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brunchable · 2 months ago

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𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 [ 2 ]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Friends to Lovers. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky just not getting enough of you, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral [M&F], unprotected piv, creampie. Just PURE making love, no kinks. Summary: It's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him. A/N: 2 of 2. And I must say. . . JAYSUS. BON APETITIDDIES.

Part One

You were stiff. You were sore. Your arm was asleep. And you felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for you, reality was much more awkward. Your head had somehow become wedged behind Bucky’s shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. You untangled yourself as best you could, looking down at him as you moved his limbs out of the way.

Bucky was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as you pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

You tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

You sat up, arching your back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then your breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, I’m going to be late.

You stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between your legs so unfamiliar that you nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. You almost felt like a virgin again. You rose again shakily, noticing that your whole groin felt sore, and so did your hips—probably from throwing your legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy you were, you thought happily.

You went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as you walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. You were supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. you'd have to make the shower a quick one.

You stood under the hot water, letting it pour over your sore muscles. You washed out your hair, lathered up your body and massaged your sore hips as random images from last night invaded your thoughts. Even now you weren't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Has it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through your mind.

Bucky’s body on yours, looming over you, holding your wrists, kissing you with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing you with his fingers. Sliding into you, tilting your back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down your naked body, pausing at your breasts and then sliding down to the between your legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

You flushed at the frank inspection but willed yourself not to try to hide from him. You shifted your weight, jutting your hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to yours, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

You pushed the door back and invited him in. Bucky stepped in and crowded you, not unpleasantly, until your back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind you, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed you.

You opened to him and kissed him back, winding your hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying your wandering hands, then pushed forward so your bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between you.

"So," he murmured in your ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" you whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching your jaw with his lips as you turned your head. He covered your neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down your and cupping your breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," you said coquettishly. "Besides," you joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mocked a scowl at you, and gave you that smile that had always melted you. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed you slowly, his tongue tangling with yours as he teased and tasted, enjoying your mouth.

You kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until you felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against your belly, his cock pressing against you urgently.

He lowered his head further and took your nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through you, and he turned to lavish the same attention on your other breast. You writhed against the cold tiles at your back, arching into him and sinking your fingers into his hair to hold him to you. He smiled as you moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took your nipple between his teeth and made you suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in your hand as he took your breasts. You gathered some suds into your palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. You began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against you and kissing you between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

You kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt yourself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath your fingers. You loved that you were doing that to him, making him want you so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss you through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, baby," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

You tried not to focus on him calling you baby, knowing it was only his arousal talking. You focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. You continued stroking him, changing your hand position so that you pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Your other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in your fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against you, against the unbearable pleasure you were causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped your hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak.

“You—don't want—this to end too soon, do you?” he warned, kissing you in between breaths. “Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to.”

“That might be fun,” you said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to you again.

“For me, yes,” he breathed, breaking away from you. “But I'm not nearly finished with you yet.”

He slipped his hand into your hair and held your head, kissing you with such raw passion, such naked need that you felt a surge of warmth flood between your legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of you just a few hours ago and yet here you were again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, two years ago?" he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over your breasts, over your tightened nipple, down past your navel, as the water trickled over you both.

"Mmm hmmm," you murmured, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down your body and his hand moving over you.

“And you touched my fingertips…”

Of course you remembered; you'd run your fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at your touch. You'd kept your touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in your own hands.

Maybe you'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations—but you'd been unable to stop yourself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to your seductive touch, you'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips. . .and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, you'd felt like it had been just the two of you in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, your hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet your half way.

“You drove me wild.” he said, leaning to kiss your neck. “I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers.” He slipped his hand between your legs and caressed your folds, parting them gently and sliding inside you. “Like this, for instance.”

You moaned and leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. His fingers explored you, caressed you, possessed you, expertly as though they, too, knew you were his.

“I just had to touch you,” you breathed against him. “And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too.”

“You stopped me last night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck. “I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night.”

You groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

“Let me feel you come for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, licking your earlobe. “Please.”

He gripped your hip and lifted you up against the wall slightly, positioning you so he could slide his fingers deep inside you. He held you firmly around the waist, bracing you against the wall, and thrust into you gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching you, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed down into your eyes. You gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as you squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced you against his thigh and pressed against you while his arm steadied you from behind, holding you completely in his grasp. Bucky had such a way of holding you, letting you know that you were going nowhere, making sure you had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. You felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshiped.

Bucky bent down and kissed you, sliding his fingers into your with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around your aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside you to caress you, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling your clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside you, stretching you, claiming you, you felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on you, his tongue tasting you, torturing you, swirling over your clit as you writhed beneath it made you go weak in the knees.

Bucky broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of you while bracing your hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at you so intently, his beautiful blue eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. You gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping you, kneeling before you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to your and you knew it was.

Sensation tore through your touch, so delicately gentle at first, and you arched against the wall with a startled cry. You reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself on one foot as he brought you to your leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made you come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning you better so he could enjoy your all the more.

He closed his mouth over your clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled over you in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against you, tightening his grip on your hip as you moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against your rapidly as he looked up at you again, watching your pleasure, his eyes smiling at you as if he knew precisely how good he was making you feel. Then he fell on you again, his tongue roaming over you, tasting you, luxuriating in your folds and dipping to lap at your entrance.

“Oh my, g-god. Bucky—”

You bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into your and pulsed there, gently, savouring you. Your hand sank into his wet hair and as you gripped his head, you were rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside you. He liked the moans he wrought from you. He liked being able to make your cry out and seize him, your head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did you like it, too.

"Oh God," you breathed, your heart thundering in your chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from your and slid his tongue up to torture your aching clit, and just when you began to miss the feel of him inside your he gently pushed his fingers into your again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through you and you cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder began to tremble. His tongue circled your clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into you over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made you want to grind your hips against the pleasure.

“I'm coming,” you whispered urgently. “You're going to make me come…”

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick you so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that you felt your orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making you cry out in increasing, panting breaths until you shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. You shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through you. Your body curled forward as you gripped him tighter, your fingers pulling on his hair from the pressure.

He removed your leg from his shoulder gently as you continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through you. He got to his feet and helped you stand, pressing himself against your and nuzzling your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice shaking. your whole body shaking. “That was incredible.”

“That...was just the prelude,” he whispered, kissing you. “I haven't even started pleasuring you yet.”

God, he was going to kill you. Death by orgasm, you thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at you with a questioning expression, and then understood. You pulled him back towards yourself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming greedily over your body.

You weren't done with him. He had made you feel like a goddess, worshiped, cherished, adored.

You broke off the kiss and began trailing your lips down his neck, his collarbone and chest, enjoying the warmth of the water trickling past your mouth. His chest muscles tensed as you kissed them, and as you moved your lips slowly down his abdomen you felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. You sank to your knees in the tub and brushed kisses along his navel, his hip bones, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Water coursed over both of you, and you delighted in it, closing your eyes against the spray.

“Baby,” Bucky said softly, barely audible above the water.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was about to say something but you smiled and glanced away, focusing instead on the head of his cock, hard and urgent in front of you. He was thick and beautiful, and still as hard, maybe even harder, than he had been when you'd teased him with your hands.

“I want to taste you,” you said playfully. “All of you.”

You leaned forward and gently licked the swollen tip of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing, and you smiled up at him, letting him know this was for your pleasure as much as for his. You swirl your tongue around the head, taking it into your mouth and suckling gently, teasing it. The skin was soft and smooth, stretched deliciously tight from the hardness of his erection.

You let your tongue play over it, dipping into the opening, making him moan. You drifted your tongue along the ridge, and down to the sensitive skin just beneath the head, licking and tasting, nipping and kissing.

You looked up at him, and his dark eyes were wild with desire. You smiled, and ran your tongue up and down the length of him, ending at the head and flicking at it delicately, teasingly. He moaned softly, his breathing starting to grow rapid. You rose up slightly to take the whole length of him into your mouth and sucked him, long and hard.

He let out a gasp and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other hand gripping your shoulder.

“Oh fuck—Baby...”

You slid your mouth over his shaft, deeper, deeper, and slid back up the length of him. Your hands came around and gripped his ass, pulling him towards you. He staggered forward slightly as you took him into your mouth again, luxuriously taking in his entire length, sucking, licking, tasting as you went. The sensation of him in your mouth was almost as overwhelming as his first entrance into your body had been, so unfamiliar but so right at the same time.

You caressed his balls with one hand as you played your tongue over his cock. He groaned, his breathing jagged now, his cock harder than ever. His hand moved from your shoulder to sink into your wet hair, and he gripped your head with barely restrained urgency. Gently he guided your head closer to him as you sucked. You lowered yourself onto him and slowly sucked your way back up, your mouth gripping him, your cheeks hollowing, as your tongue slid over him with each pass.

His hips began to move as he started to match your rhythm, thrusting into you, meeting your mouth. Bucky gripped your head more firmly and held your head still, driving into you gently.

You let your hand fall and you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the feeling of him sliding in and out of your mouth, controlling his own pleasure, taking what he wanted, and what you were so willing to give. Yet you could tell he was holding back, wanting to thrust harder and faster but restraining himself and settling for a smoother, slower pace.

For you. Bucky was holding back for your sake. This passionate, soulful, virile man was holding back his own pleasure because he wanted to be gentle with you.

The very thought of it excited you, and you increased your own rhythm, encouraging him, moaning with pleasure as he drove into you. You sucked harder, faster, turning your gaze up to him with an urgent plea in your eyes. Faster. Deeper. Now, my love.

And he understood.

Bucky groaned, and stepped forward. His hand clenched in your hair and he began to move, faster and harder, plunging deeper, holding your head as he thrust into your mouth with urgent, rhythmic strokes. He slid in and out of your mouth as if through warm honey, and you felt and heard his pleasure mounting with every ratcheted breath and every desperate moan that escaped his lips.

His eyes watched your with rapt adoration and abject lust, and you could tell that the sight of your taking him fully into your mouth, of your sucking him with pure, greedy abandon and complete acceptance, was pushing him closer to the edge as much as the intense pleasure of your tongue on his cock was. Or more.

He tensed as his rhythm grew faster, his breathing harder, until you felt him tighten and strain so much that you felt certain he was going to spill himself into your mouth. But at the last moment he cried out and pulled back, his cock slipping out of your mouth quickly. He stood still, breathless, his eyes closed as if willing his orgasm to retreat. Water sliced down his neck and chest, and finally he let out a slow, jagged moan of a breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at you wildly, and reached for you,helping you to your feet.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as he tried to catch his breath. “I can't...I can't believe how goddamn good that felt. You brought me so close, so fast, I almost couldn't stop it.”

“Why did you?” you asked, running your finger along his jaw. “I wanted to feel you come for me.”

He groaned against you, his hands roaming over your body. “I told you, I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He kissed you hungrily, his cock surging against your violently as your bodies met. you could feel him moving against you, his cock rubbing against you,and you knew how badly he wanted to be inside you again.

As badly as you wanted him inside you again.

He stepped back, his breath still ragged, and pressed his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're not done yet, huh?” you teased gently, letting your fingers sink into his wet hair as you kissed his neck.

“Not nearly.”

“But I have to go to work. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll be here when I get home?”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He reached to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower, turning to help your step over the wall of the tub. You threw your robe on and cinched the belt as he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. You caught him grinning at you, and it was so clear what he was thinking that it made your laugh.

“What?” you demanded, squeezing the excess water out of your hair with a hand towel. “What are you smiling at?”

Bucky wetted his lips with his tongue, “Fuck it. You're just going to have to be late for work. Come here…”

“Hey!” your eyes widened playfully, jumping away from him. “Are you trying to kill me? Stop!”

Bucky untied your robe and you yelped, trying to slap his hands away. He just kept advancing on you, grinning devilishly. You turned and scampered away from him with a squeal of delight.

He followed behind, still grasping for the robe. You shrieked and laughed and ran towards the bedroom, and he followed, catching up to you and pushing you onto the bed with a resounding crack of the bed frame.

You laughed as he tumbled on top of you, but he silenced you with his mouth, kissing you hungrily as he impatiently pushed your robe aside. His breath was ragged as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his need too great for the slow, sensual lovemaking of last night. He held his cock against your entrance and smoothly thrusts into you and moaned against your mouth, and you wrapped your legs around him to draw him deeper.

He plunged into you, covering your body and your mouth with the same hungry possession. You were still so warm and wet, so exquisitely ready for him that he filled you easily, driving you relentlessly as he tasted your tongue, your lips, your neck, and groaned from the pleasure your body was giving him.

You tensed around him and he moaned breathlessly, a throaty, male sound of pure ecstasy. He pounded into you, falling into a steady rhythm born of raw, primitive need. Your body tightened around him with every thrust, and waves of pleasure rippled through you, building in intensity up to an almost unbearable pressure, a delicious heat that made you moan into his mouth as he kissed you.

He rose up, his arms braced beside you, to look down as he stroked and withdrew and breathed out his pleasure while his eyes glowed pure heat. He grabbed your rear, tilting one hip up towards him, entering you on such an angle that a new kaleidoscope of pleasure bloomed throughout you. He gripped you possessively, driving you deeper and faster and harder. His eyes burned, glowing like obsidian, hot and wild and almost frenzied with desire.

“Baby,” he groaned, his eyes pinning you, claiming you, as though he were branding you with your heat.

You're mine...

Your first time together had only been hours ago, but it was as if you had been lovers for years...every fluid flexing of his hips against you hit just the right spot, every deep, powerful thrust of his cock stretched your pussy with a familiar, almost expected surge of pleasure.

“Yes—oh god yes, Bucky—fuck me,” you breathed.

Two simple words and suddenly he was on the edge...buried so deep inside you, thrusting, plunging, your breasts pressed against his chest, the pleasure roaring through his body.

Suddenly he wanted to take you, hard. He wanted to fuck you with abandon, the eyes-closed, head-back, moaning-out-loud kind of sexual abandon that he had so rarely experienced in his life, but which was crashing through his body and mind right now.

He wanted this woman...he wanted to own you, to take you, to claim your body as his....he wanted to fuck you until he'd emptied his balls into you, feeling your pussy clenching and spasming in orgasm around his cock as he came, as you came, as you came together.

He withdrew from you quickly, barely able to catch his breath, and, as if you could read his thoughts, you turned onto your stomach just as his trembling hands guided your hips over. Your hair spilled over your bare back and your ass curved out so seductively it was all he could do not to cum right there, all over your smooth skin. But his cock knew what it wanted, and he pulled you forward to slide into the heaven of your pussy, so wet and tight and swollen for him.

He cried out when he took your again, his cock parting your folds and filling you so completely. The feel of him stretching you, the crest of his head pressing against your from this new angle...you felt a tremor of pleasure ripple through you and knew you were close, as close as he was. When he leaned over you and began to kiss your shoulders you shuddered, and when he began to thrust you buried your face in the pillow and moaned.

Your moans of pleasure filled the room and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to last, begging his aching cock not to explode just yet. . .this pace, these quick short strokes as his hips slapped against your ass, your body moving with his every thrust. . .It was almost too much to bear. Bucky buried his faced in your sweet-smelling hair and let his cock plunge as it would, faster and faster, making him shake, making him breathless, making him feel like nothing but a desperate cock as he fucked you.

And fucked you. And fucked you, as you had begged him to...

You could only whimper now, lost to the pleasure of his man taking you like this, fucking you so wildly, almost savagely. The pleasure he was taking from your body, his moans and groans and the growls of pleasure you could feel against your back and in the warm breath at your ear. . . it was pure, primal lust.

You felt worshiped beneath him, as if every thrust of his hungry cock was a tribute to you, every growl and sharp breath an oath. He was fucking you, mindlessly, and yet every part of him was attuned to you, touching you, adoring you.

As his pace grew even faster, his thrusts shallower, you could sense he was about to come, and you felt your muscles tighten around him to heighten his pleasure and hers. His thrusts were so powerful that you felt the orgasm rising in you and you closed your eyes, lifting your head back so he could slide his hand into your hair, gently holding your neck and kissing your jaw with breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, God Bucky...I'm coming,” you moaned. “I'm coming.”

“Yes...cum for me baby....cum on my cock.”

“Cum with me....please....I want you to cum inside me, please....please....”

And he could withstand it no more.

Pleasure detonated through him as his orgasm spasmed throughout his body, wracking him with wave after wave of euphoric release. He cried out your name as he thrust and bucked against your flesh, driving his cock deeper and deeper as he came and came and came. It felt like he would never stop cumming, and when he felt your orgasm tear through your pussy and clench his cock in waves, he thought he might black out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You slammed back against him as the first spurts of cum began to fill you, and felt your ravaged pussy begin to spasm again and again, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into you, flooding you with ripples of pleasure. You moaned and writhed, riding the crest of one orgasm only to feel a second one begin to climb and then crash over you. Breathless, almost sobbing from the pleasure, you let him hold you as he continued to pound into you, draining his balls into you at his will, lost in the utter bliss of a man taking a woman in the most primal way.

When he could bear it no longer, when his exquisitely sensitive cock throbbed within you and the pleasure bordered on pain, he stilled, finally, and shuddered. Sharp spasms of pleasure shot through him as his cock surged one last time within you, his aching balls emptying every last ounce of come. Bucky was almost lightheaded, his chest heaving, sweat glazing his skin as he withdrew his hand from your hair and ran it down the center of your back, needing to touch you, needing to feel your heated skin. You were breathless too, your back moving beneath his hand as you lay your head down and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him withdraw from you, and your pussy rebelled, clenching to keep him there, as if pleading with him not to go. Bucky groaned softly against your ear as he pulled out and fell on the bed beside you, his arms surrounding you and pulling your back against him. You fit perfectly together, and every muscle in your body relaxed as you snuggled into him and breathed out a contented sigh. You felt his lips on the shell of your ear, kissing softly, felt his slowing breath against your skin as his soft sounds of contentment and pleasure hummed in his throat.

This is heaven, you thought. Pure heaven. your pussy twitched and tingled as you felt his warm come beginning to slip down your inner thighs. His strong arms surrounded you, his soft lips murmured and whispered and kissed, his spent cock nestled against the curve of your ass.

“There was something I wanted to tell you, remember?” he murmurs, his words brushing warmly against your skin as he kisses a path down to your shoulder. “Last night… something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted you to know.”

You shift slightly, turning to look at him, your heart pounding as you search his eyes, barely able to breathe.

“Tell me,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea.

His gaze softens, an unmistakable warmth filling his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

“I love you.”

The words settle between you, simple but perfect, like they were always meant to be there. Your heart feels like it’s soaring, every nerve in your body alive with the thrill of it, of finally hearing what you’d been aching to hear.

You break into a smile, biting your lip, feeling giddy and light, and without a second thought, you lean forward, kissing him softly, your hand finding his as you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels like home, you realize that, for the first time, everything feels right.

tags: @cereal6666 @thatesqcrush @cl7ire @bighappypiels @mostlymarvelgirl

@winchestert101 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mcira @elvenrin

@xunquish-blog @meetmeattheapt

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simonz-angel · 20 days ago

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simon who leaves his sweet best friend for the military…

his eyes wander over the small portrait, the one with your pretty face taken upon it. he remembers when you’d handed it to him before he left, a soft, sad smile gracing your face when you’d whispered, “promise you won’t forget about me, simon?”

it was silly of you to ever think your grace of a presence would leave his mind. it was quite the opposite, every day in training he’d run off you like fuel, praying upon the very day he’d get to have your softness in his arms once again.

as for now, he’s alone, cold… desperate.

his head reels back, lips splitting till blood pools in the cracked skin, mouth dropped open as he chokes on his heavy gasps. you were his best friend from back home, the pretty girl next door, yet even in the hell he faced, you still had him wrapped round your finger.

he had locked himself away in an old storage closet, trying his best to keep from waking his fellow sergeants yet as his fingers squeezed and slid their way up his cock, he was finding it increasingly difficult.

you were stuck in his mind, the plush pillows of your cherry tanged lips, your fluttering eyes, the bounce of your full breasts… gah simon could go on n on, and it all somehow had his cock dripping.

he sucked his lip between the pearls of his teeth, chest contracting into tense angry muscles before loosening in heavy breaths. he could barely keep himself up, even with the wall he had heaved himself against, knees weakening by the second, the stroke.

“f-fuck, fuck,” he breathed low, words coated in a sugary sweet whimper, and your face flashed bright behind his lids. pupils soaking in the messy thoughts, all that presented you in nothing but impure.

he was hooked, deeply infatuated with your presence yet forever scared to mention it, knowing you were only, only friends. this is how it had to be forever, home or not, you were only a dream, a whisper of what he so desperately needed.

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xxsabitoxx · 9 months ago

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Yuji being obsessed with the eating your pussy and accidentally teaching Sukuna how enjoyable it can be.

Sukuna, who’s never seen the appeal in going down on a woman. He figures he would personally gain no pleasure from it so why even bother?

Yuji, who’s the polar opposite and dreams of the day he can finally get you in his bed. Just so he can shove his head between your thighs and eat you out until you’re crying

Sukuna, who’s been forced to listen to these thoughts for years now because Yuji won’t grow a pair and just ask you out. Seriously, it’s been years, he’s losing his mind.

Yuji, who finally asks you out after one shot for courage and can’t believe it when you’re telling him that you’ve been waiting forever for him to ask that question.

Yuji, who forgets that even a single shot of liquor can get him buzzed and in no time at all he has his hands all over you. Not that you mind, you’ve waited just as long for him.

Yuji, who’s dragging you into a random bedroom at this house party and is locking the door behind you, lips glued to yours as he backs you up until you’re falling onto the mattress with him on top of you.

Yuji, who’s kissing his way down your body, falling to his knees before you as he nearly drags your lower half off of the mattress. Tugging your pants and underwear off in one go just to toss them somewhere into the room

Yuji, who’s spreading your thighs apart to finally catch a glimpse of the cunt he’s been dreaming of for years. Saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of your dripping cunt.

Yuji, who’s whining as he moves his head lower, nipping and sucking the plush flesh of your inner thighs. Your nosies only egging him on as he moves his way upwards.

Yuji, who’s breath is coming out in short pants as he hovers just above your cunt, asking your permission one last time since he knows he’ll be too far gone to stop soon.

Yuji, who’s whimpering against your cunt as he eats you out, tongue licking greedily along your slit before prodding at your swollen clit. Drool leaking down his chin and subsequently your cunt, mixing with your arousal.

Yuji, who has you falling apart on his tongue over and over before he’s even satisfied enough to come up for air. His cheeks flushed pink and hair a mess from where your hands had been pulling at it.

Yuji, who’s begging you to let him eat you again, as if his lips and chin aren’t covered in your sticky arousal. Watching as you struggle to catch your breath, not thinking he would make you cum as many times as he had.

Yuji, who’s practically crying when you lazily nod “yes”, your eyelids almost impossible to keep open as you fall back against the mattress and let him eat you out for the umpteenth time that night.

Sukuna, who’s eyes have been fully opened (against his will) to the appeal in eating a woman’s cunt.

Mildly unfinished but like… the vision is there my

Edit: based on some recent comments and anons I’ve received, there seems to be some confusion with this post.

So let me clarify that Yuji is 21-22 in this, he is in college, I’ve written him the age he would be in 2024.

If you don’t agree with aging up characters? Don’t read the post, or just block me. It’ll save all of us the time and sanity.

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aridatinas-art · 11 days ago

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something something ... Stanford "Why didn't Rudolf just kill the other reindeer?" Pines and Fiddleford "I create death-mechas when my feelings get hurt" McGucket

#i like to imagine that stan has to be the one to bring these two nerds back down to earth when things get too out of hand #like hes all for “light violence” but THOSE TWO tend to take it to the extreme and he aint into all that lmao #i also like to imagine that mabel would be just as deranged as ford and fidds #<- literally screams “DEATH” as Blendin's punishment after Globnar so i think it would be in character for her lmao #not that the kids would actually flat out murder someone #but they'd probs end up planning one in excrutiating detail #to the point where stan has to be like “okay this is getting TOO REAL guys.. ”#gravity falls #gravity falls au #relativity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #fiddleford mcgucket

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promise-blue2 · 6 months ago

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😈✌✌

#the sandman morpheus #the sandman fanart #the sandman #morpheus #Phoebe Pask #MARS #character imagine

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yanderenightmare · 1 month ago

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♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either.

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck.

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right?

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked.

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him.

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor.

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies.

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything.

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you.

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?”

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face.

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember.

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex.

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either.

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault.

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs.

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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daniellesimagines · 2 years ago

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Where You Go (Eddie Munson)

word count: 13,130 requested by: absolutely no one pronouns: she/her warnings: lots of swears (sorry), major character death, mentioned character deaths, mentions of murder and dying in a fire, mentions of depression and weed, survivor’s guilt, wildly non-canonical timeline (im serious yall, there are a lot of creative liberties taken with that one), also yn is 18!!! (not tryna commit any crimes here @ fbi) fandom: stranger things au type: high school summary: you have a crush on eddie; the only problem is he’s only interested in your best friend. however, a tragic event brings you two together in more ways than you bargained for inspired by: dream, also heavily inspired by/using scenes from season 4 (i use tvshowtranscripts for exact lines and they don’t put who said it, so i’m sorry if some are wrong!!) authors notes: i’m trying a thing where i don’t split this up into parts, so i hope it’s not too long!!! also this is my first eddie fic so pls be nice to me :((( other parts: none

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

Hawkins High School was nothing if not predictable.

When movies and TV portrayed what it was like to be a teenager, you were sure they’d gotten their ideas straight from your school. Sports were everything, the popular cheerleaders dated the star athletes, the weird kids were outcast from the rest, and you were just...there.

You weren’t a particularly gifted student, nor were you fairly well-known, and you certainly weren’t athletic. To be honest, you only had one friend. You met your best friend in elementary school, her being on your bus route just one stop before yours.

Chrissy Cunningham was everything you weren’t, but she still kept you around. If it weren’t for the fact that you lived so close and were able to create such a strong bond at an early age, you honestly would have thought she just stayed because she felt sorry for you.

But that wasn’t who Chrissy was.

Chrissy was a fiercely loyal friend, and that only grew once you entered high school. She made the cheer squad freshman year – becoming popular pretty much right away – but she never let it come between her friendship with you. Upon entering your senior year, Chrissy became cheer captain and subsequently caught the attention of everyone in school.

And that included Eddie Munson.

Eddie had always been a character, often interrupting lunches with passionate speeches about the popular crowds and how they excluded anyone different than them. You knew he had a club that met after school, though you didn’t know much other than it was about Dungeons & Dragons. You always had a bit of a crush on him – sure, he could be obnoxious and he was on his third try of making it to graduation, but he was friendly and cute and had no problem talking back to people like Jason Carver.

You wish you could say you were surprised when Chrissy started offhandedly mentioning that she’d been hanging out with Eddie every once in a while. You would listen to her talk about something funny he did or said, plastering on the fake interest as she spoke.

Yeah, you were jealous.

But you knew you had no right to be.

Chrissy had no idea you had a crush, and you knew her relationship with Jason only continued to please her overbearing mother, so you wanted nothing more than for her to finally be happy for once.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting whenever she mentioned seeing him.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Chrissy told you after setting her lunch tray down at the spot across from you, “I have to go talk to Eddie about something.”

You barely nodded, but it didn’t matter since she didn’t even look at you before trotting toward the Hellfire table. You kept your gaze on your lunch tray as your best friend’s voice rang through your ears again.

“Eds!” she chirped, “Do you have a second?”

“Chris!” he smiled back, “What’s up?”

Oh, that’s cute. They have nicknames for each other.

You listened to their voices fade out as they walked to somewhere less crowded, Eddie insisting to get some privacy.

Way to go with the subtlety there, guys.

You knew you shouldn’t be this hurt over it – Chrissy was way more outgoing than you, so it was never shocking when someone gravitated to her over you – but you still were. Sure, she was your best friend and she made sure to include you in everything she was a part of, but you just...

You wanted someone to see you as your own person, not just ‘Chrissy’s best friend’.

Sunday afternoon

You’d spent that weekend the same as you always did: alone in your room keeping yourself busy with whatever you could until it came time for your weekly hangout with your best friend. You and Chrissy had hung out every Sunday practically since the day you met. Your mom always offered her own to stay and chat, but she never did; Her mother was more than happy to pawn her daughter on anyone willing to watch her. Your mom became more of a mother to Chrissy than her own – maybe that was why she stayed at your place as often as she was allowed.

You had just eaten lunch with your mom and Chrissy and played a few board games as well – you knew Chrissy appreciated the feeling of normalcy it gave her – before you ended up back in your bedroom. She was laying on your bed watching TV, propped up against the wall behind it, while you were sitting on the floor. Your most recent endeavor to keep yourself occupied, you decided, would be learning how to take in clothing too big and repurpose clothing that didn’t fit anymore into things you’d actually use. And lucky for you, Chrissy didn’t mind – you could gossip no matter what you were doing.

“You didn’t hang out with Jason today?” you mentioned after noticing her show had gone to a commercial, “I thought he said he was taking you to Lover’s Lake?”

“Of course not!” she insisted, “Sundays are for us! And you know how I feel about him.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re still with him,” you shook your head, “It’s like he’s gotten so much more oblivious to anything other than his popularity recently. Does he even notice when it’s one of the bad days again?”

“No,” she sighed, “But you know how my mom would be if she found out I broke up with him.”

“As if you don’t already get perfect grades, are the most popular girl at school, and all the teachers love you?” you rolled your eyes, “I hardly think not dating such an ass anymore would change all that.” You smiled slightly when she giggled.

“You know what? Enough about me!” she bounced in her seat, “What’s been going on with you? I feel like I never see you anymore!”

“Nothing new,” you shrugged, “Just trying to get at least one scholarship before graduation.”

“Oh, please! You could get those scholarships in your sleep!” You smiled slightly as she continued. “But that’s not what I meant! I mean, what’s been going on in your love life?”

“What love life?” you scoffed jokingly, “You know better than anyone that guys don’t even look at me.”

“That’s not true! What about Trevor? He told me he thought you were cute! You even went on a date with him!”

“Yeah, but we didn’t end up connecting as much as we thought we would,” you shrugged, “Decided we’re better as friends than a couple. I’m just glad he wasn’t a dick about it.”

“I knew he wouldn’t be,” she said, “That’s the only reason I set you up with him. There’s gotta be someone you’re into though?” Chrissy watched you pause, making her suck in a breath of excitement. “There is someone you’re into!” she squealed, “Why haven’t you told me?! I wanna know everything! Who is it?”

“Well... He’s in our grade,” you chose your wording carefully to not give it away, “He’s in a club and a band. We’ve been to his shows a couple of times. He’s really nice, but...”

“Is he not nice to you?” she narrowed her eyes at the idea this mystery crush of yours would be rude to you.

“It’s not that, it’s just... He likes someone else...” you whispered, “But I wasn’t surprised he likes someone else more; Everybody likes you more.”

“What do you mean?” she seemed genuinely confused, “Who likes me more?”

You didn’t respond, making Chrissy furrow her eyebrows. She took a moment to think about when you started acting a little differently when it came to boys, earning another gasp of realization.

“Are you talking about Eddie?” she asked, taking your small gulp as confirmation that she was right. “Y/N, you know I would never do that to you!” she assured you, “Oh my God, I would be the worst best friend ever if I went after someone you liked!” You looked up at her with confusion, making her smile. “You didn’t have to tell me for me to know,” she shook her head, “You’re my best friend; I know you better than I know myself.” Chrissy sighed softly, moving to the floor so she could take your hand in hers and squeeze it lightly. “I’ve been meeting Eddie so much because I’ve... I buy weed from him sometimes,” she finally confessed.

“You what?” your eyes widened, “Since when do you smoke weed?!”

“I’ve been... I see things sometimes... Hallucinations, I think,” she admitted, “And I know Eddie deals, so I thought it would help.”

“You’ve been seeing things?” you repeated, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it was just the depression – that it was just something I would have to live with for the rest of my life... I didn’t want to drag you into all that.”

“Chrissy, you’re my best friend,” you repeated her earlier sentiment, giving her own hand a tight squeeze, “Your problems are my problems and mine are yours; We get through it together no matter what.” She gave you a small, tight-lipped smile. You knew she was still holding back, but you also knew that she’d come to you when she was ready.

But neither of you would ever get to have that conversation.

One week later; Wednesday

You felt like you weren’t actually in your body anymore. Everything felt foreign and fake and otherworldly. The school felt out of it and it felt like the students were just blips in the universe. People tried to talk to you – offer their condolences – but their voices were all muffled in your ears.

Chrissy was dead; Your best friend was gone.

You’d attended the funeral the previous day – and if you thought the amount of people at school looking at you in pity was bad, you would have prepared better for the service. You humored Jason when he offered his condolences, giving him your own as well – despite how pompous and two-faced you thought he was, he still lost his girlfriend and you weren’t going to be a bitch to him.

You made it through the funeral service and burial before going back home. Your mother tried her best to lift your spirits, but you knew she was having just as hard a time with everything as you were – Chrissy was like a second daughter to her, after all.

You heard about a meeting at the town hall that would take place the day after to discuss those killed recently. You thought it would be a gathering to remember everyone – Chrissy, Fred, Patrick – so you decided to go. Your mother had wanted to attend as well, but you insisted she rest instead. The events of the past week had taken a major toll on her and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days – and honestly, she probably hadn’t. You promised to tell her everything that happened, and she walked you to the front door as you put on your jacket, kissing your head before you left.

And, to be fair, the meeting did start out as remembering the deceased.

Until Jason showed up, that is.

After those who wished to speak offered up memories, the police chief started to speak. He was giving an update on the investigation, and you could feel your blood run cold when he mentioned that they did have a suspect and were looking for information leading to his whereabouts so they could talk to him. But before he could give a name, he was interrupted by Jason.

“With all due respect, Chief Powell, I think it’s obvious who’s responsible,” Jason stated, “That freak Eddie Munson and his Hellfire cult murdered a popular girl as a sacrifice to Satan! It’s about time we band together and rid this town of him for good!”

“Now, son,” the Chief shook his head with a firm tone in his voice, “We only want to talk to Mr. Munson as of right now; We can’t just go around accusing people of something as serious as murder.”

“Don’t you all get it?” he looked around the room, “These satanic cults that are spreading around the country say they’re playing ‘some silly roleplaying game’ when they��re really planning rituals for human sacrifice! That's what the mall fire was really about! That’s why so many people are dead! It’s because of Hellfire!”

“That’s bullshit!” you looked over to see Erica Sinclair practically seething with anger, “The Hellfire isn’t a cult! It’s a club for a bunch of nerds!”

“A club? A club! A harmless club – that’s what they want you to think! But it’s a lie to conceal the truth! And the truth is it’s a cult now protecting their leader! Hiding Eddie and allowing him to continue his sacrifices! We can stop him from killing any more! We must come together and cast the evil out of Hawkins that is Hellfire! We have to-”

“Shut up!” your voice broke as you stood up from your seat, making everyone stare at you in shock.

You were so sick of everyone pointing blame at Eddie – it didn’t matter that they didn’t have proof. You would have defended anyone under those circumstances, but them only choosing him because he’s an easy target made you even more upset.

“It’s bad enough you used Billy and Chief Hopper’s deaths at that pep rally to what, boost morale at a stupid basketball game?! They died in an accidental mall fire; They weren’t murdered in some sacrificial ritual!” you threw your arms up, “But now you wanna claim they were for what, getting justice?! None of you would have even given a shit if someone else died in any other way or if it were anyone but Chrissy, so why do you give a shit now?! You certainly wouldn’t have cared if it were some random student, and you would have celebrated if it were Eddie, so why the hell do you suddenly give a fuck?!”

“Am I hearing you defending that freak right now?” Jason narrowed his eyes at you, “Just because you were Chrissy’s best friend-”

“I am Chrissy’s best friend,” you snapped back, “So I think I know damn well she wouldn’t have wanted this witch hunt! Whether you like it or not, she was friends with Eddie, and she would be pissed at all of you for acting like a bunch of fucking assholes! She wouldn’t have even given him the time of day if she thought he was going to pull some satanic bullshit on her or whatever the fuck you’re bitching about!”

“You’re just as much of a freak as the rest of them,” he scoffed.

“And you’re just as much of the asshole Chrissy thought you were,” you growled, not giving him the chance to respond as you grabbed your jacket and left, letting the door slam behind you.

Eddie’s POV; The next day

“Eddie?!” Dustin called out as he and the gang approached Skull Rock.

“I am right here, Henderson,” he reminded him from his makeshift seat, “And I’m sure I will be here until the day I die.”

“You’re not gonna be in here that long,” Robin insisted, “We just have to come up with a plan is all.”

“Knowing all of you? I’ll be here until I die,” he rolled his eyes, earning the same gesture in return.

“Anyway,” Dustin spoke up again, “We brought you some food.” He handed him a bag and Eddie immediately took the contents out and started eating. “Oh!” he chirped, “You know how the town hall had a meeting to remember everyone last night?” Eddie simply nodded. “Well, Erica was there and said Jason came in and started laying it on thick about Hellfire and how we’re a cult and how we perform satanic sacrifices and that’s why everyone’s dying.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better, Henderson?” Eddie rolled his eyes, “Am I supposed to be happy there’s a bounty on my head now?”

“No, man! Erica said someone stood up and told Jason to shut up and that he’s being an asshole for-”

“Language!” Steve reprimanded, earning a middle finger from the teen.

“Dude, she said it was so badass!” Dustin bounced around the dirt path, “The way Y/N didn’t back down when Jason tried to intimidate her for the way she was defending you was so sick! She just totally laid into Jason and his stupid friends and the people going along with it and she didn’t care what they thought!”

“Y/N?” Eddie felt his heart start racing, “She was defending me?”

“Yeah? Weren’t you listening?” he frowned, “Erica said she was a real badass! I wish we could have seen it!”

Dustin kept raving about Erica’s play-by-play of your performance, but Eddie wasn’t hearing it anymore.

Chrissy’s cute friend believed he was innocent?

Your POV; The next day

You weren’t at all shocked when you arrived at school the next day to glares and whispers behind your back. You knew Jason and his minions were going to make sure everyone knew what you’d done. When someone said something to you directly, you simply rolled your eyes and ignored them. Jason obviously would have spun the story to make you look even worse, so you didn’t want to waste your time trying to defend yourself with things you knew wouldn’t change their minds anyway.

On your way to lunch, you stopped by your locker to put away a textbook when you saw something poking out of the slot above the latch. You grabbed it and held it under your arm against your side as you opened your locker. You put the books away and reached back for the note. You wondered if maybe it was meant for someone else and they just had the wrong locker, but you knew by what was written in it that it was meant for you.

Meet at Hellfire after school

You stared at the sloppy handwriting for a moment before looking up and around the hall. No one was watching to make sure you received it, so you had absolutely no idea who had left you the note. You flipped the paper over – expecting to see contact info? – but instead found a messily-drawn map of where to find the club in the school’s basement.

Three hours later

The moment the final bell rang, you were hastily leaving the classroom and walking to your locker. You’d been internally arguing with yourself all day about whether or not you should listen to this mystery note – you had no idea who sent it or what they wanted or if it was just Jason and his friends trying to get you alone – before you finally defined to just go.

Whatever happened now couldn’t be worse than when you were told Chrissy died, could it?

You shoved all of your books into your locker, deciding to just get your backpack after you were done with whoever you were meeting. You slowly made your way to the stairwell to the basement, wanting to wait until the hallway had mostly cleared out.

Once it had, you went through the door and pulled the note out of your pocket. You followed the practically-illegible map as best as you could, occasionally looking up to make sure you were heading in what you assumed was the right direction.

You finally made it to a door with a piece of doodled-on notebook paper taped to it – drawings no doubt done by Eddie – with the words ‘HELLFIRE CLUB MEMBERS ONLY’ scrawled on it. You opened the door, making the chatter in the room cease as soon as the knob moved.

You came face-to-face with a small group of people – okay, one of them is definitely too old to be in school, right? – stepping back in surprise. It was silent for a moment – the tall man looking at the curly-haired boy incredulously – before someone spoke.

“Y/N!” the boy with curly hair exclaimed before looking at the group smugly, “I told you she’d come!”

“Uh... What’s going on...?” you asked.

The boy – Dustin – then finally introduced everyone to you. You recognized him from the Hellfire table, Max from a couple of your classes, you were pretty sure Robin was in the marching band, and you could have sworn Steve graduated the previous year. You had no idea what was going on – you were only expecting to see one person in here, not four.

“I stole Eddie’s key to the room,” Dustin explained as if he could hear what was going on inside your head, “We need to talk to you.”

“About...?” you trailed off, finally looking around the room.

You could see the Dungeons & Dragons game set up on a table in front of a prop throne with seven other chairs around it. There wasn’t much going on besides the mess of other props strewn about the storage room, but one thing did catch your eye.

Sitting on top of the table was a crumpled-up wanted poster with Eddie’s face on it, a bunch of satanic scribblings all over his face. Next to it, pictures of all the people who had been killed so far – Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, Billy, Chief Hopper, and a few others you didn’t recognize – and you knew what this was really about.

“You know what? I already had this argument with Jason; I’m not interested in another one,” you stated bluntly, turning to leave.

“Steve!” Dustin huffed, prompting him to groan loudly and rush over to you. Steve grabbed your arm and pulled you further into the room, despite how hard you were trying to free yourself.

“Hey!” you started yelling, hitting his forearms as he wrapped them around your waist to keep you there, “Let go of me!”

“Henderson!” he grunted as he struggled to keep you in place while you punched him, “You said she’d listen!”

“Y/N, come on! Just hear us out!” he begged, “We just wanna talk about Chri-”

“I don’t care!” your voice broke, trying – but failing – the keep the tears from falling down your cheeks, “I don’t want to talk about Chrissy! I don’t want to remember she’s gone! I don’t want to think about it anymore! I want to go ho-”

“Chrissy died because Eddie’s trailer is a portal to the Upside Down!” Dustin finally yelled.

Steve’s head snapped to glare at the teenager – he had been so reluctant to tell Eddie what was going on, but had no problem just springing it on you? – but he couldn’t ignore that it made you gradually start fighting back less. Your breathing stunted before picking right back up again, your back hitting his chest with every exhale.

“The what?” you whispered, slouching against the man behind you still holding your waist. Steve relaxed his body as well, slowly moving you to sit on the throne. He finally released his hold on you but remained seated behind you, giving you a weird sense of comfort.

The group started explaining the Mind Flayer and the Upside Down and the portals and Vecna and why those killed were targeted and how the Starcourt Mall fire hadn’t been some tragic accident and how their friend Eleven had powers and what had been going on the last three years, and you had no idea how to even respond.

You couldn’t believe all of this had been happening for three years and you had no idea about it. Sure, you’d heard about all the deaths in your tiny town, but you just assumed what the police were saying happened was true – you had no reason to believe otherwise.

Until it came to Chrissy’s death, of course.

You suspected something more was going on – that, despite being found in his trailer, everyone was just saying Eddie was responsible because it was easy. They already hated him for being different; This was just an actual reason now.

As if he could read your mind, Dustin finally brought you back to the real world.

“-and they all think Eddie did it, but he didn’t! It was all because of Vec-”

“I know,” you choked out, earning surprised looks from everyone.

“You know?” Max asked.

“Eddie could never ki-” you swallowed the word, still unable to talk about Chrissy without crying, “He wouldn’t do that...”

“Thank God,” Dustin breathed out sharply, “That makes convincing you to help a lot easier.”

“Help?” Steve finally spoke, “Henderson, she can’t- Stop dragging people into this!”

“But she’s the only one that can convince Eddie to stop hiding out at Skull Rock! And having one more person would just make it easier to defeat Vecna!”

“That’s not the point!” he insisted, “We’ve all been able to fight whatever monsters came up with just us before! Y/N doesn’t need to be brought into that now too! Eddie’s already been dragged into this by association, we don’t need-”

“I wanna help,” your soft plea cut Steve off, causing the group to look at you, “I wanna help Eddie.”

Eddie’s POV

Despite it being close to 5 PM, Eddie was finding it harder and harder not to fall asleep. He was starting to lose track of time being out in the woods for so long, but he was not about to return to a place where he was basically being hunted for sport.

Eddie began to doze off slightly again, only to be jolted awake by the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves crunching as footsteps got closer to his hideout. His body immediately tensed up, holding out the first weapon he could grab – a short, broken tree branch. He peeked around the rock before hopping out and yelling like a madman, only earning eye rolls in response.

“What are you gonna do with that, poke me to death?” Dustin asked, “Put it down; It’s just us.”

“Some warning would have been nice, Henderson,” Eddie dropped the stick, waving the walkie-talkie in his other hand to remind him of it.

“I left it at home,” he shrugged, making him roll his eyes as he sat down on a nearby boulder.

“We brought food again!” Robin chirped.

“It’s just what’s available from the vending machines outside Family Video,” Steve added, “But it’s something.” He tossed Eddie a bag of chips while Robin gave him a can of soda.

“Can we come up with a plan now?” Max interjected, “I’m getting tired of hiking up here.”

“I told you guys already,” Dustin insisted, “That’s why we brought Y/N!” Eddie’s gaze snapped to the teenager before he finally noticed someone new had joined the party.

You were trailing behind Nancy and Lucas, looking at your surroundings. When you finally stopped walking and your eyes met Eddie’s, he couldn’t help but feel sick. He knew you didn’t blame him or think he was guilty of Chrissy’s murder, but something about seeing her best friend made him want to find a new hiding spot – a spot the group would surely never think to look for him. You gulped and quickly looked away from him, nervously training your gaze on the nature around you.

The group started talking about how they were going to get into the Upside Down and get rid of Vecna once and for all. They were all coming up with ideas on how to kill him – how much easier it would be if they could just figure out how to get El her powers back – when Eddie looked over and spoke up.

“Hey, uh... Henderson’s not cursed, is he?” he asked, making everyone follow his gaze to find Dustin pacing around and staring off into the forest.

“Cursed? No, he’s fine,” Steve answered, “Mental? Absolutely.”

“BOOM!” Dustin’s sudden shout made everyone jump and snap to face him. He then pointed at Steve and smirked, “I was right. Skull Rock was north!” Eddie cocked an eyebrow when everyone else sighed and rolled their eyes, preparing themselves for the argument they’d been hearing for the past three days.

“Oh my Go- Are you serious?!” Steve threw his arms up, “This again?! This is Skull Rock! You’re totally, absolutely, 100% wrong!”

“Yes,” he smiled, “And no.”

“Oh my God,” Steve repeated, his hands on his face muffling his voice.

“This compass worked correctly when we left the school,” Dustin explained, “But it started to slip the further east we went. Now that we’re here, the thing is way off! Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?”

“An electromagnetic field!” he perked up, beginning to realize what his friend was saying.

“I’m sorry?” Robin cocked an eyebrow, “I must have skipped that class?”

“In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power. So either there’s a super big magnet around here, or-”

“There’s a gate!” Lucas finished, making Dustin beam with joy.

“Now we know how to get to Vecna and release Max from his curse!” the teen exclaimed. Eddie noticed you look at the redhead with wide eyes – clearly no one had told you that one of them was currently dealing with what your best friend had been.

“But we’re nowhere near Hawkins Lab,” Nancy reminded him.

“All I know is this compass wouldn’t react if something wasn’t nearby,” Dustin said, “It’ll be small and not as powerful, but it’s still a way into the Upside Down. We just have to find it.” The teenager turned and began walking down the hill, but Steve stopped him.

“Where are you going? Hey, hey, hey!” he practically shouted, making Dustin come back to the group, “Eddie’s still a wanted man! We can’t just go for a hike in the woods like we’re on vacation in South America!”

“This little steel capsule-” He held up the compass. “-might be the key to saving both Max and Eddie,” he stated, “So what say you, Eddie the Banished?” Your eyebrow quirked at the nickname.

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” Eddie responded lowly, “Gotta be totally straight with you: that’s a really bad idea. But... The Shire is burning...” Dustin started jumping up and down excitedly, knowing he was going to agree. “So Mordor it is,” he finished, standing up from his makeshift seat.

You breathed out a laugh when you heard Steve mutter ‘What the hell is Mordor?’ to himself.

“Let’s split up!” the teen announced, “We’ll cover more ground that way and have less of a chance of getting caught before we find it. We’ll meet back here at sunset to see who found it. Lucas and Max, go toward the Creel house. Nancy and Robin can go west. Me and Steve will go south. And Y/N, you go with Eddie toward the train tracks!” Dustin put his hands on your back and pushed you toward him.

Your POV

Eddie grabbed your elbow when you yelped in surprise and lost your balance, glaring at the teen for nearly causing you to fall. You thanked him quietly as you fixed the hair that flew over your face, surprising him by following him into the forest without protest.

You jogged a little to keep up with his long strides, prompting him to shorten them so you could simply walk. Once the chatter of everyone else died down as they walked in their respective directions, you finally spoke to Eddie for the first time.

“So, uh... This is not how I expected this week to end,” you mentioned, making him laugh.

“I never expected to be on the run from police either,” he said. You let out a small breath of amusement, but your face still fell slightly.

Eddie watched you carefully, his mind racing with what he could possibly say about the loss of your best friend. But the only thing he could come up with was the events that led up to it.

“I really thought ‘86 was gonna be my year, you know?” he sighed, “I was finally gonna graduate and leave Hawkins behind and tour the world with my band. I started making friends outside of Hellfire – a cheerleader even wanted to talk to me...” He noticed you swallow thickly at the mention of Chrissy, but he couldn’t stop rambling. “That night... Chrissy came over to hang out. I left the room to get something and when I came back, it was like she was possessed or something. She wasn’t moving and was just staring at the wall. Then she started just...levitating...or some shit. She started bending all weird and blood was coming out of her eyes... And I begged and begged and begged her to wake up but she wouldn’t, so I... I did the only thing I know how to do...” he mumbled, looking down at the leaves in front of him, “I ran away. I left her there like a coward and hid in that stupid boat house and now Skull Rock and I let everyone believe it was my f-”

“I never believed it was your fault,” you whispered, making his head snap up to look at you. You sniffled as you stared at the ground, roughly swiping your fingertips underneath your eyes to get rid of the tears. “I was mad she was gone because she’s my best friend and the only person who ever really cared about me,” you continued quietly, “But I knew the second everyone started saying how she was found in your trailer that you didn’t do anything to her. I saw how you were with her at school; You liked her way too much to do something like that to her.”

“I didn’t like her,” Eddie told you, “I mean, I liked her as a person, but I didn’t like her. She was my only friend outside of Hellfire, but she... We only hung out because... She was...just...”

“Buying weed,” you finished his sentence with a small smile at the shock on his face, “She told me before she... About the hallucinations and how she was trying to get rid of them... Apparently didn’t work, but... I guess it’s pretty hard to get out of Vecna’s curse once you’re in.”

“You know about Vecna?”

“Dustin told me,” you nodded, “Said he thinks I can help somehow.”

“No,” the firmness in Eddie’s voice surprised you, making you look at him with furrowed brows, “You don’t need to be anywhere near this shit.”

“I obviously agreed to it, Eddie,” you reminded him with a shake of your head, “I want to help if it means saving Hawkins and preventing someone else from dying. I wanted- I want to help you...” You suppressed another onslaught of tears – not even noticing the slight blush he was now sporting – not wanting to cry in front of someone you just met for a second time. “He said I’m the only one that can convince you to stop hiding at that huge rock,” you continued.

“Henderson said that?” Eddie asked. You simply shrugged.

“I don’t know why it would make a difference for me to do it, but he says I have the best shot at it,” you nodded. You heard him sigh, turning your head to find him rubbing his face roughly. “You don’t have to, you know?” you mentioned, “We’ve never even really met before today, so I don’t know why Dustin thought that I could-”

“I mean, I obviously want to stop hiding out,” he admitted, “I just can’t believe Henderson dragged you into it on my behalf now.”

“Well, you were Chrissy’s friend and I know you didn’t do anything to her because she wouldn’t have stuck around if she were scared of you performing rituals or whatever shit Jason’s trying to push,” you offered, making him chuckle, “And I’m already in it, so I might as well do what I can to help. Sure beats writing scholarship essays.”

“With your smarts, any college would be stupid not to take you,” he said without thinking. His eyes widened in horror, but his heart raced when you giggled.

“Thanks,” you replied, “It’s just disappointing I can’t put ‘saved the town of Hawkins, Indiana from an evil curse’ on any of my applications.”

“Well, you could,” he shrugged, “Just don’t expect to get into that college though.”

“I don’t think I’d get into any college after that. They’d probably let all the others know I’m insane.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little insane, sweetheart,” Eddie said, making you snort softly.

The two of you walked for a little while longer in comfortable silence. Eddie had since given you his jacket as it got cooler, admiring how cute you looked in it. In fact, he’d been so entranced with you that he’d actually forgotten what you were meant to be doing in the first place.

“So... How do we know if we’ve found a gate or whatever?” you asked.

“No idea,” he admitted, “But Henderson said it’ll be obvious, so I guess we just...look for the obvious.”

Suddenly, as if Vecna himself heard you, the ground started to shake violently. Eddie grabbed onto a small tree, wrapping his arm around your waist and keeping you close so neither of you fell.

“I think someone found the obvious!” he hollered over the sounds of trees being shaken back and forth, their limbs and leaves slamming against each other.

“What are you talking about?! This is totally normal!” you shouted back, gripping him just as tightly as he was holding you while your legs desperately tried to hold you up.

You started hearing loud cracking sounds in the distance followed by small explosions every now and then. Your gaze snapped up to Eddie, finding him already looking at you with a horrified expression.

“What is that?” you asked as the shaking began to subside. It sounded like it was all going away from you, so you figured the gate must be further than you were heading.

“We have to go find everyone,” Eddie said, releasing the tree and grabbing your hand. You both ran as carefully as you could back toward Skull Rock, hoping that’s what the others had done too.

All of this was happening so fast – you had just been told of the existence of the Upside Down not even three hours ago, and now it seemed like it was all going downhill faster than you could process it. You didn’t even fully understand what the gates were yet, and now it was very likely that one was opening?

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you grumbled mostly to yourself but felt Eddie squeeze your hand in response.

When the rock came back into view, you could see the group already there, frantically looking around for you and Eddie. Steve was the first to spot you two, sighing in relief.

“Guys!” he exclaimed, making everyone turn, “Are you alright?” He, Robin, and Nancy shared a look when they realized you were wearing Eddie’s jacket.

“Where are Max and Lucas?” you asked, noticing they were the only ones not there. Eddie had yet to release your hand – not that you were going to let go of him either.

“Maybe they’re still on their way? Creel house is pretty far from here...” Robin suggested, but you could tell she felt off about it too.

“What do we do then?” Nancy shook her head, “We can’t just stand here and wait and hope they show up.”

“Well, good news,” Dustin said, “Me and Steve found the gate that was making the compass fuck up at Lover’s Lake.”

“Language, Henderson!” Steve exclaimed, smacking the back of his shoulder.

“We should still go check it out! It could help save Max from the curse!” he insisted. The group reluctantly agreed and started following Dustin toward the lake.

“Hey, are you sure you still wanna do this, Y/N?” Steve asked, “Maybe you should go home.”

“No way!” you frowned, “I’m at least finding out what the hell an Upside Down or whatever gate thing is first!” You felt your heart flutter when Eddie chuckled beside you.

“Alright,” Robin added, “Just don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

When you arrived at the lake a few minutes later, it looked completely normal. You knew you should be relieved, but you were honestly disappointed – wasn’t this supposed to be some kind of portal to the underworld?

Steve broke away from the group and went into the boat house, reemerging moments later after pushing a boat onto the water. Eddie immediately jumped in, helping Robin and Nancy in as well. He then held his hand out to you, and you knew you shouldn’t – you knew you were biting off way more than you could chew – but you immediately took it and got sat down with everyone else. Dustin started to climb on as well but Steve stopped him as Nancy started rowing.

“Not you, Henderson,” he stated firmly.

“Yeah! Bedtime’s at 9!” Robin chirped.

“What?!” he shouted, begrudgingly handing over his compass when Nancy reached for it.

“Too many cooks rock the boat, you know,” Steve shrugged.

“I don’t think that’s the saying at all!” Dustin rolled his eyes, “I think you’re just an idiot!” Eddie remained silent while you gave the teen a sympathetic smile, promising him you’d be back in no time. “There you are!” you heard his voice again, making you all look over to find the two kids you’d been worried about.

“What are you guys doing?!” Lucas called after you.

“We’ll tell you when we get back!” Steve announced. You assumed the sound you heard next was Dustin groaning loudly again and going on to explain to them what had been said at Skull Rock.

Once Nancy reached where she believed the electromagnetic source was coming from, she stopped. You all listened for something – anything – that sounded different, but nothing did. You looked over when Steve started pulling off his shoes and socks.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy asked.

“Someone’s gotta go down there and check things out,” he informed you all, taking off his sweater and diving in before anyone had the chance to argue with him.

You waited for what felt like hours, jumping when Steve popped back up only a few moments later. He tossed his flashlight back into the boat and grabbed onto the side for support.

“There’s definitely a gate down there,” he informed you.

“Is that a good thing?” you asked.

But he wasn’t able to respond.

Steve was suddenly yanked back underwater, making you all start shouting. Nancy didn’t waste a second before diving in after him, Robin quickly following suit.

“Are you kidding me?!” you screamed at the water as you stood up – though you knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“Y/N,” Eddie said with a warning tone, “Don’t you da-” He didn’t finish the statement before you jumped into the lake as well. He slapped his hands over his face – he knew damn well he wasn’t about to let you be an absolute moron by yourself – and let out a ‘Son of a bitch, this is so stupid!’ out loud before following you in.

You yelped in surprise as you entered into the Upside Down. You didn’t know what you were expecting to happen, but being literally tossed into the middle of a bunch of flying...things...trying to kill Steve wasn’t it. Nancy and Robin were hitting the creatures with pieces of a broken oar, and Eddie came tumbling into the mayhem with the other one.

“Y/N, duck!” he shouted. You didn’t even hesitate before doing exactly as you were told, feeling your hair fly as Eddie’s oar flew above your head. Your gaze snapped to the side, watching a bat-like creature fall flat on the ground a few feet away from you.

You then looked over at Steve, finding him struggling against one of them choking him. Since you felt practically useless without a weapon, you figured you’d try to help the best you could.

You kept yourself low to the ground as you reached him, helping him pry off what appeared to be a tail wrapped around his neck. Once you were both successful, he grabbed the tail and slammed the thing into the ground as hard as he could a couple of times until he was sure it was dead.

The moment of silence that followed – once the creatures were lifeless heaps on the ground around you – you all looked at each other.

“What the hell were those things?” Eddie asked.

“Demobats,” Steve answered as if it were the most casual thing in the world, “I can’t believe all of you idiots followed me.”

“You’d have been a goner if we hadn’t, you dingus!” Robin reminded him.

“Well, it’s not like I planned to be dragged down here!”

“Guys, can we not fight about this right now?” Nancy held her hand up, “We’ve got more company incoming!”

You all looked to where she was pointing, noticing a new swarm of creatures – now known to you as demobats – were en route. You then looked back down at your now completely shredded weapons, knowing there was no way you’d be able to take on any more of those things.

“We need to get to my house,” she went on, “If this really is just the underside of the real world, my guns should still be in my bedroom.” You looked at her in shock.

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns – plural – in your bedroom?” Eddie cocked an eyebrow. She shrugged with a guilty smile on her face.

“Well, it sure beats being eaten alive by demon bats,” you stated, following Nancy in the direction of her house.

“Demobats,” Steve corrected.

“Does it really matter?!” you huffed, your head snapping to look at him. You could feel yourself doing a double take.

You then turned to shoot Eddie a look and he immediately nodded. You slipped your arms out of his jacket and held it out to Steve.

“Please take this, Prince Hairy,” you stated, “I just met you today and I’m very uncomfortable.” The group snorted softly – Robin snickering and calling Steve a dingus again – as he embarrassingly took the item of clothing from you.

Nancy led you all to her house – well, the Upside Down version of her house – and shoved the side door open. Steve and Eddie immediately wandered off upon entering, but you and Robin decided to follow Nancy to wherever she was going. You ended up in her bedroom, showing up in the doorway just as she was letting out a defeated sigh.

“Crap,” Nancy grumbled, closing the closet doors, “My guns aren’t here.”

“Now what are we supposed to do?” Robin wondered, “We can’t get out of here with those bats flying around.”

“There has to be a way to let someone know we’re trapped,” you shook your head with a frown, “I mean yeah, real life sucks, but I don’t wanna be stuck here forever!” The girls looked at you with concern.

“Are you doing okay after...?” Robin asked you.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I haven’t been alone long enough to think about it, really.”

“You know, I know what it’s like to lose your best friend,” Nancy offered, “So if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Robin chirped, “All this Upside Down stuff can be a lot to take in, but it sure is better than being kidnapped by Russians.” You stopped what you were doing to look at her incredulously. “Oh yeah! Me and Steve were taken by the Russians hiding out underneath the Starcourt Mall,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “They were a bunch of dinguses though – they didn’t even get the drugs they injected us with right.”

“DUSTIN?!” you suddenly heard Steve shout, making you all jump, “HEY?! HENDERSON?!”

“We’re gonna unpack more of that later,” you pointed at Robin before the three of you ran out of the room toward Steve’s voice.

You entered the living room at the same time as Eddie, all of you staring at Steve in confusion. He was pacing around like a madman, shouting Dustin’s name at the ceiling.

“Are you cursed now, Harrington?” Eddie asked.

“Just listen!” he insisted. You were all silent for a moment, none of you hearing what he claimed to.

“We don’t have time for this, you dingus!” Robin rolled her eyes.

“I heard the kid talking! It was like he was here! Can you just-”

“Steve!” Nancy shouted to grab his attention, only continuing when he looked at her, “You said Will communicated with Joyce through lights, right?”

Steve’s eyes widened and the both of them ran toward the light switch on the wall. You, Robin, and Eddie watched on in confusion, none of you understanding what was going on. Nancy flipped the switch up and down a few times, huffing when nothing happened.

“Shit,” she mumbled, “It’s not working.”

“Uh, guys...” you spoke up. The group looked at you, following your amazed stare at the light fixture in the middle of the room.

It appeared to have some sort of orange sparkles dancing around it, though the fixture itself didn’t even seem to be in working order. Nancy lifted her arm to touch it, all of you watching in awe as the light bulbs flickered in response.

“Does anyone know Morse code?” she asked, earning a chorus of dejected ‘no’s.

“Wait,” Eddie suddenly said, “Does SOS count?” You all looked at him with dumbfounded expressions, making him frown. “What?”

“Just do it,” Robin rolled her eyes, motioning to the light above you.

Eddie poked around the orange glow a few times, and you could hear Erica’s faint voice alerting Dustin and Lucas to it. They stopped speaking for a moment but you then heard Dustin say ‘S...O...S...’, making you cheer at realizing he understood what you were trying to communicate.

“How are we supposed to keep talking to them?” Eddie asked, putting his arm back against his side, “Those are the only letters I know how to do.”

“Hmph,” Nancy began chewing on her bottom lip before sighing in defeat, “I have no idea.”

After a moment of silent brainstorming – and Eddie wandering off after getting bored – you were nowhere closer to a solution than you had been. You looked back up at the light fixture and decided you wanted a closer look, only to be yelled at while doing so.

“Hey!” you heard Dustin’s echoing shout, “Stop! That’s too bright!” The group turned to find you quickly pulling your arm back to your chest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled in embarrassment, “The light got brighter when I got closer to the glass. I thought it was cool.”

“The light got brighter...” Nancy repeated softly to herself before sucking in a breath of realization, “Lite Brite!”

“Lite Brite?” Steve cocked an eyebrow, “Like the kids’ toy?”

“Yes! Holly got one for Christmas three years ago! We can use the lights on that to talk to the kids!”

“How are we supposed to tell them that though?” Robin questioned.

“Y/N,” Nancy said, making you perk up, “Touch the glass again and don’t let go.” You were confused but did as she asked anyway.

You could hear the teenagers start to complain again, all of them whining that ‘the light’s too bright!’. But as they slowly stopped, you couldn’t ignore that Nancy’s plan seemed to be working.

“Hey... Isn’t Mike’s sister playing with one of those Lite Brite things when we go over sometimes?” Lucas asked.

“Yes!” you, Nancy, Steve, and Robin exclaimed simultaneously, following Nancy when she ran down the hall to Holly’s room.

Once she dug the toy out from underneath her sister’s bed, the four of you quickly worked on placing all the pegs into the holes, filling up the entire Lite Brite board in a matter of seconds. Nancy moved her fingers across the glowing rainbow of lights, but you didn’t receive a response like you were hoping.

“Why isn’t it working?” you heard Erica ask.

“Yank it,” Dustin directed, and Lucas pulled the plug out of the socket by the cord. Nancy tried again, writing out a letter ‘H’ followed by an ‘I’. “H... I...” he said slowly before gasping, “Hi!”

“Yes!” you cheered again, making Eddie poke his head into the room.

“What are you guys doing?” he came into the room.

“We found a way to communicate with the kids,” Nancy said, “What were you doing?”

“Found a flashlight for Y/N,” he said, handing it to you. You smiled softly and thanked him, turning back to Holly’s bed. “We can communicate? How?” he leaned over your shoulder, his hands finding your hips to keep himself steady as he sat on his knees with the rest of you. Robin looked at you when she heard your breathing hitch, glancing down and smirking at the situation.

Nancy spelled out answers to the questions you could hear Dustin asking, finally able to let them know you were trapped in the Upside Down and needed help finding a way back out. Everyone listened to the kids try to come up with a plan but you were spaced out, only coming back when Robin nudged you.

“You good, Y/N?” she asked, making the rest of them turn to you.

“I was just thinking...” you sighed, “It’s probably stupid though.”

“Well, if you’ve got an idea, it would be more than the rest of us have so far,” Steve reminded you.

“You guys said that the gates open when there’s a death, right?” you asked, earning nods, “Well... If the lake is a gate because of Patrick, and that road by the fairground is where Fred was... Wouldn’t Chrissy have made Eddie’s trailer a gate too?” The four looked at each other and you watched the smiles grow on their faces.

“Y/N,” Robin grabbed your shoulders, “You’re a downright genius.” You smiled brightly, finally feeling like you were actually contributing something to the group’s efforts to get back to the real world.

“Eddie, how far away is the trailer park?” Nancy asked him.

“7 miles,” he answered instantly, earning looks from everyone. “What?” he raised his eyebrows, “I’ve been to parties.”

“That’s too far to walk,” she shook her head, “We’ll have to take Me and my brother’s bikes – Lucas and Erica’s too.”

“That still leaves one person without a bike,” Steve reminded her.

“I could ride on the handlebars,” you offered, “I used to do it all the time with Chrissy since I didn’t have a bike.”

You made your way outside to where the Wheelers kept their bikes before walking across the yard and finding the Sinclair siblings’ as well. You determined that Erica’s bike would be most comfortable, so Steve straddled the seat so you could hop on. You wobbled slightly as he began pedaling, barely catching yourself before falling off – it really had been a while since you’d done this.

“You need to lean back?” Steve wondered, “You just have to hold my flashlight.”

“I think I can handle that,” you chuckled, taking the device and doing as he asked, no one noticing the boy sulking at the sight of it.

7 miles later, you arrived at Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie moved to the front of the group to lead you to his trailer, scoffing to himself as you giggled at one of Steve’s stupid jokes. You hopped off of the handlebars before Steve parked the bike with everyone else’s, following Eddie into his home. Once the door opened, you all stood in awe as you stared up at the ceiling.

“Guys!” Dustin was smiling down at you, “How’s it going up there?”

“Up?” Steve asked, “You’re the one that’s up, Henderson.”

“I hardly think that’s important right now,” Max, who was now with the group, reminded everyone, “What’s important is how to they get back here?”

“Well, they just have to climb in, right?” Lucas shrugged, “Just find something to climb.”

“Eddie! How many sheets do you have?” Dustin questioned.

“In the hall closet!” he called back as he walked away. And sure enough, the teen returned a few moments later with an armful of sheets and thin blankets.

“They’ll need something to land on too!” Lucas chimed in, already hurrying out of sight. He called for help, prompting Max to follow him while Erica and Dustin worked on tying the ends of the fabrics together.

The two teens came back, dragging Eddie’s mattress along with them. They let it fall right underneath the portal opening just as the other two finished tying the final knots.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” Dustin said, taking the makeshift rope and looking up at the rest of you. He tossed it upwards, all of you watching it fall into a heap at your feet. “Okay, now pull,” he said. Robin grabbed the rope in front of her and put all her body weight into it, and you were all amazed to see that it actually held up.

“This is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life,” Erica commented, “And I’ve seen some crazy shit.” She happily high-fived Dustin when he held his hand up for one.

“Hey, Eddie... What are those-” Robin asked, pointing to some discolored parts of the mattress. “-that we’re going to be landing on?”

“Those are...” Eddie trailed off, “I don’t know what those stains are.”

“Sure you don’t,” you rolled your eyes, “Look, I don’t even care if they’re fresh as long as I get the fuck out of here.”

The four gave you disgusted looks as Robin began her climb as the first guinea pig – her words, not yours – to leave the Upside Down. You watched her fall flat on her back, breathing heavily as she smiled.

“Thank God,” she sat up, getting out of the way as you began your ascent back to the real world. You let out a sharp yelp, not expecting the floor to be as far as it was but happy to be home nonetheless.

Eddie was next to come through the portal, sighing as he sat up on the mattress, “That was fun.” He took your hand and let you help him back to his feet, all of you now watching as Nancy gripped the rope.

But she didn’t climb up and come falling through the portal like you’d expected her to.

You all watched as Steve’s expression changed to a horrified one, grabbing Nancy’s shoulders and starting to shake.

“Nancy?!” he yelled right in her face, “Nancy! Wake up!”

Max gasped softly, her voice coming out as a whisper, “Vecna...”

“Vecna has Nancy?!” Robin started freaking out, “What could he possibly want her for?!”

“Music!” Max spoke again, “Music got me out of it before; We need something for Nancy!”

“I have some cassettes in my room!” Eddie said, prompting you to follow him as he ran toward the back of the trailer. He directed everyone to the various places he kept his collection, all of you practically tearing apart his entire bedroom to find something you thought would work for Nancy.

“Steve says you guys need to hurry up!” Erica shouted as she ran into the room.

“No shit!” Dustin responded, tossing another tape to the side.

“What is any of this stuff?!” Robin exclaimed, “There’s no Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, Beatles – music! We need music!”

“THIS IS MUSIC!” Eddie screamed back at her, shaking a Metallica tape in front of her face.

“Everyone, just calm down!” you yelled over their fighting, “Does anyone know what Nancy likes to listen to? Pop? Metal? Fucking ocean sounds?”

No one was able to respond, hearing loud thuds coming from the living room. You all ran to the door to look down the hall, finding Nancy breathing heavily on the mattress and Steve groaning in pain from landing on the hard floor.

“Nancy!” Robin gasped in relief, but you were the first to break away from the group.

You shoved Eddie and Dustin out of the doorway, running to the two as they sat up. You weren’t even fully on your knees before you threw your arms around the girl, hugging her tightly. You understood why she didn’t hug you back – you had only met her that day, after all – but you didn’t mind; You were just happy she was alive.

“I’m so sorry I did that without even asking, but I’m just really glad you’re okay!” you exhaled sharply, “You are okay, right?” Your eyes widened. “Oh my God, I should have asked if you were okay before I hugged you! I didn’t hurt you more, did I? I’m so sorry; I really didn’t mean to-”

Your rambling was cut short when Nancy suddenly grabbed your shoulders and pulled you back in, hugging you tighter than you’d previously hugged her. You took that moment to catch your breath, allowing her to remind you that she was in fact okay and actually right in front of you.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” she assured you, squeezing you before letting go to look at you, “Thank you for caring.” You gave her a shy smile.

“I’m sorry if I’m being weird,” you murmured, “I don’t- Chrissy was the only person who talked to me before, so I... I’m not really...used...to having friends...” You were looking down at your hands as you nervously played with your fingers, not even noticing the way everyone looked at each other with small smiles on their faces.

“What was that?” Max asked, “Why did Vecna want you?”

“Why me? I don’t know,” she shook her head, “But Vecna, he... He gave me these...visions.. And he wants me to tell El everything he showed me in them.”

“What... What did you see?” Robin asked carefully.

“Things that haven’t happened yet – the most terrible things,” she recounted, “I saw a dark cloud spreading over Hawkins, downtown on fire, dead soldiers, and this...giant creature with...a gaping mouth. But this thing wasn’t alone; There were so many monsters – an army of them. And then... Then he showed me my mom...and Holly...and Mike... A-And they... They were all...” She let out a shaky breath, unable to even finish the sentence, as Steve grabbed her hand and squeezed.

“He was just trying to scare you, Nance,” he tried to reassure her, but he was obviously freaked out as well, “Right? I mean... It’s not real...”

“Not yet,” she shook her head, “But that wasn’t it. He showed me these gates – four of them – spreading across Hawkins; They all looked like the one at the bottom of the lake. But they were growing. And they didn’t stop getting bigger. But it wasn’t the Upside Down version of Hawkins; It was this one – the real one.”

“You said four gates?” Max asked, making Nancy nod, “Four gates... Four chimes... Vecna’s clock always chimes in fours.”

“Yeah,” she nodded again, “I heard the clock too.”

“He’s been telling us his plan the whole time!” Max threw her arm up, “Four kills. Four gates.”

“If that’s true...” you swallowed, “He’s only one kill away from the end of the world.”

The next day

“He's a number like Eleven,” Max said, “So he must have come from that Hawkins Lab experiment that got it shut down.”

“Sure,” Robin remarked, “Only a sick, evil, male, child-murdering version of her with really bad skin.”

“My point is he’s super powerful,” she rolled her eyes, “Could turn us inside out with the snap of his fingers. It’s not a fair fight.”

“Then why fight fair?” Dustin spoke up, “You’re right; He’s like El. But that gives us an upper hand. We know her strengths and weaknesses.”

“Weaknesses?” Steve cocked an eyebrow.

“When El did that remote-travel thing to free me from him the first time, she told me her physical body is in some sort of trance,” Max informed you, “I bet the same is true for Vecna.”

“That’s why he’s up in the Upside Down version of the Creel house?” Nancy asked, “Because he’s in a trance to get to multiple people at once?”

“So we have to go back into the Upside Down,” you announced, making everyone look at you incredulously.

“You’re kidding, right?” Steve asked, “Need I remind you we barely made it out of there yesterday.”

“Listen, I know I just joined in on this shit show, but it sounds to me like you have to take out the physical person and not just his mind fuckery,” you shrugged, “If he’s in a trance, he’s basically defenseless.”

“What about his army of freaky-looking bats,” Robin pointed out.

“We just have to find a way past them.”

“Or distract them and lead them somewhere else,” Dustin said.

“The only problem is there’s no pattern to Vecna’s killings,” Erica finally spoke, “Not one I can decipher anyway; We won’t know when he attacks next until someone dies.”

“But we don’t even know who that someone is,” Nancy sighed.

“Yeah, we do,” Max nodded, “I can still feel him; I’m still cursed. I’ll draw his focus back to me.”

“Max... No...” Lucas shook his head slowly, “He’ll kill you.”

“I survived him before; I can survive again,” she said confidently, “All I have to do is distract him long enough for you guys to get into the attic and chop his head off or stab him through the heart – I honestly don’t care how you put that asshole in his grave. Just... Whatever you do, try not to miss.”

You grunted as you fell through the gate, landing with a hard thud despite the group’s best efforts to make it a pain-free landing. You assured them you were alright though, following them outside the trailer back into the desolate Upside Down.

“Alright, we’re all good on the plan?” Nancy asked, earning a chorus of affirmations.

“And guys-” Steve looked at you and Eddie. “-if things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort, got it?” he deadpanned, “Don’t try to be heroes.”

“Absolutely,” Eddie nodded, “I mean, look at us: we are definitely not heroes.”

“I’m just trying to figure out what college to attend,” you shrugged.

“And I’m just trying to graduate high school,” he added, smiling at you when you giggled. Steve, Nancy, and Robin began their journey to Creel house, but they turned when Eddie spoke again. “Hey, Steve?” he said, waiting until he looked at him to continue, “Make him pay.” Steve gave him a small nod, silently promising to do exactly that.

You stood still as you watched them leave, not really sure what to say next. Eddie looked over, noticing the weary expression on your face. He remained silent for a moment – he wasn’t sure what to say either – before finally forcing his brain to come up with something.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” Eddie told you, “Nobody would blame you if you went back home.” You stared at the dark blue and grey sky for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts of ‘is this actually happening?’ before you finally looked up at him.

“For Chrissy?” you whispered. Eddie shot you a smile.

“For Chrissy,” he nodded, holding a fist up with the outside of his hand facing you. You bumped the backside of your own hand against it, both of you taking a deep breath before climbing up onto the roof.

He hopped up on top of the trailer before reaching down and helping you. You grabbed his forearms and he grabbed yours, hoisting you up until you were in front of him. He went to let go, but you didn’t. Instead, you were staring at him, your mouth making small movements until you finally found the words.

“You’re sure this is gonna work?” you asked him.

“No better way to lure over a bunch of blood-hungry demon bats than by playing satanic music, sweetheart,” he winked.

You rolled your eyes, shoving him away from you. He chuckled to himself as he grabbed his guitar, bending down to turn on the amp he, Steve, and Dustin had put up there.

Once you turned the volume up as loud as it could go, you grabbed the binoculars and looked up at Eddie. You gave him a small nod and he did the same, yanking the guitar pick off of the chain around his neck.

“Chrissy,” you heard him murmur to himself before he started playing, “This is for you.”

It took a couple moments for you to start seeing results, but when you did... Oh boy, did you see them. The bats were approaching far faster than you’d expected them too, and you couldn’t pretend you weren’t scared to death. Once the swarm was completely covering your field of view through the binoculars, you knew it was time to get to safety.

“They’re almost here!” you shouted over their screeches, “Eddie, we gotta go!”

Eddie quickly yanked the plug out of his guitar and grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him back down off the room. You scrambled to get inside, Eddie pushing you in before slamming the fence door closed just as the bats reached the trailer.

“God, that was so badass!” you panted, leaning against the wall to catch your breath.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he smirked, “I’ll have to play it again for you sometime.”

However, your moment was ruined when you both jumped at the sound of something hitting metal. You and Eddie shared a terrified look before snapping your heads toward the sound. A demobat had made its way into one of the vents of the trailer, weaseling its way inside.

“Oh, shit!” Eddie shouted, grabbing his makeshift shield and killing it before it could get to you, “Get through the portal!” He followed you to the middle of the room, hoisting you up and watching you tumble back into the real world. But when you reached up to help him through next, he just looked at you.

And you knew what he was going to do.

“Eddie...” you said slowly, “What part of ‘don’t be heroes’ do you not understand?”

“They’re going to go after the others, Y/N,” he shook his head, “I don’t want to run away anymore.”

“Eddie, don’t you dare!” you screamed – much like he had the day you dove into Lover’s Lake to help save Steve – but it was no use; He was already running back out of the Upside Down trailer anyway.

Without hesitation, you climbed back through the portal, landing on the bed with a hard thud. You let out a quiet ‘oof’ before springing to your feet and following him back into the mayhem.

You made it to the gate outside the trailer just in time to watch Eddie running with his makeshift sword and shield, leading the bats away from the portal. You grabbed the spiked bat Steve had insisted you take from Nancy’s arsenal of weapons – “just in case everything goes to shit” – and ran after him without a second thought.

Just as you were getting closer to Eddie, you saw a demobat flying up fast behind him. You knew he wasn’t going to notice it until it was too late, so you immediately charged for it. Eddie spun around when the animal let out a pained screech as it was killed, his eyes widening upon realizing you’d followed him.

“What are you doing, Y/N?!” he shouted, “Go home!”

“Not without you, Munson!” you returned just as loudly, killing another bat as he did the same.

“What did I tell you?! You shouldn’t- Duck!” You did so, letting him kill a bat as it was diving for you. “You shouldn’t be here!” he insisted.

“I never got to help Chrissy through her shit, Eddie! I’m not going to just let you die too!” your voice cracked, making him pause for a moment.

He then grabbed your hand and both of you ran back to the trailer, Eddie closing the gate behind you to buy a moment to talk some sense into you.

“You did not let Chrissy die, Y/N,” he told you.

“I didn’t help her!” you shook your head, not bothering to hold back your tears anymore, “I knew something was wrong! I knew she was acting different! I knew it wasn’t ‘just the depression’ this time! If I just tried a little harder, she would have told me what was going on! And I could have helped her and she would still be ali-”

“Stop it,” Eddie stated firmly, grabbing your face and making sure you were looking at him, “You said it yourself: Vecna’s curse is practically impossible to get out of without knowing you’re in it. There was absolutely nothing you could have done differently. She wouldn’t want you blaming yourself.”

“She wouldn’t blame you for running away either,” you whispered, holding his wrists tightly in an attempt to ground yourself, “She would have run if she saw what you did too.” He stared at you speechless for a moment before swallowing.

“You shouldn’t- Don’t sacrifice yourself for me,” he shook his head, “I’m not worth-”

“Yes, you are!” you sniffled, squeezing him tightly, “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean you’re not worth fighting for! You’re weird and loud and obnoxious, but there’s nothing wrong with being a ‘freak’; It’s what makes you you! People like Jason not being able to appreciate it doesn’t mean everybody wants you to disappear! We just want you to be loved!”

You could tell Eddie was getting choked up by the way his eyes started to glisten. You never wanted this to be the way you confessed your feelings, but you couldn’t let him go on his suicide mission without him knowing.

He suddenly pressed his forehead to yours, breathing in deeply and acting as if you were being converged on by a bunch of monsters.

“Y/N,” he swallowed thickly, feelings your own breathing hitch, “Please go home; Get to safety.”

“I’m not leaving here without you, Eddie,” you repeated your earlier statement, “I go where you go.”

“That is the hottest thing any girl has ever said to me,” he admitted, though he still huffed at your stubbornness, “If we make it out of here alive, remind me to kiss you.” You finally let the corner of your mouth twitch into a small grin, making him smile as well.

“Promise?” you asked. Eddie held up his hand, showing you his extended pinky finger. Your small grin only grew, linking your pinky with his.

“Wouldn’t dare break the sanctity of a pinky promise, sweetheart,” he informed you, “Now let’s go kick some demon ass.”

You were sure you fought those damn things for the next 12 hours. They were a lot stronger than you gave them credit for, often needing two or three good hits before falling to the ground. But you and Eddie still gave it your all. You weren’t backing down this time; You weren’t going down without a fight.

But as soon as it all started, it suddenly came to an end. All of the remaining demobats dropped dead at once, and, after a moment in stunned silence, you and Eddie knew that could only mean one thing.

“Vecna’s dead?” Eddie murmured, both of your eyes widening.

“Vecna’s dead...” you whispered before throwing your bat down and bouncing on your feet, “Vecna’s dead! We did it!”

Eddie joined you in jumping excitedly before he discarded his own weapons and reached for you. He grabbed your waist with one hand before wrapping his arms around you tightly. You didn’t even hesitate as you hugged him back, your own arms around his neck and your face buried in his jacket. You both had cuts everywhere, your clothes were shredded, and your hair was a mess, but you were alive.

He lifted you off of your feet and you let your legs dangle against his. You closed your eyes and squeezed each other, simply reminding the other that you weren’t dead and imagining this entire thing. You could feel Eddie start bouncing on his feet,

“‘86 really is my year, baby!” he shouted at the sky, throwing his arms up in victory. You giggled at the outburst, putting your hands on his chest.

“I think you made me a pinky promise if we made it out alive, Munson,” you reminded him. Eddie didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your face again, this time to kiss you like his life depended on it.

When he pulled away to breathe, his eyes were still closed for a moment before he opened them again. He couldn’t stop himself from giving you one more peck on the lips though, moving his thumb to wipe some dirt off of your cheek.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, and you let a soft breath out of your nose.

“Me too,” you nodded.

“Is now a good time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you since the second you stepped into Mrs. O’Donnell’s class?” he asked you, smiling at the way your eyes lit up.

“Is now a good time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you since you told Jason that no one cared how good he was at ‘tossing balls into laundry baskets’?” you returned, earning a small smirk in response.

He didn’t say anything, though; He just returned his arms to your waist, wrapping you up in another tight hug.

“You are crazy and stupid and a total idiot for following me,” Eddie reminded you, his voice slightly muffled by the skin on your neck.

“A crazy, stupid, total idiot who kept you from being some ugly demon bat’s 3-course dinner,” you reminded him with a big smile.

“I think you mean demobats,” he copied Steve’s voice, succeeding in making you giggle.

“Whatever,” you shoved his head playfully. Eddie finally released you, stepping back and holding his hand out to you.

“Would the lady like to go home?” he bowed obnoxiously.

“Are you going to actually follow me this time?” you rolled your eyes as you placed your hand in his and tangled your fingers together, making him grin stupidly.

“I’ll follow you anywhere you tell me to, sweetheart.”

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

and everyone lived happily ever after thank u and goodnight

master list / master list for mobile users

you can also check out my last imagine here, my to do list to see what’s coming up, and click here to go to the page for my calum fic :)

Other high school AUs: Josh / Alex / Ryan / Ian / Nash / Ryan / Ryan / Calum / Cody / Zach / Calum / Ryan / Michael / Ashton / Calum / Calum / Michael / Ashton / Michael / Michael / Calum / Luke / Marshall / Luke / Marshall / Ashton / Ashton / Marshall / Michael / Ashton / Jamie / Ryan / Calum / Michael / Calum / Ashton / Cody / Marshall / Michael / Ashton / Calum / Michael / Calum / Michael / Michael / Calum / Calum / Jamie / Calum / Ashton / Luke / Ashton / Calum / Michael / Billy / Eddie

taglist: @calumhoodslays @vendylewin @lunalove25 @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @maurine5sos @rachellwrites @itkindajusthappenedreally @breathinginthevapor @double-tap-to-edit @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @silverchainbee @disastrxlogy @kikixfandoms @5saucewho @mycollectionofnuts @sunnysidesblog @youngblood199456 @boxofteenageideas @newhopenessie @5-seconds-of-mendes

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #joseph quinn characters #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #imagine #character imagine #shows #eddie imagine #one day i will figure out my character imagine tags #but today is not that day my friends

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urfriendlywriter · 1 year ago

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How to write smut ?

(@urfriendlywriter | req by @rbsstuff @yourlocalmerchgirl anyone under the appropriate age, please proceed with caution :') hope this helps guys! )

writing smut depends on each person's writing style but i think there's something so gut-wrenchingly beautiful about smut when it's not very graphic and vivid. like., would this turn on a reader more?

"he kissed her, pulling her body closer to him."

or this?

"His lips felt so familiar it hurt her heart. His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed. She let herself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against her spine. He drew her closer."

(Before proceeding further, these are all "in my opinion" what I think would make it better. Apply parts of the advice you like and neglect the aspects you do not agree with it. Once again I'm not saying you have to follow a certain type of style to write smut! Creative freedom exists for a reason!)

One may like either the top or the bottom one better, but it totally depends on your writing to make it work. Neither is bad, but the second example is more flattering, talking literally. (Here is me an year after writing this post, i think, either is amazing, depending on the context. the type of book you're writing, your writing style and preferences!)

express one's sensory feelings, and the readers will automatically know what's happening.

writing, "her walls clenched against him, her breath hitching with his every thrust" is better than writing, "she was about to cum".

(edit: once again, hi, it's me. Either is amazing depending on ur writing style. Everything at the end is about taste.)

here are some vocabulary you can introduce in your writing:

whimpered, whispered, breathed lightly, stuttered, groaned, grunted, yearned, whined, ached, clenched, coaxed, cried out, heaved, hissed

shivering, shuddering, curling up against one's body, squirming, squirting, touching, teasing, taunting, guiding, kneeling, begging, pining, pinching, grinding,

swallowing, panting, sucking in a sharp breath, thrusting, moving gently, gripped, biting, quivering,

nibbling, tugging, pressing, licking, flicking, sucking, panting, gritting, exhaling in short breaths,

wet kisses, brushing soft kisses across their body (yk where), licking, sucking, teasing, tracing, tickling, bucking hips, forcing one on their knees

holding hips, guiding the one on top, moving aimlessly, mindlessly, sounds they make turn insanely beautiful, sinful to listen to

some adverbs to use: desperately, hurriedly, knowingly, teasingly, tauntingly, aimlessly, shamelessly, breathlessly, passionately, delicately, hungrily

he sighed with pleasure

her skin flushed

he shuddered when her body moved against his

he planted kisses along her jawline

her lips turned red, messy, kissed and flushed.

his hands were on his hair, pulling him.

light touches traveled down his back

words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more

he arched his back, his breath quivering

her legs parted, sinking into the other's body, encircling around their waist.

+ mention the position, how they're being moved around---are they face down, kneeling, or standing, or on top or on bottom--it's really helpful to give a clear picture.

+ use lustful talk, slow seduction, teasing touches, erratic breathing, give the readers all while also giving them nothing. make them yearn but DO NOT PROLONG IT.

sources to refer to for more:

gesture that gets me on my knees !!

(more to comeee, check out my hot or kisses prompts on my master list!)

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starii-void · 7 months ago

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going to chb must be crazy like imagine sharing a camp with

-one of the strongest demigods ever who's saved the world like at least 3 times, fought multiple gods & titans and WON (and is a tartarus survivor)

-the literal main architect of OLYMPUS who's also saved the world multiple times (also tartarus survivor)

-THE lord of the wild who's also close friends with the first two (and has helped save the world multiple times)

-an emo kid from the 1930s who again helped save the world and is also a tartarus survivor (TWICE)

-a son of apollo who survived tartarus with nothing but cargo shorts and sheer will (pun intended)

-the main designer and builder for the argo II, also the first hephaestus kid to have fire powers since hundreds of years ago (did i mention killed gaea? no? yeah he did that too)

-a girl who somehow charmspeak-ed gaea into falling back asleep (also side note daughter of super famous actor because why not)

-pretty much everybody is a two-time war veteran

-THE GOD APOLLO who just sometimes comes down to visit in the form of a teenage boy

-did i mention dionysus, god of wine madness and theatre

-also chiron, trainer of pretty much every greek hero ever

#shit's crazy #theyre basically living history #percy is kinda the new hercules except less macho manly man #'oh who's killed this guy before' 'percy jackson'#like can you imagine playing capture the flag with rhese bastards #ur scaling the wall and you see these mfs make it up there in like 2 jumps #they arent allowed to be in the same team for any of the games because you KNOW theyd beat everyone else's asses #people are fighting to have percy on their team #not to mention the gods that just pop in for a visit every now and then #like at this point the fact that DIONYSUS is their camp counselor isnr even that surprising anymore #some scrawny teen dude shows up and will's just 'oh hey dad'#'YOU MEAN APOLLO????' 'yeah lol he just visits sometimes'#pretty much everyone there has survived at least one war #the background characters must feel hella overshadowed bcs what does it matter if u won a game when the guy in the cabin across has like #saved the world. 3 different times. like wtf #pjo books #leo valdez #trials of apollo #lester papadopoulos #pjo fandom #percy jackson #grover underwood #nico di angelo #annabeth chase #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #piper mclean #chiron #camp half blood #pjo text post

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chloesimaginationthings · 4 months ago

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Glamrock Freddy feels betrayed by FNAF Roxy..

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illustroxx · 4 months ago

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that scene with eiland and juniper was pretty funny, wasn't it?

#a #art #fields of mistria #fom eiland #fom juniper #it's more expressive than the og scene but this is how i imagined them in my head #love drawing excited characters so eiland was my favorite part of drawing this

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brunchable · 2 months ago

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𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know.

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold.

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room.

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side.

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded.

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × ×

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder.

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back.

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question.

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways.

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips.

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance.

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more.

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous.

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself.

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality.

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin.

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile.

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear.

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder.

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength.

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × ×

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house.

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him.

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes.

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door.

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside.

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh.

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else.

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore.

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm.

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back.

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes.

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × ×

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh.

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm.

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually.

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding.

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room.

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch.

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you.

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile.

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets?

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip.

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure.

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little.

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still.

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light.

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep.

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase.

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words.

“What’s that?”

“This.”

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body.

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply.

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting.

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless.

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front.

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon yourself to him.

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you.

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire.

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.”

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder.

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy.

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him.

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

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