darce

18 — blondie enthusiast !!

[d4rci3]

NAVIGATION!

call me darce! ✮⋆˙ she/her — 18 — journaling enthusiast

{requests: open closed}

character list — guidelines — masterlist

anti ai write that bad fanfiction!!

currently working on… 1940s bucky x fem!overstimulated!reader

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[d4rci3]

i’m currently working on a 1940s bucky x fem!overstimulated!reader BUT i would love a few request!! anyone from my character list would be great!!

[rainbowswurld]

synopsis: you and bobby just finished trying to help clark film a commercial. now you two are alone with no one else in the store yet (despite being open). you decide to have a little fun…

pairing: sub!bobby franklin x reader

cw: smut! 18+ MDNI

Bobby put down the camera as Clark cursed at the furniture for falling apart. The commercial he had asked him to film was not going well.

You put your hand on Bobby’s upper arm.

“It’s taking everything in me not to burst out laughing right now.” You whisper.

He chuckles quietly.

“If I wasn’t so stoned right now, I probably would have.”

You roll your eyes playfully as Clark groans in frustration.

“Forget this. Can you two just open the store?”

You look at Bobby who looks at the front entrance.

“We’ve been open.” You respond as the vast furniture store taunts Clark with its silence. It’s emptiness.

“I’ll be in my office. Could you two clean this up please?” With that, your boss walks away and leaves you and your incredibly hot boyfriend all alone.

Bobby begins picking up pieces of the chair and taking them to the back where Clark sends old/broken furniture to be disposed of. This back area was huge and there were many places to hide.

You stop Bobby when he turns back around, hands clasped around his neck.

“What?” He says, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Why don’t we just…stay in here for a bit?” You ask, innocently.

“And leave the floor unattended?” He says, sarcastically.

Reaching up, you crash your lips into his and he melts into your arms. Lifting you up, he sets you down on one of the nearby tables. You place your hand on his chest and let it wander downwards. His skin meets your hand fairly quick considering he’s wearing a cropped shirt today.

You feel his happy trial and smile into the kiss.

“What’s the giggling about?”

“Oh nothing. Just appreciating my incredibly hot boyfriend.”

Your hands go to his belt where you begin to try and take it off.

“Woah…” He starts.

“Should we stop?” You ask, smiling because you already know his answer.

“I didn’t say that.” He replies, gently pushing your hand away and quickly undoing his belt and pants.

“All yours.” He says, looking down.

You smile and again, slide your hand past his happy trail, it disappearing into his boxers.

When your hand makes contact, he makes a small noise and moves his hips.

You stay still, watching him unravel in front of you.

“Better be careful. You don’t have a change of clothes here.” You tease.

Still, he moves for any friction. Eventually his breathing gets more and more erratic.

“I’m gonna-” He starts and you already know to cover his mouth. Within seconds he’s moaning loudly against your palm as he finishes. His breath is warm against your palm.

You pull your hand out of his pants just as the phone in the back rings. With your other hand, you pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are the two of you? We have a customer.”

You look at Bobby.

“I’ll handle it…you should probably go home though.”

He’s flushed and still breathing heavily but he smiles at you and you already know that this will continue whenever you were released from the prison of this job.

[d4rci3]

"i don’t think he would have been this quick witted? idk tho he was quick to get back up that corridor."

You are so right 😭 he gives himbo energy in the movie BUT he was QUICK to try and get out of there at the very first sign of danger so maybe he has 2 braincells instead of just 1 🤔

yesss. but i feel like if in the movie it was opposite - kat going down the corridor instead of bobby - i think he definitely would have jumped down for her the second he thought she was in trouble. i wish we had a chase scene with them in the movie too 😓 cuz it would have been nicer to see more of their characters.

[ladyinthebloodychamber]

another human soul

relationship: bobby franklin x female! reader (in the future)

summary: there is another someone else in the backrooms and when she hears screams she finds a broken man at the end of a corridor. saving him becomes a mission that she never knew she could hope for.

author's note: omg hi! it's literally been 2 years since I've last written anything on Tumblr or fanfic related in general (and I also deleted my account lol) but I'm back! I was struck with inspiration because of this movie so I wanted to write a little something for bobby! honestly all credits due to the better bobby series bc it literally inspired me to get back into writing (to the incredible writer I will forever be indebted to you THANK YOU). I hope you enjoy this little brain dump of an idea I came up with, a part 2 should potentially be coming but I'm also open to requests (!) so if anyone wants to send anything my way pls be my guest I would love to hear from you. anywayyyy enough of my rambling, pls enjoy <3 (edit: I FORGOT TO ADD THAT THIS IS MY WORK, COMPLETELY MADE AND BIRTHED BY A HUMAN BEING, NOT AN AI)

content warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and injuries, horror, psychological horror, monsters, death

You weren’t having a very good day. Not like any day could be considered ‘good’ since entering this hell hole. But this particular day was a bit atrocious due to the screaming. Someone new must have entered Level 0 and it had found them. You had done a pretty good job at avoiding that new thing ever since it spawned from wherever they came from but you still caught glimpses and well, smells from its lair.

So you shouldered the backpack and went towards the lair’s location. Don’t let anyone say you weren’t a nice person. Plus it would mean company that wasn’t an ominous sound or the hazmat suits. That is if the thing has decided not to eat the survivors yet.

“People really have to go about messing with things huh?” You muttered out loud as you saw the couch, the ramp and the remains of a rope lying in the entrance. You picked your way over the furniture and slid down quickly. Landing on the damp carpet.

It was the smell that hit you first. You always hated coming down here, it made you want to gag up the small amount of food you had managed to force down your throat that morning.

“Fuck, eww, okay focus.” You picked yourself off the floor and headed towards the horizontal door, you didn’t like heading off through the different areas of this section. Just in and out. Rescue mission, okay. Like this wasn’t going to get you killed.

Pressing yourself up to the door you listened closely: nothing. The entity must have moved away to hunt, there was still a chance that the person might still be alive.

“In and out. In and out.” You repeated under your breath, whispering but still trying to reassure yourself. You turned the door knob and pulled the door open slowly. You shined the flashlight you had managed to find on one of the expeditions and found the cold, dank room smiling back at you.

There was nothing in the main atrium (?) but the corridors that led out seemed to be pulsing. The sounds of roaring were not far off. You quickly scanned each of the corridors until you suddenly stopped short.

At the far end of one of the hallways there was still a person. A person that was clearly breathing. You inched over to the person - a man with a white shirt, jeans and blonde hair. A man who was very much alive but bleeding freely from his leg. Moving quickly, you pulled off your backpack and grabbed the shirt you had stashed in there.

“Hi, are you okay? Are you awake?” You said as loudly as you dared to the man in front of you. He groaned loudly in response and you shushed him. The shirt thankfully wrapped around his jean covered thigh and you made a makeshift tourniquet. Stopping the worst of the blood flow.

“Can you get up? Dude, I need some help here, I don’t think I can haul you out myself.” You lightly shook the guy’s shoulder and he winced before his eyes slowly blinked open. And then it hit him where he was and what had just happened, it was like you watched him calculate your features in real time.

“Are you one of them? Where is Kat? Where is that thing?”

“Look, you need to be quiet, we need to get out of here. Before that thing comes back.” You whispered back and he nodded back - clearly still in shock. You put your backpack back on and slowly helped him back up.

“I know the way out this area but we’re going to need to climb. Do you think you can do that?”

“I-uh, I can try.”

“You better or else we’re both done for.” As if the thing heard you stealing his precious catch, a loud resounding roar echoed from one of the hallways. Followed by two screams. “Don’t focus on them, we can’t fight that thing. The only possible thing we can do is get the hell out of here. Now come on.”

Somehow it felt like the walk back to the door was longer. Like the hallways were in league with that inhuman thing. Or maybe it was just the giant weight of a man hanging off the side of you.

When your flashlight finally shined off the painted wood of the door you almost let out a shriek of joy. You moved quicker than before, dragging the guy in an effort to get to the door faster but when you reached it you suddenly remembered your survival instincts. And pressed your ear to the door before slowly pulling it up and open.

The smell hit you once again, not just damp but a mixture of saliva, blood, mold and decomposition seemed to emanate from the place.

“Okay we’re almost there, in you go.” You push the guy through first and then follow him before closing the door behind you both. Taking a deep (and slightly strangling) breath you grab hold of his left arm and pull it around your shoulders again. The rope was still hanging down through the ramp and you just realized that a part of that rope was hanging off him as well.

“Still okay?” His blue eyes met yours and he gave a weak smirk.

“Never better.”

“Okay so I’ll grab the rope and you can hold onto me as we both climb up. How does that sound?”

“Is that going to work?”

“We don’t really have options right now.”

“Okay.”

You nod and then approach the steep incline, you wrap your hand around the rope and that’s when you realize your hands are trembling. This was the longest conversation you’ve had with someone other than yourself in so long. The relief mixed with the excitement and adrenaline were doing horrors to your regulatory system but you had to get out of here. No use thinking about anything other than survival, although this was the first kernel of hope there had been in this awful place in so very long.

You start to pull yourself inch by inch and once you’re up a bit into the shaft, you slide down and smile at the guy.

“I think if you grab my backpack I should be able to pull us both up but you’re going to also need to put some weight on your legs to give us a push up. We have one chance at this.”

The guy’s face blanched and he smiled nervously before nodding his head. You were going to have to rely on adrenaline and the time spent climbing in this place to get the fuck out of the thing’s lair. It was now or never.

You smiled reassuringly at the guy and then turned around and grabbed the rope again. You felt his hands go around the straps of your backpack and you almost jolted. He had warm hands and they were touching you, even in the face of death you felt something akin to happiness to feel another person’s touch. It had been so long. Everything had been so long ago.

That was when you started pulling yourself up and using your legs against the floor (?) as leverage. He at least seemed to be doing his part because it wasn’t too hard for the first half of the shaft. Then it got a bit steeper. And it got harder and the muscles in your body started screaming.

If you let go, you die. If you let go, you die. If you let go, you die. If you let go, you die. If you let go, you die. If you let go, you die.

Those words kept spinning in your head as the rope started to cut the circulation in your hands and the straps of the backpack started to make what seemed like a permanent groove into your body. Literally dragging someone and your own body up a shaft was not a piece of cake. But this meant having someone to talk to, to help, to protect and if getting that would kill you then so be it.

So you kept going, you kept going as sweat pooled in the concaves of your body and your scalp became itchy. You pulled yourself up and you pulled this random person up and up and up. Sisyphus, look at me now asshole. 

And then you saw it, that stupid patterned couch that was holding you up was just inches away. So you pulled yourself up one last time and rested on the headboard of the couch. The guy finally detaches himself from you and it was a relief like no other. Both of your feet were now dangling into the abyss.

“I’m Bobby by the way.” He whispers and you look over to the man you dragged from the brink of death itself and you smile.

“It’s nice to meet you Bobby.”

After resting for a very short period of time, you grabbed the guy, Bobby, again and stumbled back through the now-familiar hallways. You were going back to your base (?), lair (?), home. It changed on what felt like a weekly basis, depending on the appearance of entities, hazmat people and the hellhole itself.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe. I should be able to patch that up there.” You whisper, nodding your head down to his bandaged thigh. The blood had started to seep onto the orange shirt and all the movement definitely wasn’t helping it. You just hope the thing hadn’t clipped an artery.

“Who are you?”

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you once we don’t have to whisper like this.” You wink and at least you get a strained huff and smile from Bobby.

“Isn’t it safe now though?” You shake your head and then motion him to stop. Urging him to experience the atmosphere of the place. The ever-constant hum of the lights, the sickly yellow of the walls that seemed to close in around you once you stop moving, the feeling of the floor breathing under your shoes and the sound of distant movement.

“This place, this level used to be fairly safe and then the thing that took you appeared. It likes to stalk its victims. So I’m taking you to a different area. One that is a little less… claustrophobic?”

The both of you start moving again and you turn right at the next junction to find yourself in the tiled pool space. Bobby eyes flash to yours but you’re currently focusing on not slipping on the tile and not letting him slip either.

“Not here either.” You say as you keep walking. 

And you walk for a lot longer than it took you to find him and the others in the first place. Bobby was getting weaker, you could feel him leaning more and more of his weight on your body. Not that it didn’t feel nice to have another warm body on yours but it was starting to concern you how much his leg was dragging. So you decided to take the shortcut. The one that led through the hotel.

You held him closer when you first passed onto the carpeted floors, you had both been silent most of the walk but now you looked at him and pressed your finger to your lips. It was imperative that he stayed quiet in this place. You knew the route like the back of your hand but if you made a noise or tripped or even looked at a door wrong you knew that there was no chance you were getting out of there alive.

So you walked slowly, quietly, with intention. The fastest way through was in the kitchens and then the manager’s office and then you would get to home. You held onto Bobby tightly, so tightly that he had shot you strange glances as you walked through the plush hotel lobby. The patterns on the floor always reminded you of that movie where the dad went crazy and tried to kill his family during a snowstorm.

The hotel had an eerie quality, not just because of what lurked in its walls but because of the way you knew someone had been here before. This was one of the levels you had explored that felt like it had housed a great number of people before whatever happened, happened. It was not just a distorted memory of a place but a pretty picture perfect replica of a place.

And now you were invading its territory with a bleeding man. Usually you only came here for the meagre amount of food the kitchen used to hold. Now this was more than life and death, it was your sanity.

When you finally reached the swinging doors that led into the kitchen, you tapped Bobby on the shoulder and strained a smile. His eyes were lidded and he was desperately trying to hold on. He didn’t look good.

You pushed the swinging door and went through, and then you walked and walked and walked until you reached the manager’s office and then you kept walking again. Until you reached the red emergency door with the upside down number panel code next to it. You looked around the dimly lit corridor and then pulled open the door before shoving Bobby in and quickly banging the door shut behind you - ensuring that it was fully closed. Just as you heard the familiar shriek of something inhuman on the other side. It sent a wave of shivers down your body and made gooseflesh appear on your arms.

“What the hell is that?”

“You don’t want to know. They tend to like that particular area of the hotel but they can’t get through, don’t worry. We’re here.” You pointed to the harshly lit office space with windows looking out into nothing and rows upon rows of cubicles going as far as the eye could see.

“This is safe?”

“Nothing likes it here. I think it’s too boring or too mechanical or something. Really shows you how much the office spaces sucks the soul of all things that inhabit it. Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

“You still haven’t told me anything about yourself, all I know is your name and that you saved me.” Bobby said, panting slightly as he hobbled next to you over to one of the cubicles at the far left side, right in front of the windows.

“I promised I’d tell you once we’re safe. You can stop whispering too, by the way.” You motioned to the spinny chair that was in the cubicle and helped him sit down. Bobby let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes for a moment.

“You’re not one of the things are you?”

“An entity? No.” You focus on rifling through your backpack and pulling out a bottle of water and a shirt. You also tried in vain to find if you had anything antiseptic, the water would have to do.

“Uh Bobby you’re going to need to take off your jeans.” You said, slightly sheepishly once you turned back to the man and found him looking at you with a questioning look on his face. It was strange how after so long in this place that literally and figuratively ate people you were still a girl after all.

“You could at least take me out on a date first.” Bobby smirked slightly but then started hiking up the remainder of the rope and unbuckling his belt. You turned around, in an effort to give him some privacy even though it was probably too late for that. Plus he had mentioned someone named Kat. You couldn’t just start jumping his bones just because he was the first human you had seen in months? Years? Decades?

“Ready.” You turn back towards him and then zero in on the orange shirt that he was pressing onto a gash in his left leg. The shirt was absolutely destroyed, soaked through with blood and it seemed to have started to drip as well.

“Okay, are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, at least I don’t think so. My head hurts pretty bad and my shoulder is bruised to hell but that’s really bugging me.” He cracks a strained smile as you nod and then kneel down in front of him and urge him to move his hand from the wound. You were so close to his goddamn boxers but right now your attention zeroed in on the freely bleeding gash. 

You could almost see the layers of muscle from how deep it was. You bit your lip in contemplation and then told him to place the shirt back on the cut.

“That is really fucking deep, I’m surprised you even managed to walk on that thing. It looks like it needs stitches and I don’t have that. I think the best thing we can do is stuff it with something to stop the bleeding and then wrap it.”

“I’m at your disposal doc.” Bobby tilted his head and gave you a soft little smile but you could see the panic in his eyes. A panic you had been intimately familiar with since you somehow landed in this mess. It was that primal panic that made your life flash before your eyes as you fell down or a car whizzed past a little too close. He didn’t know if he was going to make it out of this alive.

“Listen to me, Bobby. You’re going to be okay. I swear on my life, I will make you better. I haven’t survived this long to lose someone just because of a little scratch. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You nodded and then you grabbed the water bottle again. You were going to save this man if it took every last bit of you to do it.

[d4rci3]

bobby franklin masterlist:

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you’re ok..

fem!reader oneshot — reader goes through sloped corridor instead of bobby

[d4rci3]

you’re ok..

bobby franklin x fem!reader oneshot

A/N + tags: hurt/comfort — lowkey trauma for reader and bobby BUT happy-ish ending — established relationship — slight use of y/n (sorry i’m a y/n defender) — pirate clark makes an appearance — storyline/dialogue will be slightly off, i did watch the movie over a week ago :( — maybe slight ooc!bobby cuz 1. he didn't make it in the movie :( and 2. i don’t think he would have been this quick witted? idk tho he was quick to get back up that corridor. GOD, it took me ages to figure out how they were gonna get out 😓 — lowkey for their hug at the end i imagined the hug at the end of the tangled movie 🥲

omg omg, my first ever fic!! yay yay!!

tw: blood + injury description/detail?, swearing, brief mentions of smoking, general backrooms stuff

word count: 3.2k

the morning started normal, which was probably the worst part.

you woke up slowly, in bobby and yours shared apartment, the faint smell of weed in the air from the joint you had both shared the evening before. the gentle sunlight slipping through the blinds in your bedroom.

you had woken up before your boyfriend, your limbs tangled together and his chest pressed against your back, an arm draped over your waist as he breaths warmly and quietly against the nape of your neck.

you smile to yourself as you take in the calm morning together.

soon enough you can feel him stir slightly from behind you.

he begins slowly pressing warm kisses to the back of your neck and you can feel his lips form a grin as he continues peppering kisses up and down your neck. “morning babe,” he murmurs, and you can fell his warm breath against your neck as he speaks, “you hungry?” you turn around so you’re facing him and immediately he pecks at your nose, “not yet,” you reply, voice croaking slightly with sleep.

he pulls back and instantly you miss his presence against you, “ok, m’gonna get some cereal,” he says quietly while sitting up and getting out of bed. you promptly take note of his topless figure and smirk to yourself as he pads out the bedroom barefoot, headed for the kitchen.

you slowly get out of bed and make your way to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and begin to undress, not a long task as you are only wearing some grey sleep shorts and one of bobby’s old, oversized shirts.

you begin changing out of your shorts and into some jeans, you’re about to take your t-shirt off when a loud pounding at the door makes you jump. “bobby can you get that?!” you call out to your boyfriend and hear a muffled, “sure,” in response.

you’re still trying to pick out a top when you hear bobby calling out for you, quiet and first and then more clipped as his patience wavers. you huff and pick out an orange graphic tee before making your way to the front door, bobby is standing by the open door talking to someone, he turns around as he hears you approach.

you make your way to the door and spot your boss, clark, outside, “babe, clark’s asked us to come in today, he wants us to do…” bobby trails off, turning back to look at clark, a confused expression on his face.

“research,” clark finishes slowly, seemingly unsure himself. you look between your boyfriend and clark, nodding your head with a sigh, “fine, what time?” you question pinching the bridge of your nose, eyes shut as you prepare to take in the answer from clark.

bobby turns from clark towards you and you can feel his annoyance radiating off of him at the notion of coming into work on your day off.

“one pm?” clark questions but it comes out more as a statement, reluctantly bobby nods his head stepping back to shut the door.

clark stops the door with his palm adding, “oh and i need you to bring your camcorder.”

after clark leaves bobby lets out a loud sigh and turns back towards you.

“what research do you think he’s talking about?” he asks you, brows furrowed in confusion. you walk towards him, “knowing clark, anything.” he lets out an amused huff at you comment.

you stop directly in front of him, placing your hands on his bare chest and stepping up onto your tiptoes, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

his hard expression visibly diminishes at your actions as he pulls you into a more passionate kiss.

you smile into it before pulling yourself away by his shoulders, “come on, lets grab some food before we leave.” you walk off to the kitchen and hear him walk after you, “sure baby.”

you smirk at the nickname, grabbing your own bowl from a drawer and pouring yourself some cereal, leaning with your back against the counter, “hey maybe we should call kat? let her know some overtime money is on the line?”

bobby, turns around and leans against the counter opposite you, digging into his own bowl of cereal, “yeah sure, i’ll call her and let her know.”

you finish your cereal and get ready together before swinging round to kats’ and making your way to Cap’n Clarks.

as soon as you enter the shop it feels off.

not a tangible feeling, it’s deeper than that. it’s unsettling and you can feel it in your bones. you glance at bobby who grants you a worried look in return. kat comes in tow behind you and your boyfriend.

she immediately takes note of clark’s erratic behaviour, as he briskly makes his way to the stairs that lead to the basement, “ok, what’s going on, clark?” she asks wearily, crossing her arms.

clark turns around, now facing you all, “nothing..just come with me, i need you for research…” his answer is breathy, as if he doesn’t understand what’s happening himself.

you all glance at eachother before following clark to the basement.

your eyes widen at the state of the right wall, blue tape in the shape of a rectangle covers a part of the wall, beside it is a whiteboard with markings and maps scrawled messily onto it.

“what the fuck..” kat whispers from behind you and bobby; the fear and confusion in her voice evident.

“come on” clark hisses, gesturing to the rectangle created on the wall as he slowly makes his way over.

you don’t fully understand it at first, one minute clark is stood away from you three, gesturing wildly to follow him through a solid wall, next he’s disappeared, seemingly having walked through the wall.

“holy shit!” you hear your boyfriend exclaim, although it comes out breathy and full of curiosity.

“holy shit, holy shit, y/n did you see that?” he repeats, walking closer to the wall while simultaneously turning his camcorder on and pressing record.

he begins to press his hand to the wall, but it passes straight through, as if the wall were an illusion or not even there at all.

“what..” he mutters, turning back around to face you and kat. you both share the same concerned expression.

“come on you three!” it’s odd, you can hear clark but you cannot see him anywhere in the basement.

“oh my god, we’re high,” you gasp, placing a hand on your head, trying to find any possible explanation for what is going on.

but before you can fully fathom what’s happening, bobby has stepped through the ‘wall.’

“shit bobby! where are you?” you shout, stepping up to the ‘wall’. you hear a familiar voice answer your cry, “babe, come through the wall”

“what?!” you gasp, turning to kat who bears a similar confused expression.

“here,” he calls, and you see a hand emerge from the ‘wall’. you go to reach for it but kat grabs your shoulder pulling you back, “what are you doing?” she whispers, clearly uncomfortable with the growing uneasiness of the situation.

you look back, bobby’s hand is still outstretched. “it’ll be fine, come on,” you state before grabbing his hand and walking straight through the ‘solid wall’

at first, you can’t quite grasp what you can see in front of you: a stack of mangled furniture, all bunched and melded together in a large pile, it seems to be an office space. it’s adorned with sickly yellow wallpaper and fluorescent lights that hum and buzz too loudly. walls that are stained with god knows what and an underlying smell of damp and mould hangs in the air.

bobby pans the camera to you, then behind you. you turn around and see that kat has followed you both through the wall, it takes her a moment to grasp what she’s seeing and you can immediately see the fear on her face as she understands the reality of what happened.

“this way,” clark instructs, gesturing for you three to follow him into the depths of the endless corridors of office spaces you’ve found yourselves in.

“so..” you begin, not really aiming your words at anyone, just trying to stop the confusion and make sense of the situation you’ve found yourself in. “is this the ‘research’ you meant earlier?” you question, adding sarcasm over your words to account for the strange change turn of your day.

“yes,” clark replies quickly as her makes a sharp turn around a corner and halts. “i need one of you to go down there..” he gestures vaguely to a hole in the wall beside you, “and record what you find.” he then turns to a bed that you hadn’t noticed was beside you and grabs some rope that had been placed over the blankets.

“are we tying ourselves up?” bobby asks, a hint of amusement to his voice.

“no, i’m tying one of you up.” clark reply’s, “who wants to go down there?” he asks to you three and you all freeze.

“what are you talking about?!” kat exclaims. clearly distressed with how your situation has escalated.

there’s a beat of silence.

then, “i’ll go.” your voice wavers slightly, but your expression is hard and set. bobby turns towards you, camcorder in hand, his breath catches in his throat at your words. but he sees your face, he knows that expression, and he knows it well; it’s the one you wear when your decision cannot be swayed.

“what?” he tries to reason, placing the camcorder down on the bed and taking your face in his hands. “it’s my camera, i’ll go, baby.” you stare at him for a moment before a shaky, “no,” passes your lips. “anyway, you and kat hesitated and i don’t mind, i’m not scared if that’s what you think.” you rest your forehead against his, it’s clear your mind is made up and so bobby tilts his face back up, placing a kiss on your forehead, a small smile on his face at your obvious attempt to mask your fear though a quippy comment. turning back to the bed, he picks up his camcorder again while kat takes the rope from clark, tying a tight knot around your waist.

kat gives you an apologetic look before taking the camcorder from bobby and putting it into your arms. “be careful,” your boyfriend warns from beside kat before you descend down the sloped corridor.

“what am i looking for exactly?” you call out to clark as you slowly make your way down the corridor.

“i’m uh, not sure,” clark answers, “just record what you see, look around a bit” he clarifies.

“got it!” you call back, turning back to clark as a reflex while replying, before losing your footing and sliding down the rest of the way, dropping the camera on your way down.

“shit, y/n! you ok?” kat calls from the top of the corridor.

“i’m good,” you reply, standing up and grabbing the camcorder from where it fell onto the floor.

you gag loudly at the smell of the space surrounding you, piles of clothes are dotted all around the small room, smudges of black goo oozing out from each pile and splattering onto the walls.

you make sure to pan the camera over the entire room before slowly gaining enough courage to walk further into the space. you pan the camera upwards at a large entrance in the ceiling, you cannot see the end as it only ascends into darkness. a wave of unease passes through you, fear rooting itself in your core but you’re too smug to turn back now.

you walk over to one of the laundry piles and you could swear you’ve seen your boyfriend in one of these shirts…

you turn back and make your way further into the room before you hear a quiet murmur in the far left corner.

“hey, give me some more rope!” you turn and call back up the corridor.

“that’s the end of the line, y/n/n,” you hear bobby call back.

“ok,” you mutter, “m’gonna take it off!” you yell up the corridor.

as soon as you pulled the rope down and off your legs you walk further into the room, the smell so rancid you let out another gag. you make your way over to the area you heard the noise from.

something moves from in front of you and you scream. loud.

“shit!” before kat could grab his arm, bobby has slid down the corridor after you.

a large figure emerges from behind the corner of the room and lunges for you.

you manage to turn around and spot bobby standing up from the floor. before you can run to him, the creature grabs at the collar of your shirt, pulling you back and onto the ground with a thud, you wheeze, the wind having been knocked out of you.

before bobby can make sense of the situation, the creature has grabbed your leg and hauled you through a trap door at the end of the room, you had no breath left to scream for him.

you eyes are half-lidded at the pain throbbing at the back of your skull, but you manage to open them wider to take in your surroundings.

the ‘thing’ is still dragging you across the damp floors of where ever the hell you are, but you can see it more clearly now. it seems to have the same pirate outfit clark wears when he tires to shoot video’s with bobby’s camcorder, trying but failing to successfully promote the god awful furniture shop you all work at.

except, it is actually clark?

“clark?” you murmur, voice croaky from your growing fatigue.

the figure turns, sharply and inhuman. you can finally see its face — not clark. well, technically you do see clark, but he looks different, as if created from a memory of the silly costumes he would wear, but this clarks’ eyes were too big, comical even if the situation was different and it seems that he cannot speak, only grunting and murmuring as he drags you further into the depths of whatever basement you’ve entered.

suddenly, you hear the familiar scuffling of trainers behind you. you manage to tilt your head up and back, spotting your boyfriend quietly traveling behind you, a finger to his lips, gesturing for you to say silent.

you manage a nod, careful not to alert the creature dragging you further into the strange office space.

suddenly, the creature stops and your legs drop to the ground with a thud, the creature turns and you hope that your boyfriend managed to hide before it could spot him.

it slowly shuffles towards you and it’s here that you notice one of its legs is made entirely of wood, like the fake pirate leg clark would wear with his stupid costume.

it begins to claw at you, like a cat toying with a mouse before it kills it. you feel your head pound as the realisation of dying creeps into your mind, your sight becomes blurry, tears threatening to spill as you try to hold back your sobs. it works for a while, but the creature only comes closer, making you sob loudly, “please, please no,” you chant over and over, hoping it might sense your fear and feel some sort of pity.

but no. this thing was hungry and you were its easiest, closest meal.

it begins to lean down, hovering over your body; you are shaking to such a degree it looks like your vibrating with fear. it claws at your arms, leaving scratch marks. you begin to scream and cry out, “please, please I can’t…don’t please!” you scream, voice wheezing as the fight drains out of you.

it leans its head further down, mouth opening with a grunt as it prepares to bite at your shoulder, before it can fully clamp down it lets out a pained groan and you look up to find bobby holding a metal pipe. the creature falls onto your body, winding you and locking you in place on the rough carpeted floor. your boyfriend acts quickly, kicking it off you before grabbing your hand and hauling you to your feet.

you sway at the rapid movements, “whoah baby, you’re ok,” bobby pulls you into him, rubbing up and down your back with a gentle hand.

“we need to get out of here,” you whisper, breathy with fear and adrenaline coursing through you, grasping onto bobby’s shoulder to steady yourself.

“ok uhm…” your boyfriend grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and looking around the room for an exit. he manages to spot a space just big enough for you to both crawl through and he pulls you towards it, his pace quickening with anxiety of never leaving this stupid yellow walled’ basement.

he waits for you to go first, making sure the coast is clear before crawling through after you.

he keeps whispering encouragingly as you make your way through the dark passage, you’re doing great baby, just a little further.you finally see light at the end of the stupidly narrow tunnel and crawl through the end. you crawl out and sit at the side of the exit, waiting for bobby, as he stands up he turns and sees you. immediately he crouches in front of you, grabbing your face in his hands. you lean into his touch, needing the comfort. his eyes move over your body, assessing all the injuries he can see before he mutters, “i’m gonna get us out of here, pretty girl, i promise you,” he places a kiss to your forehead before grabbing your hands and helping you stand.

suddenly, you hear rushed footsteps and to your surprise, kat and clark make a sharp turn around the corner, kat stops as soon as she spots your bloodied figure.

“fuck, y/n/n, oh my god!” she rushes over to you, embracing you in a firm hug, “i thought you died,” she whispers. you smile as you hug her back, “not yet,” you let out a half laugh, half groan as the severity of your situation sinks in.

“wait,” clark holds up a hand gesturing in front of him, “it’s the stop sign, from near the exit.” you look at the sign, then back to bobby who has placed your arm over his shoulder, “fuck, yes!” he cries out.

you all make a run for the exit, following clark who seems to know where he’s going.

you turn a corner and there it is, that stupid melded pile of chairs, drawers and other stupid pieces of furniture.

you spot the taped out rectangle and almost collapse from the sheer relief of getting out of this stupid office.

bobby senses your growing tiredness and whispers to you, “just a little further, baby.”

clark and kat are ahead of you both and they make their way through exit first.

as you reach the ‘exit’ you practically throw yourself into it, collapsing onto the floor beside bobby who went down with you.

you sit up, frantically pulling bobby into you. you’re shaking with sobs, blood all over your shoulder and arms and even some in your hair. you hug him tightly, sobbing into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“i got you baby, we’re safe now.” he whispers into your hair.

you go limp against him with relief. finally, no more fluorescent hum. no more damp, musty carpets and no more stupid yellow walls. you had escaped, and you were NEVER going back.

A/N: first ever fic!! hope you enjoyed it!!

[diviniyae]

decorative dividers

credit not needed. recoloring welcomed. feel free to edit as you need!

[xobunni0]

quickie bobby franklin x f!reader

ur boyfriend doesn’t care about your shitty retail job.

backrooms movie spoiler free!!. part 2 . smut. wc 5k

you sat behind the large reception desk, surrounded by endless corners of untouched furniture. sofas untouched beneath faded promotional banners, dining tables gathered dust in perfect rows.

being promoted to assistant manager by Clark, the store’s owner, should have felt like an accomplishment. instead, it felt like a joke. no one ever came in and the store was always quiet, but lately the silence felt different. ever since Clark had claimed he’d found ‘something’.

you still remembered the excitement in his eyes that day. Clark had burst through the front doors. he’d been talking so fast you could barely keep up.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“found it in the basement.”

“everything’s going to change.”

then, somehow, everything had. not in the way he’d promised. instead of expanding the business or finally paying for decent advertising, Clark practically vanished downstairs. days would pass without seeing him. when he did emerge, he looked exhausted and distracted. and every time you asked what he’d found?

the answer was always the same, “Not yet.”

so, that left you in charge of the entire store. not that there was much to manage. you glanced at the front windows. the parking lot was empty except for your car and Clark’s beat up honda, which hadn’t moved in three days.

another thrilling shift. your chin rested in your palm as you half heartedly counted inventory sheets scattered across the reception desk. not that it mattered much. the numbers never changed, the furniture never moved. the customers never came.

you were halfway through recounting a stack of end tables for the third time when unexpectedly, the front door opened. the bell above it gave a cheerful ding

“There she is.” the familiar voice instantly pulled you out of your boredom.

you looked up, and your entire expression brightened

“Bobby?”

your boyfriend stepped through the showroom, hands tucked casually into his pockets. a warm smile spread across his face as he spotted you behind the desk.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, unable to hide the grin tugging at your lips

“I could ask you the same thing” Bobby teased as he approached.

he stopped at the reception desk and leaned against it, resting his forearms on the countertop. his gaze wandered across the nearly empty showroom, taking in the endless rows of untouched couches and dining sets.

then he glanced back at you. “You’ve got this whole place to yourself again?”

“Looks that way.”

“Where’s Clark?” bobby hesitantly asked.

you let out a long sigh, dropping your pen onto the desk. “Clark? I don’t know. somewhere.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow.

“I saw him for about ten minutes and then he disappeared somewhere downstairs.”

“sounds like Clark.” Bobby chuckled, but his smile softened when he noticed the tired look in your eyes.

“Rough day?”

you slumped further into your chair, your brows now furrowed.

“Rough month.”

his expression immediately turned sympathetic noticing the visible frustration.

“hey” he said softly, your eyes closed for a moment as bobby’s thumb brushed gently across your cheek. the simple touch melted away hours of boredom faster than anything else could.

when you opened your eyes again, he was smiling at you.

“better?” he said softly.

you rolled your eyes, though the grin tugging at your lips ruined any attempt at looking annoyed.

“look.” his elbows rested on the reception desk as he leaned closer. then he reached across the desk and gently squeezed your hand.

“For what it’s worth” he said, “I think you’re doing a better job running this place than Clark ever has.”

you rolled your eyes. “That’s an incredibly low bar.”

“Still counts.” bobby laughed.

the sound echoed pleasantly through the empty showroom. And with that Bobby pushed himself away from the reception desk with a dramatic groan and began wandering through the showroom.

his sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as he looked around at the endless rows of furniture.

“fuck” he muttered, letting out a low whistle. “This place is creepy.”

you laughed, following after him

“Creepy?”

“Yeah.” he gestured broadly at the empty store. “look at it. nobody’s here, half the lights are buzzing, and you’ve got all this shit here”

“You don’t actually get scared in here?” he asked.

“nope”

you stepped closer, folding your arms. “Why?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You scared?”

Bobby’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he fought a grin.

“Not even a little.”

“Oh, you definitely sound scared.” you pressed

“I do?”

you hummed softly, you took another step forward until barely any space remained between you.

Bobby’s eyebrows lifted. “Funny” he said quietly. “I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

you huffed, “I’m not scared.”

“No?”

“No.”

his gaze flickered briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.

the corner of his mouth twitched. “Then why’s your heart beating so fast?”

“It’s not.”

“Sure.”

“I swear”

“yeah?” his head tilted slightly as he leaned in, eyes softening.

you knew exactly what he was trying to do and absolutely not. the moment he got close enough, your palm landed squarely against his face.

Bobby stopped mid motion.

“I’m at work Bobby!” you pushed him back with a laugh.

he groaned dramatically, stumbling backward.

“you’re practically all alone here.” he rubbed the spot where your hand had blocked him and shook his head. Bobby sighed heavily and wandered off toward a display bedroom set, he dropped onto one of the beds dramatically, the cushions sank beneath him.

a second later, he bounced slightly, the foam springing back with a satisfying recoil.

his face lit up. “Oh.”

“What?”

“This bed is incredible.”

he thrust his hips upward, bouncing rhythmically on the mattress, his hands positioned in front of him as if he were holding an imaginary body ontop of him.

“This would be great in our bedroom” he spoke honestly

the sigh of seeing your boyfriend practicing his thrusts in the middle of a public retail store was enough to send an embarrassing warmth down your neck.

“Bobby please!” you whined, in a breathless plea. you stepped forward, grabbing his arm and tugging firmly, refusing to look him in the eye. “Get off.”

Bobby didn't get off. instead, he leaned into the tug, “Baby cmonn.”

he used the momentum to roll onto his back and pull you down with him.

“Bobby-“

the unexpected pull threw off your balance. with a surprised yelp, you stumbled forward and landed beside him on the mattress. he laughed a sound that echoed in the quiet showroom.

“you're such a-" before you could finish, he kissed you, not a peck, it was a deep, slow kiss, mouth open against yours, tongue warm and coaxing, a kiss that made you forget about your boss right below you two.

"im working" you mumbled against his lips, but you didn't push him away

"I know” he said, teeth brushing your lower lip, breath coming faster now. and then he kissed you again, harder this time. his thigh nudged between yours, pressing up till your hips shifted instinctively against him, betraying yourself in the needy way your body wanted more.

his hand slid down, fingers grazing past your shorts and down your inner thigh as your breath caught, mouth parting just as a door creaked somewhere down the hall.

you both froze, his body still flush against you, your chest rising and falling fast against his.

they were just casual, wandering footsteps. Bobby didn't move. his hand still gripped your ass, and when your eyes widened, he just gave it another squeeze and murmured

"just Clark doing bullshit" he reassured.

you gave his chest a hard smack, he looked so good like this. sprawled across the bed, his shirt had ridden up, exposing the ridge of his hipbones. one arm was tucked behind his head, the other lazily fiddling with his belt, metal clinking soft and slow. click, tug, loosen.

your hand moved, fingertips brushing along his stomach, just above the waistband.

"we shouldn't. he’s ..."

"in the basement" bobby murmured, pushing up just a little, rising onto one elbow so he could press his mouth to your partially exposed collarbone.

“can't see us here. won't hear us either"

he wasn't wrong. his hand slid beneath your shirt, warm palm flat against your ribs, pushing the fabric up slow inch by inch

"Fuck" he muttered under his breath, eyes locked on your chest like he was starving for it "come closer. let me taste."

and you knew better. you knew how easily he could undo you. but your body moved anyway, breasts right at his mouth's reach as he sat up fully, his mouth dragging across your skin just below the neckline before his lips closed around you. he pulled the fabric upward, bunching it over your bra again, exposing the soft curve of your belly. his lips followed, kisses slow and open mouthed, tongue flicking over the dip of your bellybutton

you bit your bottom lip, trying not to moan when his tongue flicked across your breast, then beneath it as his hand tugged your bra down rough and needy. the cool air on your wet skin made you shiver, his mouth quickly sucking on your skin, sucking the chill away

"Bobby" you whispered, half scolding but already breathless

"Mmhm?" he said, not stopping for a second, lips wrapped around the swell of your breast, one hand cupping your ass and pulling you against him till you felt his growing bulge.

you slid your hands into his hair, you felt him groan low when your fingers tightened, his mouth sucking harder in response.

his hand dropped back to his belt buckle again, metal clinking. Bobby’s fingers pulled at the hem of your shirt. your shirt and bra eased down together, your own fingers curling, tugging until both cups peeled free, your breasts spilling out just inches from his face

he looked up at you, grinning. boyish, yes. but there was nothing innocent in the way his eyes looked at you, his lips were already wrapping around your nipple before you could say anything

"Mmm" he groaned low against your chest, tongue curling over your nipple, sucking deep and slow. his free hand came up to pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers, teasing until it stiffened under his touch. you head dropped back, a gasp catching in your throat. you bit down hard on your lip, trying to stay quiet, but with the way his tongue flicked and swirled, switching between lazy flicks and sharp little flicks you couldn't help it.

then, pop. he released your nipple with a loud, wet sound, his lips glossy and parted as he sat up moving between your legs, his hands gripped your hips, tugging you against him. his belt brushed your thighs as he settled in between .

you gasped, a surprised little sound escaping as your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"bobby..." you moaned, not even sure what you meant to say. "my boss-"

he grunted against your neck, hips grinding forward just enough to make you whimper again "he’s not fucking here."

that was all he said, like it settled everything. and in a way it did

"just lay back for me" he said and you did.

you got comfortable on the plush mattress, your legs stayed around his waist, spread just enough to cradle him in between your thighs, your breasts still out and glistening from his mouth.

Bobby moved closer, hands smoothing up your legs, pulling your shorts lower as he went. his belt came undone with a rough clink, then in one eager motion, his pants and boxers were shoved down, caught halfway down his thighs as his cock sprang free, thick and veined, tip glistening.

he spread your legs open around his hips as he leaned in between. his hands ran up your thighs, rough palms skimming over your skin.

he reached your waistband, kissing just above the elastic of your shorts, then slowly dragged them down, inch by inch, mouth trailing behind his fingers as he exposed your hips, your lower stomach, the fabric of your panties already slightly damp, clinging between your thighs

he pressed one last kiss just below your bellybutton, then looked up at you as he dragged your panties right along with them until both were bunched around your ankles. and then he saw you wet, aching, from nothing but kissing and friction and his fucking mouth on your tits. he stared for a second, his lips parting, chest rising harder

he stood between your legs, cock flushed, already brushing against your folds. he rubbed himself through your pussy slowly, letting the head glide along your slickness, sliding between your lips without pushing in, but just enough friction to make your breath hitch. he nudged at your entrance and then pulled back, teased you again and again, just grinding with that curve in his cock that rubbed your clit each time

"Bobby" you gasped, hips jerking forward

"Fuck" he muttered, then finally, finally he aligned himself with your entrance and pushed forward.

the stretch was slow and deep, your sweet pussy welcoming him. your mouth fell open, lips parted in a silent cry. no sound came out. you couldn't afford it not with Clark still somewhere nearby, maybe just behind this thin wall

Bobby's jaw clenched tight, his eyebrows furrowing as he bottomed out inside you. he exhaled long through his nose, his hips flush with yours now, every inch buried deep

"Fuck" he mouthed silently, eyes closing shut, his hands tightening on your hips

you both lay still for a second, trying to breathe through the fullness and the thrill of getting away with it, of doing this, fucking like this, with your boss in the room right below.

he moved first. small, slow strokes, careful not to let the bed creak beneath you. his cock dragged through your tightness, his cock brushing every sweet spot inside you as his hips moved slowly, without noise

you pulled him down, hands fisting in the front of his shirt until his face was buried against your shoulder, your mouth brushing his ear now with every soft moan that slipped

"Baby your moans" he groaned, voice cracking and hushed against your skin

"You can't fuck me like this and expect me not to" you whispered back, breath catching at the end of your sentence

his lips found your shoulder, kissing it, biting it gently to muffle his own groan, his hips pressing harder now, movement still slow but deeper

then, he couldn't take it anymore. "Shit, I can't" he whispered against your shoulder, and suddenly his mouth was on your breast again. he latched onto your nipple, sucking hard, moaning around it like it was the only thing keeping him quiet.

your fingers were in his hair, holding him there, cradling his head as he sucked your tits with those wet, open mouthed sucks

your back arched, mouth open again but silent, the pleasure building up with every thrust of his cock

the room was filled with quiet slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out and Bobby groaning into your chest, cock buried to the base, arms trembling from holding himself back, he looked up at you and whispered

“you feel so fucking good baby. gonna cum just from this tight little pussy around me. fuck"

"Don't cum" you breathed, voice shaky, your mouth against his temple as his cock fucked deep and slow inside you, barely keeping rhythm anymore. "we have nothing to clean it up with."

you felt his smile, the curve of his lips pressed against your breast

"And?" he mumbled around your nipple, his tongue flicking lazily before he kissed the soft underside of your breast again, lips sticky with spit. that single response told you everything. because you knew bobby, knew exactly what that smug little word meant

he didn't give a fuck. if he could fuck you full of him right now, raw and messy, and walk away without wiping a thing, he would. he wanted to. you could feel it in the the tremble in his hips, the twitch of his cock throbbing inside your wet pussy.

he was holding back with everything he had, but barely. and then with one full hard thrust. his hips slammed his cock into you, knocking the sound right out of your mouth. the bed creaked loudly and your moan shot out before you could stop it, loud and needy, echoing out into the open space.

you exhaled hard, pressing your hand to his shoulder.

"Baby..” you whined, quiet and pleading, even though your pussy clenched around him just for being inside you like this "please."

Bobby groaned softly, head dropping into the crook of your neck. his breath was ragged now, his cock twitching as he slowly rolled his hips once more.

“i’m gonna-” you started, but the words turned into a sharp moan as he shifted his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside you. your legs shook harder, your body arching off the bed despite the ache in your muscles

“gimme one” he groaned as he picked up the pace

“Fuck.” you whimpered, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes

“let me feel you” and that was all it took as your orgasm came over you, your walls pulsating around him, pulling him deeper.

Bobby groaned loudly, his thrusts becoming messy as your release triggered his own. “baby fuck” he gasped, his cock twitching inside you as he cummed into you, adding to the sticky mess between your thighs.

for a moment, the two of you stayed like that, panting, clinging to each other as the aftershocks rolled through you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈

[the-darklings]

very important concept that I have to ask you about: does BB like to dance? because what if reader had a Walkman with her or smth and started playing songs for them that would be so adorable I feel like

he would be so delighted by this. by all of it. by the existence of the walkman, by the small sound of music in a place that is normally silent except for the hum. the very concept of you wanting to share something with him that didn't come from him.

the thing about the walkman is that it shouldn't work. batteries die. the backrooms are not kind to electronics. M.E.G. devices fail constantly down here. but yours just... keeps working. it's been working for weeks. and you've stopped questioning why because you have a working theory that involves bb's name and you don't want to look at it too directly. (he is, somewhere, somehow, keeping it alive for you.)

you'd been listening to it alone mostly. headphones in, sitting in the nest, just needing five minutes of something from the real world. and he'd been watching. with that quiet curious head-tilt, that focused-attention thing he does when something about you is new. eventually you'd noticed.

you'd pull the headphones off and hold them out to him.

he'd stare like he's not quite sure what the move is. then he'd come closer. lower his head obediently when you motion, let you slip the foam-padded band over his ears, let you adjust the fit with both hands like you were settling a crown.

his eyes go wide.

not in the human way. in the bb way. the pupils doing the too-fast dilation. his head tilting all the way to that not-quite-human angle, like the music was something he was trying to hear with his entire body and his neck was just trying to help.

he doesn't have a frame of reference for music. he has the hum of the backrooms. he has his own tuneless song. he has the muffled distant echoes of songs that bled through walls in places he watched you and bobby exist. but he has never had this (clean, layered sound made by humans for the express purpose of being beautiful) directly into his ears. into his head. inside him.

and yes. he knows what dancing is. he watched you and bobby do it. when bobby still came around and you were alone at the store, and he would put the music on louder and pull you against him and spin you around. and you laughed and bb watched from the other side and filed it away with the rest of the things bobby got to have and didn't appreciate.

so when the song picks up and you stand up and hold your hand out to him he understands what you're asking. he just doesn't know how to do it.

"i don't—" he starts. quiet. genuinely uncertain in a way he almost never is. "i've never—"

"i know."

"i'll do it wrong."

"that's the fun part."

he stands. carefully. the headphones still over his ears, the music far-away to you but you know every song by heart anyway. you've played this tape so many times the lyrics are tattooed into your bones. you can hear them faintly leaking through the foam padding when you stand close enough, and you intend to stand very close.

"stop thinking," you instruct. you take his hands. place one on your waist. lace your fingers with the other one and hold it up. "just... follow. feel."

you start to sway. small. easy. side to side. he follows. stiff at first, the proportions slightly off, his weight distribution still that almost-human predator's stillness that doesn't translate well to swaying. but he watches your feet. mirrors them. adjusts. learns.

within a minute he's got it. within two he's smiling.

the song changes to something slower (you know because you've timed the order on this side of the tape, you know what comes next) and you pull him closer without thinking and his hand on your waist tightens. his other hand pulls yours up to his chest and you're pressed against him, swaying in the nest, in the fluorescent dark, and he's dancing.

bb is dancing.

your ear is against his chest now, close enough that you can hear the music humming through the headphone foam, faint but recognisable. you mouth the lyrics against his sternum because you know them, you know every word, and he's wearing the song like a halo around his head while you wear it secondhand through the fabric of his shirt.

you start laughing. you can't help it.

it bubbles up. half giddy, half disbelieving, the absurdity of the moment hitting you all at once. you are slow-dancing with an ancient entity on damp carpet to a song from 1989 and he's taking it so seriously. his concentration bent on getting the rhythm right, his head bowed slightly so the headphones don't slip and so he can keep his face close to your hair. you laugh again and again, burying your face in his chest, your shoulders shaking.

you can feel his confused happiness vibrating through his sternum.

"am i doing it wrong?" he asks. too loud because he's wearing the headphones, he can't tell how loud he is, and that just makes you laugh harder.

"no, baby." you tilt your face up. he's looking down at you with bobby's blue eyes and the headphones slightly askew from the angle of his head and something so soft underneath his expression you could kiss him. "you're doing it perfectly."

his expression softens. that pleased-feline look he gets when you call him baby. the proud one. the i'm being good for you and you noticed one. he resumes the swaying. spins you, experimentally, watching to see if you laugh again. you do. you laugh and stumble back into him and he catches you with such carefulness, cradling you closer.

you teach him to dip you. badly.

he overcorrects the first time and you nearly fall and bb makes a sound that is almost a laugh (bb laughing, actually laughing, a small involuntary sound he's never made before) and you stare at him and he stares back like he's just as surprised about it as you are. the headphones slip slightly. he doesn't fix them. you reach up and adjust them for him, settle them back into place, and his eyes close for a second when your fingers brush his temples.

you teach him to spin you. he picks it up instantly. he's gentle about it, careful with his strength.

at some point you sway too close and your forehead bumps against the side of the headphones and he hears you laugh (actually hears it, the laugh going directly into the headphone foam, mingling with the music) and his whole face lights up. like he just discovered a sound that didn't exist before this moment. he tilts his head deliberately, after that. presses one side of the headphones closer to your mouth. wants more of it. wants the music and you in the same channel.

so you sing.

quietly. badly. against the foam of the headphone he's angled toward you. the lyrics you know by heart, breathed into the small space where the music is leaking out, and bb goes absolutely still in a way that isn't predator-still or even bb-still but something new. like reverence. like he's standing inside something sacred.

his hand on your waist tightens.

"keep going," he says quietly against your hair.

so you do.

you dance until the tape finally clicks over (side B is shorter, you know that too) and then it plays through and ends and the walkman whirs softly but you both keep swaying. to nothing. to the hum of the backrooms. to the rhythm of his impossible non-heartbeat under your ear. the headphones still on his head, silent now, but he doesn't take them off. he doesn't want to take them off. they're proof. they're evidence. they're the crown you put on him and he intends to wear it for as long as you'll let him.

he doesn't want to stop. you can feel it. every time you slow he gently pulls you back into the rhythm. just a little longer. just one more silent song. just one more minute of you laughing against his chest and his hand at your waist and the smile on your face that he knows is for him.

laughter. smiling. touching. all of his favourite you things at once.

he's going to think about this for a while. you can already tell.

every time he goes silent and his eyes go a little distant, you'll know he's replaying it. cataloguing the way you felt against him. the exact sound of your laugh when he dipped you wrong. the weight of your hand in his. the muffled sound of your voice singing into the side of a headphone. he's adding it to whatever he has instead of a heart and turning it over like a smooth stone.

and you know that the next time you reach for the walkman he will be there before the tape finishes rewinding. head bowed. ready for the crown.

he learned. he always learns.

and he loved every second of it.

[louloucake]

i’m not sure how much you want to write for bobby franklin, but just in case, i wondered what you’d think of boyfriend!bobby helping his girlfriend cope with nightmares/trauma responses to what the two of them see after escaping the backrooms 💘

boyfriend!bobby comforting you after nightmares ⊹ ࣪ ˖

the backrooms had spit you out eventually, dragged you both through enough horror to leave your nerves permanently frayed, but escape did not mean peace.

it did not mean sleep came easy.

it did not mean your body understood that the fluorescent hum was gone, that the endless yellow walls were behind you, that the fear was supposed to stay there too.

it followed you home.

sometimes you would wake with a strangled gasp already caught in your throat, fingers twisting in the sheets, your whole body rigid like you had been caught somewhere far away and dragged back all at once. other times you woke trembling without a sound, eyes wide and glossy in the dark, staring at nothing for a moment before the reality of your room would slowly piece itself back together. bobby knew the signs by now. he knew the exact way your breathing changed, the tiny hitch in your chest, the way your hand would start searching beside you before you were fully awake, reaching for him like your body was desperate to make sure he was still there.

and he always was.

most nights the two of you slept tangled together, limbs wrapped around each other like even in your sleep you were afraid to lose the other one.

bobby held you close with one arm thrown around your waist, his face tucked into your hair, one hand resting steady and warm against your back. it made him feel better, keeping you there like that, like he was anchoring you to the world just as much as you anchored him.

but sometimes the terrors hit too hard, and no amount of closeness was enough to stop your body from jerking awake in panic.

this night was one of those nights.

you woke with a sharp inhale, your chest rising too fast, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might split your ribs open. for a second you didn’t know where you were, the room was dark, but the dark wasn’t comforting yet.

you tried to slip out of bed quietly, careful not to wake your sleeping boyfriend.

careful because you didn’t want to bother him.

careful because you didn’t want to feel needy.

careful because part of you still hated how much the fear could take out of you, how it could leave you shaking and small.

but before your feet even hit the floor, bobby was up.

“hey,” he said softly, voice rough with sleep but instantly awake in the way only people who loved you could be. “babe?”

you froze for a second, hand braced on the mattress.

he was already sitting up, shirtless and half-dazed, the bed sheets falling low around his waist as he blinked at you in the dark. even half asleep, even still waking up, the concern on his face was immediate and real.

“c’mere,” he murmured.

you swallowed hard, trying to breathe through the lingering panic. “i’m okay.”

bobby gave you a look that said he did not believe that for a second. “i know…” he said gently.

bobby swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, moving toward you without hesitation. the floor creaked softly under his feet, and he came close enough to brush his hand down your arm, warm and steady against your cold skin. then, with the kind of care that made your chest ache, he guided you away from the bed and toward the kitchen.

“come on,” he said, his voice low. “let’s get you out of here for a minute.”

the apartment was quiet around you. bobby kept one hand on the small of your back as he walked beside you, not pushing, not rushing…

in the kitchen, he leaned against the counter and looked at you for a long second, studying your face in the dim light.

“do you want me to make you something?” he asked. “tea….coffee…hot chocolate?”

“no, m’okay thank you, bobby.”

it was such a simple thing, the offer. so ordinary. so painfully normal.

he didn’t treat you like you were broken. he didn’t act like your fear was annoying or inconvenient or something you should just get over.

“or we could watch tv. or i can take us to denny’s if you’re hungry enough for that. whatever you want, baby.”

you rubbed at your face and let out a shaky breath. “i don’t know.”

“that’s okay,” he said right away. “then we don’t have to decide yet.”

he moved to stand in front of you, tilting his head down so he could catch your eyes, his thumb brushing your cheek with such tenderness.

you were quiet for a moment, fighting the urge to apologize for being like this, for waking him, for needing too much, for not being able to just sleep. but bobby was looking at you like he had all the time in the world, like there was nowhere else he could possibly rather be.

so you leaned into him instead.

his arms came around you instantly. no hesitation. he held you close with one hand at the back of your head and the other around your waist, lowering his chin to rest on top of your head.

“i've got you- i've got you-” he cooed.

your eyes shut. the fear was still there, but his arms made it easier to bear. easier to breathe. easier to remember where you were.

bobby swayed you gently in place, just a little, like he was trying to rock the terror out of your body.

“i'm sorry,” you whispered. the words were barely audible, but bobby heard them.

immediately he pulled back just enough to look at you. his brows pinched together.

“for what?”

you looked away. “for waking you up.”

the expression on his face somehow grew even softer. his thumb brushed beneath your eye.

“i was already up.”

“no you weren’t…”

“you’re up, i’m up, babe.” he leans down to kiss your cheek. “don’t ever have to have sorry-”

he kisses your cheek again.

“not for this.”

another.

“not ever.”

your eyes squeezed shut. there wasn't even the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice, no exhaustion, no frustration, just concern…..just love.

[d4rci3]

guidelines!

i’m new to writing so feedback is appreciated but try to stay polite!! :)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

- only sfw: NO smut requests

yes to:

- fluff

- hurt/comfort

- angst

- hurt/no comfort

- feel free to chat to me via my ask box aswell!!

NO to:

- tbh anything i’m uncomfortable with

[d4rci3]

masterlist:

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

carl grimes

bobby franklin

peter parker — mcu tasm

1940s bucky

[d4rci3]

character list:

characters i’m currently writing for !!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

carl grimes — twd

bobby franklin — backrooms

peter parker — mcu + tasm

1940s bucky — i’m a sucker for him 🫡

[heaven4lostgirls]

hii! can I request an angst bucky fic where he has a really bad nightmare from his hydra days and when the reader tries to wake him up he freaks out and chokes the reader with his metal arm, thinking he’s back at hydra and not realising it’s her, resulting in him hating his arm even more. after that, he keeps talking down on himself. and worries about the fact that he is capable of hurting the reader again. Ty xx

my head is full of poison

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: request above

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: angst, fluff, mention of hydra, brainwashing, torture. zemo is here (sorry), bucky wants kids, vomiting, blood, graphic depictions of violence, bucky is self-sacrificing and insecure, not proofread

author's note: hello my love! thank you so much for the request, i hope you enjoy this! thank you also for being so patient with me<33 i've also updated my masterlist for new characters (esp the pitt & off campus! so take a look if you'd like to send some requests<33)

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── ·

You knew better than anyone that Bucky struggled with sleeping. It had taken you a little over the 6 month mark of your relationship for him to feel comfortable letting you sleep over.

You hadn’t mentioned the firmness of the mattress when you slept, as if it was barely used. Nor did you mention that you’d happened to feel him sneak out of the bed when he thought you were asleep to curl up on the floor next to the bed.

You didn’t probe then, only because you though it would do you no good. It was still considered the early days back then, Bucky courting you the only way he knew how—flowers, chocolates, walks in the park.

He was nothing like the man Steve described back in the army. He was awkward, shy, stumbling over his own words and an overall sweetheart. Nothing like the ladies’ man you’d heard about.

You suppose that came with the over 70 years of isolation and torture. It was entirely understandable that one would have trouble sleeping with all that he’d been forced to endure.

You’d only attempted to bring it up once with him before.

“Hey,” you started out nervously, running your hands up and down the contours of his back as he laid over you on the couch.

You’d been watching some new nature documentary, something Bucky had been looking forward to—you weren’t necessarily too invested into the topic, but you found is endlessly endearing how his eyes seemed to sparkle in wonder as the commentator continued to speak.

“Hm?” Bucky muffles into your collarbone, barely looking away from the screen but letting you know you had his attention.

“Do you—uh, do you like your bed?” you cringe inwardly as soon as the line exits your mouth. Seriously? Did he like the bed? God you sucked at this.

Bucky snorts softly, a smile upticking his lips slightly as he shrugs noncommittally, “It’s a lot better than the ones they had back in the day—softer than anything I’ve ever had. S’nice.”

You bite your tongue, hesitating when you ask quietly, “You—” you clench your jaw.

“I’m worried that you don’t sleep well.” You admit, shrinking into yourself when Bucky tenses in your arms, still staring straight ahead at the screen.

You watch as his face shuts down, his expression hardening. Yet he doesn’t leave your embrace, instead blowing out a sharp breath through his nose.

“No. I don’t.” he says gruffly. He doesn’t elaborate further.

When you open your mouth to speak again, to try and help—he squeezes you tighter this time, quietly asking you not to push any further.

So, you don’t, even though questions bounce around your head like thought bugs without a home, you relent. There are just some hills you can’t bring yourself to die on.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

Unfortunately for you, Bucky seemingly takes that conversation as a sign to stop hiding the fact that he won’t sleep with you.

Instead of  crawling into bed with you to snuggle under the covers before you inevitably give into sleep first—his blanket and pillow is already laid out onto the floor when you shuffle into the bedroom.

You stare at it, unflinching. How are you supposed to fix this? Would he even accept your help?

You know the answer to that. If there was one thing Bucky Barnes hated more than anything else in the world—it was accepting help.

So, little by little you plan. Granted it’s not the most convoluted plan you could come up with, if anything it’s a little juvenile.

It stars with you purposefully sleeping on the side of the bed that he lays his blanket down on, so you can turn and see him at any chance.

It puzzles him slightly judging by the furrow in his brow the first couple of times you do it, but he gets used to it soon enough.

Then you start to leave your hand dangling off the side of the bed, sometimes you’ll wake up on your stomach in the middle of the night to the feeling of Bucky tracing small shapes onto your fingertips and palm.

It makes you smile sleepily and clutch his hand softly in your own, feigning sleep when you hear him whisper into the dark, asking if you’re awake.

It works for a while and you’ve almost made peace with the fact that maybe this will just be your new normal for a while, you could deal—it wasn’t really like you were the one getting the shorter end of the stick here.

Until the night you wake up due to your own nightmare.

You can barely remember it, maybe the sound of screaming and blood but it’s all a jumbled mess of yarn in your head that you’re unwilling to tangle at this moment.

You stumble out of bed, mindful that Bucky looks like he must be in the middle of his second hour of uninterrupted rest. It’s been long enough for you to know that he rarely gets more than that in one night, usually having them broken up by a multitude of his own nightmares.

You make yourself comfy on the couch, turning on something mindless that’s quiet enough so that you can barely even hear it because you also know that any louder will wake up your super soldier.

The fleece blanket is wrapped around you as you move to lay horizontally onto the couch, blinks growing slower as most of the adrenaline in your system seems to slowly filter out.

You’re startled though by the sound of shuffling before footsteps pad quickly over to your position, you rub your eyes slowly and blink up at the sight of the sleep ruffled brunette.

“Hey,” you murmur sleepily, snuggling further into the couch cushions with a hum as you smile up at him.

He stares down at you with a frown, “Come to bed.” He insists.

Your smile stretches your lips thinly, but you make no movement to leave your position, “I’m c’mfy here, go back to bed.” You retort with a sleepy snuffle.

Bucky’s frown grows more distressed when you dismiss him. He doesn’t want to go back to bed. He’s gotten so used to the feeling of you sleeping practically next to him that he refuses to go back to sleeping alone.

“It’s not good for your back.” Bucky mumbles, resisting the urge to pick up the bundled up version of you and take you back to the bed.

He can’t protect you if you sleep out here, there’s not enough space between the couch and coffee table for him to sleep on the floor and the distance between the bedroom and the living room gives an attacker too long of an opening to hurt you before Bucky could get to you.

You need to go to bed. Now.

“Says the guy who sleeps on the floor,” you mumble, a delirious giggle leaving your soft pillowy lips.

Bucky crosses his arm, that’s not fair. (It’s entirely fair).

You sigh, not hearing him move so you lift the corner of the blanket keeping you warm and shuffle further back into the frankly humongous couch.

“C’mere.” You order him, opening your arms for him to lay down. He looks perplexed.

“’s only for a couple of hours, the couch is harder than the mattress and I’m not getting up—you either come sleep with me or you go back to the room. You pick.”

Bucky wants to throw his hands up in a tantrum, to force you to go back to the bedroom and to not fight with him when he’s concerned for your safety, but you look so soft and so—so goddamn sweet that he can’t help himself

Let it be known that Bucky Barnes is a spoiled, rotten, selfish man.

He climbs onto the couch with you, exhaling as you wrap yourself around him, entangling his legs with yours and his arms cocooning your form.

It’s the best feeling in the world, feeling like he has the whole world in his hands.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

Sleep comes surprisingly easy, which should have been the first warning sign that something was wrong, sleep never came easy.

An ache eases in his chest at the feeling of having you in his arms, soft breaths puffing against his collar bone as the heaviness of sleep weighs on his eyelids.

He dreams of you, blissfully smiling in a warm lit home. The sun cascading through the kitchen windows and the happiest smile on your face.

You look…ethereal. Something he would never imagine himself finding or deserving of, in this lifetime of the next.

When his eyes focus, he notices something—or rather someone on your hip. A baby.

A baby that looks just like the two of you, an adorable head of dark hair with eyes that match your own, a cherubic smile on the tyke’s face that has Bucky’s heart bursting through his chest.

“You wanna say Hi to Papa?” you whisper enthusiastically to the baby, who claps his hands—a startled squeak of laughter leaving his small frame as you bounce him on your hip.

“Yeah? Say hi Papa!” you encourage him, and Bucky feels his legs moving before his mind catches up. With his arms outstretched he makes the small walk around the kitchen island to where the two of you stand.

“Pa!” Squeaks his son—his son his son his son. He has a baby—you—the two of you have a baby, a family like one he used to let himself dream about before the world decided he was undeserving of all peace and tranquillity.

“Hello—Hey Пусик” Bucky coos, hands shaking as you lift the baby into his arms. He’s so little, barely even encompassing Bucky’s forearm—so small, so precious. How can something so small be so important?

“He’s been fussy this whole morning, I think he just wanted his Papa.” You admonish the squirming baby in his arms with a faux annoyed expression. Bucky inhales sharply, staring down into the perfect irises of his child.

“You—you wanted me? P-papa?” he chokes out the word like it’s painful to exert. The baby gurgles in his arms, little hands slapping at his forearm as he wriggles in excitement—cooing nonsensically as drool slips from his little lips.

It’s simultaneously adoring and disgusting at the same time.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

He’s not sure how long he spends there in that moment, only that he’s aware that even forever would not be long enough.

It’s in the quiet moment that it comes for him, whilst he’s snuggled with you on the couch, watching as your little boy—Roman, you had mentioned—crawls around his playmat, stuffing various toys and objects into his mouth.

Желание (Longing)

He jerks with a startled gasp, his body tensing as the familiar words seemingly seeps into the memory.

“Bucky?” your distorted voice whispers to him, the memory fading around him as he twists and turns around the room in agony.

Ржавый (Rusted)

“No,” Bucky whispers horrified, turning to look at you and his baby but the both of you are nothing more than formless shapes.

His arms outstretch, trying to reach for you but you’re gone. No. No—no no no, please bring them back to me—give them back.

Семнадцать (Seventeen) Рассвет (Daybreak) Печь (Furnace)

Memories flood through him, the cryo chamber, the testing, the amputation, the serum—it all comes flooding back.

Pain. Steve. Russia. Death. Blood. Murder.

I’mnotakillernaymore he chants to himself, rocking back and forth as he tries to ignore the trigger words being thrown at him.

Shuri fixed him, she promised—she wouldn’t lie to him. She told him he was free.

Девять (Nine) Добросердечный (Benign)

“Are you ready to comply soldier?” A leery voice grates his ears. Zemo.

He—how is he here? What—?

“You think you are free James, that are you are no longer under our control—but you are what you have always been, a soldier. You were born to follow orders—to carry out the orders of men more powerful than you can imagine—”

Bucky shakes his head, clenching his hands over his ears in a panic. He’s not a killer anymore—he’s been pardoned, they know he was under mind control.

“You think you can leave it behind you? Pretend you are a new man? You carry the lives of hundreds under your belt—you are a killer Barnes. The same way you will carry the life of your sweet—”

“Don’t you dare,” He snarls to the vision of Zemo. “I would never hurt her—”

“But can you promise that? Swear on her life that you would never hurt her?”

Bucky feels like crawling out of his skin, it’s all wrong—this, this is wrong—he wants to go back to his family, you in the sunlight. Your baby—his baby, he wants his son.

“I would never—” he chokes out.

“But you cannot promise.” Zemo echoes.

Bucky lurches forward, the growl tearing from his throat is animalistic and guttural as he wraps his metal arm around Zemo’s neck—who only grins devilishly.

“You. Are. A. Soldier.” Zemo whispers and Bucky’s vision grows dark.

“—ck, Buck—I can—” the strangled sound of your voice rips him out of his nightmare.

He’s transported back to his couch, leering above you with the same metal arm wrapped around your throat. He can feel your pulse under his grip, the thumpthumpthump of your heartbeat.

Your eyes are wide and teary, both of your hands wrapped around his hand around your throat, trying to pry him off. He snatches his arm away like you’ve burnt him—forcing himself away from you on shaky legs.

You cannot promise

He—he almost—Oh god.

“Buck,” your raspy voice makes him flinch, he did that. He’s the reason you sound like that. He could have crushed your windpipe if he applied even the slightest more pressure—he could’ve, he could’ve—oh.

He sees it so viscerally it scares him, the sight of you in a pool of blood, looking so similar to the countless unnamed people he’d murdered before. He can’t hide anymore—he will never not be a soldier.

Without another word, he bolts to the bathroom ignoring your calls of his name and the footsteps that follow him. He locks the door behind him before purging into the toilet, his vision turning blurry and his stomach cramping in on itself.

“Buck,” you call helplessly through the door. “Open the door,” you say, knocking softly as he hears the dull thump of your forehead against the wood.

Bucky can’t even look at you, let alone open the door. He doesn’t think he’s ever hated himself more.

“You need to leave.” He grunts out, loud enough for you to hear as he slumps down against the cabinets, pulling his legs to his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere until you open this door.”

It’s not the answer he wants to hear, yet funnily enough it’s the one he expected. He knows you’re not going to let this go, that you’re going to want to work this out like mature adults.

He can’t let you do that; he’s worried he’ll cave the second you look at him.

“I don’t want you here.” He insists despite the wobble in his voice. He presses his wrists into his arms, scrubbing the pinching tears that threaten to fall as he sniffs harshly.

“You don’t mean that,” you plead with him, your voice muffled by the wood but heartbroken all the same.

Bucky can still feel your pulse under his fingers, he is sick. Sick sick sick.

He hearts your heartbeat growing faster with anxiety as you continue to plead with him.

“Just—just come and talk to me okay? I’m not mad, I’m not scared of you. I know you didn’t mean it and you’d never hurt me—”

“Well, I did it anyways didn’t I?!” he bursts out, frustration escaping his grasp as he lashes out at you. He wants to take it back the minute he says it, he has no right to be upset with you—he’s not the one who woke up being strangled.

He doesn’t know how you still can even stand to be around him, anybody else would be running for the hills.

“I. don’t. care.” You retort. He hears as you take a seat on the floor outside of the bathroom, the small creak of the door echoing as you lay your back softly against it.

“I knew you were struggling; I knew what I was signing up for when I started dating you and I—alright, maybe I could have pushed more, asked more about how I could help but I just thought—” you sniff, breaking Bucky’s already tender heart.

“I thought it would be okay, that you’d come to me. And now—now it’s like you’d rather do anything else than talk to me and I—fuck!”

Your words taper off and in replace of them are body wracking sobs. You hate that you’re breaking down so obviously when Bucky is already struggling and some devilish part of you thinks that this looks like you’re trying to manipulate him.

“I’m sorry,” you blubber uselessly, trying to stop your tears as you scrub harshly at your face, irritating your skin.

“Don’t apologise.” His gruff voice comes from inside the bathroom. Sorrow tinges his every word, and you fight the urge to just completely break down the door behind you.

But you know Bucky locked it for a reason and you doubt violating his boundaries will get anywhere near where you need to be.

“I—I should have—”

“It’s not your fault.” He insists.

“Well, it isn’t yours either.” You say softly, laying a hand onto the door frame as if it’ll magically deteriorate the barrier between you two.

“Bullshit,” he voices, “I’m the one who almost—who almost crushed your windpipe. I don’t think it gets much more cut and drier than that.”

“You were having a nightmare.” You persist.

“You should be scared of me; you shouldn’t even want to be near me because of what I did” he sounds so sure of himself that it breaks your heart.

“You don’t get to decide that for me. I love you; I’m not leaving you just because you think you deserve to be alone and miserable for the rest of your life.”

Bucky pauses, the silence stretching between the two of you. “Maybe I should be.”

Your chest grows tight in agony, “Do you love me?” you whisper brokenly.

“What?” Bucky breathes out.

“Do. You. Love. Me?” you ask sharply, eyes never leaving the chipped paint of the door.

“…yes.” He admits, hesitant and resigned.

Your heart blooms softly with hope.

“Then we can work through this.”

“What?” Bucky asks, confused.

“If you love me then we can work through this. I’m not going to up and leave you unless you give me an actual reason to.”

Bucky scoffs, “The risk of me hurting you again isn’t enough of a reason.”

“Not if you’re willing to work on it with me. Meds, therapy, hell even going down to talk with Sam at the VA.” You say softly.

“I don’t care what it is, if you love me and you’re willing to work on it then you have nothing to worry about.”

Bucky speaks so softly that you have to strain yourself to hear, “And if it doesn’t work?”

You soften, “Then we exhaust every opportunity we have. You’re not broken Buck, you’ve gotta give yourself a chance.”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds before the sound of shuffling ensues, the lock clicking and the door opening has you scrambling to your feet.

Bucky looks like a mess, hair a tangled mess and red rimmed eyes. His lips wobble when he speaks, “I—I would like a hug, please?” he mumbles.

You all but throw yourself into his arms, tucking his head into the crook of your neck as he sobs.

“I got you honey, shh, I got you.”

[heldbybarnes]

Reader always falling asleep next to Bucky, yes. BUT. Hear me out okay, Bucky always falling asleep next to reader. Pre-relationship. All reader has to do is be in the same room as Bucky and he's out like a light. It becomes comical because the team tries to figure out who it is and stay w Bucky alone to see if he falls asleep, but it's not until he's sitting alone with reader that he passes out within the minute. The team thinks it's funny, Bucky is embarrassed, but reader thinks it's cute and gets him to start sleeping in her room so he can sleep properly 😋😋

It truly was an acccident.

You’re in the common room late one night, curled up on one end of the couch with a blanket tucked around your legs and a file open on your tablet. The compound is quiet in that rare, fragile way it only ever is past midnight. You hear the soft, familiar whir of servos before you see him.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask without looking up.

Bucky grunts something noncommittal and drops onto the opposite end of the couch. He’s fresh from a shower, hair damp and pushed back, wearing gray sweats and a black Henley that stretches across his shoulders. He smells like clean soap and something warm and distinctly him.

You hum in acknowledgment, keep scrolling.

It’s less than three minutes before you glance over and realize his head has tipped back against the cushions, mouth parted slightly, breathing slow and even.

You blink.

“Barnes?”

No response.

You lean closer. He’s out cold.

You stare at him for a second, then snort quietly to yourself. He had been tense when he walked in, shoulders tight like piano wire. Now he looks… soft. Younger. Peaceful in a way you don’t get to see often.

You slide the blanket off your legs and drape it over him instead.

The next night it happens again.

And the next.

It becomes a pattern so quickly it’s almost ridiculous. You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while he nurses a cup of tea? He’s asleep at the table before it cools. You’re on the training mats stretching after a workout? He sits down “just for a minute” and is snoring softly within five. You’re on the Quinjet, shoulder brushing his, and he’s gone before takeoff.

The first time Sam notices, he nearly chokes on his drink.

“Man,” he says slowly, eyes bouncing between you and the unconscious super soldier slumped in his chair, “I have never seen him do that.”

“What?” you ask innocently.

“Sleep. Like that.”

You glance at Bucky. He’s folded in on himself in one of the common room armchairs, chin tucked to his chest, looking so deeply asleep it borders on absurd.

“Maybe he’s tired,” you shrug.

“Uh-huh,” Sam says, squinting.

Natasha catches on next.

She tests it.

One evening, she corners Bucky in the kitchen while you’re still in the gym. She talks to him about mission reports, about old Hydra intel, about nothing at all. She even sits him down on the couch and lowers her voice to that smooth, soothing cadence she uses on frightened witnesses.

He doesn’t so much as yawn.

You walk in ten minutes later, towel around your neck, cheeks flushed from sparring.

“Hey,” you say, smiling when you see them.

Bucky looks up at the sound of your voice.

And promptly passes out mid-sentence.

Natasha stares at him.

Then at you.

“Oh,” she breathes.

Within a week it’s a full-blown investigation.

Clint tries keeping Bucky company in the rec room. Steve insists on staying up with him one night to “see what’s going on.” Sam even suggests it might be some weird delayed serum side effect.

Nothing.

Bucky stays stubbornly, frustratingly awake with everyone else.

But the second you’re alone with him?

Lights out.

The breaking point comes during movie night.

The whole team is sprawled across the couches. Bucky is sitting ramrod straight on one end, clearly determined to prove a point. He even says as much.

“I’m not tired,” he mutters, jaw tight.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling and sit beside him anyway. Not touching. Just close enough that your knees almost brush.

The movie starts.

Thirty seconds later, his head tips sideways.

And lands squarely on your shoulder.

The room erupts.

Sam howls. Clint actually applauds. Natasha hides her smirk behind her hand. Even Steve’s lips twitch.

Bucky jerks upright, horrified. “I wasn’t— I didn’t—”

“You were snoring,” Sam informs him gleefully.

“I was not!”

“You absolutely were,” Clint says. “Like a tiny chainsaw.”

You’re laughing now, warmth blooming in your chest as Bucky’s ears turn pink.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles, refusing to look at you.

It is funny.

But it’s also… something else.

Because you’ve started to notice the details. The way his breathing evens out almost immediately when you’re near. The way his shoulders drop. The way the constant, subtle vigilance that hums beneath his skin finally goes quiet.

It hits you one evening when it’s just the two of you in your room.

He hadn’t meant to come in. He was pacing the hall after a nightmare, trying not to wake anyone. You’d opened your door at the sound of his footsteps.

“You okay?” you’d asked softly.

He hesitated.

Then nodded, once.

“C’mere,” you’d said, stepping aside.

He perches on the edge of your bed like he’s afraid it might bite him. You sit cross-legged across from him, close but not touching.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says roughly.

“I know.”

You talk about nothing. About the new recruits. About a recipe Sam ruined. About the weather.

His eyelids start to droop.

You watch it happen in real time.

“Buck,” you murmur gently.

He blinks at you, trying to fight it.

“You’re safe,” you tell him, because you think maybe that’s the key. “You can sleep.”

It’s like someone flips a switch.

He sways once.

Then slumps forward, forehead pressing lightly against your shoulder as he goes completely limp.

You freeze for a second.

Then slowly, carefully, you ease him down against your pillows and pull the comforter over him.

He doesn’t stir.

The next morning, the team finds him there.

In your bed.

Still asleep.

Sam leans against the doorway, grinning. “Well. Mystery solved.”

Bucky groans and buries his face in your pillow. “Kill me.”

You just smile, brushing your fingers gently through his hair.

“Or,” you say sweetly, “you could just start sleeping in here.”

His eyes flick up to yours, wary but hopeful.

“You serious?”

“Seems like you only sleep when I’m around,” you shrug. “Might as well get a full night out of it.”

There’s a beat.

Then, slowly, shyly, he nods.

The team never lets him live it down.

But that night—and every night after—Bucky falls asleep within minutes of you climbing into bed beside him.

And you’ve never seen him look so peaceful.

[yasministration]

until the nineties - robin buckley

set in s3, hopper!reader summary: there's one lucky thing about you and robin being a lesbian couple in the eighties - you don't have to keep your door open three inches. wc: 2.3k+ cw: sensitive themes (talk of homophobia & same sex couples in the 80's) but it's all in a positive way! suggestive themes - heated moment. a/n: this fic means so much to me so treat her kindly

With your father’s presence comes the slam of a door. You’ve been conditioned to associate him with the sound, so when the front door slams open, Robin immediately puts a few inches of space between your faces. Her lips no longer brush yours as she flirts with you quietly, her hand slipping from your waist so she can rest her second arm on the mattress. You glimpse up to the mirror at the other end of your bed and nod to yourself approvingly. In the reflection, you don’t see a pair of lovers, but good friends.

Another door bangs against a wall, and you scoff in amusement as you hear your dad begin yelling before cutting himself off. Robin squeezes your hand which grips the corner of the magazine’s page, but she quickly lets go, moving it away a safe distance. Her soft touch averts your attention back to the magazine — something that had lost your focus many minutes ago, when Robin had decided to press the first kiss to your jaw.

“So I take it you prefer the plaid over the floral?” You mumble, a single manicured nail tracing over the advertised bikinis. “Yeah, I like the funky patterns.” Both your eyes flit up towards the end of Robin’s sentence as the door eases open. Jim Hopper’s gaze is sceptical, but his shoulders slump in relief at the sight of you and Robin, innocently laying on your stomachs on your bed, flicking through a magazine.

“It’s like a time machine in here.” Your dad starts, hand still on the doorknob as he looks back and forth between your room and El’s, where she and Max are in the same position, except on the floor. And also, very much just friends. “Both of you girls with your friends, no boys around.” He leaves the second part silent, but it’s clear that he thinks about how for the first time in years, he doesn’t have to worry about either of his girls and their boyfriends. He nods approvingly before slowly closing the door, and for a moment you just stare at the dark oak, contemplating getting up to lock the door behind him.

Robin slings an arm over your waist, ducking her face next to yours and muttering “You know how I like fun patterns on you.”

“Robs, you just like fun patterns.”

She brings a hand up, resting her chin on it and looking into the corner of the room, thinking deeply. “Well, yeah, exactly. That’s why I like them on you. You make things I already like a hundred times better because they’re combined with you.” Your chest swells with adoration at your girlfriend’s words, and you lean in close to press your lips to hers despite the unlocked door. “I love you.” You whisper quietly, and she echoes the words back to you without a moment’s hesitation.

Pushing the magazine away from you, you roll onto your side, resting your head on a propped up hand. Robin’s gaze drops down to where your shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of your abdomen, and she lets her fingers wander there, tracing absentminded shapes onto your skin. “So you’ll get the bikini?” She asks hopefully, eyes trailing up your body to finally land on your face. “Yeah, I probably will.”

The grin that makes its way onto her face is slow and hard for her to fight off, so she lets it conquer, flashing it in your direction. She leans in close to you, but just before she can kiss you, you interrupt her. “Robin, go lock the door.” She flies off the bed in such an eager manner it makes you giggle to yourself, but Robin winces as she turns the lock, hoping its click doesn’t alert your police chief of a dad. She tiptoes back to the bed, climbing onto the mattress so close to you that she layers her body above yours, intertwining your legs together.

Shimmying onto your back, you smile up at your girlfriend, a chill running up your spine when she runs her fingertips up the side of your neck. Robin leans down, pressing a long and teasing kiss just underneath her fingertips, and you can feel the way her lips quirk up into a smile against your neck when your back arches off the mattress. She laughs to herself when your fingers sew into her hair, pulling her head up and closer to your face.

“Kiss me, Robin.” You plead, eyes flickering down to her lips. You admire the moment her tongue jots out to lick her lips, but don’t have time to process the fact that she’s already leaning down to kiss you with an obedient “Yes ma’am.”

She moans when your fingers scratch at her scalp, but she tilts her head and slackens her jaw to deepen the kiss nonetheless, her lips parting. Your fingers tighten around her golden locks when her tongue finally meets yours, and you hum in satisfaction, pushing her closer to you by the back of her head.

Robin leans most of her weight on her right arm, letting her free hand trail up your body. When she finds the edge of your jeans, she grips the denim fabric in her hands, fingers expertly working to unbutton them. She doesn’t bother undoing the zip, only slipping her hand under your jeans and down your panties. You let out a sharp breath at her cold touch, hand flying to grip her wrist, stopping her movements. She pulls back from the kiss with a wet string of saliva connecting your lips to hers, a silent question lingering on her lips.

“Risky.” You breathe out, and she nods, an unwavering look of content on her features. “What?” You laugh at her lack of response, a hand tightly clutching the fabric of her t-shirt. “Not if you can be quiet.”

She laughs even as you push her head back down into the kiss, tongue immediately tangling with yours, muffling her sounds into mere moans. Her fingers wiggle beneath your underwear, and you loosen your hold on her wrist to let her do as she pleases to you. She trails her hand down, lips suddenly breaking from the kiss so she can avert attention to your neck instead. “No, Robin!” You gasp, twitching away from her mouth. “You know you can’t leave any marks!” She leaves her lips on your neck, letting her head drop down so her forehead rests onto the mattress as she grumbles disappointedly.

“Let me break the rules just one time.” She murmurs, voice laced with dismay. You gently push at her chest, and she instantly rolls off you, letting you swing a leg over her hips to straddle her. She pouts underneath you, hands coming to cross over her chest, but you pull them down, tilting your head at her in question. “No, don’t be upset Robs.”

Robin shrugs, huffing to further showcase her emotions to you. You lean down, pressing your lips to hers once, then quickly again before moving to press kisses onto each of her cheeks. Her cheeks tense under your kisses as she breaks into an unwilling smile, but her hands come up to grip yours hips anyway. “I’ll let you leave marks sometime, okay? Somewhere my dad won’t see, when literally any other person could be the suspect, okay?”

Robin groans, throwing her head back onto the mattress and squinting her eyes as though deep in thought. Then, she shrugs her shoulders, one hand shooting up to cup the nape of your neck and harshly pulling you down, slamming your lips down onto hers. It’s a violent kiss, one that all teeth and tongue, and Robin easily flips your positions back around, hands working to push your shirt up. “But for now, somewhere he won’t see.” She tells you, one hand snaking underneath your back and unclasping your bra.

Her mouth immediately meets your breast, lips wrapping around your nipple, and your hand returns to your girlfriend’s hair, biting down on your bottom lip to avoid making any sound.

“Rob-”

“Hey, what do you girls want for dinner!?”

Robin jerks up away from you at the sound of your dad’s voice on the other side of the door as he knocks loudly, and you scramble up to clasp your bra again and pull your shirt down. For extra measure, you pull the closest hoodie to you over your head before opening the door and facing your dad. El and Max stand in the living room, and El stares at you for a long moment before turning to look at Jim. She pokes him in the side, whispering “Ask her.”

“These two want pizza, that okay with you and Robin?” He asks you with a sigh, and you nod. “Alright, the four of you take care, I’ll order the pizzas for you and go, I have something to do. You’re in charge, hon, alright?” You nod again, pocketing the money he hands you.

Robin comes out of your room just as Jim shrugs his jacket on, and the four of you watch as he leaves. “Should we watch something?” You ask when the door shuts, watching as Robin slumps down on the couch in front of the television. El and Max stare at you for a long moment, and you gesture your hands as to ask what’s going on.

“I didn’t know girls could kiss each other like girls and boys do.” The gasp flies from your lips before you can prevent it, and Robin’s head snaps towards your sister so fact that her neck might have snapped. “El… Where did you - what do you mean?”

“El spied on you and saw you and Robin kissing.” Max clarifies with a shrug of her shoulders, moving slowly to sit in your dad’s armchair.

“El, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do that.” You gulp, unable to think of anything else to say. Robin stands, turning around to face you, panic written all over her face. The living room is silent for a long and uncomfortable moment as your brain races to find a solution. “Okay, El sit down. Max, next to her on the couch.” You demand, bringing a hand up to your mouth so you can bite at your thumb nail anxiously. The younger girls scatter to sit on the couch in front of the television, nervously glancing at each other before looking back up at you and Robin.

“Are you girlfriend-girlfriend?” El asks, and you freeze, shooting Robin a side glance. She shrugs, and you decide in that moment to be truthful, so you turn back to your sister and nod. “But it’s really important that you don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Because dad would get mad that you keep your door closed?” El hypothesises, and despite the laugh that wants to escape you, you shake your head. “No, El. Look, a lot of people - most people aren’t open to the idea of two girls or two boys being partners. You know, it could really get us in trouble.” You crouch down in front of El and Max, though your gaze doesn’t move away from your younger sister’s face. “Does that bother you, El? That Robin and I are together?”

El shakes her head, looking back at Robin and smiling softly. “I like Robin. She gives me free ice cream sometimes. And she is funny. And you spend all your time with her so I know she is a good person.” You nod in relief, moving your attention to Max. “What about you, Max?”

“No, I think it’s cool. I sometimes hear people talk about couples like you but I didn’t think they actually existed.” Robin chuckles at Max’s words, then looks at you. She notes the stress on your face and brings a hand up to rub your back, furrowing her eyebrows when you flinch on instinct. “You really can’t tell anyone.” Robin echoes your previous words, taking her hand off you and looking at the younger girls with the most serious face she can muster.

“Why don’t people like when two girls or boys go out?” Max finally asks, looking between you. Robin brings her shoulders up to her ears, holding them there for a moment before letting them drop low in a sad shrug as she kneels down beside you. “I wish I knew, Max.” She offers, sighing deeply. She glances towards you, hesitantly extending her arms out to propose a hug. You let yourself fall into her arms, bringing your hands up to hide your face as you whine anxiously, crying “Fuck, we messed up Rob!” Robin tightens her hold on you, caressing your back in slow circles.

“I’m sorry I spied.” Apologises El, eyes clouding with distress. “Will you two promise not to tell anyone? And I mean anyone at all, in the whole world.” Asks Robin, keeping you close to her.

“Promise.” They echo in unison.

“And when the pizza comes, you can pay.” Robin decides as punishment with a sense of finality in her tone of voice. Both Max and El’s heads snap towards you, panic etched onto their faces. Digging your face out of the crook of Robin’s neck, you glimpse at the younger girls, laughing quietly at their expressions. “Can spy through people’s minds but can’t pay for pizza.” You scoff, staring at them longly.

“This is serious, you get that right?” You emphasise one last time, deeply exhaling when they both nod again. “Robin, let me speak to you in private for a moment.” Robin follows you back into your room, standing by the closed door for a long moment in utter silence. At the sight your stillness, she walks towards you, spinning you around and walking you back to the door until you’re pressed up against it. She takes a minute to look at you, then presses her lips against yours in a passionate kiss that has you melting in her arms.

“And here I thought Steve was going to be the only person to know until at least the nineties.” You mumble against her lips, feeling her chest rumble with a silent laugh. She pats your thigh twice at the sound of the doorbell, muttering “Yeah, like any of us will still be alive by the nineties.”

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