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jennifer-jeong · 2 months

Note

Guess who😊

As a reference to what you posted earlier, imagine that after the reader dies of old age, Xiao and Scaramouche encounter a reincarnation of themselves? It's your choice to make them mortal or not (I'm under your bed. If you make them mortal I will kick your feet at night.)

Take your time dear <3

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FJDKSLA;FJDSA; life has been kicking my ASS but fuck it we ball HELLO MY MUTUAL THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST, I’ve honestly been thinking hard because I want to also request some ideas because your writing is so sweet ehehehe OK PLEASE DON’T KICK MY FEET AT NIGHT THAT’S HORRIFYING - I WILL MAKE THE REINCARNATION IMMORTAL

ALSO @iota1111 these are my ideas for that Xiao and Wanderer angst! If you read only to the *** in each fic, that would be where I’d end the story if it wasn’t meant to be a happy ending! (I would suffer!!!!)

[Fluff + Angst] [Xiao/Wanderer x Reader] Reincarnation

CONTENT

Angst to fluff, happy ending, reader death, mentions of death, mentions of fighting/them taking their anger out on things

XIAO

When you passed away, Xiao was absolutely heartbroken. He knew it was coming, he prepared for it, he stayed by your side through your deteriorating health in your last few months. But no matter what, he knew it would destroy him, and it did.

No one saw Xiao for weeks after but everyone noticed that Liyue was safer than ever. Xiao engrossed himself in his work. Taking out his emotions onto the monsters in Liyue. He worked himself to exhaustion every single day. Zhongli still came to check up on him but knew Xiao just needed time.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. What was he supposed to do? You were gone. HIs sunshine, his muse, his… everything.

Xiao collapsed after giving himself no rest for who knows how many nights. Laying in the grass, he stared up at the moon. Asking himself what he could’ve done differently and if he could’ve "selfishly" extended your life. If he could’ve made you immortal like him.

He listened to the bugs chirp around him, the breeze drying the tears he didn’t know were falling. For the first time in a long time, he cried. He sobbed and bit back the urge to lash out at everything in the vicinity. He was on his side, clutching his aching heart, crying into the soft grass he used to lay on with you.

He had gone through so much pain in his life: his karmic debt, the abuse from his old master, losing his found family, and all the years of deafening solitude.

But nothing would ever hurt more than losing you.

Xiao cried his heart out and knocked out from the exhaustion and pain. He slept peacefully for the first time since you passed. *** Xiao woke up the next morning with a start. Confused and disoriented not because of where he had fallen asleep, but because he sensed something insane.

He sensed you.

It was your soul, the one he swore himself to. There was no denying it. Was this a sick joke? Was some old evil spirit messing with him?

It had been months since your passing but there was no denying it. It was you.

Unfortunately, years would pass while Xiao searched for you. He was obsessed over it at first but once he could tell that your soul was safe and alive, he relaxed just a little. He still wanted to see you again, hold you, and whisper how much he loved you, but he knew you’d find each other eventually. He made himself a silent promise that he’d find you no matter what. He didn’t really have much else to do for all of eternity anyways.

Xiao confided in Zhongli through these years, the elder god revealing the possibility of reincarnation, revealing that it’s not uncommon. Souls return to the Earth in many forms but he hints to Xiao that he believes what he’s sensing is indeed you in human form.

Eventually, Xiao would be on a typical nightly patrol, sensing your soul nearby as always. But it was a bit different today. It was stronger.

As if right on cue, Xiao entered a clearing and despite it being nighttime, he saw the sun.

His beautiful sun had somehow risen again against all odds. You didn’t know his name but you knew his soul.

He recognized the sigil on your clothing, it belonged to an adeptus master he hadn’t seen in decades. The draconic horns on your head told him you were reborn in a different body, an immortal body. One that had you trained as an adepti for these past years, likely hidden away in a domain. It clicked in his head. It’s why he could always sense you, but never quite find where you were.

You turned around after feeling his approach. He wondered if you could feel his soul the way he felt yours. If you longed for him even in your new existence. He had so much to ask. But you pulled him out of his noisy thoughts.

Your voice brought him serenity he had long forgotten.

His heart pounded as you spoke.

“I missed you, my love.”

Instantly you were in each other's arms.

“I missed you too,” he says as his voice cracks.

WANDERER

He was angry, reverting back to how he was before Nahida, the traveler, and you helped him. He blamed the gods, the world, for his sorrows, for his pain. He sought to destroy it all again for somehow making his suffering worse. He had felt pain similar to this. It was all too familiar for him. The constant cycle of loss, betrayal, and agony. But this time, he was on the brink of insanity.

You, his perfect flower, had finally wilted.

He’s stuck bargaining for months, reverting between stages of grief: anger and bargaining. Never able to move on past that.

He continues on his missions for Nahida because he knows it’s what you've wanted but also because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Any of his combat missions turned into tortures and near assassinations. He used it as a tool to cool himself off, much to the silent disapproval of Nahida. But she knew he’d never disobey your wishes, your morals. You taught him better than to kill out of emotion.

Wanderer commonly visits the forests where you two used to adventure to find some sort of peace and familiarity. He tends to avoid the Aranara despite the fact that they know about your passing and would probably be able to comfort him about it. He just didn’t think he could handle it.

Seasons pass and on one of his trips into the sunny lush forests, growing again due to the spring season, Aranara bring him your favourite flowers when they bloom again the next year. They loved you dearly too, you treated them and the forest with such gentleness that they could never forget you. They didn’t know how to approach him earlier so they used this opportunity instead.

His heart ached and his anemo vision surged with energy when he saw the flower. He finally reached his breaking point, he fell to his knees on the grass and sobbed, clutching the flower to his chest. Letting go of all the stupid anger and bargaining. Who was he kidding, he just didn’t want to accept that he’d have to keep going without you. *** The Aranara tell him not to worry though, comforting and telling him it will be okay. At first he’s confused as to what they mean but Nahida walks out into the sunlit clearing, the sun about to start setting.

She tells him she knows it hurts but that the Irminsul has a message for him and it says that he should not fret and continue to live on and explore the forest. His tear stained face raised an eyebrow but it slowly turned to determination, he knew Irminsul would not lie.

It would take years but he slowly started to feel you nearby. He’d dream of you. The forest felt like you and he could feel your energy in the flora. He confided in Nahida and their bond only grew stronger, he’d also reach out to the Aranara when he’d adventure out of the city.

Eventually, the Aranara prepared and held a ceremony, sensing the birthing of something new, a nature spirit. Nahida described it using the term “nymph.”

Wanderer was silent as he put the pieces together. He held his breath as he realized it might be you. Your reincarnation.

He always saw you as his flower, but he didn’t think you’d become a nature spirit, he was not complaining about it in the slightest though.

Nahida explained that you would exist in the physical realm but had strong ties to the dream realm, you’d be immortal like Aranara are but you’d still be able to live with him in the physical.

As you manifested and blinked open your eyes, you immediately looked at him.

His hands were shaking, unsure if he was scared, happy, both? Was it really you? Had the world finally decided to grant him happiness instead of sorrow? Was this a gift?

But as you took gentle steps towards him, he realized something important:

It didn’t matter.

You were here again, in front of him. Nothing else mattered.

You reached out to hold his face with your hands. You knew him, you knew your soul belonged to him and his to you.

He drew in closer to you, holding your face and touching your foreheads together, tears threatening to fall.

Your beautiful voice spoke to him again in what felt like an eternity. He had almost forgotten what you sounded like.

“Don’t cry my love, I’m here.”

His eyebrows scrunched as his tears fell. He wraps his arms around you tight, never wanting to let go, scared you’d leave him again.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered shakily, scared that his voice would fail if he tried to speak.

“I missed you too. I’m here to stay.”

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST<3 ||

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff #xiao x reader #reader x xiao #xiao fluff #xiao angst #wanderer x reader #reader x wanderer #wanderer fluff #wanderer angst #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #my asks <3 #j's silly ramblings

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dovedewdrop · 1 month

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Scratch My Back

Masterlist

Joel Miller x reader

word count: 889

Summary: The tide is pulling you under, just like it has plenty of times before. Your husband helps you communicate.

A/N: I’ve been struggling with my mental health & looking after myself for a long, long time and I was getting myself all psyched up to get a shower but I didn’t end up getting in and decided to write this lil thing that I’ve been thinking about for a while! I hope you enjoy it and if anyone out there is reading this and is struggling too, just know that you are not alone and that if Joel Miller were real, he would scratch your back❤️

Also thank you so much for 100 followers🥹🫶🏻 really brightened up my spirits a lil bit💓

Warnings: No Outbreak. Depiction of poor mental health. Sadness. One big loving man (it’s Joel Miller) (Not a warning but I didn’t want it to seem all doom and gloom😅) No use of Y/N.

To Joel, it was just a Wednesday, your day off. To you, the ceiling was caving in. Before he left for work you were sound asleep, your thoughts at bay, laying still against the sand, he placed a gentle kiss to your temple before rolling out of bed. Now that you were awake your thoughts were thrashing against the cliffs, the mental whiplash you were facing ultimately draining your body of all its energy.

You watch the clock on the bedside table blink from one minute to the next. You thought about all if the things you should probably be doing; showering, tidying the house, preparing that home cooked meal you’d been promising your husband for over a week but all you could do was slip in and out of sleep, that was the safe option, the one that would keep you somewhat sane until he returned. You didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want to text him those three words because you knew he would stop everything for you, everything would be put on hold so that he could soothe you and you didn’t want to add that onto the ever-growing list of things to feel bad about. So you waited.

“Honey?” His voice reverberated off the walls, the sound of his gentle tone floated up the stairs. You didn’t have the energy to shout back, the sound of his boots hitting the wooden steps told you that it wouldn’t be long until he was by your side anyway. He took in the sight of the drawn curtains, the sight of you facing them, still in your t-shirt and underwear and you felt the bed dip behind you, the warmth of his body encompassing yours, his scent filling your scenes.

“Something happen?” A gentle kiss placed to your shoulder blade, the feeling of his lungs emptying and filling behind your back soothing you. You shook your head, allowing a silence to draw over you both as Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you further back into the curve of his body. He was always so patient with you, so tender.

“Scratch my back.”

Scratch my back, a cry for help. A promise made between two lovers. A rule established when you’d first started dating. Joel knew that you struggled with your mental health, you’d opened up to some extent, brushing him off with a ‘I’m having a tough day but I’ll be ok x’ text in the beginning, even then he gave you your space.

One week in spring however, everything was not okay. He hadn’t heard from you in four days, no text and definitely no phone calls. At first he thought that this was your way of letting him know you were no longer interested and selfishly, he couldn’t let it end that way. So after days of mulling it over and chewing his bottom lip raw, he drove over to your apartment and that’s where he found you, dark circles engulfing your eyes, threatening to swallowing them whole, hair unwashed, apartment flooded in gloom.

He took a bath with you, washed your hair as best he could. The spring air still had a slight chill to it so he’d made sure your new set of pyjamas were on the radiator ready for bed and he laid with you in silence until you turned into his chest and he felt the wet of your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt.

“You don’t have to talk to me.” He pressed a kiss into your hairline. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to talk to me, I mean obviously you can, when you feel comfortable and ready to but there is something I want you to do for me baby,” another soft kiss. Your eyes travelled up his face to finally look him in his eyes, those soft brown eyes that made you fall in love with him in the first place. All you could do was give a small nod, you would do anything he asked. “I want you to come up with a word or a phrase,” he continued, “so that when things get bad and you don’t feel like you can talk about it…” he trailed off, his hands drawing shapes up and down the length of your spine.

“Like a safe word?” He let out a huff of air at that, a small smile adorning his face.

“Yeah, kinda like a safe word, so I know that you’re safe,” his palm came to rest on your cheek, thumb cupping your jaw, “up here,” and his fingers tapped gently on the side of your temple.

“Scratch my back,” It was soft, the way it came out, tears threatening to spill over, “because if you promise to scratch mine, i’ll always scratch yours.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling then, the last thing you wanted was for Joel to see you like this and to become his burden, but the way he’d shown you such care and compassion made your head feel a little less foggy, you wanted to promise that you could do that in return, that it wouldn’t just be him constantly looking after you.

“Oh sweet angel.” Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks now, pressing a light kiss to your nose and then your lips.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #dovedewdrop writes

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mydearesthrry · 10 months

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harry’s house home - h.s.

a/n: this is the cheesiest thing ive ever written okay. like its really sweet and almost cringey oopssss sorry. i hope you enjoy anyway !!! (p.s. originally was supposed to be titled harrys mojo dojo casa house but thats for another time)

🎀 warnings/cw: angst, swearing?? i actually dk, fluff, mention of flying anxiety, this is also completely unedited

🐇 pairing: famous!bf!harry styles x fem!reader

💐 wc: 2.1k

summary: it's not home without harry, you've come to realize.

This almost felt like a routine now.

Lying awake in her king sized bed, she was staring up at projected stars on the ceiling, gnawing on her bottom lip as she let her mind drift away in thought.

She misses him. Again.

Due to Harry being on the second Europe/UK leg of tour, she had decided to stay at home for a little until the final show, and it had been a good month since she last saw Harry. She had begun to run on Harry’s time, adjusting her sleep to wherever in the world he was so that she could talk to him. Their time zone differences weren’t gracious enough sadly, and she was wide awake at 3:40 in the morning.

Harry was busy so she couldn’t call or text him, and she wanted to let everything go as smoothly as they could so he could finally come home. Initially, she let herself be selfish and a bit greedy and took up almost 10 minutes of his time, texting back and forth and allowing her brain to read his responses in his voice.

Contrary to popular belief, it was easy for y/n and Harry to have a relationship that could withstand whatever problems they may have faced because they communicated, but communication can only get you so far.

She missed him.

All-consumingly, selfishly, and overwhelmingly missed him.

The amount of rocky moments that the couple had endured on the nearly 3 year long running tour had been more than the past 4 years of their relationship combined. Whether it be a schedule conflict, missed dates, late nights when she didn’t even know if he’d be home, nothing could compare to the feeling that she had swirling around in her chest right now.

They’d gotten into a fight a few days ago and since then she had been hesitant to text and call him in fear that she would ruin his day, or even worse, his shows. She knew well that he wouldn’t let it show to his millions of fans, but she could read him like an open book and the guilt that would swell in her body would just make her shut down. But it was getting hard to be alone. It was hard being in such a big house that was filled to the brim with reminders of him, which in turn would remind her that she was alone and that he was on the other side of the world.

She allowed her emotions to take the reins, and as she slowly started to feel everything, she could feel a harsh tug in her chest. She put a hand to her heart, letting out a deep exhale as she felt the familiar sting of tears tingle her nose, sinuses becoming stuffy immediately. She scrunched up her nose, allowing the tears to fill her eyes as she let out her first breathy sob. It wasn’t uncommon for her now to cry over missing Harry. In fact, she’s never even told him the extent of how much she missed him, and just tried to deal with it on her own. But this time, she didn’t feel like she was strong enough to just let it pass.

Picking up her phone, she quickly pulled up her favorites list in her phone, sobs still wracking her body as she tapped on Harry’s contact. She sniffled and tried her best to calm herself down as she heard the ringing coming from the phone signifying that he was receiving the call.

“Hey, ‘M in a meeting. Everything ok?” And just like that, the entire dam broke open, and she let her emotions flood the room she was sitting in.

“Harry,” she let out a pitiful whine, “I’m sorry I’m calling you like this, I- I knew you were in a meeting, and I’m sorry. And I know we’re in a fight and y’probably don’t want to talk to me, but I just… I need to hear your voice right now.”

“Oh— um, yeah, hold on, baby. It’s okay, ‘m glad you called me. Give me two seconds, okay? ‘M gonna mute m’self t’tell Jeff I need to take 20, but I’ll be all yours in a sec.” He promises, voice immediately drenched in urgency.

“Okay,” she whispers weakly, putting the phone on speaker and sinking back down into the mattress, laying the phone on her chest. There was an uncomfortable weight weighing her down from the inside out, and the pressure served as a good reminder to breathe as she anticipated the return of her boyfriend back to the phone.

“M’kay baby, talk to me. What’s the matter? Are you okay?” His voice exits from her speaker, another whimper emitting from her throat without warning.

“I jus— God, H. It’s so pathetic,” she sniffles, placing her hands over her eyes. “I jus’ miss you. So much.”

“Oh lovie,” a few soft shuffles are heard from his end of the line, and you can only assume he found a quiet place to sit down. “I miss y’so so much more.”

She nods even though she knows he can’t see her, but she knows her sweet boy knows her so well. “‘M trying to be supportive, trying to not freak out about you not being here, but it’s so hard, H.”

Trying to stifle the aggressive breaths leaving her mouth, she composed the best she can before speaking again. “I just want you to come home. I know I’ll be with you in a couple of days, but I just want you home. ‘M sorry, it’s so selfish of me to say this when you’re all alo-“

“Shh, my love. It’s okay. Take deep breaths, can y’do that for me first really quick, sweet girl? Sweet sunshine baby, miss you so much.” Harry cuts her off, knowing that she would cry and gasp her way into a potentially dangerous situation, and he couldn’t handle the thought of her being in danger especially when he wasn’t there.

“Okay, fuck, ‘M so sorry, H.” She breathes out, voice still wobbly, her breathing becoming a little more stable by the second.

“You don’t have to be sorry, ‘s what I'm here for, isn’t it? Now, tell me what’s got you so upset that you’ve cried y’self out so hard that y’got a killer headache right now?” His lips quirk up at the soft, barely noticeable laugh coming from the other end of the line. One that probably would’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else, but not to Harry.

“How’d you know? Hurts like hell, though. But, um— I miss you, a lot, obviously. And I hate that we’ve been fighting more now that you’re on the road again and I’m not with you, it doesn’t feel good because all I want is you here with me. All I want is you to come home. It- it feels so empty without you here.”

“Princess, I-“ he starts, but she cuts him off before he could continue.

“In all four years of our relationship, it’s never been so hard for us to be- us? And I thought about it, y’know, been crying myself to death over you, Mr. Styles, you’re quite the heartthrob. Literally.” You snort softly, trying to break the ice. Her lips draw up when she hears a matching chuckle coming from him.

“Tell me then, what’d you realize, silly girl?” He says.

“I don’t feel like I can be away form you for too long. It doesn’t feel like home here, and I think,” She whispers. “None of our places feel like home when you're not there. I think home has always been wherever you are.”

“Lovie,” Harry’s voice breaks, a telltale sign that he too was feeling the swell of emotion. “Y’breaking m’heart over here.”

“I’m sorry, I just– y'told me to be honest and you needed-”

“I needed to know. Thank y’for telling me, but I’ll see you so soon, Angel. Actually, I can even-” His voice cuts before more rustling is heard, and she can hear the muffled sounds of Harry’s voice, so she assumes that he’s pressed the phone to his chest. A few more brief hums are heard before a muffled ‘thank you!’ makes her brows furrow. “Right then, what’re you doing in like, say 4 to 5 hours?”

She makes a confused face at this. “What? Uh– nothing, why?”

“You’re coming home, baby.”

—

After exclamations of shock were given to Harry, he excuses himself from the call to get back to his meeting, leaving Y/N laying in her bed staring at the same stars that watched her weep in shock. She sits up with her hands on the white duvet, eyes wide as she whispers out, “I have to pack.”

Jumping out of her bed, she wheels her extra large suitcase out of hers and H’s shared walk-in closet, her green Pleasing beach bag already resting on one of the hooks on the bedroom door. A flurry of clothes, toiletries, makeup, and hair equipment gets sporadically thrown around the room, everything ultimately ending up in her suitcase. She places her more important items into her beach bag which now worked as her carry-on, and wheels everything out into the foyer.

Checking the time which now reads 6:30, she calls for an Uber to arrive at their house to transport her to the LAX airport. Her flight was set to leave in 2 and half hours, leaving her with just enough time to check in, find her gate, and grab a coffee once she's got to her terminal.

—

The long flight went just as expected, her fear of flying slightly eliminated by the (in her opinion, wildly unnecessary) first-class seating, courtesy of her incredibly dramatic boyfriend. She fell asleep 2 hours into the flight and slept for the majority of the it, her lack of sleep finally catching up to her. Waking up about 30 minutes before landing, she twists her head to open the window door, being greeted with the softest sunset she’s convinced she’s ever seen. And suddenly, her chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore.

The baggage claim was a wreck, delaying her from seeing Harry by another hour, but eventually, she made it into the car of the driver that Harry sent. Staring out the window, the condensation from the weather outside slightly obstructed her view of the beautiful city that she’d never seen before, and all she could think about was how she wanted to experience it with her love.

“Ma’am, we’re here.” The driver calls from the front, distracting her from her thoughts. Thanking him profusely, she jumps out of the vehicle, running toward the back entrance that Jeff had texted her to go to. The security guard at the door, James, a kind older man who she’s known since she started dating Harry, opens his arms and greets her with a smile. She grins and runs into his arms, James lifting her a little. Her dynamic with James reminded her of the relationship she'd had with her late father, and that made him even more important and special to her.

“Mi sonrisa,” She looks at him with a bright smile. “Welcome back.”

“Muchas gracias, te he extrañado,” She greets back, grabbing the VIP pass that he’d pulled out of his pocket. “I’ll see you in a few, thank you for waiting for me!”

A wide grin is now plastered on her face, nearly splitting her face in half. This is where she belonged. Skipping down the halls of the venue, occasionally asking a worker passing by where the hallways were to get to the dressing rooms. Once she finally found them, she walked up to Harry’s, a nervous twinge making itself known in her tummy. Raising a fist to knock, she taps on the door softly with her knuckles, waiting for Harry to answer the door. She doesn’t even have time to register that the door opened at all before she’s grabbed by Harry and immediately pulled into his arms.

“My sweet love,” His voice is hoarse, strained, almost as if he’d been crying. He pulls her back just enough to see her face, a soft smile on his face and green eyes shiny with tears. He places a kiss on her forehead, before dipping down to be eye level with her and laying the softest kiss on her lips. It was featherlight, and the room was quiet, so quiet, that the only sounds that were heard were their soft, slowly interconnecting breaths, and the soft smack of their lips breaking. Harry stared at her face once more, Y/N sharing the same sentiment, nothing but pure understanding in both of their eyes. It was Y/N who broke first this time, connecting their lips in a deeper, meaningful kiss.

When they both pulled away, Harry pressed another kiss to her temple before cradling the back of her head with his hand, bringing her face into his neck. Tilting his head down to have his lips leveled with her ear, he whispered, “Welcome home.”

✿✿✿

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfictions #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry <3

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un-lawliet · 10 months

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Heeyyy!!! I love your page so much! Can I please get an angst fic with Gojo? But with a happy ending. Literally in love with your writing 💗💗

( EEEEEK HIIII OMG MY FIRST REQUEST I LOVE U !!!!!! AND OFC ID LOVE TO WRITE THIS THANK U SO MUCH FOR LEAVING IT <333 )

“Unfathomable”

— in which you doubt the validity of his feelings.

( or sometimes i just need self assurance and never know how to ask for it and this seems to be a common thing with eveyone)

Gojo Satoru was unquestionably the epitome of strength and this was candidly clear in his title of “The Strongest”.

And then there was you.

And you were undoubtedly impotent when compared to his feats in jujitsu.

You didn’t command the attention of those around you when you walked into a crowded room, and you couldn’t reassure anyone just by your presence alone.

You were just you.

And just you was currently spiralling into an abyss of self doubt, over why Gojo would ever chose you to fall for.

It all started a month ago after your mission to “dispose” of a grade one cursed spirit turned disastrous, causing you to rely on the strength of your mission partner as you bled out, gasping for air and muttering nonsensical apologies to the sky above you. Repeating over and over about how sorry you were for not realising how close the curse was before it striked you from behind, sending you flying through the air.

When you reached Shoko at last, you remembered seeing Gojo’s poorly concealed concern ooze out, and you closed your eyes, embarrassed of your failure, unable to look at him in your pathetic state.

He had looked frantic.

Your body looked worse than your injuries, and he knew that, but the mangled state of your disoriented words, slurred out due to blood loss, made his shoulders tense, and he could only stare down at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

You felt him clutch your hand, and you hated how desperate it felt, you wanted to hide, to not let him see you like this. You were an inconvenience to The Strongest and that thought alone haunted you even when you eventually passed out to his whisper of “It’s gonna be ok baby, just hold on a little yea?”

And now a month later, it still haunted you.

Now maybe it was your pride talking, you didn’t want help, you didn’t want anyone’s help, and you certainly did not want Gojo Satoru, who had been doting over you, following you around, asking if you wanted him to take over your next couple of missions so you could recover, to help you.

Selfishly, you just wanted to wallow in self pity alone, without the constant reminder that you were burdening the man who loved you.

And so, you were distancing yourself, refusing his offers to stay, removing yourself entirely from his presence in public, too ashamed to be seen beside him when you were so weak.

You just wanted him to know, that he didn’t need to constantly watch over you, that you could handle stuff by yourself, that you weren’t charity.

You just hated how self doubt seemed to permeate your consciousness everytime you were with him, unable to understand why Gojo was forcing himself to care for someone so obviously lesser than.

Gojo noticed, of course he noticed.

You pushed yourself away from his cuddles at night when you assumed he was asleep, turned your head ever so slightly so he’d miss your lips when he leaned down to kiss you. And worst of all, your pretty smile, the one he adored more than all of the stars in the sky combined, seemed forced.

A fake smile that seemed ever present.

When Gojo awoke again to you missing from his arms, he decided he’d had enough.

You were in the kitchen, making tea, humming a small song to yourself, Gojo watched you from the door, taking in the moment of serenity for just a couple more seconds, before he pushed himself off the door frame and walked towards you.

“What’s my pretty baby doing up so early huh?”

If either of you noticed how your entire body tensed at the sound of his voice, neither of you mentioned it.

You turned, looking at Gojo, struggling to maintain eye contact as you awkwardly laughed off your separation, like you had done almost everyday since your recovery.

It made Gojo frown.

You gestured to the kettle, “You want tea?” You kept your responses short, you didn’t want to drag his attention, make him feel like he had to listen.

He didn’t get to reply before you had already started to reach for another cup down from the cupboard, grabbing the sugar cubes with it.

“Here lemme help ya’” Gojo offered, stepping forward to reach the mug, his height becoming overbearing, suffocating.

He had to help you again.

You bit your lip, feeling your eyes sting, God could you ever just do something independently without the constant need to rely on others?

Your mouth was bitter, and you didn’t acknowledge him as he set the cup in front of you, only grunting in response.

You felt his eyes on you.

You’d felt that a lot lately, and you hated it.

He was constantly observing, making sure you weren’t pushing yourself, because he didn’t trust you to do or go anywhere now, not without him.

“You ok?” He asked, head tilted. He reached out to touch your check gently, only to be stopped when you stepped away, just out of his grasp.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You handed him his tea, and moved to leave, to escape the brevity of his eyes, a increasingly concerned gaze where you were weak, weak, weak.

You got about four steps before you heard the man behind you sigh, and pull you back to his chest, his chin resting on your head, as his hand drew tiny little patterns across your midriff.

“Satoru what are you-’

“Talk to me.” He said, his voice calm, lacking resentment, but filled with determination.

“Let me go Satoru I swear to God, I’ll kick you.”

“Do you need to kick me? Is that what’s wrong?”

His arms tightened, preventing you from escaping even if you tried.

Weak, weak, weak.

“Toru please, just let me go.” You pleaded pathetically, you weren’t going to do this, you weren’t going to cry over the difference in strength, especially in-front of him.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, you still injured? We can go to Shoko now if you need.” His voice danced the line between concern and frustration, disapproving of your removal of yourself from him.

And at the mention of your injuries that were long gone, your blood boiled, and you somehow shoved him off you, turning to face him in a seething display of rage.

“I’m fine Satoru, Jesus Christ, you don’t need to rub it in.” You snarled, glaring at his stupid blue eyes, “I mean God I have one bad mission and now everyone thinks I’m useless.”

Gojo looks as shocked as you’ve ever seen him at your outburst, his mouth parts to interrupt you, but you don’t let him, refusing him any say in your personal defeat.

“You’re embarrassed right? You must be, the strongest fucking sorcerer left to care for someone so pathetic.”

“Y/N what-’

Big fat ugly tears are pooling in your eyes, spilling over to decorate your face with your shame.

“And the problem is you won’t stop! You’re so nice when you don’t have to be and I don’t understand why you’re pretending to care so much? Especially when I am ok!”

“Pretending? Baby no-’

Your throat constricts and you shove a sob down, rubbing furiously at your watering eyes.

“I hate how weak I am to you, and I hate how much you have to look after me.” You’re voice is shaky, unconvincing. And you’re trembling, inconsolable as you finally give up and cry, sharing every doubt to Satoru Gojo.

“Weak?” Satoru leans down, and cups your cheeks, and for the first time since the mission you don’t try to pull away, you look at him.

And Gojo thinks he’s the luckiest man alive.

“You’re not weak at all baby, is that what this is about?” A small smile dances across his face, you almost think he’s mocking you.

“I care about you because it’s you, pretty girl, not because I have to.”

He rubs a thumb under your eye, and sighs, shaking his head, “It’s not a burden to care for you y’know?”

And you’re still crying, but you’re listening now, and he takes this opportunity to kiss you sweetly, right below your eye.

There’s a vulnerability in his eye when he talks next, an apprehension that you’re not use to.

“After your mission, fuck baby I can’t lie.” His fingers smooth along the shell of your ear, “Seeing you so… out of it, it scared me, ‘m not meant to get scared”

You stay silent, but lean into his touch, a small gesture that encourages him to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Rely on me more yea? You’re strong baby, even if that silly little head of yours tells you otherwise.”

And you smile as he taps your nose with a finger, and he beams back at you, the softest expression on his face as he leans forwards and captures your lips in his.

“And there’s nothing I love more than being able to take care of you Y/N, please remember that.”

And when you’re pulled into his arms once again, you don’t resist, instead choosing to whisper a gentle “I love you” into the fabric of his shirt.

the end.

masterlist here <3

( A/N: IWHAIGDISH I GOT A REQUEST EEEKKK - i hope this is ok ! i love you and thank you! - i’m writing this in a cafe before i go to my fucking ice cream shop job fuck my fucking life. I AM WORKING UNTIL 11 WHO NEEDS ICE CREAM AT 11PM ??? anyway i love you and thank you for reading :)) )

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jjk leaks #jjk manga spoilers #hurt/comfort #light angst #angst with a happy ending

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Note

ok but imagine instead of kie getting taken by singh’s men it’s JJ & Y/N who would do anything for each other.

like “don’t touch her!” and “let go of him!” and singh realizes their in love and ugh. been thinking about this

most definitely can imagine this and i’m gonna die on the spot so i made this little blurb to satisfy our imaginations. send me your thoughts and i’ll elaborate on them !

cw; fluff, mentions of death, guns, & s3

pairing; jj x fem!reader

The inseparable pair knew they were preeminently fucked.

No sign of parasitical nuance or help for miles, just the company of the other. Selfishly, though either of them are thanking God, that they’ve gotten captured with the other. For no one else of the Pogues would bring such infamous relief and solace— being completely infatuated tended to do that.

And at least if they die in this place, they die together.

Getting to experience a love so unheard of.

You shivered in the bed of the truck— boring your eyes with envy at the gaurd that stood tall upon arrival to Singh’s ‘operation’. If only you’d gone the same route as Kie, Pope, John B, Sarah, and Cleo, such an impact as the plane delving into water had you borderline shell shocked. But, JJ wasn’t having that either, immediately b-lining in your same opposite direction— wherever you stray, he follows.

Which explains this phenomenon before you.

The harsh metal in the truck bed is making your ass go completely numb, knees tucked into your chest in complete and utter panic. JJ’s stomach was whirling with fear, yet he vowed not show it, pulling you into his side— even in the first moments the two of you were shoved and practically thrown back there. His arm envelops you tightly, his slightly grown out mullet catching air lightly whilst he rests his chin on your shoulder. A mesh of two soaking bodies, kneading into one another.

“Gonna’ get us out of here baby.” Is all JJ whispers into the shell of your ear, before peppering sweet domestic kisses to your temple, the contact granting him some form of grace. Now you knew JJ’s plans were elaborate and full of unnecessary schemes but sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn’t. You were choosing to trust that whatever he could weasel his way into this time, would work.

The halt of the truck was sudden, sending you and JJ to a slight jolt forward. A bright white, poled in mansion-like image is in view; bulging eyed stares are shared between the two of you and JJ is secretly shitting himself as he’s walking into this blind. Guards similar to the one towering over you in the truck bed are surrounding the home, khaki colored uniforms a compliment to the guns accompanying them. Such variety as they all held one with a differentiating aim.

No words are spoken, not even a ‘get out’. Though you are being yanked up by your arm like a rag doll— wasn’t exactly something you were prepared for. Two guards stand opposite, winnowing down the trunk flat. In one swift movement, his large tight fist is clamping down onto your much smaller arm. The form of security that rode in the truck bed with you and JJ, mimicks— doing the same to JJ as the other is doing to you.

JJ is biting down so violently on his bottom lip, that the familiar taste of metallic blood is seeping into the inside of his mouth. Putting hands like that on his girl, is nearly asking ‘do you want me to splatter your brains across this pavement?’, and he’d gladly do it with a grin on his face. His vice grip is so tight on you, that his fingernails are leaving crescent moon indentions into your untouched skin, and JJ can feel his insides boiling with pure distaste.

All it takes is maybe two steps out of the truck, toward the unpromising place and JJ elbowing the man in his best, knocking his breath away. He’s squirming to get to you, and you haven’t peered back at him yet. “Let go of her fucking arm, you piece of shit.” JJ spat, nailing your gaurd at the back of his ankle with the spiked bottom of a his combat boot. Walking separate in pairs, not even making it the doomed front door.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, big shot.”

Your guard turns, taking you with him to face JJ. With roaring sun causing a slight glint in your eye. Falsified nickname, is fueling the ignition to the fire that’s burning tauntingly inside of him. The gaurd that’s sustaining JJ, has his arms stuffed dislocated like behind his back, and you wanted to stomp his face in unrecognizable.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Singh had been watching— taking note that the arrival time was much too late than as planned. Gazing through the stained glass filled doors, the alluring scene unfolding before him beneath his shaded driveway was entertaining. His muscular guards, unable to withstand two teenagers.

“Don’t ever touch him like that.”

You bit back, the way his arm was twisted it could’ve passed for being broken. Just as your boyfriend was protective of you, you were protective of him. That’s just how the dynamic always worked. Consequences don’t come to mind when you cherish your lovers life over your own— there could be a gaping hole that’s causing the world to cave in, if one was to fall the other is diving in, no second thoughts.

He’d balance with bare feet on boiling hot coals.

And you’d walk into a bank, full ski mask on, to rob it.

It doesn’t matter the length, their relationship is evidence of doing anything for someone.

So tight knit that everyone back home in Kildare was typically aware of the couples unwavering deepened love. Affectionate, intimate, and everything in between.

If they were to go on living it wouldn’t be without the other.

It wasn’t dumb luck, it was fate.

It’s taking Singh seeing this moment to fully understand that. He’s taken aback by the powerful besot, does it mean he will ease up on them, no. To Singh, those lives are of no importance to him, the gold came before anything.

“Your gonna’ earn your boyfriend here a shot to the head. That what you want?”

JJ can’t help but smirk mischievously at you for rooting for him. He was quite the sight, darkened eyes through damp tresses, muscles prominent past his sleeveless tee. Definitely not something you should be paying grace attention to right now. A gun is lifted to the center of JJ’s forehead, but you don’t fault. Figuring you’ve already trampled through all this mess, what’s the worst.

“Then you’ll have to shoot me too.”

“Glady-“

“You will do nothing of the sort. They are in love y’know.”

The short man with slick hair comes into view, signaling the guards to release the two of you. Embracing eachother within milliseconds, you are colliding with JJ’s chest. A slow kiss is shared, one that is full of yearn and luminous luster. Hands roaming to assure themselves that they were there in one piece and alive. This earns a clap from Singh, more than right about the couple being instantaneously in love.

“So what? cause’ they’re in love they get a free pass?!”

The guards stood dumbfounded, faces scrunched in disgust at Singh thinking all of this under-minded work to get them their was for nothing. All Singh could do was chuckle— they really didn’t know him, did they?

“Perhaps they will hold hands in death, if they don’t get me what I want.”

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #obx3 #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank imagines

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equallyshaw · 3 months

Text

call your mom | q. hughes. ↠ based off the song by noah kahan! ↠ best friend duo! sunny is her nickname! ↠ warnings: talks of anxiety, depression and an attempt. (not shown) also, some grammatical errors ! ↠ word count: 2k

quinn knew it all, and had known about it since their first frat party they attended when she ended up drunk which resulted in an anxiety attack; during their freshman year at michigan. yet, he never let that get in the way of their budding friendship and hadn't let it over the past almost 7 years of knowing one another. the longest friendship, she'd had outside her other best friend sadie. he would pick up at every 3 am call she'd make to him, he would call her when the ghosting she did began or would figure out where she was when he'd come home during the summer & she wouldn't come to the lake house while not letting him know. or most importantly he wanted to say everything he felt too, when all the times he would catch her telling her true feelings for him, but then she would make a sarcastic and dark-humored joke about it, before changing the subject.

she was his best friend, throughout all of his shit too. she'd go above and beyond for him, and quinn felt less than at times about it. how much compensation she'd do for him when she was hurting and in need of a hug or a pep talk. when she needed warmth and safety. so when she proposed staying in detroit after four years at michigan, for a business degree, he jumped at the prospect. selfishly, at least a little part for quinn, was that he'd know that she was safe at all times- albeit his brothers, their shared groups of friends from michigan, or his parents. to which she'd made a joke of it, "how do its feel to be behind mama hughes on my emergency contact list?"

❂

Oh, you're spiralin' again The moment right before it ends, you're most afraid of But, don't you cancel any plans 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them

❂

it was a rainy, torrential downpour, july friday evening in the detroit - ann arbor area. it was around 9 pm when she'd just gotten out work due to a project that blew up in her and her colleague's faces- so the five of them were stuck there until it was done. she knew that this was her breaking point, and it seemed like once a quarter she'd simply lose it. start ghosting everybody she loved, canceling plans or not even bothering to show up to them without a word. so now here she was, sitting in her townhouse garage and sobbing. she'd been denying each and every call that quinn had been making, the duration of the drive home. she'd promised to call him after she got out to discuss her flight in the morning, to toronto where he was with his brothers and a few friends and girlfriends. she couldn't pull herself to bring herself inside after shutting her car off. she couldn't pull herself together to shower, to eat or to even finish packing for her flight. she couldn't even pull herself to wipe her cheeks that were molten red and drenched with salty tears.

all the way in toronto, quinn was panicking. freaking out outside of the restaurant they were all at. why wasn't she picking up? his mind ran with soulless ideas and thoughts, one's that made him think the worst and on the verge of throwing up. after the 20th call (i know) he called his mom, who said she hadn't heard from her since the previous sunday when they went to brunch, despite her telling his mom that she'd text her something that week. and then once ellen had said that it had been pouring the whole day and hadn't let up, his anxiety surged. what if she slid into a ditch? what if she skidded into another car? lost her vision through the windshield? a million thoughts echoed throughout his mind, as he tried to calm himself down. "if you cannot get ahold of her before 12, i will go over there to make sure she is ok." ellen offered, and that made quinn breathe a bit. that was the first thing he thought of when she said she'd be staying in detroit, that his mom would be nearby at all times. as selfishly as that was, quinn thought.

❂

Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom

❂

she pushed her garage door open into the mud room, sliding her purse and shoes off. she slowly made her way towards the kitchen, grabbing the water canister from the fridge and pouring herself a tall glass. her phone continued to buzz with messages from quinn, and now luke and jack, who were overly concerned for the one person they saw as an older sister. she peered down at it, and saw a text from quinn stating: please text, call, anything please. im gonna drive home tonight - rn. she sighed, pulling her phone into her hands and typing, "don't." and quinn pressed his head down on the restaurant table, he had just sat back down at. she pressed the button to call him and he picked up on the second ring, "don't do that quinn, im fine." she lied through gritted teeth. he shook his head, heading back outside. "sunny...please." he begged, as his voice broke. a thick crack with emotion bubbling underneath. "i promise, im ok." she lied again, and now her body was betraying her. "sunny?" he asked softly, and then he heard her sobs. "sunny?" he questioned again, as her sobs got heavier. "im sorry. im sorry quinine.....god, i wish-" she paused as she realized what she was gonna say, something she'd wanted to say for years when he'd be there to comfort her. "i wish i'd never met you quinnie, you have never deserved any of this and do not deserve it." she sobbed, breaking quinn's heart in the process. "no! you don't get to say that, or believe that. because i sure as hell don't." he argued and she shook her head. "no, you don't deserve a friend that doesn't see the good in the world. who doesn't look towards tomorrow with a mindset of, that things are gonna be better. tomorrow's a new day. you don't deserve that, your family, my family- nobody deserves it." she croaked, wiping her tears roughly off of her cheeks.

quinn's heart broke, "i promise sunny- this time its gonna be different. we will get you better help, ill take you wherever we need to go to get you the help you need. were not giving up, ok? im not nor ever going to give up. you're my best friend sunny, we will work through this. there's so much good about you and the way you treat everybody around you. everything is gonna be ok sunny, ok?" he pleaded, and she heard her sniffles. "i promise that everything will be made new, sunny. let me - let me drive home right now, ill call your mom- ill call my mom, everything will be ok!" he said more so to trick himself into thinking it, but he was terrified. she shook her head, "no its quinnie, im just gonna go to sleep." she said before hanging up.

❂

Waiting room, no place to stand His greatest fears and wringing hands and the loudest silence If you could see yourself like this If you could see yourself like this, you'd have never tried it

❂

as quinn was just getting his bags together from the hotel room, and waiting on the delivery of a rental car - he got the call from his mom. he was with his brothers when he got it. he called her after sunny had hung up, asking her to go be with her until he could get there. about 2 hours later because of flooding and how bad the vision was that evening, ellen had made it to her townhouse right outside of detroit. and the moment she got off the phone with 911, she called quinn. whose world was rightfully, broken in half.

quinn stood in the waiting room after driving back with his brothers, and so the three of them stood there silently. ellen was the only one with sunny at that moment, now - 6 am. ellen had been with sunny since 1 am, that morning after her and jim drove to check on her. jack called sunny's mom, who lived in Indianapolis with her step father, who instantly got in the car and drove up to detroit. who were nearing their arrival any minute. all three of the boy's minds ran wild with thoughts and feelings, but quinns. his were lethal at this point, and filled with guilt, more than anything. quinn's head whipped up when he saw jim walking from the elevator and nodded towards quinn, and then his two other sons. "come with me." jim said before he took them with him upstairs. she'd been taken to the psych floor after she had arrived.

"she is ok quinn." jim said placing a hand on his shoulder to try to comfort him. quinn nodded softly, the look on his face of somebody who was mentally gone. jim and the three boys, stepped out and towards her room. ellen turned her head when the door opened, "your dad and i are gonna head downstairs to wait for her parents, we will be downstairs." ellen said standing up and quinn nodded, "we'll go with you." jack said referring to him and luke, who nodded as well. "let us know if you need anything q." ellen said comfortingly and he nodded, still looking towards sunny. the family walked out, leaving quinn who sat down next to the girl. she was sleeping peacefully and soundly, not flinching or stirring the dark haired girl after he grabbed her hands softly. his hands eclipsed hers, as he did so. he brought their hands to his lips, as he sat forward with his elbows on knees. "fucking a sunny." he mumbled to himself, "i thought i'd lost you for good this time." he added as silent tears poured out thinking about the last time, this almost happened.

Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you told me that you had to go

"i dont want to do it anymore quinnie." she sobbed. her final semester of senior year was getting to her, and she was stressed beyond the max with work, her internship and life in general. and what made it harder, was that quinn was in vancouver while she was in ann arbor.

"what can i do for you, sunny? please tell me what i can do."

"you can't do anything q, there's nothing stopping me or in my way anymore." she cried.

quinn shook his head, "dont say that. you know that isn't true. you've got your mom, sister, brother, sadie, my family and, and me. and you're whole future ahead of you." he said through a scratchy voice.

"sunny, please stay on the line with me until you fall asleep. i don't care how late it is." he said - no pleaded.

"i gotta go quinnie. ill call you tomorrow morning." she said before hanging up, before heading over to the hughes' residence.

❂

Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are

❂

sure, quinn could not totally relate to sunny. but he had had his moments. when his first season ended, the off season between the 2022-2023 season and 2023-2024. where the team had been god awful. he'd had moments of unclarity, throughout their friendship. but certainly, never on the level of her's. but there were moments where the two could bond on a different level, and where the two could feel exactly how the other felt.

he'd come out on the other side every single time, and did not let it discourage him. he knew it was a part of life, and the career that he chose. he hoped at some point, before it was too late, that she'd come out on top on the other side.

that she'd finally be able to get some peace in life.

she woke up around 7:30 am, with her parents in the hallway with ellen and jim, talking quietly over everything. quinn sat next to her, while his brothers went to go get coffee and small breakfast items for everybody. when the girl awoke, she did not expect to be there in the hospital. she didn't expect to see quinn beside her, looking past her out the window. she didn't expect to be alive, to be quite honest. she shifted a little bit as tears formed in her eyes, as she felt guilt wash over her. and a bit of frustration, that it hadn't worked.

"sunny.." quinn began trailing off, as he felt her hand pull from his and saw her shift in the bed. she looked at him with the biggest puppy eyes he'd ever seen, and then her lips began to quiver. he quickly hopped into the hospital bed, pulling her into him as she began to sob. her throat dry and scratchy as she began to speak, "why?" she begged. "why me?" she added, as quinn kissed her head. "why am i so broken?" she sobbed into the warmth of his chest, as he began to cry with her. "i don't deserve you quinnie, i don't. i never have and never will." she croaked, and he frowned. he pulled back a bit and brought his hands to her cheeks, to make her look at him. he shook his head, "i don't deserve you my sunny." he began, before swallowing. "from the moment i met you, in that god awful english course, you showed me that a person can be relentlessly kind, incredibly unselfish, and even if you don't realize it - you find the good in everything and everyone." he paused, "and now you need to find that goodness in yourself. because it is there." he finished, his brown eyes pouring into hers.

both of their eyes filled with tears, and their bodies full of nerves.

she nodded softly, "and if you couldn't tell through that thick skull of yours- that's my way of telling you i love you." he quickly diffused the situation, "and how much love i have for you." he added quickly. she smiled softly, "i love you too, quinnie. thankyou for pointing out my thick skull." she hummed, before leaning into his left hand.

❂

Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile wonderin' if you're breathin' So, won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me?

❂

it was now early august, and between therapy and time away from work- the girl was finally beginning to understand what quinn had meant when the two spoke that early morning at the hospital. he'd been there every day with her since then, making sure she got the appropriate help alongside her mom. he'd made sure he kept her schedule in order, making sure she went to her in-person therapy sessions, made sure that she was eating enough, drinking enough water, and made sure to take her mind off of it all. this was one of their final full weeks together, and quinn wanted to make the most of it.

he drove the two from ann arbor down to new buffalo michigan, on lake michigan about two in a half hours outside of chicago. he rented the two a small beach house on a private beach for the getaway. this morning the girl rose around 5:04 am, right before sunrise. she quickly got out of the shared bed (which wasn't a shared bed in the beginning, but after a night staying up to talk it naturally became one.) and headed out towards the beach that was a foot off of the back deck. she made her way down the beach, after slipping on a one piece and submerged herself quickly into the lukewarm water.

she dunked herself underneath the water, before swimming back to the surface. she hadn't realized that quinn had followed her out, after feeling the bed shift and then a cold spot in her wake. she turned behind her after quinn had snapped a pic, and she smiled. "morning q." she smiled, now swimming on her back. he smiled, sitting down on the deck and putting his legs in the water.

"will I be subject to a pep talk today?" she teased with a grin, as quinn chuckled. he shrugged, "maybe." he mused. "let me guess its gonna include punching somebody, giving myself a reason to do things and possible falling in love? two topics of which haven't been talked about?" she quipped, pulling herself up the deck to sit next to him on it. she leaned her head that was soaked on his shoulder, and he smiled softly resting his on hers.

"why dont you come back to vancouver with me?" he questioned out loudly, a few minutes later. she felt her breathe hitch in her throat, before removing her head from his. "you don't have to say yes right now but...i don't know if i can go without seeing you. i don't think i can handle you ghosting me and shutting the world out. after that night, i don't want to wake up and fear that you arent breathing anymore. but ofcourse, if you won't come with me- ill stay here. ill take some time off, and we can work on things." he offered and she shook her head. "you you cant do that for me." she pleaded and he now shook his head, "id do anything for you sunny, don't you understand that?" he paused to gauge her reaction, "id do everything in my power and simply - my existence for you. you have been such a light in my life despite everything, since the moment you walked into it. and i frankly, am never letting you walk out of it." he said as she began to feel overwhelmed. she'd never thought about how quinn felt about her, through everything. especially through the short term girlfriend he'd had and the talking stages that went nowhere with girls.

"dont say what it is i think you're going to say." she begged, as she began to cry. more so, happy tears. he wiped them quickly, looking into her eyes. "i love you, and have always loved you. even from the sidelines and through my own shit i have loved you from that first damn and god-awful frat party, and from the moment you said hi." he said rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks. she clasped her eyes shut and shook her head, "look at me pretty girl." he whispered and she reopened them. "back in the hospital room, you said it then, why did you try to run it back? why did you try to neutralize it?" she questioned, "because you didn't deserve it in that moment. you deserved better." he answered. she nodded, "i would have said it back quinnie. i would have said it if you hadn't shut up." she said with a small grin. his head cocked to the side just a bit. "i love you quinn, and i have always. i've loved you through everything. your dedication to never giving up on me, has shown me some of the greatest love in life. and in turn, has made me fall so deeply in love with you." she confessed and quinn smiled. he smiled widely before leaning in slowly, but it was too slow for the girl. she connected the two's lips and melted into his body.

she pulled away, "oh and before we move on for the day, id love to come to come to van with you. i miss brock." she teased before he pulled the girl up and towards the lake house.

and now here we are !!!! i hope you enjoyed, especially if you made it to this point🫶🏻

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #luke hughes #jack hughes #new jersey devils #nhl #hockey #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey blurb

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 6 months

Note

I’m back with my Hunter brainrot, thanks to your kinktober post 😅 I hope this is ok to ask:

Can you write a Hunter x f reader where the prompts "I can't risk losing you again." and "Don't you see that I'm hurting?" Are used?

And can it be fluffy with feelings? It would also be cool if it’s NSFW or steamy but that’s honestly up to you. I love your work sm <3 take care

Thank you so much, anon! Sorry for the delay; I was trying to work out how to get the line prompts in while keeping it fluffy/sweet/steamy. There’s a tiny bit of angst, too.

I hope this is okay! <3

Safe with You

After you were snatched by locals on a recent mission, buried feelings bubble up to the surface, and neither of you can fight them back any longer.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: canon typical violence, hurt and comfort, light angst, feelings and softness, friends to lovers (this trope with this man 🤌), squint for possessiveness, fingering, praise/encouragement.

Rain pelted against the large barracks window, the grey skies a common sight on Kamino. But Hunter’s attention wasn’t on the brewing storm outside. Dark eyes watched as you moved around the room with a slight limp to decant the contents of your pack onto your cot.

Six months you’d been with them. Six months as their civilian handler. You were supposed to report to the Kaminoans on their missions and provide them with whatever they needed to ensure they returned safely each time. The long necks couldn’t have anything happening to their ‘experimental assets’ after all. You weren’t meant to be in the field with them, yet you’d insisted.

And now you were hurt.

Jaw clenching, Hunter tries to forget the panic that had consumed him when you'd sent a distress signal during the middle of the last mission. They’d left you on the Marauder at a safe distance and able to assist if needed, but the locals had found you and weren’t too happy. Your scream of his name over the comms as you’d been dragged out of the ship had turned his blood to ice and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Before he could stop himself, Hunter was up on his feet and across the room, reaching out for you, selfishly needing to triple-check that you were okay.

You startle as warm hands grasp your wrist, your heart rate spiking as fear simmers in your veins for only a second until you look up at a familiarly handsome face. Try as you might, you were still a little shaken. The locals hadn’t hurt you – your injury was self-inflicted, having smacked your hip on the bunk racks as you’d tried to kick yourself free of their grasp – and that had been their only saving grace when Hunter had stormed their small village with a blaster in one hand and his vibroknife in the other, demanding to know where you were. The relief that had crumpled his face as you’d been yanked out of a nearby building would forever be etched into your memory.

For a moment, you can only stare into his eyes, watching a mired of emotions flicker across his face before his hand shifts to your chin to tilt your head from side to side, double-checking for any marks. “I’m okay, Hunter.” You tell him softly, shifting your weight onto your good leg. “I don’t blame them.” You’re touched by his concern, warmth seeping through your body.

Hunter shakes his head a little, a hard glint in his endless brown eyes. “I do. You’re hurt.”

“Like I said on the way back here, this is self-inflicted.” You repeat, gently taking his wrist to pry his hand from your face. He didn’t need to worry so much – you’d been through a lot worse.

Hunter isn’t backing down that easily, not when something is clawing at his chest and demanding that he be sure you’re okay. “Let me see.”

You pause, blinking a few times at the commanding tone he’d slipped into so effortlessly. It was easy to forget at times that he was in charge. “Hunter…”

“Please.” He remembers his manners, softening his tone a little. He hadn’t meant to come across as harsh or rude, but that strange feeling in his chest wasn’t easing.

“There’s nothing to see. I’ve probably just pulled a muscle. It’ll be fine in a few days.” You point out.

Hunter takes a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t know what it was like hearing you scream out for me.” He pauses, swallowing, the memory replaying on an endless loop in his mind. “Nothing mattered other than getting to you. And I was too slow. You were gone when I got back. But your scent…” His jaw clenched, brows drawn down into a pained frown. One of his hands moved to cup your face, the light drag of his thumb across your cheekbone tugging at your heart. “So sweet but tainted with fear…” He trails off, remembering how relentlessly he’d tracked you down, pushing his senses further than ever before, searching for every little trace of you, desperate to have you back. “Don’t you see that I’m hurting? Please. I need to see that you’re okay.”

You couldn’t deny the worry you saw in Hunter’s eyes, something that rarely surfaced in the stoic soldier, and his words struck a chord with the unspoken connection that had grown between you during your time together. With a small sigh, you nod, giving in to his request.

“Alright. But I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.” You gently guide him to sit on your cot, lowering yourself next to him and lifting your shirt enough to reveal the purpling bruise on your hip. It wasn’t anything serious, just a painful reminder of the close call.

Hunter’s eyes narrow as he inspects the bruise, his fingers brushing lightly over the discoloured skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and for a moment, there’s silence in the room, only the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain against the window breaking the stillness.

“I told you, it’s nothing major.” You reassure him, studying the deep furrow in his brow. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle a few bumps and bruises. It comes with the territory.”

Hunter remains silent, his gaze fixed on the bruise as if trying to will it away. Then, without a word, he rifles through the contents of your pack that you’d dumped out, grabbing a small tube of bacta gel. Wordlessly, he begins to apply it to your bruise, his movements deliberate and tender.

“You shouldn’t have to endure this.” He mutters, almost to himself, his fingers working the gel into your skin. “You weren’t made for this, yet you willingly put yourself in harm’s way. I can’t…I can’t risk losing you again.”

His admission catches you off guard. The weight of his words hangs in the air. The bond between you has evolved, whether you intended it or not.

You place a hand over his, pausing his ministrations. “I’m here because I choose to be. I believe in what you and your brothers are fighting for. I want to help in whatever way I can. I want to protect you. You’re not the only one who would go to great lengths for someone they care about.”

Hunter meets your gaze, his expression softening. At that moment, you realize that the storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one raging inside Hunter.

You watch as he sets aside the bacta gel, knowing you’re at a crossroads and that whatever you say or do next will tip the scales. His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, the silence lingers until his gaze dips down to your lips for the briefest of seconds.

You move on instinct. Leaning in, your hand cups his cheek, guiding his face towards yours. As your lips meet in a tender kiss, you feel him respond with relief and desperation, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, drawing you closer as he deepens the kiss.

Warmth licks through you, and you let out a small noise of surprise as Hunter pulls you carefully onto his lap, shifting you so that you can straddle him. His hand still supports your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck as his tongue presses forward, sliding between your lips to taste you.

Your soft moan is muffled by his mouth, tongue meeting his, body going pliant. Hunter’s lips are firm and confident, every fragment of his adoration for you poured into the kiss.

He wants to drown in your scent, to block out the rest of the galaxy and focus on nothing but you – the sounds you’re making, the racing of your heart, the taste of you that he’ll never get enough of. Cautious not to jostle you, Hunter stands, cradling you to him, smiling against your lips as your arms and legs wrap around him. As you cling to him, he carries you across the room to his bunk, laying you down gently on his sheets.

Sinking into the softness of the mattress, you gaze up at Hunter as he settles above you, careful not to rest his weight on you. Soft lips return to your body, dragging down your throat as his fingers creep under your shirt, dark fabric pushed up as he traces the curves of your body, the rough pads of his fingers against smooth skin. He’s already half-hard just from kissing you, but he studiously ignores it.

You are his priority. You always have been.

He shifts, working his way down your body. Reverent kisses pressed to your exposed belly, lips lingering around your injured hip, still shiny with bacta. Endless brown eyes flit up to meet your gaze, stealing your breath. Reaching down, you cup the inked side of his face, watching as his eyes flutter shut, head tilting into your touch, lips ghosting the palm of your hand in a feather-light kiss as he reassures himself that you're okay. Tears prickle at your eyes, heart aching at the sweetness of the gesture.

Fingers reach the waistband of your pants, already sitting low to not press on your hip, and there's a silent question in his gaze as he looks up at you.

With a small nod, you encourage him, and Hunter slowly pries your pants down further, eyes flitting between yours and the expanse of skin slowly revealed to him. He sees every emotion painted on your beautiful face, like a masterpiece he’s dedicated his entire life to studying.

Your pants hit the floor, Hunter’s lips trailing a path back up your body, soft kisses and gentle nips laved across your thighs and stomach. One arm returns to supporting his weight above you while the other hand smooths across your body, committing every part of you to memory. He could spend an eternity mapping you, losing himself in every nuance of you. Your honeyed scent fills his lungs, overpowering the lingering smells in the barracks.

It’s the sweetest torture you’ve ever experienced, the soft drag of his fingers across your body, the warmth of him so close, those eyes that have drawn you in since the very beginning. He dips down for a delicate kiss, fingers sliding across your thighs. They part without protest, and the deep rumble of approval that flees his lips sends a shiver through you.

Tentatively, he drags two fingers across the front of your damp panties as your kiss breaks. “So needy already, cyar’ika.” He croons, marvelling at the whimper you let loose. “Should probably do something about that, eh?” He adds, catching your clit with his next stroke, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, heart racing as you look up at him, trusting he’ll take care of you.

A smile passes over Hunter’s lips, and his fingers dance under the waistband of your panties, sliding down through your slick folds. Drawing lazy circles around your entrance, he goes to press a digit into your warm heat but pulls back at the last moment. Your brows furrow, and the small whine of frustration you let out makes him chuckle. “Patience, mesh’la.” He admonishes playfully, dragging his fingers up and over your clit again, making you gasp.

It’s maddening. But at the same time, oh so delicious. One of your hands grasps at the sheets of his bunk, the other grabbing onto him, anchoring yourself as his fingers stroke across you, cataloguing each spot that makes your hips jolt or pulls a little sound from you.

The delicious torture comes to an end as he finally presses a finger into you, another sliding in beside it. A soft moan escapes you, muffled as Hunter presses his lips to yours, crooking his fingers until he finds the right spot.

Stars erupt in your vision, kiss breaking as you tilt your head back, letting out another moan as pleasure curls through you.

“There it is.” Delight warms Hunter’s voice as he finds the spot, fingers moving, watching enraptured as you react to his touch. Leaning closer, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “You should see yourself, cyar’ika. So beautiful.” He whispers, revelling in the way your heart rate spikes at his words, how you squirm and cant your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. “That’s it. Take what you need.” He encourages.

Eyes sliding shut, warmth builds in your belly with every brush of his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you, with every soft word he utters. You grind down against his palm, the added pressure on your clit making your head spin as his fingers slide in and out of you.

Hips rolling, you’re grateful for the bacta gel that’s numbed the earlier ache, and you whine as Hunter’s teeth graze your earlobe. Warm puffs of his breath caress your neck as he dips down, dragging the flat of his tongue from your clavicle back to your ear, making you shiver. “Keep going, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” He murmurs, a low rasp to the smoky voice you’ve grown to love.

Breath stuttering, you cling to him, desperately rocking against his hand. Your fingers twist the sheets as the pressure builds and builds. “Please...” You whine, eyes opening to find lust-blown brown gazing right back at you.

You ask so sweetly that Hunter can’t do anything but take mercy on you. Ensuring his fingers continue pumping slowly in and out of your tight heat, his thumb makes contact with your clit, and the cry you let out is magnificent.

“Yes, yes, like that…” You babble, eyes falling shut once more as he works you into a frenzy. Lips parting on a silent gasp, you finally tip over the edge. Trembles skitter through your body as you give yourself over to it, letting yourself be swept up in the moment.

Hunter has seen a lot in his few years – sunrises on pretty planets, families reunited, millions of stars shining in distant pockets of the galaxy. Still, all of it pales compared to the sight of you falling apart beneath him.

Working you through the high, his hand only stills once your beautiful eyes open once more and, holding your gaze, he slides his fingers from you, dragging them up to his mouth. The taste of you explodes in his mouth, and he groans, lapping at his fingers as he cleans away the evidence of your release.

Ragged breaths escape you as you come down from the high, watching the way the man you adore savours the taste of you. Exhaustion starts to creep through your body, the adrenaline of the day wearing off and the intensity of your orgasm stealing what little energy you had left. “Your turn…” You mumble, hand sliding down his body towards the thick length straining against his blacks.

Hunter gently captures your wrist, guiding your hand back up before peppering your pulse point with light kisses. “Promise me that I can teach you how to defend yourself better. And that you’ll always carry my spare vibroknife.” He makes a heartfelt request.

You attempt to protest, but seriousness settles over his expression, a stark reminder of how shaken he’d been earlier. “Tomorrow morning, I’m returning the favour. Then I’ll promise you anything.” You finally conceded.

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Deal.” He agrees, sealing the pact with a gentle press of his lips to yours. Carefully, he shifts you, pulling the sheet up, cocooning you in warmth. “There’s my girl.” He coos, watching as your eyes start to droop, lids heavy.

Half-awake, you mumble. “Yours?”

“Mine.” He confirms tenderly, smoothing your hair from your face, the ache in his chest finally easing as you rest safely in his bunk.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #star wars #the bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter bad batch #fluff #soft smut #friends to lovers

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kissingghouls · 8 months

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Little Ghost

Phantom Ghoul x GN! Reader - Fluff, it's soooo much fluff my dudes. 1700 words.

Summary: Phantom gives you a gift to help you while he's away. One could consider this a sort of sequel to If You Remember This Tomorrow if you wanted to 👻 (ao3) // A Late Night Call (pt3)

-x-

Phantom’s room is smaller than yours, but the bed is much more comfortable. At first, you thought there was a practical reason—better mattress or softer sheets. It wasn’t until the third time he shared the space with you that you realized it was just because of him.

It’s the same feeling you get when he kisses your forehead or takes your hand in a crowded room. There’s a sense of relief you get when he curls around you at night, a quiet calm that pains you to think about tonight.

You had pushed for this, of course. It was you who dragged him from the bed without bothering to change out of his t-shirt. And you had pulled him up the stairs to the party. You wanted to see him and your friends having a good time together and, maybe selfishly, wanted to avoid becoming “that” kind of partner.

But the lights are too bright and the room is so crowded. You put on a brave face and shoot the ghoul a half-smile. He’s quick to pick up the shift in your mood, concern pinching his eyebrows together.

He says your name, but the music is too loud to hear. You smile again, genuinely this time, in response to his quirked eyebrow. He drapes his arms over your shoulders and lets his weight sink down on you. You turn your head to say something unimportant, but he steals a kiss that quiets you.

There’s a discussion neither one of you want to have. It lingers in the air like a heavy ghost, touching each word that the two of you have managed to say over the last few days. You accepted reality long before the two of you became “official,” but it didn’t make things any easier.

Phantom’s bed was comfortable with him in it and your stomach hurts when you think of sleeping there alone.

A few weeks didn’t seem like that long at first. It didn’t stop the pair of you from growing closer in a way that you would have protected yourself from if you knew it would hurt this bad. But stupidly, you had allowed yourself to care and let him become something more to you. What it was, you weren’t sure yet, so you didn’t dare say it out loud.

“You ok?” He asks in your ear even though he knows the answer. He can feel it radiate off you any time he gets close to you lately. It makes his chest ache to think that he has hurt you.

You smile, nod, and kiss him on the cheek as Swiss and Aurora whirl by in a flurry of layered skirts and practiced steps. Dew was still mad at you for showing them that k-pop video and he scowls at you from across the room, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. Phantom catches this and playfully bares his teeth at the other ghoul until he rolls his eyes and stomps away.

No one else seemed to look like they were leaving in the morning. There were others who were in the same position as you, but they seemed to be doing just fine. That, or they were really good at pretending not to notice the countdown looming over the abbey.

The buses are parked outside, departure set first thing in the morning. Phantom finished packing his bags a couple of hours ago, a mess of clothes shoved haphazardly into suitcases and flung next to his door with those tall stage boots. He smiled so proudly when you laughed at his methods, easily giving up the reason he’d done it in the first place. It was things like that you’d miss just as much as the weight of him next to you, the little moments you treasured without him fully understanding why. You couldn’t quite explain it to him, but he was so adorably patient when you tried to find the words.

You lean against him, tucking yourself into his side. He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the top of your head. It’s like coming up for air, the way he makes you feel. The pressure and the immense relief all rolled into one.

And you’re really going to fucking miss him.

“Bug?” you ask, hoping he can hear you because even ounce of strength you have is forcing back tears. “I know this was my idea—”

“Oh, thank Satan! I want to leave so bad,” he confesses.

“You do?”

“Bee,” he says, and the nickname rolls off his tongue sweet as honey. “I love everyone here—really, I do. But I just want to hang out with you tonight.”

“Really?”

He frowns at your apparent disbelief before placing a kiss on your forehead. “You,” he says. “Just you.”

You’re not sure if you’ve ever smiled so wide before and your face might hurt in the morning. He sees this as he takes your hand and pulls you to the edge of the room, looking of his shoulder every few seconds. The two of you are so close to the exit when Mountain lets out a loud whistle nearby.

“Hey Phantom,” he shouts. “You got somewhere better to be?”

“Yep,” he calls back without stopping.

The others laugh loudly behind you, but it doesn’t matter anymore. When you reach the hall, he breaks into a run and you both thunder down the hallway, your own laughter ringing off the walls.

The ghouls’ floor is deserted, the evening too young for even the worst wet blanket of the bunch. It suits you just fine as you skip through to Phantom’s room and throw yourself on the bed. You never should have left this place, but you’ll know better next time. He watches you from the doorway, casually leaning in a way that doesn’t look comfortable at all, but you’d be surprised as you often are when it comes to him.

“Better?” he teases as you sink into the mattress, wishing to stay like this forever.

It’s good, you suppose, that you’ve already started to miss him. There’s been a pull on your heart any time he’s just out of reach ever since that first kiss, but this you feel in your bones. He’s part of you now—injected and absorbed like vitamins until he calcifies and strengthens the weakest parts of you. There’s a word for it, but it’s too much, too soon, and anyway he’s leaving in the morning.

He chews his lip, knowing there is something running through that head of yours that he doesn’t quite know how to help with. He wishes more than anything that he could be split in two so that part of him could stay with you. For him just as much as for you. But it wasn’t possible. He made sure to ask.

Instead, he crosses the room and digs through his closet for the surprise he was trying so hard to keep until tomorrow. But he knows now that when it comes to you the only thing he can’t do is wait. You stare up at him with big, round eyes as he sets the gift in your lap and settles next to you.

“Wha—”

“Just open it, Bee.”

Your brow furrows as you take in the explosion of tissue paper stuffed into a very large gift bag. It’s surprisingly heavy in your hands as you dig through the tangle of colorful and coiled ribbons to pull the handles apart. Tears sting your eyes as you free a large, floppy stuffed dog from its rainbowy hold. It stares back at you, eyes the same color as Phantom’s. Its weighted belly and limbs sag as you hold it by the ears and begin to sob.

“Hey, hey,” Phantom soothes, trying to contain his growing panic.

“It’s perfect,” you say quickly. “I’m sorry. I just—I wasn’t expecting—I didn’t get you—”

He cuts you off with a sweet kiss, his thumbs quickly swiping away your errant tears. “I’ve been a wreck all week, honestly. And I thought if I feel like this, you’d feel like this and then I felt worse. But then at the end of the day we come back here and it’s just us and I like the way that feels. I know we’re going to miss each other but maybe this guy will help the bed to not feel so empty.”

You press your forehead to his. “Thank you.”

“Pretty sure I’d do anything for you,” he admits. He grabs the stuffed dog and drops it into your lap before pulling you close. The helpless pup is sandwiched by your bodies, silently absorbing whatever is happening between the two of you. “I’d probably stay if you asked me to,” he continues, lips forming words on your neck. “But I think we’d both get in so much trouble.”

“I’d never ask, you know,” you assure him, fingers gripping right to the back of his shirt.

“I know,” he says with a nod. “Doesn’t make the thought of leaving any easier.”

“Well, what if we just think about you coming back?”

“What do you mean?”

“You won’t be gone forever, right? You do get to come home at the end of the tour.”

“Hmm. I like the way your brain works.”

“And here I thought I was just nice to look at,” you tease.

He laughs loudly. “Never gonna live that down, huh?”

“Maybe someday.” You fall back in the bed, pulling him down with you. “So, what do we name him?”

“Whatever you want.” He brushes a hand through your hair, the odd spark of quintessence magic shocking you like static electricity. It still happens sometimes when he feels something strongly, his body still adjusting to this world.

You hum for a moment, pretending to think. “Little Ghost,” you tell him and boop his nose with the dog’s.

“Little Ghost?”

“Well, he’s like a substitute Phantom right? Something that’s you, but not you. Like a phantom Phantom. He’s a little ghost of you, but corporeal.”

“I like it.” He fluffs one of Little Ghost’s ears. “Think he’ll be enough to replace me?”

You cuddle close to him, wanting to hold on to that feeling of being beside him for as long as you can. “No one could ever replace you, but he’s a pretty strong second.”

#my fics #my writing #phantom ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul x gn reader #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #ghost band fanfic #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls fanfic

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lewmagoo · 1 year

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someone to watch over me | bob floyd

description: in which a secret service agent is willing to go to great lengths to protect that which is most precious to him

warnings: 18+ only, mention of guns, assassination attempt, forbidden love, american political system (this is a warning in and of itself ok), brief mention of vomiting, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, slight possessiveness

characters: au bob floyd x afab!reader, dagger squad but make them secret service agents

dt: @bradshawsbitch because she listened to me scream about this idea incessantly <3

You’re safe.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, threatening to break through your ribs and leap forth out of your chest. Your breathing was rushed, coming in quick bursts, panicked intakes as you tried to suck life-preserving oxygen into your lungs.

You’re safe.

You were safe. You knew you were. However, the events that had just happened moments prior still had you shaken, vibrating with terror. Tears had gathered in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks, blurring your vision.

You’re safe.

“I’m safe. No one can hurt me. I’m safe.” You kept repeating this chant, trying to convince yourself that it was true. But it was doing little to soothe the fear that was still surging through your veins, like a drug that had induced a bad trip.

There was only one thing that could calm you down. One person. But that person was on the other side of those secured doors, dealing with the situation that had risen. The situation that had put you in danger.

You remembered so vividly the way you’d cried out his name. “Bobby!” And he was there in an instant, springing into action, throwing himself between you and the person who’d tried to get close to you.

You were pushed back, sent into Bradley Bradshaw’s waiting arms as Reuben, Jake, and Bob intercepted the perpetrator. You knew you wouldn’t be able to see your Bobby, but that didn’t stop you from trying to search for him within the chaos.

“Keep your eyes ahead,” Bradley spoke in your ear. His arm was secured around your waist, his body protectively shielding your own. You were vaguely aware of Natasha and Mickey ahead of you, making sure the way was clear as you were ushered to the waiting car.

You were practically thrown into the large black Escalade, and Bradley was right behind you, sliding into the seat beside you. You were buzzing with fright, hands trembling as you clutched at the edges of the leather seat.

Your mind, however, was not on your own safety. It was on Bobby’s. Although you knew what a situation like this entailed, it was still a shock to your system to watch him spring into action. His sole job was to protect you, even if that meant laying down his own life to do so.

But you didn’t want him to sacrifice his life for yours. You wanted him alive and in your arms. You wanted to hold him to your chest and run your fingers through his hair like you had done so many times before, pretending that his job wasn’t to keep you alive. Ignoring the cold, hard reality that there were evil people out there who would not hesitate to kill you if they had the chance.

Bob, and the rest of your security team, was there to see to it that no one had that chance. And up until now, you had experienced nothing more than threats. No one had ever physically tried to come after you.

You had discussed what such an event would entail. You knew who would be at the front, handling the threat, and who would escort you out of harm’s way. Selfishly, you’d wanted Bob to be the one who wrapped his arm around you and pulled you away, only because you knew that was where he would be safest. The others could deal with taking the threat down, just as long as Bobby was by your side.

But it hadn’t worked out that way.

Now here you were, unsure of his fate. You wouldn’t know until later on if he was okay or not. But he was all you could think about. You knew how foolish it was to ask about him, to give anyone an inclination that you were tangled up in a secret relationship with him.

You asked about him anyway. “Is Bobby okay?”

Bradley, who had just instructed Javy to step on it and take you back to the hotel where you were staying, gave you a long glance. You could see the way his jaw tensed. Bradley was no fool. He knew you and Bob had something going on. But he had never spoken of it to anyone. All it would take was one word, and Bob would lose his job. Bradley, however, was unwilling to be the one who helped send his friend’s career down the drain, no matter how foolish harboring such a secret was.

“He’s got it handled. Don’t worry about him,” he murmured.

But you couldn’t help it. You wouldn’t stop worrying until he was back in your arms. Until then, you had no choice but to go along with what was taking place. So you remained beside Bradley, huddling in on yourself, arms folded over your chest.

Your mind replayed the situation as if someone kept hitting the rewind button. One moment, everything had been just fine. You had been attending an event, a gala to raise funds for a children’s charity.

The event was one you attended every year, as the cause was near and dear to your heart. It was one of the few things you felt like you could call your own. Your father was the leader of the free world. Everyone associated you with him. No one seemed to refer to you by your name. You were often called the President’s daughter. It made you feel like you had no identity outside of your father’s presence in the White House.

Coming to events like these gave you a sense of purpose, and you loved meeting the families of children who had been positively impacted by this particular charity.

And that was just what you were doing the night your life was threatened. You had warned your security team ahead of time that you wished to stop and speak to some of the families who stood along the rope line outside.

Because you would be out in the open, your detail had been upped. Normally, you had Bob, Jake, Bradley, and Natasha around you at any given time. But tonight, the head of White House security, Pete Mitchell, had assigned a few others.

But even with all those extra eyes, someone still managed to slip past the cracks.

You were none the wiser to the fact that everything was about to be turned upside down. You had stopped to kneel down at a little girl’s level, because she tugged at your heartstrings and you simply couldn’t resist.

Just behind that little girl’s family, a man was approaching. He didn’t appear out of the ordinary. In fact, he was holding a small baby, swaddled in blankets, in his arms.

You’d stepped a little too far away for Bob’s liking. He was watching you like a hawk, as he always did. You’d slipped further down the rope line, prompting he and Jake to move closer toward you.

The man holding the baby pushed through the crowd, and he opened his mouth to call your name, motioning to his child. You smiled warmly at him, prepared to greet him and ask for his name.

But in the blink of an eye, faster than you could even register, he let that baby drop from his arms. You gasped in shock, but Bob had already clocked the situation before the man let the baby drop. Hidden beneath that bundle of blankets was…

“Gun!”

“Bobby!” You shrieked in terror, but he was on it, one hand drawing his own gun from its holster on his hip, while the other yanked you back harshly, right into Bradley, who whisked you away without a second thought.

Now here you were, reeling in the backseat of a bulletproof car, wondering how someone could be so unhinged that they would draw a gun in the midst of children. The depravity sent nausea rushing through you, and suddenly, you were certain you were going to be sick.

And you were. With a gasp, you lurched forward, unable to stop it as your body reacted. Beside you, Bradley was not surprised. He simply reached forward, pushing the fabric of your dress aside so you wouldn’t get anything on it.

“I’m sorry!” You wailed as you straightened back up, wiping your mouth, just as tears began to slide down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, it happens,” he soothed, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his suit jacket, and handing it to you to wipe your mouth.

Oh, how you wished it was Bobby beside you. He knew how to take care of you. He was familiar and gentle and attentive. Not that Bradley wasn’t those things, but that familiarity wasn’t there. He was simply part of your security detail, nothing more. Even so, you knew you were safe with him. Knew he’d sooner lay down his life than let anything happen to you.

And in that moment, he did his best to comfort you, reassuring you when you fretted about the mess you’d made on the floor of the expensive car. “Trust me, it’s fine. I’ll get it taken care of,” he promised. “Right now let’s focus on getting you to safety.”

As the car pulled up outside of the back entrance of the hotel, Bradley was quick to usher you out. He kept you close, just as Natasha and Mickey flanked him as soon as they’d climbed out from their car that had followed behind yours.

Within seconds, you were back in the safety of the hotel, ushered into the back service elevator that took you straight up to your floor. Bradley was quick to pull the key card out of his pocket, and you didn’t let out a breath until you were within the confines of your room.

But that breath soon quickened, and you began pacing about like a cornered horse. You were vaguely aware of Natasha calling your name. But it didn’t register until she was standing before you, the gentle brown of her eyes meeting yours.

“Hey,” she softly spoke, “you need a minute?”

“Y-yeah,” you croaked.

“Okay.” Carefully, she guided you to the bathroom. “Take as long as you need. Bradley’s out here. Mick and I will be in the hall. Nobody comes in or out without our say-so.”

All you could manage was a nod before you turned and barricaded yourself in the bathroom. As soon as the door was shut behind you, you clamped your hand over your mouth and sank down to the floor, stifling a sob.

Moments like these made you wish you lived a normal life. Oh, how you longed for the mundane. Longed to feel safe, instead of having an enormous target on your back.

You hadn’t asked for any of this. While you’d never voiced it to your father, you hated that he had taken this position. Why couldn’t he have taken a simple blue-collar job at a steel mill or a construction company? Instead, he’d gone for the highest office in the world.

Sometimes, you felt like you got lost in the shuffle. You were expected to just go along with it. Keep up appearances. Behave the way a president’s daughter should. But you hated every moment of it. Your life would never be normal. Even after your father completed his term and moved on to other things. You would always need security. You would never be safe.

You tried to take it in stride. You had to get used to the fact that this was just how life was. But that didn’t mean you loved it.

The only solace in the midst of it all was your sweet Robert. You hadn’t meant to fall in love with him, but who could ever decide when and who they were going to fall in love with? It had simply happened. You’d felt the connection with him from the instant you met.

And although you both tried to ignore your feelings for propriety’s sake, one thing had led to another and now you were so deeply in love that you didn’t know what to do with yourselves.

But the knowledge that harm could have come to Bob while he was protecting you only brought on more tears. This was why it was foolish to get involved with him. You both knew it was. Knew how much it would hurt if the other was harmed. Knew how much it could cloud his judgment and prove to be a distraction while he tried to carry out one of the most high-profile jobs in America.

For Bob, his need to protect you had only increased tenfold since he’d realized just how intensely he cared for you. Sometimes, the lengths he was willing to go to scared him.

He wasn’t a violent man by any means. In fact, he was rather passive. But he was very analytical and especially good at assessing threats. He was a chameleon, blending in as an innocent, unassuming guy. However, when push came to shove, he was a force to be reckoned with. Calm, methodical, but dangerous. Deadly, if he had to be.

But to you, he was kind and sweet. In the beginning, he’d almost been shy. But you’d quickly learned that he was only reserved around certain people. Around you, he opened up and bared his soul to you, allowing you to reach into his chest, prying his very ribs apart and exposing his heart to you.

Now that his heart was knitted with yours, he had something to lose. Everything to lose. And he’d be damned if he let you be taken from him. When he saw the man in the crowd coming toward you, everything happened in slow motion.

His eyes had shot to Jake and Reuben, the trio wordlessly communicating as Bob threw you behind him. Protect her at any cost. That was all that went through his head.

He had succeeded in that mission. You were now safe and sound, hidden away in the bathroom of your hotel room while he dealt with the aftermath. There was no question that your father would be demanding to know how anyone had managed to get that close to you. Bob could almost hear his outraged voice over the phone, “how in God’s name did you let him get that close?!”

How had they let him get so close? The surrounding block had been cordoned off. How on earth had a man with a weapon managed to slip through the cracks? It was certain that an investigation would be enacted. The target had been neutralized, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have others working with him.

Bob was mentally preparing himself to be put through the wringer. The whole team was going to be. But to him, it was all worth it, as long as he made it back to you.

He was in for a long night, but after it was all said and done, he would slip into your room, curl into bed beside you, and hold you in his arms, knowing that it was all because of him and his team that you were unharmed.

In the meantime, you were alone, trying to process what had happened. You felt so pathetic, huddled on the cold bathroom floor, crying your eyes out. But it was a reasonable reaction after all you’d just endured.

You weren’t sure how long you spent on that uncomfortable floor, but it was long enough to cause numbness to creep down your legs from sitting in one spot for too long.

It was then that you hauled yourself up from the floor and decided to take a shower. Washing the events of the evening down the drain seemed like the best course of action. So that was exactly what you did.

Twenty minutes and one fogged-up bathroom later, you were wrapping a plush towel around your body to dry off, before you slipped into one of the hotel robes, welcoming its warmth.

Foolishly, you considered the idea that Bob would be waiting for you in your room, and for a split second, your heart quickened in your chest, hope warming your veins.

But when you opened the door, all you were met with was an empty room. You let out a weary sigh and padded across the plush carpet, grabbing your phone off the charger, which seemed that Bradley had been kind enough to plug in for you.

However, when the screen lit up, you realized that it had been inundated with notification after notification. Missed calls from your parents and other family members. Texts from friends. Social media notifications.

Immediately, you found yourself overwhelmed. Your chest tightened, sending a jolt of anxiety through you.

Knowing they would worry the most out of everyone, you sent a quick text to your parents. “I’m okay.” And then turned off the phone. You couldn’t handle it. You knew if you kept your notifications on you’d spiral into a panic attack.

How you longed for Bobby to be with you, comforting you like only he knew how. But you wouldn’t soon get your way, so you resigned yourself to trudging over to the bed, collapsing onto the plush of the mattress.

You had no more tears left to cry, so you simply lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Trying to think of something, anything other than what was taking place.

Eventually, you climbed beneath the covers, huddled into their warmth, but sleep would not come. You tried watching television, but as you scrolled through the channel, new coverage of what had happened was plastered everywhere.

With a growl of frustration, you turned off the TV and threw the remote, which bounced off the bed and landed on the floor. You couldn’t be bothered to pick it up.

Hours passed, slowly dragging by as you tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, unable to rest. You didn’t want to be alone anymore. It was scary, because your mind kept wandering.

Even though the rational part of you knew Bob was fine, and was just tied up in the situation at hand, your brain took you to the worst-case scenario. Maybe he had gotten hurt. Maybe the man who’d pulled a gun on you had managed to fire a shot and severely wound him, or worse?

The thought of your precious Bobby fighting for his life in a hospital bed sent a fresh wave of nausea through you, and in an instant, you were leaping out of bed.

You had to know where he was. Had to know that he was okay. Had to ask someone, had to…

Suddenly, the sound of the door unlocking caught your attention, and you froze in the middle of the room. Seconds later, that door came open, and in walked Bob. Disheveled, exhausted, but all in one piece.

He let the door slam shut behind him, and you both stood there for a beat, staring at one another, taking in the sight of the other. His hair was mussed, tousled from it’s usually impeccably neat style. His tie was undone, and the top of his shirt was unbuttoned.

He dropped the duffel he’d been carrying on his shoulder, and suddenly, he sprang forward. But it didn’t matter, because you were already moving at the same time.

“Bobby!” You sobbed out, falling into his arms, burying your face against his chest.

He caught you with ease, arms wrapping securely around you as he held your trembling form. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and if you hadn’t been so overwhelmed with your own emotion you might’ve realized how badly he was shaking.

“I’m here now,” he whispered against the top of your head, the waver in his voice betraying him, “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“Don’t let go!” You wept.

“I won’t. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” He longed to say more, but he could not find the words to describe how relieved he was, how scared he’d been. Words fell short, so he remained silent.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, embracing one another. But it was quite some time. When you finally parted, you found that your tears had soaked through the fabric of his dress shirt.

His hands, so big and familiar, came up to hold your face. His thumbs wiped your tears away. The way he looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe you were real, in his arms, made your chest constrict.

He could have lost you, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did. The thought of such a thing happening almost brought him to his knees.

“I…you…when I saw him go for that gun, I…” but he couldn’t get the words out.

“I know,” you whispered, voice thick.

Gingerly, he lowered his hand, pressing it against your chest, just over where your heart was. He could feel it thrumming within you, pumping your lifeblood through your body. The blood that kept you alive. The blood that had not been spilled that night, because he’d succeeded in his purpose of protecting you.

“You’re okay. You’re alive,” he breathed, but it was more to reassure himself than you.

Your eyes locked with his, big and blue and watery from the tears he’d shed. “We’re both alive.”

He nodded, but he still looked as if he was grappling with it. He had not been given the luxury of processing any of it. He’d been inundated with procedures and questions and demands. Not once had he been able to stop and fully think about what had happened.

Now that you were in his arms, it was hitting him all at once. It was almost too much to bear, but then, you were speaking.

“Bobby.”

He looked at you immediately, and it was as if everything else had melted away, leaving only your face in his sight. His hand was still pressed against your sternum, thumb absently running along your warm skin. Alive and unharmed.

“I’m safe. You kept me safe,” you told him. Your hand was now resting over his own against your chest. You let him feel each breath.

“I kept you safe,” he echoed.

You crowded his space, your body now pressed to his. You were struck, suddenly, with an intense longing that took the very breath from your lungs. Your hands were on his chest now, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

A silent understanding passed between you both in that moment. No words were spoken. You knew what the other was thinking. In mere seconds, you were crashing together, as if he was a wave and you were the shore upon which he’d landed.

Your lips met, and you kissed each other desperately, as if you couldn’t get close enough, as if you parted, you would die. You held onto him tightly, and his arms secured you in place against him.

You kissed fervently, frantically. And as you parted only briefly, you both realized that there were tears. His, yours, rolling down each of your cheeks, like rain falling from the sky.

“Bobby,” you whimpered again.

“I know,” he gasped against your mouth.

He was already leading you to the bed, and you were tugging at his clothes, driven by need. A need that burned so hotly, so intensely, you were certain it would consume you whole and turn you into ash in his hands.

He laid you out like you were precious porcelain, and you watched as he leaned back to shrug out of his suit jacket, followed by his tie. In a split second, he glanced down at his shirt, and he knew he didn’t have the patience to undo each button. So, in one swift motion, he yanked the fabric apart, sending the buttons flying. He couldn’t be bothered to care, because nothing else mattered but you.

Haphazardly, he tossed his clothing aside, and soon, he was entirely bare. It was as if he couldn’t reach you fast enough. He was swift to climb onto the bed, and those large hands tugged at the sash of your robe, allowing the front to fall open.

You sat upright, allowing it to slip from your upper body completely before you surged forth into your lover’s arms. Your mouths were on each other in another searing kiss, naked bodies moving in sync.

Hands traveled, touching warm skin. A way to convince the other, “you’re safe. You’re alive.”

You let him lay you down again, spreading your body open for him. Parting your legs, exposing the most intimate parts of yourself to him. But that seemed to pale in comparison to the way you’d just bared your hearts to one another.

I was so scared. He tried to speak it into the air, but the words died in his throat. He could not force them past his lips. But he had been scared. The most terrified he’d ever felt in his entire life. Until now, he hadn’t realized the lengths he was willing to go to to keep you safe.

He’d always said one thing or the other, but until he was staring into the face of danger, he didn’t know. Not truly. The thought of losing you went down like a bitter poison, causing him to retch and seize. It was unimaginable. Unthinkable. Unfathomable.

“I love you.” He spoke the words out loud, his hands holding you, palms pressed against your ribs. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved before.”

Your eyes welled with tears and you kissed him again. “I love you too.” Those words felt so meager. You were not eloquent enough to express what he truly meant to you. You loved him so much it hurt, an unbearable ache rumbling through your chest like a stampede of wild horses.

He pulled you closer still, mouth against yours, whispering soft admissions of his adoration for you. You were straddling him at that point, and you could feel him, just beginning to harden.

In a haze of desperate need, you reached down, coaxing him to full hardness, gasping about how you needed him inside you. You needed to be connected in the most intimate of ways. You felt as if you were going to suffocate if you didn’t get him inside you in the next few minutes.

Bob soothed you with a languid kiss, tongue delving into your mouth as he gently held the back of your head in his hand. “I know. I’ve got you, little love,” he soothed.

You keened lowly in your throat, staring at him with wide, watery eyes. You had never felt desire this intensely before. Even after all the times you’d made love. This was different. This was two lovers, terrified of what could have been, rejoicing that it had not happened, and seeking solace in the other’s arms in a way that was so sacred and intimate it could hardly be spoken of out loud.

If you tried to put it into words it would only serve to make you weep.

So you didn’t try. You simply allowed yourself to be enveloped in the safety and warmth of your lover. He held you so close, chest to chest, hip to hip. By now you were crying out for him, pleading with him, desperate for him.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated. And he did. You knew he did.

Skilled fingers worked between your thighs, coaxing those delicate folds apart, making sure that they were ready to take him fully. Once he was absolutely certain that he would not hurt you, he aligned himself with you.

He slipped inside you in one fluid motion, mouth swallowing the broken wail that ripped itself from your throat at the feeling of being so full, so close, so consumed. You shook in his arms, unable to fathom that it could feel like this.

“Bobby!” You sobbed.

He let out a broken cry and let his head fall onto your shoulder. He held you for a few moments as you both adjusted to the feeling of being connected. At some point, those large hand had made their way to your hips, and ever so slowly, he began to ease you up and down, back and forth.

You gasped sharply, hands shooting out to grip his shoulders, head coming forward to rest against his forehead. You locked eyes with him, mouth falling open to let out soft gasps and whimpers.

“That’s it. I’m here. I’m here, sweet one. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never letting you out of my sight,” he professed.

Again, a sob escaped you. “Don’t ever leave! Never, ever!”

“I won’t!”

Your hands slid further back, until your arms were wrapped entirely around those shoulders. So close. Every inch of your bodies touching, heartbeats intermingling. You didn’t want to close your eyes, for fear of missing something. Fear of not being able to commit this moment to memory.

You never wanted to forget the deep, staggering blue of his eyes, which turned so dark sometimes they were almost black. But in brilliant, bright light, they were bluer than the deep sea. Bluer still than the heavens above your heads.

You never wanted to forget the feeling of him inside you. So deep, filling you so wholly that it stole the breath from your very lungs. Like he was created to be connected to you in such a way.

The feeling was almost more than you could bear, and yet, it was almost not enough all at once. You needed him closer, needed him so deep inside you that it hurt. But at the same time you needed him to be gentle, to handle you so softly, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of the world outside.

Along with your need came a breathless chant of his name that you did not realize you were uttering. With each push and pull of his hips, you wailed out, “Bobby! Bobby! Bobby!”

“I’m here,” he repeated, “I’m here. Right here, baby. Not gonna leave you.”

You held him tighter still, burying your face in the crook of his neck, sobbing openly with each nudge of him inside you. You felt so safe in his arms. So warm. So protected. Like nothing could ever hurt you.

As he held you, adored you, made love to you, he knew that he’d stop at nothing to see to it that no harm ever came to you. He also knew how much you trusted him. How much you depended on him. He would be damned if he ever let you down. Damned if he ever failed.

He could feel your lips trailing feverishly against his skin, and he was reminded of how much you loved him. How much you cherished him. It made his chest ache, his heart threatening to burst forth.

He didn’t realize he was crying again until he felt wetness land against the hand he held against your shoulder. In a moment of need he pulled you back and sought out your lips, kissing you even as tears trailed down his cheeks.

“You’re my baby,” he whispered against your mouth. “My baby. Always gonna love you. Always gonna protect you. Mine.”

You pressed your forehead against his again, whimpering softly as you shifted your hips and felt him nudge against that wonderfully sensitive spot within you.

“‘m yours,” you assured him. How good it felt to say that. To give yourself to him, to place your heart in his hands and watch him handle it with such tenderness.

You wanted to say more, but you couldn’t. The breath was stolen from your lungs, punched away by each sip of his hips into yours, each stretch as your body tried to accommodate him. So big. So deep. Too much. Not enough. Just right. Don’t stop.

Push, pull, forward, backward. A steady rhythm you’d built between your bodies. He lifted his pelvis to meet yours each time you sank down. Your thighs were beginning to burn from the exertion, but you didn’t care.

All you cared about was the closeness. The connection. The end goal of this wasn’t to chase a release or experience insurmountable pleasure. It was simple to just be together. Joined as one. Pretending for just a few moments that everything was okay.

“Bobby. Oh! Bobby, I lo-love you,” you cried.

But he knew. And he kissed you. Swallowing up that confession, consuming it. He couldn’t speak if he tried, couldn’t utter a reply. So he held you. Hands kept you close, moving your body with his own.

Yeah. Just like that. Take it. So good for me. So sweet. Precious little baby, and you’re all mine.

You were clawing at him, trembling fiercely in his arms as your body grew warm, both from pleasure and from his proximity. With each push of his hips into you, his pubic bone pressed and ground against your sensitive little bundle, and you knew you would not be long for this world at the rate he was going.

Faster and deeper he went, until you were both rutting into each other in desperation, open mouths against the other, gasping, moaning, whimpering.

It built, and built, and built. Like water coming to a boil. Like magma readying itself to erupt from a volcano. The intensity was sudden and overwhelming, and you found yourself crying out.

You knew being loud wasn’t the best move. You weren’t entirely alone. Outside that hotel door was one of the members of your security detail. But you couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. Nothing else mattered but the man in your arms, buried inside you, clinging to you, loving you.

“You,” he breathed against your parted lips. “You are my world.”

“And you’re mine.” You were crying again. Molten tears sliding down hot cheeks. But he kissed those tears away. Kissed it better, just like he always did.

You were losing yourself now. He could tell. Could feel it in the way your body tightened around his, pulled taut like a violin string, ready to snap from its hold. You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut tight, reeling from the overwhelming heat of it all.

Bobby pulled you down harder against him, filling you deeper still and pulling a broken sob from your raw throat. It was almost too much, and you found yourself grasping at him, nails leaving trails of pink and red in their wake. Your marks against his skin would only serve as a reminder of what had transpired this night between you both.

“B-Bobby, I’m-I’m close,” you whined.

“Let go when you need, little love,” he coaxed, barely holding it together himself.

More tears fell, faster than you could stop them. The closer you got, the faster you began to lose yourself. Crying, sniffling, whimpering. So close, so close, so close. And then, suddenly, firm hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he took complete control.

Driving into you over and over and over again, pulling cries of need and pleasure from your very lungs. All you could do was hold on tight, taking all he had to give as you wailed out his name repeatedly. Almost there. Teetering on the edge.

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.

He was moments away from losing himself. So he begged you, pleaded with you, coaxed it out of you. “Come for me, my baby.”

And you did.

With a shriek, you surged forward in his arms, holding tightly to him. “Bobby!” And then you were coming. It hit you like a bolt of lightning, searing, blinding, electrifying. You shuddered and convulsed in the arms of the man you loved, sobbing openly, repeating his name like a sacred prayer.

Your pleasure pulled his own from him, and he let out a strangled moan of your name as he offered a few more sharp pulses of his hips against yours before the evidence of his ecstasy flooded the very deepest part of you.

You closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of his pearlescent release flooding you, claiming you as his own and no one else’s. Still shivering from the aftershocks, you both slowly came down, holding onto one another, unable to speak or think.

Gradually, the fog began to clear. Your mind grew less hazy. Your eyes less glossy. Your limbs, however, felt heavy as ever, as if they were filled with sand. But you made no move to break the connection your bodies still had to one another. An anchor in the midst of a storm.

The feeling of Bobby’s hands sliding soothingly along your spine brought you back. As your eyes refocused, you took in the sight of his handsome face. Flushed cheeks. Glimmering eyes. Kiss-bitten lips.

“Are you alright?” were the first words out of his mouth as he finally found the wherewithal to speak.

You nodded, slipping our arms around his neck, snuggling into him. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Good, ‘cause that was intense. I didn’t expect that to happen, but…it did.”

“I’m glad it did. I needed to be close to you. To forget about what happened for a little while.”

A hum rumbled in his chest. “I needed that, too.”

Silence followed. Comfortable, stretching out for a few minutes until he finally slipped out of you, soothing your whimper at the emptiness you felt. “You’re okay, little love.”

But as he carefully moved you to lay in the bed, his face soon grew serious, eyes turning stormy gray. “I’m sorry,” he confessed. “I’m sorry any of this happened. He shouldn’t have been able to get that close to you. I should’ve seen it sooner. Should’ve done something before…I should’ve…”

“Bobby.”

His eyes flickered to yours.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“He could’ve hurt you. He could’ve taken you from me.”

“But he didn’t. You hear me? You protected me, just like you promised me you would. That’s all that matters.”

“What if, one day, I can’t protect you? What if I fail you? Fail your father?”

“Don’t, If you think like that, you’ll just drive yourself mad. What I need from you is to focus on the here and now. Not the ‘what if’. Okay? I need you with me now. I need…I need just a few hours in your arms before we have to face the rest of the world. I need my Bobby.”

He took a shuddering breath. Then another. And then, he looked at you. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’m with you until they call me away.”

And so, for the next few hours, he threw himself into taking care of you. Cleaning you up, wrapping you back into your robe, soothing you with gentle hands and loving words. It wasn’t long before you were succumbing to your exhaustion, and you fell asleep in Bob’s arms, safe and sound, if only for a few short hours.

The last thing you remembered hearing him murmur was a soft, “I love you” against your scalp as you drifted off.

However, the next morning, you woke to an empty bed, and a note on the bedside table that read, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you woke up. Bradley and Jake are right outside the door. You’re safe. I’ll come back to you as soon as I can. Love, Bobby.”

You wished you’d had just a few moments more with him. But time was your enemy. It always would be. Always moving. Dragging you from place to place. Even after your very life had been threatened, you were expected to move forward, because time stopped for no one.

Not even for a president’s daughter and her protector.

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