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Author's Note: wasn't going to release this but I just couldn't refrain from sharing this piece of scrapped out work.
➵SOFT SIDE MASTERLIST
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the warnings/ratings and understand that these one shots may not avoid listing spoilers of the shows; blame the hero & normal british seriesKeep reading
Screechy screams.
People running.
Kids lying on the grass.
Red splattered white roses.
Red painted white gloves.
Blood splattered motorcade.
White gloves collecting human matter.
Heavy breathing.
Explosive sound.
“No! Don’t take her from me!” He groans
under his breath. “I have her brains in my
lap! Let her go! They can’t see her like this!”
Choking breath.
An inhale of hot air.
Trapped between linen.
“Please! Don’t take her from me!” He groans
again, head shifting violently to his right.
“STOP IT! PLEASE! LET HER GO!” He
cries.
“NO! DON’T TAKE HER FROM ME!”
Rough tugging of his arm.
Shifting linen.
Soft faint voice.
“NO! NO! NOO-”
Rough tugging of his arm.
Shifting linen.
Soft faint voice.
“BOBBY!”
A violent and sharp inhale enters his lungs.
“NO! DON’T TAKE BRYCE FROM ME!
PLEASE!” He shouts.
“Bobby, what are you talking about?” Her soft voice spoke.
He opens his eyes, his breaths heavy and hard to control. The roofing of their bedroom he looks up at.
He turns his head to the side, his wife in a red satin nightgown. She rubs the sleep from her eyes and places her other hand on his chest.
“Bobby, are you alright?” She asks, receiving no response from him. All he does is just stare at her, like a deer caught in headlights.
At the speed of light, he pulls her close, wrapping her tightly in his arms. Letting himself savour the feeling of her touch.
“Oh-oh, this is nice, I guess.” She says, trying to disrupt the silence. She wraps her arms around him too, pulling herself even closer.
“Can you please tell me what happened, Bobby?”
His breath hitches at the question.
“Please… tell me… you were screaming in your sleep… I need to know.” She whispers softly.
“I dreamt that you died in front of me.” He answers, not meaning to sound nonchalantly.
“Oh.” She lets out.
He lets out a deep breath feeling his cheeks heat up and the stinging of his eyes.
“Y-you were dying in my arms, and-and there was nothing I could do-do.” He explains, trying to gulp away at the stuttering.
“Fuck, I felt so useless, I felt like I wanted to die with you-”
“No!” She shouts.
His head turns to the side.
“What?” He asks.
“You don’t need to die because neither of us are dying.” She explains, her arms crossed, portraying her body in a sure manner.
“But, Bryce, how could you be-”
“You were watching those documentaries of how Presidents were killed, weren't you?” She asks, her brow raising.
“Well yes, I don’t want you to die like they did-”
She pulls him into a deep wrenching kiss, shutting him up entirely. She lets go of him, his eyes spinning slightly.
“God, you are so fucking adorable.” She says, booping his nose.
“You don’t have to traumatize yourself watching those heart to asshole dropping documentaries, you know? I’ve got guards for that.” She explains, placing another kiss to his forehead.
He laughs, a subtle smile appearing on his face.
“I’d do anything for my piece of shit.” He says, grabbing her in his arms again.
“I know you would.” She yawns, placing her arms around him.
“But seriously, stop watching those documentaries.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary: Who could've known that such eventful back to back dates could lead to such tragic?
Genre: Romance, Action, Fluff, Angst
Rating: Mature Audiences
Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, swearing, gore
Word Count: 3.5K
Author's Note:
- Characters belong to Brandon Rogers
- One shot heavily inspired by American Historical events
- Heavily inspired by National Anthem of Lana Del Rey
- Heavily inspired by Jackie 2016
➵ SOFT SIDE MASTERLIST
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the warnings/ratings and understand that these one shots may not avoid listing spoilers of the shows; blame the hero & normal british series
PLEASE READ THIS LETTER BEFORE PROCEEDING
In jewel-encrusted custom couture, the
glistening embroidery of his pearl dotted minty
light green jumpsuit, complements perfectly
with his golden glitter-doused face.
He stands behind the lecture table of the stage,
flicking one of the microphones as they wait for
him to speak.
Bending at the knee, he creates a shelter with
his hands to protect his eyes from the blinding
stage light that peers over him. The bottom of
the stage was rather a striking contrast. It was
dark, spacious, and crowded with thousands of
attendees that sat and looked up at him.
He swallows and licks his lips feeling the
tension of his neck. But then it stops. There
she is. His wife in a red bright-bold,
exciting-statement suit with matching
red slim pants and pointy nude heels, sat next
to her assistant.
He had thought that maybe, perhaps, if he had
spotted her in the crowd, just maybe, it would
stop the sweating of his palms, the fast pacing
beat of his heart and that fluttery stomach
feeling. But here is, standing sheepishly, clearly
not calm, and rather at distress of not being
able to see the expression of her face.
It’s too late to turn back now.
The little voice spoke in his mind, his hands
now gracing over the microphone before him,
letting out a big final breath.
“Happy birthday to you…
Happy birthday to you…
Happy birthday… Madame President!
Happy birthday to you!”
He feels his stomach turn as the longest
seconds of silence pass him by. But then,
something he hadn’t expected happened. The
swarms of guests create an uproar, cheering,
clapping and shouting up at him. He hadn’t
even finished yet, but this didn’t anger him, it
only assured and encouraged him to continue
further.
“Thaaanks Madame President!
For all the things you’ve done!
The battles that you’ve won—”
He places a hand to his waist, dragging it up in
a seductive manner and staring down at the
expressionless woman in red with alluring
eyes.
“—and our problems by the ton!
We thank you — so much!”
With both hands up in the air and a smile on
his face, he shouts with a childish tone,
“Everybody!”
The crowd before him and the orchestra
behind him, on cue, sing along to the
Happy Birthday tune as four men dressed in
chef attire walk down to the President with a
large piece of wood on their backs.
What laid on the wooden surface is a thirty
layered vanilla cake, approximately five feet
high with tons of candles all over and top of it.
So many candles, in fact, it lit their way to the
President.
He stands there, entranced and overjoyed by
the energetic crowd taking out their cameras to
capture one of the most thrilling nights of their
lives. But their cheers to him were slowly
muffled, turning into nothing but a ringing of his
ear. All because, he can now see the face of
the woman he loves.
By the looks of her, it seemed she hadn’t taken
account to the monstrosity of a cake that
headed her way. Instead, her eyes only remain
on him. And only him as smoke escapes her
lips as she takes out the cigarette between her
fingers. The smoke clearing up, he can swear
the corners of her lips shortly curled into a
smile.
The golden sun buttering over gigantic thorn
roses.
Her delicate hand caressing over her
husband’s thigh.
People and their families lying on the grass
taking cover.
The screeching screams of crowds.
His breath hitches making his toothbrush slip
and fall out of his hand and onto the sink.
“Bobby, are you alright?” She shouts, seeming
to have heard the small commotion of his in the
bathroom through the other side of the door.
“Yes, dear! Everything’s okay!” He shouts
over his shoulder, hurryingly washing off the
toothpaste off his mouth, hands and brush.
He takes a deep breath, looking into the
reflection of himself looking back. His black
eyeliner is smudged all around his eyes,
almost as if he had been crying, but in reality, it
wasn’t the case at all. In fact, he had been
struggling to take the eyeliner off his eyes for
the past few minutes. But as the cotton wipe
goes over again, the black begins to fade
away. The tension of his shoulders releases in
knowing he can return to his wife in bed with a
clear face.
Leaning over the door frame, arms crossed
with a smug smirk, he observes. The edges
and corners of the ceiling are stapled onto with
LED strip lights illuminating the room in a
dreamy blue colour.
On the right, in front of the bathroom door,
stood a closet door in which they kept their
lightest belongings in. And just right next to of
the closet is a mini office table with a computer
on it, half shut, seeming she had just
completed whatever important work she had
in there.
And now to the left, further back, stands the
king sized bed in which she lies in with a book
in her hands. The strip of her satin red night-
gown slides down her shoulder, creating an
unintentional seductive look. Each time her
fingers graced and flipped over a page, her
head would follow too. It was trait of hers he
loved so much, it made him bite the bottom of
his lip and impatiently stride over to her.
Now standing by the front of the bed, her head
still remains deep in her book. He brushes
both his hands together, teeth still biting down
at his own lip as he prepares for his showdown
against the absence of her attention.
“Weeeeeee!”
He shouts childishly, jumping, and landing on
the mattress roughly. She jerks in her spot of
the bed, shortly laughing at the hilarious
unpredictable action of her husband.
“God, you never stop with the glamorous
entrances of yours, do you?” She teases, still
giggling through her words.
“Fuck… you know me so well…” He sharply
whispers, now on all fours, slowly crawling
closer to her.
“Talking about entrances… did I mention how
delicious you looked up there?” She adds in,
her eyes now looking down at his lips.
Both their eyes twinkle looking into one
another. Their faces just a breath away. So
close, they can feel the warmth of each others’
body radiating. She places her book down on
the nightstand next to her, shutting off the mini
lamp too.
Like a lion, still on all fours, he now has her
under him. His head reaching down low to
hers, he places a kiss to her forehead and
raises the strip of her nightgown up shortly
before propping himself down lazily between
her legs, wrapping his arms around her waist
and placing his head on her tummy, letting
out the longest sigh of his life.
His wife, without even looking at her, he can
tell her head was tilting to the side puzzled.
“Bobby, what’s wrong?” She asks, her fingers
tracing circles on the back of his neck.
“It’s nothing… it's just…” He pauses through
the tired tone of his. His eyes now looking up at
her then looking off to the side.
“I’m gonna sound stupid if I tell you.” He quickly
says with an abrupt ending.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head from
side to side, a small smile on her face.
“Bobby, everyday you tell me something
stupid.” She begins with a breathy voice.
“So what’s going to change if you tell me one
more stupid thing?”
He lets out a little chuckle, which makes her
smile. Somehow it warmed his heart at how
easily his laughter could affect the woman he
loves so positively. It wasn’t her usual forced
everyday smile she has on but rather a ‘I
married the right person’ type of smile.
“So tell me… what’s wrong?” She persists,
placing a finger under and a thumb over
his chin.
His eyes become glossy and slightly red,
struggling to look at her but he eventually does.
“I felt like I looked stupid on stage.”
He confesses, looking away.
“I could’ve looked better—”
“Bobby,”
“I could’ve sang better—”
“Bobby,”
“I could’ve held myself better and not look like
a fucking idiot—”
“BOBBY!”
He snaps out of his poisonous trance at the
raise of her voice, fluttering his eyes and letting
out tears. She lets out an apologetic sigh,
taking her fingers and placing her hand as
whole on the side of his face.
“You… were flawless.”
He looks up her with a puzzled look at the
unfamiliar soft breathy voice of hers.
“You should’ve heard the gasps that they let
out when you walked to the stage. You looked
like a diamond… and when you sang…
everybody was so focused… as if they
were… in the presence of…”
She pauses, pushing a strand of hair from his
eyes. His eyes are larger than she remembers,
like that of a child looking up in awe of
somebody they love.
“an angel.” She ends with a whisper.
“Oh God!” He trembles.
Her brows furrow.
“This is too wholesome for my liking!” He blurts
out, jokingly hanging his upper body off the
bed as if he were about to hurl.
She smacks his shoulder lightly,
“Oh stop it you!” She laughs.
His child-like grin slowly wipes off as he looks
her in the eyes again.
He pulls her into a tight
hug, nearly taking out all the air of her lungs.
“Thank you.” He whispers.
“It was the least I could do.” She breathes,
shifting to lay next to him.
“Okay, well, I’m going to bed now — all this
need of praise kink of yours really got me
exhausted!” She pokes, turning her back to
him to feel the warmth of his body and falling
still like a rock in her sleep.
The following hour he spent awake watching
her. His brows furrowing at the strange
sequences of scenes flashing back and forth in
his mind like the one he had at the sink.
And the trembling of the jet in which
they are in only worsened his nerves.
“Bryce,” He says softly, met with no response.
“Bryce, can you hear me?”
Again met with nothing but silence.
“Bryce, I love you, Bryce.” He adds in, poking
at her arm.
She shifts to her other side, now facing him.
“God, Bobby, do you ever sleep?” She
asks with a look of irritation. Soon cut
short at the realization of what he had just said
to her.
She wraps her arms around him, holding him
tightly. In her half sleepy state, she reaches up
to his face and plants a long big kiss on his
lips then places the side of her face onto his
chest.
“I love you too, Bobby.”
The cheering of a crowd is heard and muffled
from the other side of the aircraft service door.
His chin is up high with his posture up
straight and his steps rather graceful
glides making his way to the exit.
“Is that the sound of birds?” Bobby jokes,
hinting to the awaiting horde of people outside.
Her head turns to look at him.
“Uh, not exactly birds.” She answers, abruptly
ending her conversation with a staff member
and walking to be next to him. They both now
stand together looking at the shut door before
them.
“Must be the ocean.” She snickers to his ear,
giving into the joke.
They both laugh, her eyes trailing to look him
up and down.
“You look amazing, by the way.” She adds in
quickly, hoping her delivery of a compliment
wasn’t too awkward.
“Really?” He asks, slightly twirling for her.
“I hope I’m not too overdressed.”
Unlike his other outfits, which consisted of tight
black latex suits, chains and neon green
colours with matching accessories, he wears
something much the opposite.
In a navy trim collared suit, with a striking
similar colour of the light minty green
jumpsuit he wore on stage, is matched with a
matching colour pillbox hat and white gloves,
almost portraying the similar themes of the old
money aesthetic. It brought him joy to get to
experiment with new themes, not mentioning
how comfy and warm he looks.
“No, no, please continue overdressing.” She
says, looking up at him in awe.
He laughs nervously looking down, not
knowing how to accept her admiration. Every
now and then, that shy little boy she first met
would make abrupt appearance, which he
hated, and would overtake his new much
explicitly humorous persona.
But to her, she loves both sides dearly, and is
happy to know that the little boy, or rather, his
soft side, would only be reserved for her to see
and only her.
“Are you ready?” She asks, taking his hand in
hers.
He looks up at her, “Of course,”
A smirk now on his face, “I love crowds.”
The door shuts itself open. Peering down is a
long flight of stairs that end at the pavement
floor of the airport. Behind wired fences are
dozens upon dozens and what felt to be a
trillion dozens, screaming and shouting at the
sight of them going down the stairs.
Bobby has his hand up blocking the sun from
his eyes, wishing he could wear his
sunglasses so he could get a better look at the
people.
Now on the ground, they are greeted by people
with high statuses. They are all entranced by
the glamorous and great fashion of the
President’s husband.
“Sir,” An old woman spoke to him, Bobby turns
to look down at her as she gestures to the man
next to her. “Do you remember my husband?”
She asks.
A man with graying hair and in a classic slim fit
suit smiles at the fashionable man, shaking his
hand and shouting, “Welcome to Dallas,
Bobby!”
Bobby shyly laughs and thanks him, continuing
down to shake the hands of others down the
long line of those who await.
He eventually stops and takes a moment to
take in his surroundings. He had never been so
exposed to the public eye before, it made him
nervous.
The swarms of people climbing the fences like
swarms of bees, all going over each other like
desperate animals on the wired fences. He lets
out an audible gulp, luckily drowned out by
their loud cheering, clapping and shouting.
He turns to look at the other fence. Bryce
seemed to be enjoying herself, engaging in
small conversations with her supporters
through the wired barriers. Her head cocking
back in laughter at one of the hundreds of
people’s jokes.
He smiles from afar, pushing a strand of hair
from his eyes as she walks to him. She takes
his arm and asks if he’s alright to which he
nods down at her, now walking together to the
awaiting open top black convertible limousine.
Two men dressed in black suits with shades sit
at the front, one behind the wheel and the
other adjusting the rear view mirror.
Bobby scoots himself to the left seat, sitting
behind the first gentleman of Texas as Bryce
sits to his right behind the Mayoress of Texas.
The vehicle begins to speed off lightly, leaving
the chasing news reporters covered in dust.
Bobby turns to look at Bryce, her hand up
waving and smiling at the people who smile
and wave back to her. He decides to join her
in.
Though the people were loud, the ride
remained silent, often him trying to recall what
they were here for. Something about them
being here for a reelection speech and trying
to keep their votes in tact was all he can
remember his wife saying.
“Timmy, you are fucking up the video!” A
woman in a bright pink jumpsuit shouts, a
camera in hand and holding her baby upside
down.
The couple laugh at her silently, poking and
adding jokes into each others’ ears,
eventually being disrupted by the Mayoress
saying,
“Madame President, you can’t say Dallas
doesn’t love you!”
To which Bryce says, “No you surely can’t!”
Now thirty past mid-day, they pass over the
grassy knoll North of Elm Street and move
towards the nearby School Book Depository.
He had never felt such genuine happiness
before. It rushes through his veins like battery
acid and tickles like that of feathers.
The people, the cheering, the loudness, the
sunlight, the birds, the green of the grass and
trees, soft breeze against his cheek and the
explosive sound.
The explosive sound he thought. Must be an
engine of another vehicle. He brushes it off,
continuing to wave at the those who were on
his side of the street.
There goes the explosive sound again.
The soft feeling of her hand on his leaves.
He turns to look at her.
She has her hands around her throat,
letting out heavy breaths, her head hanging
low, looking down.
Bobby leans towards her and asks,
“What’s wrong Bryce?”
But he receives no response from her.
The loud sound goes off again for the third
time.
Her head swings and cocks back violently.
Bobby’s breath hitches at the sight of red
crimson flying and splattering all over surfaces
and even on the side of his face.
Trembling and without thought, he climbs to the
back of the vehicle, collecting pieces of her
skull fragments and brain matter.
He looks up to see Donovan running and
joining him on the back of the motorcade.
He pushes Bobby back to his seat, using
himself to shield Bryce and him, and
holding on tightly to continue protecting them.
The cheering and loudness had turned into
nothing but blood curdling screams.
The sunlight above them had turned
Into nothing but a gray sky.
The green grass and trees
had disappeared as they entered the
dull black and white freeway.
The soft breeze against his cheeks now felt
like deadly cold knives stabbing at him.
Bobby sits up straight, placing her
head on his thigh.
His white gloves paint themselves in her red
as he continues to hold her in his arms.
Her eyes are fixed.
A hole in her skull.
And inside, there is nothing left.
Blood continues to gush out of the wound on
the right side of her head, of which Bobby is
looking down on.
“BRYCE!” He shouts.
“BRYCE, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
With delicacy, he places his hands over her
head, somewhat hoping he was keeping her all
together.
“BRYCE, I LOVE YOU, BRYCE!” He cries.
Sharp gasps.
Stinging eyes.
Blurry vision.
Hard winds.
“And I remember when I first met her, it was so
clear that she was the only one for me.”
She shields before his weak lying body on the
floor.
“You people should be ashamed of
yourselves.” She says, lecturing the class of
bullies.
“We both knew it, right away.”
“Come with me!” She says, offering her hand to
him, “Let’s get out of here!”
“Yes ma’am!” He accepts, taking her hand and
running with her.
“And as the years went on, things got more
difficult as we were faced with more
challenges.”
“Sweetheart, go wait in the jet.” She demands
softly, turning and pointing to the exit.
Bobby leans to her face and whispers, “But it’s
still gooey in there.” Clearly knowing that
wasn’t the reason he didn’t want to go back,
fearing for her safety and what the Queen of
England could do to her.
She turns to him with a serious look.
“I said go in the jet.” She whispers with a
menacing crack of her voice.
He growls under his breath, turning to leave.
“I begged her to stay. Try to remember what he
had at the beginning.” He trembles.
“She was charismatic, electric, magnetic and
everybody knew it.”
He smiles at the sight of her in front of the
camera, performing a pitch for the upcoming
reelection.
“When she walked in, every man’s head
turned. Everyone stood up to talk to her.” He
trembles once more, fidgeting with his wedding
ring.
“She was like this hybrid, this mix of a woman
who couldn’t contain herself.”
“One percent, represent!” She shouts,
throwing her coffee cup out of the car window
and onto a homeless man.
“I always got the sense that she became torn
between being a good person and missing out
on all of the opportunities that life could offer a
Summary: who would've thought that a rescue mission would lead to a night that'd change the course of their relationship forever?
Genre: Fluff and Romance
Rating: Mature Audiences
Warnings: Swearing, Murder, Blood, Carnage
Word Count: 1.5k
Author's Note:
- characters belong to brandon rogers on youtube (except for norman mason)
- Beginning heavily inspired by morticia and gomez addams
- HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THIS CONVO
➵ SOFT SIDE MASTERLIST
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the warnings/ratings and understand that these one shots may not avoid listing spoilers of the shows; blame the hero & normal british series
With the speed of a light year he tosses his own body in a front flip. At the harsh impact of the window and his body, pieces of glass fly everywhere. Rolling on the floor he stands to his feet. He lets out an exhale with wide eyes at the sight of her.
“Bryce!” He shouts.
“Bobby!” She shouts back, her eyes with a glint of teary-ness as a sigh of relief escapes her lips. At the end of the moonlit dark hall, her wrists and ankles are tied to belts attached to a wooden frame against the wall.
Walking on over he snacthes a fencing sword that laid on the ground before him to use as protection.
“Darling, take care!” She warns.
Her notice comes through fruition as another fencing sword pokes behind the door frame. Bobby manages to stop the sword with his own, peering down at the person who held it. His blood boils when catching a glimpse of the opponent.
“Norman Mason,” Bobby says with a face of disgust. “Dirty pool old man? Never again!”
Now the men standing in front of one another, Bobby, with his confident posture, throws the first swing. Norman dodges the sharp blade, nearly tripping at his own step. Their swords clink loudly as they touch, up and down, side to side until it cuts the top of Bobby’s hand. Bryce gasps in shock.
He looks down to his hand then at the old man in front him with a wide grin.
“One for you Normi. Now-” Bobby cuts himself off as he strikes first once again. The two men spin around as their blades hit one another. Cut off guard by his fancy spins and tricks, he bows before Bobby on the floor as the sharp blade passes over the small hairs of his neck.
“You win!” With his hands raised, the old man shouts.
His green painted lips form into a smirk, withdrawing his weapon and looking back at his girlfriend. Her body drooping in awe as he walks on over to her.
“Brycey-boo,” He softly says, his face close and looking into her eyes. She twitches at the feeling of his breath, smiling at the mention of one of the hundreds of nicknames he had created for her.
“Seeing you like this — my blood boils.” He breathlessly ends.
“As does mine.”
Placing a hand to her face, they both lean closer but she feels something is off. Opening her eyes, she twitches.
“Bobby watch out!” She shouts.
Bobby, on instinct, pulls his blade up on time. He looks over to the old man attempting to pull up on the fight.
“Alright, enough of your bullshit.” He says, rolling his eyes kicking at Norman’s leg. He kneels before Bobby again, but this time, both blades lay on each side of his neck like a pair of scissors.
“Now one for me — you psychotic-stalking prick!” Like the strength of a lion, he strides the blades gracefully. Norman falls to his side, holding his neck and choking as a pool of red forms around.
“Are you alright my dear? Did he do anything to hurt you before I got here?” He asks, placing a hand to her cheek again.
“No, you got here on time, just as you always do.” She answers, infected by her soft side and her soft smile, he can’t help but return one back to her. Hurryingly, he unbuckles the belts off her and carries her bridal style onto the floor.
“We must get going.” Bobby says, pickpocketing Norman’s belongings.
“Why the rush?” She asks as Bobby places a hand to her waist as she wraps her arms around his chest. They both stand in front of a window.
“I planted a bomb and its about to go off in a minute.” He explains.
She peers outside the window and looks back at him.
“A zip-lining? God, your ideas are fucking genius!” She ecstatically says, placing a kiss onto his cheek and holding tighter to his chest. He feels his cheeks heat up, if it weren’t for the dark lit atmosphere they’re in, Bryce would be taunting him for what she’d call a tomato face.
“Ready my dear?”
“Always.”
His hand grips tightly to the metal hook as he holds Bryce tightly with his other arm. The cold wind rushes past their faces as they slide over trees and small ponds. At the end of the rope, their feet touch the grass landing nearby a large lake. There’s a boardwalk with a boat nearby.
“Let’s get on the boat.” She says, pointing to it. They both rush down the hill to the pond, their hands over the wooden material of the boat. Now both inside, they both sat looking at the mansion they had just escaped from.
A flash of light followed by a whump of physical impact rocks the boat slightly from side to side. A moment of deafening silence then the sound of muffled crackling and popping of flames. The mansion lights up and crumbles under tall golden shades of flames.
“This is the best God-damn Christmas ever!” She shouts, fully knowing it’s mid July. Bobby chuckles a little at the excitement of hers as she continues to watch the building fall to its ashes.
“Sit back down, there’s more you gotta see.”
“There’s more?” She asks, her head tilting to the side. Her boyfriend nods, taking in the grips of the paddles into his palms. He begins to rotate the paddles pushing the boat forward. Her eyes glued to the lake as it portrays a clear reflection of the constellations in the night sky up above, she smiles.
Her brows furrow at the sight of candles lined by the shore side of the lake. Just before she could question it they passed through weeping trees. Inside, weeping trees surround them all around like a big igloo. Bobby stops paddling and reaches over for something in the water. In his hands is a white lotus flower with its own very lotus leaf.
“Here, hold it.” He says, passing it to her hands. She’s entranced by its patterns and details and how small it is, and just as she was about to place it back a small yellow light flickers slowly. Then out of nowhere, a bunch of yellow lights flicker all around them. It was like one of those light shows they’d play before starting a super-bowl halftime show. Except, it was more beautiful since these creatures moved and flickered on their own.
“It’s so…” She pauses, clearly entranced by the scenery before her.
“Beautiful?” Bobby finishes for her. She turns to look at him and smiles.
Continuing to paddle down the river they come to a stop by a small piece of land. He hops off the boat first and holds her hand as plants her high heels onto the ground. They walk up a small hill slowly coming into view of a bridge. Walking over the bridge, Bryce can’t help but take in all her surroundings. The constellations of stars in the dark night sky, the fireflies that flew all around and flickered in sync and her loving boyfriend who held her hand dressed in a classic slim fit suit.
Now at the end of the bridge they enter a beautiful white gazebo that lies over the lake. Their arms lay on the ledge of the barrier looking out to the scenery before them. In his hand lies a golden dagger, he grips it tightly and turns to look at her.
“Bryce?”
Her head turns to look at him.
“Yes, Bobby?”
He grabs both her hands and brings her to the middle of the gazebo. He takes a deep breath now looking into her eyes. He kneels down to her and lets a hand of hers go as he reaches for something in his pocket.
“Bobby, what are you-”
“ARGH!” He groans, launching the golden dagger into his chest.
“Bobby, what the fuck? Stop it!” She shouts.
He pulls the dagger down his chest, ripping the white shirt. He coughs letting go of the dagger as it clinks against the floor with his blood on it. Pulling at the opening of the hole, with his other hand he reaches deep inside and pulls out his heart.
And now here he is, kneeling before her, his heart in hand, hands and arms bloody, the white shirt of his suit bloody looking up at her with teary eyes.
“Will you be my wife, Bryce?”
She stands quietly there looking down at his heart. It was so silent he could hear the crickets singing as well as the buzzing of fireflies passing by. He felt the insides of his stomach twirling all inside feeling discouraged at her silence.
She falls to her knees in front of him and pulls him into a tight hug.
“Yes and yes for-fucking-ever!” She sniffles.
They both look into each others’ eyes brushing away at each other's strands. Hands at the back of each others’ heads they pull each other into a tongue twisting deep kiss. They both now lie by each other's side looking into each other’s eyes.
“Bryce, I-I love you.” He says, wiping away at his own tears.
“I love you too, Bobby." Bryce says, before pulling him into another kiss.
Summary: running in an endless maze, she takes cover and hides from him. eventually, having to come to terms on choosing between choices that can weaken or strengthen the rate of her survival, she trembles in despair at the idea of how it all may end.
Author's Note:
- characters belong to brandon rogers on youtube
- Listen to 'After Dark by Mr. Kitty' in a loop to enhance the experience!
➵ SOFT SIDE MASTERLIST
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the warnings/ratings and understand that these one shots may not avoid listing spoilers of the shows; blame the hero & the british series
The taste of metal runs down her throat. It burns.
She runs down the path, desperately looking for somewhere to hide.
Her chest heaved as she drew in huge gasps of air while forcing herself to ignore the agony in her legs.
A HUFF escapes her lips as she falls hands first onto the black carpet beneath her.
She holds in a groan, feeling the stinging of her palms and knees.
“Fuck.” She lets out quietly under a breath.
With her last bit of strength, she quickly crawls behind structures to hide, checking if the coast is clear then repeat.
The arena in which she is in is gigantic.
A maze which consists of hideouts of different shapes and sizes.
The maze resembles themes of space, fantasy worlds, sci-fi themes, and PC games.
Under black lights, they all illuminate in neon colours, blindingly contrasting with the black walls and carpets.
Though they consist of nostalgic themes, the reason for her presence in this arena is rather undesirable.
Turning the corner, she hides behind a barrier.
Peering through the hole of it, she can see a tall figure far on the other side.
The rippings of his neon sleeveless shirt show visible deep wounds on his abdomens, arms, stains upon his clothes and even on his pale skin.
He strides and stumbles on and around barricades, carefully inspecting them then hissing out his frustrations.
Her breaths remain heavy.
Unable to control them, she places a hand on the lower half of her own face, gripping her machine gun tight with the other.
Her back now against the barrier and her eyes shut closed.
“Bryceeee,” He says starting off with a sing-songy tone until it turns rageful.
“You can run but you can’t hide foreveeer.” His steps slowly become apparent and closer.
Her eyes shut open and her heart drops at the sound of his voice.
“Bobby?” In disbelief, she whispers to herself.
His footsteps stop.
Her heart is racing at a hundred miles per hour.
It made her want to hurl.
She can sense his presence nearby.
From all her years of experiencing carnage, from her past life of transplanting hearts to herself, the smell on him was overwhelmingly familiar.
Skunky, sulfurous, rusty and fecal.
She chokes on her breath knowing her choices are limited.
Make a run for the stairs and possibly get caught by him? Or take away the life of the man she loves in order to ensure her own safety?
Is this it? She thinks to herself.
Her vision begins to blur, feeling her eyes sting.
Is this how I’ll die? …. Loving the very man who will kill me…. The very last face I’ll see…. before I take my very last breath?
Instead of making a run for it or gun him down, she comes to accept her fate.
She loosens the grip of her machine gun and lets it swing by her hand, taking a deep breath, and admiring the sound of silence.
A sound that she’ll be the closest to ever experiencing peace. She smiles.
CLANG — CLING — CLANG
His furious growl is loud and echoes through the arena.
She peeks through the hole again.
The sound seeming to have come from the other far end of the maze.
Fists are clenched as his back is turnt to the structure she hides behind.
Desperation gets the best of him as he begins to march his way to the sound. She feels the tension in her neck release. Now only one problem remains, he still wasn’t far enough.
Now, new choices present themselves to her.
Take the risk and run up the stairs --- godspeed? Or stay in place and remain silent?
Both had their fair share of probable success and failure. But soon enough, she is disrupted of her own thoughts.
“Sir! — Please! — Help me!” The voice of a young boy shouts through panting.
He stands in front of Bobby. His hands on his own knees, attempting to catch his own breath.
“Please — I don’t know what’s going on sir — I-– I-– I’m really scared.”
“Scared?” Bobby repeats. The boy nods.
“No need to be scared…. I will help you…. I WILL SET YOU FREE FROM YOUR OWN DICK-WRENCHING FEAR!”
With a harsh grip of the young boy’s arm, the little boy begins to feel unsettled. He struggles to free himself from Bobby’s grasp, panting heavily again.
“What are you doing? — Please! — Let me go!” Cries the little boy.
Bobby pulls out his machine gun and points it at his victim’s forehead.
“NO! — PLEASE! — I’LL DO ANY—”
BOOM!
Remaining hidden behind the barrier, she flinches at the loud sound.
Holding up a hand to her own mouth, she barely manages to save the whimper that escaped her lips.
With a flick of his tongue, he savours the taste of metallic red liquid splattered on his face and his clothes.
Releasing the collar of the little boy’s shirt, his corpse thuds loudly on the ground.
“By your incapability of not being able to stop me from shooting the boy, Bryce, I can tell what kind of woman you are…..”
He steps over his corpse, continuing his search, still not far enough but his back remained turnt to where she hid.
“I now know you wouldn’t be a good mother to our future child… That’s for sure… But the idea of you underneath me… makes my insides tingle…”
Her steps are ever so light, she slowly makes her way to the stairs.
A breath of relief releases as her foot is over the first step, and just as her second step comes in, her hope is nothing but a mere illusion.
HISS - HISS
“Boss?”
HISS - HISS
“Boss, are you there?”
Clipped onto the collar of her office red jacket is a radio-transmitter. The loud hissing and voice of Donovan stops Bobby in his tracks.
Bobby turns and Bryce feels the hairs of her neck stand.
Their eyes which were once the free passages of each others’ souls were no longer.
His are bloodshot, hooded with dark circles under.
And hers were of a reindeer caught up in a headlight.
Coming to her senses, Bryce speeds up the stairs.
No looking back.
Her focus entirely on finding the exit door.
Dodging through obstacles and structures, she becomes breathless, collapsing on the ground.
But to her luck, the door of freedom stood right in front of her, with a sign that read:
California’s Best Laser Tag Arena — The After Dark: Exit Door.
Sitting up against the wall and behind a shelter, she unclips her radio transmitter, putting it to her lips.
“Donovan? Donovan, do you copy?”
HISS — HISS
“Boss, I can hear you.”
HISS — HISS
“Where are you?”
“I’m by the exit door, Donovan. I found it.” She says brushing her hand against it.
“Boss — I only copied exit door.”
“Yes Donovan! Please hurry!”
HISS - HISS
“Boss you’re breaking up-”
HISS - HISS
“Donovan? DONOVAN?”
She smacks the small device angrily. “Stupid piece of shit!”
Hissing, shouting and screaming comes in through the transmitter. Donovan’s scream. Blood curdling and gruesome. Then, a shot of a bullet goes off in the distance.
Her breath hitches. A tear runs down her eye.
Why Bobby? Why? She internally asks herself.
Standing to her feet, she remains hidden.
Digging her hand inside her pocket, she pulls out her favourite pistol. Her golden pistol. Both her hands grip it, arms extended, scanning her surroundings.
In the corner of her eye, she swore she saw a dark silhouette.
Her lips quiver and her arms become wary.
She winces at the sudden sound of shifting around her.
She turns, her pointing finger over the trigger.
A strong and fast swoosh of wind sweeps past her back then, immediately, she’s violently snatched by her waist.
It places her over its shoulder and the feeling of another arm tightening itself over her legs.
“Put me down!” She demands, punching the back of whoever this menace was.
“No… I won’t… You’re mine… Mine forever… FOR ETERNITY!” He evilly cackles.
“Bobby, let go of me now!” She shouts, her leg perfectly kicking his crotch.
He lets out an OOMPH pushing her against a corner. His figure blocking her from leaving.
“Fine… Just this once… Your feisty-ness is what keeps me glued to you anyway…”
His eyes look so different.
They don’t even look like they’re his.
They’re glowing yellow, his teeth pointy and sharp like a shark as blood drips from his mouth onto his own shirt.
He leans into her face with a grotesque smile.
“Kiss me.”
“Bobby! — Stop! — What has gotten into you?” She cries.
Her head turning to the side, avoiding the bloody pool of his lips.
“Your love did.”
And with that, his fingers grip her chin and force her lips to collide with his.
Her body tenses under him.
“Bobby! Stop!” She shoves him away.
A bloody smirk appears on his face with a devilish look in his eyes. A look of determination. A look of wanting control.
He begins to step close to her once more.
His arm over her head and his thigh between her legs.
His breath over her neck.
But this time, he places the muzzle of his machine gun on her chest.
“Look what’s happened to us…” The feeling of his breath makes her twitch.
“Fighting against each other, hm? After all we went through together?” He whispers softly.
Her face is burning.
The muzzle of his machine gun pushed further into her chest.
Her heart is pounding.
Her pistol on the ground, long forgotten.
Now only a hair away from his face.
From his lips.
A part of her felt relieved.
Relieved knowing she’d be killed by him.
And no one else.
She felt satisfied in knowing she wouldn’t have it any other way.
CLICK
Her eyes shut close.
An utter high-pitched piercing scream of terror escapes her lips, making his ears ring.
Her back drags down the wall.
Weakly, in an attempt to protect herself, she forms her body into a ball.
Her eyes remain closed.
“Bryce, what’s wrong?” He asks, his hand touching her knee.
She slaps it away. “Please! — Don’t! — Not again!”
On his knees, he grabs her wrists. She struggles to release herself from his grip.
“I beg you, Bobby! Please! Don’t kill me!”
He feels his eyes sting in disbelief of what she’s saying.
“Bryce what are you talking about? — I’d never do that in a million fucking years!”
His arms now wrap around her.
Petting her hair and rubbing her back.
Her head now lies in the crook of his neck.
He showers her with a bunch of kisses.
“Bryce — open your eyes — tell me… what’s wrong?” In a hushed voice, he whispers to her ear.
He steps back and she opens her eyes.
He’s dressed in a laser tag infrared vest with a laser tag gun in his hands.
His clothes look clean, his eyes look lively and his hair looks combed.
His face with an expression of worry.
Donovan and a little boy make their way to the scene, now standing next to Bobby. Both in vests and laser tag guns in their hands, just like Bobby.
“We heard commotion — Is everything alright?” Donovan asks, looking at Bobby then at Bryce.
She looks down at herself, exhaling in relief.
A vest wrapped around her and a laser tag gun on the floor next to her.
“I have to go now!” The little boy says with a lisp, missing his two front teeth.
Donovan gives him an open smile, waving each other goodbye. Bobby rolls his eyes, annoyed.
Hands in one another, Bobby pulls her up to her feet.
She falls in his arms.
Eyes glossy looking into his.
She hugs him tightly, nearly knocking him over by her strength. But then shortly, he holds her tightly too.
Without thought, she pulls him into a deep wet sloppy kiss.
He lets out a small moan, pushing her head closer with his hand.
Bobby parts first, licking his lips.
His hands gripping her arms, he pulls her in close and whispers into her ear,
“Woah, woah you…”
He looks into her eyes, a seductive look.
“How about we continue this at home?…” He whispers.
They both turn to look at Donovan, his hand covering his own eyes.
She chuckles in embarrassment, feeling her cheeks heat up.
Her arm around Bobby’s waist and his over her shoulders, she lets out a sigh of relief never feeling safer anywhere else but his arms.
Bobby looks down at her with worry.
"Can you please tell me what happened?"
Attempting to comfort him, she gives him a forced smile, which in turn Bobby can point the inauthenticity of it.
"I'm alright, Bobby... You don't need to worry." She pats his shoulder, walking past him.
He frowns, fidgeting with the trigger of his laser tag gun.
She stumbles between her steps, caught by Bobby, she places a hand to her own forehead.
“What’s wrong? Tell me… What is it?” Bobby begs, putting the back of his hand on her forehead to feel her temperature.
“I think I ate too many of those weed brownies that young latino thug gave us.”
“Guess that means we need to return home.” Donovan says.
Bobby nods in agreement as Bryce lets out a burp.
As they make their way back to the stairway, Bobby looks back at the corner in which they once were in.
"Bryce," He says, his head turns to look down at her in his arms.
She's huddled in close. Her head looking up at the mention of her name.
"Yes, Bobby?"
His brows furrow.
"When we get home... could you please tell me what happened?"
Summary: a reunion between bobby and bryce leads to heartache rather than closure.
Genre: Angst, Bits of Fluff, Apocalyptic
Rating: Mature Audiences
Warnings: Swearing
Word Count: 1.2k
Author's Notes:
- characters belong to brandon rogers on youtube
- WHILE READING THIS ONE SHOT PLAY 'Glimpse of Us by Joji' IN A LOOP - IT WILL ENHANCE THE EXPERIENCE!
➵ SOFT SIDE MASTERLIST
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the warnings/ratings and understand that these one shots may not avoid listing spoilers of the shows; blame the hero & the british series
The rustles of leaves and hooting of owls echo through the depths of the forestland. Three men dressed in oversized jackets watch their steps over branches, crumbled leaves and mud. Their breaths quiver in discomfort of the chilly breeze that swept against them.
In an attempt to distract themselves from their lack of comfort, they rely on the night sky above. Far from the city, only the light blue hue of the moonlight lit their path and the stars accompanied them like guardian angels.
Wrestling with his own jacket, fog escaped between his green painted lips. Once satisfied with the adjustment of his jacket, his eyes advert to the thick trunk before him, feeling a cold chill run down his spine. Brushing his fingers against the rough texture he felt his lips quiver. “B + B” circled over with the shape of a heart.
The curls of her hair flow with the wind as she turns to look at him. The highlights of her hair glow like gold against the brightness of the sunlight. She steps aside to show him the carving she created on the tree. Her laugh and smile infect him as she takes his hands in hers and spins around with him.
Past the tree he gets a brief glance of a neon green glow. Without thought he sprints to it while the two men with him speed after him. A green flooring of a long rectangle shape and a net that cuts the court in half, he looks around. Close to the lamplight were silhouettes of three people. Two were of tall figures and one of a shorter one.
“Bryce?” He shudders shivering, pulling the collar of his jacket close to his face.
As the figures stroll closer to the moonlight, her small figure and soft characteristic expression wait for the ethereal blue illumination to tumble on her skin. He swallows the lump in his throat as she now stands in front of him, hands inside the pockets of her red winter jacket. Her gaze on his with a small smile as the moon twinkles in her eyes. He steps closer, his figure towering over hers.
She gives him a small grin with a sly look.
“Bobby,” She says with her casual monotone voice.
“Am I still your piece of shit dressed in red?”
A sad smile appears on his face, letting out a little scoff. “Always.”
Snowflakes drift through the breeze lazily, landing on the top of their heads, getting caught up in their hair.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets, taking in his surroundings by slowly twirling around. The swings where they as children spend moments of happiness were now creaking in the most haunting way. The slides that they held hands going down on together were rusting and tied in between vines. This had been once the home of their colourful childhood together. And it was all gone. Replaced by high grass, brown leaves, cobwebs, dust, fleece and trash. Yet the tennis court in which they stood remained polished and new.
“Was this,” He stutters, finishing his twirl, now looking down at her.
“Was this where we first met? The school we went to when we were young?”
Nodding, the small smile on her face widens. His sharp memory was a trait of his she loved so much, it made her heart flutter.
Her eyes that were once observing her surroundings too now are back on the man before him. He takes her hands in his, pulling her in close. He plants a soft kiss on the top of them and shortly looks at her with alluring eyes. Her hands still by his lips.
“Please…. let me come with you.” He begs with a whisper.
Her soft hands brush past his as she lets go. Her fingers travel past his hair, placing a strand of his back to its place while secretly admiring his features. She looks into his eyes with a soft smile.
“I can’t.”
The hope in his eyes wipes away as his heart crumbles like a piece of paper.
“WHY?”
She flinches, backing up as he walks forward.
“WHY CAN’T I STAY WITH YOU ANYMORE? WHY DO I HAVE TO BE WITH THESE TWO GUARDS YOU APPOINTED TO WATCH AFTER MY ASS? WHY?”
A guard of hers steps in between.
Bobby looks up at the familiar figure of a man.
“Bobby.” Donovan says in a calm manner, patting him on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.
“Boss,” Donovan says looking back at Bryce.
“I think it’s time he knows.”
Her lips quiver. Her head turning from side to side in disapproval.
“Know what?” Bobby asks in desperation. Looking at Donovan then at Bryce.
“It’s too late for that. Time’s up.” Says her other guard that stood next to her.
“Bryce?” Bobby persists.
Her eyes portray the perfect embodiment of fear as she’s pulled away by her guard to walk back.
“NO!” Bobby shouts, running after her.
“BRYCE — PLEASE — WHY DOES EVERY PLACE I GO TO LOOK LIKE IT’S OUT OF A FUCKING APOCALYPTIC MOVIE? — WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED?”
He grabs her arm, causing her to be pulled back roughly. She looks at him.
They both stand there for a few seconds in silence, their foreheads now touching. “I can’t go another month without you — so please…. tell me what’s…. going on…. Why are you protecting me so much?” He ends with a slight crack of his voice.
Now interlocked in each others’ eyes, his become glossy.
“‘Cause sometimes I look in your eyes and,” She struggles to pause, swallowing the knot in her throat.
“That’s where I find a glimpse of us.” She says between sniffles.
They pull one another in a tight embrace.
“Bobby, you are my first kiss, my first lover, my first husband, my first everything… So let me make you my last everything too.”
His lips rush to hers, taking small breaths in between each stroke. Their hands on the back of each other's heads, not wanting this moment to end. They pant as their lips part. Arms still holding one another.
“I’ll never let go of you.” He grips tighter.
A tear streams down her eye. “I know you won’t.”
Slowly his arms loosen and he stumbles a little. Bryce rushes to grab his arms as he falls to the grass unconscious. His head lies on her thighs.
He flutters his eyes slowly coming to a close.
“Is he gonna be alright?” Bryce asks, turning her head to look back at Donovan.
Donovan now crouches next to her, placing a finger under Bobby’s nose.
“He’s still breathing, boss. I can assure you the sleeping agent of your lipstick will do him no harm.”
The woman in red turns her head back to look down at him.
His smile shines brightly as he lays on her thighs. His curls lie perfectly creating a similar formation of what a bouquet of roses looks like. His eyes were so entranced by her beauty he only kept them up at her, and only on her. His laughter was so infectious it made her laugh too.
Another droplet runs down her face falling onto his cheek.
“It’ll all be over soon….” She places a kiss on his forehead. “I promise.”
Summary: a power outage leads to a reconciliation between the infamous and villainous couple.
Genre: Fluff, Bits of Angst
Rating: Mature Audience
Warnings: Swearing
Word Count: 1.1k
Author's Note: characters belong to brandon rogers on youtube
➵ SOFT SIDE MASTERLIST
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the warnings/ratings and understand that these one shots may not avoid listing spoilers of the shows; blame the hero & the british series
The wind swirls through the spacious halls of the White House, creating a small whistling sound that echoes and bounces off the gigantic sandstone walls.
He twitches at the unforeseen sound of lightning. Loud like a shotgun going off inside a bear cave.
The lady in red acknowledges the man in green. She turns. Her head tilted to the side now looking at him. He has a slight frown followed by puppy doe eyes, looking down at the polished hardwood floors.
“Um,” he manages to mutter.
Her attention is now all directed towards her husband. And no longer at the eerie atmosphere of the near pitch black halls.
All she could think of is how much her husband had not been acting like his usual self today. His overly-cocky confidence had been taken over by a much more timid presence.
All she could do was hold her breath in spite of the fear she felt for the next words he’d say.
“would it be okay if I held your hand?”
“Bobby, please-”
She twitches at the violent slam of the doors being shut. She could swear the cups on her resolute desk shaked from the intense impact.
Her hand is extended out in front of her. She clenches it into a fist, her lips now pursed.
She snatches her red coat off her office chair, rushing for the northwest door. The door that leads to the private study and dining room. The one he had left to.
As she rushes over to the door, she’s taken aback. She turns to look back, getting a clear view of the Oval Office. The office she had spent years of her life in. All thanks to Bobby for giving her the presidency, in return, she’d give him the title of most notorious super villain.
She smiles at the sudden memory popping up. She places a hand on her chest, feeling her heart heat up with glee.
She’s taken back to present, hearing the creaking of the huge crystal chandelier that’s above her. It was shaking side to side caused by the sudden strong winds that flung the windows open.
She rushes over to them, shutting them closed, then covering them with the thick blue velvet curtains. The one’s Bobby had bought for her.
She laughs at the memory of setting the curtains up. It was one hell of a pain in the ass. Bobby had been standing on a ladder for hours, clearly frustrated with how much the fabric was acting like a dickhead. Each time she had offered to help he’d always say:
“Don’t worry my lovely taipan, I’ve got these fuckers under control, just carry on with your work.”
She takes an exhale. The longest she had ever taken. Oh how much she wishes she could turn the clock back in time just to relive those good times.
The lights of the chandelier begin to flicker rapidly.
She continues to rush over to the door just as the power winks out.
The silence is interrupted by heavy drops of rain falling on the windows, and then a blood curdling scream.
“Bobby!” She shouts, turning the knob from side to side until it finally opens.
She hides behind walls with her golden pistol now in her hands. Just as she turns the corner, she sees him curled up in a ball rocking back and forth.
“Bobby?” she places a hand on his knee as she sits in front of him.
“Bryce!” He wraps his arms tightly around her small figure.
She’s taken off guard, but eventually, she places her arms around his back and places her chin on the crook of his neck.
She rubs him softly on the back, “Are you okay? Did a dumbfuck attack you? I swear I’ll kill them.”
“No, I just,” He pauses.
They both let go of one another. His back is against the wall. His arms are on top of his now criss-crossed legs as Bryce is in front of him. She sits on her side supported by her hand on the floor and the other on top of her legs.
“I’m scared of the dark.” He ends with a sigh.
She places a hand on his.
“That sounded cowardly, didn’t it?” He chuckles. His eyes are still looking down.
“No,” He looks up at her. “I’m scared of the dark too. Always hated the bitch.”
They have a little chuckle.
“Come on, let’s get off this cold floor.”
They both stand on their feet. As she continues walking she stops and realizes she’s not hearing his footsteps.
The wind swirls through the spacious halls of the White House, creating a small whistling sound that echoes and bounces off the gigantic sandstone walls.
He twitches at the unforeseen sound of lightning. Loud like a shotgun going off inside a bear cave.
The lady in red acknowledges the man in green. She turns. Her head tilted to the side now looking at him. He has a slight frown followed by puppy doe eyes, looking down at the polished hardwood floors.
“Um,” he manages to mutter. He looks out to the pitch black halls in front of them then back at her.
Her attention is now all directed towards her husband. And no longer at the eerie atmosphere of the near pitch black halls.
All she could think of is how much her husband hadn’t been acting like his usual self today. His overly-cocky confidence had been taken over by a much more timid presence.
All she could do was hold her breath in spite of the fear she felt for the next words he’d say.
“would it be okay if I held your hand?”
A wave of relief washes over her like an awesome wave. She nods with a small smile on her face.
He takes her hand in his as they continue to walk together.
“You’re right.” Bryce says, slightly fiddling with her fingers on the other hand.
“About?”
“Not spending enough time with you.”
Now it’s time for Bobby to feel tense.
“No, I understand. You’re the fucking president of this country for fuck sakes. You’re the one who’s busy and I’m the one who’s asking for too much.”
They stumble upon a mini kitchen.
“Hot chocolate?” He asks.
“Yes sir!”
Wrapped and huddled together in a soft white blanket, they admire the soft rumbling of thunder and the sounds of crackling and popping of the fireplace that they sat in front of. The warmth of the fire made them sleepy as they placed their empty white mugs to one side.
They both lie together, wrapped in each others’ arms. Admiring the peaceful environment that surrounds them.
“I’m canceling the party tomorrow.”
“What? Why? Aren’t there important people coming to that event?” He asks, his brows furrowing, looking down at his sleepy wife.
She pulls him in closer, snuggling herself in, stuffing her face onto his chest.
“I’d rather spent my Saturday with you than those fuckheads.”
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Radioactive Love // Since July 2022 // supporters’ requests and ideas on one shots for worstthrust // status of series: ONGOING
[ ONE SHOTS ]
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Soft Side // June - July 2022 // a collection of memories that circle back to intimate moments between bobby and bryce. // status of series: COMPLETED
