Robert Bob Floyd - Tumblr Posts

OMG THIS IS SO GOOD AHHH

happy birthday, mr. president - bob floyd

pairing: president!bob floyd x wife!reader

summary: after a hard week, the last thing bob wanted to do was attend his birthday party. so instead, he plays out one of his biggest fantasies with you.

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only. SMUT. bob eating you out in the oval office. slight bondage. slight degradation. dirty talk. mention of cameras. edging. p in v. unprotected sex. breeding kink. riding. title kink? (calling bob mr. president). drinking.

a/n: brought to you by me rewatching scandal and losing my mind. also haven’t stopped thinking about @therebeccaw’s beautiful president bob moodboard <3 also for @lt-bradshaw! thanks for bringing up president bob on the dash last night.

Bob hated parties. No matter how many balls and galas he attended, it never got any easier. He fussed with his bow tie for the umpteenth time before finally giving up, letting out a huff of frustration as he buttoned his cufflinks. 

His head snapped up at the sound of the bathroom door opening and the sight before him made him weak in the knees. You floated into the room with such grace, completely ignoring the gobsmacked look on his face. You fiddled with the back of your diamond earring, struggling to fasten it in place. 

“Baby, can you zip me up the rest of the way?” You asked nonchalantly. You moved to stand in front of him, finally catching his cobalt eyes in the cheval mirror. 

“You look beautiful,” Bob professed. His hands curved around your front to rest on your stomach, pulling you tight against him. His eyes darkened as they traveled over your body, lingering on the way the bodice hugged your breasts, pushing them up enticingly. “How am I supposed to make it through the night with you looking like this?”

“You’ll live. Now, zip me up so I can fix your tie.” 

His bottom lip jutted out slightly in a pout, causing you to playfully roll your eyes. As he moved the zipper up the last couple of inches you couldn’t reach, he pressed a kiss to the top of your spine. 

“Do we really have to go?” Bob questioned as he rested his chin on your shoulder. One hand moved back around to your front, sliding up your chest and groping you through your dress. 

“It’s your birthday. You can’t miss it. Behave, Bobby. You’ll have me all to yourself this weekend when we go to Camp David,” you asserted. “It’s just for a couple of hours. You’ll survive.”

“Highly unlikely,” he muttered as you busied yourself with his tie. You had it knotted in no time, looking pleased with your work. 

“There. All done,” you said, patting his chest before turning away. He caught your wrist, tugging you back to him swiftly. He looked down the bridge of his nose at you, eyes squinting in the way they did when you defied him. A challenging look that made you burn with desire. 

“Can we do that thing we talked about a few weeks ago?” He spoke quietly. Between the grip he had on your arm and the way he was looking at you, you were ready to say screw the party and tear his shirt buttons off with your teeth. But you knew you couldn’t do that. You didn’t get the luxury of skipping out on these things anymore. 

“The thing…”

“It is my birthday, you know,” he quipped, the corner of his thin lips twitching up into a devilish smirk. You were about to respond when Charlie knocked on the door, letting you know guests had begun to arrive. 

“Mr. President. Ma’am. We’re ready whenever you are.”

Bob dropped your wrist, linking your fingers together and squeezing your hand once. He let go to slide on his suit jacket and you brushed out any wrinkles that appeared, straightening the pin he wore on his lapel. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, craning his neck from side to side. 

“C’mon, darling. Let’s get this over with.”

You slid your arm through Bob’s, holding on tightly as you walked through the corridors of the White House. You knew he still got nervous being around so many people. But he never let it show. He was poised, a true leader. The road to the White House was not easy but you believed he was doing what he was always meant to do. Be who he was always meant to be. It made your heart swell with pride to see your husband succeed. 

“Quit starin’,” Bob muttered, sneaking a glance at you. You pinched his arm in response. 

As the doors opened to the East Room, applause erupted and you felt Bob tense ever so slightly. He was whisked away by a few senators, a champagne flute placed in his hand as they tried to schmooze him into passing their bill. He looked over his shoulder apologetically and you waved him off. You knew how these things went. You’d find your way back to him eventually. 

It took exactly forty-five minutes before Josh, Bob’s chief of staff, came up to you. He pulled you aside and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“We’ve lost him.”

You tried to bite back a smile, surprised he lasted as long as he did. 

“I know where he is. Thank you, Josh. Do me a favor… keep the West Wing off limits.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

You wandered through the long hallways, taking your heels off halfway to the Oval Office. For the duration of the walk, you considered what Bob had asked for earlier in the night. He had mentioned that he wanted to try something different. You had discussed everything beforehand so you knew exactly what would play out. 

You would stumble into his office, he would take you over the desk. He’d be trying his best to avoid the cameras, but if you didn’t… The thought of sneaking around, the thrill of potentially being caught, it turned you on tremendously - and Bob knew that.

There was a soft glow coming from the large room as you entered through the side door. Bob was sitting in his leather chair, feet propped up on the cherry wood desk. He was nursing a glass of scotch, the amber liquid swirling around in the crystal as he finished his sip. His tongue darted out to catch a rogue droplet from the corner of his mouth. He looked so powerful sitting behind that desk. He could bring the whole world to their knees if he just asked. 

“Good evening, sir,” you said meekly. Even after a year in the White House, it still made you nervous coming into the Oval Office. Bob’s neck craned towards you and there was a lazy smile on his face. The lamp cast shadows over his face. From where you stood, you could see the sliver of grays at his temple. They started appearing more and more as the days went on, much to Bob’s dismay. Stress, you would inform him at the end of a long day.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he slurred. He straightened himself in the chair, setting his feet on the floor before standing. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as his dark eyes devoured you without saying a word. 

“I’ve been looking for you. You promised me a dance.” Your husband hummed, taking one last swig of his liquor before rounding the desk. His tie was hanging loose around his neck, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone. 

Your mind ran wild with salacious thoughts as he unbuttoned the cufflinks. The slight clatter of them being haphazardly set aside was the only noise that filled the room. He rolled up his sleeves messily, veiny forearms being put on display. Your mouth dried up looking at his hands, wishing they would reach out and touch you already. 

Bob walked slowly towards you, pinning you in place with his gaze. 

“Mr. President,” you breathed. 

“I like it when you call me that,” he indicated. “Say it again.”

“Mr. President,” you purred this time. He circled you, stopping behind you like he had earlier in your room. “We shouldn’t-“

“I think we should. I think it’d be a wonderful idea.”

“But the cameras…”

“Let them watch,” he muttered in your ear. “Let them see you beg your president to let you cum.”

You whimpered at his words, pressing back into his warm body. You were already begging, a silent plea for him to take you. He wasn’t going to give in to you that easily.

Bob started shuffling the both of you towards the desk, pressing you forward until the edge dug into the tops of your thighs. You could feel how hard he was in his slacks. You knew he needed this. It had been a hellish week and he spent his birthday in meeting after meeting, leaving no time to see each other until you were crawling into bed. 

His strong hands gripped your hips and spun you around to face him. His expression was devious, you knew what his plan was. He whipped the tie from his collar and you obediently held your wrists out. 

“Good girl,” he said, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. As he pulled away, you chuckled softly. A smudge of red lipstick adorned his mouth. 

“I think you just like me tying your ties, mister,” you said. Bob had expertly knotted your wrists together with the black satin material. His response was a cheeky grin and a shrug of his shoulders. 

Maneuvering you onto the wooden surface was a small feat, he manhandled you with such ease it made your head spin. Papers scattered everywhere as he shoved them aside. He pressed against your sternum until you were flat on your back, bound wrists dangling above your head. 

He made slow work of kissing down your body, mouthing at your cleavage. Sucking small love bites into the tops of your breasts. He dropped to his knees with no preamble, diving under your dress and moving up until he landed between your thighs. He pulled your lace panties to the side and buried his face into your soaked cunt. 

The first flick of his tongue against your clit caused your hips to buck and your mouth to fall open. Bob knew how to eat you out like no other. He sucked and licked and nipped against your most sensitive parts until you were a quivering mess. 

Your mind wandered back to your previous thought about how he could bring the world to its knees. And yet here he was, the most powerful man, on his knees for you. It made your breath hitch and your thighs shake. His wanton moans vibrated through your entire body. You couldn’t see him, not with the way he had his head shoved under the skirt of your dress, but you felt every move he made. Every shake of his head, every indention his fingertips were leaving. 

You were babbling nonsense. You weren’t even sure if it was words. Variations of ‘Bob’ and ‘Sir’ and ‘Mr. President’ spilled from your lips and it seemed to make Bob that much hungrier. 

“Bobby, please. Please, I’m so close. I’m so-“

And then he stopped. 

He pulled away so quickly your hips chased his mouth and you whined desperately. His hair was a mess, loose curls that were once slicked back flopped onto his forehead. His cheeks were flushed, his lips wet with your desire. 

“You bastard,” you mumbled, trying to steady your breathing. You had been right on the edge. But you knew that’s what he wanted. You knew what he had in store. 

He said nothing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He said nothing as he moved you off the desk and around the back of it. He said nothing as he nearly broke the zipper on your gown, practically tearing it off of you. A small pleased noise escaped him as you stood before him in your underwear, wrists tied and breasts on full display. 

“Such a dirty slut, aren’t you? Letting me take you in here where anyone could walk in. You like that though, don’t you? Yeah, I know you do.”

He moved to sit once more in his chair, thighs spreading wide as he palmed over his cock. A whimper caught in your throat when he pulled himself out. You’ve said it a million times before but Bob Floyd had a pretty dick. And you would never tire of the sight.

“Want you to ride my cock, pretty girl.”

Bob pulled you into his lap and onto his cock without much warning. The stretch never failed to make you gasp, no matter how many times it had been. He settled you until he was to the hilt, full of him. He reached down to untie your wrists and you tangled your fingers through his hair instantly. 

You couldn’t move much on your own so Bob took matters into his own hands and bounced you. Hands holding your hips tight enough you were sure there would be bruises by tomorrow. It was quick and messy, your thighs were burning and you couldn’t hold back your moans. 

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna finally make you a momma. We'll have little babies running around this place before you know it. Fuck, sweetheart. I’m the luckiest man alive,” Bob rambled. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room and you silently prayed Josh listened to you before. 

Your nails clawed at the part of Bob’s chest that was exposed, slipping your hand inside the half buttoned shirt to scrape against his nipple. It caused his eyes to roll back and his hips to stutter. 

“Moan for me, Bobby.” He did. Loud and unabashedly. 

The fast rhythm had both of you close in no time. His mouth attached to your breasts once more and that was it for you. You clenched around him tightly, throwing your head back and nearly screaming as he continued the brutal pace into you. It took him a few more thrusts before he was releasing inside of you, filling you full of him. 

You slumped against his chest, hot breath washing over his damp skin as he rubbed up and down your spine. 

“I can’t believe we just defiled the Oval Office. We could be arrested,” you joked. 

“Not the first time,” Bob said. “Thank you for indulging me, honey. I love you to the moon and stars.”

“Happy birthday, Mr. President,” you giggled. A weak groan tumbled from his lips as his dick twitched inside of you. 

“Don’t do that to me right now.”

“Is that an order?” You challenged, rolling your hips teasingly. 

“You little brat,” he muttered against your lips, picking you up and walking you over to one of the couches. It was a long and glorious night. 

Several weeks later you stood in the en suite bathroom, with four positive pregnancy tests sitting on the counter. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting tickled. 

AHHH THIS IS SO GOOD

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter One - Spilled Coffee

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook.

He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

1.9K

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive slight choking! Forceful sex! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this

Okay so one day I was reading Stiff Competition by @roosterforme and the next day I was writing this and I haven't stopped since

Series Masterlist

Bob Floyd was a coffee man. It had started at the end of high school, when he used to wake up early to study. It continued on when he joined the navy. 

Through his first stint in Top Gun, Bob would go on regular coffee runs. They took it in turns, always going on their own and challenging each other to carry as many coffees as possible.  

It was a habit that Bob had kicked after Top Gun. He knew it was a bad habit, relying on coffee to wake up. So, he stopped.

But then he was once again at Top Gun. After graduating once, he was back again. And, once again, the coffee runs restarted. Bob redeveloped his habit for a cappuccino with chocolate sprinkles on the top. From the first sip, he couldn't remember why he had given it up.

Even after that mission, Bob stayed in California. The man from Montana stayed at Top Gun, becoming an instructor, along with Natasha Trace and Jake Seresin. Rooster returned to Virginia, said he had a girl out there. The rest of the squad returned home or were stationed overseas. It wasn't the easiest to keep up with. 

The coffee runs continued. This time, with just himself, Nat, and Jake, the coffee runs were a lot easier. Especially when the barista put the takeaway cups with one of those cup holders meant for four. 

The coffee runs changed every day. One day Nat would go. And then Jake would. And then Bob. Always one at a time, always in that order. 

Whenever Bob was on the coffee run, he looked around the café. His eyes moved from table to table, looking at the people sat there. An older couple drinking coffees by the large window, a teenager eating a sandwich with headphones covering his eyes and people on their lunch break. One at the back of the café tapped away at her computer keyboard, periodically taking a break to sip at her drink. The other sat at the table by the door, her bag on the other seat as she scribbled away in her notebook, a full mug of coffee beside it. 

Bob didn't make any other observations as he collected his coffee and turned to leave. He had both hands on the cup holder as he turned to leave the café. 

He wasn’t clumsy. Well, he sort of was. Making a mess at the hard deck while ate peanuts, that time he accidentally hit Bradley in the stomach with the pool cue. 

But Bob couldn’t deny his clumsiness when he hit the edge of her table. Maybe if his hands weren’t full, he could have caught her drink before it fell over. 

A gasp left her lips as it spilled over her notebook, staining the pages brown. The writing on it was indistinguishable beneath the coffee. 

But that wasn't what this young woman cared about, not at first. She stood as she furiously wiped off her pencil skirt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cried, grabbing the napkin that sat under her glass. But the napkin was already soiled. 

Bob jumped into action. He put his coffees down onto her table and rushed to grab the napkin dispenser from the counter. "I'm so sorry!" He cried, grabbing napkins  and helping her to wipe off her skirt. 

But when the water stopped scalding, she stopped wiping at her skirt. Instead she dabbed the napkins at her notebook as a frustrated sigh left her lips. "Let me get you another drink," he said as he threw the used napkins in the bin. 

She shook her head at him. "No, I've got to get back to work," she muttered as she picked up her bag. She slung it over her shoulder and tucked her ruined notebook beneath her arm. 

"I'm sorry!" Bob called as he watched her disappear from the café. 

***

She sat at her desk, inspecting the darker grey patch on her skirt. It had been new, bought just the weekend before. But she didn’t much care about her skirt. That could be replaced. Sure, she'd have to take out money she didn’t have for a new one, but it was just a skirt. 

Her notebook was in front of her computer, months of work stained with coffee. The coffee had smudged her writing, making it unintelligible. It wasn't just the top pages, wasn’t just her most recent piece of writing. It was everything. 

Almost all of her writing was gone. 

Frustration ran through her. Frustration and then sadness. She couldn’t bring herself to be angry at the military man. It hadn't been his fault, really. 

But her writing was gone. It was months, years, of work. Her only way of escape and, within a matter of seconds, it was gone. 

As she sat through her shift, she tried to salvage what she could, making notes of the plot points she could remember. Tomorrow, when she went to the café, she could rebuild. This time she could spend all day there, not needing to run off to her job. 

It wasn’t easy to concentrate on her day job as she wrote down what little she could remember from her stories. But, too soon her day job was over. She still didn’t put her sopping wet, coffee stained notebook in her bag as she got ready to go. "See you Monday," she said to one of her co-worker as she pulled her jacket over her blouse and placed her bag on her shoulder. 

With her notebook on her arm, she took off. She looked down at her shoes as she rode the elevator down to the ground floor of the building she worked in. 

The elevator arrived at the ground floor far too quickly. She sucked in a breath, held her notebook against her chest and walked out of the building. Each step she took was heavy, as if her feet were reluctant to take her home. 

But her apartment building was far too close to her place of work. She opened the door and started up the dimly lit staircase, up to the top floor. Around her the yellow wallpaper was cracked and peeling. 

She missed the step ready to collapse in on itself and avoided the suspicious damp patch on the carpeted top of the stairs and pushed open the door to her apartment. 

"Hey, Ken," she said to her boyfriend, the man she shared her apartment with. Kenneth Johnson hadn't been called Kenneth since he was a boy. He went by Kenny to his friends or more importantly, Ken.

 She placed her notebook on the sofa, her bag on top of it, and hung her jacket on the back of the door. 

"Hey, Barbie," he said in a way she hated. It had been a joke back in high school - his name was Ken so, obviously, she was Barbie. "I cooked you dinner." 

*SERIOUSLY IF YOU'RE AFFECTED BY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS I'D STOP READING HERE*

She looked at the small, round table in the middle of their kitchen. 'Cooked' wasn’t exactly the word she would have used to describe the half eaten microwave dinner on the table. "Ken, where's the rest of it?" She asked, her voice light. Almost as if she was talking to child. 

The smile dropped from his face as he yanked open the fridge. "Can't you just be grateful, for once?" He growled as he opened his can of something (she didn’t look up, didn't see what he was drinking as she ate what he had left of her dinner). "I make you dinner and you just want more of it."

She ate in silence, finishing her food quickly. When she was done, she cleaned both hers and Ken's plate away. 

As soon as she was standing up and walking to the sink, Ken looked at her up and down. "What the fuck happened to the skirt I just bought for you?" He asked as he clenched his can. His grip was so tight his can crumpled, liquid spilling everywhere. 

"C'mon Ken. It was just a little spill. It's gonna wash out before Monday."

The still full can clattered to the floor, spilling beer everywhere. "It doesn't matter that it will wash out," he said, keeping his voice calm. "What matters is that you're pissing away my hard earned cash!" 

"Ken-"

Suddenly he was in her face, fingers wrapping around her hair and pulling her up. An involuntary cry left her lips and she dropped the dishes back into the sink. "Don't talk back to me," he growled, voice low. His hand snaked around her throat, but he didn't apply pressure. Not yet. "Don't ever talk back to me."

Gulping, she nodded as best she could with the way he held her. And then he let go of her hair, but he didn’t release her neck. "You know I hate doing that, baby," he whispered, stroking her cheek. It didn’t matter how gentle his touch was, it was still searing. 

There was nothing she could do but whimper as he walked her out of the kitchen, leaving the mess of the dishes and the spilt beer.

She walked willingly to the bedroom. But really, how willing is it when you fear so much for your safety?

When Ken told her to strip and get onto the bed, she did just that. "Throw this out, I can’t have you looking like a slob," he said as she stepped out of her skirt. 

"Kenny," she started to say. But, suddenly she was on the bed, laying on her stomach. "Ken, please-"

But Kenneth Johnson wasn't listening to what his girlfriend had to say. He held her body down, hand on the back of her neck as he pulled her underwear down.

He freed himself from his trousers and pushed his cock through her folds. 

There was a time where they weren't like this, a time where they really were in love. Back in high school, back when she didn't mind being Barbie and Ken, he was sweet. He brought flowers and chocolates to her while she worked weekends. He visited her regularly when she went out of state for college and moved with her to San Diego.

It was a few months after they moved to San Diego together that Ken changed. It was a few months after they moved in together that his true colours began showing. 

She didn't cry anymore. There was no point when it didn't get him to stop. 

She laid there until he came and rolled off of her. Kenny laid in the bed and rolled away from her. Still, she didn’t move. She stayed until light snores left his lips. 

Only then did she climb off of the bed. She climbed into the shower that hadn't yet heated up and scrubbed her body. Hidden in an empty tub of body lotion was birth control. Birth control that Kenny wouldn't let her take. But she couldn’t have his baby, she just couldn't.

After cleaning up the mess left in the kitchen and scrubbing at the stain in her shirt, she crawled into bed beside him, but she didn't sleep. 

This story amazing!!!

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Eight - Save Me

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. she gets called a whore, choking, SA, 'missing' birth control, blood

Series Masterlist

Worried wasn't the word Bob wanted to use. He didn't know her plans, didn't know what she was going to do. He'd desperately hoped that she'd break up with Ken, that she'd call him to help her move out. 

But it had been three days and he hadn't heard anything. He'd called and texted, but nothing, no response. Alarm bells would have been ringing if she hadn't at least been looking at his texts. 

God, he hated how much he missed. All it took was seeing her in his house, in that old Star Wars shirt one time, and he was hooked. It was a sight Bob would never get enough of. And, after not hearing from her in a week, he couldn't think of anything worse than never seeing her in his house, in his clothes, again. 

A week and a half after he'd dropped her at her apartment, a week and a half since he'd heard her soft, melodic voice calling out his name, Bob was given a distraction. A welcome distraction in the form of Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. 

How long had it been since Bradley visited? Bob wasn't entirely sure, too caught up with other things. But, if Bradley was here, it was because Maverick was also here. 

They almost had all of the Squad back together. As much as Bob loved Jake and Natasha, Rooster and Maverick made a welcome change. Having them down at The Hard Deck while Slow Ride by Foghat, of all songs,  played brought back too many good memories, Bob could hardly grasp them all. 

They didn't even never to ask about her. It might have been one offhand comment about Bob's dating life and there he was, telling everyone about the girl he had fallen in love with. His cheeks were pink the entire time. 

It wasn't his place to detail the abuse, so he didn't. But he made it clear that Ken was an asshole, something that Phoenix and Hangman confirmed. Bradley's fighting spirit immediately came out to play. "Why don't we go jump the guy, get Baby Bob's dream girl back?"

But they all knew they couldn't. 

Until the next Saturday at The Hard Deck. Bob stared desperately at his phone as he waited for any sign of her. It had been two whole weeks since he'd last heard from her, abd he'd done nothing but mope around. It really was pathetic, wasn't it? But he couldn't help it. His dream girl seemed to be gone. 

And then Bob's phone rang. His breath hitched as her name appeared on the screen and he rushed outside to answer it. "Hey Doll," he said, holding the phone up to his ear. 

There was a noise, a noise like she wanted to say something, and then nothing. 

Muffled voices, that was all Bob could hear. He pressed his phone tighter to his ear like that would make any sort of difference. The voices muffled, but he could just about make out what was being said. "Barbie, there's still blood on the counter!" Roared a male voice. Kens voice. 

When she spoke, Bob could hear it a lot clearer. "I'm getting to it, Ken! I swear!" Her voice was hoarse, terror wrapped around her every word. 

The reply was muffled. There was so much happening in that apartment, and Bob didn't know what. It was so fuckibg terrifying.

The next sound he heard was a pained whimper. Natasha had come out to check on him, pausing and listening when she saw the look on Bob's face. Her eyes widened a the next noise, like something hitting the floor or the wall. 

Fuck, Bob couldn’t listen to this anymore. He said her name gently. "If you can hear me, lock yourself in the bathroom. I'm coming to get you."

There was no reply, the call just ending. 

Now, Bob wasn't stupid. He knew there was no way he could get in there and get her out without causing more harm. That was why he went up to Rooster, Hangman, and Phoenix. "I need your help."

That was all it took to get them into Bob's truck. He drove, knuckles white against the steering wheel as he headed to her apartment. The others found out what Bob wanted them to know, what he wanted them to do. 

It was a plan of sorts, but the word plan made it sound cartoon-y. Natasha was gonna keep the car running while they somehow got into the apartment. Bob was gonna get her while Jake and Bradley dealt with Ken. They didn't know what dealing with Ken meant, but they were prepared for anything. 

When they arrived at the apartment Natasha climbed into the driver's seat and Bob, Jake and Bradley climbed out. Bob led the way. He pushed into the entryway, but then he stopped. Which one was her apartment? Fuck, he should have asked on the phone. 

But then he heard shouting, loud and clear from the apartment on the top floor. 

Bob took off running, the others behind him. He took the stairs two at a time. At the very top of the stairs, he threw his shoulder against the door. 

When they met him at the top of the stairs, Bradley and Jake joined him, forcing the door open. It didn't take long before it gave and they were bursting in. 

"What the fuck!" Came the not so familiar voice of Ken. "Get out of my apartment!" 

Bob ignored him as he looked around. "Where is she?" He asked in a low voice, one the others hadn't heard from him before. 

Ken straightened up. "Oh. It's you." 

Before he could say more, Rooster strode forward. In an instant he had Ken up against the wall, holding him by the collar of his shirt. "Where is she?" He roared, spit flying into Ken's face. 

Bob left Jake and Bradley deal with Ken as he walked through the apartment. He ignored the broken glass on the kitchen floor and continued on. 

The first room he got to was the bedroom. It was a mess, sheets everywhere, broken photo frames and a smashed up phone on the floor. Paper everywhere, filled with writing but ripped up. But no her. Swallowing the lump in hid throat, Bob continued on.

There was just one other room. Bob tried pushing on the door, but it was locked. Knocking, he called her name. "Are you in there?" 

Pressing his ear to the door, he heard a muffled sob. "I'm here," he tried, pushing at the door handle again. "I'm gonna get you out of here. Can you let me in?" 

He heard the door unlock so he pushed his way in. He was slow, giving her time to move away from the door before he threw it open. 

And there she was, knees pulled up against her chest as she sat under the sink. The tears freely fell, but she didn't bother to wipe them. Didn't even bother to look up at Bob. 

His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at her. When he held his hand out towards her, she flinched away. His heart snapped in two. 

"C'mon," he said softly. She finally looked up at him. "I'm getting you out of here." 

As soon as she placed her hand in his, Bob pulled her to her feet. Immediately she was against him, holding onto him, arms thrown around his neck. "I got you," he whispered again and again and again. 

He held her against him as he walked her out of the apartment. She had nothing besides herself, but that was more than she ever thought she'd make it out with. Her hand was against his chest, feeling the way his heart was beating in his chest. 

It didn't stop the tears as he took her down the stairs. He didn't know what Hangman and Rooster were doing, just hoping they were following. And, on the stairs, she slipped. She would have fallen to her knees and all the way down if it wasn't for Bob holding her. "I got you," he kept saying as he got her to the bottom of the stairs and out to the truck. 

Bob was a gentleman. He would have helped her in no matter what. But there was no way she would have been able to do it on her own, not in that moment. 

"What now?" Natasha asked as Bradley and Jake climbed in. (Jake climbed into the back with her and Bob, but Bob kept himself between the two of them).

"Drop me back at mine," Bob said quietly. She was holding his shirt so tight, it was almost like she was never gonna let go. "I'll pick up the truck tomorrow.”

The drive back to Bob's was silent. His arm stayed around her, large hand comforting against her back. It was only a short drive, Bob kept a hold of her the entire way. 

When they pulled up, Bob helped her out. The others were silent, only exchanging looks with him as he opened the door and helped her in. 

He heard the truck pull out of the driveway, but the wasn't what he was concerned about as he sat her down. She furiously wiped at her eyes with bruised hands. Hands that Bob gently took into his own and laid them on his lap. 

"What happened?"

She looked so tired, so goddamn tired as she looked up at him. There were bruises all over her skin, lip split open. She looked terrible. But she kept her mouth shut, didn't answer him. 

He could have begged, could have demanded that she answer him, but what good would that do? Instead, he stood, walked into the kitchen, and got her something to drink. 

When he came back with a steaming hot tea and a glass of water, she was already sleeping, face pressed pressed against the arm of the sofa. Bob lifted her ever so slightly, slipped a cushion beneath her head and threw a blanket over her body. 

He left her there, sleeping on the sofa. Now, don't get me wrong, Bob would have carried her to the bed. But he'd never seen her so scared before, didn't want to do anything would would scare her more than she already was. 

He kept his door open, though. Any noise that she made had Bob in the doorway, checking on her. But she slept right through, Frodo curled up against her.

Taglist: @nurse-sainz

@not-nyasa

@burningwitchprincess

@darksparklesficrecs

@primroseluna

@littlemsbumblebee

@wretchedmo

@imaginecrushes

@calpalsbestie

@hiireadstuff

@lyn-js

@emma8895eb

@teacupsandtopgun

@finnydraws

Doesn't matter the genre you are interested or the fandom you are in or anything in that matter: this piece of art will warm your heart and lets you feel for the protagonists🥰✨️Beautifully written it creates a lovely story with a comfort and not rushed love!

Letters to My Love

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

JOIN THE TAGLIST!

Weiterlesen

:-D

hey... take my uquizz and reblog and tag who you get!!

Being in love with a fictional character includes:

buying love letters off Etsy for yourself

buying stuffed animals based off the character

having a large Pinterest board full of pictures of them

crying late at night because they are not real

creating scenarios in your head about you and them

reading every possible fanfiction you can

buying clothes with their name on it to fuel your delusions

buying candles with their scent

writing their last name and your first name on margins of papers to test it out

doodling pictures of them

thinking about them 24/7

legitimatly thinking about getting a cardboard cut out (if theres even one available)

marking their height somewhere so you can compare yours all the time

totally not me rn

Alright who was gonna tell me that Lewis Pullman, that beautiful man, was in the boy band, attaboy. Cause I just found this while listening to Spotify on my TV and just saw him on the screen. 🧍‍♀️

Hey yall, I need some help. So hopefully in about 2 years I'll be able to get a puppy. My dad (who I still live with, sad I know) wants to wait because right now we're not ready for another dog. (We currently have a dog, the cat further down in my blog is my mom's cat, if it's still there) he also won't let me if our current dog isn't doing good at that time. But anyways I'm thinking about getting a chocolate lab puppy. I know for sure I'm getting a lab but I want to get a chocolate one. I've picked out some names already because I like doing that. I want some help thinking of more names. I tagged a bunch of Fandoms so hopefully I can get some nerdy names but I also want hilarious names!

Our current list:

The "love" ones: Bucky (marvel), Boone (twisters), Coffee Beans or Beans (nickname(nn)), Butter, Captain Wigglebutt or Wiggles (nn), Meatball, Moose, Godzilla

The "really liked" ones: Rocket (marvel), Rooster (topgun), Jensen (the actor), Potato, Brownie, Caesar

The "liked" ones: Bruce (harley quinn), Tyler (twisters), Raleigh (Pacific rim), Wally, Mudflap

The "not my favorite but they're good names" ones: Maverick (topgun), Logan (Xmen)

So please, message me, reblog this, comment what ever, tell me some good names whether they be Fandom related, just down right funny, or both. One thing, try to keep a little bit to the theme of him being a chocolate lab and a male. Like coffee beans because they're brown and I think Beans would be a hilarious names. If the name has a nickname please tell me that too. Thank you everyone!!!

Muse Food

Pretty sure I may have found Jake "Hangman" Seresin’s long lost brother/twin 😂 Hopefully folks find their muses well fed 😁

Meet actor Tom Hopper!

THIS! Some of the best fics I’ve ever read never went into elaborate smut scenes! Hardcore smut definitely has its place but sometimes you just want plot.

I’ll add to this reminder too - a “happily ever after” does NOT always mean pregnancy/children!! Maybe it’s just the fandoms I’ve been reading recently but 9/10 fics end up with the heroine pregnant or having a baby.

FYI it is entirely possible to have a breeding kink and NOT actually ever want children.

I'm trying to prove a point to my brain: Reblog if you think fanfiction does not need sex to be good.

There is a trend I’ve noticed that smut fics tend to be much more popular than anything else and honestly I just want to have something to look at to remind myself and that writing doesn’t have to have sex to be worth putting out into the community.

so real

I just got chills from looking at Lewis Pullman pics

If only I could boop these men

It's officially my birthday and I'm ringing in 23 with Top Gun Maverick 🥳

“we are top gun” ahh edit (i miss top gun)

Everyone needs to read The Containment Diaries by @sparklypinkflightsuit its so good!

Link to their masterlist below

Y'all please can someone send me some high res pictures of Bob Floyd🥺 ya girl feels like drawing and can't find ones i want to draw 😭

Bonus if its a still from either of these scenes since I can only find gifs

I mean mood 100% he's so swoon-worthy😍

Y'all please can someone send me some high res pictures of Bob Floyd🥺 ya girl feels like drawing and can't find ones i want to draw 😭

Bonus if its a still from either of these scenes since I can only find gifs

Speaking of my favourite Bob Floyd edit

Link is here

Dancing in the kitchen with my fiancé and this is definitely something Bob Floyd would do🥺

"When did you get in?"

"Oh, I- I've been here the whole time"

Finally finished my drawing of Bob 🥺