#I finally filled my old one so I made a new one last week

[lavendette]

My first picture in my new sketchbook

#a #makes #I finally filled my old one so I made a new one last week #p and my mother and I painted quite a bit this weekend which was really nice #he wants to paint down by the river together this week and I’m looking forward to it as a relaxing hobby

[hubbvrd]

number 45 with joe burrow please 💕💕

Surprise | Joe Burrow

summary — Moving house is not always stress-free. But despite the last few hard weeks, Joe makes sure to put a smile on your face with a surprise

pairing — joe burrow x reader

words — 1952

notes — thanks for your request. I hope you like it!!🧡

The last few weeks and months had been associated with a lot of stress and headaches.

Anyone who loved moving and said that it wasn't so bad and stressful was completely wrong.

For Joe and you, there had been nothing worse in the last few weeks and months than setting up your new home and packing moving boxes.

The countless hours spent in various furniture stores had been a lot of fun for you, but when it came to painting various walls and putting together all the countless pieces of furniture, there was the occasional argument between you out of sheer desperation.

However, you were able to resolve the small arguments about how you should place the furniture in the respective rooms fairly quickly, so that every small argument was resolved within a few minutes.

"This is finally the last one." Joe puts the last box down in the hallway before running his fingers through his completely disheveled hair.

"We've finally done it," you murmur with relief and hand Joe a bottle of water before sitting down on the step and catching your breath.

In the last two hours, you've moved countless boxes from your old home to your new home and dragged them inside, so you're more than sure you'll be feeling sore muscles for the next few days.

"Finally," Joe agrees as he sits down next to you on the step and you rest your head on his shoulder.

"And who's going to unpack all our stuff now?" you mumble tiredly as you look at the piles of boxes blocking the passage to the open-plan living and dining room.

"That's the question..." Joe takes a big gulp from his water bottle before running his fingers through his hair again and letting out a loud sigh.

The move is already pretty exhausting as it is, but then there's the hot weather, which has doubled the strain on your strength.

"How about we take a little break first? We rest and eat a little and then we'll take care of all the boxes?" Joe suggests after a few minutes of silence, which almost caused you to doze off any second.

"Sounds like a great plan. If I knew where my bikini was, I'd jump into the cold water first and inaugurate our new pool."

A highlight for you is definitely the large pool in the garden, where you can swim a few lengths undisturbed or simply float in the water with an inflatable swimming animal.

"Fortunately, I've made sure that we can easily get to our swimming gear.

With a proud smile on his lips, Joe lifts a bag in front of your nose, from which he pulls out your bikini and you jump for joy, shrieking softly around your boyfriend's neck.

"You don't know how much I love you."

You give Joe a kiss on the cheek and then pick up your bikini.

Joe gives you a soft laugh in response.

"Let's see who's in the pool first." He more or less challenges you and before you can answer, Joe has already disappeared into the bathroom to get changed.

"That's not fair! You started way too early!" you shout after him with a laugh and slowly get up from the stairs.

You can already feel the muscles in your arms and thighs starting to ache slightly and you probably won't be able to move without pain tomorrow.

But you don't really care about that right now, because the only thing that matters right now is the pool of your new garden, so you quickly change into your everyday clothes and then throw on your favorite bikini before grabbing your towel and running into the garden.

Your old garden was quite small and had hardly any space to do anything big in it, which wasn't the case at all in the new garden.

The new garden is almost three times the size of the old garden and offers so much space for countless possibilities that the huge green space is almost crying out to be filled with beautiful things.

Once the house is ready, Joe and you will get to work on the garden, for which your Pinterest board was already almost overflowing with countless different possibilities just waiting to be realized.

"Do you want to keep staring at the garden or finally join me in the pool?" Joe's voice pulls you back to the here and now.

Your boyfriend is already in the water, floating on his back through the water, looking so relaxed and rested that a smile spreads across your lips.

"The water's even nice and cold" he adds as he slowly stands up and swims over to the edge of the pool.

"Just what I need, then."

A smile forms on your lips as you walk across the warm lawn to the pool and then sit down at the edge and let your legs slide into the cold water.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you begin to feel the cold water on your skin. Joe is right, despite the heat today, the water is incredibly pleasant, so you slide into the cool water without hesitation and then stand opposite Joe.

"I was telling the truth," he smiles, trying to tell you that he's not always pulling your leg like you accused him of a few days ago.

Because every now and then Joe loved to pull your leg, more or less.

Just yesterday he tried to convince you to watch a movie that wasn't even supposed to be scary. But in the end, you were so creeped out that you had to bury your face in Joe's shirt for the rest of the movie.

"This time, but who knows when you won't. I think you like to tease me, Burrow, and that's not fair."

You splash a little water on his face, which only makes the person opposite you start to laugh quietly.

"Lie. I would never do this. How could I?" he replies with a laugh and a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"You're such a liar," you pout lightly as you swim towards him and then cling to him, trying to somehow push him under the water, which turns out not to be too easy.

Joe is standing so firmly that you barely manage to move him even an inch.

A resounding laugh rings out above you, which only makes you pout even more.

"That's not fair."

"Oh, y/n. You really are incredibly cute." amused, Joe presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms tightly around you and starts to swim off with you.

"I'll probably have to eat the whole pizza by myself today so that I can push you under the water tomorrow," you reply with a shrug and a big grin on your lips, to which Joe just rolls his eyes.

"How much time do we have until the pizza arrives?"

After you had put on your bikini, you ordered pizza for both of you via a delivery service so that you didn't have to cook anything or drive out to get something to eat.

"About another thirty minutes."

"That's enough." In one swift movement, Joe lifts you out of the pool and climbs out after you.

"Hey, we haven't been in the pool long," you pout again as Joe puts the towel around your shoulders and you snuggle up in it.

"We still have enough time for this in the coming weeks, months and years."

You watch Joe as he also puts a towel around his shoulders before holding out his hand to you with the words "Follow me, I have a suprise for you"

"A surprise? I love surprises!" you exclaim in anticipation as you take Joe's hand in yours and another soft laugh comes from Joe's direction.

"I know that. That's why I love giving you surprises." Joe squeezes your hand gently before walking with you across the lawn to the small hut at the end of the garden.

In fact, it wasn't exactly rare for Joe to give you a surprise.

He often brought you flowers, your favorite sweets or ice cream after training or after a game.

He also often took you out to dinner or on other romantic dates.

Joe's romantic side was one of the many reasons you fell in love with the Bengals quarterback.

"Do you want to show me all the big, nasty spiders in the cabin?" you ask with a slightly contorted face as you start to think back to the day of the tour.

Because on the day you first visited your dream house and were blown away by it, the hut more or less disgusted you.

Because the huge mess, which was accompanied by countless spiders and cobwebs in the hut, had already given you a big stomach ache during the viewing, so that you were already dreading having to clear this hut of all the spiders and cobwebs one day and then clean it out.

"No, don't worry," Joe assures you as you stop in front of the hut, which now has a new coat of white paint and no longer shows the hideous peeling paint, and Joe takes out the keys.

Outside the windows of the hut you can see white curtains that hadn't been there before.

Before you can even ask Joe why the cabin has curtains, Joe opens the door and gently pushes you inside and what you see inside leaves you open-mouthed.

The walls are lined with countless white bookshelves that reach up to the ceiling. There is a ladder on the shelves, which ensures that you can easily reach the top shelves.

All your books have found their place on the shelves and despite all this, there are still countless free compartments for more new books.

There is also a cozy armchair for reading, a matching stool, lots of fairy lights and lamps, as well as a rug that makes the room even cozier.

"Wow..." you stammer, overwhelmed, as you slowly turn in a circle, trying to take in every corner of the room.

Joe stands in the doorway and watches you with a broad smile as tears slowly well up in your eyes and you look over at him, moved.

"Surprise," he whispers as you cross the room in three long strides and fall into your boyfriend's arms as sobs escape you.

"Thank you, darling," you whisper, sobbing into his chest as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you gently.

"I thought this hut was perfect for your reading room. Here you can read undisturbed and run your book blog and all your other book channels."

"It really is. You don't know how much this means to me, thanks Joe." You slowly lift your gaze and look into your boyfriend's shining eyes.

"I was happy to do that, y/n. It's incredibly important to me that you have your own four walls where you can pursue your passion and since our house isn't really finished yet, it was important to me that this room is finished first and that you have it so that you can retreat and immerse yourself in the world of books."

Joe's words cause countless tears to start rolling down your cheeks.

You can't put into words how touched you are by his words and his surprise, so you whisper a quiet "Thank you" and then press your lips to Joe's.

And you realize once again how much you love Joe. And how grateful you are that he is by your side and that you are the one who gets to wake up by his side every day.

#joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow #nfl imagines #nfl #nfl fic #cincinnati bengals #nfl imagine

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Bad Boys Get More

I had been working my office job for years now, at least 3. I talked my way up and had been happily ready to be promoted. But last time someone got it over me, no big deal. I wasn't concerned. I mean he was here longer than even I was! So of course he did! And then this month I had applied and interviewed again for a manager spot. Even higher than I got before. Unfortunately... I had been passed up again.

This time was different though. This time was much much worse. It was some guy with tats all over his body. That wasn't the only problem either. Devin, the new "manager" and guy in question, just didn't show up to work some days. So I decided enough was enough and I tried to confront my boss about it. It was his decision ultimately.

"Hey." I said a bit annoyed, but trying to conceal it. "Mind if I have a piece of your time, Henry."

My boss looked at me, he was also a bit younger... not as young as me but not old old? Probably just about 40. "Yeah sure, what's it about." He said a bit plainly as he walked back into his office, me following.

"It's about Devin." He nodded, knowing what I was going to say. "Why was he chosen over me? I mean... he has such shit attendance! He barely even did his job!"

By now Henry was a bit upset, I had been talking about this for the past week to other co-workers and he had overheard it. This was his decision and now he'd let me know why. "You wanna know why Devin got the job instead of you? One simple reason. He's chill."

"What?"

He continued as if I hadn't said a word. "Devin's a cool guy, he's been here a little less than you, sure, but he won't complain when someone else gets the job instead of him." He looked at me and nodded, as if knowing something.

"But he hardly looks professional!" I blurted out.

"Neither do you, Colt." Colt? Who's Colt? "But don't worry, we don't discriminate here against what's on someone's body. Which by the way, what are all of yours about?" He pointed to my arm... what was happening to it?! Black writing was going down it and ink filled it up. Making images, Henry came over and looked at my arm.

"Oh that? That's a meaning between someone and... wait... no..." I tried to resist.

"No need... dang, what gym do you go to? I would ask the next question on our interview but you've worked here for a while and I do know you can lift more than 50 pounds now." I looked at my bulking up physique. I tried to stop it but it just looked like I was flexing more. I held back a chuckle.

"Well... I think the interview might be done. You have the job, unless you have questions for me."

"I-I... What did you do to me?!" I stood up and looked at my body. My clothes clung to every bit of me, an outline in my pants and pecs obvious.

"Why Colt, I just made you able to get the job you wanted. Trust me. We were going to give it to you anyways but with how you were acting? Devin put in a good word at least. Said all you needed to do was be more like him. So... there ya go." He stood up and shook my hand.

"You'll get used to your new life during your shift with Dev tonight, shouldn't take long. Tons of changes... hopefully you find them all for the better." Henry smirked as he walked out. Devin came into the room.

"Glad to see you finally got 'your' Position dude. We're gonna have fun tonight..."

#bulky #alpha jock #jock #jock bulge #jock tf #muscle #handsome #alpha male tf #alpha muscle #alpha man #alpha #mtm tf #male tf #muscle tf #male body swap #male body possession #male transformation #male to male #bad boy tf #bad boy #mental transformation #transformation #transform

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1720

The One I Want Masterlist

---

Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it. 

In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions. 

It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery. 

“So I was thinking,” he says. 

You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.

His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”

That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals. 

There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached. 

But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so. 

“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”

You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises. 

“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”

“What?”

His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin. 

“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”

—

It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both. 

“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”

Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”

Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats. 

Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake. 

“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks. 

Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed. 

Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy. 

You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”

He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”

When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs. 

“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”

With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. 

He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”

“No.”

“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”

Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”

Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks. 

Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”

“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”

There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.

After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines. 

When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe. 

It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head. 

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination. 

Your eyes snap up. 

The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake. 

You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later. 

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”

---

A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #top gun #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x plus size!reader #jake seresin angst

[xxsabitoxx]

Pale Blue [2] No Context Teaser Suguru Edition

A/N: taking a little break from my finals just to share this cause I miss writing Pale Blue and physically cannot wait for this week to be over.

Pairing is Geto Suguru x Pregnant Reader

“She will be the last client for this year, please let any new potential clients know that I will not be able to meet with them until after the new year.” 

She nodded quickly before departing, leaving Suguru alone again as he reached for the paperwork he set down. “What a kind heart you have, papa Geto.” Suguru hadn’t even been able to read the next sentence, laughing softly at Mimiko’s comment. The brunette girl was kicking her feet, coloring intently beside her sister on the plush rug Suguru had put in just for them. “It’s important to help people in need, you know. She seemed like she could really use it.” He smiled fondly at the two sisters, listening to Nanako hum softly as she scribbled onto the page. 

“I guess you’re right.” 

“You guess I’m right?” 

Mimiko nodded, stopping her coloring to look up at Suguru behind his desk. “Yeah, I mean you really don’t need to help anyone. But you choose to do so even when you don’t have to. You have a kind heart, papa Geto.” The small girl repeated her initial statement, smiling softly as Suguru’s expression morphed into one of genuine surprise. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, watching her small head turn back to the paper she was drawing on, starting to hum along with the tune Nanako had set. Suguru sat there, wondering how a child could think of such things. 

He saw himself as anything but kind-hearted at this point in his life. But still, he didn’t have the heart to say those things, especially not to a six year old. Suguru had barely reached for his paperwork again when your face crossed his mind, making him freeze once more. You had been a constant thought in his mind since the day he left. Not even an hour had gone by where you didn’t consume his thoughts, knocking the air from his lungs and paralyzing him for a moment. He missed you. Fuck he missed you terribly and it was enough to render him utterly immobile at points. 

Slowly, he forced air back in his lungs, your smile leaving a permanent mark engraved in his mind. He didn’t regret anything he did up until this point, well maybe except for one particular thing. He didn’t take you with him the day he left. He knew he loved you too much to force you into this kind of life, he needed it to be a choice you made out of your own free will. Something cheesy about loving someone meant setting them free when the time came had crossed his mind when leaving you that letter. Leaving it on the bed he once called his own, so long as you were in it, it was his. 

But still, the choice to leave it all up to your own free will did nothing to fill the void beside him each night. How desperately he wished you were laying beside him, curled perfectly into his embrace, face snuggled into the crook of his neck. Your natural musk mixing with your perfume, your hair tickling his hands as he held you tight, your chest rising and falling evenly as you slept. He ached to hold you again, finding it hard to fall asleep each night in your absence. But he had made this choice, he had to own it, even if that meant you weren’t a part of his life right now. 

“But he knew, deep down, that it was only temporary; you'd come back to him.”

#banners from benkeibear <3 #may's pale blue 🩵 #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru smut #geto suguru #suguru geto #hidden inventory arc #jjk angst #jjk anime #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jjk #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #geto suguru angst #geto angst #suguru angst #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

[navybrat817]

We'll Always be Friends

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: It's time to have dinner with your friends, but your mind keeps drifting to Bucky. Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU and a direct continuation of Waiting a Little Longer! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You found it difficult to leave your room, even with your friends waiting downstairs. Reconnecting with Bucky though, it made sense why you wanted to be alone with him a little longer. That wasn't fair to everyone else. The group didn't hang out quite as often during the duration of Bucky and Dot's relationship, but you were looking forward to spending time together and catching up this week.

We've weathered through tough times and deserve some fun.

Bucky put his hand on your lower back as you made your way down the stairs. The man could hardly hug you when he was with his ex, but now he wouldn't stop touching you. Just like in your room minutes ago. Not that you were going to push him away. You more than missed the affection that used to exist between you two and each minute that passed seemed to make you fall back in sync. As long as you didn't get too comfortable, it was fine.

Everything is fine.

Everyone was gathered in the brightly lit dining room, food already spread out on plates as chatter filled the room. Steve, at the head of the table, chuckled at something Sam said. Sharon laughed as well and you couldn't help but smile as you observed them. Perhaps you were imagining it, but the atmosphere wasn't as thick as it had been over the last couple of years. Even Natasha's subtle smile was gentler, more relaxed.

Like old times.

"Hey! Finally!" Sam smiled once he spotted you, bringing everyone's attention your way. Steve's smile didn't quite reach his eyes when the girls greeted you, making you tense up a little. "We were about to send a search party after you two."

"No need for that," you smiled a little when Sam pushed his chair back. "No need for that either," you teased as he walked toward you, but to no avail. He enveloped you in a hug before you could stop him. The man was almost as tall as Bucky and Steve and just as muscular. The three of them were beautiful giants in your eyes.

"Nope. Not getting out of a hug," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Give Steve one, please. He thinks you're upset with him."

You felt a little sick to your stomach as he pulled away. You hadn't meant to make Steve feel bad. "I will," you whispered back before you gave the blonde a small smile. He looked like a golden retriever who had his bone taken away. "Do I get a hug from you, too?"

Steve's shoulders dropped in relief as he got up. "Of course, you do."

Like Sam, Steve's hug was warm and friendly. They never held onto you for too long or linger the way Bucky did. A quick embrace and nothing more.

"It's good to see you. I'm sorry I rushed off when you got here," you said, wanting him at ease.

Steve shook his head and gave you a rueful smile. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he said. You didn't get a chance to ask him why before he went back to his seat. "And it's good to see you, too."

You turned your attention to the girls instead who looked perfectly at ease on their side of the table. Natasha and Sharon were as gorgeous as they were intimidating. A sultry redhead and a blonde bombshell, they could come across as unapproachable from a first glance. But they were fierce and loyal friends. You were lucky to have them in your life.

"Please, don't get up. I will hug you both after dinner," you begged when they scooted their chairs back. "I appreciate you waiting for us to join you."

"So the boys get hugs, but we don't. I see how it is," Natasha teased.

"No one hugged me," Bucky pointed out.

"No one likes you," Sam chimed in, drawing a laugh from the girls.

"Butterfly likes me just fine," Bucky said, making you nod and bite your tongue so you didn't blurt out how much you really liked him. "Sit next to me?" He asked hopefully, pulling out your chair for you.

"Since these are the only two chairs left, sure," you teased, gazing up at him as you sat down. He stared back at you before he took a seat. "How was the drive?"

"The storm slowed us down, but Steve got us here safe and sound," Sharon answered as everyone began to eat. Steve wasn't one to brag, but you caught him grinning for a split second. "But what about you two? Did you get up to anything before we got here?"

Just snuggled with Bucky and fell asleep in his arms.

Bucky looked up from his plate as you glanced at him. "We wanted to go swimming, but the rain ruined that plan and we ended up taking a nap," you said.

Natasha's eyes darted between the two of you. "You ended up taking a nap," she repeated slowly. "You slept together?"

Bucky coughed and shook his head as your eyes went wide. The redhead looked pleased with herself as she waited for an explanation. "I. We. No?" You answered.

"We fell asleep together on the couch. That's it," Bucky explained once he recovered from his cough. "Nothing happened."

That's it. Nothing happened.

You curled in a bit on yourself when Natasha frowned. "Yeah. What Bucky said," you agreed, ignoring his gaze.

You had no reason to feel sad. It wasn't as if Bucky meant anything by his response. He gave Nat an honest answer. So why did it feel like a brush off?

Steve cleared his throat when the silence stretched on. "Well, I'm glad we're all here."

Good ol' Steve breaking the tension.

"Yeah. When's the last time we all went to the beach together?" Sam asked. "Was it last year? The year before?"

Bucky moved his chair closer to yours, but you didn't acknowledge it. "Two summers ago for Steve's birthday."

Right before Dot.

Everyone was either kind enough not to voice the connection or didn't want to talk about her.

"That's right. You guys bought him a red, white, and blue Speedo," you said, remembering the redness in Steve's cheeks when he opened the present. A few drinks in and he ended up wearing them.

"They looked good on me. It would've been rude not to wear them," Steve defended himself as Sam laughed. "That was a good day."

"It was," you agreed, glancing around the table. "Perfect weather and company."

We'll always be friends.

Bucky caught your eye when he nodded. "You found a seashell on the beach and you were so excited because the color was the exact same shade of blue as your bathing suit," he said, smiling to himself as you listened. "You said it had to be some sort of good luck charm and made it your mission to find one to match my swim trunks so I'd have some good luck, too."

He remembered that?

"That was why you kept running back and forth between Buck and the water," Steve grinned, nodding to Bucky. "He wouldn't tell me what you were doing. Just that you were looking for the perfect shell."

"I was determined to find it," you giggled as Natasha and Sharon shared a look. "I must've brought dozens of shells over."

It was silly when you looked back on it, but Bucky obliged and let you have your fun. In fact, your whims and nature never once seemed to bother him. He supported them.

"You didn't give up. And about twenty minutes later, you found one," he said, rubbing the back of his neck when he added, "I still have that seashell."

You took a breath before a bashful smile crept up your face. "You kept it?"

"Well, yeah," he replied, casually putting his arm around the back of your chair. "You gave it to me."

The room went quiet and you felt everyone's eyes on you, but your focus was on Bucky. "I had no idea."

The thought that Bucky held onto something so small and seemingly insignificant because it came from you had your mind running a mile a minute. Why not get rid of it? Maybe the shell reminded him of Steve's birthday and he didn't want to let that go. The voice that led with your heart said he kept it because you gave him a tiny gift.

He kept something because I gave it to him.

Your smile widened before the flash of a camera went off, the softness leaving Bucky's eyes as you both blinked.

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself," Sharon said with an innocent stare when you tore your gaze away from Bucky. "Need photos for the scrapbook. You understand."

Bucky kept his arm on your chair as everyone began to eat again. "You're making one for this trip?"

"Yeah, I want to take as many pictures as I can."

In the past, Sharon had put together photo albums and scrapbooks full of memories of the group. Sometimes for herself, others as gifts to her friends. Each one was beautiful and special, a way to reflect on the past and appreciate the time together.

"No rain tomorrow, so plenty of chances to get some outdoor photos. Maybe we can play some beach volleyball. Three on three," Sam suggested.

"You just want to show off," Natasha smirked. She wasn't wrong. The guys enjoyed the competition. "But let's make it interesting. We win, you boys have to do all the chores this week. You win, we'll take care of them."

"And if we win, you boys also have to take us to the carnival in town and win each of us a prize," Sharon added, pointing at Steve. "I know you had the carnival on the list of things to do."

"And if we win, you'll win each of us a prize?" Steve asked.

"We have to win because I'm terrible at those games," you said. They were fun, but you couldn't remember ever winning a prize.

Bucky leaned over as the group began to debate whether or not carnivals rigged the games. "I'll win you a prize no matter who wins the volleyball game," he promised.

"I'll hold you to that," you said, giddy at the thought of him winning you a teddy bear or some other stuffed animal.

"You two up for a little drinking tonight or do you plan on falling asleep on the couch again?" Sam joked, interrupting your private conversation.

"I will drink. But if I have too much, Bucky has to carry me to bed," you said.

"What happened to calling me 'Dreamboat'?"

He's pouting and it's adorable.

"Okay. You carry me to bed if I drink too much and tuck me in, Dreamboat."

"Deal," he easily agreed.

"To the best week ahead!" Steve announced.

"And get ready to get your asses handed to you tomorrow," Sam added.

As everyone began to playfully argue again, you made a mental decision not to drink too much. Alcohol had a way of making people lose their inhibitions and the last thing you needed to do was blurt something personal out in front of the whole gang. Bucky promised that the two of you would talk and you would. Sober. But a fun night could be what you needed to kick off the rest of the week.

Things will start to come to light in the next part or two. A calm before the storm, if you will... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️ Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #best friend!bucky barnes #best friend!bucky barnes x reader #reconnect au #dreamboat and butterfly #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

[lewmagoo]

to my heart, he carries the key | bob floyd

sequel to someone to watch over me (i recommend reading the first part beforehand so this makes more sense)

description: in which a threat is made against the president’s daughter’s life, and agent robert floyd is tasked with carrying out ‘operation hidden angel’

characters: secret service agent bob floyd x f!reader, pete mitchell, beau simpson, dagger squad as their own respective characters

warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic terrorism, military, secret service and us gov’t inaccuracies, smut, unprotected sex, forbidden love, gun violence, attempted kidnapping, hospitals, broken bones, angst, hopeful ending

Things had changed in The White House.

It had been three months since that fateful night during a charity event, where a man in the crowd targeted the First Daughter of the United States. Agents Robert Floyd, Jacob Seresin, and Reuben Fitch intercepted the perpetrator, and he was disarmed before he could harm anyone. He had been taken into custody, and after weeks of extensive questioning and investigation, The Department of Homeland Security had determined that this man was not working alone. He was a member of a homegrown terrorist organization.

The only thing they couldn’t get out of him was the location of the organization. He refused to give them up, but he was adamant that in a few short months, they were going to go through with their next act of violence. And this time, people were going to die. 

It was very calculated. Every last detail was planned out. How they would get the attention of the American public. How they would carry out their threat against the US government. And the way that they planned to do that? 

Why, kidnapping the president’s daughter, of course. 

During the time it took to obtain that information from the perpetrator, there was unrest in The White House. A changing of the guard, so to speak, was taking place. Tragedy had struck in the personal life of Pete Mitchell, head of White House security. 

His husband of over thirty years, Tom Kazansky, had passed away after a bout with cancer. Pete took it hard. Hard enough that after the funeral and the burial and everything in between, he decided that it was time to retire from his decade long position as head of security. 

It was not a decision that he took lightly. In fact, he’d agonized over it before finally biting the bullet and placing his letter of resignation upon the president’s desk.

“The truth is, I’m getting too old for this,” he told his team of agents, as he addressed them on the day he left. “I know, I know, it’s shocking to most of you,” he teased, as lighthearted chuckles filled the room. “But…it’s time for me to step down. Tom’s death showed me how fragile life is, and how much I should be cherishing it. I have grandchildren on the way, and I plan to be here to watch them grow up.” He glanced at Bradley Bradshaw, and the pair shared a silent understanding. Bradley’s wife was expecting. Pete didn’t want to miss a moment of that little one’s life.

“So, in my stead, Beau Simpson has agreed to take on the position as the new White House Head of Security.”

And thus, new leadership walked onto the stage. 

At first, things weren’t that much difference. Your personal security detail, with Bob as the head, remained the same. Everyone missed Agent Mitchell, but life had to go on. And go on, it did. 

Bob, for one, wasn’t the biggest fan of change. But change was part of the job, it was part of life, so he couldn’t make a big deal about it. When Simpson began to implement subtle changes into the way things were done, Bob bristled, but he didn’t speak out. He held his tongue, because he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to rebel against Simpson’s leadership, he’d lose his job faster than he could even blink.

So he simply observed silently and waited to see just how many changes Simpson was going to make.

And then, one day, Bob was called into the president’s office, where he stood before Agent Simpson and POTUS himself. “Do you know why we’ve brought you in, Agent Floyd?” Beau asked.

“No sir,” came Bob’s simple response. He didn’t get the sense that he was losing his job, so he had no idea why he was standing here in the Oval Office. 

“I’m sure you recall three months ago, when a threat was made against the president’s daughter.”

“Yes sir, vividly.” He’d never forget that night. Never forget the terror in your voice as you called out for him. 

Then, the president interjected. “As Agent Mitchell previously briefed you, the perpetrator was part of a domestic terrorist organization here on our soil. Recently, he confessed to agents that this group will be carrying out an act of violence upon the American people. We aren’t sure where, or when exactly, but what we are sure of, is that they’re going to go after my daughter again.”

Agent Simpson picked up where the man left off. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. What we talk about here is strictly confidential. It is a matter of national security.” Then he leaned closer toward Bob. “I am going to give you a set of coordinates. No one else but you, me, and the president know them. Once I give them to you, I want you to be prepared for my signal. When I deem it necessary, you will go to the Residence, retrieve his daughter, and escort her to this location. You will not bring any other agents with you. Just you, and herself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir. But why am I being given coordinates contrary to the location of the safe house that was already put in place?”

“Because that location has been compromised. You must only escort her to the coordinates I give you. Her life depends on it.”

“And when we get there?”

“You wait for my all clear. It won’t be safe to bring her back home until the threat is neutralized. Can you carry out these orders?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now memorize these coordinates.” Agent Simpson recited the numbers twice. Bob had an excellent memory, and stored away the information easily. Once he confirmed the coordinates by reciting them back to the man, Beau nodded. “From here on out, you will be prepared at all times to carry out Operation Hidden Angel.”

Bob breathed in, then out. Then he nodded. “I will be standing by awaiting further orders.”

The president stood from behind his desk. “I trust you to do whatever it takes to protect my only child, Agent Floyd. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.”

He was dismissed from the office, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he was burdened with a deep sense of pressure. The need to do his job well. Not because your father and the entire country was depending on him, but because you were depending on him. 

He had taken an oath to serve and protect. And he meant it. Even before he knew he loved you, he had made good on that oath. And now, even more so. You were infinitely precious to him, and he would do whatever it took to ensure your safety. 

Even if it meant giving his life to ensure it. He was fully prepared to go to that length if he needed to. 

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept drifting to you. To how much he loved you. How much he missed you. He saw you everyday. He escorted you to wherever you needed to go. But those moments did not allow him to be alone with you in the way that you both wanted. There were always prying eyes. Other members of your security detail. Cameras. Nosey reporters. Your relationship had remained secret all this time, and you couldn’t risk exposing it. 

So he would continue pining for you, desiring you, hoping for a private moment to at least hold you in his arms. Little did he know he was about to get that opportunity, just not in the way that he was expecting.

The orders came one Friday afternoon. The work day was coming to a close. At that moment, you were in your quarters getting ready. That evening, you had a dinner engagement with a friend from college. Bob had only just finished briefing the rest of your detail on what the itinerary was for the night. Everyone was prepped and on the same page.

And then, Agent Simpson’s voice spoke into his earpiece.

“Agent Floyd, it’s time to enact Operation Hidden Angel.”

He tensed, his heart seizing in his chest as a shock of dread shuddered down his spine. This was it. His worst fear was coming true. Your life had been directly threatened, and it was time to take you to the designated safe house deep in the Virginia mountains.

And when Bob received that command, he had no choice but to act on it. He touched his fingers to his earpiece and responded. “Copy that. Operation Hidden Angel commencing.”

And then he was off, his shoes tapping rhythmically against the polished wooden floors as he rushed down each hallway and corridor. Adrenaline drove him forward, and he soon came to the entrance to the residence. Breathing in deeply to steady himself, he knocked twice before he opened the doors. 

He knew where you were. He didn’t have to search. You were in your bedroom, readying yourself for the night ahead. For propriety’s sake, he knocked softly. If he hadn’t been afraid that someone might see him, he would’ve just burst into the room. 

He still had to keep up the appearance that you were not romantically involved. 

On the other side of the door, you were just setting out the outfit you would wear that night. You were entirely oblivious to the looming danger, eager for an eveningof catching up with an old friend. “Come in!” You called out as you debated which accessories to add to your outfit. 

You were surprised to see Bob in your doorway. You smiled at the unexpected visit, but your smile soon faded when you saw the urgent look on his face. “You need to grab your emergency bag and come with me. Now.”

Your stomach dropped. “Bobby, what—”

“Just come. It’s not safe for you to be here right now.”

Deciding it best not to ask any further questions in the moment, you rushed to your closet, trembling hands yanking out the bag of packed necessities  you kept for emergencies such as this. Then you shoved your feet into your shoes and rushed after him. 

“What’s happening?” You asked as you followed Bob out of your room and down the corridor that led out of the residence. 

“Can’t tell you the details. Just need to get you somewhere safe.”

“But-”

He turned, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you trust me?” He asked, blazing blue eyes locked with yours. 

“With my life,” you replied without hesitation. 

“Then stick with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

So you stopped asking questions. You followed Bob through the back hallways of the White House, allowing him to lead you, trusting in his guidance. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would protect you. He always had. When there was a threat against your safety, he was the first to run toward the danger. 

But now, you were both running from it. You knew it had to be serious if you were being removed from The White House. Someone had likely made a significant threat, and Agent Simpson had advised you be removed from the premises until the threat was neutralized. 

But would the danger ever be gone? Even if this particular instance was taken care of, others would come up in the future. You would never be safe, because that was just your life as the president’s one and only child. 

You did, however, feel safe with the man in front of you. His large, warm hand engulfed your own as he led you down beneath the building. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure your protection. Not only because it was his duty, but because he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you. He loved you too much.

And that was the sticky part of the situation. No one knew about your secret love for one another. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Someone did know. Bradley Bradshaw, Bob’s secondhand man on your security detail, had silently put two and two together. He’d never outright told either of you that he knew, but there seemed to be a silent understanding between him and Bob. A way of communicating that had come with years of working alongside each other in the same military branch. Neither one of them had to say a word, but they knew what the other was thinking. 

Bradley had kept your secret all this time. You were often surprised that no one had found out, and both you and Bob lived in fear that one day, your father would find out. And if that were to happen, you would lose Bob. He would be dismissed from his duties and you would likely never see him again. The thought broke your heart. 

But for the time being, you were able to slip under the radar. Now, especially, because it was just the two of you. And for a moment, you wondered why the rest of your detail wasn’t with you. “Bob, where’s the rest of the team?” You asked as he pulled you to a stop outside a sleek black sedan. He grabbed your bag and threw it in the backseat before motioning for you to climb in alongside it.

“I’ll explain later.” He ushered you into your seat before he scurried to the driver’s side and slipped into the seat. The engine roared to life seconds later, and he glanced back at you. “Buckle up.”

You did.

Then he was taking off, headed out of the parking garage. As he hit the gas, he spoke into his earpiece. “Angel is flying.”

“Bob, why is it just the two of us?”  You reiterated your question from a few moments earlier.

He glanced at you through the rearview, debating just how much he should tell you. “The more people that know where we’re going, the more danger it puts you in. Only your dad and Agent Simpson know where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just…just don’t ask questions, okay, honey? The less you know, the safer you are.”

You heeded his words and settled back into your seat, your heart racing against your ribcage. This was more serious than you realized, wasn’t it? And as you thought about it, the more fearful you became. Your life was in danger, and it was an odd feeling. 

Who were you, that someone wanted to kill you? Your father’s decisions were not a reflection of your own morals or beliefs. You had no control over the way he chose to run the country. But there were times when his decisions put a target on his family’s back. Yours especially, because as his child, you were his biggest weakness. Remove you from the equation, and one would have the President of the United States in the palm of their hand, willing to do whatever they asked just to get you back. 

This was why proactive measures were being taken. You couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip if you were in hiding. But oh, how you hated it. This was your father’s second term. You had been living in the White House for much too long, and you were tired of it. Tired of the world’s eyes being on you at all times. Tired of the politics and the responsibility. You had never asked for this. This was your father’s endeavor, you were just along for the ride. 

But it had resulted in you being placed into the back of a bulletproof car and driven off to some top-secret location just to keep you safe. And from the back of that seat, your eyes observed the singular agent in charge of maintaining that safety. He wasn’t looking at you through the rearview, his eyes were on the road where they belonged. But you could see the conflict in those beautiful blues. You could see the fear. 

Whatever this threat was had scared him. And that was saying something, because Bob Floyd didn’t scare easily. But when it came to protecting you, he did get scared. Terrified, even. He just didn’t let you see it. He wanted you to trust him, to feel secure. And you did. In fact, no one else made you feel as secure as he did. Yes, the rest of your detail did a wonderful job. You knew you could trust them with your life. 

But because you loved Bob so much, you sought him out for shelter and protection. He was the first you turned to when you were frightened or felt unsafe. And he loved being that for you. Loved that you looked to him for those things. 

However, he sometimes thought about the day he might fail you. Would his feelings for you hinder his ability to protect you effectively? Would he be blinded by love? It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew if he was even a smidge off his game, Agent Simpson would be able to sniff it out. And he would not let Bob off the hook for it, either. He’d instruct him to end his relationship with you immediately. And there would be no second chance. Beau would tell the president, and Bob’s position would be terminated.

But it had not gotten to that point, and you prayed it never would. You much preferred sharing this intimate little secret. It did make maintaining your relationship a little difficult, because there were times when you wished you had the guts to tell your father, to tell the world. But the thought of the repercussions that would follow always made you decide against it. 

You wanted to relish in this secret for a little longer. If the time ever did come to reveal your relationship, you would know. Until then, you remained under the radar, stealing private moments when you could, and otherwise keeping your distance when it was appropriate. 

But now you were entirely alone. No prying eyes. No risk of being caught. You were alone, because Bob was the only one your father trusted to watch over you. Because some unhinged madman had made a threat against your life and Bob would sooner die than let any harm come to you. 

“You’re taking me to the safe house, aren’t you?” You spoke up. You had no idea where the house was located, but you had heard of presidents in the past utilizing safe houses. If you were being physically removed from The White House and taken elsewhere, a safe house was the only logical destination you could think of. 

Bob caught your eye through the rearview mirror. His expression was bleak, and he said nothing, but it confirmed what you were asking. 

The drive to the safe house was two hours. You left behind the bustling area of Washington, D.C. and headed into the mountains of Virginia. And as you went, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, allowing eventide to grace the land.

You and Bob hardly spoke, which was uncommon. But you could tell he was harrowed by this situation, and in turn, you were just as scared. It rendered you both silent for the rest of the ride. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the landscape go by, wondering how long you would have to stay here. A night? A week? A month? How serious was this threat made against you? How immediate was the danger? 

All these questions swirled in your mind as Bob drove up a winding, dirt drive. It seemed to go on forever, and the farther he went, the darker it got. But he kept going, until finally, he was pulling up outside a small cabin.

You stared in confusion. Surely this couldn’t be it, right? When thinking of a safe house, you imagined concrete walls and impenetrable security systems. This was just a cabin in the middle of nowhere. 

Bob was confused as well. An odd feeling churned to life in his gut. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, but these were the coordinates he was given. He had not made a mistake in his navigation. You were where you were supposed to be.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked as he pulled the car behind the house, intending to keep it hidden from view so as not to raise any suspicions if anyone were to happen upon the place.

“These are the coordinates I was given. I followed orders,” Bob replied, a little sharply, but his annoyance wasn’t directed at you. It was at whoever had designated this as a safe house. Surely the US government could afford something more than this, right?

“I just…was expecting something more grand. A fortress or something,” came your explanation.

Bob softened. “Honestly, me too. I didn’t know what to expect. They gave me the coordinates when I first took charge of your detail. I always assumed the safe house was a bunker.”

Both of you were wrong. Instead, it was a quaint cabin that looked like any normal cabin in the forest might look. However, when you got up to the porch, you found a keypad on the door. It had to be unlocked by a code.

Bob spoke into his mic. “Angel has landed safely.”

Seconds later, Agent Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “Copy that,” he said. And then, “zero one zero two nine three.”

Bob typed the numbers into the keypad, and the sound of a lock turning reached his ears. Seconds later, the door was unlocked. He opened the door and took a look inside, scoping out the place. 

It looked like a typical hunting cabin, except more well furnished. a seating area off to the left, complete with a bearskin rug. A small kitchen off to the right. An old oak dining table in the middle of the main room. 

“Let me see,” you spoke up from behind him. 

He stepped forward into the house and allowed you to follow suit. As soon as you were both safely inside, he shut the door, manually locking it. He was surprised at the addition of windows to the cabin. As you wandered around and explored the place, he parted the blackout curtain that hung upon one of the front windows, tapping the glass with his fingertips. It was bulletproof. 

He eyed the architecture of the house, assessing what it was made out of. It he had to guess, there was also bulletproof material within the wall panels. Although the cabin looked normal, it was anything but. It was designed to blend in, to not raise suspicion. 

And then his eyes traveled to the bearskin rug, and something told him to check it out. As you were rifling around in the kitchen, he stepped over to the seating area and kicked at the rug with his foot. It seemed to be fastened to the floor. So he knelt down and pulled at each edge until one gave way, lifting up to reveal a hiding space beneath the floor. 

He grabbed his small utility flashlight he kept on his belt and shined the light inside. This was the bunker he’d assumed he was taking you to. It was very clearly designed to withstand any sort of disaster. I hoped he wouldn’t have to utilize it. 

“What’s that?” You came up behind him, peering over his shoulder. 

“Bunker.” He slammed the door shut. With the rug overtop of it, it didn’t look out of place at all. Bob turned to you, his expression serious. “If anything happens, we go down there.”

You held his gaze, your own fearful. “Bobby…how bad is it?” You wanted to know the severity of the threat. You wanted to know if you’d be forced to hide in that bunker. 

Bob stepped closer to you, allowing himself the physical connection he’d deprived you both of in his haste to get you here safely. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Bad enough that your dad was spooked. Bad enough that Simpson thought we should bring you to the safe house.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, lifting your hand to rest it gently overtop of his own. “I’m tired of this,” you whispered. 

“I know,” he whispered back. He wanted to assure you that he’d protect you. That you were safe with him. But the words felt so insignificant. Yes, he would protect you, but that didn’t change the fact that a threat had still been made to your life. You, the most precious soul he’d ever known. You, kind and giving and compassionate. You, the one who loved him. How could anyone target you?

You leaned in close, and his mind ceased its wandering. Your free hand was placed gently against his chest, over his heart. And then you spoke. “Do you think that maybe…we could pretend, just for a little bit, that life is normal? That we’re just two people living in their little cabin in the woods, who aren’t actually in danger of a terrorist trying to take their lives?”

Bob’s mouth curled into a halfhearted smile. “Yeah…yeah, we can do that, little love. Whatever you want.”

Little love. The endearing nickname always made your heart warm in your chest. You nestled yourself against him, lifting your head and seeking out his kiss. He gladly returned the affection, mouth fitting against yours like it was always meant to, lips meeting in a tender kiss. 

For a fleeting moment, everything felt alright. There was no looming danger. No president’s daughter and secret service agent. It was just two people, very much in love, sharing an impassioned kiss in their living room. 

And then you parted, and as Bob rested his forehead against yours, you said, “You hungry? I found a box of MREs stored away in the kitchen.”

He smiled, humming softly in amusement. “Mm, my favorite,” he teasingly replied. 

Your hands now rested on his chest. “I’ll get them ready.”

You shared one more kiss before you slipped away to saunter over to the kitchen. As you did so, Bob grabbed your duffel bag and carried it to what he assumed was a bedroom. When he opened the door, his assumption was confirmed. 

A double sized bed was positioned in the middle of the sparsely furnished room. There was a nightstand on one side of the bed and a dresser along the opposite wall, facing the bed. An empty closet was across the room. 

Bob set your bag down on the bed, and he assumed the two of you would be sharing this bed. His heart yearned for it. It had been a while since the two of you had shared a bed and spent the night snuggled up close. He missed it so. 

Although the situation that had brought you here was less than ideal, at least you would be able to spend time with each other, without having to sneak around. 

With a soft sigh, Bob stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut before he quickly made his way back outside, with intentions of doing a perimeter sweep to make sure the area was secure. Once he was satisfied, he made his way back to the house, stopping only to grab his own overnight bag that had been stashed in the trunk of the sedan. 

Moments later, he was inside with you again, the door locked securely behind him. 

In the meantime, you were at work in the kitchen, reading the directions on your MRE packet. When he entered the room, you looked up, and then motioned to the bin of pre-packaged food kits you had found. 

“Take your pick. There’s macaroni in tomato sauce, chili, spaghetti, and some bean and cheese thing.”

He chose the macaroni in tomato sauce, assuming it would be the safest option. Together, you prepared your respective meals, and you couldn’t help but find it a little humorous that your first time cooking together consisted of making military grade survival meals. 

“I haven’t eaten one of these in years,” Bob mused, as he activated the heating element. A memory flashed in his mind. A not so happy one. “Last time I had one was when my plane went down during a mission. Natasha was flying with me then. We were stuck in the woods for days.”

You frowned softly at his admission. “How did you make it back?”

“Some nice farmer saw us along the road and we were able to hitch a ride with him into the nearest town. We radioed for help.”

“Why didn’t search and rescue come for you?”

“Partly because we went down in enemy territory. And because our plane literally exploded into a million pieces. We were presumed dead.”

Your previously chipper mood was dampened a bit as you imagined him and Natasha, yet another trusted agent in your security detail, lost and potentially injured  in unfamiliar territory. “Did you get hurt when the plane went down?” You asked. 

He nodded. “Got some nasty cuts. Some burns, too. You know the scar on my side?”

You hummed in realization. You did know it. You’d run your fingers over the six inch long scar many times while laying in bed with him. 

“That was shrapnel from the blow. Cut me pretty good. Nat stitched it up for me, actually. Kind of embarrassed to admit I passed out during it.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I can’t even imagine, Bobby. That must’ve been awful.”

He nodded. “But we got through it. Nat’s one determined gal. She told me she was gonna get me home safe. And she did. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Your hand moved from his arm, resting against his back, thumb stroking circles along his spine. Your touch grounded him. “Remind me to thank her.”

He smiled softly as he finished preparing his food. He was beyond grateful that the Fates had decided to spare him. Had they not, he never would have met you, the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Joining the Secret Service had never been part of Bob’s plan. He’d never even considered it. But Agent Mitchell had recommended him to the president, and after Bob had fulfilled his commitment of time to the Navy, he’d moved over to The White House, where he became part of security. 

In fact, the entirety of your personal security detail had been recommended to your father by Pete Mitchell. With you making more public appearances and doing charity work, it put you on the radar. Your father wanted the best security detail possible for you, and because he trusted Pete’s judgment, he brought them in to begin the interview process. In the end, all of them were hired. 

But only one was the head of your detail. Only Bob was entrusted with every minute detail of your safety. Not because the others couldn’t be trusted, or because they were incapable. Far from it. It was his sharpness and his ability to assess threats quickly. It was his respectfulness and penchant for following the rules (or so everyone thought). Out of the group of agents assigned to you, Bob stood out above the rest. 

In the words of your father, Seresin was too cocky, Bradshaw too aloof, and Trace too emotional. You strongly disagreed with his words. You didn’t like the assessments he’d made of each agent. You thought he was being unfair and harsh. Especially with Natasha. Calling her too emotional was crossing over into sexist territory, you felt. If anything, Bradley was the emotional one. But you didn’t argue with your dad. Whatever POTUS says, goes. 

None of the supposed “downfalls” your father saw in each agent affected their ability to protect you. All of them put their lives on the line every single day to ensure your safety. 

But in the end, they hadn’t been put solely in charge of your security team. Bob had. And now here you stood, in safe house in the middle of the Virginia wilderness, eating survival food and pretending everything was fine. Just you and him. 

Strangely enough, you were grateful. Grateful that he was the one you were with. And maybe it was for selfish reasons, but you didn’t care. You just hated that your only opportunity to be alone with him as of late was because of the imminent danger posed to your life. 

But you would cherish the time you were allotted. 

That night, in the quietness of that little cabin in the woods, the two of you sat at the oak dining table adjacent to the kitchen, with your feet resting in Bob’s lap. You drank the electrolyte drink mixes that were provided in your MREs, pretending they were some sort of fancy alcoholic cocktail, if only for your sanity’s sake. 

For the rest of the evening, you didn’t acknowledge the circumstances that had brought you here. Instead, you talked of anything and everything. It wasn’t often that you had a chance to have such meaningful conversations with one another. Your time together was usually short. Secret meetings under the cover of darkness. Stolen moments of passion in hotel rooms. Intimate embraces where no prying eyes could see. 

But flashes of reality still shocked you like a splash of cold water to the face. Such as the fact that Bob’s gun was still strapped to his hip. Or the fact that he went around the house making sure all the blackout curtains were drawn, and double checking the lock system on the door. 

You tried to ignore it. Focused on cleaning up your haphazard dinner instead. But there was still a feeling of unease in your gut. Bob seemed to notice your anxiety, ever observant, and he approached you as you wiped down the table with a dish cloth you’d found in one of the drawers. His arms encircled your waist, and you sighed, leaning back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut. 

“Hey,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You turned around in his hold, placing your hands upon his chest. “I know. I just…I’m trying to pretend everything is fine but it’s hard when there’s a literal bunker beneath us, and you’re walking around with your gun on your hip, and checking the state of the art locking system on the door over there.”

Bob glanced down at the weapon in its holster. “Here,” he said. He stepped back, removing his belt, and taking the holster along with it. He took the gun and carried it into the bedroom, where he placed it on the singular nightstand beside the bed. Then he rejoined you in the main room. 

“Is that better?” He asked. 

“A little,” you replied with a nod, welcoming him into your arms again. 

He dipped his head low, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Your chest warmed. “I love you too.”

A large hand lifted up, fingers stroking your cheek. “You want to play pretend? We’ll play pretend.” His arm then came down to wrap around your waist, palm pressed into the small of your back. “This is our homestead, right? And you…you are my pretty little wife.” His free hand tapped your nose with his fingers. 

“Oh? I like the sound of that,” came your soft reply. 

His arm tightened around you. “Mhm. And I just came in from a long day of workin’ the land. Looks like we’re gonna have a good harvest, too. Won’t go hungry this winter.” 

Your mouth curved into a fond smile. His accent was coming through. Picked up from summers spent on his granddaddy’s ranch. “Take such good care of me,” you said. “My strong, handsome man.”

He kissed you again, this time more languidly. “Always gonna take care of my wife.”

That promise translated outside of this silly little roleplay, too. You knew he’d always look out for you. “What would I do without my Bobby?” You asked. 

He gently bumped noses with you, enjoying the closeness. It made you a little dizzy. You hadn’t been in his big, strong arms like this in a while. You’d missed it more than you realized. The close proximity of your bodies had you growing breathless, and your fingers grasped at the fabric of his button down. 

“I…can we…” You couldn’t get the words out. But he knew what you wanted. 

“You need me, honey?”

You nodded, caught off guard when tears welled in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully. It hit you hard, like a blow to the chest. You hadn’t expected the feeling to be so intense, but now you were leaning into him for support, afraid your knees would give way if you tried to stand on your own. 

“I’ve got you. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay?”

With his arm secured around you, he led you to the room. There, he guided you to sit on the bed before he turned on the little beside lamp on the nightstand. It didn’t give off much light, but it did cast a soft, warm glow over the bed. 

And then he was in front of you again, but this time, he was kneeling, placing his hands on your knees as he looked up at you. “If you want to stop at any time, you tell me, alright?”

You nodded. 

“Words, lovey.”

“Yes sir.”

He wanted to be a little more careful with you in this moment. Not that he wasn’t careful with you all the time, but he had a feeling you needed a little more tenderness than usual. Having your life threatened was a harrowing experience. He wanted to give you the intimacy and closeness you needed. He wanted to be a comfort to you. 

As he rose to his feet, a big, gentle hand cupped your cheek. You lifted your head, gazing up at him. His thumb lovingly stroked your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the digit. 

He watched in awe as your eyes began to grow glassy, and your gaze softened. All it took was his thumb in your mouth to turn you pliant. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling. 

And what beautiful eyes they were. You gazed up into them, so clear and blue, but somehow dark in the lowlight, as if the bright blue had turned brown. You could feel the tension leaving your body as you suckled on his thumb. The taste of his skin was familiar and soothing. 

“Poor thing. Just needed to shut your brain off for a bit, huh?” He murmured. 

“Mhm,” you hummed around his thumb. 

“I’ve got you. Don’t have to do any thinking with me. I’ll do it all for you.”

You liked the sound of that. You could let go of the stressors. Your circumstances. Your position as daughter of the President of the United States. Your political commitments. All of it could be forgotten, if only for a little while. 

So you gave yourself to him. To your Bobby. You let him take care of you, because he knew what was best at that moment in time. 

“C’mere,” he said. He took a seat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. As you scrambled over to him, he caught you, pulling you into his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands rested at your hips. Your own fell to his broad shoulders. The muscles rippled beneath your touch. 

With your body slotted against his like this, you felt so warm and secure. Like you were meant to fit together. In the warm glow of the lamp, and in the softness of the bed, it all felt so domestic. As if you truly were husband and wife, living in your little cabin in the woods. 

And then your mind began to wander, and you considered what it might be like if he truly was your husband. If you were allowed to live out your relationship without fear of being found out. 

You wanted that, you realized. You wanted it so badly. But you couldn’t have it. Not yet. So instead, you played pretend. You dove forward, connecting your lips with his, kissing him deeply, pouring all the passion you had into it. And he kissed you back with just as much fervor. 

Your hands moved from his shoulders to rest upon the sides of his neck. Your fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails ever so lightly scraping at the skin, making him shiver against you and moan into your mouth. 

You rotated your hips downward in the process, and he gasped, his grip tightening on your waist. So you moved your hips again. And again. Soon, you were rutting against him, searching out that delicious friction. The seam of your shorts caught against you in just the right place, and the stimulation had his cock hardening beneath you. 

He let his head thunk back against the headboard, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “Oh, just like that, honey,” he encouraged, breathless. 

“Feels so good,” you whined. 

“I know. Been too long, hasn’t it?” he cooed, bringing you closer so your forehead was pressed to his. 

“H-how long?” you wondered, shivering as he lifted his hips to meet your own. 

He remembered. Of course he did. “Last month. When you visited that one university.”

Oh, yes. Now you remembered. You’d really gone an entire month without touching him? No wonder you ached so terribly inside. You needed him. 

“Bobby,” you whimpered then. 

“I know, baby. I know.”

He was kissing you again, except this time, he rotated you, gently easing you onto the bed so he could hover over you. Then he began the reverent undressing of your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving a kiss against your clavicle as he easily rid you of your undergarments. Then came your shorts and panties, tossed aside carelessly. 

This left you entirely bare to him, and oh, how naked you felt. But he distracted you from any trepidation you felt. He took your hands in his own, lifting them to his shirt, prompting you to unbutton it. Those big hands hovered over yours as you did, there to help if you were trembling too much to do it. 

In no time, the shirt was unbuttoned, and he tossed it to the floor before he made quick work of removing his white undershirt. Immediately, your hands splayed across his chest. Well-defined because he worked his ass off staying fit. His job was not for the faint of heart or body. He had to stay on top of his game. 

“If ya can stop ogling my chest for a minute, I’ll get my pants off,” he teased. 

You looked up at him before turning your head away shyly. He couldn’t help but hum in gentle amusement. You were just the most precious thing. 

Quickly, he shoved his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them asunder, leaving you both naked as the day you were born. As soon as his body was slotted against yours, you sighed in deep relief. Finally. 

His mouth was on yours again, and his arms were at either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He overwhelmed your every sense, and it was glorious. In such close proximity, you could smell his cologne, and that natural, heady scent that could only be described as him. 

“Pretty girl,” he whispered in awe, his mouth trailing down your jaw, across your neck, over your collarbone. Reverence. Worship. 

As he kissed your heated skin, he moved to slip his hand between your thighs. Deft fingers tenderly parted your delicate folds, prodding at your entrance. First one finger, slid in deep. Then two. You whined into his mouth as he crooked those fingers upward, intent on locating that spongey little spot that made you shiver. 

It didn’t take him long. He knew your body so well. Knew exactly what to do to have you purring for him. You were so responsive to his touch as it was. 

“Gotta open you up for me, lovey,” he soothed. “Been a while since you took all of me.” 

Those fingers pumped in and out of you, and his thumb came up to swirl around your clit as he did so. You were oversensitive. Not only had you not been touched by him in over a month, but you hadn’t touched yourself, either. You’d hardly had any downtime, and when you did, you spent it resting. Now, you were so pent up that Bob’s gentle stimulation of your neglected pussy was already beginning to overwhelm you. 

In the meantime, he continued to trail searing kisses across your skin. Over the softness of your breasts. Teeth gently tugging at your pebbled nipples. Tongue soothing the sting. 

In the meantime, you grew wetter around his fingers, your body opening up to him, welcoming him in. And then he added a third finger, and you squealed, jolting against him. You felt his mouth curl into a smile against you.

Then he lifted his head to gaze down at the way your cunt stretched around those fingers. “Oh, look at this sweet little pussy. My fingers barely fit. I don’t know if it’ll be able to take my cock.”

He was teasing you. But in your hazy state, you took him seriously. “No! No, I can take it! Please, I need it!” You gasped. 

This prompted him to place his thumb in your mouth again. “Shh, I know. I’m gonna give it to you, I promise.” A gentle kiss to your lips before he leaned back. He removed his fingers from you, and you watched as he used the slick of your arousal as lubricant for his cock, smearing it over the velvety skin. You whimpered at the sight. 

You so desperately needed that cock inside you. Thick and heavy, with a blushed tip that was dripping with his own desire. You found yourself reaching for it, wrapping your fingers around him, longing to feel the heaviness in your hand. 

He gasped softly as your grip tightened and your thumb brushed over that pretty pink head, gathering the wetness that had gathered at the slit. You found yourself salivating, suddenly wishing he was in your mouth, warm on your tongue. But at the same time, you wanted to be filled by him so badly. It made you ache. 

Gently, he lifted your hand away, replacing it with his own. He slid the underside of his cock through your slick, and you both moaned lowly when the plush head caught at your clit. Again, he thrust his hips forward, teasing you. When he pulled back, he positioned himself at your entrance, slipping in only ever so slightly, enough to pull a desirous whine from you before he pulled back. 

“D-don’t tease,” you squeaked out. 

“I know. Just tryin’ to savor it. Might not get to do this again for a while.”

You pulled him down, kissing him deeply. “Don’t think about that right now. Just fuck me, Bobby. Please.”

“Uh-huh.” With his mouth open against your own, he finally inched his hips forward, moving so his arms were at either side of your head again, and his chest was pressed to yours. Forward, forward, forward, until…

“Oh!”

He was fully sheathed inside you, every last inch. It was the thickness that took your breath away. He felt so big, yet at the same time, it felt as if he was made to fit inside you in this way. You would never tire of the feeling of his body connected to yours. 

Bob couldn’t help but glance down, marveling at the way you stretched around him. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of the snug warmth. He had missed it so much. Missed you so much. “I love you,” he said with conviction. It warmed you to your core.

“Love you too,” you sighed out blissfully, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around those broad shoulders of his.

His hand caressed your face as he began to move, nudging his hips into yours. He kept things slow to begin with, intending to build up to a glorious crescendo. All the while, he held you close, resting his weight upon your body, grounding you, surrounding you. He cherished it all. The feeling of your warmth, the beating of your heart. A reminder that you were safe, that you were alive, that you were here, with him.

His mouth found its way to yours again, trailing down further to lave his tongue against your pulse point. “You are everything to me,” he breathed against your feverish skin. You were his life, his love, his angel.

You couldn’t speak, for you were too overwhelmed. Your heart sang, and the true reason for being here in thise safe house seemed to fade into the background as white noise. Your Bobby was on the forefront, infiltrating every one of your senses, wrapping you up in his love and adoration. You never wanted it to end.

As he began to quicken his pace, you held onto him tightly, every inch of your bodies touching, warm and familiar, safe and secure. You let yourself be vulnerable, let him chip away at the armor you always protected herself with. Oh, how good it felt to let him be your protector. He encased you in his warmth, and that warmth began to radiate throughout your body, thrumming deep within your belly. He kissed yu repeatedly, lips ever brushing against yours, swallowing your precious whimpers and moans, holding onto those sounds, locking them away in his memory.

In the back of his mind, he partly wondered if this would be the last time you were able to make love to each other. What if he slipped up and was dismissed from his duties, effectively barring him from ever being with you again? He hated that his mind went to such a morbid place, but it was hard to ignore.

But then you were drawing him in again with those soft sounds, sighing out his name, and your sweet pussy was fluttering around him, and he was brought back to the present moment. How could he let himself be anywhere else but here, with you in his arms? How could he let himself be distracted when the love of his life sighed and shivered in pleasure beneath him? Because of him?

“Feel so good,” you squeaked. Your eyes were closed, your brow furrowed in utter bliss. You looked rather adorable this way. He was so in love.

You were so wet, and he realized that you were quickly growing wetter by the minute. He could feel you dripping down against his heavy balls, and onto the bed covers below, and it only urged him to change his pace. You tightened your legs around his waist, inviting him deeper inside. As he thrust particularly deeply into you, you cried out softly. He’d bumped into that wonderful spot within you, sending you tightening around him, arousal slicking down the base of his cock. 

“Oh, right there!” You exclaimed, fingernails pressing crescent shapes into the skin of his back. He ducked a hand between you then, stimulating your sensitive little clit in such a way that your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. The way you clenched around him again had him growling lowly, the heat of impending release already beginning to warm in his pelvis. How was he already so close? And then he remembered how long it had been since he’d had you like this, and it made sense.

He applied more pressure with his fingers, driving his hips forward with more force. He was hit with a sudden wave of desperation, wanting, needing you to come before he did. He’d stave off his own pleasure for as long as possible if it meant making you feel good. Beneath him, you were on fire, arousal rushing through your very being like raw electricity, consuming every part of you in its wake. And you let yourself be swallowed up in the feeling, suddenly overcome with intense emotion as tears began sliding down your cheeks. 

Bob cradled you against his chest, though he didn’t slow down. You needed him to keep going, and he wasn’t going to stop until you fell apart. And it was so close you could taste it, building and building and building. A vibration that began in your core, a peak that you were hurtling towards but couldn’t quite reach yet. It was a height that only your lover could bring you to. 

Sweet, tender love making turned into something so much more primal. His chest heaved against yours, and he growled deeply, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kissed you. Warmth blossomed between you both, growing into a wild flame. Your bodies fell into a desperate push and pull, faster and harder and deeper, chasing the pleasure high that you knew was inevitable. 

He could feel you tighten around him like a vice, and he knew you were close. He let his forehead rest against yours, though he never stopped his movements. “You’re close, I can feel it,” he spoke in a broken whisper. 

“I-I am,” you whimpered pathetically, clinging to him tightly. 

“Then come for me, my love. Just let go.”

He continued to work you over, carrying you toward that edge. You trembled fiercely, breathing labored, growing even more so. Pleasure began to fizz through you like a firework brought to life, or a pack of Pop Rocks sprinkled on the tongue. Starting at your core and bubbling all the way to your fingers and toes. 

Your body went taut against his as the first waves of it began to hit you. Almost there, almost there, almost there. And then, without warning, it hit you. Washing over you like an enormous wave, intense as could be. Seconds later, you came with a wail, convulsing beneath him as the fire of your orgasm ravaged you, surging through the entirety of your being. You cried out his name, and he was there, holding you in his arms as he watched you come apart, losing yourself because of him. 

And as you came down, you sobbed. You buried your face against his chest, crying openly, still wrapped tightly around him. And he let you cry, keeping you close. But he also needed to find his own release, you realized. Even in your state of emotion, she pulled back a little, looking into his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blown, but there was still a tenderness in his gaze. He wouldn’t pressure you for more if you weren’t ready to move on yet.

“P-please, Bobby. Wan’ you to come in me.”

How could he ever say no when you asked so sweetly?

Satisfied with your plea, he began moving again, finding the rhythm that he needed to bring himself to his end. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up, lovey?” He breathlessly spoke. 

Glassy eyed, you nodded, bottom lip quivering. “Need it so bad,” you begged. 

His face contorted into a look of beautiful euphoria. His jaw went slack, his eyes fell shut, and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck as the climax began to overwhelm him entirely. It washed over him with great force, rendering him absolutely boneless as he keened, your name falling from his lips in a soft whimper. Beneath him, you relished in the feeling of his essence seeping into you, even as tears continued to stain your cheeks. 

His hips stuttered a few more times against yours as he made sure to fill you with everything he had to give. And as he came down, trying to catch his breath, you made no move to part from one another.

There you lay, holding each other, basking in the afterglow as the weight of his body settled atop yours. When your tears ceased, Bob very carefully slid out of you, soothing your mewl of protest with an open-mouthed kiss. As he moved to rest upon his back, he tucked you into his side, and you rested your head on his chest, right over his still racing heart. 

Gentle fingers traced circles along your arm. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out a little, still drunk off pleasure, until his touch brought it back down to earth. 

You placed your hand against his chest, eyeing the rise and fall of each breath he took. For a while, neither of you said anything. And when the silence finally did break, it was Bob who broke it. 

“Need to get you cleaned up, lovey. Can’t let you fall asleep like this.” 

Despite your murmur of protest, he gathered you into his arms and carried you out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just a few feet away. 

You were so sleepy, it seemed that the events of the day were finally catching up with you, paired with the romp in the sheets you’d just gone on with Bob. You were in a haze as he tenderly cleaned you up and urged you to use the restroom. 

“I’ve got you,” his low, comforting voice assured you. You could allow yourself to remain in that hazy state, because you knew he would take care of you. He always did. 

He led you back to the bedroom, where he helped you change into the pajamas you had brought. Once you were taken care of, he tucked you into bed and kissed you on the forehead before he proceeded to ready himself for bed. A shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Easy, in case he needed to jump out of bed and tend to a threat in the middle of the night. 

Then he slipped into bed beside you, and you immediately snuggled into him, content to be in his arms, enjoying his warmth. You would cherish every last moment you had with him. Safe and secure, your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. Oh, how you loved him. 

You were lulled into a deep, comforting slumber. In fact, it was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks. Just his presence alone gave you rest. 

But while you slept peacefully, Bob remained awake. He couldn’t sleep, not when he had to watch over you. He was tempted to get up and do a perimeter sweep outside, just to make sure everything was safe. But you were sleeping so peacefully in his arms that he didn’t want to disturb you. 

At some point during the night, he did drift off into a light slumber, still partially alert, always ready to address danger, should it come knocking on the door. 

And, unfortunately, it did. 

At around 0400 hours, Bob was alerted to movement outside. It wasn’t loud. But there was a strange rustling in the woods, and the snapping of twigs. Instantly, his eyes were open, and he held his breath, hoping he’d just dreamt the sounds. But then he heard it again, and his heart seized in his chest. 

Without hesitation, he eased you out of his arms, and you remained sleeping while he slipped out of bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and rushing to put his earpiece back in his ear so he could communicate with White House security if need be. 

There were no windows in the bedroom, so he quickly and quietly scrambled to the front of the house, where he stopped at the window and discreetly lifted the edge of the curtain to peer outside. Sure enough, he saw two figures dressed in black gear approaching from the tree line. 

And that’s when he realized one of them was already at the door, working on the security keypad. Bob knew, in that moment, that he should have trusted his gut feeling from the beginning. Where the hell had Agent Simpson sent the two of you? Because there was no way this was a safe house if it was this easy to get into.

But there was no time to debate the security of the house. Danger was right on the doorstep, and his first priority was protecting you. So he sprang into action, rushing back to the bedroom where you slept peacefully. 

“Safe house is compromised,” he reported into his mic, just before he leaned down to shake you awake. 

“Copy. Get into the bunker. Sending backup now,” Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear.

Bob didn’t reply. He was too focused on waking you. “Hey, hey, need you to wake up for me, honey.” He shook you vigorously until you stirred from your slumber.

You stared up at him in confusion, your eyes bleary. “Bobby? Wha-?”

“No time. Get up, we need to get under the house now. They found us.”

That woke you up. Your eyes widened, and you sat upright, throwing the covers from your body as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “How?!”

“I don’t know! Just come with me!” He yanked you to your feet, hands tight on your arms, catching you when you stumbled. 

Adrenaline coursed through you, wiping away the sleep-induced fog that had been cast over your brain. Bob’s remained closed firmly around your wrist and he pulled you after him out of the bedroom, intending to take you down into the bunker. But in a split second, he stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back with a surprised gasp.

He could only just catch sight of the door coming open. There was no time to make it to the trap door that would lead you to safety beneath the house. Going for it would result in the two of you being spotted and killed instantly. He had a split second to make a decision. This was life or death.

He whirled around, and in the darkness, you could see the wildness in his eyes, and it sent an icy shock of terror through you. Without a word, he clamped his hand over your mouth, silencing you before he pushed you back toward the bedroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your entire body trembling with fear as he released you and turned to shut the bedroom door silently. Thank God there was a lock on it, which he promptly turned, careful to do it silently. Then he whirled back around to face you. “Get under the bed. No matter what happens, you do not come out unless I tell you to.” His voice was so low it was barely audible, but you heard every word. And then, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, sinking to your knees and maneuvering your body underneath the bed. Bob yanked the covers down so they were hanging from the edge of the mattress, effectively obscuring you from view. It was only a temporary solution, but it would do.

Then, his hand closed around the cool metal of his gun, which he pulled from his waistband and positioned himself a few feet away from the door, weapon drawn, hands steady as he flipped the safety off. He could hear Simpson’s voice in his earpiece, asking for confirmation that the two of you had made it down into the bunker. But Bob couldn’t answer. Silence was what was going to keep you alive at the moment.

He placed his finger against the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. Whoever was on the other side of the door was quiet, but he could still hear them. Creeping closer and closer, inch by inch. And then, the doorknob rattled, and Bob felt his breath catch in his throat.

You pressed your own hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. Bob’s eyes never left that door. He counted down in his head. Five. The silence was broken as the person threw their weight against the door. Four. Again, their body thudded against the door. Three. Two steps backward. Two. Bob realized what was about to happen. One. He threw his body to the side just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the house. Wood splintered. Smoke curled through the air. 

Bob had moved aside just in time. A second too late and he would be suffering from a gunshot wound. But just as quickly as he moved, his gun was in the air again, held steadily in front of him. As soon as he had the assailant in his sights, he fired. 

Beneath the bed, your hands came up to your ears, protecting them from the awful sound. You couldn’t see around the quilt obscuring your vision. You prayed silently that Bob was unharmed. And he was. He’d just put one perpetrator down. You’d heard the thud of the body hitting the floor. 

But he had no idea how many more there were. 

He would soon find out.

Seconds later, more footsteps. Bob fired. But the second man was expecting it, and kept his body partially hidden by the doorway as he lifted his rifle and aimed it at Bob. The secret service agent ducked quickly, firing his own weapon in retaliation. 

He put up a good fight. Really, he did. Bob had always been seen as a pacifist, and by nature, he was. But that didn’t mean he shied away from a fight. And when he did have to utilize physical force, there was a calculated tenacity with which he fought. He was a worthy opponent. 

He disarmed the second man quickly. Grazed his cheek with a bullet and used that split-second distraction to dive for the gun that belonged to the dead man on the floor. But then, a voice stopped him. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Bob looked up to find three men pointing rifles at his head. He was cornered. 

“Drop the fuckin’ weapon.”

He did. He was severely outnumbered. If he tried anything, he’d be shot dead on the spot. That would leave you entirely vulnerable and alone. 

The one in the middle stepped forward. He was tall. Dark hair. Beard. couldn’t have been much older than Bob himself. Dark eyes stared murderously at the agent kneeling on the ground. He never lowered his rifle. 

“We’re just here for the girl. Tell us where she is.”

“She’s not here,” Bob lied through his teeth.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. We staked you out. We know you brought her here. Now where is she, huh?” Then, he called out into the room in a singsong voice that made your skin crawl, “come out, come out wherever you are!”

“She’s not going to come out, because she’s not here!”

The stranger rolled his eyes. “Alright, then you won’t mind if I fire a couple of precautionary shots, right? Just to make doubly sure?” He aimed his gun at the bed you were currently stowed beneath. 

Bob’s stomach dropped. “Hey, there’s no reason to waste ammunition on–”

“Ah! So she is here!”

And just like that, it all fell apart.

One of the assailants forced Bob into a prone position on the floor, his gun pressed to the back of his head. He reached down and ripped Bob’s earpiece out of his ear, tossing it to the hardwood floor and stomping on it, effectively cutting off any and all communication with The White House. And then, Bob watched helplessly as you were dragged from beneath the bed, kicking and screaming. 

And all he could think, was that he’d failed you. 

“Bobby!” You wailed.

“Hey! What is it that you want, huh?! Money?! We’ll give it to you, I can make a call to Washington, get it wired to–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” the man above him snarled, smacking him square in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Bob’s vision went white as searing pain radiated through his skull. 

“It’s not about money,” said the one who had wrestled you from beneath the bed. “It’s about sending a message to her daddy.”

You whimpered in fright as he grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks hard. His expression was full of hatred. It chilled you to your very core. “We’ll make him wish he’d never taken office.”

“Let her go!” Bob cried desperately from the floor, though he was in no position to be making demands.

“No, I don’t think we will.” The man began to haul you out of the room, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams. He glanced at the one standing over Bob. “Make sure he can’t follow us.” 

As you were dragged into the hall, you heard the sound of a single shot ring out, and you sobbed behind the hand pressed to your mouth. No!

But Bob wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, his teeth clenched so hard he was sure he would break them, letting out a muffled, tormented scream behind them. White hot pain traveled up his thigh, and with it, a violent sense of nausea overwhelmed him. His assailant had shot him in the leg. 

And then he was left alone in that bedroom, helpless to do anything as you were carried away, putting up a fight despite being overpowered. Crying out in absolute agony, Bob fought to drag himself upright, though his head spun and his leg throbbed wickedly. He had to stop them. Had to get to you. 

It took every ounce of strength in his being to pull himself upright, but by that time, it was too late. They had taken you outside. He’d never reach you in time. After everything he had done to keep you safe, he had lost you in the end. He would never forgive himself as long as he lived. 

But then, hope. 

All of the sudden, the sound of a helicopter approaching could be heart, and not long after, blinding white light shone through the front door. Moments later, a magnified voice called out, “Homeland Security! We have you surrounded!”

What happened next was a blur. There was shouting. So much shouting. Outside, you were blinded by the lights, reaching your hands up to shield your eyes. The sounds around you were deafening. Someone fired a shot. Then another. Hands grabbed at you. You had no idea who they belonged to. But they pulled you away from the men who had taken you, guiding you to the sidelines, away from the danger. 

But you didn’t want to go to the sidelines. You wanted to run back to your Bobby. “Let go! I need to see if Bobby’s alright!”

“Miss, we can send someone to check on him, right now I need you to—”

“No! They shot him! I have to know that he’s okay!”

You argued back and forth for a moment before you got the drop on the agent trying to restrain you. You threw your weight downwards and she released you out of surprise. You didn’t feel bad when you elbowed your way past her. You probably should have, because after all, she was just trying to do her job. But nothing else mattered to you in that moment than knowing Bob’s fate. If he was dying, you needed to be by his side to say goodbye. You weren’t about to miss your last chance to be with him.

So you made a dash for the house, ducking back inside, frantic. 

“Bobby!” You cried out, scrambling toward the bedroom. Sickening dread coursed through you. What were you about to walk in on? Would you find the love of your life dead on the ground? 

But then, you heard it. “I-in here!”

As soon as you burst into the room, you saw him. He’d tried to stand, but had crumpled to the ground in severe pain, and was now leaning back against the side of the bed, injured leg stretched out in front of him. 

“Oh dear God.” You rushed to his aid, dropping to your knees beside him. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

His pant leg was soaked with crimson, and he’d placed his hand over the wound, in effort to slow the bleeding. “I-I’m okay,” he assured you, gazing into your frightened face. “Can you get my belt for me? It’s on the floor on the other side of the bed.” It sounded as if it took great labor for him to get the words out. 

You didn’t hesitate. You jumped up and ran around to the other side of the bed, grabbing his belt. As soon as you handed it to him, he got to work tightening it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet. 

Voices could be heard out in the main room of the cabin. You knew that you would soon be separated. It sent a terrible wave of dread through you, and you reached for Bob. 

“Bobby,” you tearfully spoke. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, his tourniquet finished. His clean hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you again real soon.”

“But I don’t—”

“Honey, listen to me. Need you to be my brave girl, okay? I can’t go with you. They’re gonna take me to the hospital. And after that there’s a whole protocol I have to go through. But those agents out there, they’ll get you to safety. I promise you.”

Weeping, you wrapped your arms around his neck once more before you pulled back, just as none other than Agent Simpson walked into the room, his gun drawn. 

Bob protectively placed an arm in front of you. “It’s all clear!” He called out. The assailant on the floor a few feet away from you both had long since been dead and did not pose a threat. Simpson still turned him over with his foot just to make absolutely certain that he was dead. 

Beau approached you, kneeling so that he was eye level with you. His expression was neutral, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “I need you to come with me. I’ll see to it that you get back home safely. The threat to your life has been neutralized.”

“Agent Simpson, he’s been shot,” you whimpered, motioning to Bob. 

“I see it. I’ve got a medic chopper on the way. We’ll transport him to the hospital. Right now, you’ve got two parents who are worried sick about you. Let’s get you back to them.”

“But—”

“Go with him,” Bob gently coaxed. “There’s nothing else you can do for me here. I’ll be fine.”

You gazed into his face, tears blurring your vision. “O-okay,” you whispered. 

You wanted so badly to kiss him goodbye. But even now, you were hyper aware of Simpson’s presence and you knew you couldn’t openly show romantic affection to Bob in front of him. 

So you allowed Agent Simpson to escort you from the room. You cast one more glance over your shoulder at your injured lover, before you finally left him behind. It felt like your heart was being torn in two. You longed to stay by his side, to board that medical helicopter with him and wait at the hospital while they tended to his injury. 

But you supposed you did have one thing to be grateful for. At least he wasn’t dead. 

As you were led outside, the early morning light was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It illuminated the carnage that had taken place. You gasped as you realized that the three remaining men who had tried to take you were dead. But there were others. Others you hadn’t seen. They were in custody, ready to be taken in for questioning. In one night, Homeland Security had succeeded in taking down a homegrown terrorist organization. 

But that begged the question: why on earth had they been after you? It didn’t matter, because no one would answer your question, anyway. 

You were led to a waiting car, where you realized Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were waiting for you. After what you had been through, you were relieved to see them. 

“Hey kid,” Bradley greeted you. 

“I sure am glad to see you,” you breathed. 

“We’re glad to see you, too,” Natasha replied. 

Bradley opened the door, and Nat slid into the seat first before you took your place in the middle, while he brought up the rear and closed the door behind him. 

Javy Machado, who was driving, glanced back at you. “Good to see you safe and sound,” he said with a small smile. 

You didn’t feel safe and sound. You felt harrowed and anxious. 

The entire drive to The White House, you didn’t say a word. You stared out the window and fought to hold back your tears. What had gone wrong? How had those men found you? It seemed too easy. As if you and Bob had been nothing more than sitting ducks. 

You were fortunate that all he had sustained was a shot to the leg. And you were even more fortunate that you had not been physically harmed. You were more emotionally scarred than anything. You weren’t sure how long it would take you to recover, but you knew you needed time. And most of all, you needed Bob. 

But that was out of the question. 

Instead, you had to hold your head high as you climbed out of the car once you had arrived at The White House. Waiting for you were Jake, Reuben, and Mickey. They reported your safe arrival through their mics, and then carefully led you into the building.

“Glad you’re home safe,” Jake softly told you.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t muster one. You were already steeling yourself for being reunited with your parents. You knew your mother would be teetering toward hysterics, and your father would likely be stoic, as he often was. You loved them, but you were overwhelmed.

Your mind was elsewhere, longing for your Bobby.

Meanwhile, he was just arriving at the hospital, where a team of medical personnel had already been warned of his arrival. He was a little delirious from the blood loss and the pain, but he could hear the terms they were throwing back and forth. 

They were going to operate immediately. 

“Agent Floyd?” A woman’s voice filled his ears. She was strawberry blonde, with kind blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s. “I’m Doctor Vitarella. We’re gonna get this bullet outta you as fast as we can, alright?”

He mumbled something in reply, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Then an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he found himself slipping into a dark and dreamless slumber. The first thing he noticed when he woke a few hours later was the cast.

As consciousness washed over him, he gazed down at it, stretching from his foot to the top of his thigh. Still groggy, he glanced around the room, and saw a nurse walking into the room with a clipboard in hand. She looked up and realized that he was awake. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Floyd,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go get the doctor. She’ll want to talk to you.”

She scurried away before he could say anything. About five minutes later, the woman he vaguely remembered as Doctor Vitarella walked into the room. “You, sir, gave me a run for my money in the operating room,” she said.

Bob looked at her confusedly, still not fully out of his anesthesia-induced haze. 

“When the bullet entered your leg, it fractured your femur. I inserted a rod into your leg to provide solid support to the bone. But you should know that the second it came in contact with the bone, the bullet broke into a bunch of tiny little pieces. My team and I did the best that we could, but I must inform you that there are still leftover fragments in your leg. I could not get those out without causing more damage.”

As he mulled over her words, Bob only had one question. “Will I be able to use my leg again?”

“With proper physical therapy, yes. But you’ll likely live with lasting pain. I wish I had a better prognosis for you, but what matters is that we stopped the bleeding and set the bone.”

He nodded solemnly. There were still bullet fragments in his body. A constant reminder of what he had been through. He felt as if he hadn’t let it fully sink in yet. Everything had been such a blur. Being carried on a stretcher out of the safe house because he couldn’t walk. Being placed into a helicopter and then rushed into the hospital.

And now here he was, on his back in a hospital bed, his leg aching something fierce. No, not aching. Throbbing. As the fog began to clear from his brain, the pain set in, and he groaned softly. His head was pounding. His leg hurt enough to prompt him to clench his teeth.  “Could I get some, uh, pain meds?” He asked.

“I’ll have the nurse bring you some.”

A while later, he had been given his medicine, but it just barely took the edge off the pain. There was no distraction from it. He didn’t want to watch whatever mindless show that was playing on the television. He didn’t have his phone to scroll through. He had nothing. The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was the thought of you. 

He wondered how you were faring. He wondered if you even knew of his condition. Had anyone updated you? He imagined that you were demanding to know how he was. 

And you were. You had informed Agent Simpson yourself that you wanted a report of Bob’s health. You had to know that he was okay. Thankfully, as soon as Beau knew something, he called you right away.

“He’s gonna be okay, kid,” he said, “bullet fractured his femur, and they put him in a cast. But he’s gonna be okay.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanked Beau for the update, and hung up the phone. Seconds later, you burst into tears. Your Bobby was going to be okay.

But his worries were far from over. 

He was given a couple days to rest, but on his third day in the hospital, Agent Simpson walked through the door of his hospital room, and he knew it had begun. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, making courteous small talk. 

“Like hell,” Bob muttered in reply. 

Beau nodded. “Sorry to hear that.” And then, he brandished a folder from a briefcase. “I hate to jump right into business, but…I have no other choice.” He pulled up a chair and sat at Bob’s bedside. “There are a few things I need to clear up.”

“Go ahead.”

“First and foremost, why did you not utilize the bunker beneath the house? The two of you were sitting ducks where you were.”

Bob stared at his superior. “I tried. But they were in the house before I could get her there. So I hid her under the bed.”

“And why were you not aware of the threat before then? Did you not do a thorough enough perimeter sweep?”

His tone was slightly accusatory. At least, Bob took it as such. His eyes narrowed. “No disrespect, sir, but what the hell kind of safe house was that? They never should have been able to breach it that easily.” He paused for a beat, awaiting an explanation.

“I think you might already know the answer to that, agent.”

“It wasn’t a safe house at all, was it?”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Now Bob was angry. “Y’know, my gut told me that something wasn’t right, and I just brushed it off. But I should’ve listened. You used her as bait, didn’t you? And I went right along with it like a fool.”

“Floyd, this was a tricky situation we were dealing with here. We���ve been tracking this group for months. Our only chance at luring them out was to use her as a decoy. By doing that, we in turn saved her life.”

“How is that any better?! You can’t just use someone as live bait!”

“I didn’t like doing it either, in fact it was my absolute last resort. But it worked, didn’t it? President’s daughter is safe and sound. Terrorist group has been disbanded. We have the few remaining ones in custody. It’s over. The threat to her life and our government has been neutralized.”

“And what if it didn’t work? What if she’d been killed?”

“But she wasn’t. There’s no use thinking about the what ifs. What’s done is done.”

“Does she know she was used as bait?”

Simpson shook his head, his gaze hard. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”

Several moments of silence passed. Bob processed what he’d just been told. This entire time, he had tried so hard to keep you safe. Tried so hard to keep the danger away. And yet, the danger had still found you, all because the very administration he worked for had led them right to you. 

A sick feeling churned in his gut. He felt dirty. He hadn’t been protecting you at all. He’d been offering you up to the very men who were after you, and he didn’t even know it. 

“What did the president think about his daughter being used to lure her potential killers in?” His tone was bitter. He couldn’t help it. 

“He was in agreement that it was the most effective way of eliminating the threat.”

“So I was the only one who wasn’t clued in to this plan?”

The agent looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Yes, because just from my own personal assessments and observations of you as an agent, I knew you wouldn’t go along with it otherwise. And she needed to be kept entirely in the dark. It was better that way.”

Bob’s head was spinning. “So really I was just used as a pawn?”

“You have to understand that this was a matter of national security. And sometimes you have to play dirty for the sake of the greater good.” He firmly believed that this had been the most effective course of action. 

“I…I’m gonna need a minute to sit with this,” Bob continued. 

“You don’t have a minute, Bob. I’m going to need you to fill out a report about what happened. You do not say one word about what I just shared with you. Just report what you saw, how you reacted, and nothing more or less.”

“So you want me to lie.”

“Some things are meant to be confidential. This is one of those things. Just report what you witnessed, agent. I’ll handle the rest.” He placed the folder, marked CONFIDENTIAL, onto Bob’s lap. Then he clicked a pen and set it on top.

Bob stared at it. Could he really do this? His superior expected him to. The president expected him to. But his mind wandered to you, and the senseless trauma you had endured because of it. In his heart, he knew that if Agent Mitchell was still in charge, this situation would have been handled differently. He would have done everything in his power to ensure you were not used as bait.

But Pete Mitchell’s days in The White House were over. Bob had no choice but to follow the new leadership put in place. So he went along with what was being asked of him, even though it went against everything he stood for, everything he believed.

He penned a lie on that report. Described what had happened, as if he had no idea about the plot to use you to lure your attackers straight to you. He dotted every i and crossed every t. And when he was done, he shoved the file back into Beau Simpson’s hands. 

“You got what you came for. Now get out.” Bob didn’t care that he was speaking disrespectfully to a superior. It didn’t matter anymore. 

Simpson left without a word. And Bob was alone again.

That interaction changed everything for Bob. It made him question his very morals. Could he really allow himself to be part of an administration that purposely put the very members it was supposed to be protecting in harm’s way? This left him with much to consider. He had a decision to make.

He finalized that decision the day you came to visit him.

Escorted by Bradley, Jake, and Natasha, who all respectfully waited outside the room once they brought you to it, you came through the door, so eager to see the man you loved. You shut the door behind you, allowing you both some privacy.

As you took in his form, tears sprang to your eyes. His left leg was in a full cast. There was a bandage around his head from the injury he’d sustained from being hit in the head with a gun. But what mattered was that he was alive, and he was going to be okay.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered as you approached him, unable to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks. 

He mustered a smile. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

You leaned down, oh so carefully wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. I’m okay.”

You pulled back, looking into his face before you lovingly stroked his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut, relishing in your touch, so comforting and familiar. It distracted him from his pain and made him feel less alone. 

“They told me the bullet fractured your femur?” You finally found your voice a few moments later. As you spoke, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Bob’s hand lifted to rest in your lap, and you placed your own hands over top of it. 

“Yeah. They put a pin in me. Got a bionic leg now,” he teased. But then, he grew serious. “When the bullet hit my bone, it broke into a bunch of little fragments. They took out most of them, but I’ve still got some floating around in there.”

You frowned, wiping at your tear dampened cheeks with the back of your hand. “How does that work? Will they ever be able to get them out?”

“The doc told me she couldn’t. Said it would cause more damage if she tried. So I’ll just have them inside me forever.”

Your heart broke for him. “I’m sorry they did this to you. All because you were trying to protect me.”

“Hey,” he interjected, hand moving to tip your chin up. “Don’t you ever think of blaming yourself. I’d do it again a million times over as long as it meant that you were safe. You’re what matters most to me in this world. I don’t want to live in one without you in it.”

“And I don’t want to live in one without you in it, either,” came your reply. 

His fingers wiped away your tears. There was so much he longed to say. He wanted so badly to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What good would it do? It would only bring more grief upon your shoulders. He didn’t want to cause you anymore pain than you’d already been through. 

But, with his next words, he ended up hurting you anyway. 

“I need to tell you something.”

His tone gave you pause. He was serious. “What is it?” You cautiously asked. 

“I…I’ve decided to step down from my job.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He sighed softly. “This injury’s going to have me out for months. And honestly, by the time it does heal, I just have this feeling that it won’t ever be the same again. I won’t be as effective at my job as I was before. So I’m making the decision to resign.”

But you were shaking your head, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. “Bobby, no. You can’t leave. I need you.”

“Sweetheart, my mind is made up.”

“Why? Because I know this isn’t just because of your leg. What happened? Did my dad threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He sighed, shaking his head. How could he word it in a way that wouldn’t expose what he’d just sworn to keep secret? “I…I was asked to do something that goes against everything I believe. And I just can’t remain with this administration while knowing I was asked to do it.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What—”

“That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Then what? You’re just going to leave? What does that mean for us?”

“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.”

You paused for a moment, looking down at your intertwined hands. More tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whimpered. “You’re the one I feel safest with. I-I know everyone else is just as capable of looking after me but I want you, Bobby.”

It broke his heart to do this to you. And it filled him with uncertainty, too. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for your relationship. But he knew he couldn’t keep going on in secret. And he couldn’t continue to serve an administration that could potentially put you in danger again in the name of national security. 

“I don’t want to leave, either. But I have to.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. You should be allowed to make this decision without me causing a fuss about it. Do what you feel is best. I’ll support you no matter what.”

He lovingly stroked your cheek. “That means the world to me, honey. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, after everything you went through. But I just wanted you to know before anyone else. I haven’t even told your dad or Agent Simpson yet.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. But I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself, not seeing you everyday. God, I’m going to miss you so much, Bobby.” Your voice wavered. You were barely holding it together.

“Hey, c’mere.” He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest, over his heart. “We’re gonna be okay, you and me. We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way.” He kissed the top of your head. 

You hoped he was right.

After that initial visit to the hospital, you tried to visit him as often as possible. Your security team was more than happy to tag along each day, because they loved Bob, too. And you cherished those quiet moments in that hospital room, without the eyes of the world on you.

Outside of that hospital, you had to face the public. Had to deliver statements about what happened that night in the safe house. Had to assure the American people that you were just fine, that the brave United States Secret Service and Homeland Security agents did their jobs well. Because of them, an entire domestic terrorist organization had been quashed. In America’s eyes, it was a great victory.

But you couldn’t help but feel like a spectacle. The girl who’d survived a harrowing attack on her life. You were made to relive that night over and over and over again. And finally, in the end, you’d had enough. In the following weeks, you came to terms with a lot of personal things. 

Namely, you came to terms with wanting to separate yourself from your family’s administration. You would never be able to erase the fact that you were the president’s daughter. And your life would never be normal. You would need a security detail for the rest of your life. But you were done living within the confines of The White House. 

The only time you had ever been away from it was when you were at college. After graduation, you came back to work as part of your father’s administration. But for your own sanity, you knew you needed to step down and find your own path. 

So you told your parents as much. You informed them that your mind was made up, that you were going to buy a home for yourself and live your life separate from them. You no longer wanted a foot in the door of politics. It was time to pursue your true passions.

And that was just what you did. 

You bought a house deep in Wyoming, of all places. A nice plot of land, spacious enough for owning horses or cows, and for planting a nice sized garden. It was quiet and secluded and the perfect respite after spending the last six years in The White House.

In the time leading up to your move, Bob was in the throes of physical therapy. His leg was healing well, and he was working hard to regain his strength. During those months, the two of you decided that it would be best to distance yourselves from one another, only because you did not want to raise suspicions about your relationship. You attending each one of his physical therapy sessions came across as suspicious, in your mind.

So you allowed him to focus on getting better, while you focused on starting your new life. You missed him so deeply, but your separation was only temporary. You planned to meet again, as soon as he was ready to travel, and you were situated in your new home. You also wanted the media attention on your safe house to die down.

Eventually, it did, and the world moved on to something else to panic about.

But you? You tuned it all out. You stayed out of the news, you stayed out of politics, and you tried to bring some sense of calm normalcy to your life. You no longer needed a full security detail. It was with a heavy heart that you bid farewell to a few of them, leaving only Natasha, Mickey, and Bradley as your remaining security. They helped ensure that your home was always safe, and that you were protected.

But there was still one part of your life that remained incomplete. A void that could only be filled by your Bobby.

And finally, after several months, the day came that you would be reunited. He was strong enough to travel again. He had officially resigned from his job in The White House. He returned to civilian life, and packed up the minimal amount of belongings he had, placing them in the trunk and backseat of his car.

He drove over fifteen hours just to get to you. And it was worth it to him. After not seeing you for months, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and never let go. So he drove. And he drove. And he drove. Until finally, he was standing at your front door, his hands trembling as Natasha let him in, and informed him that you were out back, in the stable.

So he ran. Ignoring the residual ache in his bad leg, he dashed behind the house, where the stable was, and he kept going into he was standing in the wide doorway. His feet skidded against concrete and hay, and his eyes searched. There you were. Dressed in jeans, riding boots, and a t-shirt. One he recognized as an old shirt of his, which you had snagged from him in the early days of your secret relationship.

You heard him approaching. Heard his feet skid to a halt at the doorway. And your heart quickened in your chest. You turned in what felt like slow motion, your gaze falling upon the man you loved, standing at the entrance of your stable, breathless.

“Bobby,” you whispered.

You weren’t sure who moved first. But in an instant, you were both running toward each other. You met halfway, arms coming out to catch the other, to embrace the other. “You’re here! You’re really here!” Came your cry.

“I’m here.” And then he was kissing you. Arms secure around your body, lips soft and familiar. He kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. And you kissed back. Not even your mingled tears caused you to part. You didn’t want to. It was as if you were afraid this would all be a dream if you pulled away.

When you did part, he was smiling. That sweet smile that made his eyes disappear behind his cheeks. That sweet smile that made your heart sing. “Oh, I missed you!” you sobbed. 

“I missed you too, honey. So, so much.”

You embraced again. He spun you around in a circle, and you giggled musically, overjoyed. He was finally here, with you, where he belonged. After months of waiting, months of agony, months of uncertainty, he was in your arms. No longer as the head of your security detail, but as the man you loved.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” came your soft confession.

“Believe it. This couldn’t be more real,” he assured you.

You held his face in your hands. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful man. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

“Good, because I’m here to stay.”

You shared several more moments in that stable, holding each other, still in disbelief that it was finally over. The years of secrecy, the sneaking around behind the scenes. You didn’t have to hide anymore. You were allowed to love each other freely and openly.

Together, you walked back to your house that night, arms around each other, swaying as you walked, happy and content and relieved. You enjoyed a wonderful dinner, just the two of you, as the three remaining members of your security team had excused themselves to their own quarters to allow you privacy.

A lot had changed in the time that you’d been apart. You told Bob all you’d been doing, and he informed you what stepping down from his job, and enduring all that physical therapy, had been like. 

He was no longer part of the secret service, and he never would be again. The fear of being found out and losing his position was no longer on the table. There were no superiors to appease. No presidents to serve. He was free to be his own man. To live his life. To love who he wanted.

To love you.

Things were not automatically perfect now that he was with you. But they were better. You would have to figure out some things. And eventually, you would have to tell your family that you were in a relationship with him. But for now, you could live in peace, if only for a brief moment in time. You were safe, on your little farm in Wyoming, with the man you loved. It was your own little slice of heaven. 

And after all the difficulty you had endured, you were more than content with that. You could figure everything else out later. For now, you would live in that domestic bliss for just a little while longer. You’d earned it, after all. 

Finally, it was your turn to live your life the way you wanted to, and not the way others dictated you should.

-

taglist (a mix of those already on the list/who might be interested):

@bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @delopsia @milesmillergf @ohtobeleah @purelyfiction @honeymurdock @ihavealewproblem @high-speed-r @happyrebelruins @chasing-fics @roostersgirlfrxend @bradshawsbaby @whisperofsong @hangmanapologist @callsign-magnolia @callsignmedusa @withahappyrefrain @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @damrlova @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @bobfloydsbabe @nobody7102 @agentorange9595

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap six/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

I Don’t Know You, But I Want To

summary: Sometimes curiosity has consequences.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters, mentions of death, hints on how Steve’s wife died, bouts of self consciousnesses.

authors note: sorry guys, you knew this chapter had to happen. i promise i’ll make up for it! enjoy a few more easter eggs from @carolmunson ‘s orange colored sky in here. I’ve had so much fun talking about these two old men’s friendship with you!

🌇 <- chapter five -> chapter seven

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

End of June

You didn’t realize when Steve asked you to water his plants, that he meant in just three short days after the almost kiss in his kitchen. The opposite schedules the two of you seem to always work made it so you hardly got a glimpse of him before he and Bandit disappeared to Starved Rock for what you learned was their annual camping trip.

The Good Morning Tough Girl texts started the next day after your number exchange, waking you up with a kaleidoscope of butterflies twisting and turning in your stomach and a smile so big it made your cheeks hurt. It helped you get over only getting to physically see him one time through your living room window before he left. Your phone had vibrated at your feet while you watered your now flourishing Ivy thanks to the new curtains you were proud to say were installed by yourself. You chanced a glance down at your lit up screen, his name flashing with a text that said: How’d I never realize how pretty my view is from the front yard?

The corners of your mouth twitched, flames licking underneath your cheeks when your eyes caught his out your window. The big dopey smile that took over his face made you giggle as he waved eagerly, dressed nice like he had been the morning you ran into him last week. You wiggled your fingers, biting your bottom lip at the way his dark navy button up looked tucked into the waist of his black slacks. The leather belt looked nicer than the last one, the silver of the buckle blinding in the setting sun. His hair was freshly done, free of any signs of those big hands of his. The stubble on his jaw was gone again, but you learned that was never for very long. 

Another buzz: Going to dinner with a client, wish it was fish tacos with you instead.

Steve feels like he won the lottery when he can see the way your face lights up from his spot in his front yard. Eddie’s voice rings loudly inside his head, sticking to every single one of his negative thoughts like glue telling him it’s okay and he finally starts to believe it, especially when he gets a text back from you.

Maybe next time 😉

It’s thunderstorming the day you go over, the key tucked away in a lockbox by his door. He gave you access by texting the code the night before with a promise to take you to dinner as a thank you when he got back. The nerves that dance inside you feel like they did the first time you came here when you stand in front of the stained glass of his front door even though he’s five hours away. 

It’s quiet, the lively energy from a few nights ago gone with the man. The cedar of his candle still lingers thick in the air and you can’t help but inhale deeply. It smells like him. You leave your shoes and umbrella on his front porch, closing the door gently like you were scared to wake someone up. The pattering of the rain on his windows fills the silence, your shoulders dropping in the serenity. Pulling your phone from your back pocket you look through your texts with the list of the rooms the plants were in. 

Only three — his office and living room on the first floor and his bedroom on the second.  

The coffee white oak floors creak under your socked feet as you take your first apprehensive steps past the entryway. He left the watering can on the kitchen island just like he said he would, your skin pebbles when you’re brought back to the last time you were in here. The sun fights to shine through the thick storm clouds outside, making the lighting that bleeds through his windows soften everything up. The water from the sink hits the metal of the can, mixing perfectly with the rain. 

You wish he was here.

The can is heavy in your hands when you stop at the doorway of the living room, the contents inside sloshing around and daring to spill onto his floor. You curse under your breath with a pause to take in the room you only got a glimpse of before. There’s an electric fireplace, tall black steel that takes up most of the wall next to the sliding glass door that leads to his small backyard. 

Two large beige area rugs cover most of the wood floors in here, a cream frayed trim lining them. Bandit’s bed sits big, fluffy and dark brown nestled by the fireplace, giving him a perfect view out the window. Strands of his lighter hairs leave behind evidence that this might be his favorite spot in the house. A woven basket filled with various chew toys that look freshly tossed in isn’t very far from it. The rain comes down harder but you can still see the spots of lime green littering the grass where the rambunctious German shepherd left his tennis balls. Spoiled.

The cognac color of his leather couch set is rich, and it shines even in the dim lighting like it was freshly lotioned. It looks like the kind of comfortable where the cushions mold against the weight of your body - soft, inviting, the one in the middle looking a little more worn in than the rest. This must be Steve’s favorite spot. 

Your eyes meet the 65” TV mounted to the wall in front of it and realize why. The coffee table matches the dark color of the floors. The candle that was the culprit for the smell of his house sitting in the middle next to three remotes lined perfectly next to each other.

There’s a long, taller companion table that sits at the other doorway that leads back out to the landing of his staircase. Framed pictures, bottles of various liquors of all shades and crystal cocktail glasses cover the top of it. 

What does he think of your place?

You try to push the intrusive thought down as you make your way to the lush Monstera plant that sits in a white pot on top of wooden legs next to the sliding glass door. Its leaves hang heavy, clearly taken care of. The deep emerald of it reminds you of what Steve’s eyes look like sometimes. The soil takes what you give it greedily, barely leaving enough for the few smaller plants that rest on shadow shelves along his gray walls. A few of them make you stand on your tiptoes to reach.

Curiosity wins on your way to refill the can, crossing the room to look at the framed pictures. You aren’t surprised when you see one of Eddie and Bandit as a puppy, it looks like the first day they brought him home. Eddie’s dimples show in a bright smile as he looks at the camera with Bandit’s big bubble gum pink tongue pressed sloppily against a clean shaven cheek.

The other is of Steve and a curly haired boy at a college graduation, they both look like they were caught in the middle of laughing at something. You can’t help your own smile when you look at it. Steve looks a little younger, a little less gray in his hair like it had only just started. He’s wearing wire rim glasses, and that crisp white dress shirt you like him in so much. He looks happy.

The last one is of Steve and Bandit. A selfie taken at sunrise, Bandits tongue sticks out and you swear he’s smiling just like his handsome owner that has him pulled against his side. A part of a tent peaks over his shoulder and you wonder if this is where they’re at right now.

You’re hit with the smell of his cologne when you open his office door, your thighs pressing together when you imagine him sitting in the big black leather chair behind an even bigger, matching colored desk. Glass cased baseball memorabilia takes space on one of his walls, along with plaques of achievements from his job. There’s framed pictures of him shaking hands of baseball players you couldn’t name, but you’re sure a normal person who liked sports could. There’s a tall bookshelf on the other side of the room. The spines all glossed, bright bold wording of sports memoir’s, marketing guides, and what looks like college course advertising books.

The floor of this room is carpeted with the same color as the area rugs in his living room. Your footsteps are a little more careful as you try not to spill any water on it as you make your way to the three hanging spider plants in the window that overlooks his front yard. 

Your nose catches a hint of the cigars you know he smokes as you get closer to his desk. He must keep them in here. A silver closed MacBook sits on top of it, another baseball — only this one is signed and kept safe in a glass case. There's a Polaroid of Bandit with a cubs hat on his head with a laughing Peach barely visible behind him. The obvious closeness of the three of them makes you realize how much he let you into his world the other night. 

A world where he wanted to kiss you.

You curse under your breath when you almost spill water on the carpet, too lost in realization of what this could be.

When you reach your final destination on the second floor, you stop at his closed door. Your hand hovers over the knob, heart hammering so hard in your chest like he was waiting for you on the other side. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you exhale through your lips - willing your nerves to give you mercy. There’s a soft click when you turn the knob and the quietest noise from the hinges when you push it open.

The crisp white of his fluffy duvet that covers his king size bed, mutes the gray of his walls. The olive green throw at the end of it that matches the area rug under the bed, the warmth of the color relaxes your senses. Your breathing evens out, your heart rate slows down. 

There’s another dog bed at the foot of his that matches the one downstairs and you wonder how often Bandit really sleeps in this one at night. The lack of hair on it compared to the other one tells you not very often. Your cheeks tingle fiercely when you see the mirror you got a glimpse of his bare chest through, your eyes quickly finding the bathroom he had come out of. 

“Jesus Christ,” you grumble to yourself, trying to push back the memory while standing alone in his bedroom. 

There’s another Monstera by his window that you can see your bedroom out of. The last one on the list. You have to pass by another large dresser on your way, even more pictures sit on top of it, taking up the space that was left next to a cherry wood watch box. Another cedar candle sits behind the framed pictures, the scent lingering in the air despite not being lit.

The plants take what’s left in the watering can, and you peek out the window just to see what he sees. The navy curtains you’d hung up are half open giving you a perfect glimpse into your room, the pile of dirty laundry you plan to do after this perfectly visible. You gulp audibly.

The can swings loosely in your hand when you walk to the dresser, a smirk already forming on your lips at the thought of what these ones will tell you about him. Your eyes land on one of him in between Eddie and Peach on what seems to be their wedding day, both of them placing sloppy kisses on either cheek. The big dopey grin face doesn’t hide the tear stains. The White Chapel sign behind them tells you it’s Vegas, and the way Steve is dressed as a much sexier Elvis only confirms your suspicions. 

Next to that one is a picture of Steve, only he looks really young- fresh out of high school young. Biting your lip into a smile at the volume of his hair, he’s leaning against a maroon BMW with pants so tight you're sure they made all the girls flustered. You shake your head with a roll of your eyes before taking in the brown curly haired girl sticking her head out of the back seat window. Another girl with honey waves pushing her head out in the small space next to her, you swear you can hear the giggles that are so evident on their faces.

Thunder cracks loudly outside, bringing you back with a jump. You’re dreading the short walk home. You glance out the window wearily before bringing your attention back to the little bit of Steve scattered over the top of his dresser. Then you see it. You see her.

The frame that holds the picture is silver, the words ‘always and forever’ etched across the bottom. It’s taken somewhere tropical and Steve looks like he’s your age in it, his jaw somehow sharper, his hair blonder. His smile is so big it shows all of his teeth, a bright yellow short sleeve button up that makes his skin look golden. The top two buttons undone revealing the chest hair you’d gotten a few glimpses of. He’s glowing. 

She’s just as beautiful, big bright green eyes and dark chestnut hair that falls in effortless curls down to her chest. They look natural, like she didn’t have to do it herself. She’s tucked into his side in what looks like seats in the back of a boat, the coral dress that flows over the curves of her body makes your stomach turn. The big rock on her hand rested purposefully on his chest tells you exactly what this picture is.  

Jealousy twists green in a tight knot inside of you, guilt you weren’t expecting makes you feel nauseous when you see what’s hanging off the corner of the frame. A dark teal rubber bracelet with the words Team ALS Chicago 2022 in white font.

Lightning flashes white hot, making something gleam and catch in the corner of your eye from his watch box. Taking a closer look, the tightening of your chest at what you find makes the air leave your lungs all at once when you see their wedding rings tucked in between the soft white cushions inside the box. 

The reality of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. Steve had a whole life before he met you. A life with someone beautiful, someone he didn’t fall out of love with, someone who didn’t break his heart, someone who, if things were different he’d still be with.

If you moved next door in that reality, you’d just be someone he’d maybe wave to from time to time, not paying any mind to the thirty year old girl already suffering through a midlife crisis next door. The girl who moved to the city with no friends and no plan. The college drop out. The opposite of the well put together woman that belonged hanging off his chest like that, with a ring on her finger that could pay off your credit card debt and then some.

How can you compete with a ghost? The nagging feeling that you’ll always be second best already stings and he hasn’t even picked you yet.

You try to blink away the tears that threaten to spill out, feeling stupid for being this upset over what started off as a silly crush, it really shouldn’t hurt this much. The cedar that comforted you feels like it's suffocating now. Like he’s here. The thought of bringing the watering can down doesn’t even cross your mind when you leave it on the dresser to make your escape.

The breath that comes out through trembling lips is shaky, still, you're proud of the fact that you haven’t cried yet. 

Tough girl. 

When you open the front door, it's windier than when you first got here, the sun starting its disappearing act for the moon. It makes the summer storm match the one brewing inside of you. You shove your feet into your shoes before pulling the door shut behind you. You lock the key back into the box, before grabbing your umbrella. Your vision goes blurry but you don’t give into it, telling yourself it’s stupid to be so upset. The buzz of your phone in your back pocket is what stops you from taking the first step off his porch. 

Steve

Found a spot with some service on our hike, just wanted to check in. Hope you got into the house okay. Bandit says he misses you.

The dam that you’d worked so hard to build breaks, tears falling down your face like the rain falling from the sky. You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand before you reply to him for what you tell yourself is the last time. It’ll hurt less like this, it’s better for both of you this way. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself before you hit send.

Plants are watered 👍

beta’d by: @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

chapter seven

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #older!steve harrington #older!steve #all i really want is you series #Spotify

[makkir0ll]

setting the past (part one/ prologue)

ukai x reader.

wc: 837

synopsis: you coach a volleyball team, one of the best in the country known for having mostly recruited players. you take pride in the fact that you have led your team to win a national championship title. And with the news of the rising team karasuno, your interest is piqued, mainly because that was your old school. you had known that they were nicknamed the "fallen crows" and such, so hearing about their fast improvement you decide you want to see it for yourself. you call up the school and takeda picks up. you organize a practice match for later that week.

but what you don't realize is that their coach is your highschool ex.

a/n: woohoo finally finished part one of idk how many. i haven't written since my wattpad days and i have so many good ideas for this fic so i hope y'all enjoy this. i just need to like collect my thoughts and put them in order because thinking about the plot my brain goes like 100 mph but then when i actually have to write it, suddenly im illiterate.

anyways enjoy this!!

masterlist

Once practice concluded, and the clatter of equipment being stowed away subsided, the Karasuno boys formed a line in front of Ukai and Takeda, anticipating any last-minute announcements before dispersing.

".. and make sure you're eating well and getting enough rest. That's all I have to say for today," Ukai stated firmly, his arms crossed as he surveyed the team.

Takeda cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the eager players. "Yes, indeed. I know this is short notice, but the coach from Kozue Highschool reached out for a practice match later this week, and I accepted."

"HUH?" The boys chorused in a mix of surprise and excitement. A practice match against the reigning national champions was unexpected, to say the least.

"Didn't they win nationals last year?" Daichi questioned, his brows furrowing with intrigue.

"Did they? I'm not sure but you know more than I do." Takeda replies with a smile. "But apparently, their coach is an alumna of Karasuno," He glances at Ukai. "Y/N, I believe? Do you know her? She might be from the same graduating class as you"

Ukai's reaction to your name didn't escape notice. He knew exactly who you were—the pride of Japan's under-19 women's team and, to add a twist, his high school sweetheart.

"Yeah, I know her," Ukai replied, turning to the players. "That means this won't be an easy match. Not only because Kozue is a national champion, but also because Y/N is coaching them. She was- is one of the best womens volleyball player. So think expect nothing less from her team. Be prepared to face some formidable opponents."

"WOW! A NATIONAL CHAMPION TEAM! I CAN'T WAIT TO PLAY WITH THEM!" Hinata exclaimed, his excitement palpable. "I won't lose to them!"

"Yeah, me neither," Ukai thought to himself, his expression unreadable.

After practice, as the Karasuno third years made their way home, Suga couldn't help but bring up the tension surrounding Ukai and you.

"So, Y/N is definitely Coach's ex, right?" Suga prodded, casting a knowing glance at his companions.

"Oh, absolutely," they agreed. They continued to discuss the possibilities as they walked home.

Ah, the history between you and Ukai. It was a tale of high school romance, filled with shared lunches, mutual support at games, and stolen moments in the clubroom. But graduation day shattered those dreams, as Ukai chose to explore college life, leaving you heartbroken and struggling to move on.

But some wounds never truly heal. Ukai remained a lingering presence in your thoughts, the memory of him etched into your heart as your first love, your first heartbreak.

Little did you know the storm brewing ahead as you prepared for the practice match against your alma mater, Karasuno Highschool.

The bus ride back to Miyagi was quiet, your team fast asleep behind you. As the bus slowed to a halt, you felt a surge of excitement—the familiarity of your hometown, the anticipation of facing your old school.

Karasuno High. The memories flooded back as you recognized the school's facade. Your stomach churned with excitement and nerves as you led your team off the bus.

"...twelve, thirteen, fourteen, yep! That's everyone," you counted, gently tapping your players as they stumbled out of the bus, still half-asleep.

"Why are we playing at a school two hours away again?" Haru, your team captain, yawned.

"Because, one, I used to go here back in the day, and two, I heard they're really good now. I'm excited to see what they look like. It'll be good practice," you explained, walking into the school towards the old gym where you spent multiple late nights after practice. you hear the familiar sound of volleyballs hitting the ground grow louder the more you walk toward the ajar door.

But what you didn't anticipate was a volleyball hurtling towards your face. Instinctively, you raised your arms, but it never struck you. A familiar figure stood beside you, his presence startling.

Ukai Keishin.

You were at a loss for words. It couldn't be him. Yet, there he was, saving you from a potential injury.

"Hinata, you can't be receiving like that!" Ukai's voice cut through the air, snapping you back to reality. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to ask, your tone sharp, eyes narrowed.

"What does it look like, Y/N?" he retorted with a teasing smirk. "Same reason you're here, I suppose."

You couldn't believe your luck—running into your high school ex at a crucial moment. Hoping to avoid any further interaction, you turned away and made your way to your team.

"Thank you for having us here," you bowed to the Karasuno team, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. As you started stretching with your team, your mind raced, your gaze occasionally drifting to Ukai. Your usual composure faltered, and your team couldn't help but notice.

This practice was shaping up to be far more challenging than you had hoped.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu smut #ukai x reader #ukai keishin #ukai #ukai fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #hq headcanons #hq fanfic #coach ukai #takeda ittetsu #karasuno #hq ukai #first fic scared for my life

[aircd]

Please for the love of whatever deity you believe in (or don’t believe in), please bless us with more overly obsessed cheerleader. (I’m fighting demons)

Sure! This one may be a tad bit different from the last two, just wanted to try something new, I appreciate feedback ^^

Warning: light knife and blood play, slurs, degradation, nsfw, bullying, bruises/cuts mentioned, paranoia, depression.

Yandere¡cheerleader¡bully: she had noticed recently you had been pulling away, ignoring her subtle whispers in your ear during class such as “you’re so easy to tease.. it’s pathetic.” and “what’s wrong..? is my little toy upset I have to go to cheer practice..? I know you’re obsessed with me.” This angered her, the more you’d pull away the harsher she’d become, physically and mentally. She had succumbed to her old ways, calling you a “fag” and “dyke” in front of her friends; again, you’d stare at her silently and scoff. She finally had enough. You were still at school after hours for your occasional club or two, walking to the exit in the gymnasium you pass by the janitorial closet and hear the door crack, but before you could turn your head you’re pulled in by your neck and waist. you gasp and whimper silently from the shock, you’re turned around held by the back of your neck tightly as the light switches on. It’s her, with a hunting knife to your neck. Her hair still in a ponytail from practice and athletic clothes stuck to her skin. It feels like she’s piercing into your soul with her gaze, you make a small chocking noise from the tight grip on the back of your neck and adrenaline rampaging through your system. Your mouth is parted as she slowly leans in, “please.” you whisper, she smirks and has a satisfied expression. She leans in closer and closer to the point you feel her your breath on your lips, the tension fills the room, she gives you a condescending sympathetic look as she lets out a small groan before pressing her lips to yours deeply. Your saliva mixing together, surprisingly this is the first time she had used tongue, she moans before dropping the knife to the floor, a single line of blood dripping down your neck. She moves her hand up to your hair slightly pulling on it as she leans down licking the blood off your neck. “Mm.. that’s what I wanted to see.” She moves back up and smiles creepily at you with blood stained teeth, your eyes widen as she leans in for a kiss, your breath hitches and your face says no, but she kisses you anyway. A bitter taste fills your mouth as she pulls on your hair tightly giggling. “Why so quiet dear~..? I don’t likee when you ignore me..” she pouts as if she didn’t just have a knife to your neck. “Do it again and I might just have to tie you up.!” You couldn’t tell if she genuinely meant this from the insanity of her actions but either way you didn’t want to find out.

Yandere¡cheerleader¡bully: Since the incident where she held a knife up to your neck, you thought that was it. Maybe she’d back off, she did but not in the way you thought. You started the week off badly, as soon as you walked through the doors you felt everyone’s eyes on you; whispers and laughs filled your ears. Your mood was already pretty low, but this just made it worse, you hunched over trying to hide your face. You put your hood on, As you walked faster and faster you see the cheer team, she’s standing there laughing and smiling.. “ah there she is.! the most popular girl in school~!” She pointed as she whispered with her friends. You were mortified, you knew the things she had done so there’s no telling what she had spread around about you. She wanted you isolated.. that had to be it. You hadn’t even had the cherry on top, you usually sat at lunch alone anyways but now you couldn’t even do that. People would pour foods on your head as the entire cafeteria laughed, you had resulted to eating in the bathroom, but it was like anywhere you turned someone harassed you. The bathroom wasn’t safe, the halls weren’t safe and the classrooms weren’t either. You were having trouble sleeping and it definitely showed, dark eyebags, pale face and frequent yawing in class. You were starting to be paranoid everywhere you went, quite honestly you were depressed. You held your breath as you went as quick through the lunch line as you could, your messy hair covered half of your face and your eyes darted around the room making sure no one was following you when you left. You could hear footsteps behind you but whenever you turned around, no one was there. Your speed increased as you made your way to the supply closet across campus. The door shut behind you and you ate your food quickly, the door started to open and you dropped your food back onto your plate, you looked up slowly and it was her. Staring down at you with that horrific smile, it gave you chills every time, something about it was just so cruel. You gasped as you dropped your plate down and scooted to the corner of the closet, “please..!! I- I didn’t do anything..! I swear..! please just leave me alone.!” You cried as you covered your face and whined, so many people were insulting you and tripping you all week. The fact it only took a week for her to pick you out and chew you apart with ever even getting near you was terrifying. Bruises covered in various places of your body, stains on your face from tears, a red nose from tissues wiping your face. “Aww.. has somebody had enough..? Did you learn your lesson.?” She leaned down and said. You nodded your head and whimpered still covering your face, “I- I- did..! please..! just make it stop.!” You started to cry harder as you trembled. She kneeled down and moved your hand down with a serious face. She pushed the hair out of your face and smiled with pity, “aw.. you’re trembling..! here..” she started to unzip your jacket and move it off your arms, you groaned and sighed. “Don’t.. I- it’s fine..” she looked a bit angry and continued anyway. You turned your head away in shame, she silently gasped as she saw the bruises on your arms and collarbone. “Did..— who..? who did this?” She looked up at you with guilt and anger. “uhm.. e-..everyone I guess..” you whispered still turned away. “oh honey..” you were confused. She had never called you that, you turned back to face her, “isn’t this what you wanted.?!” “No.. well— yes.. but not.. not like this.. hey.. come here.” You looked a bit shocked considering she’s the one who started this. You leaned in and she pushed you onto her lap, holding you tightly. “ah—.. I’m sore just.. not so tight..” she ignored you and started to rub your the back of your head and back. She leaned you up and kissed you deeply, moving down your neck to your chest. She lifted your shirt up slowly. “mm— hey..! I- I don’t know if“ “shh..” she cut you off. She pushed you back and started to take your pants off. “Hey-! I- I I’m not sure—“ “SHH—.. “ she cut you off again. “O..okay..” ———

She looked up in silence seeing the various bruises and small cuts from being tripped and pushed all week. You’d never seen her face this blank and guilty before, you thought she had no bone of sympathy in her. She rolled her eyes seemingly at herself and groaned before quickly pulling your underwear off and your legs up on her shoulders. She stared at your cunt for a split second in awe before quickly lapping you up making you gasp trying to grab onto anything around you, it’s too much and someone might hear, but you can’t keep it in, she quickly puts her hand on your mouth tightly, rolling her eyes as she continue. “mmphh.!!” you moan. about 20 minutes later you’re both breathing heavily fully unclothed as you both sigh and look away in awkwardness. “Look.. I’m sorry for what happened.. I never meant for it to go that far okay..?! I just wanted you to learn your lesson..!” She says. “It— it’s okay.. I- I just wish you’d-..” you hesitate, “what.? Wish I’d what.?” Silence fills the room. “M..maybe you could just.. n—not use physical force.. or knifes..” you say as she smirks looking in your eyes. “You know you love it though. Don’t you want me to show how much I care for you.?! I’d kill for you.! I’d kill myself for you even, I’d kill you for you..!!” She says frantically as she seems to get anxious by the fact she’s hurt you. “I- I know.. but—“ she suddenly kisses you pulling away slightly. “Y—you.. wouldn’t leave me right..?!” She says in a vulnerable state gripping the side of your head tightly. You don’t answer. “Tell me you love me.. say it..” “I—.. I love you listen.. you just scare me..” “I know baby.. but I need to protect you.. you’re so weak.. and I’m the only one who knows how to keep you intact..!” “n-no I’m not.?! I- I can protect myself.!” “And that’s what I love about you.. the fact you actually believe that.” She smiles in a condescending way. “B..but—!” She suddenly pulls you close to her chest rubbing the back of your head. “Shh.. shh.. it’s okay you’re so pathetic and weak. I have to protect you from yourself..”

#yandere wlw #lesbian romance #thoughts? #nsft wlw #wlw #lesbian #wlw concepts #fem reader #lesbian smut #lesbian yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere cheerleader

[vid-writes]

Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader One Shot

This one shot is absolutely not for anyone under the age of 18.

Word Count: 3,474

TW/CW: Rough sex, sex with a stranger, slight voyeurism, tit fucking, back shots

Satoru was finding it rather hard to stay away from you these days. He wasn’t supposed to be pining over someone who wasn’t a curse user, but watching you work in that high-end clothing store through the window was something of a pastime for him. Your hair was always in a different intricate style every day. Your smile when helping customers was always genuine and reached your eyes. Sometimes, he even heard your laughter peal through the front window when a customer was actually funny, or your coworkers were gossiping to fill the time. He never followed you, never watched longer than a few minutes, but anytime a job brought him to this part of Tokyo, he made sure to stop by. You weren’t his usual tailored clothing store, but he was considering making the change.

The door opened with the soft jingle of the ever-present sleigh bells, and at the same time, Satoru’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Acquiring a new tailor would have to wait for another day, it seemed.

“Go for Gojo,” he said as he answered the phone.

“We need you to get back to the school. Principal Yaga is trying to convince the elders that Itadori is still dead. They’re asking questions again.” Ijichi sounds like he’s one second away from crying. The muffled yelling in the back tells Satoru this is serious.

“I’ll be there in two seconds,” he mutters and hangs up the phone. With a long sigh, he glances at you through the window one last time before vanishing into thin air.

A few days have passed since the last time the sorcerer was in this particular shopping district. Only this time, he was here on purpose and not pure coincidence. He drew in a deep breath as he pulled open the door to the tailor shop. With a vague excuse about an excursion to the other end of the island for the next week, Satoru finally found time to acquire a new tailor. You, to be precise. The familiar soft jingle of the sleigh bells met his ears as he entered the empty shop.

“Welcome to Toshiko’s Tailors; I’ll be with you in just a moment,” calls out a soft voice from somewhere deep in the shop. Satoru pulls off the thick sunglasses he’s wearing and rubs his eyes with one hand. Being able to refresh his brain might always make keeping limitless easier, but sometimes he needed a break. He figured that a tailor shop in this quaint touristy part of Tokyo wouldn’t be too much of an issue. Besides, it’s not like he hadn’t already exorcised all of the curses in this area time and again. Just to keep one particular stranger safe.

“Sorry about the wait,” a soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He lowered his hand to find you bowed over at the waist. “I was just finishing up this week’s order for more inventory, but I’m all yours now.”

“No need to apologize so formally,” Satoru said as he leaned against the front counter. “I’m just here to take up your time for a few hours. I’ve grown bored with my old tailor and thought I would switch things up.”

You straightened back up, and that pure and genuine smile was already present on your face, “What made you choose this shop in particular?”

“Work often finds me in this area and also often ends with my clothes getting all messed up in some way or another,” he explains as he tries not to study every inch of your body. He’s never been this close to you before.

“Are you planning to overhaul your whole wardrobe as well?” It looks like you might not want to do all that extra work right now, but he wants as much of your time as he can get because he knows any interactions you will have after this will be short.

“Maybe not the whole thing,” Satoru chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “I would like a few new outfits, though.”

“Well then, right this way,” you say as you bow again, and he knows because of your training that you won’t straighten back up until he’s walked past. So he stares at your ass until he’s right in front of you. Once he’s passed, he glues his eyes to the wall in front of him and focuses instead on your footsteps. Confident and assured in the heels work requires you to wear.

“The second door on your left is the suite where we take measurements and where you can also try on some of the sample clothes we have available in-house,” you call from a few steps behind him.

“You guys have whole suites for tailoring customers?” He whistles, impressed and irritated with himself that he didn’t come in here sooner. Especially since he can’t get the sight of your ass outlined perfectly by the pencil skirt you were wearing today.

“We have three, actually, but this one is the only one not currently under renovation,” you say as you come around him and open the door for him. Yet again, due to training, you bow, and this time the sight of your ass makes his dick throb in his pants. The suite is almost twice the size of the main entrance, and Satoru finds himself whistling with appreciation again. The whole left wall is lined with mirrors, and on the opposite wall is a dressing room that runs the entire length of the wall. In the middle is a sitting area with tables and couches. Over close to the mirror is a dais.

“You have two options for the measurements,” you say and startle him out of his admiration of the room. “Either we can measure you with the clothes you’re wearing on, and I can adjust the usual few centimeters from there, or you can use the dressing room to strip to your comfort level, though nudity is not allowed, and we can measure you that way.”

Satoru’s dick throbs again. An excuse to be almost naked around you? He was absolutely not going to pass up that opportunity. “I’ll go strip down to my underwear then.”

He turns to the dressing room and walks inside quickly. Before he can try to talk himself out of it, he is stripping off his shirt and jeans. Once, in his boxers, he noticed there might be a slight problem. His dick is rock-hard in his boxers. He tries to will the erection to go away, and when that doesn’t work, he sighs.

After a few minutes of thinking about incredibly gross stuff, Satoru emerges from the dressing room, erection free. You are patiently waiting on one of the steps up to the dais with a measuring tape in your hands. And yup, now he was picturing you wrapping that measuring tape around his dick, and he really needed to stop. He slowly made his way over to the dais, trying his best to look anywhere other than you right now.

Once on the dais, Satoru finds it even harder not to openly stare at the reflection of your ass in the mirror. Its shape was so perfect and round, and he could almost bet you worked out religiously to maintain it that way.

“Arms out to your sides, please,” you politely inquire of him, so Satoru lifts his arms out wide. The measuring tape runs from one wrist to the other, and he watches as you produce a notepad from the inside of your jacket. He takes the time to really study your face now—the shape of your lips, the way your nose curved, how your eyes scrunched at the outside corners as you focused. You were driving this man crazy and had no idea whatsoever.

You took measurements of his torso, arms, and waist so many times he was starting to see this as torture instead of the perverted pleasure he had intended. “You may lower your arms now,” you finally say, and he nearly sighs in relief. Satoru really needed to pick better ways to meet women.

You dropped to your knees in front of him and tapped the outside of his left thigh. With ease, Satoru spread his legs so you could measure his inseam. Your fingers brushed the innermost part of his thigh, and he shuddered. You hesitated in writing the measurement, but otherwise, you maintained composure. As you wrapped the measuring tape around his thigh, Satoru shuddered again, and this time, you looked up at him.

“I get the feeling you’re not being entirely honest about your intentions here, let alone with me,” you said, and he felt every muscle in his body tense. Shit. He had been caught. Just as he opened his mouth to answer you, he noticed your eyes darkening. You moved the measuring tape to his other thigh without taking your eyes off of Satoru’s, and his cock throbbed in his boxers. So much so that not only did he see it, but he knew you had too, by the way you licked your lower lip.

“I know you’ve been watching me for months now,” you started, and he felt the color drain from his face, “and I always wondered when you were going to get up the nerve to come inside and talk to me.”

“Thinking of a valid excuse to not only talk to you but get you into a position where you and I were alone was a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Satoru explains sheepishly.

The measuring tape tightened around his thigh, and Satoru knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back if you gave him the green light. The tape slid from his thigh as your hands abandoned it and instead started to unbutton your suit jacket. Muscles tensed, and breath caught in his throat. Satoru watched the last button come undone and then gasped as your breasts spilled free from the jacket with nothing else underneath it.

“I’ve fantasized about you so many fucking times, so when I saw you come in on the cameras in the office, I took off my top and bra,” you declare as you shrug the jacket off of your shoulders. “Want to help me live out one of those fantasies?”

That was all Satoru needed. His hands dove into your hair, and he pushed his crotch into your face. A moan escaped your lips, so he proceeded to grind his bulge into your face. His hips rutted into your face over and over as his hands held your head firmly in place with fistfuls of hair. After a few minutes of this, he pulled his hips back and looked down at you.

“Are there any chairs in this room,” he asked as he watched you panting a little bit just from him rutting into your face. He was hoping you’d be this slutty and eager.

“No, but I can get the one from the office,” you said breathlessly as his cock throbbed in his pants again.

“Is there anyone else in the shop?”

“No, and what should I call you,” you asked as you cocked your head to the side. He smirked as he pretended to think about it.

“My name’s Gojo, Satoru, but you can call me Daddy.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes. “Go get the chair and lock the front door. Do not cover up.” The red in your cheeks was only outdone by the dark lust in your eyes.

You got up and left the room, making sure the door stayed open. In doing so, you gave Satoru a clear line of view of the front door of the shop. He listened to your still-confident heels click across the floor as your arms hung by your sides. The front door made a loud click, and at the same time, Satoru pushed his boxers off his hips and let them hit the floor.

Satoru grinned deviously as you came back in the room, dragging a chair behind you, and immediately blushed at the sight of his fully erect cock. You brought the chair over to the dais but didn’t put it on the dais. Satoru hummed as he thought about how he wanted to position the chair, but all he did was turn it ninety degrees. Now, he could see you in front of him and in the mirror. He sat down on the edge of the chair and motioned for you to come between his knees.

“Down enough that your breasts are in my lap, I want to fuck them,” he commands. So you lower yourself down until your breasts are resting in front of his cock. It’s an awkward position, but your eyes were locked on his, and your movements never faltered.

“Go on and spit on my cock so it’s wet,” he commands again, so you let a glob of spit slowly leave your mouth and glide down his cock. He groans as you both watch his cock jump from your teasing. You spit on his cock again before grabbing the base and licking up the whole length. Satoru groans again as your tongue laves over his slit a few times, and he buries his fingers in your hair.

After a good few minutes of licking his cock until your spit is running between your fingers freely, you sit back and grab the outsides of your breasts. Without waiting for another command, you lift up and then lower yourself down until his cock is between your tits and sticking out of the top. You squeeze your breasts together tighter and then open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Satoru groans as he watches your drool spill onto your breasts and finally snaps.

“Up until the tip is just barely between your tits, and then I’m going to pound them until your pretty face is painted with my seed,” he growls and lets go of your hair. You slide up until his cock is just pressed between your tits, and then stay still. Satoru moans this time before he starts to slowly thrust up into your tits. He’s still holding back, so you let out the moans you’ve been holding back. With your mouth wide open and drool spilling off your tongue so Satoru’s cock is constantly lubed up, the moans are loud and echo through the room.

His hips drew back and then snapped forward again. Then again. And finally, he was freely fucking your tits. His hips hit the underside hard enough that Satoru knew they would have bruises on them. But he also knew that he would come back tomorrow to soothe those bruises. As his cock throbbed and pounded between your constantly slick breasts, he felt his orgasm coming faster than it had in a while. His hips stuttered and then stopped as his cum spurted out of his cock in thick hot ropes that splattered all over your face, tongue, and breasts. With a loud moan, you swallowed the cum that landed in your mouth, and he groaned again.

“Are you satisfied with your service, or do you still need to be attend to Satoru,” you asked, and his cock throbbed in response.

“Stay here so I can get you something to clean up with,” he said as he slipped out of the chair. He retrieved his shirt from the dressing room and then returned to clean your face off himself. Once it was cleaned off, you opened your eyes, and he could see they were still dark with lust and desire.

“It looks like you still need attending to,” he purred. A shudder ran up your body that made him haul you to your feet and kiss you deeply. His tongue was quick to push between your lips and lay claim to yours. Satoru groaned as the taste of himself mingled with your saliva, and his cock was already hard again. He pulled back from the kiss and stepped away. With a swift movement, he turned the chair back to where the seat was facing the mirror.

“Lose the skirt,” he said as he palmed his cock and stroked it slowly. You pulled the skirt off, and it was just like he suspected you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. How could you when it was such a tight skirt? He pulled you in front of him again and then turned you around and bent you over the back of the chair. Your ass pushed against Satoru’s erect cock, and he moaned again.

“You ready for my cock sweetheart?”

“I’ve been ready for it for months now, Satoru. So please give it to me already,” you whined, and the sound made his cock throb painfully. He was really tempted to make you moan and beg some more, but he didn’t know how he would handle orgasming just from the sounds you’d make. Without any more waiting, Satoru locked his gaze with yours in the mirror as he pushed the head of his cock against your dripping entrance.

Your mouth fell open as he pushed the fat tip of his cock inside of your warm walls, and he growled as your eyes already rolled back in your head. “You might not come out of this the same.”

“I don’t want to,” you moaned as he continued to slowly slide his cock inside of your wetness.

“My cock is incredibly addicting,” he whispered as he finally fully seated himself inside of your warm wet walls. Satoru moaned again as you clenched around his full length and then did so again when your gaze met his in the mirror.

“Ruin me, Satoru,” you commanded him, and he nearly came just from that.

“As you wish,” he purred as he slid his cock back until just the head was resting inside of your pussy. He waited and watched your face until you started to squirm, which only took a few seconds. Then he snapped his hips forward and buried his cock back in you completely. He did this again and again and again. Until you were writing and whining.

“Please, Satoru, give me more,” you whined loudly. He chuckled darkly before he repeated the same motion. Pull out until just the head rested in your walls, wait until you were begging, and then bury himself in one harsh thrust. He could see tears brimming in your eyes and finally stopped teasing.

His his slammed into your ass so fast and demanding that the chair started to scoot across the floor. With a muttered curse, Gojo pulled you up by your hair until he was supporting your weight. He grunted and kicked the chair hard enough that it slid over a few feet. In a quick motion that left you gasping, he hooked his arms underneath your knees and hauled you up until your back was pressed to his chest.

“Oh, you weren’t fucking kidding,” you moaned as he raised and lowered you on his cock with the same speed and harshness as before.

“I really wasn’t,” he whispered as he kissed your ear.

“Fucking cumming,” you whined and clenched tightly around his walls. Then your pussy throbbed over and over and over as your orgasm tried to push him out. But he just kept using your weight to fuck you onto his cock. Your screams of pleasure filled the whole shop as he fucked you through your orgasm. And soon after, he could feel his own coming on.

“I’m about to cum, sweetheart, and I’d hate for my load to go to waste,” he purred in your ear as he continued to fuck you onto his cock.

“I have the implant, so please empty your load into my cunt,” you moaned as you tightened onto his cock more. His arms and hips stuttered as he started to cum, and then stopped as your walls clenched and then throbbed in time with his cock. Your scream from this latest orgasm nearly made his ears ring.

He gently slid you off of his cock and lowered you to your feet. You spun around to face him and then stepped back a few feet.

“Are you satisfied with your service, or do you still need more attention,” you asked him again.

“Oh, I’m satisfied for now, but I will be back for more,” he growled as he looked your naked body up and down and noticed you still had your heels on. You bent over at the waist into your usual bow, and he moaned.

“Then I am glad to have provided your service today and look forward to doing so again as often as you need,” you said, still bent into the bow.

As always please do not copy, or reupload this anywhere. I have plenty of sites where I can upload this to on my own if I choose to.

#writing #writeblr #writer #writers #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo saturo

[villainofmyownstory]

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pairing: exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

summary: You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

tags: afab reader, hurt, ex lovers, ex-husband, recollection of death, loss of memory , ambiguous/open ending

1.6 k words

author's note: Once I wrote some random thoughts about our gorgeous captain. Today I've put it all together. Comments welcome, let me know if it's worth writing another part, because I don't know what to think. I guess I like sad stories…. and can't get the ex-husband plot out of my mind. Sorry not sorry <3

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The clock ticked quietly somewhere in the distance, deep in the corridor, steadily, rhythmically. The water in the kitchen tap dripped, quietly reminding you that you need to change the gasket but also to fix some other things in the flat. Even though you moved here a few months ago, you still don't feel at home. You feel uncomfortable. Like a guest in a hotel. All the objects seemed foreign, belonging to someone else. Or maybe nobody's. Everything has been renovated, painted, bought and new. Just for you.

Cat curled up in a ball, lies next to you on a small red sofa. And in front of you on a small, vintage coffee table steams warm coffee. Another one that day. The only meal for many weeks. You rub your eyes, even though no more tears have appeared in them for days. It still burns you and you feel this tingling under your eyelids. Something like fine sand, irritating your eyeballs and hurting the soft delicate flesh of your eyelids. You try to take it in stride. On days like these, weekends, holidays, when you are left alone in a small flat. You fall apart into millions of pieces. Alone. The pain under your ribs, the pressure in your sternum, your throat squeezed like in a vice. Memories haunt you at every step. A constant battle with the past, something you beg for every sleepless night to finally go away. To be finally erased. You should burn the photos, throw away the gifts. Bury the past at last. To move on. After all, this is what you wanted. A lot of time fighting, trying. Days of sweat shed, of anger, of trying again and again. And in the end, powerlessness.

Sunk in your thoughts, you stare, with heavy eyelids, at the empty space under the TV. Once, in another warm home, the shelf was filled with DVDs of one's favourite films. Classic.

A familiar sound interrupts your gloomy rush of thoughts. Looking at the phone screen, you smile slightly. Your boys have been calling every day. ‘Hi Johnny’ You say with a grunt, trying to chase away the sad thoughts, not letting him know that you are tormenting yourself with the past again.

You should not agree. The paperwork you signed, and the arrangements in the documents, were approved, many months ago. That was not the deal. This is not how you discussed the contract. This is not why you are sitting here now. Yet, you can't say no to them. Not after all they've given up their lives, made sacrifices and…

Sitting in an old rusty cheap car. In your familiar driveway, in this new, friendly neighbourhood. You hesitate to get out. Your hands are sweaty, in a firm grip on the worn-out steering wheel. So you give yourself a few minutes to calm down. You never wanted to show them, him, that you were continuing to suffer badly. That you haven't really moved on.

You have to be tough.

As the door finally slams shut behind you with a quiet click, the same scent reaches your nostrils once again. Earthy and heavy from the cigars and the cherry wood burning in the fireplace, a slightly sweet smoke with a subtle fruity aftertaste, with a slight bitter note. A scent so familiar, so close. But it's not your scent. The resignation has been signed. The decision had been made. There was no going back. Johnny stands in front of you looking at you apologetically. ‘Sure I understand. Duty calls.’ You say gently squeezing his shoulder in a gesture of understanding. Or maybe you want to convince yourself that you're not angry. There's no problem. Some kind of confirmation that it's not their fault you have to be here again. That you are standing in this big modern house, from a dream project . In the place that was supposed to be your home.

Of course boys hired 24/7 nursing. But also they themselves, his squad soldiers, alternated days and nights here. They practically lived here. So if the medical caretaker went for a few days' holiday and the three men had to go on a sudden urgent mission for a few days. It was your job to be here and help. You couldn't let them down. You could not say no. You could not answer the phone. Pretend it doesn't concern you. You had to be here. You had to be strong. For him.

When you are finally left alone in the hallway and the big car disappears around the corner. You feel that hole in your heart, opening up again. Those missing pieces to fill it. They are just behind a thin, wall. A couple of steps. A few seconds.

When you finally stand in the large room, as usual, dark curtains hang from the ceiling to the floor, covering the terraced windows. The semi-darkness of the room has always accompanied him when he watches movies. You stare at his profile illuminated by artificial television light. Despite the years spent in the army, the many litres of blood shed, the many scars on his body. He continued to watch the same films. War movies, classics. The screams and gunshots accompanied him since he opened his eyes and when he closed them. It was already burned into his mind. Written into his gut. It's just a shame that this one fucking wound, made him forget. He forgot about you. ‘Hi.’ You say uncertainly standing in the corner of the couch. You can't look at him.

You don't want to see the ocean blue of his irises, the wrinkles around his eyes. The slightly grey hair. The little freckle on his nose. The fidgety trimmed beard - which his boys were now taking care of. ‘Oh, mornin’ ‘ His voice seems even deeper to you, slightly hoarse. Perhaps already stranger. ‘How are you feeling today. Captain?’ You spit out the last word like a poisonous snake. You want to say something completely different. To shout what you said to him every night. Every morning intertwined when you were here, together. Alone. ‘You don't have to be so official, ma'am. I'm out of the army.’ John is gallant as ever. It's the same every damn time. Ma'am, lady. Miss. He's never said your name since that day. Forgotten. That hole in your heart, never to be filled by his pieces again.

The conversation goes on as usual, John again thinking you are just another medical assistant employed by his former teammates. Brothers in arms. Brothers in war. Brothers in the last of the battles. You want to shout to him how much you hate him, how much you despise him. How much it aches you. How much it hurts you that he doesn't remember anything. A bloody mission. Yet, as usual, you sit and listen once again to the same questions, the stories. As if you've turned on that worst episode of your favourite show again. The last one.

Every time he leaves. During every time he was away. On every such occasion. You were ready for the funeral. The black dress continued to hang in that wardrobe, a few rooms away.

Perhaps it would have been better if it had simply been buried six feet underground. In an oak dark box. Cold and with an equally empty head about you. Maybe it would be easier for you that way. You've already said goodbye to one light casket with his last name on it. Because that hole in your heart was much bigger than the missing fragments of your husband, ex-husband.

For a longer monologue, more memories, of his past work. Of his previous life. What you counted as ‘before’. Because what was ‘after’ was a blur. No matter. John stares at you, finally taking his eyes off the TV. The end credits move lazily across the large TV screen. You smile slightly when your gazes finally meet. He is handsome still. Maybe even more beautiful than you remembered him. It would seem that the man's calm face does not hide his wounded, hollow mind.

Physically he looks maybe even better than during his time in the army. In fact, better than at the time of your marriage. Unwittingly the corners of your mouth gently lift up. Doubtless Simon has been training with him, the hard workouts and the proper diet prepared by the new Captain are yielding great results. A well-deserved successor. A plain red t-shirt lightly framed John's broad, muscular shoulders. Grey casual sweatpants once too loose were now gently stretched around his massive thighs.

You don't have the strength to explain to him once again who you are. So when he once again addresses you as a total stranger you don't react. You wanted so badly to climb on his thighs, to punch him in the chest, maybe even scratch him. To make him feel some kind of pain at least for a moment, that thing you feel non-stop, something to bring you two together again. Feel his heart beat faster, and enter his mind, scratch out every shadowy particle. To brighten and put your memories there. Ours.

Nothing in this house resembles that life anymore. There are no pictures here. There are no flowers. There is no more laughter and joyful banter. No more singing and quiet murmurs of delight. The three of you are gone.

Finally, as you lower your gaze to his hands, which hesitantly stroke the fabric of the armchair. The image is blurred. Finally, tears well up in your eyes. You can no longer see a trace of the ring. No lighter stripe stands out on the slightly tanned skin. There is no faint hollow in the fleshy part of his worked-up ring finger. Although everything is a blur. The gold glistens gently reflecting the soft light of the television. The object that was such an important symbol. A vow. A promise. As if playfully winking at you.

#captain john price #captain price #call of duty #captain john price x reader #john price #cod x reader #exhusband!johnprice #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #john price cod #john price x reader #john price x you

[kiiwiigii]

New Life

Demetri x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were new to this life. A life sustained on blood. There were only two rules you had been taught: 1. Don't expose your kind. 2. Never attract the attention of the Volturi.

Warnings:

Kinda-sorta-fluff?

Angsty-ish

Word Count: 1400+

Requested?:Yes! @pooka167 I hope you like it!

Heya, thanks for adding me to your taglist! Could I please request a demetri fic (he currently has a chokehold on me, and I blame my adhd brain for picking the most random things to fixate on🤣) where he meets them by chance while on his way back from a mission for the volturi and the reader is a newborn vampire who's very confused about being a vampire but also a little nervous as the person who turned them had explained the volturi and stuff and they freak out thinking they broke a rule without realising it and Demetri reassures them and takes them back to volterra with him to be a part of the volturi? Thank you 💖💖

A/N: This was fun to write.

I was a mistake, he told me. He thought I was gifted. He thought I would make an excellent addition to his coven. The only thing, he said to me, was that at least I was pretty. And even then I was rather mediocre-looking by vampire standards.

I had wanted to cry then. But vampires can't cry of course. This- this man, had cursed me with an immortal life, only sustained by drinking the blood of others. I couldn't even kill myself if I wanted to. So now I was stuck. Forever nineteen and cursed with a burning in my throat that would never subside.

All because he thought I had been gifted.

Instead, I was about as ordinary as one could be. He had wasted his time seducing me. But I suppose time wasn't really relevant for someone who lived for eternity. And for someone who never slept.

That's what I missed the most from my old life. Sleep. I missed being able to turn off my brain. To dream. That and food. Sadly the smell of human food made me gag now. But the thought of taking a human life also made me queasy.

I had a rather substantial amount of control as a newborn. At least that's what I had been told. But in the 5 months I had been a vampire, I'd had my fair share of slip-ups.

Three weeks ago, Nathan finally decided I was useless and left me with one warning. Don't expose yourself or attract the attention of the Volturi.

He had made the consequences very clear if I were to do either.

Since then it had been a struggle. Finding a place to hide and keeping myself in check. I had a hard time taking the lives of innocents, so instead I turned to looking for criminals, which is easier than anyone would think.

But I had lost control twice. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought. A had wiped out a whole family the second time. I wanted to gag as venom filled my mouth at the thought. I'd had a sense of mind to make it look like a house fire in the end and then fled the area.

I was in a new town now and had holed up in a warehouse for the night, the sounds of the water of the empty harbor lulled me into a sense of peace.

Until I heard footsteps.

My eyes popped open and my nose flared in alarm. If they were a human they would be dead. The burning in my throat was too much. My control was this close to snapping. I was suddenly on my haunches, hissing softly.

But... it wasn't a human, although whatever it was... smelled absolutely divine. I couldn't put my finger on the exact smell. Only that I really liked it. Pine mixed with... amber, maybe?

It had to be another vampire.

And it was.

"Well, what do we have here?"

My eyes widened at the sight of him. Outside of Nathan, I had never met another vampire. This man was beautiful, with dirty blonde hair, thin lips, and rather angular face. And his eyes were a stunning red.

And his voice...

I met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through me. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt warmth.

I stood slowly, watching as he gazed at me, mouth slightly agape.

"I have waited centuries for you." He whispered, stunned.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I felt both flustered and confused. Then I caught sight of the necklace around his neck. An intricate 'V' crest.

If I had a beating heart I'm sure it would have slammed out of my chest. I flew backward into the wall, creating a human-shaped imprint before causing it to crumble around me.

The man looked shocked, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I- I promise I haven't done anything. I haven't exposed our kind- I burned- I made it look like a house fire. I promise there was nothing left."

He just gave me a confused look, approaching me cautiously, his hands still out until he was right before me. He squatted down next to me and I cringed away.

"You're not in trouble, love." His voice drifted over me soothingly.

I stared at him warily, despite my body's protests to relax.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

"But- but." My eyes glanced back down to the crest around his neck and he took notice. "Aren't you a part of the Volturi? Aren't you here about the family I killed last week? I'm so sorry-"

"Please relax. I'm not here to punish you for anything. I don't even know what you're talking about, love."

When I still wouldn't relax he held his hand out to me.

"I am Demetri. It is lovely to meet you...?"

I reluctantly took his hand, and if I had still been human I would have blushed violently when he kissed my hand.

"Y- Y/N." I stuttered.

"Y/N."

I really liked the way he said my name.

"Demetri?" A new, deeper voice sounded from behind this… Demetri.

I jumped and cursed myself for not being more aware.

"Just a moment, Felix. I have found something- someone extraordinary."

"Oh?"

Felix came into sight and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. He was huge. Easily the biggest man I had ever seen. And my eyes didn't miss the golden crest hanging from his neck.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he scanned me. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"I mean in vampiric years. When were you changed?"

I paused, still eyeing him warily. Demetri gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Five months. I was changed five months ago,"

"Five months??" Demetri's mouth dropped open in surprise before snapping shut angrily.

I flinched backwards, taking my hand back. He caught himself and relaxed.

"I'm sorry, love. You have done nothing wrong. But why are you on your own? Where is your sire?"

"He left me."

"Left you?" Felix asked.

"Yes. Three weeks ago."

Demetri looked absolutely livid.

"He left you, a newborn, on their own?"

I chewed my lip and his eyes zeroed in on them, his beautiful red eyes darkening a little.

"Who is your sire? Why did he leave?" Felix murmured.

I looked down at my knees guiltily, picking at my worn jeans. Suddenly I was very aware of how disgusting I must appear to them. To Demetri. I shook my head, warmth filling me again at just the thought of him.

"Y/N?"

Demetri's hand appeared over my own, stopping my fidgeting.

"His name is Nathan. I'm not sure where he is now. He- he changed me because he thought I had a gift, but when- when it turned out I didn't…" I blinked harshly at the venom pooling in my eyes. "He left me. He only allows those that are gifted in his coven."

Demetri hissed angrily before taking a deep breath to calm himself. He clasped my hand and lifted it to his lips again. I sucked in a surprised breath myself.

"Why don't you come with Felix and me back to Volterra? We will welcome you with open arms, gift or not."

I looked at Demetri, his pleading eyes staring into my own. I had been warned about the Volturi, but here were two members of the coven who had shown me the most kindness since I had awoken into this new life.

"And it would mean the world to me. To have you there with me."

"You- you said that you had been waiting centuries for me." My voice was barely a whisper. "What does- what does that mean? What did you mean?"

Demetri and Felix shared a look before the latter began to walk away, perhaps to give us a semblance of privacy.

"What did your sire tell you about vampires? About our world?"

His thumb rubbed circles into my now open palm, a gentle caress that helped me finally relax.

"He explained the basics, like feeding and staying inconspicuous. He mentioned that some vampires have gifts… and about the Volturi." I met his eyes then.

"Nothing else?"

I shook my head and in a surprise move, he leaned forward and kissed me gently on the forehead. I felt my body begin to heat up a little.

"Then I have much to teach you, if you'll come back with me that is."

He was pleading. How could I say no? I thought of them leaving me here- of him leaving me and I couldn't stand the thought of it.

"Okay. I think I would like that."

Demetri grinned, and it was like my whole world was shining.

{Masterlist} // {Request Guidelines}

Taglist: @alecvolturi @belladonna-xox @birdiebeesblog @lack-lust-3r @pawspurpaw @pooka167 @rosedpetal @twilightlover2007

Wanna be notified when I post a new fic? Ask to join my taglist!

#demetri volturi x reader #demetri x reader #volturi #reader insert #fanfic #twilight

[jsluvtzu]

weekend gigs

kim dahyun x fem!reader

summary: the new girl makes your shift worthwhile

cw: none, men dni

wc: 1.7k

a/n: my favorite pic of dahyun ever 😞 seeing clips of her playing piano inspired me to write this. she’s so gf i love her

it was a particularly busy sunday evening. the bustling environment in the restaurant simmered down as the faint sound of a piano filled the room.

you were busy waiting on tables in the main dining area as well, constantly on the move to attend to every customer.

“i heard we got a new saturday player.. they finally let poor john rest,” your coworker said.

john was an older gentleman — he was a lounge pianist at the restaurant for about 9 years.

he genuinely loved spending his weekends there, but he was growing weaker at his age, unable to hit the right keys or play the right notes anymore.

you swiftly picked up a tray full of dishes that the cook handed you, “aw, really? i’ll actually kinda miss john.. he was a sweetheart,” you said, slightly disheartened, but glad that he was getting the rest that he deserved.

you wondered who the new player could be, but the three tables waiting for your attention cut your curiosity short.

as you made your way to a seated couple in the lounge area, you subtly glanced over to the stage to catch a glimpse of the newbie.

a.. woman?, you thought.

you couldn’t see much of this unexpected woman in the quick glance that you took — her dark, long, wavy hair draped over her shoulder.

it was a refreshing change to see a new person on the stage for once — nothing against sweet old john, but it was just time for a new set of songs.

quickly taking their order, you excused yourself and made your way back to the kitchen, purposely taking the route that would get you as close to the stage as possible.

the melody that she played grew louder as you approached her, the skill practically bouncing off her fingertips.

you held the notepad tightly in your hand as you passed by the grand piano, tracking the woman with your head locked onto observing her features.

woah, was all you could think of as you finally saw her face — her glowing skin, a faint smile on her lips, and her captivating eyes.

the woman felt you staring at her and took her eyes off of her note sheet to meet yours.

she smiled wide at you, making you nearly collide with another waiter, your head never once turning away from her.

“oh shit- sorry!” you apologized, reluctantly peeling your eyes away to plead with your coworker not to kill you.

—

a few hours passed and your shift finally ended.

you punched in your code to clock out of the system in the back, deeply sighing out as you stretched your back and waited for the computer to load.

the restaurant was fairly empty at that point, the late hours creeping up on the corporate workers that came in to relax before a long week of work.

you grabbed your backpack and headed out to leave, still hearing the entrancing sounds coming from the ambient lounge.

stopping in your tracks, you decided against leaving right away and traipsed your way over to the entrance of the lounge hall.

she was still up there playing away, her smile never fading.

you made your way over to an empty couch towards the middle and set your things down, taking a seat and immediately feeling yourself relax.

the way she swayed along slightly with the music and gracefully moved her hands on the keys made your tired lips curl into a slight smile. you could see the passion and love she had for music in the way she tenderly played every note with precision.

every once in a while, the woman would look over her shoulder at you and smile, almost like she was checking on you.

time passed by in the blink of an eye — what felt like five minutes quickly turned into thirty.

you were the only one left in the lounge now, the once busy night turning into a quiet and peaceful one.

the woman ended her last song with a drawn out riff, sitting up straight and stretching her wrists from fatigue.

you followed her action and took your chin out of the hand you had rested on your knee, sitting up slowly.

you were contemplating if you should sneak out before she thinks you’re weird for watching her that long, or if you should just stay and talk to this pretty, pretty lady.

ultimately, you decided on the former, grabbing your bag and quietly shuffling your way to the exit.

“wait! i- i just-” the woman blurted, shooting up from the bench and frantically stepping down the small stairs on the front of the stage.

you froze and snapped your head in her direction, anticipating a creeped out response.

her high heels thumped against the velvet carpet, “i just wanted to say thank you for.. staying.”

she was face to face with you now — fidgeting with the ends of her black dress and beaming at you with nothing except gratitude in her eyes.

you gripped the strap of your backpack hanging on your right shoulder as she came closer to you, praying you didn’t stink of any food or worse.

“y-yeah, it was nothing really. i enjoyed watching you or- not watching you i just really enjoyed your performance.. skills… yeah,” you stuttered, tripping over your own jumbled words under her gaze.

she let out a small laugh at your shyness, squinting and smiling with her pretty eyes, “well, i’m glad you enjoyed it,” she held out her hand, “i’m dahyun. it’s actually my first night here!”

you took her hand and introduced yourself with a firm handshake, “nice to meet you dahyun, i’m y/n,” you said with a returned smile, “how often do you plan on playing here?”

“i actually took up all the weekend spots. i think it’s more fun to play when people come with a work stress-free mind anyways,” she said, dropping her hand from your grasp and reaching it up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

how convenient — it just so happens that you worked the night shifts every weekend.

“yeah? the boss must really like you then. it’s not common for him to have an artist play consecutively like that.”

you wondered just how talented dahyun was for your boss to take her on so often.

dahyun nodded, “i guess so.. i just played a song for him one day and he signed me on for all weekends!” she said with another bright smile.

“how can you even play so well? seriously, i’m amazed at how talented you are on that piano.”

she hesitated to answer, giggling and turning her head down, “well.. how about i show you?”

you waited for her to look back up at you, “i would love that.”

dahyun excitedly turned and headed back up on the stage, sliding her way to the left side of the bench.

you soon followed behind her, dropping your backpack at the edge of the piano and scooting in next to her on the right.

at this distance, you could smell the floral perfume she used and felt the coldness of her skin when her arm grazed yours.

“so you see this key right here?” she pointed in front of you, “just press down on it like this,” she pressed the key rhythmically every couple beats, making sure you followed her tempo.

you hummed in agreement and practiced on your own, looking over at her for approval.

surprisingly, she was already looking at you — her eyes filled with adoration.

“exactly like that, you got it!” she said, positioning her hands to play a slow melody.

the impromptu duet between you two echoed against the walls of the empty lounge, mixed laughter and giggles erupting from both of you.

you helped dahyun by pressing your assigned key at the right time, watching as her fingers danced along the white tiles.

her presence was warm — calming almost. you felt comfortable being around her even though you’d just barely met her a couple hours ago.

—

after another half an hour of you two messing around together, you eventually closed up the place and offered to walk dahyun home.

“do you live near here?” you said, walking alongside dahyun on the sidewalk.

“yeah, about two blocks down. i hope it’s not too far for you.. i hate that you have to go all this way just to walk me home,” she said worriedly.

“it’s not a problem at all. gotta make sure the talent gets home safe, right?”

dahyun laughed at your corny joke, her hand covering her mouth.

you wished she knew how beautiful her smile was and how amazing she looked up on that stage.

“right, right,” she giggled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of your jacket that you insisted on her wearing.

when you arrived at dahyun’s place, it was hard to put a stop to the flowing conversation you had.

she was easy and fun to talk to, a trait that wasn’t common in the people that you usually met.

“well, this is my place. thank you again for walking with me.”

you didn’t know it at the time, but dahyun didn’t want the night to end any more than you did.

“of course, dahyun. it was really nice to meet you.”

dahyun looked down at the jacket she had on, realizing that it wasn’t hers, “oh! your jacket! here, take it please, i’m so sorry,” she said, rushing to slide it off of her shoulders and hand it back to you.

you refused to take it back and assured her that she could keep it, “no, no, it’s fine really. keep it. you can just give it back to me next saturday!”

silently high-fiving yourself, you succeeded in creating an excuse for her to talk to you the next time you met.

“are you sure?”

you nodded with a big smile on your face, “i’m sure.”

dahyun thanked you again and brought you in for a goodbye hug, clinging onto you as you awkwardly wrapped your arms around her.

saying your goodbyes, dahyun put her number in your phone and emphasized the importance of you getting home safely.

your mind was filled with thoughts of her the whole way home — hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time you’d have the opportunity to be with her like that.

little did you know,

it was only the beginning.

#twice imagines #twice x reader #twice fluff #kpop x reader #kpop gg #dahyun x reader #dahyun fluff #kim dahyun

[lenathekiller]

*~Filling the Loneliness~*

A Buggy x gn!reader

Tags: mix of angst, smut and fluff basically, a bit of voyeurism too

A/n: excuse mistakes I'm very rusty at writing but this damn clown has a chokehold on my mind. I wrote this with LABuggy in mind but it could fit Anime buggy as well tbh. The only derogatory word the user is called is sl*t and it's only used once.

Word count: 6683

It was just another day of work, managing the costume shop that you'd come to own somehow. It was a relatively good sized shop, selling a variety of clothing one might use for performances or wear to the masquerade themed parties the town held every week.

Your little costal town had been unofficially deemed a safe space for pirates to come dock without having to worry about being captured for bounty or fought off by other pirates. Hence why the town threw celebrations themed around casting aside one's identity to just enjoy a night of drinking and having fun without a worry for their own safety.

You never cared to attend the celebrations, instead using the time to do trivial tasks around the shop like checking inventory or working on new masks or makeups to sell. You were doing such right now infact.

Behind the counter you sat, working on some paperwork you needed to finish, calculating what had sold best this week compared to last week.

"Welcome in!" You called out when you heard the squeaking of the shop's old door opening, but did not glance up to check whom had come in. "I'll be with you in a moment, feel free to look around and let me know if you need any assistance finding what you need."

Footsteps approached the counter followed by the creaking of someone leaning against the counter across from you. "Actually doll you can help me, I came to get my usual order of things. So where's ole Petey?"

Keeping your eyes still glued to your papers you continued to work as you replied. "That old coot's dead. Died bout 3 weeks ago after drinking himself into a damn stupor and falling into the sea. So I'm in charge of this place now unfortunately, seeing as I was his only employee."

You heard a chuckle "That damn old man. I tried to warn him something would happen but I suppose he got what he deserves after partying too hard even at his old age."

"Got that right. Sure he was a good boss but the bastard drank more than any pirate that visits town." You scoffed finishing up your work and setting it aside. Finally looking up you instantly recognized the man before you. "Now how can I help- oh it's you."

The man stood up straight, fixing his coat proudly with a grin. "I see you know of the Great and flashy Buggy. Of course you would, I mean who wouldn't?"

Placing a hand on your hip as you stood from your seat, smiling back at the Clown pirate. "The boss never seemed to shut up about you, constantly talking about how you were his best customer.... amongst other things I'd rather not repeat."

His face fell a bit at your hinting of the old owner saying less than honorable things about him.

"Don't worry, I never took his rambling of you to heart. He was always a cranky drunkard who'd complain about anything or anyone he could." You reached over and patted Buggy on the shoulder reassuringly, before motioning to the backroom with a thumb. "Thankfully that man made notes about his regulars preferences so I'll be right back. Just gonna go grab em real quick so I can get you what you need without all the hassle of you having to explain your likes and dislikes of products to me."

The tall clown gave a nod, watching you disappear into the back of the shop. Taking the opportunity to glance around at the stock around him, mentally taking note of what had changed since he'd last been here about 3 months ago.

After a few minutes you returned holding his wanted poster, reading the scrawling of notes written on the back of it. "Let's see, looks like you prefer the typical Circus clown makeup, of course long lasting and as smudge proof as possible. Though we don't carry one of these brands anymore...-" You were deep in thought now mumbling as you moved around the shop grabbing the items noted on Buggy's preference sheet.

The said Clown Pirate stood leaning on the front counter, watching you zip around like a little mouse searching for all the usual products he buys. He had to admit you looked quite cute all worked up and focused on your job like that.

"The only thing we don't have from this list is the white face paint, but have no fear my good man for you're in luck." You placed down the small basket of products before him. You gave a small 'boop' to his nose with your finger before proudly crossing your arms. "I happen to make my own white face paint, and am willing to give you my latest batch if your interested."

"Oh really? And just what do you know about clown makeup little shop keep?" He asked you smugly, with a smirk

"A lot more than you think bozo. I was a mime for ten years, hence my fashion sense idiot." You gestured to yourself and your choice of clothing.

He admittedly hadn't really paid attention to what exactly you were wearing, more distracted by your actions and words. Though now he could see you were wearing black pants, that were doing wonders to make your thighs look great, and a oversized longsleeved striped black and white shirt, with some subtle mime makeup. "Huh. I hadn't even noticed."

You stood there silent for a second, before reaching up to pat his cheek a bit mockingly. "It's a good thing your attractive, cause you sure aren't that observant are ya bud?"

The man was thrown off guard at the fact you'd just complimented him, albeit also insulting him along with it. Usually he's the one being somewhat cheeky and flirty to others with no prevail, but here you were just casually complimenting him like it was nothing.

You moved back behind the counter, pulling a container of white paint, a handheld mirror, a few brushes as well as sponges, and a damp rag. "Well here let me show you just what I actually know about clown makeup."

Before Buggy could even process what was going on, you'd already snatched his head off his shoulders, now holding it between your hands. "Hey- Just what do you think your doing?!" He spat out at you in an annoyed tone, head already trying to wiggle free from your grasp.

"Take it easy hot stuff, you're too tall for me to do your makeup if your standing. I'm simply making this easier for both of us." You took a seat in your chair, laying Buggy's head on your lap between your thighs so he was facing upwards. "If you're a good boy who stays still I may even give you treat."

"Forward aren't we? Already putting my head between your legs and I've only just met you. I mean I know I'm flashy and all but I didn't realize I was having such an affect on you babe." He teases as the both of blush a bit at the position your in.

"Oh shut up, fool. Only in your dreams would your head actually be allowed between my legs in such a sinful manner." You cut off any reply he could give by begining to gently wipe the makeup off his face with the damp rag you'd pulled out previously. You made sure not to rub too hard as you scrubbed his face clean, though the red on his nose wasn't coming off at all.

He picked up on your confusion, rolling his eyes and sighing a bit annoyed. "That's not makeup sweetheart. My nose is just naturally big and red."

You smiled sheepishly. "Heh, sorry. I knew it was your natural nose I just didn't think it was naturally red as well."

"Yea yea, crack your jokes now about it so I don't have to hear them later" His eyes were looking elsewhere as he spoke, avoiding your gaze as much as he could.

You paused, looking into his eyes till he eventually gave in, making eye contact with you. "Why would I joke about something you can't control or change about yourself?"

"Cause everyone else does so why wouldn't you as well?" He stated matter of factly, while studying your gaze, seeing a flash of hurt for him in your eyes.

"Well, I'm not everyone else." Shifting your gaze to look at his nose for a second, and smiling faintly as you spoke. "In fact I think it's cute to be honest. Seeing it up close somewhat makes me want to give you a kiss right on it."

Buggy was well and truly lost for words now, just a blushing mess that was forced to look right at you. You just let him stay like that, giggling softly at his cheeks that seemed to be almost as red as his nose, before you finally gave him some sort of mercy by applying new makeup to his warmed face. The both of you stayed silent during the whole thing, you concentrating on the paint you were applying to Buggy's face as his head laid there in your lap, him studying every inch of your face as you worked.

He had to admit he was trying to memorize every little detail of your face, from the color of your eyes, to every little twitch of your lips while you focused, the way your tongue would poke out slightly and brow furrowed when you were painting thinner lines. He was trying to savor this moment while he could, knowing there was never a moment like this before nor would he ever possibly experience anything like this again. No one was or ever would treat him with such care and attention as you were currently, this truly was a once in a lifetime thing for him and he wanted to remember it forever.

Eventually you finished, putting down the paint brushes, and lifting the clowns head up in your hands to admire your masterpiece. A smile formed on your lips as you stood, moving to reunite Buggy's head to his body again and handed him the handheld mirror.

"Pretty good huh?" You spoke as he looked at your handy work.

You did the exact same look he had on before but there was a noticeable difference between his work and yours. His makeup had looked more messy and somewhat smudged before, as if he practically lived in it, where as now the lines were crisp and colors vibrant. He looked like a clown people would smile and laugh with, no longer one people feared instantly.

"Damn sweetheart, you're even better with your hands than I thought." He teased as he handed you back the mirror, giving you a wink and click of his tongue.

You winked back at him with a smirk. "Don't give me all the credit, I mean I had quite the attractive canvas to work with."

"You seem to really enjoy flattering me." His head cocked curiously at you "Or are you just this flirty with all your customers?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, starting to clean up the counter and repackage the products you used on him. "Nah, just you Buggy. I guess you could say I have a thing for clowns."

A floating hand grabbed your chin gently, guiding your gaze back to it's owner, whom was now leaning in dangerously close to your face. "Hmm, well too bad for you. I don't have a thing for chatty mimes."

He could have sworn your gaze had flicked to his lips for a moment before you licked your own, but he'd chalk it up to his desperately lonely mind imagining things. The hand let you go, reattaching itself as Buggy stepped back, away from the counter. You took a minute to snap back to reality, then went back to packing up his order.

The pirate began to roam a little, looking at all the different costumes and masks you had displayed around the shop. Maybe he could get a few new outfits for some of the crew before they all head back out to sea in a few days. Hell maybe he'd get himself a new flashier coat too, one that would really wow the audience when he makes his grand entrance every night.

"Got everything you need packed up and ready for you. Did you want to get anything else?" Your voice pulling him from his thoughts and luring him back over to you.

"Was thinking bout a new coat, something flashy, but I'll hold off till tomorrow on that." He spoke, pulling out a few coins to pay you with.

"Oh good! So I will get to see you again." A smile formed on your lips as you took the payment and slid the box of merchandise over to him.

"Of course! I would never deny a fan from seeing my greatness up close in person." He takes a dramatic bow towards you, before placing one hand over his heart. "What kind of performer would I be if I did such a thing?"

You just laughed at his theatrics, shaking your head a bit.

He grabs the box off the counter and headed to the door, turning to bid you farewell. "You've been a wonderful audience, but it's time for me to take my grand exit unfortunately."

"Farewell Captain Buggy. I'll be waiting patiently till your next performance." You give a small round of applause for him as he leaves.

You stand there for a minute or two, replaying the whole interaction in your head, letting out a frustrated cry when you realize something. "FUCK! I NEVER TOLD HIM MY NAME!!"

"Didn't tell whom your name?" A voice says, causing you to jump.

Turning you see famed pirate Mihawk, you jump once more. "Ah! Sorry sir! I didn't hear you come in, my apologies."

"It's quite alright, I will not fault you for being so lost in thought in your own store." He stoically dismissed your concerned apology, removing his hat and placing it on the counter. "I seem to have gotten a bit careless earlier and somehow got a cut in my hat. Am I correct to assume this is the place I can get it fixed up nicely and quickly?"

Looking at the mentioned cut you assessed it was something that you could indeed repair, and quite quickly. "Yes, I do not believe this will take me that long to patch up, and I'll make it as unnoticeable as possible of course. Give me about an hour and I'll have it good as new sir."

"Very good, I shall be back then." He gave a curt nod before leaving, and as soon as he was out the door, you immediately set to work on fixing the hole in his hat.

After one hour had past exactly, Mihawk came strolling back in, gaining the attention of the few locals that had come in to browse.

"Perfect timing I finished a mere moment ago." You handed him back his hat, watching as he inspected your craftsmanship intensely.

A smirk cracked on his lips as he glanced back up at you. "Very well done, you can not even tell it is there unless you look extremely closely at it. Of course no one will ever be close enough for that, so you have my thanks." He placed a hefty amount of money in your hands before leaving.

"Whoa! That guy's intense!" One of locals muttered as they came to the counter.

"Yes he is, but thankfully I was able to do a good repair job." You replied, starting to ring up the items they'd set down.

"He seemed quite pleased with your work, maybe he'd be willing to dance with ya at the celebration tonight." Someone else chimed in, as they got in line to be rung up.

"Don't be ridiculous. That man is much too serious for my liking, I'd feel on edge the whole time." You shuttered slightly at the thought. "I never go to any of the parties in town anyways, but even if I did I'd rather spend my time around someone more akin to Buggy honestly."

A scoff could be heard, followed by a disgusted toned response. "Really that loser? He's a pretty sorry excuse for a pirate don't ya think?"

A few other insults and comments were thrown in agreement by others in the shop.

"HEY, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" You shouted, causing everyone to jump and go quiet. "If y'all want to shit talk that man then: GET.. OUT..OF..MY..SHOP!" you put emphasis on those last words, pointing your gaze to each person, whom was just talking, with each word.

A few people gulped in fear at what you might do if they say anything more.

"Captain Buggy is a highly valued customer here, so if you want to run your mouths like that about him in front of me then there will not only be hell to pay, but you will also be banned from my shop for life."

Everyone remained silent and somewhat timid of you until they left the store thankfully.

God did that get you're blood boiling, and you weren't entirely sure why. Maybe it was the fact that the clown had just been in here early and then suddenly everyone's throwing around insults about him. Or maybe it was more so the fact that Buggy had wormed into your heart quite easily during the earlier interaction you'd had with him. Whatever it was, it caused you to be uncharacteristically protective of someone other than yourself or the few people you were actually fairly close to. He was risking his life out at sea, putting on showy performances of a lifetime, while everyone in town here just partied and got drunk constantly, yet they'd all looked down upon Buggy in distain.

Shaking your head clear of your thoughts, you began to occupy your time by sketching ideas and designs for costume pieces you could make to sell. Eventually you found yourself drafting up some designs for a flashy coat you'd think a certain blue haired pirate captain might not only enjoy but also look great in.

The squeaking of the door could be heard, pulling you from your current sketching, you looked up to find Buggy back in the shop.

Your face instantly lit up with a smile upon seeing him. "Hey there handsome, I thought you wouldn't be back till tomorrow."

He smiled back at you, making his way over to lean on the counter across from you. "Well what can I say? I was craving the love of an audience... well that and I realized you never gave me that treat for being a 'good boy' like you said earlier."

"Oh and just what kind of treat would the marvelous Buggy the Clown like?" You stood up, making your way around the counter to stand in front of him, placing your hands on your hips. "Maybe something like a free pair of gloves, or a discount on one of the pricer costume pieces, or maybe even a specially made mask that will fit around your cute nose?" At the mention of his nose you gave it a small 'boop' with your finger.

He gently grabbed the hand you used to tap his nose, holding in his as he looked into your eyes. "Actually I was more so hoping for that kiss you claimed you wanted to give me. Ya know the one you you said you want to give me on my nose you seem to like so much."

"Oh-" You were caught off guard a bit, in a good way however as it caused you to blush. "I suppose I can do that, yea.."

A wide smile grew on his face as you placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning up to place a small kiss to his bulbus red nose. You'd only pulled back a few inches away from his face, looking into his eyes for a moment before a mutual pull had you both leaning back in and connecting your lips. It was a sweet kiss, that lasted for what felt like hours but was probably only a minute or two in reality, though it left you both speechless for a moment.

"Uh wow, I um- wasn't expecting that sorry." Buggy said, breaking the calm silence you'd been in.

"Heh, yea me either, but I enjoyed it so don't apologize." You slid your hands up to cup his cheeks on either side of his head. Something felt weird though when you did. "Uh not to ruin the moment but you seem to be missing an ear..."

A nervous chuckle came from him. "Heh, about that..." He stopped speaking for a moment a bit embarrassed as his missing ear seemed to zip out of your back pocket and back to his head. "I kind of left it here earlier."

"When did you put that there?" You were more shocked at how it got his ear into your pocket without you knowing, than you were mad at him for seemingly spying on you.

"I did it while you were distracted with my theatrics of leaving." He smiled sheepishly. "I heard you defending my honor so to speak and felt bad about the whole spying thing after that so I decided to come back."

"Hmm, if you say so~" You squinted at him, being jokingly skeptical of his words.

"I'm willing to make up for the spying in anyway you want." He held his hands up, seemingly in a playful surrender.

You faked thinking really hard for a moment, before smiling and giving your response. "I suppose you can give me another kiss, then I'll forgive you."

A shit-eating grin plastered itself across Buggy's face, while his hands now detached pulled you close to him by your waist. "Oh that I'd me more than happy to do."

The two of you shared in another sweet kiss, this one with a bit more passion pouring from both of you. Neither of you wanted to be the first to pull away, though eventually when your lips had parted from each other's you remained there holding each other still.

A pit started to form in your stomach, the kiss was great sure but you hardly knew him. For all you know he could have a spouse and kids somewhere, yet here you were openly flirting and kissing him without even a second thought. There'd always been a sort of loneliness in you, always craving the love of another but never being able to find it. You had small flings during the time you were a mime, ridding yourself of that lonely feeling for short periods with the fleeting intimacy of your fellow performers. Though it had grown especially harder since you had moved here, to fight off that ache, no longer having the trusted company of others, only visiting pirates that brought danger with them and the townsfolk who only ever seem to care about partying their troubles away.

Then Buggy came in and you couldn't help latching on to the hope that those rumors of him being less of a threatening force were correct. Thinking he might be easier to approach, that he wouldn't be a threat to your own safety, and you could use him easily to fill that void again for at least the night. There would be no worry about catching feelings considering he only comes for supplies every few months from what you'd heard, and he surely would or has met others who catch his eye far better than you ever could.

It was all starting to make you feel guilty the more you thought about it. "I'm sorry Buggy."

His expression flushed with confusion. "Huh? What are you apologizing for?"

"I'm sorry that I don't fear you." You moved out of his grasp slowly, gaze now shifted to the floor.

More confusion. "How is that a bad thing exactly?"

A sigh escaped from you, back now facing the puzzled pirate. "Every other pirate that comes to town leaves me feeling on edge. Sure this town might be big on reputations not mattering here but I can't help but fear for my life around the few pirates that do come in to this little shop. You must have heard the fear I felt earlier over Mihawk's visit, yet I was completely at peace when I saw you. I guess I let the gossip people say about you being less threatening or less strong as others affect how I saw you. I kind of used you somewhat for my own selfish desires today or was at least planning on to."

"What do you mean by that exactly?" You couldn't read his emotion in his voice and you dated not look back at him.

"I've always longed to experience love but I never have been able to. I use to sleep around with my fellow performers to chase off my feelings of loneliness, though I can't do that anymore since I've moved to this town. The pirates bring too much uncertainty with them and the locals are all a bunch of careless party animals, but you've been described as somewhat of a push over. In my subconscious I guess I thought I could use you like a toy to make myself feel better with out caring about your own feelings since we're both pathetic cowards." As you spoke tears began softly falling from your eyes, causing your own makeup to become a mess. "I was wrong to think that though, and I realized it after you kissed me again. You don't deserve to be treated so poorly, especially not by me. I'm sorry Buggy for thinking so little of you, when in reality you are far greater than me."

Silence. No response from the man came, only the sound of you sniffing filled the air for what seemed like forever. Though finally detached gloved hands came to rest on your shoulders, snaking their way up your neck to cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears. Handless arms wrapping themselves around your waist from behind as Buggy's head floated Infront of you, looking into your eyes.

"It's okay sweetheart, there's no need to get so worked up over lil ole me. in all honesty I can't blame you or hate you at all for wanting to use me. I mean I would have used you right back." A bit of guilt hid behind his gaze, a small comforting smile on his painted lips. "I know I'm the great Buggy the Clown, but I'm in the exact same boat as you. Searching selfishly for small cures to fix the deep desire of wanting to be loved by someone. I've honestly used so many random people along my journey, never caring how'd they feel when I'd be gone the next day, never to see any of them again. There's no telling if I'd have ended up doing the same to you or not."

Staying there you a moment, both of you processing what you'd each admitted to, you could help but feel drawn to him again. Even if it was wrong of you to do considering all you'd said just now, you couldn't help but to reach up to cup his floating head, guiding his face towards yours again before kissing him.

"I'm sorry, i-" You started, but he cut you off.

"Don't be.." He said, connecting his lips back to yours again.

The kiss quickly turned passionate, it was clear that you both need this right now and there would be no resistance from either one of you. When you'd broken apart for a moment to catch your breaths, Buggy took the chance to spin you around and put himself together again. Now that your chests were pressing together, he recaptured your lips as one hand flew over to lock the shop's door and flip the sign to closed, before coming back to join the other hand in grabbing your ass. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, one moving to his back as the other moved to softly tug off his bandana.

Tangling your fingers into his soft blue hair, few groans escaped him when you dared to tug at it. The sound only served to light a quickly growing fire of desire in you, which lead you to tug his hair some more in order to gain another few groans from him.

"Damn you really like my hair don't you?" He teased, trailing kisses down to your neck now, finding your sweet spot quickly, nibbling and sucking on it. "Though it's not fair I'm the only one making noise here."

You moaned at the feeling of his mouth marking up your neck, grinding your hips greedily against his, growing desperate for some form of friction between you two.

"Buggy~ pl-please" You whined a bit and he took the hint, using one of his hands to pin your waist against the counter while the other began to rub over your clothed crotch. He pulled his head away from your neck to watch the faces you were making at his touch. He felt he could watch you all day honestly, the way your eyes had become full of lust and your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip, was so mesmerizing to him. His own arousal and desire blossoming as he watched you try to plead with your eyes for him to touch you more. He maybe a killer but he knew how to be nice when he wanted, and thankfully he chose to play nice tonight by giving you what you wanted.

His hand stopped rubbing against your aching clothed loin, moving to undo your pants and pull them down.

When you tried to push your underwear along with them he stopped you. "No no- not yet." He picked you up, placing you so you were sitting at the edge of the counter, as he kneeled down to place his head between his legs. He started planting little kisses and bites along your thigh leading towards your core untill he was about to plant a kiss directly where you needed his touch the most, but instead switched to the other thigh, doing it over and over again to tease you.

"Captain please quit teasing~" you begged, not knowing how much more his little game you could handle before you'd go insane.

"Alright doll, but only cause you asked so nicely." Finally he removed your last bit of clothing covering your needy sex, planting tender kisses that only served to make you crave him even more.

Gradually he began to use his tongue, licking and sucking in all the right places and in all the right ways, drawing out moans from you, that he could only describe as beautiful. All the little moans, whimpers and curses of his name were music to his ears in all honesty, and he knew once he'd gone back out to sea they would haunt his dreams every night till he saw you again.

Of you in turn would be haunted by the memories of the way his mouth felt on you right now, the way it seemed to be effortlessly drawing you closer to your climax. "Buggy~ 'm close" Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, encouraging him to continue what he was currently doing until you had cum. Thankfully he did, letting you reach your high, then lapping up the mess you'd made without any hesitation.

Once he knew you'd come back down from your orgasm, he stood up and guiding you off the counter where you sat, moving to bend you over it instead. Removing his gloves and undoing his pants, his aching member flew around to your mouth while a few of his fingers began to tease your hole.

"Do me a favor babe, suck on that for me and get it nice and slick with your spit while I make sure your stretched out enough here for me to fit."

He didn't need to tell you twice, instantly you took the floating member into your mouth sucking on it and running your tongue over the tip. You took as much as you could into your mouth and throat, using your hand to spread excess drool over what little bit of length you couldn't. As you worked bobbing your head on his cock, he began to work your hole, starting by slowly inserting two of his digits into you, sliding them in and out a bit before scissoring them carefully inside you, and when he felt you were ready enough he inserted a third digit into the equation.

After a bit when he felt you were stretched out enough, and his dick was thoroughly lubed with your spit, he removed himself from both ends of you. Joining himself back together, he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in, groans escaping from both of you as he did. His movements were slow and steady to start, letting you get fully accustomed to the feeling of each other.

"Fuck, even with all that preparation your still so tight." He groaned out into your ear, his hands squeezing your hips tightly as he started to speed up his pace a little. "You doing okay? Nothing feels uncomfortable right?"

You shook your head, trying to remember how to speak anything but his name. "No- I'm fine- feels so good Buggy"

He plants a few kisses on your shoulder before he stands himself up straight, quickening his pace more till there's an audible slapping sound of your skin slapping against each other's. Just as you both were getting lost in the pleasure and feel of the other one's body, a knock errupts from the door.

The pair of you glance towards the door, seeing Mihawk standing in the window of it. Without even slowing down his thrusting for a second, Buggy detaches his torso and floats it to the door to answer it.

"What do you need?" You hear the clown ask annoyed, probably glaring daggers at the swordsman.

"I came to talk to the shop keep. I wanted to inquire about replacing the plume of my hat." Mihawk responds unfazed by the current situation.

"Really shit head? You can see were in the middle of something obviously, you couldn't wait till tomorrow to ask?" Buggy crosses his arms, now pissed at the man for interrupting you two over something so stupid. "Get lost, and If you bother me again while I'm fucking their brains out, I will kill you and serve them your heart in a pretty little box. Got it!?" With that he slams the door and relocks it, before his torso makes its way back over to you float Infront of you.

"Mmm~ Fuck that was kinda hot, and I loved the way you threatened him babe." You look up to meet his gaze.

"I know, I felt you clench a bit when I said it." He plants a kiss on your lips. "Now, that he's got me all pissed off I'm sorry but I'm gonna take it out on you. Sorry in advance"

He reconnects his body to his hips, gripping tightly onto your waist before picking up the pace of his thrusting till it's almost painful how quickly he's plunging in and out of you. Your hips are being harshly pressed into the counter's edge by force of his pounding, your brain going numb, only capable of barely forming his name on your lips occasionally or producing various loud groans of pleasure.

Somewhere in the hectic mess of your mind trying to keep ahold of what's going on, you realize you'd cum again, which only furthered the overstimulated mess of pleasure you'd become.

"Nng- Bu-ah-gy~" It was no use, you were desperately trying to beg him to slow down a little but words were far out of your reach in your current state.

"Shhh sweetheart" His removed head came up to rest beside your own to comfort you. "Only a little longer baby, I promise. I'm gonna cum soon and then we can take a break ok? You want me to come in you, right? Want me to make you mine, don't you?"

He weakly nodded in response as he kissed you, your mouths seemingly melding into one.

Finally his hips ceased all movement, burying himself as deep as he could before releasing into you. "Good slut~ see, doesn't it feel so nice to have my cum in you?"

Finally you regained the ability to speak. "Yes~ that was so... wonderful."

"I know it was, we practically had a standing ovation with all the clapping our bodies were making." He joked, removing himself slowly from you. "Now let me help you get cleaned up after that outstanding performance."

"I'd like that. We can go up the stairs in the backroom, I live above the shop." You stood up carefully but when you wobbled a bit Buggy instantly picked you up and carried you up to your bathroom, with the help of your directions. The pair of you bathed, him of course helping you clean and dry yourself off before you both moved to lie on your bed.

"Buggy, will you stay the night with me please?" You rested your head on his chest, curling up into his side.

"Of course. I couldn't even dream of leaving your side right now." He placed a few kisses to the top of your head while one of his hands now comfortingly rubbed your back.

Blissfully you both laid there silent, basking in the soft glow of the moon rising through the night sky and shining through your window. You could both hear the faint noise of people partying in town square, laughing and shouting in drunken glee, it serving as a form of white noise to your thought filled minds.

"Hey Buggy, can I make a proposition, well I guess it's more of a request?" You shifted so you could look into his eyes, that were now seemingly glowing in the low light.

"Sure my starlight. What is it?" A thumb ran over your cheek tenderly.

"Would you be willing to be mine?" You studied his face for a second as he thought. "I know I'm being a bit foolish here but you've filled that lonely void in me more than anyone else ever had. I honestly think I've fallen for you somewhat today and I don't want to lose you. I don't care if we can't see each other for months on end, just please let me selfishly love you for at least a little while and maybe you can even love me too."

Something twinkled in his eyes as you spoke, knowing he felt the same. You'd both lived your lives searching for someone to love, or someone who could love you back and now the two of you were here entwined in bed together. You'd both filled that empty void in each other, chased off the loneliness together and somehow grown attached to the other in less than a day. Even if this was only a fluke, a mistake on your part, Buggy wasn't going to question it in the slightest. You were practically begging for him of all people to love you, of course he wasn't going to deny your love. You were the first person to love him and want to be loved by him, he'd be an idiot if he pushed you away now.

"Of course! I'd give anything to be yours honestly!" He pulled you into a deep kiss, sealing your new relationship with tender passion. When he'd pulled away, the pair of you had eyes filled with joy.

"I do have one request of my own though, besides wanting you to be mine as well."

Curious and excited you nodded for him to continue.

"Can you finally tell me your name at least?"

#one piece live action #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #one piece fanfiction #live action buggy the clown #mine

[nerves-nebula]

betcha thought u saw the last of me huh

been in a major writing slump for the past year, and now and conquering my writing slumo to hopefully get over all of my other ones so here u go this is inspired by a post a long time ago that i can’t find ab everyone falling back into old habits at the farm house and i can’t remember if it was april or casey who set them into shape but i needed an excuse to make it faggy

the farmhouse itself was nothing like the sewers. warm wooden walls, sunlit windows, and soft carpet were a very dramatic change from the damp, cold walls of the sewer, made colder by the presences within them.

 

it was a change, for sure, but raph couldn’t help but think it was a welcome one.

 

everyone could tell something had changed between them, between everyone. eggshells littered the floorboards during short, awkward conversations, before the occupants retreated back to their designated spaces.

 

some things lingered, though. what is it that people say—it takes twenty one days to form a habit? well, raph has been doing this for nineteen years, so beat that. he’s spent almost two decades walking on autopilot, not thinking twice about anything until it became a threat, picking up after everyone, cooking, cleaning. the list carried on.

 

and for the better part of two decades, his siblings had accepted that. some smart people online can say whatever they want, but a few weeks in the farmhouse can’t undo years of habit. but it was fine. it was fine if he spent a good few hours of his day cleaning up mikey’s paint. it was fine if donnie’s gadgets were scattered across the table. it was fine if leo left dishes in the sink from a meal he couldn’t be bothered to share.

 

it was fine.

 

raph was fine.

 

his brain woke him up early. it always did. he had to make breakfast and clean up the mess everyone probably made after he turned in for the night, and donnie probably hasn’t showered in awhile, so he needs to get on that and-

 

“you’re thinking too loud.” a voice grumbled from below him. that was odd. casey was never up this early. that was new. “quit it.”

 

“…sorry.” raph muttered, lifting his head from casey’s chest. that was relatively new too. he saw the way mikey looked at them, like he knew something they didn’t. he and casey were old friends, even if the bed thing was new. “i didn’t know you were up.”

 

“oh, im up alright. i’m up to make sure that you aren’t.”

 

…

 

“huh?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he glanced up at casey’s face. his hair was tousled with sleep, leaving his eyes actually visible in the soft light of dawn. the warm sun hit the brown irises perfectly, casting them in honey.

 

“you heard me.” casey yawned, tossing a tan arm over his eyes. the long, thick strands of his uncut hair splayed across the pillow in tendrils. slithering out across the cotton to root their host into the mattress. “you’re sleeping in.”

 

…

 

that’s new too.

 

his mind screamed in protest. he didn’t do well with change; he never had. that was his routine—his new one. he woke up early, made breakfast, ate as much as his body would allow him, and then some, and then cleaned. leo would wake up next, take his fill, not clean his plate, and fuck off to god knows where. then mikey would emerge, and then donnie. april came down a few hours later, and then finally casey would wake up. it was never like this; he was never last.

 

some part of him, deep inside his psyche, begged for a break. sleeping in would be nice. he couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be than right here—casey’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, holding his head against the soft flesh of his stomach while absolutely shrouded in blankets. he hadn’t been this comfortable in years.

 

he was wasting time. dad never liked waiting for breakfast.

 

dad wasn’t here, and frankly, he could go fuck himself.

 

it took twenty-one days to form a habit. how long does it take to break one?

 

without a word, raph settled back into casey’s body and closed his eyes.

 

—:—

 

the next time he woke up, casey was still under him. the sun was higher in the sky, now painting the walls in golden rays as opposed to the vibrant pinks and blues of dawn. his friend's hand ran across the ridges of his shell, rendering him practically immobile. his limbs were loose with contentment, and his vision was hazy as he flicked his eyes around the room.

 

“mornin’. again.” casey grinned down at him, that gap-toothed smile wide, and pleased with his own poor joke. his fingers never stopped their soothing motions on his carapace, though, so raph decided to let it go.

 

his eyelids felt heavy as he forced them to stay open, blinking sleep away while flexing his body. every finger, every toe, arms, legs, and then finally his neck as he lifted his head from casey’s warmth.

 

“what time is it?” he asked, pushing his body up into a sitting position, much to his mind's dismay. everything in him was screaming to lay down again, to soak up casey’s warmth like the man was a rock in the sun. he may as well be with his body temperature.

 

casey helped him up, his big hands steady against his biceps as he manoeuvred raph into a sitting position in front of him. the sheets pooled around their waists as raph leaned his head against casey’s shoulder. the room was so cold now.

 

“c’mon.” raphs shoulder was prodded gently, and he raised his head to gaze into where casey’s eyes hid behind his hair. his voice was soft and low, like a vibration in the air.

 

maybe that could explain the tingling in his spine.

 

bare, tan feet hit the floor first, before his hand gently tugged the turtle off the mattress. still dazed with sleep, he stumbled, leaning into casey’s side to take the weight off of his unsteady legs. the stairs were the hardest to conquer, with all three of raphs fingers grasping casey’s wrist while they manoeuvred down the steps.

 

a muffled scolding sounded from the next room, and raph felt something inside of him freeze. it wasn’t dad splinter. splinter usually yelled, or even just spoke, but he never tried to make himself quieter. maybe the humiliation of everyone else knowing you were in trouble was part of the punishment.

 

“i swear to fucking god.” the voice spoke, tone controlled yet flaming. “i’m done watching him pick up after you guys. i love you, you’re my friends, but you need to get your shit together.”

 

his brain didn’t quite comprehend who was speaking until he heard the next voice.

 

“it’s not that big of a deal.” leo’s familiar tone punctured the air. raph refused to allow the sound to stab him like the knife it always was. “he’s done it forever! i’m sure he’s used to it by now!”

 

“that doesn’t mean it’s fine, leo!”

 

“april, w-we’re all getting better…aren’t we? i mean, we clean up after ourselves decently...”

 

“no, the house is clean because raph is still cleaning up after you guys like he’s your mom!”

 

casey’s hand tightened a fraction on his shoulder, and he looked back down at him with a grin. “how about we go outside, yeah? it’s s’posed to be real nice out.”

 

before raph could complain or comply, he was already being led in the other direction, hearing the voices fade back out. he opened his mouth, and casey cut him off. “i know you’re hungry. i’ll getcha something. wait outside for me? ‘kay?”

 

and like that, he was gone. the door closed behind him as raph turned his eyes to the tree line, plush with vibrant leaves and dark soil. remnants of dew still clung to the blades of grass, shining brightly in the light of the sun.

 

the wood of the patio was warm against his feet, and he leaned his elbows to the railing, licking his eyes into the woods. his eyes were still heavy, and the place around his neck where casey’s arm previously lay left a pleasant scorch sinking into his skin. still, the voices from inside bounced in his skull. at least the yelling was familiar.

 

somethings never change.

thaNKK YOUUU !!! this was SO CUTE UGH. you get the first neglected art i've been able to make in a while

#nnstuff #nnart #ask #asks are sweethearts #neglected fic #teenage mutant neglected turtles #neglected art #tmnt raph #casey jones