#raisin bob

[basketobread]

i’m just thinking about all the companions whining because your tavs refuse to use the portals for easy transportation 😭😭

oh it's not even my tavs that refuse to use the portals... it's me being the evil voice in their head telling them not to DISFUHSDFIUFD poor lunara is DYING OUT HERE!!! but i will not let her or any of the other tavs rest 😌♥

[nyankoizumi]

And surprising no one, this fucking thing

[thebekashow]

What is the creator currently doing?

Having some Oatmeal! (Raisins with milk and brown sugar :3)

[jhsharman]

Got Kool Aid?

[bradshawsbaby]

Sprinkles of Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: It's Bob's birthday and you want to do something special for him. The problem is that you've only been on two dates, and you can't get out of your head about making that first move.

Word Count: 6.6k

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday to my #1 Guy, Lewis Pullman! I thought we all deserved some sweet Bob fluff to celebrate!

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, featuring the jitters and nervousness that comes with a new relationship.

You glanced at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, your fingers itching to reach for it where it sat taunting you on the counter near the cash register.

Biting down on your lower lip, you peeked surreptitiously over your shoulder before finally picking it up, your finger hovering hesitantly over the green messages icon.

“Are you finally going to text him or are you just going to keep staring longingly at your phone all day?”

Your cousin’s teasing voice startled you, pulling you out of your silent reverie as you fumbled the phone, nearly dropping it to the floor in your haste to get a grip on it and shove it inside your apron pocket.

Alexandria just laughed in response, her dark eyes sparkling as she slid a tray of freshly baked oatmeal raisin cookies onto one of the display case shelves. Normally, you would have complimented her on how amazing they smelled, but given the knowing smirk she was sending your way, you stuck your tongue out at her instead.

“Stick your tongue out at me all you want,” she told you, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “But I know you, and I know how badly you want to text him. So why don’t you just do it already and save yourself all the torment?”

“Lexie,” you groaned, your phone suddenly feeling like a rock inside your pocket. Why did your cousin have to know you like the back of her hand?

You were saved from having to elaborate, however, when one of the timers dinged in the kitchen, signaling that the newest batch of muffins you and Lex had put in a little while ago was finished. She shot a pointed look in your direction, making it clear the conversation wasn’t over, before turning on her heel and going to take the muffins out of the oven.

Since it was the usual mid-morning lull and the only customers currently inside the bakery were a college student working on her laptop near the window and two elderly ladies enjoying conversation over scones and tea, you figured you should be both a good cousin and a good employee and go help Lexie in the back.

Despite the fact that you had already been working at the bakery for a few months now—ever since you had moved to San Diego—you still couldn’t help but be blown away whenever it hit you that your cousin had really accomplished the dream she’d been chasing since you were little girls. For as long as you could remember, Alexandria had been wanting to open up her very own bakery, a cozy little spot where people could come to read, hang out, and relax, all while enjoying some homemade treats and delicious coffee. It seemed like just yesterday that the two of you were playing with her Easy-Bake Oven, and now here she was—living the dream as a successful small business owner. You couldn’t have been more proud of her. Or more grateful that she’d given you both a job and a place to live when you’d decided to follow in her footsteps and make the move out to California.

Lex was like the big sister you never had. She gave the best advice and she knew you inside and out. Which was normally a good thing, but judging by the way she was looking at you from under her dark lashes, you knew today was going to be one of those days where she insisted on pushing you out of your comfort zone.

You sighed in exasperation as you helped her set the freshly baked orange cranberry muffins—a favorite among her loyal customers—on the cooling rack. “I wish I hadn’t even mentioned it. It’s not that big of a deal,” you insisted, supremely conscious of the weight of your phone pressing against your thigh as you worked.

“If it’s not that big of a deal, then why do you seem to be making it one?” Lexie replied with that razor-sharp wit of hers, winking when you shot her a dirty look over your shoulder.

“I’m not!” you insisted, although you knew that was a complete and total lie. You were being ridiculous and you knew it, but every time you even thought about sending him a message, your heart started pounding inside your chest and your palms got all gross and clammy.

Lex crossed her arms over her chest, throwing an exasperated look heavenward. “Babe, you’ve already been on two dates with him and he wants to take you out on another. Do you seriously think you’re going to send him running for the hills if you send him a text wishing him a happy birthday?”

When you heard it out loud, it did sound pretty stupid. He was such a great guy, so sweet and attentive and caring, and he had done nothing to indicate that he was losing interest or that he would be freaked out by such a simple message. But still…

“I do want to text him,” you confessed, biting your lip as you carried the empty muffin tray over to the large sink where your cousin washed all her baking supplies.

“So what’s holding you back?” Lexie asked, her voice gentler this time as she leaned her hip against the counter, clearly trying to understand. She’d seen your heart get broken enough times to know that you were much more cautious now when it came to entrusting it to other people.

You sighed softly, fiddling with the strings on your pink-and-white striped apron as you tried to put your feelings into words. “It’s just—we’ve only been on two dates. I mean, they were really amazing dates, but still. Only two. And our birthdays only came up once in passing on our first date. He never mentioned it again, even when he called the other night to ask me if I’d like to go out this weekend. So on the one hand, I do want to text him to wish him a happy birthday, but on the other hand, what if it weirds him out that I remembered? What if he thinks I’m some kind of obsessive stalker and gets the ick and then ghosts me?”

“For wishing him a happy birthday?” your cousin questioned skeptically, her eyebrows rising until they were practically touching the edges of her blunt bangs.

“I’ve been ghosted before for less,” you muttered in embarrassment, knowing that your love life was a disaster compared to your cousin, who had been with her soon-to-be-husband since high school.

Lex softened immediately, stepping beside you and wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. “I know,” she murmured soothingly, rubbing your arm with a gentle hand. “But those guys were jerks who didn’t deserve you. From everything I know about this guy, he sounds so great. He seems like the kind of guy who would be happy that you remembered his birthday.”

Honestly, you couldn’t argue with her there.

Bob Floyd was unlike any man you’d ever met before. He was everything you’d ever hoped to find but had feared you never would, the kind of perfect that seemed too good to be true, the gentleman that you had thought existed only in fairytales.

It had been over a month now since he’d stepped off a storybook page and walked into your life.

You could still remember that afternoon so clearly. It was a Saturday, and the bakery had been surprisingly dead. Lexie had decided to run to the bank, leaving you in charge of things in her absence. You’d been rearranging some of the pastries in the display case when the bell over the front door chimed, signaling a customer.

Stepping up to the counter, the words of greeting died in your throat when one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen in your life approached, a shy smile stretching across his face.

“Hi,” he greeted you in a soft-spoken voice, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and yet you’d never seen a guy look better.

“Hi,” you echoed, your eyes widening as you got lost in a gaze as blue as the cornflowers that grew in your grandparents’ backyard.

The two of you just stared at each other for a couple minutes, neither of you saying anything, even as the air between you seemed to spark and hum with electricity.

“Um, I was, uh, hoping that you still had some cupcakes left. I know it’s a little later in the day and my neighbor who recommended this place said that you should always get here early, but, um, I have a little barbeque that I’m going to and I wanted to bring some dessert. I’m hopeless at making anything myself,” he rambled, his eyes crinkling as he laughed somewhat nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was only when he cleared his throat awkwardly a moment later that you realized you hadn’t yet responded to him.

“Oh! Cupcakes!” you exclaimed, your voice coming out a little louder and squeakier than you had intended. “Of course!” Running your hands down the front of your apron, you shook your head slightly to try to knock some sense into it. You walked over to the display case, indicating that he should come take a look. “Normally we’d already be sold out of a lot of these, but it’s been quieter today than usual, so we still have plenty left. I guess it’s your lucky day.”

“Seems like it,” he smiled, his blue eyes latching onto your face.

Something about the way he said it made your insides feel as gooey as the batter Lexie used to make her double chocolate fudge cake.

“How many cupcakes do you need?” you asked, working overtime to keep from getting flustered.

“I think two dozen should be fine,” he replied, his eyes roaming over the display case shelves. “Hmm, they all look so good, I wouldn’t know where to start. Do you have any recommendations?”

“The lemon zest cupcakes are really popular. So are the red velvet and the coconut cloud. Oh, and the German chocolate.” You laughed sheepishly. “Honestly, they’re all really good.”

He laughed in response, a small dimple appearing in his cheek that only further endeared him to you. “Which one is your favorite?” he asked, his voice so earnest it made your chest ache.

You didn’t even have to think about it. “The funfetti,” you told him, indicating the vanilla cupcakes baked with rainbow chips and topped with swirls of vanilla frosting and an extra dash of sprinkles.

“I’ll take a dozen funfetti cupcakes then. And you can surprise me with the other dozen,” he grinned, making you smile.

“I hope you and everyone at the barbeque enjoys,” you said after you finished ringing him up, sliding the two boxes of cupcakes towards him.

“I’m sure we will. This place comes highly recommended,” he replied with a smile. “Are you Lexie, the owner?”

“No, no, I’m her cousin,” you explained, introducing yourself by name.

“I’m Robert Floyd,” he said, holding out his hand to you. “But everyone calls me Bob.”

“Very nice to meet you, Bob,” you beamed, sliding your hand into his and shaking firmly. His hand was large and warm and calloused and it felt like yours had been made to fit inside it.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he murmured softly, holding onto your hand for another second or two before slowly releasing it. He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m sure I’ll be back again soon.”

“We serve really good coffee,” you said suddenly, desperate to find a reason to get him to come back. “And we open really early. You know, if you want to get some on your way to work.”

Bob’s beautiful blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you.” He picked up his boxes of cupcakes and turned towards the door. Before he left, he shot you one last smile that melted your insides. “See you around.”

After that, Bob Floyd had found plenty of reasons to stop by the bakery. The following Monday, he’d stopped by in the morning to grab coffee for him and his friends on his way to work. That was when you’d learned that he was a naval aviator stationed at North Island.

“You were right about those funfetti cupcakes,” he told you, patting his stomach with a grin. “I think I ate about half the box before I thought to share them with anyone else.”

Your eyes crinkled and you felt your skin grow warm as you smiled in response. “Good, I’m so glad.”

You made sure to slip a cupcake in with all his coffee orders, a gesture which he didn’t fail to notice, judging from the extra large tip he left in the jar.

“See you soon,” he smiled, balancing all that coffee in his large hands as he backed out of the bakery.

From then on, he was there practically every day, stopping in for coffee or for some cupcakes after work. He often picked up things for other people—his friends or his neighbor who had recommended the bakery to him. But for himself, he always stuck with the funfetti cupcakes.

“I know I should branch out and try something new,” he told you one day through a mouthful of sprinkles. “But I can’t help it—these are just so good.”

It had taken nearly two weeks for Bob to work up the nerve to finally ask you if you might be interested in getting dinner with him sometime. You’d had to bite your tongue to keep from immediately screaming, “YES!” in his face,

The two of you spent your first date at a gorgeous little seafood restaurant right on the water, and then went for a long walk on the beach afterwards. It was truly the best date you’d ever been on. Bob was a perfect gentleman, attentively listening to everything you had to say and making you feel as though he actually cared about what was important to you. He’d even draped his jacket over your shoulders as you walked by the water, noticing the way you were shivering slightly in the dress you’d worn. You had been hoping he would kiss you at the end of the night, but like the gentleman that he was, he’d simply brushed your cheek with his lips, asking in a hushed voice if you’d like to see him again.

You wanted that very much.

On your second date, Bob took you mini golfing, something you’d told him that you hadn’t done since you were a little girl. You didn’t think you’d ever laughed so much as you did that night, no matter how terrible you turned out to be at miniature golf. Just like on your first date, Bob walked you to your door at the end of the night, his hand resting on the small of your back as you turned to look up at him, your eyes begging him to give you a proper kiss goodnight.

He had to duck his head slightly as he leaned in closer, a lock of his honey-colored hair draping across his forehead as his gaze latched onto yours, your breath mingling as the two of you inched closer and closer.

It was a soft kiss, sweet and chaste. His lips just barely brushed against yours, sending a shock of electric currents up and down your spine. When he pulled back, the both of you were flushed and stammering.

“C-can I call you tomorrow?” he asked, still so shy even after two dates.

“I hope you do,” you whispered with a smile, squeezing his hand before slipping through your front door.

Faithful to his word, Bob had called you the next day. The two of you were supposed to be going out again this weekend.

But that brought you back to your current dilemma—his birthday. You knew you were being stupid about this. Texting him for his birthday wasn’t tantamount to a marriage proposal. It wasn’t like you were trying to throw him a surprise party or invite yourself over for cake. It was a text message for crying out loud. And even though it had only come up once, he had told you when his birthday was. It wasn’t like you had gone to North Island and asked to see his personnel file.

The truth was, you were just terrified of screwing things up. You’d gone on plenty of dates with guys who had seemed really nice, who you had really thought were into you, only to be ghosted or flat-out rejected. Deep down inside, you knew that Bob was different from all those other guys, but still—the thought of sending him running made your stomach twist into knots.

“Babe, you know what I’m going to say,” Lexie murmured, your cousin’s voice pulling you out of all your convoluted thoughts. “If you never take a risk, then nothing’s ever going to change. I know you’re nervous, but just go for it. The worst that happens—seriously, the worst case scenario—is that he ghosts you. But you know what? If he does that, then he wasn’t worth your time anyway. And if he doesn’t? Well, maybe he’ll start to fall even harder for the gorgeous girl who remembered his birthday.” She grinned, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Ugh, why do you always have to be right?” you grinned ruefully, pulling back from your cousin’s embrace and fiddling nervously with the scrunchie on your wrist.

“It’s a gift,” she replied with a wink, turning to look over her shoulder when the bell over the front door chimed. “I’ve got it,” she told you, squeezing your arm before heading back out to the front.

That left you alone in the back kitchen, your phone burning a hole in your apron pocket and your heart hammering inside your chest.

“Okay, don’t be an idiot,” you murmured to yourself. As far as pep talks went, it was far from the most inspirational, but it did the job as you pulled your phone out. “It’s not too much too soon. It’s just a text,” you breathed out. “It’s just a text.”

Opening your messages, you found Bob’s name—he was right near the top after texting you just yesterday—and opened up your conversation thread, chewing on your bottom lip.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you tapped out a quick message that you hoped was short, sweet, and to the point and hit send.

Happy Birthday, Bob! I hope you have a wonderful day! 🥳🎉

You felt hot all over as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, your pulse stuttering in your veins as you wondered how long it would take him to see it. From what he had told you about his job, he often spent hours in the air each day, so chances were good he didn’t even have his phone on him right now.

You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and determined not to think about it. A task that was much easier said than done. But as you walked back out into the main part of the bakery, you found that a small crowd had formed, so you jumped into assisting your cousin behind the counter.

“Well?” Lexie asked under her breath as you helped her fill a couple boxes with a dozen cinnamon chip muffins.

“I sent it,” you murmured in reply, purposely avoiding her direct gaze. “But I haven’t heard anything back yet.”

As much as you had tried not to, you’d been compulsively checking your phone every five minutes.

Lex shrugged and waved it off. “It’s still early yet,” she said confidently, carrying the boxes over to the patiently waiting customer.

You threw yourself into various tasks around the bakery, anything that would keep your mind off your phone. You restocked the shelves in the display cases, organized the money in the cash register, wiped down the counters in the kitchen, scrubbed the baking pans, frosted cupcakes, replaced the coffee beans, and waited on any customers who walked in.

A couple of times, your phone buzzed in your pocket and your heart jumped into your throat, only to sink down to your stomach when you pulled it out and found that it was just an email notification or a text from your mom.

The longer you went without hearing from Bob, the harder you had to work to convince yourself that he wasn’t ignoring you.

No. He wasn’t ignoring you. Bob wasn’t like that. You were sure of it.

It was a little after noon, just when you’d taken a cup of coffee into the back for a short break, when you felt your phone buzz again, vibrating against your thigh through your apron. Swallowing nervously, you put your coffee down and reached into your pocket, a small gasp escaping you when you saw Bob’s name on the screen.

You could scarcely unlock your phone fast enough, opening up the text thread to read his reply.

Wow, you remembered! That means so much to me. Thank you! ☺️ Sorry it took me a little while to respond—we were doing some test flights, but I’m on my lunch break now and I’ll be on the ground for the rest of the day. How are you?

It took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to scream and jump up and down like a little girl. It felt like a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders. You hadn’t freaked him out! He hadn’t ghosted you! It was just like Lexie said—he was happy that you remembered.

Grinning like a fool, you leaned against the counter and typed out a response, not caring that your coffee was getting cold.

I’m doing great! Glad to hear you got some flying in on your special day ✈️ Doing anything to celebrate?

It was only after you had sent the message that you began to fret that it sounded like you were being nosy about his plans, or worse, trying to insert yourself into them.

But then Bob responded a minute later and put your worries to rest.

Nothing too fancy. My friends ordered lunch and got me a cake. They sang “Happy Birthday,” too, even though I begged them not to lol. I usually keep it pretty lowkey on my birthday.

You smiled as you wrote back, Was it a funfetti cake?

His next response came in no time at all, and it made your stomach flutter to imagine that he was focusing entirely on you and your conversation during his lunch break.

If only! It was really good, but I don’t think anything compares to those funfetti cupcakes 😋

At that moment, Lex walked into the back, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the huge smile plastered on your face. It felt like it was going to get permanently stuck there.

“Well, well, well,” she grinned, sidling up next to you. “Should I take that glowing smile to mean you finally heard back from your lieutenant?”

You ducked your head shyly, your cheeks growing warm. “He isn’t my lieutenant,” you insisted.

“Mhm, sure,” your cousin grinned, laughing loudly when you nudged her in the side. “So it worked out after all? He didn’t say you were a freaky stalker? I shouldn’t be expecting the police to burst down the door any minute?”

“Okay, okay,” you groaned, realizing how ridiculous you’d been behaving that morning. “You were right. It all worked out. He was very touched that I remembered his birthday,” you murmured, sheepishly scuffing your sneaker against the floor.

“I’ve gotta say it—told you so,” Lex smirked victoriously, wrapping her arms around you and planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, feigning annoyance even as you grinned and returned your cousin’s hug. “You know, Bob was actually just texting me that his friends at work got him a cake, but that it just doesn’t compare to your funfetti cupcakes,” you told her with a proud smile.

“What can I say? They are pretty damn delicious,” she winked, her chest puffing up with pride. A sudden thought struck her as she looked at you. “Hey, what time does Bob get off from work?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Usually around six or seven, I think,” you told her, your brow wrinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“Hmm, perfect,” Lexie mused, tapping her chin as she glanced over her shoulder.

“What do you mean?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. Your older cousin was always plotting something.

“I mean that the bakery closes at five-thirty,” she said, as if you weren’t already well aware of that fact. When she realized that you weren’t exactly catching her drift, she went on, “Which means you could invite Bob over for a little after hours birthday treat if you’d like,” she grinned.

“Lex!” you gasped, scandalized.

Your cousin threw her head back laughing. “I didn’t mean that you should jump his bones in the middle of the bakery! I’d actually prefer it if you didn’t do that,” she chuckled teasingly. “I just meant you could surprise him with something sweet, on the house. Something we make here,” she added with a pointed look that made your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

“Oh,” you mumbled, nodding your head slowly. “Right. Of course.” You cleared your throat slightly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not! Anyone who makes my cousin this happy is welcome to free cupcakes anytime,” Lex said firmly, cupping your face in her hands and beaming at you.

“You’re the best,” you told her, throwing your arms around her and squeezing her in a tight hug. “I’ll text Bob now and see if he thinks he’ll be up for it.”

“If you’re the one asking, I’m sure he will be,” she winked, nudging you playfully before turning to go back to the front counter.

Once she was out of sight, you turned your attention back to your phone and bit your lip, trying to think of the best way to phrase what you wanted to ask him.

Speaking of funfetti cupcakes, any chance you’d want to swing by the bakery on your way home from work? We close at 5:30 today, but we make special after hours exceptions for our best customers 😉🧁

Was that stupid? That probably sounded stupid. Would he think that you were suggesting a quickie on the bakery floor the way you thought your cousin had been suggesting? Oh God, could you unsend that message before he got it?

I would love to! Is 6:45 too late?

This man didn’t cease to amaze you.

No, that’s perfect!

See you then ☺️

You tried your hardest to smother the smile that was threatening to completely overtake your face, but you couldn’t do it. This man gave you butterflies like you’d never experienced before in all your life, and the thought of getting to see him in just a few hours made you feel like you were going to burst from excitement and anticipation.

You didn’t even have to tell Lexie what Bob had said. The second she saw your face, she just smiled knowingly and told you, “I’ll be out of here by six.”

Time had never seemed to move so slowly as it did that day while you waited for closing time to finally come around. Lex observed your growing impatience with amusement, giving you as many odd jobs as she could to hopefully make the minutes go faster.

When the clock finally chimed five-thirty, you practically sprinted towards the door, locking it and flipping the closed sign around to ward off anyone who might have tried to stop by for a last minute treat.

“Good thing business is so good or I might get mad at you for scaring off customers,” Lexie teased.

True to her word, your cousin helped you clean up and then was heading out the door by six o’clock.

“Have so much fun,” she told you, blowing you a quick succession of air kisses. “And tell Bob happy birthday from me,” she added with a wink before slipping out the door.

With your cousin gone, that left you about forty-five minutes to finish getting ready before Bob arrived. You quickly set a playlist of classic 60s tunes to play softly through the speakers—you and Bob had discovered you had a similar taste in music about halfway through your first date—and then hurried into the bathroom to fix up your hair and apply a little bit of make-up. You usually didn���t bother with much when you were working, but you wanted to look nice for Bob.

Once you were done getting ready, you went into the back to get his little birthday treat set up—Lexie had made a fresh batch of funfetti cupcakes towards the end of the day just for the occasion. You had just finished placing one of the cupcakes on a small plate with a lace doily and inserting a candle into it when you heard a faint knock on the front door.

Your heart rate immediately began climbing as you ran your hands over the T-shirt and jeans you’d worn today, hoping you looked halfway presentable. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you stepped out into the main part of the bakery and felt your legs instantly turn to Jell-O at the sight of Bob standing at the door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. You’d only told him once in passing how much you loved them, and he had remembered.

Wow, that really did mean a lot.

“Hi,” you greeted him, standing in the open doorway and beaming up at him.

“Hi,” he echoed, that little dimple making an appearance as he smiled down at you. After a beat, he seemed to suddenly remember that he was holding the flowers in his hand. “Oh, these are for you,” he said, holding them out shyly.

“They’re beautiful, Bob,” you breathed out softly, accepting them with a smile and pressing them to your nose. “My favorite. You remembered.”

“Just like you remembered my birthday,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, but which you knew you felt just as much as he did.

The two of you stood there like that for a few moments, just gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling dreamily. Then you came to your senses.

“Come in, come in,” you told him, stepping out of the doorway so that he could enter and then closing the door behind him. “Gosh, these really are such beautiful flowers. That was so sweet of you. You didn’t have to get me anything. It is your birthday, after all,” you said, guiding him to a table in the center of the room.

“I wanted to,” Bob replied, taking a seat. He was still in his flight suit and he looked so handsome. “I’m happy that they made you smile.”

“It’s hard not to smile when I’m around you,” you told him, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could think twice about them. Your cheeks grew warm when you realized how vulnerable they were, and you buried your face in the bouquet once more.

Bob’s cheeks had grown rosy as well, and you noticed that his leg was bouncing nervously underneath the table. “I feel the same way,” he murmured softly.

You could have thrown your arms around him and kissed him right then and there, but then you recalled the actual reason why you had invited him over.

“I have a surprise for you,” you said suddenly, smiling brightly as you laid the bouquet of flowers down on the counter. “Wait right here and close your eyes,” you told him, waiting until he had done so before hurrying into the back and lighting the candle you’d tucked into his cupcake.

When you stepped back into the main room on quiet feet, you found that Bob was still patiently sitting with his eyes closed. Your heart swelled with deep affection—and was it possible something even deeper? You had never met anyone like him and you were certain you never would again.

It was at that moment that you realized “Be My Baby” by The Ronettes was currently playing through the speakers, as apropos a sign as you could imagine.

You cleared your throat slightly as you approached the table, the candle sparkling in front of your face as you brought it closer to the birthday boy.

“I know you said you weren’t a big fan of being serenaded with ‘Happy Birthday,’ so I’ll spare you my vocals,” you teased, setting the plate down in front of him. “But Happy Birthday, Bob.”

Opening his eyes, Bob glanced from your face down to the cupcake and then back up to you again. He seemed at a loss for words, his eyes growing wide behind his glasses.

“This is—this—thank you,” Bob finally said, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

You smiled, sitting down beside him and gently resting your hand over his. “Blow out your candle before it melts into your cupcake,” you giggled.

He grinned at the sound of your laughter, leaning in closer to blow out the single candle, though he kept his eyes fixed on you the whole time.

“Lexie baked them fresh this afternoon. There’s a whole bunch more in the back that I’m going to be sending you home with,” you told him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his face lit up.

“What did I do to deserve all this? This is the best birthday present ever,” Bob chuckled, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing lightly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you murmured, glancing down at the table shyly. “The truth is, I was a little nervous to text you earlier.”

Bob looked surprised at your admission. “Why?” he asked, astonished.

You bit your lip and hesitated, but then decided to be honest. Like Lexie said, if you never took a risk, then you never got to see anything change. “I know this is going to sound so stupid, but I was worried you would think it was too much if I texted you for your birthday.”

“Too much?” he repeated, his brow crinkling in obvious confusion.

“You know, just because you had only mentioned your birthday once. I thought maybe I would seem too desperate or clingy or something if I reached out. I thought it would freak you out,” you confessed. “I know that sounds pretty dumb when I say it out loud.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bob assured you, shaking his head slowly. “I know what you mean. To be honest, I think I’ve had that problem myself. Y’know, coming off too eager and scaring girls away,” he admitted, blushing as he ducked his head.

“Oh, Bob,” you murmured in understanding, lacing your fingers through his. With all the other things you two had in common, it shouldn’t have surprised you that a crappy dating history was something else you shared. “You could never scare me off,” you promised him.

Lifting his head, he smiled at you and reached out slowly, his fingertips stirring a few wisps of your hair as he brushed your cheek lightly. “And you could never freak me out. It meant so much to me that you remembered my birthday. It made my whole day, in fact. Even more than the funfetti cupcakes,” he said, his eyes crinkling. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, then added softly, “I remember everything about you.”

“You do?” you whispered, feeling a sudden surge of emotion well up in your throat.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your favorite movies, the fact that you like tomatoes but hate ketchup, the way you throw your head back when you laugh really loudly. Your favorite flowers. I remember it all.”

“Bob,” you breathed out, the tears brimming in your eyes as your gaze dropped from his eyes down to his mouth.

You weren’t really sure who moved first, but soon enough, Bob was holding you in his arms, your lips pressed together in a kiss that was much less chaste than your first one, but just as sweet. Your arms snaked around his neck, one hand burying itself in his soft hair, the other resting on the nape of his neck. He let out a soft groan in response, one of his large hands resting on your hip and the other splaying across your back, holding you close.

It was a kiss that was so much like Bob himself—gentle, kind, tender, sweet, affectionate, attentive. He didn’t demand more than you were willing to give, he didn’t try to take anything from you. He just wanted to make you feel how much he cared about you, wanted to make you feel special and cherished. And he did. You hoped more than anything that you were doing the same for him.

Because the truth was that you were already falling for Bob Floyd, and falling hard.

When the two of you finally pulled back—a mutually hesitant parting borne solely of the need for oxygen—you smiled breathlessly, closing your eyes as Bob rested his forehead against yours.

“Okay, maybe that was the best birthday present ever,” he chuckled quietly, his lips brushing against your temple.

“I think so, too, and it’s not even my birthday,” you grinned, resting your head against his shoulder. “Are you going to have your cupcake?” you asked, glancing down at where it sat on the plate, still untouched.

“Mhm,” Bob nodded, wrapping an arm around you and brushing his fingers up and down your arm. “But there actually is something I’d like to ask you first,” he said, suddenly sounding nervous.

Lifting your head, you looked up at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly looked so flustered.

“Of course. What is it?” you questioned, resting a hand on his arm.

“Well, all of this has been amazing,” he began, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. You had noticed they had a tendency to slide down when he was particularly nervous. “But there actually is one more thing that I’d really like for my birthday this year.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously. “What is it?”

Bob swallowed deeply and then looked directly into your eyes. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your lips parted as a little gasp of delighted surprise escaped you. It may have been Bob’s birthday, but it felt like you were the one being showered with gifts today.

“Oh, Bob, yes! Yes!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him and pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Yes?” Bob repeated between kisses, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” you told him seriously, cupping his cheek in your hand. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed out, the term of endearment falling easily off his tongue in that adorable midwestern accent of his. He pulled you into his arms once more and kissed you soundly.

You giggled softly as you reached for the funfetti cupcake and removed the candle, holding it up for him to take a bite. “Happy Birthday, Bob.”

[turtle-babe83]

Eyes Wide Open

It’s been a while since I felt inspired to write but this one came to me this morning. I think I can write one for Leo next. I hope you guys enjoy Raphael’s little rendezvous. ♥️

Pierced through the heart by those green eyes drilling into you like some kind of ocular trap devised to hold you down, you forget to breathe. Not that you would ever attempt to flee…

Not when he’s staring at you from the top of your gleaming mound, wet from the firm glide of his tongue swiping up and over your drenched and swollen petals. Letting the saliva pooling in his mouth dribble down his chin to mix with your juices like a lust potion, wrapping you both in its erotic spell. 

The slight clack-clack-clack of the ceiling fan’s rattle creates a natural rhythm and you helplessly roll your hips to the beat. The sound he makes is as much a chuckle as a grunt as his massive hands grip your thighs tighter. He stops for just a moment to breathe heavily and adjust his kneeled stance. His hard length is pressing against the box springs of your bed, biologically urging him to stand up and take you hard and fast until it’s hot load is spent but his head and heart refuse to give in until he’s wrung every bit of pleasure from your trembling body. 

“Please.”

The whimper squeaks out as yet another orgasm looms over you. Each one is more intense than the last and you can feel the walls of your womb beginning to tighten almost painfully as the spasms begin again. The light soreness somehow makes it even better and you thrash wildly, ungodly sounds emitting from your throat. His tongue slaps and laps at your clit, the little bean so engorged that the barest touch makes you cry out. A guttural groan leaves his lips, hot breath fanning your moist flesh before he envelops your entire sex in his mouth, sucking and slurping at your gush of juices, smoother than whiskey and headier than a strong red wine. 

As you come down, you realize his eyes have never left your face. Adoration shines in those depths of chartreuse and your womb involuntarily clenches again. 

“Good fer ya, babe?” he drawls, smug smirk dripping with charm and cum.

Your lips twitch as you fight a smile.

“I think you know the answer to that, you self-satisfied little-“ you start before he stands and looms over you, thick length bobbing enticingly.

“Little?” he growls, grasping himself and lining up to your hole. “Ya sure bout dat?”

“Not little, not LIT-!” you squeal as he thrusts forward.

No, you don’t want to escape. You’re exactly where you want to be. 

@nittleboo @android-cap-007 @raisin-shell @rebel-hamato @waterstar2016 @raphslovemuffin80 @mysticboombox @angelicdavinci @morning-sun-brah @scholastic-dragon @digitlartmonstr @thebladedancer1158 @pheradream-15 @knightish-knight @kawaiibunga @lostdreamerinafantasy @lec743 @verothexeno @beckerboopin @naya-queenzie @roxosupreme

Sorry, I can’t remember all the different blog names and I’m sure some have changed. It’s been quite a while for me 😅

[familyvideostevie]

let's get it on (someday)

here's my fic for the delightful @roosterforme 's "Love is in the Air" Valentine's Day writing challenge! my story has the song "let's get it on" by marvin gaye in it, though it's only at the end a little. this was so fun! | meet-cute (light tw for being bothered by a random man), fluff, friends on the cusp of something more, 2k

It starts in the grocery store. It's kind of late and you're tired and don't have a lot of patience left and this man old enough to be your father won't leave you alone. He tries to talk to you by the lemons and again by the bread and it doesn't feel the wrong side of friendly but you don't like how he keeps running into you. So you look for someone to talk to in the store, but it's late and your options are limited.

Maybe you should just forego the rest of your list and head home and then you turn into the cereal aisle and see an absolutely massive guy in what you're pretty sure is a Navy uniform. He probably not going to be any worse than the clingy stranger you're avoiding, right? So you take a deep breath and go right up to him. He hears you coming and turns to look.

"Hi," you say softly. "I'm really sorry but can you pretend to know me for a second? Some dude won't leave me alone."

Navy man's eyebrows raise and his eyes narrow down the aisle behind you. "Are you okay? Should we get someone who works here?" he asks. His mustache twitches. "Is it the guy in the polo?"

"Yeah, that's him. And no, we don't need to. He just...won't stop talking to me." Your tight smile and firm dismissals had not been enough.

"Gotcha," he says. "I'm on it." You take a step closer to him and he turns back to the cereal, clearing his throat. "I don't know what you have against fruit loops," he says, much louder than before. "They're clearly the best cereal and I'm sure they'd make you a morning person for once."

You feel your mouth lift at one corner and you huff a laugh. He's studying the cereal boxes like it's his job, so you take the chance to quickly look him over. His basket has only a few things in it -- protein powder, bananas, and cookies. His uniform says BRADSHAW; he's not the first Navy guy you've seen, since the base is close, but he's the first one you've talked to.

You hear the cart wheels behind you slow and then speed up. "Well, they make me feel like I'm gargling sugar," you say. Bradshaw laughs, bright and loud, and the cart fades away.

Your shoulders drop. "I think he's gone. Are you okay?" he asks again, turning to face you. He doesn't move any closer, keeps his posture relaxed. He really is quite big, you realize. Broad shoulders and rather tall.

"Yeah," you tell him. "I was probably overreacting." Bradshaw shakes his head.

"No, trust your gut," he tells you. "I'm sure you know that. You gonna be okay? I could uh, walk with you, or something?"

"I'm about to check out, so I'll be fine." You smile at him and his brows unfurl. "Thank you so much, and I'm sorry again for bothering you."

"No need to apologize," he tells you and grabs Raisin Bran from the shelf. That makes your smile turn into a grin. Not a Fruit Loops guy after all, it seems.

You put the whole episode out of your mind as soon as you get home. Just another day in the life, right? The guy was cute but the whole thing was kind of mortifying so you forget about it.

The next week you go out with your friends to a bar near the base to meet some people they know. The Hard Deck is clearly a Navy bar, based on the sheer amount of uniforms around. You get introduced to a round of aviators with callsigns like Phoenix, Fanboy, Hangman, and Bob. And then --

"Rooster," says the last guy, turning towards you, hand outstretched. "Oh, it's you!" You let out a laugh of surprise as he pumps your hand once, his palm warm and callused. He's not in his uniform this time, instead in a tank and busy looking short-sleeve shirt.

"You guys know each other?" the blonde one, Hangman, asks.

"Kinda," says Rooster, just as you say, "Not really."

"Interesting," says Hangman, sounding very interested indeed.

"We ran into each other at the grocery store last week," you say. Rooster follows your lead and shrugs, not providing any more details. "Bradshaw, right? Or should I call you Rooster?"

"Bradley," he tells you. Everyone seems to lose interest in you two, including the blonde, though you notice he wiggles his eyebrows before going to get a beer. "You can call me Bradley, if you want."

You tell him your name and he smiles. "What are the odds, huh?" he says. "Glad that this time it's under better circumstances."

"You and me both." He sticks a hand in his pocket, running the other through his hair. He looks carefree here, relaxed, and the energy spreads to you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Bradley asks.

You get to chat a little over some beers before you're roped into a game of pool that pulls you from him. It continues to go like that for the next few weeks -- you see him here and there when you go out with your friends as your circles merge. It's enough to admit that you're nursing a small crush on him and his sun-kissed skin, his bright eyes, his warm tone. But you don't spend enough time alone for you to consider yourselves friends, not really.

When the time comes to finally hang out one-on-one, it's just like your first meeting. You're at a bar you haven't been to before waiting for your friends but they're late and unfortunately for you, you run into a guy you went on a few dates with while trying to order a drink.

"Do you want to come sit with me? I'll buy your drink," he says, and you look around desperately for an out.

And then.

Bradley walks through the door. He looks around before sliding up to the bar with his usual confidence, though it's not his usual haunt, on the other side of the room.

"Nice to see you," you tell the guy. Alec, or Aaron, or whatever. "But my boyfriend just got here." You walk off without another word and make a beeline for the only familiar face in the room, trying not to think about how glad you are to see him and the lie you just told.

"Bradley!" you call and he looks up immedietly, a slow grin spreading across his face at the sight of you. You squeeze close to him, closer than you've ever been. "Hi," you say, a little out of breath.

"Hi yourself," he replies, looking a little amused at how in his space you are.

"I just ran into a guy I went out with a few times and he wouldn't stop talking to me--" Bradley's brows furrow, so you rush on, "--not being inappropriate or anything but I told him you were my boyfriend so he'd lay off--"

"Hey, hey, hey," Bradley says. "Slow down." He looks across the bar, eyes narrowed, and it's just like the grocery store. You manage to contain your exasperated laugh. "Is he wearing a salmon shirt? Damn, ugly color."

You nod. "Is he looking?" Bradley nods.

"Well, let's scare him off. I'm going to touch you, okay?" His words make something tighten in your chest but you nod and his arm comes around your shoulders and pulls you even closer, your sides totally pressed together. His lips ghost your hairline and you instinctively wind your arm around his waist.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, your jaw moving against his shoulder.

"Waiting for the crew," he says. "Wait, did Natasha invite you, too?"

Sneaky, sneaky Natasha. She's almost certainly caught on to your crush on Bradley and you suspect she didn't tell you he was coming on purpose. "She did," you laugh a little. His arm squeezes you once.

"Looks like we're waiting for the same bunch." The bartender comes over and Bradley orders a beer. You ask for the same and he opens a tab.

"You don't have to do that," you tell him. He removes his arm from around you to grab his beer and presents his empty hand, palm up.

"Don't worry about it. I think salmon-shirt is gone, so do you want to find a table?" You answer him by lacing your fingers with his and he leads the way through the crowd, finding an empty booth in a corner that you slide into. Bradley lets go of your hand and you sigh at the loss before you know you're doing it.

"Thanks for the help," you tell him. "Again." He scoots a little closer to hear you better and your legs press together.

"You don't have to thank me," he says, shaking his head. "Shouldn't be happening to you in the first place."

"Well, I'm glad to have you around anyway." You lift your glass and Bradley clinks his with yours.

"Am I interrupting something?" A drawl causes you to start, sloshing a bit of your drink onto the table. You look up and see Hangman watching you both with raised eyebrows.

"Hi, Jake," you say. He's kind of a dick, sure, but you think he's funny and he riles Bradley up in a way that you find endlessly amusing. Hangman scoots in to the booth and Bradley's arm drapes a few inches above your shoulders.

It's a nice night out once the rest of your friends get there and you forget how the night had started -- and that Bradley pretended to be your boyfriend as a ruse. It felt good to be close to him at the bar, and still feels good here in the booth. His arm gets closer and closer to being across your shoulders all night, and your legs remain pressed together. He gets you another drink and then water when you both switch to it. It feels like every time he looks at you when he sits back down he's smiling just for you.

When the evening comes to a close, everyone drifting out to their respective rides home, Rooster leans close, his lips to your ear.

"Do you want a ride home?"

"Oh," you say, pulling back from him a little so you can look at his face. You look at the small nicks and scars that dot his skin, the glow he always has, the deepness of his eyes. Even though you've only been around him with other people, Bradley always looks at you full on when he's talking to you, when he's listening to you. "Sure. You okay to drive?"

"Yeah, been on water for at least two rounds." He stands and his hand hovers over your lower back the entire way to his Bronco.

He backs out of the lot, his hand on your headrest. "Did you have fun?" you ask him. He hums and turns the radio on low. The song playing is "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye. "Oh, I love this song."

Bradley grins. "Me too," he says. "It was a good night, I'd say. You think so?" He grimaces. "Well, good night after the guy went away, I mean."

You laugh a little. The streetlights bathe Bradley in their glow and your chest pangs at how lovely he looks. "We really need to stop hanging out because some guy is following me," you tease. "I mean, it's only happened twice, but..."

Bradley barks out a laugh as you trail off, startling you. "Sorry," he says, running a hand over his mustache. "I'm not laughing because it's happening to you, I swear." He looks over at you for just a second, seemingly coming to a decision. "It's just funny because I'll hang out, just us, anytime you want."

He's totally blushing. "Yeah?" you say.

He nods. "Yeah," he echoes. "I'd love to."

Marvin's voice fills the cab of the Bronco.

"Okay," you tell him. "Let's."

Let's get it on, let's get it on

Maybe someday, you think. You keep your eyes on Bradley and think about how nice it was to have his arm around you, how safe you feel with him, how his smile makes your stomach swoop. Someday soon.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[delopsia]

The first thing you and Bob learn about Rhett is that he's a fancy dress and a fairy Godmother away from being a damn Disney Princess.

And the night that you met him and Bob was your first warning sign.

The three of you were curled into the back of his truck, sipping on drinks and fighting through a bout of uncomfortable silence, when all of a sudden, a bird landed on Rhett's boot. A little house finch, eyeing up the handful of sunflower seeds in his hand.

And out went Rhett's big hand, dirty palm full of more seeds than that little finch could possibly need. "D'ya think I can convince 'em to come home with me?"

Your head cocked to the side as you watched the bird hop right into his hand. Fearless. "That might cost you a lot of seeds."

"Are birds your favorite animal?" Bob had hummed. Some deep rumbling of words that had no right to sound as wonderful as they did.

"Nah," Rhett's head shook a little too fast, sending the bird fleeing to the safety of the roof of his truck. "don't think I got a favorite, actually."

For the longest time, you couldn't wrap your mind around why that was.

He's late to your second date because he's chased a stray kitten up a tree. Walks in the front door with his hair sticking out in every direction; doesn't realize that he's lost his hat because he's too busy apologizing for being so late. Midway through your meal, a little orange head pops out the neck of his shirt, defiantly yelling for a bite of Bob's raisin bread.

And that is how you meet Raisin.

Short for Raisin' Hell.

Raisin' Hell gets up on the kitchen counter two nights later and knocks several of Cecelia's beloved fine china onto the floor.

You'll never forget how Cecelia's voice traveled through the phone. "If y'dont get rid of that damn cat, then I will!"

Fortunately, Bob's friend Natasha is so enthralled with the story that she makes a pitstop in Wyoming to pick up the little ball of fluff. Justifying the adoption with a, "What can I say? The kitten has good taste!"

Coincidentally, a week later, Bob mentions his buddy Jake sneezing and complaining of a cat allegery.

Then, one day, Rhett drops off the face of the Earth shortly after telling you that he's heading to a livestock auction. You and Bob already know that he's out to fetch a pair of donkeys because they've recently developed a hell of a coyote problem. Yet, you're already making bets on what extra animal is going to come with the donkeys.

He wakes you both up the next morning, begging you to join the video call the second you get the chance.

"Look!" Giddy, as he triumphantly points to the little figure in the pasture, "I found a mini version of my horse!"

And it's a little black Shetland pony, a senior who has been retired to the pasture life. Affectionately named Fred by the previous owner. He came as a package deal with two donkeys, Zig and Zag. Royal is livid about the extra mouth to feed, but Amy is already attached.

Fred lives a good two years out in the pasture before old age takes him on a cozy autumn afternoon. He's buried out by an Oak tree in the South pasture, and a lock of his mane forever rests in Rhett's old wooden chest. Right next to the urn of a childhood dog named Rascal and the manes of his first two horses, Winnie and Coal.

Rhett's buddy Archie wakes you with a text one summer night, demanding that you get a handle on your cowboy. And you don't know why until Bob calls later that morning, asking if you've heard about the turkey.

How Rhett got shitfaced and acquired a whole, live turkey is anyone's guess.

Teddy the Turkey doesn't ever really leave the ranch. Maybe out of fear of Thanksgiving, being wrangled by another drunk cowboy, or just plain acceptance of his situation. Hell, it could be all of the above.

It must be a drunk thing because Cecelia tells you that he's come home with all sorts of things, from a family of bunnies to countless opossums. Every dog on the ranch has made its way there due to Rhett.

Then comes the move, and for the longest time, you expect for Rhett to come in with an armload of puppies and kittens. If he's even so much as a minute late, you're suspicious until he rolls in the front door, certain that some little critter is going to be in tow.

But he doesn't bring home a damn thing.

One afternoon, your phone lights up with a black-and-white photo. An ultrasound of...something.

Bob's name flashes across the screen next. Who's ultrasound pictures did you steal?

Then comes Rhett one more time. Someone's gelding wasn't a fucking gelding.

Rhett's mare being pregnant was not on anyone's bucket list for the year. But he loves that horse to absolute pieces, and it comes as no surprise that he's already looking forward to having a second pair of legs running around.

Archie offers to buy the little foal off of him.

Rhett almost eats him alive.

You suppose you shouldn't be surprised about that, either.

The vet says that Isabela can be ridden for a few more months, but Rhett's so concerned about accidentally hurting her and her baby that rides stop the same day. For the foreseeable future, Isabela's adventures are limited to long walks through the trails on the ranch he works on.

But having his only horse out of commission means that Rhett's cowboy career just got a little tougher.

Enter Sparrow, a bay quarter horse whom Rhett leases from a friend.

At least he leases Sparrow for the first month and then decides that Sparrow is the new member of the family. Which works out better than planned because on the months that he's off from a deployment, Bob loves to spend Sunday afternoons taking Sparrow out on trail rides.

Maeve is born a little under nine and a half months later. A black filly with a white blaze running down her forehead and an attitude bigger than she is. From the moment she's up on her feet, she's trying to buck and kick Bob, furious that he's trying to scratch her little hip. It'll be a few years before she can be ridden, but you already know that Rhett will have his hands full.

Maeve gets everything. Blankets, custom halters, handmade treats, morning and afternoon pets, hell, Rhett even figures out Instagram for her. You name it, she gets it. And not only is she the diva of the town, but when she gets older, she's one of the best horses in the area.

Never quite loses the attitude, though.

The first spring after Bob officially leaves the Navy, he decides to get chickens. Builds the coop himself and all. It's been on his bucket list for the better half of a decade now, and he's finally got the time to take care of them. He buys four Buff Orpingtons, but the girl at the feed store must have gotten confused because he comes home to find that he has three Orpingtons and a Silkie.

He goes back to get an extra Silkie so that the little dude doesn't feel like an outcast.

Rhett hates them.

"All those fuckers do is peck the shit outta me!"

"Because they're chickens, Rhett! They're gonna peck things!"

You fully expect him to come around and warm up to them eventually, but it never happens. A year passes, and Rhett's still side-eyeing the collection of poultry on the side of the house. Entering the coop only when you politely ask him to fetch you a few eggs, and even then, he furrows his eyebrows and grumbles beneath his breath.

Then there's one afternoon when Bob comes home from a meeting to a suspicious bowl on the counter.

A chirping bowl.

A bowl of newly hatched button quail.

"Yeah, I stuck 'em in there 'till I could find a place to put 'em," Rhett says when he meanders back into the kitchen, slightly larger box in hand.

You're the next to stumble into this situation, sleepy-eyed and rubbing at your cheek, halfway down the stairs. Aren't quite sure what is going on; all you know is that you've walked into a standoff, and something is wandering around by the sofa.

Something yellow.

A...tiny chicken?

Even as you scoop it up, it doesn't seem real. So incredibly small that it's closer to a toy than a living, breathing animal.

"What's this?" You yawn, holding your hand out, tiny bird on full display.

Little do you know, in your halfawake state, that some new members have joined your busy little family. Even if those family members were found at a gas station for twenty-five cents per dozen.

The coffee maker has just finished bubbling when it hits you.

Rhett doesn't have a favorite animal because every animal is his favorite animal, and he wants to take them all home with him.

Except for chickens. 

[freddie-77-ao3]

For The Children That’ll Never Grow (Hope Should Have Left Humanity)

(clips)

In the Gardens of Bacchus, long after Reyna has left them, Octavian and Jason stay, drinking cold hot chocolate. Jason is putting on a show, making lightning mimic campers. At one point, he loses control, and a grapevine catches fire. They watch as it burns to ash. 

Octavian traces his spine with a finger, pulls in for a kiss, and whispers in his ear, you are capable of such beautiful destruction. 

From Octavian, it must be true. 

~~~~

On the way to Orthys, Octavian insists on sitting by his side. Jason leans into his touch. This may be the last time he sees his… his Octavian alive. 

Jason murmurs, “What if we fail?” against Octavian’s skin, barely audible in the frenzied sedan. But the way Octavian tenses means Jason knows that he’d heard it. 

Octavian swallows a lump in his throat. “It’ll end in fire. But, Jay, we won’t be the ones to burn.”

They’ll be dead. The Twelfth legion will be dead long before the mortal world begins burning. Jason’s throat bobs. “Yeah. I, uh, I love you, Tavi.”

“Love you too, Jay.” They sit in silence the rest of the drive.

They stay in silence after the drive too. When the fourteen year old is made Praetor, raised on the shield, still covered in the sticky ichor of the titans and the blood of the last Praetor. 

When Octavian has to guide him away from the bunks Jason has lived in since he was five. Has to wrangle him into the shower, carefully caressing scabs and still open cuts. 

Because these two boys are fourteen, and they love each other. These two boys are fourteen, and they have no idea what’s coming.

~~~

Sometimes, Jason likes it when he cries. The tears blur his sight, until he can pretend even airplanes are shooting stars across the night sky. 

When he wishes on them, it’s always for the same thing. For a family. For a sister (his sister, buried beneath tree branches, untouchable and locked away). A mother and a father too if he is lucky. 

~~~

Octavian lays down next to him on his bed in the Praetor’s room. He traces the nape of his neck. “You, Jason Grace, have been cursed with a great raisin d’etre. But it’s okay. You’ll live, you’ll survive.” Octavian doesn’t add that he only knows that Jason will survive longer than he will, and that Octavian will likely be dead before two years are out. Doesn’t add that from what Octavian has seen of Jason’s death, it is creeping closer, closer, close too. 

~~~

When Octavian gets cold, he gets cold. He gets cold deep in his bones, where it doesn’t leave for weeks. Jason found it funny, once, back when they were ten or so, because Octavian looked like a goddamned marshmallow, wrapped up in three pairs of pants, 2 shirts, a sweater, and a jacket. (And don’t even get him started on the socks). 

The point is, it was funny once, how much Octavian dreaded the cold. Once. Just not anymore. Because Octavian doesn’t care about the cold. Jason can see him shivering on his father’s altar at all hours of the day, but when Jason tries to persuade him to come down, he just… doesn’t. He says there’s no time.

Time for what? He had asked once, laughing. War’s over, Tavi. We have nothing but time. 

Octavian had scowled. Had told him he didn’t know what he was talking about. Then, he had pressed a knife into Jason’s hand, and told him to go stay in his room. 

Why? Tavi, we’re fine. War’s over, we survived. It isn’t over, he had responded, not yet.

~~~

"I need to sleep." Reyna admits, because she's always been able to advocate for herself. It's also her saying that she's overwhelmed, not that Octavian would judge her for simply saying it. "But call if you need me."

He won’t. Jason Grace is missing– possibly dead. But Octavian can’t tell Reyna this. Can’t tell anyone. Because that makes it all real, and if it’s real, Octavian can’t stand himself. So it isn’t real. Simple as that. 

[rentumblsstuff]

NIGHTMARE TIME: ABSTINENCE CAMP BLURB :]

~*~

Stephanie and Peter were not supposed to be in the mess hall right now, but who gives a shit when Peter is in the middle of a medical emergency?? Camp Idontwannabang kept all the food-based contraband that they collected at the beginning of summer in the kitchens, so she knew there had to be something with more sugar for him than a pack of stupid raisins.

Steph made her way back to the table Pete had sat at and cracked open a can of soda, quickly thrusting it into Pete’s hand. “Drink up, man, you gotta be really low right now.”

He only responded with a groan that’s no doubt meant to sound appreciative and tipped his head back to drink the whole can. She sat down across from him, watching worriedly and hoping that her only friend here will be okay.

He had a hand gripped onto the edge of the table, muscles tight as he chugged the sprite or whatever it was- Steph didn’t pay attention. She still couldn’t tell you what brand the soda is as she saw the arm around the table flexing hard, and my god, he’s jacked. Not completely shredded, fuck no, but there’s clear muscle definition there that Stephanie has never noticed before. Shit, she wants to know what that arm would feel like wrapped around her-

Wow, this camp can play tricks on your mind. Outside of this camp, she’d barely give Pete a passing glance, but here? He’s accidentally become a regular Adonis, if only because he’s the only other person who hasn’t been brainwashed in Camp Idontwannabang. If they wanted Stephanie, the most demand-avoidant person she’s ever met, to refrain from impure thoughts, preaching baseless facts about the consequences of not being abstinent is achieving the exact opposite of their goal. Now, Pete can be doing something as wholesome as chugging a soda because he’s having a low and the concept of sex is impossibly close by when they linger in silence.

Steph averted her eyes from his arm to keep watching him finish off the soda. His adam’s apple bobbed violently with each heaving gulp; no embarrassment to be found as he satisfies his needs, and shit, with that line of thinking, she has to look away again. Stephanie focused on the label of the drink. Oh cool, she got him a Mountain Dew. Hopefully he likes that, although she imagines that he’s not picky when he’s desperate for any sugar.

A dribble of the colorful liquid dropped down the side of Pete’s chin and it’s embarrassingly enticing to Stephanie. She had the absolutely vile temptation to wipe it off of him… with her tongue…

She just looked down at the middle of the table, trying to completely ignore him, until Pete finally set the Mountain Dew down, sitting in silence until he sighed and rested his head in his hands.

“Thank you…” he said shakily.

“Feeling better?” She asked. He only nodded. “You um… You have a little something right here?” She pointed to her chin and he perked up to see where she’s pointing.

“Oh…” He wiped the couple drops of soda away himself, and Steph could finally breathe easy. “Thanks…”

She nodded, but still, she’s stuck in the moment before. “I gotta go…” She muttered as she stood to leave the mess hall.

“O-okay… See ya ‘round, Steph.”

She tried to force a friendly smile. “See ya ‘round. Get outta here safe, okay?”

“For sure.”

She carefully shut the door behind her and ducked into the closest secluded area out of line from both the mess hall windows or any potential passerby’s. She let gravity give way, leaning against the wooden wall behind her, and groaned in frustration.

“Fuck, I gotta go make a wallet…”

[babsvibes]

if the bobs burgers staff didn't love me specifically, they wouldn't have had Logan say thanks for purse raisins

[basketobread]

TREAT THIS ASK AS A BREAK FROM THE TREMENDOUS (and wonderful) AMOUNT OF DRAWING YOU'RE DOING (again- wonderful, spectacular, earthquake creating.) Bob, if i may be so bold, what is your favourite type of bread?

IDSUHDFSIUFSHFDIS THANK YOU FOR THE BREAK BUT I PROMISE I ENJOY ALL THE DRAWING IM DOING!!!!

BUUUUT if you INSIST on me taking a quick little break... how am i to refuse? 😇🙏

UMMMM okay, this is a really difficult question because i love all kinds of bread. honey oat has always been a top favorite of mine. i eat a slice of honey oat toast every morning when we have it. if not, i usually opt for the classic bagel. but i also enjoy jalapeño cheddar bread!

oh and i REALLY enjoy cinnamon raisin bread. that's always a solid choice. oh and classic wheat is pretty okay too. ummm you can't go wrong with rye though... OH but sourdough is pretty good too. apparently tortilla is considered a flatbread????? if that's the case then tortillas de harina might have to be my top favorite...

but if not, then a good brioche is always a solid choice. well then theres also brown bread which is pretty yummy. baguettes are perfect for some sandwiches though.

OH BUT BANANA BREADDDDD!! banana bread is always good if you want something sweet. but since you're making me choose ONE SINGLE BREAD...

my final answer...

is...

wut were we talking about again...

anyways... i like bread! 👍🍞

[apoptoses]

It’s #wipwednesday! And in an effort to practice some positive self-talk about creative projects, I’m going to share something I like about my excerpt. And if you participate I hope you say something positive about your own work too ♥

This whole fic has to do with pleasure, memory, and repression. It’s a follow up to Turn Away No More (yeah, the pit fic haha) exploring Armand’s new found body image while Daniel asks to do some of the things they tried in that fic again.

I like this bit because it plays with the idea of Armand recovering memories and being uncertain about what his body does and doesn’t know how to do (and whether what he ‘knows’ has been colored by what others have told him, like Marius). And really, I like that I put them in a new location. It’s so easy to stick to having them at home but they went out! They did stuff! And so putting them in a swimming pool felt like trying something new for me, and opened up an exciting door to being able to reflect an important moment from Armand’s youth.

Tagging (but no pressure!): @birdblacksocialclub, @uncivilcivilservice, @this-writer-needs-coffee

***

“Come on, aren’t you getting in?” Daniel asked, grinning. “Or are you chicken?”

Breaking into the rooftop swimming pool had been his idea. Overnight the city had gone from fall right back to summer, temperatures jumping back up high enough for Daniel to demand they leave the apartment and get one good swim in before the heat and humidity were gone for good.

Beyond the railing the city lights glowed, the Empire State Building unmistakable against the sky line, but all Armand had eyes for was the young man bobbing in the water. Daniel seemed to glow in the underwater lights. He looked so very mortal and alive, resting his forearms on the edge of the pool and floating there, wet hair pushed back from his eyes. Armand eyed him from his lounge chair.

“Chicken? Do I look like a bird, Daniel?” he asked, head cocked.

Daniel laughed. “No, I mean like- are you scared? It’s just a teasing thing, don’t worry about it,” he said, before Armand could ask what chickens have to do with fear. “You’ve been swimming before, right?”

Armand frowned even as he pulled his shirt over his head. He’d been in the sea once, drunk and entirely on accident. And then in his master’s bath. But beyond that- He stepped out of his trousers and draped them across the chair, and tried to pull up a memory, any old and muddled thing that would point to him having learned to swim in his youth. As he removed his rings one by one and left them in a pile he found that anything he came up with was so distant as to seem unreal.

As bare as Daniel was, he wandered over to the steps. Armand kept a hand on the metal rail and waded into the water. It was as warm as a bath, like the waters of his master’s great marble tub. Safe in the shallow end Armand ducked beneath the water and then quickly rose back out, tossing his wet hair back from his face.

“I don’t recall ever having been before. I don’t know that I know how to,” Armand said.

Daniel held out his hands. “Then come here. I won’t let you go.”

Armand stepped forward, feeling his way across the sloping bottom of the pool. When it dropped out from beneath his feet entirely, too deep to keep his face above the water, he kicked off. Extended his hands and, just before he felt uncertainty creep up into his chest, caught Daniel’s fingers in his own.

He’d been in the water alone long enough that his fingertips had begun to wrinkle, shriveled as the raisins Armand had eaten as a youth in Venice. Armand shivered at the sensation of Daniel’s hands running up his arms, reaching around to his back. In the water even an immortal like him was weightless. It was nothing for Daniel to guide him to tip onto his back so that he could hold him with one arm beneath his neck, the other hooked beneath his knees.

Armand released the breath he’d been holding. He looked up at the sky and let himself float.

There was a memory, something old and faded from his last moments as a mortal. Armand had been held like this in his master’s bath and told that now he must rise about the pleasures he’d so loved. As a youth he’d idolized his master. He’d believed every word he’d said, taken them as gospel truth.

And what for? To start himself back on the path of self denial? What had he learned as a newly turned immortal except not to cry, not to confide in anyone, not to take any pleasure of his own but to give and give and give until he had nothing left-

Well. No more of that.

[jungle-angel]

Home is in the Heartland (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob was always closest with one family friend for years.....and now that friend shares his own bond with Bob’s kids

Cheyenne Falls, OK

Despite the warmth of the small house, you were shuddering and shivering all over. You pulled the blanket tighter around Rudy’s tiny little form, a little squeak emanating from him before you returned the pacifier to his mouth. 

Bob quickly entered through the front door with Patrick and Auggie clinging to the hem of his black Carhardt and his tan cowboy hat already covered in snow. Hawk poked his head around the corner from the kitchen as the cold blast of air hung for a moment before the boys hurriedly stripped off their jackets and boots, sticking them by the door. 

“Oh my God!” Bob exclaimed, shivering. “I forgot how friggin cold winters here are.” 

“Too much to handle Robert?” Hawk laughed. 

“DADDY’S NIPPLES ARE HARD!!” Auggie shouted. 

Bob turned bright red with embarrassment as you laughed under your breath. It was becoming more apparent than ever, that August was slowly turning into his godfather, the only differences being that he was the spitting image of Bob and his little glasses. 

“Highly inappropriate good sir,” Bob reminded him, practically unwinding the knit scarf from Auggie’s neck before he and Patrick ran off to find Alfie and Timmy. “And keep your voices down, your sister’s asleep.” 

“Let’em run a bit,” Hawk said with a wave of his hand. “We’ll send’em down to the basement later and maybe have them watch a movie.” 

Bob made his way over to you as Hawk set the two steaming mugs on the creaky coffee table. “You can put him in the cradle swing if you want.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked him. 

“Go right ahead,” Hawk answered. “The thing’s been in the family for close to a hundred years and it’s still got its mojo.” 

Tiredly you rose from the couch before Hawk offered to take Rudy from you, blanket and all, his deeply lined and wrinkled hands gently placing the newborn into the cradle basket that had been woven from hemp rope. “No matter how many times it happens,” Hawk chuckled. “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’m a grandpa.” 

Bob’s smile grew broader as you scooted closer to him on the couch, the two of you snuggling close together under the warm blanket that Hawk’s wife had made some thirty years ago. “Thank you for letting us stay, Hawk,” you told him. “I know it was last minute but....” 

“No worries (y/n),” Hawk answered. “You and the rest of the family are welcome here any time. I just wish the wife was back from her trip but oh well.” 

“Same,” Bob replied, rubbing his tired eyes. “Mom and Dad said they’re coming back from New Mexico soon.” 

“Ah it’ll be good to see’em again,” Hawk sighed. “I miss your dad’s smartass remarks about that stingy preacher and his raisin faced wife.” 

You and Bob snorted as the laughter broke out. 

“I mean I always knew that the man picked low hanging fruit but Frida looks more like a road apple,” Hawk remarked. 

You, Bob and Hawk had a good laugh on the matter until the sound of tiny footsteps emerging from the bedroom caught you all off guard. Deidre and Marcy both emerged from one of the bedrooms with the big husky dog behind them. Deidre’s bedhead made her hair curlier than ever while Marcy’s little glasses were a little lopsided on her nose. 

“Uh-oh, someone’s awake,” you said in a pleasant sing-song voice.

Deidre ran right to you and Bob while Marcy climbed into her grandfather’s lap. Though there was no sign of the other four miscreants, you and Bob reveled in the feeling of closeness with Hawk and the kids, enjoying every last minute of it and feeling more whole and complete than you ever had. 

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Tom Hardy Masterlist

Richard Armitage ML

TH Characters as...

- TH Characters as Writers

- TH Characters as Your Partner Visiting a Lingerie Store with You

- TH Characters & WoW

- TH Characters & Crochet

Random Thoughts

- Stormy Night with Alfie Solomons & Bob Saginowski

Headcanons:

- Traveling with Alfie

- Baking Hot Cross Buns with Alfie

- Bakery Love Story Headcanons

Just Papa Solomons Things:

- Watching you read

- Modern Boyfriend/Daddy Edition

- Movie night together

- Rainy days

- Summertime

- Visiting Scotland

One-Shots:

- Cards & Conversations

- Sweet Grains

- Breakfast in Margate

- Siúil a Rún

Series:

Winterfall (Tattoo Artist!Alfie x Reader, Modern AU)

Can you get this boulder off me? / No god in me, I fall on my knees / The world will see the war in me / It’s all I feel, give me your lovin’

Winterfall by DPR IAN

1. Ink & Rum Raisins

2. Mokum Part 1

3. Mokum Part 2

Headcanons:

- Stalker!Eames

One-Shots:

- The Things Between the Lines

One-Shots:

- Flowers on Sunday Morning

One-Shots:

- Over Tea & Silent Letters

Headcanons:

- Forrest crushes hard on you during a quarterly meeting

- Drinking moonshine w/ Forrest and becoming tipsy

- Werewolf Bookshop Owner!Forrest

One-Shots:

- Books, Love & Oatmeal

- Fun & Games

Headcanons:

- The Hound of the Moors (Werewolf!Heathcliff Things)

One-Shots:

- Conversations over Coffee

Headcanons:

- Just Some Werewolf!Leo Demidov Things (& A Wee Imagine)

- Werewolf bakery owner!Leo Demidov

- Crafter!Leo

One-Shots:

- The Boxer Outside the Ring