning through flight schedules.

“Nova,” someone drawled behind me.

Hangman.

I didn’t turn. “You’re not flirting with me already, are you? You haven’t even seen me fly.”

He sidled into view, smirking. “I’ve heard enough to be impressed.”

“Then lower your expectations.”

He let out a low whistle. “You’re sharp.”

“I’m tired,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“Noted.”

He moved on, and I exhaled through my nose.

“Careful,” Phoenix warned as she joined me again. “He’s harmless until he’s not.”

I didn’t answer. My fingers had found the edge of the dog tags around my neck again. I hadn’t meant to touch them. But my hand always drifted back there when I felt the air shift.

They were burned at the corners. Bent, half-melted. Still smelled faintly of smoke when the metal heated in the sun.

Phoenix’s voice softened. “You don’t have to tell anyone anything. Not unless you want to.”

“They don’t need to know.”

She nodded once. “Then they won’t. I’ve got your six.”

⸻

That night, I sat on the beach behind the barracks.

The moonlight danced over the waves, and my boots were half-buried in the sand. I rolled the dog tags between my fingers. Sometimes I forgot I still wore them. Most days, I didn’t.

I heard footsteps behind me, slower this time.

I didn’t look back. “You don’t have to check on me every time I go silent.”

Phoenix sat down beside me anyway, hugging her knees. “It’s not about need. I just want you to remember you’re not doing this alone anymore.”

I didn’t respond. I just stared at the horizon until my eyes blurred.

The sims were brutal by design. Not physically — the cockpits were just steel cages bolted to hydraulics — but psychologically, they were engineered to strip you raw. Every flaw, every hesitation, every misplaced breath showed up in bright red telemetry on a screen for your teammates to analyze. Fail enough times, and Maverick didn’t need to bench you. You’d do it yourself.

I didn’t fail.

I also didn’t sleep.

By the third day of rotations, I’d flown with everyone except Bob.

Rooster liked to crack jokes over comms — to ease tension, he said. Hangman tried to pull the reins away mid-flight, testing limits he didn’t know I’d already surpassed years ago. Payback flew like a boxer — heavy on control, unpredictable under pressure.

They were good. But they weren’t my kind of good.

None of them synced the way I remembered it could feel. The kind of symbiosis where two minds moved like one and your gut trusted theirs more than your own. That kind of partnership cost everything.

And I’d already paid.

⸻

“Nova, you’re with Bob today,” Maverick called out at the morning briefing.

I nodded once, clipped. Phoenix’s brow lifted, barely — enough that I noticed. She knew me well enough to know I didn’t like unknown variables.

Bob wasn’t flashy. He didn’t carry the swagger like the others. Didn’t strut. Didn’t show off. Just stood there behind Phoenix, arms crossed, helmet under one arm, watching everyone and saying nothing.

That quiet made people underestimate him.

That quiet made me pay attention.

⸻

In the cockpit, we barely spoke.

But something clicked.

He matched my tempo on instinct. Every shift I made, he met it a breath before I asked. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t second-guess — just supported, clean and smooth, like he already knew where I was headed before I did.

By the time we landed, I had a knot in my chest and a strange hollowness in my throat.

Because it felt like flying used to.

And I hated how much I missed that.

⸻

Later that evening, at the Hard Deck

The bar was full — too warm, too loud, soaked in the scent of beer and sweat and ocean. The squad was unwinding in full force. Hangman was on his third game of pool, Payback was trying to convince Rooster he could beat him in darts, and Phoenix had already shoved a mic into my hand.

“Karaoke is law,” she said. “You don’t get to dodge it just because you’re mysterious and broody.”

“I’m not broody,” I grumbled, but the mic was already live.

“You’re doing Stevie Nicks,” she added, and shoved me toward the stage.

I sang. Not perfectly. But I gave it hell, and the cheers at the end were loud enough to startle even me.

When I stepped off the stage, my breath still ragged, I saw Bob.

He hadn’t clapped.

He hadn’t laughed.

He just watched — still, blue-eyed, unreadable — like he’d seen something he wasn’t quite expecting.

Our eyes caught.

I looked away first.

⸻

“What’s the story with the dog tags?” Payback asked an hour later, mid-game of cards.

The laughter died a little. I felt everyone’s eyes shift toward me, heavy and curious.

Even Bob.

I didn’t answer.

I stood. “I’m grabbing air.”

⸻

I slipped out into the night. The cold was sharp, honest.

Footsteps followed, but slower this time.

“Don’t tell me you’re stalking me,” I said without turning.

Bob’s voice came quiet. “Not stalking. Just… checking.”

I turned. He didn’t meet my eyes right away.

“Payback didn’t mean anything by it,” he added.

“I know.” I paused. “But some questions don’t need answers.”

He nodded, slow and steady. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

Something shifted in the quiet between us.

“I’ll walk you back,” he offered.

I wanted to say no. I really did.

But I didn’t.

⸻

The next day — Beach Football

Maverick’s idea. Team-building. Half-shirted pilots, dust in the air, skin burning under sun and salt.

I didn’t mean to get competitive. But Phoenix egged me on, and Payback tried to shoulder me off the ball, and before I knew it, I was sprinting down the sand like I was ten years younger and two years lighter.

I spiked the win with both hands in the air and a wild, rare laugh.

That’s when I saw him.

Bob.

Sitting at the edge of the game, shirt damp, sunglasses slipping down his nose, smiling — small, but real.

At me.

The moment was clean. Untouched.

And then Payback tackled me from behind, laughing like a kid.

Bob’s smile vanished.

⸻

Movie Night at Fanboy’s

We were spread like laundry across the furniture. Someone had ordered too much pizza. Rooster was half-asleep already. I didn’t know how I’d ended up under the same blanket as Bob, but I hadn’t moved.

We didn’t talk. But at one point, our pinkies brushed under the blanket.

Neither of us pulled away.

I almost leaned on him.

Then Fanboy yelled, “Pause it! I need popcorn!” and the lights flicked on. I blinked and pulled back fast.

Too fast.

⸻

Ten minutes later, I went to grab a beer.

The kitchen was small. Darker. Quiet.

I opened the fridge, reached for a bottle — and Bob was already there beside me.

Our hands bumped.

He didn’t apologize. Neither did I.

We moved around each other like we’d practiced it, quiet and efficient. His shoulder brushed mine. The air changed.

I turned, meaning to say something — I still don’t know what — but the words snagged.

He was closer than I expected.

His mouth parted like he might speak. My breath caught.

And just as something almost broke through—

“Where’s the damn beer?” someone shouted from the other room.

The moment collapsed. I pulled back. Hard.

Bob stepped away, polite. Careful. Like nothing had happened.

I walked out fast.

I didn’t look back.

There are two kinds of danger in the air.

The kind you expect — sudden crosswinds, rogue birds, an enemy on your six — and the kind you never see coming.

Like trusting someone again.

Like Bob nearly dying for you.

⸻

The sim wasn’t supposed to be anything special — standard two-plane formation, target suppression with ground interference. I’d done it a hundred times. But the AI got tweaked overnight. Maybe Maverick wanted to test our limits. Maybe he wanted to see what we’d do when the pressure snapped bone.

Either way, it went sideways fast.

One minute we were clean in formation, the next there were missiles on-screen and a heat-lock warning screaming in my headset. I banked left. Bob didn’t flinch. But the AI had it targeted on me.

And Bob took the hit.

Simulated, sure. But the explosion on-screen felt too real. Too familiar.

Static rushed in my ears. My hands went cold. I barely heard Phoenix calling over the comms.

“Nova! You’re hit—Bob’s out—get out of there!”

I didn’t eject.

I couldn’t move.

The cockpit faded. What I saw wasn’t the sim.

It was him.

It was my partner.

Not Bob — Dev.

Flames. A spiral. Smoke twisting up into a perfect blue sky.

His last breath crackling over comms. The dog tags — his — melting into my hands before I could pull him from the wreckage.

The sim ended. The canopy lifted. I was still inside, frozen.

⸻

“Nova,” Maverick said quietly, hands at his sides. Not scolding. Not soft either.

I nodded like I’d heard him. Climbed out. Feet hit the ground wrong.

Phoenix was there, but I stepped past her.

Bob was by the lockers. Helmet under one arm. Calm. Watching.

Always watching.

He didn’t say anything.

So I did.

“Why’d you take the hit?”

He blinked, slowly. “Because you didn’t see it coming.”

“I didn’t need you to—”

“Yes, you did.”

I stiffened.

“You can’t fly scared,” he said. “Not of the sky. Not of people.”

I snapped.

“Don’t talk like you know me.”

The words tore out, sharp and louder than I meant. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve lost.”

He didn’t flinch. He just stood there — still, steady, unshaken.

“I lost my partner,” I bit out. “He died pulling a maneuver to save my ass. I wear these—” I yanked the half-melted dog tags from under my shirt, the chain biting against my neck, “—because I should’ve died, not him.”

Bob looked at them. Not with pity. Not even with sympathy.

Just… quiet recognition.

“I wasn’t supposed to partner again,” I whispered. “I wasn’t supposed to feel this.”

The words dropped out before I could stop them. My chest heaved. I hated how raw my voice sounded. I hated that I wasn’t numb anymore.

He nodded once. “You don’t have to feel anything you don’t want to. But I’ll still have your six.”

Simple. Unassuming.

Like it didn’t cost him anything to say. Like he meant it.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

And for the first time since Dev died, I didn’t feel alone.

⸻

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I sat in my room, half-dressed, window open, fingers tracing the bent metal of the tags on my chest.

Rain started just after midnight — light and misting, but steady.

Something pulled me out of bed.

I didn’t even know where I was going until I saw him — out near the tarmac, sitting under the overhang of the old hangar, legs stretched out, head tilted up like he liked the feel of rain on his skin.

I hesitated.

Then walked out.

He didn’t move. Didn’t startle. Just looked over as I approached.

“You always haunt airfields after dark?” I asked.

He offered a wry half-smile. “You do.”

I sat beside him, cross-legged. Let the silence settle.

The rain on metal. The wind low across the blacktop. The smell of jet fuel still lingering in the concrete.

Eventually, I spoke.

“I used to think flying was the only place I was safe,” I said. “Up there, no one could touch me. No one could leave me.”

Bob didn’t say anything. But I didn’t stop.

“After Dev… I kept flying solo. Safer that way. Clean. No ties. No chances.”

“Until now,” he said softly.

“Until you.”

The words hung in the air between us like a flare waiting to drop.

I turned to look at him. “You make it hard to stay locked up.”

He didn’t smile. Just nodded once. “Good.”

You can only run on fumes for so long.

Eventually, even grief burns out.

⸻

Things shift after the sim.

Bob doesn’t treat me any differently. That’s how I know something’s changed.

He doesn’t try to fix me. Doesn’t coddle or pry or act like what I told him in the rain was a fragile little thing he needs to cradle with both hands.

He just… stays.

By my wing in every sim. Pacing beside me during briefings. Nodding once when I glance back at him before takeoff.

No promises. No pressure.

Just presence.

And something in me — something buried so deep I thought it was gone — starts to stretch. To breathe.

⸻

At the Hard Deck, it starts with a dare.

Game night’s in full swing. Payback’s got his feet on the table. Phoenix is three drinks in and dangerously close to doing shots with Hangman. Someone cranks the music loud enough to rattle the lights.

I’m on the outskirts, watching. Bob’s nursing a beer beside me. Close, but not close enough to touch. We’re both good at that — staying just on the edge of contact.

“Alright, Floyd,” Fanboy grins, “truth or dare.”

Bob adjusts his glasses. Cool as always. “Truth.”

Easy.

Too easy.

“If you had to pick one person in this room to be stuck in a two-seater with for the rest of your career…”

The rest of the table oohs.

“Who is it?” Fanboy finishes with a smug little grin.

I brace. I expect Phoenix. She’s the obvious choice — they’ve flown together the longest, after all.

But Bob’s gaze cuts sideways.

To me.

Just briefly. Just enough.

And then he sips his beer and says, “Next question.”

My face goes hot. I look away.

Phoenix definitely notices.

⸻

Later, outside, we all end up on the beach. There’s a bonfire crackling, the last remains of the six-pack Phoenix and I brought, and the smell of salt and charred wood hanging thick in the air.

I drift toward the water.

Let the ocean roar drown out the noise behind me. Breathe in the calm.

I don’t hear him come up.

But then he’s there — beside me again, like always — quiet, still, warm even in the wind.

He doesn’t speak. Just holds something out in his hand.

It’s the chain.

My dog tags.

Only they’re different now. Re-looped. Cleaned. The worst of the black scorch marks buffed away, the links reinforced.

Like someone wanted them to keep going.

My throat catches.

“You dropped them at the hangar,” Bob says softly. “Didn’t want them to stay broken.”

Something inside me — something sharp-edged and scared — blinks.

I take them.

Hold them in my palm like they might vanish.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

He doesn’t move. Just says, “You’re allowed to let go of the weight. Doesn’t mean you forget.”

I look up at him.

And I know. I know.

I could fall right here.

⸻

The next night, after everyone else leaves the Hard Deck, I stay behind to close my tab. I expect to walk out alone.

But Bob’s still there. Hands in his pockets. Waiting.

We don’t say much on the walk home.

Under the soft orange glow of the streetlamps, everything feels suspended — like maybe if I reached out, time would stop. Let me linger.

When we get to my door, I invite him up.

Not for that.

Just: “Do you want to come in? Sit a while?”

He nods.

Inside, I make tea. Stupid, simple, grounding. He leans against the counter. Watches me like I’m something worth memorizing.

We sit on the couch. Not touching.

And talk.

Not about war. Or flying. Or the past.

Just quiet things. Favorite books. First solo flights. The smell of jet fuel in the morning. The way the sky looks from thirty thousand feet.

And somewhere between my third sip and the silence that follows, I lean in.

Not far. Just enough.

And kiss him.

It’s not explosive. Not rushed.

It’s soft. Real. Safe.

Something I never thought I’d feel again.

⸻

Next Morning.

I join Phoenix and the squad at the beach. Everyone’s already there — tossing a football, shouting, laughing like they haven’t seen war games and crash simulations all week.

I walk across the sand barefoot.

The dog tags are still around my neck.

But they don’t weigh me down anymore.

Flying never scared me.

Losing control — that scared me.

Losing someone I care about because I let myself care again?

That terrified me.

⸻

We got the call at 0500.

Maverick’s voice was calm but clipped. A final test. Real terrain, real consequences. The sim had been reprogrammed into a full-scale mock op — run it like combat, fly it like lives depended on it.

I didn’t blink.

I strapped in. Suited up. Didn’t say anything when Phoenix touched my arm in silent support.

Bob stood beside me, helmet tucked under one arm, gaze steady behind his glasses.

“You good?” he asked.

I nodded. “You?”

He gave me the softest half-smile. “Always, when you’re flying with me.”

It shouldn’t have mattered so much. But it did.

⸻

The mission started clean.

Rooster led the first sweep. Phoenix and Payback flanked hard right. Bob and I were on the second wave, flying tight through a canyon so narrow it scraped our paint.

It was beautiful. Dangerous. Familiar.

Almost too familiar.

Wind turbulence knocked us sideways. I adjusted. Easy. We banked left — just like the map — and—

Boom.

Comm chatter exploded.

“Nova’s off-course!”

“Bob, pull back!”

“She’s in blind territory—”

I didn’t hear them.

My HUD glitched. The signal jammed. I lost my visuals. For three terrifying seconds, all I saw was blue sky and static.

Then: the sound.

That low, awful screeching sound.

“Y/N—!”

Bob’s voice.

Not my callsign. My name.

It sliced through everything.

Then silence.

⸻

I wasn’t dead. But I wasn’t safe.

I was circling in no man’s land. A terrain trap. A death zone.

The same place Dev had gone down.

And I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t—

Then a shadow broke through the fog. A jet.

His jet.

Bob’s.

He risked his positioning — broke formation — to find me.

“Nova,” he said, firm and even over the comms. “Eyes on me.”

“I—I can’t—”

“You can. I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”

Tears stung. I blinked hard, forced my hands steady.

He banked above me, slow and deliberate.

I followed.

We broke out of the canyon together.

Two birds. One rhythm.

⸻

When we landed, I didn’t even take off my helmet.

I walked straight to him, heart still in my throat, adrenaline still burning under my skin.

He pulled his helmet off. Met my eyes.

“You could’ve gone down,” I whispered.

“So could you.”

“You should’ve stayed in position.”

“You think I care more about a simulated score than whether or not you make it back?”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t have to.

Because when he stepped forward, just an inch — just enough for the space between us to buzz — I didn’t move away.

⸻

That night, the Hard Deck was alive.

The mission was a success. Maverick was actually smiling. Hangman was on his third beer. Rooster was recounting every move like it was legend.

Phoenix caught my eye from across the room and gave me the smallest, proudest nod.

“You look different,” she said when I slid onto the stool beside her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like you’re finally breathing.”

I laughed. A little. Quietly. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Letting yourself survive.”

⸻

Bob found me just outside the bar. The wind was warm. The air smelled like ocean and spilled beer and jet fuel — the North Island trifecta.

We walked home in silence.

Not awkward. Just full.

At my door, I didn’t speak.

I just turned, took his hand, and opened it.

⸻

Inside, we didn’t touch.

Not yet.

We sat.

And for a long time, we just were.

No fear. No pretending. Just two people who made it through something.

And when I leaned in — slower this time, sure — he met me halfway.

⸻

The kiss was real.

Not full of fireworks. No sweeping music. Just breath and skin and quiet.

And when it ended, I didn’t pull away.

Because I knew — for the first time in a long time — this wasn’t the beginning of another loss.

It was the start of something I could finally keep.

The first thing I noticed the next morning was how quiet my mind was.

Not numb.

Not buried under static or adrenaline or noise.

Just… quiet.

Like the engine finally shut off and the whole world exhaled.

⸻

I didn’t wake up tangled in bedsheets or someone’s arms. This wasn’t that kind of story.

Bob and I sat on the couch all night.

At some point, I’d leaned against his shoulder, eyes heavy, heart finally slowing. He didn’t say anything when I fell asleep like that. He just stayed.

When I stirred, his hand was still resting lightly against mine — fingers not holding, not gripping. Just… there. Ready if I needed them.

I did.

⸻

“Sleep okay?” he asked, voice low and morning-rough.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t the kind of yeah you give to fill space.

It was the kind you earn.

⸻

Later that day, I walked down to the beach.

Not to be alone this time.

To join the others.

Rooster was already shirtless and sunburned. Hangman had a speaker blasting classic rock like he was getting paid for it. Fanboy and Payback were arguing over who actually won last night’s card game. Phoenix had sunglasses on and a smirk she wasn’t bothering to hide.

And Bob…

He was sitting in the sand, fully dressed, watching the waves like they were speaking just to him.

When I dropped down beside him, he didn’t flinch.

“Hey,” I said.

He looked over, calm and sure. “Hey.”

A breeze blew strands of my hair into my face. I pushed them back.

Bob reached out, brushed a speck of sand off my shoulder. Barely a touch.

But it said everything.

⸻

I wore the dog tags still.

The same ones he’d returned to me. The chain he’d fixed. The metal he’d cleaned by hand.

Only now, they didn’t feel like a weight.

They felt like memory.

Not a scar.

⸻

Phoenix joined us eventually, dropping a bottle of water into my lap and raising an eyebrow.

“You good?” she asked.

I nodded. “I’m good.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No.”

And it was the truth.

Not the old kind — the stiff, defensive kind I’d wrapped around myself like armor. But something better.

Stronger.

Real.

⸻

That night, the team lit a bonfire again.

Someone brought marshmallows. Hangman forgot skewers, so we used spare screwdrivers from the hangar toolkit. It was disgusting and perfect.

I stood by the flames, hands warm, the ocean wind behind me.

Bob came up beside me — didn’t say a word — and I leaned into him before I could second-guess it.

He was solid. Steady. The same way he’d been from the very start.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I whispered.

“I know.”

“But you came back for me.”

He didn’t answer for a beat.

Then:

“I never left.”

⸻

I didn’t need a grand declaration.

I didn’t need promises or fireworks or the kind of love story people write songs about.

What I had now?

Was better.

It was quiet. Safe. Ours.

I fly again next week.

This time, with Bob.

We’ve logged five perfect sims since the mission. Every maneuver synced. Every exit clean. Maverick nodded once after the last run — the most approval we’ll ever get from him.

But that’s not what matters.

What matters is that when we walk onto the tarmac together now, I don’t feel that shadow anymore.

Not of Dev. Not of fear. Not of guilt.

Just sunlight.

And him.

⸻

I loop the dog tags over my neck before the next flight.

But they don’t drag me down anymore.

They remind me of where I’ve been.

And how far I’ve come.

Because I’m Nova.

I survived the fall.

And now — finally — I’m flying again.

[ewzzy]

[askyofexplodingstars]

sharing some of my outfits, cause i can

1st column is spring, 2nd column is summer (white sleeveless & bow is his main summer fit), p much everything after is fall rn lmfao. got a winter outfit in mind that's gonna slay tho

[the-radience-of-the-moon]

Guys i know smoshblr is so busy with frite & tater but think of this:

Augustus X bob

THEYRE AMAZING TOGETHER I MEAN COME ON

AND I NEED MORE MLM IN MY LIFE SO

[kitsunetsuki]

Bob Richardson - Anjelica Huston Wearing a Cardigan & Dress by Knitting Inc., Hat from Biba (Nova 1972)

[novafire-is-thinking]

[glorious-blackout]

@aeolianblues's recent New Music Friday Polls made me appreciate just how much amazing music she's introduced me to over the years, so have a niche poll of songs I love that I wouldn't have discovered without her!

I've linked each song on Spotify so if any are unfamiliar to you feel free to check them out - you may well discover a new favourite like I did 🥰

(and also check out @aeolianblues because she's awesome and she knows more about upcoming artists than I ever will 💖)

[seraphim-seeker]

Me: My taste in men has been pretty decent in the Fandoms I’m in

These Fuckers Existing:

[mothdruid]

The Physics of Love - Part Four

series masterlist | part two | part three| part five

pairing.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x afab!reader (nickname Nova)

word count.

1.6k

warnings.

this content is meant for those who are 18 and older, 18+ content, mdni, smut, fingering, dry humping, swearing, almost getting caught.

authors note.

i wrote this because i need them to do something. i know that college students are horny (i am one, trust me) so i figured that they would both be a touch too busy but would try to have small moments together that were hot and heavy. tbh, this chapter doesn't have a lot to do with plot, so you could skip it if you didn't want to read smut

The texts between the two of you became more frequent. A lot more frequent. Good morning and goodnight texts were now the start and end to both of your days. You two were spending a lot more time together, time that wasn’t just your tutoring sessions. The two of you made it a habit to get coffee before your morning class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You had made it a habit of bringing him a snack during his research periods, even though he told you you didn’t have to.

“You didn’t need to do this, Nova,” Bob said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You smiled at the nickname, something about the nickname he had started to call you. He only started calling you it out loud after you saw a text from Mickey on his phone pop up. That’s when Bob finally explained that was the code name Mickey gave you. Something about how you were new and exciting, just like a Nova in the night sky.

“Well, I had time in between classes, so I figured I’d stop by and bring you a snack.” It was starting to become apparent that you always had ‘time between classes’ to bring him a snack.

“It’s almost like you like me or something,” Bob joked.

“Nope, not at all,” you joked back.

Bob wrapped an arm around you, giving you a side hug. You wrapped your arms around his midsection lightly, looking at the table all of his research was on. It looked like a foreign language you had taken only one semester of, some of it making sense and some of it not.

“Gross,” you whispered, looking at the papers with a grimace.

“Hey, don’t be mean,” Bob whispered back. He placed the small bag of snacks you brought on the table, covering some of the papers up.

“How much longer do you have?” You asked.

As a grad student Bob didn’t really have specific hours for ‘class’. He didn’t really have an actual ‘class’. Yeah, Professor Coleman would come in and supervise him most of the time, assist him with research and projects. But for the most part Bob was on his own, running theoretical equations and talking with other grad students about their research. It seemed isolating and boring to you. Made you glad you wouldn’t have to do grad school for your degree.

“Maybe an hour or two, I’m waiting for Coleman to stop by and cross check something for me.”

“Ah,” you responded with.

There was a moment of silence before you two looked at each other.

“Do you know when he is going to be here?” You weren’t heavily implying anything, but you were implying something.

“He told me he’d be here at about 3:45.”

The both of you looked up at the clock. 3:15.

With that the two of you were all over each other. Bob had you backed up to the table all of his stuff was on, lips moving feverishly against yours. His hands were on your waist, keeping you pressed tightly against him. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand on the back of his neck while the other rested on his shoulder. The frames of his glasses were pressing against the side of your nose, going slightly askew on his face.

This had been a common theme for the past few weeks. Well, two weeks to be exact. It had been two weeks since your date, and two weeks of never being able to go the whole way. It wasn’t because neither of you wanted to, because you definitely did. It was just proving to be harder than you initially thought. Between your two roommates, and Bob living with Mickey, it felt near impossible. Bob didn’t want your first time to be with someone else present, and neither did you. But the making out and dry humping was starting to get old.

You could feel Bob getting hard through his jeans, making you moan into his mouth. He groaned when he heard your sound, rocking against you a little harder. There was a slew of sounds coming from you, soft and needy. The groans coming from Bob were going straight to your cunt. Lips were moving to your jaw, trailing down to your neck while slotting a leg between yours.

Soft locks threaded through your fingers, which earned you a soft whine when you tugged them. You started grinding onto his thigh, moaning at the pressure you were receiving. One of Bob’s hand moved to your ass for a squeeze. With one hand on your waist and the other on your ass he started guiding you along his thigh. His kisses on your neck stopped, only for him to rest his head against your temple. His hot breath started fanning over your face.

“Ah fuck,” Bob groaned.

His glasses were digging into the peak of your cheekbone. You tugged his hair again and fisted the back of his shirt. You felt the pleasure mounting in your abdomen, urging you to rock against his thigh with more vigor. The way his cock was digging into your hip was helping encourage you. You whimpered his name, which pulled a groan from him.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Bob said, “feel you around me.”

“Please,” you whimpered.

The two of you knew damn well that this was dangerous, something that should not be tested. Fucking on campus was a one way ticket to trouble. But that was barely on your minds at this point. All Bob could think about was getting you wrapped around him. Feeling your heat consuming him, welcoming him in. Bob craved it so badly, but he knew that now wasn’t the time or place to fuck you for the first time.

Without warning the pressure of Bob’s thigh was gone. His hands moved to your waist and gripped you tight, turning you around to face the table. His hands moved to the front of your jeans, undoing the button. A moan escaped you when his hand slipped down the front of your jeans and panties. He was resting his head on the area behind your ear, every breath and groan being loud and clear to you now.

“This okay?” Bob asked while he slipped two fingers onto your clit.

The circling of your clit was making it hard to speak, your brain focusing only on his motions. You nodded and moaned is response, rolling your hips back against his crotch. Your hands were gripping the table tightly, not wanting to fall if your legs gave out from pleasure. Bob was nestling his face into the side of your head and neck, taking in your scent while covering your in his hot breath.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Bob whimpered as he rolled hips hips into your ass.

“All yours,” you whined.

Bob was practically hunched over you now. The weight of his chest pressed into your back, finger working your clit. His lips had latched onto the small spot under your ear lobe, sucking and licking the spot tenderly. Bob kept rutting his hips into your ass, the rhythm more feverish. It was all becoming too much for the both of you.

White hot pleasure washed over you, whines and moans falling from your mouth. Bob’s free hand snapped up to your mouth, muffling the noises that were coming from you. His fingers on your clit didn’t stop, only slowed but continued to work you through your orgasm. You felt Bob’s hips start to stutter against your ass and groan into your skin, signaling one thing.

The two of you slowly stopped your motions, Bob’s fingers and hips stopping. Your palms were flat on the table, trying to keep you standing straight up. These stolen moments between the two of you were some of the best you’d ever had. Honestly, they had slowly crept there way to the top of your college career thus far.

Bob was resting his head against your shoulder, trying to collect himself. He wished dearly the the two of you weren’t in the research lab. The idea of cuddling you in a bed, his or yours, was on the forefront of his mind. Being able to provide all the aftercare you deserved, not just a quick orgasm then rushed collecting of yourselves. He was still reeling slightly from his own orgasm, shocked he had come just from rutting against you.

“Hey,” you whispered. Your rested your head onto his, creating some form of cuddling.

“Hey,” Bob looked up at you with so much love in his heart.

He had never met someone who had captivated him as much as you did. You were truly a nova in his life. New, exciting, and bright. He was more than ready to be the white dwarf to your red super giant. Creating a runaway fusion of love, something that scientists would try to study for years. Wondering the exact make up of it all.

Bob pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, which earned a smile from you. Only a handful of seconds had passed by before you heard the door open. The both of you started to scramble. You quickly faced away from the door, buttoning your jeans quickly. Bob was finger combing his hair and adjusting his glasses, now wondering when he would be able to get to the bathroom to clean himself up.

“I’m going to act like nothing happened, okay?” Professor Coleman stated.

The both of you nodded your head, agreeing with him. With that you excused yourself, wanting to escape the awkward situation quickly. Professor Coleman gave you a smile and wave, telling you he would see you tomorrow in class, which you didn’t really wanted to be reminded about right now. Bob pressed a quickly kiss to your temple, promising that he would text you when he was done.

starboy: I can’t believe that Hondo almost came in.

Nova: you’re telling me! but he probably feels responsible, since he set us up

starboy: Maybe.

starboy: Do you have any plans for Saturday night?

tags:

@wkndwlff

@thedroneranger

@callsign-sprout

@redbarn1995

[moonlitscales]

MWHAHAHAHHAHAH

Nova is taking the picture, and she was happy to take her lil sis to go shopping with her new “friend”, but she just can’t bring herself to trust xem…

its a horribly familiar feeling

lowkey feeling like making an au or sumthin outta this. or like even just putting them into my world as canon >:3

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?!??!?!!?!??!

I WASNT ACTUALLY EXPECTING YOU TO DRAW MY OCS I THOUGHT YOU MEANT YOUR OCS OH MY STARS!!!

First of all LOVE the way you draw Sia omg it's perfect. She so dead ass would walk in a target barefoot 💔

Also I am SOOOOOO eating up the idea or our OCS in an au of the same world oh mY STARZZZZ!!! In every universe Sia fr befriends everyone after their buns </3

And God damn let me finish mine first 😭/j

[very-super-silly]

i habe standardized testing in 7 hours, i should be sleeping, but alas. i am plagued. by The Thoughts about The Guys. help

[dynamos-games]

the more I think about Skylanders, the more I realize how much they changed Eruptor. originally he was characterized as having a short temper and being very hot-headed. but around the time of Giants I think there was a switch to make him more of a goofy character (Imaginators, the spin-off series Academy, etc.), and it kind of makes me wish we got to see more of a moody character in the series.

it also makes me think about how many other characters were tweaked over the course of the games

[gladyssite]

MONSTER MASH : CAS Challenge by @mickimagnum

All the characters that have participated in this challenge

[vincentvega0721]

[thebekashow]

*at Boys and grills*

*Bob working until a roof in a building fell and Nova fell on top of it*

...

Bob: hi Nova

Nova: hi Bob

....

Nova: that hurt-

poor nova :[