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fawniswriting · 1 month ago

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After I Was Too Late

This fic can be read as a stand-alone or as a sequel to Before I Could Say It.

The above image does not indicate the reader's physical appearance.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: The three times Bucky saved your life, and the one time you save each other.

Word Count: 10.1k (I got carried away)

Warning(s): gn!reader (pls advise me if there's any gender-specific detail in the fic), canon typical violence, angst, fluff, near death experience(s), hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, physical injuries, it's a kinder ending this time I promise 🥺❤️ (lmk if I missed anything!!)

Author's Note: PT 2 IS FINALLY HERE Y'ALL!! I'm so sorryy for the delay, my work has been out of control lately (I legit had to go home at 9.30 PM last week 😭🙏🏼). But I've finally finished this piece, and I hope you guys like it!! I'm tagging everyone who left a comment/reblog-comment on the first part but if you prefer to keep the ending to the fic as it was, then you can just skip reading this. And if any of you want to be removed from the taglist, please just let me know!! As always, don't forget to comment, like, and reblog 💖

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

If someone were to ask you about the beginning, your mind would immediately go straight to that day.

Six years ago, your thread of fate wove into his, placing the two of you on polar ends in the middle of a highway shoot-out that revealed the face beneath the infamous Winter Soldier's mask. You recognized him from the sketches littered across Steve Roger's desk: Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky, as Steve had called him. A shadow of the past, long presumed gone to the clutches of war and time.

Yet, there he was.

Alive and breathing.

And he was trying to kill you.

After the events in D.C., you helped the Captain search for the man who had risen from the dead. You saw Bucky's apartment in Bucharest—a depressing little hole in the wall that was barely suitable for a human being to live in. It nicked at your chest, wrestled with a docile side of your heart that you hadn't entertained since they had dubbed you one of earth's mightiest heroes. And when you finally stood in front of the man—not the Soldat, not the merciless assassin who had sliced a dagger to your side two years prior—your chest tapered at the quiet war waging behind his eyes.

“I wasn't in Vienna,” Bucky told Steve. His eyes flickered briefly towards you as he said it, willing, perhaps, for at least one person in that room to put their trust in him; the man standing vulnerably in that apartment, not the weapon he was forced to become.

“I don't do that anymore,” he added.

You believed him.

Steve did, too.

The next few hours were a whirlwind of chasing and being chased. After Zemo broke the Winter Soldier out of the facility in Berlin, you took Steve and Sam to an abandoned site you once neutralized where the three of you could keep Bucky safe from the authorities. You watched from the sideline as Steve interrogated Bucky for answers, listening intently while the Captain and the Falcon began rummaging their heads for a viable plan of action.

Once Sam left to reach out to his contacts, Steve also excused himself from the room, muttering something about needing to make a phone call and leaving you alone with the burly man who was trying miserably to hide behind his curtain of hair.

Wordlessly, you walked towards the paper bag you kept on a rusty oil barrel, grabbing one of its contents before cautiously approaching the brooding man in the center of the room. Bucky looked up the moment you shoved the packaged croissant in his face, confusion shining with blue under the taut crease of dark eyebrows.

“Take it,” you said simply.

Bucky's frown deepened as he stared at your hand.

You masked the sinking feeling in your stomach with a sigh, putting the package next to the makeshift chair Bucky was sitting on.

“You haven't eaten since yesterday.” Your hands were buried in the pocket of your jeans as you spoke, hiding the tremble in them so the man in front of you wouldn't see just how much your heart was breaking for him. “We have a long journey ahead of us. And if Steve is anything to go by when it comes to a super soldier's calorie intake, you must be running on extreme deficit by now.”

Bucky stayed silent.

You scraped the ground with the toe of your shoes, trying to fill in the quietness as you rambled, “I would've loved to prepare you a nice three-course meal, but considering half of the world is on our asses, I didn't think you'd mind a small downgrade. Believe me, I'd kill for a real croissant right now. There's a bakery near the Avengers’ old tower whose owner makes the best chocolate and butter croissants. They're fantastic. This one tastes like a foam board compared to them.”

Bucky continued to stay silent, only perusing you under his intense gaze. You rubbed the back of your neck and managed an awkward chuckle. “You know what? You don't have to eat that. It tastes terrible anyway. I'll just throw it out. Let me see if the pigeons would like some.”

You reached out to grab the plastic packaging, but Bucky stopped you in tracks, grabbing the croissant with a hesitant drag of his hand.

“Thank you,” he muttered curtly.

The sight in front of your eyes would have made you chortle under any other circumstances—the ludicrousness of seeing a Herculean with a metal arm grappling with the flimsy packaging of a factory-made pastry. The croissant was ridiculously small in Bucky’s hand, and you felt foolish for thinking it could offer anything close to sufficient sustenance for a man his size. He could probably devour the whole thing in a single bite and still be starving.

And yet, before he even savored a taste, Bucky tilted the croissant towards you in a silent proposition. An offer to share. To tear the pastry in two as if he didn't barely have enough for himself in the first place. The gesture lurched at something in your chest, winding down your ribs like overgrown vines.

You feigned a smile, feeling it crack around the sorrow you were desperately trying to quell. “That’s for you, Bucky,” you told him softly. “I have mine.”

The man nodded, hesitantly, as if the thought of having something to himself was stranger than fiction. He took a tentative bite, his forehead creasing as he chewed on the sad excuse of a pastry.

“Bad, huh?” You cringed sheepishly. “Told you. It's borderline inedible. You don't have to finish it if you don't want to.”

“I've had worse.”

You clenched your teeth.

There was no room for doubt in your mind that he probably did have worse than an additive-laden confectionery.

“Yeah?” You didn't know why you were asking. “Like what?��

The metal fingers on Bucky's thigh whirred, like he was flexing, removing the stiffness in his joints if there had been flesh instead of vibranium. You waited with bated breath as he stared at a suspicious puddle on the ground.

“I was stuck in an underground cave system once,” Bucky began, pausing to take a tiny bite of the croissant. He looked defenseless that way. Almost like a child. “Spent a few days there. The only thing around me were bats.”

Your nose wrinkled. “You ate bats?”

Bucky didn't attempt to correct your assumption, just kept on munching on the artificial croissant as if he were a kid snacking on candy.

“Were they… good?”

Stupid.

What an incredibly, unbelievably stupid question.

“They were good enough to keep me alive.”

You didn't know what to say to that.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “just tell me if you change your mind on that croissant. I can get you something else. Remember those pigeons I mentioned? They're not bats, but they've got, you know… protein.”

Then, upon some kind of miracle, it happened.

Bucky smiled.

It was brief, an ephemeral thing that evaporated by the next time you blinked, but it was there. As clear as day, as real as the foul smell of rotten carcasses that surrounded you in that dismal place.

You willed for the excitement in your belly to die down—the last thing Bucky needed was for you to go deranged over a mere smile, probably one of the firsts he allowed himself to have after decades of drought—giving Bucky a short nod before turning around to reward him some privacy, but you didn't go far before a rough voice halted your footsteps.

When your gaze landed on him again, Bucky was tense. His shoulders curled inward as if struggling desperately to keep himself small, his fingers twitched where they were curled around the half-eaten pastry.

“Are you okay?” he eventually asked.

“Me?” Your eyebrows knitted in a mixture of confusion and surprise. “Uh, I'm fine? Well, as fine as one can be after becoming a fugitive of the law, but otherwise—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His scrutiny roved over your figure from the distance, as though his stare could penetrate through the deepest layer of skin, lighting up a flame that licked through every inch of your bloodstream. Blue irises jerked towards the side of your abdomen, a fleeting tic, but it was enough to force the realization to dawn on you.

Bucky was talking about your wound.

The laceration wound that he—no, that the Soldat—had administered during your altercation in D.C.

Instinctively, your hand lifted, brushing against the jagged scar that you knew was seething under the cover of your shirt. The simple movement didn't escape Bucky's notice, and you chastised yourself for your lack of consideration when you saw his body fold lower towards his knees.

“Bucky—”

“I'm sorry,” he said heavily, shakily. A striking fragility from a man who was supposed to be carved out of steel.

You shook your head in urgency, crossing the distance between you and him before stopping a good six feet away from the defeated man. He didn’t even look up at your proximity, keeping his head angled to the ground, shrinking more and more with every passing second as if he wanted to disintegrate into oblivion.

With careful strides, you removed the remaining space separating you and Bucky, sinking to your knee right in front of him. You called his name softly, begging him to glance up, coaxing him out of the shell of condemnation that he had crawled himself into.

When he finally peered at you, the blue of his eyes had dimmed into a stormy gray. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to lean forward and gather this broken man into your arms.

“Bucky,” you called his name again, resolutely this time. Firm and steady, offering no room for even an ounce of doubt or a breath of protest. “It wasn't your fault.”

Bucky fleered.

“I mean it.” You searched his gaze, commanding him to stay there, to not run away from your eyes because you needed him to hear this. You needed him to believe. “I'm not gonna hold you accountable for what happened on that highway, or for anything else you might have done in the past few decades. None of that is your fault. They used you. You couldn't even remember your own name, let alone understand what HYDRA was forcing you to do. You're also a victim here, Bucky.”

He shook his head.

Your heart shattered into tiny little pieces all over the ground.

You shifted on the ball of your knee, sighing as you felt exhaustion pulling at your limbs.

“Steve would agree,” you said quietly.

Those three words managed to snatch Bucky's attention.

“Actually, Steve does agree.” You glimpsed towards the entrance where the Captain had disappeared through earlier, swallowing the lump that had lodged itself in your throat. “It's the reason why he's here. The reason why we all are. He is the literal embodiment of everything good in this world, Bucky. And if Steve Rogers—Captain America himself—looks at you and sees someone worth saving, someone who deserves a second chance despite all that happened, then that says everything I need to know about the kind of man you truly are.”

You waited for something to shift, for the contempt in his eyes to dissipate, for the strain in his shoulders to melt, but nothing happened. He continued to drown, making no moves to get himself out of the murky waters that were pulling him under.

“Everything that happened while you were under HYDRA’s control—the missions, the casualties—none of it is on you, Buck,” you pressed on. “The wound on my side? That wasn't your fault either. Hell, I was shooting at you, too! I didn't know who you were back then. You didn’t know me. You didn’t even know yourself. They made sure of that.”

You took a shuddering breath, physically readying yourself to voice the next conviction out loud.

“If someone has to carry the blame, it should be HYDRA,” you determined. “Not you, Bucky. Never you.”

The silence that followed was strangulating. You watched Bucky with heart in your throat, waiting for him to react, to do something or say something. Perhaps if he had cried, it would've been better. Because then, you might have been able to help, to offer him the solace of your arms, to teach him how he could peel back the guilt that was clinging to him like a second skin.

Yet, Bucky just sat, still as a tombstone and quiet as a graveyard.

The eerie calm before a catastrophic storm.

When he finally looked up, Bucky's eyes were a tempest—dark and turbulent, thundering with the repercussions of a hundred lifetimes he never asked to live.

“Maybe—” Bucky's voice quivered. He ran his flesh hand across his face and started over, “Maybe you're right.

Your chest staggered.

Before you could respond, Bucky's gaze dropped, teetering towards your side, as though he could see the ridges of skin underneath the cotton fabric of your shirt. The place where flesh had once split under a blade he hadn't even known he was holding.

On his knee, Bucky's fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out, to inspect the remnant of the wound with his own flesh and skin but didn't know how to trust himself enough to do so.

His jaw tightened.

“But it was still me, wasn't it?” Bucky's breathing stammered. The words came out choked, as though the truth tasted like rust on his tongue. “I was still the one holding the knife, Sugar.”

The nickname maimed you more than one could expect. Had Bucky said it with enough cynicism, maybe you would have chalked it up to bitterness and moved on. But he hadn't said it like that—he had said it with a devastating frailness, a frayed piece of another life bleeding through the cracks. It came from a version of him that had smiled at strangers and walked dates home in the rain, a boy from Brooklyn who probably said it with a charming grin and a flirtatious warmth.

Your heart broke for him all over again.

You ransacked your brain for something to say, to convince Bucky that he was wrong, but the sound of incoming footsteps stripped you of the chance, forcing you to quickly rise to your feet just in time for Sam and Steve to enter the room. Your conversation with Bucky was shoved to the backburner as the other two apprised you of your next step, both unaware of the tension stretching taut in the air, suspended between you and Bucky like a ghost no one else could see.

The next thing you knew, your life was unraveling like a house of cards in the span of one night. It felt like you blinked, and suddenly you were standing in the middle of a tarmac, staring down faces you used to sit with during breakfast and mission briefings, others who carried the weight of loyalty you could no longer afford.

The spider-like kid who loved to crawl on things was the first one you faced. He was nimble, all limbs and chatter, a fleck of innocence to testify to his lack of experience. You tuned out his nervous jokes and wide-eyed commentary as you focused on blocking each of his strikes, breathing through the ache in your ribs, willing your body to stay sharp.

But then, your instincts faltered.

The agonized sound wasn't loud, especially compared to the surrounding chaos that had befallen the airport. Your eyes flitted towards the man anyway, as if having a mind of their own, making you lose your footing for a fraction of second as your gaze landed on him from the distance.

Bucky.

The sight of him staggering back—blood blooming across his skin like a crimson tear—rustled an unknown weight within your chest. Natasha stood just a few paces away, her favorite knife in hand, the blade gleaming in the same shade of red running in rivulets down Bucky's cheek.

The moment of distraction was fleeting. Short. But it was the only opening your opponent needed to yank you off balance and send your back straight to the ground.

“Sorry,” the Spidey kid huffed, straddling your legs, his grip surprisingly strong for someone built like a string bean in spandex. “Big fan, though. Seriously. Hey, crazy idea. Maybe after all of this, you can sign my—”

He never got the chance to finish his sentence.

With a drive of your elbow to his side, coupled with a shove of your knee to his chest, Spidey was now the one pinned to the ground—winded limbs and spayed webbing as he stared up at the clouds. You rose to your feet with a heaving chest, the ground trembling beneath your boots as you stole a moment to breathe.

You didn't even notice the light shifting in the sky.

Your reflexes awakened a second too late, stirring only when a dark shadow swept over your head. There was no time to run. Whatever protective measure you could whip up, whatever direction your feet could carry you in a matter of seconds, the end result was clear—you wouldn't be able to make it out of there unscathed.

Or at least, you should not have been able to make it out of there unscathed—but you did.

Because Bucky Barnes—the Winter Soldier, the man whose name was whispered between cautions of death and terror—had saved you.

He lunged from somewhere behind the smoke, arms wrapping around your frame before shoving you forward and down. The force of the blast rocked the ground as a small aircraft detonated a few yards away, radiating a heat so raging it licked at your back. Debris rained down all around you as Bucky’s body remained curled over yours, shielding you from the worst of it, lying like a fortress between you and the explosion's aftermath.

For a moment, all you could hear was your own ragged breathing. Your ears were still ringing when Bucky finally stood up, pulling you by your elbow to your slightly unsteady feet. He examined you from head to toe, his grounding touch remaining steadfast around your forearm, eliciting goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, still in shock. Still breathless.

“Bucky.” Your fingers convulsed, moving up to clutch his jacket and stopping once you thought better of it. “You saved me.”

He didn't answer at first, and when he did, his eyes evaded yours, jaw clenching as his gaze meandered somewhere distant. “It's the least I could do.”

Then, that same gaze moved, lowering until it settled on your side. You didn’t need him to spell it out to know exactly what he was thinking. The wound had been his doing once, delivered by a man with the same face but none of the same mercy. The shadow of a life that felt like his own but one he gravely wished to relinquish.

You felt the phantom sting of it then, not from the wound, but from the way Bucky was assessing it—like he was measuring his worth by the depth of that scar. Like saving you had been a down payment for a debt he could never repay.

Your mouth parted, already halfway to saying something, anything, that might severe the penance he had inflicted upon himself.

But before you could say a word, the world raged again, sending ripples of a faraway explosion that rattled the earth.

You swallowed hard, grounding yourself as you imparted, “We need to get to the jet.”

Bucky nodded once, his stature straightening as if his resolve had always been intact. The two of you broke into a sprint immediately, side by side, boots striking the tarmac in tandem as the smoke closed in all around you.

That was the first time Bucky Barnes saved your life.

And you knew, as you dashed across the airport grounds, that it wouldn't be the last.

After two years in Wakanda—two years since the disastrous battle on that infamous airport—you were finally bringing Bucky back home to New York.

Tony was not happy when he greeted the two of you at the compound, and you were even less thrilled to see him after everything that went down following his support for the Sokovia Accords—which, to your delight, had officially been nullified. Tony had promised he would play nice, and that included absolving Bucky—or at least, trying to—for all of the crimes that HYDRA forced him to do. It wasn't ideal, but it was a start; a show of good faith as Tony pledged to assist Bucky's recovery in every (financial) way possible.

Still, that didn't stop you from making sure that you walked in front of Bucky while the two of you were approaching the front gate, offering yourself as a human barrier should the philanthropist do anything untoward.

The first few weeks at the compound were dedicated towards ensuring a seamless transition for Bucky. From creating his daily schedule, vouching for a potential therapist, to showing him the nooks and crannies of his new home—you tackled every single task with purpose; convincing yourself that it was about structure, routine, and reintegration, but deep down, you knew better.

It was about keeping him close. Keeping him safe.

And maybe, that was exactly why you found yourself lashing out at Steve when he told you, a few weeks later, that Bucky would be sent on his first mission as an Avenger.

“This is bullshit,” you seethed, your fingers curling around the edge of the conference table in a death grip. “It's barely been two months and already they wanna send him back out there? After everything he's been through?”

The Captain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don't like this anymore than you do—”

“Then stop it.”

“I tried!” Steve's eyebrows creased, his mouth pressed into a thin line. It was a rare sight to see Captain America this upset. “The higher-ups were asking questions, and his therapist already told them that Buck is ready. I tried talking to him about it, but he's adamant to go. There's nothing else I can do.”

“There's always something,” you retorted. “Maybe you just haven't tried hard enough.”

Despite how much your words stung, Steve forced himself to move past it. He knew they hadn't come from a place of malice. Instead, it had come from a place of affection—perhaps even love—a protectiveness he also shared towards a certain super soldier with a metal arm.

“Look,” Steve began, shifting in his seat, “have you ever thought that maybe this is what Bucky needs?”

Your head snapped up.

Steve took your silence as a cue to continue, “We know he hasn't forgiven himself yet. Not fully. And that's understandable, isn't it? Maybe what he needs, right now, is the chance to make it right. Maybe going on a mission—one he actually chooses to partake in, where he knows something good will come out of it—could be Bucky's way of making his amends.”

The Captain trailed off, letting his words linger above the tense atmosphere of the conference room.

You hated how much it made sense.

With a drop of your shoulders, you pinned your stare on the faraway wall, biting the inside of your cheek before mumbling, “Fine.”

Steve smiled, ready to wrap up the conversation once and for all when your voice interrupted him, “But I'm going.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” You got up from your own chair and sauntered towards the door, flicking a firm glance towards Steve that left no room for objection. “I'm not gonna stop you from assigning Bucky to that mission. But if he's coming, then I'm coming, too. And there's nothing you can do to stop me.”

In the end, Steve had relented, and what was once supposed to be a three-person crew's mission became four as you, Bucky, Sam, and Maria Hill took off towards Panama City.

Interference hailed the four of you upon arrival, running you into more hostiles than the initial intel had suggested. Despite your time away in Wakanda, your instincts didn’t waver. The rhythm came back effortlessly, muscle memory filling in the gaps left by your mind without a sliver of hesitation.

However, between every swift kick and precise strike, your focus frayed. Not from fear, but from a certain super soldier who was never out of your sight for long. Your gaze strayed to his silhouette again and again, making you stumble more times than you cared to admit, trying desperately to stand your ground in your own fight while keeping an eye on him all at once.

It was reckless.

And it was precisely why, as you realized too late, you ended up failing to notice the grenade.

“Watch out!”

Two strong arms—one flesh and one vibranium—shoved you out of the explosion's radius, a flying shrapnel missing your head by inches as your shoulder crashed against the ground. Bucky got thrown immediately on impact, sent over the edge of the skyscraper as the ground started to crack, fragment, and disintegrate into nothing.

“No!”

Horror erupted in your stomach at the building's cession to gravity. You scampered forward, dropping to your hands and knees to lean over the skirt where floor was supposed to be. Your relief escaped in a stammered breath when you spotted Bucky a couple of stories down, still alive, dangling by his flesh arm around the corner of a deteriorating girder.

A window pane launched into the air.

Bucky's agonized scream ripped through the chaos the moment it rammed against his left shoulder.

Something in your guts twisted at the sight of artificial axons peeking out of the ripped seams of his tactical jacket. Blood soaked through the torn fabric, staining the silver beneath in unforgiving red.

“Bucky!” Your pulse hammered. “Don't move, I'm coming to get you!”

“Don't.” Bucky's voice was stern. Final. “You gotta get outta here before the whole thing collapse.”

“I'm not leaving here without you!”

Inside your earpiece, noises began to crackle.

“Guys?” Maria's voice emerged. The sound of punches and clatter reverberated from her end of the line. “I think I need some help over here.”

“Go help Maria,” Bucky commanded.

“But you—”

“Sugar.”

The nickname halted you in place. Bucky was smiling as he looked up at you, although you knew that it was nothing more than a facade. Any other person would have been fooled by his performance, but you could easily pinpoint the shadow of a grimace he was trying to conceal, the exhaustion crippling his body as he struggled to hold himself up at an angle that wouldn't put additional strain to the already splintering steel beam.

Blue eyes softened. “I'm gonna be fine. You should go.”

Your throat constricted.

You crouched frozen on the ledge, the roar of distant gunfire echoing through the shattered high-rise. Fifty stories below, parts of the building's skeleton scattered on the ground. Your hand twitched towards Bucky, wanting to reach out, desperate to haul him back into your arms, but the chasm between you felt impossibly wide.

Meanwhile, Maria's grunts and struggle continued to echo in your ears as she seemed to wrestle a few assailants at once. You knew you should go to her aid. You knew this wasn’t the time for hesitation.

And yet… Bucky.

His lips were still curled into that easy smile—the same one he shared with you during clandestine moments around the compound, because this side of Bucky Barnes was one he reserved specifically for you. His knuckles had gone white from supporting his entire weight, the beam creaking under the slightest sway of his body, jerking slightly.

“I don’t—” Your voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I do,” he said gently, as if he weren't hanging by one arm over nothing but air. “You save her.”

You could barely breathe.

The seconds were ticking—Maria was calling for help, and Bucky was slipping.

You weren’t enough to save both of them.

“Sam,” you gasped, pressing your hand to the comms. Static was the only response, and you prayed to the heavens above that wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he could listen to your plea. “You’ve gotta get to Bucky. Now. He’s gonna—I can’t—just… please.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched longer than a lifetime.

Just when you began to think he wasn't going to answer, Sam's voice fizzled in, “On my way.”

The comms fell silent again.

A violent wind tore through the air, hitting like a freight train.

The steel girder—the one remaining lifeline fastening Bucky to this world—buckled with a piercing screech.

In the blink of an eye, the girder snapped.

“BUCKY!”

A blur of silver and red swooped below him in the same breath, and before you could lunge forward to follow Bucky as he fell, Sam was there—arms locked securely around Bucky’s torso, wings flaring wide to steady the sudden addition of weight. Bucky’s head dropped against Sam’s shoulder, dazed but alive. Your whole limbs teetered towards the verge of liquefying as your lungs finally released the air you didn’t know you were holding.

“You okay, man?” Sam’s voice chirped through your earpiece. “Christ, what did they feed you in Wakanda?”

A sound escaped your chest—something between a strangled sob and a wry laugh.

Gathering yourself, you pressed another hand to the comms, rising to your feet and sprinting towards the server room as you announced, “Hang on tight, Maria. I'm on my way.”

By the time you and Maria went back to the safehouse over an hour later, Sam and Bucky were already there. Bucky was lying on the couch the moment you strode in, his metal arm detached and thrown almost haphazardly on the coffee table while Sam tinkered with Redwing on the kitchen counter.

From the bandage wrapped around Bucky's shoulder, you knew that the on-site medical android had taken a look at him already, but the anxiety in your mind still wasn't pacified. It dribbled all over the floor as you marched towards him, your body shaking partly from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but also from the anger and dread boiling in your blood.

“Why the hell did you do that?!”

Venom leaked from your voice the moment you approached the couch. Behind you, Sam and Maria fell silent, readying themselves for the imminent confrontation ahead. Bucky's face remained impassive as he rose to a seating position, a faint tug at the corner of his lips.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Don't fucking sweetheart me.”

Your chest rose and fell in a dizzying rythm, daggers flying from your eyes towards the man in front of you. The same one who had nearly, stupidly welcomed death into his arms due to some kind of foolish heroism embedded in his principles. The one who was currently looking at you with cerulean eyes so tender it almost made you forget that he was close to slipping from your fingers a mere hour earlier.

Bucky let out a sigh. “I'm okay.”

“Quit talking to me like I'm stupid, Bucky. We all can see your ripped metal arm on the table. Your bandaged shoulder.”

“It's nothing.”

“It's not nothing!”

“It's nothing compared to what I've suffered before.”

An incredulous laugh tore from your larynx, sharp and sardonic. It was the only thing keeping the lump inside from choking you whole. “Just because you've survived worse doesn't mean you're fucking invincible, Buck! You could've died. You almost died. If Sam hadn't got there in time, you would've—”

The words wedged in your throat.

Your eyes fell shut as you expelled the images of Bucky dangling between life and death out of your mind.

Gentle fingers encircled your wrist. You gasped at the sudden warmth surrounding you, opening your eyes to find that Bucky had tugged you closer to stand between his parted knees. Your palms automatically landed on the column of his neck, chest pounding at the unbearable softness shining out of Bucky’s eyes.

This was new territory—Bucky had always treated closeness like something fleeting, something borrowed. His touches, his embraces, were often hesitant, as though affection was a luxury he couldn’t afford. But now, he held you like he had done it a thousand times before, like your body against his was the very thing chaining him to reality. His hand curled firmly around your waist, anchoring himself, grounding his entire existence to the certainty of your presence.

“Hey,” Bucky said, squeezing your side lightly. “I'm right here, Sugar. I'm alright.”

Your chest burned. “We almost lost you.”

“But you didn't.”

“But what if we had?!”

“Then you should take solace in the knowledge that I haven't gone in vain.”

Your fingers clenched around the edge of Bucky's shoulders, nails branding crescent moons into the skin. He didn't even flinch.

“You don't need to sacrifice your life for me, Bucky. I don't need that kind of thing on my conscience,” you spat.

“I wouldn't call it a sacrifice, sweetheart,” Bucky said firmly, resolutely. “If that's what it takes to keep you safe, then I'd gladly take the fall.”

Bucky's declaration propelled the tears you had been desperately trying to contain to the forefront. A strangled whimper shredded from your lips. You quickly tried to mask it with a scowl.

“That's the very definition of a ‘sacrifice’, you idiot.”

“Not in my book.” Bucky smiled. “Not when it's you.”

Before he could say another word, you removed the distance between you and threw yourself in his arms. The dam within you finally caved in, freeing the ragged sobs you had been trying to keep at bay. Your tears stained the collar of his undershirt, your arms locking around him tightly as though sheer willpower might fetter him to you, to life itself.

He staggered slightly under your weight, grunting from the pull on his wounded shoulder, but his hand—his only hand—immediately rose to your back, fingers splayed as they began tracing slow, calming patterns across your spine.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you whispered hoarsely. “Don’t throw yourself in front of danger for me. I don't ever want to watch you fall like that again. I can’t—”

“I know,” Bucky murmured, pressing his cheek to your temple. “I know, Sugar.”

“Promise me,” you croaked out.

He stilled for a second. “I can't,” Bucky said breathlessly. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat, sweetheart. I’ll always choose to save you.”

A fresh wave of tears surged behind your eyes. Your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his undershirt. You hated him for that.

And you loved him even more because of it.

From behind you, someone cleared their throat.

“I hate to interrupt the Notting Hill shit we’ve got going on here,” Sam said, “but is anyone else starving or is it only the guy who just saved Barnes’ ass?”

The evening wind bit your cheeks the moment you stepped out of the bar. In a chorus of jovial shrieks and mischievous laughter, your friends from the Academy all bid each other goodbye—some heading straight home, some scuttering after the next round of drinks and fun, but all equally giddy and tipsy—stumbling on the curb and crashing against unassuming lamp posts.

“Sure you're not coming?” one of your friends asked.

“No, told you I've got an early morning tomorrow,” you slurred slightly, shaking your head twice when the face in front of you began to blur around the edges.

“Okay. Text me when you get home!”

You waved them off with a lopsided smile, turning on your heel and starting the slow trek back to the station. The pavement felt oddly slanted under your feet, and you blamed the tequila for the fifth time that night. The wind swept down the empty street, nipping at your exposed skin, sending discarded wrappers tumbling aimlessly along the sidewalk.

“Hey, Gorgeous! You need a ride?” a voice called out.

You didn’t bother looking. The city was full of idiots, and you weren’t in the mood for petty confrontations when your balance already wavered like a tightrope walker with a death wish.

You were in the midst of stifling a yawn when your foot unexpectedly hit a shallow crack in the pavement, pitching your body forward, arms flailing wildly before you caught yourself mid-fall.

The voice spoke again, this time laced with a grin that lit a match in the back of your mind, “Careful, sweetheart. Steve's gonna be pissed if you break an ankle before the mission tomorrow.”

Your eyes snapped up.

Leaning against a dark motorcycle across the street, like some kind of B-list actor playing a bad boy in a trashy movie franchise, was none other than Bucky Barnes. He looked way too good for someone who just watched you nearly eat concrete—leather jacket unzipped, gloved hand resting on the handlebar, and an easy smile tugging at his lips.

Your face broke into an instantaneous grin.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?”

You skipped across the street without looking. The squeal of tires resonated in the air, blaring horns and flashing headlights as you registered too late the oncoming car speeding your way. You stumbled in your haste to escape the street, to save yourself before your crushed skull and its content became the next headline for tomorrow's 6 A.M. news.

But before gravity could make a fool out of yourself, Bucky’s arms were already around you. He caught your body with ease, keeping your face from planting onto the curb, his broad frame shielding you from the splash of puddle as the honking car zipped past.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, his metal fingers squeezing your hip, “you lookin’ to give an old man a heart attack?”

“Sorry,” you offered sheepishly, willing the percussion in your chest to assuage. “Thanks for saving me.”

“I'd save you anytime and anywhere, Sugar.” Bucky smiled, his gaze soft and genuine despite the flirtatious nature of his words. “But it'd be nice if I didn't have to do it all the time.”

You feigned a gasp. “And here I thought you were my personal hero on call, Buck.”

The man in front of you laughed—a carefree thing with his head thrown back, ocean blue glinting under the paltry luminance of streetlights. You stepped out of his embrace with great reluctance, shivering slightly in the absence of Bucky's warmth.

The motion didn't escape Bucky's notice. “Did you not bring a jacket?”

“I did.” You wrapped yourself with your own arms, stroking the goosebumps away with your palms. “I lent it to my friend and I guess… well, I forgot to ask for it back.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Because everyone knows how kind, selfless, and generous I am?” You grinned.

Bucky didn't say anything in return. Instead, he made quick work shedding the jacket off his back, revealing the outline of muscles under the gorgeous cover of dusty blue henley. Your throat went dry, every nerve ending lighting up in fireworks when Bucky stepped forward, draping the leather garment around your shoulders.

“There you go. That would have to do for now,” he muttered.

His fingertips brushed your neck as he tugged the leather collar closer around you. The scent of coffee, mint, and something indistinguishably Bucky attacked your senses, stealing your breath and leaving the taste of longing on your tongue. He looked at you in that same infuriating tenderness that made your insides spume, reduced to tiny bubbles filled with hope and yearning.

“Thanks,” you breathed out once he withdrew. “By the way, how come you're here? I thought you had that mission with Nat today.”

“I did,” Bucky replied, burying his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

Your forehead creased. “No way. Did you bail?”

“Are you crazy? Steve would have my ass.”

“Then…”

“Came straight from the jet,” he said casually, the impish quirk of his lips giving him away before his words even landed.

“You what?” You gawked. “Are you serious? Did you even debrief with Steve before you went here? Did you even go to the medbay? At all?”

“It was just recon.” He shrugged, far too nonchalant for your liking. “Nat can handle the debrief. She did all the sneaking around anyway, I barely lifted a finger.”

“That’s not the point.” You groaned, massaging the headache that had started gnawing at your temple. “Who cares if it was just recon, Bucky? The procedure says you're to go to the medbay after every mission. The rule is there for a reason. What if you were injured but you didn't even notice? What if you were exposed to a dangerous substance while you were on the field? It's incredibly reckless, stupid, and—”

Your words dissolved the moment his hands cupped your cheeks.

Bucky studied your countenance in silence, his eyes delicate, his thumbs gentle as they skimmed along your jaw. He smiled at you as if your soul was scribbled in a script only he could decipher. An intimate secret shared between the meager spaces the two of you occupied in this infinite universe.

Your breath hitched.

Everything around you tilted on its axis, the world dulling into a distant hum to make room for the cosmic threads tethering you both to each other. His eyes were tired as they locked onto yours, but behind the muted blue, something else shone through—something steadfast and searing, like an eternal flame trapped in the most secluded heights of the Himalayan range.

“I’m okay,” he said at last, voice low but certain. “I’m right here, and I’m okay.”

You didn't blink—you couldn't.

Your chest deflated in the aftermath of worry, the relief sweeping through you like a tide pulling back after a storm. Bucky withdrew, his hands leaving your face in a parting goodbye, and you had to fight the urge to yank him back in, to stay in the fragile moment that had cracked open between the two of you.

“‘Sides,” he drawled, a teasing glint replacing the ferocity in his eyes, “if I didn't pick you up, you'd probably end up passed out in a dumpster somewhere. Can't have you jeopardizing the mission like that, can I?”

You groaned and shoved his shoulder. “Ass.”

Bucky chuckled, rounding the bike before handing you a helmet. “C'mon, lightweight.”

You rolled your eyes, although the blooming smile on your face betrayed the faux irritation as you climbed onto the motorcycle. Bucky was warm in front of you, your arms finding purchase around his waist the second the engine roared to life, buildings and trees alike blurring past as the two of you sped through the streets of New York.

This time, you held Bucky a little tighter than usual, just in case he forgot how much it mattered that he made it home safely.

The pain was the first thing your brain registered.

Lights spilled through the all-encompassing darkness, rousing you awake, filling the gaps in your mind with an awareness of life. The ache traveled through your body in an unimaginable speed, a ravenous beast as it ate away your soul, and you could barely contain the pained whimper before it tumbled free out of your lips.

Something engulfed your hand.

Warmth.

“Sugar?”

You whimpered louder.

“Shit." There was a rustling by your side before the same voice sprouted again, “Hang on, sweetheart. I'll get the doctor.”

Time stumbled in and out of your grasp. You thought you could hear several voices conversing in the room not long after. One of them, unrecognizable in your ears but settled deeply within your chest, rose above all of them. It sounded desperate, broken, as if the person had attempted to barter with God using merely a mangled heart and a splintered spine.

“...please,” you caught him say, the end of a sentence blown by the breeze before you could curl your fingers around it.

“I understand, Barnes,” another voice spoke. “We'll take care of it. Just wait outside, will you?”

A pair of hands proceeded to roam over your body. You felt the pull of consciousness behind your eyelids, heaving you out of the void, an aimless ghost slipping violently back into flesh.

You gasped.

The world returned in a fragmented mosaic—white ceiling, antiseptic air, and a beeping monitor that echoed stubbornly beside your ear. Inside your body, a burning agony erupted. It sank into the deepest corners of your being, clutching around your lungs, turning you into nothing more than a wailing heap of muscles and bones.

“Hey, hey, easy now,” came a calm voice.

The words arrived in the company of gentle hands, too cold for your liking, but they were a reprieve nonetheless. The face in front of you zoomed in and out of focus like moonlight dancing across shattered glass, the contours merging and sundering as they finally morphed into the features of a familiar friend.

Dr. Helen Cho.

She pressed the back of her hand to your forehead before shining a penlight into your eyes. “Pupils reactive. That’s good. Welcome back.”

You blinked away the harsh light from your vision, wincing when the effort sent a jolt of pain through your neck and shoulder. Your lips parted in an attempt to speak, but your throat felt like it had been shoved with hot coals, shredding your voice into nothing more than a torn, fragile snivel.

“W-what… what happened?” you croaked out.

“You were shot,” Helen answered. “Do you remember?”

Just like that, the memory barreled into you like a sucker punch to the face.

Images of drab walls and ceilings, the sight of mold and moss co-existing with dead rodents’ remains filled your mind. The abandoned building once posed as the warehouse of an illegal bio-weaponry enterprise that had long ceased to operate. The Avengers’ presence on site was supposed to be a straightforward recon—gather the intel on the culpable syndicate, perhaps scour for names complicit in supplying the deadly goods in the first place—and it was implied as such on the case files given to the entire team.

No one could have predicted that the simple job would turn into an ambush.

Your mind began flipping through the pages of memory, recalling how it took you no time at all to neutralize the four agents sent your way. Under different circumstances, you might have felt offended by the measly number of hostiles assigned to you—had your thoughts, of course, not already been preoccupied with a certain super soldier. Still, any insolent disparagement your opponent once hurled at your combat abilities was indefinitely put on ice as you dashed across the site's west wing.

By the time you arrived, Bucky was already cornered.

Instinct, and something else akin to protectiveness, fueled your movements as you thundered into the room. Most of the assailants were already lying in stacks on the floor, the rest following suit with every deliberate strike you threw their way. Your chest rose and fell in erratic bursts, each breath scraping your throat as the last body hit the ground.

Across the room, Bucky rose from behind the makeshift fortress, aiming his gun before stopping dead in tracks. The corner of your mouth lifted when your gazes found each other.

“Hi, handsome. Miss me?”

Bucky let out a rough breath, his grip around the gun loosening. “Was wondering when you'd show up, sweetheart.”

He stood up and approached you in merely four strides, smiling so sweetly as though your presence in front of him had been God's own gift to mankind. You fought off a shudder and attempted nonchalance as your palm brushed the dust off his shoulder.

“Sorry, Sarge. You know I like to keep people on their toes.”

The grin on Bucky's face expanded. He bumped his shoulder to yours, the two of you heading for the exit as Bucky started requesting for extraction through his comms.

A split second was all it took for everything to go sideways.

You didn't know what compelled you to turn around for one last glance. Had you heard something? Felt something? Had the hairs on the back of your neck sensed the imminent danger before your brain could even begin processing it?

It was impossible to say, but something dragged your gaze over your shoulder, an invisible hook yanking you back just in time to catch the glint of metal under the scanty light. One of the bodies on the ground, presumed dead, had begun to stir. His arm trembled as he lifted his gun from the blood-slick floor, the barrel rising with all of the inevitability of a verdict carved in stone.

Your breathing caught.

Everything in your body told you to run. To take shelter behind the wooden crate in the corner of the room, call out a warning, anything. But you knew exactly where that gun was aimed, where that bullet would go if you dared to move even an inch.

Straight into Bucky.

The whole world narrowed. What happened next wasn't a choice—it was a decision your body made under direct instructions of your heart, born not from years of training but from the gentle fondness you harbored for the man beside you. It commanded you to hold your ground, freezing your limbs, your chest pounding as though wishing to somehow intercept the bullet before it could write the ending you weren’t ready to read.

Then, the shot rang out.

Everything else had transpired in a blur. You remembered certain bits and pieces through the fog in your mind—the pain on your neck, the retaliation shot Bucky had fired from his gun, the look of pure terror you saw on his face as he held your crumbling body before it could shatter against the concrete ground.

The confession.

“Bucky.” His name fled your lips before you could even think about it.

Helen's gaze softened. “He's outside. He's been here the whole time. Never left your side since the surgery.”

You swallowed, throat thick with the weight of half-formed questions. “H-How long…?”

“Thirty-eight hours,” she replied. “The bullet missed your artery by millimeters. We almost lost you a couple of times. You were extremely lucky this time, Agent.”

Your eyes closed momentarily. When they opened again, your gaze found Helen with an unshakable purpose. “Could you please send him in?”

The doctor gave you a single nod, landing a reassuring pat on your knee before leaving the room silently.

Not long after, the door opened with a quiet hiss.

The sight of Bucky standing in the doorway smashed your heart into a million little pieces.

His hair was unkempt, sticking to different directions as if his fingers had run through them too many times to count. Even from the distance, you could still see how bloodshot his eyes were, how hollow and agonized they were under the harsh lighting of the room. He looked like a man who had outrun hell only to realize that it had made a home right inside his chest.

“Bucky,” you called out, slowly, gently.

His shoulders tensed at the sound of your voice.

Bucky's movement was tedious, as though it was painful for him to move, as though lifting his head required more strength than Atlas needed to carry the world on his shoulders. The moment his eyes met yours, something inside him cracked and splintered.

“You're awake,” he said hoarsely.

“I am,” you replied, offering a soft, shaky smile. “I'm okay.”

Bucky didn't move.

He looked like he didn't even breathe.

It was as if an intangible weight had shackled itself around his ankles, stopping him in place. Bucky didn't try to fight it, to break himself out of the phantom hold he had been cast under. He just kept standing there, motionless, like he was afraid that if he came any closer, the fragile image of you in front of him—alive, breathing, and speaking—would vanish.

Your throat tightened.

“Buck,” you tried again, a tremor in your voice now, too. “Come here.”

His fingers twitched.

“Please.”

It was that single word that finally did it—the plea that fell onto him like a torrent on scorched earth.

He took one step, then another, erasing the distance between him and the bed with a slowness that might convince someone he was walking barefoot on shards of glass. You watched every inch of him draw nearer, his pain thick in the atmosphere of the room, heavier than the oxygen nesting in your lungs.

The hesitation returned when he reached your bedside, keeping him a good six inches away from you. He hovered in the space around the bed, uncertain, both of his hands clenching and unclenching like they wanted to hold you but were afraid you would completely dissipate like vapor under his touch.

You lifted your hand and reached out, tentatively, with the precision of someone trying to pet an easily-spooked cat. Eternity must have passed at least once or twice when your fingers finally brushed the inside of his wrist.

That was all it took.

The singular touch was all it took for Bucky Barnes—the Winter Soldier, the man with the power of a collapsing star, who had faced death and catastrophe greater than anybody else on earth could ever imagine—to entirely crumble under your palms.

A sound escaped him—something torn and guttural and not meant for human ears to hear. He fell to his knees beside the bed, clutching your hand like it was the only echo of mercy in a world that had offered him none. His head bowed against your stomach, shoulders shaking violently with the aggressive sobs he could no longer contain in his chest.

Your own tears spilled out of you in a tide stronger than the Pacific current, staining your cheeks as you brought your other hand to cradle the back of Bucky's head, threading your fingers through the short tendrils.

“I’m okay. I'm okay, Bucky, I'm fine,” you whispered, over and over, each word a balm against the searing agony inside his bloodstream. “I’m right here, darling. I'm okay now.”

“But you weren’t,” he choked, the sound of his anguish slicing your nerves deeper than the sharpest dagger ever could. “You weren’t, a-and God, I thought I lost you, sweetheart. I was holding you, tried to stop the blood—there was so much blood—and you just… you just went still. Was so cold and still and I couldn't—I didn't know what to do.”

“Bucky.” Your voice quivered. “I'm here, baby. You didn’t lose me.”

“I almost did.”

His head rose, and your breath halted in your throat at the sight or red in Bucky’s eyes. He was not someone who cried often—perhaps it was the archaic 40s’ notion of masculinity that was still embedded in his system—and the only time you had seen him cry was back in Wakanda, when you and Ayo stood by him in the vulnerable moment that confirmed the severance of HYDRA's control over his soul.

Somehow, this Bucky—the one kneeling in front of you—looked even more shattered than the one in your memory.

“Your heart stopped, Sugar,” Bucky continued, the weight of his words pressing and twisting your ribs until you were nothing but a mire. “You weren’t breathing. So cold and stiff, and I… Shit—I didn't know if you'd make it. Had to do CPR the whole flight. Everyone told me to stop. They said y-you were gone. But I couldn't, Sugar. I just—I couldn't.”

“Bucky,” you whimpered. “Darling.”

“I thought I was too late,” he rasped, voice fracturing under the weight of a requiem still resonating in his chest. “I kept thinking if I'd been faster—if I’d stood closer—if I had just noticed sooner, then you… you would've…”

You cupped his face, forcing him to stop his self-torment and look up at you. To remind him that whatever horror still clawing at his being was no longer real, because you were fine, you were alive, and you were here with him. His cheeks were wet, flushed with the remnants of grief and an exhaustion that had been postponed for far too long. The pain in his eyes had dimmed the blue in his irises to gray.

“I'm fine now, Bucky,” you murmured, misty eyes and traces of salt on the tip of your tongue. “You did it. You saved me.”

“I shouldn't have had to,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to reject the truth. “You shouldn't have been in that situation in the first place. You should've been safe. I was supposed to protect you.”

“You did, Bucky. You did protect me.”

“Not enough.”

“Baby, look at me.” Your voice is firm, a lighthouse cutting through a war-born fog. Bucky's forehead furrowed as his eyes locked with yours, as if he still struggled to believe that the you in front of him weren't simply a mirage. “You brought me back, Buck. You didn’t lose me. I'm here because of you.”

His breath hitched.

His lips quivered.

You leaned down, pressing your forehead gently to his, ignoring the strain it caused to your wound because this—the man you held inside your palms, this tender moment you shared after everything the universe had put you through—was far more important than any pain you could ever feel.

“You didn't lose me,” you repeated.

There was silence in the next breath, a sacred one commonly heard in the space between lightning and thunder. You could feel his every exhale, shallow and staggered, like a beast coaxed out of fight but still bristling with a proliferate instinct.

After a stuttered heartbeat, his metal arm slithered around your waist, his flesh one wrapping around your hand again, tighter this time.

“Say it again,” he begged, barely audible. “Please.”

“You didn't lose me,” you uttered. “I'm here, I’m alive, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He crushed you against him then—still careful, still gentle—but underneath the heedfulness, his desperation bled through. Gripping you like you were the only thing that mattered in this vast universe, like he wanted to fold you into himself and keep you some place where danger and death could never lurk over you again.

You felt Bucky's lips on your skin, grazing along your shoulder, moving up the curve of your neck, your jaw, and your cheek. Worshipping you with prayers shaped as a thousand reverent kisses, moving like he was searching for the evidence that you were real, like he was memorizing a miracle while time was still ticking.

And when his mouth finally found yours, the press of his lips wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy.

It was trembling.

He kissed you as if you were the divine being who granted him life, respiring your moans and gasps as if they were the instruments needed to mend his ruptured soul. Bucky tasted like every future you were always too scared to envision for yourself—the promise of companionship, affection, and happiness that had once been too surreal for your heart to believe in. But now, in this moment with him, they all suddenly became inevitable.

You kissed him back, slowly, cradling his face between your hands to hold together all of the fractured pieces that forged his being. Time slipped away in the hush where sorrow once lived, getting you lost in everything Bucky, until eventually, your lungs had to force you to part and come up for air.

“I love you,” Bucky confessed, holding onto your wrists to keep you tethered to him. To this moment. And to life itself.

Your thumb brushed the apple of his cheek, catching a silent tear, leaning in to steal another kiss from the corner of his mouth.

“I love you, too,” you whispered.

A sound between a sob and relief escaped him, and Bucky buried his face in the unwounded crook of your neck, breathing you in like he had been suffocating for days and had finally resurfaced for air. His arms stayed enveloped around you as he murmured praises against your skin—thanking the Gods for listening to his prayers, thanking the universe, thanking you. Paying reverence for the mercy that fate had bestowed over a mangled man such as himself.

You stayed like that for a long time. His weight against your side, his heartbeats slowly steadying beneath your touch. The monitors beeped gently beside you, grounding the two of you to reality, an anchor in the otherwise stagnant room. But in that moment, the only sound that mattered—the only one you cared about—was the soft inhale and exhale of your breaths, a proof of life, shared within the modest spaces that felt more freeing than a hummingbird flying over an open field.

Gradually, the room began to fade into silence.

And in the safety of Bucky's embrace, you had never appreciated the quiet more.

Taglist: @steph88x @athenabarnes @sugarmummystuff6 @wintercrows @jay-jaystevebuckyloki @spideysimpossiblegirl @vainillacookie @mazzaroni-cheese @killerwendigo @s-r-reads @nydubs @rafeskai @unpeellievable @thisismyacc11 @rimunagenius @buckygirls @buckyslove1917 @defn0tonyourleft @buhangini @infinitymitten @lemonhead456 @thescooponsof @buckytheloveofmylife95 @mizukiqr @littlegreenjellybean @p3nis-parker @shortlikerdj @onlyheluvsme @theschoolbasketcase @jjulesii @jvanilly @seaskysunrise @minminswag04 @dameronspector @buckybarnesfic @nameless-ken @marie-sworld @silverwolfeyes @idkitsem @waiting-so-long @redtabularasa @buckyinluv @ghostytoasty17 @moreadsfic @chlovocaine @mcira @personal-fanfic-storage @spookyreads @eternalsams @the-sunflower-room

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sunrizef1 · 1 month ago

Text

August

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Journalist!Reader

Warnings: none

Requested: Yes/No

Authors Note: Felt like I had abandoned y'all icl 😢

Pt 2

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ynln

🎵 July - Hozier

liked by charles_leclerc nicorosberg and 1,008,771 others

ynln a european summer

load comments…

user1 who’s diva is this

user2 this is so aesthetic vibes

user3 need this life

user4 my favorite influencer (journalist)

user5 😍😍😍

user6 soft-launch ass slide four 🤨

lando stay away

ynln rat 😒

user7 love seeing drivers have positive interactions with journalists for once lol

user8 you thought the lando interaction was positive…? 😭

user9 she so pretty

liked by author

user10 Charles Leclerc spotted

maxfewtrell 😒

ynln and what did I do to you.

user11 ✨✨✨

rolemodel America misses u

ynln alright brandy melville

rolemodel ☹️

dualipa nice to meet you cutie!!!

ynln you’re so lovely 💕💕💕

user12 it’s so cute how Yn just fits right in in the celebrity spaces 😭

user13 right! She finds friends wherever she goes it’s so cute 😭

user14 now who’s the man on slide 4

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ynln added to their close friends story

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charles_leclerc replied to your story!

charles_leclerc

Now who took this picture of us ⁉️🤨

ynln

Lol the cafe owner next door airdropped to me

charles_leclerc

Oh wow that's adorable

ynln

I know right 😊

charles_leclerc

Now come back to bed

Its getting cold without you

ynln

I'm on my way 🙄

patience 🙏

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charles_leclerc

liked by ynln rolemodel and 3,456,781 others

charles_leclerc summer break

load comments…

user15 we should call men whores more often

user16 viva italia or whatever they say

user17 who taught this man to Pinterest post

user18 most of these pictures don’t have that fuckass filter on them… what’s changed

rolemodel ok diva

liked by author

user19 now why in the world is Tucker here

user20 the women’s swimsuits????

user21 right like what are we doing here

user22 now I know he didn’t take slide five

user23 the caption… where’s the flavor where’s the zest

lewishamilton now we lock in 💪

liked by author

user24 this Yn-ass post

user25 right, I know this man saw her post and decided to take some inspo

user26 over analyzing but who’s the woman in slide 8?

user27 friend or random stranger probably

user28 why include her in the pic then… just zoom in or crop her out

user29 right right right

user30 I’m losing it 🤩

user31 this post is so pretty

lando shouldve brought me

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charles_leclerc

where r u stationed this week

ynln

Spain

For a madrid game

charles_leclerc

so you're not coming this weekend?

ynln

It depends where they send me on the weekend

Maybe

charles_leclerc

mmmm

we’ll see then

ynln

yeah

we’ll see

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judebellingham

save an interview for me, yeah?

ynln

Well I'm only interviewing the winners… 🤔

judebellingham

good thing we’re not going to lose

ynln

You're confident

judebellingham

For good reason 😇

ynln

Don't u have a game to warm up for?

judebellingham

Yeah yeah

I'll see you out there

ynln

Good luck Jude

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maxfewtrell liked your story ♥️

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MESSAGES

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TWITTER

——

MESSAGES

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INSTAGRAM

ynln

🎵 Role Model - The Longest Goodbye

liked by rolemodel judebellingham and 2,345,109 others

ynln cause’ I don't think you love me anymore

tagged: judebellingham

load comments…

user32 wait... I'm sad??

user33 new York posting… that's how u know its bad

user34 omg hey Jude

user35 take a sad song and make it better or wtvr

user36 oh- the song-

rolemodel hey that's my song

ynln it is

user37 I love you yn

liked by author

dualipa beautiful girl 💕

ynln no u 💕

user38 this feels sad idk

user39 don't think I haven't noticed the coorelation between this and the dissapearence of her soft-launching

zendaya who needs a man anyway

liked by author

tomholland ?

user40 diva

judebellingham me mention

liked by author

user41 her interviews were much mess lively than usual I'm ngl

lando miss u

liked by author

maxfewtrell miss u

liked by author

user42 bestie role model mention

sabrinacarpenter come visit me!!!!!

ynln soon 🫶🏻

user43 outfits tea tho

liverpoolfc the team misses their favorite journalist!

liked by author

——

TWITTER

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INSTAGRAM

ynln

🎵 August - Taylor Swift

liked by masonmount ryangravenberch and 6,787,809 others

ynln you were never mine…. never mind

tagged: dominikszoboszlai ryangravenberch judebellingham & masonmount

load comments…

user44 hows the new job?

ynln its so fun!!!! I've had the best year of my life travelling all over and getting to explore my favourite sport in the world! These athletes have become so close to my heart and I've been so so happy 🫶

user45 these divas!!!

user45 yn! Whos been your favourite team to spend time with!

ynln I fear that if I say, the ones I don't pick will throw a tantrum 🤔

ynln (the uswnt) 🙈

judebellingham ????

trentarnold66 ???

alexismacallister ????

masonmount ????

lamineyamal ???

dominikszoboszlai im literally in this post

user46 she's looked so happy recently

user47 whats that caption mean

masonmount i look great there icl

ynln wrap it up

user48 need the goss

judebellingham the way you can't go three posts without including me… a clear fav

ynln my favorite is endo leave me alone

wataruendo 🤘

user49 THE FRIENDSHIPS SHES MADE!!!! 😫😫

user50 I'm so happy for her

user51 yn do you miss f1

ynln sometimes! I had a lot of fun and made a lot of friends but football has always been my first love 🫶

user51 would you ever go back?

ynln maybe! In the end, I left for a reason and I'm still not entirely ready to return :(

ynln maybe! I think I've moved past that chapter of my life but I never say never 💕

user52 August slipped away into a moment of time :(

user53 idek I miss August European vacation man

user54 bring yn back to her f1 babies

maxverstappen1 ...come back…?

liked by author

user55 max being the first one to bridge the gap between yn and her f1 history 🙃

lando are you happy?

ynln yeah, I am

lando I'm glad then :)

zendaya he's down you're up

ynln oh my god

user56 next question who's the mysterious man zendaya keeps commenting about

user57 hot take its an f1 driver.

user56 right right right

rolemodel august slipped away

ynln it really did

——

tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

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digitald0rk · 2 months ago

Text

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 1 ]

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.

synopsis — in which mark falls for the new comic book store employee who matches his nerd [ and he hopes his freak too :3 ] and realizes he wants that effing cookie SO BADD.

warnings — super duper self indulgent! mark being mark, mention of blood like once. sappiness overload RAHHHH. not proofread.

w.c — 2.1 k.

a/n — this is part 1 btw, the second part's gonna be focused y'all's relationship. this is SO SO SLEF INDULGENT LMAO. i am that annoying little fly that keeps buzzing when it comes to my interests, my ass keeps going, "holy shit is that xyz reference???" :0 like GIRL STOP PULLING THESE REFERENCES OUT YO ASS 🤓 if you're like this too just know i think you're super based and awesomesauce gang :D BE ANNOYING ABOUT YOUR INTERESTS!! it's honestly so refreshing, anyways :p lemme know what you think of this!

taglist — @vm4879bb-blog [ lemme know if you wanna be added too ]

READ PART [ 2 ] HERE.

it was another normal ordinary day, he was just binging the new volumes of seance dog in his favorite little comic book store because being a superhero leaves no time for that, thank god he has some time off.

it was another normal ordinary day, that is until you walked in.

well more like look insanely good behind that cash register.

he asks himself, mind racing a mile a minute, how has he never noticed you before? are you a new employee? why the hell is his heart beating so fast? are you single?

the moment he sees you smile at some customer, he's doomed.

he has to talk to you. he has to-

oh god wait. he's been staring, hasn't he? no no no! what if you think he's some loser or worse a creep. [a weirdo what the hell am i doing hereeeee sorry had to lol]

and when your gazes meet for a split second, he whips his head away way too fast, if he wasn't a viltrumite he definitely would've gotten whiplash, his eyes immediately zeroing on the comic in his hand, which is actually upside down. not that he realizes because he's too busy thinking about how he'd love to get lost in your pretty eyes, he needs to get a grip, what is he fourteen?

it's just some dumb fleeting infatuation and-

then he hears a laugh. peeking up from the still upside down seance dog volume, hoping to god it's not your laugh because if it is, he longs to hear it again.

it was your laugh. oh he's in deep.

and he swears he's never heard a more beautiful thing. sap.

he needs to be the reason to make you laugh.

oh shit he's holding it upside down, hopefully you didn't notice (*_*;)

it takes him a whole ass week to muster up the courage to talk to you, he'd only check out with his new additions and issues when it wasn't your shift.

he's checked himself in the mirror a gazillion times, his hair looks okay, maybe he should've worn the blue shirt, it makes his eyes pop out-

he's mark grayson, he's invincible for fuck's sake.

still his palms grow sweaty as he approaches you to check out, little do you know he already has these volumes, he's just desperate to talk to you okay.

"hi." and great, his voice cracks.

but your sweet smile makes him forget about it. he watches you as you scan his items, typing away as you do so.

he kind of wants to hold your hand. is that bad?

"so, seance dog huh?" oh shit you're making conversation with him? oh my god calm down calm down calm down-

"yeah, it's uh one of my favs." he flashes a small smile, a nervous one.

"no way! same!" you beam at him, sheepishly showing him the small seance dog hair clip holding your hair in place like it's some sort of national treasure.

you're telling him that you, the cute comic book store employee he's been crushing on for weeks now, likes seance dog?

he's dreaming.

he has to be.

right?

then you say something, something only a huge seance dog fan would know.

and he swears he hears wedding bells, he can already see walking down the aisle.

it takes him a ridiculously long time to recover, eyes widening comically as he processes that this is infact not a dream.

"you okay there?" you ask slightly amused.

your voice breaks him out of that little trance you just unknowingly put him in, his eyes flitting to the name tag on your shirt-

he can't help himself from muttering your name, soft and reverent like a prayer.

a little flustered giggle leaves your mouth.

oh.

he made you laugh? he feels like he's on top of the world, he introduces himself, his smile widening when he shakes your offered hand.

william's gonna have a field day with this one.

after that one conversation, he's grown comfortable around you over the past few weeks.

and he's fallen even deeper in love.

he's less tense and awkward around you, rambling about everything and anything, conversation flows easily between you two now.

you'd call him the second you'd read the new volumes of your shared favorite comics to talk to him about it, he does the same.

he puts you on his favorite comics, you put him on yours along with whatever you're big into. it's a win-win really.

he's never been happier.

you make him feel so seen.

he doesn't feel the need to hide parts of himself from you. he loves when you buy him matching merch or just little trinkets of his interests.

rex made fun of mark's little italian charm bracelet once, because what do you mean the strongest man on the planet has a matching charm bracelet with all the things he loves on it that he always wears?

it actually broke the first time he wore it to a fight because obviously, what was he thinking? gets very sad when he can't find all the pieces to put it back together, asks cecil to remake it with some metal that won't break from the impact of alien attacks or whatever decides to mess with the peace of earth the next time. he gets all pissy when he gets blood on it :(

"aw that's adorable!" rex would tease him, but mark would just get all excited because he gets to talk about you <3

cue him rambling about all the things you made for him or got for him that align with his favorite pieces of media and interests, rex does NOT understand half of those words but hey as long as invinciboy's happy.

rex is not making that mistake again lol, also he thought you were dating mark because of the way his eyes turn into literal hearts whenever you're mentioned, so imagine the look on his face when mark's all bashful like, "nah i wish :(" rex goes, "man you two are so fucking oblivious." and he's right.

even outside of your little nerdy conversations and hang outs, when he comes to you for comfort, he feels safe.

and that — feeling safe, not being on edge 24/7 isn't easy for him, but you make it easier than breathing.

he feels loved when you hold him, rub his back and make some dumb joke when he's having a bad day.

he lives for the references you make out of nowhere.

"holy shit is that-" you start excitedly.

"i was just gonna say that!" he laughs.

pointing out things that he thinks are references to his favorite media and you joining him, this has to be love.

"why does that cloud lowkey look lik-" he starts and you finish his sentence for him, he laughs at how you two are almost always on the same wavelength.

once the secret is out that he's invincible, he'll literally just fly to some foreign country to get you what you want, oh what's that? a new figurine of your favorite anime just dropped? it's only available in japan? it's already yours <3 anything for you, he's whipped. [ god bless his bank account i imagine it's in negative LMAOOOO because his ass is definitely not letting u pay :( ]

and when you oh so sheepishly hand him the seance dog plushie you crocheted for him as his birthday present, muttering something along the lines of how "it's not good enough" or "it looks a little funny", i mean yeah seance dog has seen better days for sure where his eyes are the same size, he has to physically stop himself from kissing you senseless, because how dare you be this thoughtful and sweet.

yeah he's in love alright.

after a lot of restless nights and convincing from william, he finally decides to ask you out after six months of longing and yearning.

you two are currently in your room, hanging out. you had invited him over to watch the new reboot of your favorite sci fi series, although the internet seems to have a different plan as the video keeps buffering and loading.

you groan in annoyance, refreshing the page, still nothing.

so when you give up and let it do it's thing, aka the good ol "pretending not to care so it'll load faster", mark takes this as a sign.

"hey uh-" he opens his mouth, he's going to piss himself, he can't do this.

"yeah?" you reply. he sounds awfully nervous.

he stares at you, holding your gaze, lips slightly parted before taking a deep breath.

he ends up immediately blurting out the words he'd practiced a thousand times, "iloveyousomuch", his words are hurried as if he's scared you'll leave him if he's not quick enough.

he pauses, realizing this isn't exactly going to plan. he has just confessed his feelings, it's done now. there's no going back from this and that scares him.

he's also considering just making a run for it, or well fly for it, your window's open afterall.

he avoids your gaze like the plague, the ground suddenly very interesting.

he hesitantly adds, "i have for awhile now actually", might as well serve his heart on a silver platter to you it's all yours anyways, it beats for you, he thinks.

his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. he can't stop his mouth, it moves on it's own, "im sorry if- if this ruins our friendship i just-"

"i love you too mark", you can't help yourself from confessing back, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"i just can't do this, i can't be friends when everytime i look at you i want to ki-" wait.

it's actually adorable the way he looks at you all wide eyed when his brain finally processes what you said.

did you just say you love him back?

nope, that's just his terrible hearing that comes with being a superhero, all wishful thinking.

but the way you're looking at him tells him otherwise and your words only confirm that his hearing is perfectly fine.

"you were saying?" you tease him, daring him to finish that sentence.

thank god the teasing is back, this is familiar territory. his nerves calm down a bit.

a minute of silence passes before he speaks.

"so that just happened", he chuckles, he wants to be all suave and cool and say something that'll make you blush, but he can't.

he doesn't need to.

because that's not him, he's mark grayson, he's awkward, a sweetheart and a big nerd. he just needs to be himself to make you swoon.

you know this, he knows this.

he knows you accept him for who he is, so he doesn't think twice about leaning in when you reach out to cup his face, leaning in as well.

your acceptance, your love, you. that's all he needs.

and the moment your lips meet his he realizes those six months were worth it.

he gently pulls you closer by your waist, his touch hesitant, it takes all his power to not just pull you flush against him and show you just how much he adores you.

when you pull him closer by the neck, his toned chest brushing against yours, he has to stop from letting out a small pleased groan.

you're just as desperate as he is.

kissing you like this is dizzying, he can even taste the sweetness and slight tang of the strawberry dessert you two had shared earlier on your lips and it only serves to drive him crazier.

his body practically aches when you pull away, chasing your lips. he can't get enough.

"easy alien boy", you chuckle, trying to catch your breath — resting your forehead against his, nose scrunching a little when he kisses the tip of it, nuzzling his own nose against yours afterwards.

his smile is sickeningly sweet and contagious. "i love you", he whispers.

and when you whisper it back he giggles happily, pressing a kiss to your head - he pulls you in his warm embrace. relishing in the feel of your body against his, fitting like a missing puzzle piece.

it's like you were made for him.

a scream from the tv ruins the intimate atmosphere, ah so now it decides to load. you two stare at each other, a collective look of "are you seeing this shit" is exchanged before you two burst into laughter.

both of you could care less about the show playing on the tv, too busy indulging in long passionate sweet kisses.

"the new issue of batm-" you jokingly start against his now swollen lips.

"baby! we're kinda having a moment here", he scoffs playfully, the dumb lovesick smile on his face only widening.

"no but seriously the new issue sucked ass. they mischaracterized him sooo bad and-", he complains, not moving a centimeter away from your lips.

"and you're a nerd" you cut him off, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt for another kiss.

"hey that's friendly fire!" he hopes you'll always shut him up with a kiss <3

#ㅤㅤ✶ㅤ digitald0rk's library !#me when i realize i have free will and can write vv self indulgent fics (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)#invincible #mark grayson #invincible x reader #invincible x you #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson fanfic #mark grayson fluff #invincible fanfic #invincible fluff

3K notes · View notes

bykshre · 8 months ago

Text

We Found Love

charles leclerc x female reader (smau) 1/2

summary: you and charles were meant to be together even if the media, society and his girlfriend criticized you.

trope: childhood friends to lovers, ferrari driver x head strategist , mean gf (no hate to any of charles' gf's, ex or current.)

a/n: i know i know im the worst updater and writer ever (I'm sorry okay 😭 I'm busy and I lose motivation lol)but im back slowly but surely, and this is so new! My first F1 fic aahh :D This is very small, I just needed to get this out (monza took my heart away!) hope y'all like it hehe xx.

Months before MONZA

ursernames

life lately - enjoying the break before it's Monza ❤️‍🔥🌷🌺🌠🪽🥨🍽️🪡⌨️👠💎

iked by charles_leclerc,mlnmarta, and 1M others

lewishamilton looks like someone had fun!

⤷ ursernames obviously mate 🧉!!

charles_leclerc wannabe artistic ass 😘😻🤡

⤷ ursernames shut up donkey 🐴🫏😊

kikagomez 💫💗

liked by author

@Ynniequeenn

I'm surprised Charles isn't spending the vacay with her. Sounds fishy but they still act close 😕. I don't know man.

⤷ @chrshls: people like you suck! get a life.

charles_leclerc

everything is good 🩵

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, ursername and 4M others

joristrouche amazing!

ursernames leooo awwww

liked by author

pierregasly simba and leo meetup soon? 😂

⤷ charles_leclerc soon!

alexandrasaintmleux amores <3

liked by author

ursernames

thank you for the wishes everyone, just took another lap around the earth 🌍 🌷🌺🩵

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz and 5M others.

formula_1 happy birthday to the best-ever strategist!

liked by author

scuderiaferrari buon compleanno stargirl!

⤷ ursernames grazie mille!

charles_leclerc joyeux anniversaire ma meilleure fille

liked by author

mlnmarta joyeux anniversaire ma soeur

⤷ usernames 💞💞

oscarpiastri have a great day old lady 🥳

⤷ ursername when i catch you oscar when i bloody catch you! 😵😵

f1wags&insiders

BREAKING 🚨 Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mluex were fighting at a party! Apparently, it was the same birthday party held for Y/N's 27th birthday. What are your thoughts 💭?

liked by 40K others

alexfp i just can't stand this anymore! It's clear that something's up with charles 😐

leclecice bro, alex is straight up toxic just admit it she is NOT a paddock queen neither the IT wag ughh 🥱🥱

lestappenfpp time for charles WDC lesgoo

ynstan will charles and yn ever date? they have that CHEMISTRY yk

malenalexx it's definitely something to do with charles

⤷ unknownchaaa smartest alex fan..

ynstrategyss literally how crazy can Alex even get until they fuck up yns birthday party?! seriously i lost my respect for her.

alexandrasaintmluex

🌺🌺 floral vibes 🌺🌺

liked by joristrouche and 100K others

alexfp omg our queen 👑!!

foralexa hi alexx i hope you're doing well ❤️‍🩹 you look gorgeous btw 🤩

liked by author

kikagomez 💫😵⭐

rebeccadonaldson literally so pretty 🌺🌺

⤷ alexandrasaintmluex says the prettiest!

charlesfanpage charles not in the likes? sus.

leclecicecreammm someone's tryna churn content asap b4 the breakup LOLL

⤷ alexandrasaintmluex you're hilarious. 🥱

ynstrategyss hope y'all okay...

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

2 weeks before Monza, at the Ferrari HQ

"Hey, can we talk, please?" Charles asked Yn as the meeting begun to wrap up.

"What do you want, Charles? Does making me look like a fool on my birthday not enough?!" You said very honestly.

"No,no, mon cher, listen to me."

"I'm sorry for whatever Alex caused during your birthday party. I wanted the party to be nice and surrounded by your close friend's and family. I'm regretful I chose to bring Alex as a tag along. She wanted to go and I can't say no anyways."

"What's your point, Charles? I'm tired of this drama. I am." You said,

"Yn, we've been friends since so young, we spent almost every day with eachother, basically inseparable. Maman practically consideres you her the daughter she never had and you're really close to my family and brothers. Even with my exes you had a close bond with them."

"Mhm, that's right I loved your exes." You said slightly smiling,

"Ever since I dated Alex, she.... she liked fame and attention. Even if she didn't show it much. And when she saw us being close and basically just friends, she got mad and jealous. I didn't realise much until you told me when she confronted you."

"She reads a lot of the news, tweets and those tiktok edits of us that is all over social media. She is influenced by them. And I honestly don't get how they consider our bond romantic but not platonic."

"Alex has been fighting a lot with me past few months. We are not close, anymore. Not liked we used to be. She's constantly screaming and I can't stand her anymore."

"Mon ange, whatever happens with you and her, please... just tell me. I saw the texts she sent you and it wasn't pleasant. Why have you been keeping this a secret. Please ange, don't do it anymore."

"I don't know how longer I can sustain this relationship if it continues to be as toxic as this." Charles said earning a pout from you.

" Charlie, I wanted to see you happy with Alex. I'm sorry about what's been happening at home. I'm sorry too.." you said,

" Are we good?"

"Yeah we are, Charlie" you said, earning a tight hug from you best friend.

It's undeniable that you've always liked Charles. He was handsome, he was everything a women could've dreamt of. And obviously you're one of them. You'd never had the chance to confess and you think you'd never will. It's better to blossom a good, sustainable friendship rather than risking it all for a relationship. Your a simple person, you're critical and realistic.

When Alex confronted you about your relationship with Charles, it hit you till the pit of your heart. You begun thinking if you were too clingy or romantic with Charles. You begun distancing yourself from him thinking you were at fault. You did not want to be a homewrecker,ever.

Although Charles confrontation settled a little of your thoughts, you cannot deny the growing feelings for Charles in that heart of yours.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

charles_leclerc

P4. Deluso ma abbiamo dato tutto. Grazie a tutti voi per esserci sempre. E domani, andiamoooooo 😍

liked by carlossainz,oscarpiastri, ursername and 3M others

ursername let's get it ✨✨

speedingcharles we counting on u buddy

anthoinetrouchet let's get it ittttttttt aaa

alexandrasaintmluex 💕

ursername

story, 1hr ago

feels great to back in monza! hoping to make tifosi's proud this weekend 🇮🇹 Let's see what we can do with a P4 and P5.

RACE DAY IN MONZA.

⭐⭐⭐

@F1LiveUpdates:

"Lights out at Monza! Charles Leclerc is in the fight for P1, but all eyes are on Ferrari’s strategy today. Y/N calling the shots 👀 #Monza #CharlesLeclerc #Ferrari"

@LeclercFans:

"Y/N on the pit wall, looking like a boss. Monza is hers to win 🔥 #YN #FerrariFam"

Your heart raced as you watched the battle unfold in front of your eyes. Charles was in second, fighting tooth and nail to close the gap on the leader. Your freshly manicured nails hovered over the radio button, ready to call the next move.

The crowd roared in the background, but your focus was razor-sharp. Charles trusted your instincts, and you wasn’t about to let him down.

Y/N (over radio):

"Box, box. Let’s go for the undercut."

Charles

"Copy. Trusting you on this."

The team jumped into action as Charles pitted. Y/N watched with bated breath, hoping the strategy would pay off.

As Charles emerged from the pits, your hands clenched into a fist. The timing was perfect. They had nailed it. It will take time to pass through lando but it'll be worth it. And you knew it.

Y/N (over radio):

"P1. 35 laps ahead. Now hold it. You’ve got this."

The crowd was deafening as the final lap approached. You stood with her arms crossed, staring at the screens, barely blinking. Charles had a three-second lead, but the pressure was immense. Your heart pounded in time with the roar of the engines.

Y/N (over radio):

"Last lap, Charles. Bring it home."

You held her breath as the checkered flag waved and the roar from the grandstands signaled what you'd hoped for.

Charles (over radio):

"We did it! P1! We won, Y/N!"

Bryan (over radio)

"AND P1!"

@F1Live:

"Leclerc takes P1 at Monza! What a race! Ferrari fans are going wild! #CharlesLeclerc #Monza"

@FerrariFans:

"Y/N’s strategy today was perfection. Absolute genius. 🔥 #TeamYN #Ferrari"

@LeclercNation:

"Y/N hugging Charles after that win? Yeah, there’s something there. No one can convince me otherwise. #CharlesAndYN"

charles_leclerc

Siete i numeri 1, Forza Ferrari ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

liked by ursername,alexandrasaintmluex, lewishamilton and 10M others

ursername congrats charliee <3

liked by author

⤷ charles_leclerc couldn't done it without you, yn 😘

formula_1 tifosi's pride and joy

lewishamilton enjoy the win mate! great job

oscarpiastri congrats charles!

pascale_leclerc my boy

liked by author

⤷charles_leclerc i didnt leave you at the gransdstands this time 😂

ursername

story, 2h ago

FEVER DREAM!! GRAZIE GRAZIE TUTTI MILLE!

@LeclercNation:

"Alexandra needs to chill. Y/N is just doing her job. She’s a strategist, not a homewrecker! #TeamYN"

formula_1

leo meets his papa who just won the italian grand prix! lovely family at sight 🐕🐶🐾

liked by mlnmarta,alexandrasaintmluex and 2M others

alexfp ahh the cutiess, though she wasn't here but mah queen is always here to shine

alexandrasaintmluex 😍

lecleccreamss since when did F1 turn into a wag thing. Seriously F1? This content is unnecessary!

alexandramyqueen omg our couple is back yayyy

mimosahater @F1Dramaa post. look at this post.

@F1Drama:

"Rumors are flying that Y/N and Alexandra had a heated argument in the Ferrari garage. How much longer can this triangle last? #CharlesLeclerc #YN"

@FerrariInsider:

"It’s getting messy. Y/N is too professional to get involved, but Alexandra seems to be on edge. #F1Gossip #FerrariDrama"

@LeclercNation:

"Y/N is just trying to do her job, but Alex is clearly feeling threatened. Charles needs to step up. #TeamYN"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

You were packing up in the garage, getting reading to back to the hotel, when Alexandra appeared at the doorway. She looked calm, but there was a fire in her eyes.

"We need to talk." Alex said

You set down your notes, bracing yourself. You replied, "About what?"

"About Charles. About you."

"I’m just doing my job, Alexandra. If you think I’m trying to come between you two, you’re wrong."

Alexandra crossed her arms, stepping closer. "I don’t know if I believe that. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I’m not stupid!"

Your jaw clenched. "You’re right. You’re not stupid. But you’re also insecure. And that’s not my problem. I’m here because I’m good at what I do, and Charles knows that."

"Insecure?" Alexandra’s voice was laced with venom. "Do you have any idea what it’s like watching him put you before me over and over again?"

"He doesn’t put me before you, Alexandra. He’s just focused on his career. If you can’t handle that, maybe the problem isn’t me. Maybe it’s your relationship."

Alexandra stared at you, her expression hardening. "You think you’re so untouchable, don’t you? That because you’re the team strategist, you’re safe. But I see the way you want him."

You took a deep breath, stepping forward. "If you’re so sure about that, then maybe you should talk to Charles instead of blaming me."

"Look here, Charles just won the Italian grandprix. It's a big celebration for team. Let's be happy for the win, instead of bringing this up, now."

"Have a great day, Alexandra" you said and left the paddock without any hesitation.

ursername

thank you bryan, charles, carlos, fred and the team for making this strategy happen! to our biggest supporters, the tifosi ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 6M others

lewishamilton absolutely fantastic strategy yn, you made it happen 👑👑

⤷ ursername i absolutely cannot wait for you to get on this team any longer!! tysm lewis, really appreciate it 💕💕💫

charles_leclerc tu as réalisé mon plus grand rêve, merci ma belle stratège, ma meilleure amie bien-aimée 🥇🥇🥳🥳❤️❤️❤️

⤷ ursername you were behind the wheel, you make us all dream mon rêveur, mon soleil 🩷🩷

mlnmarta such a shame i wasn't able to witness this but again, ma petite sœur, tu nous fais tous rêver 🥹

⤷ ursername tu aimes me faire pleurer 🥹❤️

After the Azerbaijan Grand Prix

charles_leclerc

story, 2m ago

Part 2 when?

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korn-dawg · 3 months ago

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•ू♡ loser!ellie who is desperately enamored with you

•ू♡ loser!ellie who isn't even failing any of her classes (far from it) but still books you to tutor her

•ू♡ loser!ellie who spends around 2 hours getting done, convincing dina to help her iron out her usually wrinkled flannel while she fights with her hair

•ू♡ loser!ellie who spends the entire study session making a very poor attempt at dropping hints, laughing nervously at almost everything you say and immediately zeroing in on your body the second you look away

•ू♡ loser!ellie who finds your instagram one day, looking through every post and story, a hand subconsciously moving south at a particularly good picture of you at the beach

•ू♡ loser!ellie who eventually gets close to you and finds out you're gay, the thought that she might have a chance making her all giddy and giggly when she tells dina about it later that night

•ू♡ loser!ellie who deep cleans her room the night before you come over, trying to find a place to hide the comics she deems most embarrassing

•ू♡ loser!ellie who rifles through her vinyl collection, setting the ones that are most similar to your music taste in the front where they're visible

•ू♡ loser!ellie who lets you pick what games you two play when you come over, making sure to go easy on you

•ू♡ loser!ellie who doesn't expect you to kiss her halfway through the movie you picked out earlier, gaping at you dumbfoundedly when you pull away

•ू♡ loser!ellie whose body is surprisingly malleable as she allows you to push her back onto the mattress, her hands hesitantly reaching for your thighs with a innocent doe-eyed look

•ू♡ loser!ellie who tastes like blood when you push your tongue past her lips because she's been nervously chewing at her lips and inner cheek the entire night

•ू♡ loser!ellie who's so unbelievably wet when you first touch her, already soaking through her minecraft boxers purely from kissing you

•ू♡ loser!ellie who keeps her hands glued to the oak of her headboard when you have your face between her plush thighs, not wanting to disappoint you so early on

•ू♡ loser!ellie who lets you coax 3 consecutive orgasms out of her before begging for just a taste of your cunt

•ू♡ loser!ellie who finds herself thinking back to that night during class a few days later, staring at the back of your head in front of her like it'll help her remember the pure saccharine that was the taste of you on her tongue

•ू♡ loser!ellie who shows up at your place not even two weeks later, pleading for round two

sorry if this is booty cheeks y'all

i was playing block blast while writing this 😭🙏

#sub!ellie #ellie x reader #loser!ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou part 2 #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

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deesseshesca · 8 months ago

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PAC :How will your future lover explore your body ? (18+)

I found a little name for all of y'all ... Bébé d'Amour. Vous etes maintenant mes bébé d'amour (Y'all are now my Bébé d'Amour).

Good morning pretty souls, I'm not a lovey dovey human but for y'all I am ready to do almost anything.

SALE

Until October 31 all readings on my ko-fi is 30$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION.

Rules and Disclaimer

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST

PILE 1

Page pentacles, 2 swords (reverse), magician (reverse), page wands (reverse)

Their touch is going to make u reminisce about all the time u let someone else touch your body in ways u settle for. Like u never really wanted them to touch but you were to fucking lonely to refuse the act knowing damm well they were using u. Also they were not treating you correctly. They touch is going to make all the monster go away. All the time you were touch with little cares all forgiven to make place with memories of they’re caring touch. Some of y’all have self harm scars, suicide attempt scaring, they will caress it with so much love and thank u everytime for the fact that u stay even thought it was hard. They are grateful upon every stars that u’re self sabotaging behavior never got the best of u otherwise they would have never met u. Some of u don’t think you have a pretty pussy. Maybe u feel like u’re lips of too big or that they are not the same color as the rest of your cooch. Hey, they will to touch your pussy. Always munching with happiness. Others u are not circumcised, don’t matter they bumping their month on your dick with happiness in their eyes. Some of y’all have religious trauma, like your ex-environment made you think that sex is forbidden. Y’all don’t even like touching yourself. Even though u left a long time ago, u can’t seem to shake those fears off. They are going to take their time with u and respect which one of your boundaries. At the end, you might still not like getting head but u are not going to feel as uncomfortable with the concept of it after their healing touch. Some of y’all have some vaginismus, I see them learning about it. So they can help u heal and respect the boundaries set by your body. I see them introducing the first toys before even going in themself. Until they are not sure u are ok, there’s no jumping the big boy. If you have endometriosis/PCOS, they will stop penetration sex and alter to fingering to make sure not to disturb the peace of the uterus before the big week. For all my pillow prince/princess today is your big day, they love leading. They don’t care if you spend the whole relationship on a pink/blue pillow. They love it for you. Their touch will still be playful. They will love to tickle u. Also they will love placing a hand on your stomach, even slepping on it. Especially my masculine energy, your pump stomach is literally their safe place. They will love giving you a good handjob while staring into your eyes (y’all probably have deep brown eyes) and caressing your stomach.

💌 : Honestly Pile one, they are not going to be able to let go of you. Might be clingy, also they love language is physical touch. Will love updating you throughout the day. If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 2

4 wands (reverse), King cups (reverse), Hanged man, 6 swords

They love to have their hands on your private parts on all times, not in a creepy way. They would be driving and suddenly here u go, being a finger fucked passager princess. If you are an owner of a dick, u better drive with both hands on the wheel because at any moment, they may start giving u a blowjob . If you have boobs, they will have they hand on them all the time. Not even in a sexual way but because it becomes their habit. Y’all might not give a fuck at some point, until somebody stare at u in public. U end up apologizing while glaring at u’re partner making sure to get they hands the fuck out your top. They are very sensitive to your reaction. Let’s say they wanna give u a hug and u move slightly away … here comes the overthinking. If they try a new move on u in bed but u don’t moan as good as usual. They don’t reproduce it. If u give an excellent reactions, they will put that move on rotation. Also if you have painful period cramps, they will message you stomach. If you have to go regularly to the doc, they will always try their best to be there and hold your hand. Touch = love regarding your future lover. They will caress your face when u speak. Tie your hair when your hand is busy. To my burn out babe that are trying their best or my type B babe who is always so damn clumsy, they will always be behind u giving u a hand. Even when u give them head, they still worry about your well being. I’m hearing : ‘’ Baby I don’t care, if u care or not. I love when (moan) u are giving (whimper) head and are comfortable’’ before attempting to tie your hair. After a week of bad depressive episodes they will run you a bath. When they sense that u are starting to distance yourself, they will always have an hand on your waist, on your leg, shoulder any fucking where. Just to keep u from leaving with your bad thoughts. All this stand for my man in the audience, your next babe don’t play about you. Their touch heal making u realize how much you DO matter.

💌: If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 3

King wands (reverse), page wands (reverse), page cups, ace pentacles

Straight from the beginning I’m getting a bad girl/boy from your person. They push everyone away but you. Actually they only see you. They don’t see any other women/men. They don’t even care about their own parents, the way they care about you. Your future person may have experienced deep trauma from age 8 - 10 years old, every night. Since is not the reading for and I did not ask for permission, I will not dive deeper into their lore. They touch = fire, when they lay their fingerprints on u, it is like your whole body is in heat. They enjoy mixing pain and pleasure. A fan of breathing plays because they get to squeeze your neck safely to give you pleasure. Loves squeezing you in general. If you have boobs, will love to squeeze them until it hurts. If you are a man, love to pinch your nipple until they see a little bit of blood even. They will also enjoy putting pressure on your balls while giving you a handjob. They are very experience lover. Probably have 15+ body. They love to play game with y’all. I’m hearing: ‘’ Let’s see how many times I can make u cum in a minute, princess…’’. If you are a man, they will love to eat your ass. If they lose you, they lose everything. They will probably haunt until they find you back again. They will NEVER raise their hand on u and NEVER yell at you. I see a vision of a text conversation.

U : jhabwdbcaw

Them : hey babe, is everything ok …

U: auijdxja party hbduiAHBNDIL

Them: Can u give the phone (one of your friend).

U: But I wannnnnna takcfjawo to u

Them: I know but I wanna see you. Can you please give the phone ?

U: abxda yes hnqcfu

Them: Give the phone, love.

Their touch is very gentle but very practical. Gently take your makeup off when u come back drunk. Gently draw into your tattoo if you are a man. Will casually lift up bridal style when they see dozing off while studying. If you are a guy, will softly wake you up and guide u to the bedroom.

💌: If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 4

Knight wands (reverse), Lovers (reverse), Emperor (reverse), Strength (reverse)

Touch = understanding, will give u a tap on the shoulder to encourage you. Will caress your arm while y’all are arguing. There’s a use of: ‘’ Good girl/boy’’ in y’all relationships. When they see you grabbing the sheet, while they are down to town, that’s when they know you are on cloud 9. The only time they will stop munching even if you have already orgasm. They will love to caress your inner thighs. Pass a sneaky hand on your tits. Loves making you want more, like I see y’all making out and they are barely touching your tits while you are caressing their body. Have a very brat energy. Love to get on your last nerve because they know you will punish them. That’s what gets them going. Has a high sex drive can go round and round in the same day but it will always start with some kind of teasing.

💌 : Y'all are going to have an amazing communication. I sense that both of y'all are yappers. Y'all are messy, you love to call each other at the end of the day and share the tea on what's going on. They will never let you go to sleep angry. I see a vision of you mad even at them but y'all still cuddling. You guy are in silence, they know they mess up but they refuse to leave on your own. Better they let you gather your thoughts with them. They may have a trauma about somebody that die on them in a middle on text con versation. That's why they can't let u go when u are mad. Don't get them wrong, they won't force u to hug them or talk. If you can't handle looking at them, they will tare at the wall, while u are in the bed thinking. If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

#tarot #tarot reading #pac #tarotcommunity #pick a card #tarot cards #pick a picture #divination #pick a pile #18+ tarot #love reading #future spouse tarot #future spouse

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pedroscowgirl · 3 months ago

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I know places

Professor!Joel miller x fem!college student (legal)reader

This is part 2 of this story. So pls read that one first if you haven't yet :))/ Main masterlist | part 3

Warnings!! smutt so minors DNI Big age gap(it's legal and reader is in college), power imbalence (professor x student), no!outbreak, possesive joel, jealousy, size kink, p in v (wrap it up), breeding, risk of getting caught, Joel is able to pick reader up, reader is able bodied, lmk if i forgot something! wc: 2,2k A/n: I kinda hurried this one cuz I'm so excited for the next chapter but i hope you still like this. And excuse my Spanish if it's not right and lmk if you want me to tag you for the next chapter! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated cuz i love ti know what y'all think of it :)) Also I've given up on moodboards cuz it took me longer to find a good one than to write this fic

Weeks passed, and in that time, you found yourself gravitating toward another presence on campus. Professor Ramirez was charismatic, sharp-witted, and effortlessly charming in a way that made it easy to talk to him. His warmth contrasted with Joel’s brooding intensity, and you soon found yourself spending more time in his office, seeking him out between lectures, sharing inside jokes, and slipping into easy conversations in Spanish—something that only made your connection feel even more intimate.

One afternoon, after yet another of your engaging discussions, you stepped out of Professor Ramirez’s office, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder when his voice followed you into the hallway.

“¿Nos vemos mañana?” (See you tomorrow?) he asked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

You turned back, flashing him a playful smile. “Sí, claro, hasta mañana.” (Yes, of course, until tomorrow.)

There was something undeniably flirtatious about the way you said it, the way you lingered for just a moment too long, biting your lip before finally waving goodbye. The moment felt lighthearted, harmless even—until you turned around and locked eyes with Joel.

He had just stepped out of his office, standing a few feet away, watching the exchange unfold in real time. His expression was unreadable, his brows slightly furrowed as his gaze flickered between you and Professor Ramirez before settling on you, filled with something dangerous, something possessive.

Your breath hitched, but you schooled your features into indifference, forcing yourself to turn away and walk rapidly toward the elevator at the end of the hall. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of guilt, and something else you refused to name making your steps quicker.

The elevator doors were nearly closed when suddenly, a foot shot between them, forcing them open. Joel stepped in, his broad frame taking up space, his presence immediately suffocating. The doors slid shut with a soft ding, sealing you both inside.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How do we always end up in the elevator togheter?” he mused, his tone light, almost teasing, though there was a tension in his voice that betrayed him.

You crossed your arms, keeping your gaze locked on the metallic doors in front of you. “Because I’m too fucking lazy to take the stairs,” you shot back, your voice laced with irritation.

Joel chuckled softly, but the sound didn’t hold any real amusement. His hands found their way into his pockets, and for a moment, silence filled the confined space, the air thick with unspoken words.

Then, his voice dropped into something quieter, more serious. “I saw you with him.”

You stiffened, but still refused to look at him. “And?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “You know student-professor relationships are illegal, right?” His voice was firm, but there was something else there—something almost vulnerable beneath the authoritative tone.

You scoffed, finally turning to face him with a sharp glare. “You made that very clear last time.”

The weight of your words settled between you like a thick fog. His jaw tensed, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but knew he couldn’t.

The elevator doors slid open, and without giving him another second of your time, you stepped out, leaving him behind. You didn’t look back. You didn’t need to. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin, as you walked away, your pulse racing with the thrill of knowing exactly what you had just done.

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

The following days, your frustration lingered like a stubborn storm cloud. Joel had no right to say what he did. No right to act like he was the moral compass in your life when he had been the one to cross that line first. The thought of it gnawed at you, filling you with a mix of anger and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

It all came to a head late one evening when you found yourself alone in the library, lost in thought as you absently flipped through the pages of a book. The air shifted before you even saw him—you felt it. That unmistakable presence.

Joel.

You didn’t look up. Instead, you turned another page, feigning indifference. But he wasn’t buying it. He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, his eyes scanning your face carefully.

“You’ve been avoidin’ me,” he finally said, voice lower than usual.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose. “Maybe I just don’t feel like being lectured again.”

Joel sighed, leaning forward on the table, hands clasped together. “That’s not what I was doin’.”

You snapped the book shut, finally meeting his gaze. “Really? Because that’s exactly what it felt like.” Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. “You’re worried about me having something with another professor now? Are you scared he’ll fuck me before you get to?”

His jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a tooth. His fingers twitched where they rested on the table, his entire body wound up like a spring about to snap.

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You leaned forward, challenging him. “Oh, I think I do.”

His nostrils flared, and for a moment, you thought he might get up and leave. But he didn’t. He just sat there, watching you, a storm brewing in those dark eyes. The weight of his stare sent a thrill through your spine, but you refused to look away first.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game, darlin’.”

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have engaged in it.”

The tension was thick enough to suffocate, but before either of you could say another word, a group of students entered the library, breaking the spell. Joel exhaled sharply, standing up without another glance your way.

But as he walked past you, he muttered low enough for only you to hear, “This ain’t over.”

And you knew, without a doubt, that it wasn’t.

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

Joel’s jealousy had been growing more and more for days. Every time your hand lingered on Professor Ramirez’s arm, every flirtatious smile you threw his way, every time you spoke to him in soft, teasing Spanish—it all drove Joel insane. And you knew it. You loved pushing him, making him watch, making him burn with something he refused to name.

Tonight, you decided to take it even further. You slipped into a miniskirt again, pairing it with knee-high socks—the same kind that had once left Joel speechless. The halls were quiet, most students and staff already gone for the night, leaving just you and Ramirez standing outside his office, finishing up your conversation before parting ways.

Then his hand landed on your waist. Light, casual, but lingering. His face was close, his breath warm as he murmured something lowly to you. It didn’t even matter what he said—you knew what it looked like. And just as you expected, Joel saw.

He stepped forward, his presence impossible to ignore, his voice cutting through the moment like a blade.

“Young lady, can I talk to you?”

His tone left no room for argument. Ramirez stiffened at the interruption, hesitating before nodding and stepping away, leaving in a hurry—so fast he even forgot to lock his office door.

Silence hung heavy between you and Joel, the air thick with tension. Then suddenly, his lips crashed onto yours.

You gasped into the kiss, caught completely off guard by the force of it, by the way his hands gripped you like he was claiming you, like he was staking his territory. It was rough, desperate, fueled by weeks of frustration and jealousy. He barely gave you a second to process before lifting you off the ground with ease, pushing the door open and stepping inside Ramirez’s office, kicking it shut behind him.

Your back hit the desk, your fingers tangling into his hair as he kissed you deeper, hungrier. His hands slid up your thighs, squeezing, gripping, possessive in a way that made you whimper. The wetness between your legs grew unbearable—you had wanted this, craved this, and now it was finally happening.

Joel pulled away just enough to look at you, his pupils blown, his breathing heavy.

“You really think I was gonna let him have you before I did?” he rasped, voice dark with something dangerously close to obsession.

He slid your panties down, leaving your skirt bunched around your waist, his rough hands spreading warmth across your bare skin. The cool air sent a shiver through you, but it was nothing compared to the way he looked at you—like he owned you, like he was about to ruin you.

His belt clinked as he unfastened it, the sound making your stomach tighten in anticipation. Then his pants hit the floor, and without warning, he thrust into you. A sharp scream tore from your throat, the sudden fullness overwhelming.

Joel chuckled darkly, his breath warm against your ear. "Baby, I’m not even half in."

Your wide eyes darted downward, taking in the sight of him stretching you, so much more than you had expected. A flicker of fear flashed across your face—fear that he wouldn’t fit, that he might break you in half. He caught the look and laughed, his fingers gripping your waist tighter.

"Don’t worry, darling," he murmured, dragging his lips along your jaw. "I’ll make it fit."

His hands found the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head in one swift motion. He paused, his dark eyes gleaming as he took in the sight of your bare chest.

"No bra?" he mused, amusement curling at the edge of his lips. "You’re such a little whore… not even wearing one for your other professor."

A sharp smack landed against your breast, making you gasp, your back arching into his touch.

"No," you moaned, breathless. "It was for you, Joel."

He smirked, his grip tightening as he brought his mouth down to your nipple, sucking harshly before biting just enough to make you cry out. His other hand roamed over your waist, down between your thighs, fingers teasing where you were already dripping for him.

"Call me professor, baby," he muttered against your skin.

Your breath hitched as he lifted you effortlessly, guiding you down onto him inch by inch until he was buried deep inside you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, overwhelmed by the stretch, the fullness. Before you could adjust, he carried you across the room, pressing you against the bookcase with a possessive growl.

Then he moved.

Each thrust sent books tumbling to the floor, the sound barely registering over your moans. He fucked you like he meant to leave his mark, like he needed to remind you exactly who you belonged to. His grip on your hips was bruising, his pace relentless, each snap of his hips sending shockwaves through your body.

"So fuckin’ tight," he groaned, biting at your throat, marking you in ways that wouldn’t fade overnight. "Bet he couldn’t make you feel like this."

Your moans turned to cries, your fingers scrambling for purchase against the shelves as he took you harder, deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the office, mingling with the creak of the bookcase and the ragged breaths you both shared.

A wicked smirk curled on his lips as a thought crossed his mind. He leaned in, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. "Do you find it hot? Knowing I’m fucking you in his office? Knowing he could return anytime?"

The thought alone sent you spiraling. Your walls clenched around him so tight he groaned, his grip tightening as he fucked you even harder, his chuckle dark and knowing. "I’ll take that as a yes." A whimper escaped your throat, your body trembling as the heat coiled tighter inside you.

He pulled back slightly, his dark gaze locking onto yours. "Imagine it, baby. Imagine him walking in right now, seeing you like this, pinned up against his bookcase, dripping for me, coming all over my cock. You think he’d be jealous? “The bookcase rattled with every snap of his hips, books tumbling, papers scattering.

"Joel—" your voice was a broken plea, and he knew exactly what you needed.

"Come for me, baby," he ordered, his fingers pressing harder against your clit, his pace relentless. "Be a good girl and let me feel you."

The pressure inside you shattered, and you came with a sharp cry, your body trembling violently as pleasure crashed over you. Your nails raked down his back, your legs tightening around him as waves of ecstasy wracked your frame.

Joel groaned deep in his chest, his thrusts turning erratic before he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you with a possessive growl. He stayed there for a moment, both of you panting, bodies slick with sweat.

Slowly, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips curving into that damn smirk. "Told you I’d make it fit."

And you knew, without a doubt, that this wouldn’t be the last time.

Not even close.

Taglist: @morganlolitta lmk if u wanna be added

#joel miller x reader #joel tlou smut #joel smut #joel miller smut #tlou joel smut #tlou joel miller smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller imagine

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writing-girlie · 2 months ago

Text

Push & Pull • Part 2

Pairing: Intern!Reader x Mentor!Michael Robinavitch & Platonic Reader x Langdon

Blurb: Robby has fought his feelings for weeks, but after a teasing push from Langdon, he can't hold back any longer. Confronted in a quiet room, he admits what he's been trying to deny—he wants you. Now, there's no going back.

WC: 2.3k

Part 1 is here / Part 3 is here

Note: Willing to write Part 3 if y'all want it, thinking about making it smutty but if you don't want that lmk

Robby had been keeping his distance for a few weeks now, and you had let him. What once had been easy and playful had become something else entirely. He had drawn a line, and you felt it. Every time he walked past you without a word. Every time he spoke to you in clipped, professional tones. Every time his eyes skimmed over you like you were just another intern.

Except, he wasn’t perfect at it because even though he tried to act indifferent, his body betrayed him. Like now.

Robby stood across the nurses’ station, reviewing a chart. His shoulders were stiff, the grip on his pen a little too tight. He was aware of you. You could feel it when you laughed at something Dr. Langdon had said.

"You know," Langdon drawled, stepping closer to you, voice low enough for only you to hear. "For someone who's supposedly ignoring you, Robby sure as hell keeps looking over here."

You didn’t turn your head, but you didn’t need to. You felt it.

"You’re imagining things," you murmured, flipping through your notes.

Langdon let out a brief laugh. "Please. That man is suffering."

You finally glanced up at him, arching a brow. "Are you enjoying this?"

His smirk widened. "Immensely." Then, with a sudden movement, he leaned in just a little too close, resting his elbow on the counter beside you, angling his body towards yours. His voice dipped, smooth and teasing. "You know, if he really wants to keep pretending he doesn’t care, maybe we should give him something to really be jealous about."

You smirk and shake your head. "You’re ridiculous."

"Am I?" Langdon hummed. "Because I think it’s working." Langdon leaned in even closer, voice barely above a whisper. "He’s going to snap. Just a little more of my flirting and he'll drag you to the supply closet"

Your pulse quickened slightly “Shut up” You push his arm softly.

You weren’t playing along. You humoured Langdon, sure, but you didn’t lean into it. You didn’t flirt back, didn’t give him more than a casual smirk or an eye-roll. You weren’t interested but Robby didn’t know that.

He only saw the proximity, the way Langdon spoke to you in low, teasing tones, the way your body language remained open in his presence. He saw Langdon Place his hand on your back, and the way you didn’t immediately move away and it was getting to him.

He strode closer and called out your name.

The single word cut through the air like a blade, firm and controlled. You turned, finding Robby standing there, his expression unreadable.

Langdon, for all his amusement, merely grinned. "Dr. Robby," Langdon greeted smoothly. "Something wrong?"

Robby didn’t even spare him a glance. His eyes were on you. "I need you in Trauma 3. Now."

There was no room for argument in his tone.

You hesitated, glancing at Langdon, who winked at you before stepping back. "Better not keep the boss waiting," he murmured. 'Have fun' he mouthed as you began to move.

You exhaled sharply before following Robby down the hall, your heartbeat drumming a little faster than it should have been.

Trauma 3 was quiet. Too quiet, there was no one moving or making orders. The second you stepped inside, Robby closed the door behind you then stood in front of it

You turned, blinking. "Where’s the patient? What's the situ-"

"There isn’t one," he admitted.

Your brows furrowed. "So you dragged me in here for..?" you let the last word drag on a moment.

"Langdon needs to stop."

The words came out tight, clipped. His posture was rigid, his hands planted on his hips, as if he was barely holding something back.

You stared at him, folding your arms. "Stop what?"

Robby exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to keep his patience in check. "Flirting with you."

A slow, smile curves at your lips. "Flirting with me? Since when do you care about that?"

His jaw tightened. "I don’t."

You let out a dry laugh, stepping closer just to push him a little. "Right. That’s why you’re standing here, all tense and brooding, looking like you want to harm someone"

His gaze locked with yours, something dark flickering behind his eyes. "I don’t want to harm him."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "No? Because it kinda seemed like you did back there."

Robby took a breath, steadying himself. "He’s doing it on purpose."

"Yes, and?"

His brows furrowed. "And you’re letting him."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. "Letting him? Am I supposed to control how he acts now?"

"You’re not stopping him," Robby countered, voice lower now, tighter as he takes two steps toward you.

You then stepped closer, the tension between you so thick it was suffocating. "You want me to push him away? Why? So you don’t have to deal with how much it bothers you? What if I like the attention from him?"

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

“Talk to him if you have a problem with flirting in your ER then maybe take a look at yourself.” You walk past him and out the door.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The rest of the shift passed in a blur of movement and noise, but you felt every second of it. Every time you caught a glimpse of Robby, every time his voice cut through the chaos of the ER, every time you were too aware of the space between you and how deliberate it was, it felt so much heavier now.

You were signing off a chart at the nurses’ station when Langdon appeared at your side. “So,” his voice heavy with amusement, “on a scale of one to he confessed everything, how was it?”

You let out a slow breath, closing the chart in front of you. “He told me to make you stop flirting with me.”

Langdon grinned, his eyes lighting up like he’d just been given the best news of his life. “Oh, that’s beautiful, and?” He urges you to go on.

You turned to face him fully. “And he was seething, Langdon. Trying to act like he wasn’t, but it was obvious.”

Langdon clicked his tongue. “Poor Robby. So close to admitting it, yet still so stubborn.” Then he gave you a look, one full of knowing amusement. “And you? How’d it feel having him look at you like that?”

You ignore his question and fold your arms. “Why are you so hell-bent on making him snap?”

Langdon’s smirk deepened. “Because he wants to.” You frowned, but he continued before you could interrupt.

“He’s dying too. He’s barely holding it together, and every time I flirt with you, it pushes him closer to the edge.” Langdon tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. “And you? You’re not exactly unaffected either.”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “You’re stirring up something you have no business messing with.”

Langdon gave you a lazy grin. “Or maybe I’m just giving him permission to feel what he already does.”

You met his gaze, trying to gauge just how much of this was a game to him and how much was something else. “Why do you care?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Because it’s rare to see someone like Robby lose control. He’s spent his whole life keeping it together, being the guy who doesn’t crack, doesn’t get caught up in things that aren’t logical. But you?” Langdon’s smirk softened into something almost admiring. “You get under his skin. And that?” He gave a satisfied nod. “That’s something worth watching.”

You exhaled, glancing toward the hallway where Robby had disappeared earlier. The air between you and him had changed. You could feel it.

Langdon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “You know he won’t last much longer, right?”

You turned back to him, brow raised.

“He’s going to break,” Langdon continued. “And when he does, I hope you’re ready for it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Robby isn’t the kind of man who gives himself permission to want something, not fully. You’re the one thing he can’t ignore.” He paused, as if letting you process that before adding, “and you’re making him feel things he’s never allowed himself to fully feel.”

You tilted your head, as you absorbed Langdon’s words. There was something almost fascinating about how he seemed to understand Robby so well.

"He’ll either let you in fully, or he’ll shut you out completely. These lines that he’s drawn? They won’t exist anymore. It’s going to be all or nothing for him."

“Shut me out, you mean like what he's doing now?”

“No,” he said, tilting his head slightly as if considering his words. “What he’s doing now? That’s him trying to convince himself he’s still in control.”

“God, he's gonna hate me” You state, you pinch the bridge of your nose.

Langdon’s laughs softly “He won’t hate you. He’ll hate that you’ve made him feel something he can’t ignore.”

You frowned, trying to shake off the weight of his words. “It’s a disaster waiting to happen.” You sighed, anxiety crawling up your chest. “What if it all goes wrong?”

Langdon shook his head, dismissing your thought. “Then you two will figure it out. You both want this and you're both stubborn, neither of you will just give up easily.” A nurse than calls his name “Gotta go” he gently pats your arm.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next day unfolded with the same heavy tension in the air. Except today you knew what you wanted. You needed to push Robby over the edge, no matter the result, and Langdon was just the person who could help her do that.

You told him what to do and when to do it. As the end of your shift was approaching Langdon caught your eye, silently asking if you were sure. You give him a brief nod. Robby was on the other side of the nurses station and would have a perfect view.

You stand at the desk, looking through a file when Langdon walks up to you. His hands rest either side of you, keeping you in his vicinity and his chin rests on your shoulder.

“I better not get reprimanded for this you softly chuckle, turning your head towards Langdon.

He smiles at your tone. “You won't.” He then let's his lips graze your cheek.

"You’re playing with fire," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Langdon smirked. "And yet, you’re the one who asked me to light the match."

Before you could respond, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Robby called out for you. You didn’t turn immediately, just felt his presence, the heat of his gaze burning into you. When you finally looked, his grip on the chart in his hands was tight, knuckles white.

Robby didn’t acknowledge Langdon. His eyes were on you. "With me. Now."

You arched a brow, feigning innocence. "Excuse me?"

"Now."

Langdon takes a step to the side allowing you to follow Robby, you go down the hallway and into a small sitting room.

Robby’s hand slammed against the door as he closed it behind you both, his body blocking the exit, trapping you in the small, dimly lit room. The tension between you both felt unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words. He didn’t waste a second before speaking.

“Are you interested in Langdon?” His gaze was hard, his jaw clenched.

You shook your head quickly, desperate to ease the sudden weight of the moment. “No,” you answered firmly, trying to meet his gaze, but his intensity was overwhelming.

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Then why let him get so close to you? Why let him touch you like that?”

You felt your heart race, knowing what this conversation was really about. Taking a slow breath, you finally spoke, your voice softer now. “It wasn’t me, Robby. It was Langdons idea. He saw how you were at first. Said you seemed happier than normal near me, but then you pulled away. You were cold, distant to basically everyone.” You paused, your throat tightening as the next words came. “He said you deserve something good. That I was that good thing but he knew that you wouldn't allow yourself to let go.” You looked away, ashamed, even though you knew it wasn’t your fault. “I'm so sorry I don't know why I let it happen, I should've told him it was stupid and wrong to try and push you especially after the talk you had with me.” The words just pour out of your mouth.

Robby stood motionless for a moment, just letting you talk. “I didn’t want to pull away, not from you,” he murmured, as if speaking to himself. “I don’t know how to deal with this. With you.” His voice was softer but full of conflict. “Everything between us... it’s not easy. I didn’t want to complicate it.”

You swallowed, your heart aching as you took a step closer to him. “You don’t have to pretend anymore,” you whispered.

He stepped back slightly, running a hand through his hair, as if battling himself. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I try to push it down, it just comes back stronger. You’ve got me all messed up inside. I’ve tried not to feel anything, but I can’t.”

His confession was a raw admission, and it left you breathless. You took another step forward, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel the same way, Robby. I’ve been trying to ignore it too, trying to pretend but I can’t. I want you.”

“I’ve spent years building walls around myself, not letting people get too close” he reasons.

You step forward, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “My plan isn't to make you uncomfortable, I'm not saying let's jump into a relationship right now, just let each other in like we started to. We can take our time”

He nods “Alright, Yeah. We're not in a hurry” His arm pulls away from your comforting gesture and he takes your hand. “One step at a time.” You gently squeeze his hand. “Let's start with dinner. Tonight at mine”

You nod. “That sounds nice”

#dr robby x reader #dr robby fanfic #the pitt fanfic #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt #the pitt imagine

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