#robert goren x reader

[bullet-prooflove]

For Bobby?

“'Cause you're beautiful and smart, fuckin' talented”

Bobby doesn’t mean to fall in love with you, it’s just something that happens throughout the duration of your partnership. You’re meant to be a maternity cover, someone to pick up Eame’s caseload while she’s away as a surrogate for her sister.

When you first appear, he hates your sunny disposition. Eames is sensible, practical, it’s a good balance to his eccentric qualities. You’re too bright, too vibrant, it hurts to even look at you. The worst part is you don’t even try to reign him in.

“You’re an adult. You’re smart enough to know when you’re going too far.” You tell him when he confronts you about it. “You’re just pissed off because you’re missing your partner.”

He pauses then because honestly, he never dreamed that you’d call him out like that. He hadn’t thought it was in your nature. He starts to see you in a different light then, because underneath all of the sunshine and rainbows, there’s a core of steel.

He sees it during interrogations, when you go toe to toe with suspects. You have a way of getting under people’s skin, of deducing their secrets. He has a forensic mind but you, you’re emotionally intelligent. You get people.

“How’s she working out?” Captain Deakins him one night after you’ve gone home.

“We had a rocky start.” He tells his captain, his palm rubbing across his mouth as he stares at your desk with the brightly coloured pens and post its. You’re a visual person, you work best colour coding information, it was infuriating in the beginning but now he kind of likes it. It adds a little something to his day. “But she’s growing on me.”

It’s a Tuesday when he realises that everything has changed. You look up from a report you’re reading, and you give him that smile, the one that makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He finds the edges of his mouth tilting up as his gaze lowers back to the paper in front of him.

Yea, you’re definitely growing on him.

Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u

[malevolent-muse]

Criminal Intent Fan Fiction by Malevolent_Muse

Ghosts of Killers Past (Completed)

Nicole Wallace, declared deceased by the NYPD back in 2008, is alive and well traipsing around Europe and up to her typical games of manipulation, mayhem, and murder. After an eventful stint in Paris, she finds herself in Germany only to come across a man she never expected to see again in her life... Robert Goren had believed she was dead, after all. Crossing paths with him again leads to a series of events that not even she could have anticipated.

Caught in the Current (Completed) A rainy weekend getaway to a beach-front hotel with your reluctant companion, Major Case's Detective Robert Goren, turns perilous. When the rain gives way to cloudy skies, the ocean beckons you. And as the sea lures you in, you learn firsthand how treacherous the waves can be, even close to the shore.

The Trials and Tribulation Series

(This work features characters from both the various Law & Order shows and the Chicago shows. Consequently, it is written in a manner so as to be accessible to those with no prior knowledge of the fandom.)

Unexpected Tribulations (Completed) Abducted and held captive, NYPD Detective Robert Goren is forced to submit to mysterious medical procedures by unknown assailants. Every trace of who he was will be stripped away - not only his physical attributes, but psychological as well.

Elusive Redemption (Completed) Robert Goren has endured 769 days of endless torment. Help is on its way. But is it too little, too late?

Temperamental Sanctuary (Completed) Robert Goren has been saved from the horrific abuse he suffered at the hands of cruel and relentlessly ruthless men in Chicago. He has now been brought home to New York City where he comes in contact with a mysterious benefactor. Will she be the key to his salvation or are her intentions more depraved?

Rewoven Fealty (Completed) For the better part of a year, Robert Goren had been a resident of a mental health institution as he dealt with the horrific ramifications of brutal psychological, physical, and sexual abuse. Now, just when it seems he's through the thick of it, another unexpected tribulation is thrown in his path. Will he be able to overcome it or will it lead to a never-ending cycle downwards?

Finally Forsaken (Work in Progress) The final work in the Trials and Tribulations Series. After all he has been through: the abduction, getting rescued years later, being committed to a mental institution, and having to fight to be reinstated as a detective, Robert Goren has reached the events that will carve out his final destiny or his doom.

[bullet-prooflove]

Valentine's Day Bingo: Red - Bobby Goren x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u @yezzyyae

Hitting the Red Bingo Square

Bobby can’t take his eyes off your lips. The vivid red hue accentuates them as you run your finger over the outline chasing away any smudges from the lipstick.

Forever Together, the shade is called. He knows that because he’d bought you a new one after you’d spent the night, leaving sensual imprints all over his body.

Your eyes flicker up to meet his over the mirror of your compact. You smile that salacious little grin of yours before you snap it shut, depositing it back in your desk drawer.

You know exactly what you’re doing to him. It’s a game, he realises as you adjust the collar of the pretty blue dress you’re wearing, revealing the faint bruise he’d left on the hollow of your throat last night. A way of driving him a little crazy before the two of you go out this evening.

The edges of his mouth tip up into a smile as he turns his attention back to his paperwork, his pen tapping lightly on the table. Eames is the only one that knows about the two of you, she’d cottoned onto it the second she’d returned to work. Everyone else including your partner Logan have no idea that you’re in a relationship.

“I’m going to head out.” You tell him, raising to your feet and picking up your purse.

“Have fun on your date.” He says without looking up.

“Oh, I will.” He hears the light teasing in your voice and his cock stirs at the implication.

 “Oh Bobby, I left the file you were asking about in your top drawer.” You call over your shoulder, the sound of your heels clicking across the wiles as you head towards the elevator.

He pauses for a moment, the lift chiming in the background before you step onto it as he replays the conversations you’ve had throughout the day.

He doesn’t recall asking you for a casefile…

When he opens his desk drawer, he sees the flash of red lace almost immediately. His hand slips inside, his fingertips brushing over the damp material and he clenches his jaw to prevent the moan working it’s way out of his throat. He glances around before he removes your panties from his desk before tucking them into his trouser pocket. He takes his personal cell out of the interior compartment of his suit jacket before he pulls up your text chain and types out his message.

You have been a very bad girl…

Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bullet-prooflove]

How about this for either Alden or Bobby:

“you’re more than just a one night stand”

You don’t talk about what happened at your brother’s engagement party.

The fact that Bobby had taken you to bed that night, made you see God.

It’s a one-night thing, you think when the two of you sit across from each other in the precinct. A little wine, a little music, a little dancing. You’d both got lost in the moment.

The thing is…

It’s the best sex you’ve had in your life.

You’ve never met someone so attuned to your needs, your wants, your desires. When you look at him, you can’t help but think of his firm, heated form pressing against yours, his mouth whispering those sweet, honied words in your ear.

It’s on the way out that he catches up with you. You have your gym bag slung over your shoulder as you head towards your car.

“We should talk about last night.” He murmurs as he falls into step with you.

“I think you made it pretty clear it was just a one-night thing when you disappeared this morning.” You remind him, hitting the button to unlock your car.

He deserves that. He’d slipped from the sheets in the early hours of the morning, no note no explanation. The nursing home upstate had called him, his mom was having a bad reaction to the medication he was on. He would have mentioned it this morning, but the bullpen was crowded, and he didn’t want anyone overhearing your business.

The NYPD isn’t kind to women who sleep with other officers, he’d get a slap on the back, and you’d get a reputation. It had been excruciating, waiting out the day but he would never do anything that would jeopardise your career. You mean too much to him.

“You’re more than a just one-night stand to me.” He tells you, his ducking his head so he can read the expression on your features.  “You must know that.”

There’s such an earnestness in him that you can’t help but feel yourself thaw.

“I haven’t been with anyone since Michael.” You find yourself telling him. “I’m not… I don’t know how things work.”

You’re talking about your ex-husband, the one who cheated on you, the one who’d tried to seduce you last night when you were there with Bobby. That’s what had started this whole thing, the thought of that man taking you to bed, making you his own again. It had unleashed something inside of Bobby, something primal and raw. When you’d kissed him at the bar, he’d lost all sense of control. He’d ended up going down on you at the venue, your dress hiked up over your hips, your fingers tugging at his curls as he fucked you with his tongue. He’d taken you home after that, undressing you with eager fingertips and an urgent mouth.

He wants that again, he wants to spend his nights exploring your body, learning all the ways in which he can make you say his name.

“How about we get dinner tonight?” He asks you, the edges of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “I’m sure the two of us can figure it out.”

Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u @yezzyyae @kmc1989

[bullet-prooflove]

Changing it up and going for Bobby Goren with this one:

“look what you do to me”

“Look what you do to me.” Bobby says, his voice a little rough as he grasps his cock in his hand. He sighs as his hand moves up and down his erection, his thumb smearing pre-cum over the tip.

You’re on your knees in front of him, fingers laced behind your back as those pretty eyes of yours flicker up to meet his. You’re wearing that lingerie he likes, a low-cut black number that showcases your breasts perfectly. His fingers thread through your hair, gripping it as he guides your head back so he can see the rest of beautiful face.

You’re wearing lipstick tonight, a deep crimson that highlights your skin tone. He rubs his cock over your lips, smearing the pigment across the tip. He loves seeing the evidence of your debauchery staining his skin. Your tongue flicks over the tip and he moans at the sensation, his hips arching as his dick disappears between your lips.

He takes it slow because he knows he’s a lot to accommodate but the sight of your mouth wrapped around his cock…

It’s a beautiful sight.

He pumps his dick into your mouth, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck as he holds you in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs as he fills that sweet carvern. “You can take it.”

Tagging: @id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u @kmc1989

[bullet-prooflove]

Another one for Bobby Goren:

“She's the one, she'll always be there”

Bobby struggles in the aftermath of Frances’s death. He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats, he can barely think straight. When he looks at the list of things, he has to deal with his heart just sinks, because it’s too big, too overwhelming. He has all of these feelings coursing through him and he has no idea how to handle them.

It’s you that steps in during his time of need. You go through the list, one thing at a time, liaising with the funeral home, arranging the cremation. When he gets home you make sure there’s snacks available, popcorn, fruit slices, chips because sometimes it’s easier to take bites of the elephant as opposed to consuming the whole thing.

At night you ask him to read out loud to you in bed because you love falling asleep to the sound of his voice. He finds the act relaxing and before he knows it, he’s drifting off to sleep.

On the day of the funeral, he feels numb and hollowed out. He finds it hard to function, his fingers fumbling over the tie as he attempts to adorn it. You take pity on him, the scent of your perfume flooding his senses as you lean in close. You smell like sunshine and honey and for the first time since his mother’s death he starts to feel something again.

“Thank you.” He says, his lips brushing over yours. “Thank you for looking after me.”

@kmc1989 @id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u

[bullet-prooflove]

"Cigarettes and tiny liquor bottles" for Bobby? ♥

It’s the tiny liquor bottles all lined up in a nice, neat row that tips Bobby off to the fact that you’re struggling. You haven’t touched a drop in over three years. He picks up one of them and surveys the label.

It’s whiskey, your brand of choice. He sets it back down before looking towards the open window that leads onto the fire escape. He can smell the cigarette smoke from here, it drifts into the apartment on the breeze.

He’s waiting for you when you climb back inside, sitting on the couch with those tiny bottles clustered on the coffee table. You’re moving stiffly today, he’s noticed you have been a lot over the past few days.

“You haven’t opened them.” He says, his gaze fixed on the alcohol.

“No.” You respond, shaking your head.

You’re wearing one of his sweaters, it swallows up your fame as you sit down on easy chair before raking your hands through your hair.

“But you bought them?” He asks you and you nod your head because there’s no point in lying to Bobby, he’ll see right through you.

“I need you to get rid of them.” You tell him, swallowing hard against the well of emotion in your chest. “If I open them…”

You’re scared of what you’ll do, Bobby is too.

“Was there a trigger?” He asks you, his hand rubbing across your mouth.

You purse your lips together as you look at the tiny whiskey bottles sitting in front of you, your fingertips twitching.

“I’m in pain Bobby.” You tell him, your eyes stinging. “I’m in pain all the time. The nerve damage from what she did to me… The pain killers aren’t working anymore.”

You can see the grief in his gaze, because he did this to you. He put you in Nicole’s crosshairs. He’s the reason you’re in agony, day in and day out. The guilt it cripples him, it’s why he sees a therapist on a weekly basis because sometimes when he knows your suffering, he can barely bring himself to look at you.

“I don’t know how to fight this.” You tell him, using the back of your hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You look up at him and he looks back.

He knows your searching for a solution, but the truth is Bobby doesn’t have one.

@crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u

[bullet-prooflove]

Better: Bobby Goren x Reader

Part of @storiesofsvu Holiday Bingo! The square was Scarf Sharing!

Tagging:  @crazy4chickennuggets  @kmc1989  @withakindheartx @id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u

You’re in the midst of a New York winter. It’s below freezing outside and the heater in the car is stuck on low, which is absolutely perfect because you’ve trapped in this ice box for over three hours now, and you have another five hours left on the stake out.

Beside you Bobby holds the camera up to his face, snapping off another couple of pictures before he sets it back down on the dashboard. He glances at you, bundled up on in your winter coat, arms folded over your chest and he takes pity on you.

He pulls the scarf from around his neck before looping it around yours. The scent of his aftershave clings to the fabric and you breathe it in.

“You know I run hot.” He says by way of explanation, and you give him that look.

“Noone can run hot in this temperature.” You tell him. “It’s impossible.”

“Honestly I do.” He reaches forward and clasps your hand in both of his.

The warmth radiates from his skin, heating your chilled skin. His thumb chases over the hollow of your wrist.

“Come here.” He says before he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

You tuck yourself under his arm, burrowing against him as he draws you closer. You can feel his body heat emanating through the confines of his coat and you savour it.

“Better?” He asks you, his lips brushing over your hairline.

“Yea.” You whisper, your head coming to rest upon his chest. “Much better.”

Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bullet-prooflove]

Bobby Goren anon here, no prompt, no specifics, nothing crazy, just some kind of fluff fic. Whatever your heart desires. You are amazing as always.

So Nonny, thank you! I have adored writing for our wonderful Bobby and thank you for that opportunity.

You're beautiful, Bobby has always thought so. Usually it's understated, you don't wear make up, you dress practically, but somehow you still manage to shine. He doesn't understand it. He doesn't have to.

When he sees you tonight though, his heart stutters in this chest. He feels that familiar flush of arousal chasing through his synapses, igniting that drive, that primal desire to claim you. It hits him like a truck because that sensation...

It's something hes not felt in a very long time.

You're wearing a blue dress that hugs your shape and accentuates your assets. Your hair is loose, falling over your face as you use your thumb to chase away any stray lipstick along the line of your mouth.

You're radiant and he knows that tonight you're going to break someone's heart.

When Jonesy wolf whistles you give him the middle finger and Bobby ducks his head to hide the smile on his face.

"You look nice." He tells you.

It's a neutral term, one that's expected between colleagues. He can't tell you that you look resplendent, that he's imagining how good the silk would feel against his skin, bunched in his fists as he pulls you down into his lap.

"Brother's engagement party." You tell him as you open the top drawer of your desk searching for something.

"You don't sound too enthused." He remarks, toying with his pen.

"It's his third engagement." You tell him as you locate the gum you're looking for.

"Ah." Bobby says in understanding.

Your brother David, the hopeless romantic. Every girl he meets is always the one, that is until they aren't.

"I don't suppose you wanna come?" You ask him. "Open bar, decent entertainment and that includes both my family drama and the band."

He looks up because he thinks you can't be serious, but he sees the tilt of your head, the hopeful smile. He likes the idea of seeing where you come from, the dynamics of your family.

"I'm not really dressed for it." He says gesturing to his suit. And you step around the bank of desks to survey his attire.

"Let's see what we can do about that." You utter before reaching forward and loosening his tie.

He stays perfectly still as you undo the knot with practised fingers. Already there's a stirring in his trousers and he has to remind himself that you aren't actually undressing him.

The proximity feels intimate, he can smell the mint from your gum, feel the brush of your fingertips as you undo that top two buttons of his shirt.

He almost reaches out to capture your hand when you take a step back to review your handiwork.

"Ta da." You say. "Now we have causal Bobby, ready to gate crash my brother's engagement party with his style and wit."

He unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up both of his forearms. He notices the way your gaze shifts, it always does.

"What's the other thing?" He asks you as he raises to his feet, scooping up his wallet and his keys from the desk. "The thing you're not telling me?"

You purse your lips together into a sensual pout, your arms crossing over your chest because you know you've been caught out.

"My ex husband's going to be there." You tell him. "Apparently David's asked him to be the best man."

Bobby pauses.

He's met Richard before, or as he likes to think of him Dick. Your ex is a prosecutor turned defense attorney, the two of you split not long after he defected to the other side. Bobby's been on the other side of the table from him multiple times.

"You want a buffer." He states frankly.

You sigh.

"I want to have a good time, with someone who actually gets me." You tell him. "Also my family really want to meet you, they want to get to know the guy who has my back in the field."

"You mean threaten my life so that I make sure no harm befalls you." He supplements as the two of you head towards the elevator.

"That too." You tell him as you press the button and wait for the doors to open.

When they do he looks up and sees your reflection in the mirrored panelling. The both of you are smiling, his palm is on your lower back guiding you inside.

You look like a couple and Bobby can't shake that image as he steps onto the elevator and pushes the button for the ground floor.

[bullet-prooflove]

Can I request a Bobby Goren fic with the prompt “When I watch the world burn All I think about is you”? I love your work

The stench of smoke clings to Bobby’s skin when he lets himself into the apartment the two of you share. He’s returning from a crime scene, one that was still ablaze when he’d gotten to it. It’s been a long night, and there’s a weariness in his bones because he has questions, questions he has to ask but he isn’t sure he wants the answer to.

You’re in the shower when he steps into the bedroom, he can hear the water running. He hopes that isn’t significant, that you aren’t washing away any evidence. He sits down on his side of the bed, his gaze coming to rest on the hamper. He doesn’t want to check, but he has to for his own piece of mind. He picks up your discarded top and presses it to his nose.

Eucalyptus, honeysuckle, the scents he associates with you but there’s something else damp, he thinks. There’s no lingering signs of accelerant or smoke. Bobby thinks if you did set the fire you would have been smart enough to get rid of your clothes before he got home.

The door to the bathroom opens and you step out dressed in one of his t-shirts, your tousled hair falling across your shoulders.

“Where were you tonight?” Bobby asks you, his gaze on the top he’s holding in his hands.

“I went back to the office for a couple of hours,” You tell him, tossing your towel into the hamper. “This case is driving me a little crazy.”

“Crazy enough to dig through the basement files, it was a mess.” You tell him with a sigh. “Apparently a pipe burst a couple of years ago, no one’s been through them to check what was damaged and what wasn’t.”

Your gaze comes to linger on the shirt in his hands, you watch as he returns it to the laundry basket.

“Can someone vouch for you?” He asks you. “Did anyone see you?”

“Probably.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “I had to swipe my card, sign in… Why are you asking me?”

He looks at you, those brilliant dark eyes of his meeting yours for the first time tonight.

“Someone set fire to Cal Hedgewick’s gallery tonight… They put a bullet in him and left him to die in the flames.”

“The paintings?” You question. “The ones in the backroom?”

The ones that belonged to Jewish families, that had been ‘liberated’ during the Holocaust. The ones that Hedgewick had collected as part of his history, his families’ history as Nazi officers. The ones you had meticulously tracked down in your role as an investigator for Art Recovery International. You’d had to retire from the NYPD earlier in the year due to your run in with Nicole Wallace and the nerve toxin that had left you with permanent physical damage.

“Gone.” He says, shaking his head. “Removed before the fire.”

“Did you think…” You leave the words hanging because you’re not sure you want to know.

He shakes his head.

“Not in here.” He says tapping the space where his heart resides. “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t consider you a suspect after the run in you had with him.”

“You got any leads?” You say sitting down on the bed alongside of him. Your shoulders bump and he sighs as you reach out and take his hand. He squeezes it tightly before he says.

“We’re gonna need you to come down to the precinct, there are questions…”

“Yea,” You say quietly, pulling away from him “I guess I have a lot to answer for.”

[bullet-prooflove]

How about “Oh, is that how you like it?" from the most recent prompt list for Bobby Goren.

“Oh, is that how you like it tonight?" Bobby whispers into your ear as he takes you with deep, powerful thrusts that make you cry out his name. “A little rough?”

His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping it in his fist and you clench around his dick so perfectly he almost comes right there and then. He stills his hips, his fingertips trailing down your body until they brush over your clit. You tighten and he nips that naughty little spot just underneath the hinge of your jaw.

“Not yet.” He growls into your ear. “You need to come on my cock before you get the rest of me.”

@id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u @kmc1989

[bullet-prooflove]

WorkofArt Series! - Part Two: Starry Night

Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @words-and-seeds @darqchilddaydreamz @id1ehands

WorkofArt! Series:

Part One: Storm In A Teacup - Bobby decodes the letters you left him.

Once a month Bobby receives a postcard of a semi-famous painting to his pigeonhole at the precinct. The only thing that is written upon it is the address of where he works, nothing else, and it makes him smile every damn time.

“I feel like I’m the best friend in a 1940s romcom.” Eames remarks as she shuffles the paperwork on her desk back into the manilla folder, before frowning at the image in Bobby's hand. “Huh, it’s different from the other ones.”

Bobby hands it over to her and she studies the painting on the front of the postcard. It’s garish and uncomfortable, a woman staring into the distance while she holds a kitten by the throat. It’s far from the usual images you send him which are usually complex interesting pieces with rich vivid hues. She turns over the postcard and notes the question mark on the back.

“She doesn’t understand why I like the painting.” Bobby explains as Eames hands it back to him. “She must have crossed paths with it when she was looking at one of the ones on her list.”

“I’m with her, it’s horrible.” She tells him, pulling a face. “Not the kind of thing I want hanging in my living room.”

“I don’t want it in my living room, I just like to think about it.” He tells her before he unlocks the top drawer of his desk and places it along with the others. There’s five of them. That’s how long it’s been since he last laid eyes on you.

He misses you. The sound of your voice, the way you laugh when something ensnares you. He adores the look in your eyes when you give him that smile, the one that tells him exactly what you’re thinking because Bobby can always tell what you’re thinking. He wishes that he was less restrained with his affection, that he had told you how he felt when he’d had you for the first time after your brother’s engagement party. He wishes he had told you every single other time after that too.

I love you, he had said when he had sat down next to you on that bench in Ithica.

It’s the first time he’s uttered those words and he hopes it won’t be the last.

You’re clever, much cleverer that Nicole Wallace has given you credit for, and he knows that that will be her downfall. Despite the fact you’re wounded, that you’re still recovering from the damage caused by the neurotoxin you’ve outsmarted her at every turn. You are the only two people in the world that know about the list.

It had started on the day you had taken him to see the Freud exhibition at the Met, the day he realised that he was in love with you. The two of you had been standing side by side in front of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ when he’d felt the shift.

It’s when you press your fingertips to your lips that he realises that you’re crying. He nudges you gently with his shoulder and you wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Sorry, it’s just…”

He knows because the magnitude of the painting, he feels it too. The madness of the creative, the isolation of a genius. It was the first painting Van Gogh had painted after his break down and you can feel the threads of darkness searing through the brush strokes. There’s an ache in his chest because he knows that this is the real reason you invited him to the Met. You brought him here to see this painting, to show him that you understand his plight, that you know where it may lead.

“It’s not going to happen to me.” He assures you, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, his thumb trailing over the nape of your neck. “Not when I’ve got you in my corner.”

You tilt your head up and that’s when it happens, that rush of emotion. That feeling, it starts deep in the very depths of his soul, and it surges through every single one of his nerve endings. He kisses you then, in front of a painting that reflects his future, the one he faces if he didn’t have you in his life.

In the aftermath the two of you sit in the café and you make a list of the paintings you each want to see. You plan to do it together. Your pen drifting down the paper and leaving tiny stars near the ones that reside within the state.

Now it seems that you’re taking the trip without him. Each postcard you’ve sent is a painting off that list, your way of telling him that you’re safe. It hurts in a way he can't explain, because Nicole is stealing away his time with you, running down the clock. He thinks that’s the real cruelty in what's she's doing. Even though she hasn’t killed you, she‘s still removed you from his life, stripped you of your own. She's found a way to prolong the pain for the both of you. Each time he receives a postcard is a reminder of another moment that's been snatched away, another time he doesn’t get to share the experience. He wonders how you felt looking at each and every one of those paintings, what you saw, what you thought and it wounds him.

His thumb smooths over the stack of postcards, flicking through them once more. He wants to know what happens when the list runs out, he wants to know what happens when you get tired of playing this game.

Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bullet-prooflove]

And so I came to see him and listen for awhile

It’s been a bad night, one of the worst you’ve seen, and you can’t seem to get the images out of your head. They play through your mind every time you close your eyes. It’s the reason you turned up at Bobby’s tonight, the truth is you can’t stand to be alone right now.

You can tell he’s been sleeping when he answers the door. His hair is a little unruly, he’s wearing a baby blue t-shirt over dark pyjama bottoms.

“Hey.” He greets you, using the back of his hand to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “You alright?”

You shake your head, and he sees it, the darkness in you.

“Come in.” He murmurs and you follow him inside.

There’s something so reassuring about his voice, the low rumble of it. You can feel the tension starting to seep out of your body as he guides you towards the bedroom. He helps you undress, it’s gentle and methodical. He helps you into one of his t-shirts before he pulls back the sheets. He tucks you in before he clambers alongside of you. He wraps his arms around you and draws you close, his fingertips trailing over the curve of your spine.

“I need you to talk to me.” You tell him, burying your face into his chest. “The sound of your voice…”

You don’t need to finish the sentence, he understands.

“Did you know that elephants develop they’re own tools?” He whispers into your hairline. “There’s records of them honing flyswatters out of tree branches.”

He feels your muscles beginning to unfurl as his palm comes to rest upon the nape of your neck, thumb caressing that delicate little space just underneath your earlobe, the one that he knows relaxes you.

“It’s alright.” He tells you. “I promise you, you’re going to be alright.”

[bullet-prooflove]

i was so happy to see that you know write for Bobby Goren! can i ask for something with him and this prompt from your lists: "I wanna get better".

Bobby knows there's something wrong with him, he's known for a while. It started when Nicole Wallace appeared on his radar and has carried on over the last couple of months. He doesn't sleep that much anymore, he's become more focused on his work, he doesn't take the same joy he used to in the little things. You've sensed his change on mood, he's more serious, more surly. It bleeds into eveything he does.

"You're depressed." You tell him when the two of you sit on a car that's colder than the arctic, hands wrapped around a steaming take away cup of coffee.

Its day three of the stakeout and you have had enough of the oppressive silence that spans between the two of you.

He leans back in the driver's seat, his eyes closing for a moment as be takes in this new information.

"Probably." He tells you.

"Definately." You inform him as you open a packet of sugar and deposit it into the coffee, before stirring it. "You let her get under your skin and now you can't shake it."

He tilts his head, his grizzled cheek brushing against the headrest as he looks at you pointedly.

You shrug your shoulders.

"You're a great behaviourist but you're shit at self reflection."

"You think you know me." He remarks, his brow burrowing. "But you don't know a damn thing about what goes on in my head."

"Alright..." you tell him. "When was the last time you went to that park you like? The one with the fountain? Or picked up a book? Before her you were always reading and now it's like she consumes you and that's on you, you're giving her the space to live in your head."

He knows you're right, he knows that he has the predisposition to get obsessive. He never realises it's happening until he's neck deep and starting to suffocate. You talking to him like this. It's giving him a lifeline, identifying the issue before he let's himself drown.

"I want to get better." He confides in you, rubbing his hands together against the frosty chill. "I just can't seem to help myself. Logically I know how to move forward but when it comes down to it..."

He trails off because he knows you get it. Developing healthy behaviours is tough especially when you've fallen out of sync with it. He used to enjoy his own company and now he hates the idea of being alone because it gives him too much time to think.

"Come out with me tomorrow." You offer, taking a sip from your coffee cup. "There's an exhibition on at the Met, the one you were excited about a couple of months ago. I'll even let you explain the intricacies of art in a post modern society."

He laughs and it feels good. It occurs to him it's the first time he's done it in a while and he knows that somehow you've broken the ice that he's been slapping at for weeks.

"Ok." He agrees. "But you have to at least pretend to be interested, you really have to sell it to me."

"I'll work on it." You promise.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you and he realises that he's still smiling, that you always have this way of getting through to him even when his head is a messy place to be.

"Thank you." He says quietly into the darkness of the car.

"I've got you." You tell him softly. "When things get a bit too much, I'm here, I've got you."

[bullet-prooflove]

Bobby Goren Masterlist

Growing - Bobby dislikes you.

Touch Starved: - Bobby doesn't realise how touch starved he is until he meets you.

Self Reflection: - Bobby may be a great behaviouralist but he's terrible at self reflection.

In Time - Bobby's pissed when you get yourself into a probmatic situation.

Triggers - Bobby pushes your buttons when you go toe to toe in the ring.

Moment - Bobby and you share a moment.

On the Wire - Bobby overhears something on the wire that could change the nature of your relationship.

Third Time Lucky - You invite Bobby to your brother's engagement party.

The Way You Deserve (NSFW) - Bobby treats you the way you deserve.

Figure It Out - The morning after isn't what you expect.

Better - Bobby warms you up on a cold night.

Discreet - Eames warns Bobby about being discreet.

Red - You tease Bobby in work.

A Little Rough (NSFW) - Bobby knows you like it a little rough.

Listen - You turn up at Bobby's after a tough case.

Grief - You take care of Bobby after the death of his mother.

What You Do To Me (NSFW) - Bobby enjoys your mouth.

WorkofArt! Series:

Part One: Storm In A Teacup - Bobby decodes the letters you left him.

Part Two: Starry Night - Bobby recieves a postcard.

Part Three: Jackson Pollock  - Bobby gets a phone call in the middle of the night.

Pain Management - You struggle with pain management in the wake of your encounter with Nicole.

Burn - Bobby confronts you with a suspicion.

Bobby's Playlist

[bullet-prooflove]

The Way You Deserve (NSFW) - Bobby Goren x Reader

Tagging: @words-and-seeds @darqchilddaydreamz @id1ehands @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond

It’s the night of your brother’s engagement party, the sound of the band is in Bobby’s ears as he leans in and kisses you in the alcove of the venue, secreted away from the rest of the guests. He smiles into the hollow of your throat as his fingertips delve underneath the hem of your dress and ghost up your thighs. It’s risky doing this here and somehow that heightens the experience, knowing that your ex-husband is in the next room, that he wants you just as much as Bobby does.

Your fingertips tug at the hair at the nape of his neck and he growls into your mouth, his fingers hooking the slender elastic of your panties before he draws them down to your high heels and helps you step out of them, tucking them into his pocket. His palms enclose on your thighs, hiking up the dress and bunching it over your hips. He presses his mouth to your core, his eyes are on you the entire time.

“Do you think you can keep quiet?” He asks you, his lips ghosting over your clit.

Your jaw clenches just a little, your head tipping back as you exhale. He smiles as he grips the fabric of your dress even tighter in his fist.

“Good girl.”

He devours you, lips caressing that sweet wetness before he plunges his tongue deep inside. You taste like honey, and he wants to savour every drop. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging at his curls as you bite your lip to stifle the noise. He loves that he can do this to you, that he can take you apart and leave you ruined, debauched.

“Bobby…” You whimper and he knows you’re close.  He can hear the tremble in your voice, the hitch of your breath. Your hand moves up to cover your mouth and instead he grasps it tightly, his fingers entwining with yours. Your fingertips dig into the groove of his knuckles, the noise that tears out of your throat ragged as you come underneathe his tongue. He kisses you through the aftermath, his palms soothing over your thighs before he draws away. He looks into your eyes; they shine so beautifully in the low light as he kisses you, the taste of you still on his lips.

“Let me take you home tonight.” He whispers as his thumb trails over the curvature of your jaw. “Let me love you, the way that you deserve to be loved.”

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