#Immediate Bodyguard Professionals

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[shanastoryteller]

Happy pride!!!! Dealers choice, but something gender?

a continuation of 1

Steve meets Iron Man and immediately wants to punch him in the face. It probably wouldn’t do much, considering he’s made out of solid metal. But it might make him feel better. And hey, he’s punched though solid metal before.

He’s sarcastic and rude and makes derisive, pithy comments and doesn’t take anything seriously. Plus he immediately starts hitting on Natasha, who’s obviously more than capable of taking care of herself, but it makes him think of all the people who used to underestimate and denigrate Peggy and he has to grit his teeth.

The worst part is it’s clear no one else feels the same way.

Everyone greets him cheerfully, rolling their eyes and laughing at his jokes. Even Natasha likes him, not flirting back but also not shutting it down, easy around him in a way that so far she’s only been around Coulson. Fury and Hill seem to be the only people that share his irritation.

Tony Stark walks onto the hellicarrier, hair short and jeans tight with an MIT sweatshirt several sizes too big, and the first thing she says to Steve is, “Heard you met my better half.”

“What,” he says.

But she’s already moved on, talking excitedly to Bruce Banner who for the first time doesn’t look like he’s contemplating throwing himself off the edge. Everyone else is ignoring her, but Steve can’t look away. She sits at the table and taps her fingers against it, finally getting fed up and interrupting Fury to call him an idiot, arguing about the cube and scepter, and for someone who hadn’t been on the ground she seems to know an awful lot. But Howard had been like that too, never involved with the actual fighting.

Then there’s a couple comments about the armor and repairs and what reinforcements she’ll have to add before Iron Man is sent out again. Her earlier comment clicks into place and he blurts, “You’re married to Iron Man?”

How could an ass like that get a girl like this?

That causes the entire table to go silent.

“Wow,” Natasha says. “Does Rhodes know you’re cheating on him? That would explain why you look like you just rolled off the couch.”

“Shut up, fuck you’re annoying,” Tony says. “No, Rogers, that was a joke. He’s my highly compensated employee and bodyguard who I have strictly professional relations with otherwise Pepper will scratch my eyes out. She’s one more PR disaster away from taking an extended vacation in Bora Bora.”

“And she occasionally releases him from his services to help us fight crime,” Coulson says with a straight face.

She points a finger at him. “I’m going to start billing you for that.”

“You already bill us for texts you send comprising entirely of emojis,” Fury says, deadpan. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Those emojis were instructions on how to diffuse a bomb, and also the tech team understood it, so,” she shrugs. “Perfectly logical. If you have an issue with my billing, take it up with Pepper.”

Steve doesn’t know who Pepper is, but Fury frowns and changes the subject, so she must be pretty intimidating.

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 2

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Good morning, Your Highness." One of your servants opened the heavy curtains of your bedroom.

"Morning." You groggily rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up in bed. Your head pounded from the remnants of last night's alcohol. "What's my schedule today?" you asked, wincing as the bright light from the open curtains hit your eyes. Every movement felt like a struggle, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy from the overindulgence.

"We've made sure to clear it until noon because you're not in the best condition." Even the servants were used to your drunken state.

"Perfect." You sighed. With some effort, you got out of bed and started getting ready.

Your head still felt dizzy from last night's drinking. You shouldn't have drunk so much. What had triggered you to drink until blackout was seeing another of your friends getting married. You felt happy for her, but deep down, you were jealous because they could marry without any objections.

But your father is the king. And to make it worse, he's a tyrant king. He controls every aspect of your life, dictating whom you can and cannot love.

As you finished dressing and stepped out of your room, Bucky was waiting for you, as always. His eyes softened with concern as he saw you.

"Headache?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle.

"A little bit." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I went overboard again last night, didn't I? I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his chest, seeking comfort.

His fingers gently brushed your hair, soothing you. "Don't drink like that anymore," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pain. He hated seeing you hurt yourself like this.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Then, you took his hands in yours. "Let's go. We can't waste more time."

Bucky followed you, his grip firm yet tender. Walking hand in hand through the hallway was the longest moment you could be together like a real couple. This short walk was your favorite part of the day, a fleeting taste of the life you both wished you could have.

As you moved through the palace, the sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and shared glances. Bucky's presence was a steady anchor in your tumultuous life, and these stolen moments were your refuge from the storm of royal duties and impossible expectations.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently promising each other that, no matter what, you would always find a way to be together, even if only in these brief, precious moments.

But the moment ended when you entered the dining room. Bucky couldn’t join you; only royalty or invited guests were allowed. He had to stand outside. It was always difficult to let go of his hand.

"You need to eat," Bucky reminded you gently.

"Can’t we eat together?" you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine."

Suddenly, one of the guards interrupted, causing you to release Bucky’s hand. The guard greeted you and announced, "The king has returned."

"Okay," you replied. Then you realized the gravity of the situation and looked at Bucky, "Fuck. Wasn't he supposed to come back next week?"

Bucky immediately switched into professional mode. He spoke through his earpiece, issuing commands, "Prepare for the entrance."

The king had been on a world tour for conferences and the Olympics. While he was away, you had used the opportunity to be close to Bucky. But now, that had to end since your father was back.

After two hours, the entourage and the king arrived. As the princess, you had to welcome him at the grand entrance along with the ministers. While waiting, you kept glancing at Bucky, who stood far to your left. He looked strong and imposing, like a knight straight out of a storybook, his posture radiating vigilance and strength.

The horns blew, signaling the king's arrival.

"King Leonard Damon II has arrived!"

When the announcement was made, everyone bowed. The large doors opened, and the most important figure in the country stepped into the castle.

King Leonard Damon II was a man in his 50s. He looked dignified and confident, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, however, seemed lifeless, devoid of any warmth or feeling. It was understandable; he was known as the tyrant king.

Leonard acknowledged everyone with a curt nod, but his gaze lingered on Bucky for a brief moment before returning to you. It made your heart race.

"Continue with today's agenda," the king commanded as he walked, not pausing for rest despite just arriving.

You felt a sense of foreboding. Glancing at Bucky, you saw your worry reflected in his eyes.

As the king walked past, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. His return meant a return to strict protocols and the end of the small freedoms you had enjoyed. Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering what his sudden return would bring.

Bucky stood tall, his eyes following the king while staying alert to potential threats. His presence was a silent reassurance, yet you couldn't shake the unease in your chest. The king's glance at Bucky had been brief, but it carried a weight that made you anxious.

You straightened your posture, preparing to follow the day's agenda, but your thoughts were still with Bucky. You managed a small, reassuring smile in his direction before turning to follow your father.

👑👑👑👑

The meeting primarily involved discussing the results of the king’s world tour. The Veridian Economic Minister, Hugo, who had accompanied the king on the journey, excitedly explained, "Many foreign investors are interested in investing in our beloved country. It will boost the economy significantly."

"They won’t be taxed?" you interjected.

"Ahem, that’s right, Your Highness." Hugo was always startled whenever you spoke up. He glanced nervously at King Leonard, but the king didn't seem to mind his daughter interrupting the presentation.

"That's great," you continued. "But I hope that as Veridian's GDP rises, we will also support the younger generation who want to start their own businesses. We should offer small loans and assistance because they are the future pillars of our country."

As you spoke, everyone listened intently.

"I agree, Your Highness. I see that you've met with young entrepreneurs during our absence," Hugo remarked.

"It's good to see you engaging with them," King Leonard added.

Everyone nodded in agreement. "She’s perfect as the next ruler," Hugo commented.

"She only needs one thing: a spouse," someone interjected. The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but you flinched at the mention.

"I already have candidates in mind," King Leonard announced.

After his declaration, the room fell silent, followed by applause. "That’s wonderful. If it's King Leonard's choice, the person must be the best," the ministers echoed their support.

You sat there, your nails digging into your thighs, looking at your father with a mixture of anger and frustration, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

👑👑👑👑

Everyone left after the meeting was over except you and the king.

You fixed your gaze on Leonard, who appeared unruffled, as he always did in moments of confrontation. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as he lounged back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of him.

His eyes, cold and calculating, never wavered from your face as if he could read every thought passing through your mind.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his gaze bearing down on you. Slowly, deliberately, you spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "I already said that I won’t get married unless it’s Bucky."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Leonard's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a half-smile, devoid of warmth or amusement. "Over my dead body," he replied coolly, the threat underlying his words unmistakable.

"Should I take your life first so I can be with the man I love?" you retorted, your voice shaking with emotion.

"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He studied you with a cold, almost amused detachment, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

"You’re not a killer like me," he continued, his voice smooth and unyielding.

The word 'killer' sent a shiver down your spine. Because it was true, you were different from him. The reason why King Leonard Damon II was called the tyrant king was because he was a cold-blooded killer.

Leonard had killed his own siblings to secure the throne. He felt no remorse after taking their lives. Not just relatives, but also anyone who objected to him being king. This included the family of the queen, his own wife, your mother.

"Do you hate Bucky because of what happened to my mother?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard fell silent, then hurled his glass of wine across the room. "Never mention that woman."

"There’s no evidence that she ran away with her bodyguard," you insisted. This was the kingdom's biggest secret. Outside the castle walls, everyone believed the queen had died of illness. But the truth was, she was missing. You didn’t know if your mother was alive or dead.

You understood why your mother might have run away from your father. He never acted violently towards her, but his actions against her family made her hate him. She had never wanted to be a queen. One day, she vanished, and her guard also went missing a few days later.

Leonard became obsessed with finding his wife. He spared no expense, sending out the kingdom’s most skilled trackers and investigators to scour the land. Despite their efforts, every lead turned cold, and every trail went nowhere.

You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of your family's complex dynamics. "If I’m not married, will you still pass the throne to me?"

The lack of an immediate answer gnawed at you, amplifying the uncertainty of your future. You knew your father’s mind was a labyrinth of ambitions and schemes, where even the most straightforward question could hide layers of strategy. His silence spoke volumes, a testament to his unwillingness to relinquish control or reveal his true intentions.

"Father?" you prompted.

Finally, Leonard spoke, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. "Maybe. Perhaps after 10, 15 years," he said, his tone betraying no hint of reassurance.

You hadn’t expected this. "I should’ve known. You never planned to make me a queen," you said, feeling a surge of despair. Without becoming queen, you couldn’t marry the man you loved.

Leonard's face remained expressionless, his eyes cold and unyielding. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt a mix of anger and hopelessness. Your dreams of a future with Bucky seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. He had always been calculating and ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own power. The realization that he never intended for you to rule cut deep.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. "So, my fate is to remain a pawn in your game?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You will do as you are told, for the good of the kingdom," he declared, turning to leave.

As he walked away, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were trapped in a gilded cage with no way out. Your love for Bucky seemed destined to remain unfulfilled, crushed under the weight of your father's tyranny.

When Leonard reached the door, he paused and looked back at Bucky, who had been waiting outside. "Remember your place," he said coldly before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts and fears.

Bucky’s grip tightened as he watched the king leave. Once Leonard was out of sight, he rushed to your side. As he entered, his eyes immediately found you already on the ground, knees pressed against the cold stone.

Shock mingled with concern in his eyes as he took in your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Seeing you in such distress tore at his soul. He wished he could shield you from the pain, protect you from the harsh realities that surrounded your life.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "I'm here." His words were simple but carried a world of comfort and unwavering support. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and gentle.

Seeing your pain, Bucky's heart ached. What had the king said to you?

Without a word, you collapsed into his arms, your body trembling. He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his uniform.

"Oh, Bucky, what should I do?" you cried, your voice breaking.

Bucky gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in soothing circles. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he whispered, though he knew the words felt hollow. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the king's cruelty.

A/N: Did you enjoy Chapter 2? What would you like to see in the next chapter?

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[cameronsprincess]

Forbidden — S.H

— summary: things between you and your bodyguard are anything but professional.

— CW: smut! 18+ only! popstar!reader, bodyguard!steve, semi-public sex, fingering, protected sex, strong language.

“Thank you Dallas, Texas! You guys showed up and showed out tonight, and I am eternally grateful for every single one of you!”

The sound of the crowds loud cheers had you smiling from ear to ear. Even though you’d been living this lifestyle for going on seven years, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to it.

The fans. The sold out stadiums. Albums reaching top ten on streaming platforms. All of it. It was all a dream come true, and you meant it when you said you were so grateful.

You smiled widely, blowing one final kiss to the rambunctious crowd before you disappeared back stage.

Immediately, you’re swarmed by everyone in your crew, your manager, Julie, being the first to approach you.

“You did amazing tonight, sweetheart! Steve is waiting for you by the dressing room, quickly change, have Steve grab your things and let’s get loaded up. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

She grabs your hands, pulling you in for a quick kiss on the cheek before she rushes off to help get everything squared away for the night.

As you approached the single dressing room that sits farther in the back, your heart begins thumping wildly in your chest. You and your bodyguard had a… less than professional type of relationship to say the least… And you always looked forward to the end of the night, after your show during that small — but lengthy enough — time period where you and Steve could be alone.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Steve said in greeting, nodding his head at you once.

You smiled. “Mr. Harrington, always a pleasure.”

A wide grin took over Steve’s face, his eyes darting behind you to make sure no one else was around. Satisfied that it was just the two of you, he gripped your hand tightly, opening the door to the dressing room and dragging you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it.

“Mr. Harrington,” you gasped, a small chuckle pulled from your chest. “Eager are we?”

Steve’s large hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into the flesh through your tight, purple sparkly dress. He pulled your body flush into his, dipping his head down and whispering, “Always eager when it comes to you, baby.”

Before you could respond, his lips were crashing onto yours. You melted into his touch, the kiss sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You knew it was wrong, it was highly inappropriate to have a relationship like this with your bodyguard, but you didn’t care. The moment your eyes had landed on Steve Harrington, you knew you wanted him.

With perfect brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, tall, muscular body, perfect lips. He was the epitome of perfection.

Steve broke the kiss, your lips chasing his when he did. You frowned, “Why’d you stop? We don’t have much ti-”

“Shhhh,” He paused, his fingers playing with the thin straps of your dress, dropping them down your shoulders. His chocolate eyes stayed on yours, watching intently as he stripped you of the fabric. “We have plenty of time, trust me.”

You nodded, your dress now pooled around your ankles on the floor. You felt your face heat up, a blush creeping up the back of your neck and to your cheeks under the intense heat of Steve’s eyes. No matter how many times you hooked up with him, it always felt like the first. He always made you feel beautiful, he had a way of making you nervous with just one look, one word, one kiss.

His lips landed on yours again, his hands finding your waist again, fingers pushing into the waistband of your panties. He slowly slides them down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles and you quickly pick your feet up, kicking them across the room.

Steve’s fingers slide over your slick folds, a groan emitting from his chest. He smirks against your lips, “So fucking wet, is this all for me gorgeous?”

Your tongue flicks his upper lip, your own smirk making its way to your lips. “Always for you, Stevie.”

A low growl forms in his chest as his fingers continue to slide back and forth through your slick. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into your soaked pussy, making you gasp softly at the slight stretch they brought you.

“Steve, so good.” You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as he quickly thrusts his fingers in and out.

You’re panting, your orgasm growing deep in your lower belly as Steve continues his assault on your cunt with his fingers. “Steve, s-so close.” you breathe out.

“Doing so good f’me baby, be my good girl and cum on my fingers, okay? Gonna have you falling apart on my cock next.”

He dips his head down, his lips leaving soft kisses on your neck and shoulder as his fingers push you over the edge. Your knees buckle, your entire body shaking from the mind blowing orgasm that washes over you.

Steve finger fucks you through your high, letting your body fall limp in his hold before he finally removes his fingers from inside you. He wraps his right arm underneath your knees, his left arm supporting your upper half as he carries you toward the couch in the dressing room. He lays you gently onto your back, “You still got one more in you, sweetheart?”

You give him a lazy smile, slowly nodding your head, “Of course. Help me sleep tonight.”

The grin on his face grows as his fingers hastily work the button and zipper of his black slacks. He shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, working on the black button up shirt next. He removes his earpiece, tossing it onto the small table in the room and opens up the condom he’d dug out of his wallet before he discarded his slacks.

You watch with wide, lust filled eyes as he rolls the condom down his impressive length. Long, and thick. He always had you salivating at the mere sight of him.

Steve reached the couch in two long strides, climbing on top of you, his right hand holding him up so he didn’t crush you under his weight. His left hand gripped his cock, sliding the head through your slick folds, his beautiful brown eyes on yours. “You ready?” he asks.

You buck your hips up in response, causing him to chuckle as he slowly eases himself inside you. You moan, the feel of his thick cock finally stretching you making your mind go blank.

“Fffffuck, Steve!” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his broad shoulders.

He hisses in a breath, your fingers breaking through his soft skin as he finally bottoms out, his tip nudging that spot inside you that has stars exploding behind your eyes.

“Shit, always so fucking hot and tight and wet. I fucking love this pussy, sweetheart.”

His hips begin moving, his cock pushing into you at a brutal pace. He lifts your right leg with his left arm, opening you up more for him, allowing him to pound into you from a better angle.

The small dressing room is filled with moans, heavy breathing and skin slapping skin as Steve fucks into you, that familiar feeling brewing in your lower belly as your second orgasm nears.

“Stevie, s’close! Please, go harder!” you cry out.

He does as you ask, pushing himself into you with more force, slowly pulling out so only the tip remains inside you before slamming back in with brutal force. He groans when your pussy tightens around his cock, his eyes nearly rolling out of his skull at the sweet sensation. “Go on, sweetheart, I feel you squeezing me. Cum f’me, cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

A mixture of Steve’s words and the way his tip was repeatedly hitting your g-spot had you spiraling over the edge, moans and his name falling from your lips as you came undone around him.

“Steve! Shit, shit shit!”

Steve came undone right behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he pushed into you one final time before spilling his load into the condom.

He lay on top of you, supporting his weight on his right hand again as he stroked your cheek with his left. “I’ll never tire of you, sweetheart. It sucks this has to be so secretive, but you’re my favorite secret.”

You smile softly at him, “You’re my favorite secret too, and maybe once your contract ends we can go public, but we can’t afford you getting into trouble over something so trivial.”

He plants one final kiss to your lips, pushing himself up and off the couch and quickly dressing. “I know, only two years left, sweetheart. Hopefully you never grow sick of me, and maybe we’ll have a real shot once i’m no longer an employee under a hard thumb of rules.”

You open your mouth to respond but Steve shushes you, “Shhh, I don’t want to hear any apologies from you. Get dressed, we have to get going before Julie starts searching for you.”

STEVE TAGLIST: @drewstarkeyslut @halflifejess @starkeysprincess @redhead1180 @maybankskiss @simars3 @antagonize-me-motherfucker

Steve Harrington masterlist | taglist form

[viixenvi]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is your bodyguard. Recently hired to be by your side everywhere you go. Your father, the president, deemed her the perfect bodyguard for you. Apparently, she's known for getting her job done and has never once had an incident. You make it your mission to be unbearable so she can back off and you can have fun. Until one day, you get too frustrated and Natasha can't help but be there for you.

Characters: Bodyguard!Natasha x First daughter!fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, nicknames (Милая=darling), cuddling, kissing, reader being overly sexual (in the beginning)

A/N: First daughter x bodyguard is something I've been wanting to write!! As always forgive me for any mistakes this was not proofread!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈

You sit on the counter of the kitchen. The white house has many places you love, but the kitchen might just be your favorite. You lick the spoon as you look at Natasha. She is standing across from you by the door. There are two other agents outside the room.

Natasha watches you intently, her eyes on your lips. She doesn't hide her hard stare. Natasha was professional, but you made it extra hard. You made it your mission to break her. You hoped if you did it then your father would lessen the security he had with you constantly.

"This is so good, you want some?" You pull the spoon out of your mouth and extend your hand toward Natasha. She just shakes her head and averts her gaze.

You sigh and jump off the counter, making sure she can see your boobs bounce when your feet hit the cold floor. Natasha follows behind you, keeping a slight distance.

All you can hear is her footsteps behind you as you walk toward your bedroom. There are two guards stationed across the hall either way. Natasha stops and takes her post in front of your bedroom. You giggle to yourself as You realize you have the perfect plan for her to crack.

When you get into your bedroom, you rush to the closet and pull off your shirt. Your pink bra and shorts are all you have on now. You reach to unclip your bra but purposefully pretend you can't reach it.

"Natasha!" You call out, she comes into the room with her hand at her belt where her gun is. When she sees you she immediately looks around to not look at your body.

"Yes, Y/n?" She questions. You turn and point to your bra clip.

"Can you help, I'm stuck," You whine slightly, hoping it's believable. Natasha walks to you slowly, you can feel her eyes burning into the skin on your back.

She had never seen you undressed before. Sure she's seen her fair share of your scandalous clothes, but never anything like this.

Her warm breath hits your neck as her fingers graze your back. You can feel a shiver go down your spine. She quickly unhooks your bra and turns around to give you privacy.

"Thanks, Natasha," You say in a whisper, you throw the bra to her feet and pull your shorts off slowly. You know she can see you through the mirror on her right.

Natasha takes a deep breath and tries to look away, but she can't stop from trying to see every inch of your skin. She was a professional, but you made it so damn hard for it to stay that way.

"If there is nothing else Y/n?" Natasha's voice is low. She goes to walk away but your hands on her arm make her stop.

"Help me pick out pajamas," you stop yourself from moving your hands any lower. You didn't really realize it, but at some point, this dumb mission stopped being pretend.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry if I'm out of line, but this is extremely unprofessional and I must say no to your request." Natasha's tone makes you step back.

"Oh. Sorry. You can go." You turn around and grab your robe off the couch. Natasha walks out of the room and shuts the door behind her. You stand in front of the mirror and look down at the bra sitting on the floor.

You didn't like the way you listened to her. Natasha had to go, it didn't matter what she felt. Right?

You sigh and walk to your bed, pulling the covers up and slipping under them. You open your laptop and put on a random video. You weren't even watching it, you just needed some background sound.

You pulled out your makeup, you had a person to do it but you had been practicing. Eyeliner was the one thing you couldn't get right. Your hands always shook and it was hard to get it right.

You held the liquid eyeliner pencil in your hand and got close to the mirror you used to do your eyebrows. The tip of the pencil was slightly dried out from all the times you used it. You press down and it messes up the line, making it chunky and messy. You wipe it off and keep trying.

After your sixth attempt, you finally get frustrated enough to throw the eyeliner pencil across the room. You let out a frustrated groan before you hear the door opening.

Natasha is standing at the door, looking down at the eyeliner and then back at you. You are crying a little from not being able to get it right and you know the eyeliner on your face is messy and streaking down your cheeks.

"Get out! Why do you never leave me the fuck alone?" You shout at Natasha. She doesn't deserve it but you need someone to get your frustrations out on.

Natasha raises her eyebrow and picks up the pencil off the floor. She shuts the door behind her and locks it, which you don't notice. You turn your head away from the direction she's coming from. You feel embarrassed she has to see you like this but that doesn't stop you from crying.

These tears weren't just from not being able to do eyeliner. You were frustrated because you realized that somewhere along the way, you caught feelings for Natasha. Everything you did may have just made her want to leave and that was not what you wanted anymore.

Natasha stands next to you, one hand reaching for your chin and moving your head to face her. You can't help but look up at her through your lashes. There is a smile on her face and she takes a seat on your vanity's stool.

You look at her face, she is stunningly beautiful and her red hair makes it better.

"What's wrong Милая?" she asks as she grabs a makeup wipe and holds your chin so you don't move. (darling)

"Nothing," you whisper while she wipes the eyeliner off. You feel her warm breaths again and you love it. Her hands are so soft and you hate the way you can't stop looking at her lips.

You had spent weeks trying to get her to quit and now you sat here wishing she'd never leave.

"It had to have been something, no?"

"I'm sorry." You look down, pulling away from her grasp on your chin. You can't let her touch you like this if you want her to stay.

"Sorry? about what?" Natasha looks at you, confused.

"I've been making your time here as bad as possible just so you could quit and Dad would let me have less security," you explain. Natasha smiles as if she finds it amusing.

"I know," is all she says as she gets up and starts to walk away. You get up and grab her wrist. She turns around and looks at you.

"What do you mean you knew? How di-" You are cut off by Natasha pushing her lips onto yours. You didn't move for a few seconds, afraid if you did then this would all be a dream.

Then her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and you finally kiss her back. Her lips were as soft as you had thought and that same shiver went down your spine again.

Natasha pulls away first, letting you get air. You stand there frozen for a moment. Natasha had kissed you and you kissed her back.

"God, I've been waiting to do that since I got here," Natasha shrugs, chuckling a bit at your reaction. Her hands find their way to your waist again as she spins you and sits on the bed. She pulls you onto her lap and you feel your face start to go red.

"Natasha, what about your job?" You question, suddenly remembering that she works for your father.

"I don't care about my job, as long as I can finally have you." Natasha kisses your lips then your cheek and then your neck. You push her away playfully and she lays you on your bed. You close your laptop and Natasha climbs in rich next to you.

You yawn and look at the time on your alarm clock. It's way past the time you'd normally go to bed and Natasha knew that.

"Go to sleep Милая, I'll stay here till you do." She wraps her arms around you, the blanket over the both of you. You close your eyes and move your head closer to her chest. She smells so good and you inhale the scent as you relax in her arms.

"Goodnight Милая," Natasha whispers in your ear, her left hand running through your hair to make you sleep faster.

[therealplaguedoctor]

Love at first bite

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary- Y/n is a professional protection dog trainer, and an ex bodyguard. What happens when an old friend of hers calls in a favor: getting his friend some protection. The fans seem to love her, others not so much. Especially not her clients father. Her client enjoys her company maybe a little more then he thought after the first bite.

TLDR- a collection of series of events that ends with two people who didn't really know they were in love with each other until one confessed

Warnings- dogs and dog bites, mentions of aggressive fans, cursing, google translated dutch, Jos Verstappen, stupid warnings: author is a dumbass and pretends she knows shit(she doesnt), American spelling, I never spell check, also y/n is very badass and is kinds just built different, sorry I like writing badass characters/people, also this might be a bit ooc I'm sorry for that :/

A/n- AHHH okay so I kinda hate (hate as in thinking I could do better) and love this(?) I wish it was better written ngl but it is a oneshot so I wasn't able to go into more detail so I feel like the writing is a bit rushed sorry about that I promise I will get better in the future :,)

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BREAKING NEWS: Fomula one driver Mav Verstappen got injured after crazy drunk fan attacked him.

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BREAKING NEWS: Max Verstappen revealed that he is looking into more security in an interview

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"We're sure you've seen the questions around what happened immediately after qualifying. Can you add anything to that situation? Like with your current security?"

Max picked up the mic wanting to be anywhere but here "well I will be looking for personal security. As all the security that is normally seen around me is provided via the FIA." He said "But to speak on that manner any behavior like that should not be tolerated" he put down the mic as the interview turned to ask Lewis a question.

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After the interviews were over Max just wanted to relax and forget about the crazed fan. But before he could disappear into redbull hospitality he heard his name from a familiar voice.

"Max!" Lewis called stopping in front of him "Hey mate I think I know someone that I can call to help you with your security" he smiled

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"Stellen" (bite) you yelled at Goose, which sent him barreling towards the man with the bite sleeve. Goose launched himself up and bit down on the sleeve. The man, Tony, aggressive, shook his arm.

You felt you phone in your pocket buzz with your familiar ring tone. You pulled it out and looked at the caller ID: Sir Lewis Hamilton. You answered the call before yelling "Loslaten" (out) to Goose who immediately let go of his arm.

"Hey Lewis what's up?" You asked as you waved off Tony telling him he's good to leave.

"Hey Y/n" he said dragging out your name a little

"Lewis" you said in a warning tone "what did you do?"

"Okay one rude, I didn't do anything." He huffed "but I do need a favor?" He asked

"What's up?" You asked again "it's not like you to ask for favors"

"Well: my friend, another driver, he had a fan attack him and he needs protection cause he doesn't really have a security team"

"Lewis I can't get him a trained dog in a day" you sighed

"I know" he said "but you're still a certified body guard aren't you?" He asked hopefully

"Lewis." You said

"I know it's a big ask" he said "but I was talking with him earlier and he's willing to pay big bucks for you to be protection for him AND train him a dog." He said

You sighed knowing that he'll continue until you say yes "fine" you said "when can I set up a meeting with him?"

"Uhh I can say next week tuesday? We can do whatever time" He said "cause after this race we have a small break then it's actually race week in Miami"

"Okay Lewis, I'll find a dog for him before then, and start training" you said "if you say he's serious about this then I'll belive you"

"Thank you so much" Lewis said "I'll let him know"

"Yeah yeah, bye Lewis"

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You sat in your small office. You didn't use it much only for meeting with clients about protection dogs or getting their dogs trained, you wanted to have a atleast semi professional space due to your clientele.

A knock at the door cause you it sit up and stop spinning in your chair.

"Come in" you called.

The door slowly opened revealing a happy Lewis. Goose didn't move from his bed next to you instead looking up at the man.

"Hey Lewis" you smiled

"What's up?" He asked rhetorically as he sat in one of the chairs across from you.

Another man walked in behind him, he looked around the room as if taking it in, this must be Max the guy Lewis was telling you about.

"Hello its nice to meet you" you smiled as you stood up and extended you hand "my name is Y/n L/n"

He shook your hand "Max Verstappen" he said before sitting down

You did the same sitting in your chair "so I have been made aware that you're looking for a personal protection dog" you said "along with the fact in the mean time you're looking to hire my bodyguard services" you said as you pull up the contract you had drafted earlier on the computer.

"Uh yes that's right" the Dutch man said

"Okay" you said as you quickly checked over the document spinning your screen around so he can read it-

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After discussing the contract along with pay you both sign it. Solidifying the deal.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

"Okay so now that we have that settled" you said as you stood up "we should have you meet your new dog" you smiled "Hier" (come) Goose got up and followed you out if the room the two men behind him.

You took out the keys and unlocked the kennel for a German shepherd pup "he's still a bit young, just under a year actually" you said "but he has the basics down so it's now just bite training" you explained

Both men nodded as they watched the pup and your dog Goose interact.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Media day, the day Max wished didn't exist. He finally got out of his car as you approached him with Goose to your immediate left.

"Good morning" you smiled "large crowd at the gates, mostly photographers only a few fans, I recommend staying on the right side as you walk into the paddock" I explained "it's mostly photographers on that side and no interviewers"

Max nodded as you talked he followed your instructions. You put on your sunglasses to block the flash of the cameras.

Max made it past the hectic paddock entrance with you right behind him Goose walking by your side.

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As Max walked through the paddock he wasn't approached by any interviewers. He could get used to that.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Max sat down ready to record some content for the redbulls media team. You positioned yourself out of the way but with a good view of everything as well as all the entrances.

Daniel soon arrived and noticed you almost immediately sitting down he leaned over to Max and asked "who's that? With the dog?"

"Oh that's, Y/n" Max explained "She's my new bodyguard"

"She looks badass" Yuki comments scaring the shit out of both Daniel and Max "where the fuck did you come from?!" Max shouts

You quickly looked over and watched the interaction, Yuki had been up there the entire time.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

As the recording came to an end you stood from where you were leaning. Watching Checo leave, followed quickly by Daniel and Yuki who look like they needed to be somewhere. Max started towards the exit you quickly followed him.

Begrudgingly Max sat down in front of a mic that had a big 'sky sport' on it. You stood just off to the side of the camera, completely out of frame and able to watch to one side of Max as you had Goose watching behind yourself.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

As Max answered the repeat questions he finally heard the one he's been dreading:

"So Max this morning you walked in with a lady who had a dog. Care to comment about that relationship?" The interviewer asked.

"She's my bodyguard" he stated

"She's your bodyguard..?" The guy asked like he didn't just hear him

"Yes."

"If you don't mind me asking why her?"

"She was recommended by a friend." Max said nonchalantly

"Sorry let me clarify my question" the guy said. Oh no, you knew where this was going. "Why not a male body guard they're stronger no?" He asked

"Are you insinuating that just because she's a women she wouldn't be a good bodyguard?" Max asked

"Well no-"

"No it's exactly what you're doing" he said "you media people always ask the stupid questions" he hissed "that is so fu-"

He was cut off by you "Max de camera staat nog aan" Max the camera is still on.

Instead of continuing he just gets up and leaves, cutting the interview short. You follow quickly, commanding Goose to walk next to Max as you figured Max didn't want to be approached by anyone. Scary dog privileges are the best.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

He opens the door to his driver room.

"Hier, blijf" (come, stay) you quickly rattled off to Goose who quickly went to your side and stopped next to you

Max also stopped in his tracks.

"Sorry" you quickly apologized "he's trained in dutch"

Max shook his head "no need to apologize" he said and then motioned you inside "but I don't want him out in this heat please come inside" he said

You weren't gonna argue with your boss "Volg" (heel) you commanded Goose as you walked into his driver room. Max walked in right behind you.

You stood off to the side as Max sat on the couch. He quickly motioned for you to sit down. You did just that.

Goose sat at your feet between you and Max. Max was obviously still pissed at what the guy said, you could see it on his face.

"You know" Max started "I've never been a dog person" he said "I like cats more"

"Huh," you said "I've always been a dog person" you said "started with the herding dog on my family's farm"

Max nodded as you talked before asking "can I pet him?" motioning to Goose

"Oh yeah of course" you smiled "as long as we aren't in a camera shot give him all the love you want" you chuckled "gotta keep his image up of a cold blooded killer, until the media finds my insta" you chuckled.

Max smiled as he ruffled Gooses head earning a lick from the dog.

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BREAKING NEWS: Max's new bodyguard, Y/n L/n has a trained protection dog named 'Goose'. Click here to read more!

One image attached!

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You and Max finally left his driver room as he had another media appearance with another interviewer.

Max walked in front of you Goose to his left. You grabbed the door opened it for him. You followed him inside "volg" (heel left), you told Goose who then fell in step beside you to your left.

You followed Max till he sat on the couch opposite of the interviewer. Instead you stood against the wall out of view of the camera.

"Okay" the interviewer said giving the signal to start rolling "so before we start with the questions: would you want to have your bodyguard sit down?" She asked, she sounded genuine

Max then turned to you "wil je gaan zitten? ze kunnen je vragen stellen..." (do you want to sit down? they might ask you questions...)

You responded "Ik vind het niet erg om vragen te beantwoorden. Wil je dat ik ga zitten?" (I don't mind answering questions, do you want me to sit?)

"Ik vind het prima als jij dat ook bent" (I am okay with it if you are) Max said

You gave a quick nod before walking over and sitting on the couch, next to Max. Turning to Goose you said "Bewaken" (guard), causing him to lay down in front of Max.

Turning to the camera the interviewer started "Hello everyone it's Stella here!" She smiled "and I am joined today by Max Verstappen and his bodyguard..."

"Y/n" you said "and Goose" motioning to your dog.

She smiled "and today we are asking the new, the old, and the frequently asked questions." She turned to Max "okay to start off, Max we'll start with frequently asked questions: do you think you'll win the 2024 world championship?" She asked already knowing the answer.

"Of course I will" Max said "if I don't have that mindset then I have no chance"

"Moving onto the old news: China after quali" she said "most fans just do wanna know what happened and are you okay"

"Well obviously I'm okay," he said "but the fan was drunk and belligerent after I was able to take the win," he said "knowing that he was outside of the paddock I shouldn't have left but I'm lucky at the security near the entrance was able to quickly get him away" he said "he surprised me honestly" he shrugged

"Okay now onto the new: your bodyguard Y/n" she said "everyone wants to know more about her" so that's why she wanted to have you on the couch.

Max quickly turned to you "Vind je het goed om te antwoorden?" (You good to answer)

You nodded grabbing the mic he held out: "it's a bit of a story but: I was actually the dog trainer for Roscoe, Lewis Hamiltons dog," you said "I'm a well known dog trainer in Miami I have trained several dogs for a lot of celebrities. Some for protection others just to have a trained dog" you said "but anyways Lewis called me I think the day of the incident" you thought "and we talked for a second and he asked if I still had my bodyguard certification" you said "which is really just a formality but for my job before I started training dogs I was security for a large club in Miami and we needed it" you explained "so after a meeting with Max we signed a contract that is basically me being his bodyguard with Goose until I have trained a dog for him" you finished, handing the mic back to Max.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The drive to his hotel was relatively quiet besides the soft hum of the radio.

"When we arrive at the hotel do not get out" you said "keep the door locked till I have my hand on the handle" you explained "people are crazy here especially where your hotel is located"

Max nodded as you pulled the car up

You quickly got out shutting the door opening the door for Goose then opening the door for Max. People were everywhere, people shouting, some where drunk others just crazy. You quickly led Max to the entrance of the hotel and bid him a goodbye.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Friday and Saturday were uneventful. But Sunday was race day, the day the MOST amount of people all week.

Walking next to Max, "rechts" (heel right), Goose moved to the right side of Max you walked on his left side. You were able to easily enter the paddock.

Finally its race time you placed the dog ear muffs over Goose to protect his ears. The had just finished the formation lap. The lights turn red one by one, then all go out hearing the infamous "lights out and away we go"

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Lando Norris had won the Miami grand prix. His first win. Max was really happy for him. Wanting to go out to celebrate but not wanting to get attacked he turned to you:

"Y/n do you mind coming out tonight?" He asked "I don't want to miss Landos first win celebration, but I you know need protection" he joked

"Sure I'll baby sit you" you joked back. Little did you know that was basically what you ended up doing.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

As it was Landos first win they were going hard. You stood off to the side watching them all carefully making sure nothing happened to Max specifically. They decided to leave this bar going to the next. You follow them out walking just behind the group.

"Verstappen!" A drunken voice called, "why the fuck did you let that fuck boy win" the man slurred

Stepping between the two quickly "step back" you said firmly to the drunken man.

"What are you gonna do about it?" The man slurred

"Blaffen" (speak) you called, causing Goose to start barking aggressively grabbing his collar as he started going manic as he barked.

The man quickly backed away before almost bolting down the street you shook your head "foei" (no), Goose immediately stopped "Bewaken" (guard) he stood next to Max ready to start walking again

"We're good" you said to him and the group

─⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Luckily nothing else happens that night. But not as lucky Max was beyond wasted. You were able to get him into the car and buckled him up shutting the door. You open the back door for Goose having him jump in. You got in and started driving realizing that you only knew where his hotel is and not his room you decide to drive to your house.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Getting him into your house was an adventure. He was basically a dead weight, after an insane amount of effort you got him onto the couch in your living room and threw a blanket on top of him. Placing some advil and water on the coffee table next to him.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

As the job progressed and Max's new dog got trained many races were uneventful. The media attention on both of you had died down to what it was before Max got attacked. You are featured in some clips and interviews just answering the odd question or pulling Max away to get him out of range of anything dangerous. That is your job anyways.

The only big changes was social media: you stopped posting after getting a substantial amount of followers. People still comment on your old posts asking when your next post is. And the edits.. People are making edits of you and Goose being badass and it honestly makes you happy seeing all those cool edits. You'd take it to your grave but you love watching them in you bed late at night when you can't sleep.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

It was the Austrian grad prix. Lando and Max had gotten into it on the track causing Lando to get a dnf, and Max to drop to 5th place. He stormed off disappearing before you could catch up to him.

You eventually find him sitting in one of the chairs looking at the ground, with his helmet still on. As a man you don't recognize yells at him.

"Hey!" You shout storming over "back away from him"

The man with anger in his eyes glanced at you but went back to yelling at Max. Ypu quickly said "Blaffen" (speak) to Goose, he started barking at the man

"Get back" you commanded again

Finally he looked at you "Do you know who I am?" He asked all proud

"I don't fucking care who you are" you snapped "step away from my client" you said firmly

He turned back to Max and began yelling in Dutch to fast and angry for you to make it out. You were about to intervene again until the man raised his hand as if to strike Max

"Stellen, stellen" (bite, bite) you quickly commanded Goose letting go of his collar. The dog jumped up and bit the raised arm the force sending the man to the ground.

As this is happening Max watched it, he looked up just as you called for Goose to bite his father.

You followed your dog holding the man to the ground before commanding "Loslaten" (let go) Goose dropped the now bleeding arm. "Bewaken" (Guard), Goose stood in front of Max now defensively.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Security arrived with medical and as they treated the dog bite you explained to them what happened pointing the the cameras around as well as a fan that recorded the entire interaction on his phone.

After a bit of talking and reviewing security bid you a goodbye and left. Citing that you were doing you job.

You then sat down next to Max who still hadn't taken off his helmet. "Who was that anyways?" You asked him as you quickly cleaned the blood off of Goose.

"My dad" he said muffled from the helmet

"Oh" you responded

"Yeah" Max said

The air filled with awkward silence before you said "let's get you back to the drivers room to cool down you still have interviews" Max just nodded making his way to his drivers room. You follow him inside Goose quickly settled by the door as you went to Max who sat on the couch with his helmet still on.

Reaching over you unclipped it and took it off, placing it on the table. Max took off his balaclava throwing it next to the mask.

"Sorry" you said "about your dad"

"I- no- uh" he groaned frustrated "You're fine you were just doing your job" he said a little snippy. He didn't want it to come out like that but it did.

You just nodded as he talked listening before saying "okay we gotta have you head to the media pen before someone yells at us and you get a fine" you said standing up

Max just nodded and followed you out if the drivers room.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Media was done and all Max wanted to do was go back to the hotel. You don't blame him you'd want that too.

After the media pen Max was almost a shell of himself. So just to make sure he's okay you walked inside the hotel and got him to his room, you also needed to talk about earlier. When he opened the door to his hotel room and motioned you inside you were quick to oblige.

The room was nice it was similar to one of those one bedroom apartments just minus a kitchen.

Max settled down on the small couch letting out a sigh.

You just stood a bit awkwardly as Goose sat down next to Max's feet earning a few pets from the Dutch man.

"We gotta talk about today" you said breaking the silence

Max groaned "Do we have to...?" He asked

"I mean yeah" you said "Goose bit your father" you said "I'm sorry I didn't-" before you could continue he interrupted you

"You were doing your job" he said "you had no clue what he could have done or actually what he was going to do" Mac explained "you did what you thought was best to protect me. Which is your job" he leaned back on the couch and then muttered to Goose "thank you"

You ran through the situation in your head again. Jos, which you learned was the man's name, was actually going to hit Max.

"He was actually going to hit you wasn't he?" You asked him

Max stayed silent that's all the answer you needed

"Well now I wish I didn't tell Goose to let go"

Max cracked a smile, "thank you" he said this time looking up at you.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Both you and Max were in his driver room. It was media day for the British Grand Prix, but Max had been waiting to hear back about his next interview as the time.kept changing. You thought that they just wanted to keep him here as long as possible.

Max was watching the small TV as he sat next to you on the couch. You were on your phone just scrolling through some random social media apps. Goose was laying down by the door.

While both of yall were waiting Max fell asleep next to you. Because of the way he was sitting when he fell asleep he was leaning against your shoulder. Eventually you fell asleep too.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Later you slowly wake up but are held in place by some strong arms. You blink awake adjusting to the light. You laid on your side on the couch and where held in place by a sleeping Max. You tried to move to get up but were just pulled right back down. Giving up rather quickly you went back to sleep.

Max gently shook you awake. "Hey Y/n" he said softly, "we should head back to the hotel" he was blushing but it was kinda hard to tell in the lighting

You just nodded as I slowly got up and stretched quickly gathered you items.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

BREAKING NEWS: Max and Y/n seen leaving the drivers room late at night. What does this say about their relationship: Professional? Friendly? Or is there more?

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

"Mate you're all over the news" Lewis said to you on the phone as you got ready

"What do you mean?" You asked as you got ready

"You and Max were spotted leaving his drivers room late last night, together." Lewis explained

"Fuck."

"Yeah" he said "I'm at the track already and people are asking me about it"

"What have you been saying?" You asked leaving the hotel room Goose at your side

"I've been saying: I don't know the relationship, and that uh you're his bodyguard so whatever he was doing in the room you have to be there cause when he leaves you have to make sure nothing happens and shit"

You sighed "thank you Lewis" you said as you opened the car door for Goose and shut it before getting in yourself, and starting the car.

"It's no problem" the brit said "but are you two...you know..?"

"God Lewis!" You said "no we're no fuck buddies"

He just laughed "come on you knew I had to ask"

"I'm hanging up now" you said ending the call.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

After collecting Max from his hotel and you started driving.

"You seen the news?" You asked

"I have yes" an uncomfortable silence filled the car before you spoke

"Lewis said that he's been telling media that cause I'm your bodyguard I have to be with you basically 24/7 so we can just stick with that" you said "I mean it is the truth"

"Yeah" he nodded quickly, he didn't know that you knew he was cozying up to you on that small uncomfortable couch.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Media was lovely that day and respected both of you- said no one ever.

Several times you had to yell at people to back up or even push a few people away. And media was eating it up:

BREAKING NEW: Y/n L/n 'defends' Max Verstappen from media is it more than just bodyguarding?

BREAKING NEWS: Y/n L/n pushes away journalists, bodyguard or overprotective girlfriend?

BREAKING NEWS: Y/n L/n thought to be more than just a bodyguard, is Max taking the 'body' out of bodyguard?

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The last title made you gag how does that get approved? It doesn't actually bother you to much but it's gross.

You sat on that uncomfortable couch reading the news, almost every single station had something about you two leaving the drivers room late, or about you pushing away journalists.

You let out an annoyed huff tossing your phone on the small coffee table. Max leaned over a bit to look at it.

"Why are you looking at that shit?" He asked

You just shrugged

The last articles name caught his eye he double checked "what the actual fuck" he hissed "this is bullshit, why the fuck would the title an article this" he was pissed. You don't know entirely why they weren't saying anything about him.

"I don't know" you just shrugged

"You aren't mad at this?" He asked before continuing "It doesnt matter, I'm going to go punch the fucker who wrote the article" not wanting him in any legal trouble, mostly cause you knew he would punch the guy, you stood up and quickly blocked the door.

"Nope" you said simply "the article title is just that: an article title. I know it's not true you know it's not true so why does it matter" you asked

"It's disgusting" he said "they shouldn't talk about you-"

You cut him off "exactly! Me they are only talking about me in a bad light so why do you car so much?" You asked a little ticked that he was still trying to get passed you

"Because I care about you okay!" He confessed "I know it's dumb, you're my bodyguard and I-" he was cut off by a kiss.

You didn't know how but you ended up kissing him. He quickly reciprocated grabbing your chin pulling you closer.

As you both broke the kiss catching your breath you rested your foreheads against eachother looking into his eyes you smiled.

"When did you fall for me?" He asked

"When we cuddled on that uncomfortable couch" you smiled he blushed

"I didn't know you were awake for that" he said softly

You chuckled softly "when did you fall for me?" You asked

"It was love at first bite" He said "when you were protecting me from my father."

Then they fu-

Fin.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part five❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?

♡ Warnings: self hate, mentions of parent death/family death, panic attack, heavy angst, fluff, literally sobbing i love them

Part 6

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

It was almost becoming a mantra, reminding himself daily that he needed to keep things strictly professional. He just didn’t realize how hard it would be. You were so easy to be around, it was a different change of pace with you, he felt he could actually think— slow his mind down around you.

He had tried to digest the thought many times.

I could be her friend, nothing more.

Would it be unprofessional though? He tries to think how Pierce would react to that. He feels completely and utterly confused— the devil and angel on his shoulders battling constantly.

Even then, he was already a bad friend— if that. He was keeping something from you— something extreme. He had caught himself thinking of where you could be in the house— the part of him deep down wanting to tell you. He knew he should, but he knew that’s not what Pierce wanted. If anything, Bucky didn’t want to mess anything up— or he’d never see you again. The thought shouldn’t of scared him as much as it did, but he didn’t like it.

That’s where he found himself in the bathroom of his room, staring into his own eyes through the reflection. He had showered and caught himself trying to find a nice shirt amongst his clothes— immediately he stopped. He had to take a moment to take a deep breath and remind himself how ridiculous he was being.

It had been so long since he actually cared about his appearance. But as he was scanning every line and wrinkle on his face in the mirror— he knew he was doomed. Suddenly he felt insecure, and for once it wasn’t about his arm. His mind was consumed with the thought if he was good enough. While he felt overwhelmed, because he had never worried about such a thing. Well, in awhile at least.

You had kept yourself busy in the library for most of the day, and while you looked to be buried into the books— your thoughts were of him. You couldn’t ignore the giddy feeling that his words gave you— his want to get to know you better. Maybe, just maybe— he wanted to be your friend.

Just as you were about to get up and leave to seek out Bucky, you heard the sound of the library doors opening. A smile worked its way onto your face, excited to see him— though you had just seen him not that long ago.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the space, and soon revealed a handsome looking Bucky. Your mouth hung slightly open, his appearance looking sharper than usual. He was wearing his classic black shirt, and had the black leather jacket over— along with his jeans that hugged him just right in all the areas. He wasn’t dressed all that different, so why did he look so good.

You cleared your throat and broke your stare— yes he looked good. But you shouldn’t stare.

“You look great James, I wish I would’ve put something better on.” You laughed nervously, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts— along with your different colored socks.

Bucky on the other hand, thought you looked fine. He was pretty sure you could wear pretty much anything and look good in it. He also shook off your compliment, thinking you were just being sweet like you always were.

“You look fine, (Y/n).” He assured you.

Truthfully, standing here in front of you now— Bucky wants nothing more than to go back upstairs, choosing to avoid getting to know you better. He wasn’t sure why his walls were coming down so easily, but he hated it. Oh he hated it— he hated you.

“So…” You started, walking back to your seat. Bucky followed after and took his spot from the nights before. “I know this kinda takes the fun out of this but— I had a list of questions.”

Bucky shook his head but chuckled lowly, not surprised at all.

“Of course you do.” He acknowledged, and you scratched the back of your neck nervously.

“Uh— but there are rules! I made them up of course— but there aren’t many.” You rushed out, sitting crisscrossed in your seat.

Bucky exhaled annoyed, but couldn’t really argue otherwise. This was his idea. Was it to distract you from going out? Yes. But a part of him really did want to get to know you better.

“Alright, what’s the rules?” He asked, crossing his leg over the other— leaning back in his seat.

“Okay the first one— you have to answer the question that’s asked, no matter what.” You told him, watching him raise his eyebrows.

“Easy.”

You giggled, remembering how fast the conversation ended last time because he didn’t want to answer. This would be harder than he thought— but you wouldn’t call him out on it.

“Second rule— Can’t ask dumb questions.” You told him, and he chuckled again.

“That’s the second rule?” He chuckled, and you nodded your head.

“Yup.” You confirmed, “Okay— who should go first?”

You were ready to jump right into it, while Bucky was still thinking about your rules— rethinking his decision to do this.

“Why don’t you start doll, since you apparently have a list.” He spoke sarcastically, and you couldn’t stop the heat from rising to your cheeks at the nickname.

He never called you that before, and you didn’t know what to think of it.

“Um… okay yeah,” You thought about your first question, deciding to go easy on him at first, “What’s something you like to do on your free time?”

Bucky squinted his eyes, expecting a more personal question from you. He also had to think for a second— what did he like to do? He used to have hobbies at one time, but he couldn’t recall any in the moment. He felt he was a pretty boring person. There was one thing.

“I like to read sometimes.” He answered, and you smiled at that.

“Really? You don’t seem to spend a lot of time in the library for someone who likes to read.” You joked— knowing he was rather busy with his job as a bodyguard.

“Well, if I had free time— I’d probably be here.” He pointed out, slowly melting into his seat, his muscles relaxing against the couch.

“Okay your turn.” You told him.

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but he as well had a list of questions for you. Things he was dying to know about you.

“What do you want to do in the future?” He asked, and you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Huh?”

“What’s your dream job— like, what do you want to do for the rest of your life? Besides read.” He added at the end, making you giggle.

You thought about your answer for a moment, smiling to yourself when you came up with one.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever stay in one spot, there’s so much I want to do. But whatever happens, I wanna volunteer places. I want to help people— help them heal, cope. I just wanna do good.” You explained happily.

Bucky was not surprised by your answer by the slightest— of course you wanted to be helpful. It only made sense with your bubbly personality. He cleared his throat, fighting down a smile.

“Your turn again.”

You nodded and took a second to think of a question again, closing your eyes in thought. An idea popped into your head and you were hesitant about it. Last time you’d brought it up— he left.

“What’s your family like?” You asked anyway, keeping your voice soft in hopes he’d feel more comfortable.

Bucky tensed immediately and just glared at you for a second. His jaw clenched, and his eyes squinted at you. He was annoyed at you pestering him with this question— he’d answer every single one but this one. He’d play dirty if you were.

“My family… isn’t around anymore.” He answered quietly, his anger lacing his words.

His tone had you swallowing nervously, and deep down you regretted asking him. You didn’t mean any harm by the question, and you immediately felt bad. Your heart hurt for him, the way he didn’t have a family.

“I— James I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t o—”

You tried to apologize but got cut off.

“My turn.” He interrupted, sitting up in his seat now. His whole body tense again, his relaxed muscles no more. “Why does your Father hate you?”

He couldn’t stop himself from letting the words out, but as soon as they passed his lips— he was ashamed of himself. His face softened immediately at your face dropping, the way your fingers started to fiddle anxiously with the hem of your shirt.

You were shocked— at a loss for words. You probably deserved his anger, but you weren’t expecting such a harsh question. You felt your chest tighten, and suddenly you weren’t in denial anymore. Everything you’d ever thought— the nights you wondered if your Father really did hate you. You pushed away with a laugh, knowing he could never. But now as someone else witnessed it, and pointed it out. It ought to be true— and you felt sick.

“Um… He’s just having a h-hard time with the passing of my…” You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighter than usual. “Hard time with my mothers passing is all.”

You repeated from the first day meeting him. Your head pounded— your ears thumping loudly. Your fingers were numb and you felt like you couldn’t swallow.

Were you having an allergic reaction to something?

You tried to take another deep breath and felt your chest stop expanding. Your eyes widened in panic for a second.

Bucky felt so shitty— he couldn’t control himself for a simple question. The fact that you had answered it anyway broke his heart. He watched as your eyes darted around, in search of help. The way he could start to hear your breathing— the way you were beginning to wheeze.

“(Y/n), you ok—”

“Excuse m-me for a s-second.” You rushed out, stumbling out of your chair and towards the library doors.

Bucky was concerned for you, standing up immediately to go follow you. He was so ashamed of himself, angry that he let himself lose control like that. He had sensitive topics that just brought up a defensive side in him. The image of your face as soon as he had said the words was burned into his brain. You didn’t deserve that— you had been nothing be sweet since you two had met.

Making it up the stairs, he started down the hallway— body tensing in alert at the sight of you sitting up against the hallway wall. He rushed forward, kneeling down to your curled up form, scanning over you for injuries.

“(Y/n), what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asked frantic, he noticed your hand clutching the area above your heart.

You shook your head, but seemed confused— and only panicked more when you couldn’t get the words out right away.

“I c-can’t breathe!” You wheezed out, your hand not clutching your chest— reaching out to grab onto Bucky.

You held onto him like he was your lifeline.

“I-I think I’m having a-an allergic reaction.” You panted, fisting Bucky’s sleeve in panic.

Bucky didn’t know it was possible for his heart to break anymore— but he swore he heard the cracking sound. He felt it drop to his stomach, his own throat tightening with emotions. You were having a panic attack— and it was because of him. You had no idea, and yet here you were still clinging onto him when he was the cause of it all. He was disgusted with himself.

“(Y/n)— you’re not having an allergic reaction. You’re having a panic attack.” He explained to you clearly, holding onto your shoulders, trying to bring you comfort.

You nodded in understanding, feeling lightheaded from lack of oxygen to the brain. Tears began to escape your eyes, you felt helpless— you felt like you were dying.

“James…” You whimpered, “I’m s-scared!”

Again, he felt his non existent heart break again— falling into his stomach. He felt sick watching this go down, wanting nothing more than for this all to be a nightmare.

He had experience with panic attacks and luckily knew what to do— he just couldn’t get over the fact that he caused it.

He grabbed your hand fisting his sleeve and put it above his heart. You lifted your flushed face, your bloodshot eyes watching your hand. You could feel the strong thump of his heartbeat, the feeling soothing against your palm.

“I want you to try and breathe with me, okay? I want you to match my heartbeat. You feel it?” He asked you softly, his voice gentle like honey.

You nodded your head, trying to focus on slowing your breathing— stop your chaotic mind from spiraling.

“In… and out— In… and out.” He started breathing, and you struggled to match him at first, but as your eyes met with his— you felt your heartbeat start to match his rhythm.

His eyes were comforting and warm. You felt safe in his hold— and you could already start to feel your everything relaxing.

“Good, just keep breathing with me. I’ve got you— you’re gonna be okay.” He assured you, rubbing your shoulders up and down soothingly.

You knew you’d be risking it, but you slowly moved forward— wrapping your arms around his bulky frame.

Bucky tensed up at first, a part of him knowing he should push you away— this wasn’t professional. But he knew he couldn’t— not after what he did. He relaxed, and wrapped his arms hesitantly around your back, hugging you tight against him. He could feel your quick heartbeat thumping competitively against his. He could feel your breath fanning his neck— as you rested your chin in the crook of his neck.

He hadn’t felt such affection in so long— he had missed how much he craved the protection— the security he felt being in someone’s arms.

Now, in Bucky’s hold— you felt at peace. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you. You still trusted him with your life.

“Doll,” You smiled weakly into his neck, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t of asked you that— I’m an asshole.”

You held onto him tighter— enjoying the embrace while you had it. You were sure it would never happen again.

“It’s okay James, I’m sorry too.” You weakly replied, your body drained of energy. “Thank you, I feel a lot better now.”

He wanted to scoff. You wanted to thank him for helping you out of a mess that he caused. You had the right to scream, punch, kick him. But he knew you’d never do that— and that’s what killed him.

He didn’t know how to respond to your thanks, and stayed silent instead. Holding onto you— never intending to let go until you did first.

“I’m tired James.” You mumbled sleepily.

“I’ve got you doll.” He whispered, easily standing with you in his arms.

He slowly and carefully carried you to your room, setting you down gently onto your bed. He was having déjà vu— memories of when he first carried you to bed that one night.

He lifted the covers, tucking you in. He watched you for a second, examining your face like you were a piece of art. His eyes danced all the way from your chin— passed your lips— to your eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. You sighed and leaned into his touch, and this time— he didn’t fight the smile down. He gazed down at you warmly, genuinely smiling for the first time in awhile.

“Stay with me.” You mumbled sleepily, just as you had wanted to that one night.

Bucky took a deep breath, staring down at you with sudden tenderness. He shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought.

“Okay.” He told you, watching you give a small smile in your sleep. Snuggling your face into the pillow.

Although both of you didn’t really get to scratch off every question of each others list— you both felt more connected after today. You just wanted someone, someone constant in your life. Bucky needed more light in his life— like you.

You both needed each other more than you realized.

🤍 taglist is officially closed for this series 🤍

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[togrowoldinv]

The Bodyguard Pt. 2

Bodyguard!Natasha Romanoff x Actress!Reader

Natasha is tasked with being bodyguard to you and you two grow close. Maybe too close, but would she dare cross that line?

Note: The long awaited part 2 is here! Find part one here. I hope you enjoy it!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

“Rule number three: We can’t get too close to each other,” Natasha says. “I have to protect you with a clear mind.”

“Okay,” you say. “But maybe we could break the rules, Natasha?”

“Y/n,” Natasha warns.

“Come on Natasha,” you say. “Why fight this?”

Natasha stands up from the couch and paces back and forth in front of you.

“I have to step down,” Natasha says.

“What?” You ask, standing up. “You didn’t even cross a line! It’s okay, Natasha. We’ll pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I don’t think I can just pretend it didn’t happen, y/n,” Natasha argues. “I have to go. I’ll send a replacement.”

“Natasha!” You call after her, but she is already out of the door.

You sit on the couch with your head in your hands. Natasha drives to the office, fighting back tears of her own.

When she gets there, she finds Carol at her desk. She hands her your weekly itinerary.

“Nat?” Carol asks.

“Take care of her,” Nat replies. She begins to walk away, but Carol chases after her. She grabs her hand and turns her back to face her.

“What happened?” Carol asks.

“I got too close,” Nat shrugs. “We almost kissed.”

“Shit, I’m sorry Natasha.”

“It’s alright. I took an oath, you know. I can’t be her bodyguard now. You’re the next best one.”

“I’ll take care of her, Nat. I promise.”

Carol hugs Nat briefly before she reports to your apartment. You don’t greet her with near as much enthusiasm or politeness as you should. She doesn’t take it personally.

It doesn’t feel the same as she walks you to your car. You realize nothing will feel like being with Natasha did. And you didn’t even date the woman. You zone out on the way to the awards show you are to attend tonight.

“Miss Y/l/n, are you ready to go inside?” Carol asks you.

“I- I really don’t want to go in,” you speak truthfully.

Carol leans up and asks the driver to give you two a minute alone. He agrees and steps out of the car.

“Is this about Natasha?” She asks.

You whip your head around to face her. She wears a knowing look.

“She told you what happened?”

“She did,” Carol confirms. “I hate it for both of you. Nat was really happy, and she is never happy to be security for actors.”

“We got too close,” you sigh.

“What does that even mean?” Carol wonders aloud. “Life is too short to worry about being too close with someone, y/n. Sure, you two should suspend the professional partnership, but there’s no reason you can’t be with her.”

“You think so? She ran out before I could even ask her why not that.”

“You should try and talk to her again,” Carol suggests.

“I don’t even have her real phone number.”

“I have it on good authority that she will be here tonight,” Carol replies. She almost wears a smirk on her face. It reminds you of Natasha’s crooked smile. “And I’m pretty sure the world will be disappointed if their favorite actress doesn’t make an appearance tonight.”

You take a deep breath and straighten your dress. Carol gets out of the car first and helps you out onto the carpet. Cameras flash immediately, and you hear shouts of your name. It all feels a bit overwhelming.

“Just breathe and keep moving,” Carol says.

Your nerves settle as you do all of the required photos and interviews. Once you’re inside, you greet friends in the industry. You catch sight of Natasha out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t see her fully.

The ceremony is decently boring until there’s a loud blast. Before you can even process it, Carol is by your side and covering you with her body. You don’t feel any physical injuries. But it’s another person that lifts you up out of the rubble.

“Natasha?” You ask.

“It’s alright,” Nat says. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“Nat, you’re bleeding,” you say, recognizing the seeping red liquid coming out of her side.

“I’m okay.”

She carries you out of what is left of the building and to the emergency medical tents set up. Nat sets you at one of the tables and turns back towards the building. You reach for her to stay.

“You need help, Nat,” you say.

“Take care of her,” she instructs the EMT.

“Natasha-”

“I have to go get Carol. I’ll be back.”

She runs off before you can get another word out. It’s five minutes before you see her again. Nat is barely moving as she carries her unconscious friend over her shoulder. Clearly, they both sustained life-threatening injuries.

You rush towards where Nat lets someone take Carol from her. She falls to the ground in pain, finally.

“Y/n,” Nat whimpers.

“Help! She needs help!” You yell for someone.

The EMTs are quick to her aid, but she’s already passed out. You sit on the pavement and watch as they tend to her injuries. They tell you they have to take her and the other injured to the hospital. It takes forever to find a ride there yourself.

You burst through the doors and demand to see Natasha. A doctor stops you short of the restricted area.

“Hey, hey, who are you looking for?” The woman asks. She has to place her hand on your shoulder to stop you from barging past her.

“Natasha Romanoff,” you say.

“Okay. Let me find her chart.”

The woman takes forever to scroll through the tablet and find her name. It’s probably just seconds, but to you, it feels like hours.

“She is in surgery,” the woman answers. “I’ll take you to the waiting room, and someone can update you. Follow me.”

You follow the doctor to the waiting room and see a large group of other people waiting there. A lot of people were injured in this accident. Their heads turn when they see who you are.

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself.

You try to escape the crowd, figuring they would realize you’re not in the state to greet fans right now, but they surround you. The voices are loud and jumbled, but you hear one that is different. One that is helpful.

“Hey, come with me,” a woman’s voice says. You honestly don’t even care who it is as long as they get you out of this crowd.

She takes you down the hallway and scans a badge to the restricted area. You follow her into what seems to be a doctor’s lounge.

“My daughter works here,” she says with a smirk. “I’m Maria, by the way. Maria Rambeau.”

“Y/n,” you tell her.

“Yeah,” she says with a small laugh. “Who are you here for?”

“My- um- my bodyguard.”

“Must be some bodyguard if you care enough to be here,” Maria says.

You sit on the couch and close your eyes. You didn’t think you had any physical injuries, but your wrist is throbbing in pain. You sigh.

Maria types something on her phone and then makes you a glass of water. You accept it with your other hand and try to breathe. It isn’t long before another woman enters the room. It’s the doctor from earlier.

“Hey Monica,” Maria greets her. She pulls her into a hug. “How is she?”

“It’s touch and go,” Monica says despondently. “Oh, hi again.”

“Hey,” you say to her. “Can you check on Natasha?”

“Natasha?” Maria wonders aloud, mostly to herself.

Monica nods to her mother and pulls out her tablet again. She regretfully tells you there is no update.

“Can you look up my other bodyguard too? I know she was hurt pretty badly. I don’t know her last name, but her name is Carol,” you explain.

“Actually, that’s who I was just updating my mom about,” Monica says.

“You two know each other?”

“She is- well, she was my partner for a long time,” Maria says.

“Oh, I just met her today. She seems nice, though.”

“She is,” Monica pipes in. “I have to get back to work, but I’ll send someone to look at that wrist, y/n.”

“How did you know?” You ask.

“I can’t give away all of my secrets,” Monica jokes. And then adds, “Mom noticed actually.”

You crack a smile and Monica hugs her mom quickly before leaving the room again. Maria sits on the couch opposite you.

“What happened with you and Carol?” You ask. When she hesitates to answer, you say, “Sorry, I just can’t stop worrying about Natasha and wanted to get my mind off of it.”

“That’s alright,” Maria says. She has a comforting yet confident way about her. You can see her being with Carol. “It’s kind of the age-old story. Everything was fine until it wasn’t.”

“I get that,” you say.

“We were best friends, and then we were more. On perhaps the shortest break from a relationship ever, I messed up and got with someone else. Enter Monica,” Maria explains. “I wouldn’t change the fact that I have her, but things with Carol were different after that.”

She continues, “She never faltered, not really. But she wasn’t really as happy. She always had these big dreams. She had a lot of ‘I’m going to save the world’ attitude about her. And she couldn’t save the world if she was stuck in Louisiana with me and Monica.”

“Was it that you two weren’t enough for her?” You ask. “I don’t see myself as enough for Natasha, but I would still risk it all to be with her.”

“No, I think Monica and I were enough. I convinced her to move on though,” Maria says.

“Why?”

“Well, sometimes in life, y/n, you make sacrifices for the people you love.”

Your conversation is interrupted by a doctor coming in to look at your wrist. They explain it’s just a sprain, but they put you in a brace for comfort. Maria promises to wake you up if there’s any updates, so you let yourself close your eyes.

It’s a few hours later when she wakes you. You stand at the sight of a doctor in front of you. You don’t hear anything, but that Nat is okay, and you can come see her.

You follow the doctor down the hallway to her room. When the door opens, you notice how small Natasha looks. To your surprise, she is awake.

“How are we feeling, Ms. Romanoff?” The nurse that followed you in asks her.

“Better now,” Nat says, smiling at you the best she can.

“The pain medicine kicked in,” the nurse tells you. “You can visit for a few minutes but she’ll need to sleep soon.”

You nod. Then you’re left alone with Natasha.

“You’re hurt,” Nat says with a frown.

“Just barely,” you say. You make your way to her bedside. “You saved me.”

“I’d do it again.”

“The doctor said you should make a full recovery,” you tell her.

“And Carol?” Nat asks.

“I’m not sure, but I did meet her family,” you say. “Or I guess what used to be her family.”

“Maria?” She asks. You nod. “That’s good. They’re good for each other.”

“Are we good for each other?” You accidentally ask out loud. “Sorry. I was just hoping to talk to you before everything happened. I really want this. I really want you.”

Nat tries to process your words through the pain and medicine. It’s a lot right now.

“You don’t need to say anything right now, Natasha. Just get some rest. I’ll be here,” you say.

“Thank you for being here,” Nat says. “Do you think- um could you get in here with me?”

“In the bed? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me, y/n,” Natasha says. “Please.”

You oblige and settle against Nat’s good side. She didn’t say it, but you can tell by the way she rests against you that she wants this too.

[grlpartdoll]

GASP. GHOSTY IS LOSTENING TO HIS URGES!!! EBRYONE HIDE YO MAMAS, HIDE YOUR KIDS!!!

no seriously. 18+. Minors blocked on sight :D!!!

Part ?? Of bodyguard series <3 thankfully the cameras were off for the day but (⁠⊙⁠_⁠◎⁠) also this is not proofread at all.

Written with Afab reader in mind but no mentions of genitals for the reader so it's really up to u to imagine! Errrmmm yes I think that's it!

CW : ghost cock :] (it's big btw) ghost-big-huge-giant-hands-riley.

"Will you sit down?" Ghost growls for the uptenth time, though this time he sounds more serious — more worried.

You do, if only because you're starting to ache down the waist worst then you did after practice.

You settle on the edge of the bed, and Ghost kneels there beside it, going to remove your tiny kitten heels for you. They're off in seconds, with his expertise in the matter of shoe removal (you'd forced him to learn how by always forgetting to undress before falling into bed for a '5 minute nap' and never waking up)

"Take yor'shirt off."

You immediately cover yourself, and though youre not even naked yet, you heat all over, shaking your head hastily.

"I'll see my physical therapist tomorrow — it's fine."

He fixes you with a mean glare you've learned means a silent plea from him to just listen.

You sigh, blinking multiple times to try and rationalize the fact that you're about to take off your shirt in front of Ghost. In front of the man you'd been not so openly having secret fantasies about.

You nod, then, as he fingers at the edge of your cardigan. His oddly big hands drift, slowly, as though memorizing every slope and hill of your skin. He undoes the buttons with surgical precision, keeping his touch light and professional.

Then, the warmth of his palms rise, and he lays them down atop your shoulders — slopping down your arms gently as he removes the fabric off of your skin.

You sit there, in nothing but a bralette, breath stuck in your throat with Ghost's hands working softly on putting the cardigan away.

You wriggle a little uncomfortably, and his focus shifts to you, his eyes snapping upwards and away from the green sweater.

"S'just me." He reminds you.

And it is exactly because it is just him that you're like this — twitchy and covered in goosebumps.

"I know." Your voice comes away breathy, as much as you had hoped it wouldn't.

His pupils dilate a little. You think. But he doesn't seem to notice at all. Only focuses on the blue and black of your ribs.

Your dance partner for a special broadcast performance had dropped you during rehearsal, and you'd been left with a few torned rib ligaments and a bruised torso.

Needless to say Ghost hadnt been too happy to hear about that — especially since he had been taking his first break in a long, long while.

When he came back around during your lunch and you were sitting there with ice to your chest, he'd glared at your manager and demanded answers. You're only glad the dancer had already been gone when Ghost made it to you — and that the cameras had stopped rolling for the day.

"Does it still hurt t'breathe?"

You try it, and nod when pain prickles at your chest. You wince, trying to wind down the pain by exhaling.

"You're doin' good." He praised, pressing a terribly gentle hand on the bruise.

"Still ache when I touch here?"

A whole different type of ache ignites in you when his big hand covers half of your torso — but you shake your head.

"Good." His hand slips lower, below the ribs. At your waist.

"And here?"

A noise makes it out of you when he squeezes. It's not pain — and he hears the difference. Still, he removes his hand, something shifting under the mask. His lips move for a moment. Not a smile — you know because his eyes don't wrinkle like they do when he gives you that shit eating grin.

"What was that?" He asks, voice rougher than usual.

"Sorry. Your hands are just.. cold." You lie blantantly, trying to sound natural, and failing miserably.

His hands rise again, and he lets them hover above your hips. "Can I?"

Dangerous territory. But you nod.

His hands wrap around them — and though you've never been known to be the smallest, or the biggest, his hands wrap comfortably around your hips. Your eyes almost bulge out of your head when his fingers press into your lower back, and you notice just how near to each other they are. There was no way —

He pushes again. Yes. If he'd wanted, if he had squeezed a little harder, you're sure he could have touched finger to finger with his two hands wrapped around your hips. Not your waist — but your hips.

Somehow that is the thing that breaks the dam, and you find yourself melting against his touch, a god-awful noise being pried from your throat.

He's quiet for a moment — doesn't dare move in case he's hurt you. But it takes only a few seconds for him to make the difference between a noise of pain and one of pure unadulterated want.

His voice is almost teasing when he says, in a condescending coo ; "What was that, Lovie?"

You whine in humiliation, trying to push him away, but he pulls you back towards him, your knees making a brutal 'tock' sound when you fall on the floor with him, body to body.

Something hard and hot and heavy presses against your tummy, and you gasp, eyes shooting up towards his. That couldn't be his — no. That thing pressed against your tummy was far too thick, far too big to be anything of the nature. And yet. It was an unmistakable warmth buldging through his uniform pants, something that you could almost feel was throbbing at your nearness.

"Can't be making all those pretty little noises, y'hear me?"

"It's not m'fault—" you're muffled when he presses his hand against your mouth, the roughness of it mismatched with the plump, healthy skin of your well-taken care features. His fingers tighten around your jaw, and keep a hold of you effortlessly, only the palm being enough to cover the upper part of your face.

"M'gunna have to keep you like this when I check you up from now on? Uh?" His body moves of his own accord, careening forward, his length dragging itself up — and down. A rumble grows in his chest, but never comes out from his lips.

"Fuckin' cocktease." He curses quietly, tsk-ing when you nibble on his fingers, brows furrowed in something that's not pain, but not quite pleasure either.

"Ol'right, olright," he grumbles, removing his hand, but keeping it below your chin. "'M g'nna be nice t'ya, kid. Let you rest."

"No—" your hands scramble to touch him in a slight panic induced spur. But he pulls back, catching your wrists.

"M'not doing this with'ya while you're hurt."

"I'm fine!" You practically choke out, trying to fight his grip. Unfortunately for you, though, your strength never compares.

"Enough." He says, this time more serious.

Your bottom falling onto the heels of your feet, you pout at him.

"Dun't give me that look. Promise when you're better I'll treat you real nice." He nudges the sharp edge of your face, before picking you up in one languid motion, placing you back into your bed.

"Promise?" You says, a bit breathless.

"Yeah," he lays you down gently, and you hiss as your body locks up. He helps you on the way down, though, humming and fussing all over you, making sure you're comfortable. "Promise."

He leans in, his hand pushing a dent into your pillow. "Close your little eyes, bambi."

You do. Nothing happens for a moment, but then —

His lips are on your forehead. His lips, unfiltered, undisturbed by a old war-hewned mask. Rough and chapped, so carefully grazing your forehead you almost want to cry.

"When I take you f'the first time, kid, the only thing you will feel the next day is me." He speaks against your skin. "Not sum' pain in your rib from another man."

You want to protest — tell him that that is just ridiculous, that the partner you'd been assigned for all but a month had nothing to do with the molten fire in your belly.

But you remain quiet, and sigh, your lashes fluttering.

He pulls back, and you keep your eyes closed. When his footsteps retreat, and his beefy frame audibly falls into his reserved chair, you twist away from him under the cover, and open your eyes to the blank wall in front of you.

You so badly want to look at him. Want to see that familiar face he'd graced you with only once when you were sick. But you know he has his boundaries. And you know how to listen to a command when he gives you one.

"Goodnight, Simon." You whisper.

He doesn't answer, but you know he's there, watching over you. Always.

[shybluebirdninja]

Boundaries of Obsession

Summary: Logan, a seasoned bodyguard with a troubled past, is reluctantly assigned to protect Y/n, a 23-year-old diplomat's daughter. The vast age gap between them creates immediate tension, with Rachel resistant to Logan's intrusive presence. However, as they spend more time together, Logan’s professional detachment gives way to possessiveness and jealousy. His obsession threatens to undermine their relationship, forcing both to confront the boundaries of their growing feelings for each other.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female-Human Reader (Y/N Sinclair) Warning: Angst, lil bit of fluff

Logan had been on the edge of a goddamn meltdown, and he’d been desperately hoping for a break from the never-ending grind of his job. He was sprawled out in his small, dimly lit apartment, surrounded by the detritus of his last assignment: crumpled papers, empty takeout containers, and an assortment of half-empty bottles that might have once contained something drinkable. His apartment looked like a tornado had decided to take a detour through his life.

He was nursing a mug of coffee that had long lost any semblance of warmth, staring at the peeling wallpaper as if it might provide some answers. He was just about to lose himself in the haze of his thoughts when the shrill ring of the office phone cut through the silence like a damn alarm bell. It was a sound that meant trouble, and trouble was the last thing he wanted.

With a groan that could only be described as pure frustration, Logan grabbed the receiver and answered with a voice that could best be described as a growl. “Logan.”

“Hey, Logan,” came the voice on the other end. It was Rick, his boss. The tone was serious—Rick had a knack for sounding like someone was about to get shot whenever he was on the line. “We’ve got a new assignment for you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, though Rick couldn’t see it through the phone. “Seriously? What now? Can’t a guy catch a break? I’m drowning in paperwork and old pizza boxes here. I need some damn time off.”

Rick wasn’t one for beating around the bush. “This isn’t a joke, Logan. We need you to protect Y/N Sinclair. She’s the daughter of a diplomat. She’s 23, and there’s been some pretty credible threats against her.”

Logan let out a snort, one that was more of a sarcastic chuckle than anything else. “Protect a diplomat’s kid? That sounds like a whole barrel of fun. What’s she done, pissed off some world leaders? Because that’s usually the kind of thing that gets you on the hit list.”

Rick’s voice took on a slightly softer tone, which was rare for him. “I get it. It sounds like a cushy gig, but it’s high-profile. We need someone who knows their shit. You’ve got the experience, and frankly, I don’t think anyone else is up for it. And hey, it’s just a few weeks. Think of it as a temporary change of pace.”

Logan sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was on them. “Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to be thrilled about it. If I end up babysitting someone with a silver spoon stuck in her mouth, I swear, I’m going to lose it.”

Rick chuckled, though it was the kind of chuckle that suggested he was already preparing for more of Logan’s bullshit. “You always have a way of making these things sound so glamorous. But thanks for taking it on. I’ll send over the details. Just remember, this is important.”

Logan slammed the receiver down, muttering curses under his breath. “Important. Sure. Probably just another way to get me tangled up in someone else’s mess.” He glanced around his apartment, wondering how on earth he was going to get through this. He picked up a stray piece of paper, squinting at it as if it might hold some kind of answer to his current predicament.

His mind was already racing through the logistics of the new assignment: meeting Y/N Sinclair, figuring out her schedule, and trying to figure out how to stay sane while being stuck in the same space as someone who probably didn’t know the first thing about real danger. He was about to face yet another chapter of dealing with people who had no idea what it was like to live in the real world, where every day was a battle and every decision was a gamble.

Logan took a deep breath, staring at the mess that was his life and muttering to himself. “Well, at least I’ll get a change of scenery. Maybe I’ll even get to add a few new scars to the collection.” He chuckled darkly, knowing full well that he was in for a ride he wasn’t exactly thrilled about.

And so, with that resigned acceptance, Logan prepared himself for whatever hell was about to unfold. He might have been grumbling and cursing every step of the way, but deep down, he knew he’d take the job.

----------------------------------

Logan’s arrival at the Sinclair residence was like stepping into a fucking fairy tale. He was greeted by the kind of grandeur that would make a king feel underdressed. The estate sprawled out before him in all its marble and chandelier glory. It was the kind of place where the floors sparkled under the glow of opulent fixtures, and every corner seemed to whisper tales of old money and impeccable taste. Logan took it all in with a mixture of awe and begrudging respect.

He pushed through the massive double doors, which opened with a creak that seemed to say, “Welcome to the land of the rich and ridiculously privileged.” The marble lobby was bathed in a soft, natural light that filtered through high arched windows, casting a warm glow over everything. Logan's boots made a dull thud against the marble as he walked in, a stark contrast to the silent elegance of the place. His own scuffed, worn-out shoes were a far cry from the polished perfection that surrounded him.

Logan glanced around, taking in the elegant furniture and tasteful decorations—each piece meticulously chosen to scream luxury. It was all a bit much, really. His small, dimly lit apartment felt like a lifetime away from this place. He was used to grimy street corners and dingy warehouses, not this plush extravagance. He felt a twinge of discomfort, as if he was an imposter at a very high-society masquerade.

Then he saw her. Y/N Sinclair. She was standing by the grand staircase, waiting for him with an air of cool composure that was both intriguing and slightly infuriating. The way she carried herself with a blend of youthful enthusiasm and restrained annoyance made it clear she wasn’t thrilled to see him. She was striking—no doubt about it. Her beauty was understated yet captivating, and her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her sharp, green eyes even more arresting. Those eyes were curious but had an edge that suggested she was ready to be unimpressed.

Logan approached her with a professional detachment that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else. His dark suit felt like a costume he wore to fit in with this high-society circus, and it contrasted sharply with Y/N’s more casual attire—a simple blouse and jeans. He knew the suit was his attempt to blend in, but it felt like it was doing the opposite. He couldn’t help but admire the way she looked, though he kept it buried under a layer of gruff professionalism.

Y/N turned to face him as he drew near, her expression a mix of guarded curiosity and subtle skepticism. She extended her hand, and Logan took it, shaking it firmly. “Mr. Logan, I presume?”

“Ms. Sinclair,” Logan replied, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll be your bodyguard for the duration of this assignment. My job is to ensure your safety.”

Y/N withdrew her hand and crossed her arms, her posture defensive. “I’m not sure why I need a bodyguard. I’m just going about my daily life. Surely that’s manageable.”

Logan couldn’t help but let a hint of sarcasm slip through. “It’s not just about managing; it’s about making sure you don’t get yourself into a world of trouble. There’ve been credible threats against you, and it’s my job to keep you safe. I’ll be tagging along wherever you go, making sure nothing goes south.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a slight frown, and she glanced around the opulent lobby, clearly uncomfortable with the intrusion into her personal space. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to this, won’t I?”

Logan noticed the flicker of frustration in her eyes. He could see she was trying to reconcile the grandeur of her surroundings with the reality of having her freedom curtailed. “We’ll figure out a way to make this as smooth as possible. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary given the circumstances.”

Y/N huffed softly, her frustration palpable. “I’ve always valued my independence. Having someone shadow me every step of the way feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Logan’s expression softened, though he kept his tone steady. “I get that. It’s a hell of an adjustment. My job is to be as unobtrusive as possible while making sure you stay safe. I’ll try not to step on your toes more than necessary.”

Y/N’s gaze softened a little, though her defensiveness was still there. “I appreciate that you’re trying to be considerate. But can you at least explain what you’ll be doing? How is this going to work?”

Logan nodded, thankful for the chance to lay out the plan. “Sure thing. My primary duties will include keeping you company during any public or private events, assessing potential risks, and coordinating with local security. I’ll also be on the lookout for any threats and making sure your day-to-day activities are as safe as possible. I’ll be around, but I’ll try to keep it low-key.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly still skeptical. “And what if I decide to go somewhere or do something without you?”

Logan considered her question, knowing it was a crucial point. “If you decide to go out on your own, I’ll need to check out your destination and who you’ll be with. It’s not about limiting your freedom, but about making sure you’re safe. We’ll work together to plan your activities in a way that keeps you secure while respecting your autonomy.”

Y/N sighed, a sound that was equal parts frustration and resignation. “I suppose that makes sense. I’m just not used to having someone constantly watching over me.”

Logan offered a reassuring smile, though he was aware of the fine line he had to walk. “I understand. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I’m here to make this process as smooth as possible. If you have any concerns or preferences, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the skepticism seemed to wane. She gave a small, begrudging nod. “Alright. I guess we’ll have to make the best of this situation.”

Logan’s smile remained professional, but he felt a flicker of relief. “Thanks for being understanding. I’ll do my best to ensure this is as smooth and secure as possible for you.”

Y/N led him through the residence, her pace steady as she showed him the key areas he needed to know. As they walked through the grand halls, she pointed out various rooms and gave a brief overview of her daily schedule. Logan couldn’t help but notice the opulence of the surroundings—the rich tapestries on the walls, the polished wood of the furniture—all of it spoke of a life he was only beginning to understand.

During the tour, Y/N maintained a polite distance, though there was a formality in her demeanor that made it clear she was still adjusting to the situation. Logan observed her closely, noting the way she moved and spoke. She was a study in contrasts: graceful yet guarded, confident yet clearly struggling with the invasion of her privacy.

As they reached her personal quarters, Y/N stopped and turned to him with a faint smile. “This is where I’ll be spending most of my time. You’ll have access to this area, but please try to avoid intruding on my private space.”

Logan nodded, feeling the weight of her request. “Understood. I’ll be discreet and respectful of your privacy.”

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, though she was still clearly adjusting. “I appreciate that. Let’s start with a schedule for tomorrow. Do you have any preferences for how you’d like to handle things?”

Logan thought for a moment, weighing his response. “I’d suggest we start by reviewing your planned activities for the day. It’ll help me understand your routine and spot any potential risks. We can also discuss any specific concerns you might have.”

Y/N nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s do that.”

As they moved on to discuss the details of the upcoming days, Logan found himself increasingly intrigued by Y/N. Despite her initial defensiveness, there were moments when her sharp wit and intelligence shone through. She was passionate about her work and had a clear sense of purpose, which was both admirable and, at times, frustratingly idealistic.

In the evening, as their discussions wrapped up, Y/N offered Logan a hesitant smile. “I guess this isn’t going to be as terrible as I initially thought. Thanks for taking the time to explain everything.”

Logan returned the smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll address any concerns as they come up. It’s important that you feel comfortable and safe.”

Y/N’s smile grew warmer. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I suppose you’re not so bad after all.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As Y/N headed off to her room, Logan remained in the lobby, reflecting on the day’s events. He knew the road ahead would be filled with challenges, both professional and personal. Building rapport with Y/N was just the beginning, and he needed to be prepared for the complexities that would inevitably arise.

He took a deep breath, resolved to tackle the assignment with the same dedication and professionalism he had applied to every previous job. Gaining Y/N’s trust and ensuring her safety would require patience and adaptability. As he prepared for the days ahead, he reminded himself that the success of the assignment hinged not just on protecting Y/N from external threats, but also on navigating the delicate balance of their evolving relationship.

The next morning, Logan met Y/N at breakfast, ready to dive into the day’s activities. As he observed her, he felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The assignment had just begun, and he was acutely aware that the dynamics between them would shape their time together. Y/N greeted him with a more relaxed demeanor, and Logan took it as a positive sign.

He knew that the coming days would be crucial in building a rapport and establishing a sense of trust. With each interaction, Logan hoped to not only fulfill his duties but also make Y/N feel as comfortable and secure as possible. Logan’s initial days with the Sinclairs were a whirlwind of adjustments and observations.

Their interactions were a delicate dance of professionalism and personal boundaries. Y/N, though initially resistant, began to show signs of acceptance. The tension from their first meeting gradually eased, replaced by a tentative cooperation. Logan observed her routines and preferences, making adjustments to his approach as needed. He found that Y/N’s defensiveness was often a mask for her underlying vulnerability. She had been thrust into a world of scrutiny and expectation, and his presence was a constant reminder of her lack of control.

Logan’s role went beyond just being a physical presence; it was about understanding the subtleties of Y/N’s world and adapting to them. The Sinclair estate was a world apart from his usual environment, but he approached the challenge with the same focus and determination he applied to his work. He made it a point to blend into the background, allowing Y/N the space she needed while remaining vigilant. Their conversations gradually became less formal, and Y/N began to open up about her life and the pressures she faced. Logan learned about her aspirations, her struggles with her public image, and her desire for a more ordinary life. It was clear that beneath the veneer of wealth and privilege, Y/N was grappling with her own set of challenges.

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Building trust with Y/N Sinclair wasn’t a walk in the park. It was a constant grind, a mix of small wins and the occasional fuck-up. Logan knew that his success in this gig wasn’t just about keeping her safe; it was also about breaking down the walls between them and making her feel at ease. He was working on making their interactions more than just a transactional deal—he was in it to build some real rapport.

One evening, after a day that felt like it never ended—meetings, events, and more meetings—Y/N approached Logan with a thoughtful look on her face. The day’s chaos had left them both a bit drained, but there was something different in the way she spoke to him.

“You know, Mr. Logan,” she started, her tone softer than usual, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually starting to appreciate having you around. It’s been weird, having someone breathing down my neck all the time, but I’m beginning to see that there’s some value in it.”

Logan gave her a genuine smile, feeling a bit of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it’s not exactly the most comfortable situation, and I really appreciate you sticking with it. My goal is to make this as smooth as possible for you.”

Y/N’s face relaxed a bit, and she seemed to be weighing her next words carefully. “I get that. And I can see you’re trying to help. It’s just… sometimes it feels like there’s this invisible wall between us. Like, I’m always having to explain myself or justify my actions.”

Logan took a moment to let that sink in. “I get it. It’s a tough balance—trying to respect your privacy while also making sure you’re safe. If there’s anything specific you need or any way I can make this easier, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in them. “Actually, there is something. I’ve got some personal stuff going on, and it would be nice if you could give me a bit of space to handle it. I don’t want to push you away, but I also need some time to sort things out on my own.”

Logan’s face showed genuine empathy. “I appreciate you being honest with me. I’ll give you the space you need, but remember, I’m here if you need anything or if the situation changes.”

Y/N’s smile was the kind that made it clear she meant it. It wasn’t just a polite gesture; it was real. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I’m starting to feel like we’re actually getting somewhere.”

Logan’s role as her bodyguard had shifted from just being a protector to becoming someone she could actually talk to—a confidant and a source of stability in her chaotic world. The initial awkwardness and tension had given way to a growing mutual respect. They were finding their groove, and it wasn’t just about being professional anymore. Y/N’s trust in Logan was becoming more evident. Their conversations were less formal, and she seemed more comfortable opening up about her life and her struggles. Logan had noticed that Y/N’s walls were coming down, bit by bit. She was starting to let him in, and that was a significant shift from their early interactions.

Logan was adapting well to the changes. He found himself more attuned to Y/N’s needs and concerns. The balance between professional duty and personal connection was delicate, but he was managing it. It wasn’t just about being her bodyguard anymore; it was about being someone she could rely on, someone who understood the complexities of her life. One evening, after a particularly intense day, they found themselves in a more relaxed setting. Y/N had just finished a call that left her visibly frustrated. Logan, sensing the opportunity, decided to push the boundaries a bit. He leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You know,” he said, his tone more playful than usual, “for someone who’s constantly surrounded by people, you seem to spend a lot of time looking like you need a drink.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “Just saying, you’ve got that ‘I need a drink and a vacation’ look. And if you’re ever up for some company, I might know a place that serves a mean cocktail.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but trying to keep her composure. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Logan.”

Logan laughed, his tone light and easy. “Hey, it’s all part of the job. If I can make you smile or take your mind off things, then I’m doing my job right.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I guess you’ve got a point. And maybe I do need a break from all this craziness.”

The shift in their interactions was palpable. Logan’s attempts at humor and casual conversation were breaking down the last of the barriers between them. Y/N seemed more relaxed, and there was a newfound ease in their interactions. Logan’s role was no longer confined to the professional realm; he was becoming a friend, someone who understood the weight of her world.

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What had started as a distant and necessary alliance had morphed into something more layered and intense. Neither of them had anticipated the emotional currents that would come to define their relationship. Y/N’s initial irritation with Logan’s constant presence had eased into a grudging acceptance. She had started to see the value in his unyielding vigilance, even if it was a constant reminder of the danger she faced. Their shared moments—whether it was casual chats or the occasional laugh—began to blur the lines between professional duty and personal connection.

Logan, for his part, found himself increasingly drawn into Y/N’s world. The boundaries he had originally maintained started to dissolve. His protective instincts, sharp and well-honed, began to stray into a more personal territory. Though he masked his growing attachment with professionalism, Y/N could sense the change.

The first real crack in their evolving relationship came with Tom, an artist Y/N had met at a charity event. Tom was charismatic and effortlessly charming, a stark contrast to Logan’s usually stoic demeanor. He and Y/N had hit it off, and soon, they were collaborating on a project that was deeply personal to her. One evening, after a lively gathering that left them both a bit drained, Y/N and Logan found themselves alone in her apartment. The living room was softly lit by a lamp, the remnants of their evening—half-empty wine glasses and the faint echo of music—lingering in the air.

“Tom’s been amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes practically glowing with excitement. “We’ve been making incredible progress on the project. He’s so creative—his ideas are just... phenomenal. We’ve been working late into the night, and it’s been really inspiring.”

Logan’s usual composure started to crack. He stood rigid, his voice coming out sharper than intended. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Tom lately,” he said, barely hiding his frustration. “I’ve noticed how close you’ve become.”

Y/N’s excitement faltered, replaced by confusion. “Tom’s just a friend. We’re working on something together. What’s the problem?”

Logan’s irritation bubbled up. “It’s not just about the project. I’ve seen how you interact with him, and I don’t fucking like it. I don’t trust him. I’m here to keep you safe, and I don’t like the idea of you being so close to someone I don’t know well.”

Y/N’s face flared with a mix of hurt and anger. “You’re not my goddamn guardian, Logan. I don’t need you deciding who I can or can’t be friends with. Tom’s been nothing but supportive. Just because you don’t know him doesn’t mean he’s a threat.”

Logan’s frustration turned into outright anger. “It’s not about controlling you. It’s about your fucking safety. I’ve seen too many situations where people who seem harmless end up being anything but. My job is to protect you, and that means being cautious about who you spend time with.”

Y/N stood up abruptly, her movements sharp. “You’re crossing a line here, Logan. I appreciate your protection, but this is my life. I’m not some fragile doll that needs to be guarded every second. I deserve the freedom to make my own choices and trust the people I want to trust.”

Logan’s anger flared, his voice rising. “It’s not about mistrusting you. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I can’t just ignore potential risks, especially when I’m responsible for your well-being.”

Y/N’s voice wavered between anger and hurt. “You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t be close to. I understand you’re doing your job, but you need to respect my autonomy. I’m not asking you to like Tom, but I am asking you to trust me.”

Logan’s face was a mask of internal conflict. “Trust is hard for me, Y/N. I’ve been in situations where trust was fucking shattered, and it makes you wary. But I’m trying to find a balance here. I don’t want to jeopardize our working relationship or make you feel controlled.”

Y/N’s anger slowly melted into sadness. “I need you to understand that I’m not asking for special treatment or to be shielded from the world. I just want to live my life without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. I need you to trust me, just as much as I’m trying to trust you.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged, the weight of the argument pressing down on him. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just that my instincts are hard to turn off. I’m used to being on high alert, especially when it comes to someone I care about.”

Y/N’s expression softened as she absorbed his words. “I get that you care, and I appreciate your dedication. But there has to be a middle ground where I can have my space and make my own decisions without feeling suffocated.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, charged with the unspoken emotions of both. Logan wrestled with his internal conflict, realizing his protective instincts were beginning to cloud his judgment. Y/N struggled with asserting her independence while acknowledging Logan’s genuine concern.

After a long pause, Logan finally spoke, his voice softer and more measured. “I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us. Maybe we can find a way to balance your safety with your need for autonomy. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and frustration. “I appreciate that. Let’s work on finding that balance together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he took a deep breath. “Agreed. We’ll figure it out. I’ll try to be more mindful of your need for space while still doing my job.”

Y/N offered a tentative smile, signaling her willingness to move forward. “Thank you. I’m sure we can make this work.”

The next few days were tense but marked by small, deliberate efforts from both sides to bridge the gap that had opened up between them. Logan made a conscious effort to respect Y/N’s autonomy, giving her space while maintaining his vigilant presence. Y/N, in turn, tried to understand the depth of Logan’s protective instincts, recognizing that his intentions, though sometimes misguided, were rooted in genuine concern. One evening, as they found themselves in a more relaxed setting—Logan had just returned from a long day and Y/N was unwinding with a book—Logan decided to try to lighten the mood. He plopped down on the couch next to her, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You know,” he said, his tone playful, “if you’re ever tired of working late with Tom, I know a great spot for drinks. Just saying.”

Y/N looked up from her book, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

Logan chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not drowning in work. Plus, it’s not every day I get to see you unwind. You deserve a break.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. But I appreciate the offer. Maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

Logan’s grin widened, feeling a rare sense of triumph. “That’s what I like to hear. And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get to meet this Tom guy. Make sure he knows who’s really looking out for you.”

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Logan’s heart skip a beat. But just as he was about to make another playful comment, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and her smile faltered slightly.

“It’s Tom,” she said, showing him the screen. “He’s just checking in about our project.”

Logan’s mood shifted abruptly. He forced himself to mask the pang of jealousy, but his irritation was palpable. “Right. Well, tell Tom I said hi. Or better yet, let’s talk about something else. How’s your day been otherwise?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the change in Logan’s demeanor. “My day’s been fine. Why?”

Logan’s voice came out sharper than he intended. “Just curious. You seem pretty wrapped up in this project with Tom.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously jealous of Tom? He’s just a friend, Logan. It’s not like we’re going to get married or something.”

Logan’s frustration boiled over. “It’s not about jealousy. It’s about the fact that you’re spending all this time with him and I’m left feeling like a third wheel. It’s my job to keep you safe, and seeing you get so close to someone I don’t know well just pisses me off.”

Y/N stood up, her patience wearing thin. “You’re being ridiculous. Tom’s not a threat. You’re overreacting.”

Logan’s voice rose, unable to keep his anger in check. “It’s not about overreacting. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I’m here to do a job, and I can’t just ignore potential risks, even if it means coming off as a jealous asshole.”

Y/N’s face turned red with frustration. “You need to get over yourself, Logan. I’m not a child. I deserve to make my own decisions without feeling like I’m being controlled.”

Logan’s anger started to crack as he saw the hurt in Y/N’s eyes. His voice softened, a mixture of regret and vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like that. It’s just... sometimes it’s hard to switch off the part of me that’s always on high alert.”

Y/N’s anger ebbed away, replaced by a more measured sadness. “I get that you care, but you need to trust me. I’m asking for a bit of space and the freedom to make my own choices. I’m not asking for special treatment.”

Logan’s expression softened, a mix of guilt and longing in his eyes. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just... it’s hard for me to let go sometimes. I’ve been through a lot, and it makes it tough to just let things be. But I’m trying. I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “I appreciate that. I know you’re trying, but we need to find a balance where we both feel comfortable. I need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’re right. We need to find that balance. I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us.”

Y/N’s expression was a mix of relief and resolve. “Good. Let’s work on it together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel respected and trusted.”

Logan took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “Agreed. I’ll work on being more mindful of your space while still keeping you safe. And, for what it’s worth, I want to be honest with you about something.”

Y/N looked at him, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Logan hesitated for a moment, then spoke with a raw honesty. “These past few months, spending time with you—it’s been... I don’t know, something I didn’t expect. I’ve been so used to being alone, and having you around, it’s... changed things for me. I’ve been trying to fight it, but I have feelings for you, Y/N. You’ve become a part of my life in a way I didn’t think was possible.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering across her face. “Logan, I... I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Logan looked down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. “I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing. I didn’t mean to come off as a controlling asshole. It’s just that you’ve become important to me. I want to protect you, not just because it’s my job, but because... because I care about you.”

Y/N took a deep breath, processing his words. “I appreciate your honesty, Logan. It means a lot. And I want you to know that I care about you too. I just need to find a way where we can both feel comfortable and respected.”

Logan’s face softened, a tentative smile forming. “Yeah, I think we can figure it out. We just need to communicate and understand each other better.” Y/N nodded, a small, genuine smile on her lips. “Agreed. Let’s work on it. Together.

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The weeks wore on, and Logan's feelings for Y/N twisted into a dark, consuming obsession. What had started as a protective instinct soon spiraled into a desperate need to control every aspect of her life. His once-guarded professionalism eroded, replaced by an all-consuming jealousy that tainted every interaction Y/N had with others.

It was clear to everyone around them—if they cared to notice—that Logan’s possessiveness was turning into a problem. He scrutinized Y/N’s every move with a vigilance that bordered on the obsessive. What had initially seemed like simple concern now looked more like an all-out invasion of her personal space. Each friendly interaction Y/N had with other men seemed to send Logan into a fit of barely-contained rage.

The turning point came at a gallery opening where Y/N was showcasing her latest collection. The event was buzzing with art enthusiasts and critics, all eager to discuss Y/N’s work. Logan had been assigned to discreetly monitor the event, but his attempts at maintaining his usual detachment quickly fell apart. He stationed himself on the edge of the crowd, ostensibly to observe, but his gaze was fixated on Y/N.

Y/N, radiant in her element, moved gracefully through the crowd. Her laughter rang out clearly and genuinely as she engaged with admirers. Every compliment, every interaction with other men seemed to deepen Logan’s unease. His jealousy flared at every friendly pat on the back, every animated conversation. The sight of her mingling with others was like a knife to his gut, sparking a storm of irrationality within him.

By the time the gallery event wound down, Logan was a bundle of barely contained frustration. His usually controlled eyes burned with a simmering intensity that he struggled to mask. As Y/N returned to her apartment, Logan’s tension was palpable, his earlier attempt to maintain a façade of professionalism slipping away the moment they were alone.

Y/N, sensing the shift in Logan’s demeanor, eyed him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You seem off tonight. Everything okay?”

Logan’s voice was taut with irritation. “Oh, you know, just the usual. You were the fucking center of attention tonight. Surrounded by a bunch of guys. It pissed me off.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and frustration. “Seriously? You’re complaining about me interacting with people at my own event? It’s part of my job, Logan. You’re being unreasonable.”

Logan’s face twisted with conflicted rage. “It’s not just about being unreasonable. Seeing you with those other men... it fucking kills me. I can’t stand it. I know it’s irrational, but I just... I can’t fucking help it.”

Y/N’s frustration boiled over. She crossed her arms and stared him down. “This isn’t about your feelings of insecurity. It’s about control. You can’t dictate every aspect of my professional life. It’s unhealthy.”

Logan’s anger surged, his voice rising. “It’s not about controlling you. I’m just trying to protect you. Every time I see you laughing and talking with other guys, it feels like I’m losing my grip on something important. I don’t even know why it’s hitting me so hard now.”

Y/N’s eyes softened with empathy but her voice remained firm. “You need to separate your personal issues from your professional duties. This obsession is affecting our working relationship and your ability to do your job.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. “I get it. I know I’m crossing lines. I’m supposed to be professional, but these feelings... they’re like a fucking storm I can’t control. I haven’t felt anything like this in years. I’ve always kept my feelings in check, but with you... it’s different. It’s like I’m losing you every time you’re with someone else.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered with a note of compassion. “Logan, you’re not losing me. But your jealousy and possessiveness are getting out of hand. It’s not fair to me or to you. We need to confront this head-on. If we don’t, it’s only going to get worse.”

Logan’s face was a mix of anger, regret, and confusion. “I don’t know how to handle this. I’ve never been this fucked up before. It’s like I’m trapped between wanting to keep you safe and being overwhelmed by my own feelings. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice softening but her tone serious. “Logan, we both need to be honest here. Your feelings are clouding your judgment. And it’s affecting our relationship. We need to talk about boundaries and expectations, or this is just going to keep spiraling.”

Logan’s gaze met hers with a mix of vulnerability and resolve. “You’re right. We need to clear the air. I don’t want to be a fucking burden or let my emotions ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

Y/N’s eyes held a mixture of relief and determination. “Let’s tackle this head-on. We need to be clear about our boundaries and communicate openly. It’s important for both of us.”

Logan’s voice wavered slightly as he took a deep breath. “There’s something I’ve never told you before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not in a long time. I’ve always kept my emotions in check, especially with my... unique abilities. But with you, it’s different. I fucking care about you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering in her eyes. “I didn’t realize... I mean, I’ve felt something too. I’ve been trying to figure it out. I guess... I care about you too, Logan. But we need to get through this mess if we’re going to have anything.”

Logan looked at her with a mixture of hope and apprehension. “I know. I just want to make things right. I want us to be able to work together and be... whatever this is between us. But we need to sort this out first.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady and warm. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. Let’s be honest and clear about what we need from each other.”

The conversation left them both emotionally drained, the weight of their confession hanging heavily between them. But Logan’s struggles with jealousy and obsession didn’t end with that discussion. If anything, his behavior grew increasingly erratic.

One evening, Y/N was preparing for a dinner with a potential new client. Logan was supposed to be on duty, maintaining his usual professional distance, but his simmering jealousy soon erupted. Y/N, unaware of the storm brewing within him, was in the midst of selecting an outfit for the occasion.

Logan’s voice cut through the quiet of the apartment, sharp and tinged with frustration. “So, who’s this fucking client you’re meeting tonight?”

Y/N glanced at him, taken aback by his abrupt tone. “Just a potential client, Logan. Why does it matter?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he paced the room. “It matters because you’re going out again. And every time you go out, I fucking worry. You don’t see the problem here?”

Y/N’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and irritation. “You’re seriously doing this again? This is a professional meeting. It’s part of my job. You can’t just flip out every time I leave the house.”

Logan’s frustration was barely contained. “It’s not just about you leaving. It’s about who you’re with, where you’re going. Every fucking time I see you with someone else, I lose my mind. I can’t stand it.”

Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. “Logan, this isn’t healthy. You’re crossing boundaries. I need you to understand that I’m not some possession you can control.”

Logan’s face flushed with anger, his voice rising. “Control? Fuck, Y/N, this isn’t about control. I care about you—more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And it’s tearing me apart to see you with other people. I fucking love you, but this shit is driving me insane!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and exasperation. “You can’t just use ‘love’ as an excuse for this behavior. Your obsession is suffocating me. It’s not fair to me or to you. You need to get a fucking grip on yourself.”

Logan’s anger morphed into desperation. “I don’t know how to stop it. I can’t control these feelings. Every time you’re out with someone else, it feels like I’m losing you. I fucking hate it. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Y/N’s expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained. “I get that you’re struggling, but your feelings are hurting both of us. You need to deal with your jealousy instead of letting it control you. This isn’t a healthy way to handle things.”

Logan’s voice broke with frustration and regret. “I know. I know it’s not right. I’m trying to fucking deal with it, but it’s hard. I love you so much, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. But I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. It’s like I’m losing a part of myself.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered by a note of compassion. “You need to find a way to manage these feelings, Logan. We can’t keep going like this. It’s eating away at us both. I need you to get help or find a way to handle this without letting it ruin everything.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll try—fuck, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. But I need your help. I need us to work through this together.”

Y/N’s gaze held a mixture of relief and determination. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and establish boundaries. If we don’t, this will just keep spiraling.” Logan nodded, his expression a mix of hope and apprehension. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I just want us to be okay.”

----------------------------------

Logan’s behavior had hit a breaking point. It wasn’t just about his discomfort anymore; it was clear that his obsessive and controlling tendencies were wreaking havoc on both his professional effectiveness and his relationship with Y/N. The last straw came during an intense argument, which forced Logan to face the harsh reality of his situation. Y/N, frustrated and exhausted by his increasingly intrusive behavior, had finally pushed him to seek professional help.

Logan was hesitant. The thought of spilling his deepest insecurities to a stranger was daunting. But he knew something had to change. His first visit to Dr. Lee, the therapist Y/N had recommended, was marked by a palpable sense of dread. The office was a stark contrast to the chaos in Logan’s mind: soft lighting, calming colors, and comfortable seating created an environment that felt foreign to him.

Dr. Lee, a middle-aged woman with a welcoming smile, greeted Logan with a warm tone. “Hi, Logan. It’s good to meet you. Y/N told me a bit about why you’re here. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Logan sat down in the plush armchair, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, uh, I’m here because I’m really fucking up. I’m working as a bodyguard for this woman, Y/N. And lately, I’ve been way too overprotective. It’s messing up my work and screwing up my relationship with her.”

Dr. Lee nodded, her expression open and encouraging. “It sounds like you’re dealing with some complex emotions. What specifically has been troubling you about your interactions with Y/N?”

Logan’s frustration was evident in his voice. “It’s like I’m obsessing over her safety to the point where it’s consuming me. I can’t stand the idea of her being around other people, especially men. It drives me fucking crazy.”

Dr. Lee leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle yet probing. “It sounds like your feelings of jealousy and control are pretty intense. Have you noticed any specific triggers that make these feelings worse?”

Logan thought for a moment, his hands fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s mainly when I see her interacting with other guys, like at social events or when she’s working with them. I get this surge of anger and possessiveness, and I can’t manage it.”

Dr. Lee responded thoughtfully. “Jealousy and possessiveness often come from underlying insecurities or fears. Can you think of any past experiences that might be influencing how you feel now?”

Logan’s gaze grew distant as he reflected. “I’ve had some shitty relationships in the past. I guess I’ve always been scared of losing something valuable. Y/N means a lot to me, and I think my fear of losing her is driving these intense feelings.”

Dr. Lee nodded in understanding. “Past experiences can definitely shape our current behaviors. One approach we can take is to work on identifying and addressing these underlying insecurities. We’ll also explore strategies to help you manage your emotions and develop healthier relationship patterns.”

As the sessions continued, Dr. Lee used a mix of cognitive-behavioral therapy and mindfulness techniques. Each session began with a review of Logan’s recent experiences and emotions. Dr. Lee would then guide him through exercises designed to challenge and reframe his thought patterns.

During one session, Dr. Lee introduced a mindfulness exercise. “Logan, let’s try a mindfulness exercise to help you become more aware of your emotional triggers. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Notice any sensations or thoughts that come up without judging them.”

Logan followed her instructions, his breathing slow and steady. Dr. Lee continued, “When a thought or feeling arises, acknowledge it and let it pass. This exercise helps you observe your emotions without letting them overwhelm you.”

After the exercise, Logan spoke with a sense of calm. “I can see how this might help me manage my reactions. It’s like I’m more aware of how my emotions are affecting me.”

Dr. Lee responded, “Mindfulness can be a powerful tool for recognizing and regulating emotions. Alongside this practice, we’ll work on developing strategies to address the insecurities that fuel your possessiveness.”

Y/N, meanwhile, was struggling to maintain her sense of autonomy. Logan’s intrusive behavior was causing her frustration, and she was working on setting clear boundaries. One evening, after a particularly tough day, she invited Logan to a café they both frequented. She hoped the neutral setting would facilitate a productive conversation.

As they sat down, Y/N looked at Logan, her expression a mix of determination and exhaustion. “Logan, we need to talk. I’m really struggling with your behavior. It’s affecting my work and my personal space.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m fucking up. I’ve been seeing Dr. Lee, trying to deal with this shit. But I know it’s not enough. I need to hear it from you. What do you need from me?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice steady but firm. “I need you to respect my boundaries. You can’t control who I interact with or how I handle my work. You need to manage your emotions and stop letting them dictate your behavior.”

Logan’s voice was filled with regret. “I get it. I’m trying to deal with my feelings, but it’s fucking hard. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though her frustration remained. “I appreciate that you’re trying, but it’s a two-way street. I need you to take concrete steps to address your behavior. It’s not just about saying sorry—it’s about making real changes.”

Logan nodded, his face a mix of hope and determination. “I’m committed to making changes. I want us to be okay. I’ll keep working with Dr. Lee and do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Y/N’s eyes held a note of resolve. “That’s a start. But we need to set clear boundaries and communicate openly. If we don’t, this situation will just keep spiraling.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath. “I understand. I’ll work on it. I just want to get things back on track. I care about you, and I don’t want my shit to ruin everything.” Y/N nodded, her gaze steady. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and stick to it.”

----------------------------------

As weeks went by, Logan’s commitment to managing his possessiveness began to show real results. The therapy sessions with Dr. Lee were making a noticeable difference. Logan was learning to handle his intense emotions better and to communicate more effectively with Y/N. The transformation wasn’t overnight, but it was significant enough for Y/N to notice the positive changes.

One evening, after a particularly successful week where Logan had navigated social events and professional responsibilities with newfound composure, they decided to celebrate with a quiet dinner at their favorite spot. The restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and mellow music that set a relaxing mood.

Logan and Y/N settled into their booth, the ambience a stark contrast to the tension that once marked their interactions. Logan, usually so guarded, was now more relaxed, though there was still a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. As they enjoyed their meal, Logan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of sincerity and vulnerability, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I know I’ve been a total mess sometimes, but I’ve never been more sure about anything than how I feel about you. I’ve been working hard to get things right, and I want you to know that you mean the world to me.”

Y/N looked up from her plate, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Brooding Bodyguard?”

Logan’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, but he grinned. “It means that despite all the chaos, I’m ready to make it official. I want you to be my girlfriend. I promise I’ll try to be less of a mess and more of the guy who makes you laugh.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, light and genuine. “Well, I was starting to think you’d make me wait forever. I’ve actually been hoping you’d say something like this.”

Logan’s face lit up with relief and joy. “So, you’re saying yes?”

Y/N leaned in, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Yes, Logan. I’m saying yes. But just so you know, I’m holding you to that promise about being less of a mess.”

Logan’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll work on being the guy who makes you laugh and maybe the guy who gets to kiss you goodnight.”

Their conversation continued, filled with playful banter and flirtatious exchanges. Logan’s progress was evident not just in his words but in his actions. He had become more attuned to Y/N’s needs, more respectful of her boundaries, and more capable of managing his emotions. The following week was a whirlwind of events, each one showcasing Logan’s growth. At a networking event, he managed to maintain his composure even when Y/N had to work closely with a male colleague. Instead of the old pangs of jealousy, Logan was calm and supportive, offering encouragement rather than control.

Logan’s friends, who had witnessed his previous struggles, noticed the change. One evening, while hanging out with them, he was animated and relaxed, something they hadn’t seen in a long time. His friends joked about how they’d never seen him so chill before, and Logan laughed along, his newfound ease evident.

“Man, who are you and what have you done with the old Logan?” one of his friends teased.

Logan chuckled, a genuine smile on his face. “The old Logan’s still around, but he’s been getting some therapy and figuring his shit out. Things are looking up.”

Meanwhile, Y/N had started to see the positive impact of Logan’s efforts on her own sense of well-being. They spent more quality time together, enjoying each other’s company without the constant tension. Y/N felt more secure and appreciated, which only strengthened their bond.

One evening, after another successful week of navigating their evolving relationship, Y/N and Logan found themselves at their favorite café. Logan’s demeanor was relaxed and happy, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how far they had come.

“Logan, I’ve got to admit, I’m really proud of you,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth. “You’ve come a long way, and it’s making a huge difference.”

Logan grinned, reaching across the table to hold her hand. “Thanks, babe. I couldn’t have done it without you. Your support means everything.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and admiration. “Well, I’m glad to be here for you. And I’m excited about where we’re headed.” Logan’s gaze softened, his expression serious but filled with hope. “I am too. I want us to keep moving forward together. I’ve been thinking a lot about us and where we’re headed. I know I’m not perfect, but I want to be with you. I want us to build something real.”

[cursingtoji]

5 and 24 with nanami 🤓

(nanami as a grumpy dom bodyguard.. PLEASE SEE MY VISION Y'ALL)

𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅!𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊

plus “you’re doing great” ⊱ brat taming, fingering, a bit of car sex, oral (f -> m); the Clichés ™

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who was hired by your father to keep you safe and away from trouble, though he was warned you could be a bit of handful sometimes.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who can’t stand brats, every time you attempt to escape without him noticing he feels like tying you up and fuck your face until you’re crying begging for his forgiveness and promising to be good.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who’s super professional, wearing a full suit and tie everyday, keeping the mysterious look by wearing sunglasses even inside the house. You of course can’t get a hold of yourself and invade his personal space poking his cheek and teasing him for looking so grumpy.

“Aren’t I behaving well today? You know why? Cause I got a date” you whisper the last part as a secret, asking him to not tell your father.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who knows he would just cause more trouble to himself if he tells on you, so with a tired sigh he takes the keys and drives you to the restaurant, not failing to notice the way you pushed your breasts and wore a sweet perfume for the date. He waits patiently by the bar keeping an eye on your table, especially on your date that he can tell almost immediately it’s not worth a damn penny. The way he can’t keep his eyes on your face for more than 3 seconds without dropping to your cleavage and always bringing the topic back to himself makes Nanami wants to break his nose.

“Did you listen to our conversation?” you ask your bodyguard discretely after telling your date you were going to get a drink at the bar.

“A little bit, yes” he lies, of course he heard the whole thing.

“What do you think of him?” Nanami studies you, your fingers are nervously kneading a clean napkin, your eyes are shiny and wide expecting an answer from him, the blond side looks your date who was smiling down at his phone.

“Are you seriously asking me this?” his answer is harsh, you should’ve seen this coming.

“Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t had much luck with men lately” you confess in a moment of vulnerability, “Do you think we can sneak out without him noticing?” Nanami empties his glass of whiskey in one go before placing his hand on your lower back and leading you to the exit.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who keeps wearing sunglasses inside, but he uses it as an excuse to shamelessly stare at your body. You’ve grown too comfortable around him, barely using a bra anymore, bending way too low in that little shorts and showering with your bathroom door open where, even though he can’t see you, the smell coming out of the bathroom and your humming is enough to tempt him into joining you.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who thinks you have been quite good lately, it’s even a little concerning, but peace doesn’t reign for too long and as soon as his guard is down you leave the house on a little party dress and go club.

You manage to get yourself almost two hours drinking and dancing with strangers before your partner has his hands abruptly taken away from your hips as Nanami twists his arm, you look over your shoulder to see your bodyguard murmuring a threat the man you now see it was not nearly as handsome as the one holding his arm to an almost breaking point. You attempt to tiptoe your way out of his sight but he’s quick to catch your wrist, you gasp when meeting his angered features.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be” he threats tightening his grip on you.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who fingers you in the passenger seat of the car, wanting nothing more than to rip that ridiculously short dress into pieces.

“You’re so difficult and for what? Is this what you wanted all this time?” he groans working his fingers firmly while still trying to drive without crashing.

"What you gonna do to me?" you ask biting your nails in antecipation but don't have to wait longer before your bodyguard is roughly throwing you onto the same bed he sees you go to every night with a different nightgown and has to restrain himself from joining you.

Not tonight though, tonight Nanami is getting what he wanted this whole time.

"That's the only way to shut that bratty little mouth of yours, huh" he mutters with your hair around his hand guiding your head between his legs. You ran your hands from the firm muscles of his thigh to the abs under his white shirt feeling it twich on your palm, tugging the material with your other hand as plead through gags for him to take it off.

"Alright, just because you're doing so great" he opens his buttons one by one and gets rid of all the clothes covering his torso, "C'mere" he pulls your hair until his cock slides off with a string of saliva and precum connecting him to your mouth.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who helps you straddle him smiling widely as he sees you pout, "Don't make this face" he runs his thumb on your lower lip, "I'll make it good for us, but before you have to work for it, it's only fair after what you put me through" Nanami slaps your ass, you understand how stressful it must have been for him so you comply, not before picking his tie from the mattress and putting it around your own neck, your bodyguard smiles giving it a hard tug until your lips are on his.

Also part of the Clichés event:

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

“Who did this to you?” Sukuna

Drunk Confession — Toji

“What happened to us?” Gojo

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[memories-of-ancients]

Petronius Maximus --- The dipshit Roman emperor who caused the sack of Rome because he was an arrogant dipshit.

Petronius Maximus was a wealthy Roman politician born in 397 AD to old Roman money. Like many wealthy Romans he went into politics and throughout the early 5th century climbed the ranks of Roman government until he became one of the most powerful men in the Western Roman Empire. He was crafty and he was ambitious. He was also a dipshit and an asshole.

By the 450's P. Maximus had a clear plan, to create a power vacuum in Rome that he could cunningly fill. He began by turning the emperor at the time, Valentinian III, against his magister militum Flavius Aetius. As magister militum Aetius was commander of the Roman Army, and had proven himself a master tactician and brilliant diplomat. Through military victories and diplomacy Aetius was barely holding a crumbling empire together. Maximus convinced Valentinian III that Aetius was looking to usurp his throne. Thus in 454 Valentinian summoned Aetius to his palace and personally murdered him with his sword. Maximus had organized the death of the most talented Roman official in the empire, which in the grand scheme of things was probably a big mistake. With Aetius dead, Maximus expected he would take Aetius' place as magister militum. However Valentinian refused to appoint him as magister militum. Thus in 455 AD, Maximus had him assassinated, hiring two of Aetius' bodyguards to do the deed as revenge.

Several powerful Romans claimed the Imperial throne but Maximus managed to beat them all to the punch by taking over the Imperial Palace and immediately marrying Valentinian's widow, Licinia Eudoxia. Licinia didn't know Maximus had murdered her husband at the time but had suspicions. He also forced her daughters, Placidia and Eudocia to marry his sons. Through deceit and murder Maximus had managed to weasel his way into the Roman Imperial family and was now creating his own Imperial dynasty. Thus Petronius Maximus had become Emperor Dipshit, ruler of the shiny turd of what was left of the Western Roman Empire.

Problem was, when Emperor Dipshit married off Placidia and Eudocia to his sons, he canceled Eudocia's arranged marriage to Hunneric, who was the son of Geiseric, king of the Vandals. The Vandals were a Germanic tribe that had set up a prosperous kingdom in the former Roman province of North Africa, and were constantly raiding the Italian coast. Valentinian had arranged the marriage of Eudocia as a peace offering to Geiseric. Geiseric had received a letter from Eudoxia informing him that Maximus had killed her husband and was canceling the marriage of Eudocia. Geiseric was enraged at Empror Dipshit for canceling the marriage, and sent a Vandal fleet and army to Rome in response. "No problem" said Emperor Dipshit, "we got the Roman Army".

Except there was no Roman Army. Not really. After the death of Aetius the remains of the standing full time professional army had collapsed almost completely. Even Aetius was very dependent on mercenaries and allies. Nobody wanted to enlist in the Roman Army in the 5th century, with Romans going so far as to cut off their own fingers to avoid conscription. The Roman economy was a mess, the Imperial bureaucracy was riddled with corruption, the life of the average Roman was miserable, and by the 5th century most Roman emperors were snobbish, over-privileged, incompetent out of touch dipshits. The empire was dying and everybody knew it. Few believed it was worth saving, and nobody wanted to die for a dipshit emperor such as Emperor Dipshit. By 455 AD what was left of the Roman Army consisted of militia units called "limitanei" who acted as border patrolmen far away from Rome. For more complex military operations the Romans were fully dependent on mercenaries and allies. Emperor Dipshit attempted to enlist the help of the Visigoths, but they were like, "LMFAO nooo, you made your bed now lie in it!" I speculate they knew Maximus was a dipshit who was probably gonna get them all killed.

Emperor Dipshit knew it was a hopeless situation, so he made an announcement to the Roman people to flee and save themselves, then he too turned tail and fled. He was spotted by a large group of Roman refugees, who formed a mob and beat him to death. Good riddance. Emperor Dipshit's glorious reign lasted 77 days.

As far as sackings go the sack of Rome in 455 AD wasn't too bad. The Vandals were Christians, so the Pope was able to convince them not to do the more horrible things like rape and murder civilians, or burn down the city. So for the most part the Vandals refrained from bloodshed and arson. However they did take as many Romans into slavery as they could fit on their ships, and they also looted the city of almost everything of value. Even the bronze tiles on the roof of the Temple of Jupiter were pried off and carted away. Also Geiseric carted off Eudocia and married her off to his son Huneric.

The Vandal's sack of Rome in 455 is where we get the term "vandalism" today. Also did I mention that Petronius Maximus was a dipshit?

[sentientfunfetti]

Yandere! Actor Wally, please...

possessive actor!wally/reader hcs

(actor wally and his au was made by @/frillsand on tumblr! go support their work!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

CW// POSSESSIVE THEMES

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of course, like any other version of him, this one would be very cautious and closed off at first. he wouldn’t share much with you and if he does it’s brief, but after you ‘prove yourself’ to him he immediately becomes attached to you. he's absolutely stuck by you. you're just his assistant but he falls hard. harder than he ever has.

seeing as how you’re the first person to ever see him for who he is, he lets you get away…with a lot. it’s all bias of course, and you may not even use it but you start to notice that your small mistakes barely go noticed. he doesn't even allow anyone else to scold you either. you can tell that his patience is still thin, however.

he values your time with him. in his downtime he’s hellbent on spending time with you and you only, even if this means dragging you along on subtly planned ‘lunch breaks’ with him. (these are dates) or calling you for petty tasks he could have easily done himself just to see you.

he likes spoiling you, and that becomes very obvious very fast. he loves it when you tell him ‘thank you’ for buying you lunch or getting you coffee. he goes from sending you in to get these things for him to go in with you, bringing his bodyguards along.

you take up so much of his mind he starts to stumble in rehearsal. this actually frustrates him at first. he takes his frustration out on you a tad before finally cooling down.

practically demands all of your attention. he goes to you for just about everything. input, script reading, any excuse to see you. any excuse to get closer. he hates the fact that you two have such a professional relationship and wants to be more, even if that means breaking a few rules. it's not like you're a fan, you're his assistant. no harm done.

ignores fanmail entirely. when you ask why he brushes it off the way he usually does. "why would i want a bunch of strangers telling me what i already know?". the truth is very different, however. he secretly wishes to be praised by you and you only.

speaking of, he may not show it but he soaks up any and all praise you give him and internalizes it almost immediately. no matter how small. he loves it when you compliment him.

it's hard to keep his cool when he sees you getting the same treatment from others, however. he silently watches from the corner, fuming. how dare they. until he can muster up the courage to fully compliment you himself, he glares daggers at people who do. repeat offenders get fired and blacklisted from acting entirely.

he is not above blackmail to get his way. not to you, no of course not! other people, however? free game. he has dirt on just about everyone. they don't even know.

even though he has a tendency of doing horrible things to get his way, he always tries to steer away from that entirely. he keeps trying to convince himself that he’s above that and he’s a changed man. unfortunately, you make that a bit hard with how many other people you seem to attract every other day.

appreciates your patience with him most of all. set aside the fact you're not weird about the fact that he's a puppet like most people, he loves your kind heart and wants to protect that, even if that means burning bridges to see more of you. he craves intimacy with you. he hates how weak you make him feel, but he can't help but let all of those walls come crumbling down when you're that nice to him.

isn't good with physical contact at first, so he sticks to small things: 'accidental' brushes against you, linking pinkies with you, shoving you along. he’s experimenting, give him time.

drags you along to rehearse his lines. he loves using his 'deadlines' as an excuse to get your help. he knows he could ask anyone else but why would he? you say yes every time anyway because that's how nice you are. he absolutely loves the scenes where he gets to subtly flirt with you. did the script call for improv? ssssh. doesn't matter. your red face makes it all worth it in the end.

is not above using the character he's playing mannerisms to get his way. he knows he's good at what he does, and he knows he's adorable. he uses this to his advantage, even incorporating past character's mannerisms into his own when he notices people stick to them. this includes you. if he notices you like a certain thing about a character he's playing he is quick to pick up on this and use that against you.

in the end, his end goal is for you to date, and maybe be something more in the future. he's willing to do whatever that takes, even if that means working on himself more just to make sure you're more comfortable with the idea of dating. has no issue with having a 'secret' relationship if that's what you want.

isn't much of a pet name person but he would call you 'hun' sarcastically at first but over time it would become a genuine pet name for him.

if you two do something together then expect that to be something you two do together. he would get upset at people who try and 'butt in' in the things you two do together. those things are for you two and you two only. certified gatekeeper.

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

funny thing! i actually got two requests to do this guy!

it was a bit hard to do seeing as how i don’t really know much about the au, but thank you for requesting it anyway! (both of you LMFAO). i have a few more planned, and two more requests to do. i’m still working on my reboot wally/reader fic so if i seem a bit slow that’s why. please be patient. i already have the outlines and things like that made for the requests i’ve gotten.

thanks for the request, neighbor!

[riki-riks-chick]

like bodyguard jay 🫠🫠🫠 and he is never crossing line but keep callin you "ma'am" 🫠🫠 and fucks you rough but gentle at the same time🫠🫠🫠 i wanna die just thinking about it😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

The Bodyguard ┃P.JS

Bodyguard!jay x reader

You're the daughter of two famous celebrities, jay is your bodyguard

cw: drunk sex (yn slighty drunk), kissing, jealousy, unprotected sex, no prep, bratty yn, slightly rough jay, gentle jay, slight dirty talk.

wdct: 1.6k

═════════════

Third Person POV~

Living as the daughter of a famous actor and actress is not fun. Especially when it always lands you in the media.

You were known for being a bit of a wild child, and you never thought it would land you with a personal bodyguard, but here you are.

Your father got quite upset after waking up to find his daughter all over the internet, kissing some boy who was known for figure skating. After that, he decided to stick you with a bodyguard who was only a couple years older than you.

He was handsome, sure, but it was hell having him follow you everywhere. It's like you never have a second alone.

And he's so formal that it fucking hurts. Always calling you "miss" or "ma'am" like you're some 60 year old woman.

You've tried teasing him, wearing revealing clothes, and even acting extra touchy when you're out drinking with your friends, but it's no use. He refuses to break.

He has never crossed a line. He's never entered your bedroom, not even with permission, and he won't look lower than your eyes when you're wearing anything even slightly revealing. He won't even touch you if it's not for safety purposes.

And now he's ticked you off completely. You were at a party, specifically to fuck around with the son of your mother's co-star. You were warned by your mother to leave him alone, but you decided to be disobedient and hang out with him anyway.

Getting away from Jay was hard enough, but once he found you in the back of a black Rolls Royce with that boy? That dopey, messy-haired, fuckboy? Oh, he was livid. He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out and towards your own car which he'd been driving for you.

You got a rush from the way he grabbed you, tugging your skirt down and not even bothering with the fact that your shirt was partially unbuttoned.

"Jay.. Let go of me!" You yell, albeit slurred, snatching your arm from Jay's hold as he sighs. "Miss Y/n... It's not my fault your dad made me your bodyguard. Quite frankly, I never would've ended up here if you would've simply listened to your parents' orders."

This was the first time he'd ever responded in a non-professional way, and it shut you up immediately. "Listen, I know you don't like me. And I know you wish your dad would fire me, but I'm trying my hardest. I can't watch you do stupid shit like that though."

You simply drop your head, avoiding his eyes as he removes his jacket, placing it on your shoulders. "Let's just get you home.."

He helps you into the car, closing the door before getting in on the driver's side. He buckles your seatbelt before taking off.

When he gets back to your house, he thanks his lucky star that your parents aren't home to see you like this.

He makes it a mission to help you upstairs and then leave, but once he's in your room, you make it your goal to keep him from leaving.

"I should probably go, miss.." He avoids making contact with your cleavage as he pushes you away at the chest, giving himself room to breathe.

"Jay.. Aren't you supposed to do whatever I say?.." You ask as he nods, visibly straightening his posture. "Yes, ma'am.." He swallows hard, scared of his own thoughts in the moment as he takes in your sloppy appearance. His eyes trail the sway of your hips as you saunter over to him.

"Then fuck me..." You say, straightforward and outright. It catches Jay completely off guard. "What?! No!" He immediately rejects, earning a sideways glance from you.

"You interrupted me when I was about to get laid. So you're gonna fuck me instead.." You're clearly serious, but Jay is confused. He's always harboured something less than appropriate for you, but he'd never act on it out of fear of losing his job, and you with it.

"Miss Y/n.. I think it's just the alcohol talking.. Please." You push him against the wall, cutting him off as you press your palm straight against his crotch, palming his very obvious erection.

"Maybe it's your dick talking?..." You question cockily, bringing your left hand up to his nape to tug him closer. His lips ghosted hesitantly over yours. "If you want me... I'm yours for the taking. Stop being so formal."

He's completely sure that his next course of action is led by his dick, but he doesn't care. He cups your jaw gently, closing the small gap between you as he kisses you with a long-hidden passion.

It's feels as if he'd been waiting and yearning for this to happen. His lips press feverishly against yours as he leads you backwards and towards your bed, pulling away only momentarily to let you climb onto the bed.

Once he's back on top of you, hes unbuttoning your shirt, kissing down your torso in the process as he sucks on the available skin that your bra can't cover.

Once he reaches your waist band, he glances up at you, his eyes dark and filled with a burning desire. "Tell me, lovely miss... Did he touch you here..?" He asks, his finger trailing over your cunt through the barrier of your underwear.

"No.. You didn't give him the chance." You reply in a smart-mouthed tone, making him chuckle. "Good, because I would've killed him."

Then he's removing your skirt, tossing it aside carelessly as he tugs you closer by your hips. Your legs are on either side of him, and you have the perfect view as he unbuttons his shirt, slowly revealing his toned torso inch by inch.

As soon as his shirt is off, he's unbuckling his belt, undoing his pants just enough to free his erection. You take a second to marvel at his length, stroking it slowly as his lips part to let out a heavy sigh.

After letting you feel him up, he moves your hand, sliding your panties off as he tosses them across the bed. "Can I put it in..?" He asks, his tone filled with desperation. You nod, not wanting to wait much longer and risk your parents coming home.

The second he presses his tip against your hole, sliding in just slightly, you gasp, biting your lip to supress your moan as he bottoms out, stilling his hips to let you adjust.

"How do you feel?" He asks, rubbing your thigh softly as he watches your chest rise and fall with each breath. You take a second to respond, trying to filter out the slight pain you feel with how deep he is.

"Fuck it, just move." You let out a sigh, gripping his hand as he kisses the back of your hand before moving his hips slowly.

Each slow and deep drag pulls a moan from your throat. The way he's focusing so hard, on every movement, makes it feel so much better altogether.

"Are you okay, miss..?" He asks, using his free hand to cup your cheek as you nod. "I'm fine. And please stop it with all the miss and ma'am bullshit. Just call me Y/n."

At your bratty response, he thrusts particularly hard, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he quickens his pace. "Such harsh words coming from such a pretty mouth. Be nice..."

"Be nice, my ass.." You argue, tilting your head back as he moves his hips faster against yours, his thumb rubbing your clit in circular motions. The feeling is absolute torture, but you'd be lying of you said it didn't make you feel incredible.

"I wanna see the pretty little face you make when you cum... I wanna hear how good I make you feel."

"Jay... Fuck.." You moan, gripping his wrist as he smiles. "Your moans are so pretty.. I could listen to them forever.." He's already tailing his own orgasm, the feeling of you tightening around him edging him closer and closer.

"I'm gonna cum..." You whimper, gripping his forearm as he thrusts deeper, aiming for that one spot that made you see stars. "Cum for me, angel..." He encourages, his thrusts getting sloppy as his own climax builds up in the pit of his stomach.

"Fuck... Do you want me to pull out?.." He asks, unsure of how much longer he'll last. "Don't pull out." You command, making his heart flutter. "Yes ma'am..."

You groan at the choice of words, biting your lip to supress your moans as he tightened his hold on your hip, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Shit... Jay.." Your words come off as more of a whisper as your orgasm washes over you. You tighten around Jay, tilting your head back against the pillows as he lets out a deep moan, his hips stuttering.

He comes undone, filling you with his seed as he leans down to kiss you, his hips moving slowly against yours. "You feel so good.."

"I'm gonna make my dad fire you..." You mumble, finally managing to say something. Jay's eyebrow raises at your words, tracing soft patterns on your skin. "Why would you want that?"

"So I can keep you to myself like this.. So you don't hold back with me.." You explain as he smiles, leaning down to capture your lips softly with his own. "Angel, you don't have to get me fired for me to love you.. I promise you, I'm done holding back..."

═════════════

tysm for the req hope it was okay

[chvoswxtch]

take the day off

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: after an intense night with your bodyguard, a new revelation completely changes your perception of him, and your feelings along with it.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of blood & violence

word count: 3.5k

a/n: first of all, thank you so much to @lowkeythor for the request that inspired this whole series! & thank you so much to everyone that enjoyed the first part and wanted more. i’m still figuring out exactly what I wanna do with this series as far as how many parts it will be, but it will definitely be a slow burn! as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Dozens of stars intermittently twinkled against the backdrop of a deep sapphire night sky. Some of them were aligned in perfect constellations you couldn’t remember the names of. The moon was nowhere in sight, but its glow still lingered through the glass of your window. The rest of your room was dark apart from the light peaking through beneath your door from the hallway. Sleep had evaded you for the past twenty minutes, and the lull didn’t seem to be coming any time soon.

Turning over onto your back, you closed your eyes as you let out a deep sigh. The events of the night flashed behind your eyelids like a home movie on a projector, and you wished you could cut some parts from the reel. You could almost still feel the warmth of Frank’s body as he’d held you in the living room, the firmness of his chest beneath his shirt, the rough pads of his fingers dancing along the exposed skin on your back. 

Tonight was the most he had ever spoken to you since he’d been hired. It completely changed your perception of him. Initially you’d thought he was a bit of a dick. He was always quiet, never spoke more than he had to, and the only emotions he seemed capable of expressing were anger, annoyance, and any variations of those two. But tonight you’d seen him smile, granted it was tiny and fleeting, but God it was a beautiful sight. You wondered what he looked like when he really smiled, teeth and all. You also wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked.

Stop it.

You were being ridiculous. He was your bodyguard. He was hired to protect you. Everything he did for you tonight was because it was his job, not because he liked you. Even if it wasn’t totally unacceptable and unethical for you two to have anything other than a professional relationship, any slight chance you ever had with Frank Castle went completely out the window tonight. Maybe tipsy you couldn’t be trusted after all. 

A sound from outside your room had you stilling completely, and your ears instantly perked up. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you quietly got out of bed and silently made your way across the room to the door, placing your ear against the door to get a better listen. It sounded like drawers were being shuffled and cabinets were being searched in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Frank.

Carefully twisting the knob on your door, you pulled it back slowly and peaked out into the hall. Your brows knit together curiously seeing that the guest room across the hall from yours was open, but empty. Turning your head slightly, you saw the bathroom door was open and the light was on, but there wasn’t a sign of Frank at all.

The events from earlier tonight came flooding back all at once, and your fingers trembled slightly as they gripped onto the door knob.

“Frank?”

Heavy boots thudded against ceramic tile, and Frank immediately appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. He must have heard the nerves in your voice because his eyes darted between you and the hallway as if he was searching for something, finally settling his gaze back on you.

“Yeah?”

A sigh of relief left your lips and you let your head rest against your bedroom door as you took a moment to gather yourself. Catching his eyes again, you shook your head slightly as you gave him a timid smile.

“Just…making sure that was you.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was still awake. Um…are you looking for something?”

“Yeah, I was tryin’ to find a first aid kit. Thought I had one in my truck. You got one?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Nah, just gotta wrap this.”

Frank briefly held up his right hand and the motion immediately caught your attention. It looked like he had washed all of the blood off his hands, but his knuckles were still stained crimson. A slight pout formed on your lips as you fully pushed open your bedroom door, making your way down the hall towards him. Without thinking, you carefully picked up his wrist and placed his hand in your palm to inspect it. You couldn’t tell what to focus on first; the size of his hand compared to yours or the damage that was a result of your selfishness.

“Frank-”

“It ain’t as bad as it looks.”

“Are we looking at the same thing?”

Lifting your gaze up to meet his, you sucked in a quick breath noticing how close you were to him again.

And that he had undone a few buttons on his shirt.

“I’ve had worse.”

Quickly dropping your gaze back to his hand and hoping you hadn’t been caught staring, you nodded slowly and gently tugged at his wrist.

“I have one in my bathroom. Come on.”

Frank didn’t budge at all when you tried to tug him along. Instead he gave a shake of his head and pulled his wrist from your grasp.

“If you can just grab it for me, I got it.”

“Frank, this is all my fault. Please let me fix it.”

“It really ain’t-”

“Please?”

Frank started down at you silently for a moment, glancing down at his hand before searching your eyes again. He parted his lips to let out a deep exhale as he turned his head to the side, eyes drifting over the bathroom before finally nodding and gesturing towards the hall.

“Alright, fine.”

As he sat down on the toilet seat so that you could be somewhat even in height, it occurred to you that Frank had never been in your bedroom before, which he had to go through to get to your bathroom. A tiny piece of you panicked, not even remembering if it was clean or not, hoping you hadn’t left anything laying around like a bra, or God forbid something worse. After you retrieved the first aid kit from under the sink and opened it on the counter, you grabbed a packet that contained an alcohol wipe and tore it open. 

“This is gonna sting.”

Frank only grunted in response. Wrapping your fingers around his wrist lightly, you dabbed as delicately as you could at the wounds covering Frank’s knuckles. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his jaw clench, and you quietly whispered an apology as you tried to disinfect it as quickly as possible. Your brows furrowed as you studied the angry flesh that was split unevenly.

“Is that normal?”

“What?”

“For this to happen. They almost look swollen.”

“You hit somethin’ hard enough, yeah. They’ll go down.”

You hit something hard enough.

A brief glimpse of that man’s mangled face popped into your head and it made you shudder. Swallowing thickly, you pulled out another packet of antibiotic cream and grabbed a q-tip from a jar on your counter. You delicately applied it to each of his knuckles, making sure they were evenly coated.

“You don’t know how to hit?”

Glancing up from Frank’s hand, you shot him a puzzled look as a breathless laugh escaped your mouth.

“If I did, I wouldn’t need you.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed slightly at your comment, and you shook your head as you smiled to yourself and reached for a packet of gauze.

“No Frank, I don’t know how. I’ve never hit someone before. I’ve never even slapped someone before.”

His eyes followed your every move as you threaded the gauze bandage carefully between each of his fingers to wrap his hand. Once you were satisfied with your work, you closed the first aid kit and pulled a bottle of advil out of your cabinet to set on the counter in front of him.

“I know you probably don’t need it, because you’re very tough, but I’m formally requesting you take it for my sake. And to help reduce the swelling.”

Frank’s eyes drifted from the bottle up to meet yours, a dry scoff leaving his lips as he shook his head at the tiny smirk covering your mouth. Running his tongue along his bottom lip, he motioned his head towards the bottle and looked up at you with the faintest of playful smiles curling at the corner of his lips.

“You mind openin’ that? See, someone got my hand all fucked up tonight. I ain’t supposed to be usin’ it, doc’s orders.”

“Oh, you caught my doctorate on the way in? I was hoping you’d notice.”

“Yeah, any other secret talents you hidin’?”

“A few. Gotta keep you on your toes, Castle.”

Dropping two pills into Frank’s uninjured hand, you placed the bottle back into your cabinet and stowed the first aid kit back beneath the sink. You motioned with your finger for him to follow you, thankful your back was to him as you tried to contain your giddiness as you led him to the kitchen. Frank never entertained your banter before. He never gave in to your questions or attempts to pull him out of his ironclad shell, and you weren’t sure why he was tonight, but you definitely weren’t complaining. Maybe tipsy you was right. Maybe you should cause a little bit more trouble sometimes.

Pulling a glass from the cabinet, you filled it with water and handed it to Frank. His fingers lightly grazed yours as he took the glass from you, motioning it in your direction as a signal of thanks before popping the pills into his mouth and downing half the water. You pulled open the freezer door and pulled out an ice pack, holding it out for him.

“Again, I know you probably don’t need this, but I’m making another formal request.”

“These uh, formal requests, I’m allowed to say no?”

“I don’t think there is anyone in this world that could make you do something you don’t wanna do, but I am a doctor, so.”

“Hard to argue with that. I mean you did go to-”

“Fancy doctor school.”

“Right, right. So bein’ a journalist, that’s…?”

“A cover.”

“Course. Makes sense.”

Frank guzzled the rest of the water and placed the glass in the sink, taking the ice pack with an exasperated sigh as he placed it over his hand and held it up in your direction to check your satisfaction. A soft smile took over your lips, and in a moment of vulnerability you found yourself feeling immensely grateful for his presence.

“Thank you.”

“You’re the doc.”

“No, I meant…for staying and…being so…so nice to me tonight. I um…I really appreciate you being here. I really didn’t wanna be alone.”

Whatever playful flame was dancing around in Frank’s eyes was immediately extinguished by your words, and he abruptly stood up a little straighter. He looked down at his hand and grabbed the ice pack, motioning it in your direction.

“Thanks for uh, fixin’ me up and all.”

“Thanks for letting me.”

Frank gave a slight nod of his head, making a low sound in the back of his throat in response. For a moment you both stood there silently, unsure of what to say to one another next. He cleared his throat as he looked everywhere around the kitchen but at you.

“You should get some sleep.”

A slight pang of disappointment cut through you as you realized whatever moment you two had been having was gone. The Frank you were used to was back, and he was throwing that barricade right back up.

“Right. So should you.”

You turned before he could see the despondency in your eyes, hearing the weight of his boots on the floor as he followed behind you down the hall. Stopping at your bedroom door, you did your best to appear neutral as you turned to face him and gestured towards the guest room.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Okay. Well, um…goodnight, again.”

“Night.”

No sweetheart this time. Guess it was nice while it lasted.

Forcing a tight lipped smile, you slipped back into your bedroom and closed the door. Resting your forehead against the cool wood, you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath as you heard the door to the guest room shut. 

It was going to be a really long night.

»»———　　———««

A good two hours had passed since your second interaction with Frank. Time seemed to pass like amber sap oozing from a wounded tree, trickling down languidly every time you checked the clock. You had overanalyzed every second, every word, every little movement, and you couldn’t figure out what exactly had caused Frank to shift so quickly. It was driving you absolutely insane, and you kept talking yourself out of getting up to wake him to ask him what the hell his problem was.

On one hand, Frank didn’t owe you anything. He didn’t have to be nice to you. He didn’t have to be here with you. He didn’t even technically have to speak to you. You were a job to him; nothing more, nothing less.

But if you were just a job, why was he here? Why was he being so nice to you out of the blue? Yeah, tonight had been scary for you. But it wasn’t exactly that close of a call. You weren’t in any real danger. Did he feel bad because you had cried? Why did he feel the need to comfort you? You were the one that had fucked up after all. He didn’t have to let you tend to his hand. He didn’t have to banter with you. So why did he? 

All these questions were brewing around in your head like a storm, and the one person that could answer them was right across the hall.

Fuck it.

Furiously throwing the covers off your body, you climbed out of bed and swiftly opened your bedroom door, standing face to face with the door that Frank was on the other side of in just three short steps. As you raised your fist prepared to knock hard enough to wake the dead, something in your subconscious unexpectedly halted your movements. You furrowed your brows as an uneasy feeling crept up your spine, and an image from earlier suddenly flashed in your head.

The memory of Frank standing in the bathroom with a few buttons of his shirt undone had instantly sent you into a daze, and you remembered quickly dropping your eyes before you had gotten caught staring. All at once that moment was no longer fuzzy in your head, and your brain had finally caught up enough to process the sight clearly. Frank had been wearing a chain around his neck, and there was a golden pendant hanging off of it that gleamed in the middle of his chest. 

You remembered it catching your eye, but you hadn’t gotten a chance to inspect it since you forced yourself to look away so quickly. What was it? And why was it filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread?

It almost looked like…

A wedding band.

»»———　　———««

Sleep never came. Guilt flooded your entire body the second it all clicked into place, and it had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach ever since. It was a simple, gold wedding band. It had to have been his, which meant Frank had been married. Maybe he still was. Maybe he was going through a divorce, holding onto that symbol of a promise and hoping for a different outcome. You felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for the way you had acted towards him.

Frank didn’t reject your relentless effort to get close to him because of his job or because he wasn’t into you, or…maybe he did, but it was most likely because you made him uncomfortable. Here he was just trying to do his damn job, possibly win back his wife he clearly still loved, and you were making his life hell for selfish reasons. Glancing at the clock on your phone, you let out a soft sigh as the numbers showed it was seven in the morning. Sleep was never gonna come.

As you quietly made your way past the closed guest room door and into the kitchen, you instantaneously paused when you saw Frank sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee in his uninjured hand. He seemed just as surprised to see you as you were to see him, but he quickly covered it up with a neutral expression, leaning back in the chair and setting the cup down while he eyed you curiously.

“You’re up awful early for someone that’s gotta have a hell of a hangover.”

You didn’t know what to say to him. All you could manage was a timid apparition of a smile as you nodded and made your way towards the cabinets to grab yourself a mug. Even though your back was to him, you could practically feel his gaze boring into you as you loaded a pod into your coffee machine and pressed the button to brew. You couldn’t look at him after your revelation last night.

“How you feelin’?”

“Better than I deserve.”

Normally you were the one asking all the questions. You figured if you didn’t ask any, Frank would revert back to his normal state of being stoic and silent. But for some reason, he was the one with the questions today.

“You take somethin’? Gotta have a killer headache I reckon.”

Responding with a quiet hum, you continued to fix your coffee the way you liked, feeling suddenly lucky that the layout of your kitchen kept you from having to face him. You’d hoped your luck would continue and you’d be able to slip into your office without having to exchange another word, but it had apparently run out. You weren’t sure how you didn’t hear him getting up, but as you turned to place your spoon in the sink, he was right there in front of you staring down at you with narrowed eyes. 

“You sure you’re feelin’ alright? You’re awful quiet this mornin’.”

Anxiety thundered loudly in your chest, and you found yourself having an extremely hard time maintaining eye contact with him. Why today, of all days, had he picked to be the chatty one?

“I’m sure.”

Frank squinted slightly at the smallness of your voice. The look in his eyes told you he didn’t believe you, and you did your best to appear nonchalant as you stepped around him to place your spoon in the sink with trembling fingers. For the first time since you’d met Frank, you wanted him to leave. 

“You…um, you can go.”

“No I can’t.”

Frank’s voice was rough as it cut through your quiet kitchen. He almost sounded…aggravated? Stepping around his large figure again, you grabbed your coffee off the counter and continued to avoid making eye contact with him.

“It’s alright. I don’t plan on going anywhere today.”

“Doesn’t mean I can just leave-”

“I’m telling you that you can.”

Looking up at him was a huge mistake. His features were rigid as he stared you down, taking a step forward in your direction as he nodded his head towards you.

“You want me gone?”

Frank’s voice was monotone as it came out, but there was an edge to it that rang in your ears. You quickly shook your head as you held your cup to your chest, clasping your shaky fingers tightly around the ceramic. You had to make a case he couldn’t argue with.

“I was a huge pain in the ass last night. I put you in a shitty situation, and I got you hurt-”

“I told you I was fine, and to quit worryin’ ‘bout me-”

“Frank, please. I feel really bad about it, okay? Please just take the day off. I’m gonna be in my office all day anyway getting caught up. I really don’t plan on going anywhere. If I need you, I’ll call. I promise.”

A muscle in Frank’s jaw feathered as he clenched it, and you noticed the way his fists tightened slightly at his sides. You could almost see the internal dispute behind his dark eyes as they continued to stare you down. Blowing an irritated exhale out of his nose, he nodded his head curtly.

“Fine. But Russo’s gonna have someone posted outside as soon as I step out that door. That ain’t up for debate.”

You gave a slight nod of your head in response, knowing it was best not to argue with Frank right now, and not having the energy to anyway. He gave you one last hard look before stomping over towards the table to grab his cup, downing the rest of its contents and setting it in the sink before he was practically slamming your front door shut behind him.

True to his word, an all black sleek vehicle pulled up outside of your place not even five minutes later, and Frank was gone.

tags: @jwjeepers @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042

[logansargeantsbabymom]

A Love Worth Fighting For

Bodyguard!Lando Norris x Fem!Actress!Reader

CHAPTERS 1 & 2

Genre: Forbidden Bodyguard to Lover

Warnings: Smut (Not yet), This is (MY VERSION of) a Slow Burn story!

(Should I make A Love Worth Fighting For Masterlist?)

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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Chapter 1: Y/N

I was lounging in my sprawling living room, idly flipping through scripts, when my phone buzzed. It was a message from Daniel Ricciardo, my best friend who drove for Red Bull Racing. 

Daniel: Hey, Y/N! How about coming to the Silverstone GP next weekend? It's been ages since we hung out at a race!

A smile spread across my face. I hadn’t been to a race in a while, and the idea of seeing Daniel again was enticing. Plus, I could use a break from the constant whirlwind of movie sets and press tours.

Y/N: Count me in! Can't wait to see you!

As I hit send, I glanced over at Lando, my ever-watchful bodyguard. He was stationed by the door, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of diligence that came from years of training. Lando Norris had been assigned to me after a particularly harrowing kidnapping attempt a year ago. Since then, he’d been my shadow, a constant presence in my life. His job was to keep me safe, and he took it seriously.

“We’re going to the Silverstone GP next weekend,” I announced, catching his attention.

Lando nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

The rest of the week passed in a blur of preparations. I coordinated with my stylist for a race-appropriate yet chic outfit, made sure my schedule was clear, and mentally prepared for the throngs of fans and media that would undoubtedly swarm the event.

Finally, the day arrived. Lando and I boarded a private jet to England. The flight was smooth, filled with light banter and discussions about the race. Despite his professional demeanor, I’d grown to appreciate Lando’s quiet presence and dry sense of humor.

As we touched down in England, a sense of excitement buzzed through me. I was eager to see Daniel and soak in the electrifying atmosphere of the race. But as always, there was an underlying tension, a reminder of the constant vigilance required to keep me safe.

When we arrived at the track, the roar of the engines and the sea of fans were exhilarating. Daniel greeted me with a bear hug, his infectious energy lifting my spirits. 

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed. 

I laughed, returning his embrace. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Dan.”

Lando stood a few steps behind me, his eyes scanning the surroundings. I could feel his protective gaze, a silent promise that he was there to keep me safe.

The day was a whirlwind of excitement. Daniel introduced me to some of his teammates, and I soaked in the sights and sounds of the race. But as the sun began to set, a sense of unease settled over me. The crowds were growing thicker, and I could feel the weight of their stares.

Lando must have sensed my discomfort because he stepped closer, his hand gently resting on my back. “We should head back to the hotel,” he murmured.

I nodded, grateful for his presence. As we made our way through the throngs of fans, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. 

Just as we reached the exit, a group of men blocked our path, their expressions hostile. Lando immediately stepped in front of me, his posture tense and ready for a fight.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

My heart pounded in my chest as I clung to his jacket, fear creeping in. 

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted from excitement to danger, leaving me on edge as I wondered what would happen next.

Chapter 2: Y/N

The men in front of us radiated hostility, their eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity. I could feel Lando's body tense, ready to spring into action at any moment. My heart raced, but I knew better than to panic. Lando had drilled it into me time and time again: stay calm, stay alert.

One of the men stepped forward, a smirk playing on his lips. "You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?" he sneered.

Lando's voice was calm but firm. "Back off. We're leaving."

The man laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Not so fast. We just want a little chat with the princess here."

I could feel the bile rising in my throat. This was exactly the kind of situation Lando had warned me about. My fame made me a target, and there were always people looking to take advantage of that.

Lando didn't hesitate. In a swift, fluid motion, he pushed me behind him and squared off against the men. "I said, back off," he repeated, his voice like steel.

The tension in the air was palpable. I could see the men sizing Lando up, trying to decide if he was worth the trouble. It was clear that they hadn't anticipated running into someone like him.

Finally, the leader of the group seemed to come to a decision. He held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright. We'll leave the princess alone."

But as they turned to leave, one of them lunged at Lando, a knife glinting in his hand. Everything happened in a blur. Lando twisted out of the way, his movements precise and controlled. He grabbed the man's arm, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. 

The other men, seeing their comrade incapacitated, quickly backed off, muttering curses under their breath as they fled.

Lando didn't let go of the man's arm until he was sure they were gone. Then, he released him with a shove, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Go," he growled. The man scrambled to his feet and ran.

I was shaking, my heart pounding in my chest. Lando turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes. Thank you."

He gave me a small, reassuring smile. "Let's get you back to the hotel."

As we walked away, I couldn't help but glance back at the spot where the confrontation had occurred. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, but there was something else too – a growing sense of admiration for Lando. He had risked his own safety to protect me, and he had done it without hesitation.

We reached the hotel without further incident. Lando escorted me to my room, his hand gently resting on my back. Once we were inside, he turned to me, his expression serious.

"Y/N, I need you to understand something," he said, his voice low. "My job is to protect you, no matter what. But you have to be careful too. There are always going to be people who want to take advantage of your fame."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I know, Lando. I just… I didn't think it would happen here."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It can happen anywhere. That's why I'm here."

I looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. He was more than just my bodyguard. He was my protector, my confidant, and maybe, just maybe, something more.

But as I opened my mouth to say something, the words caught in my throat. This was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts. I had to keep my feelings in check, at least for now.

And as I lay in bed that night, the events of the day replaying in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Because one thing was certain: Lando Norris had become more than just my bodyguard. He had become an integral part of my life, and I wasn't sure how to navigate the growing feelings that stirred within me.

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