#They make it back to Steve's without the cops showing up so all ended well

[jadewritesficshere]

18+only

Steve rubs his eyes as he pulls the car into the parking lot. He yawns as he comes to a stop. Steve blinks a few times to get rid of the remnants of sleep as the passenger door opens and Eddie collapses in. "Thanks for picking me up," Eddie rushes out in one breath.

Steve hums slightly, reversing the car out of the lot and back down the road. "Can't believe the van died on me-" "seat belt." Steve interrupted, reaching across Eddie for the seat belt.

And if his hand felt against Eddie's chest, well who's to say.

Eddie snatches the seat belt out of Steve's hand, using his other hand to swat Steve away. Steve relents with a chuckle, going back to grip the steering wheel at 9 and 2.

"These are cute." Steve feels a tug at the hem against his thigh, causing him to look down. He got woken up so suddenly, he forgot to get dressed. Clad in only his plaid boxers, a worn grey shirt, and one tube sock, Steve ventured out into the cold night.

"Shut up," Steve rolls his eyes, batting at Eddie's hand just like Eddie had done to him moments before.

And if Eddie grabs his hand and holds it, well who's to say.

They sit in companiable silence before Steve clears his throat," Oh, by the way, I got you something." Eddie let's out a delighted gasp," Oh? For me?" "It ain't much, don't sound so excited." "Thee Steve Harrington bestowing upon me a gift? It's very exciting."

"It's in the glove box." Steve stares diligently out the window as he hears Eddie click the glove compartment open. He pulls up to a stop sign and stops. He can hear Eddie inhale slowly," uh Napkins?" "What? No-" Steve clicks his tongue looking into the glove box.

He reaches over and moves some napkins out of the way, finding the small bag. "Here." He tosses it in Eddie's lap. Steve grips the wheel harder, nerves taking over as he drives away from the stop sign. Its a stupid gift he thinks.

Inside the bag are a few things Steve had happened to find that screamed Eddie in his mind. A dark feather that shimmered in the light Steve had found outside the trailer. A random D20 Steve stole borrowed from one of the kids. A guitar pick he spent hours painting Corroded Coffin on. A rock from the quarry Steve had picked up after they had went and smoked there one night. A Polaroid of the two of them high, but Steve could see the love in their eyes as they smiled at each other. The ticket stub from the first movie they went to as a date.

"It ain't mu-" "Shut up this is amazing!" Steve blushes at the praise. Eddie's hand lands on his thigh, making Steve inhale sharply. "Gonna kiss you now," Eddie murmurs into Steve's ear.

And if they pull the car over and fog up the windows, well who's to say.

[bromcommie]

tbh I still think Brock Rumlow was an interesting character and upon further examination way more unsettling a villain than most to me because like. Let’s be real, the second you lay eyes on Robert Redford as Pierce monologuing in his pristine suit and glass office high up in the sky he just screams Evil Politician! at you. You can see it coming a mile away. Meanwhile Rumlow is….Just Some Guy. On the surface, he’s just some side dude. He’s not enhanced, he’s not in some major position of power, he’s just someone who’s really good at what he does and seems dedicated enough to the work and functions well with his team. He respects Steve, might admire him even, but not so much that he gets starry eyed like everybody else. He’s lighthearted but focused, he’s no nonsense, he’s the everyman Steve can relate to way more than spooks like Natasha or Fury.

And okay, maybe what Rumlow does for a living is beat intimidate and kill people, but it’s not like that’s the primary objective, right, because SHIELD are the good guys and this is what Steve does now, too, anyway; except that Steve doesn’t really use any weapons other than the shield, he holds back, he doesn’t carry a gun anymore which is usually fine since he’s dangerous enough without it. But when that leaves him vulnerable, he’s covered: Rumlow’s got his six, and he does it well, and he earns some of his trust. This is familiar to Steve.

And maybe Rumlow’s a little too good, fine, maybe he shoots a guy in the head within the first fifteen minutes of the movie when he doesn’t necessarily have to and then cracks jokes immediately after but that’s alright too, because that guy had Steve at gunpoint and that guy was Bad whereas Rumlow is One of the Good Guys just doing his job, right. Rumlow’s joking around because he’s used to the violence, they’re all used to it, and this is just how it works. They’re just soldiers doing the grunt work and following orders, and this is familiar, too.

Except that they’re not soldiers and this isn’t a war, except that the work is for an intelligence agency whose job it is to hoard and steal information and monitor civilians and orchestrate and sabotage and meddle in internal and external state affairs. Except that the Good Guys, in reality, are extremely grey at best. Except that many of the Good Guys turn out to be Nazis on top of everything else, and it’s not that far of a stretch.

But when it’s all starting to unravel, you’re still thinking well maybe some of these guys didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t do it out of individual belief, and if faced with the right choice, they can be redeemed.

That is until you realize that Rumlow maybe didn’t respect Steve and what he did so much as what Steve could do if only Steve weren’t “weak” in other ways, if Steve had chosen the right side. That it not being personal is less a cop out and more a taunt the same way just following orders has always been, for Rumlow and many many men that came before him and will continue to come after. Until the vault when, by the most charitable of interpretations, Rumlow looks at the Winter Soldier letting himself be smacked around and crying and getting shocked like he’s maybe a little unnerved (if not just downright fascinated) by the whole thing, but not enough that it really changes anything for him, because the end justifies the means and it’s not really his problem, anyway.

Until Sam shows up and Rumlow looks at him like a bird of prey and says This is gonna hurt with a fucking smile on his face, and then you think: shit, man, obviously. How was it not clear from the start.

To me, what makes someone like Rumlow a good villain, even a side one, is not that he’s straight up Insane & Evil™️ or suffering from Tragic Backstory Syndrome or all hopped up on magic superstrength juice or whatever, but precisely the fact that he’s Just Some Guy with a cockroach survival mentality who operates well within the established system and just so happens to be really good at his job - a job that he might’ve even joined thinking it was for a good cause, or because he had something to prove, or simply because it gave him one hell of an excuse to be a bully. Because he either wholeheartedly believes in HYDRA or he just doesn’t give much of a shit either way so long as he gets his due in the end, and both are just as bad.

Because when you strip away all the grand scale superhero theatrics, you’ve seen this before. You’ve seen Rumlows in your school and in your neighborhood and in the military and the cop car patrolling your street. They’re the ones who sometimes say or do somewhat offputting shit but you figure it’s fine because they’re otherwise real nice or charismatic or normal looking, or maybe they work a job that’s framed as helpful or protective or inherently good despite the power dynamics at play, or they share your background and interests and you chat about the weather being crap this time of year.

And every time one of them turns out to be a violent, hateful piece of shit, you’re still somehow surprised then, too, when you really shouldn’t be.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Thinking about your fic where Dallas is Tex’s older brother, where does mark come into play? Is there an au where they can be happy 😭💔💔

Well truthfully, in that fic, I think Mark’s in prison still, like at the end of That Was Then, This is Now 🥲

BUT let’s make an AU where they’re happy!

(TW- mentions of canon-typical violence/canon-typical darkness)

(Not a fic btw- just a rambly outline/headcanons)

In this AU, obviously Dally and Johnny live. (they still both have near-death experiences, but they survive yk?)

And canonically, Ponyboy and Mark Jennings are friends when they’re about 15-16ish. Now that we’ve made Dally survive, the two just end up meeting through Ponyboy. Now they know of each other, but they don’t know that they’re half-brothers. Dally thinks of Mark as a pesky kid who’s more annoying than Ponyboy but less annoying than Curly Shepard, and Mark thinks of Dally as a tough-hood-turned slightly pathetic guy who “Couldn’t even get the cops to kill him right smh” (crude I know but I genuinely think that’s what Mark would think 😭)

Then I’m gonna have Steve (he’s observant- in the book he was the one who found Johnny’s jacket in the lot, and the one who noticed Dally had taken his ring back from Sylvia) and Johnny (also pretty observant, just in more of a literary analysis way than in a physical way) discuss how similar the two are.

Eventually they mention it to Two-Bit, who’s like “Uh yeah they’re half brothers? Obviously?”

And Steve and Johnny are like “The fuck do you mean Pony’s buddy is Dally’s half brother??”

Two-Bit, who I’m making Mark’s cousin in this ‘cuz Emilio Estevez played both of them, goes “Yeah no- his mom, my aunt, cheated on her husband with Dally’s dad when I was like…four or five…which was how she got knocked up with Mark…y’all didn’t know that??”

Anyhow all three go tell Dally, who doesn’t initially care all that much. Mark’s got a stable life, and Dally doesn’t particularly feel the need to be part of it, although he does maybe start inviting the kid along to the drive in with him, Pony, and Johnny just a little more often

Mark is similarly indifferent when Pony tells him, just sorta says “Aw man, why’s Shepard get to have the cooler hood for an older brother??”

But that all comes crashing down when the events of TWTTIN come to pass. Now, instead of getting arrested when Bryon calls the cops on him, Mark remembers Dally. So he runs from the cops and shows up on Buck Merril’s doorstep just like Pony and Johnny did two years prior.

Dally’s initially mad about it- it’s one thing helping Johnny and Pony, and a whole other thing helping this annoying kid who got himself into this mess. But…he can also see himself in Mark, because the kid’s scared and helpless and alone, and is covering it with anger just like Dally always did.

So Dally lets Mark in. Angrily, and with a ton of complaints, but he lets him in all the same.

When the cops come around, looking for the runaway dealer Mark Jennings, Dally denies knowing anything, and the cops lose Mark’s trail and just kinda give up.

Then Dally forces Mark to dye his blonde hair brown (in a reverse-Ponyboy move lol), and bullies Buck Merril into giving the kid a job even with his record. (According to Mark on pg 147 of the book, he only started dealing to begin with because no jobs would take him with his police record) I’m pretty sure that Tulsa is actually big enough that no one recognizes him, especially with the dye job. I mean the town I’m from is a quarter of Tulsa’s size, and I still barely ever run into folks I know without planning it. And I get out a lot. So like if Mark’s at Buck’s place, I don’t think a lotta people will know of him- he’s sixteen, no one who goes there will know him. (And if they do, well, it’s Buck Merril’s place, nobody would dare to call the cops there anyhow.)

So Mark carries on like that, living low…ish…I mean c’mon he’s still Mark Jennings he still causes trouble. Just not so much trouble that Dally can’t keep him in check. He probably does still hate Bryon- just not enough to wanna kill him?? (Although again idk he’s still Mark maybe he wants revenge anyhow…he won’t get revenge tho ‘cuz I have other plot priorities and anyhow I think Bryon’s suffered enough)

Dally and Mark evolve to be kind of like fanon Tim and Curly- not particularly affectionate, but they care for each other. Mark shows it by helping Dally with chores occasionally, and sometimes stealing him stuff like rings and cigarettes. Dally shows it by letting Mark tease him, and by taking Mark places and spending time with him. And letting Mark call himself “Mark Winston”. (Again, Dallas acts like he doesn’t want to- hell, he probably believes he doesn’t want to, he’s pretty good at lying to himself- but he clearly does) (Tim, Johnny, Two-Bit, and Steve bully him mercilessly for this) (Sodapop doesn't ‘cuz he thinks it’s sweet and doesn’t wanna discourage it lol)

Then, about two years later, we’re at the start of my Tex fic, Hail Mary. That plays out about the same, except both Mark and Johnny convince him to help out with custody of a ten-year-old Tex.

Dally is annoyed still, but has begrudgingly grown to like these stupid kids- including Mason, who isn’t technically related to anyone but Tex, but hey he had a shitty cowboy dad too so he gets to be in the “shitty cowboy dad club” lol

I figure Dally stays in Garyville with Mason and Tex during the weekdays, and takes them to Buck’s on weekends ‘cause he does still have most of his life in Tulsa. Sometimes Johnny stays with them in Garyville too, ‘cuz yk, Johnny’s Dally’s best friend lol, and besides he’s not only an adult now too but is also an adult who is much more patient and easy to get along with than Dally.

Mark and Tex are a horrible combination to be around, even though Mark is eighteen now and really should be more mature than a ten year old. Dally has his mischievousness, sure, but neither Mark nor Tex were born with the little voice in their heads that says things like “arson is bad” and “actions have consequences”. Like Dally likes breaking laws- Mark and Tex don’t even consider laws. It’s bad. Dally and Mason leave them alone to go grocery shopping once and come back to see Mark has let the horses into the house, all because Tex triple-dog-dared him to. Another time, after Cole Collins tells Mason not to hang out with his kids anymore, Mark uses Cole’s car to teach Tex how to hot-wire things. Dally nearly murders him. So does Mason. It’s a problem…

Anyhow, those are my thoughts for now, lemme know yours!

[allthingsfangirl101]

*The Basketball Coach – Steve Harrington

Masterlist

Warnings: sneaking around kink, protected sex, rough sex, public sex, single-mom, teen pregnancy, language

I sat in the stands, my eyes on the coach. My son and I moved to Hawkins for a new start the summer before he started his junior year of high school. We were well aware of what happened here about 10 years ago, but things were back to normal.

During our first week, my son met some of our neighbors' kids and immediately hit it off with them. He ended up spending the night with a few of them and playing basketball. While he did that, I needed to blow off some steam. After a whole week of moving, cleaning, and setting up our new house, I decided to go to a bar on Saturday night.  Usually, when I go to a bar, I drink alone at the counter. That night, I met someone.

I started talking and flirting with a gorgeous guy my age named Steve Harrington. Four drinks later, we were making out in the bathroom. We were interrupted so we finished in his car. Before I left, he asked me for his number.

We spent the next week flirt-texting each other. When I texted the guy from the bar, I felt like a teenager again. That weekend, he practically begged to see me again. Not that I minded. I was dying to see him again.

Things went like that for a month - flirting all week followed by a heavy weekend where we fulfilled everything we promised while sexting. After that month, Steve told me he wanted more than just a hook-up.

I told him about Johnny and my concerns about dating a guy and he was completely understanding. We started dating but kept it "lowkey". I use quotes because nothing was lowkey about what we did when we were together. We just didn't tell anyone.

When the school year started, Johnny joined the basketball team. He came home talking about his awesomely funny coach, Coach Harrington. I was stunned. The guy I've been sleeping with all summer was now coaching my son's basketball team.

I freaked out to him, but he instantly reassured me. He said that we could keep dating without anyone, especially Johnny, finding out. I wasn't sure at first, but after the first game, I realized one very special thing - sneaking around was incredibly hot.

As the team ran into the locker room, I walked over to the sidelines. I waited until he passed me before moaning, "Good game, Coach."

"Fuck," he moaned as he froze. He looked over and bit his bottom lip as he scanned my body. "I want nothing more than to take you under these bleachers and ravish you until they call the cops because of all the screaming."

"Calm down, hot stuff," I smirked. "Can't have one of your players see their coach fucking one of their moms."

The butterflies in my stomach went crazy because of the way he was looking at me. He chewed on his bottom lip and scanned my body. He took a step closer to me, no longer caring about anyone seeing us.

"There's something I need to show you in the back of my car," he said, his voice low and dark.

"You know," I paused, "Johnny did drive himself."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me out the side door. I had to jog to keep up with him as he led me through the empty employee parking lot. He unlocked his car and I climbed in. I laid on my back as he crawled in.

I couldn't help but giggle as he closed the door behind him. Unable to wait any longer, I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to me. Steve smirked before crashing his lips onto mine.

We let out moans as we undressed each other. I caused Steve to groan as I tore off his polo. He kept himself as close to me as possible and pulled my shirt over my head. He glanced over my chest and moaned.

He didn't go back to kissing me. Instead, he tore my skirt down to my knees. I smirked as he sat up, letting me kick it the rest of the way off. Without breaking eye contact, Steve yanked my underwear down. As he took off his pants and boxers, I reached into the pouch behind the front seat and pulled out our hidden supply of condoms.

Steve sat back and waited for me to put it on him. He loved it when I put the condom on him. He leaned his head back, moaning as I slipped it on. The second I was done, Steve crashed his lips to mine. I ran my fingers through his hair as our bodies rubbed against each other.

I arched my back as Steve roughly pushed into me. He broke the kiss and smirked when he saw my face all scrunched from the pressure.

"Oh, Steve," I moaned. He cut me off by leaning down and smashing his face between my breasts. I let out a girlish giggle as he slipped his tongue under my bra.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. I gasped when he pulled out of me and sat up, quickly bringing me with him. Steve grabbed me and roughly brought me onto his lap. He guided my hips until he was making me ride him.

"Holy shit, baby," I moaned as I arched my back.

"Why does it feel like it's been forever since we. . ." He cut himself off when I brought my hips down rougher.

Our orgasms built the longer I was on top of him. He pressed his hands to my shoulder blades as he brought my chest to his face. I moaned as he did what I loved - licked me.

"Baby," he growled. I gasped when he laid us down without pulling out of me. He took back control instantly. The longer he had control, the closer we got to finishing. Until my phone started ringing.

"Shit," I gasped. "That's Johnny's ring."

Steve sighed and pulled out of me but didn't pull away from my breast as I answered my phone.

"Hey, sweetie," I greeted, trying to sound normal.

"Hey, Mom," Johnny said. I almost didn't hear him because I was focused on Steve paying extra attention to my chest. "I'm heading over to Mike's house. I just wanted to call you since I didn't see you after the game."

"Sorry," I said, forcing myself to look away from the veins sticking out of Steve's neck as he chewed on the skin peeking out from under my bra. "I needed to run a few errands while I'm out."

"Okay," he said simply. "Well, I'm heading to Mike's."

"Thanks for letting me know, baby. Have fun with Mike and make sure you're home before tomorrow night. Your grandparents want to take us to dinner."

"Will do. Love you."

"Love you too."

I hung up the phone and looked at Steve. "Good news," I smirked.

He hummed as he slowly pulled away from my chest. I moaned as he started rubbing his chest against mine.

"What's the news, baby girl?" He asked under his breath as he started kissing my neck.

"Johnny is spending the night at Mike's house," I said shakily.

"Which means you're going to be all alone," he grunted.

"Mmhmm. Care to accompany me?"

Steve crashed his lips down roughly onto mine. I instantly slipped my tongue into his mouth, exploring as much as I could. He bit my lip and sucked on it before slowly breaking the kiss.

"Can't leave a gorgeous woman like you home all alone."

* * * * *

The second I opened the door, Steve spun me around and pulled me into his chest. We backed into the house, never pulling out of the kiss as we made our way inside. We didn't stop until Steve pushed me up against the handrail that led up the stairs.

With a grunt, Steve broke the kiss and picked me up so my legs were wrapped around his waist. As he carried me to my room, I turned my attention to his neck. He moaned as I chewed on his veins that always poked out when he got turned on.

I smirked when Steve roughly dropped me onto the bed. I chewed on my bottom lip as he instantly climbed on top of me. Steve started chewing on my neck, switching between kissing and licking, as he started grinding his body down onto mine.

In minutes, our clothes were scattered around the room. We tucked under my covers as we wrapped up the foreplay and got into things. Something felt oddly familiar as we switched from him being on top to me being on top. That, of course, didn't last long though. Steve hated not being in control. He could only handle it for so long. And I loved it when he took control.

I gasped as he quickly rolled us over so he was on top again. Steve roughly pushed into me, both of us moaning.

"Fuck, Steve," I moaned. "I love it when you get rough, baby."

"Holy shit, sexy," Steve moaned as he pushed further into me. "This is exactly what I needed."

There it was again - that feeling of familiarity.

I pushed it aside as I focused on moaning his name and doing the other things he liked in bed to help keep him going.

"Give in, baby girl," he groaned through his teeth. "I know you want to."

"Sounds to me like you're the one who wants to. . ." Steve made me choke on my words when he leaned down and wrapped his mouth around my nipple.

"Fuck, Steve," I moaned as I arched my back, pushing my chest further against his face. I felt him smirk as he started to suck on me.

"Moan for me," he growled against my breast.

"Oh, Steve!" I repeated his name as he pushed further and rougher into me. "Keep going, Steve."

"Perfect, baby," he growled. "Do it again."

"Oh, Steve!"

We let out matching moans as we both gave in. Steve leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips before gently pulling out of me and lying next to me. Steve slid his hand under my body and pulled me into his side. I smiled as he fixed the blanket around us. I fell asleep to Steve gently rubbing my bare back.

The next morning, I woke up to the sun shining through the small crack in my curtains. The second I was awake, that familiar feeling came back. I tried to push it away, but it kept bugging me.

For some reason, something about our hook-up last night brought back some memories. I looked over my shoulder to see Steve asleep next to me. I carefully got out of my bed and searched for my clothes. I was slipping on my underwear when all of a sudden, it hit me.

De jà vü.

I quickly got dressed and spent the rest of the morning doing random chores around the house. I was loading the dishwasher when I felt him wrap his arms around my waist. I bit my lip when he started sucking on my neck.

"Last night was fun," he moaned against my shoulder. All I could do was moan in response. "But I'm kinda mad at you."

"Why?" I whispered. Steve grabbed my waist and slowly spun me toward him. We were suddenly in an intense staring contest as he grabbed my thigh and wrapped my leg around his waist.

"I'm mad," he groaned, "because I hate waking up alone."

"Sorry," I gasped as he started nibbling on my ear. "I was. . . I woke up and. . . Fuck."

Steve laughed as he picked me up and carried me to the couch. We spent the rest of the morning in a heavy make-out session. He slid his hand under my shirt and started massaging my breast as our tongues danced.

"Steve," I moaned into his mouth. "Baby."

"What?" He pouted as he broke the kiss.

"Johnny will be home soon," I said, out of breath. The lust in Steve's eyes slowly went away. He reached down and moved some hair out of my face.

"You're right," he whispered. "I should get going."

Steve hesitated before finally climbing off of me. He grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. Without letting go of my hand, Steve walked to the front door. He turned around and pulled me into his chest. I smiled as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as we got into the kiss. Steve finally broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily.

"I'll call you later," he whispered.

"Not tonight," I said out of breath. "My parents are taking me and Johnny to dinner."

"Okay," he smiled. "What about tomorrow?"

"Johnny and a couple of other boys from the team are going to see that new movie," I smirked.

"That gives us two hours."

"Three, actually."

"Three hours?" He asked.

"They're going to get burgers before the movie."

"Perfect," Steve smirked as he pulled me in closer. "Three hours of privacy for us to do naughty things."

"Naughty things?" I chuckled.

"Adult things," he changed.

"Adult things," I repeated as I struggled not to laugh. "I know you spend your days talking to teenagers, but angsty Harrington isn't really sexy."

"Fine."

I gasped when Steve pushed me up against the door and started kissing my chest. I leaned my head back against the door as he used his tongue.

"Steve," I stuttered. He licked up my chest, across my collarbone, and up my neck.

"Three hours for us to fool around, make out, massage each other," he listed off, "and my personal favorite; fuck."

* * * * *

As much as I tried to resist it, I couldn't. I had to talk to him about this. It was too big.

With it being Monday, I knew that Steve didn't have practice. He wanted his players to start the week off without having practice to distract them from school. I also knew that Johnny went to his lab partner's house after school on Mondays to get a headstart on their weekly chem packet.

I got to the high school right as the bell rang. I didn't bother to wait for the students to clear out. I got out of my car and headed to his office. When I got there, I stopped.

How would he react to this?

It could go really well, but it could also go horribly wrong and I could lose the one person who has made me happier than I've been in years.

"Y/N? Is everything okay? Where's Johnny?"

"He's fine," I stuttered a little taken aback by the panic in Steve's voice. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"Oh?" Steve asked as he stood up. "Then what are you doing here?"

"I need to tell you something," I said under my breath as I stood in his office doorway.

Steve quickly walked over and closed the gap between us. He grabbed my hands, pulling me more into his office, and shutting the door. "What is it, baby?"

"I figured something out."

Steve locked his office door before pulling me over so we were sitting on the couch. "What did you figure out?"

I looked up at him, unable to approach the topic. "I was thinking about the night I got pregnant with Johnny," I started.

"Okay," he said, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "What about that night?"

"It was a Halloween party," I explained. "I was drunk and so was Johnny's dad. It turns out. . . He had gotten into a pretty bad fight with his girlfriend that night. So bad they broke up."

My heart beat against my chest as I waited to see if he was figuring it out.

"What umm. . . What costume was he wearing?"

Yep, he was figuring it out. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Joel Goodson from Risky Business."

"Oh," he whispered. I bit my lip, trying to stop the tears as Steve focused on something on the other side of his office.

"You're Johnny's dad, Steve," I said, my voice breaking, "I just want to say that you don't have to get involved. In fact, the only reason I'm telling you is because I figured you had the right to know. But, again, I don't expect you to get involved. If you need some time then take it. Call me when you're ready to talk."

I started to get up, but Steve pulled me back. The second I was sitting, he pressed his lips to mine. I moaned as he pushed me back, instantly hovering over me. Our lips and bodies began our usual routine of pleasing each other.

Steve broke the kiss before things could get too heated. He leaned back but stayed close to me.

"I'm glad you told me," he whispered. "I know there are a lot of logistics to figure out, but there is one thing I can say right now to help relieve some of your stress."

"What?" I asked with my stomach basically in my throat.

"I want to be involved."

"You do?" I stuttered, my voice breaking. Steve smiled at me as he moved some hair out of my face.

"Of course I do, baby," he whispered. I let out a small moan as Steve kissed me again.

"There's one more thing," I said, stopping things before they could get started.

"What is it, baby girl?"

"Johnny deserves to know who his father is. All his life, I've said that I didn't know who it was, that it was a one-night stand. But now that I know, now that you know, and now that we're together, he deserves to be involved. I mean. . . We're a family, Steve. I want us to be one. At least, I want us to try."

Steve leaned in and delicately pressed his lips to mine. When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to mine.

"I want us to be one too," he whispered. He smiled as he added with a small chuckle, "He's my son. Johnny is my son. Of course I want to be involved, Y/N. You've done an amazing job but you shouldn't have to do this on your own. Whenever you're ready to tell him about us and me being his father, I will be there."

* * * * *

After a lot of discussion and debate with Steve, we figured that Johnny was old enough to handle his mom sleeping with his coach. He definitely deserved to know that his coach was actually his father. We just needed to be gentle about how we told him. I decided that it was probably best for me to tell him alone. Steve didn't fight me on it. He told me to call him and let him know how it goes.

After a lot more debating with myself, I decided to tell him at dinner. I was going to start by telling him about me and Steve secretly dating. Depending on how he responded to that, then I'd tell him what I figured out about Steve.

"Hey, Mom?" Johnny called from the other room. "What's for dinner?"

I looked up when he walked into the family room. "Actually," I cleared my throat, "I was thinking we'd go out for dinner."

"What?" Johnny laughed. "We never go out unless it's a birthday or something. Are we celebrating something?" I stood up and wrapped my arms around myself. "Mom? Is something wrong?"

"No," I said clearing my throat. I let out a small laugh when my son looked at me like he knew there was something I wasn't telling him. "Alright," I sighed, giving in. "There is something I need to talk to you about. It's nothing bad. We just need to talk about it."

"Okay," he said slowly. "I'll go grab my coat."

Maybe going to Johnny's favorite restaurant was a little overkill. We were halfway through our entrées when Johnny couldn't take it anymore.

"Mom," he sighed, putting his fork down. "Can you just tell me what's going on already? It's. . . It's killing me."

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "There are a couple of things I wanted to. . . Needed to talk to you about. They aren't bad, just. . . Complicated."

"Okay," Johnny said, shifting in his seat. "Can you just blurt it out? Might be easier on both of us."

"I've been seeing your basketball coach," I said quickly. I held my breath waiting for his reaction. He looked down at his food as he processed it. Nervous, I began to explain myself. "Look, I didn't mean. . . When we first got together, I had no idea he was your basketball coach. We met at a bar and immediately hit it off. We dated all summer. At first, I kept it from you because I wasn't sure how you'd react to me dating. And then, when I found out Steve was your coach, I knew how you'd react."

"No, you don't," he said, sounding like he was still thinking.

"What?"

"You don't know how I'd react," he said, finally looking at me.

"I don't?"

"Don't get me wrong," he said with a teasing smile, "it's weird. Like really weird. But can I ask you one question?"

"Of course, baby," I said quickly. "What do you want to know?"

"Does Coach Harrington make you happy?"

My heart jumped into my throat at his question. "He does," I said, my voice dropping. "He has made me feel things I haven't felt in a long time."

"Ew," he teased.

"That's not what I meant," I said quickly.

"I know," he laughed. "I'm just messing with you, Mom. But, honestly, I'm glad he makes you happy. You've spent my entire life taking care of me. If Coach Harrington takes care of you, then I'm okay with it."

"You're amazing," I gushed.

"Mom," he groaned.

"Sorry," I chuckled. "I mean it, Johnny. Most teenagers would hate the idea of their mom dating their coach. It really doesn't bother you?"

"No," he shrugged. "I like Coach Harrington. He's awesome."

That was extremely reassuring.

"That's good to hear," I whispered, "because there is something else I need to tell you."

"Okay," he said as he went back to eating his dinner.

"You know how I wasn't sure who your father is," I started this news slower.

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Well. . . I know now."

Johnny's head snapped up. "You do?" He stuttered.

"I figured it out," I said, my voice soft.

"Who is it?" He asked, scooting closer to the table. I smiled at him, suddenly nervous to tell him.

"It's Coach Harrington," I whispered.

"What?"

"It was Steve that I met that night at the Halloween party," I further explained.

"Wait," Johnny stuttered. "So you're saying. . . Coach Harrington is. . . My dad?"

"He is."

He cleared his throat before asking, "Does he know?"

"He knows," I smiled, my eyes filling with tears. "In fact, I was with him when I figured it out. He offered to be here when I told you but I thought it would be better. . ."

"Does he want to be involved?" Johnny cut me off. He cleared his throat before asking, "I mean. . . Does he want to be a part of our family?"

I reached over and gently placed my hand on his. He looked up at me and my heart sank when I saw the tears threatening to spill.

"That is exactly what he wants, sweetheart," I whispered. "If you want that too."

* * * * *

I walked into Johnny's basketball practice, my heart jumping into my throat when I saw my son talking to Steve. It felt hard to breathe as I watched them talk. I wrapped my arms around myself, not wanting to interrupt them. Steve caught me over Johnny's shoulder. He said something to him before nodding my way.

"Mom!" Johnny yelled as he ran over to me. I laughed as he wrapped me in a hug.

He's never done this. He's never been affectionate with me. Especially somewhere his friends could see him hugging his mother. Ever since I told him about Steve being his father, he's been like this more with me. He's also been eager to go to practice.

"How was practice?" I asked as I returned the hug.

"Awesome, as always," he laughed. Suddenly, his smile dropped. "Umm. . . Mom?"

"What is it, hun?"

"Can we. . . I was talking to Coach. . . I invited him over for dinner," he finally got out. "Is that okay?"

"Of course, baby," I smiled.

His demeanor changed as he got nervous. "I just thought it would be good for him to join us at dinner a couple of times since he's. . ."

"Your father," I finished for him. "How is that, by the way? I mean, how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," he shrugged. "It's a little weird but I've always liked him. It might take me some time before I'm ready to call him Dad."

"You don't have to start calling him that," I said quickly. "At least not right away. Take your time, sweetheart."

"Hey, you two."

"Hi. . . Coach," Johnny said, glancing at me.

"What are you guys talking about?" Steve asked glancing at me.

"Johnny was just telling me that he invited you to dinner tonight," I said. "Anything sound good to either of you?"

"Pizza," Johnny said instantly. Steve and I shared a look.

"Nothing homemade?" I offered.

"Nah," Johnny said before jogging to the locker room. I couldn't help but follow him with my eyes. I gasped when Steve stepped up behind me.

"He's okay," he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"Is he?" I didn't bother to turn around.

Steve grabbed my waist and spun me around. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. He glanced around the empty gym before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. He broke the kiss and kept his face inches from mine.

"He's fine," he reassured. "I talked to him before practice. Or should I say, he talked to me."

"He did?" I whispered. "What did he say?"

"He told me that you told him about us and about me being his father," Steve explained. "All he said was that he wanted to make sure that I would be around for a while."

"And what did you say?"

Steve smiled as he pulled me closer. He leaned down and pressed his lips delicately to mine. I moaned softly as I deepened the kiss. We broke apart, both of us breathing heavily.

"I said that I would be in his and your life for the rest of mine."

"What did he say?" I asked as I played with the collar of his shirt. I looked up to see him smiling at me.

"He said that he wanted me to be in your life for the rest of his life," Steve whispered. "And he said that he sees how happy I make you and how he would get me fired and destroy my life if I ever broke your heart."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry," I giggled. "He shouldn't have threatened you like that."

"It's okay," he shrugged. "It's kinda sweet how protective he was of you."

"He's a good kid," I blushed.

"He's a fantastic kid," Steve chuckled. His smile softened. "All thanks to you. Y/N, you did an amazing job with him. And I hope you know that I will do everything I can to give you and Johnny a good life. I know I wasn't there to help you through the hard years, but I'm here now and I want to be here for the rest of my life. I love you, Y/N."

My breath got caught in my throat. Overcome with happiness, I grabbed his face and smashed my lips onto his. I felt him smile as he tightened his arms around my waist and deepened the kiss. I broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily.

"I love you too, Steve."

Part 2

[that-birdy-chick]

Part 2 of me rambling about s8 of hawaii five 0

Live commentary

ep 6

- did-did Danny really just organize an intervention for Steve? To make him take better care of himself?? I don't know how to feel about this

- Lou really just said "Steve listen to your husband, he loves you" spoken like a true married man

- kinda gotta agree with Dog, not your finest move Danny

- so can we all agree that Danny losing his mind a little over Steve's radiation poisoning is kinda like the whole Steve losing his mind over Danny retiring thing but in reverse?

- I think Steve has never looked more stressed than with this stress counseler person asking him about his sexlife right in front of danny

- awwww now the end of this episode is in my top 3 favorite heart to hearts these two dorks have ever had

- Danny being honest about being scared that Steve isn't taking his radiation poisoning seriously to the point it keeps him awake at night and steve replying that he's scared too but that he doesn't want Danny to change because he loves him the way he is and that he does take things seriously URHGH

THE GROWTH! The genuinely healthy communication! I'm so proud of them 🥹

ep 7

- no no no what is going on between adam and kono? My breakup senses are tingling and I don't like it

- I swear the way Adam and Steve's conversation in the car went is so "let's talk about our respective marriages" coded

Like honestly it's so blatantly obvious - they are literally paralleling mcdanno to kono and adam ffs

- hey and come on adam you too? Why does everyone need to shit on the restaurant thing

- haha Steve is mad people he cares about just walk into a dangerous situation without backup - I love how this season confronts Steve with his own behavior

-hmm l don't know how to feel about Lou literally deleting evidence to protect tani, really most of their shady "police work" really didn't age well

- damn Steve killed a cop, that's definitely gonna fuck with him

- love how Lou is looking out for everyone, he just is the team grandpa

- sooo adam is gonna join five 0 right? This is what all this is about isn't it?

- I swear I am trying to care about junior and tani and what's going on with them but Idk so far I haven't really warmed up to them

ep 8

- eyyy Danny is back and calls Steve babe within 1 min into the episode? This can only be a good one

- nvm I swear to God Steve if you crash land yet another plane-

Seriously dude? Haven't you learned your lesson from the last time?

- naww Danny is so proud of Steves character development, sure hope he isn't gonna do something dumb and risky and ruin it again

- okay so tani and junior huh? They're definitely gonna be a thing soon aren't they

- the dude was killed because he was hiding from a drug cartel that he snitched on and fled with the drug lords daughter, I swear all these people always have the most dramatic backstories

- aaaand steve is doing the dumb reckless thing, Danny my guy I feel you're pain, he is so done with his shit he doesn't even yell at him anymore

- Danny is such a fucking saint, Steve almost went and got himself killed AGAIN and all he cares about is being last and danny husband of the fucking year just goes "yeah yeah you did well let's get a beer maverick"

- okay tani and her brother are kinda cute in their peek sibling behavior, I feel bad now for calling her a kono replacement, girl is much more than that

ep 9

- damn love Jerry's new haircut

- I will never get tiered of Danny and steve bickering about the restaurant, I know they are setting it up to fail but I genuinely think this could have been a good thing to eventually end the show on, like a retirement thing, but oh well

- aww I love Danny trying to comfort neolani with something Steve told him, only to have it backfire and make him anxious again

- pfffff and tani and junior sit in the far back like literal children

- oh great we're doing the biological warfare stuff again, this should be fun

- so they only have 8 hours to live? sounds like a prime love confession set up to me

- love our respective couples comforting each other, have to say tani and junior are doing a way better job tho like seriously Steve "try not to die while I take this call okay?" that's the best you can do, seriously?

- and of course Danny's all time stress response is to bitch about or at Steve, stellar coping skills all around

- omg danny did not just say-and steve didn't - OMG is it actually-

-nvm of course it's a fake out, damn it after 7 season why do I still keep falling for this shit

-the little restaurant talk Danny started to distract Steve and himself with was pretty sweet tho

- hey, wait why is Danny the only one definitely close to death? The others all seem relatively fine

- and of course Steve has to go and needlessly risk himself, so junior has to safe both their ass's instead of him just doing it on his own in the first place

- excuse me people why are there not more fanfics about the crew stuck in quarantine together?? this shit is hilarious and has so much potential for angst!

Please if anyone has some great fic recommendations send them my way please!

-no come on Danny, Steve didn't wanna upset you! That's honestly a pretty mature thing given the situation you were in, and now their arguing

- poor tani and junior they be stuck with these two idiots for a long time

- I could really see tani, just snapping at them after two days to either kill each other or fuck it out already, because their whole shebang is just exhausting for everyone

ep 10

-AHHHHH they finally opened the restaurant!? Progress!

- why does the screen look weird? Please don't let this be a dream type thing

- "Right now grandma Williams is smiling down at you" awww Steve, that is so sweet🥹

- nooo it's a dream thing 😭

- love how everyone makes fun of Steves near mental breakdown haircut, really dude it looks terrible, why does no one stop him?

- wow you really gonna give em kids the judgemental stares for flirting? Steve Danny as if you're any better

- and of course they're getting jumped in freaking quarantine

- really the dude went through all that trouble, just to kill Danny? And didn't even try aiming for the head? amateur

- aww Danny imagining grace wedding, my heart <3

- Danny is hurt, Steve is freaking loosing it, I'm so here for this

- Lou really said "sir, you better have a plan soon because if you don't Steve will come up with one, and only God can help us if that happens" I love you so much Lou

- huh so Danny thinks Charlie will be a cop? That's interesting

- awww and of course Steve is there, sitting next to him like a good husband, and the rest of the ohana

- nooo Danny being there for kono and adams first kid, that is so wholesome 😭

- Steve is straight up having a terrible time, while Danny has some idealistic feverdream about the future, this is so fun

- excuse me Steve you fingering your husband does absolutely not make you even for the liver thing, you nut

- so there gonna blow up a bomb right next to another bomb? Sure that seems reasonable

- yes Lou! Get the sledge hammer!

- poor Eric, don't worry hun we still have 2 seasons left to go Danny will be fine

- no NO you cannot- you did not just show me that while Danny's dying the last thing he hallucinates about is having grown old with Steve 🥺

- "and if I could do it all over again I wouldn't change a thing" I'm done, this is it, that line just killed me 😭❤️

- excuse me, Danny is dying and you people are choosing NOW to tease Steve about his stupid haircut? Seriously??!

- yes everyone copes differently I guess, but when Steve's life was on the line no one was joking around is all I'm saying

- yes Danny Steve saved your life by fingering you, deal with it XD poor Eric is scarred for life

- love Danny genuinely getting some love for once, this was a good episode

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-eleven

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: okay, now were getting to the good stuff. I'd be interested if any of you have any ideas on what you think was in those vials that Dr. Banner had? Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!

Tags: @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @clqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn @pampeop @cjand10 @purplerain85 @savannahcole99 @evanstanhoney @sebastianstansqueen @portrait-ninja @honeyglee @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @lilya-petrichor

Arranged Masterlist

“Hi detective Roth, this is Y/N Barnes calling you again. I’m wondering if there are any updates in my parents' case. I haven’t heard anything in a couple of days. Call me when you can, thanks.” 

With a sigh, I pocketed my phone and adjusted my position on the couch. My laptop was perched on my lap as I scrolled through the few files of case notes that I did have, hoping something different would gain my attention that hadn’t before. 

After our fight last night, Bucky had retreated down to his office for a while and then he sneaked back into bed right before the sun rose. It was well into the afternoon as I had yet to see or hear from him, the door to his office being shut all day. I wondered if Bucky had taken what I said to heart about being off the hook with our marriage. As much as I didn't want to admit it, especially in front of him, I had begun to grow strong feelings for him. 

“Y/N?” 

I peered over my shoulder and smiled towards Steve. “Hey, where have you been all day?” 

Steve ran a hand through his long hair before sitting on the couch next to me. 

“Buck and I have been busy. I thought I could come check on you to see how you’re doing. I heard about your little side quest last night.” 

“I’m guessing Bucky bitched about it to you?” I closed my laptop and set it onto the table in front of me. 

He nodded. “He’s not mad at you, Y/N. He’s more upset at the fact that you lied to him.” 

“I had too. There was no way that he would let me go if he knew what I was doing.” 

“You don’t need to defend your choices to me,” Steve raised his hands up. “But Buck cares about you, that’s why he was so upset.” 

With a defeated sigh, I nodded. “Yeah, I know. I know.”

“Plus,” he bumped our shoulders together. “If you took me last night, I wouldn’t have ditched you the second the cops showed up.” 

I sat on top of my knees, fully facing Steve. “I can’t believe John did that! The second we heard sires, he was gone.” 

Steve and I shared a laugh but when a cough sounded from behind us, I saw another one of Bucky’s men leaning against the doorway. It was the darker skinned guy, Sam Wilson. 

“Mrs. Barnes?” 

I cringed at his formality, realizing that this was the first time we had officially met. 

“Y/N is fine,” I gave him a warm smile. 

He returned it without hesitation. “Bucky wants you in his office; both of you guys.” 

Steve and I shared a look before we followed Sam down the long hallway to Bucky’s office and when we stepped inside, I couldn’t stop the way my feet froze at the sight in front of me.

Bucky sat at the large table in his office, Steve and Sam taking their respective spots next to him, and on the table was a variety of guns and stacks upon stacks of money. His blue long-sleeved brought out the richness of his eyes and I bit the inside of my cheek at how well it clung to his muscles.

“Oh, I thought you wanted to see me,” I stated and began to back up. 

He leaned forward in his chair, arms resting onto the table. “Find any new information in the same files you’ve read before?” 

My shoulders dropped with Bucky’s words, him somehow knowing I had been staring into the case files all morning without him even leaving his office. 

“Nope,” I admitted. 

Bucky motioned for me to come towards him with a finger and I obliged, still unsure why he had all of this stuff laid out on the table. But I then noticed what was hiding underneath all of the guns and money; case files dealing with my parents, some that I had never laid eyes on. 

“How’d you get those?” I pointed. 

Steve stuffed the stacks of cash into a bag before locking them away into a safe that was built into the wall. He placed a large picture over it, concealing its placement. Sam had begun doing the same thing with the guns, only hiding them in a faulty floorboard and once they were hidden, he tossed the large rug back over it. 

“Okay, I’m starting to think I shouldn’t be seeing all of this,” I said and began to walk out. 

Bucky reached for my hand, halting my footsteps. “No, I wanted you here for a reason. Sit down.” 

He nodded towards the empty chair next to him and I obliged, hesitantly. 

“You’re not going to stop looking into your parents murder, are you?”

I shook my head. 

Bucky handed me a thick folder that was filled with witness statements of people that had seen my parents all throughout their last day. It was the usual names that I had seen but there was one name that stuck out, one I had never seen before. 

“How did you get this?” I questioned. 

He remained silent but he didn’t need to tell me how. He unwittingly had connections in law enforcement and other mob bosses around New York that probably owed him a favor or two. 

“Wait,” the thought slammed into me. “Have you been looking into their case as well?” 

Bucky nodded. “We all have. 

My eyes shone with gratitude at the three men, especially towards Sam who hadn’t even met me yet and he was willing to help out. I voiced that to him, and he gave a small chuckle. 

“You’re important to Bucky so it’s important to me.” 

I gazed over towards Bucky and placed a hand on his flesh arm. “Thank you for this. Even after what I said to you last night you still continued to work the case?” 

He brought my hand to his lips and left a firm kiss on my wedding ring. “I’d do anything for you, doll. You mentioned how I’m off the hook, but I don’t see it that way. I agreed to the marriage for your parents but I’m staying because of you.” 

Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them away before they fell. 

“I’m sorry for last night,” I apologize with a deep breath. 

Bucky placed a tender kiss on my lips, my hands cradling his face. 

“All is forgiven, doll.” 

“Does this mean I get a little bit more insight on what you actually do behind closed doors?” I asked, hopeful. 

Bucky’s shoulder went rigid with hesitation. “Let’s agree overtime I’ll fill you in. There are some things that I don’t want you to know for you-.” 

“My safety,” I finished with a nod. “I know.” 

Steve’s phone rang loudly in the room and as his eyes skimmed over the screen, his face fell. 

“Stark is at the front door requesting a meeting,” he informed Bucky. 

Bucky cursed under his breath and knowing this was going to be something I my eyes shouldn’t see, or ears shouldn’t hear, I rose to my feet and gave him a quick kiss. 

“I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” 

With a soft pat to my ass, Bucky sent me on my way, but only to be stopped by Tony Stark who almost barreled himself into the office. 

“Well, hello there Mrs. Barnes.” He smirked. 

“Hello Mr. Stark. I was just leaving.” 

Tony quickly shook his head. “This will be quick, and it pertains to you.” 

“It does?” I questioned. 

Bucky was fast to his feet and gently moved me behind him. “What do you want, Stark?” 

Tony pulled four golden envelopes out of his jacket before passing them out to each of us. Quick fingers worked to open it and my eyes doubled as I read the invitation. 

A gala in support of the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes. Saturday the 23rd at eight pm. Formal attire only. 

I scoffed. “You’re throwing us a party?” 

“A celebratory gala since you two never had a wedding. All of our associates will be there, think of it as another way to get your product out there.” 

Bucky stiffened in front of me and I placed a gentle hand on his back. He eased into my touch only slightly. 

“Y/N can’t make it. She’s busy.” Bucky stated. 

I wanted to protest however with the way Bucky had clenched his jaw and the anger I felt radiating off of him, I realized that he really did not want me to come with. 

Tony tsked while adjusting the sunglasses on his face. “She’s the bride and guest of honor. Has to be there.” 

He bid us all a goodnight and once he was gone, Bucky slammed the door with a few choice curses. 

“Mother fucker did this on purpose!” 

I shook my head with utter confusion. “Why would he do this? Throw us a party? He barely knows me.” 

Steve ran a hand over his beard. “Bucky, he knows that if you bring her with you it's going to be a distraction for the buy. Anything Stark can do to make sure he gets a bigger cut.” 

My ears perked up. “Buy? For what?” 

Bucky placed his hands on his hip while keeping his gaze trained hard on the hardwood floor beneath our feet. 

“Is it even ready? Have we tested it?” Sam questioned. 

I grew even more annoyed that they continued to talk about whatever this product was in front of me but yet to fill me in on what exactly this product was that Bucky had been working on. 

“Can someone fill me in on what the hell you’re talking about?” I demanded while looking at each of them.

Bucky sighed before grabbing my hands. “I promise I will fill you in but not now.” 

My lips parted to interject but with the pleading look in Bucky’s eyes, I snapped them shut. He had been thrown off guard because of Tony’s surprise gala. The last thing he needed was me pestering him for more answers. 

So instead, I placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m holding you to that, Bucky.” 

I decided to leave the three of them amongst themselves, knowing that they needed some privacy to discuss whatever the next steps would be.

[artiststarme]

With the sneaky like a ninja post, I think it would be even funnier if knowing the ending that Hop knew every time Steve snuck out of the house that he called Eddie up to let him know Steve is coming. And that if he didn't show up in a specific amount of time, Eddie had to call Hop back and they would go looking. So when Steve was bragging to Eddie about being like a ninja he knew that Hop knew just wanted to let Steve believe. While Steve felt suffocated, they were just looking out for his well being.

Such a cute story. LOVE LOVE LOVED it.

Yes, yes, yes! I love this idea and thanks for the ask!

~*~*~*~

Hopper waited until he heard the window latch closed before he got out of bed with a sigh. This kid was going to be the death of him. He ambled to the phone on the hallway wall and called the number that he knew he would be getting unsettlingly familiar with while Steve was staying there. As soon as he heard the line pick up, he started giving orders. “Look Munson, you’re a young man and I know what young men think about. You better keep it PG-13 or I will find you and I’ll make it wish you were convicted by the cops for those murders, you hear me? Steve is headed over there right now and I need you to call me in 30 minutes or I’m going to think that bastard gave himself another concussion. Got it?”

“What-” Eddie asked over the phone with a crack in his voice. 

“I said, ‘got it’?”

“Yessir, Chief. I got it, loud and clear. No getting handsy tonight and I will return him unscathed,” Eddie stammered.

“And call me back in 29 minutes.”

“Yes, and-and do that… I’m going to hang up now if that’s okay-”

Hopper hung up the phone with a sigh of exasperation. As promised, Eddie gave him a subtle call 28 minutes later with promises to drop Steve off in the morning and Hopper went to bed. He had to be up bright and early to ruin a brat’s day for getting Steve hurt in the first place. 

~*~*~*~

The next morning, Hopper woke up bright and early to go wreck some havoc. He knew it wasn’t a great thing to be so excited over tormenting children but this one had it coming. He gave a smug-looking Steve a fatherly pat on the shoulder, grabbed some coffee, and headed to the Wheeler’s.

“What were you thinking?! If Steve says no to giving you brats a ride, you don’t insult his character or push him into doing it! What were you thinking, Wheeler?” He yelled at him.

Mike just glared up at him in defiance. “I was thinking that my friends and I needed a ride and I got one!”

“At the expense of Steve! Now you won’t be getting any rides from anyone because you pissed us all off! How does that feel? Are you happy now, Wheeler?” Hopper mocked him. 

It was true, the adults and the older teens were on strike from giving the kids any rides until Mike apologized to Steve for contributing to him crashing his car and getting another concussion. His stubbornness hadn’t allowed him to yet but he was on thin ice. 

“Are you happy, Hopper? You’re ridiculing a teenager. Congratulations, you’re pathetic,” Mike sneered at him. 

Oh, that was the final line to cross. “Oh, you think I’m pathetic? See how pathetic you are without your girlfriend and best friend. You’re banned! You won’t be seeing El or Will until you apologize to Steve. And me too! I’ve been dealing with your ungrateful ass for years, I deserve a goddamn award.”

Mike opened his mouth, no doubt to complain about the hypocrisy and unfairness of it all. Hopper just lit up a cigarette and walked to his cruiser. “Deal with it, Wheeler.”

Then he took off in a puff of smoke and laughed all the while. It was about damn time that Mike Wheeler was shocked speechless. 

~*~*~*~

Any time he heard the bedroom window opening, the back door creaking, or even the one memorable time the kitchen window above the sink opening, Hopper pulled himself out of bed to call one Eddie Munson. 

He would give the kid a head’s up that Steve had left and asked him to give him a call after thirty minutes to ensure that he reached the trailer safely. In return, Hopper didn’t mention Steve’s smug expressions or his murmurings to Jonathan at the breakfast table that he ‘was exactly like a ninja, see’.

And when he told Steve that he knew about the many times he snuck out, he did Munson a solid and didn’t mention that he called him every single time. Lord only knew the shitstorm that would arise if he figured that out.

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[blackwood4stucky]

to become a monster

a morbius stucky au

Just imagine a lil Stevie Rogers tryna make it in the world. A brilliant young boy with a keen mind for science, stuck in a facility to help him live.

Enter Brock Rumlow, just another kid with bad blood running through his veins. Dubbed Arnie by Stevie, after a string of boys that always end up leaving the facility in body bags, Brock and the little blond mastermind become good friends.

Fast Forward to the Future

Dr. Steven "Steve" Rogers and Arnie are still best friends. Arnie funds Steve's research for a cure to their disease and others like them.

Enter Dr. James "Bucky" Barnes, army vet turned scientist with a metal arm to show for his efforts.

Working with Dr. Rogers was something else, the guy was a firecracker with a mind for the ages. Bucky learned so much from Steve, he grew to admire the blond's inner strength that made him seem larger than life, his willingness to help people, to give his all in order to save lives.

Once Bucky realizes what Steve's research is actually about and what he plans to do... well, Bucky goes with him. He's not going to allow Steve to do this alone! Absolutely not, Steve would have to count his fuckin' days if he ever thought he would be attempting self-experimentation on his own! He's going to make sure nothing happens to him, even if he has to conduct the procedure with Steve. Save that little asshole from himself...

It breaks Bucky's heart to see Steve lyin' on that table like that but if helps him live, he'll wait by his side because that's what partners do. He doesn't know how he'll react if something goes wrong, he doesn't know how he'll go on without his Stevie.

Of course, things do end up doing wrong. Sleazy mercenaries that think they're above everyone get caught in the crosshairs and Bucky, well... he gets hurt.

Steve can't believe what he's done. Bucky's lying there on the ground, he's still alive - heartbeat strong in his chest, metal arm resting limp at his side. All he knows is that he can't leave Bucky like this... but he can't get caught in the crosshairs by the authorities either. So he makes a call... then he leaves...

Steve is a scientist at his core, he knows he'll have to see just how powerful he has become, to understand just what he can do. Of course that comes with consequences when Arnie comes back into the picture with his own desire to live. Steve knows that no one can get their hands on the serum he created, not even Arnie.

Bucky wakes in a daze to officers in his hospital room. So many questions about Steve's whereabouts, about dead mercenaries, about unsanctioned experiments, but he says nothing. He knows nothing, he hit his head and blacked out, there's nothing he can help the officers with. He would rather die than turn on Stevie.

Bucky knows the cops will be watching him after that interview though. He weaves through the city with his work bag on his shoulder, trying to lose his tail. He speaks Romanian with the bodega owner before dashing out the back of the store and onto the next bus that comes his way.

Hearing Steve's voice behind him sends tremors of relief and desire through his veins. Stevie's okay, is all Bucky can think. There is no way he will let the little bastard out of his sight again. Only, he's a big bastard now.

Stevie as always needs Bucky's help. Arnie has lost his marbles and stole a vial of the serum to become the monster Steve wanted to protect the world from. Bucky vows to do whatever it takes to help Steve, he always will, till the end of the line.

Getting back into the lab is easy for Bucky. No cops anywhere, retrieving everything Steve needs will be a breeze. Or it should have been. Arnie was waiting for him, or rather, for his Stevie. It's easy to keep his heartbeat calm but how long will he be able to keep this up?

Bucky returns to Stevie's side in the makeshift lab where they spend a little time getting reacquainted with each other. Where they can finally act on desires they've had for awhile.

The moment doesn't last but often times they never do. Being pulled away from Bucky never settles well in Steve's stomach but his old mentor needs his help.

It's obvious that all this was Arnie's doing to draw him away from his Bucky. That much is plain when he hears both of them calling on the wind. Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. Arnie's plan in drawing Steve out works, nothing will keep him from Bucky but it's too late. A kiss of death is all Steve can give Bucky. All Bucky wants is for it to mean something as his life slips away from him but not before taking a bit of Stevie's blood into himself.

A fight to the death between Stevie and Arnie, Brock, sees Steve as the winner while Bucky claws his way back to life.

If anyone wants to write this just tell me and send me a link to read!

[buckydeservesthebest]

God... I just came to confirm my fears and suspicions that Bucky is going through a bad time... Going to court apparently escorted by a cop and probably being the defendant is bad enough...

This may prove the theory that he's being blackmailed into working for the government as a congressman. Because there is no way he just ran for office for the sake of it and people just voted for him and that's it. From what I could find out about the US Congress is that all members have to be elected by ballot and only in certain situations can the Governor choose the member without a vote... So no, Bucky didn't get there by conventional means.

Val is probably the one behind all of this, as she has Yelena, John, Ava and Antonia doing her dirty work for her, so maybe it suits her to have someone like Bucky, Steve Rogers' best friend, a war veteran who fought alongside the Avengers as a public figure.

I had mentioned before the fact that Bucky has grown his hair back and his beard a little longer than he had in TFATWS, as well as the fact that he washes his vibranium arm in the dishwasher is an indication of lack of self care, which means Bucky is not seeing for himself which means he is not having a good time...

As some others have mentioned before, maybe this is all picking up on one of the many absurd and extremely mishandled events in TFATWS, where they wanted to sell us the idea that in the end Bucky was magically recovered from all the trauma, PTSD, depression and grief thanks to Sam's "MoTivAtioNaL sPeEch" (which was nothing more than vile victim-blaming) and that "he realised he had to take responsibility for his actions and that he has to do the work to get out of that hell", (I won't go into how this is one of the most abhorrent, offensive, outrageous and hurtful things you can say to victims of abuse)...

Needless to say, this is NOT a healing process, hell! It's not even the way PTSD alone should be treated! Because in true healthy therapy this recovery process would take years to show progress...

It's clear from the information we've had from Thunderbolts that all the characters are "broken" people in some way and that it would be their development of mutual kinship that would help them "heal" so to speak.

The problem here is pretty obvious, because while Yelena, John, Ava and Antonia are people who have continued to get into dirty jobs like contract killings among many other bad things, which to my mind doesn't even make them anti-heroes, and they do fall into the category of former bad guys looking for redemption. BUCKY IS NOT AND NEVER HAS BEEN A BAD GUY, BUT AN INNOCENT VICTIM AND SURVIVOR OF AN ABUSE THAT LASTED 70 YEARS, AND IN ORDER TO HEAL HE ONLY HAS TO BE RECOGNISED AS SUCH!!!

To lump him in with the others is to continue to vilify him unfairly!

I know we still have to wait for more information about the movie, but this much we know is already scaring me too much...

To think that Marvel is never really going to let our boy have any peace kills me...

First look at Sebastian Stan in Thunderbolts*

[hawkins-losers]

Cuff me, officer | Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Summary: You dress up as a cop for Halloween

Word count: - -

A/N I had other plans for this fic, but I didn’t end up having time to finish it before Halloween so I’m leaving the ending to your imagination

-

‘’I don’t get the appeal,’’ Eleven said with a frown between her eyebrows as you slicked her hair back with mousse and a brush, helping her get ready for going trick-or-treating with Max and the boys.

She was dressing up as the Childlike Empress from A Never Ending Story. You had rented it at Family Video a few weeks ago and she had loved the movie – beside that one scene with the horse. It’s a little traumatizing for a child.

You, on the other hand, were going to Steve’s Halloween bash.

‘’You are dressed as…Hopper?’’

You shook your head. ‘’No.’’ You couldn’t blame her for coming to that conclusion. You were wearing your father’s old uniform. ‘’I’m using his old uniform for my costume. I’m just a regular cop.’’

Last week while thrifting, you found a mini skirt for your light khaki police uniform. It wasn’t perfect, but the color matched the shirt well enough for a house party. Hopper’s shirt was too big for you, so you used a belt to make it fit and hooked a prop gun and a pair of handcuffs to it. It looked just like his regular Sheriff uniform.

Eleven’s frown deepened. ‘’Why?’’

At fourteen, you figured she was too young – and too innocent – to understand why dressing up as a cop was hot. Especially to the male eye. To preserve that innocence, you lied to her.

‘’Because my friends and I are all dressing up as first responders. Therese is a nurse and Louise is a…firefighter.’’

‘’Oh. That’s cool. Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will are dressing up as the Ghost…Ghostfinders?’’

‘’Ghostbosters,’’ you corrected.

El nodded. ‘’Yes. Mike wanted us to do a couple costume, but Dustin got really mad because he built this machine for his costume and, without Mike Halloween would be ruined.’’

That sounded like Dustin, bossy and dramatic.

‘’What about Max?’’ You tied her hair with an elastic and reached for the headpiece you had helped her make with supplies from the craft store. The resemblance was impeccable.

‘’Max is Michael Myers. He kills babysitters,’’ she said flatly.

‘’He does.’’

*

When you arrived at the party, it wasn't Steve who answered the door. It was Tommy H., Steve's best friend. He whistled at your costume, seemingly not caring that his girlfriend, Carol, was right there. That said a lot about his faithfulness. Wandering eyes don’t usually end with just the eyes.

Right before pressing the doorbell, you had unbuttoned one of the buttons, the lace of your black bra peeking a little. You even wore a matching panty under your costume – for later fun. If Hopper had seen you in the street with your bra showing even just a smidge, he would’ve ordered you to get in the car and taken you home.

You didn’t respond to Tommy’s tasteless whistling, moving past him and letting yourself into the house.

‘’I didn’t think you would go through with your idea,’’ Louise said, squealing at your costume. ‘’Harrington better keep an eye on you, he’s gonna make some people jealous tonight.’’

Her compliment was an exaggeration – there was no way you looked that good –, but you thanked her. Louise was the best to hype her friends up. When you were unsure about your outfit choice for your first date with Steve, she showered you with compliments and said Steve would drop to his knees when he’d see you in that dress.

In the end, she hadn’t been wrong. Steve did drop to his knees.

‘’Do you think he's gonna get the joke? He can be a bit slow sometimes,’’ she added.

The reason you dressed up as a cop was because last month, Steve got a speeding ticket. Unfortunately for him, Officer Powel had been the one to pull him over. When the officer left, Steve had made a joke about how he would’ve charmed his way out of his speeding ticket if it had been a woman officer.

You shrugged. ‘’I hope so.’’

After parting with Louise, you went looking for your boyfriend.

You found him by the stairs with a beer in hand, laughing with some guys from the basketball team. He was dressed as Tom Cruise’s character in Risky Business, which was a lazy costume in your opinion. You had tried to get him to dress as Danny from Grease, but Steve had refused to gel his hair like him.

‘’Are you the owner of this house? I’m here to break up a party.’’

Recognizing your voice, Steve turned around, then choked on his beer when he saw you in your costume. He coughed a few times, eyes glued on you. ‘’Fuck. You’re unreal.’’

‘’I’ve been getting complaints from the neighbors about someone being too hot to handle,’’ you added, not breaking out of character.

Playing along, Steve’s lips twitched into a smile at the corner. ‘’I think that would be me – in both cases.’’

You posed and Steve felt his pants getting tight. ‘’What do you think? Do I make a sexy cop?’’ You leaned forward a little, giving him a tantalizing view of your cleavage and the lacy bra beneath your outfit.

Rendered speechless, Steve moved closer to you, his eyes wide and mouth nearly salivating. ‘’If there weren't so many people around, I'd make you feel what I think,’’ he replied with his lips close to your ear, letting you know about the situation happening in his pants.

Two could play the teasing game.

‘’I might as well let you know, I’m wearing a matching underwear…and it’s a tong.’’

Steve groaned at your words. You knew exactly what to say to push his buttons.

‘’I don't know how I'm gonna make it through the party.’’

-

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[forasecondtherewedwon]

The Lovers’ Lake Effect

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Lucas Sinclair/Max Mayfield Rating: T Word Count: 1323

Summary: It isn't until Max is really looking at Steve that Lucas gets to really look at her.

“Is she watching what’s going on?” Dustin whispers.

“I think she’s just watching Steve,” Lucas whispers back, envious, uneasy.

“She is right here,” Max reminds them without surrendering the binoculars, “and she can hear you.”

“Well, what’s going on?” Dustin asks, louder.

“Who cares? I’m watching Steve.”

Lucas groans. It was cool of Steve to show up for his championship game—especially when all his friends ditched him—but he’s not ready for his ex-girlfriend to find Steve attractive. It’s Steve. Steve is like… old. And hairy! Too hairy, just like Dustin said. And whatever, maybe girls Steve’s age really are into that, but not Max. Not his Max. She’s not suddenly gaga for chest hair and overgrown babysitters and dudes who take the last seat on the boat.

Max finally lowers the binoculars and gives them the smartass smile that Lucas is so ready to admit he’s been missing.

“Who just dove into the water,” she adds. “Here. Who wants a turn?”

She hands the binoculars off to an impatient Dustin.

“So, you were just watching Steve to see what he was gonna do,” Lucas states, forcing his tone not to lift into a question.

“Partly that,” Max says breezily.

“You can’t like Steve,” he insists.

“Says who?”

“The law.”

“The law regulates crushes?”

Still standing on the bank, Max turns to face Lucas and squares her shoulders. He recognizes the stance; they’ve had their share of dumb fights and he’s aware that this is one of them, that Max is just egging him on, but she makes everything such a big deal. Some of that’s probably his fault, trying to cut her off with huge pronouncements he can’t back up, knowing she’ll inevitably pick them apart like she has all the time in the world and is happy to spend it revealing to him how wrong he is. So why, with so much prior experience, is he in this position again? Because it got Max to look at him. To turn to him and glare at him, which is better than being left alone in another hallway or parking lot while she pounds her shoe off the ground to get momentum on her skateboard or just storms away on foot.

“It should!” Lucas says, tripling down. “Staring at Steve like that is gross.”

“Like what? Through binoculars? Guess what, Lucas? They’re not my binoculars! Is Dustin being gross right now, huh?”

She flicks her hand towards Dustin while Lucas rolls his eyes.

“You saw Steve go underwater. Dustin’s not staring at Steve.”

“I’m staring at Nancy,” Dustin supplies. “Watching Nancy. Observing Nancy! Dammit, you guys, don’t make this weird. I think something’s going on out there.”

“He’s watching Nancy,” Max repeats, raising her eyebrows and giving Lucas a smug smile. “Is that allowed? She’s the same age as Steve and she’s your best friend’s sister. Are you gonna call the cops on him?”

“Dustin doesn’t have a crush on Nancy,” Lucas says.

He says it like it’s obvious, because it is obvious, until Dustin shrugs and says, “Little bit.”

Max looks even smugger and Lucas doesn’t want to take that away from her, to see her stop smiling, except then the cops actually show up and the three of them have to drop to the dirt.

“Maybe they got a tipoff that I was watching Steve,” Max mutters.

Lucas breathes the wet, tangy smell of lake water and night air and glares at her, just to keep looking her way. He wants to be here for her—it’s all he’s wanted for months—and being on his stomach on the ground next to her is better than staring at her tense back while she shuts a door in his face. But he also doesn’t want the cops to hear them talking and come over here.

“Maybe they can hear you!” he hisses back.

“You’d think you guys would’ve gotten better at ending arguments,” Dustin says angrily. “You’ve had about a million of them.”

They finally go quiet because the cops’ steps are crunching slowly in their direction, the beams of their flashlights scanning over their heads towards the dark lake.

“We can’t just lie here,” Lucas bursts out.

“They’ll hear us if we run,” Dustin says.

“Not if it’s just one of us. Just one of us could creep out of here without them hearing.” Lucas glances at Max. She frowns in confusion and automatic annoyance. That feels fair; their plans aren’t always great.

“I’m supposed to be the stealthy one?” she checks.

“Lovers’ Lake.”

“What?”

“Lovers’ Lake,” Lucas repeats, hands skimming the dirt as he gestures emphatically to compensate for his quiet voice. “Steve might’ve made Skull Rock into a popular make-out spot—”

“Or so he claims,” Dustin interrupts skeptically.

“—but Lovers’ Lake must’ve gotten its name a long time ago. The cops’ll know its reputation.”

“Got it. You two have fun making out while I run for it,” Max says.

“No no no,” Lucas says quickly. His ex grins, proud of herself for successfully messing with him.

“Well, it’s not gonna be you and me.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s approach this logically,” Dustin suggests before they can get into another hushed fight. “I am happily taken, you two are single. Do the math.”

“Suzie doesn’t have to find out,” Max says.

“I would never disrespect her by keeping a secret like that, or by kissing someone else.”

“Even in an emergency? Suzie couldn’t be disrespected in an emergency?”

“This isn’t an emergency, it’s… a pickle.”

“A pickle?” Lucas echoes, outraged.

“Shhh!”

The cops are doing a sweep of the woods now, closing in on the lake, and they’re running out of time to implement Lucas’s awesome plan. He catches Dustin’s eye.

“Go.”

Dustin nods and salutes, scrambling to his feet and then staying low as he darts away from their shitty hiding place. Lucas looks at Max to see her watching Dustin disappear into the dark. Her gaze swings to his face.

“Just because he ran doesn’t mean I should kiss you.”

“You definitely don’t have to,” Lucas grants, “but you’d be wasting a great opportunity.”

“To execute one of your plans?” she asks sarcastically.

Max shifts towards him and he’s suddenly too tongue-tied to say, No, to kiss me, all smooth like he wants to be, and not awkward like the first time they kissed at the Snow Ball.

He just says, “Yeah.”

And she says, “Fine.”

And they sit up so the cops won’t think they’re doing more than kissing, something they could actually get arrested for, and Lucas can hear Kate Bush’s aching determination pouring from the headphones Max has hooked around her neck when they lean into one another’s space and bring their faces close like they used to.

“Pretend you wanna kiss me,” he murmurs.

“How ’bout I don’t pretend?” Max counters.

She squeezes her eyes shut and jerks her chin in his direction. This is familiar to Lucas too: how she goes into a kiss so fiercely. He keeps his eyes open until the last second, heart pounding while he tries to pick out her freckles in the dark. It’s like he’s taking that buzzer-beater shot again—taking it and sinking it.

He squints as the flashlights find them. Since Starcourt, she’s made herself dull and muted, but when the light catches her red hair in the dark, Max glows. Lucas grabs the back of her neck and kisses her like he can’t hear the cops yelling about the curfew, like this reunion is real and nothing else matters. Oh, it’s supposed to scare him that Vecna’s probably going to try to come back for Max? Every single time they’ve gotten together, it’s been temporary. This fucker might think he’s an expert on short-lived, but they’ve split up an unbelievable number of times. Lucas is pretty damn confident that the only people who can break him and Max up are each other.

[fruggo]

I’m not gonna lie this would be the first time I requested something so if I do something wrong I’m really sorry,

Can I request Quentin, Leon, Steve, and Frank meeting a female reader who, before the entity took her, had already faced off her own killer?

And this made her kinda tough? Like she knows what she’s doing

oh my gosh thank you so much!! this is my first ever request to fulfill so we’re in this together :DD seriously i really appreciate you!

i decided to do a headcanon kind of format for this, i hope that’s okay! also these are my absolute favorite boys aaahhh this is so fun for a first request

the boys x tough f!reader (part 1) (part 2)

warnings: swearing, reader kicks frank in the shins

word count: ~700-1k each (sorry if it’s too long…i kind of got really excited and uhhh maybe i got carried away,, yeah. sorry)

(also i'll be honest quentin's is not my best. that was the one that got eaten by the tumblr abyss and i had to write all over again, and it just didn't come out the same way that i wanted it to at first :( i did the other boys hoping i'd get some inspiration to fix it afterwards, but i got kind of stuck. so it's not my favorite, but i hope you like it okay! i want to write better stuff for quentin in the future, he is my favorite sleepy boy <3)

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

when you arrived in the realm, everyone thought you would be the same as the others—frightened, confused, and overwhelmed. but you took this nightmarish challenge in stride, adapting to your surroundings quickly and learning far faster than anybody else had.

your past experiences had made you independent and sometimes distrustful, so once you had the gist of things, you didn’t need (or want) anybody to tell you what to do. and nobody was inclined to, either—your instincts naturally told you what to do and when.

the first time you met quentin was a little awkward, i wont lie. you were wary of speaking to the other survivors; you weren’t going to let yourself get hurt again.

it was the beginning of a trial. the nurse’s fatigued shrills could be heard all the way from the edge of the wrecker’s yard, but you immediately started work on a generator, unafraid. a few minutes passed, when soft footsteps indicated someone’s approach. it was quentin—he started to work on the wires without hesitation.

you were a little surprised, only because the other survivors usually left you to your own devices. you got the impression that maybe they were intimidated by you, which you didn’t particularly mind. but you wouldn’t particularly mind some company now and then, either.

it was comfortably silent for a while, before quentin spoke up.

“what’s your name?” he asked, gaze still focused on the wires.

hesitating a little, you told him. then you said, “and you’re quentin, right?” you already knew most everybody’s name just from observation.

“that i am,” he replied.

then it was quiet for a while.

very quiet.

well, what were you supposed to say now?

the silence was deafening and very, very uncomfortable to you. normally you were okay with a quiet atmosphere, but it was the kind of silence that buzzed in your ears, chewed at your stomach, filled the area as if it were something solid. man, what were you supposed to say—

it was then that you realized poor quentin had fallen asleep, his face smooshed onto the generator. his cheek was now covered in grease and grime.

it made you smile—only a little. you finished repairing the generator on your own, causing quentin to wake with a start and bang his head on the pole protruding from the machine. he swore like a sailor until he realized where he was, smiling sheepishly.

“sorry, i wanted you to have your nap. you looked really tired,” you said. you also couldn’t stop admiring the dark grease on his face—it was really quite funny. and no, you weren’t going to say anything about it. it could stay there a little longer.

you spent the rest of the trial running the nurse around the whole wrecker’s yard, only suffering one injury until the end. quentin had no idea how you had been here for such little time and already knew how to outplay the nurse, one of the most difficult killers to survive against. he still didn’t know how to do it well himself, so he was thankful for you.

however, once the exit gates were opened, you found yourself in a bad spot. the nurse had caught you in an empty clearing with nowhere to hide or predict her moves, and she downed you instantly. quentin cringed hearing your agonized scream as you were hooked.

there was no way you were dying on his watch. once he was sure the nurse was gone, he gently lifted you from the hook, pulling out his medical kit to begin patching up your shoulder.

despite the pain, you had enough energy to smile at him and say, “thanks, nap boy.”

quentin feigned offense with a wry grin, pulling out some gauze. “is that all i’m going to be to you? nap boy?”

you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “maybe you won’t be if you get me out of here.”

“that won’t be a problem," he smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

“show me the gates and then we’ll talk, nap boy.”

from then on, quentin became your go-to source for supplies and general comfort. you weren't scared of this place, but it was nice to know you had somebody who would really be there for you.

he would often fall asleep on your shoulder at the campfire--he really was a nap boy, and you would never let him live that down.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘

leon could not tear his eyes away from you the first time you arrived in the realm. your presence was strong; he could tell you weren’t one to back away from a fight.

most of the survivors had been (rightly) confused and disoriented when they popped into the realm, but you tried to accept it quickly. you didn’t like it, in fact all you wanted was just to go home, but you came to terms with it and jumped into trials headfirst like an insane person.

that was the courageous part about you—maybe you were scared, but you did scary shit anyways. in fact, you did scary shit to spite the fear, to prove to yourself that you were strong enough to overcome it.

and leon couldn’t lie, that was cool as hell.

you had tunnel vision and didn’t pay much notice to the other survivors; you were too focused on learning about this place and getting out of trials. having gone through some real shit, being here hardly came as a surprise to you. if you were going to be here forever, what was the point in mourning? might as well just accept it and try your hardest to survive. maybe someday this sick game would end, but for now, you were prepared to fight for your life and that’s all you could really focus on.

your first trial was not the best. even though you were resourceful, you didn’t know what the objective was yet, so you weren’t sure where to start other than analyzing your surroundings. luckily for you, leon kennedy was one of your teammates.

after being downed immediately by bubba’s chainsaw and tossed onto a hook, you were amazingly resilient to the pain. leon was the one to lift you from the hook, and he took out his medkit to help patch your wound, but you flinched away from him before he could touch you.

he was puzzled. “what’s wrong?” he asked. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he wanted to help you.

you hesitated and looked him over before mumbling, “i’m fine.” and you tried to stand on your own, beginning to limp away. you didn’t want or need anyone’s help.

leon sighed, following after you. “let me help, that must hurt a lot.”

“i told you, cop, i’m fine. i don’t want your help, okay?”

leon opened his mouth to insist, but decided against it. if you didn’t want his help, then he shouldn’t butt in. that wouldn’t keep him from watching over you, though.

but then leon called after you (perhaps a little smugly), “do you even know what you’re supposed to do?”

begrudgingly, you stopped walking. no, you didn’t know what to do. “i’ll figure it out,” you said over your shoulder. and you would; you had been through enough to survive any situation thrown at you.

but maybe one pointer couldn’t hurt.

“do a generator,” he told you, giving you a cheeky grin when you turned around to look at him. he was lucky he was cute.

the first part of the trial had been rough, but after that first hook you were doing a lot better. you managed to find your own medkit from a chest, and you learned how to fix a few generators. you found it came pretty naturally, and were satisfied that you hadn’t needed anyone’s help (except leon’s. but you didn’t have to admit that yet). when the killer came near, you skillfully avoided him and stayed hidden as much as you could.

you were also pretending that you didn't notice leon hovering near you. he was not very good at being subtle; he was obviously trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. it was cute. you didn't want to ruin his fun, so you didn't say anything about it.

it wasn’t long before the gates were powered and in the process of being opened. you saw a red glowing light in the distance, and assumed that must be your destination. you put all of your remaining energy into sprinting to the exit, adrenaline pumping through your body.

but then there was a heartbeat. a heartbeat so loud it filled your head, splitting your concentration. it wasn’t your own heartbeat--it was the killer’s.

the sound of the cannibal’s chainsaw roared in your ears and pain tore through your body; you collapsed to the ground with a cry of agony. shit, that really hurt, and you weren't sure you could ever get used to it. eternity sure seemed a lot longer than you had first anticipated. would you really be here forever? doing this over and over?

biting your lip until it bled, you tried to crawl towards the gate, dragging the lower half of your body with much difficulty. it was no use, though--you hardly got anywhere, and you could already feel the killer picking you up. just like that, you were going to die? you had been so close..

but as you were being placed on bubba’s shoulder, you saw a flash of a police uniform and a blinding light, and before you knew it, you had been dropped to the ground, the exit gate looking awfully lovely and much more desirable than a meat hook. you gathered all of your strength and began limping forward, when suddenly you felt an arm firmly wrap around your waist and your own was placed around someone else’s shoulder.

leon. when you looked up at him, all he did was give you a calm smile, which you felt inclined to return. with him supporting you, the two of you made it safely to the exit and began the long traipse back to the campfire, where you would find yourself spending a lot of time together.

from then on, you always remained quite unfazed by the events of the entity’s realm—the only thing that ever made you feel weak was being around leon. he was just so cute :]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

you had never met someone so persistent in your life. from the moment the entity stole you here, steve harrington was after you, and there was next to nothing you could do about it. he sure was living up to his self-proclaimed role of babysitter.

you told him you were fine, that you didn’t need him following you around, but the asshole did it anyways.

“how cool do you think you are?” you asked him at some point, to which he simply shrugged with that stupid grin on his lips.

“i can take care of myself.” “i really don’t need you to baby me, steve.” “steve, if you don’t leave me alone i’m going to break your kneecaps.” these were all things that had come from your mouth multiple times recently. you were seriously thinking about that last one now.

you knew you could make it on your own, and you only wished he would give you a chance to prove that to him so he would leave you alone. but it was like he had attached himself to your hip, and for some reason the entity seemed to really enjoy putting you in trials with him. great.

he was a dumbass and a sweetheart, and you weren’t sure which one of those took higher priority. you knew he only meant well, but god, you wanted to be independent for once. why did he think he had to protect you so much? you arrived here after running for your fucking life, fighting off your long-time pursuer, and living in awful, ever-changing conditions. you had seen your closest friends die, right before your eyes. you didn’t need to be sheltered or coddled, but you couldn’t seem to make steve understand that, no matter how much you fought with him.

steve would literally throw himself in front of the killer for you. he clicked his flashlight in the killer’s face if they were after you, and he would swear and cuss until they chased him out of pure annoyance. it got him killed countless times, and you didn’t know whether to call him stupid or selfless. probably both.

eventually you decided to just copy him and see how it worked out. you weren’t scared, you had no reason to be. you wanted to show him you could be just as flashy as him.

as you arrived into a trial, steve right across from you (of course), you smiled to yourself. you had brought your best flashlight, and you were prepared to use it. the two of you began to work on a generator together, making light conversation as usual.

“if the killer comes here, hide. i’ll take him away.” “fuck you, steve harrington.” “sure, if you really want to.” “why don’t you ever leave me alone?” “it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” “i could punch you right now.” “but you won’t. i’m too good to look at.”

you know, the usual friendly stuff.

you purposefully connected the wrong wires, making the generator spark and sputter. “oops. oh no, the killer must be on their way,” you dead-panned. steve gave you an unamused look.

and indeed, only a few moments later, you heard the sound of the hillbilly and his chainsaw roaring in your direction. the two of you split up, and the killer’s weapon collided with the generator, making an awful screeching sound.

and that was when the chaos started.

steve began hollering and flicking his flashlight into the sky as usual, and after a moment’s hesitation, you did the same. steve looked at you in astonishment, pausing, but then he started again, even louder. you tried to outdo him.

“HEY BILLY! FUCK YOU!” you screamed, ignoring steve’s attempts to get you to stop. “COME AFTER ME, SHITHEAD!”

steve started actually yelling, just yelling, while you continued to swear meaninglessly. the poor hillbilly looked confused and overwhelmed, and eventually he couldn’t take the noise anymore--he just left, opting to find the other survivors while the two of you sorted out whatever it is you obviously had against each other.

it was dead silent now that the killer was gone, and you and steve were both out of breath. but as soon as you made eye contact, laughter bubbled up from your chest, causing you to collapse against the tree and slide to the ground. your voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

and then he was laughing too, stumbling over to plop down next to you, and your giggling started up a whole new round.

after the laughter died down, you stared at your hands, ignoring steve’s gaze on the side of your face until you couldn’t anymore.

“what?” you asked, finally looking at him. he was smiling all stupid again. “what?” you insisted, fighting off a grin of your own. you hated when he looked at you like that, because it made you want to smile back at him.

“nothing,” he said coyly, laughing again. you punched his shoulder playfully.

“c’mon harrington, when have you ever held your tongue before? spit it out.”

he nodded, that was true. so he said it. “i just like you, that’s all.”

oh. oh.

realization dawned upon your face. “is that why you always--”

“yes,” he interrupted you. “i thought it was obvious. man, you’re clueless sometimes.”

oh.

huh.

you guessed…maybe…steve harrington wasn’t that annoying. maybe.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍

to say you were feisty was an understatement. frank hated your guts at first because you were so good at evading him, which he would never admit. but the thing that made him really mad was that if he ever downed you, you would kick at him and try to trip him over, like actually bruise his shins. it hurt like hell.

this lead to his decision to constantly tunnel you, and he would laugh at you while you were on the hook, too. so you hated his guts just as much as he did yours. it was a mutual guts-hating situation.

your teammates always felt bad for you, but they also thought you were a badass and knew you could handle yourself. you hadn’t told anybody where you’d come from or what had happened to you, but they knew it was something interesting. there was a reason that nothing that happened here really got to you.

sometimes things escalated even further than shin-kicking. there was one time where frank had managed to grab the back of your shirt as you tried to vault a window, and as he pulled you closer to himself, you elbowed him in the neck and squirmed out of his grasp. while he stood stunned and lost for breath, you kicked the back of his locked knee so that he fell to the ground and bonked his forehead on the wall—the classic dead leg.

this was very funny to you.

not to him.

while you ran away, laughing to yourself, frank’s anger built and built. he was tired of letting you make a fool of him, and it was time to be serious about things.

he ignored you for the rest of the trial, forming a plan in his mind. there was something he needed to do after this, so he made sure to kill everybody else to please the entity—he couldn’t get caught up, it would derail his anger train. he also didn’t feel like getting kicked in the balls or some shit, so he let you out without a problem.

frank did some brooding at the ormond lodge before he was ready to go through with his plan. and his shins really, really hurt, so susie helped him ice them before he left.

the masked killer made his way to the survivor camp rather hastily. when he arrived, he saw you pacing around, deep in thought.

so he threw a rock at you.

it was just a pebble, really. maybe it could be considered a rather large pebble, but frank insisted in his mind that it was a pebble.

“ow, what the fuck!” you cursed, rubbing your sore shoulder and looking around to find the culprit. and then your eyes laid on him.

he looked so sultry standing there at the edge of the woods, arms crossed and mask smiling, you could almost laugh at him. he acted so serious, when really, he was just an angry and misbehaving twink.

you put on your best serious face, genuinely trying not to be amused by this, and strode over to the killer.

“what do you want?” you asked confidently, mirroring his body language and crossing your arms.

frank bristled at your approach, as if trying to make himself look bigger. he wished you were scared of him like everyone else, it would really make him feel better.

“i want a truce,” he said.

you almost burst into laughter at that. a truce? what the fuck for?

he said was willing to stop tunneling and camping you if you stopped beating the shit out of him with your sticky little hands. he didn’t say it like that, but you knew that was what he meant. you, a survivor, could beat up frank, a killer, and it upset him and his little ego :(

just to humor him, you agreed. and frank nodded.

“but,” you continued, raising your eyebrows, “you have to give me something else.”

he started to say “no, no way—“ but you interrupted him: “you’re asking me to stop fighting for myself and just give in when you catch me. i think i deserve something other than just not being tunnelled.”

frank glared at you under his mask, thankful that you couldn’t see. “okay. whatever. what do you want?”

“i want to see your face.” you thought this was a good choice, something you could lord over him forever. it was surely only a win for you. his face was something private, and you would be the only survivor to know.

of course you wanted to see his face, frank thought. everyone did; they wanted to find out if he was good-looking. which, according to him, he was. if you ever asked the other members of the legion, susie was the only one to actually respond. she felt obligated to compliment him as she was basically his sister. so she would say frank is handsome in a ruggedy, jess mariano kind of way. you wondered how she knew what gilmore girls was, since that came after her time, but susie would never give away her secret.

so with a sigh, frank agreed to let you see his face. he didn’t really care, all he wanted was to stop having bruises on his shins. it was kind of miserable, and the entity never did anything to help him.

when he said that you couldn’t do it here, and you asked why the fuck not, he said it was because some other survivor might see. you decided he had a fair point, so reluctantly you let him drag you all the way to ormond.

when he took off his mask, your first thought, whether you wanted it to be or not, was “wow! he really does look like jess mariano! but with tattoos! hot!”

you were lost for words. you didn’t really know what you were expecting, but you sure weren’t expecting him to be that attractive.

he could tell your thoughts from the look on your face.

this had been per your request, and you were planning on this being something you could hold over his head, but the situation had turned into something that he could hold over your head.

oh dear. frank morrison now held pretty boy privilege over you.

and soon you would find out that he was going to keep tunnelling you anyways.

listen i've been watching a lot of gilmore girls and i just get jess vibes from frank, except our boy is more of a twinky idk shdjfhsf i love this guy sm

[calliecopper]

Gonna expand on some of this

Then, the most egregious of these examples, Murray telling the two characters they have romantic tension. This breaks the very basic writing rule of "show don't tell" in the most literal way

I wanna point out that this does happen with Joyce and Hopper in season 3 as well. While we get small hints of these two being a thing in season 1 through the use of external characters (the cop implying Joyce and Hopper had slept together before) it is more as a way of informing the viewers of pre-existing relations, rather than forcing present romantic tensions. Meanwhile in season 3, it's stated plainly and so painfully obvious that I feel even a six year old would pick up on it. Season 3 in general seems to throw subtly to the wind - which I suspect is due to the Duffers recognizing their younger fanbase made up a majority of their fandom, and therefore shifted their writing style to be better suited for children.

Murray, in general, seemed to be a tool used to quickly establish that two characters were going to end up in relations, rather than taking the time to organically form tension between two characters.

But Joyce and Hopper do genuinely have really good tension in season 2 - and even in season 1. The Duffers know how to write a slow burn romantic plot, but I think the plot plot got too big for them to really take the time to balance character drama alongside it. I think this was also the case for Nancy and Jonathan in season 2; the characters don't really have much to actually do, and the pacing in general that season was really wonky, therefore the show couldn't afford giving them the buildup they deserved.

Now, the show does have a tendency to lean into telling more than showing in a lot of instances; EVEN with Nancy and Steve in season 4.

Nancy and Steve both are constantly being told by other people how they still have feelings for each other. Dustin teasing Steve, Robin continuously rooting for them to get back together - especially toward Nancy - both outright and subtly, and Eddie telling Steve that Nancy loves him. These all take away from the moments that actually SHOW that they still like each other. Nancy diving in after Steve without a thought was enough to portray that to the viewer, we really didn't need Eddie to tell us that.

Seriously, having Eddie tell Steve that Nancy still loves him instead of having Nancy and Steve actually talk to each other is really fucking weird. That completely takes away Nancy's agency, despite her being one of the most "girlboss" characters in the series.

Compare any of the scenes designed to imply or create romantic/sexual tension between characters in seasons 2-4 to season 1, you'll see a significant amount of... "dumbing down," present.

(Side note, this is a big reason why so many people like Mike and Will better than Mike and Jane/011. ((I love both btw don't make this a byler v mileven ship war)) Season 1 does have some of the only instances of "show don't tell" outside influences to create romantic tension. Mike asking Nancy if she likes Jonathan, and Lucas teasing Mike about a crush. The much softer hand approached with Mike and Will's relationship creates a more organic evolution of potential romance. People like SUBTLY.)

I feel like Nancy and Jonathan would've worked way better as platonic best friends bonded through trauma. I feel like this would've allowed Jonathan to operate more as his own character instead of being turned into "Nancy's sidekick" for most of the series. It also would've allowed Nancy to just have a friend even after Barbara's death.

People severely underestimate the power of platonic love. Oftentimes it can be more powerful than romantic love. Allowing these two to simply coexist without the assumption of romance would do SO MUCH for these characters.

Nancy has NO FRIENDS other than Barbara. Sure, season 4 gives her Fred briefly, and begins the friendship between her and Robin, but she has virtually no support for all of season 2 without the implication of romance. Forcing her only primary interactions in season 2 be based in romance really reduces her character in unintentional ways. It takes away from what's she's trying to do and who she is; her pain, her guilt, her burning desire for revenge, her sense of justice is all overshadowed by the constant "will they won't they" game that she's forced to play with Jonathan, and for what? What does that romance add to her or Jonathan's character?

The WHOLE POINT is that she's TOO CONSUMED WITH GUILT to allow herself to be normal or ENJOY something as trivial as ROMANCE.

It's also disrespectful to Barbara in a way. Nancy feels guilt for pushing Barb away in order to pursue romance, so now she's resolved to avenge Barbara and get justice for the death that she feels she played a part in. So to get that justice, she pushes away everything that would make her "normal" because in her mind it's a distraction. But then she does it ALL OVER AGAIN by pursuing JONATHAN. It really makes the whole point of the conflict, Nancy's trauma and guilt, and Barbara's death feel significantly less important in the face of a pretty boy.

It boils her character down completely to just loving a boy again.

Meanwhile Jonathan feels like he's just following Nancy around because he has a crush on her and the plot has nothing else for him to do. Depending on certain interpretations, this can even make his intentions seem nefarious. If you look at it a certain way, it can almost seem like Jonathan is only helping Nancy because he's hoping to get ahead of Steve in her lineup of love interests. It can be interpreted as Jonathan only helping her to get in her pants- which is an express fear that Nancy has regarding Steve in season 1. Jonathan really has NO PURPOSE this ENTIRE SEASON, which is unfortunately a trend for his character for every season past S1.

But if you make their relationship platonic, it changes so much of the subtext surrounding their plot.

Jonathan is helping Nancy because he cares about her and what matters to her, and he wants justice for Barb just as much as she does. He's supporting her because of a genuine love, and not something that could be interpreted as lust. It can even be tied into Will, if Jonathan is wanting to burn Hawkins Lab to the ground to avenge his brother as well (which we all know the Byers fam works REALLY well as a family unit.)

Nancy all of a sudden didn't break up with Steve because she simply had a crush on another boy - which is shallow and honestly really out of character - but because of her guilt around Barb's death. This reintroduces some actual weight to her whole mission she goes on in the first place. This adds back a complexity to her character and the Nancy/Steve relationship that is almost entirely erased when Nancy and Jonathan are in a romance.

Been getting back into Stranger Things recently and this is probably a hot fucking take but Nancy and Steve works 100x better than Nancy and Jonathan romantically in my humble opinion.

Stranger Things is clearly a show that leans heavily into 80's archetypes and cliches. One of the classic cliches is the popular/smart girl dating the jock guy, but then she falls in love with the loner underdog. I feel like season 1 definitely hinted at this being a possibility, but what I really loved was that they didn't actually do it. At the end of the season, Nancy gives Jonathan a kiss on the cheek, and then he walks away, and Nancy goes to sit next to Steve. It felt almost like a final goodbye to the potential romantic feelings that could've been there. It directly goes against what you'd expect the series to do, like season 1 actually does a lot, especially with the teens.

Two teenagers having sex? They should die while the smart "not like other girls" girl lives to fight the monster, right? No. The teenagers live, and the smart friend dies without anybody there to witness it.

The loner dude and the smart/popular girl are sharing a bed? There should be some tension there, right? Nope. Nancy is fucking traumatized, and she just doesn't want to feel alone; she's bonded with Jonathan through trauma, and in that moment romantic and sexual feelings are nowhere near her mind, she's simply seeking out comfort in somebody who made her feel safe in a moment of need.

There are more examples of this, how the show both honors 80's cliches while also subverting expectations. But then season 2 rolls around, and things change.

Obviously, Steve, as a character, subverts the typical 80's jock douche cliche that he very easily could've been. He has undergone the most character development and change of any character in this series, and it's clearly served well as he's now a fan favorite. This process did begin in season 2.

But season 2 also gave us the beginning of Nancy and Jonathan's romantic arc. Now I'll admit, 14 year old me was SCREAMING for them to kiss back in 2017, but as I've grown older I feel more and more icky about it. It plays right into what fans were expecting to happen, even when the characters themselves - to me - seemed to display little to no romantic interest in each other until Murray outright says it.

Nancy and Jonathan are victims of a very cheap trick to build romantic tension between two characters- outside influences and characters.

The woman after Jonathan is arrested who says that only love can make somebody be so crazy, even though Jonathan was completely justified in beating the shit out of Steve because he was being an asshole, and was not at all implied to be an act of jealousy based in feelings for Nancy.

Mike asking Nancy if she likes Jonathan, which is a question that really seems to come out of nowhere and feels like a very unlikely thing for Mike to have asked given the current situation.

Then, the most egregious of these examples, Murray telling the two characters that they have romantic tension. This breaks the very basic writing rule of "show don't tell" in the most literal way.

The only reason Nancy and Jonathan ever had tension is because of that 80's cliche, and outside people telling the characters they liked each other.

Then, you have Nancy and Steve. I find their romance in season 1 to be incredibly compelling in multiple complex and fascinating ways.

These characters are never TOLD to have tension with each other. They're never INFLUENCED to like each other. From before the show starts, they're already seeing each other. It's clear that both characters actually like each other just because they like each other, and not because of shared trauma or outside influences. A fascinating aspect of this is Steve's typical jock douche demeanor that has Nancy questioning Steve's intentions with her.

The show sets up the idea of Steve "corrupting" Nancy through Barbara. "This isn't you," she tells Nancy, right before Nancy goes upstairs to sleep with Steve, which has been set up as something she's hesitant to do. It's very clear that Nancy is petrified that Steve is only interested in her for sex, and after she does sleep with him it's clear that she feels a sense of shame or upset. With the 80's cliche, this probably would be the case. Steve would've only used her for her body, then she would run into Jonathan's arms and be treated with the respect and love she deserves. But then, Steve is still interested in her. He actively defends her against his friends when they're teasing her about Barbara. He's shown to be worried about her multiple times between Barbara's disappearance and when he finds her with Jonathan.

Steve is given redeeming qualities that show how much he genuinely cares for Nancy, even if he is somewhat consumed with his own woes. Then, on the flip side, we see genuine conflict that feels a little less forced than that between Nancy and Jonathan. Steve is self-consumed and more concerned with getting in trouble than giving the police valuable information about Barbara's disappearance. This is incredibly believable for his character at this point. Then, when he thinks Nancy is cheating, he's a complete douche to both Nancy and Jonathan, and rightly gets his shit kicked in for it.

But then he shows genuine remorse for his actions in helping clean up the theater, and then going to apologize to JONATHAN. Not only to Nancy in order to get back into her good graces, but to the other person he GENUINELY hurt because he GENUINELY wants to right that wrong.

Now this isn't a "Jonathan is a horrible character" party, he definitely is a good character, and Steve is not "better" just because he's a fan favorite.

I have a difficult time articulating my thoughts clearly and stringing them together to make them coherent, but my point is:

I feel like Nancy and Jonathan would've worked way better as platonic best friends bonded through trauma. I feel like this would've allowed Jonathan to operate more as his own character instead of being turned into "Nancy's sidekick" for most of the series. It also would've allowed Nancy to just have a friend even after Barbara's death.

I also feel like Nancy and Steve would've worked better as a sort of "slow burn, right person wrong time" romantic relationship. Nancy is no doubt traumatized and feels guilt for Barbara's death, which happened to take place while she was with Steve. The basis of the Nancy/Steve fight that ultimately ends their relationship is that Nancy doesn't feel like she can just move on. To paraphrase, Nancy is saying "Pretending like we're in love, like we're just dumb teenagers at a dumb party, like we didn't kill Barb, is bullshit." Then Steve, still being a bit of the self-consumed guy he is, focuses only on the "like we're in love" piece. "You don't love me?" he asks. And I think that this just pisses Nancy off. I'm telling you that we killed Barbara, that I can't live with myself and this guilt, and you're worried about our relationship? "It's bullshit."

I don't necessarily think that Nancy didn't love Steve. I think that she simply wasn't in the right place to love ANYBODY. And I think he was still too immature for Nancy to maintain a relationship with him.

Nancy can't be with Steve because she's simply too consumed with her guilt, and Steve is too consumed with maintaining a sense of normalcy to confront that guilt head on. She NEEDED Jonathan in that moment, because he shared that guilt in feeling responsible for Will's disappearance. He had just as much a desire to burn Hawkins Lab to the ground. It wasn't until Steve was FORCED to grow up in order to protect Dustin, Max, and Lucas that he finally let go of that desire to be normal.

I think both Nancy and Steve needed those two-ish seasons to grow and heal for them to even consider reigniting that flame. Then, in season 4, when Nancy sees Steve as somebody finally willing to do the hard thing and be an adult, I think she finally starts to consider allowing herself to love him again.

So, in my ideal version of events, Nancy and Jonathan would've been really close platonic friends, and Nancy and Steve would've been tragic lovers who simply couldn't find the right time for each other.

Anyways that's my word vomit. Don't take this as a ship war thing cause that's stupid I think everything is good I just wanted to express my preferences

[buckyownsmylife]

Girl That You Love - Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers smut

The one where there's a threesome on a mission.

Warnings: smut, punishment, oral sex (m), dom!stucky, asphyxiation on dick, p in v, subspace, double penetration, anal, name-calling,  dacrophylia, threat of noncon?, but most likely cnc, references to suicidal behavior

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: this was requested a while ago. Thank you to the lovely @sinking-in-mercury​ for helping me make it better.

We barely made it inside the cabin when Steve’s voice reverberated on the wooden walls. “Kneel,” he ordered, and I turned around to find him staring at me with icy cold eyes I barely recognized as his.

I knew I had fucked up. The mission had been a disaster on all ends, but he didn’t care about his own mistakes at a time like this. We had an entire evening to kill before the quinjet could come pick us up, and I knew I’d have to suffer through a lot of punishment before the light of morning appeared again.

I heard fumbling behind me, but couldn’t find the courage I needed to look for Bucky. Steve was staring, waiting for me to follow his orders, and if I made it obvious that he wasn’t the only thing in my mind, I’d be in even deeper troubled waters.

And so I sank to my knees, sitting back on my legs as I made quick work of his suit’s pants to expose his gorgeous cock to me. No matter how long I was with them, the sight of their members would still frighten just as much as they excited me.

The head was red and throbbing, much like Steve’s temples as he waited for me to get on with it already. I wanted to look around for Bucky so badly, but I resisted the temptation as I leaned closer and engulfed his dick with my lips, making sure to keep my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t piss off my captain even further.

Any time Steve played the bad cop, James would be there to calm him down, counter each rough action with a sweet movement, and I missed that now. I wanted to feel his fingers massaging my scalp, his soft voice urging me to take Steve even deeper, to let him fuck my throat fully.

But he didn’t seem to be near us, and that scared me. The disappointed expression on his face when he saw just how narrowly I had escaped death in that old factory was all I could think about.

So I tried to focus on Steve and his pleasure. He wasn’t giving me any signs of it, knowing how much I enjoyed hearing his moans and grunts, but just the sight of his sculpted body paired with the taste of his skin was enough to have me dripping.

And that’s when I felt it. That familiar tingle up my spine, the rush of being watched by a predator. Bucky was near, I instinctively knew it before he even pulled me by my hair so I’d release Steve and leaned over me, devouring my lips in an upside-down kiss.

This wasn’t soft, or sweet, or even kind. It was a show of possession that invaded every part of my soul, leaving me soft and pliant under his fingers, exactly how he wanted me to be. I could only ever get this way when both of them had their hands on me.

Without any sort of preamble, he pushed me back onto Steve’s dick, gagging me against it with the help of the grip he had on my head. The sounds of my suffocation only had them laughing, and I was relieved when he relented and let go of the back of my neck, but that was only until I felt his hands gripping my ankles.

I knew what was coming before Steve’s hands held my chest. They’d done this before, but still, my heartbeat spiraled out of control once I was suspended in the air, mouth still filled with Steve’s cock when Bucky’s entered me from behind.

My desire skyrocketed. There was just something about the rush of adrenaline that being on these men’s hands caused me… It got to me every time.

I knew they’d never let me fall. But the uncertainty caused by the position was still there, and it just had me falling into subspace that much quicker.

They moved in silence, grunts barely audible as they each pulled me in different directions to use my body in search of their releases, knowing how much I loved to hear any sounds that escaped from them. By the time Steve finally pulled me off of his cock, pushing me into Bucky’s arms, who then turned me around so I could face him, there were tears and spit running down my face, yet I didn’t make any move to brush them off.

They liked it, and I didn’t want to do anything else to disappoint them today.

I felt Steve approach me from behind before I felt his fingers brushing the hair away from my back so he could deposit a kiss on one of my shoulders.

A soft gesture, gentle, even, but I couldn’t be fooled. I knew my boys too well by now. This was only the calm before the storm.

“I hope you’re ready, princess,” his tone putting an icy cast on the usually sweet pet name. “By the time we’re done with you, you won’t be able to walk for a week straight.”

I screamed as he penetrated my other hole, my head falling back on his shoulder as his hands took a hold of my hips laying over where Bucky’s already were holding. I’d taken both of them enough times to be able to handle being used like this, but the stretch and burn of being filled so completely never fully went away, regardless of how frantically they fucked me.

Bucky was watching my blissed out face with darkened eyes by the time I was able to open mine again, a dangerous smirk taking over his expression. I knew I wouldn’t like what he was going to say.

“You know she enjoys this,” he addressed Steve, although his gaze remained on me, “the little whore.” The comment felt like a slap to the face, I was never used to hearing them address me as anything other than the loveliest pet names.

Except in times like these. Times when I disappointed them, made their stomachs churn with fear and angst, thinking I’d left them for good, thinking I was dead.

Was it weird that I silently thrived on it? Bucky wasn’t wrong. I loved when they treated me like this, like I was disposable, used me for their pleasures without caring about how it would impact me.

Ironically, it only ever happened when they were reminded of how much they couldn’t live without me.

“Just like she enjoys making us suffer,” Bucky continued, nothing but spite and anger in his gaze and tone. “Making us worry about her…” I yearned for a kiss, something soft in the midst of all of the roughness, even if I did love the roughness.

It was the beauty of times like these - they made me cherish what I usually took for granted, what I could have at any time.

“What do we have to do to get you to learn, huh?” Steve’s hands around my neck as he breathed out the question against my skin had me releasing a loud moan - louder than I usually felt comfortable letting escape. However, we were all alone in this safe house, with no one to hear my delicious torture for miles and miles, and I knew my boys would take advantage of that.

“Do we have to make you cry?” Steve insisted, other hand sneaking around my body to circle my clit, making my thighs tremble as I did begin to cry, desperate for a release I knew they wouldn’t grant me. “Fuck you until you pass out and then continue to use you?”

The suggestion shouldn’t have made me so aroused, but it did. It did and they both knew it, so they continued, “So you’ll wake up covered in our cum, drowning in it, knowing that we took full advantage of this body that you’re so careless of?”

Punishment be damned, I came with a scream. As my walls contracted around them, I heard them curse, hips losing control as they too were brought to their releases because of me.

I whimpered when they both pulled away, hiding my face in Steve’s neck as he carried me in his arms to the bed we’d all have to share. I don’t think any of us minded the prospect, even if it wasn’t what the people who designed the safe house probably intended it for.

Two hands brushed the hair off my face as I was deposited on Bucky’s lap. Groggily, I struggled to open my eyes and focus on him after being fucked so brutally. “Sweetheart, pay attention to me.”

His tone didn’t leave space for any arguments.

“Will you promise to be good from now on?” He questioned. “Obey our orders?” But I was too out of it to answer them. At my innocent silence, Steve sighed, sitting by our side and grabbing my jaw so I’d look at him.

“Honey, we are so in love with you.” I sighed happily at the words, making him smile at my visible comfort around their presence. “And we need you here, with us. For as long as possible. So we need you to learn to be afraid of death. Okay?”

And as I considered not being in their arms right then, but in the cold, hard ground of the battlefield, bleeding out, I swear that I began to know that fear.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Crash Pad

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You’re just minding your own business when the Winter Soldier crashes into your life. Literally.

Quick facts: Romance �� established past Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes leading into Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight mention of blood

Words: 7801

A/N: I started writing this a few months ago and almost finished when my life got fairly shook up. Still, I’m quite proud of being able to eke out an ending. For anybody who only cares about this story, feel free to skip this note, but for anybody following my other stuff: writing is going to be slow for the time being. My mom died and things are pretty topsy-turvy right now. Writing is still a comfort, but head to hands isn’t working the same right now. Thanks for your patience; I hope this is a pleasant read for you in the mean time <3

  ~

 You’re getting ready for bed and have just turned off the living room light when you hear a clatter on the fire escape. You haven’t gotten over to shut the window yet and you wince at the thought of maybe coming face to face with a giant rat, or a raccoon, although you haven’t yet seen a raccoon and you’re pretty sure they don’t live in the city but it would probably be better than a rat the size of a raccoon–

What you get is much, much worse as a fully grown man falls through the curtains, knocks over a side table and potted plant, and crashes onto your living room floor with a wheezed (but emphatic), “God damn it!”

You freeze, unsure of whether to run or yell or maybe both. However the man flounders on the floor, unable to otherwise move much as he holds his side and– is that blood on your floor?

“Are you okay?” you ask despite everything.

He yanks his head back to look at you and grimaces. “Fuck, I–” He tries to get up, slips in what you are almost positive is blood, and slumps over with a little sigh and a handful of muttered curses that might be in another language. “I am really sorry about this,” he says lowly, like he's embarrassed to be bleeding out in a stranger’s living room. Then he shifts a little more and moonlight gleams on his arm. His very…shiny…completely metal arm, and you find a whole new way to be concerned.

You should have known the reasonable rent was a goddamn trap.

You take a few steps back, barely avoid hitting the counter, and flick the light back on without taking your eyes away from the man on your floor. He squints at the brightness and shows you a face that is, both fortunately and unfortunately, familiar. Fortunately because Captain America and the Avengers somehow got him pardoned for potential war crimes and treason even without him being present for any of that circus of a trial. Unfortunately because…war crimes. And treason. And that is definitely blood.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out and looks a little woozy. “There were sheets– I thought the building was empty.”

“The sheeting is for the building right next to us,” you say and sigh. “I’m going to guess you are not in favor of me calling an ambulance?”

He just blinks at you a few times. Maybe he is secretly a raccoon.

“Please don’t,” he says, some life returning to his eyes, and he looks you up and down. The rubber duck pajamas must put him at ease because, while he is still tensely holding his midsection, his shoulders relax a little. “I’m so–”

“Sorry, yes, I know.” You point at the bathroom. “I’m going to get the first aid kit and hopefully I won’t have to explain to the coroner’s office why Captain America’s boo bled out on my floor.”

You’re just opening up the cupboard that hopefully contains at least some band-aids when he calls out, “What the hell is a ‘boo?’”

~

Two old t-shirts, one and a half rolls of dusty gauze, and his own homemade stitch kit later, the man is finally all patched up. “How are you not passing out from blood loss?” you ask, eyeing the mess on the nice hardwood that has definitely just lost you your deposit. But there’s no corpse to deal with, so at least things aren’t as bad as they could be.

“I’m built pretty hardy.” He sits up a little more and groans. Before you can beg him not to split his side again, he extends his hand. “James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

You shake his hand (gently) and tell him your name. “Do you let everybody call you Bucky, or just the people whose floor you bleed all over?” Something moving catches your eye and you sigh at the sight of your inexpensive (but still nice) curtains blowing slightly, showing off their new stains. “Floor and drapes…”

“I’ll clean it,” he says. “I can get blood out of anything.” He winces. “I…that sounds worse than it is.”

“I imagine getting blood out of anything is a good skill for an international spy-assassin to have,” you say.

Bucky scowls. And, you think, blushes a little, though how he has enough blood to do that you don’t know. You look at the spot again. It looks big to you but maybe you’re making a fuss over nothing. No, wait, there’s still dried blood on your floor. You’re allowed a fuss. “So you know who I am.”

“Your boy made it hard to miss,” you say.

He grumbles to himself, then says, “He’s always such a drama queen. I didn’t need to be pardoned.”

“Really,” you say and look at the bloodied handkerchief wrapped around a bullet he dug out of himself. “Looks like at least one other person disagrees with you.”

“This was Steve’s fight, not mine.” He huffs. “Story of my goddamn lif–”

He suddenly falls back and you reach out instinctively to catch him. He recovers quickly, wild-eyed and stiff and you scoot back just in case. He takes a few deep breaths and seems to force himself calm. It doesn’t look very effective and you’re honestly starting to worry. “You really–”

“I did not faint,” he snaps and maybe he has more blood than you thought, or maybe absolutely all of it has come to collect in his face.

“I was going to say you really need a hospital,” you say. “But yeah, you did.”

He grumbles under his breath and then, as if predicting your protests, stands up quickly enough to waver. Serves him right, you think, but when he scowls at you, you wonder if maybe he’s psychic too. “Try not to pass out on your way home,” you say, because if he wants to leave there’s really nothing you can do to stop him.

“Funny,” he says. He clears his throat and adds, much more sincerely, “Thanks.”

For the t-shirts, for the first aid kit, for not calling the cops, for not calling the Avengers so Captain America can hone in on him like a cartoon hound, for not bitching about the floor too much– the list is many and varied and so you give him a simple nod and hope you can get even a little bit of sleep tonight because work tomorrow is going to be hell without it.

He goes back to the window and before you can point out you have a perfectly good door, Bucky slips out onto the fire escape again. You shrug to yourself and go over to firmly flip the lock. You’ve done your part– in the event he slips and hits his head, someone else can be the good Samaritan. You’re going to bed and tomorrow this is going to feel like a weird dream, if there is even a single good deity in existence.

~

You’re not sure if it’s proof of or a mark against the existence of said single good deity when Bucky shows back up in your fire escape the next evening and taps politely against your open window before he lets himself back in, scooting your new plant just an inch out of the way.

“I have a door,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

“Your hallway’s too well lit,” he says, much more hale and hearty and obviously not suffering major blood loss. His hair even looks like he just got out of the shower, all soft and shiny and bouncing a bit as he twists his upper body to start pulling stuff out of a backpack hanging off one shoulder. “I got stuff to clean the floor, and a replacement first aid kit. You outta keep it better stocked, so I got you one of the good ones.”

“O…kay,” you say, for lack of anything better. There’s a hysterical laugh building up in the back of your throat as the Winter Soldier brings out some rags and a cleaning solution for your bloodstained hardwood floor, but you cough it out and say, “Thanks,” when the formerly-feared international assassin looks at you like you’re crazy before he gets on his hands and knees and starts scrubbing.

It’s not fair no one would believe you. You’re not quite sure this isn’t an elaborate daydream, but then, you like to think you’d imagine something more fun than this. You clear your throat. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thanks,” he grunts, glaring at the floor and rubbing at the stain like it has offended him personally. It’s a little worrisome when he goes at it hard enough to maybe rub a hole right through the floor– you’d rather deal with the stain– but there’s a hard edge to his eyes that make you think maybe it’s a good idea for him to work it out in a productive, non-violent way. And if it turns violent, hopefully he has some home repair skills to make up for it.

You busy yourself with making tea, using the nice pot and the nice cups you never get to break out, and by the time it’s almost done steeping Bucky isn’t rubbing quite so hard and, in fact, seems to have made the stain do a disappearing act.

“Nice,” you say. “You want some tea? I made plenty.”

He lifts his head and tilts it as he squints at you, like he’s still not sure of you. But he shrugs, says, “Sure,” and stands up, rolling his shoulders. He looks down at the floor and nods appreciatively before coming to sit on the other side of the counter. “It’s almost gone; just a little bit more and it’ll be like I was never here.”

That last part could have been a decent joke, but he said it so seriously you just clear your throat. “Thanks,” you say and start pouring. “My landlord is going to have to find some other excuse to try and keep my security deposit.”

Bucky snorts but otherwise makes no noise. At first it’s nice, if a bit awkward, as you don’t really feel the need to fill the silence, but it becomes clear by the way Bucky glares at the plant sitting in front of him on the counter that something is eating at him. You’re not sure whether or not to pry, but it seems polite to at least ask, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grunts and leans even lower to the surface of the counter.

You stare at him. “I appreciate what you did, but you didn’t have to come back,” you say gently, because a pissed-off former-assassin isn’t really a problem you want to have on your hands. “I’m not awful enough to actually expect you to clean up your own blood the day after you nearly bled to death.”

“What?” He blinks and then scowls and shakes his head. “No, it’s not that; it’s…” He picks up his cup and downs all of it, despite the fact that it was still steaming. Tentatively you pour him another cup, to which he says, “thanks,” before loading it with sugar again. “It’s good,” he says and this time he sips it.

“It’s one of my favorites. Very soothing,” you say. “Normally.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I wish anything was soothing. You know Steve almost ran into a goddamn minefield today?”

You didn’t know that, you don’t think anything the Avengers do is any of your business, really, and where does one even find a minefield in New York City– you don’t say any of that, but you apparently don’t need to, because Bucky is off like a shot saying more words than you’d have thought possible for him. All of it is ranting about what a reckless dumbass Captain America is, and a Brooklyn accent increasingly comes through, egged into existence by sheer aggravation. You sit and listen, transfixed not so much by the details (they’re too fleeting and sparse) but by how annoyed Bucky is with Captain Amer- with “Steve goddamn pain in the ass Rogers” and you’re never going to be able to see him again without snickering.

Bucky sighs heavily and rests his chin on the table. He looks very tired, all of a sudden. Maybe a relaxing tea and enthusiastic rant wasn’t the best combination. Then again, he also looks less tense, so perhaps it’s fine. “Why don’t you stop for the night and go get some sleep,” you say and take away his cup. “You can finish up tomorrow.”

He squints at you, squints back at the floor (that you honestly can’t tell is any different from the rest), and looks back at you. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you say and stack the cups. “When you come back refreshed you can tell me why Steve Rogers can never walk past that animal shelter without ducking his head in shame.”

Bucky’s smile is lopsided and he shakes his head. “Maybe,” he admits and hops off the chair. “I’ll just…leave the stuff here then, if that’s okay?”

You nod and he quickly picks up and puts the supplies in the empty bottom space of your side table. He goes for the window.

“I have a-!”

And he’s gone. You roll your eyes. If Steve Rogers really is as much of an asshole as Bucky says he is, then those two deserve each other.

~

For all that the Captain America mythos has been debunked for you, you’re still brought up short when you suddenly encounter Steve Rogers the next night.

On your fire escape.

He knocks his head against the railing in his scramble to simultaneously get up and face you, curses, and lifts his hands defensively. “I can explain.”

You rub your face with both hands. They definitely deserve each other. “I doubt that,” you mutter and sigh heavily. Thank goodness there haven’t been any actual fires; you don’t know how you’d get out with all these buff superheroes hanging around outside your window. “Have you lost something?”

Captain America looks at the ground for a moment, and then flashes you a smile. “…Yes?”

God, he is a smartass. “Do you want to come inside or do you want to risk some Nosy Nancy from the building across the street seeing a big shadow and calling the cops?”

That would never happen, but he slips inside almost immediately and then there he is, in all his uniformed, shield-holding glory. It’s too weird to think about, and you step back to give him (and you) space while you close the curtains. “Thank you,” he says politely and looks around. “Your apartment is lovely; it’s very…green.”

You’re not sure why he hesitates, until you see him looking at your yellowing majesty palm. “He’s coming back,” you say and go to adjust the plant for lack of anything else your nervous hands can do. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you,” he says and stands with his feet shoulder wide and his hands clasped down in front of him. It is perhaps the least comforting thing he can do and for one ridiculous moment you wish Bucky was here to be in between you. You wish the Winter Soldier was here. To protect you. From Captain America.

You clear your throat. “So,” you say and grab yourself something. “Do you lurk outside everyone’s apartment at some point, or am I just special?”

For all his military posturing, Captain America squirms like a schoolboy. “I swear I wasn’t– okay, I guess I was but not intentionally? I was…looking. For something.”

“Something you dropped?” you ask him.

“A person,” he says, staring elsewhere. For a moment you have a paranoid thought he’s staring at the space where Bucky had fallen in that night, but no, he’s just looking at the window. At least you remembered to change the curtains.

“Pretty sure you can see one of those without squinting into the grates,” you say.

“He might have passed through on his way somewhere else,” Captain America says. “Have you seen a man outside?”

“Other than you?” you ask. He blushes even harder than Bucky does– and think of the devil, you have a moment where you’re not sure what you should say, but quickly come to realize that whatever is going on between the two of them, you do not want to get stuck in the middle.

You’re prepared to lie your ass off, but he apparently takes your response as a rebuke. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you feel unsafe.”

“It’s fine,” you say. Despite his previous answer, you lean into the fridge to get him a bottle of water. “I’m pretty sure Captain America isn’t going to murder me. And if you decided you wanted to, well, there’s nothing I could really do about it.”

He chokes on the drink he’s just taken. You instinctively lean in so you can slam his back but after a couple of hits he covers his mouth and waves you off. “Sorry, sorry,” he says and grabs a nearby dishcloth to wipe up what he just spit on the counter. “That was just…really dark.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not the one lurking on fire escapes,” you say.

He rolls his eyes. The nerve. You laugh and he actually grins. Asshole. His smile softens though and he says, “I’m really–”

“Sorry,” you finish for him.

“Am I that predictable already?”

You shrug. You want to tell him it’s because he and Bucky seem very much alike in that respect. You want to but…you don’t. Whatever Bucky’s problem is, he seems to want to deal with it himself, and it’s not your place to get in between them and start snitching. “You seem the type. Don’t worry about it so much. You…look pretty worried. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Thank you.” His lips turn into a sad sort-of smile and he takes a slower drink. “I guess I am pretty worried. This man I’m looking for, he’s…important to me, and he’s been through a lot, and I just want to know he’s okay.”

You stare at him. He looks down. And looks down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to babble like that,” he says and glances at you with a strained smile. “I don’t normally do that.”

“Hm.” You stare at him for several seconds and notice he is blinking an awful lot. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m a little tired,” he says, quietly, and some of the posturing seeps out of him and he lets himself slump a little more. He suddenly shakes his head and sits up straight again. “Thanks again for…” He looks around and settles for shaking his water bottle.

You hold back a laugh. “Sure. I uh…do you need me to call you a cab?”

He shakes his head firmly and, to his credit, he’s pretty excellent at pretending to be okay. You almost believe him. “I can get home all right.”

“Well, please make sure you do. I can think of a lot of people who’d be sad to think of you collapsing on the way home because you wore yourself down to the bone,” you say. “And from how you seem to worry about your friend, I bet you can think of at least one.”

He blinks, like he’s surprised, but a smile curls onto his face, warm and true. “Good night,” he says, and because you’re so nice, you don’t stop him when he goes back out the window. At this point, it’s beginning to feel like a lost cause.

~

“What did you say to him?”

“I know you don’t like the door,” you say, not even turning away from the plant you’re watering. Any time you put down the canister you forget where you left off and you are not going to kill these plants by overwatering. Not again. “But maybe you could at least tap on the window when you decide you’re going to enter my apartment.”

“Why do you leave your window open?” Bucky huffs. You can hear him sit at the counter behind you. “You know what kind of creeps can take advantage of that?”

You finish watering the last plant and turn to stare at him. “I’m starting to get an idea.”

Bucky scowls. “I’m not a creep,” he mutters.

“Polite society encourages doorways instead of windows,” you say. “It’s okay. Captain America, apparently, is also a creep.”

Bucky sits up straighter. “What did he say?”

“Not much,” you say. “He was squatting on the fire escape like he could make you spontaneously materialize. I invited him in for an explanation and after a little while he went on his way.”

“After a little while,” Bucky repeats and squints at you suspiciously.

You shrug. “He likes to vent to complete strangers, apparently. But I didn’t tell him anything about you, it doesn’t seem fair to tell you anything about him. If you want to know, I get the feeling you can go ask him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but he stands up and stretches. “You said I bled on the drapes?”

“I already scrubbed that out, if you can finish the floor,” you say and go for the tea pot. “Do you like green tea?”

“As long as you do it right,” he says and starts scrubbing again. “I hate it all bitter.”

You go for the good matcha and start preparing it while he works out his frustrations on your floor. You glance at him a couple of times but he seems fully focused on his task, until you finish the tea and call him back to the bar.

“Steve Rogers is a pain in the ass and don’t let anyone tell you different,” he grumbles, but it’s soft and there’s a troubled look on his face as he takes his cup.

“Do you miss him?” you ask and blow gently across your drink.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Just as you're about to apologize for overstepping, though, he speaks. “It’s hard to go back when you’ve done the shit I have, you know?”

No. You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to live as a free man after decades of literal objectification and being used as a murder weapon for fascists. But it doesn’t seem very helpful to say that, so instead you say, gently, “I can’t even imagine.”

Bucky bobs his head and takes another sip of his drink. You’re delighted he seems to be drinking it fairly quickly, but also a little dismayed because a good matcha latte takes a decent amount of work and it’ll take a little time if he wants another cup. “I want to go back but I can’t yet. I wish he wouldn’t be so goddamn stubborn about it is all. Just because he thinks I didn’t do anything wrong doesn’t make it true.”

You nod, like any of this makes any goddamn sense to you. But maybe– maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe Bucky’s saying all this because you’re an outside entity with no personal stake in, or knowledge of, what counts as treason, or what’s needed to lack culpability, or what it means to be an absent friend.

He rambles, a little bit, and though about half the words are proper nouns you don’t recognize, you nod along, and when he finishes his latte you make him another one, and when he leaves, you don’t mention the door. Even though you want to.

~

You’ve actually forgotten how nice it is to have someone come through the door. Case in point–

“Um, I hope this is all right,” Steve Rogers, dressed in casual civilian fare and holding a small pot of flowers, says as you can do nothing but stare at him. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you again for being so understanding. May I…come in?”

That snaps you out of your funk and you quickly stand aside. “Of course; sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting you.”

“I was just going to leave the plant with a note if you weren't here, but I’m glad you were,” Captain Rogers says and walks in, and sets the pot down on the counter.

You walk over to the fridge. “Would you like something to–” As you turn to finish the question you see him glance furtively at the window. Ah, of course. He looks down guiltily and you can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh. Well, he did come through the correct entrance and brought some pretty flowers. “All right, you did knock on the door this time; go sniff around the fire escape all you want.”

“I’m just checking something I forgot,” he says quickly and goes to the window. He’s only outside long enough for you to brew some tea and he comes back in just as you’re pouring his cup. It isn’t until he’s about to take a sip, however, that he says, “Oh– I know it looks bad, but Bucky– sorry, James Barnes– I swear he isn’t dangerous.”

“I know. I saw some of the trial stuff,” you lie. Well, you did see some of it, but it wasn’t until you heard Bucky mutter “Martha Stewart was right,” while fussing at some of the blood on his shirt that you felt safer. Strange as it is to think.

Steve relaxes his shoulders like some of the weight is off of them. “You have no idea how good that is to hear. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people say to me. I can’t really punch people anymore because I’m so much stronger now but it’s so tempting sometimes. At least when it’s online I can mime punching them.”

His annoyed tone allows you to laugh a little. “Maybe imagine the block button is a punch in the face?” you suggest.

He grins. “My friend Clint suggested printing out the most irritating comments and taping them to a punching bag. It didn’t really work but the thought was nice. The block button as a punch to the face though…”

The guy doesn’t really need more violence in his life, but he genuinely seems pleased with the idea, so you let it be. And when he starts ranting in detail about some of the comments he gets about Bucky, you make a new pot of tea– chamomile. For the both of you.

~

You don’t know how the flowers are dead already– it seems like Steve just brought them and they were so pretty you immediately looked up care instructions and followed them to the letter. Or so you thought. But now, only days later, you have a pot of dirt and withered petals.

And Bucky sulking at your counter.

“I told him I was fine,” he says petulantly.

You sigh and bring the pot over to the sink and think about what to do. “Did you tell him in person?”

“In a letter. He knew it was from me.”

The soil looks nice, so you’ll dig out the remains and try to plant some replacement seeds. Maybe that was the problem– maybe the flowers were sick or something. “Well reading and seeing are two different things.”

“He knows I cover him in fights.”

You slowly look at Bucky. His oh-so intelligent response is to bristle like a cat and go, “What?”

You roll your eyes. “He’s desperate to see you, knows you’re near when he’s fighting, and you wonder why he’s “so goddamn reckless?’”

Bucky just glares. Yeah, these two morons absolutely deserve each other.

You hope Bucky figures it out sooner rather than later.

~

He doesn’t, but he keeps coming by, as does Steve, and you resign yourself to hosting two pining idiots who keep dancing around each other.

Bucky drinks anything you give him without complaint. However he drinks the lattes and almost anything green tea a little quicker, though he tries to hide his cup from you when he does. Whether he’s ashamed of going through them so fast or embarrassed you don’t know, but you start to give him bigger cups, and that seems to help.

The first time you give Steve a cup of apple pie spice, he gives you a severe glare– which he then completely undermines by liking the blend immensely.

“I swore the next person who offered me apple pie would get popped,” Steve says, an amusing mixture of half-bluster and half-shame as he sips from the classic teacup you hope not to regret handing him.

“Lucky for me it’s not actually apple pie,” you say. “Do people really make that joke?”

The eyeroll Steve gives that is 200% sass. “You have no idea,” he says, deadly serious, “–how funny people think they are.”

~

This becomes…oddly normal. Listening to Steve talk about anything that’s on his mind, giving Bucky new tea blends just to see how he reacts to them; your apartment is no longer just you and a bunch of greenery that seems to wilt more often than not. Everything seems warmer, and better– even your plants seem healthier. (For that, though, you suspect Bucky is giving them a special mixture of something after you catch a glance of him messing with one of the pots. You want to ask him what he’s doing, but you don’t want to admit that he’s better at taking care of them than you are.)

It’s so normal, that you feel the silence only after the first few nights without a visit. They don’t visit every night, but they visit often enough that you know they’re off somewhere even without them telling you. For a couple of weeks you try to pretend the quiet doesn’t bother you, but you check the fire escape twice every night, and then once more before you go to bed.

~

The next time you see Bucky is during one of these checks. There was no tapping, no noise to otherwise alert you, he’s just suddenly back, sitting next to the window, hunched over in black clothes nearly blending into the darkness and staring out at nothing in the night.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and crawl out to kneel next to him. “Are you hurt again?”

“No,” he mutters and continues to glare at some imaginary point in the distance. “Steve was, though.”

It’s a little harder to swallow. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbles and buries his mouth further against his arms. “He’s fine, strutting around the hospital like a- like a- …” He huffs and sits back to wave his arms before he curls back in on himself. “But it was close, and he’s an asshole.”

“Mm,” you say. “Chamomile mint?”

He sighs heavily but he gets to his feet and starts to enter, only to stop and hold open the curtains for you.

“Thank you sir,” you say with only a hint of sarcasm and go on ahead to get the tea started. Bucky snorts but doesn’t say anything and you use the time the water needs to heat up to take care of some of your plants.

“Stop it.”

The snap comes so fast from Bucky you immediately stop what you’re doing. He doesn’t look as angry as he sounded, but he’s frowning pretty hard. “You're overwatering that one; jade plants are succulents. You don’t need to drown it.”

You look at the plant and set the watering can down. “Oh.” You knew that. You think. You’re just nervous. “Did you see him? In the hospital?”

“Briefly. I didn’t talk to him; just made sure he was all right,” Bucky says. “And he is. I wouldn’t leave him if he wasn’t.”

That does assuage some of your concerns. Steve is nice. You want him to be okay. And Bucky is– also nice, but god, they’re both so fucking frustrating. “You couldn’t have just–”

“Don’t start with–”

“I’m just saying–”

“And I’m telling you not to say–”

“I pay the rent for all that you sublet my fire escape; I’ll say what I want,” you manage to finish to Bucky’s consternation. You lift your head proudly and he frowns to one side. And then he…smirks. You’re not sure you like that.

“Crappiest space in the city,” he says and sits up. “You could at least get a chair.”

You roll your eyes and dole out the tea, fixing it the way Bucky likes. No sugar for this one, but plenty of honey. “If I ever have to leave for an actual fire, I’ll be in enough trouble trying to get around you.”

“Nah. I’d carry you out,” Bucky says and lifts his cup in a silent ‘cheers.’ He takes a sip and the sigh sounds content, so you assume you did it right. For a few moments a comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you sip warm drinks surrounded by greenery (that is mostly green) and life goes on in faint sounds outside the confines of your home.

Bucky sets his empty cup down with a sigh. “Do you think, if I show up to throttle him, that he’ll actually start watching his own fucking back?”

You give that some serious thought. “Will you give him time to moon at you first?”

Bucky sighs with disgust and flumps back onto the counter. “This is stupid. This all feels so stupid.”

You open your mouth because you do have a lot of opinions about honest communication and using innocent civilian apartments to dance around each other, but Bucky shoots you a glare to let you know that a, he knows, and b, he doesn’t appreciate it. You roll your eyes and go back to drinking your tea. It is a very good blend, and you’re not going to let it go unappreciated because two early 20th century boys can’t get their shit together.

Not that you’re complaining, really– you’re starting to feel like less of a disaster by comparison. Or maybe letting two strange men into your apartment makes you just as bad by default. You rub the bridge of your nose. Yeah, no one is getting out of this looking sane. You feel like that should bother you more than it does, but it’s just a fleeting thought before you go back to worrying about Steve and pouring Bucky’s cup back to full.

~

The next night when someone knocks on your door, you’re only mildly surprised to see Steve on the other side. And most of that surprise is because you can see fading bruises on his face, and also because he is holding a fairly big potted plant with tall green and yellow-edged leaves.

“Hi,” he says and lifts the pot slightly. “I got you a present.”

“Uh, wow; thanks?” you say and quickly step back to let him in, momentarily forgetting he can probably carry it around with ease. Steve places the plant on the floor near the end of your couch, where it actually looks fairly nice. He gestures at it proudly. “It’s a snake plant. The man at the nursery said it’s very hard to kill.”

“You’re not funny,” you say but you look at it appreciatively. It is nice, and you could do with ‘hard to kill’. Speaking of– “Should you be up? You look like you should be in a hospital.”

He shrugs and his face goes neutral. “I’m healing well enough that there’s nothing a hospital could do for me. And I felt so…restless.”

You nod. “Want some tea?”

“Please. I really like what you make,” he says and immediately takes a seat at the counter. Oddly enough, it’s not the one Bucky always takes. You don’t realize you squint at the space for too long until Steve looks curious and asks, “Is everything okay?”

You squint at the countertop. “Yeah, just…trying to figure out if that’s a stain or a spot.”

Thankfully there is a spot of spilled something and you quickly grab a towel and wipe it away. You think it’s a pretty good save, but Steve looks at you with a raised brow, like he’s figured something out. You freeze. “What?” What are you going to say? How is he going to react? What will you–

“Was that a coffee ring?”

You blink a few times, and then roll your eyes as your chest practically deflates. He smiles and winks. “I can’t believe you.”

“I am a layered human being who can drink many things,” you say defensively. “And if you want coffee you’ll have to ask another time. I’m not giving you anything with caffeine in it when you look like you got hit by a truck.”

“Train,” he corrects absently. “It barely clipped me.”

You sigh and go for the sleepy blend. One of you is going to have to bow out of this conversation due to exhaustion and at this point you don’t care if it’s you. However it might truly come in handy as Steve keeps looking out the window and shaking his foot. You set the cup in front of him and before you can ask what’s wrong, he takes the cup in both hands and blurts out, “I think I saw him.”

You look at the window and squint. “Seriously?”

“Not here.” Steve rolls his eyes. Like you’re the crazy one. He blows gently across the surface of the liquid and says, “Though it’s strange you’d think I saw Bucky out of your window.”

“Isn't that why you started showing up here in the first place? I distinctly remember someone with a big red, white, and blue shield lurking on my fire escape.”

“Oh, right,” he admits sheepishly, hunched over his cup. His eyes glimmer with mischief as he looks up at you through long lashes and asks, “Did I ever apologize to you for that?”

You’re brought up short by the amount of boyish charm this giant walking wall of muscle manages to pack into that look and you have to find your tongue to say, “I– y-yeah…”

Steve chuckles to himself and you give yourself a mental slap on the face. “Troll,” you mutter and sip from your mug. The liquid is piping hot and burns your tongue, giving you an excuse to grimace when Steve flashes you a beautiful smile.

~

You’re in trouble.

Not physically, not immediately, and perhaps someone on the outside might say you’re being dramatic about it, but they wouldn’t know shit about the situation. They wouldn’t know about how your hands felt as they slid over Steve’s when he handed you a new small pot of flowers; they wouldn’t know about the feeling of serenity that settled over you when Bucky abandoned some of his oh so careful control and rested his head on your shoulder for four long seconds; they wouldn’t know how it feels like you’re missing something until someone shows up at your door or taps at your window.

You’re falling in love with two people who have always been, and still are, desperately in love with each other.

Isn’t that just your luck.

~

In the end, Bucky takes your advice more to heart than you ever expected he would– you and Steve are quietly enjoying each others’ company, with you standing in the kitchen and Steve sitting at the counter as per usual, when the curtains move dramatically for Bucky to slip in, which makes Steve whirl around, and your hands jerk so hard from all the sudden surprise that your cup slips out and crashes to the floor.

“Shi-” You forget to watch your step and immediately catch a jagged shard that embeds itself right under the ball of your foot. “Ow, fuck!”

Your name is said in different voices but very similar tones of alarm and you suddenly find yourself gathered into Bucky’s arms, bridal style, and he carries you over to the couch. “Wh-” You swallow at the close proximity to Bucky’s chest and the way he holds you so effortlessly but so securely. “I’m fine; it’s just a little–”

Bucky sits down on the couch and doesn’t move you, which means you are basically sitting cross-wise in his lap. This is not something you need after your recent revelation, and it doesn’t get any easier when Steve comes back with the heavy duty first aid kit Bucky got you and gingerly takes your foot to examine the injury. His sympathetic look towards you gives you the warning you need to brace yourself before he pulls the shard out. It doesn’t hurt too terribly and he’s almost tender as he cleans your foot.

“Look at us, matching blood and all,” Bucky says lightly.

“It’s my floor I’ll bleed on it if I want,” you grumble, but you’re too distracted by how focused Steve is on fixing you up. “You…seem to be taking this well.”

“I knew he had been here since the first time I came,” Steve admits as he rolls the gauze around your foot. “There was a bloodstain on your floor still.”

“Seriously?” You had thought Bucky was being overdramatic about the supposed stain and humored him, but it…makes sense. Why else would he come back the next night. Why else would Steve continue to come by. And because Steve had kept coming, Bucky had kept coming, and…they won’t need to come back anymore, will they? They now have what they’ve wanted. Each other.

Someone says your name and you force yourself back to neutral as much as you possibly can. Steve looks curious though and Bucky says, “What’s with that look?”

“There’s no look,” you say. “And if there is, it’s only because you two have devised the weirdest meet-cute ever– decades after you actually met.”

“Hm.” Bucky continues to stare at you, but doesn’t say anything else.

~

They come back. And they both use the door.

You don’t know what you’re more shocked by– that Bucky and Steve, having come back to each other, are still coming around to you, or that Bucky is actually walking through the designated threshold. You don’t have a lot of time to think about it though because the place is…a mess.

“What happened here?” Steve asks as Bucky’s shoulders go up to his ears and he looks around the place like he’s going to find something unpleasant.

“It’s not that bad,” you say and glance around. You’ve cleaned out a few of the pots already and stacked them away in the closet, but some of the plants are still…slightly alive, for a little while. A couple are even doing fairly well– one of which being the snake plant Steve got you.

“What happened to the jungle?” Bucky asks, looking around shrewdly. You don’t like the sound of that. It feels so…probing, and raises your hackles. Why should he care?

“I wasn’t keeping them alive for very long.” You flick a yellowing leaf and keep your tone light. “I just got tired of it. What are…what are you doing here?”

You don’t look at Steve, but he clears his throat and his tone is similar to Bucky’s when he asks, “Is now a bad time?”

“For what?” You square your shoulders and face them. Like an adult. Like an adult who had two other adults just sort of crash into their life one day and start sharing space until such time as the two window-crashers decided they…didn’t need to come around anymore. “I’m happy you both found each other. You didn’t have to come back.”

Steve looks…well, he looks hurt. You don’t know any other way to describe it; it doesn’t show in his face so much as in his eyes, in the feeling you get watching the line of his shoulders lower. But before he can say anything, before you can explain yourself, Bucky speaks up.

“It isn’t like that,” he says.

You look down. It’s easier than looking at a man who feels rejected, and a man who has you completely pegged.

“What?” Steve asks.

“It’s okay,” you say, in perhaps the biggest bald-faced lie you’ve ever told.

“That’s not– no,” Bucky insists and lifts your chin. His fingers are warm and gentle and linger too long.

You pull back from his touch before you can embarrass yourself further. “You guys were literally circling each other.”

“Please.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to keep coming back here to be near Steve. I know where he lives.”

“And I leave my window unlocked,” Steve says. He aims a cheeky grin at Bucky and adds, “Guess I should have left it open though.”

“Shut up,” Bucky tells him but looks at you and says, “Point is: we weren't using you.”

Steve blinks. “Oh– no, of course not!”

“It’s all right,” you say, trying as hard as you can to assuage their discomfort even though you can’t put much into it. Even though you did very much want this meeting to happen, somehow you don’t feel very ‘all right.’

“No,” Bucky says and takes your hand in his. The flesh hand, which he runs up to the middle of your forearm. His touch is gentle and light, even when he grips. You can break away, but you don’t– you let him pull you in, close and closer, until there’s barely any room between you.

Steve crowds from the side and puts one arm behind Bucky, and one arm behind you. “If you only think we’re here because of each other, then it’s not all right,” he says softly.

“I know it isn’t– I know you weren't ‘using’ m–” You swallow hard. “And I know it’s not–”

They both swoop in for a kiss– for a kiss with you. Somehow they avoid bumping heads and the lip-lip-lip contact is barely there, with Steve at the corner and Bucky barely catching one side of your upper lip, but they're both there for a glorious moment that leaves you stunned.

“Oh…” you say, dumbly. You try to fight it, but a smile pulls at your lips. “Oh.”

“That good already, huh?” Steve asks quietly, slowly forming a small smile of his own.

You let out a little sigh that is immediately undermined by an uncontrollable laugh that swells from a bubble of relief at the base of your throat. “Bucky’s right, you are insufferable,” you say but you reach out to sweep your fingers in a gentle touch down Steve’s cheek and under his chin.

“You get used to it,” Bucky says.

You think about that. Even with how you’ve been, entertaining these two rotating planets over the last however many weeks or months, this would be an entirely new normal.

You think you can’t wait to get used to it.

[whookami]

The Steve Proxy

A discussion of an unfulfilling narrative choice in Stranger Things 4, part 2

There are blatant spoilers ahead. Do not read if you do not want to be made aware of exactly how the season ends. Also, this is looooong.

So, let’s address the elephant in the room:

Eddie essentially served no purpose except as a vehicle to get the plot started, and to die in Steve’s place.

This is a massive disservice to what was a fun, unique, sympathetic character. Eddie was, in my opinion, excellently written. The writers did exceedingly well in making us care about this over the top doofus, much like the way they managed to make us turn around and care about Steve despite his actions in early season one. I do however give a lot of the credit for this to both Joes though. They have both really elevated the material they’re given with charismatic, entertaining performances, and I love them both.

The problem is that, at the end of the day, what did Eddie accomplish? I mean, outside of his own personal arc, which, while meaningful, was only earned because Joe Quinn made Eddie into someone we love.

Eddie serves as a stand in for all those who were outcast in the 80s for their interests being even borderline ‘non-Christian’, and as the focus of Hawkin’s own brand of Satanic Panic. He is a starting point for the rest of the cast to get involved, and also explain why they have to move about in secret this season. They can’t involve cops or authority figures because Eddie is being scapegoated.

Once this part of the plot is more or less relegated to the background, mid episode 7, Eddie’s overall importance becomes an add-on, not really serving a purpose… or at least to our overarching narrative.

This is where he becomes Steve. Yes. Almost Literally. It’s not even subtle. The only difference is that his connection with Dustin is portrayed in a more wholesome, kindred spirits manner, as opposed to the brotherly bickering that characterizes Dustin’s relationship with Steve.

Every interaction Eddie has pretty much from episode 7 onward is with Steve or Dustin. Eddie relates to Steve about their relationships with Dustin, how much Dustin admires Steve, talks about him, they both sympathize with each other over dealing with Dustin’s more abrasive moments, and Eddie emphasizes, more than once, and really cutely in the Winnebago, how much he trusts Steve. He entrusts Steve with his desire to give Vecna hell before the groups part ways. After this it’s just Eddie and Dustin, and focusing on their relationship right up until the moment when Eddie dies. Even Dustin deciding to return to the UD to help Eddie is incredibly reminiscent of “You die, I die”.

Side note: Eddie’s death is also done in the least dramatic way. His decision to leave is relegated to “buying more time”, which doesn’t feel like a great writing choice to have a character go out and get themselves killed over in this situation. What should have happened is Eddie realizing that if the bats got in the trailer en masse, they would inevitably fly up/down the gate and out into our world, prompting him to lure them away for an actual incredibly heroic reason, rather than the vague notion of ‘more time’, which he didn’t even know if their friends needed. He would let Dustin get up/down, yell at him to block the hole as best he can, and then run out of the trailer to give Dustin time to try and block the bats out of our world. Very heroic.

Anyways, back to the main point. The show can’t kill Steve with a season still left. I mean, even producer Shawn Levy said he wouldn’t want the show to continue without Steve, and since season 2 Steve has become such a fan darling that it would be shooting themselves in the foot to do it when they will want as much positive fan attention going into a huge final season.

So, Eddie. While a very lovable and original character in his own right, is also given a relationship with Dustin to mirror his connection with Steve. Steve’s insecurity and jealousy, and Eddie’s acknowledgment of it, makes it readily apparent that this is wholly intentional. Ultimately he was written as a front door to the Vecna’s victims plot, and you’ll notice that once Max becomes the next victim, Eddie disappears from a huge chunk of the narrative. He comes back mostly to bond with Dustin, display his parallels with Steve, and then to get a heroic death because killing Steve is unthinkable, but the writers still wanted to create a sense of stakes raising for season 5.

They won’t kill any of the main characters, so they create a proxy and killed him instead, and it is such a disservice to Eddie, to Joe Quinn, to the show, and most of all to the fans.

He got a death he didn’t deserve, more to service someone else’s plot and development (which is only slightly touched upon in the two days later coda), when his role could have been so much better. With the death of Jason as well it’s like they just neatly tied a bow on the whole Satanic panic plot and can just send it off without ever having to address it again.

You deserved better, Eddie. Shred in Peace.