#(bad idea)

And the way you moved… smooth and confident, like you didn’t even know you had this power over him.

“Bucky, cover me,” you whispered into comms as you slipped around a corner.

“Got you,” he replied, voice a shade deeper than usual.

And he did have you—he’d take a bullet for you without a second thought—but tonight it wasn’t just protective instinct roaring in his chest. Tonight it was something hotter, more dangerous. Every whispered word between you sent a shiver up his spine. Every glance you threw him, all determination and fire, went straight to his gut.

You weren’t just his partner tonight. You were a distraction. A beautiful, maddening one.

Bucky told himself he had better control than this. That it was wrong—you were a close friend, someone who trusted him to have her back—and yet every fleeting touch, every breathless moment tangled up together in tight spaces as you avoided guards, just drove him further into his own thoughts.

By the time you two made it back to the safe house, adrenaline still thrumming in your veins, all he could see was you. The perfect bow of your lips when you smiled at him, the glimmer in your eyes when you joked, completely oblivious to the filthy thoughts running through his mind.

And god help him, when you finally disappeared into your room for the night, Bucky thought maybe—just maybe—a cold shower would knock this need out of him.

But the image of your pretty face, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the dark…

Yeah. That was the last straw.

Bucky kicked his door shut with his heel as soon as he was inside his room, hands already trembling as he tugged his gear off. The mission was over, but his head was still back there—in that darkened hallway, pressed up against you as you whispered his name, breath ghosting across his neck.

God, what was wrong with him?

He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, dragging his hands down his face. Except all that did was summon up images of you again—the way that suit hugged your ass, the flex of your legs when you moved, the glint in your eye when you’d catch him looking and pretend you didn’t notice.

And then, like some sick joke his brain was playing, the image shifted: you, naked and needy, lips parted like you did when you were focusing, hands reaching for him.

A rough groan broke from his chest before he could stop it.

He was already hard just thinking about you—aching, trapped under his tactical pants—and suddenly there was no ignoring it.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, hands moving faster than his self-control as he shoved his pants and briefs down to his thighs, freeing his cock with a low hiss.

He wasn’t proud of this—jerking off to the thought of you like some horny teenager—but tonight? Tonight was different.

Tonight you’d looked at him. Moved around him like you belonged there. Whispered his name like it was some private language.

And now, as his flesh throbbed in his palm, it was your name spilling past his lips.

“God, baby…” he gritted out, leaning back into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut as he gave in to the fantasy—you kneeling between his legs, hands on his thighs, your mouth so close he could feel your breath.

He stroked himself slowly at first, thumb circling the slick bead of precum at his tip, imagining that was your tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmured into the empty room, hips flexing upward on their own accord.

The coil of pleasure wound tighter as he pumped his fist faster, harder, chasing that mental image of you—the softness of your lips wrapping around him, your hands gripping him like you’d never let go.

He could almost hear you moaning around him—or maybe that was his own harsh breathing as heat built up in his spine.

“God, your mouth, baby… f-fuck,” he rasped, name slipping between curses as his abs tensed. Every stroke was slicker, more desperate, so close to the edge he felt dizzy.

And he was so far gone that he never heard the door creak open. Never noticed your silhouette in the dim light, your gaze fixed on him, lips parted in surprise—then hunger.

He was still groaning your name when you moved into the room, your knees brushing the floor as you came to him like a prayer answered.

And when he finally opened his eyes, breath hitching in his throat, there you were.

Kneeling between his legs. Eyes dark and glassy. Mouth open, inches away from his aching, leaking cock—like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

His fingers flexed against the sheets, breath stuttering out as the tension that had been coiled inside him all night snapped.

“Oh wow, Barnes…” you murmured, voice low and tinged with amusement as a slow, wicked smirk tugged at your lips.

His heart thudded so hard it echoed in his ears. “F–fuck,” Bucky breathed, his voice hoarse with surprise and need. “That’s not—”

But you weren’t going to let him finish whatever excuse he thought he could come up with.

“Shhh,” you hushed him, one hand trailing up his trembling thigh before your fingers wrapped around him—slow and sure, your palm warm and perfect.

He hissed through his teeth at the contact, cock twitching against your grip as you gave him one leisurely, deliberate stroke.

“You need my help, huh?” you teased, lips curving as you watched him fight to keep his eyes open.

Your voice was silk and fire, and the way you held him—gentle but possessive—made his spine arch off the bed.

“God,” he groaned, hands flexing into the sheets tightly. “Baby, please…”

And you liked that—liked him raw and desperate for you.

“You do, don’t you?” you murmured again, pumping him slowly, dragging every inch of his aching length through your fist as you leaned in, eyes locked on his face. “Need me to take care of you?”

He was trembling now, teeth gritted against a moan as slick precome dribbled over your fingers, making each stroke wetter, more deliciously obscene.

When you finally bent lower, breath ghosting against him, Bucky thought he might come on the spot.

And then your mouth was on him—hot, wet, perfect—lips sealing around the crown as you eased him in deeper.

A strangled sound tore out of him, hips flexing upward as your tongue swirled slow circles around him, like you were savoring him inch by inch.

“Oh, f—fuck,” he gasped, hands flying to your hair instinctively, needing to touch you, to feel that this was real.

And you moaned low around him in response, eyes fluttering up to meet his, never breaking that gaze as you hollowed your cheeks and started to move.

God, the sight of you—lips stretched around him, eyes burning up at him through your lashes—was enough to undo him.

Your hands steadied him as you took him deeper, bobbing your head in a rhythm that sent shivering heat up his spine and white noise crashing in his ears.

He was already leaking into your mouth, salty and needy, and the way you moaned around him—like you liked this, like you’d been waiting all night for this too—nearly shattered him.

“Holy shit, that’s it,” he panted, thumb brushing your cheekbone as you sucked him just a little harder.

And all he could do was arch into you, let himself go, eyes on you as you took him like you had all the time in the world—wet, filthy, and perfect.

He couldn’t look away—wouldn’t dare.

Your mouth was so fucking warm, lips stretched perfectly around him, tongue working him like you knew every secret to making him fall apart.

And god, you weren’t holding back—hands gripping his hips to keep him steady as you took him deeper, inch by inch. Every slick, sinful pass of your lips and the needy hum vibrating up your throat had him trembling all over.

“Jesus—yes,” Bucky choked, the sound raw as his hands fisted in your hair.

Your eyes stayed on him, hooded and dark with desire, and that was the last straw.

“Baby, I’m gonna—” he started, voice breaking, but you didn’t pull back.

You moaned, like you wanted him to come, your hands tightening, your pace quickening—up and down his length, wet and obscene.

That moan sent him over the edge.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky gasped, spine bowing as heat exploded up his back, his hands tugging gently at your hair without even realizing.

And then he was coming, spilling down your throat in hot, helpless spurts as you stayed right where you were—lips sealed tight around him, eyes fluttering closed as you swallowed every last drop, humming like it was the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted.

“F-fuck,” he groaned again, breath shuddering, muscles trembling as he rode the last waves of his orgasm into your mouth.

And you?

You just kept going—milking him with slow, greedy sucks until his hands loosened their hold in your hair and his cock gave one last exhausted twitch between your lips.

When you finally eased off him, lips glistening, you licked them slowly—dragging your thumb across the corner of your mouth like you were savoring him.

Bucky was wrecked—utterly speechless—eyes fixed on you like you’d just shattered him and put him back together all at once.

And all you did was lean up, breath ghosting across his lips as you whispered, voice wicked and soft:

“See, Barnes? That wasn’t so hard.”

Your lips were still damp and glistening as you kissed him once, slow and teasing, before pulling back with a wicked glint in your eye.

“You really thought I didn’t notice, Bucky?” you purred, hands braced on his chest as you straddled him for a heartbeat. “You looking at me all day like you just wanted to take me right there against the wall?”

His breath caught—a harsh inhale as his hands flexed over your hips.

And you weren’t done.

“The way you kept staring at me,” you went on, voice husky, leaning closer until your lips brushed his ear. “You wanted to touch me so fucking bad, didn’t you?”

That was it.

A growl rumbled deep in his chest—pure need and possessive hunger—and in a blink, his hands were on you.

Your world spun as Bucky flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, caging you in with his broad shoulders and solid arms.

“Goddamn right I did,” he ground out, blue eyes dark as they raked over you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Your breath hitched at the raw power of him—this was the Bucky you’d teased all day without knowing it, and now you had nowhere to hide.

“Bucky—” you started, lips trembling with anticipation.

But he was already on you, hands tugging at your clothes like they were the last thing on Earth between him and you.

Your top was first—pulled up and off with a rough urgency that left your hair tousled and your skin bared to his heated gaze.

“God, look at you,” he breathed, palms sweeping up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples in a way that made you arch into him with a gasp.

Your hands fisted in the sheets as he leaned down, pressing his lips to the valley of your chest, kissing and nipping his way along your skin like he was starving.

“Been dying for this all day,” he muttered against you, voice so low and raw it sent a shiver straight to your core.

And you could feel him—already hard again—pressed heavy and insistent against your thigh as he dragged your pants down your legs, peeling them off with the same greedy need as before.

By the time you were bare beneath him—nothing left to hide—Bucky paused, breath shuddering as his hands skimmed up your legs like he couldn’t wait another second to touch you properly.

“You have any idea,” he growled, leaning down until his lips hovered just above yours, “what you do to me?”

And all you could do was look up at him—eyes dazed, lips parted, pulse racing—and whisper, “Show me.”

Your heart was a drum in your chest as Bucky hovered above you, gaze raking over every inch of your bare body like he was trying to burn you into his memory. His jaw clenched, his breathing ragged, like he was holding on by a thread.

“Show you?” he rasped, voice so low and dark it sent a shiver straight through your core. His eyes were wild—desperate, hungry—like he’d been starved for you and finally, finally had you where he wanted.

And then his mouth was on yours—no soft, sweet kiss, just pure need, lips crashing into yours, tongue claiming your mouth as his hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them hard above your head.

“Gonna fucking ruin you,” he rasped into your mouth, teeth dragging against your bottom lip as he pinned you.

You gasped, but he didn’t let up—grinding his hips into you, cock heavy and hard against your soaked heat, making sure you felt exactly what you’d done to him.

“Been wanting this all fucking day,” he growled against your lips, breath hot, teeth scraping your mouth as he spoke.

And god, the way he held you down—metal fingers cool and unyielding around your wrists, flesh hand roaming down your side, leaving a trail of heat in its wake—made you tremble beneath him.

Then he shifted his hips, lining himself up, and you barely had time to suck in a breath before he drove into you in one deep, devastating thrust.

Your cry echoed through the room, pleasure burning hot as your body stretched around him, filled so full you could barely think.

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky groaned, head dropping to your neck, his breath shuddering against your skin. “So tight—so fucking perfect for me.”

He didn’t give you a second to adjust—didn’t want to—pulling back just enough to slam into you again, harder, deeper. The force of it rocked you against the mattress, made your head spin, made your toes curl.

You could barely breathe, barely think, just feel — the wet, filthy slap of his hips against yours, the sharp drag of his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside you, the way he completely owned your body.

“B-Bucky—” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan.

“Yeah?” he growled, fucking into you with a brutal rhythm, his metal hand tightening just enough on your wrists to make you arch beneath him, helpless and open. “This what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to lose it? Wanted me to ruin you?”

And oh god, you did. You wanted this—wanted him like this, unrestrained, raw, needing you like his life depended on it.

You whimpered, eyes glossy, back arching as he pounded into you, the headboard thudding against the wall with every deep, savage thrust.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice wrecked, hips slamming into yours so hard the bed creaked beneath you. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you sobbed, pleasure coiling tighter, burning hotter. “Bucky, I’m yours—please—”

“That’s it,” he groaned, mouth at your ear, pace relentless as he chased both your highs. “Gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna fall apart on my cock?”

Your body was trembling, so close it hurt, every thrust sending you spiraling higher until you shattered, crying out his name as your climax ripped through you—wave after wave of blinding heat, muscles clenching down around him so tight he nearly lost his mind.

“Fuck—doll—” Bucky gasped, hips stuttering as your orgasm dragged him under.

He spilled into you in thick, hot pulses, groaning low and broken as he fucked you through it, milking every last drop. His body shuddered over yours, sweat-slick and trembling, breath coming in ragged bursts against your skin.

And when it was done, when you were both boneless and spent, he finally loosened his grip on your wrists, fingers tracing over the marks he’d left there—gentle now, reverent.

His forehead dropped to yours, eyes soft even as his chest still heaved. “Jesus, doll,” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

A wicked little smile tugged at your lips as you tipped your chin up just enough to murmur against his mouth, “I know… you were so obvious, you know that?”

Bucky froze, breath hitching.

Your fingers tugged playfully at his hair as you went on, voice breathy and sweetly smug. “Following me around like a lost puppy all day. Practically undressing me with your eyes every time I bent over.”

That earned you a low groan and a warning growl that rumbled in his chest.

“Careful,” Bucky muttered, hips flexing instinctively—and you could feel him already stirring against you, still inside you, his hands tightening possessively on your waist.

You just grinned, eyes dark as you arched into him. “Careful?” you echoed, lips brushing his ear. “Or what? You gonna pin me down and do it all over again, Barnes?”

And before you could say another word, he was kissing you—deep and filthy—his hands roaming like he was starving for you all over again, every slick inch of your body his to taste, to take, to wreck one more time.

⋆⁺₊✧ MASTERLIST

“Alright everyone, let’s wrap it up for the day! The bell rings in 6 minutes!” Your teacher sounded from behind his podium. Around you, students began to disassemble their instruments. However, before your fingers could work to undo the clasp on your flute case, you froze as you heard your friends’ secretive murmurs from beside you. The two girls were looking off to the far side of the band room, giggling and slapping each other's arm playfully now and then.

“What’s so funny?” You muse. Their eyes shoot up at you and they double over in laughter. At this point, they were attracting the attention of some other band members.

“We’re sorry! We’re sorry, it’s not you. It’s not you, it’s just-“ Kristen laughed, “-well, it’s her.” She pointed to where the two girls had just been looking before. Curiously, you turn your head to follow her finger. Your eyes scan several familiar faces before you pick up on the latest victim of your friend's judgment.

Robin Buckley was sat with the other french horn players, chatting with a few as she tucked loose sheets of music into a folder.

You had known Robin pretty well when the two of you were younger. Your moms had been on the cheer squad together when they attended Hawkins High, and their friendship had extended to their adult lives. Every month during your youth, you would accompany your mom to parks, coffee shops, bookstores, as she went to meet up with Melissa Buckley and her darling daughter. The friendship between the two of you was natural and light- a bond forged over, not only the forced proximity, but a shared love of marine animals and coloring books.

However, as the two of you grew older, the bond became frayed. When you joined the cheer squad in high school, the bond was snapped. Now, your weekends were filled with shopping at the mall with your new cheer friends, making eyes at whatever group of boys approached you. The memory of your friendship with Robin slowly faded away, neither of you making a clear effort to keep each other in your lives.

Your stomach twists. “What’s so funny about her?”

“You mean, besides the obvious?” Angelina snorts.

Kristen laughs. “She’s so fucking creepy. I had gym class with her before this, and she was- like- full on checking me out in the locker room.”

“Checking you out?” You echo, laughing slightly.

”It’s so gross. I was standing there in just my underwear, you know, getting changed, and I looked up and saw her already looking at me- at my tits.” Kristen spits out.

“There’s no way,” you say incredulously.

“And it’s not the first time! Okay? She always fucking looking at me.”

Next to her, Angelina starts giggling again. “She definitely has a big lesbian crush on you.”

Kristen grimaces. “Ew, don’t joke about that. That’s actually disgusting.”

Angelina resumes laughing and soon enough, Kristen joins in. They resume talking in hushed tones, sporadically pointing to Robin and looking at her with a hint of disdain in their eyes.

You had heard rumors about Robin before, from your other cheer friends. They all seemed convinced that Robin was in love with them- checking them out, staring at them, lusting after them. The worst part was that after hearing the same thing being said about her for years, you started to believe it.

“They should put her in a separate locker room- you know, for our safety.” You said, joining in on your friends laughter.

The sound of a chair scraping harshly against the floor startles you. You look up to see Robin, who was looking between you and your friends. With a scoff, she turns on her heel and walks quickly out of the room. But, your eyes don’t miss the stray tears falling from hers.

“Oh, thank God she left.” Kristen scoffs.

Your face is fully flushed as you hear the bell ring, signaling the end of 7th period. Secretively, you glance back up to where Robin once was. Your stomach plummets- a mixture of guilt and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on gnawing on the lining of your stomach.

“Hey, we’re still on for tonight, right?” Kristen says as she slings her backpack over her shoulder.

Your eyes dart back to Kristen at the sound of her voice.

“The sleepover! Right, yeah. You guys can come over at seven.”

“Cool, see you tonight.” Angelina says as the two girls retreat out of the room, leaving you ruminating on their words.

When you get home from school that day, you are immediately met with the scent of garlic wafting out from the kitchen. Curiously, you follow the scent and see your mother by the stove, dropping a handful of rosemary into a cooking pot. Your mother looks up from the dish as she hears your footsteps in the kitchen.

“Oh, hey baby! How was school?” She says.

You eye the pot for another second before turning your attention to her. “It was okay. Not too crazy.” You pause for a second. “What are you making?”

“Well, we’re going to be having some people over for dinner tonight. Thought I might try a new recipe.” She shrugs.

“Dinner? Tonight? Mom, my friends are sleeping over tonight!” You huff. “Who’d you invite anyways?”

“The Buckley’s! You remember them, right? You used to love hanging out with their daughter.”

Your eyes widen. “You invited the Buckley’s over? Mom, why?”

“I ran into Melissa at the post office today! We haven’t seen each other in a while, so I invited her family over. God, I missed her.” Your mother smiles as she turns a page in an open cookbook.

“Is it just her and Richard coming over?” You ask hopefully.

“She said she’d see if Robin wanted to come over. Isn’t that great? It’ll give you two girls a chance to catch up!”

“No, Mom-“ you sigh, “-my friends, they hate her. They’re not going to want her here.” For a moment, you remember what transpired in the band room earlier today- the dirty looks, the accusations, the pure disgust at her presence.

”Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.” Your mom replies. “Your friends can come over another night then, sweetie.”

You groan. “We’ve been planning this all week, Mom! I can’t cancel on them now.”

“I don’t know what to tell you! The Buckley’s are coming over and that’s final. Go get ready, they’re coming over around five.”

Meanwhile, across town Melissa Buckley was just returning home from her day of errands. Her daughter, Robin, was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, trying to erase the events of the day from her mind. She was flicking through the channels on the TV before groaning at the lack of entertainment.

“Rob! You’re never going to guess who I ran into at the post office today.” She called out from the kitchen.

Robin sat up from the position she was lying in. “Who?”

“You remember my friend Linda? The one from high school?” She asked. Robin paused for a moment, scrolling through the archives of her memory. When it hit her, her stomach sank.

Your face immediately appeared in her mind- pretty, popular, distant. The memory of the friendship the two of you had shared in middle school was burned into her mind- movie nights in your basement, going trick-or-treating in matching costumes, splashing around in the Hawkins community pool. Life was simpler back then, brighter. But, time had changed you. High school had changed you.

She briefly thought back to what had happened at school earlier; what she heard in the band room- the words that spilled from your mouth. The grief washed over her again and she felt her stomach ache.

“Y-yeah,” Robin said hesitantly.

“Well, she invited us over for dinner tonight around five. You’re not busy, are you?”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Robin replied. “I don’t think they’d want me over there.”

“Don’t be silly! Linda adores you! She was just asking about you at the post office.”

“No it’s not her,” Robin huffs, rubbing her face.

“Oh, is it that daughter of theirs? What ever happened to you two anyways? You used to be so close.”

Robin couldn’t pinpoint when the two of you stopped being friends. It was probably an accumulation of things, she thought- your new, popular friends, differing schedules, simply growing apart. You fell into step with those girls at school and never looked back. All she really knew was that you didn’t have the same opinion of her that you used to, and that killed her.

“She does not want me there! I can promise you that.”

“Just come, sweetie. At least come to see Linda, she misses you.” Melissa says pleadingly.

Robin flops back down onto the couch and stares at the ceiling. The memory of today was still swimming in her head, shattering her spirit every time she thought of it for too long. Part of her did want to go- just to be in your orbit, your space. She was always curious about the person you were becoming, if you were truly turning into a cheerleading bimbo.

Not to mention, there was a mystery surrounding you that she was dying to indulge in.

This dinner would give her a reason to indulge.

“Sure, mom. I’ll go.”

The chicken and mashed potatoes on your plate sat untouched as you kept your gaze anywhere but Robin, who was sitting across from you at the dinner table. Your moms had been immersed in conversation ever since the Buckley’s showed up at your doorstep eighty five minutes ago. Your dads acted similarly, casually chatting in between bites of dinner.

When Robin first spotted you standing idly in the corner of the foyer as her family walked in, her heartbeat spiked. You looked so pretty in your denim skirt and white blouse. She felt her eyes drifting, trying to take as much of you in as she could: your manicured hands, dainty jewelry, glossy lips.

She hadn’t been in this foyer in years. Upon realizing this, she allowed her eyes to wander past you, to the walls of your home. They were painted a different, darker color. The family photo that hung just next to the staircase to the second floor was different. Instead, hung a picture of you beaming proudly in your cheer uniform.

And that’s when it hit her- again. The pain washed over her for the nth time that day.

How you sat there while your friends gossiped about her.

How you looked at her face without a hint of recognition sparkling in your eyes.

How you let her leave crestfallen, rushing to cry in a bathroom stall.

Suddenly, she started to feel sick.

When you first saw her walk into your foyer alongside her parents, your heart stopped. Part of you didn’t think she’d actually come, and you wouldn’t have blamed her if she didn’t. You and your friends had been awful to her. You watched silently as they made her into a caricature of sorts- someone to poke and prod at. Part of you felt guilty for letting them speak like that to your childhood friend. But then, you remembered that she wasn’t the same girl you used to know and love. She did it to herself. She was turning into a spectacle, an outlier. Nobody in their right mind would choose to associate with someone like that.

Suddenly, you started to feel sick.

Then you felt someone, your mother, nudging at your side. You look up at her and she’s motioning across the table.

“Melissa asked you a question, honey.” Your mom said kindly.

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry, I was distracted.”

”Is everything alright, dear?” Melissa asks you.

Your mom wraps an arm around you, rubbing your right arm. “Oh, she’s just a little bummed because she had to reschedule her sleepover.”

“No, I’m okay. I’m fine!” You reassure Melissa, not wanting it to sound like she was intruding on your time.

“A sleepover? That sounds like fun, sorry you had a change of plans,” Melissa says. “Hey, I have an idea- why don’t you have a sleepover with Robin? That could be fun, give you two girls a chance to catch up.”

Robin chokes on her club soda from across the dining room table.

“Oh, I don’t kno-“ you start to say, before your mom cuts you off.

“That sounds like a great idea! This way you can still get your sleepover,” your Mom beams. “Oh, I miss when you girls would hang out.”

“Weren’t they cute, Linda? Always asking to have each other over?” Melissa asked your mom. You steal a glance over at Robin, and she’s already looking at you.

“We’ll clean up these plates. You two girls run upstairs! Sweetie, get Robin a pair of pajamas to sleep in.” Your mom nudges you again before disappearing into the kitchen with Melissa and your dads trailing behind her.

You give another look to Robin, who’s now staring down at where her plate once was, seething.

You sigh. “My uhm, my room’s upstairs.”

When Robin walks into your room, the first thing she thinks is that it looks completely different.

Your bed was decked out in frilly pink pillows and sheets; she could barely make out where you slept under all of the decorative pillows you had. The decorations and posters that littered your room were incredibly chic and feminine. Everything felt purposeful and neat. This was nothing like the animal-obsessed rugrat she knew as a kid.

You appeared from your closet holding out a pair of purple polka dotted pajamas. “You can wear these,” you say, politely offering them to her.

Robin looks from the pajamas back to you. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Look, I’m not staying over. That’s ridiculous.” She looks at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s not too late, you can still have your real friends over.”

Your arms fall along with your face. “That’s not- I’m fine with you sleeping over.”

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t want to disgust you.” She says curtly. “Are you sure you don’t want me in a separate room? You know, for your safety?”

Your heart stutters.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, “You heard them?”

“Don’t play dumb. How could I not? They were pointing at me, laughing at me.” She pauses. “And you just sat there.”

Your eyes drop to your carpeted floor, ashamed.

“Look, I know we’re not exactly friends anymore. But, how could you let them talk about me like that? How could you talk about me like that?” Robin says with a hint of hurt in her voice.

“Well,” you say, “why were you looking at her in the first place?”

The minute the words leave your mouth you regret it. You watch as Robin’s face quickly fades from pained to angered.

“You can’t be fucking serious?”

“I don’t know! You made her uncomfortable.”

“I don’t even remember looking at her. I didn’t even know she was in my gym class.” Robin starts pacing around your room. “Do you really think they should have a separate locker room for me? Like I’m, what, some kind of fucking zoo animal?”

“I don’t know!” You say almost immediately. “They were just freaked out by the whole thing.”

She scoffs. “Do I freak you out?”

“Look, all I know is what Kristen said. That you were staring at her ti-“

“I don’t care about them!” She replies. “It’s you. You agreed with them. You laughed with them.”

“I was trying to comfort my friend! Okay? I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Your face feels hot under her gaze.

“No. No, I know what you were thinking.” She huffs. “How could I ever have been friends with a freak like that?”

“You’re not a freak, Robin.”

“Well, I certainly felt like one! Fucking- crying in the bathroom,” she starts choking on her words, “I felt so pathetic. So disgusting. Dirty.”

The room stills. Downstairs, the sound of laughter fills the house. Glasses clinking. Friends embracing. Feet shuffling.

“Robin, honey! Me and your father are heading out!” Melissa calls from downstairs. Robin takes one last cold look at you and moves towards the door.

“I’m leaving with them,” she says to you.

In a panic to make things right, you reach out and wrap your hand around her wrist, spinning her around.

“Robin, please don’t go. Please don’t leave.” She looks down to where your hand is touching her skin. Neither of you move away.

“They have these- notions- about you, Robin. I don't know what to do with them.”

“Don’t you care about me? At all? Or are you so blinded by whatever lies they’ve been feeding you.”

“Robin, I was scared. I was scared of what they would say about me if I stood up for you. I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. I can’t help it.”

“What could they say about you?” Robin says softly. “You’re perfect. You’re untouchable.”

You shake your head softly. “No, I’m not- there’s-“ You can’t bring yourself to say it.

Robin clocks it immediately- the way your body goes rigid, the way your breathing gets shallow.

“What? What is it? Would they call you a crazy lesbian just like me?” She says brazenly. “Does it really bother you that badly? What they might think of you?” Robin mutters.

Your eyes look up at her, glazed over with tears. Her wrist had gone limp in your hands, which makes you realize that you’re simply clinging onto her.

“It probably wouldn’t bother you unless you were actually disgusted by the idea of being one, or…” She freezes.

Your hand slides up her arm, resting gently on her bicep. You can’t even bring yourself to look at her face.

“It’s not right,” you mutter, “It’s not normal.”

“Don’t say that,” she says softly.

“They’re fucking right, Robin. It’s not normal. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Forget about everyone else.” You can feel her breath on the side of your face, her eyes on you.

“I can’t. They’re my friends, Robin.”

“That doesn’t mean they know anything. That doesn’t mean they know what’s right for you.”

You sigh exasperated. “I don’t even know what’s right for me! But, it can’t be- it can’t be that.”

Your fingers comb harshly through the roots of your hair.

“Y-you make me feel confused,” you admit, “I have all these- bad ideas.”

“Tell me about them,” Robin pleads.

“No. No, I’m not going to end up like you.” You spit with venom.

“Jesus, what do you want? Fucking forget about your friends for one goddamn second! They’re morons!”

You huff. “You’re confusing me. You know what? Maybe you should go.”

“No way. That’s out of the question.”

“Just go! Leave!”

“You don’t want that.” Robin says softly.

“I do! You’re- you’re messing with my head.”

Her short hair tickles your cheekbone. Her scent overwhelms your senses. Her body heat warms your skin.

“You’re still touching me.” She mutters, looking at your hand still clutching onto her muscle. “If you were really that disgusted with me you wouldn’t be clinging onto me like I’m the only thing that makes any sense to you.”

“Stop it! You’re messing with my head.”

“Nobody’s putting those bad ideas in your head but you. It’s coming from you. Why can’t you see that?”

“I’m not a lesbian.” You state. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

The sound of your panting fills the room.

“I- can’t like girls.” You look down at her lips.

“What’s so wrong about it?”

“It’s not n-“

“-Normal, I get it.” Robin finishes. “Forget about everyone else for a second, please. It’s just me and you here. Nobody can see us.”

“ ‘s all so confusing.” You mutter hopelessly, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “What are they going to say about me? Think about me?”

“You can’t live your life for other people. Think about yourself for a minute. What do you want?”

“Just-“

With your hand still rooted onto her bicep, you slowly lean in, testing how the distance makes you feel. From here, you can see the freckles that litter her face and the stray eyelash that was resting on her cheekbone. Her breath warms your face.

It doesn’t feel as alarming as you had anticipated. Sure, your heart was pounding ruthlessly, but it was kind of intoxicating. There was a certain rush that came from being this close to a girl. You leaned in, chasing the feeling.

And in the privacy of your bedroom, you placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

Robin’s body freezes, but her eyes shutter close at the contact. So, you continue.

Parting your lips slightly, you lock them against hers, pressing gently against the soft skin of her lips.

Your stomach erupts in butterflies as she sighs softly against you. She starts moving her lips against yours- pulling, pressing- driving you crazy.

When you pull back from the kiss, you miss the way her lips chase yours for the contact. Your eyes open simultaneously. She scans your face for emotion, but can’t get a read on you. Meanwhile, you’re sorting through a million different emotions in your own head- contentment, lust, confusion.

“Was that okay?” You ask quietly. Robin takes a strand of your hair in her hand, twirling it gently. She hums in contentment.

“I just- wanted to try that.” You confess.

Her eyes narrow down on you. “Was that one of your bad ideas?”

You look back up at her before nodding slightly.

“And?” She asks. “Was that okay for you?”

You hold your face in your hands, hiding yourself from her. “I- liked it.”

“Wasn’t disgusting?” She taunts.

“Really fucking not.”

Robin smiles down at you before crouching down to grasp the purple polka dotted pajamas you must have dropped at some point. She wants to be cautious about her next step, not to push you away from whatever epiphany you were having right now. But, selfishly she asks, “Will you kiss me like that again if I sleepover?”

You tuck your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I might.”

“Then I-“ she says, “-I will go put these on. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter. Robin nods curtly at you before turning around towards the door.

Meanwhile, you stare fondly at the back of her head as she disappears into the hallway.