#bob saginowski imagine

[mlmxreader]

Just The Sunshine | Bob Saginowski x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Bob Saginowski Hiya! Hope all is good 🖤. May I please request something using the following prompts for Bob Saginowski X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "Get closer, I want to remember the colour of your eyes" Thank you 🖤🖤! 🐍anon

summary: things get a little heated between you and Bob when he spends the day in the garden.

tws: suggestive content, swearing

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Bob was all too aware of your gaze on his back, burning into him so harshly and so hot that it made a cool sweat drip down his exposed skin; it had been a hot day, and it was only natural that he had taken his shirt off.

Exposing his tattoos and his stomach that hung over the edge of his jeans. Exposing his thick arms and his soft back. Flesh your hands and lips had graced a thousand times over, yet now you looked at him as if you had never seen his skin before; your gaze soon turned to hunger when he turned around slightly, giving you a show of his stomach and his chest.

The trail of hair that ran from his navel down, dipping beneath the denim curtain so horribly. You swallowed thickly, bringing your drink loaded with ice to your lips and taking a long, drawn out gulp of it; it clung to the skin above your upper lip as you lost focus, staring at Bob.

Rocco was happy, playing in the garden with his ball on a rope; he tossed it in the air and caught it, chasing it around.

But Bob was busy, chopping back the grass and digging holes for the native flowers that you had picked out together. His hands were rough and dirty, calluses highlighted by the dark mud. Oh, and how the sweat dripped down his body. His skin glistened beneath the thin sheet, the salt of his sweat upon his brow and his hair flat from the dampness.

You squirmed in your seat, suddenly feeling something hot coursing through your veins. Something that wasn't caused by the day's heat. You clenched your jaw, taking in a sharp breath as you let your drink rest on the table, reaching to grab your cigarettes in hope that one would calm you down.

Bob sat on the grass by the table, right in the perfect lighting. The bastard. He took one look at you, and furrowed his wet brows. "You okay?"

You nodded, breath shaky and heart pounding as you did your best to muster the ability to speak. "Yeah, just… just really hot."

"We'll get an umbrella," he shrugged, squinting as he looked at the sky. Sweat on his neck, running down the soft skin. "It's not gonna cool off until later in the week."

You sighed, hoping that your feelings for your boyfriend would fade when it cooled off. But he looked so tempting. The wetness of his skin, glittering. His tattoos all on show and every curve and every bit of chub more than visible. Nothing to the imagination.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you fought back the urge to jump on him then and there. Fuck. Bob could be so tempting even when you didn't want him to be. You cleared your throat, trying to cure the shakiness and the thundering of your own heart.

"Yeah, an umbrella might be a good idea."

Bob pulled his phone out from his pocket, but you were too busy staring at his arms and his chest to even think about it when he opened up the website to a DIY shop and began talking about the prices and sizes of outdoor umbrellas; he had no idea what he was doing to you. He had no idea how tempting he looked.

You knew that most people in the neighbourhood had a crush on him, and that some envied the fact that he was with you and not them, but as you looked at him, you knew that you would feel the same. Bob was everything; charming, sweet, gentle, handsome, and kind. He only ever raised his voice at the dog when he ran off too far and Bob wouldn't be heard otherwise. Bob was great.

You had to admit, you loved him more than anything else in the world… except maybe the way he always made coffee the exact way you liked it. But you couldn't stop yourself, looking him up and down shamelessly.

"What?" He grinned when he noticed you staring, tilting his head to the side innocently. "Something in my teeth?"

You shook your head, licking your lips and internally kicking yourself for being so fucking obvious. "No, just… get closer, I want to remember the colour of your eyes."

Bob didn't question it, dragging himself over so that he could kneel between your legs, a fond smile on his lips. He could be so violent and so cruel, and yet when he was with you, he was peaceful and so gentle. He leaned into the touch when you ran your hand through his damp hair, daring to get up, planting his hands on the arms of your chair. Trapping you and pretending like he didn't notice your hand resting on his chest. He looked at your lips for a moment.

"You're really warm," he said quietly, placing his hand on your cheek. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

You shook your head, swallowing thickly and hoping it wasn't audible when he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Your heart skipped a beat as you fought back the urge to whimper. "Bob…"

"Maybe we should go inside," he murmured. "Get you cooled down a little."

You shook your head. "It's just the sun got to me a little bit. I need another drink, that's all."

He nodded slowly, although something told you that he didn't entirely believe that you had just been a little bit dehydrated from the weather; not by the way you were staring at him at least.

"Stay here," he gently kissed your forehead. "I'll get you one."

You nodded, wishing he didn't pull away but still leaning over in your chair to watch him walk away when you were sure he wouldn't notice; you had to fan yourself a little when you leaned back. Fuck, it was great to watch him walk away.

Bob smiled to himself. Even after so long together, you still checked him out and ogled him like it was the first date.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Okay, unpopular opinion time!

Bob Saginowski humps his pillow.

I’m sorry, you can’t change my mind. Please don’t ask why I so firmly stand by this, but somehow it seems logical to me.

Especially when you make it werewolf!Bob slowly going into rut and only being able to think of the pretty girl he recently met (a.k.a. you).

This idea (both versions, in fact) has been milling in my head and I have a mighty need to write it. I know it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but, oh boy, oh boy, is it mine.😏

(Just as is Forrest Bondurant doing the same thing. Thou shall not try me on this too.)

Now let’s see if I can turn it into something concrete, eh?😉

Tag list: @potter-solomons @hecatemoon87 @zablife @liliac-dreamer @ilovemanypeople @vir-tual @buttercup32sstuff

[hecatemoon87]

Hey darling, i hope you are doing fine!

I'm going through a real hard time right now and i'm in a constant cycle of being sad, growing desperate, start crying, getting angry (mostly at myself cuz i'm a useless piece of 💩) cry some more and then just feeling numb until the sadness returns and everything starts over again.

How do you think the different Hardy characters would deal with that? Alfie, Eddie, Tommy, Bob, Forrest and all the other wonderful characters? Sorry for bothering

Dear Friend,

I'm sorry to hear that you're feeling down. It sounds like you are struggling with some overwhelming emotions. And that is something that I can relate to.

Let me first say, you are not a useless piece of sh*t. You are a wonderful human being who is trying their best at existing in a complicated world.

The complexity of the world is confusing and frustrating. And sometimes it is hard to process all the negativity, causing emotional anguish at a level equal to physical pain.

What you need to know is that the universe sees good, and it wants you to feel good. As long as we try to do better, be kind, tolerant and patient we can find balance between our mind and spirit.

You are worthy, you are good and you are strong. It is okay to cry, it is okay to have bad days, it is okay to feel what you're feeling. But I just want you to know that you are more than you think you are.

You have more power than you could possibly imagine, it's in your heart, believe me, it's there. You just gotta search for it, and you'll find that you are strong, powerful and filled with goodness.

Now, you are interested in how Tom Hardy Character's would deal with such emotions? Let's see then!

Alfie Solomons

I don't think Alfie has ever processed his emotions in healthy way. He probably suffers from PTSD from the war. It would be hard not to, even though I think he is of a stronger mind than most. He certainly has anger issues, but I believe he keeps his mind occupied by challenging himself against others regarding wits and strategy. A healthy habit is to stay occupied, and Alfie is always on the move.

Eddie Brock

I think Eddie would allow himself to feel his emotions completely. He isn't the type to feel unmasculine if he cries. Though Eddie is impulsive and causes a good portion of his own drama, he seems to be able to express his emotions rather than bottling them up. I feel like Eddie would be willing to go to therapy to work on his issues. Finding a good therapist is a very helpful tool in trying to process complex emotions, and lord knows Eddie has a few of those.

Tommy Conlon

Poor Tommy, talk about a man who has experienced trauma. Instead of embracing the need to address his issues, he tries to push down the pain with pills or fighting in the ring. I think he's the type of man who would require his significant other to support him through his pain. The woman he would be with needs to remind him of his mother in some way. Meaning that she would need to give him the same love and comfort that he had lost when his mother died. Finding a support group or even just a friend is important. And Tommy needs that.

Bob Saginowski

I feel like Bob is kind hearted and a good man. But over all, it seems he can process stressful situations fairly well. He understands what is right and what is wrong. It's wrong to hurt a defenseless puppy, and it's wrong to abuse a defenseless woman. It is not wrong to bring justice to someone who is bad. And Bob is able to sleep at night with the choices he has made. This type of person is rare I think. Not to say that Bob is a psycho! He is just able to use logic over his emotions, and according to studies, it is a rare trait.

Forrest Bondurant

We all know how Forrest functions. In silence! But, oh, boy, this man FEELS things. He just doesn't show it. He experiences rage, sadness, passion and endurance in a stoic and undetectable manner. He is a man of action. You won't find him sitting around complaining. He's gonna stand up and walk out that door. And lord have mercy on whoever pisses him off! That isn't exactly healthy...violence is never the answer, but hey, it's 1931, therapy wasn't invented just yet. And not like Forrest would go...maybe Maggie could have persuaded him?

[cinebration]

Sunshine (Bob Saginowski x Reader) [Request]

Hi! Could I please request a Bob Saginowski fic where she works at the bar and is always happy and bubbly and just a carefree ray of sunshine? But one day there's some trouble with a payment or something and a few gang guys show up. And while naturally he tries to protect her and get her out of the way, she surprises him by showing some real teeth and being a badass. He won't show it but internally he's like 😍 If that doesn't inspire you, feel free to discard. Thank you! 🖤—Requested by anon

Warnings: blood, stabbing, violence

Gif Source: rioliv

When Bob first met you, he didn’t know how to interact with you. It was beyond his social capacity, but not in the sense that he could not carry on a conversation or treat you like anyone else. It was your attitude toward life that absolutely confused him.

To be fair, he had seen few happy people. The intoxicated patrons at the bar who turned happy and bubbly did not inherently enter the bar that way, and the lubrication made their happiness a lie. The rest of the regulars attended the bar to drown away their sorrows or wallow further in them still. He was, therefore, infrequently around people who were genuinely happy and content with their lives. It just wasn’t common in the neighborhood.

When you came in to tend bar—one of the few women that had ever been employed at Marv’s, it being one of those bars that only really kept male bartenders—Bob almost couldn’t speak to you. The energy radiating from you, from your easy smile and bright eyes to the way you spoke, overwhelmed him. It didn’t seem feasible that someone embodying a literal ray of sunshine, so to speak, could ever cross his path, let alone illuminate the dark and dusky confines of the bar.

He hired you merely because he wasn’t sure he could say no. He wasn’t sure he had said anything. He recalled the meeting as you stepping into the place, asking about the bartender position, and more or less declaring you were working for him right then and there. If he had said anything, it had probably not been more than a grunt and a nod.

Bob scheduled your shifts on the nights there wasn’t a drop. He realized belatedly that he did it deliberately so that he minimized his own overlapping shifts with you, though it was more or less his establishment now and he was there every night. But working in the back wasn’t the same as being behind the counter with you. He could only take so much of your brightness before he had to retreat. It was blinding.

The patrons, of course, loved you. You drew a larger crowd on the nights you served drinks, helping to stuff the till with money Bob hadn’t accounted for in the income statements. Even the regulars perked up a fraction when they strode into the bar and saw you behind the counter, your face radiating the most welcoming expression any of them had ever seen in their dreary and weary lives.

Several months after your hiring, Bob took up position behind the counter and glanced at the clock, wondering where Thomas, the other bartender, was. The front door opened, and you stepped through, flashing a killer smile in Bob’s direction. He went still, frowning.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m covering for Thomas,” you answered. Stepping behind the counter, you tied an apron around your waist and quickly took stock of the inventory along the wall and under the counter.

Bob watched you with a growing sense of apprehension, the hair on his neck prickling in alarm. Tonight was a drop-off night. He didn’t want you around the money. Not because you weren’t to be trusted. He didn’t want you in the room when the pick-up happened.

“Why?”

“Thomas woke up feeling sick. I told him I could cover.”

Another creeping suspicion crawled up Bob’s spine. “You that friendly with Thomas?”

You went to the sink to wash your hands as you finished your inventory. “He texted the group.”

Bob nodded slowly, glanced over at the clock. He expected the drop at nine, the pick-up at closing. Both were still several hours away.

With each passing minute, Bob felt his anxiety grow. It was an unfamiliar feeling, him being too much of a pragmatist to become antsy over something trivial. Very few drops caused problems. The bar would be busy, keeping you occupied, and he could dismiss you a little early so that you weren’t around when the pick-up happened.

Still, his stomach churned unpleasantly, and he kept a wary eye on the door, waiting for the manila envelope of cash.

~~

Five minutes to two, Bob kicked out the last of the regulars.

“You can go home,” he told you quietly, his voice not at all betraying his anxiety.

The drop had never arrived. Bob knew he hadn’t confused the days; he was too organized and conscientious for that.

Something had to have happened, and unless the Chechens were already aware of it, they would assume that Bob had something to do with it.

You shook your head. “I’ll help clean up. It’s not closing yet.”

“You can go home early.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind. Plus, until it’s officially closing, I can’t have you walk me to my car.” You smiled apologetically. “I don’t like walking to it alone this late.”

“I can walk you now.”

“We can walk out together when you close up.”

Bob stared at you, trying not to let his anxious frustration show. Your unflappable energy made you stubborn, a quality he could understand and in other circumstances appreciate and admire.

But not tonight.

“You really need to leave,” he said.

You stared back, your bright expression faltering into something almost like a frown. It hurt Bob to see it. “What? Why?”

The front door opened. Bob glanced at the time.

The Chechens were early.

You looked over your shoulder at the two men entering the bar. Bob crossed over to you, positioning himself between you and the men.

“Bob,” the greasiest of the two greeted. “We good?”

Bob shook his head, struggling to maintain his calm exterior. “I didn’t receive it.”

The room crackled with sudden tension. “What?”

“It didn’t arrive. I don’t have it.”

Greasy turned to his partner, a thin pole of a man wearing Adidas sweats a size too large. “He says he doesn’t have it.”

“Sounds like lies,” Adidas answered.

“What he said,” Greasy echoed, turning dark eyes on Bob. He stepped up to the counter, placed his tattooed hands flat on the polished wood. “Sounds like you are trying to be your cousin.”

Bob felt your presence like the sun behind his back. Keeping his tone level, he said, “I don’t want any trouble. I’m telling you the truth. There’s no money.”

Adidas shook his head in tandem with Greasy. The latter’s attention shifted to look past Bob at you. Bob tensed as the man’s florid lips pulled into a wide grin, uneven teeth displaying yellow nicotine stains from years of smoking.

“Maybe I ask your pretty lady.” Greasy slid along the countertop, positioning himself in front of you. “Maybe she will reveal your secrets.”

Alarm coursed through Bob. He had the gun under the counter, but he couldn’t afford to shoot either or both of the men. The Chechens wouldn’t take kindly to the murder of their own, especially over something so insignificant as a woman.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Greasy cooed, his voice dripping with disgusting faux-flattery. “You have a pretty face. Would be a shame if I had to ruin it because Bob here stole from us.”

You flashed him a wide smile, the kind that made men blink in surprise at its intensity. Greasy rocked back a fraction, startled. “Bob isn’t a thief.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Maybe I’m the thief.”

Panic doused Bob in cold water. He couldn’t believe his ears. “She doesn’t mean that.”

The Chechen’s face clouded with displeasure. “You steal from us?”

You leaned forward, drawing him in. “I don’t like getting my hands dirty with blood money. I don’t like the coppery smell.”

Greasy frowned. “Coppery?”

“Yeah, you know, this smell.”

You slammed the produce knife through Greasy’s hand, pinning it to the countertop. The Chechen screamed, eyes bulging wide as pain coursed through him. Adidas leapt to his side, yanked the knife out. Greasy slumped against the countertop, wheezing raggedly as he clutched the bleeding appendage to his chest, gaping down at the new stigma.

Bob’s heart thundered against his ribs. A feeling pushed insistently at the back of his mind, trying to make itself known, but he shoved it back, compartmentalizing it. Stepping in front of you, blocking your body with his, he turned to the men with a blank look on his face.

“That fuckin’ bitch—”

“There is no money. We did not get any tonight,” Bob said calmly, staring hard into the man’s pain-stricken eyes. “You should get that checked out.”

“We’ll be fuckin’ back,” Adidas growled, pulling on Greasy’s arm to lead him out the door.

“I hope you find your money,” Bob called after them.

Fighting against the surging adrenaline singing through his veins, Bob turned to you. You smiled softly at him, almost sheepishly, as though trying to apologize. But he had seen the glint in your eyes, the sharp curve at the corners of your mouth.

You had relished hurting the bastard.

Bob didn’t know how to feel about that. The adrenaline shifted a fraction, bordering excitement. He suppressed a not-unpleasant shiver.

“You can walk me to my car now,” you said, your voice light, unaffected.

Without a word, Bob nodded and escorted you out the door, leaving the puddle of blood on the counter for the morning. He couldn’t look at it in that moment. It made his mind run wild about you and the ferocious beast beneath the sunshine façade.

It made sense, he realized in the quiet hours back in his home. The sun was bright and warm. But up close, it was deadly.

[clairecrive]

“All the time in the world”- Bob Saginowski x reader

I’m honestly so happy with the response of the Bronson piece! I love you guys so much <3 so here’s a little Bob fluff that never hurts. Also, this is my first time writing him so if he sounds a little bit off that’s why. 

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog​, @br0ck-eddie​, @of-love-and-of-the-sea​, @evelynshelby​, @deaflikehawkeye​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @fandom--0verdose​, @sopxhiea​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @fuseburner​ (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

You did it. You finally had sex with him. You had only been going out for a while, a couple of weeks, maybe a month. However, you had known Bob for way longer. You were a regular at his bar, either with your groups of friends or by yourself. That would be the case in which you had met Bob, well you actually had talked to him. When you were tipsy, you tended to marvel about the stupidest things out loud. Bob thought you were amusing and decided to humour you. That had led to a really long talk and long walk home since you were drunk and he refused to let you go home alone. Then one night when you were there on your own, he told you that his shift had ended early and asked if you wanted to grab a bite with him.

From that moment you began unofficially dating. You would see each other every other day and not only at the bar where he worked. Then after the third date, before you could climb off his pick up, he kissed you sealing the deal. Seems like you were dating then. 

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t like him. Well, of course you did, otherwise, you wouldn’t be dating him. However, your feelings were shifting from “like” to something more. And that bothered you to no end. You didn’t get attached to boys. Especially those who you had been seeing for less than a month. Nothing good ever comes from that. You were a pro at hiding your feelings. Been doing it for so long that you felt now unable to suppress these feelings any longer. 

That was going to be a problem.

 It was way too soon to feel like you did and even sooner to let him know. But you couldn’t go on this way anymore. Seemed like the sex only brought it up and made it impossible for you to ignore. You were laying down next to him, Bob had dozed off and your mind had gone wild. Suddenly, it was all becoming too much for you and you felt like you needed to leave. Without giving it a second thought, you began to pick up your clothes and got dressed quickly. 

When you were about to leave his room, something made you stop and look at him. Sprawled over the sheets half-naked, his face restful and peaceful, he looked so innocent. Bob had always been good to you and this was how you were going to repay him? By acting like one of those assholes in those rom coms that you hated? You couldn’t leave like this and you knew it. You owed him at least to tell him something. So, before leaving, you looked for a pen and a piece of paper and left him a note. 

“I need to sort myself out and think things through. Last night was amazing though. Don’t take this personally because you have done nothing wrong.”

Those were the words that met Bob when he opened his eyes. Waking up to an empty and cold bed wasn’t what he was expecting and your words left him even more dumbfounded. Despite what you said, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done something wrong. Furrowing his eyebrows, he quickly went through your time spent together. He was totally clueless though because he genuinely thought that everything was going great between you. Apparently, he had been blind because they were not. He wondered if he needed to give you some space but thought against it. The only way to solve this was by talking things through. Even if it meant breaking up. So he got dressed quickly and headed over your house. After climbing the stairs of your patio, he was about to ring the bell when your voice met his ears. It came from the back of the house. Walking towards it, he stopped just before he came into view when he overheard something interesting.

“So you left him in bed, after your first time together, because you’re afraid?” Your friend's Nadia incredulous voice met his ears.

“I know, I know, I’m a terrible person.” You groaned but your voice came out muffled and peeking from his hideout, he saw that you hid it in your palms.

“I’m sorry but I don’t understand, what are you afraid of?”

“Haven’t you heard a word I said?” Now it was you who was incredulous. It seemed like you two had been talking for a while.

“I did but it’s all bullshit it you ask me.” Nadia sassed earning a glare from you.

“I can’t tell him how I feel Nadia, I’ll scare him away.” you sighed sounding defeated.

“Well, I think you’ve already accomplished that by running away after sex,” she pointed out and when she received your you’re not helping look, she continued, “you should talk to him y/n, really. It’ll solve everything.”

“I know, I know that communication is the key to every healthy relationship but I… I just can’t.” Shaking your head you let it hang from the backrest of the swing you were sitting on.

“Talking to him means that I need to explain why I left and that would lead to my feelings for him, which he can’t know about yet,” you continued sighing, eyes looking up to the sky.

“You had no problem talking about it with me,” Nadia pointed out scrolling her shoulders.

“Are you dumb? That’s different,” you retorted snapping your head in her direction, “if I tell him that I think I love him, he’ll run away!” exclaiming, your expression resembled one of those teachers after they had repeated the same thing for the hundredth time and their students still weren’t grasping it. “It’s been three weeks Nadia, it’s way too soon for the “L” word,” defeated your head went back on the backrest. “Besides, who’s to say that he’s even looking for a serious relationship? He’s really busy with work, he has a lot on his plate right now.” You didn’t believe that. Bob could hear it in your tone and so could Nadia. Both knew you very well.

“Bob doesn’t strike me as someone who’s seeking a one night stand or something temporary.” And in fact, he wasn't. Everyone who knew him was aware of that. It was as plain as day even for Nadia that didn’t know Bob that well.

“Maybe I should just put both of us out of our misery and break up with him,” was your totally unrelated consideration. 

“Are you out of your mind? God, what does your mind tell you? You’re in love with the guy and you want to break up with him?” Bob shook his head at your total illogical thought process while Nadia looked completely confused by you. She was having none of it, what the hell.

“This is not what I signed for when we started dating, Nadia. This got way too serious way too fast,” looking at her you defended yourself. “Look at me! I’m here worrying about a guy when I promised myself I never was going to again.”

“Bob’s not the problem here. For all we know, he could be in love with you too and be heartbroken that you run away-” Nadia wasn’t able to finish her sentence.

“Please,” you scoffed, “have you met me? Why would he love me? And stop saying that I’ve run away, I’ve left him a note,” huffing out annoyed at your friend, both of them knew that they were getting closer to the true motive of your actions.

“-what I think it’s the problem here is you and your inability to let yourself go and feel your emotions instead of repressing them,” now it was her time to interrupt you.

“I hate that you know me so well,” you whisper under your breath, “I just- I don’t want to put myself in that vulnerable position again where he can hurt me.” And here it is, thought Bob. This was the problem then.

“Everyone’s bound to get hurt once in a while y/n, that’s life. And you ought to live it to the fullest and not repress every feeling and avoid any deep connection. You’re missing out on a lot, plus, it’s not healthy,” Nadia observed with wisdom that Bob would have never associated with her. But she had a point.

“If you think that it’s too soon to confess your feelings for him then don’t. Show him instead,” she added when you didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been doing that for the past week. Smothering him with kisses and affection, romantic dinners and shit that I’ve always despised in movies. I went over his bar often and stuff. He probably thinks I’m clingy now and he’s fed up with me,” you confessed listing with the help of your fingers.

“Sounds to me you just stopped being distant and started being a loving girlfriend,” Nadia commented with a patronizing smile. “Oh, and he probably already knows too. He’s very attentive and he knows you so…” Scrolling her shoulders she stated what she thought was pretty obvious while she observed your face scrunch up in desperation.

“It’s only been three weeks goddammit, why am I feeling this way?”

“Time is relative y/n. Stop worrying about it too much. Couples have married after two weeks of dating.” Nadia pointed out thinking to help her case but she got the opposite reaction from you.

“That’s madness,” you spat with wide eyes. 

The two girls continued talking but Bob had heard enough. As Nadia said, he had noticed the change in behavior and despite what you thought, he had thoroughly enjoyed it. But he had also been wondering what had caused it. Now he knew. Deciding to pick up Nadia’s advice, he turned around and headed back home. He knew how to solve this. He was just going to show you.

At home, Bob prepared a nice dinner. Nothing too complicated but he knew you liked it. He wasn’t good with words and apparently neither were you when it came to your feelings. So he needed to find another way. And he thought that paying attention to the details in a way that showed how much he cared, was the right one.

Show, don’t tell.

That was what he was going to do. Since the very first time you two had eaten together, you had always been very passionate about food. Bob was a much better bartender than he was a cook, hence his occupation, but he tried anyway to deliver a delicious meal. Your favourite nonetheless. From what he’d gathered, it was best for him to take matters into his own hands. Otherwise, if he had to wait for you, he’d probably wait a long time. So he sent you a text, mentioning the homemade diner he asked if you would join him. As he predicted, you’d said yes. You’d never turn down an invitation where food was involved. That alone showed how much Bod knew you. Surely, he wouldn’t pay so much attention to someone he didn’t care about, right? He thought your reservations were fair. He understood where you were coming from. On the other hand, he thought it was very clear his stand on relationships, yours in particular. Apparently not. He was to rectify that soon though.

When dinner time came around, you parked in front of Bob’s house right on time. He had probably heard you pull up because when you walked to his door you saw that it was open and Rocco was waiting for you on the threshold.

“Hello, you handsome boy,” you cooed at his cute little face giving him some well-deserved belly rubs until you noticed that he was holding something in his mouth. Gently pulling it out of his mouth, you saw that it was a folded piece of paper. 

It said:

“Please don’t run away like that again. If you don’t talk to me then how is this going to work?”

As you let the words sink in, your eyes flickered to Rocco who was now looking at you with his head tilted to the side. The pang of guilt was impossible to avoid and you knew that this dinner wasn’t going to be like any other. 

Closing the door behind you, you made your way through the hallway that leads to the kitchen expecting to find Bob dealing with your food. And there he was.

The table was already set, two sweet-scented candles were lit and he had just set your plates down when you walked into the room. You lingered near the door for a bit, not knowing what mood he was going to be in. You had left after having sex with him after all.  Still drying his hands with a cloth, he turned to where you were standing and as if he felt your insecurity, Bob gave you a small smile. 

Feeling a little more confident in yourself you crossed the room to meet him before you’d sit down at the table. 

“Hi,” you started shyly.

“Hi, babe,” two words and he managed to make you swoon. Oh, how you loved this man.

“I’m so so sorry for this morning, I-” he didn’t let you continue and you were secretly grateful for it ‘cause you would have probably made a mess.

“I know,” he reassured you holding you gently by the waist.

“You know?” How could he possibly know?

“I get that you have reservations when it comes to relationships, I do too,” he shared putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You do?” If you weren’t so damn confused by what was going on, you were sure you’d have punched yourself for being so stupid.

“Of course. I have been alone for a long time. Being in a relationship after a while can be difficult.” Gently cradling your face in his hands, he added, “But I want you to know that you can always talk to me.”

“I’m scared that what I’m going to say to you will make you run away from me. And I kinda like you so I don’t want that to happen,” you confessed quietly. He was so close to you now that you could whisper and he would hear. Somehow it made it easier to talk.

“I won’t,” he promised and you believed him. Why? Good question, it’s just one of those things that you just know. 

“I just-,” how were you going to tell him? “my feelings for you scare me,” by just saying it, you figured.

“You don’t have to tell me anything right now. Just know that we can turn that fear into assurance. I and Rocco are always up for some cuddles, aren’t we buddy?” And as if on cue, Rocco barked agreeing with his favourite human. You couldn’t help but giggle in happiness, you were really a lucky gal.

“Now let’s go eat. The food is getting cold.” And with that both your minds were at ease, ready to enjoy the night together. Yes, there were some things that needed to be discussed still but you had all the time in the world for that. It seemed that neither you not Bob had any intention to leave.

[hardyimagines]

Farewell

Could I request a one shot where Bob or Tommy are walking the reader back him after their first date? Maybe they share their first kiss @ it starts to rain at the end? Thank you! @wheresthewater

——————————————————————

“Well,” The hoarse voice belonging to your date filled the air, joining in with the wind that whipped harshly around the two of you. “I think the sun’s finally going down.” He commented quietly. His hands planted against the tabletop firmly, a sturdy surface for him to lean against as he hunched over to retrieve the leash that was securely tied around the picnic table that the pair of you had been sat at.

The sky in the distance had red’s, orange’s, and yellow’s dancing vibrantly across the length of it. The color’s clashed and collided, mingling to create an array of beautiful scenery. The bench you were perched on was beginning to grow uncomfortable, but that was expected after sitting there for hours. Today had been a great day — a great date. The man who’d spent the last 5 hours making you giggle until your throat hurt and smile until your cheeks ached was knelt in the dirt, adjusting the collar that encircled his pup’s neck.

His name was Bob. He had shaggy brown locks that always seemed to be messy. The back was always impossible to brush down for the strands would eventually stick out here and there. He was dressed down in a navy blue coat and some jeans, the marshmallow which matched his denim probably wouldn’t have looked good on anybody else, but he wore it very well. He had stubble along the length of his cheeks and jaw and some fur on his neck. Thicker strands of hair covered his upper lip and chin. It suited him very nicely. His full pink lips were drawn upward into an evident curve, so sweet to stare at as he cooed to the mutt that kept leaping up and on to his knee. His dog’s name was Rocco, and because Bob had only recently become the owner of the animal, you figured that the dog park was the perfect place to go for a first date. It meant all there was to do was talk — and talking seemed to be something incredibly easy for the pair of you. Your eyes followed the man as he stood up completely. The soles of his boots dug into the mud, blue eyes drifting from Rocco, to the leash he held, before lifting to you as you rose up from your seated position.

“Ready to go?” He inquired, knuckles tightening around the lead so Rocco couldn’t break free as he desperately tried to. He tugged and tugged and tugged but Bob knew that if the mutt got the chance, he’d take off and this was a dangerous place to do that. The road was far too close — a very poor placement. You nodded your head in response to his question, but he could see the reluctance on your face and disappointment in your gaze over the date coming to a close. He was going to ask you out again though, he was just waiting until he had a chance to escort you home. The man’s fingers were warm as they brushed over your own. His thick digits were double the size of yours as you weaved your hand to fit snugly inside his. The pair of you made your way toward the park’s exit. He undid the hatch which enclosed the pair of you in the fence and smoothly opened the door. You slipped out, hand still locked around his own, and led him toward the sidewalk. The pavement was covered in fallen twigs, scattered pebbles, and crumpled leaves. You narrowly avoided stepping on the rocks, tip of your boot instead kicking them so they bounced along the path before rolling off to the side and disappearing into the tall blades of grass.

The walk was quiet, neither of you too fixed on ruining the peaceful silence. Birds tweeted softly in the surrounding trees. The sun faded in the distance. Rocco trotted along in front of the pair of you, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he happily made his way down the sidewalk. He didn’t know where to go, but the soft tugs of guidance from Bob were very helpful. Bob didn’t know where he was going either, he was just following you. His hand tightened around your own in the slightest so he could hold your hand more securely. You looked up at him with a slow smile before inhaling deeply.

“I had a really good time today.” You informed him, fingertips lazily caressing his own. “And I’m really glad you finally asked me out.” Months of being his cashier had finally paid off. He came to the grocery store three times a week and bought too many of the same items. It was painfully obvious his constant visits were merely excuses to see you, so you’d mustered up the courage and had visited him at the bar he worked at. Your little burst of bravery had been very nice to have because he’d shown up at the grocery store the following day with a stutter and an urge to ask you out. It took him a few minutes, but he managed. And now, he wasn’t nearly as shy as the fellow who’d asked you out on this date.

The man at your side was charming, funny, talkative. He was dangerously good looking. So kind and caring. He’d offered you his jacket probably a hundred times and though at times you’d wanted to say yes, you couldn’t, because then he’d be cold. Bob was very alert. He was attentive and you loved it. If you shivered, you bet he’d haul that coat off his shoulders and drape it over yours without even asking. Leading him toward the darker part of the city, your head rolled to the side to find his strong arm.

“I hope that you’ll let me take you out again?” He spoke up, voice much more hesitant than it had been seconds ago. There was no instant response from you. Only the sound of your shoes padding against the cement alongside his and the soft patter of the pup’s feet. Your brows twitched, as if you were thinking on your answer.

The street lights in this part of the town were nonexistent. And since the sun was long gone now, it was practically impossible to see but because you’d done this walk too many times to count, you didn’t need the guidance from the bright bulb. You had the walk memorized. Turning down an alley, you nuzzled into him further. “Let me think about it.” Your response was breathy, a teasing atmosphere surrounding the short sentence. Bob couldn’t help the twitch of his lips. He knew you’d say yes, the date had been amazing — he thought. A very small light twinkled above your door step. It wasn’t exactly blinding, but it lit up the wooden walkway. You came to a halt at the foot of the stairs before crouching down so you could love on Rocco. “Bye buddy.” You cooed before kissing his wet nose. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again sometime, mh?” Your lips repeatedly pressed to different parts of the animal’s fur and Bob couldn’t help but shift in anticipation. A bubble of warmth floated around in his belly, alerting the man that you would in fact kiss him the same way if he grew some balls and made the first move. He cleared his throat before shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his trousers. He continued to watch you bid the pup goodnight.

“Do I get the same farewell?” His question sounded much braver. Lifting your gaze to him, the twitch of your brows asked him if he was serious. Rising from your squatting position, you laid your hands on your hips and stared up at the bloke.

“Rocco has been kissing me all night, every chance he’s been given, so..” You pulled your lips in innocently before releasing them so you could smile. “It’s up to you what happens from here.” Your lashes fluttered, shimmering orbs running along his features and lingering on his lips. Internally you begged like a child for him to kiss you, but externally you wore a smug grin. Bob narrowed his eyes in the slightest before stepping toward you. His wife palm found your lower back, a very tender way for him to slowly guide you forward and into his arms. Gazing up at him, you set your hand on his chest, lazily drawing sloppy patterns on the front of the plaid.

“I’ll kiss you.” He whispered, warm breaths mingling with your own. “If you’ll go on another date with me.” A sharp giggle left your lips before you lifted your other arm and locked it around his shoulders.

“Oh, I’d be a fool if I said no.” You bit your bottom lip. Leaning in so that your nose brushed over his own, you giddily smiled before lifting your finger to trace his plump bottom lip. “Besides, I have a feeling that if I did say no, you’d show up at my workplace and attempt to serenade me.” Another giggle left your lips. It was music to his ears. His other hand joined his first, both encircling your hips before he tugged you forward and against him firmly.

“How did you know?” He teased. His nose lowered so that it skimmed your lips. He set you up for the sweet peck and you kissed the top of his nose without reluctance. Once you’d kissed his nose and he had pressed a sweet peck against your chin, he then lifted his face so that your mouths lined up perfectly. Eye to eye, Bob gazed at you with affection dancing in his gaze. A silence hung between the two of you as you caressed his chest, other hand fisted in the shoulder of his shirt. His hands lazily rubbed the length of your back as the two of you held eye contact. You let out a breathy sigh of enjoyment before leaning toward him when he began to near. His lips parted, opening in the slightest, and yours followed suit. Pressing his mouth against your own firmly, he drew the most pathetic, desire-filled whimper from your throat. His stomach twisted in knots, butterflies fluttering in the pit of his tummy. He drew you in even closer, a low groan of happiness escaping him. All this time he’d been thinking about what your kiss would feel like — taste like? It was soft. It was slow. He could tell you had no desire to rush. Your mouth was so satisfying — so deliciously inviting. He’d rather suffocate than give his lungs anymore oxygen. He knew they’d be craving it any minute, but he was going to drag this out until he was a panting mess. Your hand moved from his shoulder to his hair. Fisting your fingers in his brown locks, you kissed him even deeper, mouth opening wider, luring his to do the same. The pair of you stood there, mouths interlocked as Rocco circled the two of you. Your chest molded against his nicely, a secure place to rest your bodyweight while the kiss grew more and more passionate. Bob was beginning to back you up and you blindly climbed the steps. Your hand curled tighter in the front of his jacket, slight clumsy footsteps growing more and more frenzied, but as the two of you neared the door, Bob pulled back. He swallowed down the building lust and reminded himself that this was only the first date. He didn’t get very far before you tugged him back and kissed him again. He was practically kissing your wide smile, but it didn’t matter to him, he still enjoyed it. It was only when the sky opened and droplets of rain began to fall from the invisible clouds above that the kiss came to an end.

Water droplets hit you in the face, racing along your warm skin as you smiled up at the man. His hair was soon to be soaked, clothes just the same. Rocco was barking at the water that hit his fur, but his tail wagged at a very quick pace, a sign that he rather enjoyed the change in weather. Your lips hovered a few centimeters from Bob’s so when you spoke, your mingling breaths mingled even further.

“I’d invite you in, but.. I think I’d do a lot more than just kiss you.” You warned the man. “And we should save that for at least the second date.” You pressed your lips against his cheek and lingered in place before backing up so you were underneath the awning. Bob was still stood in the rain which feel increasingly harder over time. You were unsure how someone could look so good, but as you backed up and blindly inserted the key into the lock, you didn’t ponder the fact too much. All that mattered was the good looking fellow on your front porch was soon to be all yours.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” He called out before hunching over to lift Rocco. “I’ll see you soon.” His smile was one of assurance and confirmation. You tipped your head in the slightest before giving him a slow wave.

“Let me know when you make it home.. and..” The temptation to invite him inside was strong. He could at least wait until the rain stopped, but you both knew that if he came in for even a second, you’d be rolling around on the floor like lovers, a tangle of limbs bare and intertwined in front of the lit fire. “hurry so you don’t catch a cold.” Standing in the doorway that led to the warm, dry living room, you kicked off your shoes and gave him a look that said what you wouldn’t allow yourself to verbally. Bob knew what you wanted to offer, but he also knew it was wise to turn down. He waved to you, unbothered by the cold droplets that soaked his attire. The warmth in his chest and the thumping of his hammering heart was enough to keep him cozy on the journey home.

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[mrsragucci]

Bob Saginowski and you have been coming into the bar everyday for the last week and getting really drunk. One night you get so drunk you pass out near the bar and Bob finds you and carries you home to his place cause he doesn't know where you live or what to do with you.

“Looks like she passed out, interesting.” Cory, a new employee pointed out. Bob nodded. “Yeah she’s been coming here a lot, I’m suprise it took her this long to pass out.”

“Yeah well, what are going to do with her. Might as well help her. It would be rude not to.” Bob shrugged, while he knew helping you was probably the right thing to do, he somewhat didn’t want to. “These types of people really never learn do they.” Cory furrow is brows. “I mean people don’t just act out like this without a reason. She’s probably going through a tough time at home maybe. Come on Bob we should help her.”

“Okay fine, but it this goes south, it will be your fault. Understand?” Cory nodded his head and attempted to pick you up. “Well are we taking her to your place?” Bob nodded a yes, after a moment of hesitation.

Bobs house was nice, but didn’t have much space. So he had to lay you in his bed while he went onto the couch. He honestly didn’t realize how creepy this situation was till the next morning.

You woke up confused, and with a serious hangover. It was shit. Of course.

But what was worse is being in some random bedroom. You didn’t recognize the place, which sure as hell creeped you out.

You got out of the bed and immediately went Downstairs. You found a man who looks like the bartender from that bar, and he was cooking eggs. In his shorts.

Yeah. No. That’s it.

You dashed towards the front door and Bob caught on. Covering the door with his body.

“Please, dont leave. I’m not down with you.”

Okay. You’ve meantily confirmed it. He’s kidnapping you.

“Get out of my fucking way.”

“Wait wait I want to help you. You were drunk last night, passed out at my bar. I decided to take you home to make you feel better. I swear I wouldn’t hurt you.”

While he was probably telling the truth, because his story seems the most likely. Your gut was telling you that he was a kidnaper.

You pushed him out of the way and opened the door. Running and not looking back.

Later that evening you should up to the same bar, right back at it again.

A/N: So it didn’t really know where to go with this one, but I thought if I was in that situation, I’d like to get the fuck out. Because while taking someone to your home to help them is a nice intent. It’s kinda creepy to their person who passed out. Anyways enjjjjoy

Send in some prompts for blurb night

[bubblyani]

Warmth (Bob Saginowski x Reader)

Bob Saginowski Christmas One Shot 🎄

Genre: Fluff

Author’s Note: Bob is Fluff itself and I always wanted to write something about him. Since it’s almost Christmas, I decided to write this for the holidays. Merry Christmas everyone!

P.S: I repeat, Bob is SO MUCH FLUFF...I can’t even <3

You were almost about to doze off on the bench, feeling a bit too comfortable by the warmth of the morning sun amidst the December chill.  All cause you decided to go for a walk and explore your neighborhood in Brooklyn; so sitting on a bench after that wasn't such a bad idea, wasn't it?

As you rubbed your eyes, you heard a bark. When you opened your eyes, a pit-bull puppy stood there at your feet, looking at you with such innocent eyes.

“Well, hello there! Are you lost?” you cooed, bending down to pick up the puppy, cradling it in your arms. It did seem to have a collar. You read the name, Rocco.

“So…Rocco, are you lost?” you continued, raising the puppy up to your eye line, letting it lick your face.

“Looks like Rocco is not lost after all huh?”

Suddenly you looked up to find a pair of lovely blue eyes staring at you. For a few second you froze, busy scanning this face. He looked handsome and gentle. He seemed gentle. His relieved expression of finding “Rocco” seemed quite soft and gentle as the puppy itself.

A human puppy…you thought.  

You giggled out loud.

“Sorry…yeah Rocco is safe. He just ran over to me. I don't know why” you replied, standing up to hand the puppy over to the man.  

“Maybe dogs can sense good people” the tone of his voice made you feel so relaxed, you just kept smiling.

“Hehehe…maybe” you really couldn't help but notice how handsome this man was.

He had that homely handsomeness to him. The type who will take care of you and who will help you get through everything and anything, regardless of what might happen.  

“So…uh…how come I haven’t seen you around before?” the man asked in curiosity. It seemed quite natural how the both of you started walking together around the park. As if you did this before.

“Oh, actually I moved into town a few days ago, so, pretty much new around here” you motioned to your surroundings.

“So, I’m guessing you haven’t been to my bar then?”

“No I haven’t. And I’M guessing you work there?”

“Yeah…” he replied, slowly putting the leash on Rocco. “ I own it, actually…well, sort of” he smiled, putting Rocco on the ground.

“Oooh..fancy!” you chipped, making him laugh.

“ So…what do you do?”

“Well...” you dug your hands deep in your jacket pockets “I teach pre-school, I start work tomorrow”

“Wow, that’s great” his phone rang, “ Listen…” as he looked at his phone “I gotta go …but um…I’ll see you around hopefully. And feel free to stop by the Bar”

“Sure I will…Thank you” you nodded, about to lift your hand to wave, watching him walk to the gate with the dog.

Suddenly he turned back as if he forgotten something.

“Oh…I’m Bob by the way. Bob Saginowski” he walked back, extending his hand to you. You both laughed. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you shook his gloved hand, still chuckling.

“Y/N…” Bob repeated. You suddenly felt your ears turn red “Good Luck for work tomorrow “    

You laughed shyly, “Thank you” waving at him and Rocco.  

It may have been winter, but suddenly you felt warmer than before.

-------

Didn't matter if the days were sunny or full of clouds, when Bob Saginowski was present, you literally felt sunshine. You’d always greet him outside the Bar every morning on your way to work, where he’d be cleaning or taking out the trash.

The nights when you did stop by his bar, Bob was the happiest you’ve ever seen him. Did not matter how busy the nights were, he would always find a way to tend to your drinks, stop by for a small chat, and even give you his signature soft smiles each time your eyes met from across the room. He went so far to even walk you back home in the middle of his shift.  The days when you were able to get a “Good Morning” and a “Goodnight” from his lovely lips, were the best days ever in your opinion.

---------

It was late. You were just about to crawl into bed, but suddenly heard the doorbell ring. You carefully opened the door to find Bob standing outside your door.

“Bob, what’s going on? Is everything o-”

You were cut off by the sudden embrace he pulled you into.

“I’m sorry…” he muttered softly into your hair “I heard some people threatened you. I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay”

Being in the arms of Bob Saginowski wasn't so bad after all. In fact, it wasn't bad. It was just wonderful. You felt warmth reaching every inch of your body; your bodies seemed to fit each other like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. You couldn't help but return the embrace, by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His arms moved down to your waist, settling there with a firm grip. As if he didnt't want to let you go.

But…wait a minute! Threatened me? Who? When? What the fuck?

How was it that Bob knew and you didn't?

Suddenly you heard a deafening noise.

A police siren? What’s going on?

It grew louder and louder. You remained in Bob’s arms, with your eyes closed tight, wishing the noise would stop.

You suddenly opened your eyes.

You weren’t in Bob’s arms; instead you were actually lying in bed. It wasn't nighttime, it was actually the morning. It wasn’t the Police siren…it was actually your Alarm.

You sat up. It was all just a dream.

As weird as the dream turned out, you couldn't help but smile sleepily.

Being that close to Bob felt nice in your head, you just wished it could be a possibility in real life. But, why would you even feel that?

When you tried to close your eyes to continue that dream, the phone rang, making you jump.

It was Bob. Your heart raced suddenly.

“H-Hello?”

“Y/N! Hey…” his voice on the phone was still as warm. You pressed the phone closer to your ear as if to take in all that warmth, on this chilly December morning “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh huh” you murmured “Is everything okay?”

“Uh…yeah. I uh…” he paused “ Listen, I’m gonna go walk Rocco later, do you wanna join me?”

“Of course!” you replied in haste, for your heart didn't stop racing.

Bob chuckled “great…”

You always tried to label what exactly Bob Saginowski meant to you. But that strange dream and that surprising phone call, just sealed it completely.

-------

“Y/N! you okay?”

You looked up to find Bob’s worried self, sitting right beside you. Both of you sat on the bench, watching Rocco encounter some excited children who were playing in the park. You paused, wondering whether you should gather some courage and talk to him about whatever you were feeling. “I’m fine…Actually Bob I-”

“Actually, I have something I gotta say…” Bob calmly interrupted. You nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue with bated breath.

“Y/N, In my life, I once thought I was supposed to always be alone. Then last year I found Rocco. And you know? we were really lucky to find you, right here in this park.” You smiled. “We really enjoy having you around. And I think it’s safe to say, you’ve made us lot happier. I finally don't feel like I’m alone anymore”.

You were speechless. You were unable to take in all the sweetness Bob was being at that moment.

Am I dreaming again?

“Would you...I don’t know...wanna go out with me sometime?”

You felt a rush of euphoria. You smiled as you bit your lower lip.

“Bob, I SO wanna kiss you right now!” You leaned in, cupping his face, caressing his cheek. His eyes twinkled. “So is that a yes??”

Giggling, you mouthed, “Yes”, pulling him for a long awaited kiss.

Suddenly the morning chill, the winter cold was non-existent.

For you found the warmth that was Bob Saginowski.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more

[ifuseekamyhardy]

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[hardymysteryring]

Characters Master List

Alfie Solomons (Peaky Binders)

Bane (The Dark Knight Rises)

Bob Saginowski (The Drop)

Charles Bronson (Bronson)

Eames (Inception)

Eddie Brock (Venom)

Farrier (Dunkirk)

Forrest Bondurant (Lawless)

Freddie Jackson (The Take)

Ivan Locke (Locke)

James Delaney (Taboo)

Leo Demidov (Child 44)

Max Rockatansky (Mad Max: Furry Road)

Reggie / Ronnie Kray (Legend)

Tom Hardy

Tommy Conlon (Warrior)

Tuck Hansen (This Means War)

Venom (Venom)

————

My Request Form

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Smut Prompt List

Kissing Prompt List

Other Prompt List

You can mix the numbers from the different prompts, just let my know which number(s) goes to which list!

[mlmxreader]

Bleeding Heart (To Be Home) | Bob Saginowski x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ anonymous asked: Bob Saginowski Hiya! Hope all is good 🖤. May I please request something using the following prompts for Bob Saginowski X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: “You’re bleeding” ❞

: ̗̀➛ Bob always liked the fact that you were gentle, a bleeding heart. He just never realised that it would mean he was finally home, too.

: ̗̀➛ bleeding, swearing

•──────────────────★•♛•★─────────────────•

You had been working all evening, and it was safe to say that by the time you had gotten back to Bob’s place, you were absolutely exhausted; your things were still littered around his little house.

Boxes and bags strewn about in every room, only a few things actually put away here and there, some of the edges of the boxes torn and frayed by little dog teeth that had been ripping and pulling at them in excitement and boredom. Bob had done his best between shifts, as had you, but there were still so many boxes and bags.

It would take days, but at least you were officially home; it had only been a few weeks since Bob had asked you to move in with him after about a year of being together, neither of you could be blamed for the slow progress of things.

You usually took care of it in the evening while Bob often sorted everything out in the morning - both of you were often home in the afternoon so you took care of little pieces here and there when you could; nobody had told you that moving in together would take so long just to unpack everything.

But at least you were home now.

At least when you walked through the door and kicked your shoes off, you knew that you were home. The sight of Bob, hunched over slightly as he focused his efforts on making something to drink - from the smell of it, strong coffee.

Rocco sat at his feet with big wide brown eyes and a wagging tail, not realising that what Bob had was not edible.

It made you grin, all exhaustion and tension built up from work immediately dropping from your shoulders as you hummed, making your way over to him. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around Bob’s waist, and pressed your face against the back of his neck as you leaned into him, sighing contently.

Bob’s hand rested on yours as he smiled to himself; his house had never really felt like a home without you. Nowhere did. He had never known someone to be his safety and his security, his strength and his weakness, his happiness and his content.

He might have been whole without you, but with you?

He was happier than he could ever admit. Of course, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to admit it - he desperately did, but he could never find the proper words that he was happy enough to use; he kept searching, he always would, but words never came easily when you were pressing your body against him.

Reminding him that he was home, and so were you. Within the embrace of one another, you had found the one thing that mattered above all else: home.

No matter where you were, no matter what you were doing or what was going on, you and Bob would always be home as long as your skin was on his and you could hear his soft breaths.

But then you frowned as you felt the plaster on his finger, concern washing over you as you pulled away, forcing him to turn around; he was trapped between your body and the counter, but he didn’t really care much.

“Bob?” You sounded more than worried, and he despised it. “You okay?”

Bob nodded, working up a smile as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I, uh, I caught my hand on a latch at work.”

You hummed, bringing his hand up so you could look at it; the plaster was already starting to leak a little. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” he promised. “It’s just a nick.”

“At least let me change it,” you told him, flashing the puppy dog eyes that he so often used against you, knowing he wouldn’t resist. “Please?”

He nodded slowly, daring to laugh softly as he took a seat at the table and held his hand up slightly, resting his wrist against the oak; he watched with great gentleness in his eyes as you peeled off the old plaster, but his smile soon faded when he saw how worried and concerned you were. Swallowing thickly, Bob quietly cleared his throat and sighed softly.

“It was just a latch at work,” he explained, “doing stocks, I caught it.”

You were a bleeding heart, Bob knew that from the day he had met you when he saw you take pity on the smallest of worms; picking it up and carrying it all the way over to his house so you could gently set it in the soil instead of the cold and rigid asphalt outside.

It was no wonder that you were so gentle with him when you gently washed his finger out, apologising quietly, riddled with remorse, when you applied the antiseptic. A bleeding heart.

Bob always liked that about you; it was well matched with his quiet violence. So gentle, always so gentle with him even though you knew the things that he had done; you didn’t seem to care, though, it never changed how you looked at him.

Never changed how gentle and tender you were with him; never made your bleeding heart suddenly clot. He smiled, biting at his lip in an attempt not to laugh when you gently kissed his finger before applying the new plaster; he wanted to laugh, but he knew that if he did, you would lose your focus.

He didn’t want that to happen, even if he knew that you would tell him it didn’t matter much. Your touch was so gentle when you ran your fingertip across the plaster to ensure that it was smoothed down. You smiled at him once again, and Bob knew it for more than good the second that his eyes met yours.

You were both home, for good. 

Sure, you would leave in the morning for your shift at work, and he would leave in the evening for his own - but at the end of it all, you were both home the second you were together again. 

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Had a ‘Dark n’ Stormy’ while there’s a thunderstorm going on outside. I think Alfie & Bob would approve.

TH Masterlist

Alfie would literally walk into the room, the cocktails (of course prepared with his own rum) in his hands. Silently, he’d hand you one while you continue to look at the lightning. Together, you perhaps in his lap, you sit in the rain-filled silence.

Bob can be unironically ironic, so he thinks it’s a good idea to serve you a ‘Dark n’ Stormy’ while watching the forces of nature going at it tonight. Normally he’d never thought much about storms, occasionally seeing them as a display of God’s power. However, next to you, quietly drinking your drinks, he’s starting to see the same beauty you see in it. And soon, he’s just as entranced as you are.

Tag list: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @vir-tual @liliac-dreamer @ilovemanypeople @zablife @alikaheroes

[torialeysha]

Birthday Boy Bob - Part. 2

Since the highly-anticipated, tantric meeting of flesh between you and your boss, Bob Saginowski, things had become much more than the one nighter you thought would end all too soon. Nights, and mornings spent together with he and Rocco, made you feel as if the inevitable pieces of your mundane life were finally beginning to settle in place. But, the haunting winter winds of Brooklyn may blow in a stale, scorned ghost to rattle the cage...

A/N: A couple of weeks ago, my good friend @anrm1 kindly indulged me and my request for a Bob Saginowski fic - which you can read here.

What my darling girl delivered, completely but unsurprisingly exceeded my expectations and I selfishly begged her for more. Another part - anything that would satisfy my cravings for her perfect portrayal of Bob. And to my utter delight she indulged me once more and not only granted my wish for another part but also generously invited me to have a piece of the action.

Thank you @anrm1​ for allowing me to collaborate and continue your masterpiece. I had so much fun working with you on this and it’s an absolute honour and privilege to see my writing next to yours. 

Without further ado, I present to you part two of Birthday Boy Bob.

Enjoy x

Scalding coffee held in one gloved hand, and the gentle squeeze of his masculine fingers laced through your other as the pair of you shivered and anxiously paced your way to the bar for morning open. The one-bedroom house you called a home was only two measly blocks, so you and Bob decided a few minutes of the breezy, winter air wouldn’t kill you. Bob had slept at your place last night, after much ruthless convincing on your part that Rocco would feel perfectly safe in your bed just as he did his own at Bob’s house. You had been carrying on together for months now as a couple, your heartfelt feelings for the man only begging to spring free. The more time you spent with Bob Saginowski, the more you realized there really was much more to him than being the strong, brutish type. The budding friendship you both had nurtured for the two-year span after he had hired you, instigated the initial admiring feelings for him. And since that fateful evening of Bob’s birthday, you had gathered much more reason to feel that way.

He was most talkative upon his bright and early alarm every morning. On the nights spent sleeping nose to nose, with Rocco’s paw padded on your cheek, you would routinely wake up to the sputtering sound of an aromatic pot of coffee downstairs. Rather than crawl tiredly from the confines of his warm bed to pour a cup, you’d quietly wait in hopes that he would come tip-toeing up the creaking stairs of his aged, family home to skootch back into his position of big spoon under the jersey sheets to encase you in his shirtless arms.  

He felt most comfortable when he kept to the strict, daily routine he had mapped out for himself, so you made the proper adjustments to learn his ways. Laundry was done every other day, no dish was ever left in a dirty sink, and never sleep past 7 a.m. and miss Rocco’s first potty break of the day. There was nothing wrong with Bob and his obsessive tendencies, it just took a bit of getting used to seeing as you were spending so much one-on-one time together. But, he did make changes to welcome you into that routine. Like a surprise visit to your nightly shower here and there, even though he had already taken his at the scheduled time. Or, an occasional early close-up at the bar because he knew you were exhausted from assisting him in carrying the weight of book keeping, and stock shelving now that you were more than just his bartender. The long-anticipated touch of his lips to yours had been entirely worth the torturous wait, bringing much more satisfaction than just the one-night-stand you thought you needed.  

“Hey uh, Saturday is Rocco’s comin’ home day. Well, it’s the day I found ‘em, you know. So, I thought maybe I’d do somethin’ special for him. Like take ‘em to uptown to one of those dog parks, and do some’a those other things he like so much. You got any ideas?” His breaths exhaled into a smoke-like cloud when the heat met the contrasting freeze of the morning hour.

“I could watch the bar if you wanted to take the day with him. I don’t mind”

“’Course not, Y/N. We want you to come wit’ us. We need our girl, ain’t that right Rocco? I thought about maybe closing the place for the day. It’s a special occasion ‘n all.”

Their girl.

We reached the dark, lonely bar and Bob backed you into the closed door while finagling loose the key inside the deep pocket of his winter coat. You squeezed inside first, rustling your body to try and shake loose the tensed, cold muscles. Flipping on each switch of the lights, and unzipping the layers of your outerwear, you giggled as Rocco danced about your feet knowing his chew toy was somewhere hidden inside your purse.  

“I gotta run out later for a few things since that big Knicks game is tonight. You need anything while I’m out, Y/N?”

“Ahh. That’s tonight?” You moan. Unable to hide the disappointment in your slumped shoulders as you crouch down to dig through your purse for the pining pup’s toy.  

The Nicks game meant that the bar would undoubtably be packed to the rafters with rowdy fans and depending on the end result, had the potential to destroy any hopes of closing on time. Which in turn meant less precious alone time with Bob. Rocco cocks his head to the side when your hand emerges empty from your purse.  

“Don’t worry, boy. It must be in here somewhere.” You up-end your purse and with a vigorous shake, the clattering contents spill out on to the floor. Rocco wastes no time, kindly lending his cold wet nose to assist you in your search for his prized possession. Your fingers, along with Rocco’s detective nose filters through the junk that your purse had over time accumulated. Wallet, receipts, phone, keys, hair ties, lip-gloss, body spray. But no dog toy.

“Hmm. That’s strange...”  

“What’s up?” Bobs towering form stands next to you, casting a shadow over your crouched form.

“I could have sworn I put Rocco’s toy in here.” You scan the objects laid in front of you once again with a fading optimism. Your certainty that you definitely remembered Rocco’s toy was re-enforced by the increasing pining of the pup as he nudged your purse with his cold, wet nose.

“Maybe it just fell out or summin’” Bob suggests  

“Maybe... I’m gonna run back and check.”

“You sure?... You haven't gotta go to all that trouble. I can grab him a chew when I’m out later.”

You look down into the pleading eyes of your panting dog baby. Your heart fluttering as you remembered Bobs words from earlier. Their girl.

“But that one is his favourite. I can't have my boy suffering the wild, disorderly crowd we’re gonna pull tonight.” You knew it would take the sensitive Pits mind off the raucous racket of chanting and cheering if he had his cherished chew toy to gnaw on.

Making up your mind, you pull your house keys from the disorganised mass of items before stuffing the rest back into your purse in a hurried mess. With a quick affectionate rub to Rocco’s head, you rise from your crouched position to dump your purse on the bar top. Turning to bid both of your boys a quick farewell.  

“I won’t be long.” You promise as your eyes meet Bobs. A striking look of pride, admiration... and something else filled his usually emotionless orbs as they burned into yours. Losing yourself in the heated gaze of your Boss and... Boyfriend? Lover? You weren’t sure. It was a conversation you had both been putting off. Knowing that Bob wouldn’t be into labelling whatever this was that was happening between you. But what you were sure of was it was more than what it was originally. More than what you had dreamed or imagined it ever could be. You were both each other's more and that was enough.  

“Er...You sure you’re gonna be okay? You don’t want us to come wit’ you?” He asks. Linking his fingers with yours while an unnecessary worry caused a few prominent lines to grace his forehead.

“It’s a couple of blocks away. I’ll be fine. You stay here and get this place ready for the riot we’re going to endure later...” He gives a subtle nod of agreement.  

“Don’t miss me too much, you two.” You joke. Moving to the door.  

To your surprise Bob doesn’t let go of your hand and with an assertive tug, pulls you back into his arms. You’re greeted immediately with his plush lips catching yours in a soft, commanding kiss. You pull him closer until there was no space left. So close you could feel his heart against your chest beating an erratic rhythm that mirrored yours and betrayed the cool, calm exterior, he consistently exuded.  

You pull away breathless. A four-letter word erupted involuntarily from your aching chest and got caught in your throat. “Bobby, I-” You were lost. The frightening depths of your feelings towards Bob were growing so intense it was almost painful. It was too much too soon. The unimpressed whining cry from Rocco breaks the moment and you’re thankful for the interruption. Swallowing the eager sentiment and saving it for another time.

Those heavy, life-changing words stammered off the cliff of your tongue along the journey back home. You couldn’t let the daft, most likely delusional, admission of that feeling of love ruin the overdue relationship you were developing with Bob.  You knew there was no way a man as multifaceted as himself would fall into the illusion of love just a few months into the developing bond. And you weren’t completely convinced that Bob was entirely capable of accepting, or expressing the love of a woman. But, you knew he’d give his last-ditch efforts to try if it meant he could go to sleep at night with you soothingly scratching your nails over the tender skin along his back.

You hushed the one-sided conversing as you trudged the stairs towards your second-floor building on hunt for Rocco’s blessed chew toy. Ms. Peters from next door had already made her impressions of you known around the other tenants as a wretched, fornicating hussy who disturbed her all hours of the night trolloping with her strange male friend. There was no need to add manic, schizophrenic that talks to herself to the list of the woman’s judgmental arsenal of gossip. So, you smiled artificially at her on your way inside, holding your breath to avoid the fumes from her morning cigarette. You inhaled enough secondhand tar at the bar every night, so might as well save a breath where you could here and there.  

Your keyring jangled around your fingers as you searched amongst the collection for the appropriate key to open the locked door of your designated apartment marked 251. You left the barricade standing open behind you as you marched to the beige couch where you had retrieved your purse in the rushed exit only half hour ago, assuming to find the red, dingy bone lying smooshed between the crumb-filled cushions. Upon a quick search beneath the sham of the love-seat, no avail in discovery, you flinched in fright as the slamming of the once opened door echoed over the drums of your ears.  

The boisterous interruption inevitably caused distraction, and you right away turned your direction to investigate the cause behind the resounding crash. A chilly gust of sickening mortification settled over your chest upon the sight of a ghost from girlfriends past standing unwelcomed in your living room, latching carefully the double-bolt lock nailed to your doors frame. Only Nadia wasn’t a ghost. She wasn’t a haunting nightmare from your most heinous thoughts, or a horrifying hallucination of your disgusted distresses. She was a fleshy reminder that your worst fear had indeed reared its ugly head of malice once more.  

“Looking for this, are you?” She pinched the sought-after bone between her dirt-lined nails, causing it to release a squeaking whine. The horn-like sound didn’t sound as chipper as it did when your sweet Rocco knocked it around the slick floor of the bar.

Grey, hollow shadow bags under her twitching eyes, and the way her words seemed to tumble like weighted rocks from her drawn, scab-lined mouth supported the suspicions around the neighborhood that she had fallen back into her drug induced, alternative reality. She wore a faded, damp hoodie that smelled like stale garbage, and stained blue jeans hung low on the malnourished bone of her hips.  

“How… Nadia, what.. how are you here?” You seemed to chew on your thick saliva that clung to the roof of your mouth like stale bubblegum.  

“You learn to pick a lock pretty early where I’m from, sweetheart. And, sweet, sweet, dumb Bob never noticed me followin’ behind him when he came here the other night. He led me right to you.” Plaque caked over her yellow-tinted fangs as she smiled callously.

You snaked a hand stealthily toward your rear pocket in efforts to grasp your cell, the only contact to escape this dangerous predicament. The hopeless realization that your only lifeline had been left behind at the bar where Bob cluelessly carried about with his opening checklist made the nervous bile in your belly simmer near release. Without weighing the potential consequence of a hasty reaction, you sprang up on your heels towards the bedroom where you knew a cracked window opened onto a rickety fire escape. You may break an ankle, or crack a rib from falling the two-stories to the front lawn, but you’d be freed from the scorned control of Nadia and her dope induced hostage situation. Before you could crank the knob of the unlatched entry, a cold, scuffed steel trembled against the center spot of your cranium, and the toxic clack of an engaging bullet dropping into a barrel paralyzed your escape. Nadia’s faltering grip on the pistol she doted and aimed tenaciously toward your head quivered with the tremor of whatever vice she had befriended assumingly in the wee morning hour. Your focus unintendedly latched onto the wiry friction of your hair chafing against the weapon.  

“Now, now, Y/N. You had better think real hard about trying to take off me like that again, you conniving bitch.”

At the careless risk of exhibiting weakness and distress in being tangled in her kidnapping clutches, tears and sweat stung your eyes. You felt internally on fire like the pits of a sweltering steadfast hell, but when you wiped the liquid from your worry-lined forehead, your hands were clammy and pale with a damp chill. Her ill-disposed warning resonated somewhat, but the echoing ring in your ears drowned out most of the background noise.

You fall to your knees, succumbing to the impotent fear that has seized your body. Through tear filled, blurry vision you gaze with an anxious appetency at the freedom and safety which lurked within a teasingly unattainable reach, just beyond the fractured square of glass that was your only hope for escape. Nadia becomes visible in your peripheral vision. Your eyes follow her. Like a hungry shark she circles before coming to a stop in front of you. Her slight and withering frame obscures your view of the diverse, suburban neighbourhood and its oblivious residents. In silence you tread the treacherous current of the choppy waters, determining their dangerous depths while the predator stalks its prey. She bends, leaning her boney posterior on the ledge of the weathered windowsill. Her arm is raised with the pistol pointed precisely at the crown of your head. The dank material of her hoody hung in a swag from the stiff slenderness of her limb. The weakened state of her undernourished muscles sent a tremor down her arm and you felt the weight of the pistol wavering in her grasp as she tried to steady it against your forehead.

“Why don’t you put the gun down, Nadia?” It’s hard to get the words out as your throat tightens in terror. Her features remain impassive as she drags the muzzle of the gun down your profile. Thanks to the slick mixture of sweat and tears that moistened your face, the rigid steel, zig zagged effortlessly from your temple to your eye socket before curving around your cheekbone; trailing across the bridge of your nose and dipping into the hiding dimple of your cheek. It finishes its grueling journey between your lips. The metal rattling a chattering rhythm against your teeth, once again betraying Nadia's decreasing strength.

“I don’t understand what he sees in you.” She rasps. Resting the weight of the pistol on your bottom lip. You fight back the urge to retort, fully aware that you weren’t the one holding the gun. “I see the way he acts with you. The way he looks at you.” Her mouth twists in hostile resentment. An indignation so powerful it caused you to be on the receiving end of her revolver. The last time you had seen her was at the bar on Bobs birthday. You and every other member of the community assumed she had once again disappeared, only to now find out that she had been watching you from the shadows. A shudder wracks your body, causing Nadia to jump. In a swift movement the weapon is torn from your mouth and planted back on the invisible target she’s placed on your forehead. You gasp at the sudden movement, trying your best to stay stock-still and calm. A feat that was betrayed by the turbulent rise and fall of your chest, as your burning lungs expanded with harsh, panicked breaths.

“He used to look at me like that.” Her dark empty pools looked straight through you as she reminisced about the not so distant memory of when she when she was once Bob and Rocco's girl. Her face crumples in a tormented frown, causing a trail of tears to spill from her black orbs.  

“You see, he’s forgotten that he loves me. It’s my own fault I suppose. I was gone too long. I thought he would have missed me. That when I returned, he would have welcomed me back with open arms... Then I saw you two together.”

“He did miss you, Nadia. He was broken when you left.” You have no idea why you’re telling her that. Maybe it was because of the weapon she yielded and poked so promisingly at you or maybe it was because it was the truth. You remembered how forlorn and lost Bob was when she went away. How you picked up for his slack behind the bar while he would wallow alone in his back office with Rocco. How some nights you wouldn’t get home until gone 3 in the morning because you stuck around trying to coax Bob from his woeful solitude, afraid that he might do something silly. Only wake up the next day and do it all again.

“But you were there to pick up the pieces?” It was said as a question but her snarling expression told you she didn’t want you to answer. “I should have known not to trust you. That as soon as my back was turned, you’d try and wheedle your way in.”

“Maybe, you need to come to terms with that fact that he doesn’t love you anymore.” It was a curt statement. A censored rendition of what you actually wanted to say.

“Oh? And why is that? Because he loves you now?” a scornful cackle rumbles past her chapped lips. “You think you’re the only one he’s screwed up against his bar?” One of the corners of her mouth turns up in to a sly, lopsided smile. her tongue emerging to toy smugly with her top lip, making you feel sick.

“The truth is Y/N, you don’t know him like I know him. He hasn’t done for you what he’s done for me. And that’s how I know that he loves me.”

Her insinuating smile and her unwavering certainty of Bobs feelings sends a bitter acid to bubble at the back of your throat. Your folded legs begin to tingle and throb. You shift your weight from side to side to try and alleviate the sharp pins and needles that were penetrating your fixed, numbing muscles.

“I think I know him pretty well actually.” Your brave whisper surprises her.

“No, no, no.” She shakes her head frantically. “You’ll never know him like I do. If you did then you would have run for the hills.” She nods as if trying to convince not only you but the other voices in her head. “He’ll remember how it was between us. But for that to happen he needs to forget about you. You need to disappear.” Her voice sounded almost remorseful. A condescending, pitying smirk controlled her gaunt features. “And I'll be the one to do it.” Her claw like hand flexes around the metal housing of the gun. “To prove how much, I love him.” she nods, making peace with what she has decided she has to do.

You still, eyes widening as Nadia reveals her true intentions. Your gut wrenches in panic. “Nadia, this is crazy. You’re not thinking straight...You need help.” You talk slowly and sympathizing as if addressing a child.

The coddle-like mockery resonated deep within the sensitive nerve of her psyche, and you reckoned it was the term ‘crazy’ that may have quickened the burning of her short fuse. Your defensive reflexes were no match for her livid release, and you had no last second chance to try and turn away, or shield a palm over your perfectly plump cheek before Nadia waylaid the side of your head with the unforgiving, stout plastic of the handgun. Weightless, and barely lingering in the realm of this nightmarish consciousness, the whip of her pistol pummeled you to land face-first into the aging, musty, less than pillowy carpet. A stark scarlet trickle of your own wound oozed from the temple of your gashed skull, and dripped off the ledge of your heart-shaped nose.  

“Oh, I’m thinking perfectly straight, Y/N. Trust me on that one, sweetie. And it seems pretty clear to me I’m not the one who needs help here. But, do you see anyone around to help you? Is your Bob here to save you? I don’t think so.” She laid face-to-face with you on the floor, false pity lying in the crease of her brow. The stanch, acrid aroma of her rotting mouth warmed over your face, and the wind from her close proximity made your eyes water upon contact.

Was this worth it? Was Bob Saginowski truly someone you’d lose your life over? Could you let yourself endure the torture, and possible murder from such a putrid maniac like Nadia all for the sake of a slight possibility you may become more than whatever it was you were now?  You punished yourself and those cruel questions by biting your own tongue to pinch blood loose. Of course, that confused, handsome, eclectic man and his perfect pup were worth it, and shame on you for every doubting it. Nadia sure thought so, and if her twisted, delirious, heart saw what a treasure he was, there was no way you’d turn him lose. Whether he’d put a title on the bond you’d established or not, Bob would lay in front of a train to protect you, and never question the decision.  

Just as your subconscious had lulled you into the melancholy scenario that may end with you never being cradled in his capable arms again, you swore you could trace the jingling racket of what resembled a dog collar erratically prancing up the stairs just feet behind the amply locked door. You knew it wasn’t a project of your imagination, when Nadia instantly reacted to the sound of nearby feet, and the whimpering sniff of a concerned Rocco. The sticky film of her oily palm clasped over the unwavering chatter of your teeth. You felt the assembling of a desolate screech for help settling at the back of your tongue, but the suffocating mask of her hand killed the chances of your outcry, and your sentient state, as you dozed into the restful slumber of oblivion...

...To be continued.

[cinebration]

Open Book (Bob Saginowski x Reader) [Request]

Hey love, we need some more Bob Sagintoski from the drop he's just to adorable. How would you feel about writing him and his girlfriend having there first proper argument.—Requested by anon

Warnings: none

Gif Source: strangebrews

It didn’t feel like a proper fight. Bob was too pragmatic for that. Present him with a problem, and he would either fix it or let it wash over him. Life was too short to worry over things he couldn’t fix, and that was how he dealt with everything.

“I just wish you were a little more open!” you cried.

He blinked, unsure how to respond to that. “You know how I am,” he said quietly.

Frustration creased your beautiful face. He didn’t like that. Your face didn’t deserve that treatment. The lines there should be from smiles and laughter, not from anger.

“I know.” You stalked away from him, your energy too elevated to stay contained in one place. “And that’s what’s so frustrating.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he groped for the right response. “What should I do?”

A half-irritated, half-defeated sigh slipped past your lips. “Not everything needs to be fixed.”

“Then what?”

You flung your hands up. “I don’t know! I just…I don’t know.”

Clenching your hands into fists, you folded your arms across your chest, stared down at the cracked linoleum floor. If you asked him to replace it, he would, you knew that. He was good at fixing things, and not just like a handyman. If you had a problem, any problem, he would do his best to fix it. It didn’t matter if it was a flat tire or a disorderly neighbor. He always wanted to find a solution.

It was such a…man thing.

“What…what are we fighting about?” He couldn’t help but sound genuine.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. “God, I feel like such a bitch.”

“No, don’t feel that.” He rose, walked over to you on soft feet. He hesitated, then reached out a hand to rest on your shoulder.

You leaned into the touch, encouraging him. Pulling you into an embrace, he leaned his head against your crown. Your crossed arms relaxed and then returned the hug, drawing him close.

“You’ve gotta tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.” Your voice was muffled against his chest.

“Please figure it out, so I can know what to do.”

You sighed, lifted your head up to look at him. He met your solemn gaze. “I love you for that, Bob. But sometimes, I also dislike you for it, too.”

He frowned, the little crease in his forehead deepening. “I…what?”

“You want to solve everything, and that’s sweet. But sometimes, I don’t want something to be fixed. I just want…to be heard and understood, I guess. And I want you to be the same with me. Sometimes…” Your hands curled into his sweater. “Sometimes you can be such a closed book. Even when you’re fixing things.”

Yet again he didn’t know how to respond. His jaw worked as he tried to find something to say. “My life is as you see it.”

“I know. That’s why I feel bad.” You leaned your head against him again. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“Don’t apologize. Sometimes people need to do that.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have anyway. I’m better than that. You deserve better than that.”

Rocco snuffled at your feet. He had grown to his full size, his head bumping into your feet, tail smacking against the refrigerator. You laughed into Bob’s sweater.

“Shoo,” he said, trying to create space away from the dog. “Three’s a crowd, buddy.”

Lifting your head, you reached down and scratched Rocco behind the ears. He pressed himself harder against you, peering up at you with kind, excited eyes.

“Can’t be mad with him around,” you mumbled to yourself, chuckling.

Bob stared at you. He could be more of an open book with you, he supposed. He could try not to solve your problems when what you wanted was for him to listen.

Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he resolved to try.

[alitheamateur]

Birthday Boy Bob- Pt. 2

Since the highly-anticipated, tantric meeting of flesh between you and your boss, Bob Saginowski, things had become much more than the one nighter you thought would end all too soon. Nights, and mornings spent together with he and Rocco, made you feel as if the inevitable pieces of your mundane life were finally beginning to settle in place. But, the haunting winter winds of Brooklyn may blow in a stale, scorned ghost to rattle the cage...

A/N: This piece never truly intended to become a multi-part fic, but my how the tables have turned here! Part 2 is a glorious collab with the phenom that is @torialeysha and her wonderous talents! To put it in Hardy terms, she’s like the Ronnie to my Teddy, putting it mildly. Her writing inspires me to create, and makes me also want to bury my head in the sand because I’ll never carry the talent she has in one finger! I’ve been so excited to work with her, and I hope you all enjoy this little duet. Cheers, to many more!

Warnings: Language. Kidnapping. Drug abuse. Violence. Gun Violence. 

Birthday Boy Bob- Pt. 2

Scalding coffee held in one gloved hand, and the gentle squeeze of his masculine fingers laced through your other as the pair of you shivered and anxiously paced your way to the bar for morning open. The one-bedroom house you called a home was only two measly blocks, so you and Bob decided a few minutes of the breezy, winter air wouldn’t kill you. Bob had slept at your place last night, after much ruthless convincing on your part that Rocco would feel perfectly safe in your bed just as he did his own at Bob’s house. You had been carrying on together for months now as a couple, your heartfelt feelings for the man only begging to spring free. The more time you spent with Bob Saginowski, the more you realized there really was much more to him than being the strong, brutish type. The budding friendship you both had nurtured for the two-year span after he had hired you, instigated the initial admiring feelings for him. And since that fateful evening of Bob’s birthday, you had gathered much more reason to feel that way.

He was most talkative upon his bright and early alarm every morning. On the nights spent sleeping nose to nose, with Rocco’s paw padded on your cheek, you would routinely wake up to the sputtering sound of an aromatic pot of coffee downstairs. Rather than crawl tiredly from the confines of his warm bed to pour a cup, you’d quietly wait in hopes that he would come tip-toeing up the creaking stairs of his aged, family home to skootch back into his position of big spoon under the jersey sheets to encase you in his shirtless arms.  

He felt most comfortable when he kept to the strict, daily routine he had mapped out for himself, so you made the proper adjustments to learn his ways. Laundry was done every other day, no dish was ever left in a dirty sink, and it was pertinent you never sleep past 7 a.m. and miss Rocco’s first potty break of the day. There was nothing wrong with Bob and his obsessive tendencies, it just took a bit of getting used to seeing as you were spending so much one-on-one time together. But, he did make changes to welcome you into that routine. Like a surprise visit to your nightly shower here and there, even though he had already taken his at the scheduled time. Or, an occasional early close-up at the bar because he knew you were exhausted from assisting him in carrying the weight of book keeping, and stock shelving now that you were more than just his bartender. The long-anticipated touch of his lips to yours had been entirely worth the torturous wait, bringing much more satisfaction than just the one-night-stand you thought you needed.  

“Hey uh, Saturday is Rocco’s comin’ home day. Well, it’s the day I found ‘em, you know. So, I thought maybe I’d do somethin’ special for him. Like take ‘em to uptown to one of those dog parks, and do some’a those other things he like so much. You got any ideas?” His breaths exhaled into a smoke-like cloud when the heat met the contrasting freeze of the morning hour.

“I could watch the bar if you wanted to take the day with him. I don’t mind”

“’Course not, Y/N. We want you to come wit’ us. We need our girl, ain’t that right Rocco? I thought about maybe closing the place for the day. It’s a special occasion ‘n all.”

Their girl.

We reached the dark, lonely bar and Bob backed you into the closed door while finagling loose the key inside the deep pocket of his winter coat. You squeezed inside first, rustling your body to try and shake loose the tensed, cold muscles. Flipping on each switch of the lights, and unzipping the layers of your outerwear, you giggled as Rocco danced about your feet knowing his chew toy was somewhere hidden inside your purse.  

“I gotta run out later for a few things since that big Knicks game is tonight. You need anything while I’m out, Y/N?”

“Ahh. That’s tonight?” You moan. Unable to hide the disappointment in your slumped shoulders as you crouch down to dig through your purse for the pining pup’s toy.  

The Nicks game meant that the bar would undoubtably be packed to the rafters with rowdy fans and depending on the end result, had the potential to destroy any hopes of closing on time. Which in turn meant less precious alone time with Bob. Rocco cocks his head to the side when your hand emerges empty from your purse.  

“Don’t worry, boy. It must be in here somewhere.” You up-end your purse and with a vigorous shake, the clattering contents spill out on to the floor. Rocco wastes no time, kindly lending his cold wet nose to assist you in your search for his prized possession. Your fingers, along with Rocco’s detective nose filters through the junk that your purse had over time accumulated. Wallet, receipts, phone, keys, hair ties, lip-gloss, body spray. But no dog toy.

“Hmm. That’s strange...”  

“What’s up?” Bobs towering form stands next to you, casting a shadow over your crouched form.

“I could have sworn I put Rocco’s toy in here.” You scan the objects laid in front of you once again with a fading optimism. Your certainty that you definitely remembered Rocco’s toy was re-enforced by the increasing pining of the pup as he nudged your purse with his cold, wet nose.

“Maybe it just fell out or summin’” Bob suggests  

“Maybe... I’m gonna run back and check.”

“You sure?... You haven't gotta go to all that trouble. I can grab him a chew when I’m out later.”

You look down into the pleading eyes of your panting dog baby. Your heart fluttering as you remembered Bobs words from earlier. Their girl.

“But that one is his favorite. I can't have my boy suffering the wild, disorderly crowd we’re gonna pull tonight.” You knew it would take the sensitive Pits mind off the raucous racket of chanting and cheering if he had his cherished chew toy to gnaw on.

Making up your mind, you pull your house keys from the disorganized mass of items before stuffing the rest back into your purse in a hurried mess. With a quick affectionate rub to Rocco’s head, you rise from your crouched position to dump your purse on the bar top. Turning to bid both of your boys a quick farewell.  

“I won’t be long.” You promise as your eyes meet Bobs. A striking look of pride, admiration... and something else filled his usually emotionless orbs as they burned into yours. Losing yourself in the heated gaze of your Boss and... Boyfriend? Lover? You weren’t sure. It was a conversation you had both been putting off. Knowing that Bob wouldn’t be into labelling whatever this was that was happening between you. But what you were sure of was it was more than what it was originally. More than what you had dreamed or imagined it ever could be. You were both each other's more and that was enough.  

“Er...You sure you’re gonna be okay? You don’t want us to come wit’ you?” He asks. Linking his fingers with yours while an unnecessary worry caused a few prominent lines to grace his forehead.

“It’s a couple of blocks away. I’ll be fine. You stay here and get this place ready for the riot we’re going to endure later...” He gives a subtle nod of agreement.  

“Don’t miss me too much you two.” You joke, moving to the door.  

To your surprise Bob doesn’t let go of your hand and with an assertive tug, pulls you back into his arms. You’re greeted immediately with his plush lips catching yours in a soft commanding kiss. You pull him closer until there was no space left. So close you could feel his heart against your chest beating an erratic rhythm that mirrored yours and betrayed the cool, calm exterior, he consistently exuded.  

You pull away breathless. A four-letter word erupted involuntarily from your aching chest and got caught in your throat. “Bobby, I-” You were lost. The frightening depths of your feelings towards Bob were growing so intense it was almost painful. It was too much too soon. The unimpressed whining cry from Rocco breaks the moment and you’re thankful for the interruption. Swallowing the eager sentiment and saving it for another time.

Those heavy, life-changing words stammered off the cliff of your tongue along the journey back home. You couldn’t let the daft, most likely delusional, admission of that feeling of love ruin the overdue relationship you were developing with Bob.  You knew there was no way a man as multifaceted as himself would fall into the illusion of love just a few months into the developing bond. And you weren’t completely convinced that Bob was entirely capable of accepting, or expressing the love of a woman. But, you knew he’d give his last-ditch efforts to try if it meant he could go to sleep at night with you soothingly scratching your nails over the tender skin along his back.

You hushed the one-sided conversing as you trudged the stairs towards your second-floor building on hunt for Rocco’s blessed chew toy. Ms. Peters from next door had already made her impressions of you known around the other tenants as a wretched, fornicating hussy who disturbed her all hours of the night trolloping with her strange male friend. There was no need to add manic, schizophrenic that talks to herself to the list of the woman’s judgmental arsenal of gossip. So, you smiled artificially at her on your way inside, holding your breath to avoid the fumes from her morning cigarette. You inhaled enough secondhand tar at the bar every night, so might as well save a breath where you could here and there.  

Your keyring jangled around your fingers as you searched amongst the collection for the appropriate key to open the locked door of your designated apartment marked 251. You left the barricade standing open behind you as you marched to the beige couch where you had retrieved your purse in the rushed exit only half hour ago, assuming to find the red, dingy bone lying smooshed between the crumb-filled cushions. Upon a quick search beneath the sham of the love-seat, no avail in discovery, you flinched in fright as the slamming of the once opened door echoed over the drums of your ears.  

The boisterous interruption inevitably caused distraction, and you right away turned your direction to investigate the cause behind the resounding crash. A chilly gust of sickening mortification settled over your chest upon the sight of a ghost from girlfriends past standing unwelcomed in your living room, latching carefully the double-bolt lock nailed to your doors frame. Only Nadia wasn’t a ghost. She wasn’t a haunting nightmare from your most heinous thoughts, or a horrifying hallucination of your disgusted distresses. She was a fleshy reminder that your worst fear had indeed reared its ugly head of malice once more.  

“Looking for this, are you?” She pinched the sought-after bone between her dirt-lined nails, causing it to release a squeaking whine. The horn-like sound didn’t sound as chipper as it did when your sweet Rocco knocked it around the slick floor of the bar.

Grey, hollow shadow bags under her twitching eyes, and the way her words seemed to tumble like weighted rocks from her drawn, scab-lined mouth supported the suspicions around the neighborhood that she had fallen back into her drug induced, alternative reality. She wore a faded, damp hoodie that smelled like stale garbage, and stained blue jeans hung low on the malnourished bone of her hips.  

“How… Nadia, what.. how are you here?” You seemed to chew on your thick saliva that clung to the roof of your mouth like stale bubblegum.  

“You learn to pick a lock pretty early where I’m from, sweetheart. And, sweet, sweet, dumb Bob never noticed me followin’ behind him when he came here the other night. He led me right to you.” Plaque caked over her yellow-tinted fangs as she smiled callously.

You snaked a hand stealthily toward your rear pocket in efforts to grasp your cell, the only contact to escape this dangerous predicament. The hopeless realization that your only lifeline had been left behind at the bar where Bob cluelessly carried about with his opening checklist made the nervous bile in your belly simmer near release. Without weighing the potential consequence of a hasty reaction, you sprang up on your heels towards the bedroom where you knew a cracked window opened onto a rickety fire escape. You may break an ankle, or crack a rib from falling the two-stories to the front lawn, but you’d be freed from the scorned control of Nadia and her dope induced hostage situation. Before you could crank the knob of the unlatched entry, a cold, scuffed steel trembled against the center spot of your cranium, and the toxic clack of an engaging bullet dropping into a barrel paralyzed your escape. Nadia’s faltering grip on the pistol she doted and aimed tenaciously toward your head quivered with the tremor of whatever vice she had befriended assumingly in the wee morning hour. Your focus unintendedly latched onto the wiry friction of your hair chafing against the weapon.  

“Now, now, Y/N. You had better think real hard about trying to take off me like that again, you conniving bitch.”

At the careless risk of exhibiting weakness and distress in being tangled in her kidnapping clutches, tears and sweat stung your eyes. You felt internally on fire like the pits of a sweltering steadfast hell, but when you wiped the liquid from your worry-lined forehead, your hands were clammy and pale with a damp chill. Her ill-disposed warning resonated somewhat, but the echoing ring in your ears drowned out most of the background noise.

You fall to your knees, succumbing to the impotent fear that has seized your body. Through tear filled, blurry vision you gaze with an anxious appetency at the freedom and safety which lurked within a teasingly unattainable reach, just beyond the fractured square of glass that was your only hope for escape. Nadia becomes visible in your peripheral vision. Your eyes follow her. Like a hungry shark she circles before coming to a stop in front of you. Her slight and withering frame obscures your view of the diverse, suburban neighborhood and its oblivious residents. In silence you tread the treacherous current of the choppy waters, determining their dangerous depths while the predator stalks its prey. She bends, leaning her boney posterior on the ledge of the weathered windowsill. Her arm is raised with the pistol pointed precisely at the crown of your head. The dank material of her hoody hung in a swag from the stiff slenderness of her limb. The weakened state of her undernourished muscles sent a tremor down her arm and you felt the weight of the pistol wavering in her grasp as she tried to steady it against your forehead.

“Why don’t you put the gun down, Nadia?” It’s hard to get the words out as your throat tightens in terror. Her features remain impassive as she drags the muzzle of the gun down your profile. Thanks to the slick mixture of sweat and tears that moistened your face, the rigid steel, zig zagged effortlessly from your temple to your eye socket before curving around your cheekbone; trailing across the bridge of your nose and dipping into the hiding dimple of your cheek. It finishes its grueling journey between your lips. The metal rattling a chattering rhythm against your teeth, once again betraying Nadia's decreasing strength.

“I don’t understand what he sees in you.” She rasps. Resting the weight of the pistol on your bottom lip. You fight back the urge to retort, fully aware that you weren’t the one holding the gun. “I see the way he acts with you. The way he looks at you.” Her mouth twists in hostile resentment. An indignation so powerful it caused you to be on the receiving end of her revolver. The last time you had seen her was at the bar on Bobs birthday. You and every other member of the community assumed she had once again disappeared, only to now find out that she had been watching you from the shadows. A shudder wracks your body, causing Nadia to jump. In a swift movement the weapon is torn from your mouth and planted back on the invisible target she’s placed on your forehead. You gasp at the sudden movement, trying your best to stay stock-still and calm. A feat that was betrayed by the turbulent rise and fall of your chest, as your burning lungs expanded with harsh, panicked breaths.

“He used to look at me like that.” Her dark empty pools looked straight through you as she reminisced about the not so distant memory of when she when she was once Bob and Rocco's girl. Her face crumples in a tormented frown, causing a trail of tears to spill from her black orbs.  

“You see, he’s forgotten that he loves me. It’s my own fault I suppose. I was gone too long. I thought he would have missed me. That when I returned, he would have welcomed me back with open arms... Then I saw you two together.”

“He did miss you, Nadia. He was broken when you left.” You have no idea why you’re telling her that. Maybe it was because of the weapon she yielded and poked so promisingly at you or maybe it was because it was the truth. You remembered how forlorn and lost Bob was when she went away. How you picked up for his slack behind the bar while he would wallow alone in his back office with Rocco. How some nights you wouldn’t get home until gone 3 in the morning because you stuck around trying to coax Bob from his woeful solitude, afraid that he might do something silly. Only wake up the next day and do it all again.

“But you were there to pick up the pieces?” It was said as a question but her snarling expression told you she didn’t want you to answer. “I should have known not to trust you. That as soon as my back was turned, you’d try and wheedle your way in.”

“Maybe, you need to come to terms with that fact that he doesn’t love you anymore.” It was a curt statement. A censored rendition of what you actually wanted to say.

“Oh? And why is that? Because he loves you now?” a scornful cackle rumbles past her chapped lips. “You think you’re the only one he’s screwed up against his bar?” One of the corners of her mouth turns up in to a sly, lopsided smile. her tongue emerging to toy smugly with her top lip, making you feel sick.

“The truth is Y/N, you don’t know him like I know him. He hasn’t done for you what he’s done for me. And that’s how I know that he loves me.”

Her insinuating smile and her unwavering certainty of Bobs feelings sends a bitter acid to bubble at the back of your throat. Your folded legs begin to tingle and throb. You shift your weight from side to side to try and alleviate the sharp pins and needles that were penetrating your fixed, numbing muscles.

“I think I know him pretty well actually.” Your brave whisper surprises her.

“No, no, no.” She shakes her head frantically. “You’ll never know him like I do. If you did then you would have run for the hills.” She nods as if trying to convince not only you but the other voices in her head. “He’ll remember how it was between us. But for that to happen he needs to forget about you. You need to disappear.” Her voice sounded almost remorseful. A condescending, pitying smirk controlled her gaunt features. “And I'll be the one to do it.” Her claw like hand flexes around the metal housing of the gun. “To prove how much, I love him.” she nods, making peace with what she has decided she has to do.

You still, eyes widening as Nadia reveals her true intentions. Your gut wrenches in panic. “Nadia, this is crazy. You’re not thinking straight...You need help.” You talk slowly and sympathizing as if addressing a child.

The coddle-like mockery resonated deep within the sensitive nerve of her psyche, and you reckoned it was the term ‘crazy’ that may have quickened the burning of her short fuse. Your defensive reflexes were no match for her livid release, and you had no last second chance to try and turn away, or shield a palm over your perfectly plump cheek before Nadia waylaid the side of your head with the unforgiving, stout plastic of the handgun. Weightless, and barely lingering in the realm of this nightmarish consciousness, the whip of her pistol pummeled you to land face-first into the aging, musty, less than pillowy carpet. A stark scarlet trickle of your own wound oozed from the temple of your gashed skull, and dripped off the ledge of your heart-shaped nose.  

“Oh, I’m thinking perfectly straight, Y/N. Trust me on that one, sweetie. And it seems pretty clear to me I’m not the one who needs help here. But, do you see anyone around to help you? Is your Bob here to save you? I don’t think so.” She laid face-to-face with you on the floor, false pity lying in the crease of her brow. The stanch, acrid aroma of her rotting mouth warmed over your face, and the wind from her close proximity made your eyes water upon contact.

Was this worth it? Was Bob Saginowski truly someone you’d lose your life over? Could you let yourself endure the torture, and possible murder from such a putrid maniac like Nadia all for the sake of a slight possibility you may become more than whatever it was you were now?  You punished yourself and those cruel questions by biting your own tongue to pinch blood loose. Of course, that confused, handsome, eclectic man and his perfect pup were worth it, and shame on you for every doubting it. Nadia sure thought so, and if her twisted, delirious, heart saw what a treasure he was, there was no way you’d turn him lose. Whether he’d put a title on the bond you’d established or not, Bob would lay in front of a train to protect you, and never question the decision.  

Just as your subconscious had lulled you into the melancholy scenario that may end with you never being cradled in his capable arms again, you swore you could trace the jingling racket of what resembled a dog collar erratically prancing up the stairs just feet behind the amply locked door. You knew it wasn’t a project of your imagination, when Nadia instantly reacted to the sound of nearby feet, and the whimpering sniff of a concerned Rocco. The sticky film of her oily palm clasped over the unwavering chatter of your teeth. You felt the assembling of a desolate screech for help settling at the back of your tongue, but the suffocating mask of her hand killed the chances of your outcry, and your sentient state, as you dozed into the restful slumber of oblivion.  

To be continued....

      TAGS: @eap1935

[iamkatehardy]

How would Bob S. React to his S/O telling him she was pregnant and how protective do you think he would be? I also think he would be big into rubbing your belly and talking to your bump!!!

It’s short, but... 🙊

____________________

The holidays were a busy time for Bob; not only there was a lot of movement in the bar, but he also pulled out all the stops when it came to Christmas decorations. There was a special feeling that came with baking your favorite Christmas treats, or setting up the tree with you. It was his favorite time of the year and he loved every bit of it, with the simplicity and excitement of a child.

With an expression of wonder and delight on his face, Bob sat underneath the Christmas tree, raking through a box full of Christmas ornaments.

“Which ones should we use this year, boy?” – He held different decoration pieces in both of his hands, letting Rocco see them and sniff them. The dog licked his right hand and barked happily. – “You love these, don’t you? Me too, buddy, me too!” – After some treats and head rubs, Bob immediately started hanging the chosen ornaments on the tree. – “ (Y/N)!” – He called with a smile on his face

Minutes later, when you emerged from the bathroom, you stood at the door and observed him for a quiet moment.

“Come, love!” - He turned to you, giving you a warm smile and opened his arms for you to come to him.

“Bob, I have something to tell you.” -  With your head down, fiddling with your fingers, you sat on the ground beside him, with your legs folded under you.

“Go on, then.” - Unsure of what you wanted to say, he gnawed on his lower lip nervously, putting the box away for a minute.

“I don't know exactly how to say this…”                                                

Bob was already nervous, slightly shaking, but your words made him even more nervous. Uneasy as you were, it could only be bad news, or so he thought.

“I’m pregnant.” -  You were still kind of scared of what his reaction would be, because none of you had ever touched the subject.

“What?” – His eyes widened with surprise.

“You’re gonna be a father, Bob.”

“A baby?”  - He looked around in confusion, then back at you. – “Like, a little baby?!” – He opened his hands about the size of a child, measuring with his eyes how tiny it was compared to him. – “Of our own?”

“That’s right.” – You just studied his expression with your soft eyes

“That’s…”

“I know we didn’t plan for it to happen, but…” – Suddenly, you interrupted him.

“(Y/N), this is amazing!” – Bob interrupted you too and kneeled by your side, gently caressing your back and placing his lips upon your own. – “I don’t know what you say, but look!” – Smiling against your lips, he placed your hand over his chest so you could feel his heart racing beneath your hand. – “This is the best gift any man can have, a blessing!” – With a single tear running down his cheek, he stroked your hand lovingly, pecking your lips again and again.

From then on, Bob immediately became the fierce, protective father you always imagine he’d be. He hired two new employees for the bar, so he could take care of you every hour of the day and prepare everything for the little one’s arrival.

Day after day, he’d admire how much your belly had grown, and night after night, he’d lay his head on your tummy, stroking it gently and waiting eagerly for the first kick. At the end of the pregnancy, there were dozens of children’s book around the house already; Bob read that babies could hear even inside the womb, so when he wasn’t having a conversation with the baby, telling how loved he was and showering the mother with compliments, he was reading a new bedtime story, which sometimes resulted in excited baby kicks as answer, often making him shed a tear of joy.