Super Soldier Domesticated | Bucky Barnes X Reader

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?

｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──

the tower isn’t what it used to be. no more clean metal shine. no more stark’s weird robot jazz echoing off the walls. now there’s throw blankets that don’t match, mismatched mugs in the kitchen sink, and half a pizza box abandoned on the coffee table under a forgotten tablet glowing faint blue. the new avengers are spread across the sectional like dropped laundry. yelena belova was upside down with her legs hanging off the top, scrolling on her phone like the fate of the universe depends on it. john walker's asleep with one arm tossed over his eyes, pretending not to be listening. and you, you’re tucked in next to bucky barnes cause it’s always been that way.

his arm’s around your waist, the metal one, heavy and cool through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. your legs are half across his lap. there’s a blanket barely clinging to both of you. you lean in slowly, kissing the corner of his mouth first, he hums something. so you do it again, softer. your lips trail across the edge of his jaw, warm and lazy. and he finally looks at you, real slow, real tired.

“you tryin’ to distract me?” he says, voice rough with sleep or maybe something else.

“from what?” you whisper. “yelena's tiktok rabbit hole? pretty sure the world’ll keep turning.”

he chuckles, breath fogging warm against your temple. “you’re gonna get us kicked off the couch.”

“then we’ll take the beanbag. better view of the stars anyway.”

there’s a long pause, no one talking, just the low thrum of the tower’s power system and distant sirens down in the city, muffled by double pane glass and altitude. bucky doesn’t say much when he’s tired. doesn’t need to. his hand settles over yours, thumb dragging lazy circles over your skin.

your powers flicker under your skin when you’re this close. heat like static behind your ribs. reality bends easier around you when he touches you. he doesn’t flinch anymore when it happens. the way light bends a little around your fingertips. how your shadow twitches half a second slower than your body.

“you’re glowing again,” he mumbles.

“can’t help it.” you grin against his throat. “you make me all… photonic.”

“that a scientific term?”

“yup. real cutting edge. avengers approved.”

he turns toward you fully then, presses a slow kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then your lips. it’s nothing hurried. like sunday mornings. like breath.

near you, yelena mutters, “jesus. get a room.”

you don’t look away. neither does bucky. just smirks against your mouth.

a/n: i actually hate this so much! but forgive me for i was puking my brains out yesterday when i wrote this.

A Day in the Life

won't even apologise for the bucky spree i've been on lately. have another one.

so i've been daydreaming about being bucky's housewife a lot, and i just wanted to write something about what a day in the life of bucky's housewife would be like. so here it is.

Content Warning: CEO!Bucky x Housewife!Reader, domestic fluff, slight angst but no conflict, sad!steve rogers but he'll be fine, dirty talk, smut (daddy kink, mommy kink, dom!bucky x sub!reader, handjob, fingering, role-playing, breeding kink, penetrative sex, lactation kink), aftercare, soft!bucky.

A handful of peanuts are put into a small container and slotted into the lunch bag, along with a homemade Italian sub sandwich, hummus, pita chips, and some strawberries which you cut to look like hearts. You also pack a bottle of peach iced tea which you've decorated with a few heart-shaped stickers, before zipping up the bag and giving it a proud smile.

The dishwasher behind you hums with the sound of the breakfast dishes being washed, and the smell of coffee from the thermos fills the air.

It's the start of a great day.

You light up when Bucky enters the kitchen in his suit with his briefcase in hand, shooting you a wink as he walks over. "Ready?" You ask him, pushing his lunchbag and thermos towards him.

"Mhm," He replies with a smile, walking over to give you a kiss. It's short and sweet and he rests his forehead against yours once he pulls away. "Don't wanna go."

"Then don't," You whisper coyly, holding onto the hem of his freshly-pressed suit jacket. "Call in sick and stay with me all day."

He chuckles at your words, pulling your body closer to his. "I wish I could, peanut, but I have that big meet-"

"Meeting with Mr. Barton, I know," You finish with an eye roll, before smiling up at him. "I made your favorite for lunch."

"I love you," Bucky mumbles, kissing you again. "Wish I could just take you with me. Sit you on my desk so I have something pretty to look at all day."

"But then all your coworkers would be jealous," You tease him.

"Oh, they would," He agrees with a smirk. "Jealous that I have the prettiest little wife in the whole world."

"Sap," You mumble, hitting his shoulder lightly. "What time will you be back?"

"Should be home by 6," He tells you, making you pout.

"That's so long away," You whine immaturely.

"Let me make you feel good, daddy," You whisper back as his hard cock pulses against your palm. You take it out of his pants before leaning forward to spit on it, making him shiver. Your spit and his pre cum mix together as you begin to stroke his length, making him shudder.

"I know, peanut, but time will fly by," Bucky promises you before kissing you again, deeper this time. His hands roam your waist before moving down to grab your ass, making your stomach flutter. You trail your hand down his chest until you meet his belt buckle, which you unfasten. "Baby, what're you doing?" He whispers, biting his lip when you slip your hand under his boxers.

He grabs the counter on either side of you, boxing you in as his jaw falls slack. "Oh, fuck," He groans, bucking his hips slightly. "Just like that, oh God, don't stop."

You move a little faster, knowing you're pressed for time and not wanting to make him late for work. To speed him up, you press your lips to his neck, taking advantage of how well you know his body and making him whine as you suck on his sensitive spot.

"Baby, fuck," He moans as his eyes roll back. "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum for me, daddy, please," You beg him playfully. "I need your cum."

Your words push him over the edge and before long, his seed spills out. Some of it shoots out onto your thigh, but the rest you catch in your palm as you continue to stroke him through his high. His dick throbs in your hand as his whole body shudders, grunts leaving his mouth. Once he's spent, you wipe your hand on a tissue, smiling up at him.

"You're so naughty," He utters lowly between heavy breaths, chuckling. "My naughty little girl, aren't you?"

"Can't help it, daddy," You say innocently while zipping his pants back up and buckling his belt. "It's your fault for being so hot."

Smirking, he pushes you against the counter before lifting up your short dress. "My naughty girl deserves to feel good, too," He mumbles, stroking your inner thigh.

"You're gonna be late, Jamie," You warn him, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"I don't care," He growls as he finds your heat, chuckling. "No panties. Just like I've taught you, hmm?"

Your breath shakes as he scoops up his cum from your leg, before using his free hand to spread apart your folds. With his eyes locked on yours, he rubs his cum over your clit, making your stomach flutter.

"James," You whimper, clinging onto the counter behind you.

"Shh, it's okay, peanut," He whispers softly as he continues circling your bud. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"So good," You reply weakly, lifting up your leg to give him better access to your pussy.

He moves his fingers down to your entrance, biting his lip when he feels your warm juices coating and soaking it. With ease, two of his fingers slip into you, making you wince at the width as he spreads you open.

"My pretty little pussy feels so fuckin' tight around my fingers," He groans into your ear. "Always so tight for me. Fuckin' hell."

He starts fucking his fingers in and out of you rhythmically, curling them upwards every so often and making you squirm. The knuckle of his thumb rubs against your clit, making your core burn with delight. You cry out loudly as he hits your spot deep inside you, making your legs shake.

"That's it, baby, sing for me," He grunts, fingering you faster. "Your moans are so fucking sexy. Fuck." He licks his lips as he watches your face contort in pleasure, a proud smirk blooming on his lips. "That's it. Breathe deeply for me, baby, deep breaths. That's it."

Your entire body feels like it's floating as he coaxes you to the edge, expertly playing with your pussy the way only he knows how. With a loud cry of his name, you throw your head back as the floodgates burst open.

"Cumming, daddy," You all but squeal as your cunt clenches around his fingers, juices flowing out of you.

"That's my girl," He praises you before kissing you deeply as you fly through your high. "Just like that, doing so well for me."

You breathe heavily as you slowly come down, your eyelids drooping with fatigue. Bucky wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly, pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder. The two of you stay in the blissful peace for a few moments, your hearts beating as one. He strokes your hair and you cling to his torso, never wanting to let go.

"Could stay like this forever," Bucky whispers, swaying you gently.

Looking over his shoulder at the clock, you sigh. "You're gonna be so late," You warn him.

"Just a few more minutes," He begs, holding you even tighter. You have no choice but to give in, obsessed with his smell and touch and embrace.

A few more minutes pass and you pull away, pushing his shoulders back. "Alright, bubba, you need to go," You say sternly. "You have to prepare for the Barton meeting."

He groans with an eye roll, but he knows you're right. Giving you another kiss, he pats your ass. "Alright. Alright, you're right," He utters with defeat.

You pick up his lunch bag and follow him through to the door to the large garage. When he opens it, cool air washes over you, making you shiver.

"What do you think?" He asks as he glances over the hooks of keys. "Who should I take out today?"

Thinking it over, you tilt your head. "Take Krissi- no, take Mason. He hasn't been out in a while; he's probably feeling neglected."

"You're right," Bucky mumbles, grabbing the keys to the black Maserati Ghibli.

"Here you go," You say sweetly, holding out his lunch bag.

"Thank you, peanut," He says appreciatively, leaning forward to kiss you. "I love you."

"I love you more, Jay," You reply sweetly, booping his nose.

"I won't be able to call you until 2 today, because of the meeting," He informs you, stroking your hip.

Pouting, you nod. "Okay, bubba," You reply, kissing him once more before he starts to walk away. "Good luck with Barton!"

"Send me pictures if you do end up going shopping with Wanda," He calls out to you as he walks past the row of cars to get to Mason the Maserati. "And if Coulson comes over to check on the security system, tell him to make a note of everything he does."

"I will," You promise, leaning against the doorway as he opens the car door. "Drive safe!"

"I love you, peanut," He says once more, blowing you a kiss before getting into the car.

You watch as the garage door opens and Bucky carefully backs out. He beeps the horn twice before driving away, and you wait until the garage door is fully shut before leaving, with a love-drunk smile on your face.

Bucky returns home at around 5:45, after rushing to get back to you. He parks the car in its spot in the garage before making his way into the house, the smell of your cooking immediately wafting over him and making his stomach grumble.

He wanders over to the kitchen where he knows you'll be, the sound of soft music and the blade against a cutting board inviting him in. "I'm home, peanut," He calls out, not wanting to scare the life out of you like he has done many times before when he walked in unannounced.

When he enters, he sees you at the counter chopping up tomatoes, but you're not alone. Steve is standing with his arm around your shoulder, watching closely as you finely cut up the salad ingredients.

You look up at him, your eyes lighting up. "Jamie!"

"Hey, baby," He greets you, walking over to where you and Steve are standing. He places his lunch bag on the counter before leaning forward to give you a kiss, pushing Steve off of you. Embracing you, he lifts you off the ground for a few seconds, holding you tight.

"Hi," You mumble with a wide grin once he puts you back down. "Missed you."

"Missed you more," Bucky replies sweetly before giving Steve narrow eyes. "I thought you were sick."

He shrugs sheepishly, leaning back against the sink. "Didn't wanna go work," He says casually.

Bucky raises a brow. "Probably not the best thing to say to your boss, punk."

"Where's my kiss?" Steve asks, returning to wrap his arm around your shoulder.

"Right here," Bucky replies, grabbing his chin and kissing his cheek before slapping him lightly. "Kiss my wife and you and I will have a problem, Rogers."

Laughing softly, you shake your head before gasping. "How did the meeting go?" You ask, returning to your salad cutting.

"It went great," He tells you proudly, shooting Steve a bitter glance. "Would've gone a lot smoother if my CFO was there, but we survived."

"Anyone can read out numbers," Steve claims flippantly. "You didn't need me."

"Idiot," Bucky mutters, before taking a few steps back. "I'm gonna go wash up. Back in ten."

Although he wants to be annoyed that he isn't getting the quality alone time with you that he's been looking forward to all day, Bucky can't be mad at Steve. Ever since the divorce proceedings begun, he's been sensitive and withdrawn, so you and Bucky have done your best to be there for him.

Once he's showered and changed into some comfortable clothes, Bucky returns downstairs where he can hear Steve's yelps. The kitchen is empty so he walks into the living room, where you're sitting on the couch with Steve's head on your lap while you tweeze his brows.

"Ow!" The blond cries, to which you roll your eyes.

"Hold still, Stevie," You mutter, concentrating on plucking the stray hairs. "It doesn't hurt that bad."

"Easy for you to say," He grumbles bitterly, wincing when you pull out another hair.

Bucky comes to sit behind you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Hi, peanut," He whispers into your ear. "How was your day?"

"It was good," You reply, pulling out another few hairs while Steve whimpers. "Didn't go shopping, but I did get lunch with Happy and May."

"You third-wheeled? How embarassing," Steve teases you, making you and Bucky roll your eyes.

"Did Coulson come over?" Bucky asks you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Not today," You tell him. "He called and said he's coming on Friday, instead."

"Really? This Friday?" Bucky asks you with a frown.

"Yeah," You confirm. "Why? Is that a problem?"

Bucky bites his lip. He was planning on whisking you away to Italy for the weekend on Friday morning to celebrate the anniversary of the day he proposed to you, but he can't tell you that.

"Uh, Fridays are statistically when most break-ins happen, so I don't want him messing around with the security in case he fucks the system up," He excuses quickly. "I'll call him later and ask him to come next week, instead."

Raising a brow, you let out a laugh. "Uh, okay then," You say, before patting Steve's shoulder. "All done, Rogers."

"Finally," He breathes out with relief.

"So, are you going shopping with Wanda tomorrow, instead?" Bucky asks, rubbing your shoulders soothingly.

"Uh, I don't know, why?" You question him while playing with Steve's hair. "Do you need me to get you something?"

He needs you to get your fucking nails done for the trip, but he can't tell you that.

"Yes, actually," He claims. "Uh, cufflinks. I need a new pair."

You turn to look at him, a look of dejection in your eyes. "Oh. Did- do you not like the ones I got for your birthday? Do you want me to exchange them?"

He inwardly curses himself at his blunder. Of course I fucking like the cufflinks with your damn initials on them, peanut. "Did I say cufflinks?" He asks, feigning confusion. "I'm such an idiot; I meant... tie. I want a new tie."

"You want a new tie?" You ask, while Steve, who knows of Bucky's plan, struggles to keep in his laughs.

"Yes, I want a new tie, and I want my pretty baby to pick it out," Bucky says firmly. "For the party next weekend."

"Oh, okay," You agree with a growing smile. "Then I'll buy you the best damn tie you'll ever wear."

"I know you will," He replies lowly, kissing your cheek.

"Shit," You hiss suddenly, pushing Steve off your lap. "I need to check on the food!"

With that, you rush into the kitchen, with Bucky following you in. "What's for dinner?" He asks, watching as you take a dish out of the air fryer.

"Fried chicken," You answer him with a grin. "And potato wedges."

While you mix the salad, Bucky comes up behind you, stroking your hips. His hand slips up your blouse, where he pulls down your bra cup and grabs your boob. With his mouth at your ear, he strokes his thumb over your nipple, making you shudder. "I wanna be inside you so bad, baby," He whispers, making you shiver.

"Jay," You whine, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Before he can do anything else, Steve walks in, making Bucky pull your bra back up and take his hands off of you. You catch your breath while looking down at the salad, trying to regain your composure.

"Smells incredible," Steve says with a grin.

"Could you grab the wedges out of the oven?" You request while continuing to mix the salad, to which he complies.

Bucky steps closer to you and gently grabs your hands, turning you to face him. "You go ahead and sit down at the table, peanut; Steve and I will dish up."

"No, bubba, you go sit down," You insist. "You've been working all day-"

"So have you, now go sit down," He repeats firmly. "Don't make me say it again."

Defeated, you give in, leaning up to kiss him quickly before making your way into the adjacent dining area. You take a seat at the head of the table and pour yourself some water before realizing there's no wine.

"Steve, could you go grab a bottle from the wine cellar?" You call out to the kitchen. "I hate going down there alone."

"Sure thing, ma'am," Steve replies, making his way out to you.

"Just grab whatever you want," You tell him nonchalantly as he treks over to the cellar door.

Sticking his head out the kitchen door with a dish cloth over his shoulder, Bucky raises a brow. "No, Steve - grab the '95 Sassicaia," He corrects pointedly, to which you roll your eyes.

"Pretentious dick," You mutter, making him walk further out into the dining area.

"Excuse me?" Bucky scoffs while Steve disappears down the stairs. "You love my pretentious dick."

Sighing, you nod and sit back. "I really do."

He smirks as he comes closer, standing over you. Slowly, he reaches his hand out and wraps it around your throat, tilting your head up. "You want it deep inside you, don't you?"

Letting out a shaky breath, you squeeze your legs together. You nod, bucking your hips up. "I do, daddy."

Leaning down, he tightens his grip on your neck, making your stomach flip. "I've been thinking about railing you all day. Can't wait to fuck your brains out tonight," He growls.

"Please," You sputter with wide eyes.

"Say it, baby," He orders you. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"I- I want daddy to fuck me," You let out weakly, clinging onto his wrist.

"Oh, daddy will, baby," Bucky coos softly, leaning forward to kiss you forehead. "Daddy's gonna fuck you so good tonight."

The sound of ascending steps from the cellar make him release your throat and step back, while you cross your leg over the other and feel your heart racing in your chest.

"Found the sassy shit you wanted," Steve announces as he enters the room, placing the bottle of Sassicaia on the table with a proud look.

"Thank you, Steve," You say graciously, giving him a polite smile while trying to get Bucky's dirty words out of your head.

Bucky and Steve get on with plating up and serving the food, and a few minutes later, you're all sitting at the table and digging in.

"So, how were your days?" Bucky asks you both. "Did you do anything besides annoy my wife, Rog?"

"Actually, I bought a car this morning," Steve says pointedly, making you frown.

"Steven, what have I told you? This is not the time for you to be spending money so carelessly," You scold him.

"I'm gonna sell the Ferrari, so it's fine," He defends himself. "Besides; Peg and I signed a pre-nup. I'm smart, and I'm safe."

"Still," You press sternly. "You're gonna be buying a new house, soon, and you know how much you love to renovate."

"Darling, relax," Steve says calmly. "I'm rich!"

"Peanut has a point, Rogers," Bucky adds curtly. "It's not a good look, going on a spending spree when you're supposed to be going through a divorce."

"I don't care how it looks," Steve retorts bitterly. "I just wanna leave that bitch and be done with it."

"Steve," You whisper with wide eyes, shaking your head. "Don't say that."

"Whatever. Everyone gets divorced nowadays; it's fine," He claims with a shrug, before giving Bucky a frown. "Did you guys sign a pre-nup?"

"Of course not," Bucky replies instantly.

"Really?" Steve asks, bewildered for a second before he relaxes. "Eh, makes sense. You two have always been horrifically in love."

"Peanut already knows that every cent of my money is hers," Bucky goes on to say, squeezing your hand. "We didn't need to sign anything to confirm that. And we definitely didn't need to prepare for a... I can't even say it."

"Yeah, man, how do you think I feel?" Steve asks with a dry laugh. "Fuckin' sucks."

"Anyway," You interject, sitting up. "More chicken, anyone?"

After changing the subject to a much lighter topic, the dinner continues. You share jokes, Bucky rants about his new, 'utterly incompetent' assistant, curses Peter for taking paternity leave and leaving him with the new incompetent assistant, and Steve makes false promises to cook for you next time.

"That was incredible," Steve groans as he puts down his knife and fork. "I haven't had a decent home-cooked meal in so long."

"You were eating my lasagne three days ago, you dramatic oaf," You point out with a laugh.

"Three days is a long time," He claims stubbornly.

Bucky reaches out to take your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. "It really was amazing, baby," He tells you earnestly. "Thank you for always feeding us so well."

"Of course, bubba," You reply bashfully through a grin. "I love making you food; you know that."

"And I love you," He replies lowly, kissing your hand again and keeping it close to his lips. God, he can't wait to see the look on your face when he flies you out to Italy. Lately, his bigger romantic gestures have been few and far between, and you deserve to be swept off your feet and spoiled rotten.

Watching the basic interaction between you both brings up feelings to the surface that Steve didn't even know were there. Suddenly, he's hit with a horrid wave of hurt, but he does he best to keep up a brave face.

You glance over at him and immediately, you can tell something isn't right. "You okay, Steve?" You ask him softly with a concerned look in your eyes.

He nods, avoiding your gaze because he knows it will only make him feel worse. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, I just... Fuck," He mutters as his eyes tear up.

Getting up to your feet, you rush over to pull him in for a hug, holding his head to your torso as you feel your heart break. "It's okay to be upset, Steve. You're allowed to be upset."

"I'm not even, I... fuck," He utters with a scoff, shocked even at himself. "Shitting fuck. Why am I crying?"

"You're okay, my darling, you can cry if you need to," You mumble while Bucky begins to collect the empty dishes and take them back to the kitchen. Looking down at him, you bring up your thumbs to wipe away the stray tears from Steve's cheeks. "I can't even imagine your pain, but I promise you'll get through it. Jamie and I are here to help you through it. Never think that you're alone."

"I know. I'm fine, I swear," He claims with a sniffle, resting against you. "Too much wine, maybe."

Steve nods before pulling back and letting out a sigh. "Right. Enough of the dramatics," He states firmly.

You stay with him for a while, swaying him gently while Bucky clears the table. Once he's done, he walks over to join you, patting Steve's head. "You're gonna be more than okay, pal," He promises. "You're gonna be better. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but there is a way through this. We've got you."

"Anyone up for dessert?" You ask expectantly. "Mary-Ann made these cheesecake brownie things for some event at her daughter's school and had a bunch left over, so she gave us some."

"Mary-Ann, as in the one who's in love with your husband?" Steve asks with a raised brow as you make your way to the kitchen.

"The very same!" You call back with a laugh.

"She is not in love with me," Bucky argues firmly, sitting back down in his seat. "I honestly have no clue where this joke came from."

"Uh, it came from her obvious obsession with you," Steve says with a chuckle. "And it's not a joke, Buck-a-roo."

Once you've retrieved the brownies, you waltz back into the dining area. "Wanna know what she said when she gave me these?" You ask rhetorically, leaning down to utter with a sultry voice in Bucky's ear, "Make sure to let me know if James likes them; I know he's hard to please."

"James?" Steve repeats incredulously. "She called your husband James?"

"Calls him James," You correct him, putting the brownies down on the table. "Can you believe the nerve?"

"It's not that serious; not everyone wants to use a nickname," Bucky defends. "Some people I work with call me James."

"I have never even introduced you to her as James," You tell him. "Hi, Mary-Ann, this is my husband, Bucky. And what does she do? Calls you by my name."

"I think you oughta beat her ass," Steve suggests with a smirk. "Do it in front of her daughter for optimal humiliation."

"I might just," You mutter bitterly.

Bucky pulls you down onto his lap, gently biting your arm. "You have nothing to worry about, my baby."

You scoff at his words. "When did I say I was worried?" You ask him with a raised brow, before looking over at Steve. "Did I say I was worried at any point, Steven?"

"No, Mrs. Barnes, you did not," Steve answers you. "But, Mr. Barnes' comment does lead me to think that you might actually have something to worry about."

"Shut up, punk," Bucky grumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Pair of dumbasses, the two of you."

You lean forward to grab a brownie, before bringing to Bucky's lips. "Let's see if your secret lover's baking is better than mine," You say teasingly as he takes a bite.

Bucky slowly nods as he chews it, keeping his eyes on yours. Once he swallows, he lets out a hum. "You know what?" He asks. "I might just have to fuck Mary-Ann again, it was that good."

"Bastard!" You cry, hitting his shoulder while him and Steve laugh heartily.

"I love you," Bucky says as he prevents you from standing up by tightening his grip around you. "I love you, and this brownie sucks."

Steve grabs a brownie and takes a bite, his eyes widening as he chews. "Can you give me Mary-Ann's number?"

"Pricks," You mutter with an eye roll, before bringing the rest of the brownie in your hand up to your own mouth. You take a bite and, admittedly, it's pretty fucking good.

"What's the verdict?" Bucky asks curiously, bouncing his leg beneath you. "Good enough to let her off for being in love with me?"

"First of all, you just admitted she's in love with you, so Steve, I'd like you to make a mental note of that," You say, pointing at him. "And secondly, no. It's good, but mine would taste better - if I ever stooped so low as to make cheesecake brownies, that is."

Bucky grins at your words. "Now who's the pretentious dick?"

"Speaking of pretentious," Steve begins. "You coming to the party next weekend, peanut?"

"Don't call her that," Bucky cuts in with a tone of disgust.

"Oh, so you don't like it when someone else calls me the name that you use for me?" You ask him with a raised brow.

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky sighs. "Okay, so I see how that could be annoying."

"Thank you very much!" You exclaim with relief. "And thank you, Steven, for demonstrating it so well."

"Yeah, whatever, anyway, are you coming?" He presses expectantly. "It's gonna be at that hotel you like; the Gold Leaf."

"I guess I have to come, as Bucky Barnes' beautiful wife, and all," You say dryly with a shrug. "Might be fun - unless Graham's gonna be there."

"Ugh, he is," Bucky confirms with disdain.

"Fabulous," You sigh. "Always fun talking to him."

"If he says a single thing I don't like this time, I'm gonna be having words with him," Bucky says threateningly.

"Ooh, words," You repeat teasingly. "He must be so scared."

"Yeah, way to intimidate a guy for flirting with your wife," Steve adds with a snort.

"What do you want me to do?" Bucky asks incredulously. "Kill him?"

"Yes," You say curtly. "You should kill every man who even glances in my direction with less than pure intentions."

He narrows his eyes. "Believe me, peanut, I want to."

"On that note," Steve states, standing up. "I should go. It's getting late."

"Are you sure?" You ask, standing up too. "You don't want a coffee, or another drink?"

"Nah; I need to drive back," He tells you, stealing another brownie. The three of you walk to the front door which Steve opens before turning back to you. "Thank you for everything, sweetheart; dinner was great."

"Thank you for coming," You reply as he pulls you in for a hug. "You're always welcome here."

"Oh, I know," He says as he pulls away before grabbing Bucky for a quick hug. "I appreciate you both, very much."

"We love you," You tell him sweetly.

Bucky wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his side. "You better be at work tomorrow, Rogers," He warns him.

"I will be," Steve promises with a wink, walking backwards. "And you two better have some mind-blowing sex tonight, for me!"

"Idiot," You say between laughs while Bucky rolls his eyes.

Steve stuffs the brownie into his mouth before giving you a wave and walking over to his car. Once he's driven off, you shut the door and lock it. Before you can even say a single word, Bucky throws you over his shoulder and begins to make his way to the staircase.

"Jamie!" You squeal with excitement.

"Been wanting you all day," He grumbles, spanking your ass as he jogs up the stairs. "Do you know how insane the thought of you makes me?"

"I have an idea," You tell him coyly while he takes you into the bedroom. He then drops you onto the bed with a thump, and is about to rip off your dress when you stop him. "Wait!"

Concern floods features as he moves back. "Is everything alright, peanut?"

"Yes, but just wait here," You order him, pulling him down onto the bed and standing up yourself. "I'll be two minutes!"

With that, you rush into the en suite, leaving a frustrated Bucky with a boner and a huff. "What are you doing, baby?" He calls out. "You better not be shaving."

"I'm not!" You promise, your voice muffled through the door. "Just give me a second; I've been waiting for this all day!"

Bucky lets out a sigh, lying back on the bed. His lips curl up with anticipation as to what awaits him; a night of pure pleasure. A few moments into his naughty daydreams later, the bathroom door swings open and he immediately sits up.

"Baby," He whispers as he takes in your appearance, wide-eyed and mystified. "You look absolutely incredible."

There you stand wearing nothing but a black, lacey lingerie bodysuit and your heels. Your curves are laid bare to him as you coyly walk over to the bed, smirking.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes," You greet him, crawling onto the bed. "I need your help."

He raises a brow and lets out a shaky breath. "Yeah? And what do you need my help with, baby?"

Biting your lip, you sit on your knees in front of him and tilt your head. "I need you to fuck me, right now," You tell him dramatically. "The fate of the world depends on it."

A soft chuckle leaves his mouth as he looks you up and down. "Yeah? You need me to breed you?"

"Yes, I do," You confirm. "You need to get me pregnant, as soon as possible- or else, the aliens will take over."

He snorts before regaining his composure and nodding. "I can do that, sweetheart. I can give you a baby."

Slowly, you spread your legs, revealing the crotchless panties. Bucky swallows thickly at the sight of your glistening pussy, his lips parting. "This is urgent, Mr. Barnes," You say with desperation. "You need to fuck a baby into me, now!"

After removing his shirt and pants, Bucky gets onto his knees in front of you and grabs you by the waist. "Don't you worry, baby, daddy's gonna get you pregnant," He promises with a growl. "Gonna fill you up with my seed."

You smile widely as he picks you up and puts you into his lap, rubbing your wet cunt against his hard dick. "Inside, daddy," You whine. "Put it deep inside me."

"Are you sure, baby?" He asks you gently. "Are you sure you can take my big cock?"

"I have no choice," You tell him, clinging onto his shoulders. "I need to do this, for the future of humanity!"

"Yes, you do," He agrees, rubbing his cock against your clit. "You're gonna be a good little cumdump for me, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir," You promise, rocking your hips desperately. "I'll be your cumdump, daddy."

"That's a good girl," He praises you before slowly sinking into your tight cunt. "Oh, fuck."

Your head falls back as he fills you up, every inch of your skin on fire. "So big, daddy. I can't take it."

"Shh, baby, it's okay," He coos, stroking your face as his eyes darken. "You're gonna take it." With that, he plunges his entire length into you, taking your breath away. The pain is an enhancer for the pleasure, and you let out a loud, wanton cry that'd make a porn star blush.

He begins thrusting in and out of you with vigor, grunting as your pussy swallows him deeply.

"Right there," You moan, digging your nails into his shoulder. "Right there, daddy."

"My girl's gonna be so beautiful, all filled up with my baby," He utters, ripping apart your lingerie to reveal your chest. "Tits are gonna be so full of milk for our child."

Your eyes roll back at his words as he slams into your harder, making it hard for you to think straight.

"Such sweet fuckin' milk," Bucky growls before latching his mouth onto your nipple and sucking on it, sending waves of electric delight through your body. He pulls off with a pop, smirking at you. "Mommy's gonna feed me her milk, isn't she?"

"Yes, Jamie," You promise, pulling his hair. "Oh, my God."

"Mmm, that's right," He grumbles, playing with your tits. "Such a pretty mommy." With that, he starts sucking on the other nipple, slowly pushing you down onto the bed and getting on top of you.

He fucks you into the mattress, his hips snapping against yours as his fingers pull and twist your neglected nipple. Your back arches up as you whimper and whine, feeling your pleasure building up to its climax.

"Daddy," You begin, clawing his back. "Please, can I cum?"

Pulling his mouth off your nipple, he moves up to rest his head in the crux of your neck. "Not yet," He growls, fucking you harder. "You don't get to cum until I tell you to."

His words only make you hotter, letting him take control over you. Bucky places one of his hands on your stomach and pushes down on it gently. "You feel me right here, peanut?" He asks breathlessly. "Feel how deep inside you I am?"

"Oh, God," You gasp, your vision blurring.

"Gonna fill you up, make your belly nice and round with my baby," He tells you lowly, his lips brushing against yours. "You'll be a perfect mommy for me, won't you?"

"Yes, Sir," You reply feebly, feeling your head lighten.

"You're the prettiest little cumdump, you know that?" He whispers. "So fucking gorgeous."

"Daddy," You whine. "Need to cum."

"Yeah?" Bucky asks with an arrogant smirk, before suddenly bringing his fingers to your clit and rubbing quick circles onto it.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" You scream, feeling yourself fall off the edge as the pressure on your core increases.

He leans down, bringing his lips to your ear, and whispers, "Cum."

Your legs shake around him as you finally let go, entranced by blinding pleasure. Waves of pleasure shoot through your body as you gush onto his cock, tightening around his girth. Bucky isn't far behind you, taking a few seconds before he releases his seed deep inside you.

"Take it all, baby," He grunts, thrusting into you sloppily. "Take every fucking drop, like the good cumdump you are."

You fade in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes, feeling weak and exhausted. Gentle hands clean and clothe you, a soft voice whispering into your ear about how good you were tonight.

When your eyes are finally able to fully open again, you see the dimly lit ceiling above you. You turn your head to the side to see Bucky standing over the bed, moisturizing his face. He smiles when he sees you staring, before shooting you a wink.

"Welcome back, peanut," He says teasingly, kneeling onto the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Need to sleep," You mumble groggily. "Did you- did you do my face?"

"I did, baby," He assures you, getting under the duvet next to you before pulling you into his arms and kissing your cheek.

"Did we save humanity from the aliens?" You question him. "With our mind-blowing sex?"

"We did, peanut," He tells you with a grin. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"How much?" You ask, a shadow of a smile playing at your lips.

He holds you tighter to his chest, resting his head in your neck. "More than there are drops of water in the ocean. More than there are stars in the sky. More than there are atoms in the galaxy."

"That's a lot," You reply softly, before adding, "I love you even more than that."

Chuckling, he presses a kiss to your neck. "If you say so."

"Good night, bubba," You mumble sweetly. "I love you."

"Good night, peanut," Bucky replies with you in his arms. "I love you."

Today was a great day.

aw how cute was that.

bucky masterlist

side blog for update notifications: @kinanabinksupdates

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Are You Now or Have You Ever Been Masterlist

Summary: You’re the most popular girl in school, a 4.0 student, a fantastic cheerleader, and a  force to be reckoned with. Eddie is…well, Eddie. When you two mix, it’s like oil and water. Spewing hateful insults one minute and hooking up the next, you and Eddie navigate the thin line between love and hate. 

Enemies with benefits, or more aptly put: enemies to situationship to enemies to lovers. She’s a doozy. Inspired by imgonnagetyouback by Taylor Swift, give it a listen!

WC: 40k, ONLY 2 PARTS

Warnings: 18+ mdni!! Angst with a happy ending, fat shaming (once and not to reader), no use of Y/N, bullying, sex, PiV, unprotected sex, teasing, degradation, humiliation kink, Reader is mean to Eddie, Eddie is mean to Reader, semi-public sex, Eddie is 20 R is 18, groping, fingering, oral (m receiving), ball play, ball worship (I love bawls), body worship, pussy slapping, rough sex, name calling (dirty whore, slut–kinda, cumdump, whore, nasty bitch, desperate whore, bitch, hole), begging, dumbification kinda, ass slapping, dirty talk, mentions of drugs, teasing, mentions of cheating (hypothetical), breeding kink, spitting, cum eating, cream pie, gagging on dick, like a little face fucking but not really, innocence kink kinda if you squint but not really, Eddie hates Jason Carver, slut shaming, malicious attempt at getting someone alone (Jason), weed smoking, brief mention of student-teacher relations (not R or E, student is 18), arguments, angry name calling, insinuation of sex for money, insecurity about living situation, stereotypes of trailer park living, mentions of a gun (no usage just in a literary sense), reader’s parents died in a drunk driver incident and she talks about it crassly at one point, metaphorical addiction a la Nicotine by PATD type beat, small mention of hypothetical weight gain (eddie), mention of “felony sexual assault” but nothing happens it’s just used as a snark against Jason, physical violence (not E to R), punching, kicking, fighitng, I’m making Eddie tall in this so however tall you are he’s taller

A/N: a post with both parts in the same place. I didn't want to split them up, but apparently tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks of text and you bet your bottom dollar this shit was over 1000 lmao

Main Masterlist

Part 1

WC: 25.4k-ish

Part 2

WC: 14.7k

Stars In My Eyes

(a part two to this fic!)

modern music teacher!eddie munson x art teacher fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: fluff, so fluffy, first dates, first kisses, some anxiety/stress, a little dash of coach!steve harrington, suggestiveness

author's note: i feel like this took me ages to write! so sorry for the wait...i do sort of love how this turned out :) writing a first kiss scene is hard!!!

please let me know what your thoughts are on this series!

word count: 7.7k

Eddie Munson couldn’t believe his luck.

Like, sure he’s gotten lucky a few times before.  There was that one time an officer let him off with a warning after he rolled through a stop sign, he’d played the “I’m a teacher during finals week” card and it had seemed to work out pretty well for him.  There were also a few times when a stranger in front of him at the Starbucks drive thru had paid for his morning coffee, only for him to turn around and see there was no one behind him to pay it forward to.  

And then, there was that time back during his final senior year where Stacy Cowell was going through a “rebel phase” and decided to give Eddie a string of random blowjobs over the course of a week and a half to make herself feel like she was living on “the wild side.”  She quickly transitioned out of that phase when Eddie had asked her out on a date, he figured they should probably make an effort to learn a little about each other if she was going to be deepthroating him in the back of his van every other day after school.  She turned him down with a disgusted sneer, leaving Eddie a little heartbroken by the fact that a girl could be so offended at the idea of a date with him.  

But none of that even mattered to Eddie anymore.  All of those situations touched by a bit of luck have been reduced down to mere coincidences now that he has you in his life.  Even though it was only one IKEA date trip that the two of you went on last weekend, Eddie couldn’t stop himself from imagining a long, happy future with you because of how fucking perfect it all went.

- 

You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervously giddy over anything in your entire life.  There had never really been any boys that you were crazy for when you were younger.  Sure, you’d been in love a couple times before, but nothing was ever…”wow.” 

 You’d never felt any real sparks, never met anyone truly special enough to change your life like all of the women you’d seen in movies or read about in books.  

But Eddie…he was very much wow.

After you’d worked out the details for your IKEA trip that afternoon in your classroom, you found it hard to stop blushing for the remainder of the week.  The both of you decided that you’d go on Saturday morning, and Eddie had insisted on picking you up and driving there together.  He bowed his head and lightly pressed his lips to your hand in a dramatic and silly fashion before leaving your classroom.  Your knees felt weak and a bright red blush bloomed on your face as Eddie stood back up to his full height to face you. 

“You know,” he started, still holding your hand, "you're really cute when you blush like that.”

A tiny squeak is all that comes out of your mouth when you open it to respond.  

You struggle to put together a coherent sentence and settle for the smile and girlish giggle that bubbled its way out of your chest.  

“I’ll see you later.”

Eddie started to walk backwards, keeping your hand in his grasp until he was too far away and then turning around to exit your classroom.  There wasn’t much else you could do except stare at the hand that had just been held by him, while holding your other over your mouth in shock.  

Eddie waited the appropriate five seconds after being out of your line of sight before erupting into a silent “fist-punching-head-banging-fuck yeah!” celebration in the hallway.  He couldn’t believe he kissed your hand.  The thought to kiss your hand had barely graced his mind before his body had made the decision to go through with it.  Eddie was terrified that his nerdy qualities would cause you to run for the hills, or that you’d think he was weird or stupid.

But instead, you’d blushed bright red and blessed his ears with a giggle, and all of Eddie’s worries and fears were banished from his mind at the sound of it.  

Eddie decided he was going to really enjoy taking every opportunity to make you blush.  

-

There were only two days until your IKEA trip with Eddie, and somehow you kept missing each other in the hallways at school.  On the rare occasion that Eddie had a spare moment, you were at some kind of art teacher workshop.  Whenever you could pull yourself away from decorating your classroom and lesson-planning, Eddie was leaving early for the day to go look at different types of Tubano drums for his classroom.  

There were a couple of staff meetings that everyone had to attend, but the two of you never ended up sitting next to each other.  Instead, you would indulge in a game of eye tag, making yourself feel like you were in high school all over again with a big fat crush.  

While you were really looking forward to your day out with Eddie, a tiny part of you was glad that you weren’t running into him constantly.  You found yourself overpouring your coffee in the morning because of the way the deep brown shade of the coffee matched the color of Eddie’s eyes.  You accidentally took a sip out of your paint water cup instead of your drinking cup because you were staring off at the lamps in your room, wondering which one had been Eddie’s favorite.  Two days was just what you needed to collect yourself enough to act like a normal human being before you saw Eddie again.  You weren’t even allowing yourself the time to think about being in a car with him for the hour that it took to get to IKEA.  All of the workshops, lesson plans and other preparation for the start of school kept you calm and collected.

Eddie, on the other hand, was reduced to a pile of chunky silver rings and nerves.  He couldn’t stop thinking about everything he had to get done before your trip…date?  Was it a date?  Did you say the word date when you asked him?  Is it even a date when the girl asks the guy-

Eddie’s frantic pacing is interrupted by a shark knock on his propped open classroom door.

“Yo, Munson.  How’s the…” Steve trailed off as he took in Eddie’s disheveled state.  “Dude.”

“I know, I know, man.” Eddie responds, plopping down in a chair that was meant for one of his students.  He puts his head in his hands, tugging on the roots to try and get a grip.

“What’s goin’ on, Ed?  I haven’t seen you this distraught since One Direction broke up.”  Steve sits on top of a desk next to Eddie, jabbing him softly in the shoulder after his lame attempt at getting a smile out of Eddie.  

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head at the stupid joke.  He looks up at Steve with a deep sigh, then stands up and grabs him by the shoulders.

“If I tell you, it stays between us.”  Eddie fixes Steve with a hard look and raised eyebrows, not any different from the look he gives his students when they’re getting up to no good.  “I’m so dead serious.”

Steve’s eyes widen at the sudden seriousness, making a cross over his chest with his finger.  “Yeah man, cross my heart and all that.”

Eddie lets go of Steve, slumping back into the chair with a huff.  

“How do you know that a date is a date, and not just a friend thing?”

Steve smiles cockily and leans forward, always interested in Eddie’s love life…or lack thereof.

“Well, I don’t know…I think I might have to hear a little more about this special lady in order for me to provide some of my good ol’ Harrington Love Advice.”  Steve wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, throwing in a wink for the sake of being annoying.

Eddie rolls his eyes, he knew it was a mistake to bring up girls around this guy.  Steve was always giving Eddie pointers on how to get chicks the way he did, but Eddie was in no way similar to Steve when it came to relationships.  Steve never had nothing to do on the weekends, always with a new girl, sometimes even the single moms at school.  He’d meet them out at a bar, woo them, take them to dinner and then even sometimes back to his place.  Despite his fuck-boy tendencies, Eddie knows it’s never that meaningful for either party.  Steve’s been pining after one of the English teachers for years, and these flings are only serving as a way to satiate his intensely flirtatious side.  

As annoying as he may be, it would be nice to rant about all of his pent up loverboy feelings for you to Steve.  Eddie knows he’s just giving him a hard time, it’s one of the many love languages they share as best friends.

“I-it’s just…she’s so beautiful man, like…holy fuck.”  Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, looking off into the distance as he rambles on about you.  “I mean just…she looks like some kind of Elven princess-angel-goddess-fairy–”

“Dude, Ed.  None of that nerd shit please, say it to me in English.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head with a sigh.  

“Okay.  I really like her.  I haven’t felt this way in years, maybe ever.  We met officially yesterday and just…clicked.”

Steve smiles at Eddie as he talks about you, happy to see his friend so excited about someone.

“We made plans to go to IKEA this weekend, but I don’t know what to make of it?  Is it a date?  Should I bring her flowers?  What if I do bring her flowers and she gets weirded out because it was actually never a date at all?”

Steve holds his hands up like he’s trying to calm down an animal.  

“Woah there, buddy.  No need to get all freaked out about it.”  Steve can’t help but to laugh a little at the helpless look on his friend’s face.  “Let’s just start with the details, okay?  Who asked who?”

“She asked me.  I said I liked her lamps and then she said she got them at IKEA and then I said that I needed some for my room and then she said that we should go to IKEAandshopforsometogether-”

“Okay, okay man.  Take a deep breath.”  Steve motions for Eddie to inhale for a couple seconds.  

“Then let it all out.”  Eddie expels the breath from his lips in a hard huff, looking a little calmer.  “Alright.  So, she asked you?”

Eddie nods.

“That’s good, it means she’s interested!  Not a lot of women are making the first move these days, it means that she definitely wants a slice of Munson.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at Steve, but still waits for him to go on.

“Are you picking her up for the trip to IKEA?”

“Yeah, I offered to pick her up and drive us both there since it’s about an hour away.”

Steve scratches his five o’clock stubble.

“Hmm…okay.  Did she like…jump at the chance for you to drive her or was there some hesitation before she agreed?”

Eddie thinks back to that moment.  How the two of you were standing slightly too close for new friends, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle as you looked up at him, how he was surprised you couldn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest.  

He remembers offering to drive the both of you to the store, surprising himself by saying it way calmer than he was feeling.  Your face lit up a little, like you were shocked that he’d even offer to pick you up and drive you there.  You smiled and nodded your head sweetly before agreeing out loud.

Eddie feels himself smiling at the tiny memory.

“It wasn’t like she immediately answered…but she definitely was smiling when she agreed.  She didn’t seem nervous about it or anything, it was more like she was excited or something.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up as a smirk emerges on his face.

“So let me see if I’m getting this straight.  She asked you to go to IKEA, probably knowing it was a long drive, and then she happily agreed to let you pick her up and drive the two of you there?  For a whole two hours there and back?”

Eddie nods, anxiously awaiting Steve’s opinion on all of this.

“I mean, it’ll probably be a good four or five hours that you spend together driving and shopping.”

Steve fixes Eddie with a look that says ‘c’mon man, it’s obvious.’

Eddie’s had enough of his edging.  “Will you just get to the fucking point please for the love of god?”

Steve sighs and claps a hand on Eddie's shoulder. 

“Ed, it’s a date.”

Eddie barks out a triumphant laugh and Steve does the same.  The two men high five and Steve wraps a beefy arm around Eddie’s shoulder to pat him on the chest.  Eddie can’t help but to let out a big sigh of relief now that he can stop worrying about how to act on this trip date.

-

On Friday, you could’ve sworn you went slightly neurotic.  

Since Tuesday you’d been considering your day with Eddie as a date, but it suddenly hit you that maybe he didn’t feel the same way.  What if you’d been doing all this worrying and freaking out for no reason?  What if he ends up calling you ‘dude’ the entire day?  What if he has a girlfriend already, and he just agreed to take you to IKEA so that you wouldn’t get your feelings hurt?

You’d been running circles in your head trying to prepare yourself for any and all possible outcomes that Saturday could hold for you, but none of it seemed to be doing you any good.

So, you did what you always did whenever you found yourself flipping out over something new.

You made a to-do list. 

Pick out an outfit.  Dress! too fancy…jeans?  Dress, definitely dress. not too fancy though…

Drink wine 

Watch movie

Clean house…again

Drink more wine

Possibly reconsider outfit…

After all was said and done, you plopped down on your worn-in couch, sufficiently drunk with a clean house and an outfit neatly hung up outside of your closet.  You decide to pour your third and final glass of wine for the evening, and to surrender your anxiety to the gods of love.  You hope and pray that they like you enough to let you have this one. 

-

It was finally Saturday.  Eddie stands in front of his closet furiously, wondering why in the fuck he can’t find a single thing to wear for his date with you today.  He’s got enough clothes to fill his entire closet, dresser, and a $20 clothing rack he picked up at Target years ago.  Steve said to just go with what felt the most like ‘Eddie’, but he’s suddenly unable to remember what his style even looks like.  

He wants to punch himself in the nuts for not taking the time last night to plan this all out like a normal person.  

He ends up settling for a fitted white tee, a pair of trusty black jeans, and black boots.  On a FaceTime call with Steve (so he could approve Eddie’s choice), Steve mentioned that the outfit was casual, but still fairly nice, and that the white shirt showed off his tattoos and muscles.

“Chicks dig the muscles and white tee combo, man.  Trust.”

Eddie chuckles at his friend’s ‘frat boy’ lingo, but the comment makes him feel better about his appearance anyways.  Last year, Steve had managed to convince Eddie to start going to the gym with him after school during the week, and it pains him to admit that he sort of really likes it now.  He likes how much stronger he feels, he likes sweating out all of his frustrations, and most of all he likes the way he fills out his t-shirts now.

After hanging up the call with Steve, Eddie flexes a little in his mirror before leaving to go pick you up.  He decides to do a few last minute push ups and to moisturize the tattoos on his arms so that he looks extra good for you.

-

Perhaps being slightly neurotic about this date was a good idea.

Thanks to all of your meticulous planning, you managed to get completely ready with a half hour to spare.  You decided against sitting on your couch until Eddie arrived since the nervous butterflies in your stomach made you want to throw up, so you opted to wander around your house for the remainder of the time.

You pass by your mirror, doing a final check and making sure your outfit and makeup are up to par.  You’d decided on a simple white dress, with a denim button up thrown over it and your pair of black chelsea boots that had yet to let you down.  You smile at your reflection, happy that you’d managed to choose a comfy and cute outfit that felt like you.

There’d been too many dates before this one where you’d gone out and spent insane amounts of money on brand new outfits that you weren’t even sure you really liked, all in the name of impressing your date and hoping he likes you enough to ask you out on a second one.  When prepping for those dates, you spent hours upon hours running around like a mad woman.  Shaving, plucking, tweezing, waxing.  Making sure your hair curled just right and that your eyeliner was sexy, but not slutty.

You couldn’t figure out why Eddie felt so different to you.  Even though the nerves of a first date had really freaked you out the night before, this morning was fairly calm.  Sure, you took plenty of time in the shower and doing your hair and makeup, but it didn’t feel like you were trying to morph into a different version of yourself to please a man. 

It felt more like you were trying your best to look like your favorite version of yourself. 

You want Eddie to know who you are inside and outside of work, and you really hope that he likes what he finds. 

-

Eddie stays parked outside of your house for a minute or two to try and settle his nerves.  

You lived in a small, red brick house in a family neighborhood.  There were flowers planted in the beds under your windows, and your front door was painted a deep turquoise color.  Eddie sucks in a breath when he sees your figure moving around through the gauzy white curtains covering your windows.  

How can a hazy silhouette still be so beautiful?

Looking into his rearview mirror, Eddie takes a deep breath.

“You got this man.  Be cool.”

He turns his car off and makes his way to your front door, knocking three times and then taking a step back to wait for you.

It takes all of two seconds for your front door to swing open, revealing you on the other side.

Eddie immediately feels weak in the knees.  You looked so cute in your little boots, and he couldn’t help but to let his eyes trail up the smooth skin of your legs.  He gulped a bit at the short hem of your dress, and then realized he should probably say something.

“Hey you.”

“Hi,” You smile up at him bashfully as he looks you up and down.  You take the opportunity to look him over as well, and damn.  You already knew he was sexy, but his tight tee shirt and pulled back hair made you want to drag him into your house and do things to him…

You only notice that he’s been holding a hand behind his back when he brings it out in front of him, revealing a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  

“These are for you.  I didn’t know which was your favorite, so I just asked the lady to throw together a bunch of different kinds and to make it look pretty.”  Eddie holds the colorful bouquet out to you and smiles sheepishly.  

Your mouth hangs open as you reach out to take them, being so careful for no real reason.  You look up at Eddie with those big, sparkling eyes.

“Thank you so much, Eddie.  These are so incredibly beautiful,” he watches you looking down at the flowers, gently brushing your fingers against their petals.  “Let me run inside and find a vase for them real quick.  Come on in!”

You wave him in behind you and hurry inside.

Eddie tries to suppress the excitement he feels at being invited into your home.  He felt like he already got a good glimpse at who you are and how you express yourself when he was inside your classroom, but he’s now getting to see where you spend the majority of your time, where you live.  As he steps over the threshold and into your house, he readies his brain to take mental pictures of everything he sets his eyes on, just in case he never sees it again.

Instantly, he’s hit with a sense of “home.”  The inside of your house is the perfect temperature and it smells so good and womanly, like your perfume and also like you’ve been baking something but somehow also like flowers…Eddie loves it already.

You scurry off into the kitchen, trying not to think about the fact that Eddie Munson is looking around your house right now.

Where in the hell have all of your vases run off to?

Eddie walks around cooly with his hands clasped behind his back, taking in everything about your space.  Much like your classroom, Eddie is able to spot at least four different sized lamps and light fixtures placed around your entryway and living room.  There were warm white Christmas lights hung up along the ceiling, multiple green-leaved plants in different corners, and Eddie even thinks he spotted a black cat sprinting under your soft looking white sectional.

Overall, he’d give your interior design skills an 11/10. 

He’s just starting to miss you a little when you come out from your kitchen holding your flowers in a sparkly glass vase.  

It’s an odd feeling, seeing Eddie in your house.  His ‘edgier’ look seems like it wouldn’t fit with your overall aesthetic, but to your surprise he looks like he belongs here.  You walk up to him almost in a daze, admiring the silver hoop earrings he’s wearing, the smile on his lips, and the way some of his hair has made its way out of his low bun to frame his face.  

The two of you stand there for a moment looking at each other, with you holding your flowers in between your bodies.  You engage in a staring match for almost a second too long before you break the silence.

“No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” you sheepishly admit, looking down at them instead of at him.  Eddie grins at the blush that blooms onto your cheeks after your prolonged eye contact.

Eddie scoffs before he can stop himself.

“Seriously?  That’s a damn shame, sweetheart.”

You look up at him again and try not to faint at how easily the word fell from his perfect lips.  Unable to take another second of his eyes on yours, you retreat into your living room to find the perfect place for your new flowers.  You decide to put them on your coffee table, then turn around to find that Eddie had followed you in.  

He offers his arm out to you, “Shall we?”

This time, you can’t fight the smile.

You take his arm and swipe your purse from the coat hanger next to your front door on your way out.

-

Eddie was the perfect gentleman for the entire duration of the car ride to IKEA.  He had opened the car door for you, he let you pick the music, and he definitely did not sneak a glimpse at your bare, voluminous thighs when your dress shifted as you sat down.  The sweet smell of your perfume spread throughout the interior of his truck, he hopes that smell never fades away.

He couldn’t help glancing over at you every other minute, looking so beautiful in his passenger seat while you bobbed your head to whatever song you had queued up on his phone. 

“Would it be a total invasion of privacy if I played your On Repeat playlist?  I’m dying to know what the music teacher’s favorite music is right now.”  Eddie turned to see that you were smiling pleadingly at him, and how could he say no to that face?

“I suppose,” Eddie sighs dramatically.  “But, you are not allowed to judge me for whatever pops up.”  He playfully points a finger at you while keeping his eyes on the road.  You giggle girlishly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You hit ‘shuffle’ on Eddie’s playlist and aren’t surprised when the first song that plays through the speakers is ‘The Unforgiven ll’ by Metallica.  You already knew Eddie was a fan of the band thanks to the music he always has playing a tad too loudly whenever you pass by his classroom.

“Oh, I know this song!”

Eddie’s face whips towards you sporting a shocked ‘you’ve gotta be kidding me’ expression.  He was definitely expecting you to be the ‘indie music’ type.  Your eyebrows furrow adorably angrily at the look on his face.  

“What?  A girl can’t like Metallica?” You fix him with a look that tells Eddie he should think twice about his response.

“W-well…I just didn’t expect you to be into them…that’s all.”  You roll your eyes playfully at him and cross your arms.  “But!  I’m very pleasantly surprised that you are!  Girls rule, alright?  Men like…totally suck and stuff.”

You chuckle at his frantic attempt at avoiding a lecture on gender inequality and feminism while settling back into your seat.  And because you actually do know and love this song, you start mouthing the words, which eventually evolves into singing them under your breath.

When Eddie thought he spotted you mouthing the words out of the corner of his eye, he was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him.  But just barely hearing you singing the words to his favorite Metallica song just further confirmed a fact that he already knew.

Eddie Munson was totally going to fall in love with you.

The rest of the car ride consisted of sharing music, talking about work and life, childhood memories, and other random topics.  Eddie discovered that you love thunderstorms, your cat’s name is Pascal (after the chameleon from Tangled), and that you moved here at the beginning of summer from Chicago.

Eddie swears there’s never been a conversation in history that flowed as well as yours and his.  He felt like he’s known you for years, and he hopes you’re feeling the same way.

You totally are.

-

Once the two of you made it to IKEA and inside the giant store, Eddie quickly realized that he never really put any thought into what he actually wanted to buy for his classroom.  You swiftly came to his rescue and pulled out your phone to open up Pinterest.

Together, you found a couple pictures that matched the general vibe of Eddie’s classroom.  He grabbed a map of the store and a cart, and set off into the maze of furniture.  

You were back to being shy again, now that you were out in the wild with Eddie.  He found that making jokes about all of the funny names got you giggling, and so he didn’t miss an opportunity.

He made you laugh the hardest next to the Koppang drawers.

You bumped your shoulder into his around the Baggebo bookcases.

His hand brushed yours next to a Tornviken kitchen island. 

And Eddie finally worked up the courage to hold your hand next to a Klippan loveseat.

You gasped a little when you felt his warm hand slide into yours, interlocking your fingers together.  A red hot blush worked its way up your neck as you snuck a glance over at him, only to find that he was already looking at you with a smirk.  He knows exactly what this hand holding is doing to you.

He chuckles smugly as the two of you arrive at the lights section of the store.  As he pushes the cart through the aisles, you’re enamored by the twinkling lights that are draped overhead.  You’re lucky he’s holding your hand, or else you probably would’ve fallen flat on your face.  Eddie can’t help but to stare at you as you stare up at all the different light fixtures.  The different colors and hues of light shine beautifully onto your face, and the soft smile on your lips makes Eddie wish he could just grab you and kiss you right here in the aisle.  But, he figures that would cause you to explode after your reaction to his hand-holding.

He watches as you look further down the aisle at the lamps that are on display there, your face lighting up in recognition.

“Oh!  That’s one that I’ve got in my room!”  You point at an orange, donut shaped light called a Varmblixt.  Eddie recognizes it, you do indeed have one hanging on the wall behind your desk.

“I must have it,” Eddie says with a flourish ,”Never have I seen a more extraordinary donut lamp.”

You giggle and go to grab one to place in the cart, but the box proves to be way heavier than you remember.  Eddie notices as soon as you inhale to exert more effort, and he steps in immediately. 

 No fair maiden such as you should be forced to exert any effort whatsoever in his presence.

“I’ve got it, sweetheart.”

You try not to let the name affect you but once again, you fail.  You’re left blushing and biting your lip, speechless.  You stare unashamed at Eddie as he picks up the heavy box and goes to place it in the cart with ease.  The overhead lights were really doing him favors, every ridge and contour of his body was lit to perfection.  You could see the delicious bulge of his biceps, the ripple of his forearm muscles, and the outline of his chest in his shirt….why is your mouth watering?

Eddie easily places the box in the cart, turning to face you again.  He finds you blushing up at him with wide eyes, and is unable to contain the smug smirk on his face.  The sudden lack of distance between the two of you did not go unnoticed by him, he hoped you couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

The ‘normal you’ would’ve noticed that you were obviously in Eddie’s personal bubble, and you would’ve taken a step back like the respectable adult that you are.  But the ‘normal you’ was long gone in Eddie’s presence.  This version of you was not unlike the version that existed when you were an awkward teenager who was on the brink of passing out anytime a boy even breathed in your direction. 

While you were busy ogling Eddie’s physique, you’d failed to notice the close proximity between the two of you, which led you to your current situation.  

You and him were so close together, you could feel the warm puffs of air from between his parted lips gently hitting your face.  His gaze trailed down from your eyes to your lips, but you wouldn’t have noticed anyways because you were one step ahead of him.

His lips looked so pillowy and soft, you wondered how they’d feel pressed against yours.  Would he kiss you slowly, gently holding your face in his big hands and brushing his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks?  Or would he be rougher than that, grabbing you by the waist and tugging you into him, kissing you with fire and passion?

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow as he watches you suck your bottom lip into your mouth to bite it.  You’re so goddamn beautiful, and you looked like an angel in this aisle of lights.  A lamp from behind you lights up the silhouette of your hair like a halo, and he can see the lights above his head reflected in your eyes like stars.  

Eddie knows he shouldn’t kiss you right now, not in the middle of IKEA where he can hear kids whining to their parents and couples arguing over which shade of beige would match their living room better.  He knows this, but he can’t stop himself from reaching his hand up to gently grasp your jaw.  His thumb slides from your chin to your bottom lip, tugging it free from your teeth.

His hand snakes down to the side of your neck, and you can feel the slight tremor in his hand.  You’re glad that the situation is affecting him too, because you are freaking out.  

Is he going to kiss you right now?  

In IKEA?

On your first date? 

Is this even a date?  

Do you even want him to kiss you?  Idiot, of course you want him to.

Eddie’s eyebrows lift slightly, almost questioning you.  Asking you, ‘Do you want this? Is this okay?’

You answer him with a soft smile, and you feel his hand move behind your neck to pull you in.

It is at this moment that a baby starts to wail one aisle over, effectively ruining any sort of moment you and Eddie had been sharing.

He lets out a frustrated huff, and touches his forehead to yours with closed eyes.  

“Of course,” he groans.

You’re secretly giddy at the fact that he so obviously wanted to kiss you badly.  You bring your hand up to his arm that’s still resting on your neck to give it a reassuring squeeze, and in a surprising burst of confidence, you rise up on your toes to peck him on the cheek.

Eddie’s eyes shoot open at the feeling of your soft lips on his cheek.  He pulls back to stare down at you as his face turns red.

You giggle at him, then turn around to walk down the aisle.

“C’mon, I think I saw another one of my lamps down this way!”

Eddie snaps himself out of his daze with a shake of his head, he’s sure that he’s got hearts in his eyes as he watches you walk away from him.  Grabbing the cart with one hand, he holds his other gently to his cheek, touching the spot that’s still warm from your lips.

-

Eddie ends up purchasing five lamps from IKEA after an hour and a half of wandering through the aisles with you.  

He can’t help but to act like the loverboy he is when he’s looking at furniture with you.  He fantasizes about a life with you, imagining that the two of you are actually here to pick out items to furnish your shared house.  

He wonders which kind of wood floors you’d pick out and which backsplash you’d want in the kitchen.  You’d probably want to decorate with colorful rugs and throw pillows, and Eddie wouldn’t complain.  Not as long as you’re happy.   He’d live in a pink house decorated with bows and lace trim as long as he was living in it with you.  

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, it’s only your first date together right?

If only he knew you were having similar thoughts as you strolled up and down the aisles, hand in hand.  You thought about what kind of decorating he did in his house, you figured it was styled in some way considering the amount of effort he puts into making his classroom look as cool as it does.  Does he have shelves full of records or different posters framed and hung up on his wall?  Which side of the bed does he sleep on?  You hope he likes plants, there’s no way you could part with your beloved greenery if the two of you were to live together.

You’re quick to silence the random thoughts buzzing around in your head, it’s silly to think about these things on your very first date…you don’t even know his middle name yet!

You and Eddie both seem to snap out of your stupors at the same time, sighing simultaneously.  You both turn to look at each other and then begin to laugh, unsure on whether or not the ‘jinx’ rules apply in a sighing situation.  

-

Eddie pays for the lights, and soon enough you’re both back in his truck.  

It dawns on you that your date is almost over, but you’re quickly redirected when you hear the starting notes to the next song that starts playing when Eddie’s phone connects to his radio.

Is that…Taylor Swift?

You turn to him slowly, confused at why a Taylor Swift song is on his ‘On Repeat’ Spotify playlist.

Eddie’s already staring at you mortified.  He holds a hand up, pausing any words that might’ve come out of your mouth.

“Before you say anything,” he begins ,”I really admire her lyricism.  Girl’s a wizard with words.”

The two of you sit in a charged silence for a moment before you can’t hold in your reaction any longer.  A laugh breaks free from your chest, and Eddie can’t  help but to laugh along with you.

You’re wiping tears from your eyes as your laughter dies down, and Eddie just grins at you.

“I can’t believe it.  The rock and roll music teacher listens to enough Taylor Swift for it to end up on his ‘On Repeat’ playlist.”  You shake your head at him with a wide smile on your face that Eddie wants to take a picture of and frame.  

“Yeah, yeah…laugh it up.  As a music teacher, it’s my duty to appreciate all types of music.”

You nod along to his explanation, “Yes, of course.  How else are you supposed to connect with the teenage girls these days?”

“Right! Yes!”  Eddie exclaims.  “I do this lesson on lyrics and Taylor’s music is a great example of what storytelling in music can look like.  I respect her, hard.”

You stifle another laugh at his emotional Taylor Swift themed outburst.

“This stays between you and I alright?” Eddie points a finger at you playfully.  “If Harrington gets word of this I’ll never live it down.”

“Of course, my lips are sealed.”  You mime zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key.

Eddie settles back into his seat with a huff, boyishly smiling over at you.

“I have a very important question for you Eddie.”

He leans in, intrigued by your seriousness. 

“Which era are you in right now?”

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back with a groan.  This sends you into another laughing fit, Eddie can’t help but to join in again.  He’s coming to find out that your joy is such an infectious thing.

“Hmm let’s see…,” he muses.  He turns to look at you with one hand on the wheel and a smirk on his face as he puts his keys in the ignition.  

“Right now…I’d have to go with ‘Lover,’” he says with a wink.

Your laughter is cut off abruptly as you gasp and bite your lip, attempting to subdue the cheesy grin that’s surely made its way onto your face by now.  

You stare unashamed as Eddie puts his right hand over the back of your seat to turn around and look through the rear window as he reverses the car out of its parking spot.  You can smell the cologne he must’ve sprayed on this morning, which immediately awakens the butterflies in your stomach.

As soon as Eddie is set on the route back to your house, he holds out his hand expectantly over his center console.  You look at it, then at him, then back at his hand before shyly placing your hand in his.  He’s quick to lace his fingers through yours, holding on tight and running his thumb back and forth.

You’re both thinking that you could get used to this.

-

Eddie (reluctantly) only lets go of your hand in order to rush around the front of his truck to open your car door for you after he’s pulled into your driveway.  He’s quiet as he walks you to your front door, wondering which way is the best way to ask you out on another date.  

You stop when you reach your door, looking down at your hand in his.  The silence begins to feel just a tad awkward as you both search for something to fill it.

“Thank you,” you start quietly ,”for today.  I had a wonderful time.”

Eddie lets out a relieved breath and grins widely down at you.

“I did too,” he begins, readying himself for his next question.  “Would you…I mean–would you like to…uh…shit, would you want to maybe do it again sometime?”

You know what he means, but it’s still so tempting to tease him when he’s blushing like this.

“Would I want to go to IKEA with you again?”

“N-no!  I mean, if you wanted to we could I guess…b-but I was thinking something more along the lines of dinner?”

You find it adorable how nervous he is to ask you out on a second date, as if you wouldn’t agree to go out to dinner with him tonight.

“I’d love that.”

Eddie’s face lights up with a triumphant smile as he lets out the anxious breath he’d been holding in.  

“Good, that’s really good.”  The way you’re smiling up at him right now is causing him to lose his train of thought.  “Um…how’s tomorrow night?  Around 7?”

“Tomorrow night is perfect.”

“Awesome.  Great, yeah I’ll just…I’ll pick you up, okay?”

You’re beaming as you nod your head, much too ecstatic at the idea of going out with Eddie again to form a coherent sentence.

Eddie finds himself smiling and nodding with you, you’re just too adorable. 

“Hey could I uh…c-could I get your number?” Eddie stammers the question out like he’s a prepubescent teenager, mentally face palming the whole time.

He’s relieved when you chuckle and hold your hand out for him to place his phone in.  He fumbles around trying to give you his phone as quickly as possible, he can’t believe how nervous he feels right now. 

He finally somehow manages to pass over his phone with a new contact page pulled up and ready for you.  You type in your number and name, making sure to add the artist’s palette emoji afterwards.  Eddie laughs through his nose when he sees it, then pockets his phone again.  

There’s a weird tension in the air that can only be brought upon by two people who so obviously want to kiss each other, but are too nervous to make the first move.  Eddie wracks his brain for a way to ask you if it’d be okay for him to kiss you without looking like a total idiot.  It’s really unfortunate that the way you bite your lip causes his mind to completely shut off and switch to autopilot.  

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” he blurts out.

You look up at him, shocked at his bluntness.  Eddie’s even more shocked than you are.

“Y-you probably should then,” you bashfully admit.

Eddie can’t believe that worked.

He steps towards you and softly places one hand on your cheek, the other going to gently grasp the side of your neck similarly to the way he had in IKEA during your almost-kiss.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel his lips graze yours for the first time.  The feeling is electrifying, and you can’t help but to venture forward for more.  

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than Eddie imagined. 

You plunge forward to press your lips against his, instantly deepening the kiss.  Eddie found himself instantly addicted to the feel of your lips and the way you sigh into the kiss.  It’s a shy kiss at first, where the two of you slowly begin to figure out your shared rhythm.  But it wasn’t long before you sank into a synchronized dance, mirroring each other’s movements in a way that crafted the most perfect, earth shattering first kiss.  

You let Eddie Munson kiss you at your front door in a way that you had longed to be kissed for your entire life.  This was how the women you saw in movies or read about in books were kissed.  You’d read about magic and sparks flying, and you think you’re finally starting to believe in all of it.  

Eddie moves his hand from your cheek to your waist, gripping it and pulling you closer to him.  The gasp you let out gave him the sweet opportunity to run his tongue against your bottom lip, asking, pleading for an entrance which you of course granted.  You tasted like autumn and felt like home, he decided he could kiss you for hours on end.

You both stood there for a good five minutes at your front door, making out like giddy teenagers and feeling like them too.  Eddie finally pulls away from your lips, pleased to find you subtly chasing his mouth with your own.  You open your eyes and come out of your kiss-induced haze to find him smiling adoringly down at you with both hands now circling your waist.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you once more. 

“Actually, I’m gonna call you tonight.”  He kisses you again.  “Is that okay?”  Another peck.

You're giggling as he places a final kiss on your forehead, “Yes, please.”

“Good.”

Eddie steps back, grabbing your hand to kiss it like he did on Tuesday.  He pulls you back in with that same hand to plant one last kiss on your lips, then jogs back to his truck.  He waves and quickly honks his horn twice as he pulls away.  

You’re left standing at your front door, watching his truck disappear down your street and reliving every moment of your first kiss with Eddie Munson.

When you finally make your way inside, you make sure to smell your brand new beautiful flowers before scurrying off to your bedroom to pick out an outfit for your second date with Eddie tomorrow night.  

TAGLIST:

@josephquinnsfreckles @the-fairy-anon @anukulee @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics @lokis-army-77 @loserboysandlithium @strangerstilinski @mystra-midnight @lesservillain @queenimmadolla @luveline @munson-blurbs @fairyysoup @urhoneycombwitch @oneforthemunny @rebelfell @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @eiightysixbaby @bettyfrommars @loveshotzz @lovebugism @carolmunson @rustedhearts @lonelysatellites

wallpaper

summary: bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 1000

warnings: fluff, nonspecific friends to lovers, this was just a dumb idea i had

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The first time Bucky changed the wallpaper on your phone, it was an accident - kind of. He sat on your couch, lazily scrolling through the photos of Alpine you insisted he looked at, because you simply couldn’t resist having a Halloween photoshoot with her while he was off on yet another mission, leaving her in your trusting hands. He was happy you were in the kitchen, because he would never let you see the smile he wore as he browsed the album, chuckling silently to himself over how elaborate these photos were. His mood swiftly changed when he swiped incorrectly, an array of different options suddenly presenting themselves to him. He swore under his breath as he tried to make them go away, but he only made it worse as the option to change your wallpaper came up. With an annoyed huff, he just kept tapping, figuring that eventually he would get it back to how it was. After a few more grueling seconds, he sighed in relief as he was once more face to face with Alpine sitting inside a jack-o-lantern candy bucket - how was he supposed to know that photo was now both your lockscreen and homescreen?

“Did you change my lockscreen?” you curiously asked when you finally sat back down beside him, taking your phone and checking it for any new messages.

“Did I what?” he asked in confusion, his head snapping up from his own phone to look at you with a scrunched brow. 

You could only laugh lightly, turning your phone to display the new photo brandishing your screen. The second Bucky saw it, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly as his face flushed ever so slightly. 

“I, uh- sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to, your phone is just - it’s different than mine.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle fondly, your chuckles growing into more laughter as you realized it was also your homescreen. “It’s okay, Buck,” you assured softly, laughing quietly as you changed the photos back to their precursors. “It could have been worse, at least it’s not an embarrassing photo or something.” 

You were too busy fixing his mistake to notice the glint that sparkled in his eyes, a smirk growing on his face as your words gave him the most incredible idea he’s had in a while. 

The second time Bucky changed your wallpaper, it was very much not an accident. You left him your phone so he could look at the photos you took on your latest trip, unpacking your bags as he split his attention between listening to your stories and scrolling through a seemingly endless array of new pictures - which he truthfully enjoyed, but he was on a secret mission for the perfect, nondescript one to choose. 

“Again, Buck?” you giggled, flopping on the bed beside him as you took your phone back. 

“What?” he asked, just innocent and clueless enough to not raise any flags. 

“You and your fat thumbs, I swear,” you mumbled under your breath, changing the photos back once more, completely oblivious to his proud little smirk.

It took three more times for you to suspect that Bucky had started doing it on purpose, but your suspicions weren’t proven correct until he took a photo of you to display.

“Did you- when- really?” you stammered as you looked between him and your phone, half annoyed and half impressed because when did he even take this photo? 

He only grinned in response, laughing about how long he was able to do it under the pretense of it being an accident before running away in a fit of giggles, dodging the pillow you threw after him.

From that moment on, it became a game for him. 

Any opportunity that presented itself, Bucky snatched your phone and changed your displays to the most embarrassing and ridiculous photos of yourself.

A sunset was changed to you mid-sneeze. Alpine was changed to you post-nap. You partying with the gang was changed to an extreme close up of your face in that very photo. Louisiana docks were changed to you mid rant as you yelled at him to give you your phone back. A cherry blossom was changed to you passed out on the couch, wrapped up in a hoodie you stole from him and drooling all over the sleeve of it. 

As time went on, you stopped being surprised whenever it happened, and you grew to enjoy it. It was a silly thing, but it was a silly thing that only you and Bucky shared. It was a special thing, a cherished thing. It was your favourite thing.

Neither of you realized how the dynamic between the two of you started morphing into something else right in front of your very eyes. It was slow. It was gradual and complex and delicate and went unnoticed for almost a whole year. 

It was only noticed now, as Bucky took the opportunity to grab your phone as you slept soundly against his chest. It had been a while since he was able to get a chance to do this, and so he eagerly unlocked your phone, already running through different ideas of what picture to use. 

He was caught off guard when the picture staring back at him was from a few weeks ago. It was the day you finally convinced him to let you drive his bike after months of endless asking. It was a photo neither of you knew Sam took until later that night, when he sent it to both of you. 

It was you, sat in front of him on the bike and wrapped up in his arms, one securely planted on either side of you as his hands rested on yours, guiding you through everything as you both gleefully laughed at the fact that you actually managed to convince him to do this. 

For once, Bucky didn’t have the heart to change it. 

He couldn’t. 

It was his wallpaper, too. 

electric touch (part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x medical team! reader

Summary: Getting a spot on the field medical team was your dream. And your closest work friend Bucky Barnes finally asking you out? That was the cherry on top of your good news. Now all you had to do was pass your training week. Seems easy enough until you’re faced with someone who doesn’t want to see you win.

Warnings: abuse of power, verbal abuse, physical assault, some PTSD (but none of these are because of Bucky!!!!)

Wordcount: 7k

Part 2

Notes: hello! Are you hungry for a lil slice of ‘who did this to you’ pie with a big dollop of protective Bucky Barnes on top? Dig in!! I aim to be as nondescript as possible for the reader but I will note reader is shorter than Bucky and wears glasses. Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts! please consider reblogging, it helps my work reach more lovely people here on Tumblr. <3 merci!

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Your regular lunch dates with Bucky started unintentionally. In fact, your friendship with Bucky had started that way – very unintentionally.

In retrospect, you couldn’t believe you had been late on your first day. You had intentionally set extra alarms to make sure you got to Stark Industries early.But you couldn’t control the inconsistencies of the New York subway system. When you skirted into the training room, only one seat was left – beside Bucky Barnes himself.

It was funny to think that the mandatory onboarding applied to new Avengers, too.

Of course, you knew who he was – the former Winter Soldier – but you didn’t realize he had to sit through the boring health and safety discussions and HR seminars like everyone else. When the first lunch break arrived, you turned to him and asked if he wanted to join you for lunch at the burger place down the street.

Initially, it looked like he was fighting off the urge to decline, but then he said: “Sure.”

Your conversations were very stilted in the beginning, which you didn’t mind. But as the week carried on, you felt the foundations of a friendship.

(He told you, later, that he appreciated your kindness that first day. That he had been really fucking scared to sit in that room with strangers judging him. He liked that you treated him like a normal person.)

It had grown organically since then – but you were simply just work friends. Your roles at Stark Industries slash The Avengers Initiative didn’t always overlap, but you did occasionally see him in the halls or if he happened to be by medical when you were working. Then, one day, you saw him eating alone in the cafeteria and you dropped down across from him to catch up.

Then lunch turned into a routine for you both. Typically on Wednesdays you’d sit together, if Bucky wasn’t on a mission or you weren’t on the night rotation. Sometimes Sam or Steve or some of the other nurses joined you, but secretly, you liked when it was just you and Bucky. Sometimes it felt like he preferred it that way too.

“So, guess what?” You sat down on the chair across from him, your tray knocking against his. He slowly moved his eyes from the pages of his book – he almost always had his nose in a book at lunch, regardless of the company – and matched your smile.

“I take it you got good news?”

You searched his face then frowned. “Wait, do you already know? That’s not fair.”

“Sam showed me the roster.”

A groan rumbled from your chest. “Boo.” You tipped your head to look at him as you paused. “Can you just pretend you’re about to hear this for the first time?”

Bucky smirked, putting down his book and politely stacking his hands to give you his full attention. “Sure. Start again?”

“Guess what?” You repeated, rolling your eyes.

“I’ve got no clue, doll. What?”

“You are looking at the newest member of the field medical team!” The chair legs squeaked as you danced in celebration.

“Congratulations,” Bucky replied, a wide smile crossing his face. He reached out and offered his fist, which you met with your own. You knocked your knuckles into his twice then wiggled your fingers at one another - a silly secret handshake you had invented together over a Taco Tuesday lunch one day, mostly out of annoyance to Sam.

You deflated afterwards, though, as reality set in. “Hopefully I can make it through training next week. It’s going to be hard but.. I can do hard things.”

Bucky reached over and grabbed your hand, holding it for a moment though he quickly pulled back. “You’re going to do great. You wouldn’t have been picked if you weren’t capable. You’re more than ready and, well, uh, I’m proud of you.”

You smiled, glancing down to where his hand had briefly made contact with yours. It felt.. hot, for some reason. You resisted touching the skin there. This had been happening more than you wanted to admit recently – a new spark when you saw him, when you touched. You thought you had easily avoided the possibilities of a developing crush on Bucky but.. something had been brewing for you. And maybe the same was happening with him, too - when you thought about how he looked at you, how considerate he was…

You wouldn’t know with any certainty unless you asked and you were way, way too scared to ask. Ruining your friendship may not be worth it. Especially if you were joining the medical team that would accompany the Avengers on some of their missions. What if you made it weird? What if you went on one date and it was terrible and your friendship never recovered? What if you asked Bucky out and then he laughed in your face and –

“We should go out and celebrate,” he cut you off. 

Wait. Was his voice shaking?

You met his eyes. Was he nervous? “I still.. I have to pass the training.”

“I know,” he nodded. “And tomorrow I leave for.. an undisclosed location for the week. So. When I get back and you’ve crushed the training and have the new job title, let’s go out.”

“Just you and me?” You asked, swallowing hard.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Yeah. If you..”

“Like a date?”

He closed his eyes, face scrunched up. It was cute. “Yeah, like a date, sweetheart. Just you and me.”

Okay, well, okay. Yes. Okay, that answered your question. You supposed the risk was being taken either way. There. He did the thing before you could even talk yourself out of it.

You smiled, nervously adjusting your glasses. Oh my god. You hadn’t even answered. With eyes wide, you reached for him. “Yes, that sounds.. that sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”

He grinned, squeezing your hand. “For a second there, I really thought I screwed all this up.”

---

Bucky couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to finally just do it. Asking you out had been at the top of his list for a long time and although it scared the shit out of him, this follow-up feeling of anticipation had been totally worth it. Now he just needed to get through a grueling mission with a sweet reward at the end – a date with you.

You- the first stranger who treated him like a regular person. You - who cared so deeply about your job. You - who seemed to always hear his snarky comments and always laughed, giggled, snorted, at them. With a smile that could make his entire body warm up. 

You. He couldn’t wait for that damn date. 

A date was the scary next step. But he was tired of waiting and tired of denying his feelings. And thank god you had reacted just as positively. The foundation of your friendship was so important to him but he had a feeling things could be even better. He prayed he wouldn’t fuck it all up.

When he showed up at the compound early in the morning to get on the jet, Bucky was surprised to see Sam prepping in the pilot’s seat.

Sam jumped in with an answer before the question even left Bucky’s lips. “Natasha had to join Clint on the Belize mission, last minute. So it’s you and me, pal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Though he wasn’t mentally prepared for a week with Sam, he could handle it. Bucky was certain he could handle anything that he faced this week, knowing it was your face on his mind keeping him going.

As you crossed his mind again, another thought surfaced.

“If you’re here, who’s taking over the training for the med field team?” Bucky reached for his phone then cursed. They were going dark for this mission so he’d left his phone in his locker. Although he had sent you a message after he got up that morning, he wanted to reach out one last time and send some extra reassurance your way. 

“Don’t worry,” Sam knocked his shoulder, standing up to do a final check of the gear. “Your girl is in good hands.” Sam added in a wiggle of his fingers in Bucky's direction.

You weren’t Bucky’s girl.. yet. He didn’t feel bothered by the term. In fact, he loved it and so badly wanted you to be okay with him saying it some day too. Though it was still worth correcting Sam. It didn’t seem fair to put a label on something without consulting you first. Not to mention Sam’s teasing about you and Bucky had been going on for months and Bucky did not want to indulge him.

“She’s not mine,” Bucky replied, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.

Sam carried on. “Boone is doing the training protocol instead, but I’ll manage the final evaluations next week.” 

A quiet groan escaped Bucky’s lips. “Boone is a jackass.”

“I don’t disagree that he can be a bit too self assured - but he has proved himself in the field and will be a great mentor to this cohort.”

“Wasn’t he one of the agents Steve benched a few months ago - after his annual physical? What’s the term they used - he was doping?”

Sam sighed. “He was clean but a couple of his buddies were thrown out. But Boone is good, Buck. She’s gonna be fine.” With a final glance at the screen between them, Sam clapped his hands. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

---

When you applied for the job at Stark Industries for their medical team, you weren’t entirely sure what the role was going to entail. Your years of working as a nurse at the busiest emergency room in Chicago had given you plenty of experience with, well, everything and anything imaginable. You were always prepared for the unexpected.

What you hadn’t expected though was the pace - it was significantly slower than you imagined. Most of your days revolved around small visits from agents for anything from minor injuries and lacerations to annual physicals. On occasion you’d support when the Avengers came in, but usually they worked directly with Dr. Cho or the other on site doctors.

You figured the cure for your unrelenting desire for more was to get on the field medical team - a group of agents and trained nurses who accompanied the Avengers or other strike teams on missions, acting as a resource for any injuries to civilians and team members alike. Not every mission needed a team and sometimes it would involve last minute travel, but you didn’t mind.

When your application for transfer was finally accepted, you couldn’t get over how excited you were. You had been working hard for months getting into better shape, especially your stamina. Sure, maybe you could do a bit more when it came to targeted strength training but you had qualified on the initial testing to even get into the training level, so you’d be fine.

You could do this.

Truthfully, you were really excited about it. And Bucky had sent you the most encouraging message before he left that morning and you just.. You knew you could do this.

Bucky's words echoed: “...you wouldn’t have been picked if you weren’t capable. You’re more than ready and, well, uh, I’m proud of you.”

You were going to do this well and you were going to make yourself proud, too.

Most of your excitement depleted when you walked into the gym though. You joined the rest of the agents in the training group and braced yourself when you saw Agent Nathan Boone standing with his tablet, calling out names for attendance. 

“Wilson had to suit up as Falcon and jump on a critical mission this morning so I’ll be running the training program this week,” he explained as he sized up his group, which included you plus another half a dozen training agents. 

Without a doubt, Boone was the worst replacement for Sam you could think of. Boone exuded a confidence you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around, given his frat guy personality. Hiding behind his smarmy grin, linebacker build and perfectly coiffed hair - he was a real jackass. 

You tried not to let your mind race as Boone walked you all through the upcoming week of training. You’d be going over everything from basic self defense skills to hand to hand combat strategies to overall endurance drills. Then he explained that next week it was Sam Wilson who’d be doing the final evaluations.

“So let’s prove to him you’re all a good batch, okay?” Boone’s demeanor shifted as he got into his coaching mode. “Let’s start with a warm up run. Onto the treadmills.”

This wasn’t your first interaction with Boone, though you weren’t sure he would remember you. 

During your first few weeks you’d been responsible for doing the annual physicals for most of the agents. It had been a very repetitive (and boring) assignment, until some anomalies came up in the test results. A few agents, including Boone, had weird things flagged on their blood and urine tests - mostly markers that indicated steroid use. Which was completely against standards for agents and employees at Stark Industries. 

One of them, some bulky aggressive asshole, tried to convince you to look the other way but you had ultimately reported it. The fallout caused a huge uproar between the medical team and the agents, with the consequence coming down on a handful of agents who were fired due to drug use. Boone had escaped that fate somehow, passing his re-test with perfect results. And even though HR promised you it was a sealed case, you were always worried it had left a bit of a target on your back.

Nothing had come from it. The next round of physicals you assisted with didn’t involve any of those field agents and no other concerns had been flagged. Everything seemed back to normal.

In fact, you had seen Boone once since that whole controversy. A few months ago you passed him flirting with one of the admins in your department but you kept your head down and ignored him. That was it.

Hopefully the week of training wouldn’t be soured by your history with him but you figured it was safest to go in with an open mind. 

Thankfully, by the end of your run, as you were moving onto some basic tactical drills, he continued treating you just like everyone else. Generally firm and distant overall, but nothing strangely out of the ordinary. His barked orders were delivered to everyone evenly. If he had any recollection of your connected history, he didn’t bring it up.

The first day of training had been tough, especially since you still had a few extra hours of work to log afterwards. When you returned to your reporting station in the medical wing, you had to really settle your mind down and talk your way through the unkind thoughts racing around your brain.

You could do this. 

The second day focused exclusively on muscular endurance, which wasn’t really your strong suit but you managed to keep up with the group all the same.

Boone had the entire cohort going hard - with a lot of tough but constructive encouragement coming from him along the way. When one of the other trainees dropped their barbells, it seemed to irritate Boone immensely too. He let out a few curses as he helped them pick the weights back up then apologized for his reaction but the flare of anger was evident. 

When you were all heading back to the locker rooms, it was one of the other agents muttering about ‘roid rage’ that raised a red flag for you. 

It was during the third day of training that you felt the first tug of resistance with Boone. It was small things that you couldn’t help but file away. The way he delivered supportive commentary to everyone else in the group but only gave you critical feedback. During one of the practical scenarios, he undermined all your answers.

“I see why you’d think that way if you’ve never done this before but I can tell you by experience, it wouldn’t work. Bit of an amateur way of looking at things, actually. You need to do better if you’re going to be in the field with experts. Are you sure you passed the interview for this role?”

He said things in a way that didn’t always seem personal to you, but he certainly delivered them in a condescending tone. 

But, maybe, well, maybe you were just reading into things. You were feeling tired already and not really sleeping, so your focus was a bit off. 

Yeah, you could do better, strategize better, think things through in a better way.

On the fourth day, after a morning of weapons training and spending time at the range, the session moved onto sparring drills. It was quite basic - Boone walked the group through easy to follow hand to hand techniques, spending time here and there with each person to adjust their form. 

Everyone who qualified for the med team had to pass certain physical testing standards already. You had been working hard in the gym for months to get your mind ready, though you knew you weren’t very experienced in anything related to defensive techniques.

When he got to you following one of the scenarios, there was a firm frown on his face. “You need to be less in your head.”

You nodded, flexing and stretching your hands out. “Okay. Uhm okay, well, do you have any tips on how to–”

He was quick to cut you off. “Figure it out. I don’t have time to teach you critical thinking skills.” Following a sharp finger snap, he pointed directly at you. “And what’s with the glasses?”

“Ran out of contacts this morning, but I can do without them if I need to. Its–”

“They’re a safety risk.”

He didn’t care for your explanation or offer you any other advice, instead just muttering something as he moved on and tapping something into the tablet. None of his feedback had been helpful. Christ, you figured maybe it was worth starting a list to consult with Sam about following your evaluation instead. 

You just had to get through one more day with Boone. You were tired - down to your bones, from the physical and mental work during this week.

But it was nearly the weekend and that meant next week was approaching. Most importantly, the training would be done and you would have a real date with Bucky on the books, too. You couldn’t wait.

---

The last training day was mostly a culmination of everything you had gone over from the week. There was more endurance testing, some strength and performance work and the day ended with more sparring and situationals. 

You knew this was the light at the end of the tunnel. And when everything was wrapping up, you were relieved to finally be done with taking instructions from Boone, too.

Until his final speech. “You’ve been a great group and I would say most of you are ready for next week. Wilson will be impressed.” After a few more notes and instructions for the following week, he dismissed everyone. As you headed back towards the locker room, he called your name.

That made your stomach drop. He waved you back over towards the mats.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up,” Boone started slowly, eyes glancing around the empty room before he looked down at his tablet screen. “Here is the report on your training this week.” He turned the device so you could read over it.

After the first line, you took it from his hands. “Wait - what?”

“I just don’t think you’re ready.” Boone crossed his arms. “You’ve got the medical knowledge, sure. But the rest of it, even if you had another two months to train, I’m doubtful.” He took the tablet back and continued scrolling, as if he hadn’t just delivered such a disappointing blow to you. “It’s up to you whether you still want to do your test with Sam next week, but if I was in your shoes, I’d tap out.”

You swallowed hard, head tipped slightly to the side as you took in what he was saying. “That doesn’t make any sense. I kept up with everyone here this week.”

“This is a controlled environment; I don’t think you can hack it in the field.” Boone shrugged. “Like I said, you’re more than welcome to do your evaluation but I don’t think this will impress The Falcon enough to solidify your spot on the field team.”

“Good thing you’re not in charge of this decision then,” you bit in return, taking a step back. It felt like he was egging you on and you didn’t like it. Even worse that you were alone with him in the gym. “I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“You don’t have to, or you simply can’t?” He countered, tossing the tablet to the side as he crossed his arms. He sized you up, eyes drawing up the shape of your body. “Let’s try something.” He motioned to the mats. “I’ll give you another chance to change my mind about that report. Maybe I misread your abilities and intentions.”

You knew the right thing to do would be to walk away and ignore how he was antagonizing you. But a tiny voice in the back of your head kept reminding you that you were good, that you had earned your place here. That you needed to show him that. 

No, you didn’t.

Yes, you did.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing yourself in the middle of the mat. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Boone laughed, standing in front of you. He scanned you over again. “Scenario. You’re in the field, there’s a civilian who needs medical attention. You’re alone with them as everyone else explores the area for threats. But, it's night time, it was a busy bit of action and –” Boone reached over and pulled your glasses off. “And you lost your glasses in the chaos.”

Before you could protest about the logistics of this stupid scenario, he threw them to the side.

You shook your head and immediately stepped back. “What the fuck?”

“Maybe you should have worn your contacts today.” He replied and this time, there was something more at the edge of his words. Something unsettling.

This was a bad idea. But he was waiting for you to reply, to call his bluff and tap out. You growled to yourself and stayed.

“The civilian has a broken limb so you’re on the ground beside them.” Without even hesitating he placed both his hands on your shoulders and shoved you down to your knees.

None of this made any lick of sense. This wasn’t a scenario you’d end up in. You wouldn’t be alone or you’d call for backup.

He continued without a second thought, moving to stand behind you, placing his hand on the crown of your head. “And someone comes at you from behind – now you’re compromised and so is your civilian.”

You sat there on your knees, chock still. A red flashing light was going off in your mind but for some reason, you stayed.

A low, grumbly laugh escaped him. “See? Not only are you a terrible nurse but you have no fucking instinct—”

You immediately swung your leg up to hook behind him, not sending him down to the ground but gaining enough of your own momentum to plot out your next move. Planting a foot, you lunged forward and grabbed his waist, pulling him towards the mat.

That really set off whatever anger had been simmering in him. The next thing you saw was the training mat as your face and torso were being shoved against it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your shouting felt useless as your body writhed under his weight. Your cheek dragged across the plastic mat as you moved, burning against your skin. “Get off of me, you—”

“Defend. Yourself.” Boone barked back, adjusting to grab your arm. He gripped your elbow, then twisted your wrist behind your back. A jolt of pain rushed down your shoulder. “Took me a few days but then I remembered your face.”

You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please just stop. What is—why are you—”

“Three of my friends, my brothers – you ruined their lives, you know that? They lost all their job prospects, they have fuck all left because of what you did. You know, we need that stuff - to keep up with supersoldiers. There is nothing fucking wrong with some pharmaceutical help. If I’m backing up Captain America, I deserve the boost.” With his knee pressing against your back, he leveraged himself to sit up a bit straighter. But his grip on your wrist remained, growing tighter and tighter. “If you had just turned the other way and ignored those tests—”

“I was doing my job,” you mumbled back at him. “They were the ones who broke the rules and—”

His voice hadn’t quite grown to shouting but the intensity grew. “And you are the one who suffers now, alright? And you sure as hell aren’t joining the field team. I’m going to make sure of it.”

---

All Bucky wanted to do when they got back to the compound was text you. It was late Sunday night but he didn’t care.

After the grueling week he and Sam had, Bucky took comfort in knowing soon enough he’d get to see you. He wanted to know about everything from last week - from training to everyday life, he just wanted to talk to you. Crossing the threshold from friends to something more was scary but during his long, sleepless nights, you provided a strange sense of comfort to him.

Without doing a dang thing. Just knowing you made him better, inspired him to be better and to be present. 

“Hey,” Sam tugged on Bucky’s arm before he headed to the locker room. “Medical check first. Then you’re free to send your little smiley face emojis to her.”

Bucky grumbled but didn’t have the energy to argue with Sam. The mission had gone well but hadn’t been the smoothest for either of them. While they both returned unharmed, Bucky knew coming down from these sorts of weeks properly was important.

Finally, after a clearance from the nurse and a quick shower - Bucky was turning his phone back on.

He dismissed all the messages from Steve and an Avengers group chat he liked to ignore then finally found his way to his conversation with you. Seeing a slew of your thoughts over the course of the week made him smile.

You: good luck this week - come back in one piece, please <3 

You: made it through day one and two, turns out my five-story walkup apartment is good for my cardio skills after all lol You: remind me of that next time I complain about the stairs

You: day three has proved that I do need to work on my upper body strength You: wanna be my personal trainer? ;)

You: miss you, hope everything is going safely You: this week has really kicked my ass

Your messages did peter off by Friday and although Bucky longed for more, he assumed you were probably just tired after the long week. Plus, the training wasn’t for the light of heart. Sam had shown him the schedule and although it was standard, its intensity was intentional. Not that Bucky doubted you - he knew you’d been preparing as best as you could since you had shown an interest in joining the field team months ago. But that could really exhaust someone by the end of it.

And tomorrow you had to power through a final evaluation with Sam too, so Bucky hoped you got to spend the rest of the weekend resting.

He dropped down onto one of the benches and planned his response.

Bucky: hey doll, made it back safe and sound Bucky: in one piece, I promise :) Bucky: can’t wait to hear about last week, I’m sure you did great Bucky: good luck tomorrow, I’ll come find you after the eval Bucky: sweet dreams 

---

Bucky felt a little bit silly, lingering outside the training gym. At least he wasn’t pacing, that would have been an even worse look. He leaned against the opposite wall to the doors, arms crossed.

Something just felt a bit off for him and, well, finally seeing you would help ease his mind. It was just strange – the lack of communication. Sure, he had sent his message quite late the night before but he assumed he might hear something back from you during the day.

But no, it had been radio silence. He could attribute it to your needing to prepare for your evaluation but that didn’t seem like enough of a justification. In all the times you and he had been friends, you always managed to send a reply.

He would just have to settle for an in person update, following your testing with Sam. Five other agents exited the gym by mid afternoon, but you never showed up at the door. 

Sam did eventually emerge, tapping quickly against his tablet. He came to a halt when he spotted Bucky waiting, arms now tightly locked behind his back.

Bucky looked over Sam’s shoulder, trying to glimpse into the gym before he met his eyes. “How’d she do?”

Sam let out an awkward laugh. “Well, she didn’t show. She sent me an email earlier saying that she was sick.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly. “Oh.” 

“I know, weird. What’s even more weird though is that when I said we could reschedule her for another date, she tapped out.” Sam raised his shoulder to shrug then showed Bucky the screen.

Bucky scanned over the message and frowned. It was true. Your reply to Sam was short, explaining you didn’t want to reschedule and declined any further interest in the field team. That was it. You were out.

“Given how she sent me a five-paragraph essay explaining how excited she was to join the team, this seems out of character.” Sam tucked the screen under his arm and patted Bucky on the shoulder. “Give me an update after you talk to her.”

“What makes you think—”

“Oh, I already see your wheels turning. You’re doing the math on how quickly you can get to her place.” Sam called after him as Bucky turned to leave. “Let her know I can reschedule her anytime!”

---

You knew you couldn’t ignore Bucky forever. It was just.. it felt like too much, thinking of a way to reply. After what happened with Boone on Friday, every single thing in your life felt like climbing the steepest mountain.

It was absurd how quickly things had escalated. You should have just walked away the instant Boone brought up your evaluation. Getting on that mat with him was really fucking stupid and.. here you were.

You could barely remember how you got home Friday – dazed and confused and numb. After Boone finished screaming and you had stopped trying to fight back, you curled up on yourself. You fought back tears over the humiliation and pain, hands shaking as you grabbed your things from the locker room. One ridiculously overpriced cab ride later and you made it home to your studio in Astoria.

Then you cried in the shower and all the way to your bed - where you stayed as long as you possibly could on Saturday, dousing yourself in painkillers just to try and stay asleep.

You knew you needed to go to urgent care, or even just an emergency room - somewhere you could afford the x-ray. You had never broken a bone before but you had seen plenty of hand fractures during your time working in triage. You couldn’t make a fist, your hand was bruising up towards your wrist and the pain was excruciating. The image of Boone stomping on your hand and wrist as you tried to crawl away was imprinted in your mind…

You were stuck on the climb though. The mental battle of trying to figure out the best lie to tell the admitting nurses anywhere was daunting. Christ, how would you explain this?

You had to - you had to tell someone. The way Boone had flown off the handle, how he attacked you verbally and physically, he couldn’t get away with it. You knew the right thing to do but… fuck if you weren’t scared. He had made it pretty clear he’d be keeping an eye on you. And there was no way you’d be able to do your test with Sam now.

If you reported him, you’d probably have to get HR and the police involved and what if he denied everything and—

You ended up in a helpless loop every single time.

Saturday came and went. You only left your apartment to visit the nearest drugstore for a new compression bandage and more pain medication. Sunday passed by just the same. You skipped your normal spin class and barely spent time outside of your bed. 

The pain in your hand was growing worse and worse. You had to use your left hand to send Sam and your manager messages - because even just moving your right hand made your stomach swirl. And the guilt about not responding to Bucky was growing bigger and bigger too. 

How could you explain it? Boone had pressed your buttons and you pushed back and look what happened. How could Bucky be proud of you now?

Your phone had buzzed mid afternoon, just after you were supposed to be doing your session with Sam.

It was Bucky - worried and asking if you needed anything for whatever illness was plaguing you. 

You ignored it.

When he called, you ignored that too.

You were balled up on the end of your couch, eyes glazed over as another episode of your favourite show loaded up on Netflix. You knew you needed to eat something, that the pain medication on an empty stomach was a recipe for disaster. But… you couldn’t get up. Laying perfectly still with a bag of frozen vegetables on your hand was the closest thing to relief you had.

Then, someone was knocking at your door. The noise made you gasp, though you couldn’t move. You could ignore the noise along with everything else. It was probably just your downstairs neighbour back to complain about your TV again and –

Whoever was at the door knocked again, this time calling out your name. 

You recognized the voice.

Bucky.

He called your name out again. “Listen, I don’t care if you’re sick. I just want to make sure you’re alright. I grabbed some soup from that place I was telling you about.”

You sucked in a deep breath and pulled yourself up off the couch. You really, really wanted to see him - just the idea of his smile made everything feel a bit better. But then you couldn’t hide anymore and… hiding felt safe.

“I’m okay,” you finally replied as you got approached. “Feeling better but I might be contagious, Buck.”

You sensed some relief from him as his feet shuffled on the other side of the door. “Sweetheart, I.. I can’t even get sick, okay? I just need to see you.”

“My apartment is a mess.”

“I don’t care.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Bucky, I’m.. I’m not at my best right now.”

“I don’t care.” He said your name once more. “Please.”

You pulled up the hood of your sweatshirt then reluctantly reached for the door knob.

---

When you finally opened the door, Bucky was relieved. But when you immediately turned away to return to your couch without a word, his relief felt misplaced. Something was wrong. Your sudden weekend illness and dropping out of the new job training weren’t adding up to anything that felt good.

He was worried.

Bucky had never been inside your apartment before. There were a handful of occasions after work or some happy hour thing when he dropped you off but this was new. He liked the idea of seeing your home but he wished it had been different circumstances. 

Home was a little studio, with a compact kitchen ahead of him across from the door. Beside it was a cozy living room area separated from the bed and windows, divided by a short bookcase. It was so very you and Bucky wanted nothing more than to just be there with you, scan over the books you like and curl up together on the couch.

But it wasn’t the time to daydream. Instead, he stepped into the kitchen to deposit the takeout bag, retrieving the soup before moving to where you were curling back up in your blankets. 

“How are you feeling?” He took another step closer but stopped when you leaned away from his approach. He took a seat opposite you and extended the container in your direction. 

“Yeah, I’m.. okay,” you replied with a shrug. “Thanks for the soup.” You took it from him, reaching across yourself awkwardly with a shaking hand, and rested it on your lap. 

He took the moment of silence to get a better look at you. Behind your glasses, your eyes were swollen, as if you had been crying. Bucky watched you carefully maneuver the spoon and it wasn’t lost on him you were favouring your left hand. In fact, your right arm was barely moving. 

“Do you need anything else? I could run to the pharmacy..” He trailed off as his eyes shifted to your coffee table, which was littered with an array of pill bottles. Mostly painkillers and what looked like a melting bag of frozen peas. And tucked under the table was… a half empty bottle of wine. Not exactly the type of self medication for a stomach bug or the common cold.

You closed your eyes, taking another taste of the soup before gently moving it to the table. “I think the worst of it has passed. Just.. tired now, I guess. I’ll be back at work tomorrow.” You smiled, just barely, then it disappeared as your eyes shut.

Bucky considered that the perfect opportunity to change the subject. Your name left his lips. It was quiet. You peaked one eye open to look at him.

“What happened last week?” he asked.

You laughed, though it came out quite empty. “Just five very intense, rigorous training days. I wasn’t great but.. I managed, I guess.” 

Bucky cut to the chase, though he couldn’t predict your reaction. “So how come you’re not doing the final evaluation?” 

A long sigh escaped you, rolling your eyes before leaning back again. You stared at the ceiling. “Should I just start adding you to all my correspondence with Sam?”

“Don’t be mad at Sam,” Bucky replied. “I asked him and he only told me because he was worried.”

You laughed again, with more of your body. The same emptiness remained and this time it seemed to cause you pain. You winced, swallowing an uncomfortable look on your face as you turned to peer at him. “I’m not mad at Sam. I’m mad at..” You shook your head. “At myself, I guess.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter, alright? It’s over and I missed today and–”

“Sam offered to resch–”

“Bucky, it doesn’t matter!” You snapped this time, cutting him off. 

Bucky shook his head. Something else was going on. He had never seen you like this before - despondent and… broken. Sure, your friendship had rarely escaped the walls of work but the foundation between you both was solid. He had seen your ups and downs, and you had seen his too - recalling bad dates and ranting about missions and laughing over lunch and all of it. 

He knew you. The person sitting across from him, it wasn’t you. 

“Sweetheart, please tell me what’s going on.” 

Your eyes were closed again, head shaking. “Nothing is..” Your lip trembled. “Maybe you should just go..”

Bucky stood from the couch, but he didn’t move to the door. Instead, he crouched right in front of you. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll go, okay? I’d never stay if you didn’t want me here. But you opened that door for me. You could have already sent me away, soup in hand. I’m here right now because I care about you.” He said your name again, like a plea for you to look at him. “I can help, okay? Whatever is going on, I can help. Let me help, please.”

Your breath picked up, intertwined with winces of pain as you adjusted on the couch. You crossed your legs then moved your arms carefully, using your left hand to tear away your sweatshirt. Finally, you opened your eyes and extended your right arm to Bucky.

Despite being wrapped in a compression bandage, the swelling was evident on your fingers. Bruises littered your hand too and continued upwards to your t-shirt line. 

Bucky dropped to his knees, looking from your face down towards your arm. He whispered out your name, desperately trying not to fill in the blanks without getting more information from you. “What happened?”

You simply shook your head, swallowing whatever response was trying to escape. 

“Can I–” He motioned to your hand, cautiously reaching for it. You didn’t move, allowing him to unwrap the bandaging. You winced at the touch and change in pressure, eyes clamping shut again as you breathed deeply. 

Bucky skated his fingers along the side of your forearm, down towards your wrist and hand. Light shades of purple and blue decorated your skin but the swelling was what concerned Bucky the most. 

“I’m worried something is broken.” You finally said quietly, letting out another groan of pain as Bucky flipped your hand over to assess the underside. 

He wanted to reply with ‘yeah, no shit’ but figured that wouldn’t be helpful. If you hadn’t sought out medical attention by now, there was probably a good reason. You were smart, a nurse who could easily figure out her own symptoms. But something was stopping you. Embarrassment, guilt.. Maybe fear? 

Bucky was gentle as he held your hand. Christ, his mind was racing. “What happened? Did you fall? Did something go wrong last week?”

You shook your head.

Although there was one giant fucking obvious glaring answer to his next question, Bucky wanted to hear your response. Maybe you had fallen or dropped something on it this weekend. Maybe you had crushed it between a door or something, anything else than someone hurting you. Because the thought of anyone doing that, inflicting any intentional harm –

Bucky sucked in a breath and looked back at you. Your lower lip was already trembling again. He had to ask. He didn’t want to, but he fucking had to.

“Sweetheart, who did this to you?”

“I should have walked away, Bucky. I..” You immediately trailed off, head shaking again as you tried to collect yourself. 

With you, Bucky would be patient. He would always be patient. A few moments ticked by as he waited, still holding your injured hand in his. 

“It was supposed to just be a routine scenario, a test sort of thing I guess. But he was… he was volcanic. The anger erupted and he - he.. Bucky, I was just doing my job, it’s not my fault his friends lost theirs an-and he got so mad. I tried to get away but he just kept going.”

He said your name quietly. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?” You did, breathing in tandem with him a few times as you steadied yourself. “You’ve gotta tell me a name, please.”

After another deep breath, you nodded. “It was Boone.” You closed your eyes. “I think he’s taking drugs, steroids–again and he just.. I shouldn’t have engaged him at all. And I tried to get away once I realized he was freaking out..”

Bucky stilled, lips pulled into a straight line. “Hey, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his gaze. “This isn’t your fault.” God, he wanted to say so much more but the simmering anger below the surface was bubbling up. And that wasn’t important. You needed an x-ray and real medical attention. Then, maybe he could face the rage coursing through his bones. “Sweetheart, we’ve gotta get this looked at, okay?”

Reluctantly, your head shook. “I know. I just.. I don’t want to have to go to urgent care and explain what happened. I should have already gone and I feel so stupid about the whole thing and-and–”

He placed his free hand on your knee to stop you. “Okay. It's okay. I think I know where we can go. Let me make a few phone calls.”

---

PART 2

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Your secret fling with Eddie Munson hadn't gone entirely under wraps, particularly to the know-it-all, Dustin Henderson. With the help of Robin and Steve, the three conspire to reveal the truth, resulting in two of the most awkward people going on a date together...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, slight crying, alcohol consumption, awkwardness, insecurities, closeted sexuality, implied coming out, secret relationship, and some explicit sexual content: fondling, mention of porn, mention of oral, and unprotected vaginal sex (fairly minor, not the focal point).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This piece has literally been sitting in my Google Docs since June 26th, because when rewatching Friends, I though it would be a cute idea for a fic, so you'll see a lot of lines and parallels from the episode (season 5, episode 14). It's devastatingly unfortunate Matthew Perry passed when I was finishing this up. So, in memory of him and a toast to friendship, here is this fic. Be safe, appreciate life, and enjoy <3 I love you all.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“Did you guys see that?!” A pointed finger of accusation was targeted against Eddie Munson, completely oblivious to his knowledge. 

Steve Harrington had grimaced at the mush that was once a solid cheeseburger residing inside the slobbery mouth of Dustin Henderson, as the kid spoke with such urgency, clearly unperturbed by his lack of food etiquette and social decorum. But such skills could not be expected much from Dustin Henderson. That is unless, of course, an actual adult of authority had been in the presence, to which a gummy smile was expected to assuage whatever insulting comment about the need for manners that “The Hair” would proffer in disgust. 

It was the second Saturday in a row that Steve’s been bombarded by the abuse of the children to let his residence be used for a pool party. He doesn’t understand how exactly he lost the backbone to say no to four teenagers, but the phenomenon had manifested into reality, and at the very least, a compromise was made for the young adults—of whatever weird mesh of a friend group this was between older teens, younger teens, crossover shebang—to tag along for a hot afternoon of relaxation.

“Yeah, Eddie’s hair totally looks like a wet mop.” Max Mayfield snickered between her sips of a twisty-straw-in-lemonade action. In truth, seeing lushes locks of black stick to his face and neck was quite amusing, especially when made worse as the metalhead re-calibrated like a dog, shaking his hair as a means of getting rid of the chlorine water that weighed down his head. One that could always get a good chuckle out of anyone. 

“No! Not that! That!” The ghost trail that was of Eddie Munson walking inside the Harrington villa, as pointed to by Dustin as a means of evidence, did little to provide any context of support to whatever it was he was avowing about this time. In many instances, those close to him knew to just let his diatribes continue without interference. The kid’s standards were impossibly high; people’s mistakes of simple wrongdoings were always criticized by his superiority. ‘“Oh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick.’” Dustin mimicked, mocking the voice of his Dungeon Master with dramatic gestures of flailing arms. A testament surely to get his character killed in next week’s campaign, should he have been caught by the man. 

“Yeah, Dustin, that’s kinda, like, a natural occurrence in life.” Mike Wheeler deadpanned with a patronizing voice to annoy, as it’d been known to exasperate his friend. It’d even gained a couple laughs from the lounging bodies strewn about in the breadth of the gardened backyard. 

Lucas Sinclair had jumped at the opportunity to prod further, barking a deafening cackle. “Yeah, remember that bomb you dropped after the school’s attempt to serve enchiladas?” He slapped his knee with joy. “You had the janitor running from the stalls!”

That one really got a good laugh out of everyone. But before Max could even venture at an attempt to cater for further details, Dustin struck on offense to defend his honor from the sharings of his intimate privacy, definitively emphasized with an agitated tone of vexation. “No, no! You pinky swore that you’d never speak of it! Do I need to tell everyone what Erica found under your bed?!” Old reliable; blackmail, the bargain of a lifetime.

“The hell is under your bed, man?” Steve pondered, flipping a seared patty with a slab of American cheese ready to go. If it was anything like what was under his bed, he’d surely want no one to know.

“Nothing!”

“What I thought.” Dustin muttered with a glare, as Lucas shrunk in his chair to evade any potential threats of further questions that lay on the tips of his friends’ nosy tongues. “But again, that is not what I am talking about.”  

Always the civil one out of the Wheeler clan, Nancy reassuringly stepped up to support her brother’s friend in need, settling everyone down. “We’re sorry, Dustin, go ahead.” It was to be expected she’d gain a heartfelt thank you from Dustin Henderson, himself, once the debacle simmered and the turbulence had passed. Nancy Wheeler always did have a special place in the kid’s big heart, particularly after the caring gesture of the 1984 Hawkins Middle’s Snow Ball Dance. 

“How can you all be so blind?!” Dustin seethed. “You’re telling me none of you find it even a little suspicious that Eddie just so happened to go to the 'bathroom' right after Y/N’s excuse of wanting to 'change,' like, hello?!” He huffed. “They’re totally screwing!”

Dustin Henderson felt devastatingly vanquished when a unanimous vote of disbelieving what’s hurtled his way with no mercy. He felt useless- undermined. Like the bag of Fritos left behind when children would rather fight over Doritos or Sour Cream n’ Onion Lays, rather than appreciate the artistry of a simple corn chip, left alone and forgotten until a last resort when moms took too long to make dinner; never to be cherished in the dark corner of the bulk size box of Frito-Lays. Of course, they wouldn’t believe him. They didn’t witness what he had to tragically witness. He heard it so vividly. So hauntingly vivid. Sometimes, it kept the poor boy up at night. Last week- last Friday- Hellfire’s Friday, such an exhilarating night now befouled by the auditory version of what he learned in the ninth grade compulsory course of sexual education. 

How naive of him to believe your actions stemmed from the kindness of your heart; offering your chauffeuring abilities to pick up the freshman after their campaigns, sauntering inside with a sickeningly sweet smile to pair with your tender greetings, and always wanting to lend a helping hand to the Dungeon Master, because “it just seems like so much to clean.” Puh-lease! The signs had been flashing in his face. The ulterior motives screaming in his ear. What sane person deliberately chooses to waste their time picking up three boys revved up with excitement and sweat after the thrills of Dungeons and Dragon? Jesus, shit, it was Friday night, don’t you have any plans?! Yeah, plans to stick your tongue down their Dungeon Master’s throat. Tainting the sanctity of Hellfire with your debauchery. 

Dustin Henderson had forgotten his dice. Sometimes, he wishes he would have just let the damn things go. 

“God, baby, a quickie- let’s just do it right here real quick.” Eddie’s begging voice vibrated behind the closed door of the drama department, seeping through the open cracks beneath the door, all for Dustin’s ears to hear. 

And he tried to give him the benefit of the doubt- the kid really did. Pet names were far from unusual by use of Eddie Munson. The one instance the Byers dropped back into Hawkins during Spring Break, it was no doubt Will the Wise had to get a taste of the new man running the show, and when Eddie had given Byers the innocent compliment of being such a sweetheart, the kid blushed into oblivion, stuttering a thank you in return. Hell, not to mention the infamous “big boy” that followed Steve Harrington around wherever the man took on motherly duties. So, Dustin brushed it off. But the moment had quickly transpired into something cringe worthy to the fourteen-year-old who didn’t know better. It should have been his cue to run, but the fiery design of his dice cost him six bucks of his chores earning, and they weren’t about to be discarded, as if the sweat of his forehead meant nothing from an afternoon of bending over the mop bucket to clean the kitchen floors. 

There are moments at night when he speculates if this is the doings of the heavenly man above that his beloved, Suzie Bingham, always mentioned; punishing Dustin in consequence of eavesdropping on a private matter that surely was not intended to be heard. But can you really call it eavesdropping when you were merely trying to retrieve your dice? No! You can’t!

“They’re already waiting for me in the car.” You whined against his lips. The figurine that was poking your hip was the last thing accounted for in your mind, as Eddie had showcased you onto the wooden table of the prop room. Lips smeared against yours, his hand had squeezed a chunk of your meaty thigh, bringing you forth to keep you in close company. “We can’t.” Can’t what, huh? Find the dignity to do it outside of school grounds?! Freaks!

“Little shits.” Dustin had appallingly gasped at the insult, feeling the stabbing wound of betrayal hit him in the chest as you laughed along, hand clutched over his heart to appease the pain of such affliction. The dramatics. “Come to my place after.” Eddie delicately kissed loving pecks to your lips. “That way,” his finger trailed up your thigh, “we can have our alone time, and I can finally get a taste of that pretty pu-”

Dustin Henderson knew to run away at that point. Safe to say, the kid never got his dice back.

“Are you insane?!” Motherly hand on the hip, Dustin didn’t appreciate Steve’s disciplinary tone of voice, sounding too much like his mother, Ms. Claudia Henderson, for his liking, as everyone agreed with Harrington’s proclaimed delusion against the boy. “Munson doesn’t have the skills to screw, let alone someone as hot as her.” He chuckled in disbelief.

Oh, boy, was he wrong.

“Mm, j-just like that, uh!” Your pelvis pummeled into the sink, tainting the precisely picked pristine porcelain by Mrs. Harrington, herself, as Eddie rutted his hips into the dampness that was your bikini bottoms to chase a release that was on the brink of snapping.

It was your fault he claimed; prancing in a top and bottom that left little to the imagination. Accusations of your outfit being chosen to taunt him were thrown your way, and your faux innocence only cemented it further. “Fuck- fucking take it—ugh, s-shit—take this fucking cock!” How could this ever be seen as a punishment when your boyfriend was lighting your body on fire with the ecstasy of abusing your g-spot?

Perhaps having sex in the bathroom of your mutual friend was far from the ethical rules of friendship, but the act of secrecy had bred a burning excitement that neither of you could contain. And, given the fact that four weeks ago, Steve had poked fun at Eddie’s singleness—not that Steve had any room to joke, though, at least, “The King” was relishing in the funness of meaningless hookups, something Eddie surely didn’t partake in, he lovingly had you—so seeking revenge in fucking his hot girlfriend in his friend’s bathroom had stirred something menacing in Eddie’s head to truly not give a single care in what he was doing was wrong. 

“Yes! Yes! I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Fingers tightening on the edge of the sink, your heart soared watching the reflection of Eddie’s mouth panting with want, as he fucked your pussy, ready to release his load deep inside. His hands had snaked to grab handfuls of your bouncing tits, groaning as he felt your nipples poke through the coldness of your wet bikini top.  

His hips harshly snapped against your rippling ass. “Cum all over my cock- shit! C’mon, pretty girl, fucking soak me- take all o’ me!” It barely felt as though he was pulling out, merely drilling in deeper and deeper. “I’m gonna cum- fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”

“They are totally screwing!” The curls of Dustin Henderson’s head were on the verge of being ripped out in frustration; all that work he so earnestly dedicated night and day to maintain the silky bounce was about to be all for nothing. “They are! I heard them!”

Wrong choice of words. “You were listening to them screw?!” Robin gagged, triggering an onslaught of ew’s and perv’s- well, really, Max Mayfield had been the only one calling her friend a perv, doing it in the relaxation of her lounging chair, teasing behind her newly gifted heart-shaped sunglasses. 

“No! No!” Dustin shouted in clarification. “I wasn’t listening! I heard them talking about it!” He agonized. “They’ve been doing it for at least a week! Behind our backs!”

“Oh!” Max ventured. “Let’s bet, I say they’ve been engaged for four months, and are pregnant!” She heckled, now clearly just taking the piss out of him. 

“Has the water gone from your ears to your brain?” Robin laughed in his face. Surely the kid was mistaken, right? Aside from her personal himbo—Steve hated the nickname—you and Nancy Wheeler had become her newfound best friends. You know, a united front against the boys, girl talk, the whole shebang about girl code? Secrets weren’t a thing between your three! Granted, Robin, herself, was harboring a pretty large secret that only her himbo knew of, but that was different! Boys were nothing, she would gladly hear about all her friends’ boy problems, indulging in the drama of long distance or whatever the hell there was to complain about, but girls?! Yeah, that was, uh, that was just something- a topic still unbreached… at least, until she was ready.

“Fine!” The boy heaved, bailing out on defending his stance any further. “You guys don’t wanna believe, that’s just fine.” He snided. “But when they come back, and Y/N hasn’t changed out of her bathing suit, you won’t be laughing now!” Dustin Henderson ended his tirade with an embittered bite to his burger, dramatically dropping into his pool chair. 

They’d all learn soon, and bow down to him. 

So now, everyone waited. Waited for the fateful moment that would either prove Dustin Henderson right or wrong. And unfortunately- for you and Eddie, at least, your steamy escapade on the sink of the Harrington bathroom had left you too dazed and forgetful in the post-orgasmic bliss that was heavy breaths and loving touches of aftercare to keep up with the said excuse of “changing out of wet clothes” that got you alone with Eddie Munson in the first place. So when you marched out, glowing and relaxed—exactly two minutes and thirty-four seconds after Eddie’s “bathroom break” (so thoughtfully executed)—in the same damp bikini that had your secret boyfriend riled up to begin with, everyone gasped. 

“What?” You looked around confused. 

Unbeknownst to you, Dustin Henderson took a cheesy bite of his burger, loudly sipping a carbonated gulp of his cold Coke, ready to snap his fingers for another round of meals for his peasant friends to fetch. 

He was right. 

-

Robin Buckley confirmed it next. 

That Monday to come, Robin was staggering over the words of Dustin Henderson, and trying to piece the evidence presented to understand what was transpiring in your double life. The events after your return from “changing” left you confused by the jarring stares of six pairs of eyes testing you. Nancy, with the softest approach, had questioned you on the lack of new clothes on your body, to which your knight in shining armor—or accomplice—stepped up to save you from the army of prodding friends. “A knot in my hair, yeah, I distracted her to help me get a knot out of my hair.” Sure, Eddie, sure. 

During the uproarious minutes of lunchtime, you’d been ready to get an afternoon break from school to fork through Hawkins High’s poor excuse as to what constitutes consumable food, when the sudden scrutiny from Robin Buckley began. And, my god, was she persistent. 

In the comical marching band she suited, Robin Buckley had rushed her attempt to the first approach. “Hey, Robs. You think I can borrow your notes for Civics, I-”

“So, I hear Jonathan’s coming back from California next week!” Something about rashly eating the served cut peaches seemed to play up to the normal act Robin was going for, but truthfully, it just made you eye her strange behavior weirdly.

“Oh.” You accepted the out-of-nowhere information. Maybe you won’t do so good on Mr. Vortroski’s test on Supreme Court cases as you originally thought. “That’s great for Nance-”

“Isn’t it?!” The enthusiasm she was exerting was truly taking it over the top. But Robin Buckley had a heart for caring, and perhaps the excitement for her friend was really bubbling up today. “Nancy said they’ve been planning, like, a lot of dates, you know, to catch up on lost time?” You casually nodded along. “Single dates, double dates… and then I was thinking, hey!” She perked. “Y/N’s young and good looking! She’s probably seeing someone! So are you, I don’t know, seeing someone? Anyone? Tall, dark hair? Anyone?”

“Uh…” Yeah, maybe the hastiness of Robin’s impetuous nature wasn’t the best route to go with. “No, um, no I’m not seeing anyone.” You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nance and Jonathan are gonna have to find someone else to double date with- oh, maybe Steve! What’s that girl's name he’s been seeing, Brenda? Beatrice? Actually, you know what, it’ll probably be really awkward to ask your ex-boyfriend on a double date with your current bo-”

“You’re seriously not seeing anyone?!” Robin’s brows furrowed with frustration. You were lying to her face- you were lying straight to your best friend’s face! “Nobody? No one?” You begrudgingly shook your head. “No thing?”

“Robin,” you chuckled, “is there something you want to tell me?” There were lots of things Robin Buckley wanted to tell you. Like, for starters, the newfound revelation that she likes how she looks with mascara, after you left yours on the dresser of her bedroom during your sleepover two weeks ago. She had no plans of returning it back to you, either. Or, possibly the fact that Bridget—the actual name of Steve’s newest lover—stole his Farrah Fawcett hairspray- or the fact that Steve uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray. Maybe the other thing, as in the strange occurrence that happens to her heartbeat whenever Vickie from chemistry happens to be around. Or, the other other thing, like the fact that she spent an obscene amount of minutes staring at cover of “Scissoring with Seduction” starring Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond, after organizing the adult films section at Family Video- actually, scratch that, she’d never tell a soul about that, not even Steve Harrington. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” She shot back with fervency. 

“No…?” Your questioning answer had your friend igniting her dramatic flare, slumping in her seat with a defeated huff. Dustin Henderson would surely be owed a duly apology. At this point, you’d like to say this weirded you out, but you lived in Hawkins, Indiana. You’ve seen weirder. 

Evidently not sufficed with your response, your friend sat up onto perched elbows. “Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right?” A sincere approach. Undoubtedly better. “Like, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff. I won’t judge or anything.” Robin solemnly smiled at you. 

Your tender hand squeezed her arm. “I know.” You beamed. “I hope you know that the same goes for you, Robs. If you ever have anything you need to tell me, I’ll always be here to listen to you. Probably give you way better advice than Stevie.” You both chuckled at the expense of Steve Harrington. Robin Buckley understood the feeling of not being ready for the world to know, because knowing would change the dynamics of life, and having the world suddenly perceive you in a way they never have before was scary. 

Having the world hate you for the tender love you caressed your partner with was terrifying. 

You’d tell her when you were ready, just as she would with you. 

With a nod to her head, she patted your hand. “You know, I asked Steve once on tips to upgrade my look, and he legit told me to do my eyebrows like Pamela Anderson.” 

“The himbo, himself, is too unknowledgeable to know that Miss Anderson is the only one capable of pulling off the blonde bombshell look. Though, I would love to see him with pencil brows and blue eyeshadow.” You both laughed, before you reached over to pinch her chin. “Plus, your beautiful self doesn’t need any changing, Robs. Anyone would be lucky to wake up next to it.”

Yeah, she’d simply tell you when she was ready, just as you would with her.

By three o’clock, Robin Buckley had been worn down by the insufferable compulsion that was Mr. Heizer’s fifth period calculus class. With the last day of school being around the corner, Robin wondered what warranted Heizer’s balding head to be so miserable that he felt the need to subject his students with the abuse of derivatives. Trudging her feet against the pavement of the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve Harrington had came into view, where he brandished himself atop the hood of his car. Not the most irregular of sights, given the systemic routine of drop off and pick-up that had been structured for Monday through Friday, though today, Dustin Henderson had managed to find Steve’s BMW through the array of parked cars, and was found yapping his ear off. 

So sorely critical-looking, Robin couldn’t help but tiredly chuckle. “What’s with the wrinkles, kid?” She approached.

Dustin huffed, letting his arms dramatically drop to his side in desperation. “Steve won’t go along with my plan!”

“What are you even doing here, Dustin, isn’t your mother, like, first in line at the car riders pick-up?” She laughed. 

Steve exasperated. “He waved off his poor mother, like the lunatic he is, just to track me down and tell her I was giving him a ride!” He answered, propelling Dustin to gasp with a snide.

“So we can talk about the plan!” Dustin provoked the Italian—that he probably didn’t actually have—within him, as his loose fist shook in Steve’s vicinity. 

“What plan?” Robin interjected. 

“The plan to expose Y/N and Eddie!” Dustin stressed. 

“Eddie and Y/N are not screwing.” Steve deadpanned. “What happened Saturday was just… some fluke coincidence, not proof to anything, okay? So let it go, Dustin. Just face it, you were wrong.” He chuckled a very much unappreciated chuckle in Dustin’s face. 

“I am not wrong! I know what I heard! How many times do I have to be right on the money for you all to just trust me?!” Neither Steve or Robin appreciated the numerous stares the freshman was gathering from leaving classmates and faculty. 

“Okay, just calm down, alright.” Robin shushed. “You're right-”

“Ha!”

“But I don’t think we should do anything.” Dustin heaved, scowling at Robin as if she just committed sacrilege. 

“Are you crazy? Of course, we should totally do something!” Dustin retorted. “This is big news! Two of our best friends are dating! You know what this means?! I could have parents, Robin, and you know I don’t have a dad, do you really want to be the reason I never have a dad?” A pointed finger targeted her. 

Her hand worked swiftly to smack his accusing finger away. “Eddie is not your dad, Christ, he’s not dating your mom.” She annoyingly sighed.

“Yeah, and also, I’ve known you for way longer. If anyone’s gonna be your dad, it’s gonna be me, not Munson.” Steve exhorted with ire. 

Dustin mockingly laughed. “Please, you and mother have the same hips.” 

Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson were too engrossed in their conversation to bring any of their attention to Steve Harrington’s insulted gasp. “Look, Dustin, I already tried asking Y/N about it, and she’s just not ready to talk about it.” She explained. “Let’s just drop it until they’re ready to tell us.”

“Okay, but we can help them talk about it.” The kid returned with retaliation. “You know how great it was to see Nancy and Jonathan finally get together?”

“Which came at my expense, by the way.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t know why that brings you such joy.”

“Well, this is Y/N and Eddie, it’s even bigger!” Dustin smiled. “Look, all I’m saying is that a little encouragement never hurt anybody.” Call the boy annoying, he already knew that, but his intentions were coming from good faith. The notion of helping his friends find love- or more so express it, had him bubbling with excitement. “And the only way to get this love story rolling is if we get them to crack.”

Steve groaned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, we have to make them break first.” Dustin was beginning to get his crazy eyes, something about conspiring a plan had him menacingly smirking his enthusiastic grin. “You know, trick them into telling us.”

Robin sighed, drilling the palm of her hands into her eyes. “Okay, you know what? Do whatever you like, Dustin, but I will not be a part of this plan.”

“Of course, you will!” Dustin implored with desperate hands grabbing at her arms to shake with emphasis. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to flirt with Eddie.”

Robin and Steve blurted in disbelief. “What?!”

“Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it.” Dustin rationalized. 

“Woah, woah, wait a second, what makes you think she wouldn’t go for me?” Steve plowed on, his ego taking an obvious hit by a child six years his age. “I’m a total catch, the ladies love me!” He argued. “And Robin, she can’t flirt with Eddie, she’s… uh, well, she- she just can’t!” He stepped up to try to help his friend, much to Robin’s appreciation.

Dustin sighed, placing a tender hand upon Steve’s shoulder. “Look, Steve, you gotta get over this crush you have on Robin-”

“I do not have a crush on Robin!” Steve flung Dustin’s arm away. “And back to this ‘Y/N not going for me’ thing, I can totally flirt with her to get her to crack!”

Dustin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he was the adult in this situation. “Steve, c’mon, she calls you himbo behind your back, she probably thinks you have no personality.” 

“I have personality!”

“No, you have hair!” 

In the midst of the commotion, Eddie Munson had sauntered his way out of the double doors, cigarette in hand to relinquish the stress brought upon him throughout the day. Despite the matter that his van had been haphazardly parked on the west end of the parking lot for reasons being that your pretty self always used the end doors for the less crowded purposes—sue him, he loved the view—there was always something about Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson arguing that always brought happy entertainment for the metalhead. 

“Trouble in paradise?” His croaking voice startled the group, as they all looked at him stunned. “Jesus Christ, what’s with the faces?” Eddie laughed, as his cigarette scraped along the wetness of lips. 

“N-Nothing.” Robin awkwardly had to offer, forcing Eddie to raise a brow at her.

And then he spoke. Dustin fucking Henderson spoke. “Actually! Uh, R-Robin what were you saying about Eddie just now?” She snapped a deadly glare back at him, to which he gladly challenged with a grating smile that had Steve quietly laughing in the back.  

“You talkin’ about me behind my back, Buckley? C’mon, I thought we were friends.” Eddie lightly jabbed, as he paid more attention to his lighter, which was taking multiple rounds of clicks until it ignited. 

“Nothing.” She assured. “I said nothing.”

“No, no, you were saying something about his outfit.” Dustin encouraged. God, how ethical was it to beat up a child? “About how he… looks nice.” 

Robin sighed, as Eddie gave her a lighthearted smile. “Thanks, Rob, I’m really liking those patches.” He pointed to her sweater, finding nothing but the innocence of friendship in her supposed compliment. 

“A-And something about his large muscles.” A curl of his hair was absentmindedly twirled as to appear uninvolved in the scheme of his mischief, and right as Eddie’s eyes left Dustin with a confused stare, the kid’s arm shoved Robin’s back to coach her further. 

So, Robin Buckley, simply accepted. Though, tapping into her retired career of one year in drama club when she got the gracious role of playing Mrs. Soames in last year's production of Our Town proved to lack any skills training, when attempting to flirt with Eddie Munson had her stuttering like a child learning to speak. Then again, playing Mrs. Soames in Our Town didn’t exactly require her to flirt with her friend’s secret boyfriend who was a man!

“Y-Yeah, Eddie, uh, that m-material.” Robin bunglingly smiled, as a stiff hand touched the leather of his coat. “O-Oh, well, hello, Mr. B-Bicep.” She mentally prepared herself for the moment Steve Harrington would belittle her to death for her lack of flirting skills whenever this mess was over.  “You’ve been, uh, working out?” 

Attempting to give her the benefit of the doubt, Eddie chose to assuage the painful discomfiture with his casual sarcasm. “Ah, well, I try to, y’know, squeeze things.” Eddie recoiled at her over-the-top laugh that appeared too similar to that of Heidi Wilson’s, when she ran into him and Steve in the food court of Starcourt Mall last week, looking to allure his friend with whatever screech that was. “You okay?”

“Uh-”

“She’s just having guy problems.” Dustin interjected, much to Robin’s dismay. Never. Never in a million years would Robin Buckley ever have guy problems. “Go on, tell him.” 

Yeah, Dustin Henderson wouldn’t see the age sixteen. “Well, uh, you know how you’re s-sometimes just looking for something, a-and don’t even realize that it’s, um, right there in front of you... s-smoking a cigarette?”

Eddie looked down at the lit cigarette in his mouth, and quickly stepped back in panic, all while Steve Harrington’s cheeks puffed with laughter, as his sealed lips worked overtime to not guffaw out loud. “U-Um, yeah, okay, I’m gonna go.” Eddie could only spare a quick glance to Robin, before throwing everyone a small wave goodbye. 

Robin Buckley watched him walk away for two seconds, before slowly turning to Dustin Henderson, where he was met with her twitching eye. “You have five seconds to run.”

His mouth fell gape. “But wait, Steve’s my ride-”

“Five!” 

That Monday afternoon, Dustin Henderson spent forty-five grueling minutes walking the three mile hike to his home, as punishment per Robin Buckley’s request. And yes, she did wave him goodbye, when Steve Harrington’s BMW swiftly passed him on the way over. 

-

Steve Harrington confirmed it next. 

And maybe was a little asshole about it. 

Benny’s Burger had become the choice of dinner for the mundane Monday night he was currently enduring, because Eddie Munson refused to hit up the bar, despite the common courtesy that buying beers had become for the twenty-year-old men. At the very least, greasy burgers with a cigarette to follow would be the accommodation Eddie Munson could offer, since Steve Harrington had lost his weekly hookup, because his personal wingman decided to fall into a secret relationship- presumably. Steve was choosing to balance on the fence of whether or not to believe the words of a fourteen-year-old, mostly because if he did, Steve Harrington would become subjected to the sanctimonious behavior of a cocky teenager. 

And who would want that? 

“Lemme do a double cheeseburger with extra pickles, uh, no tomatoes, please. Ooh, with a side of cheese fries, a strawberry shake, and I’ll get that with a Coke, too. Thanks, Benny.” Steve eyed his friend. God, that man could eat. The bustling fan that chilled Benny’s sweaty neck had proffered a wonderful alternative to the sweltering humidity that tinted the large windows with fog. Aside from the burly trucker consuming the two cups of coffee to keep him awake for the night, Steve had all respective authority to slyly grill his buddy on whatever friends-with-benefits-slash-potential-boyfriend-girlfriend dynamic he shared with you. 

Fuck it. “Uh, might as well do the same, Ben, what he said.” The laminated menu went unskimmed, closed off, and collected for the owner to take. 

Assuring the boys their meals would follow out quickly, they met Benny with gracious thank you’s for the service, and Steve Harrington rashly followed the movements of the older gentleman, until his being was out of ear shot, promptly snapping his head back to his friend. “Why didn’t you wanna go to the bar tonight?!” If a sign as to why Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington were soulmates, for whatever reason, needed to be clearer than it already was, the incaution- not so subtle “subtle” approach was reason enough. 

“Uh,” Eddie hummed, forcing Steve’s eyes to narrow in return, “I dunno, just didn’t wanna go for drinks tonight.” He shrugged, flicking at a sugar packet he had no intentions of using. 

Steve raised a brow. “Really?”

The incredulous tone was quite too bitchy for Eddie’s liking, who merely scoffed. “Can’t a guy care about his liver?”

“Ed, there’s a pack of cigarettes hangin’ in your pocket.” Steve deadpanned. “Think organ functionality is the least of your worries.” Unwelcoming to the implied suspicion of accusation behind Steve’s comment, Eddie simply chose to stay silent, finding more interest playing with the provided condiments as trinkets for his entertainment. Steve rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I saw Myra at the laundromat not too long ago.” He scratched his clean shaven chin, playing into his nonchalant bit, that only left Eddie to raise his eyebrows in confusion as to where this was going. “She looked nice; got her hair done, these pretty, little braids, y’know, with the gold cuffs and whatnot.” 

Eddie’s head lolled, enjoying the simple task of his finger tracing the obscured lines of the faux granite table top, when the ketchup label had been read to its entirety. “So?”

“So,” Steve emphasized, “you coulda called her up, y’know, tell her to meet you tonight. How long has it been since you’ve seen her- or any girl for that matter?” He slyly asked. 

“Not interested.” Blunt and suffice, surely enough to ward off anymore of Steve’s prodding questions. 

But Steve merely scoffed. “What, in girls anymore?” 

And in true Eddie Munson fashion, a shit-eating grin consumed his face, devious smile lines and all, as he leaned on perched forearms to invade Steve’s space. “Aw, why? You interested, big boy?”

Yeah, this conversation would be going nowhere. 

As the sparing minutes filled to meaningless conversations, their full course dinners made the quick arrival, and Steve pondered at the various ways a confession could be pummeled out of Eddie Munson’s mouth, which was currently being stuffed to the brim with mushing bites of each food group—minus the vegetables, this was Benny’s Diner after all. There was the ex-fling route, but clearly Eddie wasn’t looking to explore that again; good news for you, at least. That is if anything Henderson claimed was actually true. Little shit-

But wait a minute, that was it! What would Dustin Henderson do?!

He could still hear his grating voice. "Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it." As if. Steve Harrington could get you- hell, Steve Harrington could get anyone. Graduating out of the social hierarchy of high school totally hasn’t affected his game… totally. But digressing, if Dustin Henderson could scheme up a plan with no substance, Steve Harrington could, too. If anything, this would make so much more sense, given that Robin doesn’t even like boys. Dustin Henderson didn’t know anything, but Steve, yeah Steve Harrington was way more cunning than some snappy child with no regard for people’s business. Yeah, Steve Harrington could totally do this…

Eddie’s chewing slowed, brows cinched, as he wondered why the hell Steve Harrington had been silently smiling to himself for the past minute. And people saw him as a freak? Fucking weirdo. 

“Hey, uh,” Steve cleared his throat, presumably back to being normal, allowing Eddie to continue to shove his face with a strawberry milkshake covered cheese fry, unperturbed by Steve’s judgemental grimace, “I’m thinkin’ of askin’ out Y/N.”

Suddenly caught in his throat, Eddie began coughing up the fry he just downed, as Steve smiled with such amusement at the torment he just caused his friend. Maybe Henderson was right. “W-What? You wanna what?”

“Yeah, been thinkin’ about it, and y’know, I’m really feeling her.” Steve cocked a smirk that had Eddie’s face scrunching with agitation. “Very smart, funny, really fucking pretty, so…”

“I d-don’t, um- you really think that’s a g-good idea?” Eddie adjusted in his seat, composing the bubbling feeling that stirred terribly with the monstrosity he had just eaten.

Taking a large bite from his burger, Steve grinned happily. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Hunger and entertainment wonderfully satiated on this peaceful, late Monday night. 

Eddie shrugged, sulkingly throwing a stray pickle in his mouth. “I dunno, you’re just friends n’ all.” He mumbled. 

“Oh!” Steve’s eyes gleamed with laughter behind them. “You don’t think friends should date-”

“No, no, no, no!” God, the last thing Eddie was about to do was inadvertently claim your relationship was some end all be all cataclysm, but did it really have to come at the expense of encouraging his friend to date his secret girlfriend?! “I-I mean, like, some friends c-can date, like, um, good friends-”

“So, me and Y/N?” Steve quietly chuckled to himself, as he watched Eddie fret with frustration. 

“No- I mean, I dunno!” He exasperated, as Steve relished in his greasy food with a smile on his face. Eddie’s heart began sinking into his stomach. He understood how demeaning it would be to conclude you as the type to jump into Steve’s arms once he’d make the “inevitable” move. God, for once in his life someone with care to proffer promised him fundamental security, and there was no denying it, he felt. Felt it in your caressing hands, your saccharine words, your devoted kisses, your gentle touches- you touched with such love… at least, that's what it felt like. Does Eddie Munson even know love? He swallowed thickly. “D-Do you even think she would go for you-”

“I have personality!” Steve proclaimed, finger pointed and all, forcing Eddie to shove back in surrenderance, hands in the air, and a confused look to pair. 

“Okay, I’m not sayin’ you don’t, geez.” Eddie clarified, as Steve huffed, raking a harsh hand through his Farrah Fawcett hairsprayed perfection. “J-Just maybe don’t. Like, um, i-if it doesn’t work out, it could get really bad between you two, a-and it would be fucking horrible not to have her in your life at all, you can’t lose her, man.” 

Voice so small and eyes so distant, there was a deep inkling that perhaps Eddie was speaking his fears aloud. Because even in the greatness that was having the privilege of calling you his girlfriend, there was a world full of Steve Harringtons that could provide you with more than what any Eddie Munson ever could. Late at night, when the world could finally offer you both the peace to just be, entangled in arms and legs, Eddie would just stare at you and… know. Know that there is a feeling that scares the living shit out of him that he can’t feel for anyone else. A different type of feeling from the camaraderie of his club, who triumph against the evil of the universe. A different type of feeling from the shoulders he’s cried on of his uncle, because Eddie truly cannot thank him enough. You, you were a different type of feeling. One that left him just wanting to look at you, smell you, touch you, think of you all day. 

This wasn’t just infatuation, god, it felt like pure fucking lo- shit, what would he know. Eddie Munson didn’t know love. 

A sudden wave of regret washed over Steve, as he realized the saddened roundness of his buddy’s eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not gonna happen.” His calm voiced reassured. “I mean, it’s Y/N, why would she ever allow that to happen? Y’know, so what, things don’t work out between… me and her,” he explicated, “doesn’t mean your- I mean, our friendship has to change.” Steve watched, as Eddie nodded along, shoulders slumping in relaxation. “We talk it out, we understand each other, and we move on as friends. Together. We’ll still love each other like that. And, hey, at least we’ll both get a hot hookup out of it.” Okay, maybe he was still being a little shit, but he was only channeling his inner Henderson. Plus, the snapping glare from Eddie was quite priceless. 

“Are you really gonna make a move on Y/N?” His jaw ticked with clenched teeth. 

“I dunno.” Steve smiled, before snapping his fingers with a brilliant revelation, “Y’know what, I saw Robin flirting with you earlier today, how ‘bout we go on a double date?” Yeah, now he was definitely just teasing. “Hell, make it a triple one once Byers and Wheeler head back into town.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Robin was not flirting with me, she was just being… weird.” He pondered it for a second. What the hell was that that happened this afternoon? There’s no way she actually- no, impossible. Could she? No, that didn’t feel right. Well, maybe-

“Hey, do you actually think I have personality?” Oh, Stevie. 

-

On Tuesday evening, the Family Video store saw the little customers it was regularly accustomed to; Mr. Fredrickson, only to be accounted for, slowly roamed the documentary section, particularly interested in the historical segment for his afternoon leisure.

The nub of his cane poked an indent into the carpeted floors, as his supported weight allowed for close inspection of the bolded titles that plastered in an array of colors. Luckily, the lens of his glasses were thick enough to provide him the ability of sight to read what was on display for night, leaving you to mindlessly thumb through this month's issue of Cosmopolitan. “Hm.” Mr. Fredrickson gruffed. “What d’ya make of the Franco-Prussian War, darlin’?”

The Proven Personal Approach to Permanent Weight Loss. An Incredible Shrinking Woman Tells How She did it! Christ. You found more interest flipping back to the written Cosmo’s quiz determining what kind of husband your current rendezvous would make. 

“Uh…” Your back was beginning to ache from finding all support on your perched elbow digging into the counter, letting your cheek fall to your palm. “You did the Napoleonic Wars last time, no? Why don’t you give the French a break?” You skimmed the printed words of the glossy pages.

His wrinkled pointer finger shakingly racked through the tapes, as he took your word of advice. Your eyes were hanging onto the last bit of energy they were enduring to stay awake, but the weight of eyelids inevitably began to win, and it surely didn’t help that the liveliness of your thriving life was partaking in conversations with an elderly man who found amusement in learning about wars. 

But before a potential write up—Keith never found the actual courage to do so, loved to threaten it, though—for sleeping on the job could be scolded, the welcoming bell of the front door rang loudly enough to alert some life back into your body. 

“Welcome to Family Vide-euuawghh.” A guttural yawn ripped out of you, slurring your standardized greeting into an embarrassing mush of sounds. 

With watery eyes scrunched from tiredness, a rushed apology to your incoming customer had proved to fall unnecessary, as a familiar chuckle addressed you back. “Aw, such rigorous labor, working my baby to death, huh?” Eddie Munson, himself, teased, as he leaned to hover over the counter and close to your sluggish face. 

“Don’t tease me.” Your mouth jutted in offense, as you rubbed your eyes to the clear sight of being welcomed by Eddie’s bourbon eyes and a smug curl to his lips. 

His rough-tipped thumb caressed the hairs of your brow to ease. “How can I not when it gets you to make that cute pout at me, hm?”

You piqued with giddiness. “Because I’m your girlfriend.” A label you quickly learned to adore. “And you shouldn’t be mean to your girlfriend.”

Eddie smiled a breathy chuckle, as he peered at your lips. “Yeah, you are my girlfriend, huh?” He proudly verbalized with a husk to his tone. His mouth was itching to say more, pour out all he felt for the girl standing before him, but a counter the size of the world divided the union between two beating hearts of devotion. And manifesting his words of love paved the way for the potential loss of you. But not doing so also did the same. Because he’s learned good things don’t last for Eddie Munson. And what a unless world it would be to lose the profoundness of you. 

God, he wanted to punch Steve Harrington for last night.

Eddie took a deep breath. His bangs landed against your forehead, and scrunched under your nod of confirmation. You are his girlfriend. “Where’re the other two stooges?” He whispered, his breath fanning across your face. 

“In the back doing inventory.” You gladly answered the words Eddie wanted to hear. He bashfully leaned in, though before his mouth could meet yours, you pulled back with furrowed brows. “Wait, ‘other two stooges,’ am I the third?” 

Eddie barked out a boyish laugh, as he watched your faux face of aversion and shock. His large hands made your face feel small as he cupped your cheeks and brought you forth. “God, you’re so pretty.” 

His lips crashing upon yours had wiped your expression of any annoyance you tried to playfully brat out. His mouth moved against yours so languidly, it had you falling limp to his kiss, as he expressed all that he felt with the touch of his lips. Eddie pulled away slowly, leaving you to quietly hum in retaliation and chasing his lips. 

“Sorry.” He chuckled, providing you with one more loving peck. “But, hey, y’know, speaking of the other stooges, uh, Robin and Steve,” he cleared his throat, “you notice anything weird about ‘em, like lately?”

The cafeteria. “Um, yeah, actually.” You contemplated on the thought. “Why, did they say something?”

Nausea hit him like a truck, wondering if "The Hair’s" attempts to get at you were already happening quicker than expected. “S-Steve, he, uh, he said something to you?” Eddie felt his throat dry up.

“Steve? No, Steve’s been Steve, but I was mostly talking about Robin.” Jesus Christ, did you bring peace to his world. 

“Oh, yeah,” He puffed a breath of relief, “um, weirdest thing happened after school yesterday, but I think Robin was hitting on me.” Confusion had been written all over your face, as you pulled back from the counter. “She was, like, totally into me.”

“What?” You chuckled. “No, not possible.”

“Okay, ow.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes, as you laughed, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm in apology. 

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean it like that” you giggled, “but I’m sure you probably just misread things, you know? Robin finds you charming in a platonic way, like with Steve.”

Eddie straightened up. “No, I’m telling you, sweetheart, she was all over me.” He persisted. “I mean, for crying out loud, she was touching my bicep.”

A smug smile took over your face, as you arched your brow at him. “This bicep?” You teasingly squeezed his soft arm.

Eddie scoffed. “Well, it’s not flexed right now.” 

The back storage unit of Family Video had been littered with an influx of tapes, both coated in dust to be long forgotten and pristine with the newest release of what Hollywood had to offer. This year’s box office hit Top Gun starring Nancy Wheeler’s poster boy, Tom Cruise, or the fourteen-year-old The Ruling Class with the musical humor following a priest’s death due to his autoerotic asphyxiation kink? Robin Buckley laughed. Always the latter. 

“God, can’t believe Keith expects us to organize this junk.” Steve huffed, swiping his palms against each other, only to scowl at the specks of dust that floated into the air under the beaming sunlight. “I should be seeing Bridget right now, or Heidi, or taking out Linda, maybe Jeanie, haven’t talked to her in a minute.” Robin rolled her eyes at the endless sex-capades that was Steve Harrington’s love life. Christ, she couldn’t even get a clear sign that Vickie from chemistry wasn’t standing so straight. “Or-or maybe Y/N.” He chuckled to himself. 

“What?” Robin prodded. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, last night I was completely bugging out Munson, and told him I was planning on askin’ out Y/N.” Steve laughed, briefly coughing as dust particles blew off the VHS tapes. 

Robin was only left deadpanning in disappointment. “You did what now?” She scoffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side, I thought we were supposed to let it go?”

“You’re the one flirting with your friend’s boyfriend.” He argued. 

“Because that little twerp forced me to!” The Ruling Class came hurdling to his chest, as she chucked it. 

Shoving old movies aside, Steve grappled onto the box of new releases to shove into Robin’s arms, as he handled the second load. “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no sides, as much as I hate to admit it, Henderson was right about those two screwing.” Steve enthused. “You should’ve seen the look on Eddie’s face when I told him I was gonna make a move on Y/N.”

Robin huffed. “Okay, so let’s just leave it at that and let them screw in peace- or, even better yet, let’s just tell them we know, so they can have the freedom to do what they want.” 

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Steve whined. 

Robin laughed at his childish mewl. “And, unless Munson gets rid of the thing in his pants and learns to grow a cup or two, I am not flirting with him again.” She playfully gagged, while reminiscing on yesterday’s events. 

“Please,” Steve derided, “you can’t even look Vickie in the eye, I highly doubt if Munson suddenly grew some tits you’d become some sort of Casanova.” He snorted, opening the door. “Mr. Bicep?” 

Before Robin’s sneaker could step foot back into the main lobby of Family Video, Steve’s grasp onto the collar of her shirt flung her back into the storage room, with a slam to the door. “Are you inane?!” She chastised, while attempting to find her balance with a ten pound box of VHS tapes. 

“Munson’s out there!” He whisper-yelled into her face. 

“Okay, so?” 

“So, we gotta get in there, and stir the pot a little.” His brows danced impishly against his forehead.

Robin’s face dropped vacantly. “What about anything that I literally just said didn’t click for you?” A smack against his head from her hand had him reeling back in defense. 

“Ow, okay, I get it, Munson doesn’t have boobs.” Steve huffed, rubbing out the dulling pain. “But, look, Dustin wasn’t that far off, a little encouragement doesn’t harm anyone. He thinks that you like him and that I like her, you’re telling me this isn’t even a little funny to you?” My god, did Steve Harrington have a charming way of flaunting that stupid smirk that had Robin hold back a chuckle. Because in retrospect, Eddie Munson believing his lesbian friend had a crush on him, while her partner in crime, her himbo, had a supposed liking to his secret girlfriend was quite funny. Funny like a priest dying from his autoerotic asphyxiation kink. 

She sighed, giving him a pointed glare. “One time, Harrington. This is the one and only time I will ever flirt with a man again.” 

Steve threw his hands up in defense, as a smile lingered on his face. “Highly doubt there will ever be a time in which I ask you to do that again.” He laughed, while slinging the door open. “Plus, it’s Munson. I’m sure his cynicism won’t even count it as flirting.” 

“Well, Y/N's flirting surely worked.” She joked, as they stepped out. 

“You think it’s because he has personality or nice hair?” Steve interrogated. “Because I sure as hell have way better hair than him.” 

Despite your alluring face, Eddie caught a glimpse of Steve and Robin making their way over while looking past your shoulder, forcing him to make the regretful decision to back away from you. “Ed.” Your tiny pout of confusion made it all that harder, until Steve’s voice boomed out. 

“Hey, y’know, as a customer, you’re supposed to actually rent something!” Him and Robin joined you both at the counters, where they sat the boxes of movies. “Or, you could, y’know, stock shelves with us.” 

Eddie flipped him the bird, as he smiled. “Actually, I was just stoppin’ by to ask if Halloween is still rented out.” He turned to look down at you with a smirk. “Is it?”

“I can go check that for you.” Your sweet customer service voice had him biting back a grin, as you stepped away to the computer. 

As Steve and Robin began displacing films from the boxes, his elbow nudged her side to grab her attention away from organizing. “Just keep it casual.” He whispered, as she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sure if you unfocus your eyes, the five o’clock shadow will go away, and he’ll totally look just like Vickie.” And he huffed right back when Robin rightfully scoffed at him. “What? They have the same eyes… just, y’know, different color… and shape.” 

Robin waved him off before anything further could come out of his mouth. With The Fly nestled in her grasp, Steve threw her a nod of encouragement, before scurrying to the shelves with a small laugh escaping his lips. 

“Sorry, Eds.” You clicked off the computer. “Landon K. beat you to it; no Halloween.” 

“Should totally check out The Fly.” Robin slyly imposed, as she handed him the film. “Can never go wrong with some Cronenberg, right?” Eddie inspected the film with a shrug. “Sure, better than taking movie suggestions from Harrington.” 

There came the inordinate laugh from Robin that had Eddie throwing you a knowing glance, and Robin, herself, internally dying inside. “Ha! Always so funny!” She clumsily fist-bumped his arm. “Uh- anyway! Better get back to work.” A large smile flashed both your ways.. “I, uh, I’ll see you later… handsome.” And following in the footsteps of her grandmother when she wasn’t screaming something batshit crazy, Robin Buckley pinched Eddie Munson’s cheek before running away to Steve Harrington. 

“You pinched his cheek?!” Steve contemptuously chortled in her frazzled face that burned with embarrassment. 

Robin’s hands smack her face, dragging the skin down, as she groaned. “Well, I don’t know how to do the whole flirting thing!” Her fist came smacking down at his chest.

Steve bent at the waist with a cramping stomach of laughter “Okay, yeah, but he’s not a baby!”

Your eyes followed Robin’s running figure until she disappeared into the maze of shelves, and you incredulously turned to your stunned boyfriend. With his mouth wide, and eyes bulging, Eddie fretfully spoke. “Okay, did you see that?! With the compliment, and the pinching?!” 

You bewilderedly settled at the realization. “Actually, I did.” You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend was flirting with you boyfriend- well, technically, she had no clue he was your boyfriend, but still- Eddie? Not to sell your boyfriend short, god, he was perfect in every way, but Robin? Robin and Eddie?!

“Okay, so now do you believe that she’s attracted to me?” He persisted. 

You thought for a second, and Eddie Munson watched your face drop with concern, as your hand clutched your chest. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! She knows about us!” You cautiously warbled, as you began pacing about behind the counter. 

Eddie’s face scrunched with distress. “Are you serious?” 

“Robin knows, and she’s just trying to freak us out!” You belabored, anxiously looking back to where Steve and Robin could no longer be seen. Your hands dramatically dropped at the revelation. “That’s the only explanation for it!”

Eddie vacillated at the unwarranted insult. “Okay, but what about my pinchable face and bulging biceps?” He confidently pointed to his arm, before the lacking muscle of scrawiness suddenly hit him like a truck. “She knows!” 

Your hand comically slapped the counter, as you chuckled in disbelief at her attempt to fool you. “Oh, man, she probably thinks she’s so slick for messing with us.” Eddie joined in, frenziedly laughing, completely feeling stupefied, though giving props to the mastermind, nonetheless. Impressed he was. “But, hey, you know what? She doesn’t know we know she knows, so…” 

“Ah, yes!” Eddie piqued with interest. “The messers become the messees!” 

-

“You sure you kids are alright?” Shrugging on his utility jacket for the night, the aging lines of Wayne Munson’s forehead scrunched with suspicion for the nightly activity his nephew and his supposed “friend” were going to be up to. 

Sure, the sight of you over at his trailer wasn’t something peculiar, in fact, for the past months, you, in particular, were the only one of Eddie’s buddies who made a regular appearance to their humble abode. Why? Well that was a question that still went unanswered whenever Wayne tried to prod into the life of his nephew. But the way Eddie would blush, while simultaneously attempting to quickly change the subject, made Wayne’s throat tickle with a chuckle. 

Who the hell were you two fooling?

But now, with much concern from Wayne, it seemed as though Eddie’s oddities had begun rubbing off on you, as you both strangely huddled around the yellow home phone, clearly waiting for the second Wayne would close the door behind, as he left for the graveyard shift. 

Attempting to “casually” lean against the paneling of the wall, Eddie’s head was quick to snap up and down in return. “Yeah, yeah.” He rushed. “Better get goin’, don’t wanna be late for the bosses.” He threw an overcompensating smile, as you sat at the kitchen table, merely following suit to that of your “friend.” Wayne Munson couldn’t care less about the bosses. 

“Alright then.” The old man huffed, picking up the keys of his pick-up truck, letting the humid spring breeze waft through the front door. “Get ‘er some dinner if you’re makin’ ‘er stay late.”

“As always.” Eddie threw you a sly wink, as Wayne left with a quick exchange of goodbye thrown from both parties, until the front door finally closed. 

At the click, you sprung from your chair, snatching the phone out of the receiver to hand to Eddie, to which he happily grabbed with a maniacal snicker. “You sure she’s over at Steve’s?” 

Your fingers were fervent with the harsh press to the buttons, dialing the numbers to phone the Harrington residence. “Uh huh, something about watching Fast Times with Robin.” The second your finger pressed down on the last digit, you were quick to maneuver the phone against Eddie’s ear. “Okay, just stick to the script.”

Eddie scoffed, flipping his hair back. “Sweetheart, please, I was able to get you, I sure as hell can get Robin.” Your hand met his chest with a chastising slap. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He laughed. 

Up the road, on the secluded sector of Cornwallis Street, Robin Buckley was anxiously plowing through a bowl of popcorn, as the fifty-second minute was fastly approaching, and suddenly Phoebe Cates was climbing out of the pool with the detrimental ambience of teenage horniness. 

“Here it comes, here it comes!” Steve snickered, as he absentmindedly chewed on a licorice piece. 

Robin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “God, Steve, you don’t have to point out the obvious!” But after forcing her friend to endure two hours and thirty-four minutes of the satirical musical critique of institutional religion that was The Ruling Class, Steve decided to return the torture by subjection of… boobies. 

“What I’m point out is the fact that Vickie lived through this exact moment, meaning she was staring at boobies, meaning-”

“Don’t say it!”

“Vickie likes boobies!” Steve implored, the largest grin on his face, as he watched Robin slap her hands onto her face at a brutal attempt to shield herself from the mortifying experience that was having Steve Harrington as a friend. 

But, in slow motion, as Phoebe Cates’ fingers clutched onto the center hook of her bikini bra, the phone shrilled, allowing Robin to exhale a “thank god,” as Steve’s attention begrudgingly turned to the incoming call. 

Swiftly jumping to the end table, Steve picked up the brick phone. “Yeah, hello?” He spoke, munching on another rope of his candy, surely missing the quick glances Robin was making back at the TV. Steve’s brows piqued at the static voice. “Oh! Yeah, she’s right here!” Turning to Robin, his hand cupped over the speaker, as he giddily shoved the phone to her. “It’s Eddie, he’s probably gonna cave in.” He whispered. 

Rolling her eyes, Robin cleared her throat from any stray popcorn kernel, ready to end this once and for all. “Hello?” 

Back at Forest Hills, your toes pressed against the linoleum tiling of the kitchen floor to push yourself up to his height, smushing your ear against the other side of the phone, as mischievous smiles consumed both your faces. “Hello, Robin… I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day.” Eddie channeled his most suave voice, forcing you to bite back a laugh, suppressing your mouth into his shoulder. 

“Huh?!” Devious as ever, both you and Eddie almost broke at her considerable shock. 

Steve raised a questioning brow, attempting to scoot closer, only for Robin to preserve her personal bubble and shove him back. Much to his nosey dismay. “Well, y’know that thing you said before, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” Eddie teased, as you nodded your head along to show your proudness for your boyfriend flirting with your friend. 

Yeah, things in Hawkins, Indiana surely were weird. 

“R-Really?” Robin choked, as the popcorn in her stomach suddenly turned at the uneasiness of male attention. Gross. 

Ever the villain, Eddie smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, listen my uncle isn’t gonna be here tonight, so why don’t you come over, and I’ll let you, uh, feel my bicep… or maybe more.” You quietly chuckled. God, what a cute loser.

Robin grimaced, stuttering with concern. “Uh, you know, I-I’ll have to get b-back to you on that, uh, okay, bye!” She was quick to hang up the phone, while you and Eddie intimately celebrated in the lonesome of his kitchen with silly squeals and tiny jumps. “Oh, my god! He wants me to come over to feel his bicep and more!” 

Steve Harrington was left speechless at Robin’s panicked announcement, as his mouth hung wide. “Are you kidding?!”

“No!” She gagged. “I know what I heard!” 

Steve felt incredulously at the scumminess of his friend. “I cannot believe he would do that to… wait a second.” His brows furrowed. Eddie Munson nearly launched at the chance to shut down any ideas of Steve dating you, why on Earth would he suddenly- oh, shit. “They know!”

“What?!” 

“They know that we know!” Steve clarified, as the gears in Robin’s head turned, until her face was enlightened with the fact of the matter which was that her best friend was trying to deceive her right back!

She gasped. “I can’t believe those two!” Instantaneously, any reservations Robin initially had for Steve and Dustin’s plan had left, as all she felt was dramatic offense at the idea of trying to be demeaned. 

“They thought that they could mess with us?!” Steve proclaimed.

“They’re trying to mess with us?!” In disbelief, both friends chuckled with bewilderment at the unexpected slyness coming from you two. That was, until Robin Buckley schemed with realization. “They don’t know we know they know we know!” 

Steve’s face scrunched with confusion, though nonetheless a team player, he nodded along, giggling at Robin’s wicked implication. Suddenly, a call to the Henderson household was in need. 

Dustin Henderson’s calves burned under the rigorous strain of bike riding from the northern end of Cornwallis street to reach Steve’s house. Haphazardly disposing his bicycle in the driveway, Dustin had barged in with no warning, coming face-to-face with Robin Buckley, resident polyglot band geek, wearing Mrs. Harrington’s blue cocktail dress, as Steve Harrington, retired king of Hawkins High, played makeup artist with his mother’s newly bought red lipstick in hand. 

It was undeniable at this point, Hawkins, Indiana was most definitely weird. 

“Would you just quit moving, so I can put this on you?!” The vein on Steve’s forehead became pronounced under the immense pressure he felt. Being a makeup artist surely wasn’t easy, especially when your client was nagging about the intense blush placement of his work. 

“Enough with the makeup, it’s Eddie for Christ sake!” Robin complained, enduring the endeavor of trying to shove Mrs. Harrington’s shoes onto her feet. God, why was the woman’s shoe size so small?!

“Really Steve?!” Robin and Steve jumped at the intruding voice of Dustin, as the kid stood with his hands on his hips, imitating the signature pose of the man before him. “That’s totally not her color, you’re making her look like a clown!”

Both parties scoffed, rightfully offended. 

Robin pushed Steve away, rubbing her cheeks harshly to blend out the monstrosity that was Steve’s makeup skills. “Okay, this is plenty!” She stressed. “We’re gonna call him, we’re gonna get that date, and we’re gonna win!” 

The boys cheered, Dustin more so heavily appreciative of this new Buckley mentality, as they circled around her when she reached for the phone. “Mm! You better grab a spring roll before I eat ‘em all.” Eddie’s crowded mouth of mashed vegetables spoke. Chinese had been delivered in the wake of your celebration, congratulating both of you for your—mostly Eddie—duplicitously clever work. 

In the midst of diving into your tangled lo mein, the phone shrilled, which had Eddie springing from the couch. “Probably calling back to surrender!” You cheered, as Eddie snickered, sliding his socked feet into the kitchen. “Good job on creeping her out, babe!” 

Eddie bowed, accepting whatever weird kind of praise that was, before answering the phone with a muffled mouth of spring rolls. “Hello?”

“Be sexy.” Steve encouraged, eliciting a scoff from Robin, as she turned her focus onto the phone call. 

“Hi!” Both terribly displeased with her lack of commitment, Robin was met with strict glares from Dustin and Steve to amp it up… so, she did. Clearing her throat, she dropped an octave to obtain the sultriness of what she could only assume Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond to sound like. “Uh, I mean, hey, you.” Robin Buckley wanted to puke. “So, Eddie, I’d love to come over tonight.”

A piece of pork was hacked from Eddie’s throat, as he choked on his food. “R-Really?!”

Watching his face drop, you stood with concern wondering what was going on on the other line. “Oh, absolutely. Should we say around nine?” Eddie checked his clock. In fifteen fucking minutes?! 

But Eddie Munson wasn’t going to back down. Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master of the great Hellfire, who’s pushed his men to prevail against the nefarious dark lords of villages and towns alike, was not going to be defeated by Trumpet Girl. The man glared his eyes. “Yes.” He tested. 

Robin Buckley accepted his challenge. “Good.” She smiled, as she watched Steve motion for her to crank it up a notch. “Uh, I’m really looking forward to you and I h-having sexual intercourse.” The phone hung up and flung from her hands the second the words left her mouth. 

Eddie Munson’s face dropped. Dustin Henderson gagged. Steve Harrington laughed. And Robin Buckley wanted to crawl into a hole to forever perish in the depths of torturous hell. 

Because that’s what it felt like to flirt with a man. 

-

“Okay, showtime!” Dustin applauded from the backseat of Steve’s car, where Robin scrambled to effortlessly scrunch her hair around. 

“Here’s the perfume.” Steve pushed down the nozzle of the stolen fragrance of his mother’s collection—thanking god for the moment that she wasn’t here—where his finger spritzed numerous doses against Robin, causing the car to invade with the nauseating scent of strong, overpowering flowers. 

Robin coughed. “Alright, quit it! The kid has allergies.”

“I have allergies!” Dustin sneezed. 

Steve huffed in annoyance, watching as Robin unbuckled from her seat. The beaming headlights that had once reflected off the vinyl-covered walls of the trailer had been switched off for stake-out purposes, as Steve’s car parked in the open area of the Munson home in the quiet night. 

“Hand over the wine, Henderson.” Buckled next to the seat of Dustin’s—for protective measures—a bottle of his parent's stolen chardonnay rested like a passenger on board; Steve’s, ever the romantic, suggestion for the authenticity of a real date. 

“Is this really necessary?” Robin truly had no room to talk, she most definitely hadn’t experienced the polarizing events of the dating scene, let alone ones of heterosexual realms (thankfully).  

Scoffing, Steve was galled by the dig at his—for once—knowledgeable expertise of life phenomena. “Are you kidding, chicks go for this shit.” Surely, Bridget, Heidi, Linda, and Jeanie can attest to his opinion. 

“Yeah, well, Munson’s definitely not a chick… unfortunately.” She mumbled. 

“Huh?” Dustin asked. 

Robin was quick to shut up in a panic. “Nothing!” 

“Look, just get in there, and do your thing, alright?” Whatever attempt at a pep talk this was from Steve Harrington devastatingly fell short, as the last thing Robin Buckley expected to do on her Tuesday night was go out on a date with a man, who so happened to be her best friend’s boyfriend. Thing?! What thing?! She couldn’t even stare her crush in the eye for Christ sake, Steven! Robin Buckley has no thing! And Eddie Munson unfortunately does- the repulsing (to her) kinda thing that Robin Buckley doesn’t even like! She huffed. “Just take it easy. The second Munson lets you in, we’ll sneak up to the door, and hear through there.” 

On the edge of his bed, Eddie Munson let your hands wander about, until his appearance was up to your liking; voluminous hair, controlled friz, straightened shirt, and a bottle of minty mouth spray that he coughed at, but necessary for the prevention of spring roll breath. “Okay, you’re gonna be great!” You motivated him with the words of encouragement, as you brushed away his stray hairs. “You just make her think you want to have sex with her, and it’ll totally freak her out.”

Eddie straightened up, shaking his body from any jitters, and stretching as if a marathon was in place. “Okay, so how far am I exactly supposed to go with her?” His face etched with concern. 

You waved him off. “Relax, alright, she’s gonna give in way before you do!” If there was anything you learned about Robin Buckley in your months of friendship, it was the blatantly obvious fact that she would shrivel up in awkwardness before anything further took place. 

Eddie Munson freaked at your sudden certainty. “How do you even know?!”

“Because you’re on my team!” You stressed. “And my team always wins!” 

His face scrunched with fret. “At this?!”

Tentative knocking against the front door pulled you both away from the conversation. It was game time. “Eddie,” his head whipped back to you, “you’re the Dungeon Master, okay? This, this is nothing in comparison to dark lord wizard thingies.” God, he knew for certain you didn’t fully understand his interest in Dungeons and Dragon, but the time you took to support him was making his heart beat faster than any fake date with your best friend could ever make him feel. 

You make him feel such incredible things. 

“You’re the master here, you’re in control, you got this!” Jesus Christ, the corny shit your competitiveness was making you say was too fucking cute. “Just go get some!” You finished him with a quick kiss that had him yearning for more, but your body quickly scurried away to the bathroom. 

Eddie Munson sighed. Cracking his neck, he rolling his shoulder. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I’m in control.”

Steve clutched a heavy hand on his steering wheel, as both him and Dustin peered through the windows. “Okay, just wait for it… wait for it… wait- get down!” The boys dropped their heads the second Eddie’s front door opened with a dramatic swing. 

And there she was. Eddie cocked an eyebrow for whatever reason it was Robin Buckley chose to show up overly dressed like a middle-aged woman, and with an awkward smile to taint her image. But Eddie Munson was right there to follow suit with a strange grin to greet her. 

“Robin.”

“Eddie.”

“Come on in.”

“I was going to.” 

As the trailer door closed shut, Steve and Dustin silently crawled their way out of the car with their utmost quietest attempts of closing the doors shut behind them. With crouched stances like detectives on duty, the pair scampered their way to the top of Eddie’s cemented stairs, where their heads pressed against the front door to hear the muffled conversation from the other side. 

“I, uh, brought some wine.” Robin held up the bottle, as Eddie was slightly taken aback. What the hell kinda teenager brings wine to a date? Probably the kind who’s a lesbian, and going out with her best friend’s boyfriend out of competition. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Making their way to the kitchen, Eddie secured two cups, as Robin popped off the protruding cork top, and suddenly she felt entirely even more stupid than the fact that she was on a “date” with a man, when Eddie proffered matching Garfield and Odie mugs for glasses of chardonnay. 

The dreadful silence began to take over, and Eddie could only manage to fill it with thorny chuckles, as Robin filled the mugs. “So, uh,” she sighed, “here we are. Nervous?”

“Me? No. You?” He skeptically questioned.  

But Robin Buckley was there to provoke him. “No, I want this to happen.” 

“So do I.” Eddie cleared his throat, before their glasses clicked with a toast, and Robin and Eddie found themselves chugging down the mug-fulls of alcohol to hopefully forget the disturbing night they were about to endure. When cups fell empty, Eddie sighed and turned to the radio that rested atop of the washing machine. “Why don’t I, uh, play some music; set the mood a little.”

Call her inexperience, whatever, but Robin knew there was no way in hell the screeching voices of Slayer attested to “setting the mood” during date night. God, she felt bad for you- for straight women. “Maybe-maybe I’ll, uh, dance for you.” She dared right back. 

Where Robin could judge Eddie on his music taste, Eddie could return the favor in her lack of mobility, as her body began clumsily swaying about in his kitchen, off rhythm to the already undanceable sounds to thrashing metal. Her contorting ankles in kitten heels paired with her jutting hips allowed her to mortifyingly saunter her way over to an uncomfortable Eddie, who was wielding the willpower to not bark a laugh in her face. 

But Robin Buckley was not going to win this. Not when Eddie Munson’s pride stood in the way. “Mm, you look good.” He spoke so stiffly, as he defied back with a taunting grin. 

“Why, thank you.” She forced out a laugh. “Y-You know, when you say things l-like that, it makes me wanna, um, rip that… Weird Al t-shirt right off.” Jesus Christ, Dustin made him get matching ones. 

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “well, uh, why don’t we move this to the bedroom then?” His brows pointed, eyes glared. 

Robin immediately stopped her bizarre dancing. “Really?” Her panic settled in. 

“Oh!” Eddie quickly stepped back with an impeding smile. “Do you not want to?” He urged. 

“No, no.” Robin composed herself, waving him off with faux confidence. “I just, um, you know, first, I wanna t-take off all my clothes, and have you r-rub lotion all over me.” Is that what straight people do before sex?!

Eddie’s throat constricted with little air, and a tightening hand of embarrassment. “Well, that would be nice.” His voice raised a cracking octave. “I’ll, uh, go get the lotion.” Before Robin could respond, Eddie was already running away to the bathroom. Your gnawing teeth had bitten through your nail when Eddie came bustling through the door. “Okay, this is totally getting out of hand.”  He fretfully groused, as he crowded your area in the small room. “She wants me to put lotion on her!” Eddie dramatically snarled. 

You rebuffed his dread. “She’s bluffing!”

Eddie huffed. “Look, she’s not backing down. Jesus, shit, she went like this!” He suddenly gyrated his stiff hips harshly against you to mimic her dancing. 

A couple feet away at the front door of Eddie’s trailer, Robin was in consternation, frantically rambling to Steve and Dustin. “He is not backing down! He went to get lotion!”

“You aren’t done yet?” Dustin heaved. “You’re supposed to be on my team, he should be cracking right now!” 

Her angry finger flicked against his forehead, despite his insistent cries of pain. “This is all your fault to begin with!”

“Okay, will everybody just calm down for a second?” Steve hushed, where his hands found the relaxing perch against his hips, as if his motherly duties were calling. “Think of it this way, the sooner you get Eddie to break, the sooner this can all be over with.”

“Ooh, I like that.” Robin nodded along. 

“Just amp the flirting, alright?” Steve coached. “Look, it took him weeks to actually approach a girl at the bar, he used to get totally flustered whenever he’d play wingman for me. How the hell managed to get Y/N? I don’t know, but all I do know is that just like you, Eddie Munson is a total dud when it comes to flirting.”

Her mouth fell agape at the insult that stung too much from the utter reality of the statement. It didn’t make her feel any better when Dustin shoved that patronizing look in her face. “Yeah, Robin, sweetie, you are not doing a good job right now.”

“How would you know? You’re fourteen!” She bellowed. 

“And yet, which one of us is in a loving, committed relationship?” The kid snided.

Steve shushed Dustin away before a catfight could break out on the doorstep of Eddie’s home. “Look, you got this. Just make Munson uncomfortable! You’re a girl, you got this!”

“He’s a boy, he makes me uncomfortable!” She spat. 

Ransacking his bathroom cabinets for a bottle of lotion, you hastily shoved the bottle into his grasp, and clutched onto his shoulders. “You go back in there, and you seduce her till she cracks!” Never in a million years did you think you’d encourage your boyfriend to do that. Though with this much commitment, he should really get you into Dungeons and Dragons.

“Okay, just give me a second.” He took a deep breath for composure, just as he got a good glimpse of his bathroom. “Did you clean up in here?!” Your eyes rolled, before grappling onto the doorknob, and pushing Eddie out of the bathroom. He slowly approached the kitchen, where his nervousness eased at the sight of Robin at the door. “Oh, you’re, uh… you’re going!” He smiled.

Steve Harrington's voice replayed in her head, and Robin cleared her throat to pull out the sultry crisp she was needing to flirt. “Um, not without you, lover.”

Eddie flashed her a tight-lipped smile, as he released a big sigh. “Well, uh, come here.” He beckoned. “I’m very happy we’re gonna have all the sex.” 

Robin ignored the disgust in her belly to test him. “Y-You should be.” She smirked. “I’m very bendy.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled with fright, as she stepped closer. “I’m going to k-kiss you now.”

And Eddie bothered her right back. “Not if I, um, kiss you first!” With a foot apart, Robin Buckley made her first move on a man, as her stiff hand latched uncomfortably to Eddie’s waist. Devastatingly following in line, Eddie’s fingertips barely grazed her skin, as they lightly rested onto her shoulder, neither party urging anyone to come closer. “Well, I-I guess there’s nothing left for us to do than to kiss.”

“Here it comes.” With rigid lips tucked inward, and tense bodies hesitantly pulling together, Eddie Munson genuinely began to realize how much of a idiotic idea all this was. A nauseating feeling struck him, as he understood what a lousy world it’d be to live in if he had to continue to disguise his feelings for you. I mean, going on a date with your best friend? This is the lengths he’s going to to hide something so perfect? And Robin. For the love of god, if picturing Joan Jett over Eddie’s face was needed to make this experience slightly less miserable, then, yeah, maybe this plan was stupid all along. 

“Okay, okay, okay! Fine, you win!” Eddie pulled away, as Robin’s face astounded. “I will not have sex with you!” He huffed with exhaustion. 

“And why not?” Robin smiled, as the victory was coming her way.

“Because I’m in love with Y/N!” 

“You’re-you’re what?” The front door jolted open, as Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson hurdled their way in, but Eddie took no notice of the peculiarity in that. Not when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. 

“Love her!” He proclaimed at the top of lungs. “That’s right! I love her!” Eddie pointed to you, as you made your way closer. “I love her! I’m in love with her!” And suddenly, the reality of you actually standing in front of him hit him, and Eddie realized the weight of what he just admitted to you… and his friends. Eddie took a deep breath, as he solemnly stared down at you, and in an instant, he felt his body calm at the sight of your smile. “I love you, Y/N.” 

His hands took solace against your warm cheeks, where you stared up at with adoration in your eyes. “I love you, Eddie.” Your arms circled around his neck, as his desperate hands clung to your shirt to pull you into an intoxicating kiss that had you both mewling with tenderness. This was it. Eddie Munson knew love.

That was until Robin spoke. “Oh, my god, you guys! We thought you were just doing it, we didn’t know you were in love!” She gushed. 

Steve shyly smiled from the back. “Dude!” He effused. 

“Aha!” And then there was Dustin Henderson. “I told you! I told all of you! And none of you wanted to believe me! I was right and you were wrong!” He pompously smiled, before turning to you and Eddie. “By the way, I was the first to know! I’ve been knowing for a week after you freaks forced me to lose my dice!” 

Eddie chuckled, as his hands stayed secured around you. “Actually, Dustin, Max was kinda the first to know. She found out four months ago, when she caught Y/N leaving my place at night.” He admitted. “Been blackmailed ever since; spent $20 on some damn heart-shaped sunglasses.” 

“Are you kidding me!” Dustin felt gobsmacked, betrayed and abandoned, like those damn Fritos. 

“Hey, but, uh, hats off to you, Robin.” Eddie smiled, offering a hand of congratulation. “Quite the competitor.” And she shook it proudly, another notch in whatever weird belt this was. 

“I still can’t believe you never told me.” Dustin gasped. “I mean, seriously, Max out of all people.” Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson’s voices eventually faded into the background, as you managed to slip away from your boyfriend’s grasp to hold onto the hand of your best friend, while you whisked her away to the quiet corner of the living room. 

“Hey, so I just wanted to apologize to you real quick.” You softly smiled at Robin. “I mean, going through all this just because I kept this from you,” you sighed, “I’m just really sorry you were forced to date my boyfriend.” 

Robin laughed, as she squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry you’re forced to date him everyday.” She joked. “No, but seriously, you don’t have to apologize at all.” Her throat began to sting with the heftiness of her feelings, but she felt the warmth of fingers against hers, and Robin Buckley took her deep breath. “I understand why you did it- why you felt the need to hide.” 

“You do?”

“Yeah.” She tearfully smiled. “I feel the same way, just a little different. I just, um, I know what it’s like to want to keep something to yourself, because having to come out as something you know the world isn’t going to love is scary. It’s really scary, Y/N.” Her hand tightened, as her voice cracked. 

But in true Buckley style, that beautiful smile never left her face, as she told you her biggest fear. But what a shame it was that the world made her biggest fear her truest self. Your arms wrapped around her in a suffocating hug, where she let out a shaky sigh against your shoulder. “Robin,” you whispered into her hair, “I love you.” You implored. “Eddie does. Steve does. I hope you know that this town isn't worth being scared of.” You felt her shudder against you, as your hand soothed down her back. “Not when you’re so goddamn perfect.” Robin laughed, as she pulled away, clearing her eyes from any unspilled tears that threatened to stain her cheeks. “I know it’s easier said than done, but genuinely, don't waste your perfect self on what the world wants.” She digested your words, flashing you a thankful grin, as she steady to jumping nerves. “I mean, take it from the man himself, your date tonight, who’s univocally himself.”

You both turned to the kitchen, where Steve and Eddie had Dustin pinned, with a spring roll in hand, trying to shove it down the defiant kid’s mouth. “Jesus, I really am sorry you have to date him.” 

You both laughed, as you watched the commotion take place. And you looked at Eddie Munson, how effortlessly beautiful he was, and how comfortable those around him came to be in his accepting presence. “He’s not too bad.” You smiled. “Now, c’mon, we have Chinese and chardonnay to celebrate!” 

Finally letting the child go, Steve snagged the spring roll with a monumental bite of pleasure, before closely crowding into Eddie’s bubble. “No, but seriously, dude, how the hell did you do it?” Steve Harrington pointed to you, as Eddie Munson smiled.

best kept

[bucky barnes x baker!reader]

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.

--

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Back to You

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mild language, pining, fluff

notes: my bucky and yelena brain rot is off the charts which is how this came about

summary: Yelena’s interest in y/n forces Bucky to confront his feelings for her as the Thunderbolts take refuge in her home

“I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Well, this is definitely more interesting than whatever I had planned today,” you respond jokingly as you finish stitching closed the gash on Bucky’s pectoral. “I will say, if I knew I’d be having company I probably would have tidied up a bit around here.”

Both yours and Bucky’s gazes turn to the group of beaten down misfits that occupy your living room at the mention of company. The amount of people taking refuge in your home made it appear almost comically small, but you weren’t exactly new to having to take care of super heroes- or in this case antiheroes- on a whim like this.

Before Thanos and the Blip, you had been a good friend of Steve’s. As his neighbor across the hall who also happened to be a nurse, he tended to treat your apartment like his own personal health clinic after a particularly grueling day of protecting the city. You welcomed him in without question of course, and after some time he had begun bringing friends in need of patch jobs with him. This was how you met Sam and Natasha, and eventually Bucky. You were enthralled by the turmoil swimming in his eyes and his reserved nature, and your gentleness and willingness to help a total stranger like him with no reservation had stuck with Bucky forever.

You lost touch with them all after the Sokovia Accords debacle and being turned into dust for five years, but once the work of the infinity stones had been reversed and you were able to attempt a life at normalcy, Bucky and Sam had returned right back to your doorstep.

In the years that passed, you and Bucky had been able to form a close friendship. It didn’t happen without growing pains throughout the process of course, and it took time for the super soldier to open himself up to you so intimately, but you’d been able to reach a point where Bucky could come to you for anything and vice versa. So when he’d called five minutes before his arrival asking to seek shelter in your modest home, you immediately agreed without question.

“Alright, you’re good to go,” you inform him after smoothing out the bandage on his chest. Looking out to the rest of the group, you hold up your first aid kit and ask, “Anyone else need some TLC?”

You’re met with silence to which Bucky offers you a comforting pat on the shoulder before hopping off of your counter. The group looks more exhausted and defeated than anything, and he convinces you they’ll probably be fine.

“Well, in the meantime, would anyone like breakfast? I think I have some pancake mix around here somewhere,” you murmur absently, and this gets some heads to finally turn.

“Pancakes… would be nice,” Yelena offers with pursed lips and a shrug, trying to be inconspicuous as she obviously snoops through your things.

“Do you have eggs?” John voices tiredly. “I could really go for some scrambled eggs.”

“Eggs and pancakes… anything else?”

“I cannot have eggs without bacon,” Alexei notes thoughtfully only for Bucky to roll his eyes.

“You don’t have to cook all of that,” he tries to assure you only for you to shake your head in response.

“It’s really no problem, I’m just glad I went grocery shopping yesterday.”

You give Bucky a reassuring smile before disappearing into the kitchen, allowing him the chance to finally walk over and snatch the frame Yelena had been scrutinizing behind your back from her grasp.

“What are you doing?” He retorts in annoyance before setting it back down on the shelf. “We’re guests here, you can’t just touch all of her stuff.”

“She has a photo of my sister,” the blonde rebuffs defensively, “I have a right to touch it. Why does she have it?”

“Before she was my friend, she was Steve’s friend. He introduced her to Natasha, and they became friends too. Good friends.”

“Hmm,” she replies thoughtfully, finally easing up a bit as she takes in the information. “If Natasha considered her a friend, then I will too.”

“Yeah, I think she’s good on friends right now,” Bucky scoffs. Yelena raises a brow at his annoyance before a coy smile begins to form on her lips.

“Are you threatened by me, Barnes?” She prompts with a laugh, only doubling down when she notices the aggravated tick of his jaw. “Because it’s okay if you are, I understand. I mean, she is a beautiful woman, and I can see how much you love her-“

“Hold on a minute, what are you talking about?”

“Surely you cannot be this stupid,” Yelena affirms with a teasing smile that soon falls at Bucky’s flustered demeanor. “Or maybe you are.”

“I don’t love y/n,” Bucky says defensively, voice hushed to avoid any prying ears from listening to their conversation. “She’s just a good friend.”

“Well, if she’s just a good friend then you won’t mind if I go talk to her and tell her how much I love what she’s done with this place,” Yelena states plainly with a mischievous smile as she makes her way towards the kitchen only to be stopped by Bucky grabbing onto her arm.

“Don’t,” he warns with a scowl. From his spot on the couch, Alexei laughs.

“You are smart to stop her, Barnes,” he notes proudly, “my Yelena is quite the lady killer.”

“What’s the harm, Barnes? You obviously do not want to date this beautiful woman who has opened her home to us, so why can’t I?”

“If I admit I love her will you stop?” Bucky begs despite the clear aggravation in his tone. With her hands raised in surrender and lips pulled into a small frown, Yelena suspends her march towards the kitchen once Bucky finally relinquishes his hold on her arm. “Thank you.”

“Life is short, James. Do not let her sit and wait for you forever.”

Bucky lets out a long exhale through his nose at her words, and despite how much she annoys him, he knows she’s right. Bucky loves you and has always held a deep sense of admiration for the selfless woman who had taken him and Steve in without question despite the fact that it would get her into trouble with the government. You were one of the first to show him genuine kindness after spending years under Hydra’s thumb, and he’d never be able to forget that. You are his light in darkness, his saving grace, his confidant, and that’s why he’s so hesitant to fully bring you into his world by asking you to be his partner. Being friends keeps you at an arm’s length from the dangers of his life, but being the one he comes home to after a high stakes mission puts you in a whole new light to his enemies, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to put you through that just yet.

“Breakfast is on the table!” You call out from the kitchen, and Bucky watches with a wry grin as every person in the living room moves their aching bodies hastily into the dining room to get a chance at scoring some of your pancakes. You meet him shortly after and present him his own plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon to enjoy in peace away from the rest.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind so I figured you’d want to eat out here,” you explain with a careful smile before joining him on the couch. “You gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know if these guys are up for this,” he admits almost dejectedly, casting a glance towards the dining room where the Thunderbolts sit loudly bickering over the syrup bottle.

“Hey, as long as they have you there with them, I think they’ll be okay,” you comfort reassuringly, reaching forward to give his arm a tender squeeze.

“I really doubt that, but thanks,” Bucky responds with a weak chuckle, “you keep me sane.”

“It’s my speciality.”

A comfortable silence washes over you then as you meet each other’s tender gazes and enjoy the rare moment of peace shared between you both. Bucky longs to just pull you into his arms and hold you, but he resists and instead returns to enjoying his breakfast.

“We’ll be out of your hair as soon as they’re done eating,” Bucky reassures you only for you to give him an indifferent shrug.

“That’s fine, but can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you ever going to kiss me?” You prompt with an innocent smile, catching poor Bucky off guard as he momentarily chokes on his pancakes.

“What?” He splutters, fist thumping on his chest to help the food go down.

“I mean, maybe I’m reading it all wrong, but I feel like sometimes you look at me like you want to kiss me,” you explain simply, “and I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“That obvious, huh?” He sighs with a bashful smile before setting his plate down on the coffee table.

“Yeah, well, that and also Yelena might have told me something on her way to the dining room,” you offer with an apologetic laugh.

“Oh, god, what did she say?”

“Something along the lines of if you never man up and decide to tell me how you feel that I should give her a call.”

“She’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles irately, but his tone softens as he looks to you in remorse and continues, “but she’s right. You deserve to know how I feel about you.”

Smiling, you move closer to the super soldier so that you can curl into his side and rest your head upon his chest. His arms immediately come to wrap around your figure as he kisses the crown of your head, prompting you to let out a content sigh.

“We can figure out all the details when you get back from saving the world,” you assure him, “but just know that I love you, and I’ll be here waiting for you to come home.”

“Home,” Bucky sighs wistfully, already mourning your time together as he thinks about having to leave you behind. “I can promise you this- nothing is going to stop me from coming back to you.”

You look up to meet his tender gaze and are pleasantly surprised when he leans down to press a careful kiss to your lips. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you savor the moment you’ve been longing for ever since you met Bucky, and by the way he kisses you as if you are the air he needs to breathe, you think it’s safe to assume he feels the same.

His heart is yours, and as you tenderly embrace from the comfort of your couch, you can rest assured that to Bucky, home is where you are.