SUMMARY: Everyone knows history professor Bob Floyd is a little eccentric. He only drinks tea steeped for exactly four minutes, his desk is pristine while the rest of his office looks like a bomb went off, he's distrustful of technology, and he definitely doesn't want or need a teaching assistant. Certainly not one who's as aggravating as she is pretty...
WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid-to-late 20s/late 30s), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.
WORD COUNT: ~0.5k
A/N: Eccentric Professor Bob Floyd has been on my mind constantly for the last week, so here we are with a moodboard and a short blurb. This AU will not be a full length series, but a collection of blurbs and drabbles. Special thanks to @ryebecca for raving with me about my new favorite grumpy man. Don't hesitate to send me questions and headcanons!
UPDATE: SERIES MASTERLIST
Bob stops dead in his tracks in the doorway to his office, hot tea spilling over the edges of the cup.
Inside, among piles of books and paper, stands a woman with her back turned none the wiser to his presence. She can’t be one of his students–they know not to come to his office unless they have an appointment.
“Who are you?” he asks, not bothered with pleasantries.
She turns around with a startled laugh. “Dr. Floyd, you scared me,” she says with a hand pressed to her heaving chest. “You can’t sneak up on people like that.”
“You’re in my office,” he points out, brushing past her as he walks to his desk in long strides, placing his cup on a coaster to protect the wood.
“Right,” she agrees.
He sits and pulls his books closer to continue preparing for his next lecture, but his eyes drifts back to the young woman. She appears to be in her mid, maybe late twenties. Dark hair falls in loose waves around her face, and she’s looking at him expectantly. “Did you need something?” he asks.
She cocks her head to the side, brows furrowed. “I’m waiting for you to put me to work.”
“Work?”
“Yes,” she answers, incredulous. “What did your old TA do?”
He stares at her, almost convinced he’s hallucinating. “I don’t have a teaching assistant.”
She smiles at him, wide and enthusiastic. “Well, you do now. Would you like me to clean up a bit? It’s a little messy in here.”
Bob suppresses a frustrated groan. Pushing back from his desk, he stands and rounds his desk, stopping in front of her. The scent of her perfume hits his nostrils, something spicy and vaguely floral, and this close, he can see all the colors in her eyes. “I don’t want a TA and I certainly don’t need one. Whoever hired you–”
“Dr. Kazansky,” she interjects.
“–made an error. Now, please, leave.”
Walking back around his desk, he ignores the sound of her taking a deep breath and composing herself. She doesn’t speak until he’s fully sat and emerged in his books again.
“You may not want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she begins through clenched teeth, forcing him to look up. She holds his gaze, determination and a hint of defiance in those dark doe eyes. “But you’re stuck with me. So, I’ll be back tomorrow and we can start over. Have a good day.”
The door slams and Bob’s left in the silence of his office, staring at the spot where she stood mere moments ago. Of course, Dr. Kazansky went behind his back to hire a teaching assistant–he’s insisted that Bob needs one for years, but Bob’s always been able to avoid it. Until now, it seems. He wonders how long she’ll last before she realizes he’s too set in his ways to change. But as he imagines the way her nose will scrunch in annoyance, it occurs to him he never even got her name.
SUMMARY: Professor Bob is working on his next book when Imogen comes home and suggests they try something new.
WARNINGS: academia au, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, SMUT, cockwarming, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, praise, possessive bob, discussion of birth control and protection, intimacy, and a little fluff. strictly 18+/minors dni.
WORD COUNT: 1.2k
PROFESSOR BOB MASTERLIST
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SPECIAL THANKS to @up-thereinthesky for the Lew pic and to @attapullman who sent in this delicious ask that set my horny little brain on fire. What was supposed to be a short blurb took on a life of its own, so here we are. Thank you for loving Bob and Imogen as much as I do. Enjoy ✨
He’s sitting at his desk, staring at the blank document on his laptop, when he hears the front door open and close.
He smiles to himself as her stomping footsteps get closer. She’d never survive as a spy with those heavy footfalls.
“Hey,” she says when she appears in the doorway to his office. “You still at it?”
He hums, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Getting nowhere.”
“Maybe you should take a break,” she suggests and crosses the room, placing her ass right in his lap.
“Perhaps I should,” he agrees and presses his lips to her shoulder. “How was lunch with your parents?”
She scoffs. “A disaster,” she mutters, snaking her arms around his neck, and presses her forehead against his temple. “I don’t know why I expected it to go well. It never does.”
He squeezes her waist, turning his head so their lips can meet. It starts off slow and sweet, a little lazy, just kissing because they can. He’s so lost in her, he barely notices when his cock hardens.
She grins into their kiss. “Someone’s excited to see me,” she mumbles against his lips.
“Just ignore it and kiss me.”
He means it. He doesn’t want to start something when she’s just come home from a bad meeting and he’s supposed to be working on his next book.
She does as he says and keeps kissing him, but after a minute, she pulls away. He sees her eyes dart down to his growing erection.
She looks almost shy when her eyes meet his again. “Do you want me to keep you warm?”
He gapes a little. “Are you asking if you can cockw–”
“Cockwarm you, yes,” she finishes for him, and he detects no hint of joking in her tone.
“Baby,” he whispers, placing his palm against the back of her head. “I’d never ask you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.”
She frowns, lips pursed in an adorable pout. “I’m not uncomfortable,” she insists. “I want to.”
“I don’t have a condom.”
She shakes her head. “We don’t need one.” He opens his mouth to argue, but she beats him to it. “I have an IUD, and you’re the only person I’ve been with.”
“Baby, are you sure?” He’s stroking her hair even as she nods.
“Okay,” he agrees and kisses her lips.
She slides off his lap. He rids himself of his joggers and boxers, and strokes his cock to full hardness while Imogen slips her black panties off. She tosses them aside and they land on his laptop keyboard.
As she climbs back in his lap, a sudden thought strikes him. “I don’t have lube either,” he says, trying not to sound disappointed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Smirking, she reaches for his free hand and guides it to her pussy. “Not a problem, Professor.”
She’s already soaking for him.
He holds back a groan as he runs his fingers up and down her folds a few times. He pulls back, looks into her dark doe eyes, and sees love reflected back at him.
He loves her. She loves him.
“You ready?” The hand that isn’t holding on to the base of his cock snakes around her body and rests on her ass.
She nods. “I’m ready.”
She rises to her knees, and he guides his cock to her entrance. They moan into each other’s mouths as his tip slips inside, but then she hisses and Bob’s eyes shoot open.
“You okay?”
"Yeah," she assures him, but her face contorts into a tight grimace. “You’re big.”
He smiles, a breathy chuckle escaping as he leans forward, brushing his lips against her cheek. “I know, baby,” he mutters. “Take your time.”
She nods, biting her lip as she sinks further down on his cock. “Mmm, feel so full.”
“I know,” he repeats. “You’re taking me so well, keeping me nice and warm.”
Stifling a moan, she tightens her grip on his hair. “Keep talking,” she whispers.
“So good for me,” he mumbles, groaning as she slides even further down his cock. “So fucking tight, so warm.” She’s whimpering now. “Almost there, baby. You can do it. My good girl.”
Then their hips come flush with each other, and he’s seated all the way inside her.
Even though she said it was fine, he can tell she’s feeling the stretch. Bob always makes sure to prep her to take him, and often they don’t need lube, but right now he sure wishes they had. He doesn’t like the face she’s pulling.
Leaning forward, he kisses her lips gently. “You did so good, baby,” he assures her.
It’s quiet when the tension leaves her body, and she sighs deeply into his mouth. His fingertips run up and down her spine, and she shudders at the sensation.
They stay like that, foreheads pressed together. Skin to skin in the most intimate way possible, pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.
“How was lunch with your parents?”
She jerks back, a deep dent between her brows. “You really want to talk about my parents while you’re inside me?”
He can’t help the chuckle that passes his lips. “I never want to talk about your parents,” he explains. “But you came home from lunch upset.”
She sighs, rests her head in the crook of his neck. “They asked me to break up with you.”
He hums, not surprised in the least. After almost a year of being together, you would think her parents would give up and just accept it, but they haven’t. Bob knows they likely never will.
“Hey,” he mutters, making her raise her head to meet his eyes. “I love you. You know that, right?”
Unexpectedly, or perhaps not entirely, she clenches around him. “Fuck, baby,” he groans into her neck. “Don’t do that or this won’t be cockwarming anymore.”
“Maybe it was an excuse to get you inside me,” she says, her tone sounding a little too innocent. She leans down and her lips graze against his ear. “Maybe I just wanted your cock.”
He lifts his head as his hands travel down her spine. “Oh, yeah?”
She nods, biting her bottom lip with her doe-like eyes wide and innocent, as if she isn’t greedy for him, and he’s sure she’ll be the death of him.
Grasping her ass, he plants his feet solidly on the ground and thrusts up into her. He revels in the sound that escapes her, gasp turning into a breathy moan as her fingers scrape across his scalp.
“Do it again,” she whines, eyes closed in pleasure and pussy holding him in a vice grip. “Fuck me, Professor. Make me yours.”
“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at me.”
She does, pupils wide with desire and desperation, a delicious flush rapidly spreading across her cheeks and down the column of her throat.
“You are mine,” he growls, punctuating the statement with another deep thrust. “All mine.”
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burning flames | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc
a gold rush fic
SUMMARY: A heated argument reaches a fever pitch for Bob and his TA.
WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, mutual jealousy, SMUT (fingering), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.
WORD COUNT: 2.3k
GOLD RUSH MASTERLIST
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SPECIAL THANKS to @cherrycola27 for letting me rant about professor bob and for sending thots when i ask for them. you're a real one.
A/N: very loosely inspired by the song style by taylor swift for the wonderful @laracrofted's 1989TGM writing celebration. this was supposed to be a mob boss bob fic, but that made me cry, so i switched gears and now here we are. i'm sorry this is so late, ames. enjoy!
“That’s all we have time for today. You’re dismissed.” He closes his book and listens to the sound of laptop lids being shut, chairs scraping against the old wooden floor, and chatter amongst his students. It’s a sound he’ll never tire of, no matter how long he teaches.
One sound is distinctly different, though. The sound of her voice. Sweet and soft. Lifting his eyes, he sees her talking to one of his students. Mike something. He can’t quite remember, but she laughs and puts her hand on his arm, making Bob clench his jaw.
Another student, Alicia, comes to his desk to talk about the upcoming assignment and what she can do to improve her grade. Normally, he would tell her to make an appointment at his office, but then Imogen laughs again, making heady eyes at that Mike guy, and he decides he has all the time in the world to talk to Alicia.
He tries to pay attention to his student, to answer her questions, and even tries to smile, but he can feel Imogen looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Her dark gaze is intense and sets his skin on fire in a way he’s been trying to ignore for weeks.
“So,” he hears Mike say. “What are your plans this weekend?”
Bob freezes. He lets his eyes wander over to Imogen, who’s still smiling. Next to him, Alicia is still talking, but her voice is far away and barely audible as he focuses on his assistant.
“I’m revising my dissertation proposal,” she tells him. “They rejected the last one for being too broad, so I have to narrow it down.”
Bob’s on that committee and strongly disagreed, but other members outnumbered him and he was forced to dissent. Dr. Kazansky had given her the news, and Bob remembers the heartbroken look in her eyes when she came to his office afterward. He’d wanted to comfort her then.
“Too busy to have dinner with me?”
Bob straightens his back, eyes still trained on Imogen as he dismisses Alicia, telling her to make an appointment if she wishes to discuss things further.
She mutters a thank you and scurries away. Imogen opens her mouth to answer, but Bob interrupts, certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer she’ll likely provide to this Mike character.
“Miss Van Doren,” he says, barely recognizing the hardness in his own voice. “My office. Now.”
He doesn’t wait for her to respond, but gathers his books and leaves the lecture hall without a glance back to see if she’s following. It doesn’t take long for him to hear her marching footsteps behind him, so he leaves the door open for her.
She slams it shut, so it rattles on the hinges.
“What is your problem?”
She’s furious. Nostrils flared, heavy breathing, and a delicious flush paints her cheeks pink.
“My problem?” he asks, placing the books on his desk. “What’s your problem?”
She drops her bag to the floor and crosses her arms in front of her chest. The gold necklace with her initial catches in the light, drawing his eyes down.
“I don’t have a problem,” she insists, taking a step toward him. “But you constantly berating me is getting old.”
He says nothing. He can’t. Not when she’s looking at him like she wants to wring his neck. Not when all the blood in his body is racing south, and he’s trying not to look at her legs, but they are on full display in that tight little skirt she’s wearing. Again.
He swears she’s doing it on purpose to rile him up.
He hates that it’s working.
She takes a deep breath, pushing her shoulders back, and looks up into his eyes. He’s always found hers unsettling, like she sees the parts of him he’s been hiding for decades.
“I know you don’t want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she says, gesturing around his office, making her short skirt even shorter, revealing more of her supple thighs. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, but you could at least show me the courtesy of not undermining me every time I talk to students.”
He frowns. “I don’t undermine you.”
She scoffs, gaze leaving him as her frustration fills the room. “You interrupted my conversation with Michael not five minutes ago,” she argues as her eyes find his again. Dark brown meeting ocean blue.
He steps forward, eyes wandering over every inch of her exposed skin, making his head spin with barely contained desire. “It was an inappropriate conversation.”
“He asked about my dissertation.”
Bob shakes his head. “No, he asked you out.”
“So what?” she throws her hands out to the side, exasperation turning into full-blown anger now. “He’s been trying to ask me out for weeks, but you always manage to interrupt. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do it on purpose.”
He freezes. His heart’s beating painfully in his chest and his face feels like it’s on fire. There may even be steam coming out of his ears.
He watches Imogen run her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots, and he truly wishes she wouldn’t. It’s conjuring up very vivid images in his head that he shouldn’t have of his teaching assistant.
She looks at him expectantly, thinking an answer is going to come, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to respond to that in a way that’ll make sense to her. It barely even makes sense to himself.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bob says finally.
She scoffs. “Yeah, well, he treats me better than you do, and I know that’s a really low bar, but it’s better than—”
Bob crashes his lips against hers, swallowing the gasp she emits. For a moment nothing happens, and for a second he thinks he’s made a grave mistake, but then Imogen’s arms circle around his waist and she sighs against his mouth.
He walks her backward until her back hits the wall behind his desk, and he presses her against it, trying to get closer.
He pulls away a few inches to look at her. Cheeks flushed, hair a little out of place, and pupils dilated. She’s never looked more delectable, and he knows she can feel his hard cock against her hip. He doesn’t care.
Taking a deep breath, her eyes search his face for something, but it’s unclear whether she finds it. “Why did you do that?”
Her voice is barely above a whisper. There’s no hint of regret, but the rational part of him knows this is a bad idea. He’s her superior, after all.
“You wouldn’t shut up.”
“So you kissed me?” she asks with an adorable wrinkle between her brows.
He frowns. Now sure he’s misjudged the situation, Bob leans back and squares his shoulders, letting his hands fall away from her neck.
“Oh no,” she tuts and grabs a handful of his sweater, pulling him back in. “Get back here.” She stands on her tiptoes and captures his mouth with her own, tongue dancing at the seam of his lips for entry.
He doesn’t have to be told twice. He leans his weight against her, pushing her against the wall, and groans into her mouth when she tugs on his hair.
His hands travel down her body. Grazing across the swell of her breasts, into the dip of her waist, the hips that have occupied his thoughts for weeks, and finally, her thighs. His lips never leave hers, and his tongue explores her mouth and the taste of mint that lingers from her toothpaste.
Imogen shudders as his fingertips tickle the back of her knees, whimpering at the touch.
His hands slide up the back of her bare thighs, feeling her soft skin under his palms. She moans into his mouth and it’s the most arousing sound he’s ever heard. He can’t help the roll of his hips, desperate for friction, for relief, for something warmer than his own hand.
His hands travel up under her skirt, feeling the plumpness of her ass in his hands make him push against her again and she’s meeting him with her own movement.
“Professor,” she moans, as he trails wet kisses along her throat, running his tongue over the skin afterward.
He hums, kneading her ass-cheeks, growing harder as he rocks against her. Even separated by layers of fabric, the friction is enough to drive him mad.
“Dr. Floyd,” she says, pulling his hair hard enough that his lips detach from her throat. Her pupils are wide and hungry, mirroring his own, and their heavy breaths mix in arousing unison. “I’m still mad at you.”
A smug smirk spreads across his face. “I know,” he says and removes one hand from her ass. He uses it to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t go out with him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
The words hang in the air. Bob keeps one hand on the side of her neck while the other remains under her skirt, playing with the edge of her panties. He holds her gaze, waiting for her to make the next move. To tell him where she stands, what she wants.
He sees the moment she decides, the corner of her mouth turning upward just enough to be a smile.
“Show me.”
Yanking her panties to the side, his fingertips glide along her folds, feeling her already soaking for him. Her mouth forms a perfect o as she gasps, and he wonders what else that pretty and vicious mouth can do.
Her fingers curl into the hair at his nape, gasping when he finds her clit. “So pretty like this,” he whispers, kissing the underside of her jaw.
“Professor,” she whimpers. “Please.”
“Come on,” he says, leaning back to watch her. Her brown doe eyes have gone dark with hunger and desire, arousal clear from the bead of sweat on her temple, and his cock is so hard he’s about to go insane. Yet, he still leans in close, his lips featherlight against her ear and whispers “moan for me.”
He leans back just in time to catch the look in her eyes when he presses his thumb against her clit and she lets herself moan. Louder than he expected, so his hand flies over her mouth, keeping her quiet, but feeling her smile beneath his palm.
His thumb massages her clit while his index finger finds her entrance, warmth begging him to enter. Bob meets Imogen’s eyes, asking without saying the words because he doesn’t trust either of them to keep their voices down.
Her nod sends him to heaven.
She moans into his hand as his finger slides inside her. He’s hot all over, groaning into her neck at the sensation of her. “So fucking tight,” he mumbles against her skin, making her clench around him.
Tightening her arms around his shoulders, she whimpers against his palm, and her hips meet his motions as he pumps his finger inside her. Her juices spread across his hand, and before long, he adds a second finger.
His office fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, muffled moans from Imogen, and barely contained groans from himself. He can feel her getting close, her legs trembling, struggling to stay upright. Leaning his forehead against hers, he removes his hand from her mouth. “Quiet,” he mutters against her lips.
She nods as she kisses him, open-mouthed and desperate, and his thumb draws tight circles on her clit as he angles his fingers against that spot inside her. She’s there. He knows it. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Cum for me.”
She does. Gushes around his fingers, writhing in his arms. He guides her through her high, holding her against the wood-paneled wall behind her. Her head falls against his shoulder as she comes down, and a long whine escapes her throat as he withdraws his fingers.
Leaning back to give her a little space, he takes in her unkempt hair, swollen lips, and the breathtaking pink flush in her cheeks. Her eyes flick down to his hand, then turn to the very obvious bulge in his slacks.
“I–”
She takes his hand, the one with fingers covered in her cum, and brings it to her lips. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she closes her mouth around his digits, swirling her tongue around them, tasting herself. He’s entranced, can’t stop watching her when she hums as if it’s the most delicious meal she’s ever had.
She withdraws his fingers with a pop, letting his hand fall back at his side. They stay there, looking at each other, processing what just happened between them. Not only is she his teaching assistant, but he’s on her dissertation committee. He has power and influence, and while she’s not his student, he is her superior.
“I…” he tries again, but trails off.
She smirks, squaring her shoulders. “Close your mouth, Dr. Floyd,” she says and sidesteps him, adjusting her skirt. “You’re too smart to be a mouth breather.”
She crosses the office, gathering her bag from the floor where she dropped it, and he gets a peek at her panties as she bends over. White lace. His slacks have never felt tighter.
Unsure what to say or do, he stands there watching while Imogen tries to make her hair look presentable. “Alright,” she mumbles after a minute. “See you tomorrow.”
The door closes behind her, leaving Bob in his office, surrounded by books, paper, a chessboard, a laptop he’s forced to own, and the memory of his TA coming undone on his fingers.
There’s only one word to describe the situation he now finds himself in.
“Fuck.”
likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden
gold rush is an anthology academia!au series featuring robert "bob" floyd and imogen van doren. all works can be read independently of each other, but are set in the same universe. strictly 18+/minors dni.
CONTENT KEY
warnings on individual fics
✩ = fluff | ♧ = angst | △ = suggestive | ϟ = smut
FICS
gold rush
↳ Bob meets his new teaching assistant for the first time
burning flames ♧ ϟ
↳ A heated argument reaches a fever pitch for Bob and his TA.
a gift and an invitation △
↳ Bob gets a gift and extends an invitation.
the holiday truce (sneak peek)
↳ Bob and Imogen call a truce and spend the holidays together.
rose blush △✩
↳ Professor Bob has a special surprise for his TA on Valentine's Day.
dirty mind △ϟ
↳ Imogen learns something new about Professor Bob.
what if i love you ✩
↳ Imogen contemplates her relationship with Bob.
you're mine ϟ
↳ Professor Bob claims Imogen.
yours ϟ
↳ Bob is working on his next book when Imogen comes home and suggests they try something new.
BLURBS
◦ don't say her name
◦ morning head
◦ a whole damn meal
◦ new desk
◦ not so fast
◦ we won't be missed
◦ carry you to bed
◦ hot cocoa
◦ snowball fight
◦ kiss as a promise
◦ hand kisses
◦ tummy kisses
◦ beg for it ϟ
◦ touch myself if you do
◦ hottest man i know
◦ t-shirt
◦ italian holiday
MISCELLANEOUS
◦ moodboard | created by @ryebecca
◦ moodboard | created by @bradshawsbaby
MUSINGS
thots by readers
↳ asks sent by you, the readers, sharing your headcanons, thoughts, ideas, and the most sinful thots about eccentric professor bob.
Eccentric Professor Bob is horny on a good day, but on vacation? Absolute menace. He wakes up horny, cock hard and desperate for Imogen, but she’s not complaining. It’s slow and lazy, leaving her incoherent and boneless. She wears that skimpy bikini that drives him wild, and he just has to have a taste until she’s coming undone on his tongue and her back arches off the sun lounger. He’s whispering filth in her ear as they eat lunch at a local restaurant, and he fucks her in their pool, not caring if the neighbors can hear her scream his name. As they make dinner, she brushes past him to choose the wine, and he’s not sure how it happens, but he has her bent over the table, thrusting into her hard and deep. Dinner almost catches fire, so they go out to eat instead. Afterward, as they walk home, Imogen pulls him into a secluded alley, drops to her knees, and proceeds to give him the blowjob of his life. By the time they make it back to the house, he’s hard and ready again, but he takes his time then. He carefully undresses Imogen, groans at the sight of her special vacation lingerie, and enjoys every second of taking it off her, watching it fall to the ground. He spreads her out on the bed and worships every inch of her, paying attention to places he usually neglects until eventually she’s begging for his cock. He loves her needy noises and his name sounds like heaven on her lips. He has her clenching around his fingers first, withdrawing right as her orgasm is about to hit and she whines so loud he can’t help but grin. When he’s inside her, he pounds into her, telling her how beautiful she is, what a good girl she is, that she’s all his. She’s moaning and babbling, clawing at his back, and he’s never known love or sex like this. She cums twice, and he finishes inside her with a shout of her name. Afterward, he carries her to the bathroom and cleans her up, praises her, tells her how much he loves her. She hisses from sensitivity when he cleans between her legs, and he presses a soothing kiss to her forehead. Back in the bed, they lie naked in each other’s arms, tracing patterns across freckled skin. Eventually, Imogen drifts off to sleep. He watches her and wonders how on earth he got so lucky. Then she moves in her slumber, hiking her leg up so her knee grazes his cock, making him harden. He considers waking her up so they can go again, but decides to let her sleep and resorts to take care of it himself. He tries to be quiet, stifling moans and keeping his body as still as possible, and it really only takes a few minutes to spill into his hand. “You’ll be the death of me,” he whispers into her hair, but knows he wouldn’t have it any other way.
eccentric professor bob floyd (historical romance version) sneak peek
Encouraged by my wonderful friends @withahappyrefrain and @ryebecca, I present you a sneak peek at the historical romance AU fic I'm working on for Eccentric Professor Bob and Imogen. I shared the beginning of this for a tag game a couple of days ago, but I've added more to it since then. Enjoy ✨
“Who’s there?”
The flickering candle comes closer, and slowly, the holder’s dark doe eyes come into his line of sight, along with long wavy hair and soft-looking skin.
“Lady Imogen,” he says when she stops a few paces away.
“Professor,” she greets, one brow quirked. “What brings you here at this time of night?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Her breathy chuckle fills the quiet library. “So you could,” she agrees. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get something to read.”
“I had the same thought,” he admits. He’s trying not to look at her state of undress, but his eyes travel down to her simple cotton nightgown, and his breath hitches. She’s not wearing a dressing gown.
Imogen seems unfazed by his wandering eye.
“Did you find something advanced enough to challenge your mind, Professor?”
He drags his gaze back to her face. “Not yet,” he says. “Perhaps you have a recommendation?”
In the candlelight, her mouth turns up in a smile that makes her keen eyes sparkle. Humming, she scans the shelves he’s standing in front of, inspecting the titles and writers, and he wonders, not for the first time, where she’s been hiding all his life.
Knowing of her is one thing, but knowing her is something else entirely. He longs to touch her. To feel her skin against his, the taste of her tongue, the sounds she’d make when he gives her pleasure. He wants all of it but is entitled to none of it.
He aches in a way he’s never done before.
“Ah,” she says, having spotted something interesting on the shelf. She reaches past him, her breast grazing his chest as she stands on her tiptoes to reach. Despite the fabric separating them, every cell in his body’s on fire, and the blood that first rushed to his head now travels south to his cock.
If her breast through cotton does this to him, he’s afraid of what would happen if he touched her bare skin.
Unaware of his internal crisis, Imogen grasps the book she’d spotted and settles back on her feet. She studies the leather-bound book for a moment. “I’m surprised the Countess even has a copy of this. She does not strike me as someone with a vested interest in the subject.”
“Perhaps the Earl added it to the library,” he says without knowing what book it is and takes a step away to put some distance between them.
“The Earl is a dear friend of my father’s, but he is not an intelligent man,” Imogen explains. “The Countess is a brilliant woman. I am quite certain it was she who acquired it.”
Imogen offers the book to him. He snatches it out of her hand quickly, hoping she won’t look at him too long and notice the extra limb throbbing in his trousers.
He opens to the title page, brow furrowing when he realizes the book she’s recommended to him. His head whips up.
“I’m sure you’ve already read it,” she says, looking uncertain for the first time since she joined him. “Darwin makes a compelling argument. I wrote him a letter with a list of questions, but never received a reply. I’m sure he thinks me a feebleminded woman who won’t understand the complexities of his theory.”
Robert closes the book. “If Darwin thinks you feebleminded, he is a fool.”
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italian holiday | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc
a gold rush blurb
SUMMARY: Professor Bob has big plans for his three-week holiday with Imogen.
WORD COUNT: 277
masterlist | taglist
“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”
Bob and Imogen are walking along the beach, lights bouncing off the water from the villas built into the rocky landscape that surrounds the quiet seaside village.
Bob has his arm draped over her shoulders and keeps her pressed gently against his body as they walk. They’re carrying their shoes, allowing bare feet to leave footprints in the soft sand that the calm waves wash away before you can blink.
“Nothing,” he says and kisses the side of her head.
Imogen stops and looks up at him. He’s wearing a blue linen shirt that makes his eyes look crystal blue, even in the warm light of the setting sun. He looks more at ease here than at home, and she decides Italy suits him.
“Robert Floyd,” she warns with a teasing lilt to her tone. “Don’t lie to me.”
His breathy chuckle makes her smile, and she knows when he leans down and presses his lips against hers that he’s planning something. She knows his contemplative face like the back of her hand.
“Fine,” she says, shoving gently at his chest. “Don’t tell me, but you’re up to something and I will figure it out.”
He drops his shoes in the sand and pulls her in by the waist. He kisses her again, deep and languid, making her toes curl in the sand and desire shoots through her every nerve ending.
When they part, they’re breathless, and Bob slides a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“You don’t have to guess. I’ll tell you.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “When?”
“Soon,” he promises and pecks her lips.
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