It’s Impossible To Ignore You. (Eddie Munson X Reader)

It’s impossible to ignore you. (Eddie Munson x Reader)

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It’s Impossible To Ignore You. (Eddie Munson X Reader)

Summary: Chrissy and Eddie seem to become close after a drug deal. The feelings you kept locked up suddenly start overflowing and you become afraid of losing your best friend. You fail to realize Chrissy was helping him gain the courage to admit his feelings to you.

Warnings: Slow burn friends to lovers. Angst. Unrequited feelings (but not really). So much miscommunication/misunderstanding. Reader being an anxious mess and an over thinker. Both Eddie and reader being oblivious dumbasses.

A/N: I said I was bringing angst to the Eddie fandom and here I am. Im deciding to make this 3 parts instead of two because I wrote so much already. And I love dragging the way they are idiots. Comments and messages are so welcomed! Yell at me! Thank you for all the support (:

Word count: 7k or something

You were confident in your friendship with Eddie. The friendship was build on so much trust and years of learning each other’s quirks and habits. Confiding in each other with secrets that you wouldn’t tell another soul and insecurities that ate away at your thoughts during the night.

You both were practically each other halves. Yin and Yang. Others may have found it kinda annoying, the way you both were practically attached at hip. But no one could deny how much you complimented each other.

Many would go as far to say you were platonic soulmates, which you happily accepted at first. Until the platonic aspect begin to leave a bitter taste in your mouth. A taste you desperately ignored and whatever thoughts followed was pushed to the back of your mind because you were not going down that worm hole.

Because you were his best friend. You were the first one to force him into a friendship when he first moved to Hawkin’s, running away from his parent’s home to his uncle’s, with a toothy smile on your baby face.

You were the one to compliment his drawings he hid at first of his dnd characters and learned the game to hear him excitedly talk about it at any chance. The one to force him to tell you who had formed the bruise on his eye. The one who then proceeded to hold their packaged popsicle against it until it melted.

And he was yours. He was the one to tell you that it was okay to be sensitive despite your parents harsh words. Eddie was the one to hold you after scary nightmares when he had convinced you to watch a scary movie you definitely had no reason to watch, only to tease you once there was no more fear in your system.

He was the one that held your textbooks even if he complained the whole time between classes. Eddie was the one to make a whole show of embarrassing himself in order to make you feel comfortable. He was the only one who understood your anxious rambling at random subjects that were in your mind on that particular day.

So yeah. You were content and happy with your place in Eddie’s life as best friends. Even if your developed crush was always something you beat down every day. Because as long he was in your life, you didn’t care if platonic was forever stamped on your relationship.

You were each other’s first choices. Always. So when he had mentioned one lunch period that Chrissy was meeting up with him for a deal, you only felt surprised that the school’s cheerleading Queen was going to buy drugs. A bit amused that she was meeting with her boyfriend’s worst enemy, the “Freak” of Hawkins.

You didn’t put much thought into it until you watched him and Chrissy seem to have a prolonged eye contact moment after said deal, in your last class together that same day. The blush in his cheeks when he looked away being the final realization that oh, maybe you really weren’t okay with it at all.

“How did the deal go?” You asked a little later, over the milkshake that was being shared at the small diner that was both your favorites. With the campaign Eddie had planned for that night, it was decided to hang around town before heading back to school.

“It went fine.” He answers after taking a long sip of the strawberry shake, emptying the glass.

You groaned, “Eddie, you hog!”

He smiles innocently as you tilt the glass to stare at the loss. “Oops.”

The pout on your face was immediately knocked down when he grabs the cherry he saved for himself and places it on your napkin. You accept the trade off as he continues. “She didn’t buy anything anyway. At least not for now.”

You hum as you grab the cherry he gave you, popping it in your mouth. “How come? It took a while so figured she did buy something in the end.”

He seems to fiddle with one of his rings anxiously. “We talked a bit,” that blush was back on cheeks, “Guess it took longer than expected. But I didn’t have what she needed, so she’s coming back to my trailer after hellfire tonight.”

“Talk about what?” You ask a bit too quickly, wiping your fingers on your napkin.

“Just..stuff.” He shrugs and pushes the empty glass to the end of the table. Eddie grabs the forgotten menu, even though you both know it by heart. “Hey, you want another milkshake? Or should we ask for a cheesecake?”

Oh. The cherry tasted dull in your mouth but you chewed it regardless, ignoring the small tug on your chest at the change of demeanor. It was so small yet you noticed it. He seemed uncomfortable at the topic, as though he didn’t want to breach it.

You were quiet for a moment before realizing he was looking at you questionably, so you smiled. “Trying to get me sick so I’ll miss hellfire, and not embarrass you huh?”

“Ohhh, those are fighting words sweetheart,” he narrows his eyes and his tone darkens. “I’m not one to back down. You’ll going to wish I wasn’t dungeon master.”

The implication on his “small talk” had you reeling as he drove you both back to the highschool. What exactly did they talk about then? And why did Eddie seem embarrass? As though whatever was shared between them in the woods wasn’t something he wanted to share with you.

Eddie didn’t have to share everything with you. But he always did. So seeing him dismiss the topic so quickly, it was different.

He always would tell you about the potheads that would regard him like some god, or the way the preppy kids acted like he would curse them if they were in his space for too long.

It wasn’t a big deal. Really. But Chrissy knocking on the door to the room Hellfire had taken place in that night, calling Eddie’s name had you feeling small suddenly. You, Gareth, and Eddie had been putting all the chairs back after the exciting game Erica had concluded with her lucky roll, when she walked in hesitantly.

Eddie jumped up from jamming his stuff in his backpack to greet her.

“Sorry, it ran a little longer than usual.” He states. “But we could head out now. You got your stuff, bug ?” Eddie looks towards you where you were zipping up your backpack. The idea of being in the same van as them together had you feeling uneasy suddenly.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to see any interaction that would make your anxious thoughts worse. Your eyes shift towards Gareth and your mouth spoke before you could think, “oh I can’t. Gareth had invited me for pizza tonight.”

“I did?” Gareth head jerks up from where he was, hand on the door knob ready to leave the room.

“He did?” Eddie sharply accuses at the same time, turning towards Garth who was staring between you both with wide eyes. His mouth hanging open, looking at you confused. You stared wide eyed back at him and nod quickly, pushing yourself towards the brunette.

“Ha! yeah he did, I totally forgot to tell you Eddie!” You shove Gareth a little too hard out into the hallway, out of sight before he could protest and expose your lie. Pretending like you didn’t hear the sound of him slamming against a locker.

“He only invited you?” Eddie voice was a bit tight, he pauses and coughs, “I mean, why not invite the rest of us?”

You felt bad realizing that your get away was going to make Eddie excluded. “Well, I mean, you have to take Chrissy right?”

Eddie blinks like he forgot she was there. “Well yeah but-“

“So it’s fine! He’ll take me home, don’t worry Eddie.”

“Right..” he mumbles, noticing Chrissy smiling at him before perking up, “You better bring me a slice yeah? Or else you’ll walking to school in the morning.”

You roll your eyes, nodding before he could try to mess with your hair and push yourself to leave them alone in the room.

You tried not to watch them leave the school together as you sat in Gareth’s car, recognizing the ugly emotion that washed over you in waves.

A part of you secretly hoped that would be the end of it. That Chrissy would buy whatever drug she needed, realize it isn’t her thing and they didn’t need to interact anymore. It wasn’t because you were jealous, something you repeated in the mirror a hundred times the night before, but for a normal reason.

Chrissy had a boyfriend. Jason who despised your best friend, so it wouldn’t be good for Eddie too continue to deal with her. She was just acting out, and that would be it. That’s all, right? No more ugly emotions.

“—and then he got mad because someone mentioned Chrissy.” Lucas explains during lunch as you kept glancing towards the double doors for Eddie’s late presence. “He cancelled practice for this week. It was stupid.”

“Didn’t you hear? .” Dustin chimes in with a mouth full of pudding. You would have scolded him for it if it weren’t for his next words, “He got dumped.”

“What?” You tore your gaze away from the doors, “Chrissy and Jason broke up?”

“Yeah. Apparently she asked for a break.”

“And how do you know this Dustin?” Luke leans forward from the end of the table to stare at his best friend.

“I know everything.” He smiles sweetly raising his eyebrows which forces Mike to snort with a small yeah sure which he takes offense to. “At least it was face to face, unlike El’s break up letter.”

“Why would mention that dude ?” Mike hurt voice drowns out while you stare at Eddie’s empty seat.

That sinking feeling in your stomach was back.

Eddie had arrived eventually, a hand grasped onto Gareth’s shoulder who seemed a bit tense to whatever Eddie was chatting away about. He looked really happy , a bump on his step as he made way towards the table and plopped down on his seat next to you. His smile so big that deep down you had a feeling that Chrissy had to do with it.

Of course. Who are you to completely stop that? She was single and just a few minutes during a deal had made Eddie head over heels for her.

One of your mozzarella sticks disappeared off your tray before he places his elbows on the table and tears it in half. “Hey, do you think Steve is working today ?”

You pushed away your thoughts once more. Eying the cheesy string between the two pieces before shrugging. “Uh no? I think Robin mentioned closing alone tonight. Something about Steve calling out for a date.”

“Ah, King Steve in action once again,” he rolls his eyes before popping one piece in his mouth, “Still good for me, I was going to stop by and didn’t want him to be on my ass for late fees.”

“Eddie you really need to stop losing the dvds,” you scold, grabbing your juice and handing it to him once you notice him eying it. “At this point we’ll be banned.”

“Hey, we both can’t get banned-“

“I also have late fees because of you begging Robin to use it under my name the last time.”

“It’s not my fault she’s so easy to convince ” He grins, “anyway, that’s good to hear, I was hoping to see her to rent a couple movies after school.”

“For what?” You ask, looking down at your tray. “Planning for a movie night?”

“Mhmm,” he hums happily, looking at you expectedly. “For a special girl.”

God, you felt pathetic for the way your smile was wiped off your lips. Your eyes stayed glued to your tray, your right hand coming up to scratch your neck in an attempt to hide your expression. “Oh cool…”

He was planning a movie date. Was it for Chrissy? It had to be, why else would he say it like that. The lunch food was beginning to disagree with your stomach. You pushed the tray away softly before looking up at him once you fought off a frown.

There was a frown tugging on his lips though, watching you carefully. He seemed, hesitant to say anything at first which made you feel worse. Is it really noticeable how uncomfortable you were ? You were ruining the good mood he was in.

“You okay?” He finally asks softly. One of hands reaching out under to table and brushing against yours. You force a smile once more, nodding before making show of holding your stomach.

“Sorry, I have a really bad stomach ache.” you laugh pathetically, “I think I need to go straight home after school” Instead of accompanying you to picking out whatever movie you have planned for Chrissy.

Eddie seems dejected but he nods. “Do you want me to take you to the nurse? I can carry you bridal style.” He attempts to joke but you only shake your head.

“No it’s fine.” The bell rings and you stand up a bit too fast for someone who was complaining about a stomach ache, “I’ll just get though it.”

You barely give him time to respond as you grab your tray ,”I’ll see you after class.”

He drove you straight home after school, the van mostly quiet for most of the ride as you allow yourself to go over your thoughts once again. Eddie tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing over you every so often before finally deciding to reach into his compartment and take out a cassette tape.

A few seconds later, your favorite band was playing through his speakers and you smiled. Eddie’s singing voice bringing you out of your funk for a few minutes as he sung along to the chorus, head banging despite it not matching the beat. Your laugh filling the van along with the music when he accidentally swerves the van after he looked away a little too long to sing to you.

For now, you’ll let yourself forget about whatever Eddie and Chrissy had going on.

-

It didn’t last long. Because as a week went by and Eddie began missing some lunches, and even a class period, you find out through Dustin that he caught Eddie meeting up with Chrissy.

Now it was clear they at least had a friendship going on. It really wasn’t your place to say anything.

Special girl. It rang in your head when you noticed Eddie keep glancing towards where she sat across the cafeteria. At first you ignored it, convincing yourself for a short time it was okay. But Eddie began to act different. Whenever you both would talk and joke, you would catch him glancing towards Chrissy. It hurt to see him so distracted while even with you, so you began to speak less and less.

Chrissy was special. Chrissy, the girl who everyone loved at Hawkins for her looks and skills in cheerleading. The blonde not only was really pretty and was the ideal image of what a perfect girl is, she also was really sweet. So you couldn’t even be mad at Eddie for his choice.

Anyone would want to date her and they would be considered lucky. So really, you should be happy for your best friend. Even if you felt annoyed from waiting after school, 20 minutes and most of the parking lot empty save the kids attending detention, and you see them both exit the building together.

They seem to be in deep discussion about something, before Chrissy placed her hand on his shoulder, saying something that had Eddie attention completely on her. You looked away from the sight, gripping onto your textbook on your lap.

A minute later he was standing next to you with an apologetic expression. “Shit, I’m really sorry bug. Ms. O’Donnell had me staying after to make up for being late to class.”

You smile tightly, because that’s all you been doing since this started, faking your smiles. “Right.” You get up from your seat on the bench and brush past him towards his van. He follows close behind, tugging on your backpack to signal to let him carry it but you ignore him, brushing his hand off and pulling it against your shoulder.

Eddie frowns at that and doesn’t unlock the door when you pull on the handle. “I said I was sorry y/n.” He whines, pouting and trying to wrap his arms around you but you pull away once again.

“Yeah I heard Eddie,” you sigh as you look at him, your annoyance growing at the confused look in his face. It pushed you to speak again before thinking clearly.

Word vomit. You had learned that phrase from Robin. “I guess you and Chrissy were both late huh?”

Eddie blinks taken back, looking towards where Chrissy had walked off to meet up with other cheerleaders. “Oh- that.” He clears his throat and rubs at his neck. “No, I bumped into her right after O’Donnell let me off.”

“Talked for a bit too?” Shut up. Why do you keep talking?! You screamed in your head.

“I just had something quick to ask her.” You looked at him raising an eyebrow, waiting and hoping that he would finally tell you what they had going on. But again, Eddie blushes, not looking at you and you realized he rather keep it from you then tell you. “It was stupid, like uh, about homework. ”

You felt done with the conversation, nodding and pulled on the handle again. “Cool, can you open the door now?”

“Come onnn y/n, don’t be like that-“

“Eddie you had me waiting in this heat“ you huff, crossing your arms and glaring at him. “I just want to go home and take off these sweaty clothes. Please.”

Eddie pauses and seems to think before suddenly dropping on his knees. You gasp and step back as he puts his hands together and shakes his head.

“I’m ashamed of myself. I am y/n. I failed you, something I can never forgive myself for.” He begins, shaking his head dramatically. You drop your bag and pull on his arm trying to make him stop.

“Eddie seriously!”

A few lingering students were staring. “Please. I’ll do anything for your forgiveness your highness. I’ll buy you some donuts, or even that horrible Tears for Fears album you dare call music.”

“You ass-“

“I’ll shave my head!” He whines dramatically, “just for you to look at me again.”

“Oh god” you laugh, unable to stop a real smile to appear and succeed in pulling him to his feet again. “Please don’t. I don’t think I’ll survive another buzz cut.”

Eddie smiles dusting off his knees and bending down to grab your bag, throwing over his shoulder. “So?”

“I forgive you,” you roll your eyes, watching him sigh relieved and hold his chest. He unlocks the door this time and lets you climb in.

“Cant even let me be mad for more than 5 minutes.” you mumbled when he throws both your belongings to the back and gets in. He starts the car, pointing at your seatbelt in warning, waiting to hear it click in place before driving out of the school’s parking lot. “Maybe I wanted to ignore you the whole car ride”

“I don’t think I could survive that” he teases, but there was truth in it. He looks towards you, his gaze softening. “You sure you’re not mad anymore?”

“Yeah, it’s fine Eddie.” Your smile was small as you look out the window. You really weren’t mad. His antics was enough for you to brush off your jealousy. Eddie was your best friend. You shouldn’t be acting this way anyway. You just needed time to get your feelings in check.

It doesn’t seem like Eddie is convinced because he sighs. You turn to look at him.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That” He waves his hand over you before looking at the road. “I don’t know. Off. You smile but it doesn’t even seem..” he struggles before snapping his fingers. “It’s not you.”

Shit. He’s noticing. You rub the side of your face and shake your head. “Really Eddie, it’s nothing.”

“Is it? You seemed off all week.” You flinch at that, wanting to sink into the seat. He really was noticing, will he eventually connect two and two together? What if he figures out your feelings that you hid for so long.

No you couldn’t let that happen.

“I haven’t been feeling my best Eds” You make sure to keep your voice steady, trying to be believable. “I guess, I just been stressed. With the way things are changing..”

That part was true.

“What do you mean?”

“With finals coming up, and graduation just two months away.” You play with the end of your hair ignoring his gaze. “I guess it finally just got to me. You know me and my anxiety.”

You smile pathetically and Eddie slumps back in his seat. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it before ?”

“You seemed..distracted..” That also was true. Really you were giving half truths so you didn’t feel too horrible for lying to him. “But really, I’ll get over it.”

Eddie reaches out and grabs your hand, shaking his head. “Distracted? What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing.” Eddie sighs but lets it pass.

“Don’t be hiding that shit from me anymore. Alright? You know I hate when you get into your head. Talk to me, okay?”

You nod, squeezing his hand back and play with his rings, pushing back your feelings. “Okay. Promise.”

The next few days were better. Sure, you saw him talking to Chrissy once between classes. But after Eddie had forced you to sleepover his trailer that day you half confessed in his van, and watched movies with you all night and made you hot chocolate, you felt safe to say it didn’t hurt that much.

You can accept it. You were still an important part in his life and he in yours. You shouldn’t be so selfish to wish for more. It was okay.

You were studying for your math quiz when your bedroom phone rang. You quickly scribbled down an answer before you forgot it, and reached over to the nightstand next to your bed.

“Hello?”

“Hey bug.”

You smile and lay back on your pillow, grabbing the base of the phone to place on the bed while you twirled the cord between your finger. “Don’t tell me you want me to give you the answers? Did you even try to solve one of the problems.”

“No I just..” he pauses. You mirror that by freezing with the cord around your finger. “Wanted to talk. Wanted to talk to you, you know?”

There wasn’t a blush on your cheeks at the gentleness in the way he said you. You change your position the bed to lay on your stomach, frowning. “Eddie? Is something wrong?”

He stays quiet. You can hear one of the records you gave him softly playing in the background.

“You know you can talk to me.” Please talk to me. Don’t push me aside. “Remember what you told me, last week, that we don’t hide anything.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right.” He sighs and there’s some shuffling on his side. “This is just..really hard to say. It’s..different than what we usually talk about.”

Uneasiness swirls in your stomach. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t reply right away so you backtrack. “I mean that shouldn’t matter. We told each other so much already, I’m sure this isn’t much different Eds.”

“You won’t..freak, right? No matter what.”

Your throat tightens. That tightening feeling appears in your chest. You clear your throat in fear that your voice will break. “Y-yeah, I won’t. Try me.”

“Okay..” He coughs then sighs. “Okay. Okay, so..” he struggles before finally speaking. “There’s someone that I really like.”

You thought you were prepared. Part of you was relieved that after keeping it from you for so long, he finally confided in you. That should be good, right? Your worries that he didn’t have that trust in you evaporated, all that anxiety was proven wrong. Yet, the other part of you that you thought was going to fine and under control, broke.

“Oh wow,” you let out breathlessly, “You were scared to tell me that?” You push the back of your hand against one of your eyes once you feel the tears building. “Why are you worried about that.”

“Y/N- it’s, it’s just...” He whispers, “I been too stupid to realize my feelings and I’ve been wanting to ask her out for a few weeks now. But I can never figure out how she feels about me..”

His voice was shaky. “I’m terrified she won’t feel the same way if I tell her. Because y-“ he coughs, “she’s so amazing and perfect, and I guess I’m really scared you know? What if I’m not enough? I wouldn’t blame her for thinking so.”

Your heart hurts not only knowing he’s referencing to Chrissy but knowing that he didn’t feel good enough. How could he even think like that? Eddie was someone you looked up too. His ways of drawing attention towards him with his dramatic speeches and overall personality was admirable. So hearing him sound so small, dejected at the idea had you pushing your own hurt aside.

“Eddie. Anyone would be lucky to have you. This girl, god she would be so fucking lucky to have you as her boyfriend.” You stare at your ceiling, hand gripping the phone tightly. “You’re so much more than good enough. You’re sweet and funny, and, and I know she will be the happiest girl with you. Anyone would.”

I would. The voice whispers in the back of your head.

“You really think that?” Eddie asks, in awe. You nod forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course, Eddie. You’re the most amazing person I know.” Eddie stays silent. You notice how fast your heart was beating.

“Thank you bug,” you swore you thought you heard a sniffle. “I..that made me feel better. You don’t understand how much.”

You both stay silent. You were waiting for him to drop that it was Chrissy. Go into more details about her but he continues to not talk. So you decide to rip the bandaid yourself.

“So, when are you asking the special girl?” You force your voice to sound excited, shutting your eyes tight. “I better not have gave that speech for nothing.”

“Actually, I was thinking about doing it tonight.” he trails off. You felt like you were going to vomit.

“Good! I-I hope it goes great, Ed. I’m rooting for you, and..I know she’ll say yes.” Your hands began to shake. It felt harder to breath. You thought you were able to handle it but no, you feel yourself falling apart.

You needed to end the call before he hears you break down.

“Y/N..I wanted- I was going to ask you-“ You cut him off once you feel a single tear slip down the corner of your face. A few more tears follow as you shake your head.

“Eddie I-I’m sorry I need to go.” You slam the phone shut and pull your pillow over your face. Hoping it’s enough to pause your tears but it didn’t. A sob is muffled by it instead.

You weren’t going to be okay after all.

You spend the rest of the night staring blankly at your homework before deciding you were not accomplishing anything but staining the sheet with a few escaped tears. You turned off all the lights and tried to sleep, trying to come up with an excuse as to why you hung up. You didn’t think clearly.

You could say you felt sick again and had to throw up, or that your heart was ripped out of your chest and you felt like you were dying.

The former was better. At least it was believable and didn’t need anymore questions.

You left the following morning earlier than usual. Deciding to take the bus that you seen Max always hop on. Eddie had tried giving her a ride before but she only quietly rejected it and often left earlier than you both did.

You sat next to her on the bus, headphones blaring Kate Bush voice. She glanced at you, raising an eyebrow.

“You look like shit.” Her headphones were pushed down to wrap around her neck.

“Thanks.” You reply, crossing your arms over your stomach and turning your head towards her smiling softly. “And you look amazing like always Max.”

She shrugs, turning her nose away as she glanced out the window towards the trailer park that was disappearing from sight. “Did you and Eddie fight?”

“No.” You feel sick again at the mention of his name. “I wanted to go early and didn’t want to wake him up. He’s grumpy when I do.”

“Righht..” she turns towards you again. “Eddie definitely is anything but grumpy with you.” She makes a disgusted expression before pulling her headphones back on top of her head. The volume increasing this time.

Well damn. You were hoping the younger girl would make more of a conversations with you. Maybe you should try a little harder with her the way you had with the other freshman, but push that for another day. You allow to swallow in self pity the rest of the bus ride.

The rest of the morning was a blur. Eddie had looked for you when he arrived a few minutes before school started, nearly disrupting your first class when he pushed the door open a second before the bell rung. Eyes set on where you sat in the back but was quickly yelled at by your math teacher.

“Eddie Munson! This is not where you’re suppose to be-“

“I need to see y/n,-“

“You can see her later. Out! Now!”

You hid your face behind your notebook, guilt eating at you as you could feel him staring at you before he was escorted out.

Your plan was to avoid him that morning, needing just a little bit more time. Then prepare to see him at lunch and hear all about what occurred with his confession the night before. You were going to sit there, at the lunch table, apologize for hanging up and ditching that morning, then make it up by listening to him talk about how Chrissy accepted his confession. And you will smile through it all, and support him.

You could do that.

But when you walked out your history class for lunch, and Eddie was waiting right across the hallway, your mind blanked.

“Seriously. What the fuck y/n.” He began, pushing himself away from where he was leaning against the locker. You began to walk down the hallway. “Jesus Christ! Really? Where are you going?”

“Eddie I have to meet up..” you think quickly, “with Nancy! Yeah, Nancy wants my opinion on some shots she took of the basketball game.”

“Nancy Wheeler? Mikes sister?” He questions, walking beside you and matching your fast pace. “Since when were you two friends?”

“She’s friends with Robin. So that makes us acquaintances” you reply, staring ahead.

He throws his hands up in the air and scoffs. “Okay. Okay fine. Are you just not going to tell me why you hung up on me yesterday? And ignored my calls after?” He grabs your arm and stops your walking. “Or even why I went to your trailer for your mom to tell me you had left early to school? What’s up with that?”

“Had to talk to my teacher about my final grades, and I knew coming early was the best option.” It was such a shitty and not well thought out lie. “Didn’t want to wake you up, especially after last night.”

Eddie’s grip loosens and his expression falters. The anger flowing into something you couldn’t recognize. He pulls away and stuffs his hands into his leather jacket. “Last night..” he sounds sad, “are..are you even going to ask about that?”

“About what?” You don’t look at him. You weren’t ready yet.

“About what we talked about.” Eddie says desperately. “Come on y/n. I told you it was something I was afraid to talk about, and you go hang up on before I could even..” he stops and rubs his face.

“I wasn’t feeling well. Ha , it’s weird. It just hit me, I thought I was going to throw up-“

“Bullshit.” He hisses, pointing his finger at you. “That’s such bullshit.” You step back surprised by his outburst. He looked outright angry.

“Eddie-“

“You keep saying all these lies. I’m not an idiot. And then you go and ignore me all morning. What the fuck did I do? Did I..did I do something?” He asks.

“No Eddie, you didn’t.”

“Then why are you acting like this right now? Christ, I don’t understand !” He yells, throwing his hand out.

“Let’s talk about it later, yeah?” You stammer, feeling overwhelmed.It wasn’t suppose to go this way. You had it all planned out and now it’s getting out of control.

“Why later? Why not now?”

“I just don’t want to right now, okay?” You pull away, seeing your escape and make way to the bathroom. Eddie following close behind. “I’m still not feeling well. So, just..we can talk about it after school.”

“I don’t fucking get this. Why are you acting like this.?”

You push yourself into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut before he could even think to follow you in. “Eddie please ! I’ll meet you in the cafeteria, okay?”

“I thought you were meeting with Nancy.” He states from the other side of the door. “See I knew you were fucking lying.”

You don’t say anything else. Back pressed against the door as you wait.

“Y/N please..” you hear him beg quietly, “I really can’t handle this from you. Not right now. Especially after last night..”

You frown at this. What does he mean by that?

“I need you.” His voice was small. You wanted to open the door and slam against his chest, hugging him the way you always do when you both were suffering from bad thoughts.

But this was so much different. All your ugly insecurities and jealousy powers through any rationality right now.

So you say nothing. Despite the confusion at his statement. You hear Eddie sharp intake of a breathe once he realizes this before you hear his knuckles tap on the wall, a quiet “fuck this”, then his footsteps receding.

You stayed in the bathroom all lunch. Pathetically allowing your thoughts to overflow and beating yourself up for not being able to act normal. Your mind was reeling, not allowing you to focus on your other classes.

School ended and you walked out to see that Eddie’s van was gone. You didn’t even know if he had stayed in school after he walked away from the bathroom.

You sat next to Max again. She didn’t say anything at first, until the bus was halfway to your destination. It seemed like your own silent treatment had annoyed her enough to rip the headphones from her ears.

“I can literally feel your sadness rub off on me and it’s annoying.” She narrows her eyes at you. You sigh and tilt your head at her.

“That’s not even possible.” You mumble, not hiding the sadness in your voice. She takes note of this and finally resigns.

“Okay. Just tell me what’s going on with you and Eddie.”

“Nothings going on.”

“Dustin was complaining to me about how he hadn’t made it to lunch despite needing to go over the last campaign. And you’re here, unfortunately . So..” she shakes her head, “it’s pretty clear.”

You groan and slam your head back onto the bus seat. “Okay fine. I’ve just..” you pause and play with your fingers. “He and Chrissy has a thing..”

“Chrissy Cunningham??”

“Yeah I know.” You laugh, “these past few weeks, they been hanging and he has been acting weird. And..I guess he likes her.”

“Oh okay. This makes so much more sense.” She states, sitting up. “You’re jealous.”

“Yeah.” You finally admit. “Really jealous. But I can’t do anything. Because who am I to do so? We’re best friends and I’m acting like a fucking jerk.”

“He asked Chrissy out yesterday,” you continue, “he called me before hand and was telling me about his feelings for her and how he planned to tell her. And I..freaked out and hung up. Then avoided him today. And I know he’s mad but I just can’t face it Max. I don’t want to hear about their relationship because it hurts. So much.”

Max usual nonchalant front faded into a concerned expression. She listened to you.

“He said he needed me and god, he wouldn’t do this to me if I were crushing on some other person. He would be happy and would be excited to hear me talk about it because he doesn’t like me the way I like him..I really am a horrible friend. Aren’t I?”

You felt pathetically for ranting to a 15 year old but when Max simply shook her head and said, “No. it’s okay to feel hurt by this.” You felt a bit relieved before she continued. “But maybe you should talk to him about it. I don’t know, you’ll get used to it. Don’t break a friendship over it, he’ll understand.”

“I don’t think I can tell him though..”

“Then don’t, idiot. But you can’t ignore him forever. I’m sure he’s really confused by all of it and doesn’t know what to do. He’s stupid that way.”

You snort.

“And it probably is hurting him. I can see the way he cares about you.” She says honestly, furrowing her eyebrows like a thought crossed her mind but she doesn’t mention it.

You nod, feeling a bit embarrassed but better. She was right. It’ll take time to get over this hurt but you can’t allow for it to ruin what you and Eddie had. Eddie’s reaction was clear enough for you to see you were being selfish.

It didn’t matter if it hurt. You couldn’t allow it to overshadow what you and Eddie already build.

“Thanks Max.”

“Whatever.”

You walked her to her trailer once the bus driver drops you both off, hugging her and enjoying the way she smiled shyly before she pushed you away and ran in her trailer.

Eddie’s van was parked in front of his trailer. So you had no other option but to take your time walking across the dirt trail and step up to the door.

I need you.

You knock on the door, the small pattern that only you and Eddie knew coming as second nature, and waited.

The door opened and Wayne appeared.

“Oh hey kid.” He says, glancing inside the trailer for a moment before looking back at you. “I’m guessing you and Eddie fought?”

“Was it that obvious?” You grimace, tugging on the sleeve of your sweater.

“Just a little. No other person can get Eddie to be slamming that door shut and blasting his music like you.” He says with humor, stepping back and opening the door wider for you to enter. You ignore the small comment and follow him inside. “But I’m glad you’re here. I really need to get some sleep so if you could..”

You nod quickly, giving a small apology before walking towards his room. The vibration of the heavy guitar solo could be felt in the hallway. The beat thrashing against your eardrums when you push the door open.

Eddie was sitting up with his back pressed against the metal bars that made up the headboard of his bed. Guitar in hand as his fingers moved effortlessly against the strings. Eyes shut as he had his head tilted towards the ceiling. You wait to see if he’ll notice that the door opened but he continued playing.

You build up the courage to speak. “Eddie.”

You didn’t think he would be able to hear you but the song came to a stop, eyes snapping open as he turns his head over to you.

“Y/N?” He puts the guitar down. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you. And your uncle let me in.” You explain, moving towards his bed and sitting on the edge. “He probably would have left me out there if it wasn’t for him wanting to get some sleep.”

“You know he would let you in no matter what.”

“I know.”

He watches you, fingers twirling one of the rings in circles in his other hand. Sadness evident in his eyes, uncertainty mixed with it as he switched his gaze from between your eyes. Waiting.

“Look Eddie, I’m really sorry”

“You been saying that.” He replies.

“No but..” you stand up and rub your hands against your thighs. “I’ve been such an ass.” You hold your finger up before he could say anything, “and I’ve been acting like a shitty friend. And I know you’re confused and have asked me to be honest, but..”

You look at some of his posters. “I am honest about my anxiety being part of the problem. I’ve been struggling right now, dealing with feelings I don’t want to.” You swallow, pushing on. “And I guess I’m just afraid. Of stupid stuff that doesn’t matter and shouldn’t have. And I took it out on you and that’s not right.”

“So, it wasn’t because of me? I thought I was doing something wrong this whole time.” Eddie watches you pace back and forth.

Yes.

“No.” You bite your lip and hug yourself.

“Then what was it?” He frowns, “I mean. Why didn’t you just come to me? You promised. I told you to talk to me about it all.”

“I know Eddie. I know. Really. It was just all me and my overthinking. And I’m really really sorry and-“

“Bug, I understand.”

“No , I’ve been horrible!” You frown and plop down on the bed beside him, covering your face. “I’m really truly sorry. I promise you I’ll stop being ..how I am.”

“I like the way you are. Christ y/n.” He pushes your hands away from your face and forces you to sit up, grabbing your shoulders. “I wasn’t mad at you because of that, I was just mad that you been pushing me away. I was mad not knowing whether I..I was the reason.”

“It wasn’t you Eddie. I promise.”

He nods, shoulder sagging from relief before he grins. “You know, it’s weird not having you ranting into my ear 24/7 about what’s bothering you. I hate when you get all quiet.”

You watch him, pouting and he pushes at your cheek. His hand cupping your cheek and you ignore the warmth is spreads across your chest. “I’m sorry for screaming at you earlier and not being there after school. That was not cool.”

“No, I deserved it.” You glance down and play with the chain attached to his pants. “I wasn’t listening to you about last night.”

Eddie tenses. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

“No we can!” You’re able to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest. The pit in your stomach wasn’t that big either. It felt somewhat okay. “What else were you going tell me? How did it go?”

“Nothing happened. I never got to ask.” He wasn’t looking at you.

You falter, confused. “What? I thought..”

Eddie clears his throat and stands up, grabbing his guitar and hanging it up in its place in front of his mirror. “Yeah, I totally chickened out. It doesn’t matter now.”

“It..it doesn’t?” You asked, feeling even more stupid now. No wonder he was so angry at you for ignoring him. He needed more support, encouragement and you weren’t there to give it. “Shit, Eddie. I really am sorry for hanging up.”

“It’s fine, really.“ He taps his fingers on his chin, still not looking at you. “Besides..I have a better idea.”

“Uh..” you begs to ask before Eddie suddenly bends down and grabs your waist and throws you over your shoulder as you scream in surprise. “-the fuck!”

“We are going to celebrate us surviving our first real fight!” He grins, conversation forgotten as he attempts to grab his denim vest and wallet with out dropping you. Your wiggling makes it hard but he manages to do it.

“And how are we going to that?” You giggle, relieved at the familiarly of your dynamic with Eddie. It was feeling okay again.

“We are going to get a milkshake.” He smiles and proceeds to carry you out of his room on his shoulder. A small bang echoing from your head hitting the door frame and your groan following it. “..And painkillers.”

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1 month ago

The Soldier and His Mission

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Summary: When a trigger sends Bucky back into the grip of the Winter Soldier, he shadows you with an unyielding protectiveness that leaves the team on edge, though he doesn't harm anyone. After days of tension and careful steps, Bucky finally breaks through the icy barrier, returning to himself in a quiet, tender moment, finding solace in your presence.

The Soldier And His Mission

The Soldier And His Mission

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment Bucky went still.

One second, the mission was wrapping up—just another Hydra facility wiped off the map, just another set of goons taken down. The next, something triggered him. A phrase muttered in Russian over a radio, the faintest crackle of a long-dead handler’s voice. You saw the shift in his posture before he even turned around, the telltale tightening of his jaw, the blankness overtaking those usually warm blue eyes.

Bucky Barnes was gone.

The Winter Soldier stood in his place.

And yet—he didn’t hurt you.

Not when he turned to face the team, his body language bristling with danger. Not when Steve hesitated before stepping forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And certainly not when you cautiously called his name, your voice softer than the others.

Instead, the Soldier moved between you and everyone else.

A shield.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back at the Tower, you thought the episode would pass. That maybe, after a few hours, after enough familiar sights and sounds, Bucky would shake it off like he always did.

But the Soldier wasn’t leaving. And he had decided you were his mission.

Not to eliminate.

To protect.

At first, it was just hovering. You moved—he followed. You sat—he stood at your back, ever watchful. The others gave him space, exchanging worried glances when they thought you weren’t looking. Steve was tense, obviously trying to figure out how to break through, while Tony was less patient about it.

“This is a problem,” Stark declared after the first few hours, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. “I mean, I hate to be the one to say it, but we have a fully armed, brainwashed assassin in the Tower again, and we all know how that went last time.”

“He’s not attacking anyone,” Natasha pointed out.

“Yet,” Tony shot back.

You ignored the argument as best you could, focusing instead on cooking something for Bucky—something normal, something familiar, something that might ground him. His eyes tracked you the entire time.

Then you miscalculated the heat on the stove.

The oil in the pan hissed and spat, and a second later, you hissed too as a sharp sting bloomed across your palm. You barely had time to react before there was a sudden blur of motion.

Bucky was on you instantly.

His flesh hand gripped your wrist, his metal one hovering protectively over the stove, as if it had personally attacked you. His face was unreadable, but his grip was firm, his hold gentle as he examined the burn.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, but he wasn’t listening.

Instead, he took the cold pack you hadn’t even reached for yet and pressed it carefully to your palm, his jaw tight, his brows furrowed in focus. You exchanged a look with Steve over Bucky’s shoulder, and the Captain exhaled, something like relief flashing in his eyes.

He was still in there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Soldier continued shadowing you for the next two days, much to Tony’s frustration. But as Natasha had pointed out—he wasn’t hurting anyone.

Unless they posed a threat to you.

That was something Steve learned firsthand during a sparring session. You had barely landed a hit before Bucky, watching from the sidelines, had moved. The next thing you knew, Steve was on his ass, blinking up at the ceiling, while Bucky stood between you like a human wall, eyes cold and calculating.

“For the record,” Steve grunted as he sat up, rubbing his ribs, “I was letting her win.”

Bucky wasn’t convinced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It wasn’t until you needed a medical checkup that things really came to a head.

“Barnes, I have to actually examine her,” Dr. Cho said patiently, eyeing where Bucky stood between you and the med bay’s equipment.

“No,” he replied flatly.

“Bucky—” you tried.

“The room is secure.”

“That’s not the—”

“She does not require assistance.”

“I do require assistance,” you corrected. “Because I burned my hand and twisted my shoulder thanks to a certain super soldier overreacting in the gym.”

Bucky didn’t move.

You exhaled slowly.

“Okay,” you said, shifting tactics. “Then stay.”

That got his attention.

“If you want to make sure nothing happens to me,” you reasoned, “then you can stay here. But you have to let the doctor check me out.”

His expression was unreadable for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity—

“…Understood.”

Progress.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When it finally broke, it wasn’t dramatic.

There was no grand trigger, no huge revelation.

Just a moment of quiet.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, exhaustion finally winning after two days of Bucky’s overprotective hovering. When you woke up, it was to warm hands gently brushing over your wrist—both flesh and metal, but softer this time, as if relearning the feeling of touching you.

And then you heard it—his breath hitching.

A tiny, barely-there sound, but one filled with something raw.

You blinked sleepily, looking up.

Bucky was staring at you. Not the Soldier. Bucky.

His face was pale, his jaw tight, his eyes wide—his real eyes.

“…Doll?” His voice cracked over the word, like it had been caught in his throat.

You smiled sleepily, shifting so your fingers curled around his. “Hey, Buck.”

His exhale was shaky. His shoulders sagged. And when you tugged him down to you, he didn’t resist.

He just buried his face in your neck and held on.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You scared the hell out of me, you know,” you murmured later, your fingers absentmindedly running through his hair as he rested against you.

“I know,” he admitted, voice rough.

“You threw Steve like a ragdoll.”

“…Yeah.”

“…Kind of hot, not gonna lie.”

A laugh. Quiet, but real.

And just like that, Bucky Barnes was back.


Tags
1 year ago

It’s been a long fucking day, and Eddie’s back is killing him. The boots he wears for work don’t quite cut it anymore. He’s been secretly thinking about buying inserts for them, but he can’t force himself to go and actually buy the damn things. As if admitting that he needs the support would result in the rest of his body giving up its battle against middle-age. 

He ignores the way his shoulder clicks when he reaches into the back seat to grab the few bags of groceries and the gallon of milk that sits in the passenger’s side back seat. He offered to run out after work, knowing you’re likely just as exhausted and sore as he is. Probably more. You’ve already given up the fight with your body, having bought a pair of orthopedic sneakers 2 years ago for your shifts at the hospital.

Eddie sees the light in the living room is on. Even now, all of these years later, his heart misses a beat when he thinks about seeing you. It’s a relief to be in your presence, the time apart always leaves him feeling like a piece is missing. Like he’s forgetting something important. He only feels completely at ease when you’re within eyesight or ear shot. When there is indisputable evidence that you exist, and that you’re safe.

Eddie keeps his keys out just in case as he approaches the front door of your tiny home. He puts his hand on the knob and turns it. He’s not mad, he’s just disappointed. He sighs heavily, and pushes open the door. He’s ready to lay into you about forgetting to lock the front door, again.

He kicks off his boots, the relief he feels is immediate. That deep ache in his toes lessens a little with them on the soft carpet of the entryway. He peeks his head into the living room, a lecture already on his tongue when he lays his eyes on you. You’re curled up like a cat in his armchair. You’re wearing your readers with the silver granny chain around your neck. A needle is held between the fingers of one hand, and the other holds an embroidery hoop. You have a piece of embroidery floss caught up in the hair that’s peeking out from under your beanie - it’s bright blue. It doesn’t quite match the orange t-shirt and brown afghan you have thrown over your lap.

You fix your gaze on him over the rim of your glasses and indelicately work the floss off of your lips with your tongue before saying, “Oh! Thank you, Baby. I really didn’t want to have to go out looking like this. Can you believe how much that milk cost? It’s gone up at least 25% since this time last year. Oh, yeah, did you remember the super pads? I swear, I think I ejected my entire uterus last night.”

Eddie stands there, forgetting what he was so ready to say as he was walking through the door. He can’t help it. How could he remember anything when he’s in the presence of the most beautiful person in the world?


Tags
2 years ago

Reset - Masterlist

Reset - Masterlist

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x f!Reader, Steve Rogers x f! Reader (previous relationship)

Summary: The government has fallen, Hydra has taken over. You were an agent of SHIELD long before the reign of terror began, and became a member of the resistance when they needed you most. Everything changes when the Winter Soldier captures you from your safe house.

Status: Complete

Final Word Count: 48.8k

Warnings: DARK, hydra victory au, canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence, character death, swearing, blood, brainwashing (dub-con), pet names, masturbation (male), smut (consensual!! this fic will not contain non-con), oral (m and f receiving), enemies to lovers

AN: This fic is dark so please keep that in mind! if you're not comfortable with anything listed in the tags PLEASE DO NOT READ IT!! I will update the tags as I post so keep checking that and I will include warnings before each chapter. I'm so excited for this series so I'd love to hear your thoughts<3

this au takes place after the events of CA: TWS

my masterlist | ao3 | @hydravictrix | fic playlist

Reset - Masterlist
Reset - Masterlist

1. Желание

2. Ржавый

3. Семнадцать

4. Рассвет

5. Печь

6. Девять

7. Добросердечный

8. Возвращение на Родину

9. Один

10. Товарный вагон

Author's Note

Reset - Masterlist

please let me know if you'd like to be added to any of my taglists

General tags - please lmk if you do not want to be tagged for this series!!!

@peaches1958 @prettylittlepluviophile @writerwrites @w0nderw0mansw0rld @hawsx3 @meetmeatyourworst @harrysthiccthighss

Series tags - 18+ only!! must have age in bio - message me to be added &lt;3

@cwbucky @emmabarnes


Tags
2 months ago

Don't Touch the Tech Girl

Summary : Sam told Bucky that you, his new tech engineer, was off-limits. But that just makes Bucky want you more.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x engineer!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Lots and lots of sexual tension, sexual themes, workplace power dynamics, Fluff!!!! Canon-compliant-ish. cursing. Sex is mentioned and described but nothing too graphic. Small mention that Bucky used to smoke.

Word Count : 5.7k

Notes : Hi all! I will post my series soon, but for now, I am focusing on one shots because I am in the process of moving flats! Also, some tag requests has been buried under comments, so please message me/or shoot me an ask if you'd like to be tagged! Enjoy!

Don't Touch The Tech Girl

You weren’t born into privilege, not handed your brilliance by name or legacy. You were forged by curiosity, tenacity, and a drive so relentless it kept you awake at night designing theoretical blueprints for machines that didn’t exist yet. While other kids were watching cartoons, you were trying to figure out how the animation worked.

You were the kind of brilliant that couldn’t be taught. The kind that made people uncomfortable. The kind that made people notice.

After the blip, Wakanda needed help to rebuild.

You were in your last year of doctoral research when Shuri found you. You'd written a paper on vibranium-adaptive circuitry— not for application, just out of scientific obsession. She read it, tracked you down and showed up in your lab without fanfare.

“You know this theory would work,” she said, scanning your schematics. “You’ve already solved a problem most people can’t even pronounce.”

You blinked, still in awe. “You’re Princess Shuri.”

The next few years were a blur. You worked in Wakanda, helping design and restore crucial systems. You helped lead the research initiative for post-Blip infrastructure. You reverse-engineered Stark-tech, collaborated with Griot before taking a lecturing gig at MIT.

There, you mentored a long list of young brilliant minds, including Riri Williams.

And yet… something felt off.

Despite everything, you felt caged. 

Then you realised, ever since Wakanda, theory wasn’t enough for you. You were a hands-on person now. You needed problems to solve. You missed the adrenaline, the mess of a work table.

You missed the smell of soldered wires, the constant whir of active prototypes, the thrill of fixing tech that was actively falling apart.

That’s when the offer came from Sam Wilson and Joaquin Torres. 

The new Captain America and his chaos-prone Falcon needed a tech engineer for their field equipment, specifically their state-of-the-art wing packs.

They asked around, and Shuri had personally recommended you.

“Trust me,” she told Sam, “she’ll do more than fix it. She’ll make it better.”

Sam finally reached out, officially.

“The government engineers hate me,” he confessed over the first video call. “You might be our only hope.”

You liked them immediately,  and the job was exactly what you’d been missing.

It felt alive, unpredictable, high-stakes, high-tech, and high-risk.

So you packed up your comfortable teaching post at MIT. Said goodbye to pristine labs and overly polite faculty meetings and stepped into a small ops base that felt more like a rich family’s garage than a government facility.

And that’s where you met him.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky to his friends. 

You have heard of him before, of course. Shuri called him her second favourite white boy, just behind Everett Ross. In fact, she saw him as a brother more than anything else.

You didn’t know it yet, but he was about to become your favourite problem.

You were muttering curses at Redwing when you first met him.

The drone had fried its microthruster mid-flight, and of course, no one bothered to tell you until after Sam crash-landed into a water tower.

So now, it was 10:43 p.m., the base was dead quiet, and you were hunched over your workbench, coffee long cold, hair pulled back like you meant business.

“Alright, you little bastard,” you muttered, soldering iron in hand. “Spark in the wrong fuckin’ direction again and I’m rewriting your personality subroutines to a roomba.”

“That’s one hell of a threat,” a voice behind you drawled. 

Unaware of a second person in the room, you jumped slightly in shock, finishing the adjustment with a quick twist of your tool. “Either you’re good at stalking,” you said, glancing over your shoulder, “or terrible at announcing yourself.”

He shrugged. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

You clocked the metal arm— and you knew it was Bucky Barnes. The former Winter Soldier, looking every bit the part with a black shirt and dark hair tucked behind his ears. Sam must’ve called him in for some field work, maybe on-ground support for tomorrow's mission.

“You always lurk in corners?” you teased.

He tilted his head. “Do you always talk dirty to drones?”

That earned a laugh from you as you wiped your hands on a nearby rag. “Only the ones that misbehave.”

His eyes darted to your grease-streaked hands before he saw Redwing flickering online.

“Sam said you were good,” he said, whistling low. “Didn’t say you were this good. Redwing’s been dead for two weeks, and you’ve got him up again in what—a day?”

You shrugged casually. “I like working with things that don’t talk back.”

“That’s gonna be a problem.”

“Why’s that?” You narrowed your eyes. 

“Because I do.”

You didn’t look away, lips curving up into a sly smile. “I can handle it.”

That earned you a grin. He stepped closer, just across the workbench now. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel.

His eyes dropped to the drone. “You re-routed the thermal sensors.”

You arched a brow. “This your idea of flirting?”

He looked up, blue eyes gleaming with excitement. “Would it work if it was?”

Your laugh came easy, but your fingers didn’t stop moving. “Depends. You as hands-on as you look?”

He didn’t answer— not right away. He just moved around the workbench until he was behind you.

Then he whispered, “Try me.”

Your heartbeat thumped out of your chest, but your hands stayed steady. Only barely.

“You really shouldn’t sneak up on someone working with high-voltage components,” you let out a small laugh, warning him of more than just the circuitry. “I might shock you.”

Before he could say something even cockier, Sam opened the door and entered the room. “See you’ve met our new tech girl, Buck.”

You flinched slightly, and Bucky moved back.

Technically, Sam was your boss. 

So technically, Bucky was your boss’ best friend.

And that was a bad idea, right?

It started small.

The flirting was inevitable— of course you were attracted to each other.

He was your type, you were his type. It wasn’t exactly rocket science.

But it wasn’t just… that. 

He… actually made the effort to get to know you. You became friends first. He asked about your life: What made you tick. What pissed you off. What you did when no one was watching.

You gave him pieces of yourself.

And he gave you… things. Like a Eurasian Jay trying to mate by giving nuptial gifts.

The first time, it was totally casual. He gave you a protein bar post-mission.

“Figured you skipped lunch,” he said, tossing it onto your desk without meeting your eyes too long.

You were elbows-deep in Sam’s pack diagnostics, but you looked up. You arched your brow.

“Did Sam send you to make sure I didn’t pass out?”

“Nope,” he said, already walking away. “I’m just naturally thoughtful.”

You stared after him.

Thoughtful. Right. 

That was the word we were using now.

The next week, he got you coffee, just the way you liked it. Down to the brand and milk-to-caffeine ratio.

You mentioned it off-handedly a couple days ago, and he remembered. 

“Just happened to be in the area,” he said, leaning against the doorway like it wasn’t a forty-minute drive from where he lived.

You eyed him over the rim of your cup. “The base is not on the way to anywhere.”

“I took the bike,” he shrugged, “Made good time.”

You tried not to smile, but failed.

The week after that, he gave you a tiny gear charm on a thin, silver chain— clearly handmade, probably by him. It looked crooked, but it was beautiful to you, with teeth like a puzzle piece.

“Reminded me of you,” he said, like it was nothing, all while short-circuiting your entire nervous system.

You held it up between two fingers. “Because I’m small, stubborn, and get jammed in places I don’t belong?” You offered an explanation if he wasn’t brave enough to admit it.

He grinned, not denying it. “You said it, not me.”

You should’ve told him to knock it off. Maybe set some professional boundaries. You really should’ve.

Instead, you let him put the chain around your neck and wore it under your shirt like a dirty little secret. 

The next week, he lingered longer and leaned in closer. He watched you work with that look— focused, and if not a little possessive. He had his hands in his pockets, thumb tapping against his belt like he was holding something back.

You glanced at him. “You trying to get something, Bucky?”

He tilted his head, deadpan. “Yeah. You.”

You almost dropped your wrench.

You coughed and laughed at the same time—half-flustered, half-shocked. “Fuck. Just lead with it next time.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

After that, the flirting escalated. 

But… neither you nor him would do anything about it. Not while Sam was watching, anyway.

You’d be wrist-deep in tangled circuitry, and he’d pass you a screwdriver, letting his fingers brush yours just a second too long.

He’d stand behind you, “supervising” while you calibrated Joaquin’s flight pack— and he was close enough to feel his breath to ghost your shoulder, close enough that your body went still and hyper-aware of every little movement,

By month three or four, everyone was catching on.

One morning, Joaquin stood in the break room, sipping his coffee, nodding toward the door.

“Why does Bucky come here when we don’t need him on a mission?” he asked under his breath, eyes darting toward the man near your workstation. His arms were folded, eyes glued to you in a fitted tank top that was definitely not regulation.

Sam didn’t even bother to look up from his tablet. “Because he’s trying to get laid.”

Joaquin choked on his coffee. “Dude.”

“Which is why we’re keeping an eye on him,” Sam just sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like this whole situation was giving him a headache. “Because if we lose her, we’re screwed. You know how hard it is to find someone who can keep up with our gear?”

Fifteen minutes later, Sam found Bucky walking in the hallway. “We need to talk.”

Bucky didn’t even slow his pace. “If this is about the vibranium plate I broke—”

“It’s about you trying to rail our tech engineer.”

Bucky blinked. “That’s... direct.”

“I’m serious!” Sam glanced around, lowering his voice but not his tone. “She’s brilliant. Like—Stark-level genius with none of the god complex. Do you have any idea how rare that is?”

“She is impressive,” Bucky admitted, which was code for: she’s been living rent-free in my fantasies for months.

“She’s more than impressive,” Sam snapped. “She’s irreplaceable. And if you screw this up—you’re gonna ruin the best hire I’ve made in years.”

Bucky stopped walking, folding his arms. “You think I’m gonna what, ghost her?”

“I know you,” Sam pointed, though he had to mentally compartmentalise to ask how he knew what ghosting was later. “You’re looking at her like she’s the last cigarette on the planet, and I know you haven’t smoked for like, six years.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You really sat with that one, huh?”

“You can’t unfuck someone at work, Barnes. I’ve lived this,” Sam shot back. “Base hookups never end clean. And if it goes sideways, I lose my tech lead and you lose the one person who knows how to recalibrate your arm without needing a manual.”

There was a beat of silence, and Bucky almost looked thoughtful.

“So…” he started, “You’re saying I should commit.”

“I’m saying—” Sam dragged a hand down his face. “Jesus, no. I’m saying do not touch her. She is vital to the team. To our equipment. To my sanity. She’s not just someone you can have a fling with, she’s infrastructure.”

Bucky tilted his head, amused. “You just compared her to a bridge.”

“She is a bridge! Between functioning tech and whatever disaster Joaquin brings back from the field. I swear to fuck, if you make things weird—”

“You’ll what?” Bucky asked, liking the challenge.

“I will get Shuri to reprogram your arm to slap you every time you look at her.”

“You’re really making this sound more appealing,” Bucky mumbled under his breath. 

See, Sam had made a big mistake.

Huge.

Because if there was one thing Bucky Barnes couldn’t resist, it was a challenge.

And by making you officially off-limits, he just wanted you more. 

He hadn’t even planned on catching feelings —he didn’t even know if he had the capacity for real ones anymore— until you. 

Annoyingly smart and stupidly hot. And underneath all that genius and grease-stained sarcasm was someone who actually made him want things.

So, what did he do?

Exactly what he wasn’t supposed to.

After the talk, Sam became a human firewall.

Every time you and Bucky were in the same room, Sam was there, supervising like he was running a daycare.

Once, you were just trying to update Redwing’s targeting algorithm.

Bucky was trying to hand you a wrench.

And Sam was standing six feet away, arms crossed, pretending to scroll through something on his tablet.

“Can I help you, Cap?” you asked, eyes flicking up.

“Nope,” Sam said. “Just observing.”

“You know you don’t need to be here right?” You chuckled. You knew he just got back from a mission, and he could use some rest. “You can take a break.”

“Bucky doesn’t need to be here, either.”

You didn’t even look at Bucky, but you felt the smile he was fighting off.

Bucky leaned in anyway, a bit too close for Sam’s liking under the guise of pointing at the display.

“Think this line’s pulling too much voltage,” he said.

You tilted your head, lowering your voice to match his, and so your boss couldn’t hear. “You just want to whisper in my ear.”

He nodded subtly. “And you like it when I do.”

“Barnes.” Sam’s voice cracked like a whip. “Step back. Let her work in peace.”

Bucky backed off with a dramatic sigh.

You… didn't notice.

Or if you did, you didn’t comment then. You just kept being you— and that was enough to do unspeakable things to Bucky's self-control.

He’d pass you a tool with his human hand on your lower back. You’d bite your lip when you were concentrating and not realise he’d stopped listening to the briefing entirely.

But every time Bucky tried to sneak in even a halfway flirtatious line, Sam was right there.

“Hey, you need help with the cooling matrix?” Bucky asked one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder just enough to smell your shampoo. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

Before you could answer, Sam spoke up. “She’s good. She doesn’t need help. She’s very capable.”

You turned to blink at him. “I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

“Just making sure Tin Can remembers,” Sam muttered, sipping his coffee.

It only got worse from there.

Team debrief? Sam sat between you two.

Lunch break? Sam invited himself to sit directly across from you and stare Bucky down like he was a teenage boy trying to date his daughter.

Mission prep? Sam suddenly needed you for private discussions that lasted just long enough to make Bucky grit his teeth.

Bucky was seconds away from losing it.

It was fucking hard to just not… snap.

Literally and metaphorically.

And now Sam was acting like your personal chaperone. Bucky swore the next time he got in the way, he was going to launch him out the nearest window.

He was tired of being treated like a threat when all he’d done was look at you like you were made of stars.

So later that night, when he found you alone in the garage— legs crossed on the workbench, music playing while you tinkered with Redwing’s sensors— he stood in the doorway a moment too long.

You looked up, smiling without hesitation. “You got past Sam’s force field?”

“He’s out cold after training,” Bucky shrugged. “He tried to go without coffee today.”

You snorted. “That’ll do it.”

He stepped closer and hesitated. “Did you know he’s been keeping us apart?”

You didn’t look up. Not yet. “Figured something was going on.”

“He thinks we’ll mess up,” Bucky said. “Thinks we’ll make it awkward.”

You set your tool down, finally looking at him.

“Let me guess,” You gave him that smile. It was dangerous. “That makes you want me more?”

Bucky let out an incredulous laugh, running a nervous hand through his hair. “You know me so well.”

You hopped down off the bench, walking over until you were standing in front of him, your chest barely brushing his. 

“So what now?” Your head tilted just enough to be a question. “You finally gonna make your move while the warden’s asleep?”

His lips tugged into a half-smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like a lot of things,” you said, letting the suggestion hang.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. 

You tilted your head, chin high. “You didn’t think I noticed?” you asked. “How you always find a reason to be close?”

He didn’t move. He couldn't. Not when you were this close. 

“And I kept wondering,” you whispered playfully, eyes on his lips now, “if you were going to keep playing the long game, or finally admit how bad you want it.”

Bucky’s breath caught. His fingers twitched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach for you.

You didn’t give him the chance.

You kissed him.

And god, he melted.

It wasn’t soft. At least, not at first. 

Both your lips parted, a moan caught in your throat as he gripped your waist and pulled you into him like he’d been holding back for weeks. 

His mouth moved with yours like he needed you to survive.

It was the kind of kiss that said this has been driving me crazy and I’m done pretending it hasn’t. His metal hand slid up your neck, fingers tilting your face just right, the human one curling around your lower back.

You pressed in closer, feeling now how tightly he held you, as if he didn’t trust this wasn’t a dream.

When you finally pulled back, you pressed your forehead to his.

His eyes fluttered open.

He looked... dazed.

He looked like he’d been hit with a truck full of hormones.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled, and then blinked, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You grinned, cheeks hot.

“You’re wrecked,” you teased, amused. “I barely kissed you.”

“You call that barely?” he breathed, stunned. “Christ.”

Then, he ran the back of his fingers along your jaw. “I’ve wanted that for so long I forgot what not wanting it felt like.”

You leaned in again, brushing your nose against his. “Then take what you want, Sarge.”

His smile turned dangerous.

This little escapade ended with you pulling Bucky into the nearest supply closet and locking the door behind you.

You didn’t even give him a chance to catch his breath.

“You sure about this?” he asked, the light catching in his eyes like silver and smoke.

You just grabbed the collar of his shirt to yank him down into another kiss. 

What happened next wasn’t exactly PG.

There was heat, and hands, and the kind of breathy curses that barely made it past lips pressed together. Bucky’s dog tags clinked against the trinket necklace that he gave you. Something fell off a shelf. You didn’t notice. Bucky didn't care.

At one point, you were both breathless and laughing, pressed chest-to-chest in the cramped space, when you whispered, “This is so unprofessional.”

Bucky whispered back, “Shhhh, I’m busy,” right before he kissed you again, muttering downright filthy praises as he made his way to his knees. 

Forty minutes later, the door clicked open and you both reemerged. 

Not quite innocent, but decent enough. Bucky’s hair was slightly more tousled than usual, and you’d thrown on a hoodie over your tank top, even though you never wore your hoodie indoors. 

But now, you had to. Or else Sam would see the marks Bucky left along your neck. 

An hour later, Sam finally stirred from his coffee-deprived coma.

He shuffled into the hangar, muttering about needing espresso and a neck brace.

The first thing he saw was you and Bucky standing near your workstation. Flirting, but overall looking normal.

Almost.

But you were in your hoodie. Inside.

Sam squinted.

“Huh,” he muttered. “That’s new.”

You didn’t even blink. “It’s cold in here.”

Sam shrugged. Best not to think too much of it.

Hooking up with Bucky Barnes was never supposed to feel like falling in love.

But it did.

Not in a dramatic, slow-motion, hearts-eyes kind of way.

It happened steadily. Like gravity.

Sam thought the crush had run its course when the flirting died down in public. He figured the spark fizzled, and neither of you wanted to admit it. So he started easing up on the chaperoning. 

What he didn’t know was that the tension had stopped boiling over in public because you’d found an outlet to release it in each other’s bed. 

But it was never just that.

You started to notice how Bucky watched your face—not your body—when you talked about something that excited you. Like your circuitry project, or the Wakandan energy conversion systems. Or the ridiculous theory you had about quantum-linked processors and how they might someday change the world.

He listened, not out of obligation, but curiosity. He wanted to know how your mind worked, even if the words flew over his head.

He started sleeping over after your late-night hookups. At first it was just practical. After a mission, he'd stumble into your bed, and afterwards, neither of you had the energy to move.

But then it became a comfort. 

Then it was something he didn’t want to go without.

One morning, you found him installing blackout curtains in your bedroom.

“You hate waking up early,” he said with a shrug. “Thought this might help.”

And maybe that was the moment you realised it wasn’t casual anymore. Maybe that was the moment you realised you weren’t falling— you’d already fallen.

He took you out, and was a real gentleman about it, too. 

He always took you to the coffee shop you loved—the one with awful chairs and strange wall art and croissants that tasted like buttery clouds. He’d sit next to you with his sunglasses on and his hand in yours, like his body didn’t know how not to be near you. 

He let you ride on the back of his bike, with your arms wrapped around his waist.

He’d park on quiet hills overlooking the city lights, hand you a drink from a fast-food drive-thru and just… sit. 

Sometimes you’d talk. 

You talked about Wakanda. About Shuri—how much you missed her. How much he did, too. 

You talked about the things you were afraid to want. A future. Stability. 

He told you that you made him feel normal. Like a person, not a weapon.

You told him he made you feel seen. Like someone worth noticing, beyond an academic accomplishment.

And when he kissed you, sometimes it felt like it hurt. Sometimes you wondered if it scared him to fall in love.

One night, he even took the leap and whispered I love you.

You said it back, just as gently.

So yeah, technically you were dating.

Not that Sam or Joaquin knew.

You still tried to play it casual— at least in public.

Which brings us to one very specific Saturday afternoon.

You and Bucky had been… busy.

The kind of busy that started with you on your kitchen counter, legs wrapped around his waist and ended up with you bent over that same counter, forearms braced against the cool marble, your hoodie bunched up around your waist.

Bucky's hands gripped your hips like he was anchoring himself, hips snapping forward in a rhythm that bordered on sinful.

You moaned, biting your lip just to stay somewhat quiet, but failing miserably.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled against the back of your neck. “You were made for me.”

You tried to let out a breathless, wrecked laugh, but all that came out was a broken sigh.

You were close. So close—

And then the front door opened.

You had accidentally left it unlocked.

At first, you didn’t register it, not over the sound of your own moaning. Not over Bucky’s groans and the slap of skin on skin.

Until—

“Yo, I just came by to grab the upgrades—OH MY GOD.”

Joaquin was standing frozen in your doorway.

His eyes were wide, mouth open, and you could’ve sworn his soul was visibly leaving his body.

You screamed.

Bucky swore.

You yanked your hoodie down, cheeks burning. Bucky stepped in front of you like he could somehow block the mental trauma Joaquin had just suffered and pulled up his sweatpants.

“What the fuck? I can’t unsee that,” he sputtered, spinning around, only to walk directly into the wall.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. “Oh my god– oh my god— Is today Saturday? I told him— ARGHH!—Bucky! DO SOMETHING!”

Bucky just exhaled like a man getting hit with a tax audit and reached for his wallet on the side table.

“Torres,” he called out.

Joaquin peeked over his shoulder like Bucky was Medusa. “If you hand me cash, I swear to—”

“Apple Pay?” Bucky offered, putting down the wallet and reaching for his phone instead.

You blinked.

“…Depends how much.”

“Five hundred,” Bucky said, “You never tell Sam. You never joke about it on base. You never bring it up ever.”

Joaquin squinted. “Make it six.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. 

“Six-fifty,” Bucky countered, tapping on his phone, “and you run interference next time Sam gets nosy.”

“I’m gonna need therapy,” Joaquin demanded. “And probably bleach. So I need more.”

“Add another fifty,” you piped up from behind Bucky, “and I throw in a custom diagnostic chip for your wings.”

Joaquin considered it. “Deal.”

And that’s how the Falcon walked out of your apartment $700 richer.

Two months later, dragging Joaquin into your sexcapades had become standard protocol.

“Distract Sam. Ten minutes,” you hissed into the comms, already breathless, ducking into the back of a supply truck with Bucky right behind you, stripping off his tac vest.

“Again?!” Joaquin whisper-yelled through his ear piece. 

“You love us,” you cooed sweetly, right before Bucky yanked your shirt over your head and you were cut off.

So Joaquin did his part.

Sam would be looking for you, when suddenly there was Joaquin, materialising beside him like a caffeine-fueled jackrabbit.

“Yo, Cap, wanna see this new drone maneuver I coded? It does a barrel roll. In reverse.”

Sam gave him a squint. “Aren’t you on aerial patrol?”

“I am! This is, uh, supplemental. For morale. Very therapeutic. Like—watch!”

Meanwhile, four doors down, you were bent over a crate of rations in a supply closet, Bucky’s hand clamped over your mouth as he fucked you like the world might end in twenty minutes and he wanted to die with your name on his lips.

You gasped around his palm. “He’s right there—oh —”

“Then shut up,” Bucky growled.

Sam, on the other hand, was not buying it.

“You good, man?” He asked, genuinely worried, “You’ve been real twitchy lately.”

Joaquin was sweating bullets: “I’m fine. Totally normal. Definitely not thinking about sex.”

Sam blinked. 

“I– I mean SUCCESS,” he stammered, stumbling over his words, “Teamwork, and all that stuff!”

Sam didn't buy it, but didn’t have a reason to question it, either.

And from there, it was chaos.

Sam wanted to call you for a debrief?

Joaquin would “accidentally” spill an entire protein shake over the mission map.

Sam headed to the hangar?

Joaquin sprinted to intercept, yelling about “mysterious engine noises” while Bucky slipped out the back with you, shirt half-buttoned and lipstick smudged across his chin.

You, Bucky, and Joaquin became a well-oiled, morally questionable unit.

But in the end, Bucky got laid.

You got your insides rearranged.

Joaquin got trauma and a couple of upgrades.

So it was a win-win for everyone.

You were especially reckless one Wednesday.

You remembered because it was leg day— and Bucky had already wrecked you in training so badly, you could barely walk straight. 

Sam had assigned him to sharpen your hand-to-hand skills, after all. He took that very literally.

Now you were pressed up against the wall of some dusty, half-forgotten hanger in the compound, your legs shaking for an entirely different reason. His dog tags smacked against your chest, tangling with the little charm you kept around your neck. Your grunts echoed far too loud for anyone trying to keep this a secret.

“Bucky,” you gasped. “Someone could walk in.”

He groaned into your neck, not slowing down at all. “Let them. Let ‘em see what they’ll never get.”

You dug your nails into his back, barely able to think. “Fuck, you’re so full of yourself.”

“You weren’t complaining last night when I—”

“Hey!” you cut him off playfully with a slap to the shoulder. “Focus, Sarge!”

Neither of you noticed the faint mechanical chirp overhead.

Redwing was perched on a maintenance cabinet nearby.

Recording. Because Sam had programmed it to run 24/7 in order to test the heat sensors.

Two days later, Sam was in the control room, analysing flight path data.

Joaquin was lounging beside him, and today, you had a day off.

“Hey,” Sam suddenly said, frowning at his screen. “Why is Redwing’s log showing heat spikes in Hangar C?”

“What?” Joaquin choked on his smoothie. He knew immediately what must’ve fucking happened, and dismissed any accusation right away. “Pfft. Probably a… malfunction.”

Sam clicked a few buttons as a projection flared to life.

“Weird,” he shook his head, leaning in. That’s… body heat. Two sources. Definitely not a test flight…”

“Must be…strays,” Joaquin blurted. “Like, uh, animals. Rats. Maybe raccoons. Having sex.”

Sam turned to look at him. “You’re telling me this is a rat orgy?”

“Big problem in Hangar C.” Joaquin nodded solemnly. “Very horny wildlife.”

But Sam wasn’t convinced. “Wait… why does the audio kick in right… here?”

Click.

Suddenly the speakers came alive with your voice.

“Oh my God—yes—right there—”

Then Bucky’s voice followed. “You like that, huh? Cryin’ for me out here like a needy little—”

“FUCK,” Joaquin screamed, lunging across the table and slamming the power button like his life depended on it.

The room went silent as the lights flickered dead. Sam blinked like he’d been hit by a truck.

“…Rat orgy,” Joaquin whispered desperately, voice cracking.

Sam turned to him. “That was Bucky, wasn’t it?”

Joaquin didn’t move. “I’m not legally required to answer that, am I?”

You were curled up on Bucky’s couch, one of his hoodies swallowing you whole, legs tangled with his, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on your lap. The movie—a classic noir thing he vouched for—was on, but you weren’t really paying attention.

His thumb traced lazy circles on your thigh, under the blanket, and every time he leaned in to whisper a joke, you could feel his scruff brushing against your temple. 

Everything felt right.

Then his phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

“Someone’s persistent,” you chuckled, not thinking much of it, and not looking away from the screen.

“Probably Torres,” Bucky sighed, reaching for it. “Or spam. Or spam from Torres.”

When he checked the messages, he looked… confused.

“What?” you asked, noticing the change in his posture. He turned the phone toward you.

A video file was labeled: Redwing_Betrayal.MOV

Below it, a message from Sam.

Do NOT fuck this up. Do NOT make this weird. Or I’ll throw you off a plane with no chute.

Bucky squinted. “Didn’t know Redwing could send files this big.”

You sat up slightly, concern creeping in. “Wait—what?”

And because Bucky had the restraint of a gnat, he tapped play without thinking twice.

Grainy thermal footage lit up the screen. Then you heard sounds that suspiciously sounded like your name. Then, the full 4K video synced in, and you saw yourself and Bucky going at it like bunnies.

You almost choked. “OH MY—.”

You lunged for the phone like it was a grenade, but Bucky held it out of reach.

“Oh,” he said, amused. “It’s that day. We looked good.”

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES.” You buried your face in his chest, nearly shrieking. Sam—your boss, Bucky’s best friend—knew now. Thank God this job didn’t have HR. “I—I didn’t even know Redwing was recording!”

“I need to step up my game,” he said casually, scrubbing through the clip like he was watching game tape. “See? My hip angle was off in the first minute.”

“Bucky—”

“But damn,” he added, serious. “Look at your arch, though.”

You smacked him with a pillow. “TURN IT OFF.”

He smirked, not budging, and hit save to his private album.

“You’re the worst,” you groaned, though it was playful more than anything, hitting him again with the pillow.

“I’m keeping it for science,” he said innocently. “And maybe for when you’re out of town.”

You smacked his arm, and he kissed your forehead like that made everything better. 

It kinda did.

Bucky pulled you back into his chest, still grinning like a menace, and grabbed his phone again, thumb flying over the screen.

You peeked over his shoulder to see.

To: Sam I am weird. And also look amazing doing it.

Sent.

He snorted as the typing bubble popped up.

A second later, Sam’s response came in, and it was just a line.

Jokes aside, I’m happy for you.

You both stared at it.

“Well…” you said, a little stunned, “that’s… sweet?

“Coming from Sam?” Bucky chuckled. “That’s a miracle.”

So he just leaned back against the couch, pulling you even closer as you both processed Sam’s strange acceptance. Perhaps, after all the years of seeing his friend brood alone in his apartment, Sam finally saw through the professional lens and was glad that someone was able to keep Bucky in check, even if that someone happened to be his tech girl.

With a satisfied grin, he tapped his phone a few more times, and you heard him mutter, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you still have a job.” He raised an eyebrow at the screen. “And Joaquin’s side hustle? Yeah, that’s done. No more hush money and suit upgrades from him.” 

You chuckled, knowing full well Bucky would take care of things, like he always did. 

The whole situation might’ve been ridiculous, but with him?

You didn’t have to worry about anything

Except maybe keeping government tech out of the bedroom.

-end.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003


Tags
10 months ago
You'd Have To Stop The World...

You'd Have to Stop the World...

12.5k words, FWB Eddie X afab!reader, 18+ Explicit Content - MDNI, use of "baby" as a nickname, no use of y/n, set in Hawkins 1990 so everyone's aged up accordingly, no mention of upside down - could sorta be canon if you pretend vecna was defeated and eddie never got attacked by the bats but reader wouldn't know it ever existed.

a/n: most of my ideas are usually inspired by a song - the concept for this came entirely through a playlist I made, so l added the track list! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading and as always, I hope you enjoy!

Struggling through a dry spell, an ideas comes to you when your attractive friend Eddie vents about his recent disappointing hookups. What starts as casual fun gradually complicates as physical and emotional boundaries begin to blur.

“I keep recalling things we never did / Messy top lip kiss / How I long for our trysts / Without ever touching his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?”

A few years ago, you met Eddie Munson, thanks to an introduction from your then coworkers, Robin and Steve. What began as a casual acquaintance in a larger group quickly evolved into a genuine friendship.

But as with many great friendships, a new romance - this time with Matt - changed the dynamics. As your relationship with Matt grew, so did the distance between you and Eddie. Matt didn’t like him, his dislike fueled by a few key grievances: he accused Eddie of overcharging for weed, could barely tolerate Eddie’s metal music - and was visibly irritated by the number of times you dragged him to Eddie’s shows. Yet, beneath it all, Matt’s discomfort had a more personal edge. He was convinced there was something more to your friendship, despite your insistence on its platonic nature.

“Okay, sure, whatever you say,” Matt insisted, his tone dripping with frustration. “But I’m telling you, he definitely wants to fuck you.”

Matt’s reasoning included:

• “He never makes you pay for weed.” 

⁃ Ah, the classic move of the charming drug dealer - Robin and Steve are also lucky recipients of Eddie's personal stash. Generosity? Sure. A sign of deeper feelings? Unlikely. 

• “He flirts with you.”

⁃ Eddie flirts with everyone. This isn’t a private act of seduction - it’s his default setting. And sure, before you dated Matt maybe you’d indulge in Eddie’s flirty nature but it was just all in good fun. 

• "He call's you - Baby." 

⁃ The nickname was not some romantic gesture, Eddie's just a menace. It all started after a shift at Family Video, you and Robin went back to Steve's house. Eddie made an entrance, a blunt was passed, and you started rambling about the ridiculousness of the name "Baby" in Dirty Dancing. "You know, it's funny you hate it because 'Baby' suits you perfectly," Eddie quipped. You shot him a look of annoyance, but Eddie, with that trademark grin, decided it was a keeper and has called you it ever since. 

• “The way he fucking looks at you.” 

⁃ This is where the plot thickens. While the other signs are easily explained, you didn't quite see what Matt was ever referring to. 

Yet, every time Matt voiced his theories, your mind couldn’t help but drift to thoughts of Eddie in bed. He had quite the reputation as a good fuck and it was undeniable that he was incredibly attractive. But the guilt of entertaining these thoughts, especially while with Matt, was crushing. So, you shoved them aside.

In December of '89, Matt accepted a job that meant relocating out of state. By then, your relationship had lost its spark, of course, except for the one area where it still managed to flicker - the bedroom. You both knew it was time to let go, the idea of a long distance romance wasn't practical when the only thing holding you together required physical proximity you would no longer share.

Despite it being the obvious choice - the end of nearly two years together was tough, but as the saying goes, when one door closes, another opens. With Matt no longer in the picture, your calendar quickly filled with late nights and laughter, surrounded by Robin, Steve, Eddie, and your ever expanding social circle. It was the start of a new era, as you entered the new decade. 

"These fatal fantasies / Giving way to labored breath / Taking all of me / We've already done it in my head / If it's make believe / Why does it feel like a vow / We'll both uphold somehow?"

Four months into being single, and the dry spell was becoming a cruel joke. Every date you'd been on had left much to be desired, as none of them ever ended with you on your back. Ultimately a waste of your time. 

It was an added frustration to be out with Eddie and watch him glide from one partner to the next with such ease. You even found yourself feeling a bit envious of his conquests, because the more time you began spending with him, the more you understood why Matt had his suspicions. 

On quite a few occasions, you caught Eddie's gaze lingering on you. The stolen glances and charged looks sent your heart racing. Gone were the days of pushing these thoughts away. Now, you found yourself indulging in them, late at night, hand between your thighs, wondering if the fantasies might ever become reality. 

“Don’t play dumb, I know you fantasize. You could have me on my back every night.”

One night, after having your friends over for dinner, Eddie decided to stay and chill after Robin and Steve had left. He sprawled on your couch, legs draped over the coffee table, grumbling about the monotony of his recent casual encounters and the lack of sexual chemistry he'd been experiencing.

Eddie looked at you, cutting himself off mid rant, his fingers deftly rolling a blunt. "It's cool if I smoke in here, right? Or d'ya want me to go on the balcony?" 

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I don't usually love it, but why not for tonight?"

With a grin, Eddie continued on his ranting as he finished rolling. Lighting the blunt and taking a long drag when he finished his complaint. 

"Okay, but bad sex is more often than not, still enjoyable," you said, in response to his last comment. 

Eddie held out the blunt offering you to take a hit and while normally you’re pretty weary to cross fade, you were feeling adventurous as you grabbed it from his fingers taking a hit. 

"I get what you're saying, but nothing's been like, mind-blowing. I was getting head the other day, and I was literally counting the minutes until it was over. I think it would've been more enjoyable if I'd just taken care of myself." 

You let out a laugh, the smoke escaping in a light cloud. "You think counting maybe prolonged the experience a bit, bud?" Passing the blunt back to Eddie. 

"No, baby, the counting's what got me there." He smirked before taking another hit. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but his words sparked thoughts of your own dissatisfaction.

The two of you sat there listening to the soft sounds of The Cure album you had on, as you took turns with the blunt. Eddie's gaze didn't leave you, his eyes focused on your lips - the movements of your mouth. The subtle way your lips parted and closed around the blunt had him entranced. 

You were too lost in your own thoughts to notice his staring. "I think this is one of those grass is greener situations. l'd take the bad sex. There's only so much I can satisfy myself, and sometimes I- well, I just want to get railed." The words slipped out before you could fully think them through but as soon as they did, you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

Eddie's eyes widened slightly, a blush of his own creeping onto his face as he exhaled smoke. "Oh sure." You'd always been open about discussing sex, but this was a new level of candor for you and it caught him by surprise. It also made his cock twitch.  

You weren't sure what it was - the alcohol, the pot, the adrenaline from your embarrassment, - but Eddie's complaints mixed with your own dissatisfaction sparked an idea. You set your wine glass down, turned to face him, and criss-crossed your legs on the couch.

Passing what was left of the blunt back, you asked the question that's been on your mind for weeks.

”Eddie… are you attracted to me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

"What?" He asked as he put the blunt out.

"Eddie," you pressed. 

He chuckled, the sound a bit shaky. "Everyone thinks you're pretty, you know that."

"That's not what I asked," you countered. "I'm asking if you think I'm like, hot - not just pretty."

A smirk played on Eddie's lips as his eyes scanned over your figure, nodding. “Yeah, you’re hot,” he said, taking a sip of his beer and letting his eyes linger on how the soft fabric of your clothes hugged your chest. Truth be told, he thought you were fucking heaven sent. 

"So why haven't you made a move? I've been single for months." 

"You know me, baby. No attachments. Couldn't have you falling in love with me."

You scoffed. "Really, that's your excuse?"

His gaze met yours, a touch of defensiveness in his eyes. "It's not an excuse. It's just how I am. I don't hook up with friends, it can get messy." 

"Got it," you replied, considering letting it go, but curiosity had taken hold. "Do you ever fantasize about them, though?”

A wry smile appeared on his lips. "Depends on the friend, I guess.”

"Cut the shit, Munson.”

His smile grew. "Alright, yeah. A lot more than I probably should have.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "If it's any consolation, I've fantasized about you a fair bit too.”

"Oh, yeah?" he breathed, his voice huskier than before.

"Mmm-hmm." You shook your head slowly, maintaining eye contact. You noticed the way Eddie's eyes darted down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. 

"What about?" he asked.

"I could tell you," you whispered, "or I could show you.”

Eddie's laughter was shaky as he looked away, running his hand through his hair. "Tempting," he whispered, leaning back and trying to create some distance. His arousal, however, was unmistakable. 

The room fell silent. You could see the inner conflict in his eyes: the struggle between desire and his self imposed boundaries. The sight of Eddie's hard cock straining against his jeans had your pulse quickening more than the conversation had. You felt yourself growing wet, the heat between your thighs demanding attention.

"So even though it's clear we both want this, you're willing to just let it go because of some vague principle?" you asked, frustration tinging your voice.

Eddie's expression grew serious. "I wouldn't want to complicate our friendship just to get off.”

"And if I promised you it wouldn't complicate anything, that nothing would have to change - it would just be a good time?”

His breath hitched at your words, his eyes soaking in your presence. "Then... maybe I’d rethink some things."

You sighed, acknowledging his hesitation but also feeling the urgency of your own desire whether Eddie joined you or not.

“Well, you think about that,” you said, standing up and heading toward your bedroom. “You’re welcome to join me if you decide you’re in. If you decide to leave, the spare key is by the door. Just lock up and I’ll get it next time.” You closed the door behind you

Eddie sat on the couch contemplating for all of 5 minutes before his decision was made. Of course he wasn't going to let this moment pass him by. He stood up, his mind racing as he walked toward your room.   

When Eddie opened the door, he found you lying in bed, bathed in the amber glow of your lamp, only in your panties. You were lost in your own pleasure, hand moving beneath the fabric, eyes closed tight as breathy moans escaped your lips. 

"Fuck," Eddie muttered under his breath, his gaze locked on the scene before him. He froze, taking in every detail. The gentle, desperate movements of your fingers, the soft sway of your breasts, and the way your lips formed an O with every soft whimper. He was mesmerized.

He moved closer, cautious not to disrupt the moment. You whispered his name, soft and needy. "Eddie..."

The sound of your voice, so vulnerable and inviting, was nearly enough to push him over the edge. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that came from the very core of his being. As he stood at the end of the bed, your eyes fluttered open, taking in his presence.

You kept your eyes locked on him, focusing on his face, the way his gaze was fixed on you.

Looking at you like this, made him feel as if he was witnessing the eighth wonder of the world. "What are you thinking of?" Eddie asked, needing to understand what was driving you.

"That this is your hand instead of mine, just like l've been imagining for weeks," you admitted, voice trembling slightly.

Eddie's breath hitched. "Can I see all of you?" he asked, desperation lacing his voice as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

You nodded, slowly sliding your panties down your legs and tossing them aside, revealing your glistening cunt. You returned your hand, teasing yourself gently. Eddie's eyes were fixed on you, the sight almost too much for him to bear, a low whimper escaping his lips.

"How would you touch me, if it were your fingers?" you asked, voice a seductive whisper.

Eddie slid up from his spot on the edge of the bed, closer to your side, as he began directing you on how he would pleasure you, eyes glued to your movements. "I'd start by gently tracing my fingers, just like you are now."

You whimpered as he continued his instructions, caught between the fantasy he was describing and the reality of your own touch. His guidance was driving you wild, but the need for his direct touch was growing unbearable. Breathlessly, you said, "Eddie, please."

“Tell me what you need,” he rasped, his eyes locked on yours. 

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

Eddie knew what you meant; you wanted him to replace your fingers - but he needed to kiss you and at the vague request for his touch he couldn't help but use that as his cue. He leaned in, his body hovering over yours, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. The kiss was rough, and raw as if years of restrained longing were unleashed in that heated moment. His lips were demanding, his tongue wrestled with yours, the taste of beer mixing with moscato. You bit his lip and Eddie’s groan was deep. 

His free hand found its way to your thigh, gripping it tightly, driving you further into your own touch. The intensity of his actions only heightened your pleasure. You gasped into his mouth as your climax hit. Eddie’s grip on your thigh never letting up as you clung to him, struggling to steady yourself through your orgasm. 

As the waves began to subside, you whispered raggedly, “I need you.”

Eddie trailed his hand from your thigh to your cunt, only for you to stop his hand. “No. I need more, I need you inside of me. Now.” 

Eddie groaned at your desperate plea for him to fill you. Without a word, he began undressing. His breathing was labored as he quickly removed his shirt, tossing it aside. He fumbled with his jeans, eager and clumsy in his haste to free his hard cock. When he finally did, you let out an audible gasp, taking in the sight of him. He was so fucking perfect.

“How do you want it, baby?” He asked, eager to give you anything you’d ask for. 

“What have you fantasized about?”

Eddie hesitated, “We don’t have to -”

“Tell me,” you demanded. 

“You, um, you’ve got great tits,” he all about moaned. “I think about you riding me a lot.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you pushed him back to lean against the pillows, a sly smile on your lips. You reached for a condom from the nightstand, tearing open the wrapper with a quick, practiced motion, and rolled it over his throbbing cock. Eddie’s eyes followed your every move, sighing at your touch. 

With a deep, steadying breath, you positioned yourself above him. Your hands rested on the headboard while his hands gripped your thighs, his fingers digging in as he watched you. Slowly, you began to lower yourself, the initial contact making both of you gasp. The incredible stretch of his cock stung as he you lowered yourself down inch by inch. It was almost overwhelming, but so perfectly pleasurable. Eddie’s eyes widened, his breath coming in quick, ragged bursts. 

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands tightened on your thighs, reminding you just how much he wants this.

You continued to sink down, savoring the sensation of being filled. Once fully seated, you paused to adjust, getting accustomed to his size. Eddie wasn’t the longest you’d ever had, but by no means was he small. Close to 7 inches if you had to guess. He was however, the thickest not by an absurd amount but enough to notice the  difference. He felt phenomenal. 

You began to move, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down. The room began filling with the sound of your mingled moans. As you established a steady rhythm, Eddie’s moans grew more frequent, his grip sure to leave bruises. “Fuuuuuck,” he repeated, his voice rough with pleasure.

You shifted from leaning forward to putting your full weight on him, arching your back slightly as you moved your hands from the headboard to behind you, resting them on his thighs. In this position, you had better control and began to increase your pace.

“Aghh - just like that,” Eddie groaned. “Show me how much you want it." Eddie’s eyes were locked on you, taking in every detail - the bounce of your breasts, the flush on your cheeks, the intense pleasure on your face. You looked stunning.

He moved his hands to your breasts, groaning as he squeezed them gently. He adjusted himself so he was sitting up, his hands moving to roam over the rest of your body as he began kissing your skin. He started at your collarbone and moved along your chest until he reached your left breast. Kissing and nipping at the soft skin before enveloping your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. You shuddered at the added stimulation, moving to rest your hands on his shoulder for better stability as he moved his mouth to your right nipple. 

You were finding it hard to keep quiet, biting your lip to stifle your moans as the combination of his mouth and the fullness of his cock drove you closer to ecstasy.

Eddie, however, was having none of that. Removing his mouth from you chest, “Don’t hold back," he rasped. "Let the whole fucking building know how good it feels to have my cock inside you.”

You let yourself moan freely, the sounds echoing in the room as you quickened your pace.

"Ooooohhh god,” you cried out as your orgasm began to build. 

You swirled your hips, adding a tantalizing motion that made Eddie mumble curses of pleasure. His hands moved to your hips, gripping firmly as he reclined against the pillows. You leaned forward with him, placing your arms on his chest for support as you rode him with increased intensity.

“Such a good girl,” Eddie said in awe, his eyes locked on you as you chased your orgasm. The praise spurred you on, and you let out a loud cry. Eddie’s lips curled into a wry smile as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you.

“You like that, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

You whimpered a feeble “yes,” your voice barely audible as you tried to keep up with the intense pleasure.

“Thought you might,” he chucked. “Be the good girl that you are and cum for me,” Eddie instructed.

That was all it took. Your hips began to falter as your orgasm ripped through you, sending your body into a shuddering climax. Eddie’s groans of satisfaction grew louder as he watched you come undone on top of him. He gripped your hips tightly, taking over control and thrusting into you with a fierce rhythm, pushing you seamlessly into another orgasm.

As you came down, your body collapsed against Eddie's, still trembling from the aftermath of your third orgasm. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, the intensity of the pleasure overwhelming you. Eddie, sensing your exhaustion, slowed his thrusts, his hands gently tangling in your hair as he lifted your face to look at him.

“Shit Eds” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can come again.” 

Eddie’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, his eyes gleaming with determination. “Sure you can, baby. You haven’t even gotten what you wanted yet,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before repositioning you both.

The sudden loss of him inside you made you whimper, the emptiness leaving you desperate to be filled again. Eddie lifted you, placing you on your knees, and then knelt behind you. His hands took hold of your hips, and he lined himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you with a forceful, deep motion. The immediate fullness made you moan, the new position allowing him to penetrate you more deeply and hit your g-spot perfectly with every thrust.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you cried out, your voice raw with pleasure as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm.

“This is what you wanted, right baby? To get railed?” Eddie asked, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper. His hands squeezed the flesh of your ass as he drove into you.

“Yes!” you cried out. “Please Eddie, harder,” tears streaming down your face.  He responded by pounding into you just as you asked. 

Leaning forward, Eddie kissed the skin along your back, his teeth grazing your flesh with gentle bites, adding another layer of sensation. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles white from the strain, as desperate cries of pleasure fell from your lips. His left hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it frantically.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need. Eddie’s fingers worked your clit with determined precision, the added stimulation making it clear you were about to lose it.

As the pleasure built to its peak, you screamed his name, your body shaking uncontrollably as you came. Eddie’s grip on you tightened, his thrusts never faltering as he felt you clenching around him.

“There it is,” he moaned, his voice filled with satisfaction as he felt you coming undone. Your mascara ran down your cheeks in streaks, merging with your tears as you reached the height of your pleasure. Eddie continued to pound into you as your orgasm subsided, savoring the way you responded to him.

He was relentless, driven by his own need to reach his climax. He removed his hand from your clit,  gripping your hips firmly as he thrusted into you with increased force. “I want you to cum with me,” he growled.

You cried out, your voice filled with desperation. "I-I ahhh..." Your words were swallowed by your moans as Eddie kept thrusting. 

"You can do it," he encouraged, his voice low and steady. "I know you can."

Eddie's thrusts grew more intense, his rhythm never faltering as he drove you toward another climax. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his own breath coming in ragged bursts as he neared his release.

"Atta girl," Eddie growled. His thrusts grew sloppy, driven by the raw intensity of the moment. You clenched around him, surrendering to the pleasure as euphoria washed over you. The sensation was all -consuming, a final, powerful climax that left you gasping.

Eddie's own climax hit hard. He let out a string of moans, his body shuddering as it hit. His thrusts became erratic, his grip on your ass tightening as he rode out his release.

Eddie collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily, basking in the afterglow. The intensity of the night had left you feeling dizzy and euphoric, your body still tingling from multiple orgasms - five mind blowing orgasms, to be exact. The most you’d ever had with a partner before was three - and while still sensational it was nothing compared to this. Making it clear that Eddie Munson was the best fuck you’ve ever had.

As you started to come down, you glanced over at Eddie. He was staring at the ceiling, his face a mix of disbelief and deep thought. "Eddie, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Can I level with you?" he asked, his voice serious.

"Of course," you replied.

"It's pretty obvious that what we just had was too good to be a one-off," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "And it's not going to be easy to just go back like this never happened. I mean, I can't just pretend I don't know you've got a praise kink." He teased. 

"Eddie!" You laughed, giving him a playful nudge.

"I'm only half kidding. I clocked that shit when I tried to teach you guitar, this just confirmed it," he admitted with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, a smirk on your lips. “So, what's your point?"

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow and looking at you seriously. “If you can handle keeping it casual, I think we should do this again.”

“Fucking hell, Munson didn't we address this on the couch? I wanted to fuck you, I'm not in love."

Eddie laughed. “Right, I know. But sometimes it can lead to that, and I just want to make sure you understand if we continue to hook up it will never be anything but physical. I can never offer you more, is that clear?" 

You grinned. “Crystal. 

"So, friends with benefits?” He asked. 

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as your eyes locked with his. 

"It's a Sexually Explicit Kind of Love Affair" 

Two months had passed since you and Eddie established your friends-with-benefits arrangement, and you had both adhered to a set of rules: open communication, no exclusivity, and keeping things private. Your frequent hookups had become a thrilling part of your routine, each encounter more intense than the last, and quite a few that were unforgettable. 

Fucked You in the Bathroom When We Went to Dinner:  The two of you went to dinner with your friends to celebrate Vicky’s birthday. Amid the celebrations, you and Eddie shared knowing glances across the table and when the opportunity arose, you both slipped away, heading towards the restaurant's bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Eddie's hands were on you, pulling you close. He pressed your back against the wall, as his lips found yours in a rough kiss. His mouth began trailing along your jaw as you you reached down to unbuckle his belt. Eddie's pants were down around his knees, his hands hiking your dress up, growling when he saw you had no panties on. You lifted your leg, resting it on the sink, back still pressed to the wall as Eddie wasted no time before guiding himself into you. Your hands immediately threading through his hair as he sunk in. 

Eddie's thrusts were urgent and desperate. "Fuck, can’t get enough of you," Eddie gasped, his breath hot against your neck. 

You could only respond with a series of breathless moans. The pleasure building rapidly as Eddie's movements grew more intense. His hands gripped your hips firmly,  holding you in place as he drove into you. 

Your climax was approaching quickly, and you couldn't help but let out shrieks of pleasure. Eddie's hand reluctantly coming to cover your mouth to stifle the sounds. He loved hearing you, but not here. 

“Shh, baby. I know." He whispered feeling you beginning to clench around him. You bit the palm of his hand to stop the scream that was desperate to escape you as your climax hit. His thrusts growing erratic as he came with you, burying his face in your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

As you both caught your breath, you quickly adjusted your clothes, and you fixed Eddie's hair. You walked out first heading back to the table. Eddie arrived a few minutes later, drink in his hand as if he had been at bar the whole time, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he sat down.  

Knee Deep in the Passenger Seat: It'd been a lively evening out at the bar playing pool with Chrissy, Eddie and his bandmates. You were keenly aware of the effect your outfit was having on Eddie as you'd chosen a particularly short skirt that barely covered your lacy black panties if you moved too much. So each time you bent over to take a shot, your underwear was tantalizingly visible. 

As you lined up for another shot, Eddie approached, leaning in close.  To any onlookers it would seem like he was giving you a tip to make your shot. "You're such a fucking tease," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned your head slightly, catching his eye with a sly grin. "I know, but you love it," you whispered back. 

Eddie's gaze was fixed on you as he walked back to his spot against the wall. As you knelt over the table to take your shot, a smirk tugged at your lips knowing he was clearly struggling to focus on anything other than the view you were providing. 

If Eddie could have had his way, he would have sunk to his knees right there and ate you out while you were bent over that pool table. But patience is a virtue. 

As you turned to face him after landing your shot, you knew he was trying to maintain his composure.

When it was time to leave, Eddie offered to take you home.  "Chris, I’ve got her. I pass her apartment on my way home anyway.” While that was true, you knew that wasn't his plan.

As you walked out, Eddie's eyes never left you, his gaze focused on the way your hips swayed with each step. When you reached the van, he opened the passenger door for you and you slid into the seat, feeling his intense gaze on you. 

As you settled in your seat, you looked at Eddie who was still standing next to you. A sly grin pulling at his lips, as he stepped in. You were confused until he knelt down on the floor in front of you, shutting the door. His expression one of eagerness.

With his hands now gripping your thighs, he pushed your skirt up, his fingers brushing against your skin. "I've been wanting to taste you all fucking night," he hummed, his voice low and filled with need. 

You looked down at him, a teasing smirk on your lips. "Aw look at you, did I tease you so much that you can't even wait?"

Eddie’s big doe eyes, looked a lot less innocent in this position, darkening at your words. Hunger written all over his face. 

In an instant he pulled your panties to the side, leaning forward so his head was nestled between your thighs. His tongue making contact with your bare slit, with a tantalizing slow lick. You gasped at the feeling. Eddie moaned against your pussy, "You taste so goddamn good,” his voice vibrating through your core. 

The moment his tongue touched your clit, he was relentless, alternating between licking and sucking. Your eyes rolling in the back of your head as he savored you. 

Within just a few short minutes you were a moaning mess, hands tangled in his hair, breath ragged, eyes screwed tight as you could feel yourself on the brink of your orgasm. Then suddenly, Eddie pulled away. Your release immediately ripped away from you. 

His face flushed and glistening with your essence, looked up at you with a smirk. “Look at that, I can be just as much of a tease as you," he rasped.

You whined at the loss of contact. "Please, Eddie.” 

“You’ll have to wait, baby.” He said, readjusting your underwear and skirt, wiping his mouth as he dipped out of the van and walked to the drivers side.

Truth be told, this was just as upsetting for him as it was for you. You were intoxicating and if he was being honest he’d love nothing more than to continue to devour your sweet cunt until you came all over his tongue - multiple times. But he thought it only fair that you feel the same strain that he had all night. He’d make it worth the wait when he got you to his trailer. 

You're on your knees, I'm on the case: You had the day off, so what better way than to spend it in Eddie's bed. When you arrived at his trailer, he answered the door shirtless, wearing only boxers with a towel draped over his shoulder.

"I'm about to shower," Eddie said, ushering you inside and closing the door behind you. "I'll be out soon. Feel free to watch TV, the remote's on the table."

As Eddie went to shower, you settled on his couch, finishing up the episode of Seinfeld that was on. After about ten minutes, you began to get restless.

You could hear the shower running, steam cascading into the hall because Eddie didn't shut the door completely. You made your way to the bathroom, knocking on the door to let him know you were there as you walked in. 

"Be out in a second, just gotta rinse my hair."

"Mind if I join ya instead?" 

There was a brief pause before he responded, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Sure, come on in."

You quickly undressed and slipped into the shower the steam enveloping you. You were facing Eddie as the water was cascading down his hair. Some droplets hitting your body, as Eddie glanced over you with a grin. 

You gave him a playful smirk before immediately dropping to your knees, positioning yourself in front of his hardening cock. Eddie's eyes locked onto you, filled with anticipation.

Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, the warmth of the water mingling with the heat of your breath. Eddie's response was immediate. His breath hitched, at the feeling. "Ahhh," he grunted, his voice thick with pleasure. 

You began to move, sliding your lips up and down his length with practiced ease. Eddie's hands gripped the shower bar for support, his fingers tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Holy Shit," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're so good, that feels so fucking good." 

You continued your rhythm, your mouth and tongue working him expertly. Eddie's groans grew louder, the pleasure clearly overwhelming him. "Oh god, yes," he panted, his hips thrusting gently to match your movements. 

The water continued to cascade around you both, mingling with the sounds of Eddie's pleasure as you pushed him closer to the edge. "Don't stop, baby" he urged, his voice breaking. "I'm gonna cum."

With a final, deep stroke, Eddie came hard. You kept your mouth on him, sucking every drop as he moaned and gasped, his hands gripping the shower wall for dear life bracing himself.

His face was flushed, a mix of steam and sweat glistening on his skin. He looked down at you with awe and satisfaction. "You're fucking amazing," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

You stood up, and Eddie cupped your face, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. As your mouths moved together ,his cock began hardening again, ready for round two in his room.

"I know, "Baby, No Attachment!"

As the months passed the frequency of your encounters with Eddie had evolved beyond merely getting off. At first you considered that it was just your friendship deepening, but as time went on, you couldn't help but feel that these interactions between you were teetering the line of something more. 

Eddie's band practices had effortlessly blended into your weekly routine. “Want to come to practice again?” he’d ask, flashing a grin. The first time he invited you, you joked about whether he had a fantasy of hooking up in Gareth’s garage or something. Eddie only laughed and said, “Nah, I just figured you might enjoy hearing us play and I thought it’d be nice to have you there.” Of course you went, and enjoyed every second of it, maybe even more than the shows. Seeing Eddie perform offstage, goof around with his bandmates, and brainstorm new arrangements was incredibly fun to witness.

By the third week into attending practice, Eddie offered another invitation. “Want to come with me to visit Wayne this Sunday?” he asked one afternoon. You hadn’t seen Wayne since he left Eddie the trailer, and although the invite surprised you, you agreed. Wayne’s warm hospitality was a delight, and seeing Eddie with his uncle gave you a new insight into his life - it felt special he shared it with you. 

You began noticing more changes in your own habits. Instead of going to social events alone, you often opted to ride with Eddie. Your weekend hookups had bloomed into near everyday occurrences, leading you to spend a lot more time at his trailer, as it offered much more privacy than your apartment - Eddie and you were rather loud. Eddie's loud anyway, but when he's inside you he doesn't shut up. Always talking you through it, telling you how good you're making him feel and he loves hearing what he does to you, so you never hold back. 

On more than a few occasions you’d accidentally fallen asleep over there, and eventually Eddie just began inviting you to stay the night in the first place. Gradually, your personal items like a toothbrush, a few changes of clothes, and your favorite books made their way over. You were there so often that it was shifting from a convenient arrangement to something that felt more like a shared space.

The boundaries you’d set were being tested, and it was becoming harder to maintain the pretense that this was purely physical. The line between attraction and emotional connection was blurring, and although Eddie had always insisted that this arrangement was meant to stay casual, his actions seemed to contradict that. In those soft moments with him, at practice or Wayne's, or when you were lying in his bed wrapped up in his arms after another incredible fuck, you found yourself dreaming of more and every time you did you'd think back to Matt's insistence that there was something between you and Eddie. Back then you thought it was Matt's jealously, eventually giving way that it was underlying attraction but now like this you can't help but think maybe there has always been more simmering between you both. 

You didn't dare say it though, you wanted to remain the “chill girl” who didn’t push. But the more time that passed the more you felt caught between holding your tongue and addressing the growing complexity of the situation.  

"It's fine, it's cool, you can say that we're nothing but you know the truth." 

The summer heat was beginning to wane as you and Eddie arrived at Steve’s Labor Day party. 

You were enjoying yourself, chatting with Nancy when you overheard a conversation nearby. Eddie was talking to Chrissy, who had just referred to you and he as a couple. 

“Oh, no, we’re not together,” Eddie said, a dismissive edge in his voice as he responded. The words hit you like a slap. You knew what you had signed up for, but it still stung, especially when the lines had been blurring for months. 

You attempted to shake it off, focusing on the friends around you. However, as the evening wore on, the frustration you felt was hard to ignore. Eddie’s behavior had been increasingly confusing. And this comment felt like the final straw - if your friends could see it, why couldn't he? 

When the party ended, Eddie drove you back to his trailer with Metallica blasting through the speakers. The music did little to ease the anger you were feeling. 

Once inside the trailer, Eddie reached out his hands gripping your waist, as his lips found yours. The kiss felt good, almost intoxicating, but your anger quickly reclaimed its hold as the words "we're not together" echoed in your mind.

You pulled back, needing a moment to regain your composure. Eddie’s eyes searched yours, confusion in his gaze. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked softly.

"I'm not really feeling it right now,” you said firmly, pulling away from his touch. "I think I'm going to head home actually." 

Eddie’s face fell for a moment before a small smile played at his lips. "You don't need to go, stay the night. We can watch a movie."

A few months ago, this invitation would have felt like a friendly gesture. After all, the beauty of a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement is that it starts with a foundation of friendship. But tonight it was just a bitter reminder of how these nights have morphed into something much more complex. At the start of your arrangement, movie nights often transitioned from watching the film to fucking until the credits rolled. This felt natural, expected. But now the dynamic of movie nights has grown significantly more intimate; cuddling on the couch, Eddie softly playing with your hair, and gentle kisses between scenes. All gestures that are only typical in, well - relationships. You've had enough. 

"Eddie, are you being avoidant or are you truly oblivious to what's going on?" 

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"Us. This," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "It feels different, and it has for a while now." You took a deep breath, struggling to steady your voice. "Eddie, even our friends notice it."

"This is about Chrissy's comment?" he asked, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"You were so quick to dismiss it."

"We're not a couple, so that probably has something to do with it," he said, with a laugh, his irritation evident. "What was I supposed to say?"

You gave him a short nod, as you began to gather your things. "It's not even about what you said, it's about what you're not saying." 

The frustration was evident on Eddie's face. "I thought we were both on the same page about this," he said, following you.

"Dammit, Eddie," you turned towards him, your voice rising. "We were, but it’s hard to feel like we’re still casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser!"

Eddie’s expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, but he still held his ground. "From the start, I told you I don’t do relationships. I never promised you anything more than what we agreed on."

You scoffed. “I know, and that’s exactly why I’ve kept my mouth shut for so long. But you’ve pulled me into every aspect of your life, and it’s not the same anymore. If you weren’t so hung up on that concept, maybe you’d admit what you’re feeling.”

“Don’t," he said sternly. "Don't try and make me out to be the bad guy because you couldn't keep your own feelings in check.”

His words felt like a punch in your gut. You could feel the lump take perch in throat, trying to swallow it back but the tears were coming. 

Eddie’s expression softened as he noticed your your eyes glistening. He watched helplessly as you continued to pack, his frustration morphing into anguish as tears streamed down your face. "Wait,” he pleaded. "Let's talk, we can take a step back."

Your hands shook as you stuffed your clothes into your bag, sobs coming in ragged, painful gasps. “A step? We'd have to take twenty." you choked out, your voice breaking. 

Eddie looked away, struggling to reconcile your pain with his own fears. "I just, I'm sorry I confused you. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea."

"Maybe you didn't intend for things to change, but they did. We both let them. I did because I liked it, why did you Eddie?" 

His stomach twisted at your words.

 “Every rule we set, you broke," you continued, bitterness lacing your voice. "It was all ‘let’s keep it discreet’ until you kissed me between songs at practice. What the fuck was that?! ‘We need open communication,’ but you never talked about any line we crossed." Your voice rose despite your sobs. "For fucks's sake Eddie, we haven't been exclusive yet for six months, you’ve called after me! Going as far as turning down others because you want me in your bed. Whether we fuck or we don't."

Eddie stood still, motionless, as the weight of your words sunk in.

"You can try to downplay this all you want, but deep down you know. And it's why your past hookups could never satisfy you the way I do.” Tears streamed down your face as you glared at Eddie.

He just stood there, hit with the reality of your words. The silence grew heavy as he struggled to find a response.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I can’t just flip a switch and become something I’m not. I made my stance clear from the beginning." His voice wavering as he spoke. 

You shook your head in disappointment. "Got it." Your tears fell harder, and Eddie’s own eyes were on the verge of tears as he watched you zip up your bag.

“Baby,” he started, his voice trembling as he reached out a hand towards you. 

“Don’t, Eddie,” you scolded, your voice a harsh whisper. “You don't wanna call it love, fine. But it's done." 

Eddie’s face twisted in confusion and frustration as you finished speaking. He seemed to get only a fraction of what you were saying. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice cracking with desperation. "We'll just go back to how it was before. I mean, we can just forget about all this..." 

"You're not getting it, Eds" you replied, your voice steady despite the tears. "I can’t be your friend.” 

Eddie’s face contorted with panic. "No, don’t say that," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I’m sorry I led you on. We can go back - just like it was. We can fix this." Tears welling up as he tries to grasp what you're saying. 

"Eddie, it wasn't just that. This whole thing between us has made me realize that maybe… maybe I had feelings for you long before we hooked up."

Eddie's face pales, his panic escalating as he tries to comprehend what you're saying. "What the fuck is happening right now?" he says, his voice rising in distress. He collapses onto the couch, his body shaking as the gravity of the situation hits him full force.

"Before we, before this, you said you didn't," he mutters, almost to himself, as he tries to reconcile your words with his memories. 

"I didn’t realize it then," you admit, your voice breaking. 

Eddie’s face was wet with his own tears now, his hands trembling as he held his face, taking in your words.  

"I never would’ve let anyone else call me a nickname I hated. Anyone else’s persistence would’ve been stopped but it just sounded so pretty coming from your mouth..." Your voice was choked with emotion. “And I think being honest with myself about that, along with everything we’ve been doing... I've realized that maybe I was  being a fool to think it was ever just attraction."

Eddie breaks down, his tears flowing freely. "Goddammit" he chokes out, his voice thick with regret.  “I can't-"

You cut him off knowing what he was going to say. "I know Eds, you've made it clear," your voiced cracked sobs breaking through the words. "You were right to worry this would get messy, I'm sorry I told you I could handle it." You took a deep breath and looked at him one last time, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. You slung your bag over your shoulder, heading for the door.  "I'd probably do it again though." You whispered. 

"I don't want to lose you,” he said, his voice wavering as he tried to hold back his emotions.

You paused, your heart aching with the weight of his words. "I have to go," you said finally. With one final glance at Eddie, you turned and walked out of the trailer.

“You just need a better life than this / You need somethin' I can never give”

Eddie’s tears fell uncontrollably as you left.  Watching you walk away was like a rift tearing through time and space, an unbearable ache that pierced his soul. 

His mind spiraled in a loop, like a broken record that kept repeating the same line: It was a mistake. He knew better, he knew better than to get involved with you, but he had, and now you were gone. Eddie had wanted to believe that you could handle something casual, he risked it because he had an insatiable hunger that only you had satiated. His own denial ran so deep he hadn’t even fully accepted the magnitude of what was happening between the two of you until your words hit him like a freight train tonight. But as Eddie sat there, drenched in regret, his mind wandered to all things you. 

Eddie had always been branded the freak for being a little outside the box, and while he stayed true to himself it was always a bit toned down when he met new people. However when he met you, he knew he didn't have to do that.  While you could fit neatly into the box, you didn't care to. Eddie was instantly captivated by you, and it wasn't just because you were stunning - it was your wit, and charm that pulled him in. 

He could never forget the first day he realized he wanted to kiss you. It was one of the early times you hung out - that night you were complaining about "Dirty Dancing." You just kept rambling - so comically irritated, he found it hilarious and he wanted to just shut you up with his lips. He couldn't help himself coining, "Baby" for you. It had felt right rolling off his tongue, and even though you shot him an annoyed look, he could’ve sworn he saw a hint of a smile. Eddie then proceeded to try and get you to reenact the lift scene from the movie, but you refused with a firm “Fuck no, Munson.” Robin wouldn't either, but Steve, high as a kite, agreed. Of course it ended with them flat on the floor and the four of you laughing your asses off. For whatever reason that night marked a turning point for your friendship - the two of you began spending time together outside of your shared circle. It was always a little touchy, a little flirty and Eddie was constantly having to push the urge to kiss you outside of his mind. 

Steve was always trying to persuade Eddie to just go for it, but Eddie wasn’t interested. He typically only hooked up with the same person three times - if ever more than once. He feared that if he ever got involved with you he wouldn’t be able to go back, and commitment was something he wasn't into. Fast forward three years and nothing's changed. Still, one night around two years ago he nearly let his guard down. 

A group of you had gathered at a nearby bar before Corroded Coffin’s first paid show at The Hideout.

“Let me buy a round for you guys, a little liquid courage before tonight!" you insisted. Gareth joked that it wasn't necessary when they had Eddie's good luck charm - You. “Is that why you keep me around, Munson?” you teased, planting a playful kiss on his cheek. “For a little extra luck,” you said with a wink and a smile before heading to the bar. In that moment, Eddie was certain he had to kiss you. 

When you returned with a round of tequila shots, your cheeks flushed and your smile bright, you explained that the handsome guy at the bar; Matt - asked you out and then proceeded to buy the round of shots for you when you'd said yes.

As Jeff raised his shot and toasted, "To Matt!" Eddie looked at you, realizing that it was better this way. It would have been foolish to kiss you. You deserved someone who could offer you more. 

Eddie’s mind whirled, jumping from that almost kiss to the fateful night on your couch. He should've went home because from that moment everything changed. You were sensational, the way your body responded to him, the way you sounded, the way you made him feel. He was right to know himself, that after a taste, he would never want to go without. He was selfish for this.

The past 6 months together Eddie had recognized little shifts, but he'd ignored them. Looking back it was probably June when things first began to change from the raw thrill of a good time to something that hinted at a little more intimacy. Your presence had turned his bed into a sacred oasis, where he felt truly seen and understood. The laughter, the warmth, the touch - it was all part of a connection he cherished. Yet, every time it felt like it was too much, he would push it out his head, trying to drown out the truth that he felt something more. Even if he wanted to risk all for you, he couldn’t. He wasn’t good enough to make you his.

This painful realization was a truth he had to face. His fear of inadequacy and his belief that he couldn’t sustain a meaningful relationship had driven a wedge between you. And now, with you gone, he was left grappling with the reality that he had pushed away the one person who had made him question his own defenses. Sitting on his couch, a headache pounding from his tears, he tried to sleep, searching for some sort of peace.

In the weeks that followed, Eddie rarely visited his bedroom. It was a space tainted by your absence. His home felt hollow, so he picked up extra shifts at the diner, and crashed at Gareth’s when he could. He thought about reaching out to you, admitting you were right, that he loved you too, but he knew it wouldn’t change a fucking thing. He still couldn’t give you what you wanted. He wasn’t ready for a relationship, not when he didn’t believe he was enough.

You deserved the best, and Eddie didn’t think he was that. He was still  a pot dealer,  bussing tables to make ends meet and for some free food, just dreaming of a future with his band...

Eddie had been so absorbed in the band that he had drifted from the usual social circle. The only time he’d seen Steve and Robin since your departure was after one of his show the last weekend in September. They had approached him, and Eddie, looking weary and regretful, had apologized for not being around much. He wanted desperately to ask about you - God, he did - but he struggled to find the right words.

When Steve and Robin happened to mention they hadn’t heard from you either, Eddie’s heart sank. You were probably avoiding them, likely to keep from running into him. Steve, with a knowing look, asked if the two of you had gotten involved. Eddie gave a brief, vague answer that painted a picture of your arrangement without exposing too much. 

“Maybe try reaching out to her though.” He suggested. 

 Robin nodded solemnly. “Of course,” she replied, understanding the complexity of the situation without needing more.

The days blurred into weeks as Eddie threw himself into his band, trying to escape the gnawing emptiness and the haunting memory of you. Each gig was an  escape, but it never lasted. The real struggle was coming home to an empty space, a home without the one person who had made everything feel right. 

“Back when we were still changin' for the better / Wanting was enough / For me, it was enough" 

It was the kind of night that makes you want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head, except you weren’t in bed. You were behind the wheel of your car, heading home after leaving the man that you loved. 

As the tears flowed freely, your mind drifted to the most serious relationships you’d had. Your college boyfriend, your relationship with Matt - both seemed like mere practice compared to what you shared with Eddie. He wasn’t just the best fuck you’d ever had, he was the best person you’d ever known. The thought of never being around him again was agonizing.

Returning to your apartment felt like a warm welcome from an old friend. You had spent nearly all of August entwined in Eddie’s bedsheets, living for the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have a future together. You uncorked a fresh bottle of Riesling, not even bothering with a glass as you tried to drown out the fact that Eddie was never truly yours.

Weeks after leaving Eddie, the silence was deafening. The ache of not hearing from him, of not knowing how he was, ate at you incessantly. You knew that this was your choice, yet you'd expected some sign - any sign - that he was still there, still thinking of you.

You threw yourself into work, hoping that staying busy would numb the pain. But this came at a price - you isolated yourself from your friends, avoided their calls, and shut yourself off from the world that might remind you of Eddie. When Robin buzzed your intercom one evening, her arrival was a welcome disruption to your self-imposed exile. She stood at your door with pizza and ice cream in hand, a silent understanding in her eyes.

"Hey," she said softly, a warm smile breaking through her concern. "I thought you could use some company."

You invited her in, your heart heavy as you tried to muster a smile. You sat in your living room, as you finally let your emotions spill out. 

Between sobs, you managed to ask, "How is he?"

Robin took a deep breath, clearly choosing her words carefully. "He hasn't been around either, but Steve and I saw him last weekend, he's been busy with the band. They're doing really well - they’re working hard to catch the eye of an A&R rep to help develop them. When we told him we hadn’t heard from you, he briefly explained why that might but, not that I wouldn't have anyway, but he was one that suggested this." 

He had thought of you. That was enough to make you break down again. Robin wrapped her arms around.

“It’s okay," she whispered.

Robin comforted you the rest of the night. Reassuring you that in time it will get better. As Robin was on her way out you told her that while you missed everyone it was just too hard right now, and you needed more time. 

She nodded, understanding. "We’ll be here whenever you’re ready."

As she left, you felt hope amidst the sadness. But even with that hope, you found it difficult to move forward. You almost mustered the courage to attend Jonathan and Nancy’s Halloween party, but after getting dressed, you couldn’t bring yourself to go. A week later, you had plans for lunch with Steve and Chrissy but the nausea of confronting your emotions kept you from following through. It was still too soon to be around the people who reminded you of Eddie, so you stayed away, in your cocoon of sorrow, hoping that someday the pain would ease enough to allow you to step back into your life.

“And from the outside / It looks like you're tryin' lives on / I miss the old ways / You didn't have to change/ But I guess I don't have a say / Now that we don't talk"

It was the second week of November, and you’d decided to go out for drinks with some colleagues. You were at a bar you’d never been to before, located on the other side of town - quite far from the usual spots you and your friends frequented. With the slim chance of running into anyone you knew, you let your guard down and enjoyed the evening. 

You were so engrossed in your conversation that you almost missed it. At first, you thought you’d imagined it, but then you heard it again. Your stomach dropped, and a wave of heat washed over you as you recognized Eddie’s unmistakable voice. Looking around, it was Gareth you spotted first, and as you looked for Eddie, your heart sank. He looked drastically different - his once long hair was now a buzz cut, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, while dressed in a navy striped button-down. His signature leather jacket draped over the back of his chair the only remnant of the man you remembered.

Despite your attempts to refocus on your colleagues, your attention kept drifting back to Eddie and the band. They were celebrating with a round of shots, and you wondered if they were marking a milestone. Since the round of drinks you’d suggested for their first paid gig, you knew they had a tradition of celebrating this way. Your heart sank as you overheard Eddie’s toast: the local station had agreed to start playing their music, and they were promised a small tour around neighboring states in the new year.

Watching the band’s journey over the past three years -  early gigs at house shows to paid gigs at dive bars - you knew you had to say something, not just to Eddie but to all of them. You were proud of their progress, and after witnessing their hard work at countless practices this year, it felt right to acknowledge their accomplishments. And you couldn't deny that it felt a bit like a twist of fate that you both wound up at this bar. 

As your coworkers began wrapping up their night, you excused yourself. You made your way over to the band’s table, your heart racing. As you approached their table, Gareth’s eyes lit up as he saw you.

“Well, look who it is!” Gareth exclaimed, his voice filled with surprise and delight.

Eddie turned, his smile dropped as he took in your presence. 

“Of all the gin joints, you walk into the one I’m in?” you joked, attempting to ease the awkwardness. The band chuckled, and you continued, “I couldn’t help but overhear you guys. I just wanted to come over and say congratulations. I know how hard you’ve all worked.”

The band echoed their gratitude before Gareth suggested you join them. A sudden, overwhelming discomfort gripped you. This was a mistake. Every lingering feeling you had for Eddie was rushing back, and you found yourself struggling to maintain composure. "Oh thank you, but I need to get home” you say, attempting to mask the unease. “But I’m really happy for you all.”

As you start to walk away, Eddie rose from his seat. “Baby, wait" he called out. 

There it was, the nickname only he called you. The one you'd been aching to hear.

You stopped, turning slightly to face him as he reached you. "I um, just wanted to say, thanks for that. I really appreciated you coming to to the table.” 

"Of course." you say softly.

His eyes roam over your figure as he takes in the way your dress fits, and a low, almost involuntary groan escapes him. “Wow, that dress, you.. you look incredible." 

You give him a thankful nod. It hurt you to hear him say that, knowing you'd bought this dress months ago solely with the intention of him taking it off.

"Me? Look at you, you look so.... I don't know. Refined, maybe?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Is that good or…?” 

"Oh y'know you always look good," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I’d be lying if said the hair didn’t shock me a bit at first,” you admit.

Eddie’s eyes soften, and he responds with a chuckle. “It’s weird for me, still. I haven’t had a buzz cut since middle school. But I just needed... a change.” His words hit you harder than expected, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

You nod, unable to hide your emotion.

He smiles, though it’s tinged with sadness. “I want you to know I thought about reaching out but I wasn't sure...." he trailed off. 

You nodded again, acknowledging the sentiment, a small smile on your lips as you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “I really should go, but I am truly so proud of you, Eddie,” you said, your voice wavering. “Ever since I met you, I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for what you want and I'm so happy that it's paying off."  

The words seemed to break something in him. Instinctively he reached out, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed into your hair.

You hugged him tightly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, and you wished you could stay there forever. But as much as you wanted to linger, you knew you had to go. You slowly pulled away, forcing a smile through the tears. “I'm really glad I got to see you,” you said softly. 

Eddie looks at you, his gaze lingering as if he’s on the verge of saying something more, but he simply nods. “Me too,” he says quietly. 

“And I’d give up forever to touch you / ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow / you’re the closest that’ll get to heaven that I’ll ever be / and I don’t want to go home right now”

The ride home felt like déjà vu. Another teary-eyed drive to your apartment after walking away from the man you loved.

Once you were home, you sank into the couch. Wrapped in a blanket, tears streamed down your face as The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead album played on the record player. For the 17th of November, the weather was a bit of a mess. It honestly felt poetic, the thunderstorm mirroring the emotions you were feeling. Every crack of thunder echoed your sobs.

About an hour into your pity party, you were starting to regain some composure when the buzz of the intercom startled you. You figured it was your neighbor, who often used the wrong buzzer, so you hit the button to let them in. Just as you were about to lay back in your spot on the couch, you heard a knock at your apartment door. Curious and a bit irritated, you peered through the peephole and froze. It was Eddie, drenched from the rain, with tears streaming down his face. Your heart raced as you swung the door open, and he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"Eddie," Before you could utter another word, he started rambling.

“What are the fucking odds you’d be at that bar tonight?” he began, his voice breaking. “On a night that was supposed to be a highlight in my life, all I wanted was to share it with you.” His words came out in fractured gasps, his tears mixing with the rain on his face.

“When you said I fought for everything I wanted, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest... because it’s a lie when I let you leave.” His voice cracked, and he struggled to steady himself.

“I should’ve told you this at the bar,” he choked, his tears falling harder now. “It felt like fucking fate that you were there tonight, and I still let you walk away. Again. I'm so sorry for the way things turned out. I should've fought for us. I should've fought for you. I let you go because I couldn’t admit I loved you. Even though you knew - of course fucking you knew - because you see me, all of me. And you’ve loved me through it, even when I didn’t think it was possible.” He buried his face in his hands, wiping his tears and catching his breath.

“I was convinced I wasn’t enough for you,” he continued. “But you wanted me all the same. I’m so sorry, I should’ve called you weeks ago. I’m sorry for being scared I couldn't be what you deserve, but every day without you has been fucking hell.” His breaths came in jagged, broken waves. “I thought I could move on... but the goddamn world would have to stop before I could ever stop feeling this for you. It’s always been you.”

“Eddie,” you breathed.

Eddie stepped forward, his hands cupping your face. “I'm still not sure if I'm the man you deserve, but I'd like to try if you’ll have me.”

You nodded at his words, tears streaming down your face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in a kiss that began tenderly but quickly deepened, fueled by a desperate need to reconnect and erase the distance that had come between you. Your moans mingled as your tongues met, and Eddie's hands tangled in your hair. When you finally pulled apart, both of you breathless, you rested your foreheads together.

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you whispered.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead.


Tags
4 months ago

🃏That's What You Get 🃏Series Masterlist

🃏That's What You Get 🃏Series Masterlist

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand, would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, instead he's staring intently at whatever else is in his hands.  “What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.  Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.  “I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.  “Y/N I think we got married last night.”

Summary: After a long case in Las Vegas, all the BAU team wants is to go home. But fate, or at least a timely storm, has other ideas. Stuck for another 24 hours in the City of Sin, you enlist the help of Spencer Reid to guide you through a night of relative debauchery, but when you wake up in the morning, you make a discovery you weren't expecting...

A/N: Hello, and welcome to my first planned series! I'm so excited to write this one, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it! The first few chapters will be mostly SFW but the later chapters will be pretty smut heavy, so please look forward to that! I'm hoping to make this a weekly upload from now until the end of October but I'm pretty impatient so it might be a bi-weekly thing instead 🫣 Below the cut is a link to the chapters and the date you can be ecoectknf to see them on!

Sign up for the series taglist here!

My requests are open, and you can check out the rest of my masterlist here!

CHAPTER ONE - Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

CHAPTER TWO - The Thought of You Makes Me Weak

CHAPTER THREE - You'd Be Like Heaven To Touch

CHAPTER FOUR - Trust in Me When I Say

CHAPTER FIVE - There Are No Words Left to Speak

CHAPTER SIX - To Warm a Lonely Night

CHAPTER SEVEN - Let Me Love You

CHAPTER EIGHT - Pardon The Way That I Stare

CHAPTER NINE - You're Just Too Good to Be True

CHAPTER TEN - Please Let Me Know That It's Real

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Now That I Found You Stay

CHAPTER TWELVE - At Long Last Love Has Arrived


Tags
2 years ago

best kept

[bucky barnes x baker!reader]

Best Kept

This is for Birdie's Birthday Bash Writing Challenge!! Happy happy birthday, @buckysbirdie ❤️❤️❤️. This was such a fun way to pull myself back into the creative roll! You're a gem and you deserve to have a beautiful birthday fest.

For my prompts, I chose:🍦 Waffle Cone: Bucky Barnes |🧁 Birthday Cake: Baker | 🍭 “You deserve pretty things.” | 🍑 Secretly dating | 🍓 Mutual pining

warnings: idiots in love, miscommunication, fluff, mention of sex. no body descriptions, no use of y/n.

--

She didn’t mean it the way it came out–you deserve pretty things–like a plea. She intended for the sentiment to land like an observation, based on their few-and-far-between conversations across the register, like the brew of the day is Breakfast Blend or it’s supposed to rain around three o’clock.

But damn him… he flushed. He didn’t smile, quite, but his eyes flicked away and he cleared the embarrassment from his throat, handing over a bill too large for the small black coffee and the intricately frosted cupcake which had nearly given up the whole gambit to his companions, who hung at his elbow with an urgency which could only come from a post-mission adrenaline rush. 

He was expressly forbidden from dating anyone inside the compound. He had made that abundantly clear as he fished the buttons of her baking uniform through the holes in the storage closet the day that pull between them became too much to bear. He had still kissed her like he had all the time in the world, and every moment they squirreled away thereafter was precious, but the longer they had to hide in the shadows… the harder it became to keep her tongue from whetting his plush lips where anyone could see. Especially when he picked out a cupcake he knew she had agonized over that morning, thanks to the hastily sent photo he received from the kitchen in the wee hours.

The way lavender buttercream would taste in a forbidden kiss… she ached for it. 

He did deserve pretty things. He deserved much more than that, too. But he wouldn’t let her say it. She tried, with her legs tangled in his, to tell him sincerely what he meant to her, how lucky she felt that he would even look her way–but he had shut her down with suffocating kisses and stole all coherent thought. He went another day without knowing she loved him, without her trying to make him listen to her say it.

Maybe that’s why the comment burst out. When she couldn’t say I love you, what could she say? You deserve pretty things, like the cupcake I created because all this love has no place to go, because chamomile is your favorite tea, because it’s one part of you that belongs only to me.

Bucky motioned for her to keep the generous change from his bill, and hastened to the far end of the caf to admire her work from a safe distance. She watched him walk away for only a split second, before turning her attention back to the red-headed woman with a cold brew addiction.

Just wait, his text said. The message had pinged from her back pocket while she ascertained whether or not Captain America wanted a savory scone, so she didn’t see it until he and his cohort departed from the caf. 

Clutching her phone over the stove long after the other staff headed home, she stared at the two little words from ‘Jamie.’ No punctuation to hang a hope on, ever. He wasn’t one for soft sentiments. Bucky Barnes touched her with urgency, but he didn’t speak her name with the reverence of a lover. He barely spoke at all, except to coax pleasure from her. She was starting to feel less like a choice, and more akin to a tool he used to blow off steam. It clawed at her heart, making her skin crawl with longing for just one fraction of the effort she was devoting… to a man who had never hidden that he wasn’t supposed to be fucking her. 

She couldn’t take much more of such an empty arrangement. How could someone so enmeshed with her bones leave her so devoid of affection, even in the slightest? How could she love someone who stumbled away from a tryst like he’d been stung?

He never showed up before the night shift cleaners did their rounds, but he always showed. 

Wait, she did. She jumped when cold vibranium fingers wrapped around her elbow, swiping furiously at her reddened eyes. 

“Christ,” she breathed. “You’re a fucking phantom.” She hazarded a glance at him, but his expression was hardened and unreadable. He was frozen at the sight of her persistent tears. She rolled her eyes and eased her arm out of his grip, putting the island between them. Despite the way every hair on her body stood on end in his presence, it was no use hiding the way his silence inspired more tears. She let them streak down her cheeks. When still he said nothing, anger stirred behind her ribs.

“How was your cupcake?” she whispered.

“Um. Good.” Bucky leaned against the counter and folded his arms. The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened. “Chamomile?”

She nodded. “Your favorite. I, um. I sifted loose leaf tea in with the flour, I wasn’t sure how it would go.”

“It was good.” 

“Good.” She gripped the butcher block countertop so hard, her fingers ached. 

Bucky let an agonizing minute pass. “You’re crying,” he muttered. “Why?”

She snorted. “Tim’s wearing his big headphones while he does the floors tonight, if you want to risk it out here–if you can stand to fuck a woman while she’s sad.”

He was intelligent, she knew it. It hadn’t taken long to see how his mind whirred to strategize around every possible obstacle to the opportunity to take her in a dark corner, and she couldn’t dismiss the way his compatriots spoke about his work on assignment, even if she only overheard snippets of their conversations in the caf. It came as no surprise, then, when he scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. 

“You wanna be alone. I’ll get out of your hair,” he said tersely.

“No–god.” She laughed, but it stabbed. “I want you. Here. I thought I had made that abundantly clear by sticking my hand down your pants at every opportunity.”

He blinked. “You’re angry.”

“Yeah. Yes, I am. I’m–I don’t know how to say this,” she struggled. “We’re better at the not-talking part of this arrangement. But if I don’t get it out, I’m going to pop!”

Bucky, to his credit, made no move to leave, though every muscle in his body seemed to tense up with the need to flee. Instead, he braced his hands against the counter behind him and nodded for her to say whatever was on her mind. It was then that she noticed that his hair was damp; he never came to her smelling of motor oil, or blood, or sweat, or any hint of whatever duty had demanded of him during the day. It made her want to sob. He came to her clean.

She studied the way his jaw flexed anxiously, and it gave her enough comfort–knowing he was uncomfortable–to make some sort of explanation come out. 

“I’m selfish,” she started. “I thought that I could just be content sneaking around, because I’ve been clinging to every bit of affection I can get from you. It was fine for a while. More than fine, Jamie–god, I’m addicted,” she said sheepishly. “But it’s not fun anymore, it’s like I need a fix of you, or I can’t function. I hate that I can’t kiss you where people can see. I hate that you don’t say anything to make me think you want me half as much as I want you. I invented a fucking cupcake based on your kiss after a cup of tea. I–fuck.” She looked up at the ceiling to hold back a new wave of emotion.

“You never promised me anything, so I have no right demanding more from you,” she said. “So. I don’t think I can continue with my part of this arrangement, given that–well, considering that you can’t even show interest in a person without creating a coup with Human Resources–”

“Hang on,” he said softly. “What do you mean a coup?”

“You’ll get in trouble. Especially for sleeping with the cupcake woman–”

“I’m not following,” he said. Then, it dawned on him. “Doll…” Bucky chuckled. From the depths of his chest, a warm and wooly sound that brought heat to her cheeks. He smiled even as he swiped a thumb across his bottom lip.

“I see what this is,” Bucky said. His blue eyes flicked up to meet her gaze and her stomach flipped. Gone was the frown from his expression, and instead, a strange and unfamiliar lightness took its place. “You should’ve told me.”

“What?” she breathed.

Bucky pushed off the counter and walked around the island slowly, until he caged her back against the wood. The scent of his soap–sandalwood and cedar–filled her nostrils. He tipped her chin up. 

“You seem to be under the impression that I come here to get my rocks off, and not because I have a sweet tooth. And I’m kickin’ myself for not seeing it sooner. God help me, doll: when I’m around you, I lose all rational thought.”

She wound her fingers into the front of his sweatshirt, a soft and well-worn thing with a faded SHIELD logo over the left pec. “Pardon my French, but those are the most words in a row I’ve heard out of your fucking mouth, maybe ever.”

“‘M a shy guy,” he said. 

“I have tried to talk to you about this for months–”

Bucky winced. “Shit.”

“Yeah! You shut me up every time! Hey–stop staring at my mouth.”

He raised an eyebrow as if to say well, go ahead. For good measure, he sat on the stool at the lip of the counter, and bracketed her between his knees. She sighed.

“I don’t know how long this can continue if it can never be more than a secret,” she admitted.

Bucky cleared his throat.“...Are you under the impression that SHIELD has a stake in my personal relationships?” 

She blinked. “You said it did.”

“When?”

“Um. The first time. In the pantry.” 

He frowned again and looked at the pantry door like it might project the exact conversation they had, amidst a feverish tryst. “I don’t think I did,” he said.

“‘They’ll grill me and everyone in the compound will know–’ You were pretty clear that nobody could know about us. You kept saying it. ‘They can’t know. They can’t know.’”

“I’m not sure I was thinking about anything but putting my head between your legs,” he said frankly, which made her shiver. “Nick Fury doesn’t care about interpersonal relationships as long as they don’t interfere with our work. The guys, however, already give me shit for how often I miss my mouth with coffee because I’m watching the cupcake woman and her damned smile. I was probably talking about them. But I don’t remember, and I’m sorry you’ve been losing sleep over it.”

“I haven’t been losing sleep,” she said bashfully, though her lip slipping into her mouth revealed what a lie that was. 

“Don’t you see how messed up I am over you?” The question came out of his mouth like a blessing. She stared at him in astonishment, which made the tips of his ears turn pink. “I may be bad at sayin’ it, doll, but I’m acting up like a lovesick man.” Bucky tucked his fingers into the back pockets of her jeans to pull her closer. “You’ve been hurting. Haven’t you?” When she nodded, his face fell. He huffed. “That won’t do.”

“Tell me,” she asked. “Please, Jamie.”

“You really been thinkin’ about something I said in the heat of the moment… shit, a year ago?”

“Words are precious, where you’re concerned.”

Bucky looked up at her like the sentiment struck a raw nerve. He shook his head. “I’ll be better.”

“You’ve already tripled your usual output,” she teased, letting her hands slide to his jaw. “It’s no wonder you’re good at keeping secrets.”

“What would people say if they knew?”

“Stop. You’re trying to save me from compound gossip?”

He studied her well-loved shoes and the flour which adorned the toes like a deliberate style choice. “Am I a coward?”

“Yeah,” she said, but she brushed his cheek. “For the sake of clarity… SHIELD doesn’t care, but your friends will tease you, and people might gossip, so that’s why you’ve never actually taken me to your room, and why we’ve been sneaking around for the better part of a year?”

Bucky cringed. “In my defense, I thought you got off on it.”

“I did–I do. But I spend about thirteen hours a day on my feet in this damn kitchen. It would be nice to have sex horizontal for once, and not bent over the sink I wash dishes in! Maybe even laying down on a mattress, as crazy as that sounds.” 

“You wild woman, you.” He laced his fingers behind her knees. “I’m sorry. All this because I’m afraid of people thinkin’--it doesn’t matter, right?”

“Oh, you’re just now realizing that?” She swatted him on the shoulder. “We should’ve had this conversation eleven months ago!”

He didn’t say anything for a while, but he leaned into her fingers where they dug at the knot in his shoulder while he pondered where they had gone wrong. He gripped her wrist so he could entwine their fingers and study the raised veins on the back of her hand with a curious thumb. 

“I always buy whatever pastry you made special for the day,” Bucky said, as if it was a revelation he was making at that exact moment. “I tip you like Rockafeller. I can’t stand the thought of stinking in your presence, so some days I shower twice. I scan the personnel report every morning to make sure you’re on the premises. I check my phone seven hundred times an hour on the off chance you text me. I dream about you. I wake up smelling your perfume. I’m–I’m your damned satellite, woman.”

“Then why are you so worried about people knowing?” she asked it, but she gleaned the answer the moment it left her lips and she pressed her fingers to his to stop him from saying it. His lips pursed behind her hand. She shook her head. “No. You’ll break my heart.”

Bucky waited until she removed her hand before attempting to say a thing. “You don’t know what I’ve done, doll–”

“I’m sorry–you think I didn’t google you within an inch of your life, old man?”

He smiled, despite himself. “My mistake.”

“Please. I would be so proud if people knew”

“Of me?” he asked, incredulous. “Why?”

She leaned in and took the softest drag from his lips, eliciting something like a gasp of amazement from the man. “Doesn’t make a lick of sense, does it?” she murmured against his mouth.

Bucky growled. “If I could have you, I would shout it from the rooftops.”

“You like me.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He stood, looming over her hungrily. “Could I, doll?”

She would have descended into tears again if her heart wasn’t bursting with happiness. “I would love that, Jamie.”

His eyes sparkle. “People will talk.”

“Good.”

“I’ll… I’ll kiss you over the counter!” He gestured to the very counter which separated them daily. “Other people will see me do it.”

She snickered. “I hope they do.”

“Sam will tell you about every time I’ve made a fool of myself watchin’ you–”

“I can’t wait.”

“You’re not ever gonna question me again, because I’m gonna just come right out and say things. All the time.” For the first time in her memory, Bucky fully smiled. Beamed, even. His eyes were lively with excitement and he reached for her hand. He laced their fingers once more. 

“I’m going to walk outta here right now, holding your hand.” He backed slowly towards the door of the kitchen, tugging her with him. “Because I want to.”

“Okay,” she laughed. He was giddy, almost, at the prospect of getting to tell anyone who would listen that he was with her. Being seen together was a dream he didn’t know was within reach. It made her heart clench. 

“Wait–” She held up a finger and released him so she could dash back into the pantry. When she emerged from the kitchen with the little pastry box in hand, Bucky raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Saved a cupcake for my personal pity party,” she said. “I blew through three dozen of these before noon.”

“Hmm… my cupcake is a best-seller, huh?” Bucky tucked her fingers in the crook of his elbow so he could draw her closer.

“Um. Every pastry I make is yours.” When he couldn’t speak in shock, she nodded. “You’re sort of my muse.”

“You’re jokin’.”

“God, it’s embarrassing–”

“No, no, no! It’s the sweetest thing I ever heard, doll, I promise you.” Bucky stopped in the vestibule where the hallway forked west to the parking garage (where her car was parked), and east to the residential wing of the compound. 

“Well.” She shrugged. “I take how you’re making me feel, and I say it in flour and sugar. Everything I couldn’t tell you got baked into pastry. They all have names, too, but I’m not quite ready to mortify myself by admitting some of them.”

He cupped her cheek. “What’d you call it today?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.”

“‘Jamie’s Best Kept Tea-cake.’” She braced herself for him to cringe, but he didn't.

Bucky looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “I am an idiot. Never let me forget it.” He turned on his heel and hastened down the east hall. She had to practically skip to keep up. 

“Do you hate it?” she panted.

“What–no!” He punched the up arrow to summon the elevator. “I love it.”

“I love you.” The sentiment flew from her tongue like it had been waiting for that very moment to spread its wings.

The elevator dinged to punctuate her admission, effectively squashing an otherwise perfect moment… made awkward by Sam Wilson on his way back from the gym, standing in the elevator and grinning. Bucky glanced between Sam and the woman who just admitted to loving him, and pulled her into the car.

“Sam,” Bucky acknowledged. “You remember–”

“The way you poured dark roast in your lap when she laughed? Sure do. Hi. How are you?”

“She loves me,” Bucky said. She nudged his ribcage. “What? You do. I’m in love with her, also.”

“I’ve gleaned that prior to now,” Sam said smugly.

Her cheeks were hot, but she leaned into Bucky’s side in disbelief. “Hi Sam. I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. While we’re all sharing our feelings, he’s one of the best people I know, so. As far as I’m concerned, this is a fantastic development. Which I’m suspecting isn’t a new one.” Sam smirked as Bucky scratched his head guiltily. 

“Wow. Thanks, man.”

“Whatcha got there?” Sam pointed at the little box in her hand.

“That’s ‘Jamie’s Best Kept Tea-cake,’” Bucky explained proudly. 

She squeezed his elbow. “It’s chamomile with lavender buttercream.”

“Oh shit, the magic cupcake! He force-fed us all a bite at lunch. Five stars.”

“Thanks.” She shared a smile with Sam. The elevator arrived on Bucky’s desired floor. Sam said little else, but offered a sly salute to the retreating form of his giddy best friend and the woman he couldn’t stop talking about.

At Bucky’s door, he paused. “I didn’t–is this okay? Do you want to come in? You can use my on-suite shower. Water pressure is amazing. I have a very comfortable bed–”

She pressed up on her toes and kissed him quiet. “You love me,” she murmured, “so I’d like to go in.”

“I’m making a fool of myself right now, aren’t I,” he breathed.

“Nah. You’re just… chatty.”

“I don’t think I can stop.”

“It’s okay. 'S pretty cute.”

He smiled dreamily. “Cute is good. I can work with that.” He let them into the room, but the moment the door shut behind her, he tensed up again. “Um. This is it. I don’t have much.”

“Jamie,” she soothed. “I’m so happy to be here, but I’m exhausted. I’ll take you up on that shower, and we can talk more in the morning. Yeah?”

“Oh–of course, doll, there’s towels…” He babbled on, but she temporarily ignored him in favor of unwrapping the little box on his desk. She grabbed him mid-sentence by the front of the sweatshirt. Something had to be done to dissipate his adrenaline, which was hammering away full-throttle to force every little thought which crossed his brain to traverse his tongue, too.

“C’mere.” She held up the small cupcake and offered him the first bite. His lips grazed her thumb and forefinger, but her own chased them to capture the sugar of a kiss. He groaned into the flowery sweetness. She giggled when he dipped the tip of his finger into the frosting, only to drag it over her cupid’s bow. Warmth pooled between her thighs as he licked the purple sugar from her skin.

“Shit,” he breathed. “I’m. I–doll.”

She laughed. “That, James Barnes, is what you taste like after a cup of tea.”

“If I wasn’t already… I am, now.” He peered at her through half-lidded eyes, drunk on sugar and arousal.

“What?”

“In love.”

He said nothing else. Every sentiment which she inspired in him paled in comparison to the feeling of her. The alphabet of her body was language enough to describe the utter terror of exposing every chamber of his heart, and still come up short for the measure of awe. And as for her… 

She had kept him locked away in a neighboring vein for so long, that letting the flow of Bucky Barnes through her senses overwhelmed her with the knowledge that yes, she loved him… and yet loved him more as he exposed his vulnerabilities–like his 3-in-1 shower gel, and his pleasant striped pajama pants with frayed cuffs. He would be best kept at her side, of that much she was sure. Not a dirty secret in the pantry, but softly snoring against her shoulder, with no question of whether or not he wanted her, and an abundance of pretty things… many of which came frosted.

--

Thanks for reading! :)

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1 month ago

ours (bucky x bob)

a hidden desire finally surfaces, and suddenly, the night isn’t just about your boyfriend anymore… but his teammate, too. (18+)

a/n: i honestly have no words other than i'm sorry for what's below the cut. idek how to describe this but uhh inspired by a spicy audio, dom!bucky, switch!bob, everyone's a freak. feel free to enjoy if that entices you!

“Put her on the bed, head facing me.”

Bucky’s request alone has you breathless with anticipation before you’re plucked from the ground and hiked into your boyfriend’s arms. Bob does as his teammate instructs without complaint or delay. Your head rests at the foot of the bed and your eyes lock with the super soldier above. His legs spread are wide on the chair, dim light casting shadows across his strong features.

God, you think, and immediately feel guilty for doing so.

This is the last thing you expect to come out of a previous, unpredictable encounter. One where Bob is handsy and you can’t stop purring - so inconsiderate of the company right beside you on the sofa. Please, his dry laugh rippled, don’t mind me. Unknowingly, those words set into motion the events that follow, igniting a chain of events that lead here.

Though, you realize, that can’t entirely be true. You and Bob knew deep down that kissing each other with so much tongue in front of him would lead to this. Both of you were aware that you spreading your legs and letting yourself to be of good use before Bucky’s hungry gaze would only end one way. In that moment, your sense of belonging shifted from him to them.

“Remember, there are no objections.” Bucky traces a thumb along your bottom lip. “You’re both gonna do exactly as I say.”

He doesn’t tell you to, but you nod. You hear Bob agree as well, the bed sinking under his weight. Bucky adds that, of course, safe words are welcome and encourages their use should there be any discomfort. He asks that you two remind him of yours, which you do.

“Very good…” The chair creaks softly as he leans back, relaxing. “Why don’t you go ahead and get started, Bob? Wanna see that face she makes when you eat her out.”

As if it’s second nature, your Bob leans in, his touch tender yet electric as he moves over you. Though his strings are in another's hands, he still tends to you with an unspoken understanding. A language rooted in desire that only the two of you know. His hands follow familiar, heated paths along your skin, coaxing shivers from you.

When Bob leans in, his lips brush your shoulder with deliberate softness. It's a whisper of warmth before he presses deeper, sparking a slow burn that makes your breath hitch and your pulse race. He slides between your legs effortlessly, his presence a certainty in the turmoil of your heightened senses. One hand gently cups your thigh while the other cradles your face, guiding you into a rhythm grounded in mutual trust.

Your lips part instinctively as his come down, melting into a kiss that feels like it’s meant to last forever. His tongue teases your mouth, muffling the trembling moans that spill from you. Your fingers instinctively graze his scalp, threading into his hair, while your teeth nudge his bottom lip, urging him into a more urgent tempo - pressing him closer, deeper into you.

Bob’s lips move down your body with practiced ease. Expectation heightens as his mouth drags over your skin, damp patches of warmth trailing in its wake. He pauses at your nipples, savoring each gentle suckle as you writhe beneath him, knees squeezing him instinctively.

Then, he travels lower, his kisses wandering to your covered mound. A gasp escapes you at the contact, every nerve tightening as he begins to kiss and lick it with unhurried worship.

“Please.” Your lower half peels from the bed, pushing into his face.

“Awfully rude of you to make her beg.” Bucky tuts, a hint of amusement in his voice while he watches your pleading face.

His presence, something of a distant memory under the touches of your lover, becomes vivid once again when he speaks. Your eyes roll up to catch him already staring back, watching with intent. He remains locked in, unflinching, while Bob slides your pants down carefully and spreads you wide open for a taste. Your vision to blurs as you gape -

“Keep those eyes open,” Bucky’s tone forces you to regain focus. “Look at how hard you’re making me.”

His throbbing cock, aches and glistens with evidence of his hunger - thick and heavy with cum. He strokes it slow and sure, eyes never once leaving yours, inviting you to witness every ragged breath falling from his parted lips. That pang of remorse from earlier, when you looked at him so carnally, flickers briefly before your gaze drifts downwards.

“S’okay, baby.” Bob slurs, already drunk off of your wetness, “Just enjoy yourself.”

He pulls your swollen clit between his lips, sucking and circling fervently. You cry out, legs clenching around his head while your body inches up involuntarily. Your head dangles from the edge of the mattress, neck in full extension.

Bucky groans at the sight, hand tightening on his length. His eyes, seemingly black, stretching from the head moving between your legs to your lips that can't seem to shut and settling on your heaving breasts.

“Bring your hand up, Bob.” Bucky bites his lip. “Tits like that shouldn’t go unheld, don’t you think?”

The man between your legs surfaces to tease, “You should see when she plays with them herself.”

A hushed moan escapes, blending with their taunting chatter - a sound that deepens the tension in the room. The heat from Bob's hand returning to your chest ignites you from within. His fingers trace velvety lines while his lingering glance promises more.

“Give them a nice slap.” Bucky commands.

Bob complies obediently, a hand coming down over your right breast and then your left. The slaps land with measured precision, teetering between playful and asserting. Your breathing frays, synchronizing with the relentless dance among pleasure and restraint, body shaking as you roll your hips deeper into Bob's tongue.

“Oh, she likes that.” His teammate raises a brow.

“Didn’t you, angel?” Bob's confirms, teeth grazing your clit.

You respond with a whine, the stimulation of it all leaving you speechless. Your heartbeat drums loudly in your ears, each inhale deeper and more uncontrollable than the last. All rational thought dissolves as you become acutely aware of how exposed and vulnerable you are before them.

Bucky's throat works with a hard swallow, “Think you can make her cum for me?”

Bob grunts in reply, the noise rippling through the charged air, vibrations that stir a deep need within you.

“Open your mouth, princess." Bucky brushes your cheek, “I want you to bite on these fingers as you get closer.”

You obey without second thought, a mix of excitement and something else you can’t quite name parting your lips to let his fingers in. Bob mutters sweet praises into your throbbing cunt - that's my girl, take his fingers - and Bucky urges you on - bite down hard, just like that.

The taste of calloused digits against your tongue and the mouth below ravaging your pussy causes a toe curling overload. Your senses and thoughts scramble into a single, intense focus.

"She's so close," Bob groans. "Fuck, baby, your legs are shaking."

He keep pushing you towards your peak, begging - let me have it, it's okay, you can cum for him. Your teeth clamp down even harder involuntarily and you ease the tension in your jaw, worried. Bucky shakes his head, keep biting, sweetheart, make a mess on that mouth.

As you surrender to the building pressure, pleasure spilling over in a shuddering climax, your eyes squeeze shut. Bob's eager tongue laps up your cum, indulging in every drop. The weight of release floods through your body, a sweet exhaustion that leaves you breathless and glowing, raw and fulfilled in the aftermath. You return to your senses just as a satisfied smirk curls at the corner of Bucky's mouth, proud at the scene before him.

It's hard to tell which one of them murmurs, "Good girl."

Bob surfaces from between your legs, licking the remnants of you from his lips, "How do you wanna fuck me, angel?" You peer at Bucky, but your boyfriend's hand pulls your chin back, "Nuh uh, look at me - not him."

"Feeling a little possessive, are we?" Bucky asks, a provocative chuckle following.

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up and watch what she can do?" Bob bites back.

You feel a thrill surge through you as the super soldier concedes to his challenge, further settling into his chair with a look that says let's see it. Your hands work to skillfully strip Bob, lips tracing along the skin you reveal.

Slowly, you descend, returning his earlier focus with an intimacy that mirrors his own attention to detail. The moment stretches between you, charged with a voltaic energy that heightens every touch as you explore each part with purpose.

He gives Bucky a smug look, "Wanna see how she makes it disappear?"

"What do you me-oh..."

Your lips trace along Bob's cock before you playfully slap it on your tongue. He shivers as you take him in and sink down, inch by inch, your mouth warm and wet against his dick. Each glide, each breath taken is unhurried and purposeful. You delight in his taste and how his shoulders sag when he feels the insides of your cheeks.

“Show him far you can take it.” Bob moans, and you do, pressing the tip to the soft spot at the back of your throat. “Yes, just like that, pretty girl.”

Bucky exhales shakily, muscles tense as his fist moves faster, driven by the visceral sight before him. His eyes glaze over, transfixed on how eagerly you accept the fellow Avengers' cock even as you gag. The smothered sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips fuel his arousal, his groans becoming more pronounced.

Soon, Bob's own noises join in the chorus that’s increasing in volume. He starts moving, hips pushing forward to drive his dick even further down your throat. His craving for more consumes him, voice rough and low as he whispers, show him what a good fucking girl you are for me.

Bucky's eyes widen as he watches you both lose control, pleasure spiraling into raw, audible rapture. Every choke and hum from you unravels him further, his frame trembling beneath his thrusting into his own palm. Bob's head drops back, a growl ripping from him as a hand comes to your head to tangle into your hair.

"I need you, I need you," He pulls you back from his length. "Put me inside you."

Bucky's brow pinches - like he's already picturing it in his mind - before he directs, “Face me, wanna see how you look when you take it.”

You turn around, a sultry promise shimmering in your eyes as you settle onto Bob's lap. Bucky takes his bottom lip between his teeth when you start to tease yourself with the cock that rests over your cunt. The sound the action makes reverberates through the room.

Bob chuckles through his gasps, "Let him see how you love to run that cock down your pretty little slit."

When you do, a wanton tone passes through Bob’s lips. Your lips curl as you let Bucky watch the way you take it - how your back arches in response to each teasing stroke, your folds opening wider with every glide, the glistening arousal that drips to Bob's thighs as you do.

Bucky toys with the head of his own cock, miming your movements, “Open her up for me.”

“Just like this?” The amusement in your boyfriend's tone is palpable.

Bob's hand curves possessively over your hip, anchoring you as spreads you nice and wide. His fingers scoop up your slick and smears it onto his length that he then taps against your clit.

You jerk and writhe, hips tilting upwards with an urgent, desperate for more. Bucky melts into a haze of craving and chaos, his focus solely between your legs. He can't even find the words to tell Bob that the shameless symphony before him is exactly what he wants.

You finally get what you want too. Bob plunges into you fully, a deep, gratifying invasion that narrows the world to the sensation of your skin meeting his. Your hips press forward, taking him deeper to revel in it all - every vein, pulse and inch stretching you out.

Your cries and shallow breaths, Bob's praises tangling in an incoherent babble, and Bucky's guttural notes blend together in a crescendo of pure need. A visceral, filthy concert of lust.

“Lean forward, hands on his thighs.” Bucky interjects. “I want you to torture him until he asks me to join.”

The latter part of that request catches Bob off guard, his moan breaking with a sharp inhale. This time, it's you that anchors him as your fingers dig into his firm thighs. The heat between your bodies grow while you drive your hips up and down with increasing force.

Bob thrusts upward as you descend, chasing the rhythm you set, aching to keep that mesmerizing connection. You look back to catch him hypnotized by the way your cunt swallows him whole, claiming him with each powerful bounce. He senses your eyes on him and his own flutter up to make contact. A silent question transmits from you, like it when I fuck you like this?

"Oh, fuck, babygirl..." Bob responds aloud.

Bucky huffs lowly, "Doesn't that look amazing?"

Bob is too lost in you, licking his lip as he pleads, "Want you on my tongue again."

"Wanna let him use it, doll?" Bucky's voice lifts, liking the thought of that. You feel the same way, endorsing the idea with a nod before he continues, "Back up on his face."

You slide off Bob's cock, positioning yourself to press your pussy into his face. His hands grab your hips firmly, spreading you open so he can indulge without restraint. You feel the eager, untamed laps of his tongue at your hold. It causes your eyes to cross and your back to arch as you press into his mouth even deeper.

“Keep you hands busy and play with his big cock.”

Bob surfaces with a moan when you do, and purrs a laugh, adding, “Almost sounds like you wanna hold it.”

“Hold that thought,” Bucky's words carry a glint of mischief. “Keep using that mouth on her.”

He doesn't need to be told twice, the lips between your slit shiver with a shaking suck. You ride Bob's face as you roll your wrist, tugging on his dick. He matches the pace of your hips rocking, a wet and frayed hum smearing his question into you, ready to take me again?

yes-

of course she is-

Your body seeks him out, aligning once more. But Bob's fingers tighten around your wrist, a quiet yet unyielding protest. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck and then move to the side, biting gently. His eyes land on the man spread out on the chair before you while he drawls, let's put on a little show for him.

"Use him exactly how you want." Bucky agrees.

With a fluid motion, you spin around to face Bob, aching to reconnect. Your hips rise and fall with purpose, the feeling of him filling you again cresting like a wave you'd forgotten you were holding your breath under - sudden, violent, and so sweet you could choke on it.

"Yes, please," Bob whimpers so high it borders on a sob. "Use me, use me..."

His lips claim yours in a fevered rush, the kiss like a brush fire consuming acres of forests in mere minutes. Bob's hands grip your waist as you give him what he needs. Each drive inward is sharper and more urgent, building into a relentless rhythm.

Words are lost as the men's voices ripple together. Bob's constant yeses come out like a trembling thread pulling taut, each one a fragile submission. Bucky's whines climb higher, thinner, pleasure tipping onto the frail edge of need and unravelling. It's an exquisite, ferocious melody to your ears as you listen to their cries - a mix of desire and desolation.

Bucky can't stand the distance any longer. He's suddenly beside you both on the bed, gasping, "Bob, open your mouth for my fingers, will you?"

Your boyfriend lets him in, gaze never straying from your own. You want to burn the sight into the back of your eyelids, to immortalize this moment so that you can relive it each time you close your eyes.

Bucky collects some spit before he brings his hand back to stroke his cock, sighing, "Good boy."

A sound so small and defenseless leaves Bob that he tries to cover it with a laugh. Ultimately, he can't betray the way he truly feels, longing swallows him whole like your cunt does his cock as the words spill out, "Fuck, don't - don't tell me that. You're gonna make me cum."

"That so?" A smug mumble curls from Bucky's mouth. He turns to you then, with a low goad, "Why don't we help him out? Choke him."

You wrap your fingers around Bob's neck, tightening enough to feel his pulse gallop beneath your grasp. His eyes flutter as he pointedly thrusts into you, his tip hitting the back of your pussy.

"Come on, harder." Bucky snarls.

“Harder,” Bob yearns. “I'll be a good.”

The pressure of your grip intensifies and he begins to gag - a wet, hiccuping sound tearing from his open mouth. It echoes in your core, the wounded and involuntary noise stirring something unknown within, making an unexpected warmth spread through your veins. Bob appears to know it though, an uneven breath hitches in his throat as he looks up at you in awe.

“That’s it, baby boy.” Bucky grunts. "How does it feel, sweetheart? Taking his big cock, letting him fill you up while your fingers squeeze his throat?"

You wish you could scream the truth that this is what you wanted from the start. That your actions in his presence were never innocent, but intentional and aiming to making this a reality. But your ability to form a sentence left the room long ago.

Bucky doesn't need to hear you say it; he sees it plainly in your eyes, the unspoken confession bubbling beneath your skin that burns with unyielding heat. It's written all over your face as your features twist with raging greed. And it's then, as if the telepathic admission is all it takes, that your vision whites out.

Your senses hone in on the throbbing pulse in your ears, the slick glide of Bob’s cock filling you, the delicious pressure of Bucky’s stare. Your free hand falls back to grab Bob's thigh, your head following the movement as you claw at him, overwhelmed, as if your bones might scatter if you don't tether yourself to him. The rhythmic clenching of your walls has his cock pulsing inside you as he nears his own end.

"I'm gonna fucking cum-" He calls out with the vocal equivalent of shaky hands.

“Pull it out." Bucky half-says, half-groans.

No, I wanna cum inside-

I said, pull it fucking out.

Hanging on the edge of release, Bob slides out of you and tenses. Your name is on his tongue like a sacrament, mixing in with slurred cries as he shoots his seed onto your stomach. His head lulls forward, forehead resting on yours before he presses a tender, lazy kiss to your lips. You trace gentle shapes along each other's trembling skin, grounding one another while your mingling breaths steady.

“You're both so good.” Bucky's breath hitches, he's not far behind. “Now clean up the mess, princess. Eyes on mine.”

You softly gather the cum trailing down your belly, feeling its warmth on your fingertips before you press them to your tongue. The thickness is a balance a savory and sweet as you indulge in the taste. Bucky's gaze is molten, his voice rasping with undisguised thirst when he urges you to take every last drop.

His final command comes out in a gravelly timbre, “Kiss his cum right back into that dirty mouth.”

It's as if he doesn't need to ask with how swiftly Bob's lips catch yours with searing ferocity. As your tongues twist, you let him taste the lingering proof of his need, melting it into the depths of his mouth. He shoots you a wicked grin, dragging your bottom lip and sucking, before his eyes drift sideways.

"You gonna cum on our faces, Bucky?" Bob asks, inflection warm and honeyed.

Bucky's curses escape light and rough, his body quivering with the shock of release as he sinks into the weight of his own climax. Between your lips and Bob's, his seed spills - warm, viscous, undeniable - melding into the kiss you share. The taste is rousing, primal, a heady reminder of tonight's events.

“Good boy.” Bob returns the compliment.

You flop down onto the plush bed, welcoming the softness beneath you. Bob's hands glide over your body with gratitude, still managing to make you shiver despite being thoroughly fucked out. You watch Bucky settle in too, his face luminous with satisfaction. Shadows dance slowly across the ceiling as your breaths tangle in the quiet aftermath of desire fulfilled.

“What do you think?” Bob turns to Bucky. "Are we your fuck toy, or are you ours?”

Bucky's laugh is genuine, “You know, I couldn’t care less - as long as we do this again."

“What about you, babe?” Your boyfriend strokes your hair.

You take a moment, considering.

Despite willingly relinquishing control, you realize that in this shared space, vulnerability has become a source of strength, and being seen and understood by them offers a profound sense of safety and protection you hadn't anticipated. The reins of trust are in your hands. With the two men here in bed with you, you're overcome with a sense of both submission and domination.

The corner of your mouth hitches upwards as you answer, "I think we could all use a shower.”


Tags
4 months ago
Eddie Munson X Best Friend!Reader

Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: You never meant for Eddie to know that you had a crush on him. What happened when he found out, courtesy of Mike Wheeler's big mouth?

WC: 2.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), angst to fluff to smut and then back to fluff?? I don't even know, idiots in love, p in v, semi-public sex (we get it on in the van, baby)

Part of @cherrycolored-punk's Softember event!

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie Munson X Best Friend!Reader

Friday, May 16, 1986: the day you determined that Mike Wheeler was the worst. 

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, it couldn’t be easy growing up in Nancy’s perfect shadow. Just the time you spent working with her on the school newspaper was exhausting. 

That was where you were currently sprinting from, weaving through the empty hallways towards the drama room. Leave it to Nancy to schedule an emergency newspaper meeting on a Friday afternoon. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You kept your head down as you breezed into the Hellfire meeting. Even without looking, you could feel the guys glaring at you. The only thing less forgivable than missing a campaign was interrupting one. 

Gareth let out a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nice of you to join us, Lady Atwood.” He shifted forward in his seat. “You’re in luck today—our fearless Dungeon Master has yet to grace us with his presence.”

You wrinkled your nose, only then noticing that Eddie’s throne remained empty. “Where is he?”

From his spot at the table, Mike Wheeler scoffed. “Surprised you don’t know, considering you’re basically in love with him.”

You were about to refute his statement, or at least give him a well-deserved middle finger, when you heard a clattering behind you. 

Like metal hitting the floor tiles.

No. No, no no no…

“S-Sorry.” Eddie stammered. He quickly scooped up the tin lunch box that doubled as a place to stash his weed. “I had a last-minute deal. Apparently there’s a party at McKinney’s house tonight and he needed some, uh, provisions. So, uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting around the room and looking at everyone except for you. “We can get started.”

There might as well have been a spotlight beaming down, accentuating the embarrassment written all over your face. Everyone in Hellfire knew about your crush on Eddie, but they had the decency to keep it a secret. 

Everyone except for Mike Wheeler, apparently. God, you wanted to squish that little shit like a bug beneath your shoe.

It certainly didn’t help that Eddie kept glancing at you, even when he addressed the group. Like he was waiting for you to say something about Mike’s comment. Waiting for you to refute it, to roll your eyes and whip out a snappy comeback. Maybe he was even hoping you would.

He was probably internally cringing just thinking about you having romantic feelings for him.

“Lady Atwood?”

Your gaze instinctively snapped over to Eddie when he said your name. He was looking at you, brown eyes wide with anticipation of your response. 

Warmth crept up your neck. He had heard what Mike said about you being in love with him–he had to have. He’d just had the good grace to brush over it because…

Because he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to cause you any further humiliation.

“Y-Yeah?” You choked on the word, trying to put the incident behind you. But you couldn’t, because the pain of unrequited feelings kept yanking on your heart, drawing tears that you desperately wished would evaporate.

“Gareth the Great has proposed battling the demogorgon.” There was a hint of a smirk on Eddie’s lips. It was your first clue that the move would prove entertaining, perhaps at your character’s demise. “We’re waiting for your input.”

Nodding, you chewed the inside of your cheek and studied the board. Okay, it looked like winning the battle was feasible, though a bit risky. The rest of the club watched as you contemplated; Gareth especially was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Then the ceiling started leaking. Soft drops with no particular rhythm, landing on your cheeks. Just your luck–first Mike’s big mouth spilled your secret, then whatever nastiness was living in Hawkins High School’s pipes was now seeping into your skin.

“Holy shit, is she crying?”

Dustin Henderson’s voice broke into your thoughts. His tone, for possibly the first time since you’d met him, held only concern with a note of snark.

Who was crying? You were the only girl in the club now that Ronnie had graduated, save for the times Erica Sinclair served as a substitute. Which meant…

“Way to go, asshole.” Lucas thwacked Mike across the chest. 

“I didn’t know he was there!”

The purple fabric of your shirt darkened beneath your arms as another disconcerting flash of heat hit you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Maybe you’d get lucky and the floor would open beneath you and swallow you up. 

“I need to get some air.” Whether you spoke the words aloud or said them silently to yourself, you weren’t sure. 

Your feet seemed to carry you out of the room and through the school’s front doors. Tears blurred your vision, and you swiped them away before any other lingering students could see. 

The air was warm, teasing of the approaching summer. God, summer—you always spent it with Eddie, lounging by the public pool or sitting down at Lovers Lake. You’d read a book while he pored over his Hellfire notebook, scribbling notes for future campaign ideas. 

Would he still want to do that, to spend those long days with you, now that he knew about your pathetic crush? 

It wasn’t until you reached the parking lot that you remembered: Eddie drove you to school that morning. If you started walking now, you’d definitely get home before dark. Or maybe you could call your parents from the payphone if you managed to scrounge up the change—

The sound of your name stopped you in your tracks. You should’ve kept walking the moment you saw Eddie, his frizzy curls bouncing as he jogged over to you. 

“Hey.” His hand brushed yours, though you pulled away before he could grab ahold of it. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He sighed. “Okay, let me rephrase that: Why did you leave? Because of what Wheeler said?” Eddie let out a small, disbelieving laugh when you nodded. “He’s such a little shit. Always messing with me. I’m gonna kick his sorry ass one of these days.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Messing with Eddie? “What are you talking about?”

“That joke about you being in love with me. He obviously saw me in the doorway and said it to embarrass me.” A blush crept onto Eddie’s cheeks. “Y’know, ‘cause…”

But you didn’t know. You had no idea what he meant. And as much as Mike was a menace, he seemed sincere when he said he didn’t realize that Eddie was there. 

“Because why?”

“Because,” Eddie’s gaze shifted to his van’s tires before he finally looked at you again. “Because he knows I have this dumb crush on you, and he thinks it’s hilarious to fuck with me about it.”

Words evaded you. This had to be some sort of elaborate set-up. Eddie had a crush on you? When girls like Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway lived in the very same town? 

Impossible. 

Not privy to the argument playing out inside your head—thank God—Eddie babbled on. “I know it’s weird. That’s why I haven’t told you—well, until right now. And I’m starting to regret it, because you’re looking at me like I have three heads. So maybe I’ll just shut up now.”

“No.” Summoning all of your courage, you took his hand in yours and managed a smile. “Eddie, Mike was teasing me because I like you. More than a friend should like a friend.”

Eddie’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “What if I told you…I don’t want to just be friends?”

You let your eyes meet his. “I-I don’t want to just be friends, either.”

He took a pause before he asked his next question. Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you waited for him to speak.

“And what if I did this?” One palm, callused from years of guitar playing, cupped your cheek. Eddie moved closer, his nose bumping against yours in a clumsy attempt to close the gap between you. “Shit, that–that was supposed to be suave.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Munson.” The words left your mouth before you could think them through. Your fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him back towards you and finishing what he had started.

His lips, soft and tasting vaguely of the cigarettes he’d smoked after school, crashed into yours. One hand snaked around your waist and pressed you against him until you felt his metal belt buckle through your shirt.

You moaned softly, letting his tongue into your mouth without hesitation. More, more, more…you needed more. You needed all of him. 

It was Eddie who broke the kiss, much to your chagrin. But what he said next made up for the loss.

“Sorry…I’m trying to be a gentleman. But it’s, uh, getting a little hard.” He chuckled, stealing another quick kiss. “Pun very much intended.”

A quick glance proved that Eddie wasn’t lying: His erection tantalizingly strained against his fly. What you wouldn’t give to feel him inside you…

“Y’know, take you on a date, tell you how pretty you look,” Eddie continued, shifting his stance in a pitiful attempt to quell his desire. “I don’t wanna go at it in the school parking lot like some feral rabbits.” He waved his hand haphazardly. 

You bit your lip, weighing your options. A date would be nice; perhaps a night at The Hawk, his arm around you as a movie played on a giant screen. Or maybe he’d take you to dinner—nothing as expensive as Enzo’s, but somewhere more romantic than your usual Benny’s hangout. 

A date with Eddie was something you’d only ever dreamed of. But right now, you needed to live out a different fantasy before you combusted from an overload of lust. 

“Remember the first campaign you created this year?” Your soft voice held a sultry air despite your nerves. “It was your most sadistic one yet. We were all ready to forfeit, but you took pity on us and gave us a hint.”

Taking a deep breath, you plunged your hand into his front pocket. “Do you remember what you said?”

Eddie shook his head. “I can’t remember my own goddamn name right now, Sweetheart.”

You laughed, your finger hooking around his keyring. “You said that sometimes, it’s better to work backwards.”

With a triumphant grin, you plucked the keys from his pocket. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” His own smile betrayed his exasperated exterior as he grabbed your hand. His van seemed a million miles away, though it was parked in one of the closest spots in the lot. 

Eddie yanked open the back door, waiting just long enough for you to get settled before he scrambled in behind you. The moment the door closed, he pulled you on top of him. 

You could feel him, feel his hardness, against your core. You rolled your hips instinctively, savoring the friction. 

Hands clamped down on your denim-covered thighs. “You gotta…you can’t…” Eddie choked, struggling for words. “We’re already about to do it in my van. I don’t wanna look even more pathetic by coming in my pants.”

Warmth blossomed in your body. You could imagine him sputtering out a stream of swear words as he came, flooding his own boxers with his release. 

Maybe another day. 

Buttons were undone, flies were unzipped, clothes were discarded into a pile in the corner of the van. It was only you and Eddie, not a single scrap of fabric between you. 

Sweat glistened on his chest, matting down the sparse hairs that curled around his nipples. You leaned in, kissing just above the demon head tattoo etched on his pec. 

“Baby,” he crooned. The new pet name wasn’t lost on you. Your heart beat faster, a butterfly frantically flapping its wings. “Baby, I need you.”

He did need you, unless he was going to take care of his achingly hard cock by himself. The pink tip leaked with pre-cum, and if you had more room, you would have licked it clean off. 

You settled for swiping it away with your thumb, his abdomen tightening at the sudden contact. Eddie nearly passed out on the spot when you sucked on your finger, savoring the salty taste.

“Baby,” he groaned again. “I w-wanted to get you off first, ‘cause I know I’m not gonna last like this.”

“S’okay.” You lined him up with your entrance, ignoring the way your hands shook as you slowly sank down onto him. His hips bucked up almost of their own accord. “F-Fuck, Eddie…”

Eddie looked up at you, brown irises wide. He paused for an extra moment; maybe he really had forgotten his own name. “I know, I know,” he said finally. “God, I fucking know, baby.” 

His thumb found your clit the second he composed himself, rubbing delicate circles until your toes curled. His other hand held you with just enough force to keep you stable while still being able to ride him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He let out a breathless laugh. “If I wake up and this was all a dream, I’m gonna be pissed.”

You shared the same thought. What if the Eddie laying before you, curls splayed against the worn carpet of his van, groaning your name–your name–was all a mirage? Another fantasy conjured up by your lovesick brain?

“I’ve never had a dream this good before.”

“Me either,” he admitted, “but the only ones that’ve come close involve you.”

You tightened around him, your hands flush against his chest. The fact that you occupied his thoughts, unconscious or otherwise, sent a wave of arousal rolling through you. You wanted to hear every last detail of those dreams, to know exactly what turned him on.

Maybe later. Right now, your focus stayed on the way he touched you. So intentional, so precise. And Eddie worked you through your orgasm, keeping his same rhythm as you came around him.

“There you go, pretty girl. That’s it,” he murmured. “‘M close. Where do you–where can I–”

“Inside.” You’d never been more grateful to be on the pill. 

Eddie let himself go, unleashing a torrent of desire. He thrust into you, chasing his own release now that he knew you’d gotten yours.

It was only when he slowed his pace, milking the last drops of cum from his cock, that reality began to settle in.

You just had sex with your best friend in the back of his van, a few hundred feet away from where your friends were gathered around a DnD board–

“Oh my God, Eddie!” Your eyes snapped open in realization. “Hellfire–they’re still there.”

Eddie pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. You relaxed into his chest. “They’re smart guys when they’re not being idiots.” The words vibrated against your skin. “I’m sure they figured out that we weren’t coming back.”

He sighed, wrapping one arm around you. “Can I take you on that date now, baby? Y’know, once we get dressed.” He smirked. “We can go to Scoops Ahoy and split a sundae. And then, if you want, I’ll take you back to my place and undress you again?”

You scrambled for your clothes almost as quickly as you’d shed them, Eddie following suit. And as much as you wanted to have sex with him again, to really take your time and cherish each second, you were equally excited to cuddle up in a booth and share some ice cream.

Friday, May 16, 1986: the day Mike Wheeler’s lack of filter didn’t completely backfire. Because it was also the day that you and Eddie Munson became boyfriend and girlfriend.

--


Tags
2 years ago

My Everyday

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate. 

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

~~

“What’s this punks name again?” 

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.” 

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?” 

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.” 

“Semantics.” 

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes. 

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice. 

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one. 

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus. 

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team. 

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you. 

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours. 

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck. 

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting. 

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?” 

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?” 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.” 

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

~~

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.” 

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?” 

“Fuck you, man.” 

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something. 

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room. 

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?” 

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow. 

“Y/n.” 

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.” 

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.” 

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.” 

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice. 

This was different. 

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room. 

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped. 

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.” 

“It was a big deal.” 

~~

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours. 

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?” 

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.” 

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—” 

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt. 

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.” 

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink. 

A good reason. 

You didn’t date athletes. 

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else. 

And you didn’t date athletes. 

You did not. 

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met. 

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged. 

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience. 

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.” 

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room. 

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room. 

“Tonight,” you answered plainly. 

The arms atop your legs tensed. 

~~

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him. 

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.” 

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.” 

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea. 

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week. 

Definitely not. 

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat. 

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you. 

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering. 

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.” 

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone. 

“What?” you yelled. 

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again. 

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.” 

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.” 

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you. 

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out. 

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.” 

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?” 

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.” 

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.” 

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?” 

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again. 

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled. 

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.” 

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left. 

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal. 

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked. 

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.” 

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?” 

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream. 

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack. 

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.” 

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question. 

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?” 

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied. 

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.” 

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.” 

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men. 

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently. 

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door. 

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.” 

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.” 

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?” 

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent. 

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created. 

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation. 

“Yeah, but—” 

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.” 

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat. 

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.” 

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.” 

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look. 

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.” 

~~

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news. 

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade. 

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively. 

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.” 

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink. 

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow. 

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.” 

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.” 

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?” 

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room. 

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift. 

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed. 

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes. 

And nothing at the same time. 

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.” 

“You’re being presumptuous.” 

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply. 

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection. 

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen. 

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.” 

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you. 

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.” 

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.” 

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you. 

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.” 

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter. 

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you. 

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter. 

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 

“You can do it again.” 

“Oh, I will, baby.” 

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together. 

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.” 

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?” 

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.” 

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets. 

“And is that true?” 

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”


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