randomfangirlof

[randomfangirlof]

This look was chefs kiss. He had a hair tie and a dream

[randomfangirlof]

hi!! is it possible for you to write one for lewis pullman in general or bob floyd inspired by this

Meet The Parents (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: After 6 months of dating, Bob is incredibly nervous to meet your parents. Even after you dress him up and reassure him that he'll be just fine, you're surprised by how well he does.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k WARNINGS: Fluff. Making out and implied smut. Reader has had an embarrassing dating history. NOTES: My first ever request! I was already planning on doing a meet the parents sort of thing for Bob so it was perfect! Feel free to send ideas to my 'ask me anything'! MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Bob had been… a nervous wreck. Y/n spent all night and morning reassuring him that it was going to be just fine. She took the opportunity to dress him up like a doll that afternoon. So he stood in a crisp white shirt tucked into a nice pair of jeans, fidgeting as he cleaned his glasses for what felt like the millionth time today. She came by with the USS Midway hat they had bought when they visited the museum a few months back. As he put his glasses back on, she put the hat on his head and smiled up at him.

“You’re gonna be just fine. Trust me, they’re gonna love you.” She reassured.

This was the first time Bob was meeting her family. In fact, it was the first time he was going to be meeting the family of a girl he was dating. He wasn’t exactly experienced in the love life department, and he had never made it this far with the very few girls he did date back in high school. So after six months of dating Y/n, she suggested it, and he nodded eagerly to the idea. 

But now that it was the day… He felt more nervous than he did when he and Phoenix did a carrier landing. 

“You should let me dress you more often. God, you look so good.” She said, biting her thumb and eyeing him up and down.

A bashful blush spread across his cheeks. “I’d be just fine with that.” He nodded with his little crooked smile before reaching out and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She rested her head against his chest. “Trust me, Bob. You’re the best guy I’ve ever dated. They’re just gonna be glad your hair doesn’t go down to your hips and you have a career.” She said softly.

He furrowed his brows.

“Did you date guys like that?”

She smiled against his shirt. “Mmmm… I’ll let my mom tell you that story.”

After a forty-five-minute drive, Bob parked the baby blue pickup outside her parents' house. It was a nice little two-story with light blue wood paneling and white accents. A small porch was lit up by string lights her dad had installed. It even had a white picket fence surrounding it. The inside of the house was lit with a cozy orange that poured out the windows, matching the setting sun. He swallowed. It looked absolutely lovely.

Y/n, in the passenger seat, reached over and squeezed his hand. 

“Look, my parents are a bit… eccentric, but they’re so so friendly. I promise.” She said, “Just be your perfect self.”

He nodded, feeling a little better at the warning. He took the key out of the ignition and stepped out so he could open the door for her. Even with just this, she knew her family would eat him up.

She took his hand and stepped down from the truck. The muffled sound of ABBA’s Dancing Queen and laughter could be heard blasting from inside. Her cheeks blushed a little at that, but she looked up to see Bob’s nervous expression. She reached up and cupped his face to kiss him.

“Let’s do this.” 

He nodded with a small smile on his face now and held her hand.

They walked through the gate and up the porch steps, and Bob looked around curiously at everything. When she rang the doorbell, he focused his attention back on the door.

The door swung open to reveal her mom, and wow, she looked just like Y/n, only with thinner hair. ABBA blasted even louder now that the door was open. 

“Y/N!” She threw her arms out, and the girls hugged. It had been quite a while since she had last come to visit. Work felt like it had been taking over her life. 

When they separated, her mom looked over to find Bob. Her lips curved into a smile. “And you must be the famous Bob.”

Bob nodded and put his hand out for her to shake. “Hi, Ms. Y/l/n.” He said nervously. 

Her mom used his hand to pull him in for a hug. Surprised, he chuckled and hugged her back. 

“He’s handsome.” Her mom mouthed to her as Bob patted her back, oblivious.

She rolled her eyes, and her mom suddenly turned back.

“Guys! Y/n’s here with her boyfriend.” She said, gesturing for them to come in.

As they entered, Bob admired the house’s white walls and paneling inside. It looked clean, like a real estate open house. Pictures lined the walls of the entryway, and Bob looked at them with a small smile. He pointed to one of a young Y/n in a Little Mermaid Halloween costume. His lip pouted in a ‘so cute’ fashion. 

“Oh god, I’m sure my mom’s gonna love showing every photo of me to ever exist. She collects them like trading cards.” She chuckled as they walked through

They walked into the main living area and found chaos. Her dad cussed like a sailor as he got out a tray of lasagna from the oven. Smoke suddenly plumed through the kitchen. Her college-aged brother was opening a window as fast as he could while their little teen sister was screaming about smelling like smoke. All while ABBA played discordantly in the background. 

She turned to Bob. “Welcome to my circus.” She chuckled.

“Jesus Christ, Christopher.” Her mom scolded her dad as he put the lasagna on the counter.

“What?! What? It’s still edible. I’ll scrape it off the top.” He said, dipping a butter knife in and tasting the cheese. He turned around to see Bob standing awkwardly next to Y/n. “OH! Hi-” 

Her dad took his oven mitts off and walked over instantly putting his hand out to shake it. “I’m Chris. Nice to meet ya.” And when Bob shook his hand, her dad smiled, “Good grip. Always like to see that.” 

Bob chuckled, “Bob. Thanks for having me.” He said, and she looked up at him. He was a natural. She had no idea why he was so worried. If anything, SHE should’ve been the worried one with her sometimes borderline dysfunctional family. Sure, Bob was a little timid- but he wasn’t exactly shy either. He could talk to people and make conversation. And that’s just what she needed.

Her little sister and brother waved at him from the dining table. 

“Bob, this is my little sister Lily, and this is my younger brother Darren.” She said, pointing to them.

Bob waved back. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Meanwhile, her mom turned down the speakers so that 70s disco wasn’t pounding into every recess of their brains.

“Is it true that you’re a pilot?” Lily asked.

Bob nodded. “Kinda. I’m a Weapon Systems Officer for the Navy. So I sit in the back and monitor everything.”

Her dad whistled. “Tough job. Gotta be real smart to do that.”

And Y/n couldn’t resist the smile of pride that grew on her face. “He is.” She said, reaching down and squeezing his hand. It was impossible to miss his eyes softening at her. He felt a sense of accomplishment in her seeming proud of him. Even if there was a small feeling of being shown off like an award-winning pig. 

After a moment, her dad waved the steam off the lasagna. “Well, dinner’s pretty much done. Kids go set the table-”

And Bob immediately went to help. She sucked in a breath as she watched Bob follow Darren and grab some place mats. He didn’t have to at all; he was a guest for godssakes. Yet he was smiling softly, looking around for the silverware to add. Lily showed him the drawer. He fit right in. And that left her with a warm feeling that spread throughout her chest.

Her mom leaned over.

“I like this guy already.”

Sitting around the dinner table, it became Let’s Expose Y/n hour. As she poked at her lasagna, Darren started to laugh to himself.

“Remember how Y/n couldn’t figure out how to cut steak until college?”

“DARREN!” She squealed, putting her hands to her cheeks to hide her embarrassed blush. That was a mortifying fact that nobody needed to know outside her family. But it seemed like Darren and Lily already wanted Bob to be part of that. 

Her dad laughed and shook his head. “It was like watching someone try and start a fire. She’d stab the fork straight down the middle and try and cut the opposite way.” 

Bob couldn’t help but look over at her and chuckle. She looked back over at him with an embarrassed mix of a frown and a smile.

“I can cut my own steak now.” She tilted her head.

“Well, I can always do it for you,” Bob answered genuinely.

That made her mom practically melt. She put her cheek in her hand.

“Where on Earth did you find a man like this?” 

“Yeah, it’s like the first actual man you’ve brought home.” Her dad commented.

Bob choked a little with a bashful smile. “Oh, I don’t know-”

“Her last boyfriend didn’t know how to pump gas,” Lily cut him off with a snort.

Her parents laughed, and Y/n groaned. Bob smiled a little. This was definitely the ego boost that he needed. 

“With my truck parked outside, I hope I’ve been doing it right,” Bob joked.

She saw a look in her dad’s eyes. An excited look of approval. Bob was a naval aviator, a gentleman, and he owned the baby blue pickup that was parked by the curb outside. She couldn’t have brought home anyone better.

“Y/n mentioned something about a guy with really long hair?” Bob asked with furrowed brows and a knowing smile before taking a bite.

The whole table erupted in cheers and groans, and even though it was an embarrassing story, she didn’t care. It was just so perfect. 

After a night of laughter and chaos, the couple walked into Y/n’s childhood bedroom. It looked like it hadn’t even been touched since she moved out. With yellow painted walls and fairy lights strung up everywhere. Movie posters and vinyl records were hung up and stored on full bookshelves. 

She casually strolled and jumped onto her old bed, eager to lie down after a hectic evening. She looked over to find Bob taking it all in. So she patted the bed next to her to grab his attention. He smiled as he climbed on to lie on top of the sheets next to her. Scooching in, she wrapped her arms around him and lay her head on his chest. His calming heartbeat thrummed in her ear. 

“Your parents are nice.” He said, bringing his arm up to scratch her scalp.

She closed her eyes with a relaxed sigh. This felt right. Of the men she had brought into her family home, it was the first time this feeling of domestic bliss had settled in her. There wasn’t a sense of shame or worry that he was gonna make a fool of himself (and thus her). Instead, he was perfectly capable of being normal, sensible, and kind around her parents and siblings. Because that’s just who he was.

“I told you. You had nothing to worry about.” She smiled softly, “I think my dad wants to date you himself.”

That made Bob break out into laughter, and seeing his face scrunch up like that was her favorite sight. They looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that were stuck on her ceiling. They stopped glowing after the first week, but she was too lazy to get the ladder and peel them off.

She propped up on her elbow and cupped his cheek, turning him in for a kiss. Today was probably the hottest thing she had ever seen. He was still dressed in the outfit and hat she had put him in, and there was something about him offering to do the dishes with her mom that lit her on fire. She kissed him deeply, and even though he was a little surprised, he wrapped his arm around her waist. It was like she couldn’t help herself, and she started moving more on top of him. 

He pulled his head back with a breathy chuckle and tilted the top of his hat so he could make space for her. “What’s all this about?” He asked with a small smile.

“Nothing. I just liked how you were with my family today.” She whispered into his lips before giving him another peck. 

“I’ll come visit every day dressed in whatever you want me to wear if it means I get to see you this happy.” He said, giving her a small kiss now.

She moved so that she was straddling one of his legs now and deepened another kiss. He still smelled like his laundry detergent and the ‘ocean mist’ cologne he knew she liked. 

“You wanna do this in your childhood bedroom?” He asked, amused against her lips, not bothering to pull away.

“If you can keep quiet.” She murmured back, leaning down to start kissing his neck.

He let out a mix between a relaxed sigh and a chuckle, and he ran his hands through the back of her hair so he could gently pull her to face him. “Sweetheart, we both know it’s not me who has a problem keeping quiet.” His thigh lifted so that it connected with her middle, and she let out a shaky sigh of relief. 

A rosy blush spread across her flustered face, and she let out a shy smile.

“Shut up.” She giggled before smashing her lips to his.

The next morning, Bob woke up to his girlfriend standing by the window and quietly talking on the phone. Well, quietly scolding on the phone.

“Nobody else can do it?” She whispered, sounding exasperated, “I’m not even near the office. I don’t even have my car.”

Bob sat up and reached for his glasses on the bedside table. He admired her even as she stood with a hand on her hip. She was still in her lilac bra and underwear, and the morning light that poured through the curtains gave her a heavenly glow. He ran his hands through his birds nest of sandy blonde and leaned on his elbow, just watching her.

After a few minutes, she hung up and turned to him. She crawled back on the bed towards him. “Guess who has to go fix fires at work… I’m sorry, baby. We might have to cut the trip short.” She said sadly.

Bob opened his arms, and she straddled his lap. It wasn’t sensual this time. It was just him holding her and looking up at her with the utmost love in his eyes. 

He let his fingers trace up and down her spine. “Well, we can always come back.” He said softly. 

“That’s a lot of gas for a job that’ll take like an hour tops, baby.” She replied, running her fingers through his hair, trying to fix it.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to spend time with your family. I don’t mind…” He said, “Hey, how about you take the truck and I stay here.”

Her head tilted with big eyes. “Would that be okay?”

“Of course.” He said with his crooked little smile.

“You gonna be able to survive my parents? They’ll make you do karaoke or watch some horrible action movie no one’s even heard of.”

“I think I can manage.” He said before leaning up to kiss her.

Y/n strutted into the office, not happy. She immediately got onto the computer and checked over the files. Yeah, somehow there was a corruption in the hard drive, but luckily she knew a few ways to try and go back in the history. 

After around an hour, she sighed in frustration. How did the new guys manage to even do this? It was like they had somehow made the work drive disappear into thin air. This was gonna take longer than the quick turnaround she assumed it would be. 

In defeat, she grabbed her phone and FaceTimed Bob. Her heart pattered a little against her chest. Hopefully, he wasn’t feeling out of place, or that her parents weren’t intimidating him. Or that her siblings weren’t questioning him about every single aspect of his life. 

The tone rang a few times, and she furrowed her brows. Maybe he went back to sleep after she left?

Then, suddenly, a low angle of Bob’s face appeared on screen. The clear blue sky was behind his head. He looked down at the camera. 

“Hey, baby. What’s up?” He said, smiling, but then he looked over at somebody. She could hear Bidi Bidi Bom Bom playing on the outdoor speakers.

She brightened. “Hey, uh- I’m gonna be a little longer than I thought. I should hopefully be in time before dinner, though.”

“Okay!” He said cheery, the reflection of the phone in his glasses, “I’m playing cornhole with your parents so I can’t talk for very long anyway.”

What. She bursted out laughing and put her hand to her mouth. It made it worse when Bob turned the camera to show her parents in their swimsuits across from him with bean bags in their hands. Her laughter could be heard across the cubicles.

“Have fun, Bob. Tell my parents I said hi.” She put her fingers to her eyes with a grin, unable to stop giggling. 

“I will!” He said back, “Love you, bye.” 

He hung up the phone, and she leaned back in her office chair, trying to suppress her laughter. Yeah. Bob was gonna fit right in. 

[randomfangirlof]

B-A-B-Y (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: On a Monday morning, Rooster and Hangman bring Bob and Phoenix to a local diner, and Bob’s instantly smitten with the waitress singing along to the jukebox. Next thing he knows, “Diner Mondays” become a squad tradition… and so does watching Bob fall harder every week while the rest of the Daggers try to get him to finally ask her out. WORD COUNT: 2.7k WARNINGS: Fluff. Tooth rotting fluff. Reader wears glasses. NOTES: Yes. Like Baby Driver. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

It was an early Monday morning, and Bob was awake and ready earlier than he would’ve anticipated. He always woke up early for work, and on the weekend, out of habit. But that day, he had to wake up even earlier. Rooster and Hangman insisted on going to this diner with Phoenix and him. Bob wasn’t gonna turn down the idea of a real proper breakfast before their shifts, though he knew Phoenix was gonna be grumbling the whole time. 

He pulled up in his baby blue truck to Dot’s and Joe’s, a stout metal and red building not too far from base. The sun was just rising, and it painted the sky that sleepy light blue. Spotting Rooster’s Ford Bronco and Hangman’s Jeep, he pulled up next to them right as they were getting out. 

“Mornin’ Bob,” Rooster said. They were all dressed in their khaki uniforms, knowing they would change into flight suits once they arrived at training anyway.

Bob nodded with a small smile. “Mornin’ guys.”

Hangman stretched, “Where’s your pilot?”

He shrugged. “Phoenix isn’t a morning person.”

As if on cue, her black version of Rooster’s Ford Bronco pulled up and parked next to Bob’s truck. They watched as she got out of the car, grumbling and rubbing her eyes.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Hangman teased.

“Shut the fuck up, Hangman. It’s too early for your bullshit.” She groaned, making the rest of them laugh. Only she would cuss like a sailor at five in the morning. “Why on earth would you guys want to do this?”

Rooster started walking towards the doors of the place, and the rest followed. “They’ve got quite literally the best pancakes I’ve ever had. It’ll be worth it.”

They all walked in, and Bob looked around the interior. It was like they had hopped into a time machine. The classic 60s look was clean and colorful, even if the outside of the building seemed a little worn down. Red leather seats and silver table tops. Warm fluorescents wrapped around a countertop bar. Old movie posters and pin-up art hung up on every wall while a jukebox played oldies by the kitchen door.

Rooster and Hangman led them to a nearby booth, and they scooched in. 

“It’s nice,” Bob said, nodding with a small smile.

Hangman chuckled, “Figured you of all people would like it. You look like you would’ve gotten your lunch money taken in Back to the Future.”

That made Rooster let out a laugh heartily enough to capture the attention of the staff, and Bob rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t help the smile. Okay, fine. That one was good. More original than his usual quips.

At the sound of Rooster’s laugh, the kitchen door swung open by the jukebox. A soft voice rang out. It was quiet enough for almost nobody in the diner to notice… But Bob sure did. A beautiful voice sang along to a song he didn’t recognize playing on the juke.

“B-A-B-Y. Baby. B-A-B-Y. Baby.” 

His head turned over to see a waitress in a pink uniform and a little paper hat. In most cases, he’d just see the waitress and be excited to dig into some food. But for some reason, at the sight of her, his heart flipped in his chest. She was beautiful. In knee-high socks and glasses that were similar to his, though they weren’t nearly as big and awful-looking as his own. She swayed her head to the song without a care in the world as she held a notepad and pencil. 

He didn’t even notice the rest of the squadron trying not to laugh at Bob’s obvious gawking. 

“See something you like, Floyd?” Phoenix asked with a smirk.

Bob’s head whipped back around. “What? What do you mean?” He asked quickly, making the rest of them laugh harder.

When the waitress spotted the table, she smiled and walked over. 

“You two again.” She said, stopping by and looking at Hangman and Rooster, “And you’ve brought friends.” She smiled at him, and Phoenix and Bob could’ve sworn his heart stopped. 

“Yeah, well, we had to share how good this place was,” Hangman said casually.

Bob looked at the nametag pinned on her top. Y/n. God, he was practically melting, and he was trying to resist the wiggly Charlie Brown smile that wanted to appear.

She tapped her pencil. “What were your call signs again? I remember thinking they were cool, but I can’t for the life of me remember what they were.”

Rooster nodded and pointed to himself first. “Rooster. Hangman. Then those guys over there are Phoenix and Bob.”

She tilted her head with a smile as her eyes landed on Bob properly. “It’s Bob? What’s your real name then?”

With his heart beating out of his chest, he stammered, “B-bob. It’s just Bob.” He wished he could give another answer. He wished that his call sign wasn’t as simple as it was or that he had some sort of cool name like ‘Dagger’ or ‘Striker’... But he couldn’t even pretend like Bob didn’t fit him perfectly.

She laughed. “I like it. I like it a lot.” 

She liked his name.

Hangman cut in, “We’ve made it stand for Baby on Board. He’s a backseater.”

“Oh, so like a WSO?” 

She knew what that was? This conversation was just getting better and better, even with Hangman’s attempts to embarrass him.

Bob nodded, barely able to speak.

“That’s pretty awesome. My dad was Navy, so I like seeing ya’ll pop up here since we’re so close to North Island.” She explained, “Well, Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, and Baby, what can I get started for ya?”

That wasn’t his call sign, and if it was, it would’ve been more embarrassing than just Bob. But having the beautiful waitress call him Baby? He could leap out of his skin. The massive blush that spread over his face was uncontrollable. 

“Just four hot coffees to get us started, will ya, Y/n?” Hangman said

She didn’t even write it down. “Simple enough. I’ll be back.”

Bob watched her walk away, completely mesmerized. Especially as she jumped back into the song.

“Just one look- in your eye. And my temperature goes sky hi-” And the kitchen door swung closed. 

There was a silence as the three pilots watched Bob, surprised as he sat there with a dreamy look on his face. 

“Jesus, Floyd. I’ve never seen you so whipped. And you usually are by most people.” Hangman smirked, leaning back.

Once again, he was sadly snapped back to reality by Hangman. A common occurrence. “N-no. No, I’m not. She was nice.” He cleared his throat, pretending to look over the menu, “Really nice.” 

Rooster made a little ‘Aw’-ing noise. “Buddy, it’s okay! I get it. She’s super cute.” He said, trying to be supportive, but Bob quickly shushed him, horrified at the prospect she might overhear.

“And she matches your dorkiness,” Hangman added

Bob shook his head, but he had that feeling, too. Their interaction had been so limited, yet he had a feeling they’d get along perfectly. He was already completely and totally captivated by her. 

They left the diner an hour later to make it to work on time, but Bob couldn’t shake the thoughts of her that graciously occupied his brain. The whole day, even as he was driving or flying or doing push-ups, he’d hear her calling him ‘baby’. Or he’d think about how, when he put in his order for strawberry french toast, she winked at him and said that was her favorite. It was both horrifying and the best distraction he could ever ask for.

Wanting to make it a tradition, Rooster dragged the three of them back to the diner the following Monday. It was a nice thought. Start the week out with a great breakfast and end it with a Friday night at The Hard Deck. 

Bob got out of his truck and looked over at Hangman, Rooster, and Phoenix, who were already there. 

“You’re here before me, Phoenix?” He asked, confused.

Phoenix chuckled even through tired eyes, “Couldn’t miss the Bob yearning show this morning.”

He practically choked on his own spit. “What?”

“Yeah, we’re surprised you weren’t the first one here to say hi to your little girlfriend.” Rooster teased.

He let out a little exasperated breath. “Can we go in now?”

Hangman walked towards the door, “Whatever you want, Baby.” He teased back, emphasizing the name the waitress had called him last time.

For the next few weeks, they had the same routine. They would sit down in their booth, and like clockwork, Y/n would strut out quietly singing along to whatever song was on the jukebox. It was like she had a Rolodex of 50s/'60s hits. The Supremes. Marvin Gaye. Aretha Franklin. Tom Jones. Even the songs he didn’t recognize sounded like his new favorite song coming from her.

Hangman, Rooster, and Phoenix would all watch him stumble and smile up at her. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. And they would all tease him or even subtly try to hype Bob up to her. The three noticed how she seemed to pay special interest to Bob, even though he remained oblivious. They noticed how she always complimented him or would point out his glasses. There were little things- like her making his paper plate of ketchup a winky face or a heart, while the rest got stars or smiley faces. The fact that she always addressed him as Baby was more than enough to convince them. It wasn’t Bob or Baby on Board. It was just Baby. 

But Bob was oblivious. He was completely convinced that she was just being friendly because she was being paid to be. He figured that a girl like that would already have a partner, and he didn’t want to be a creep. It wasn’t like him to hit on a girl while she was working. His mama taught him that it wasn’t appropriate. 

So even as the rest of them egged him on to ask her out, he didn’t. He stayed comfortable with the small talk and stammering banter he’d make with her on those Monday mornings. It got to a point where even the rest of the squadron knew about this. Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote wanted to come with and see for themselves, but for the first time- Bob vehemently rejected them from coming. It would be obvious if suddenly there was a crowd watching him try not to turn red in the face while talking. And she deserved better than that. 

One Monday, Y/n came back out singing that Carla Thomas song again. And when she reached the table, Bob couldn’t help himself.

“What’s that song playing? You’re always singing it.” He asked

Her eyes widened, “Oh goodness, I hope it’s not too cringy that I sing while working.” She said with a nervous smile.

All of them shook their heads, looking up at her. Rooster and Hangman went back to their menus with smirks while Phoenix looked down at her phone, as if they were all letting him have his moment. His favorite part of the week. 

“No. No. I- I like your voice. I’m just wondering what the song is.” He said with his typical bashful look.

Her nervous smile upturned to a genuine one. “Oh, well, it’s Baby by Carla Thomas, but the title is spelled out like B-A-B-Y… Hey, that’s like your call sign, isn’t it?” She asked excitedly.

Bob nodded. “Kinda. Kinda yeah.”

“Guess, I’ll be listening to this song even more then, Baby.” She said, which made Hangman and Rooster look at each other with raised brows that said ‘it’s so obvious’, “I’ll be right out with your guys’ coffee.”

As she walked away, he heard “Whenever the sun don’t shine.”

The kitchen door swung shut.

“Jesus Christ, Bob, this is torture.” Rooster groaned, leaning his head back.

He looked at him, confused with furrowed brows.

“Look, Bob, I was a whole proponent of the whole don’t ask her out at work thing, but this is getting ridiculous,” Phoenix said, grabbing her menu.

“I don’t know what you guys mean. She’s just being nice.” Bob said, looking around at his friend’s exasperated faces. 

Hangman dragged his hands down his face, “And calling you ‘baby’.” 

Bob shook his head. “She thinks that’s my call sign.”

“So… she’s going to ‘listen to the song with your call sign more now’ because…?” Rooster added. 

He couldn’t deny that. It was probably the most forward thing she had done besides smile and point out they were matching every Monday because of their glasses. 

Bob shook his head. “I shouldn’t.” 

Phoenix exchanged a look with Hangman… That couldn’t be good. Those two could barely stand each other, so if they were joining forces, something was up. Bob saw their stares. 

“What-what are you guys doing?” Bob asked.

Phoenix turned to him, “If you don’t ask her out, I’m gonna have Hangman kill us in every dogfight this week. 200 push-ups each.” 

He immediately groaned and put his head in his hands. The idea of that was pure torture. Not only did that mean he’d barely get to fly because he’d be tagged out every time they did, but 200 push-ups daily for a week. Look, Bob was strong… but his shoulders and biceps shivered at the thought. 

“You’re evil. You’re literally evil.” He said, looking over at Phoenix.

Rooster tapped the table. “You’ll thank us later.”

After they all paid, Rooster, Hangman, and Phoenix all walked out, leaving Bob still lingering behind inside. He felt awkward. Like he wasn’t supposed to be there anymore because it was outside of this routine. When Y/n came back out, his heart beat so hard he thought it might stop. It had gone from zero to sixty at just the sight of her. 

When she spotted him, her eyes brightened and she walked straight towards him. He swallowed anxiously.

“Hey, Baby! What are you still doing here? Need something?” She asked smiling

Oh god. Oh dear god.

“No, no, I was just uh, I was just-” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his friends not so subtly watching him from outside the window. He scratched the back of his neck. “I just wanted to say thanks.” He nodded.

OH GOD WHAT WAS HE DOING? THANKS? A little confused, but still smiling, she nodded. “You’re welcome. Any time.”

He took a deep breath before spitting out, “I was just wondering if you’d like to… go out sometime. I- I know this isn’t appropriate when you’re working and all, but-”

“I’d love to.” Her face was the brightest he had seen it. It didn’t seem like forced hospitality. She seemed genuinely enthusiastic. “God, Bob, I was waiting for you to ask.”

He blinked and shook his head in disbelief, “You were?”

“I was worried you never would.” She said, “I’m free this weekend if you are.”

It felt like he was melting into the floor. “Yeah, yeah, I am. I’ll uh- here.”

He reached over to a table and grabbed a napkin, quickly scribbling his number on it. Handing it to her, he added, “And if you change your mind, I won’t be mad.”

She took it and folded it neatly before putting it in her pocket. “I would never.”

They stood there for a moment just looking at each other. She smiled, and Bob let out a nervous laugh. This felt like a dream, and he was still waiting to wake up. She didn’t have a boyfriend. She didn’t seem creeped out. And she had been waiting for him to ask her, despite being at work. 

“I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll see you.” He said, nodding.

“See ya soon, Baby.” She waved before going back into the kitchen.

Walking out, Bob’s legs felt like jelly. It was like he was on the aircraft carrier for the first time, and he couldn’t get his bearings. He fully wore the bashful smile now, unable to resist it. 

“So?” Phoenix asked, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk.

“She said yes.” He said breathlessly. 

[randomfangirlof]

Spitting Image 🔥🥵

[randomfangirlof]

An Attentive Man (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: After four innocent months of dating Bob Floyd, there’s one mystery you still haven’t cracked—why he always pulls away just before things heat up. So you slip into a little black dress and decide it’s time to test his restraint… and finally break it. WORD COUNT: 3.6k WARNINGS: Smut (First time writing), Slight plot, Praise, He talks ya through it. P in V. Oral (F! Receiving) NOTES: This is my first time writing smut. AND I'M SCARED. I'M SO SCARED- (I won't be writing too many of these but if the mood strikes...) MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

She needed to break him. Four months of dating and nothing more than a few makeout sessions on the couch had Y/n going a little crazy. Every time Bob left a movie night at 1 AM in his pickup, she’d watch his truck go down the street, then immediately go into her bedroom to take care of herself. 

Little things were starting to get her riled up much more easily, too. When he’d brush his thumb back and forth on her thigh as he drove. When he’d call her sweetheart in his raspy morning voice on the weekends he could sleep over. Or when he’d unbutton his khaki uniform top to just wear the white T-shirt underneath.

She knew it was bad when she found herself staring at his hands as they played Pac-Man on his Atari. His large, calloused hands dwarfed the controller and joystick. Her breath caught, and she suddenly found herself dead on the screen.

Something needed to happen, or she was gonna go insane. It’s not that Bob was completely against the idea, but every time they’d almost get closer to going that extra mile, something happened. Either his phone would go off, or he’d realize the time, or he’d remember that he had an early shift. She tried to talk to him about it. She didn’t wanna push his boundaries. But Bob always just reassured her that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to do it, but that whatever emergency was happening needed to be taken care of.

That’s why she was bringing out the big guns. She took out the little black dress from her closet. It was completely sheer with a thin tan fabric underneath, giving the illusion of it being see-through. The straps and outline of the dress were a velvet material, and it made patterns of flowers down it. It only stopped slightly above her mid-thigh. It was perfect. It was so much while also perfect to be worn at home after a text to Bob saying they were having a romantic night in. 

He’d be assuming she’d be in one of her summer sundresses or even just a skirt and a nice top. They’d have dinner and watch a movie, and he’d innocently stay the night. 

But this dress was the nuclear option.

Preparing for the night was like preparing for war. She sprayed her hair with hairspray to make sure it stayed voluminous. Shaving every inch of her body left her needing a breather from the scalding shower. Before rubbing lotions and potions all over herself and spraying the orange perfume that drives Bob crazy. Her makeup was to perfection.

She didn’t bother making dinner, but she did DoorDash some Italian and placed it on the dining table. The lights throughout the common area were turned off and instead replaced by the warm lights of the various lamps around. Plus, the candles she lit to make sure the place didn’t smell damp. Lastly, she made sure that the perfect playlist was playing on her phone connected to the speaker. It couldn’t be too loud or that’d be essentially screaming at him what she wanted. But some low-volume classics?

The doorbell rang, and her heart leaped in her chest. She quickly jogged over to it and took a deep breath. Jesus Christ, she was about to open the door looking like this. She shook it off and opened the door with a smile. 

“Hey!” She said excitedly

And she was met with Bob’s eyes widening as he stood there. A bouquet of lilies in his hand. He blinked in surprise, and his face turned bright red. 

“Hi, sweetheart-” He spoke like he had just gotten the wind knocked out of him, “What’s all this about? I thought we were staying in?” He asked.

He was dressed up too, but not in an extravagant way. He was wearing a white T-shirt tucked into some nice pants. Not his usual work uniform that she had grown accustomed to. 

She blushed and looked down. “Can’t a girl just look nice?” She asked nervously.

He quickly shook his shock off and walked forward, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Of course. You look… You look absolutely gorgeous. I can barely speak.” He chuckled, kissing her temple, and he moved his hand with the bouquet from her shoulder to in front of her. “I got you these. The ones in your kitchen were dying too fast.” That made her feel ten times better. A smile lit her face, and she walked in holding the lilies. 

“I love them. Thank you, baby.” She walked over to the kitchen, and he followed her. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel his gaze drifting over her body. She smirked to herself with an idea. “I think I have another vase somewhere.”

She opened one of the lower cabinets, and instead of squatting down to look, she bent over, making sure he had a great view of how her dress hiked up the back of her thighs, revealing just the slightest amount of cheek. 

“Oh you- you don’t-” Bob stammered, not even sure what he was trying to say.

She finally found the plastic vase she was looking for and stood up straight, ignoring his stammering. She filled the vase with water and put the flowers in it. 

She turned to find Bob leaning back against the dining table, his hands gripping the edge. He looked her up and down, and she smirked, walking up to him.

“What?” She asked innocently, looking up at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Can’t a guy just admire his girl?” He asked, teasingly repeating what she had said earlier. 

She tilted her head, “Hmmm… Maybe. I’ll let it slide.” She leaned in and slowly brought her lips to his. Just at that, she let out a relieved exhale. It was the start of what she had been preparing for all day. His arms wrapped around her waist, and she relaxed in his hold.

He pulled away, his doe eyes looked up at her naively. “Do you wanna eat dinner?” He asked cluelessly, breaking all possible tension.

She had to close her eyes and take a deep breath to prevent herself from shaking the poor man and screaming at him what she really wanted. She shook her head. “Baby…” She started nervously, tracing her fingers up and down the curves of his shoulders. “How come we… Why haven’t…” God, her face was all red and flustered now. This felt mortifying to be asking him for this. She turned away, embarrassed.

He tilted his head with furrowed brows before gently putting his hand to her cheek and turning her to face him.

“Hey… what’s up? Talk to me.” He said so genuinely.

He was so sweet. Come on, Y/n. Buck up. 

“How come we haven’t had sex?” She blurted out, and when she saw Bob’s wide-eyed expression, she wanted to take it back. He stood lost for words, so she stepped back. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. This is so-”

“Wait, wait, wait-” Bob quickly reached for her hand. “It’s okay.” 

She looked at him, then back down at the ground nervously. Now, standing in the dress felt much more vulnerable than she would’ve liked. 

“We don’t have to…” She said softly, and that made Bob laugh a little as he pulled her in again, kissing her palm. 

“I’d love nothing more.” He said, wrapping his arms around her waist again, leaning back on the table. 

Her brows naturally furrowed in confusion. “But every time we try, you leave.”

Bob swallowed, and he took a deep, shaky breath himself. He reached and scratched the back of his neck nervously before returning to her waist.

“Yeah, well… I think it’s safe to say I’m a little nervous.” He admitted, “Truth be told, I don’t… I don’t have much experience. And to have such a bombshell like you?” He looked at her with loving eyes. “I don’t want to disappoint.”

Her heart swelled at that. He had just wanted to be good for her, and she smiled at that. “You could never.” “Oh, I definitely could.” He joked, shaking his head nervously. 

She leaned in and kissed him deeply before moving and planting a kiss under his ear that made him shiver. 

“We could find out.” 

He let out a little groan in his exhale, and his arms tightened around her. He nodded. “Please.” 

They kissed again, and he stood up straight now, not leaning on the table anymore. He towered over her and leaned down to kiss her a little harder. Luckily, she was wearing her heels. It wasn’t intentional, but they ended up backing her into the side of the fridge. 

She closed her eyes as he moved from her lips to her cheek to her neck. His arms were exploring more of her waist and bunching up the soft fabric in his hands. He sucked against the crook of her neck and she gasped pulling him in closer. That was definitely leaving a hickey, but she didn’t care. It all didn’t matter when this was FINALLY happening. 

“You smell so good.” He whispered before kissing the same tender spot again and moving down to the middle of her neck towards her breasts. “You did all this for me?” He asked softly.

She nodded, “Uh-huh.” She was breathing so heavily, but she managed to move her hand from his face to the back of his hair to pull his face up to look at her. “Bedroom.” It wasn’t an ask. It was a demand.

“Bedroom.” He repeated before smashing his lips against hers again.

The travel to the bedroom was a bit rocky as they didn’t seem to want to pry themselves off each other. Constant kisses and sliding against the walls of the hallway. It took longer than it would’ve if they had just stopped. But there was no stopping now.

They kept kissing each other as they made it in, and Bob shut the door behind him. He pulled away, panting hard to look at her. He took in her red, blushing face and her kiss swollen lips. Her hair was already a little more wild.

“What?” She asked breathlessly.

He shook his head and used one hand to cradle her face. 

“You’re beautiful.” He said softly with a nervous chuckle. “That dress, my god. I almost don’t wanna take it off.” 

She smirked, “You don’t have to.” 

He sucked in a breath and leaned in to kiss her a little more gently this time. They both moved toward the bed, and he ended up sitting her down on the edge of the mattress. She furrowed her brows mid-kiss, a little confused. He was leaning down so far now. 

But then he said.

“Lay back.” 

And it all made sense. Her breathing quickened, and she slowly lay back, watching Bob get on his knees. Oh, Jesus Christ. She felt him hook his arms around her thighs and pull her forward, closer to him. She gasped. Even though she had expected sex… she wasn’t expecting this at all. He was so much more sure in his actions than she expected him to be.

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down to see him looking up at her with a dazed expression. He gently took her nude heels off her and kissed the sides of her ankles. Then moved up to her calves. 

Her breathing got heavier the closer and closer up he got. She quickly bunched up her dress so she could see him better. When he pressed a kiss to the back of her knee, her breath hitched, and it continued to hold as he moved up to her inner thighs. She could feel a smirk against her skin.

“Breathe.” He reminded, chuckling against her thigh, and she exhaled. The vibrations of his chuckle and the exhale through his nose sent shivers down her spine.

He traveled up finally to where she needed him most and felt him place a kiss right in the middle of her. She let out a groan and threw her head back. It was so much but not enough.

He brought his hands up so he could hold her thighs and trace his fingers up and down them. “My pretty girl. How lucky did I get?” He said before placing another kiss, now above the line of her black lace, before hooking his fingers under the band and pulling them down. 

The cool air hit her, and she let out a little whine until he pressed another kiss to her thigh. Suddenly, she felt his thumb travel up her slick and she gasped- her back arching off the bed. 

“I should’ve taken care of my girl a long time ago, huh?” He said sucking her wetness off his thumb. He looked up at her and saw her heavy breathing and panting. He tapped her leg to get her attention. “You tell me to stop if you want to, okay? No questions asked.” 

“God damn it, Bob, please!” She threw her head back and he laughed, kissing her knee.

He obliged and put his mouth to her, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. A few testing licks in, he suddenly started to suck- making a loud moan leave her body. He hummed in satisfaction at that reaction, and the vibrations made her grip his hair. 

Moving up, he once again brought his arms under her thighs and pulled her closer, practically holding her against him. He kept doing that, listening to the rise and fall of her breathing and reactions to figure out how fast and how hard to do it. 

She was in heaven. She must’ve died in some freak accident, because how was Bob so good at this? It made sense- he was an attentive man. He had to be to do his job so well, but she didn’t think those skills transferred here. 

But he was proving her very wrong. After a little while, she felt a finger of his prod at her and enter, and she let out another loud moan. Thank god, she lived in a house and not an apartment. Though she was sure the neighbors could still hear… Fuck em. 

“More- please- baby please-” She whined.

She didn’t need to ask him twice. He entered another finger, and the sloppy sounds of it all were already hurtling her towards the edge. But as he kept curling his fingers and sucking her at the same rhythm, she was gone for. 

She couldn’t even tell him, but she didn’t need to. Her thighs squeezing the hell out of his head did that for her. He kept it up, letting her ride it out until her legs were twitching in overstimulation and she had to pry his face away. He looked up at her and wiped his mouth. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked almost worried.

With a stunned nod, “Inexperienced my fucking ass. Get over here.” She said 

Bob chuckled and crawled onto the bed, taking his shirt off. She made quick work of her dress, and when they started kissing again, she made sure to shift until her body was on top of his. He smiled excitedly, looking up at her as she straddled him completely naked. 

“Am I still dreaming?” He asked breathlessly.

She shook her head and leaned down to kiss him. It felt incredible to finally run her hands all over his body. She had seen him with his shirt off at the beach before, but this was different. Now she had complete freedom to run her hands up and down his abs and squeeze his broad shoulders. 

As she deepened the kiss, she reached down between them and started unbuttoning his pants. He quickly helped her take them off and throw them across the room haphazardly. 

She saw the strain against his boxer briefs, and her eyes widened a little. 

“What?” He asked, seeing the look on her face.

“Bob, baby, I don’t know if I’ve had that big-” She admitted, making him choke in surprise. The comment seemed to make his briefs even tighter around him. She kissed him, “But god, let me try.” She said, pulling back to look at him with puppy dog eyes.

He cupped her face with his shy smile. He was blushing so hard and sweating slightly now. “We’ll go slow, okay? As slow as you want. And again, if you wanna stop…” He reassured.

She nodded and pulled him out of his boxers, and he groaned as it hit against his stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum. The sound and sight of him like that left her swallowing, trying not to drool. She kissed him again as he pulled his bottoms off completely. 

After a moment, she cupped his face as she felt him line himself up with her. She kept her focus on his baby blue eyes as she lowered herself and felt him enter. He was thick, and she stopped a few inches in after a small whimper. The stretch was… a bit brutal.

“Hey hey hey,” Bob said, kissing her collarbone, “Take your time.”

She nodded and brought his head up to kiss him. After a few moments, she slid down more with little sounds escaping her. Bob’s grip on her waist tightened, and he threw his head back with a loud groan. She wasn’t even all the way down yet.

“God, you feel good.” He groaned, his voice raspy. 

She lowered again and sighed in relief as she bottomed out. Pressing her forehead to his, they were each panting hard. A dazed smile grew on his lips, and she let out a giggle, relaxing as they remained connected while she adjusted. 

Finally, she started to move her hips, and the pain subsided into pleasure as more of her slick gathered and created an ease of friction. She moved up and down, and Bob’s grip on her hips would probably leave bruises. 

“That’s it.” Bob mewled, “So-so good- fuck-”

It surprised her how talkative Bob had been throughout it all. He wasn’t exactly the most talkative out of his friends. But she also knew he was sarcastic and couldn’t help himself from a quip… Clearly, he couldn’t help himself here either. And Y/n was doing far from complaining about it. Every time he spoke in that low, gravely tone, praising her, she’d let out a little sound in response. Sometimes she’d nod. But it was like she couldn’t get herself to actually speak English.

“You like when I talk to you?” Bob asked, and her pace moved slightly faster as she nodded in the crook of his neck. “Yeah, I can feel how tight you get when I do. You’re doing so good.” He praised.

She felt like she was supposed to be praising him. He was the more inexperienced one here, yet he had turned her into mush. Little whines came out of her as her hips started to ache. She was getting tired and her rhythm wasn’t as consistent- making her sigh frustrated. His hand came around and kneaded her ass a little. 

“I got you.” He sensed and bucked his hips up into her, making her cry out. “That okay?” He asked

She nodded fervently and kissed him again as he started bucking up into her. He grabbed her ass and moved her up and down his length, hitting that spot just right. 

“Just like that.” She finally spoke, “Please- please just like that.”

He nodded, moaning at the sound of her broken voice. “I’ll do it just like that. Won’t change a thing, sweetheart.” He said, doing as he promised. 

She got louder and louder and now she was more or less just laying on top of him as he fucked up into her. She gripped the sheets beneath them and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Every so often, he’d turn his face to plant a kiss on her cheek.

The sounds of the room were pornographic. With a mix of moans and groans, wetness, and skin slapping. It was enough to make the devil blush. 

After he kept hitting that perfect spot, she felt that feeling in her stomach build and build. “Oh- oh- I’m- I’m gonna- Can I?” She whimpered.

He smiled at the sight of her breaking apart. “You’re asking for permission?” 

She nodded in his neck, not able to hold it together for much longer.

“Please do. Please finish on me, sweetheart.” He whispered, and she did.

She cried out as white hot bliss shot through her and exploded behind her eyes. Bob didn’t stop, chasing his own high, and it only just exacerbated her own climax and sensitivity. But he didn’t last long after her, finishing while murmuring almost unintelligible praises and lying back completely sweaty.

Their heavy breaths matched up, and she leaned her weight forward to lie on him. They stayed connected, not wanting to separate, and she wrapped her arms around him. He gently moved his hands up and traced up and down her spine. He started drawing little shapes and stars as he came down. 

She was shaking slightly, needing a little longer to come back, and he gently hummed and planted a kiss on her cheek. He reached down and pulled out, which made her breath hitch and hold onto him closer. 

“Mmm… You’re sensitive.” Bob observed, gently moving her off of him and grabbing the blanket to wrap over her.

She nodded, “Bob… How on earth are you inexperienced?” She finally said, “That-that was not-” He shrugged, coming up to hold her to him. “Does that mean I didn’t disappoint?” He asked, looking down.

She looked up at him with half lidded eyes that said ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ He laughed and kissed her forehead as she wrapped her arms around him. 

[randomfangirlof]

I passed on the message to my cat (as a joke) and then gave her all the kisses and now my allergies are bad :)

[randomfangirlof]

Miserable Fate (Prologue)

Summary: He suddenly wants his soulmate.

Pairing: Billionaire! Bucky Barnes x fem! Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, soulmate AU, world building, time jumps

A/N: This story will contain lots of time jumps/different periods. For this short prologue, we are in the present time.

Now, …

Your soul is about to be torn apart. One moment in your past led to an endless nightmare filled with pain, rejection, and heartbreak. You don’t know how much more your already fragile heart can take.

He steps closer, his hand reaching out for you for the first time.

Until now—until the truth was revealed-all he ever did was to push you away.

Your soulmate broke you beyond repair. Now he’s standing in front of you, raising his hands in surrender as you uncontrollably sob.

“I love you, Y/N. Never before did I feel so deeply for a woman,” he tries to charm you, but you won’t have it. You slap his hand away when he tries to cup your cheek.

Bucky Barnes had his chance—no, not one.

He had so many chances to see that his soulmate was right in front of him. He never tried to see more in you than a liability and a bug he wants to squish under his shoe.

“No. You don’t love me.” You stare him down. After everything he has done over the years, and especially the last months, to make you feel miserable and unwanted, he won’t get a second chance. “It was never about me, but the fantasy you created in your mind. The girl you adored after I pressed a tissue to your bleeding cheek when we were kids. You love the idea of me—not my true self.”

He flinches when you mention your past. Until four weeks ago, he believed someone else was the sweet and innocent girl helping him after someone tried to hurt him. You wanted to tell him so many times, but Bucky didn’t listen.

“That’s not true! Don’t tell me what I feel near to you!” He yells now, nostrils flaring. “I know my heart better than you!”

“Not weeks ago, you believed my stepsister was your soulmate. Now you are after me?” You huff and shake your head. “I mean nothing to you and never will. You’re living in a fairy tale, and I’m the person you want to use to fulfill your dreams. I’m not having it!”

“Y/N, please,” he pleads now, hand reaching for you once again, but you slap him once more.

“No!” Your voice sounds so different when you say, “I have loved you with all my heart since we were kids. But you…” You scoff when he looks at you in awe. “You chose my sister over me. Every. Single. Time. Just like my mother. Just like my father. Just like the whole fucking world. No more!”

He has the guts to look hurt when he says, “I’m here to make things right, Y/N. I was a fool, blinded by my wish to find my soulmate.”

You step away from him, shaking your head.

“No. You don’t come here and tell me you're going to make things right. Years of hurting taught me one thing—never to trust anyone but myself. Go and be with my sister and forget that I was the kid pressing the tissue to your wound. Just fill the gaps with her face and leave me the fuck alone.”

Part 1

[randomfangirlof]

Hello hello, fellow mid-twenty-year-old here 👋🏼

I read your post and thought I could be the one to remind you, fictional men aren't real and definitely not worth holding back or waiting for🙏🏼

But I get it... I'm about to move in with my boyfriend and it's gonna be the first time I'll ever live with a man & on top that also means leaving my hometown for the first time. There always are thoughts of doubt and the "what if it doesn't work out", especially late at night when one starts to spiral.

BUT if he/she makes you laugh & supports you and still gives you enough room to write and dream about hot pilots it's worth giving it a shot without doing anything impulsive.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, we're in this together & we got this💕

oh hi fellow mid-twenty-year-older!!! thank you so much for this because it's really sweet and i know i was being dramatic but it's so nice to know that it's not just me... it's like a very real panic in your twenties haha

and honestly it's all the decisions you're expected to make in your twenties, like the big ones, so i just hide in fiction and ignore them and then get too attached to the fiction, ya know??? but that's also a bit too deep and i'm just tryna live without being too much of an adult until the adult panic sets in!

anyways, i so appreciate this and sorry for word vomiting but YES we do got this, we're definitely in it together 🖤🖤🖤

[randomfangirlof]

Jensen Ackles | Countdown Season 1 Premiere in Los Angeles (June 18, 2025) [x]

[randomfangirlof]

Somebody to Love

Pairing: Harry Castillo x waitress!reader

Summary: Harry finds someone who wants him for something other than his money.

Warnings: no spoilers!, language, flirting, rom-com meet-cute vibes, food and alcohol consumption, reader has two roommates that fit the rom-com vibe, smut (18+ MDNI), dry humping, unprotected piv sex, longing/yearning

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I haven't seen the movie yet so there's no spoilers, don't worry! This is written just knowing what we know from the trailers.

The first day he came into your diner, it was raining.

Well, more like pouring, actually.

You remembered because the little bell above the door clanged so loudly, you thought the ancient relic might have actually met its fate that day. When you turned to see who raced inside, it was him.

Harry.

He held a soaked copy of the New York Post in his hand. It was falling apart after doing an extremely poor job of keeping him dry in the sudden downpour. His dark hair was drenched and dripping all over the sticky tile floor. He blinked a few times, trying to get the rain out of his eyes without looking more pathetic than he already felt. He looked down at the destroyed newspaper and made a face before lifting his chin and scanning the restaurant.

That's when he spotted you.

He hesitated for a moment before offering up a lopsided grin and a shoulder shrug as you made your way towards him.

"Do you have a trash can I can borrow?"

You circled the host stand and held out the plastic bin, only to tease, "If you're borrowing it, that means you'll bring it back, right?"

He took a second then laughed politely at your shitty joke before dropping the newspaper into the empty bin with a solid thump.

"Consider it returned," he smiled, dark brown eyes sparkling despite the agitation he had felt moments before when he was caught in the rain.

You showed him to a table, one near the window, and brought him a coffee — to warm you up, you had said. He wrapped his hands gratefully around the stained mug and took a sip. When he swallowed, he paused, then looked up at you with genuine shock.

"This is... good."

You giggled. "Thanks."

"No, I mean—" He stopped to take another sip and made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat. "This is really good."

"You have a beautiful way with words," you teased again.

"Some of these expensive cafés around here don't make coffee half this good," he continued, taking another gulp.

"Well, I guess I've found my hidden talent," you shrugged.

The way he smiled at you had your heart skipping a beat.

There were other tables that probably needed to be cleaned or wanted their check, but you couldn't force yourself to step away. Something about him was magnetic.

And at the time, he really didn't seem all that special to the naked eye. He was just wearing a pair of worn jeans, an oversized brown jacket, and a basic looking tshirt underneath. He looked like every other working man within a five mile radius of your diner that stopped in for lunch every day. And yet... something pulled you to him.

Something must have pulled him to you, too, because a week later, he returned.

"No New York Post?" you asked when you greeted him at the door, hoping you didn't look too eager to see him.

He shook his head and pointed to the trash can.

"That's the only place The Post belongs. Only had it that day because someone left it at a bus stop bench. It was all I had."

"Desperate times," you mused before leading him to a table.

He looked a little dressier that day: slacks, but with a polo shirt. The only ring he had was on his pinky, one you were rather convinced was a fake emerald. You smiled to yourself, tucking away the lack-of-a-wedding-band note for later.

When he sat down, you noticed for the first time he placed a compact umbrella on the booth next to him before picking up the menu. You grinned and pointed to it with your ballpoint pen.

"Hey, you got yourself an umbrella," you said, "moving up in the world."

He looked up at you with those soft brown eyes again, the ones that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the very same eyes you couldn't get out of your head for a week.

"I learn from my mistakes."

He became a regular after that. Once a week, every Thursday around one in the afternoon. You weren't sure if the time just suited him best or if he picked it because he knew you would be working.

You had hoped it was the latter.

About two months later, the diner was unusually busy. A tour bus had stopped outside and the restaurant was overloaded with thirty extra patrons. The kitchen was slammed, the counters were a mess, and of course one of the servers had called off that day.

You forgot it was Thursday. Harry had come in and seen the chaos. He tried to catch your eye but you were too busy balancing four plates on your arms to notice.

Another waitress, Darcy, hurried up to greet him, looking equally as frazzled as you but still offered to clean a table in her section. Harry turned her down, said he wanted to wait for you, and leaned against the wall watching you work with a small smile on his face.

Once one of your tables got up, Darcy helped you clean it and murmured quietly that you had a request at the door. You glanced up, saw him, and grinned happily despite the stressful lunch hour.

"Not in a rush today?" you asked when you led him to your only open table. He slid into the booth and shook his head.

"Nothing that can't wait."

"I'm honored," you said sweetly with a hand pressed to your chest. He smirked and his eyes quickly scanned you up and down.

"You're worth waiting for."

It knocked the wind out of you at first. You blinked like you weren't sure you heard him right, then exhaled a nervous laugh.

"Careful or I might think you're flirting with me."

"So what if I am?"

You laughed again and felt your face heat up. You started to fan yourself with your notepad, which only made Harry's smile grow bigger.

"Oh, you must be a heartbreaker," you teased.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, still smiling. You leaned forward, placing both palms flat on the freshly washed tabletop, and lowered your voice.

"You're a smooth-talker, Harry," you said, refusing to break eye contact. "I'll bet you have a waitress you visit every day of the week. I'm just Miss. Thursday."

He threw his head back and laughed. Like, really laughed. And it made you smile so big that you dropped your chin to your chest to hide.

When his laughter finally died down, you lifted your head to look at him again, both of you wearing matching grins.

"Not true," he said, his dimple catching your eye and making your heart flutter a bit. "Let me take you out for dinner," he finally added, and even though you saw it coming, you still felt a rush of excitement shoot through you when you heard the words.

"Yeah? So you can introduce me to Miss. Friday?"

"Is that when you're free?"

You nodded, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

"Then tomorrow it is," he said firmly, "and you can pick the restaurant."

You whistled low and straightened back up. Your other tables were clearing up and heading to the front to pay, but you couldn't care less.

"Anywhere?"

He nodded and folded his hands confidently in his lap.

"Anywhere."

"And what if I have expensive tastes, Mr. Castillo?" you asked with a flirty tone.

"I can afford it," he assured you, still wearing the same smile.

"Even Nova?" You had said the first fancy, most hard-to-get-into restaurant you could think of, just as a joke. But Harry nodded without missing a beat.

"Nova it is."

You laughed and shook your head.

"I was just kidding," you said, "seriously, I'm good with anything—"

"Would you like to eat at Nova?" he asked, cutting you off. You paused for a moment.

"Well... maybe one day," you shrugged, "but the waiting list to get in is, like—"

"How's eight work for you?" He was already tapping away on his phone, offering it like it was nothing.

"Uh— s-sure," you sputtered. "Eight works."

He held up his phone for you to take. "Save your number and address. I'll pick you up."

He said it like he serious, but by Friday you still expected him to show up and admit it was just for laughs and maybe take you to some hole in the wall Italian spot, if you were lucky.

You were just fixing your hair and smoothing down your dress when your two roommates squealed from the window.

"He's here!"

"Oh, damn — he's got a Mercedes? Who is this guy?"

You snatched your purse and ran out into the living room, wedging yourself between them. Your jaw dropped when you saw Harry step out of the driver's side and round the front, casually buttoning his smart looking jacket and glancing around the relatively quiet street. But before he ascended the stairs to your building's front door, he looked up and spotted your three faces practically pressed against the dirty glass.

"Fuck!" you giggled when you all flew away from the window. Then a moment later, the buzzer rang.

"Y-Yeah," you stammered, pressing the answer button with a stupid grin.

"It's Harry."

You pressed the other button to unlock the door, then pushed your one roommate out of the way so you could make sure you didn't have lipstick on your teeth.

"What does he do again?"

"Who fucking cares!"

"Shhh!!" you hissed right when a firm knock came from the door.

"I'll get it!" Melanie sang, skipping to the door to cut you off. She flung it open just as you were reaching for her shoulder to yank her back, revealing Harry on the other side. His face lit up when he saw you, then his gaze dropped to Mel and he politely held out his hand.

"I'm Harry—"

"I know," she gushed, grabbing his hand and shaking it roughly. He grinned and glanced at you quickly before looking back at her. "I'm Melanie, that one's Liv."

Harry nodded at Liv perched on the couch who was waving at him like a fucking lunatic.

"Nice to meet you both." His eyes scanned the modest apartment behind you. "Cute place. How long have—"

"Let's go!" you said, pushing Mel out of the way and sneaking out the door.

"Have her back by midnight!" Melanie shouted as you were dragging him away.

"Yeah! But if you don't, at least do us all a favor and rock her world. It's been a while!" Liv added.

"Oh, my god!" you screeched over your shoulder while Harry chuckled softly next to you. "I'm going to kill—"

The apartment door slammed shut. You could hear their combined giggles, even though you were already halfway down the hall.

Harry cleared his throat, biting back a smile while you fanned your face in embarrassment.

"I am — so sorry about them," you said, stepping onto the elevator. "They're just... they're assholes," you laughed before tapping the L button repeatedly. "Sorry, it takes a few tries," you mumbled, then sighed happily when the button finally lit up and the doors slid shut.

An awkward silence settled around you as you waited for the elevator to take you to the lobby.

Fucking Mel and Liv, you seethed to yourself while sparing a nervous glance in Harry's direction. He was staring straight ahead at the closed doors, smiling in that way that made your knees weak, and you felt yourself smile back.

"So..." you began, breathing a sigh of relief when the doors opened. He pressed his palm against the side so they wouldn't shut, and looked at you expectantly. You blinked and cursed under your breath when it occurred to you he was waiting for you to go first, then hurried over the threshold and out into the run-down lobby.

"So," he echoed, opening the door for you to step outside. At least that time, you expected it and didn't look like a complete idiot. But then he stopped you before you could take one step down and offered his arm. You thanked him softly, looking shyly down at his crooked elbow, and looped your hand through.

If Liv didn't make it abundantly clear you hadn't been on a date in a while, it sure as hell was obvious to him now.

"You look—"

You stopped short when you heard tapping on the glass above your heads. As Harry was reaching to open the passenger side door, you looked up to find Mel and Liv making obscene gestures towards you and your date. Mel was miming a blowjob while Liv dry humped the air. Your eyes widened in horror and your jaw dropped. Harry turned to you, noticed your expression, but before he could spin around to look up, you grabbed his face, keeping his eyes locked on you.

"If you have any respect for me," you said lowly, "you will not look up right now."

He laughed and stepped back so you could get into his car, silently promising to ignore your roommates.

"Anyway," you laughed when he had finally pulled away from the curb. "You look so nice. I had no idea you cleaned up so well."

Harry grinned as he smoothly changed lanes.

"What, this old thing?" he joked, referring to his perfectly tailored black suit. When he came to a stop at a red light, he looked over at you. His gaze slid down your form, taking in the deep purple dress you had borrowed from Liv that was just a little too tight, but in a way that showed off your curves.

"You look absolutely beautiful," he breathed after what felt like an eternity. The way he said it made it sound like he was truly blown away and it caused a wave of goosebumps to flash across your skin.

"Thank you," you murmured shyly.

The light changed to green and you grew distracted with the car — the smooth as butter leather, the tinted windows, the hundreds of fancy looking controls that reminded you of a space ship. Your gaze kept darting all around, taking everything in.

"What do you do, Harry?" you asked.

You had asked him a few times before, and every time he managed to change the subject or sidestep the question. It didn't even occur to you he kept giving you non-answers until the night before, when you were telling Mel and Liv about your date and the question inevitably came up.

"What? I never told you?"

You shook your head and the corner of his mouth turned up into a half-smile.

"Huh... hold on, we're almost there," he said, pulling up behind a convertible with a logo on the back you didn't recognize, but based on the way people on the sidewalk were gawking, told you it was expensive.

And yet again, Harry managed to distract you. When you looked up and saw the sign for Nova above an impossibly gorgeous looking restaurant, your eyes nearly bugged out of your head.

"Are you serious?" you gasped. Harry looked at you, confused.

"You said—"

"I know what I said," you replied, "I didn't think— h-how did you—"

You couldn't get the words out. It was insane. It had to be one of the hottest restaurants in New York City, and yet Harry was able to get a reservation on a Friday night with barely twenty-four hours notice?

Your door opened and a young man in an impeccably pressed suit stood on the outside, offering you his arm. You gently took it while Harry got out on the other side, sliding a bill to the valet and rounding the front of his car to join you on the sidewalk.

"Ready?"

You nodded, speechless, as you took his arm. He led you up through the huge double doors and to the hostess, giving his name with practiced ease. She tapped something on a computer, smiled at you both, and led you through the restaurant.

It was dark, but in a warm, comfortable way. The guests were not rowdy, the kitchen was silent, and there was a pianist playing classical music in the center of the dining room.

A far cry from your diner.

"Here you are. Enjoy your meal," the hostess said once she reached your table. It was off to the side of the room. Private.

Harry pulled your chair back and looked at you, smiling at the way you were utterly and completely stunned.

"Thank you," you whispered, sitting primly in the chair. In front of you, there was an intimidating set of silverware on top of a white linen tablecloth. A candle was placed between you both, along with a small bouquet of flowers.

Harry sat down across from you, unbuttoning his suit and arching an eyebrow in your direction.

"Is it living up to your expectations, Miss. Thursday?"

You giggled and nodded.

"It's a step up from the diner, that's for sure."

"But the coffee's terrible," he grinned. Then he leaned forward, looking side to side quickly before meeting your eye. "Waitresses aren't as pretty, either."

Your cheeks burned and you laughed again, fanning yourself while looking away. Harry chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

"It's cute when you do that," he said. You dropped your hand and looked back at him.

"Do what?"

"When I pay you a compliment, you fan yourself," he said. "Very 50s movie star. I like that."

"Oh," you replied softly, "I didn't even realize. But... thank you."

"You're welcome." He folded his hands in his lap and crossed one leg over the other under the table.

When your server arrived to get your drink order, Harry sensed your discomfort right away.

"Do you like wine?" he asked, taking charge. You nodded. "Red or white?"

"Red."

"We'll take the bottle of the 1982 Chateau Latour Pauillac," he said, looking up at the waiter.

You stared dumbly at Harry after the server disappeared to get your wine.

"That sounds really expensive."

"Thought you had expensive tastes?" he reminded you with a smirk.

"I was joking," you said, "I drink wine out of a box! I can't tell the difference!"

He laughed and leaned forward again, resting on his elbows when he said, "Can I tell you a secret?"

You nodded and leaned forward, as well.

"I can't tell the difference, either."

You dissolved into a fit of giggles just as the server arrived with your bottle of wine. He took a customary sniff and taste before nodding his approval, then waited until your glasses were filled before addressing you again.

"Are you okay with the tasting menu?" Harry asked.

"Uh, yeah," you said, then looked up at the waiter and nodded. "Sounds great."

After he left, you tried to mimic Harry. You picked up your glass, swirled it a bit, took a sniff and then a tiny sip. He watched you with an amused look as you smacked your lips together, looking deep in thought.

"Hm," you hummed, "I'm getting notes of... cherry... and..."

You glanced over at Harry and tried not to laugh.

"Amber."

He gave you that wide smile that brought out that dimple you loved.

"Amber?" he repeated. "What's amber?"

"I have no idea," you laughed, "I was trying to impress you. Did it work?"

"Oh, yeah. Big time," he said, making you laugh again.

Halfway through the tasting menu, you realized no one had ever made you laugh as much as Harry did. Your cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn't stop. He just had something about him that made you feel so comfortable and at ease, even if you were way out of your element.

"Hey," you said suddenly right as the server was putting dessert in front of you. Harry cocked his head to the side, waiting. "You never told me what you do for work."

He slowly grinned, nodded his thanks to the waiter, then lifted his wine glass to his lips.

"What'd you think of the wine?" he asked.

You shook your head and gave him a fake look of disapproval.

"Nuh uh. No changing the subject," you said. He chuckled and set his glass down.

"Alright. Private equity," he sighed, lacing his fingers together and ignoring his dessert completely. You blinked and frowned.

"What does that mean?" you asked, feeling dumb.

"I buy companies, strip them down, make them better, and sell them for more money," he answered plainly.

You nodded and took a bite of your dessert.

"Sounds... interesting."

"No, it doesn't," he smiled. You laughed, hiding your smile behind your hand.

"No, it really doesn't," you agreed, making him laugh, too. "Do you like it?"

He shrugged and finally lifted a fork to scoop up a piece of tart.

"I'm good at it."

"But do you like it?"

"Sometimes. The people can be draining but when it pays off, it's rewarding."

"Yeah. That's how I feel about the diner, too," you sighed, feigning seriousness when you added, "it's almost like we do the exact same thing, huh?"

You made him laugh and once again, you were amazed by how easy it was to be with him already.

After Harry paid what appeared to be an absolutely ridiculous bill that made you squirm a little in your seat, you were faced with the awkward part of the date that you almost forgot about.

Does he take you home? Does he ask you to come back to his place? Would you go?

"Want to take a walk?" he asked when you both stepped outside of the restaurant, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "Weather's nice. Unless— those shoes—"

He looked down at your heels but you quickly shook your head.

"No, I'm good. A walk sounds nice."

Luckily, he walked slow because you were lying — your shoes were not made for comfort. But you were willing to sacrifice it to spend a little more time with him.

The street was bustling with life, but it wasn't very loud. A few people laughed while sharing cigarettes outside of a bar. A man with earbuds and vibrant, reflective clothes jogged by, minding his own business. An older woman wearing a chic poncho with a full face of makeup walked her small dog across the street.

It was a nicer neighborhood than the one you lived in, that was for certain.

"Thank you again for dinner," you said after the silence stretched on a little too long.

"You're welcome," he replied, then waited a beat or two before adding, "If this isn't your scene or you don't feel comfortable, we don't have to do stuff like this next time. We can do anything you want."

You frowned, confused.

"I liked it," you said slowly, "it's definitely not like anything I've ever experienced before, but I still liked it."

"Yeah?" he asked, stopping suddenly. You did the same and turned to gaze up at him.

"Yeah. Of course."

He looked relieved. His face relaxed a bit and he gave you a small smile. Then you shot him a coy look when you added, "So there will be a next time, then?"

He smiled wider and tipped his chin up so he could glance at the night sky, and that was when you noticed the flush creeping up his neck, just past his collar.

"I sure as hell hope so."

He looked back down, eyes flickering across your face and settling briefly on your lips before finding your eyes again.

"I'd love that," you said, feeling the warmth creeping up your own neck from the way he looked at you.

Then, he brought a hand up to cup your face, his dark brown eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

"Can I kiss you?"

He said it so softly, almost like he was nervous, but you found it hard to believe. How could someone like him be nervous around someone like you?

You felt yourself drift a little closer, that magnetic pull doing you in. His cologne invaded your senses, his warmth curled around you like a blanket, and you nodded, unable to form the word yes.

He was gentle at first, and his lips were unexpectedly soft against yours. He moved slow, savoring every second, massaging your lips tenderly against his own and learning the feel of you for the first time.

You melted into him so easily. The hand on your face gripped you a little harder when your lips parted, and when he deepened the kiss, you could still taste lemon and wine on his tongue.

He stepped forward and you stumbled backwards, arms flying up to wrap around his neck. His free hand found your lower back and he guided you further until you felt the cool press of brick behind you.

Within a minute, the kiss went from gentle to heated. You were firmly stuck between Harry and a brick wall, and all you could do was try to keep up with the intensity behind each swipe of his tongue against yours. His beard pressed into your chin, burning the skin there, making his mark, but you loved it.

You were completely lost in it, in him. The way he smelled, the way he felt, the way he kissed you like he may never get another chance again. Months of weekly visits to the diner that left you wanting all built up to that moment and neither of you could seem to stop.

That is, until a group of people out drinking walked by with a low whistle aimed in your direction and finally, Harry tore himself away.

"Christ," he chuckled, still standing too close and still holding your face. You both panted for air and stared at one another, searching each other's eyes, trying to get a read.

"Maybe I should — I should take you home."

You threaded your fingers through the hair on the back of his head and before you could lose your nerve, said:

"Or you can show me where you live."

He didn't hesitate, which thrilled you, and fifteen minutes later, you found yourself in his car with his hand firmly planted on your thigh as he drove you across town.

"Tribeca?" you asked, peering around.

"Yep."

"Wow," you breathed, looking out the window. Every building you passed by looked more impressive than the last until Harry turned down a street and slowed down.

The doorman jumped to attention, snapping his fingers at a younger man behind a counter, the both of them rushing outside.

"Mr. Castillo," the doorman greeted warmly when Harry stepped out. Harry nodded, murmured good evening, and rounded the car to open your door. From the corner of your eye, you saw the doorman swat the other on the shoulder, who shrugged and made a perplexed face in return.

Your hand slid easily into Harry's and he shut the door behind you.

"My apologies," the doorman said to you, "we didn't realize you would be having a guest this evening," he added, looking at Harry.

"It's alright," he said smoothly while handing the keys and a folded bill to the younger man. "I'll take any chance to prove I'm a gentleman."

They chuckled and you smiled, but mostly for a different reason: it appeared Harry didn't bring guests home often.

The lobby was stunning. Bright crystal chandeliers hung above your heads. The carpet was the softest, thickest carpet you ever stepped foot on. Two gorgeous fireplaces sat on either end of the spacious room and in front of each was a sitting area filled with couches and chairs and tables. Even the elevator was beautiful. Inside the car was mirrored with golden edges. Soft music filtered through the air and just when you noticed the ornate light fixture above you, Harry swiped a card and pressed the P button on the elevator, making your jaw drop.

"Penthouse?" you squeaked.

He gave you a strained smile and glanced down at his watch.

Your brows furrowed for a moment, trying to figure out what was going through his head.

You stepped off the elevator, following Harry into his apartment. Lights were already on and dimmed throughout the space, as if they were on timers. He watched you take a few hesitant steps forward and slowly spin around, taking everything in. Your eyes trailed over the marble kitchen countertops, the plush velvet chairs in the sitting room, the massive television, the floor to ceiling windows overlooking a breathtaking view. But it lacked... something.

Harry remained silent, waiting for you to turn back to him. When you did, you gave him a small smile and said, "Is this all?"

He laughed softly and pushed off the wall to join you.

"What do you think?" he asked, brushing his knuckles up and down your arm.

"Do you like it?"

It was the second time you asked him that question in one evening.

"Yes. I do."

You nodded and took a step forward, closing the small gap between you.

"Then I like it, too."

His mouth found yours once again, kissing you with an urgency that had you wondering if it was more than just lust behind it. Either way, you matched it, tongue swirling in tandem with his and fingers weaving eagerly through his hair as he blindly walked you both through the kitchen, towards where you assumed his bedroom would be.

When you stumbled past the threshold to his room, you giggled from your combined excitement, breaking the kiss. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, lips peppering kisses all the way to your pulse point. You craned your neck to the side and your eyes fluttered closed with a soft moan. His hands searched your dress, looking for the zipper, pulling hastily at the fabric as the backs of your legs bumped up against his bed.

"Careful," you whispered, and his groping stilled. "I borrowed this, it's not mine," you explained with a laugh. Harry pulled away from your neck to catch his breath and gaze down at you. His face looked flushed, eyes a little glassy, and his lips already swollen. Something about seeing a man so put together look so wrecked, all because of you, sent a tingle down your spine.

"I could buy a hundred more to replace it," he reminded you with one lifted eyebrow.

You grinned. "I don't care."

Something flickered across his face. Something soft, not unlike disbelief. Then his hands were on you again, searching for the zipper now that he could see properly.

In a heartbeat, the dress became a purple puddle at your feet and Harry was lowering you carefully onto his bed with his mouth nipping and sucking up and down the column of your throat, pulse coming alive at his touch.

You arched your back and dragged a hand through his hair with a gasp, holding him against your neck while your hips lift, searching for friction and thank god, he gave it to you. He dropped his weight between your legs with a grunt and grinds, soaking up every delicious sound you made underneath him.

His hands found the straps of your bra and he slipped them past your shoulders, kissing every inch of skin as he went. With a speed that made you gasp, Harry reached behind and unclasped your bra, then tossed it to the side to join your dress and shoes.

Without missing a beat, he continued to plant wet kisses all the way down your sternum, between your breasts, and only then did he pause to look up at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"You're so fucking beautiful, do you know that?"

You couldn't answer him. The words got lodged in your throat when his mouth wrapped around your breast, sucking and flicking his tongue over your nipple while you writhed impatiently beneath him.

"Fuck," you moaned as he continued to explore your body, like he was mapping you, memorizing you. "Harry — please..."

You were tugging feebly at his pristine white button down, his suit coat long forgotten somewhere in the journey from the front door to his bedroom.

He reared back at your plea and began to feverishly unbutton the shirt, his gaze all the while raking up and down your nearly naked body like he was drinking you in.

When he shoved the shirt past his shoulders, he made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat when the fabric caught on his wrists, forgetting entirely about his cufflinks.

He dropped each one into the silk sheets and nearly ripped his shirt off, far too eager to get his mouth back where it belonged — on you.

He fell forward onto his arms and continued to kiss you everywhere he could reach while your hands snaked between your bodies, working shakily on his leather belt.

"Jesus — get these off," you huffed, pushing down on the waistband of his slacks. He chuckled against your neck and helped you, kicking the offensive material to the floor and flinging his white undershirt off to join the rapidly growing pile of clothes.

You sucked in a deep breath at the sight of his bare chest for the first time. He took care of himself — that much was clear. But he wasn't overly buff and his stomach was still a little soft. You dragged your palms slowly up and down his tanned skin, admiring every curve and slope until your fingers found the band of his boxers. His stomach tensed when you slid your hand inside and you heard him stifle a groan when your fingers curled around his cock.

"I wanna see it," you murmured in his ear while slowly stroking him up and down. His hips lazily followed your hand, his hot breath skittered across your chest, and even though you were in the middle of this world, surrounded by extravagance you could only ever dream of, the only thing he wanted was you.

He granted your request, pulling down his boxers and freeing his cock, leaving him entirely bare to you. He watched with heavy eyes as you continued to work him with your fist, enjoying the way he twitched in your palm when your lips parted greedily at the sight of him in your hand.

He had enough. He couldn't take it any longer. His fingers curled around the edge of your black panties, stretching them away from your hips, slowly, before looking up at you.

"You borrow these, too?"

You shook your head then yelped when the fabric tore suddenly away from your hips.

"Jesus!" you giggled, but his mouth hastily slanted over yours, silencing you with a deep kiss that had your head swimming and your knees weak.

"Been thinking about this for weeks," he confessed, the words slipping past his lips and pouring into your mouth. One arm dropped down to grip himself at the base and your own hands instantly grabbed onto his broad shoulders, bracing yourself for what was to happen next.

"Me, too," you whispered, but he just shook his head while lining himself up at your entrance.

"No, it's not the same," he murmured back. "You're all I can think about. Driving me fucking crazy every second of the day. Wondered what you were doing—" You felt the blunt tip of him breach your cunt and you inhaled sharply. "Wondered— wondered what it would be like to— to— fuck..."

You gasped in unison when he pressed inside, parting your wet walls with ease, like he was always meant to be there. You whimpered his name and clawed at his shoulders, unable to look away from his face contorting with pleasure, at the feeling of you wrapping around him for the first time.

"To — what?" you exhaled when he was fully seated inside of you. His nose nudged the side of your head and he planted a tender kiss to your temple.

"Wondered what it would be like to wake up next to you every day."

It was so unexpectedly sweet. It had your stomach twisting as you pulled him back down to your mouth, your hand cupping the back of his neck to keep him close.

He rolled his hips forward, slowly, allowing you both a chance to adjust to the tight fit of his cock inside of you. You moaned into his mouth and it just spurred him on. His hand found a home on your hip, thumb pressing into the crease at the top of your thigh, then he did it again — he pulled halfway out just to slowly glide right back in, basking in the way you stretched for him.

"You're perfect," he murmured against your lips. Your eyebrows pinched together, gasping at the heavy weight of him every time he pushed forward. "You're so sweet and beautiful and fucking — perfect."

He groaned the last word, burying himself as deep as possible as if to emphasize his point. You shuddered in his arms, unable to articulate just how good, how full, how complete you felt. All you could manage to do was nip weakly at his chin and rock your hips upward, encouraging him to move faster, to take more — take all of you.

So, he did. He picked up the pace until he found a rhythm that made your mouth hang open and your legs shake. He was hypnotized, watching the way your eyes rolled back and your tits bounced with every harsh thrust. The only thing that kept you firmly in place was his hand pressing down on your hip as he took and took and took.

"God, you're pretty," he moaned. He was overcome with you, completely sunk and drowning. "So fucking pretty like this. I'll never get enough. Never — shit — never get enough."

The huge, sprawling bedroom was filled with the sounds of your skin slapping together punctuated with the soft noises you murmured into one another's skin. It was as if nothing else even existed outside of that space, even though you were very much firmly in the heart of one of the busiest cities in the world. You were both so lost in each other that nothing else mattered.

He groaned when he felt your arousal dripping down his shaft and onto his sheets. You were just so tight and warm and perfect, it was driving him insane and he wished more than anything that he could come inside you. He wanted to see the way he spilled out of your pussy and leaked down your soft thighs. He wanted the image burned into his brain for eternity.

"Harry—" you whined, nails digging into his back. "Oh god, don't stop! Don't— don't stop— ple—"

His mouth captured yours once again, quieting you while also giving you exactly what you wanted. He snapped his hips ruthlessly, knocking the air from your lungs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pulsed around his cock and whined so sweetly into his mouth that it had him feeling dizzy and reckless.

He slipped his tongue past your lips when you came, his name garbled in your throat in a way that made him feel like a fucking god. You tore yourself away, too desperate for fresh air, and dropped your head lazily into his pillow as you rode out the rest of your orgasm.

"Harry," you sighed, and his skin prickled at the sound. Your eyelids drooped and your swollen lips parted to drag in more air. You were so spent but still wanted him to feel good, so you tightened your hold around his waist and dragged your fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

"Come for me," you whispered into his ear. You felt his entire body shudder at your command and a jolt of confidence ripped through you.

"I will," he gasped, vision blurring with every wet smack of his hips against yours. "I will, baby. I wi— I'll give you anything you want. I'll — oh, f-fuck..."

Your teeth gently grazed the shell of his ear, just enough to sharpen his senses. His arms wrapped around you, holding you still as he fucked you hard now, chasing his own release.

"Inside me?" you asked. The way your voice sounded so sweet and innocent had his cock instantly swelling.

"N-no, I can't." He couldn't risk it but it still broke his heart to tell you no.

You made a disappointed noise but you didn't push it. You loosened your legs and a few hard thrusts later he was pulling out of you with a grunt. Your legs dropped to the mattress, shaky and loose. You rolled your head and watched in a trance as Harry hovered above you, jerking his cock with clenched teeth until he stilled with a low, deep moan. A moment later, you felt hot spurts of cum painting your stomach and mound. It was filthy, the way you loved being covered in him, how you reveled in the feeling of his sticky release on your skin.

He looked dazed and breathless when he was done, staring down at you with bleary eyes as he gasped for air. But then his gaze brightened when he watched you lift a lazy finger to swipe through his mess, collecting a taste and popping it into your mouth with a moan.

"Jesus," he groaned, and you giggled. He pushed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before forcing himself to stand.

"I'll get you something," he said, stumbling for a moment. You eyed his soaked, semi-hard cock appreciatively before he turned to his bathroom. He returned with the softest washcloth you'd ever felt in your life. You almost told him not to use it, that you felt bad ruining it, then remembered where you were and who you were with and refrained.

Afterwards, he was incredibly sweet. He pulled you into his arms and turned out the lights, both of you still naked between his silk sheets. His thumb rubbed gentle circles against your arm and his lips occasionally brushed lovingly over your eyes, nose, or forehead.

In return, you pressed lazy kisses against his throat and slotted your leg in between his, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"I had a really nice time tonight," you finally said, breaking the silence and making him laugh.

"Me, too," he replied, gazing at you in the beam of moonlight that cast across his bed.

You bit your bottom lip shyly and glanced around his bedroom. There hadn't been much of an opportunity to take it all in before, but now in the quiet stillness of night, you realized his room was unusually bare with the exception of his huge bed and one large abstract painting on the wall.

"Did you just move in?"

He shook his head, eyes still locked on you. "No."

He could tell you were curious but didn't want to pry, so he threw you a lifeline.

"I could've hired a decorator but," he glanced around, looking a little forlorn. "I wanted to wait and do it myself. With someone."

"Oh," you breathed softly. Then, sensing his vulnerability, added, "I would have done the same thing. It's part of what makes a house a home, you know?"

His dark eyes flashed to yours and he smiled.

"Yeah, that's right."

You grinned and snuggled a little closer into his chest. His lips found the top of your head and he hummed, content. Your eyes slid closed and you could feel your body relaxing, ready to drift off to sleep when he spoke again.

"I have a confession to make."

Your eyes snapped back open and you looked up expectantly.

"I don't think I can wait til Thursday to see you again," he smirked. Your heart skipped a beat and you pretended to think it over for a second.

"Well... I guess I could make some time on Monday or Tuesday," you mused.

"How about both?"

You swallowed and nodded, hoping you didn't come off too eager when you said, "Yeah, I think that would work."

As he pressed a tender kiss to your lips to seal the deal, you mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on your mind since the day before.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

He looked at you like he was completely smitten, like he was ready to give you the world on a silver platter if you asked.

"Since we're making confessions, I have a question that's been bothering me," you said carefully. His smile faltered, but only for a moment.

"What is it?"

"Why didn't you tell me about all of this before? When I asked what you did for work, you always blew me off. I was starting to think you were unemployed but—" you laughed and looked out the partially covered window overlooking Manhattan. "—I was way off."

Harry sighed and rolled onto his back, bringing you with him to lay on his chest.

"I haven't had a very good track record with dating," he said. "And usually when women find out what I do, all they see is the money, the lifestyle, the parties, but..." he trailed off for a moment, fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair. "I just wanted someone to want me for me."

You tilted your chin up, giving him a sorrowful look as you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at you.

"I want you for you," you told him firmly. He smiled, took your hand from his face, and turned it over to kiss your palm.

"I know."

Truthfully, he knew before he even asked you out on a date. The months he spent getting to know you at the diner had him convinced. But when he told you what he did and showed you where he lived and your only reaction — your first concern — was did he like it? Well, that gave him all the hope in the world that you just might be that someone to help him decorate his home one day.

[randomfangirlof]

[randomfangirlof]

Netflix’s The Witcher ‧ Betrayer Moon

[randomfangirlof]

Reader: *sees a baby* awwww she's so cute!

Joaquin immediately: you want one? I can give you one! Just say the word and I'll do it right now!"

Reader: Joaquin we're on a mission!

Joaquin: *quietly mutters* yeah a mission to get you pregnant

[randomfangirlof]

[ After the crew did something stupid and dangerous ]

Bucky: I am at lost for words...

Ava, narrating: Despite being lost for words, Bucky yelled at us for the next 45 minutes.

[randomfangirlof]

Unspoken

bucky barnes x reader

summary: You and Steve share a steady, unshakeable friendship — nothing more, nothing less. But Bucky’s feelings for you have been quietly growing since Germany, and a mission where you and Steve get a little too close sparks something he can’t ignore.

word count: 4872

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. curse words, dirty talk, PiV, unprotected sex, shower sex, breeding.

A/N: requested by this anon, hope I met your expectations!

The explosion rattled your bones.

Chunks of concrete crashed behind you, and the stale air filled with smoke and ash. You coughed into your arm, stumbling forward through the haze as gunfire cracked in the distance.

A firm hand caught your arm before you could fall.

“Whoa—got you,” Steve said, steadying you as the floor trembled beneath your boots.

You wheezed out a breath and clung to his arm just long enough to get your footing. “Jesus, Rogers. Tell me again why I volunteered for this mission?”

“Because you like saving my ass,” he said, smiling through the dust. “And you owe me one after that blown recon op in Munich.”

You let out a dry laugh. “That was your fault and you know it.”

“Still counts.”

His hand slid off your arm as you both started moving again, weaving through the half-collapsed corridor. You kept pace easily — you’d run dozens of ops with Steve before. He was your comfort zone in the field. The guy you’d banter with between gunshots and lean on when everything went to hell ever since you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. He was like an older brother. Loud, loyal, and irritatingly heroic.

“You alright?” he asked, glancing at you sideways as you reached the breach point.

“Fine. Just crispy around the edges.”

Steve chuckled. “Same.”

Across the compound, hidden in the smoke and ruin, Bucky saw it all.

You, brushing soot off Steve’s shoulder with a huff of breathless laughter. Steve flashing you that boy-scout grin. The way you elbowed him — friendly, easy, close.

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened beneath his tac gear. His eyes tracked every step the two of you took, the curve of your lips when you smiled, the way Steve’s hand hovered protectively near your back like he’d done it a thousand times before.

There was nothing flirtatious about it. Bucky knew that but it didn’t matter.

Because it wasn’t him.

Bucky didn’t say a word the whole ride back. Steve tried once — something about intel cleanup, maybe a joke — but Bucky just grunted and leaned back in his seat, arms folded across his chest like a shield. He didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at you, either.

Not because he didn’t want to. He wanted to more than anything. But looking at you felt dangerous right now. Like he’d let something slip. Like he’d do something stupid.

You were sitting beside Steve. Not close, not touching, not whispering. Just talking. Casual. Comfortable.

And the entire situation wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Bucky knew that.

But knowing didn’t change the way his stomach clenched when you laughed — not loud, not flirty, just a soft sound that still somehow made his teeth grind.

You didn’t even know. You didn’t know how long he’d wanted you.

How it started back in Germany — when you showed up at that god-awful warehouse where Steve had hidden him away before the airport fight. You were new to the team then, still rough around the edges, still learning the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You walked into that room like it didn’t scare you. Like he didn’t scare you. Everyone else flinched when they saw the metal arm. You didn’t.

You sat on the dusty floor next to him while Steve paced in the background, asking if he was okay, if he needed food or air or time. You asked him if he wanted to talk. You handed him a protein bar. You didn’t stare at the scars.

You didn’t treat him like glass.

And that—God, that was it.

He’d been gone for decades, a ghost in his own skin, and you looked at him like he was human. That was all it took. One stupid granola bar and a smile and he was yours.

He’d been nursing that crush ever since. Quietly. Pathetically.

You made it too easy. You treated him like a person, and he followed you like a dog.

But he never said anything. Never acted on it. He figured it would pass eventually — the ache, the want, the way his eyes tracked your every move like a fucking live wire. He thought if he stayed silent long enough, it’d burn out on its own.

It didn’t.

It just got worse.

Every time you touched someone else, it flared. Every time Steve made you laugh, or Sam tossed you a wink, or even Natasha slung her arm around your shoulders during post-mission drinks — it twisted something inside him.

Something ugly.

He hated it. Hated himself for it. For wanting something soft and normal when he knew he wasn’t either of those things. For feeling jealous like he had any right to be.

You weren’t his.

But today, watching you with Steve — seeing how natural you were together, the way you looked at him without thinking — it had broken something.

He’d barely been able to stay in his seat.

Even now, he could still see your hand on Steve’s chest. Could still hear the way you’d laughed — easy, familiar, like Steve was yours.

The thought made him sick.

Because for all the noise in his head, Bucky Barnes knew one thing: He wanted to be the only one who made you laugh like that.

———

The mission was over. Your body ached, your head was pounding, and all you wanted was a hot shower and ten hours of sleep.

The compound was quiet by the time you made it in. Just the soft hum of lights and the distant drone of Sam bitching to FRIDAY about his “unfair” share of the cleanup detail. You smirked to yourself as you slipped out of your tac vest, wiping dried blood off your neck with a towel from the med station.

“Rough one, huh?”

You glanced up — Steve again, leaning against the corridor wall with two water bottles in hand. He tossed you one. You caught it easily.

“Thanks,” you muttered, cracking the seal. “Next time remind me not to follow you into any building marked ‘abandoned missile silo.’”

Steve grinned. “You love the chaos.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder as you passed. “I love not being blown to hell.”

He laughed and followed behind you, chatting casually. Debrief notes. Intel scraps. Something about a weapons crate Tony was going to lose his mind over. You half-listened, too exhausted to give him your full attention.

You said goodbye to Steve and turned the corner toward the east wing and nearly ran into a wall of solid muscle.

Not exactly a wall.

Bucky.

He was just standing there — tactical gear half undone, sweat still clinging to his temple, soot smudged across the sharp line of his jaw. He hadn’t even showered yet, and somehow he still managed to look like something out of a noir film — all shadow and coiled silence.

You blinked. “Jesus—how do you move that quietly in boots?”

His lips twitched. “Super soldier perk.”

“Creepy perk,” you muttered, but your smile softened it. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away — just stared at you. Not in a rude way. Not exactly. But like he was seeing something that didn’t quite belong in this world. Like you’d glitched the matrix.

Your hair was still dusty from the mission. There was a small scrape on your temple. Your mouth was chapped. And you still somehow looked soft — kind. Warm in the way war-hardened people rarely stayed.

“I’m fine,” he said finally, voice low. “You?”

You gave him a tired shrug. “Still standing.”

He gave a small grunt, and your eyes fell on the metal arm hanging at his side.

Without thinking, you reached out and nudged his elbow — a gentle, friendly bump. “You came in fast at the end there. That last guy had me pinned, you know.”

His mouth twitched again — not quite a smile, but close.

“Didn’t like the look he gave you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? He was trying to kill me.”

“Still,” Bucky muttered, voice quieter now. “Didn’t like it.”

There was a pause — one that should’ve felt awkward, but didn’t. Just thick. Heavy with something unspoken.

You bumped him again, softer this time. “Well… I liked the way you got between me and the bullet. So. Thanks.”

That did it.

His heart kicked once, hard, right in his chest. You were already turning to leave, brushing past him with a casual wave, like you hadn’t just set his whole damn nervous system on fire.

“Go shower,” you said over your shoulder. “You smell like smoke and brooding.”

You turned to leave and Bucky stood there for a long, long moment — head tilted slightly, lips parted, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

He ran a hand over his face.

God, he was so gone for you.

He watched you disappear down the hallway, your silhouette framed in the warm light — hair flowing, shoulders slack with exhaustion, still so effortlessly radiant even after a mission, your hips swaying with that careless kind of grace that drove him mad. You didn’t even know you were doing it — didn’t know the way his eyes followed every step you took.

You didn’t even look back.

You never did. Not like that.

He exhaled slowly, jaw working, chest tight. He’d told himself not to feel like this. Not about you.

But God — it was impossible.

You’d teased him gently, like always. Thrown him a smile and a careless jab about the way he smelled. — He should’ve laughed. Instead, he stood frozen — throat tight, jaw clenched, something unholy clawing its way up from his chest — You never meant anything by it, and still… it stuck in his there like a thorn. Not in a painful way. Just in that quiet, aching way that reminded him he wasn’t built for things like this. Like you.

He’d tried so hard to be patient. To keep things light. Friendly. Safe. You were sweet to him — always had been — but you never looked at him the way you looked at Steve. And maybe that shouldn’t matter. Maybe he had no right to want more.

But he did.

He remembered Germany — how you’d offered your hand to him like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like you wanted to know him. He remembered the fight on the airport — the dirt on your cheeks, the fire behind your eyes and every moment you hadn’t hesitated to stand between him and danger.

You’d smiled at him.

You’d made him feel normal.

And now, months later, that feeling hadn’t dulled. If anything, it had carved out a permanent space inside him. He liked the way you talked to him like he wasn’t broken. The way you made the world feel quieter just by being nearby. The way your laugh made something behind his ribs loosen.

He didn’t know what this was. But he knew it was more than just admiration. It had grown roots.

And tonight — after seeing you so close to Steve, the way your hand had lingered on Steve’s chest, the way he had touched your waist — something in Bucky cracked a little.

Not with jealousy. But with fear.

What if he was too late?

You’d thanked him tonight. Nudged his arm. Smiled at him like he was more than just a weapon. Like he mattered. And it overwhelmed him, because you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him.

And maybe it wasn’t enough anymore — watching you from a distance. Smiling back like it didn’t hurt. Pretending he didn’t want more.

Maybe it was time to say something. Before someone else did.

Before he missed his chance.

He didn’t even think. Just turned and walked — quiet and certain — toward your door.

———

You just stepped into the shower , steam curling in the bathroom when you heard it — a quiet knock.

Your hair was damp, clinging to your neck. Warm droplets ran down your back from where the towel didn’t quite reach. You tightened the knot at your chest with one hand and padded barefoot across the floor, thinking maybe Nat had come to scold you for leaving your boots in the common room again.

You opened the door and froze.

So did he.

“…Bucky?”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, eyes dark and wide, like you’d knocked the breath out of him. His knuckles were still half-curled from the knock, like he hadn’t expected you to actually open it.

Or at least, not like this.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, one hand flying to your towel instinctively, even though it wasn’t going anywhere. “I was just about to shower. What’s—um—everything okay?”

His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. His eyes darted up to meet yours — polite, panicked — but they didn’t stay there.

They couldn’t.

Not with the way your bare shoulders glistened with steam. Not with the way that towel clung to the curve of your hips. Not when you were standing there, soft and flushed and so damn close, looking at him like he hadn’t just nearly lost his mind over you ten minutes ago.

“I—” His voice cracked, and he cleared it quickly. “Sorry. I should’ve… waited. Or come back.”

You tilted your head. “Come back for what?”

He hesitated.

And then… he exhaled. “I needed to talk to you.”

Something in your chest fluttered — nerves, maybe. Or just curiosity. Because Bucky didn’t usually come to people’s rooms. Didn’t usually ask to talk.

You took a small step back.

“Well,” you said, voice lighter now. “You can talk while I find some clothes. Just, uh—don’t have a heart attack or anything.”

That almost pulled a laugh out of him.

Almost.

Instead, he gave a tight, shaky nod, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

The click of it echoed louder than it should have.

He didn’t sit. Didn’t move toward you. Just stood near the door with his hands curled into fists at his sides, jaw tense, like he was trying very hard not to look at you again.

But he was failing.

And you could feel it — the weight of his stare trailing your bare skin like a phantom touch.

You turned slightly, pretending to dig through a dresser drawer for something to wear. “So… what’s up?”

“I couldn’t keep it in anymore,” Bucky said quietly.

You froze — one hand still hovering over the open drawer, a cotton shirt limp between your fingers. The steam in the room had started to fade, but now it felt thick again. Dense with something unspoken.

You turned slowly. The towel was still wrapped around you, clinging to your skin. But for the first time tonight, you forgot about it. Because Bucky wasn’t looking at you like you were half-naked.

He was looking at you like he was breaking.

Like something inside him had finally snapped loose and he didn’t know how to gather it back together.

“I tried,” he said, voice raw. “Tried to keep my distance. Be your friend. Be… normal. But I can’t—not when I care about you the way I do. Not when I see you and Steve laughing and feel like I’m the only one on the outside of something I don’t know how to reach.”

Your heart squeezed. Hard.

“Bucky…”

“I don’t think you even realize,” he said, stepping forward just once — not close enough to touch, but close enough that you could see every flicker of fear in his eyes. “Back in Germany, when you first looked at me like I wasn’t dangerous… like I was just a guy you were glad to meet. No one’s looked at me like that in a long time.”

You swallowed thickly, towel knot digging into your chest with the pressure of your breath.

“I remember,” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes locked on yours.

“You changed something in me that day. And ever since, I’ve been trying to figure out how to unfeel it. How to be near you and not want more. But I can’t. I don’t want to anymore.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Not awkward. Just full. The kind of silence that held years of hurt, months of closeness, and one aching truth suspended in the air.

Then—softly—you asked:

“What is it you want, Bucky?”

He exhaled like it hurt. Ran a hand over his mouth, his brow. Like saying it out loud might wreck him.

“I want to know if you ever look at me the way I look at you.”

You didn’t answer right away.

Not because you didn’t want to — but because the words caught in your throat. His confession settled over you like a warm ache, pulling memories to the surface. His quiet kindness. The way he always walked on the side of traffic. How he let you tease him and never pushed when you pulled away. How his eyes always found you in a room, even when you didn’t notice.

You looked at him now — really looked — and saw the worry bleeding through every line of his face. His shoulders were tense like he expected you to walk away. And it hit you like a wave.

You’d liked him all along.

You’d just… never let yourself admit it.

“I didn’t know,” you said softly, stepping forward. Your fingers clutched the towel tighter, not out of modesty, but nerves. “I didn’t let myself think about it. About being with someone.”

His brow furrowed. “Why not? I mean... I'm sure guys are all around you.”

You gave a small, breathless laugh. “Because wanting someone feels dangerous. It always has. Letting someone in, letting them matter… it means they can hurt you. And I didn’t think I could handle that.”

He didn’t speak. Just listened. Let you breathe through it.

“But then you came along,” you whispered. “And you never asked anything of me. Never rushed me. Never made me feel like I had to give you more than I had.”

You looked up at him then — at those soft, uncertain eyes, the way his arms hung at his sides like he was holding himself back. Always holding back.

And you felt it break open inside you.

“I think I’ve liked you for a long time, Bucky,” you said. “I just didn’t know I was allowed to want this.”

For a second, he didn’t move. Then, slowly — carefully — he reached out, fingertips brushing your forearm like he was afraid you’d vanish if he touched too much.

“You’re allowed,” he murmured.

You stepped into his space, towel and all, heart thundering like it hadn’t in years.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Your fingers reached for his wrist first, light and trembling, grounding yourself in something solid. Then he cupped your face, slowly, reverently — metal fingers on one side, warm flesh on the other. You leaned into the touch without thinking, eyes fluttering shut.

Then he kissed you.

It was gentle at first. Careful. Almost scared. Like if he went too fast, it would all disappear.

You made a soft sound against his mouth — not quite a gasp, but something between surprise and relief. Your hands slid up his chest instinctively, feeling the taut muscle beneath his t-shirt, the way his heart pounded hard and steady under your touch.

He pulled back for just a breath, forehead resting against yours. His voice was raw.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast.”

You shook your head. “No. Don’t stop.”

That was all he needed. The second kiss came deeper — hungrier. His hands cradled your waist, pulling you flush against him, towel and all. You opened your mouth to him without hesitation, letting his tongue slide over yours as the air between you grew hotter, heavier.

You felt his breath catch when your fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, palms dragging over the hard plane of his stomach. His body shuddered, like he’d been holding back too long.

And then his grip tightened — not rough, but needing — and he pressed you back, gently walking you toward the bed, mouths never parting.

Your towel loosened with the movement, and you felt it slip.

He broke the kiss just long enough to look down as it hit the floor — and when he looked back up at you, eyes blown wide with heat, it wasn’t just desire you saw there.

It was awe.

Like he’d waited his whole life for this moment.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “You’re—”

You kissed him again, hard.

And he caught you, hands spanning your back, fingers dragging over bare skin like he wanted to memorize every inch. His lips moved down to your jaw, then your throat, teeth grazing lightly, making you gasp.

“Bucky—”

His voice was a low growl against your skin. “You're so beautiful. All of you... God, I’ve thought about this,” he breathed, kissing a path down your collarbone, “for so long.”

You arched into him, pulling at his shirt, breathless. “Then take it off.”

He did — in one quick motion, tossing it aside. His body pressed to yours, skin to skin, heat rolling off him in waves. You dragged your hands down the lines of his back, felt the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

He bent to kiss you again, slower this time — like he wanted to feel every flicker of emotion behind it, to brand the taste of you into memory.

But when your hips rolled into his just slightly, instinctively, something inside him snapped.

Not rough. Not careless. Just urgent. His mouth tore from yours and moved to your ear, voice hoarse, breath ragged.

“Wait,” he murmured, arms tightening around you.

You blinked up at him, dazed. “What is it?”

He exhaled hard, like he was trying to ground himself — and then, suddenly, he was lifting you off the floor. You gasped, arms flying around his shoulders.

“Bucky—!”

“I’ve got a better idea,” he muttered, lips ghosting over your cheek.

“What?” you asked, half breathless, half laughing.

His grin was crooked and dark, eyes glinting with wicked intent.

“You were about to shower, weren’t you?"

Your stomach fluttered. Heat coiled low.

And then he was carrying you to the bathroom like you weighed nothing, your bare body pressed against his chest, the door shutting behind you with a soft click.

Steam still lingered from your earlier attempt, fogging the mirror. He set you down gently, and you barely had time to speak before he was tugging off the rest of his clothes with shaking hands — his eyes never leaving yours.

Then came his boxers.

He hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband and paused — just long enough for your eyes to drop, anticipation coiling tight between your thighs.

And when he pushed them down…

God.

You knew he’d be big. You knew. But it still made your lips part in a silent gasp, heat rushing to your face, to your core, as his cock sprang free — thick, flushed, already dripping with precum, heavy against his thigh.

Bucky’s mouth quirked, barely a smirk, but his eyes stayed locked on yours like he was watching your every breath, every flicker of reaction.

You stood still for a beat, watching him, your eyes drifted back up — the way his chest rose and fell, the scar beneath his collarbone, the tension in his jaw — like he was trying not to devour you.

You stepped back into the shower first, letting the water wash over your skin again, warm and welcome. Your breath hitched as you turned, watching him follow.

Bucky stepped in behind you, quiet for a moment. The water slid over his chest, down the ridges of muscle and old wounds and memory. His metal hand flexed at his side. Then he looked up at you.

“Come here,” you said softly.

He moved toward you slowly, almost hesitantly, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. His hands found your hips under the stream, thumbs brushing your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said again, like it hurt to admit.

Your fingers reached up to tangle in his damp hair. “You make me feel like I am.”

His forehead pressed to yours.

And then he kissed you again — deeper this time, wetter, the rhythm of it syncing with the falling water. His hands roamed more freely now, down your spine, up your sides. He held you like he didn’t know where to start, like every part of you deserved to be touched.

The heat between you built slow and steady. His mouth trailed to your jaw, then your throat, tasting droplets as he went.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed, pressing you gently back against the tile, your skin arching into the chill as heat rolled off him in waves.

The water hit your shoulders, cascading down your chest, but all you could focus on was him. The slick drag of his palms across your ribs. The weight of his body slotting perfectly between your thighs.

His hands gripped the underside of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct, the feel of his cock heavy and hard, brushing right where you needed him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “You’re so soft. So fuckin’ warm—”

You pulled him down into a kiss, all tongue and teeth, water pouring over both of you as your hips shifted against his. His cock slid against your slit, teasing and hot, the slickness of the shower only making it worse — better.

“Bucky—please,” you gasped, biting his lower lip.

His head dropped to your shoulder, panting.

“You want it, baby?” His voice was low, filthy. “Want me to fuck you right here? Let the whole damn compound hear who you belong to?”

A needy whimper left your lips before you could stop it.

“Yes. Please. Do it.”

He didn’t wait another second. With one thrust, he buried himself inside you — deep, thick, stretching you so perfectly your breath left your lungs. Your head hit the tile with a soft thud, eyes flying open with the sudden, glorious pressure.

“Oh my—fuck,” you choked, clutching at his shoulders.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” he growled, thrusting again. His hips snapped forward, water dripping from his hair as his mouth crashed against yours. Each roll of his hips dragged a desperate sound from your throat.

The way he filled you — every inch, every grind — was possessive, intimate. He wasn’t just fucking you. He was claiming you.

“You hear that?” he rasped, slamming into you harder now, the sound of wet skin and moans echoing off the walls. “Let ‘em hear it. Let ‘em know this pussy’s mine.”

You cried out, nails digging into his back.

“Yes, yes—it’s yours, Bucky—”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned. “You take me so well. Look at you. Fuck.”

He reached down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. You jerked, the sensation sharp, delicious, your orgasm already building tight in your belly.

“Come on,” he whispered against your ear, filthy and sweet. “Come on my cock. I know you want to.”

His thrusts grew faster, rougher — perfect. Your head dropped back as the pleasure overwhelmed you, and when it hit, it hit.

Your orgasm ripped through you, sharp and blinding, your whole body clenching around him as you screamed his name. Bucky groaned, stuttering inside you, barely holding himself back.

“Fuck, fuck—gonna come—”

“Inside,” you gasped, barely coherent. “Want it. All of it—”

He cursed, hips slamming deep one last time before he came with a raw moan, spilling inside you as he pressed his forehead to yours, panting.

The water poured down over you both, the heat misting your skin, but neither of you moved.

Bucky stayed pressed to you, forehead resting against yours, his hands cradling your hips like you were something fragile — something his. His breathing was still heavy, chest rising and falling against yours, heart pounding like it didn’t know how to calm down.

You leaned in first, brushing your lips over his. Soft. Barely there.

But he kissed you back like he needed it — like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Slow, warm, reverent. His metal hand came up to cradle your cheek again, thumb stroking water away from your temple.

You sighed into it, into him, fingers drifting over the wet lines of his back, the ridges of muscle that had just held you so tightly.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the rush of water.

You smiled faintly. “It is.”

He kissed you again — slower this time, like he was memorizing it.

Then he pulled back, just enough to smirk, eyes gleaming through the steam.

“Wanna go again?”

You blinked, caught between a laugh and a moan, your thighs already pressing together in anticipation.

“Here?” you breathed.

He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear.

“Unless you want me to carry you to bed this time…”

You flushed hot all over, biting your lip as heat pooled between your legs all over again.

“…or the counter.”

[randomfangirlof]

Blog Name Change!

I am going to change my blog name AND my Ao3 username to L.T. Swann in the next week or so, so if you notice that name popping up on your dash, it's me! (Don't worry--I'll still be writing all the same fics you know and love, I just want to have the names synchronized as I move towards self-publishing my e-books)

Life has been changing, but good! I have moved to Tucson , AZ and purchased a lil' plot of land to be my very own early retirement spot. So far so good!

Tagging all my moots who are signed up for fic notifications (if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just use this link):

@scottishrosefury, @not-that-syndrigast, @lolitsbuckybarnes, @kathy-2005, @stuckysgal, @thenewmissescullen, @literaryavenger, @Yoruse, @foulpersonahandsvoid, @autumnrose40, @alexakeyloveloki, @witch-lemon, @sapphirebarnes, @notyourtypicalrose, @era, @gretasimp, @kandismom, @ivoryangel1290, @mrs-rogers-barnes1, @softcorecrybaby, @iloveshawnieboi, @m0k0k0, @getxwaylarry, @sousydive, @juicyfruit-22, @bloodrosefuryao3, @laylamikaelsonbarnes, @leighta, @salvy-deldroid, @drfellow, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters, @missmarvelophilic, @casualchaoticdevil, @rebelfleur22, @banneriscarried, @mrsstuckyboo, @1shyshy1sana, @saltyllamakidwombat, @scarlettmischief, @chibijusstuff, @caplanbuckybarnes, @downriverfellow, @kitasownworld, @onecoolbroad, @bonkybarnes106, @perdidosbucky-yyo, @MadameRubrum, @bitchy-bi-trash, @buckyssupersoldier, @throwmethroughawindow, @d3vils-adv0cat3, @leah2901, @rivivie, @bunnistorm, @allthenobodyppl-fics, @randomfangirlof, @pochapo, @mencantaleer, @princesleftnipple, @loritate7311, @heartsformariee22, @sarcasmismyonlydefence, @ratussy12, @Hangzoes-wife, @decadentpaperpizza, @Kimmie113080, @doilooklikeigiveafrack, @justvlr, @blackhawkfanatic, @skel-skell, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @type-ink, @stickysweetie, @bethexo07, @matchat3a, @sadsackssss, @myfavbuckyfics, @ppbhquinn, @liannafae, @legolas217, @sheismaryy, @sleepyghostgirl, @nessieart, @books-bring-me-joy

[randomfangirlof]

Operation: Talk Some Sense Into Your Best Friends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s overprotectiveness during your pregnancy hits an all-time high, and you enlist Steve and Sam to stage a much-needed intervention.

Warnings: Pregnancy, overprotective behavior (comedic), fluff, light swearing, established relationship, mentions of nausea and hormonal shifts

I love my husband.

I really do.

But if he tells me I can’t lift one more thing, I swear on all things holy I’m going to strangle him with the world’s softest maternity blanket.

“Bucky,” I say slowly, placing the folded stack of towels into the linen closet. “It’s laundry. I am literally moving fabric from one surface to another.”

“You’re carrying our baby,” he says seriously, crossing the room like I just lifted a car. “You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavier than a feather.”

I blink. “Towels are not heavy.”

“Towels can cause accidents. Back strain. Slippery floors—”

“Did you just make that up?”

He gently takes the remaining towels from my hands like I’m an elderly Victorian fainting woman. “You’re pregnant. Not allowed.”

I stare at him.

He stares back, unbothered.

This is getting out of hand.

It started around week sixteen.

Just a slight uptick in Bucky’s worry level. Not too crazy. Just a few extra check-ins. Some hovering. The occasional “do you want me to carry you to the couch so you don’t have to walk there?”

Cute. Kind of funny.

Week seventeen? He downloaded three pregnancy tracking apps and started setting my hydration alarms.

Week eighteen? He wouldn’t let me walk to the mailbox alone. Said it was “uneven terrain.”

Today?

He told me I needed a spotter to get out of bed.

I’ve had enough.

I find Sam and Steve in the gym, predictably trying to one-up each other with pull-ups. Steve is winning. Sam is swearing.

I walk in, arms crossed, belly slightly more obvious in my fitted t-shirt, and glare.

They both stop mid-rep.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says, wiping sweat from his brow. “You good?”

“No. Your best friend is driving me absolutely insane and I need backup before I fake a dramatic fainting spell and run away to Aruba.”

Steve blinks. “I’m sorry?”

I sigh. “Bucky is in full-blown dad-mode overdrive. He won’t let me carry a grocery bag. He walks me to the bathroom like I’m made of glass. I caught him googling pregnancy-safe shoelace techniques last night.”

Sam chokes on his water.

Steve raises a hand. “Wait—shoelaces?”

“He thinks I’ll fall over if I bend forward.”

Sam snorts. “Okay, that’s a little much.”

“A little?” I throw my hands up. “He almost tackled me for opening the fridge.”

“To be fair, that thing is kind of heavy—”

“STEVE.”

“Right. Sorry.”

I exhale, then lean against the wall. “Look. I know he means well. I love how much he cares. But if someone doesn’t talk him off this overprotective ledge, I am going to scream. Or cry. Or both. At the same time.”

Sam claps a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll handle it.”

Steve nods solemnly. “You’ll have personal space again in no time.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Operation: Chill the Hell Out is a go.”

They corner him in the kitchen that afternoon.

I’m not even in the room—I’m just around the corner, eavesdropping like a professional.

“Buck,” Sam says, “we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About how you’ve turned into the world’s most intense dad before the kid’s even born.”

Steve jumps in. “You’re stressing Y/N out.”

“She’s pregnant,” Bucky replies, confused. “She shouldn’t be stressed.”

“That’s your fault!” Sam yells.

“I’m protecting her!”

“You’re bubble-wrapping her soul, man.”

Bucky grumbles. “I just… I worry.”

“We know,” Steve says gently. “But you can’t hover her into safety.”

“She’s tough, Buck,” Sam adds. “Let her be.”

There’s silence.

Then, Bucky sighs. “She told you about the shoelaces, didn’t she?”

Steve and Sam answer in perfect unison: “Yes.”

That night, I walk into the living room to find Bucky setting up a foot massage station like I’m royalty.

I raise an eyebrow.

He gives me a sheepish look. “Truce?”

I sit beside him. “Maybe. Are we done banning me from bending over?”

“Yes.”

“And from picking up my own snacks?”

“Yes.”

“And from standing in the kitchen while a microwave runs?”

“That one was one time—”

“Bucky.”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll dial it down. I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you. Or them.”

I reach for his hand and place it gently over my belly.

“We’re okay,” I say softly. “But I need you to breathe. And maybe… let me pee without an escort.”

He laughs.

“Deal.”

He still carries the laundry sometimes.

But now he lets me do it with him.

And when I tie my own shoes the next morning, he claps.

So… progress.

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