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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 3 months

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Come Find Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I am back back back again! I have missed writing so much, I just don't have nearly the amount of time that I used to. But I'm in my last semester of school! So hopefully I'll be back on a consistent fanfic grind once I'm done :) PS: If you know what the title is referencing, you get a big hug from me.

Word Count: 13,439

Warnings: blood, talk of violence, reader injury

Bucky checked his texts every few minutes. Initially, he lied to himself about the reason behind it. He told himself he must’ve opened his conversation with you accidentally, or that he mistook an email notification for a text from you. Simple, innocent mistakes.

Either way, he always ended up staring at your side of the conversation, hoping for a gray ellipsis to appear.

But after a while, he could no longer deny the truth- and why would he want to? You were coming home.

You hadn’t been gone long, and your mission was projected to be a cake walk. But he couldn’t help it; he missed you. He missed you when you went on missions, when you visited your parents out of state, when you slept in your room down the hall. Missing you was part of him now, woven into the fabric of his being. It matched the material of his soul perfectly, like he was always meant to feel this way.

He fired off a quick “let me know when you land” message and waited, hoping you’d write back soon.

Usually, you texted him when you were headed back to the compound. It gave him a countdown to your return and something to look forward to. It also signaled to him that you were, in fact, coming home alive. Even if a bit banged up, you were well enough to shoot him a message. And that always eased his worries.

Today, however, was different. No text, no call.

It struck him as bizarre and sounded Bucky’s internal alarms. But he silenced them as best he could. He wasn’t going to let himself get worked up, not when you had a perfectly good reason for not messaging him.

This was your first time leading a mission with a new recruit under your wing. Bucky knew you devoted your full attention to your trainee, giving him absolutely everything you had. You took this position- as well as your pupil’s safety and success- very seriously. He knew you were probably busy helping your recruit learn a swath of new things, and who was he to interrupt?

Bucky opened the log and saw your jet had been marked as ‘incoming’ only minutes ago. A sigh of relief left his chest and eased his muscles. Sure, he would’ve rather heard that information from you, but it didn’t matter. Your jet would be here soon; he had no reason to worry.

The moment he saw that your jet was homeward bound, he lost the ability to think about anything else. He counted the minutes, the seconds. You had to be close, right? The log wouldn’t have said ‘Incoming’ if you were still hours away.

To pass the time, he folded laundry, answered emails, reread a few chapters of The Hobbit- but he couldn’t focus. He thought of you, only you. And no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t hang around his room any longer. He couldn’t stand it. He needed to be there when the jet landed. He needed to meet you on the steps of the aircraft and wrap you in a bear hug.

And there was no real harm in waiting near the hangar, was there? ‘If anything,’ he told himself, ‘It’s actually more convenient for her if I meet her there. That way, I can carry her bag- she’s probably tired.’

Anything to rationalize his desperate need to be near you.

He knew in his heart of hearts that you didn’t need him to carry your bag or help you off the jet. But this lie was all the convincing he needed. Without hesitation, he ditched his room and set off down the hall, your impending homecoming pulling him forward.

It was in that moment he noticed just how far the elevator was from his room. The walk seemed to stretch on and on, the hallway growing longer with each step. And how had he never noticed how slowly the elevator moved? It slid downward at a glacial pace, toying with his patience. For such an expensive, state of the art building, the elevator moved like an ancient piece of turn of the century machinery. Bucky cursed Tony’s engineering.

Everything seemed to add time, multiplying his moments without you. The universe liked toying with him, teasing him. And this was just another cruel joke.

The moment the doors opened, Bucky sprang free out into the hallway. He knocked into Clint and his group of trainees and called an apology over his shoulder without stopping. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t waste time- not when you could arrive at any moment.

His field of view narrowed into tunnel vision, only allowing for visualization of the path toward the hangar. He didn’t greet his fellow team members or allow for distraction. You were his one-track mind. That is, until something stopped him.

“Shit, sorry, man,” your trainee, Jake, laughed as he bumped into Bucky. He took a step to the side and attempted to continue down the hall, but Bucky blocked his path.

“Jake?” Bucky eyed a bloody gash on Jake’s eyebrow, “when did you guys get back?”

Jake gave a casual shrug and checked his phone, “I don’t know, five minutes ago?”

“Oh, okay…” Bucky reached for his phone, but found his screen void of notifications. If you landed five minutes ago with your trainee safe and sound, why didn’t you send him a message? It was out of character for you.

“Well, where’s your partner in crime? Or crime fighting, I guess,” Bucky tried to joke, but his tone was strained. He eyed each person who came around the corner, hoping to find your face. “Did you see which way she went?”

“Nah, she’s not here,” Jake was scrolling through Instagram, only half paying attention.

Bucky’s disappointed sigh left his chest deflated, empty. “Oh, did she say where she was going? Or when she’d be back?”

Jake pulled his focus from his phone and stared at Bucky with confusion on his face. His brows pulled together, his mouth hung slightly ajar. But finally, he made sense of Bucky’s words. “OHHH, okay, my bad- I think there was a miscommunication just now.”

Bucky sighed again- this time, with relief.

“Yeah, no, she’s not here,” Jake continued, “because she didn’t make it back.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing.

The sharp, piercing sound blocked out voices. Footsteps on the tile. Maybe Jake was trying to speak to him, but Bucky heard only the shrill sound of shock. Seconds later, his nerves fell numb. The utter absence of sensation disconnected him from his body. He was lost in a liminal atmosphere with no stability, no purchase. His entire being was shutting down, one sense at a time.

Bucky told himself to focus, to compute what he’d heard. He did his best to make sense of Jake’s words, but to no avail. His mind simply couldn’t understand the phrase “she didn’t make it back”. The words had shed their meaning entirely and sounded foreign to Bucky as they rattled around his skull. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin, and a cold sweat created a sheen across his face. He feared he might get sick.

“I- I’m sorry,” he forced himself back into his body, back to the present. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Things got pretty hairy- this was not the easy mission they said it would be,” Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not fair, I definitely got a way harder assignment for my first mission than all the other new agents, and I think it’s-”

Bucky’s glare could’ve sliced Jake in half, “get to the point.”

“Right, um,” Jake continued, “I told her over comms that I was leaving. I gave her plenty of time to meet me at the jet, but she didn’t answer. And she never came outside.” He shrugged, “I had to leave for my own safety.”

“So, you just-” Bucky felt himself losing his grip. “You left her there? Alone?” He didn’t realize he was shouting, didn’t realize he’d drawn attention to himself- until Agent Hill showed up.

She placed a light hand on Bucky’s tense shoulder, but instantly withdrew. He was shaking, practically vibrating under her palm. “Is there a problem here, guys? I don’t want-”

“He left her behind,” was all Bucky could manage.

Maria stared at Jake in disbelief, “you did what?”

A strange mixture of rage and heartbreak seethed behind Bucky’s eyes, “You don’t just abandon your partner-”

Jake’s attitude disgusted Bucky. He was detached, irritated. He rolled his eyes like an insolent child. “Relax, man. Jesus Christ, this isn’t the army. I didn’t promise to ‘leave no man behind’ or whatever-”

Bucky had heard enough. He lifted jake by the collar of his shirt, twisting the material in his metal fist. Jake’s head sent a sickening thud resounding through the space as Bucky forced him against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck?” Jake squirmed in Bucky’s grasp, “There are casualties in the field all the time, why am I being punished for-”

Bucky released Jake at once, sending him crashing to the floor.

His voice was quiet, hollow. “Casualties?” He swallowed hard, “Is she-”

Jake shrugged at he rubbed at the bruise forming on his neck. “I don’t know, I assume so. I didn’t stick around to find out.”

And just like that, Bucky was gone.

He took off down the hall, forcing himself forward as a soul-crushing panic swallowed him whole. No matter how many times he blinked, no matter how fervently he shook his head, he couldn’t rid his mind of the picture Jake painted for him. Each time he shut his eyes he saw you- alone. Your bloodied, broken body laying collapsed against a wall of a Hydra base. Your skin slick with blood. Your skin cold. Void of life.

He moved quickly, but not quick enough. He simply couldn’t outrun the familiar feeling closing in on him. His heavy, well-worn cloak of grief wound its way across his shoulders and twisted itself around his neck. He knew the suffocating sensation all too well. It weighed him down but couldn’t dampen his pace, nothing could; not when your life hung in the balance.

He was too well acquainted with loss by now, too familiar with mourning. There’d been a time when he wondered if he’d ever grieve again. He’d lost his family, his friends, himself- what else was there? What more could he possibly lose? But the moment he met you, he knew he’d one day mourn again. He just didn’t realize that time would come so soon.

A startling cold prickled at his skin, his lungs refused to inflate. How much time did you have left? How long would it take him to get to you? Were you even-

Hill’s voice yanked him out of his spiral, “Barnes, hey-” She made a grab at his shoulder, but her feeble attempt was no match for Bucky’s pace. “Where are you going?”

“To get her back.” Bucky’s tone was firm, resolute. He was going to bring you home or die trying.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hill nearly tripped over her own feet as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides. “You heard what Jake said, it’s a dangerous location- more dangerous than we thought. I think it might be best to wait it out for a few days, let things calm down and then-”

Bucky turned suddenly, stopping Maria in her tracks. “I’m not just going to leave her there.”

Maria shrunk away from the fierceness in his eyes, “I know you’re upset, but she might not be-”

“I don’t care.” His gruff tone dissolved, making way for the fear he’d so desperately tried to hide. “Whether she’s alive or-” he couldn’t bring himself to voice the alternative.

Bucky knew what it was like to be assumed dead. He knew what it was like to be left in the field.

“She deserves to come home,” he said.

Maria couldn’t argue with him.

“Round up as many members of the med team as you can and have them meet me in the hangar. We’re leaving in ten minutes- sooner if we can.” Bucky turned and resumed his previous path, “I’ll be in the armory.”

Bucky grabbed as much weaponry as his duffel would carry without splitting at the seams and made his way to the hangar. He hoped to find ten, maybe fifteen members of the medical team waiting for him on the jet. He wasn’t sure of your condition, didn’t know how many breaths you had left. He wanted to give you the best possible chance at surviving the onslaught you endured.

But when he turned the corner into the hangar, he found only three scrub-clad bodies.

“Is this it?” Bucky boarded the jet and dropped his bag to the floor. He eyed the scant amount of medical support, their uncertain expressions. His hopes of bringing you home alive dwindled.

A nurse who’d stitched Bucky up more times than he could count gave him a nervous smile. “The med bay is swamped, the team could barely afford to let us come with you.”

Bucky didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want excuses or rationalizations. All he wanted was to bring you home with your heart still beating. And three medical professionals, he decided, was better than none.

The flight to your location only gave Bucky more time to worry. He obsessively checked his weaponry, hovered over the med team’s supplies. But no amount of double and triple checking could save him from the spiral. He traveled down the path of every possible “what if?”, leading him only to heartache. No matter where he searched, he couldn’t find a positive outcome. And though he didn’t want to acknowledge the odds, he knew yours were slim- impossible, even.

And as the jet grew closer to your location, Bucky steeled himself for what he knew he’d find: you, his best friend, his reason for living, his everything- dead. Cold. Lifeless. None of the horrors he faced in the past could compare; no pain could ever be greater. Bucky knew he’d hurt for the rest of his life.

The clouds parted as the jet began its descent. Slowly, a large stone building appeared out of the fog like a monster in the horror movies you loved so much. It stood in an otherwise empty clearing, its shadow looming over the dying grass. Smoke billowed from holes in the roof, the walls. Whatever happened here was catastrophic. Disastrous.

Bucky’s heart sat lodged in his throat as he imagined you trapped in there. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin as he stared at the looming structure. He had to get you out, even if he died trying.

Just before the jet touched down, an idea popped into Bucky’s head. It scaled the high walls he’d tried to erect to protect himself from thoughts of your demise and grabbed him by the throat. It was smart- brilliant, actually. He was shocked he could even think straight given the circumstances.

“FRIDAY,” Bucky called out, “is comm 1209 working?” He shoved his own comm in his ear and waited for a response.

“Comm 1209 is on and in range,” Friday said. “Would you like me to connect you?”

He couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A few staticky clicks and pops vibrated against Bucky’s eardrum as his comm connected to yours. But he was too scared to speak. What if you didn’t answer? What if he heard you take your dying breaths? Just the thought was enough to make him sick.

He owed it to you, though, to at least try. He’d always said he’d do anything for you, that he’d risk it all for you- and he meant it every time. If reaching out to you over comms exposed him to something horrible, something traumatic and unforgettable, at least he tried. At least he attempted to keep his promise. And after everything he’d been through, what was one more life-shattering, soul-crushing nightmare?

“H- um…” Bucky swallowed the large lump obstructing his throat. “Hello?” He waited a moment, holding his breath the entire time, and tried again. “Hello?”

He waited.

No response.

“Doll? It’s me. It’s Bucky…”

The dead silence on the other end of the line dragged on. It seemed like his words disappeared into the air, unacknowledged. Unheard. Maybe the sound of his voice was reverberating inside your ear as you lay dying. Or maybe he was talking to your corpse.

The thought made him nauseous.

“Please, sweetheart. If you’re there- if you’re able- just say one word. Say anything,” he pled. A long bout of silence followed.

He clenched and released his metal fist again and again, desperate to rid himself of the panic settling into his bones. He was stupid to think you survived, stupid to let himself be optimistic. He made it here as quickly as he could, but he couldn’t save you. He was too late.

He wanted to take one of his many weapons and turn it on himself.

But a small sound stopped him.

“Buck…”

He almost fell to his knees. At the sound of your voice, an overwhelming warmth banished the cold that infiltrated his bones. Against all odds, you were alive.

A deep sigh of relief seeped from Bucky’s lungs, “Sweetheart…”

A hurricane of emotion rattled against the storm doors inside Bucky’s mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘almosts’. How he almost lost you, how you almost died alone in a Hydra base. But he couldn’t allow it to swallow him- not yet. There was no time for a breakdown. He needed to move, he needed to get to you.

He shrugged off the grief that rested heavy on his shoulders and swallowed the impending sob that vibrated inside his throat. “I’m here- I’m gonna come get you. Just tell me where-”

A staunch refusal came from your end of the comm, “No- no…” You took a sharp, rattling breath, “no way.”

Bucky didn’t like the way you had to fight to get your words out. You were clearly struggling, doing everything in your power to stay on this side of consciousness. He wondered how much time you had left.

But still, there was a familiar strength to your voice. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the renewed hope of rescue; something was keeping you alive.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just tell me where you are. The jet just landed. I’m gonna get you out and-”

“I said- I said no,” you breathed. “You can’t c-come in here, it’s too dangerous… we were a-ambushed.”

Even in your condition, even when Bucky was your only hope of rescue, his safety was your first thought. You’d rather die alone than put Bucky’s life at risk; the thought made his cheeks pink and filled his chest with a fuzzy warmth. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling.

“If you don’t tell me where you are, I’ll just sweep the whole building,” Bucky said, using your worry against you. “That means more opportunities for me to run into Hydra operatives. More time inside the base- it’ll be way more dangerous.” He could practically see you rolling your eyes, “so it’s probably better if you just give me a direct route, don’t you think?”

Bucky smiled to himself as he envisioned you on the other end. He was certain you were arguing with yourself, cursing his rationale.

He waited for you to come at him with a sharp retort or a sarcastic quip but heard nothing. The silence on your end of the line dragged on. And on. It lasted far too long for Bucky’s comfort. Surely, you couldn’t still be thinking about his proposition? He’d given you more than enough time to make up your mind, more than enough time to come up with a response. It was time you didn’t have.

What if you’d fallen unconscious? What if, in those quiet moments, your soul vacated this earth?

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He disembarked the jet, resolving to search every inch of the base. But just as he reached the dark, unsettling building, you spoke.

“F-fifteenth floor. Northeast… northeast quadrant,” you sighed, defeated. “There’s a- a room at the end of this hall, I think it’s maybe an office?” Again, you took a long pause. The energy required to think, to speak, was energy you didn’t have. “Just f-follow the trail of blood.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. He shuddered at the thought of your blood leaving a path down the stark white, sterile hallways of the base. But he didn’t have time to focus on anything other than getting you out; this was a rescue. He owed it to you to keep his head level. To focus on getting you out as quickly as he could.

“The power is… it’s out”, you said. “You’re gonna h-have to take-”

Bucky wanted to save you from wasting any extra energy, “The stairs. Got it.”

And while he normally didn’t mind getting a few extra steps in, he knew the time required to climb fifteen flights of stairs would push the limits of your survival.

But he pushed the ever-encroaching sense of doom to the side and put on a brave face for you. For himself. “Okay, I’m coming to get you,” he promised. “Stay awake, and don’t move.”

“As if I h-have a choice,” you laughed a breathy, hollow laugh. A long groan followed.

Your pain radiated through Bucky’s chest. He didn’t want to climb stairs or scour hallways- he just wanted to be there. To instantly materialize at your side. To bring you instantaneous comfort. He lamented the super soldier serum’s lack of teleportation abilities.

“You know what I mean, doll. Just stay awake, okay?” Bucky drew his gun and stepped inside the building. “Don’t fall asleep. Do anything you have to do- just stay awake. Can you keep talking until I get there?”

“W-what am I…” You let out a raspy exhale, “supposed to talk about?”

Bucky cleared a long hallway and found the stairwell, “Anything, just keep talking.”

Another extended silence filled the air; it nearly drove Bucky crazy. Your silences held limitless possibilities, horrifying ‘what ifs’.

“It w-wasn’t supposed to be… to be like this,” you finally said. “It wasn’t supposed to be this dangerous. This was Jake’s first mission- it wasn’t f-fair to him.” Heartache coated your every word. Even after your partner abandoned you, even after Jake forced you to suffer and bleed all alone- you still sympathized with him. Still felt sorry for him.

Bucky felt no such thing.

“I know, doll. Keep talking, okay?”

You sighed. “We s-split up for recon… that’s when they- when they came at me.” Your next few breaths were so shallow, your lungs barely inflated; the lack of oxygen left you dizzy. A thin veil of glittering spots sparkled and danced on the edges of your periphery. “It all h-happened so fast… there were so many of them. I just- I remember pain. And I hoped Jake was okay, w-wherever he was.”

Your heart was too good for this job. For people like Jake. Bucky admired your kindness, your empathy, your selfless nature. Even in the face of pain, of death- you thought about others. You often told Bucky how unfair life had been to him, lamenting his treatment at the hands of fate. Bucky found himself doing the same for you and your kind heart.

“I called out for h-him, I needed backup… I kept asking him to come help me-” A sharp cough rattled out of your throat.

Bucky cringed at the sound. It was the only sound in the building. He hadn’t heard anyone else. Hadn’t seen one Hydra operative- at least, not a live one. He came across their bodies every now and again but didn’t see a single living soul. He was sure they deserted after the explosion. Just like Jake.

The destruction, however, was everywhere. Bullet casings littered the floor. Blood stained the tile floors. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. He had to get you out of here.

“But he n-never answered. And then he told me he was leaving. He said he was- he was outside already. He gave me n-ninety seconds to meet him at the jet…” Your words were tinged with devastation, with hopelessness, with betrayal. “I tried- I did my best to make it down the stairs. But I was- I was dizzy… I was b-bleeding.” The memory stung like your fresh wounds. “I kept slipping on- on my own blood. I just c-couldn’t move fast enough. It hurt too much.”

Wrath burned inside Bucky like a raging forest fire. But his utter heartbreak doused it completely, extinguishing the rageful flames. He found himself unable to think, to breathe. It took everything in him to keep moving forward. Who could ever leave you behind like that? Who could ignore your suffering and sentence you to death without a second thought? The image of you stumbling, struggling to run for your life gutted him.

“And then- and then I heard the jet t-take off,” you sighed. “And I listened as it got farther and farther away… until it was g-gone. And I was- I was alone.”

He thought of you sitting alone in cold silence as the noise from the jet quieted. As your hope dwindled. The entire base must’ve felt like a tomb, like a massive, lonely grave meant just for you.

Bucky almost fell to his knees. Sobs throttled the inside of his chest, begging for release. Tears burned inside his lash line. Jake didn’t just leave you behind, he marooned you without care. And in his departure, he sealed your fate.

“I d-didn’t have a way to call for… for help. My phone was on the j-jet with jake.”

The sorrow that stained your words was all too familiar to Bucky. It was the same hopelessness that accompanied him every day that he was at Hydra. When he laid in the snow for hours upon hours after falling from the train. He never wished that kind of despondency, that kind of misery on anyone. And knowing that you, the person who deserved it the least, experienced it for even a moment shattered him.

“I realized I… I didn’t h-have any options,” you breathed.

A collapsed column blocked Bucky’s path as he tried to make his way from the sixth floor to the seventh. The concrete was too high, too precarious to scale. If he tried to climb it and got hurt, it would only serve to diminish your chances of survival. And he wasn’t willing to risk that. With a huff, Bucky exited the northwest stairwell in search of another route. This was a waste of time- time you didn’t have.

He painstakingly checked every hall until he finally found another stairwell. His breathing came a little easier as he rocketed his way up the stairs, growing ever closer to you.

“So, I found this- this room. It’s quiet. It’s out of the w-way. I needed somewhere to hide. S-somewhere to…” A small crack of emotion cut through your voice, “somewhere to die.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Jake got to return home safe and sound while you struggled to stay alive. It wasn’t fair that you had to seek out your own deathbed. Bucky wanted to scream, to break things, to spill every last drop of Jake’s blood. But he was a soldier, and this was a rescue mission.

“This seemed like as g-good a place as any,” you choked on a weak laugh. “Beats dying in the middle of a h-hallway, I guess.��

Bucky’s automatic response was to swear that you’d make it out. To promise that you weren’t going to die. But he bit his tongue. He couldn’t make those kinds of assurances. He’d do anything to bring you comfort but swearing that you’d return home alive seemed almost cruel.

He pushed himself to move faster. He couldn’t let you die alone, especially not in this godforsaken place. As he sprinted up the last flight of stairs and ripped open the door to the fifteenth floor, he struggled to orient himself. You were in the northeast quadrant, but where was he? He searched for anything to indicate his location- but found no signage. No directory.

Everything inside of him rattled with dread, with anxiety. Any moment now, you were going to die. You were going to take your last breath. All alone. A thick, suffocating wave of panic crashed over Bucky as he realized- you were going to die disappointed. You were going to leave this world knowing that he hadn’t gotten to you in time.

It was then that he noticed a faded arrow painted on the wall, with “NEQ” painted below it in block letters. Northeast quadrant. He was closer than he thought.

“I’m gonna be there in just a second, doll,” he said as he followed the arrows. “I think I’m right around the corner.”

This was just his way of making you feel better, you were sure of it. The hallways were long and winding. Each floor was a maze of its own. Even with your vague instructions, it could take him a while to find you. Still, Bucky’s words brought you comfort in the way that only he could.

“I know, I t-trust…” A metallic taste filled your mouth. A warm ooze trickled down your chin and dripped onto your chest. The warm, fuzzy feeling brought on by Bucky’s assurances faded. Of course, you knew you were in bad shape. But as blood leaked from your mouth, you wondered if these were your last moments.

Instantly, you searched for the words to say goodbye to Bucky. Time was slipping through your fingers, life draining from your body with each passing second. But before you drifted off into a never-ending sleep, you had to tell Bucky what he meant to you. You’d use all your strength, your last few breaths- whatever it took. He just had to know.

But how does one say goodbye to a soulmate? You didn’t have the energy or capacity to make a grandiose speech. And the blood filling your mouth impeded your ability to speak. You wanted to tell bucky everything- how he comforted you, cared for you, made your life worth living. How your life revolved around him as though he were your personal sun. But nothing quite encapsulated the things you felt for him. Every word in the English language, every sonnet fell short. And the lack of oxygen getting to your brain sabotaged your phrasing.

“Buck, I think it’s… I think it’s almost t-time,” you rasped.

But just as you opened your blood-stained mouth to proclaim every feeling you ever had for him, the door flew open. Alarm coursed through your veins at the threat. Surely, a Hydra agent had stumbled upon your hiding place and was here to finish you off. The severe blood loss was no match for your training, thought. And, on instinct, you pulled your gun on the tall, dark silhouette standing in the doorway.

“Woah, hey!” Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “It’s me, it’s just me.”

At the sound of his voice, your arm fell limp. Your gun clattered to the floor. Your head lolled back against the wall. It had taken everything in you to try and protect yourself one last time. And now that your energy reserves were nearly depleted, you allowed your eyes to close.

“S-sorry…” A barely-there smile pulled at your lips. “My… my bad, Buck.”

“No, don’t be sorry, doll.”

Bucky knelt in front of you, taking in your broken, bloodied body. He’d seen carnage before, witnessed more death than anyone should. But this, you- it was different. It hurt in places he didn’t know he had. But he didn’t let it show. Knowing you, you’d spend your last few moments comforting him, trying to make him feel better. And so, he forced a warm smile and tabled his breakdown for the moment.

“I’m actually impressed. I mean, you might be hurt, but you were ready to take me out just now,” he forced a chuckle. “That’s my girl.” His cool metallic hand brushed against your blood-stained cheek.

And in that moment, something within you changed. Your eyes shot open. You blinked a few times before forcing your eyes shut once again. You gave your head a few good shakes. Surely, this wasn’t real- it couldn’t be.

You opened your eyes wide once again, taking him in. “Bucky?”

With one shaking hand, you reached for him in the most pathetic attempt he’d ever seen. You were weak, dangerously so; it scared him to his core. But you were alive.

He leaned in, meeting you in the middle, and let you stroke at his stubble for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he kissed your palm. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“You’re…” you other hand reached for him, but made it only a centimeter or two before falling into your lap. Bucky opted to take it in his. “You’re here?”

He nodded, “I could never leave you behind, sweetheart.”

He may have continued speaking after that, but you didn’t quite hear him. The emotion you’d tried so hard to swallow came bursting forward, crushing your every attempt at remaining levelheaded. Your fingers smoothed over Bucky’s cheek again and again. His name fell from your lips in what resembled a prayer. Tears rolled down your cheeks and mixed with the blood crusting over your skin.

A soft, warm wave of peace rolled in, covering you like a well-loved quilt. The pain disappeared; the sorrow evaporated. All that remained was Bucky. This was the warm spring that followed a dark, bitter winter. The first rays of sun after a vicious storm. The first taste of home after a long time away. You let the familiar warmth of Bucky’s presence drown out the rest of the world until only you two remained.

“Sweetheart, did you hear me?” With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Bucky called you back to the present. “I need to look at your wound, okay?”

A sharp rush of pain nearly blinded you as you lifted your shirt, exposing the bloody mess. But even as Bucky appraised the gunshot wound that turned your abdomen into horror scene, you couldn’t find it in you to worry. Your hands lazily found his shoulder, his chest, his face; you just wanted to touch him. To know, without a doubt, that he was there. That he was real.

“Hey, we… we need to t-talk,” you whispered as Bucky did his best to quickly bandage your wound for transport. “I n-need to talk- to talk to you…”

Bucky nodded, “sure thing, doll. Absolutely. We can talk about whatever you want. But right now…” he returned your shirt to its rightful position and met your gaze. “Right now, I need to get you out to the jet, okay? We can talk later.”

He guided your arms around his neck, lifted you into his arms, and moved as fast as he could through the winding hallways. His quick gait set your nerves alight with pain. Every bump, every jostle had you gasping for breath. And though it was a necessary evil, the guilt still sat in Bucky’s stomach like a rock. His repeated ‘I’m sorrys’ were nearly constant, doubling with your every grimace and groan. But he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t let the time slip away; you didn’t have much left.

Between pained sounds and twisted expressions of discomfort, you said the same thing on a loop. Again and again and again, you pled with him, using energy you didn’t have.

“We need to… to t-talk.”

“I h-have to tell you.”

“Can I talk to y-you about- about something?”

And though Bucky would’ve loved nothing more than to have a long heart to heart with you as you two often did, you weren’t strong enough. He couldn’t let you waste your finite energy on a conversation with him. And so, he responded to each of your requests with an ask of his own, begging you to save your strength. He promised that the two of you could talk tomorrow, that there was plenty of time for a conversation later.

But ‘plenty of time’ almost seemed like an empty promise. And ‘tomorrow’ felt like a lie. Would you have a ‘later’? He didn’t know. But he didn’t want you wasting your oxygen, not when he feared it might be your last breath.

Boarding the jet with you alive in his arms almost felt like a win to Bucky. Almost. Sure, he’d gotten you out with your heart still beating, but your condition worsened by the second. And the grave looks the med team wore as Bucky gently rested you on the treatment table dug a deep pit in his stomach.

They sprang into action, placing IVs and delivering medications. Scissors glided through your shirt and exposed your broken body to the med team. Bucky knew they’d seen their share of gnarly injuries over the years, but he swore that they recoiled at the sight of your wounds.

With a shake of his head, Bucky refocused. He had to get you out of there- to get you home. He headed for the controls and planned to set the jet in motion. But he made it only a step toward the cockpit before a hand caught his.

“S-stay…” you whispered. “Please.”

His heart shattered. “I’m not leaving you, doll, I promise. I just have to get us in the air, okay?” With great care, he placed a kiss to your hand and set it at your side. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Bucky’s body operated on muscle memory alone as he initiated take off. His mind was occupied, completely and totally, by the sound of your weak voice begging him not to leave. The sound played on a loop inside his brain, cutting him deeper each time. You’d already been abandoned once today; he was certain you feared it would happen again.

With a deep breath and a quick reset, Bucky did what he had to do. He needed to be on his A-game for you, needed to be his very best. Only a few hours ago, you’d trusted someone with your life, and they failed you. Bucky wasn’t about to do the same. He worked carefully to chart the fastest route back to the compound, opting to forego FRIDAY’s proposed path. It kept him from your side longer than he would’ve liked, but less time in the air seemed like the best option. The sooner he could get you to the med bay, with its massive, brilliant medical staff and unlimited resources, the better.

Just as he finalized the flight plan and asked FRIDAY to notify the med bay of your impending arrival, an unsettling sound pulled his focus. It was an ominous beeping, alarming your care team of a sudden, life-threatening change.

Gloved hands moved at lightning speed; voices yelled medical jargon back and forth. And you laid there on the table. No heartbeat. No respirations. Deathly still.

Bucky stood on the periphery, too horrified to get any closer.

He thought it best, of course, to stay out the med team’s way. But knew deep down it was an excuse. He was simply too terrified to lose you. If he got closer, if he saw you struggling to stay alive, all of this would suddenly become real. And he couldn’t handle that.

“Barnes!” A nurse screamed at him, “did you hear me?”

Bucky forced himself back to the present. “No… I, um-”

“She has no pulse- get over here, we need you to do compressions!”

Bucky’s desperate need to help you, to save you, overpowered his fear. And in an instant, he was at your side. He loomed over you, his hands locked together, preparing to help resuscitate you. But once again, his fear reared its ugly head. You were already so badly injured, so weak. And he was far too strong. What if he made your condition worse? What if he-

“Come on!” The nurse yelled at him, “start compressions- now!”

He did as he was told. He pressed into your body with a measured pressure, careful not to crush your chest. But his cautious compressions didn’t cut it. The nurses instructed him to push harder. To “actually compress” your chest- and Bucky followed instructions.

But as he did so, a sickly snapping sound exploded from your body. Bucky recoiled instantly; his face contorted in horror.

“What are you doing? Keep going!”

“I can’t- I think I broke her ribs,” Bucky shouted at the doctor. “What do I do?”

“Keep going!” The nurse yelled, “It happens- just keep going.”

Bucky broke out into a cold sweat. His stomach turned at the thought of hurting you, of causing you even more pain; you’d been through enough as it was. But he did as he was told. With each round of compressions, he swore he created new fractures. He felt every splinter, every crack as he put pressure on your chest.

He wanted to sever every last nerve-ending in his hand; anything to rid him of the sickening sensation creeping through his palm. But if doing this saved you, it was worth the nightmares.

He watched as the two nurses provided your supplemental breaths and tended to your endlessly bleeding wound. The doctor called ‘clear’ every so often, shocking you with a defibrillator in an attempt to restore your heartbeat.

Round after round of compressions, breathing, and shocks passed by without signs of improvement. You remained lifeless, unresponsive. A syringe of epinephrine delivered straight to your chest did nothing. And Bucky felt what little hope he had slipping through the cracks in your ribs. He couldn’t believe he was about to lose you; couldn’t believe he’d have to watch you die. Hot tears blurred his vision and streaked down his cheeks. His legs went numb. At any second, he knew his knees would give out, knew he’d crumble to the floor under the crushing weight of grief.

The doctor deemed the next shock your last, and Bucky almost doubled over.

“Come on, doll, just-” He swallowed a sob, “just stay. Stay. Do it for me, I’m begging you. Please?”

The doctor called one last “clear” and delivered your final shock, only to be met with the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor.

“Sinus rhythm restored,” announced the nurse to Bucky’s left. She appraised the waves on your EKG and gave a nod. “She’s stable.”

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky took a breath. He stretched his tense fingers and did his best to relax the rock-hard knots forming in his shoulders. A new crop of hope bloomed cautiously inside his chest, but he couldn’t allow it to blossom and flourish just yet. You weren’t out of the woods; there was a very real possibility that your heart might stop again. And he wasn’t sure how many times the doctor could revive you before throwing in the towel.

Less than a minute after Bucky’s cautious optimism sprouted anew, a soul crushing sight dashed it completely. A sharp gasp filled his lungs, a shudder rocked his frame. Shades of deep, dark blue bloomed under the skin of your chest. Black and purple splotches stained your sternum. Some spots were already starting to swell. He extended a hand in your direction but recoiled in an instant, fearing he’d hurt you yet again.

“Happens all the time,” one of the nurses said with a shrug. “Believe me, broken ribs are the least of her worries.”

Somehow, her words didn’t make him feel any better. He ached to hold your hand, to sweep a gentle caress across your cheek. But he didn’t dare touch you after what he did. Every glimpse of your bruised, swollen chest sent bile rushing into his throat.

The three dedicated members of the med team worked tirelessly for the rest of the flight. They did everything in their power to keep your condition steady, to maintain the life they worked so hard to save. It brought Bucky comfort to see them staying so close, ready to jump into action if need be.

Bucky, like the med team, hovered. He couldn’t bring himself to leave your side. You seemed too fragile, your condition too tenuous. He counted your every breath, took stock of every beat of your heart on the monitor. Stepping away for even a second felt wrong. He needed to be there if you crashed again, if the doctor needed extra hands. He needed to be there to help.

And if you woke up, he wanted to be the first face you saw.

But you didn’t wake. A groan here, a muscle twitch there- that was all you could spare. And though Bucky wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, he thanked the universe for keeping you unconscious. He knew tsunamis of pain rippled in the wings, waiting to overtake you the second you woke.

Bucky held his breath as the jet landed. Every jarring bump, every vibration, forced his heart into his throat. He feared that even the slightest impact would send you into cardiac arrest. He flicked his eyes from the rising and falling of your chest to the rhythmic flashing of your heart monitor and back again. Nothing changed, no alarms sounded. And when the jet finally stilled, Bucky breathed a deep sigh of relief. He just needed to get you to the med bay for treatment, and this whole nightmare would be over.

He didn’t like being optimistic. It felt like a set-up, like false hope. If he told himself you’d survive and you didn’t, the fall would be that much harder, that much more devastating.

But being realistic wasn’t any better. Telling himself that you were too far gone, that you weren’t going to make it, felt wrong. To him, it seemed like he was cursing you. Like willing your death into existence. Like begging the universe to end your life.

And so, he opted for a neutral mantra. “She’s home,” he told himself. “She’s home. She’s home. She’s home.”

The distance to the medbay felt longer than usual. The hallways seemed to stretch on forever, the double doors to the triage center seemed to grow farther and farther away. Bucky followed your gurney closely, only allowing a few inches of space between the two of you. He couldn’t be separated from you again. He wouldn’t. He needed to be with you every second, watching over you.

A dark cloud of impending doom loomed over his psyche. It whispered to him, telling him that if he left your side, if he let you out of his sight, you’d die. You’d be gone forever. And it would be his fault. He knew it was nonsense, that this was just his anxiety operating on overdrive. But he couldn’t shake the fear. And risking it wasn’t an option.

“No visitors past this point,” a security guard placed an arm in front of Bucky as he tried to enter the triage unit.

Bucky tried to go around the man, watching as the medical staff carried you farther out of reach. “I’m not a visitor, I’m an agent-”

“No agents past this point, then,” the guard rolled his eyes. “Only patients and medical staff. You can have a seat over there.”

A small table sat against the wall, flanked by two chairs. It was a sad, makeshift excuse for a waiting room that operated as a device to keep people from hanging around. But bucky couldn’t be discouraged. He took a seat in one of the chairs, determined to wait there as long as he had to. He knew he’d missed a number of important phone calls by now, and probably several meetings. But he didn’t care; all that mattered was you.

Dread circled Bucky like a buzzard as he waited. It was taking too long- why was it taking so long? How much time did the medical staff need? You were stable when the jet landed, the nurse said so. Why were there no updates? All Bucky needed was a nod, a bit of information. But he remained in the dark, wondering if you died on the operating table.

Maria found Bucky slumped in a chair with a zombie-like air about him. He was expressionless, his gaze hollow. His palms traced the same track up and down his thighs in a never-ending cycle. One look and she knew: something was very wrong.

“Hey,” she called softly, hoping not to startle him.

But Bucky didn’t respond- he didn’t even react. He just sat there, his unblinking stare burning a hole in the tile. An uneasiness enveloped Maria. She’d never seen Bucky so empty, so despondent. As she stared at him, she found herself fearing the worst. ‘Maybe he just received terrible news’ she thought. ‘Maybe he’s grieving’.

“Hey,” she tried again, nudging her foot against his.

He came back to life with a start. A sharp inhale filled his chest, his eyes blinked wildly. But his palms never stopped moving in their endless cycle against his tactical pants. And he never actually looked at her.

“Hi…” he breathed.

Hill took the seat opposite him. She conjured the gentlest, warmest tone she could find, “is everything okay?”

Bucky balled his hands into tight fists and stretched them out again. Maria noticed blood- your blood- crusting under his fingernails and staining his skin. But before she could get a good look, he grabbed the arms of the chair. His palms rubbed fervently against the plastic handles for a moment until they moved to his face. He ran his hands along his jaw, his spiky stubble poking into his skin.

“Barnes, what happened? Are you-”

Finally, his head snapped in her direction, “I can still feel it…”

“Feel what?”

Bucky’s head fell into his hands. He pressed his palms against his eyes and dragged them down his face. Maria watched him fall apart in slow motion. He seemed to be unraveling, one cell at a time. And when he finally spoke, shame made his words almost unintelligible.

“She crashed on the jet…”

“Oh...” Maria did her best to keep a calm, even tone. Her concern for you vibrated in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it free- not when Bucky was moments away from a meltdown. “Is she-”

“The med team needed help. There weren’t enough of them- they needed me to do chest compressions,” Bucky said, his voice low. “And I broke- I crushed her ribs.”

A sharp shudder rocked his entire body. Just thinking of that moment, when his too-strong hands destroyed your chest, was enough to make him sick. To scar him for life. To haunt him. Of all the horrible things he’d done in over the years, this was the worst. He gave his hands a quick shake, hoping to rid his nerve endings of the sensation.

“I felt her bones snapping under my hands,” Bucky’s words dripped with shame. “And I can still… I still feel it.”

“Okay,” Maria said gently. “Well, if she-”

“She was already in such bad shape,” Bucky swiped a tear from his cheek. “And I… I hurt her. I made it so much worse.”

His head fell into his hands once again and did not reemerge.

“Hey, look at me,” Maria gave his arm a gentle touch.

Bucky only shook his head.

“Come on, Barnes, just look at me for a second.”

Again, he refused.

Maria abandoned her chair and sat instead on the small table. She never got this close to Bucky. Usually, she preferred to give him his space. He wasn’t the touchy-feely type- unless you were around. But he was lost in a shame spiral, adrift with no hope of return. And he needed rescuing. She placed her hands on his and gently removed them from his face.

“You saved her life,” Maria said. “Twice. You rescued her from the base, and when the med team needed help, you came through.”

“But I-”

“Did it work?” Maria asked, her tine almost stern. “Did the chest compressions work?”

Bucky nodded.

Maria gave him a shrug, “That’s all that matters. She can recover from a few broken ribs, but if you hadn’t been there-”

Bucky averted his gaze as his eyes filled with tears.

“Hey,” Maria grabbed his face, bringing his focus back to her. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead.”

Maria’s words fought hard against the demeaning voice that lived inside Bucky’s head. It screamed at him, telling him that he shouldn’t believe her, that he was a monster, that he almost killed you. Usually, Bucky allowed his inner demons to run free. He listened to them without pause, believing anything and everything they told him, no matter how vile. But Maria was steadfast and unshakable in her sentiments; she truly believed what she was saying. And by some miracle, Bucky did, too.

“Thanks…” He granted her a hollow smile and a small nod.

Hill sat in silence with him for a few hours. She didn’t try to make small talk or ask what was going on inside his head. She simply existed near him, sharing the space so that he didn’t have to be alone. She ignored important texts and sent every call to voicemail. She knew it was exactly what you’d do for him, if you were able. And she did her best to fill your shoes.

Abruptly, Bucky’s head snapped in her direction. His pulse thrummed against his skin as a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. “She kept saying…” he sighed. “She kept saying we needed to talk. She wanted to talk to me about something.”

Maria cocked her head to the side, “About what?”

He shrugged. “I told her we could talk later because there would be plenty of time,” Bucky’s words grew shaky. He found himself near tears for what felt like the millionth time that day. Guilt sucker punched him. “What if… what if there isn’t more time for us? What if that was all we were ever going to get? What if-”

“You’ll get more time,” Maria said with certainty. “The universe has a way of evening things out. You were robbed of time once; it won’t happen again. Plus, you’re deserved some fucking karmic retribution- you’re owed this.”

Bucky wondered how she could be that sure of something so ethereal. But she was steady, solid as a rock. She didn’t waver in her words or add caveats at the end. She, somehow, knew it to be true. And Bucky couldn’t help but believe her.

But when Fury called her for the eighth time, she knew quiet time was over.

“I have to go, okay? Fury can’t do anything without me, he’s hopeless.” She stood from her seat and rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”

Bucky thanked her a million times over and, for the first time, gave Maria a hug. She would never know how much her reassurances helped him. She’d pulled him from the ledge and gave him what he desperately needed: perspective.

In the hours that followed, he let her words play on a constant loop inside his mind. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead,” he heard her say. “You’ll get more time.” The sickening feeling of your bones snapping under his strength never faded, and the fear of losing you still had him in a chokehold, but Maria’s words quieted his mind.

In the sad, empty waiting room, time seemed to mutate. Some of the hours dragged, others whizzed by. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Was it ten hours? Or twenty? He didn’t really care. He’d wait lifetimes for you.

He saw the security guards change shifts once, twice. It was the only thing alerting him to the passage of time, as part of him believed it was standing still. On the third shift change, they told him to go home.

“They’ll call you if there’s an update”, said one of the guards. “It’d probably be a good idea for you to go get some sleep, or something.”

Bucky knew he looked like hell. Your blood left crimson streaks across his face and neck. And the dark circles he usually wore under his eyes were a deep shade of plum. But he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t sleep. Not when your life hung in the balance. Not when you needed him.

A few more hours passed with no news, and Bucky found himself teetering on the edge of insanity. An angry, desperate voice bellowed inside his head. It told him to bust through the doors and find you, no matter what it took- even if it meant hurting people in the process. The gun secured to his hip and the knife strapped to his ankle became eerily attractive. His hands itched to reach for the weapons, to hold someone at gun point until they allowed him to see you. But he couldn’t to give in to the fear, to the violence. It took him years of therapy and long talks with you to stop seeing himself as a monster- and he refused to destroy the progress you helped him make.

A doctor stepped out of the double doors and looked in Bucky’s direction, “Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky was on his feet before he knew what hit him. This was it. After what felt like an eternity of not knowing whether you lived or died, he was about to have an answer. Sweat dampened his palm, his brow as he stood in front of your doctor.

He didn’t know he was even capable of this kind of fear, this kind of agony. And though he was an impossibly strong physical specimen, Bucky knew he’d never be able to lift the weight of the grief that followed your loss. He knew that, if you died, he’d spend the rest of his life dragging himself from place to place, unable to stand, unable to push back against the overwhelming, oppressive force of losing you.

Your doctor spoke quickly and professionally about your condition, but the words turned to mush the second they reached Bucky’s brain. The combination of medical jargon and pure panic made their meanings imperceptible. But one phrase managed to cut through the fog of Bucky’s anxiety and exhaustion: “you can see her now.”

And just like that, Bucky took off. His fatigued body did its best to carry him through the halls, stumbling every now and then on the smooth tile of the hospital floors. But he didn’t dare slow down. He had to get to you.

By the time he reached the door to your room, he found himself shaking- almost shivering- with anxiety. He knew you were alive, of course. Knew that the doctors had been successful in saving your life. But something in him doubted their handiwork. Something in him swore that if he didn’t get to you in the next half second, you’d flatline. Again.

He could practically feel his brain rattling around inside his skull, his teeth chattered against one another. And the sharp tremors in his hands made it nearly impossible to get a grip on the door handle. Panic and frustration coursed through him as the he tried again and again to gain entry to your room with no luck. A strangled sob forced its way out of his chest and caught the attention of a nurse- one of the nurses who helped keep you alive on the jet.

“Hey…” Her eyes drifted to Bucky’s shaking hands. “Need some help?” Before Bucky could answer, she’d abandoned the medication she was prepping, discarded her gloves, and made her way to his side.

“Here, let me.” Her soft, sympathetic tone was almost too kind; Bucky’s eyes blurred with tears. She turned the door handle and gestured for Bucky to go inside.

His “thank you” was for more than just the door.

Bucky took a few steps inside and drew in a sharp breath; he’d never seen you in such severe condition. Over the many hours that Bucky waited for you outside, all of your bruises grew darker, more menacing. They stained your throat, your face, your arms. He didn’t even want to think about the ones on your chest- the ones he caused. Dried blood crusted in your hair and formed a path down the side of your face. It sat caked under your fingernails and rested in the creases of your palms. Thankfully, your gunshot wound was covered by gauze and concealed by your gown. But knowing it was there was enough to make Bucky sick. He, of course, witnessed and inflicted, his fair share of carnage over the years. But he knew your wound would haunt him for years to come- simply because it was yours.

All he wanted was to be near you. To sit at your bedside and hold your hand. But he didn’t dare to get any closer. Electrodes attached a dozen wires to your chest. IVs sat lodged in the crooks of your elbows, in the backs of your hands. Machines and monitors kept track of your vitals. And who was he to disturb this fragile, vital ecosystem? What if he accidentally pulled out one of your IVs? What if he detached a wire by mistake? He’d already hurt you once today, he wasn’t about to do it again.

He, instead, opted to stand at attention. A few feet away. For your safety. He didn’t touch you, didn’t even say your name. He simply stared at you, counting your every breath.

An hour- or maybe two- passed by with him like this. Nurses checked on you, doctors poked their heads in. And every time, they told him he was permitted to sit by your bedside. But he just shook his head. Sure, slipping his hand into yours, being close to you- it would provide him with incomprehensible comfort. But he couldn’t, not when you were so severely injured.

After the third hour, Bucky feared his sanity was slipping. A wicked voice lodged deep in his psyche suddenly awakened. It whispered to him, taunted him. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he was asleep in the waiting room. Maybe you didn’t survive. Maybe…

And he would’ve believed it, had you not snapped him out of the vicious spiral.

“Buck?” He feared he’d never hear you voice again, but there it was. Hoarse and weak- but yours.

Bucky flew to your side. He cradled your face gingerly in his hands, completely consumed by the need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you were real. His palms laid flush against your cheeks, his thumbs sweeping over your skin. And in an instant, the sickly sensation of your snapping bones vanished.

A hurricane of tangled thoughts and emotions crashed over him. He had so much to he wanted to say, so much he wanted to confess to you. But the words refused to arrange themselves properly. Suddenly, Bucky wished he’d used his ample time in the waiting room to better organize his thoughts. He wished he’d sought out a pen and a scrap of paper and used them to plan and articulate his sentiment. But even if he’d found the supplies he needed, he wouldn’t have been able to jot a single thing down. Not with his shaking, unsteady hands.

Anxious words and broken sobs got stuck in his throat and formed a garbled, unintelligible mess as they left his mouth. But it was the best he could do. He stared at you, waiting for your response.

“I, um…” you looked at him for a long moment. The haze of head trauma, blood loss, and pain killers made you foggy. You did your best to trace your steps back through Bucky’s words, certain that your condition was the cause of your confusion. But after a significant pause, you came up empty. “Sorry, I- what?”

Bucky slid one of his hands into yours and gave a soft laugh. “Sorry. I tried to say-” He sat quiet for a moment. What had he tried to say, exactly? He wasn’t sure. With a small shake of his head, he re-rerouted. “Um, it doesn’t matter. Here, how’s this:” He cleared his throat and spoke with the sharpest pronunciation possible. “How are you feeling?”

Your laugh- Bucky’s favorite laugh- bubbled up to the surface. But regret swallowed you whole as pain shot through your head, your chest, your side. The hurt radiated through your entire being. It rendered you breathless, and left your face twisted in an agonized grimace.

Bucky didn’t like how long it took you to recover from the small chuckle you shot his way. A pang of worry shot through him. “Don’t exert yourself, okay?” He swept a thumb across your cheek, “you don’t wanna tear your stitches or...” He cleared his throat, “aggravate any, um, broken bones.” Bones that he broke.

“No, I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut for a long moment before opening them again. The pain slowly receded. “I’m good, I’m okay. I just- breathing is hard. I forgot how shitty it feels to have broken ribs.”

Bucky nodded. His teeth sunk into the smooth flesh of his cheek. A metallic taste coated his mouth. He didn’t want to tell you the truth. Didn’t want you to know that he was the cause of your severe pain. But you deserved to know, didn’t you? With a deep sigh, he opened his mouth, intent on telling you what really happened. But you cut him off.

“Thank you, Buck. For coming to get me. I really thought I was…” Hot tears stung your eyes and blurred your vision. “I thought that was it for me, you know? And I just want you to know how-” you sniffed, “how grateful I am.”

Bucky left your side for only a second, retrieving a box of tissues from the counter across the room. He was back in no time and swept a tissue across your cheek to catch your tears.

“I know we always say that we have each other’s backs but you… you meant it,” you said. A small smile pulled at your lips, “thank you for meaning it.”

Bucky nodded. He did his best to keep his breathing steady, to stop himself from falling apart at the seams. He knew exactly what it felt like to be left behind, to wait for your last moments- alone.

“I wasn’t gonna leave you there, doll. I couldn’t.”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah, I- I wish my partner had felt the same way…” The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. It sliced though Bucky’s chest. “I didn’t think he would ever do something like that. I mean, I thought we were friends.”

The mere thought of Jake brought a familiar rage to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He didn’t understand how anyone could be so callous, so uncaring- so indifferent to the well-being of others. The part of him that swore off unnecessary violence remained quiet as the rest of him imagined Jake’s demise. He wanted your disloyal partner to suffer. To squirm and squeal and regret that he ever left you behind. But that could wait- you were the priority.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect him to be that kind of person,” Bucky sighed, “he seemed like a stand-up guy.”

Silence filled the room as you thought over Jake’s desertion. His abandonment hurt. It stung in places you didn’t expect. You’d taken Jake under your wing and did everything in your power to be the best leader possible. All you wanted was to help him. To set him up for success.

And after working alongside Bucky for so long, you’d forgotten that disloyalty to one’s partner was even an option.

“He probably panicked,” you tried to rationalize. “And then once he realized what he’d done, maybe he…”

There was no rationalizing this.

An ugly realization slithered into your mind. “After he left, I think he probably hoped I’d just die… that way I wouldn’t be able to give my side of the story.” The weight of Jake’s actions hit you like a train. Rivulets of warm tears rolled down your cheeks, only to be swept away by Bucky’s gentle hand. With a small shake of your head, you did your best to banish the feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Wallowing would only make you more miserable. And you didn’t need emotional pain on top of the physical agony that already plagued you.

“Well, joke’s on him,” you shrugged, “cause I’m still alive.” Pain radiated through your chest, bringing a grimace to your face. “Kind of.”

Bucky didn’t understand how you could just dismiss the bad feelings. Couldn’t understand your propensity for levity. Your partner left you for dead without a second thought- and yet, you found a way to joke about it. It was something he’d always admired about you, something he wished he was capable of.

You gave a strained laugh, “I can’t wait to see the look on Jake’s face when he finds out that I didn’t die.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what prompted him to say it. It left his mouth without his brain’s authorization.

“But you did.”

He wished to take the words back, but it was too late. They hung in the air, just out of his reach.

“I…” you struggled to grasp Bucky’s words. “I what?”

This was not the time- or the place, or the way- to tell you the truth. But he didn’t have a choice. His clumsy words made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.

“You, um…” Bucky didn’t want to think about what happened, let alone say it out loud. But he owed it to you to be honest. Especially after Jake had lied to you about being a trustworthy partner. Bucky scratched at the stubble on his face, ran a hand through his hair. Anything to delay the inevitable. But he couldn’t put it off for long. “Your heart stopped- you died. On the jet.”

Only one word fell from your lips, “Oh…”

“And while I’m at it, I might as well tell you that…” Bucky took a deep inhale. He was in too deep now. And keeping this from you any longer felt like lying. “That your ribs are broken because of me.”

A quizzical look crossed your face, “what do you mean?”

“I mean… the med team was short staffed on the jet. There were only three of them. And when you crashed, it was- it was an all hands on deck situation.” He flashed back to the moment when the alarms sounded. When your EKG flatlined. A shudder ran through him. “They needed me to do chest compressions. And I- I didn’t want to hurt you, but the nurse said I wasn’t pushing hard enough to actually help you. And when I pushed harder- I broke your ribs.”

Bucky searched your face for something- anything. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. But he found nothing. Your expression was as neutral as they come. He feared that something lingered just below the surface. That once you fully processed his words, you’d erupt into a perfect storm of disgust and disappointment.

He told himself to wait silently until you made up your mind. But the outburst exploded from his lips before he could stop it. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You know I’d never want to hurt you, I would never do anything to hurt you. But I… they told me I had to push harder. Or it wasn’t going to work. And I just wanted it to work, I wanted you to be okay, and-”

It took almost all of your strength to raise your hand and place a finger to Bucky’s lips. He fell silent.

“Buck, it’s okay.”

He tried to form a rebuttal, but you cut him off.

“You didn’t have to rescue me, but you did. No questions asked, no hesitation. You saved my life by getting me out of there. And you saved me again by helping the med team.” Your hand drifted from Bucky’s face and landed in his palm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your palm. His eyes fell downward. You could almost see the shame eating him alive from the inside.

“Hey,” you intertwined your fingers with his. “I can handle a few broken ribs.”

“No, I- I know you can. I just…” A sad smiled flickered across his lips. “I feel terrible. You went through a lot. And I just don’t like knowing I made it worse.”

A long silence filled the room. You’d seen this side of Bucky more times than you could count. And you knew him well enough to know what followed. He was going to feel bad- terrible, actually- about this for a while. There was no accelerating the process or absolving him of his guilt. No amount of reassurances could save him from it. He just had to sit with it. One day, the weight would diminish. But it was going to take time. And that was okay.

You gave his hand a squeeze. “I thought your voice was a hallucination, you know.”

Bucky lifted his head.

“And when you came into the room, I actually thought that was a hallucination, too.” A smile stretched across your face, “I mean, I thought I was losing my mind.”

Bucky gave a half-hearted chuckle. He didn’t want to think about you in that room by yourself. About you struggling to tell what was real.

“But then you touched me…” You raised your hand and brushed it across your cheek, mimicking him. “And that’s when I realized that you were real- that you were there.” You fell quiet for a moment, lost in the memory of Bucky’s rescue. “It was like, in that moment, I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t scared of the pain. I wasn’t scared of dying. I was just scared that…”

“What?”

“You have to promise not to laugh,” you told him with an authoritative tone. “Cause I know it’s corny, or cheesy, or whatever.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky drew an X over his heart. “I’m not gonna laugh at you.”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes, sizing up his promise. But, of course, you knew Bucky would never tease or ridicule you about something like this.

“Okay, fine, I um… I was scared that I’d never see you again. If I died, I mean.”

Bucky’s lungs emptied. He couldn’t remember how to breathe, how to speak. A sudden ache ripped through his heart as it splintered and shattered into a million pieces. To know that you thought of him in what you believed were your last moments somehow ripped him apart and put him back together all at once.

Your voice cracked. Tears filled your eyes. “I was afraid that we’d already run out of time. I was afraid that we weren’t going to get any more.” A few soft sobs escaped from your throat, followed by a pained groan. But you pushed passed the throbbing in your chest. “But I was so relieved. Because I got to see you one last time. It was the most intense sense of peace I’ve ever experienced.”

Bucky struggled to hold on to his composure. He felt himself crumbling, weakening under the weight of your words.

“But then I realized- I realized I’d never get to tell you. And you kept saying we could talk later, but I didn’t know if there would be a ‘later’. And when I blacked out, I was so full of…” You shook your head ever so slightly, sending a few tears dripping onto your cheeks. “I had so much regret. Because I needed you to know.”

“To know what?” Bucky leaned in close, searching your face for any inkling, any clue. “Doll, it’s ‘later’. Tell me- whatever it is. You can tell me now, it’s-”

Your lips met his in a soft kiss. In it, everything you’d ever felt for him came rushing forward. Admiration. Longing. Lust. Obsession. Adoration. Love.

A sting of pain jolted through you as your split lip brushed his, but you didn’t care. His hands found your face, your fingers curled into the collar of his shirt. It was always supposed to be this way.

When the two of you finally separated, Bucky simply stared at you. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he knew how.

“I love you, Buck. I’ve loved you- for so long.” A huff left your chest, “So. Long.”

Still, Bucky remained silent. Nerves began crawling through you like vines, twisting their way through every fiber of your being. But you owed it to yourself, and to Bucky, to tell him the truth.

“And I just… I know how you see yourself. And I know you don’t think you’re even worthy of my friendship, let alone love. But I was so anxious, cause I thought you’d never know the truth. I thought I’d die without getting to tell you. And you’d live the rest of your life thinking that you’re not worthy, that no one could ever love you. But I- I love you. I just needed you to know.”

The silence made your ears ring. Bucky’s face still wore a mask of bewilderment. And you feared you’d ruined everything.

“You don’t have to say it back, though,” you said. “I’m not gonna stop being your friend if this is an unrequited thing.”

Finally, Bucky came back to life. He rolled his eyes and let a scoff escape his lips. He leaned in close, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours. “Unrequited? I broke every SWORD rule and policy. Abducted medical staff. Stole a jet. And went on an unauthorized mission. All to get you back. I didn’t even know if you were alive, I just- I had to bring you home.”

He closed the small gap that remained between your face and his and granted you warm, gentle kiss that tasted like home. “I did all that- and you thought there was even a chance that I didn’t love you back?” Bucky gave a playful roll of his eyes, “you don’t know me at all, sweetheart.”

You returned his eye roll. "Well, you're a really great friend to me. And you always have been. So, I didn’t take a rescue as a proclamation of love,” you gave a strained chuckle. “I just thought-”

“I’ve loved you for…” Bucky thought back over the course of your friendship. The day you first met, the first time you helped him through a panic attack, the time he made you the ugliest cake in the world for your birthday. He saw his life in two parts: before he met you and after he met you. And he so preferred the after.

“I don’t even know how long,” he shrugged. It was almost automatic. His feelings for you didn’t need a slow, gradual build up. They descended upon him all at once, like the world’s most beautiful avalanche. “It’s been a long time- an embarrassing amount of time, probably,” he laughed.

“Oh, so we’re both cowards then,” you shot him a wink. “Too afraid to tell the other how we feel.”

Bucky nodded, “It seems that way…”

“But you weren’t too scared to steal a jet and run into possible gun fire?” you quipped.

“Nope. Didn’t even think about it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I just wanted to find you.”

You’d never experienced a love- a commitment- like that. It sent a rush of warmth into your cheeks and somehow eased the pain plaguing your body. You knew in your heart you would’ve done the same for Bucky without a second thought. But knowing that he was so fiercely determined to bring you home felt almost unbelievable. You had the proof, though, right there in front of you. This man, who you loved, loved you too. And loved you enough to risk his life for you. It wasn’t something you’d ever ask him to do, and you knew you’d never have to. He’d do it without hesitation. Without reservation. He’d walk through fire for you if it meant bringing you home.

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

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

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haveagarbageday · 23 days

Text

Nobody got you the way I do \\ Lando Norris

summary: When Lando finds out what your friends truly think about him, he starts to wonder why you haven't left him yet.

additional info: This is a blurb, really. Title comes from OneRepublic's song Nobody.

Some of your friends often wondered why you were sticking around. “It must be tiring,” they said several times when Lando’s struggles with his mental health came up in a conversation. They were reading the posts, saw the interviews, checked the social media buzz around him, so they always knew when there was a reason to bring it up and convince you to break up with him. It was almost a sport for them at this point, which was quite annoying since they were supposed to be on your side.

But you never cared about these comments, you loved him way too much, even on his darker days. He was under a lot of pressure on and off the track, and thanks to his more emotional personality, it was only natural that he wasn’t always in a cheery mood, and there were times when he truly doubted himself. Now that his car was fast and he had pretty good results on every race weekend, he began to overthink everything, terrified that he would make a mistake on the track that could take it all away.

Following the Italian grand prix, your friends were back on their bullshit after seeing the photos McLaren posted, the ones that showed neither Lando nor Oscar were in good spirits despite being on the podium behind Charles. “Gosh, he’s such a sore loser,” one of them noted, a girl you didn’t even remember from before. She was probably a friend of a friend and that’s how she became a part of your group chat. All you knew was that she was usually quiet and decided to stay away from your nights out, so you completely forgot that she existed.

Tired of the pointless fight with them, you put down your phone went to bed, hoping Lando would soon finish his Quadrant meeting and join you before you fell asleep. But he didn’t. You drifted off to sleep without him, and only woke up in the middle of the night when he sat down, causing the bed to shift under his weight. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him sit there with his back against the headboard, phone in hand as he read something, which made it obvious that he couldn’t sleep again.

“You okay?” you asked him quietly.

Lando glanced down at you with a surprised look. “Yeah, sure,” he replied a little too quickly.

It was a lie, you knew that, but you didn’t say anything, only let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. He reached out to bury his hand into your hair, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek as if he was trying to help you relax and go back to sleep. It almost began to work when he suddenly let out a groan and you heard the clicking sound coming from the phone as he locked the screen.

“When everyone, including your friends, keep telling you to leave me… why do you stay?”

You raised your head from the pillow and gave him a questioning look, but he refused to elaborate. Knowing your family meant he knew they weren’t so happy that you chose to date him, while some F1 fans also enjoyed bullying him online by writing comments about how you looked too nice and normal to date someone like him. But your friends? You had never mentioned those conversations.

After some time he looked at you, and even in the dimly lit room you could see the sadness in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to snoop around, but when I checked the settings of that app on your phone, a notification popped up from your group chat and I read the preview. How long has this been going on? How long have they been trying to convince you to break up with me?”

A small smile appeared on your lips to assure him everything was okay, but he seemed even more troubled than before, so you decided to sit on top of him and lean down to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. “They can talk as much as they want, but I won't leave you, all right?” you said as your fingers traced his cheek. “I love you, this is all that matters to me.”

He gulped as he watched you, struggling to keep his composure, but when you kissed the corner of his mouth, he let out a relieved sigh. “I love you too. I don't want you to ever leave me,” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around your waist, and leaned forward to bury his face into your chest.

“Lan?” He looked up at you with a questioning hum. “You would have to do something colossally stupid thing to make me leave,” you told him with a laugh.

#lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 imagine

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hemmingsleclerc · 7 months

Text

Reaction┃Charles Leclerc

summary: Charles finds out about Emma's interview on DTS

pt 2!!

The racing season had come to an end and Charles was enjoying some well-deserved time off at home with his wife and young daughter.

One lazy afternoon, they decided to catch up on a recently released movie. They settled into the double bed that he shared with his wife, turned on the TV and were ready to spend an afternoon of relaxation.

As the movie started, Charles scrolled through his phone and casually checked social media. Suddenly, the familiar sound of his phone ringing interrupted the quiet afternoon. Confused, he picked it up and saw numerous notifications flooding in. Curiosity piqued, he opened Twitter and found himself tagged in a video from the latest episode of "Drive to Survive."

He clicked on the video and his confusion grew as the scene unfolded. The camera focused on a familiar face, but it wasn't Charles. It was his daughter, Emma Jules, standing in front of the camera with a small microphone and a huge smile.

Charles leaned forward and his eyes widened in surprise. The interviewer began to ask Emma about her father and what he was like outside the track. Innocent but revealing answers came out of Emma's mouth.

"My daddy is the best here," she began saying, her eyes shining with sincerity.''Sometimes he sings very loud in the car or in the shower. But you know what? He's not very good at it!"

''"He likes to dance while he's cooking with mommy, and he snores really loud when he's asleep. It's funny!"

Charles watched in horror as Emma talked about his private quirks and habits.

''He also cries a lot at Disney or animal movies, or is more interested in playing with my toys than I am. ''

Charles exchanged a bewildered glance with Y/N, who grinned, clearly finding the situation amusing. Emma continued, unaware of her father's growing embarrassment.

''Please tell me I'm dreaming, that Emma didn't actually just say that'' Charles said.

''Sometimes we tell mommy that we are going to grand-mére's house but in reality he takes me to buy new dolls or ice cream.''

''!Wait, what did she just say?'' Y/N asked with a frown.

''Nothing mon-amour, you know how children are, they invent everything'' Charles laughed nervously, trying to avoid his wife's accusatory gaze.

''So that's what they did on the weekends, huh?''

''I have no idea what she's talking about, I swear''

''He also likes to help me make friendship bracelets for my friend and also lets me do his hair and makeup with my princess makeup set that santa gave me for Christmas, he always says that he looks very cute.''

''Jesus Christ, this is not happening, I'm gonna die''

By this point, Y/N couldn't contain her laughter and Charles's face turned several shades of red as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He didn't expect his daughter to become the star of "Drive to Survive" in such an unexpected way.

The camera then panned slightly, revealing Charles in the background, completely unaware that he was being featured in his daughter's candid interview.

"Looks like you've been exposed, my love."

''!Emma Jules Leclerc, come here right now! You're grounded for life!''

@barcelonaloverf1life

@llando4norris

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year

Note

Okay this is an idea I’ve had for a while but imagine Miguel hasn’t had time to fuck his s/o due to spider duties and Alchemax shenanigans. And they’re soooooo fucking horny typically they come to Miggy whenever they have this problem but they don’t want to bother him so they bring out some old tools. Their vibrators from before they started dating. Miguel comes home however right during the middle of you using one of them and he’s soooo mad cause he wants to fuck you. I’ll leave the rest of the fic up to you. 💋 Love you so much!!

You Set My Soul Alight

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel is always busy and leaving you in a mess. But you feel bad bothering him so you look for your past methods to get off.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Supermassive Black Hole” by The Muse. Apologies this took a while.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, pet names (Mi amor, cariño) cock blocking, female masturbation, biting, blood, restraints, begging, choking, slightly mean Miguel…

Want more Miguel Content, check out my Masterlist!!

“Miguel.” You moaned out and pushed up against the kitchen counter.

You felt one hand slip under your shirt and, the other went down to your pants, tugging them down.

“Yes, mi amor?” Miguel whispered in your ear, “Use your words.”

“Please… Hurry.” You whined.

His body was up against you. His fingers lightly graze your skin in fear but still were attentive as possible. But you jolted when you felt a finger push inside you.

“Slow.” He murmured, “Slow.”

You continue to whine and moan as his finger moves in and out, then a second finger was added.

“Migu-!” His hand that was previously toying with your skin was now clammed over your mouth.

“So impatient.” He chuckled, “I ought to-“

His phone rings loudly and he curses rather loudly. Marching over it and answering it, talking to whoever was on the other side. But by the looks and sound, it wasn’t good news.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). I have to head back to the office.” Miguel tells you.

“Go back? But you just got home a couple of hours ago.” You questioned.

“Well, they let the intern do the filings. I have to head back and fix their mistake.”

You watched him head up to the bathroom, leaving you flustered and bothered.

It wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Whenever Miguel had the chance to finally touch you, something always has to interrupt him.

It would’ve been fine if it was for the last couple of days, but it just had to be weeks!

Miguel grumbles in his office, looking over the mess the employees let the intern make. And what’s worse? Oh yeah, he has to go back to the headquarters before Peter B. does something stupid. Why did he leave that idiot in charge again?

He grumbles even more when he gets the notification on his laptop, more emails sent, and more paperwork to look over. Sometimes he wishes he could just ditch work and head back to you. But he knows he’s the boss and he couldn’t be doing that.

And it wasn’t the first time this happened…

You felt Miguel’s crotch press up against yours, his lips kissed down to your neck, placing light kisses before biting down.

Your hands come up to his hair, pulling him away from your neck. You watch him as he smirks, licking the blood off his lips.

“What did I say before?” He murmurs.

“Miguel.” You huffed, “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please-“ His watch rang, making his hiss.

He grabs it, pressing a few buttons. A screen pops up, it’s Gwen, “Yes?”

“Um, how bad would it be if about a dozen villains escaped?”

“Gwen, you do not need me there.”

“Normally, yes. But if it’s all of them…”

“All of them?! How?!”

“I just got here!”

“I’m on my way.” He sighs, “I’m sorry, cariño, it’s-“

“Don’t apologize.” You sit up, “Go, I can take care of this.” Gesturing to the still-bleeding wound.

“I love you.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too, Miguel.”

It wasn’t just frustrating for him, it was you as well.

You wanted to beg him to stay a little longer, but at the same time, it felt selfish. The HQ would’ve fallen to pieces if Miguel wasn’t there to control the situation.

And now, you laid back on the bed. Usually, you’d keep yourself busy with your work but the ache between your legs was getting unbearable by the second.

You huffed and opened the bedside table, last drawer, and hidden under a blanket was your vibrator. It’s been a while since you last used it, it was before Miguel became slammed with work. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

You took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing. With it up against your clit, you pressed the button. The vibrations made you jolt and your breath hitched. You closed your eyes and let yourself fall into your imagination while pleasure flows throughout your body.

You missed his touch. The way he made you feel. How careful he was with you like you were made of glass. But once he was sure of himself, he’d let himself go.

The way his hands come to your throat, squeezing it before his hands traveled down. But your favorite part is when he finally got to bite your neck. You knew it was his favorite and he wasn’t going to admit it.

Those nights that were pure bliss always heeded carefully, he wanted to be sure that you were okay and-

“Didn’t think you’d miss me this much.” Miguel leans on the door frame. Watching you cover yourself you, “No, no, don’t stop on my account.”

“I-I thought-“

“Yeah, the others had it handled. Came back home once I learned.” Miguel closes the door as he enters the shared bedroom, “So, what’s this?” Snatching the now turned-off toy, “How long have you been using this?”

“Just now.” You tell him.

He climbs onto the bed, “Am I really that disappointing in bed?” Miguel forces your legs open and pulls you closer to him, “Is that the only thing that can get you off?” He starts stripping himself.

“No! You’re more than enough.” You try to sit up but he pushes you back down.

“Then tell me why do you still have these?”

“B-Because you’re so busy, I didn’t want to bother you.”

As if his smirk couldn’t get anymore wider, “All you had to do was use your words.” Miguel holds your hands up against the headboard, using his webbing to keep them secure, “So, tell me. ¿Qué quieres?” (What do you want?)

“Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me, Miguel.”

“See, was that so hard?” He chuckles.

He doesn’t bother wasting time preparing, he shoved himself in a single thrust. His hand comes to your throat, apply pressure.

Your legs tightly wrap around him, if he wasn’t already close to you, he is now.

“I’ve got a lot of making up to you.” He growls, “We have all day for it, keep your eyes on me and I’ll give you want you want.”

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theharddeck · 9 months

Text

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone.

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit.

But.

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app.

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do.

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play.

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones.

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena.

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you.

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy.

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer.

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter.

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering.

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip.

Why did guys in real life never moan?

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure.

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low.

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only.

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you.

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste?

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy, acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin.

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.”

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his.

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?”

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper.

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you.

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper.

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him.

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?”

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds.

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you.

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly.

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl.

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy.

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?”

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against.

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded.

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.”

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect.

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there.

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow.

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to.

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear.

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set.

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you.

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door.

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time.

Some might even say, with a pep in your step.

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed.

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat.

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly.

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on.

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing).

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person.

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets.

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration.

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze.

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too.

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise.

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips.

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago.

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.”

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock.

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms.

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it).

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal.

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before??

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot.

A knock on your door startled you.

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically.

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door.

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused.

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it.

He looked the same.

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you.

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills.

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them.

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral.

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away.

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse.

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room.

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced.

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t.

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room.

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again.

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it.

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep.

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react.

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation.

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again.

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you.

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly.

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him.

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob.

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway.

Of course he did.

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately.

Objectively, Bob was the best.

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you.

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you.

He pushed himself off the bed.

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either.

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay.

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it.

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question.

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break.

You kissed him.

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer.

He was so soft.

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him.

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention.

“Can I show you?” you asked.

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry.

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely.

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous.

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him.

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard.

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on.

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze.

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently.

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you.

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually.

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked.

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob.

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered.

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them.

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett.

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard.

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him.

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need.

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch.

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations.

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing.

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing.

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it.

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric.

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob.

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again.

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob.

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering.

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob.

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking.

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did.

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled.

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him.

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.”

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him.

It was better with him.

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing.

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good.

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there.

You felt like you were floating.

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him.

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he?

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life.

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right.

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips.

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you.

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself.

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner.

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin.

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin.

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned.

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.”

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had.

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless.

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered.

He wasn’t done, either.

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…”

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses.

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man.

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace.

You loved the feeling of his skin.

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you.

Fuck.

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders.

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric.

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself.

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him.

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick.

Holy. Shit.

He looked like a work of art.

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl.

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky.

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat.

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it.

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact.

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you.

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him.

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them.

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking.

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster.

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much.

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly.

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot.

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you.

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more.

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn.

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect.

Fuck, he felt so good.

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon.

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked.

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything.

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop.

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying.

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core.

He knew, somehow.

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher.

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising.

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…”

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him.

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back.

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop.

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant.

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him.

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips.

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you.

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you.

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips.

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher.

And then.

And then he got close.

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you.

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it.

When you came back, you were on your side.

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction.

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

#bob fucks #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd #misskielwrites #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month

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navybrat817 · 9 months

Text

With a Bang

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You want to look nice for the New Year's Eve party and Bucky doesn't want to share you with anyone else. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Insecurities, established relationship, implied explicit sexual content, possessive behavior, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Last writing for 2023! You lovelies wanted Bucky for NYE. Also dedicating this to @tumblin-theworldaway after chatting about the photo below and for being so supportive throughout the year. Love you, Aqua! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“It isn’t too late to back out!” Bucky called out from the living room.

You couldn’t help but smile as you slipped your shoes on. Tony had decided to throw a New Year’s Eve bash at the tower and everyone was expected to be there, but your boyfriend wasn’t exactly thrilled to go. You had a feeling he didn’t want to deal with the crowd or the noise, but planned to suck it up since you wanted to go. You wouldn’t make him stay long.

Just long enough to make an appearance before you two went home to ring in the New Year together.

��But I got all dressed up for you, Bucky!” You called back, groaning a little as you looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

You had examined your reflection from just about every angle to make sure you looked as close to perfection as you could achieve. The short dress wasn't too fancy or too casual, all black to go with Bucky's t-shirt since he insisted that he wasn’t dressing up for the party. The fabric hugged you in all the right ways and showed off just enough skin to keep his attention, but covered enough to leave him craving more.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and you hoped Bucky liked what he saw.

“All the more reason to stay home,” he joked a little.

With a deep breath, you pushed your shoulders back and left the bedroom. You managed not to lose your footing as you found him waiting for you in the living room. The butterflies that filled your stomach never stopped fluttering at the sight of the former assassin.

“What do you think?” You asked as you did a slow twirl. “Do you like it?” You added in a quieter tone.

You wanted to look good for him.

Bucky didn't speak as his eyes swept over you from head to toe. You tried not to squirm under the heat of his gaze, but your heart rate picked up as the silence stretched on. You couldn't stop your thighs from pressing together when his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“No,” he finally said, his mouth set in a grim line a heartbeat later. “No fucking way you're going out in that.”

His reaction caught you off guard and you knew your face fell at his reaction. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” You asked, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of your voice when you mumbled, “I wanted to look nice.”

He closed in on you and held your chin in his warm hand before you could look down, forcing you to meet his stormy gaze. It was like swimming in the ocean and you allowed the waves to sweep you away. “And you do look nice. You’re so beautiful, baby. You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

You almost hid your face from embarrassment at the loving praise, but his grip prevented you from doing so. “You really think so?”

“I do,” he said, giving you a subtle smirk as his hand fell back to his side. “You’ll also look beautiful sitting on my cock, so we’re skipping the party.”

Arousal shot you like a bolt of lightning, the sensation almost making your knees buckle. As nice as that sounded, it was getting late. “And I will as soon as we get back, but we have to go,” you said, grabbing his hand and giving it a small tug when he made no move to get his jacket. “Come on. Everyone is going and they’re expecting you.”

“Everyone is going, but us,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips when you tried to pull him forward again. He stayed rooted to the spot. “Why do you want to go so badly?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you considered his question. “I don’t know. Maybe because I want to go to a New Year’s Eve party with my boyfriend and have a bit of fun,” you said, something swirling in your gut the more you thought about it. “And maybe I want people to see I can measure up to you.”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes and you wished you could take that last statement back. Before the two of you started dating, you would've pegged him as an enigma. You never knew what he was thinking when he assessed people with a cool gaze. But that particular stare? You knew it well.

It was a look he always gave you when you said something self-deprecating or worse.

“Measure up to me?” He asked slowly.

You toyed with the hem of your dress with a small nod. “Yeah, Bucky. Measure up to you. Because you look like… well, that with hardly any effort,” you gestured to the t-shirt stretched over his broad chest before you pointed to his perfectly combed short hair. “And look how long it took me to look like this.”

You weren’t sure exactly why you were making a comparison. You felt beautiful and knew you looked good. But insecurities didn’t disappear overnight and sometimes surfaced at the most inopportune moments.

Bucky’s nostrils flared before he put his hands on your hips. “Baby, you’re stunning. A fucking goddess. I should drop to my knees and worship you right now,” he said, his words warming your heart and starting to overpower the mean voice in your head. “Did I do something to make you feel any less than that?”

“No, you didn’t,” you promised. Bucky was just as enamored with you as you were with him and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. From the moment you met, he displayed a level of openness with you that you didn't witness with most. He was careful with who he let close to him and who could blame him after what he had been through? “I don’t know. I guess I just want your friends to see that I’m worth being by your side.”

Your boyfriend looked a little taken aback. Why did you have to open your mouth? “Are you kidding me? Baby, everyone loves you. A few don’t think I’m worthy of being with you.”

Your eyes squinted, the need to protect and defend Bucky bubbling beneath your skin. “Who said that? Tell me now and I’ll make them eat their words.”

Bucky blinked before he chuckled, his nose and eyes crinkling. It brightened up his whole face. “Easy, tiger. You can put your claws away because I put them in their place,” he said, giving you a soft kiss to distract you. “And I’m telling you if I take you there tonight, they won’t leave you alone. Tony will hit on you. Sam will flirt with you. Steve will keep checking you out, too, and he’s my best friend.”

“Good, then you’ll see what I have to put up with when I go out with you,” you teased slightly with a poke to his chest.

He scoffed and gripped your wrist. “Girls don’t hit on me.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief at the words that came out of his mouth. He was an old man, but he wasn’t that old. Bucky had perfect eyesight and hearing, so he certainly saw when people hit on him and heard the flirty cadence in their voices.

“Just like Steve Rogers, you’re a terrible liar. But thank you anyway,” you said, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Now why don’t you want to go to the party? Is it the crowd? Because I won’t make you go if you’re uncomfortable.”

You wouldn’t put him in a position to panic or retreat into himself if really didn’t want to go.

“I can handle that for a couple of hours. I promise.”

“Then why are you so eager to stay?” You asked, stopping him when he opened his mouth. “And don’t say it’s to sleep with me. We both know you’re getting laid tonight.”

He let out a breath. “I guess part of me just doesn't want to share you with the rest of them. Not tonight,” he admitted, his smile bordering on apologetic. “Because you're my girl.”

Your heart raced again at his admission. It wasn't a red flag of possessiveness or trying to isolate you. He just wanted the pleasure of your company.

“And I’ll always be yours,” you promised, pulling him in for a kiss. It was gentle at first, the promise of more to come. A groan filled his chest as he deepened it and he didn’t stop until you felt dizzy, your breathing heavy when he pulled away.

It was a crime that he could kiss the way he did and one you wanted him to commit again and again.

“One hour,” he exhaled, pressing his forehead to yours. “One hour and I’m taking you home.”

“Two hours,” you countered, sliding your hand over his chest to feel how fast his heart raced. “And three dances.”

“Hour and a half. Two dances,” he offered, rolling his hips against yours. Your eyes fluttered as he rocked them again. “And a kiss at midnight in our bed.”

You hummed before you nodded. “Deal. And maybe, just maybe, you can even pour some champagne over my body and lick it off.”

You felt the deep rumble in his chest as his head fell back. “Fuck kissing you at midnight. I’m making you come on my cock as the clock counts down.”

Your entire body trembled, heat flooding your face before it rolled down your neck. “Nothing says ‘Happy New Year’ like an orgasm.”

He lifted his head, something soft in his eyes as he smiled. “Or being with the one you love,” he whispered, your heart skipping a beat as he pressed one more kiss to your lips. You loved him, too. “Now let’s go. I have a goddess in my arms I want to show off.”

“Okay,” you smiled, but he didn’t let you go. “Bucky?”

“Actually. One more thing,” he said, removing the dog tags from around his neck. He swallowed a bit before he put them over your head, drawing a gasp from you. “Sorry. They probably don’t go with the dress.”

You touched the dog tags with infinite tenderness, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, knowing how much it meant for him to give them to you. “Thank you.”

You’d take care of them and wear them with pride.

He breathed a sigh of relief that you accepted them. “You’re welcome,” he smiled, brushing away a tear that fell from your eye with his thumb. “Now we can go.”

Bucky was right. Of course, he was right. You turned multiple heads at the party and swore he growled when Tony, Sam, and Steve got too close, but you didn’t leave his side once. You were his girl and everyone knew it.

He even managed to get you to leave in under an hour, but made it up to you with an extra dance at home in the living room. He also gave you an earth-shattering orgasm at midnight like he promised after he stripped you down, his name spilling from your lips as he took you apart. He was still buried inside you as you kissed him, pouring your heart and soul into it. He gave all his love back to you in return.

“Happy New Year, Bucky,” you whispered, framing his face as his weight settled over you.

He traced the dog tags around your neck with a gentle smile. You didn’t want to take them off. “Happy New Year, baby,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around your back to hold you close. Like you were the most precious thing in the world.

As you closed your eyes, you smiled. You didn’t just ring in the New Year with a bang. You got to spend it feeling loved and whole. And you got to spend it with the best man you knew.

The one you were lucky enough to call yours.

Love and thanks to each of you lovelies for taking yet another ride on my nonsense train! ❤️ See you in 2024.

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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ilovepaigebueckerss · 3 months

Text

long nails? no problem

paring: p.b. x fem! reader

summary: based off this request!!

im so sorry that my reqs have been taking so longgg. my writing has been so SHITT and ive just hated everything ive tried to write. honestly dont like this that much but I had to post for my babies so. NOT PROOFREAD YALL ALREADY KNOWW

————

You weren’t the type to get super long nails considering the fact that you were a short nail girly at heart. (and gay) But something came across you making you want a tiny change.

You saw the cutest XL set on pinterest and you just had to get it. So you sent it over to your nail tech and she said you could come the next day at 3.

Now here you were on your way to your techs house at 2:40.

my dumb blonde: Sent $100

note: for ur nails 💗😘

You chuckle at the notification knowing she doesn’t know what you were getting would bother her just a little. You type a quick respond and put the car in drive.

thank you pretty💗💗

————

The sound of the front door creaking open causes Paige to jump off the couch and run towards the door. She stops in her tracks when she looks down to see that your nails are longer than usual. You notice her looking and speak up, “Ya like?” You hold your hands up wiggling your eyebrows.

Paige walks closer and grabs your hands to get a closer look. She begins to pout, “Babyyy” She whines. You giggle, “Im sorryy, they were too cute NOT to get them” You shrug your shoulders and give her a sympathetic tight lipped smile.

You begin to walk towards the kitchen to set your things down while Paige walks back to her spot on the couch. “Remind me to send me your change” You say looking into the fridge. Paige hums in response and continues to look at her phone.

You quickly close the fridge and turn to face Paige, “I know you’re not giving me the silent treatment” You say rolling your eyes in a joking manner. Paige looks at you but doesn’t respond. You begin towards her sitting on her lap. She immediately tenses up.

You lean down and whisper in her ear, “You know I dont just have to use my fingers right?” Paige shivers as your cool breath touches her ear. “Show me then.” She says huskly, causing you to immediately get up and lead her to the bedroom.

————

use ur imagination for the rest 🥰 (im sorry i js CANT write smut)

#gabbys yap sessions #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wbb #fanfic #uconn huskies #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x female oc #paige x reader

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yongbokkari · 1 year

Text

interrupted ₊˚. ୭̥

𖦹 pairing — bf!seungmin x reader

𖦹 word count — 1.5k+

𖦹 warnings — hurt/comfort, fluff, slight angst, veeeery small misunderstanding, pet names of babe and baby, seungmin had a bad day and accidentally released it on reader 😿🙏🏻🙏🏻

a/n — result of sentences formed on multiple of 3 am-s (also posting this at 3 am), hope you enjoyyy <33 oh and there may be a few like undercase letters lolol we'll see if i am willing to find them

You were resting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, waiting for Seungmin to arrive. As soon as you heard the sound of keys jangling, you immediately got up and opened the door before he could even try to unlock it.

You were standing there, waiting for him to come in, but he judt stared at you as if not expecting to see you. "You're here," he said, his face full of signs of exasperation, tired after a long day at work.

"Am i not supposed to?" You joked, raising your eyebrows. but he just muttered a 'nevermind' before walking past you. "Long day?" you asked, attempting to make conversation with him, in hopes that it could distract him from the tiredness.

"Yeah. Think im gonna shower then take a nap," You had made a joke then, about him getting old and acting like an old man, attempting to lighten his mood. "Whatever," he replied to your jokes, making his way to his bedroom and you followed.

"Ah, come on. Old man can't take a joke anymore?" You giggled, poking at his sides when he just stopped in his tracks and turned to you.

"Can you just stop? I'm already having a bad enough day so you can you please stop bothering me?" He snapped, eyes tired but also glaring at you at the same time.

You were shook by the slight raise and edge to his voice so you couldn't really think of anything to reply to him. A few moments passed with you just staring at him and him you.

"Why are you even here," You heard Seungmin mutter before turning away from you, closing the bedroom door and leaving you alone.

"Right," you said to yourself. "Why am i even here?" it wasn't unusual for you to appear at Seungmin's house at random times, and he even made a spare key for you. But that didn't mean you could just come whenever you wanted to.

You gathered your things and got out of the house to drive yourself home. You weren't mad at him, far from it even. Of course you weren't, you didn't have the right to be.

You were more worried about what he said though. Were you really bothering him? Should you just stop going to his house unannounced again? You probably should. He probably just gave you a key just in case he lost his.

When you got home, you immediately started an assignment that was put on hold for quite long, hoping that it could distract you. It seemed seungmin had wanted some distance and space, so you were set on working on it until he reached out so you'd know when it was okay between you.

˖❁ˎˊ•°.

You were typing away on your laptop, earphones plugged in, slightly bobbing your head to the song playing, when you heard a knock on the door. You yelled, allowing your housemate to come in. Except it wasn't her, and when you turned back you were surprised to see your boyfriend with a frown on his face.

"Min?" You paused the song and took off your earphones, turning around to your boyfriend directly behind you. "Min, what are you doing here?"

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" He asked, ignoring your question. he looked absolutely tired, you wondered if he even got to sleep before coming here.

"Texts? My phone..." You looked around the desk you were working on, searching for your phone, discovering that it was on your bed. So you walked over to pick it up to check your notifications but the screen remained dark as you pressed the power button. "Ah... my battery ran out," You lightly chuckled, looking at Seungmin.

"Why didn't you charge your phone then?" He asked, his facial expression serious. It almost scared you how serious he looked, worrying if he had texted you about something important.

"I didn't notice my battery was low... and i was using my laptop for work, so i didn't check," You gestured to the laptop sitting on the desk. "Did you have something important to tell me? I'm so sorry Min, for not being there, I-" Your words were cut off when seungmin just pulled you in for a hug. You immediately wrapped your arms around his waist.

"So you're not ignoring me?" He asked. Usually, you were the one who had to reach up slightly to hug him since he always insisted on seeing you on the tip of your toes. But this time it was him who lowered his body, tucking his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Min, why would i ignore you?" You asked, genuinely curious as to how he had come to that thought. Then he sighed, as if relieved his worries were only what-ifs afterall. You started to rub his back then, and he had started to give in to your body warmth, almost letting his whole weight fall into your care.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did."

You racked your brains for a while, honestly having forgotten about what happened back at his house.

"Oh, that? You don't need to apologize, Min. You were tired, I understand."

"No, it was unreasonable. I shouldn't have let my tiredness out on you," He insisted.

"Then it's fine, I forgive you," you replied, to which he silently thanked you by placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, still not breaking the hug. "But... do you really think so?" He hummed, questioning what you meant. "Do i really bother you?" he slowly pulled away, looking at your face.

"I won't get mad or upset Min, i promise. I don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable because of me. So just tell me what you feel, and I'll act on it, I promise." You said, holding his hands in yours, affirming him that whatever his reply was, you were going to be fine and it won't cause even a slight damage to the relationship, if that was what he was worried about.

He only looked at you then, eyes darting from your left eye to the right, back and forth, mouth a bit downturned, and you were starting to get afraid that what you said made him upset when he cradled your left cheek in his hand.

"You're so good to me," he muttered, frown slightly deepening. "No, i didn't mean it, I don't know why I said that," he threw his head back and blew from his mouth, like he always did when he was about to but didn't want to cry.

He hugged you again pressing his nose even more into the crook of your neck, his eyebrows furrowing at his efforts to not cry. "I'm so sorry babe. You'd never be a bother to me, never. I- I love it when you wait for me to come home, I always do, but today I just- Today was so hard that I just-" He choked on his own breath so you pat his back, trying to get him to calm down. After gaining a steady breathing again, he asked, "Did I hurt you?"

"Well... A bit, but I knew you would never say that without a reason. My sweet boy would never," You chuckled, your hands patting his head, your fingers going through his hair.

He pulled away, meeting your eyes. "I'm so sorry," His eyes were slightly red, the bags under his eyes more prominent now you were seeing them upclose.

"Don't cry, Min, it's okay," You wiped the tears stained on his cheeks, caressing his under eyes. "Did you get any sleep? You look tired, my poor baby," You coo, trying to lighten the mood.

He shook his head. "I couldn't. Was thinking of you," Your heart ached at his soft eyes looking at yours like a puppy lost.

"Oh baby," He leaned into your hand that was cradling his cheek. "Should we get some now? Hm?" When he nodded, you continued, "You go lay down first, I'll go turn off my laptop."

As soon as you reached the bed, Seungmin took you in his arms, your head resting on his chest while one of his hands was on your waist, the other in your hair. Yours were wrapped tightly around his waist, melting into his warm embrace, contrast to your cold skin.

Suddenly he took one of your hands, his thumb caressing the back of it. "Thank you, Y/n, for always thinking of me... I love you."

You raised your head to look at him. "I love you too, Min." You pecked his lips, smiling softly, before laying your head atop his chest again. "Now sleep. Who should I look at after this if you really do turn into an old man?"

He lightly chuckled, pressing a kiss onto the top of your head, as you slowly drift into sleep, hand in hand.

Seungmin wanted to show you how in love with you he was. Everything about you he adored and cherished and he was always on the verge of combusting from how much love for you he contains. Maybe someday that day will come, but for now he'll slowly take small steps into making that moment come true.

#seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin skz #seungmin imagines #skz #stray kids #seungmin fluff #seungmin hurt/comfort #seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz angst #case 148

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sunnyrisee · 2 months

Text

The Moment I Knew — Lee Know

pairing : idol! lee know x fem! reader

genre : friends to lovers, angst with happy ending, fluff.

summary : in which you fall in love with your best friend, only to be shattered by rumors of him dating someone else. so you try to distance yourself to move on. but letting go proves harder than you ever imagined.

word count : 4,159

author's note : this took three days, whether this is good or not. i hope you like this series. sorry if there are any mistakes.

taglist : @minhosbitterriver

To the world, he's an idol.

But to you, he's much more. He's your best friend, someone who knows you deeply and stands by you. He became an idol while you were still in college.

Actually, you love him.

As his fame grew through the years, you continued your studies, focusing on your master's degree to become a vet. It's sweet how he tells you that if his cats ever get sick, he can come to you for help and doesn't need to find another vet.

You love the idea, so you promise him that.

When Minho invited you to the dorm to watch movies, hang out, or chat, you were always greeted by the sound of yelling, people running around, or occasionally the smell of burnt food. You laughed it off, knowing they were like a family. Despite the chaos, Chan kept apologizing to you profusely. While Chan kept bowing and apologizing to you, you watched Minho—well, yeah, he was busy stuffing tissues into Hyunjin's mouth.

Your eyes widened, and you excused yourself from Chan. He followed your gaze and soon facepalmed.

"Minho! Stop that, idiot. You're hurting him!" You scolded, grabbing his arm to make him stop. He gave you a disgusted look, as if to say, "Why are you on Hyunjin's side, not mine?"

"Well, tell him to shut up! He hurt my eardrums!" Minho retorted, yanking his arm away from your grip. Hyunjin, finally free, gasped for air and glared at Minho.

"God, Y/n. How could you stand him?" Hyunjin asked, throwing an arm over his eyes as if exhausted by the ordeal. You laughed softly, glancing at Minho who was still grumbling.

"It wasn't always easy, but I guess I'd gotten used to his antics. Besides, someone had to keep an eye on him."

Minho shot you a mock glare. "Oh, so now you're against me too?"

"Of course not." You replied with a grin. "But sometimes you did make it hard. Maybe I just had a soft spot for difficult people." Minho rolled his eyes at your statement and went back to setting up the movie.

Minho wasn't much of a talker; he preferred to listen more. There were times he did speak, but not often. Still, you were grateful that he wanted to share his days with you. On the other hand, you loved talking, especially with him, and joking around was always fun. However, he hated it when you teamed up with Kim Seungmin.

He remembered a time when you were playing a game with Seungmin. Minho messaged you, urgently asking where you were because he needed your help to find Dori's toy. Seungmin took your phone and replied with a dog meme flipping the middle finger. He hated how powerful you'd become with Seungmin.

You eventually made friends with all of them, and most of them were a lot of fun to hang out with.

One thing they didn't know was your feelings for him. Yes, some of them might have asked about it, but Minho brushed it off, reassuring them that you both were just best friends. It hurt, and you could feel your heart breaking every time Minho downplayed it, making you question if your feelings were even noticed. You didn't know when the feelings started—maybe it was because you often spent time together, or perhaps it was the way you were enchanted whenever you were with him.

As time went on, you continued with your own life, focusing on your studies. Yet, whenever you lost in thought, Minho always seemed to come to mind.

After a long day at college, you finally got back to your apartment, exhausted and ready to rest. Just as you were about to settle in, you heard a notification from your phone. You checked it and saw a message from Minho saying he would be coming over because Felix and Seungmin had somehow managed to burn the kitchen.

Your face lit up, a smile curving on your lips. Even though you had to admit you were really tired and your back ached, you couldn't help but feel a little excited at the thought of Minho coming over.

"Thank you for letting me come here. It was crazy there—Chan was now scolding them both." Minho said as he arrived. He looked around your apartment, taking in the calm atmosphere compared to the chaos he had just left.

"I owed you one for this. If you needed anything, just let me know."

You laughed softly, despite your exhaustion. "No need to thank me. Just make yourself comfortable."

He sat on your couch, trying to calm his mind, while you sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. As you listened, he started to ramble about how the new comeback was wearing him out.

"I swear, this comeback has completely worn me out. With the upcoming tour, I'm just so exhausted." Minho said, running a hand through his hair. You listened quietly, offering a comforting presence.

"I could only imagine how tough that must be. But you were doing an amazing job. It's okay to take a break and just breathe for a bit..." You replied, stifling a yawn as you started to feel sleepy.

"You've never seen me in the practice room. You need to know how tiring it is! Jisung keeps falling, or Chan forgets to mirror the dance." He continued, shaking his head.

You kept listening to his ramble, it made your heart flutter when he opened up to you. Today was just different—you were more tired than ever. You wanted to hear more and value these moments, but you shifted slightly, and your head eventually rested against the edge of the couch.

Minho continued talking until he heard your little snores, realizing you had fallen asleep. He glanced down and was surprised to see you resting against the edge of the couch, a gentle smile forming on his lips.

Not wanting to disturb you, he carefully moved to sit on the floor beside you, letting you rest comfortably.

"I didn't realize how exhausted you were. Make sure you get some rest. I'll stay here for a while."

You knew you loved him more, and it was becoming clearer each day. Every time you were with him, you could feel butterflies in your stomach and a warm flush across your cheeks. Even if you didn't really hang around the building or accompany him during practice, the time you spent together was enough to make your feelings grow stronger.

You loved him, and you couldn't even describe your own feelings. You could talk about him all day, about the little things he did that made your heart race, the way he smiled, or how he always knew what to say to make you feel better. But no matter how deeply you loved him, a nagging doubt always lingered at the back of your mind.

Did he see you as more than just a friend? Or were you forever destined to be just his best friend, standing on the sidelines of his heart?

It was night time when Minho invited you to tag along with the group at the carnival. You didn't really want to get on the rides, so you chose to just watch them. As time went on, you all walked around, talking and laughing, but you found yourself lagging behind Minho, falling behind the others.

You glanced at his back, wanting to cherish moments like these just with him. Your mind trailed off, and you couldn't help but think that one day, he'd find someone who truly matched him. There were so many beautiful idols out there, and you began to realize.

Maybe you just weren't meant for him.

A deep sadness settled in your chest as you trailed behind, feeling the distance grow between your heart and reality. You watched him from afar, caught between the joy of being near him and the painful acknowledgment that your feelings might never be returned. The carnival lights seemed to mock your longing, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been but likely never would.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You didn't want to ruin this moment—he looked so happy, enjoying himself with the group.

Why couldn't you be strong for once? Why couldn't you just move on from him?

The self-doubt and heartache overwhelmed you, making you wish you could just disappear at this point.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" Minho asked softly, his hand gently resting on your shoulder as he tried to get your attention. As you looked up at him, you saw the concern etched on his face. You didn't want to make him worry.

"I'm fine, Minho. I was thinking how can cats eat leaves." You assured him, adding a joke to deflect his concern. You hoped it would be enough to brush off his worry.

Minho raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Cats eating leaves? You're such a weirdo, Y/n." You laughed softly, relieved as his playful comment eased the tension.

Throughout the night, the ache in your heart never quite went away. No matter how hard you tried to push your feelings aside, it felt like everything around you kept reminding you of them, making it hard to enjoy the evening.

Lee Know from Stray Kids Rumored to Be Dating a Member of a Girl Group.

As you read the headlines, and a knot tightened in your stomach. A flood of questions overwhelmed you, each one gnawing at you and making it harder to breathe.

You knew this day might come, but you didn't expect it to hurt so much. It was as if your heart was being shattered into a million pieces, each one cutting deeper than the last.

You stared at the screen, the words blurring as tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to hold them back, but it was useless. Each tear that fell felt like another piece of your heart breaking away. You should've known better. But why couldn't you just leave him be? Why couldn't you just let go?

You let yourself cry the whole day, dying to ask him if the rumors were true or not. Yet, you didn't dare touch your phone to message him. You were afraid, you were scared. The fear of hearing confirmation, of shattering your last glimmer of hope, kept you paralyzed. Every sob seemed to wrack your entire being, leaving you feeling more fragile and broken with each passing moment.

You clutched your pillow, drenched with your tears. You never imagined that loving him could be this painful. Everything felt unbearably heavy, and it seemed like pure torture. It was as if your world was collapsing, each breath more difficult to take under the weight of your unspoken love.

Luckily, you didn't have class today, so you could cry as much as you wanted. If there had been class, you were sure you wouldn't have been able to focus.

What made it worse was that you didn't have any friends other than Minho and the other Stray Kids members. You hated yourself for not branching out more, and now you had to face the painful reality of moving on from your only close friend.

You kept your word, making an effort to avoid him as much as possible. Your days felt lonelier, and your apartment seemed colder, each corner a reminder of the emptiness you felt.

You hated having to be this way with your own friend. After two weeks, you responded only with short replies or didn't answer his messages at all. His calls went straight to voicemail.

When you arrived back at your apartment, you looked around and realized just how much you missed him. The reality of it hit hard—you were nothing like him, and you felt utterly miserable without him.

"Hyung, I haven't seen Y/n in a while. I tried to message her but she said she's been busy lately." Han said as he took a seat next to Minho in the studio. He then began to type something on his laptop.

Minho's eyes widened in surprise. "You know about Y/n? I've been trying to reach her for weeks, but she's been completely unresponsive."

Han glanced up from his laptop, noticing Minho's distress. "I didn't know something was going on. I thought she was just busy with school or something. Is everything okay?"

Minho sighed heavily, unsure of what to say. He had never truly asked about you. Running a hand through his hair, he muttered.

"I don't know... She's not her usual self these days..." Minho admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He was confused about what to do, feeling lost without knowing what was going on. Normally, you always knew exactly what to do or say in moments like this, but now, without you, he felt completely lost and unsure of how to fix things.

"You know? Y/n is my voice when w-words fail me, she's the person who listens patiently to all my thoughts, and she's the person I depend on when I need someone to be there..."

Seeing his hyung, who almost never talks about his feelings, open up like this was like watching someone who'd been silent their whole life suddenly find their voice. Han could sense just how much you meant to him. It was as if you were the missing piece of Minho's life, the one person who made everything make sense.

God, he wished for someone like you to come into his own life.

"Hyung, I'm sorry to ask this, but do you have feelings for her?" Han's question left Minho stunned.

"What kind of question is that? She's my best friend!" Minho snapped, his words coming out sharper than he intended. There was no way he could have feelings for his own friend, right?

Han looked down at his laptop, trying to gather his thoughts. He had no intention of breaking into his hyung's boundaries, but since he knew you too, he was sure one of you was in love. That thought was embedded in his mind, an unspoken truth he couldn't ignore. He didn't say much, but he noticed the subtle glances and fleeting smiles, the silent language of affection that spoke louder than words.

Minho didn't know what was going through his mind. His instincts urged him to see you, as if something inside was telling him he needed to. He sent you a message saying he would pick you up today.

As he waited for you to finish class, the minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly. When you finally received his message, you were taken aback.

You spotted him waiting for you, his face obscured by a mask and glasses, and a hat pulled low over his eyes. His attempt at disguise almost made him unrecognizable.

"Hey, dummy."

"Hey, why did you waste your time picking me up?" You asked, your tone coming off colder than you intended. You knew clearly he was supposed to have practice today.

"I have some free time, so why not? Plus, you've been acting strange lately, I was starting to think you'd vanished into thin air." Minho replied with a hint of a smile behind his mask. His eyes stayed fixed on you as you walked ahead, a look of concern and curiosity on his face that felt more intense than usual.

As you both walked side by side, the silence between you felt heavier than usual. You could feel Minho's gaze occasionally drifting towards you.

"Are you okay?" Minho finally broke the silence, his voice softer than usual. You hesitated, struggling to keep your composure.

"It's nothing, really."

He stopped walking and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, making you turn to face him. "Y/n, you don't have to shut me out. If something's wrong, I want to help. You're my friend, and I care about you."

Hearing him worry about you made your heart ache. You took a deep breath, struggling to hold back your emotions.

"It's just… There are things I can’t talk about. Not right now..." Minho's eyes softened with understanding.

You stood in silence, your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. You wanted to voice everything you'd been holding back for so long, but the words felt trapped, unable to escape.

The awkward silence was broken by a soft, pitiful meow. You and Minho turned simultaneously, searching for the source of the sound. Minho's expression softened as he carefully approached, revealing a small, trembling kitten cradled in his hands.

Your heart melted at the sight. Without a word, you reached out and carefully took the kitten from Minho, your vet student instincts immediately taking over. As you examined the kitten with utmost care, you spoke gently to it, trying to calm its trembling. You reached into your bag and pulled out some supplies, preparing to tend to its needs.

Minho watched you closely, mesmerized by your gentle touch and genuine care. He was at a loss for what was stirring inside him, but as he watched you tenderly care for the kitten, you looked more beautiful than ever. His heart raced uncontrollably, and a warm flush spread across his cheeks.

As you finished tending to the kitten, you glanced up and caught Minho's eyes on you. He immediately averted his gaze, clearly flustered.

"See? You're okay now, little one..." You said, gently setting the kitten down. It looked a bit more refreshed now. You then brought out some food, carefully placing it near the tiny creature.

The warmth in your actions contrasted sharply with the coldness you'd shown him recently. The more he stared at you, the more his heart began to race, each beat louder than the last. He noticed the same habit you both shared, carrying cat food wherever you went. How could he have forgotten about that?

It was just like the day you met him.

You were helping a cat that had fallen into a sewer when Minho found you. He thought you were weird, which is why he called you an idiot. Despite that, he helped you rescue the cat. That shared moment had been the start of your friendship, and now, seeing you like this, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart.

Maybe, Han was right.

"It's like the first time we've met..." He mumbled softly, just loud enough for you to hear.

"Yeah... It does." You replied, a small smile forming on your lips. The memory of that day flooded back, bringing with it a bittersweet feeling.

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of your emotions. With a trembling sigh, you looked up at him, your heart heavy with the realization of the truth you'd been trying to avoid.

"Minho." You started, your voice breaking. "I think... I think we shouldn't be friends anymore."

The words fell from your lips like a heavy, painful blow, and you could see Minho's world crumble in his eyes. As you turned to walk away, each step felt like a dagger to the heart. The light of your presence, once so vibrant, began to fade, leaving behind a suffocating coldness.

Minho felt the warmth of your presence slipping through his fingers, replaced by an overwhelming chill that engulfed his heart.

"Is he okay?" Chan asked, peering through the door, the rest of the members trailing behind him. They all shook their heads, unsure. Chan sighed and approached Minho's side.

"Man. Listen, I don't know what's up, but you can't keep going like this. We've got stuff to do, and you're not doing anyone any favors by shutting us out. Just talk to us, okay?"

Minho took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "It's her... It's true what Han said, I really love her. Ugh, I didn't understand it at first, but now I see it clearly..."

Chan's expression softened as he listened to Minho's confession. "Then why don't you confess your feelings?" He asked gently. "You have a lifetime chance to win her heart, but that chance could slip away if you let your fears or ego get in the way. You need to be honest with her. It's the only way to find out if there's a future for you two."

Just as Chan's words echoed in his mind, a surge of clarity jolted through Minho. It wasn't too late to confess. He knew, deep down, that you were the only one he truly wanted. The thought of losing you forever was unbearable.

"Also, have you heard the dating rumors about you? That's probably what hurt her. If I'm right, those rumors have been spreading for at least a month—"

"Are you kidding me? A month?!" Minho's voice was a mix of anger and disbelief.

The realization hit him hard. The pain you must have felt—he now felt it deeply in his own heart. It was as if his chest was tightening, making it difficult to breathe. The weight of the rumors and the distance between you both crushed him.

Without thinking, Minho bolted from the room, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. Never in his life had he felt such fear of loss. The moment you walked away had already broken him, but the idea of losing you forever felt like it would destroy him completely.

When he arrived at your apartment, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Doubt and worry gripped him.

Why would you leave the door open or unlocked at night?

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding as he pushed the door open slowly.

"Y/n?"

When you didn't respond, he stepped inside more fully, the fear gripping him tightening around his chest. His eyes scanned the room frantically before landing on you.

Minho's heart ached at the sight: you were slumped over your desk, surrounded by scattered books and papers. Your exhaustion was palpable; dark circles shadowed your eyes, and your usually vibrant face looked pale and drawn.

Minho gently touched your shoulder, causing you to stir awake. When you fully came to, you were startled to find Minho's face so close to yours.

"Minho? What are you doing—"

Minho cut you off tenderly, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a warmth that felt both comforting and electrifying. You could see his eyes welling up with tears, his voice catching in his throat. The sight of him so broken and vulnerable was almost too much to bear.

"Y/n..." Minho's voice trembled, breaking through the heavy silence.

"I never imagined I'd find someone who could touch my heart like this. But the moment I knew I loved you was when I r-realized how empty my life would be without you. You're everything I've ever wanted and more..."

As Minho's heartfelt confession filled the room, you listened intently, your once-dull eyes beginning to sparkle with emotion. The weight of his words resonated deeply within you, and you could feel your own heartbeat quickening with every beat.

"When you left, the chill that settled in my heart made me understand just how much you were the fire that warmed my soul." Hearing these words, you could barely hold back the tears that threatened to spill. The relief you felt was overwhelming, as if the weight of unspoken feelings was finally lifted from your chest.

"Minho... You've no idea how much I needed to hear this. I've felt so lost, but now, hearing you, it feels like everything is falling into place." Minho gently cupped your face, his touch both tender and reassuring.

"My heart feels like it's been set ablaze." Minho pulled you closer.

As his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in a tender, passionate moment. You gently placed your hands on his neck, fingers lightly brushing through his hair.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, combined with the sweet pressure of his lips, sent a thrill through you, igniting a fire that mirrored the one he had described.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, your eyes locked with his. A soft smile blossomed on both your lips, and your noses brushed together in a delicate, shared moment.

"Then let me be the breeze that fans your flames, ensuring our fire burns bright."

#stray kids #skz #lee know #lee know x reader #skz angst #skz imagines #lee know icons #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stay #lee know imagines #angst with a happy ending

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