#and that no one knew so Steve didn’t find out that he died until like way after the fact

[morganbritton132]

Eddie is just trying to film a Tiktok to remind his fans about some upcoming shows but trails off when Steve says off-camera, “Hey, remember that RadioShack guy that was banging your mom?”

Eddie: *flips camera around to show where Steve and Jonathan are sitting on the couch*

Jonathan: …Bob.

Steve: Yeah, him. That toe guy from Lord of the Rings looks exactly like him, right?

Jonathan: …

Jonathan: Gollum???

Eddie: Toe, as in Po-tay-toe. He’s talking about Sam

Steve, snapping his fingers: That’s the guy

Jonathan: Oh.

Jonathan: I don’t see it.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rebelspykatie]

Steve comes from a long line of only children. He’s the last one standing after his mother dies, left alone on a barren family tree. This deep longing for an extended family made a home in Steve’s soul at a young age. For so long, it was only Steve and his mother. She raised him as best she could, but Steve never wanted that lonely existence. 

Finding someone that would want that life with him didn’t pan out the way he thought it would. Dating in Hawkins was limited and if he wanted to be truthful with people, also dangerous. Robin was the best dating app mishap turned best friend Steve could’ve hoped for, and she encouraged him to look into solo parenting, promising to be his platonic coparent every step of the way. 

Before his transition, he started a grueling IVF journey. Wanted to quit more times than he wanted to carry on. It didn’t take the first time, and Robin was there to hold him when he wasn’t sure he could handle another round of it. They didn’t know how lucky they’d get the second time. 

Dustin was born just after Thanksgiving that year, and he turned into a precocious toddler faster than Steve could blink. He had this mass of hair that Steve was in awe of, the height definitely coming from him but the curls were a mystery gift from their donor. Steve loved his chubby cheeks and toothless smile more than anything on earth. 

Everything about Dustin brightened up Steve’s world, even when his screams kept Steve and Robin awake all night, or he spit up on Steve’s shirt right before work and he had to change into a questionably dirty shirt because he hadn’t had time for laundry. Steve loved it all. He especially loved how smart his kid was, shooting straight to the top of his class, reading above grade level, doing math equations faster than Steve could comprehend. Robin joked that the donor must have some strong nerd genes to come from Steve and be that much of a math genius. 

He doesn’t actually know much about the donor, other than the recording he has from the interview and a brief profile of his family’s medical history. It might be silly, but Steve ended up picking this donor because of his laugh. It was melodic, ringing in the air long after he finished laughing, and something about it pulled at Steve’s heart in a way the others didn’t. 

Steve doesn’t hide much from Dustin, there’s no point really when your kid’s a genius, but he doesn’t give Dustin the file until he turns 11, doesn’t even hint at it. While Dustin is a curious kid, he’s also got a knack for knowing when to press an issue or not. He had a lot of questions about the process, but always shied away from asking more about how Steve chose or who his donor was. When they finally talked about it as Steve handed over the file to Dustin on his eleventh birthday, Dustin said he always knew Steve chose to have him and that was all that mattered. 

But once he gets his hands on that file, the curiosity voyage sets sail and Dustin’s chasing leads on who this man is like he’s in an episode of scooby doo. The agency will only give them the contact information they had on file 12 years ago. It’s a long shot, expecting someone’s number to be the same, but it’s all they have. A single phone number. 

When a gruff voice answers the phone and Steve explains the situation, the man on the other line agrees to meet them. The address he gives is for the Munson ranch about an hour outside of town. He knows about the ranch in the same way everyone in a small town knows of each other. He’s never been there, but the owner brings a lot of money into the town and mostly keeps to himself. His nephew was a few years ahead of Steve in school, but they never crossed paths. 

It turns out there’s only one Munson left in Hawkins, and Steve’s pretty sure the bald man that’s twice Steve’s age and looks down his nose at Steve and Dustin, isn’t the donor. Recognition sparks in his eyes, though, when Dustin starts talking, some of that defensiveness melting off his face. It’s softening into the same fondness Steve has when looking at Dustin, that inescapable way he pulls you into his orbit and snatches your heart right up. He lets Dustin take the reins, watching Wayne fall under Dustin’s spell.

His first words after Dustin’s long rambling opener about their predicament are, “Your hair looks just like his at that age.” 

Hope blooms in Steve’s chest. He’d been afraid that they wouldn’t find anything, or what they found might disappoint Dustin. But there’s someone out there that’s half of Dustin. Someone that might have given him all these little quirks that Steve’s so fond of. Someone that might want to be a part of his life, even if Steve isn’t sure he’s ready for that. 

Wayne explains that his nephew is out of town with his band, touring somewhere until the end of the month when they come home for the holidays. That’s only two weeks away and it doesn’t give Steve long to prepare for meeting someone that helped bring the best thing into his life, but it’s enough time for Wayne to welcome them into his home with an open heart.

It’s just long enough for Steve to find out that Eddie grew up on the ranch with Wayne and his father, who abandoned them when Eddie was about Dustin’s age. To find out that Eddie always loved music more than the horses and took off the first chance he got once he had the funds. To see pictures along a mantle of another precocious kid with a wild mane of hair that looks about as unstoppable as Dustin. 

Robin comes with them the night they’re going to meet Eddie. It’s a few days after he’s returned from tour. Wayne wanted enough time to prepare him before getting Dustin’s hopes all the way up. When they got the okay, Steve wasn’t sure he could do it alone, so Robin is glued to his side when they pull up at the ranch and come face to face with Edde Munson. 

But Steve relaxes when he sees the same wide grin on Eddie’s face that he sees on Dustin’s every day. And he doesn’t know it yet, but maybe he’s finally filled out that family tree and found the home he never knew he needed, with branches for Robin, Dustin, and maybe two Munsons.

[the-winter-spider]

What I Have | B. Barnes

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Probably the fluffiest piece ive written lol

A/N: I was listening to What I Have by Kelsea Ballerini and well here we are lol

—-

The year was 2024, over one hundred years since you were born—105, to be exact. Your life hadn’t turned out at all like you had dreamed or hoped it would.

You were supposed to marry the boy next door once the war was done. You’d picked out your wedding dress while window shopping with your best friend, even before he proposed. You made a scrapbook, meticulously curating hairstyles and makeup looks, debating over the choices as if they were the most pressing decisions in the world.

You sketched out your dream house, selecting the colors, the flowers for the front garden, and the vegetables you would surely grow in the back. You even chose the font for your new last name on the mailbox.

You had each of your children’s names picked out—three, to be exact. Two boys and one girl, you had hoped. Everything was a dream, but it seemed so close, so possible, as if it should have been a reality. You should be dead by now, having lived a full life, with your children who should have been walking the earth with their children, your grandchildren.

But everything went wrong. Literally, everything possible went wrong.

Bucky fell off a train and died. He actually fell off a train, and they declared him dead. In reality, he had lost his arm, survived the fall because Hydra had already experimented on him. They brainwashed him, like something out of a twisted fairy tale, turning him into a deadly assassin. Your beautiful, blue-eyed Bucky, your sweet Bucky, became a killer. A Bucky you would never see again, because even though he was still here, and you were so thankful for that, he would never be your Bucky again.

And then there was Steve. Of course, Steve found him, because of course! And let’s not forget that your best friend, Steve, who was once smaller than you, was injected with a serum that not only tripled his size but turned him into a superhero because, yes, apparently those needed to exist. Of course, he went off to war, driven by a need for revenge for his best friend, your fiancé Bucky. And of course, he had to be noble, going down for the cause, leading everyone to believe he was dead. But of course, he wasn’t. They found him, frozen but alive, because he was Captain America, and that’s just what happens.

And then there was you, consumed by grief, first losing the love of your life and then your best friend. You begged, on your knees, begged Howard Stark to use you as his test subject for cryogenic testing. You couldn’t bear to be here without your boys. He hesitated because he loved Steve, and he knew Steve wouldn’t want this for you. But when you threatened that if he didn’t, you would take your own life, he relented. So, of course, it worked because it was Howard, and he was a Stark. But decades passed, and the year he was supposed to wake you up, The Winter Soldier murdered him. So, as usual, you stayed frozen, but alive, until Howard’s son, Tony, found you in his father’s hidden lab.

You woke up to a world that was not your own, a century too late for the life you were supposed to live. The world had moved on, but you hadn’t. Your friends were legends now, mythologized beyond recognition. And you, well, you were the ghost of what could have been.

The years that followed were a blur of new faces, new battles, and new griefs. You tried to adapt, to find a place in this future that had no room for you. But every corner of this brave new world reminded you of the past, of the life that slipped through your fingers.

And then one day, while sifting through old boxes in Tony’s lab, you found something. It was an old, faded book, as soon as you saw the brown cover you heart dropped you knew what it was, it waa your scrapbook. The cover had an old faded photo of you, Bucky, and Steve, taken on a sunny day before the world went mad. You barely recognized the girl in the photo, with her bright smile and unbroken heart. But there she was, a relic of a time that now felt like a dream.

You realised then that maybe you didn’t belong in this world. Maybe you never did. But as long as you were here, you could try—try to make sense of the pieces left behind, to find some small measure of peace in the chaos.

And that’s exactly what you did. Even though you didn’t have the life you had once dreamed of, you still had them. And in what world does all that trauma happen, and you still end up alive with your boys?

You picked up the dusty book, holding it close to your heart, as you navigated through the compound, following the sound of laughter coming from the living room. You paused just outside the doorway, soaking in the warmth of his laugh—a sound you feared you might never hear again after Bucky began recovering from his trauma. But here it was, filling the room, and even though it wasn’t the same Bucky you knew decades ago, his laugh was unchanged, and it made your heart swell.

Rounding the corner, you saw Steve clutching his chest in joy, playfully shoving Sam, who was grinning widely.

Bucky’s eyes immediately found yours; he could always find you in any room. “Hi, doll,” he said, getting up to kiss your cheek and taking your hand to lead you to the couch.

“Hi, Buck. Hi, Stevie, Sammy,” you greeted them, settling in beside Bucky.

Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Bucky glanced down at the book in your arms. “What’s that?”

Steve’s smile faded into something more serious as he noticed the book, instantly recognizing it. “Is that what I think it is?”

You nodded, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “Stark… he kept it. I haven’t opened it yet. I thought… I thought we could do it together.”

“What is it?” Sam asked, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s my life,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “There are a few pages of what I thought it would turn out to be… but after everything happened…” You paused, taking a steadying breath. The memories of losing Bucky and Steve were still fresh, no matter how much time had passed. “I never planned or dreamed of anything else. It just felt silly without you boys. So, I just filled it with photographs.”

“Photographs of who?” Sam asked, leaning forward.

“Everyone,” you replied softly, glancing between Bucky and Steve. “Peggy and Mrs. Rogers,” you said, meeting Steve’s gaze. You saw the emotion in his eyes at the mention of his mother. “Becca and Winnie, Mr. Barnes,” you continued, feeling Bucky tense slightly at the mention of his mother and sister, their faces now distant memories. “I even have Howard and the Commandos.” You smiled a little. “But mostly, it’s us—all of us.”

Bucky reached out, gently taking the book from your hands. His fingers brushed the worn cover, the room fell silent as the weight of the past settled around you all.

“Let’s open it together,” Steve suggested, his voice thick with emotion. He moved closer, his presence a steady anchor as you all gathered around the book. Sam stayed distant, letting the three of you have your moment but still staying there.

Bucky opened the cover, and the first page revealed a photograph of you, Bucky, and Steve, taken in a simpler time. The three of you looked so young, so hopeful. You felt Bucky’s hand tighten around yours as he stared at the image, memories rushing back. It was a photo from your 16th birthday, the day he had gifted you the book.

“I gave this to you,” Bucky said quietly, the realization settling over him.

You nodded. “For my birthday. You wrote…” You trailed off, pointing to the top left corner of the front of the book.

He read the words aloud, his voice filled with emotion. “Happy 16th birthday to my best girl. I hope you fill these pages with your hopes and dreams. I can only hope that somewhere in amongst them, I’ll be a part of it. With all the love, Bucky.”

Sam smiled, leaning back in his seat. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Buck?”

You watched as Bucky’s cheeks flushed a light shade of red at the comment, and you gave his knee a gentle squeeze, feeling the warmth of the old affection between you.

“For y/n, he was crazy,” Steve chimed in, grinning. “You should have seen him—head over heels is an understatement. Try obses—”

Before Steve could finish, Bucky reached behind you and gave him a playful shove. “Can it, Rogers,” he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Steve just laughed, catching himself before he toppled over. “You know it’s true.”

You chuckled, resting your head against Bucky’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Bucky’s hand found yours again, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. “Neither would I.”

As you all shared a quiet moment, the weight of the years seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of old memories and the comfort of the present. Bucky turned the page, revealing more photographs—snapshots of moments that had once seemed so ordinary but now felt like treasures.

The pages turned slowly, revealing a life that could have been—a wedding dress sketched out, a house with a picket fence, names of children that never came to be. And then, the photographs—snapshots of moments frozen in time. Peggy’s bright smile, Mrs. Rogers’ kind eyes, the mischievous grins of Becca and Winnie, Howard’s confident stance, the Commandos’ camaraderie. But the most frequent faces were your own, Bucky’s, and Steve’s, from a time when the world was both simpler and infinitely more complex.

Each image told a story. There was one of you and Steve dancing at a neighbourhood block party, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand. Another showed Bucky in his military uniform, giving you a wink as he prepared to head off to basic training. Then there were pictures of Steve and Bucky goofing around, each trying to outdo the other in some silly stunt, and you caught in the middle, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

There were pictures of Bucky and you around the campfire on the night before everything changed—before he fell off the train. Bucky paused on that photo, his eyes lingering on it. “That was the night before…” he said softly.

You nodded, squeezing his hand, understanding the weight of those words.

“Night before what?” Sam asked, his voice gentle.

“Before I fell,” Bucky replied, those three words carrying a lifetime of pain and loss. The room grew still, the significance of that moment hanging heavy in the air. Sam didn’t say anything more, sensing the depth of emotion in Bucky’s words.

Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on the photo, his voice quiet as he continued. “It was the last time I felt so much joy… I feel it now, but it was different then.”

Steve nodded in agreement, his expression solemn. “I get it, Buck.”

“Me too,” you added, your voice trembling slightly. “I keep thinking about what was supposed to be, what should have been.” You paused, wiping a tear from your eye. “I don’t understand why it all happened the way it did—why I didn’t get the life I thought I was going to.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, his hand gently reaching out to wipe away your tears, his touch as tender as it had always been.

The room fell into a reverent silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts, the weight of your shared history settling over you like a heavy blanket. Finally, Sam spoke, his voice soft and full of understanding. “You’ve lived a hell of a life.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you wiped away a stray tear. “It wasn’t what I planned,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “But I wouldn’t trade it. Not if it meant losing this—losing you… both of you.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We didn’t get the life we dreamed of, but we got each other. And that’s enough.”

Steve leaned back, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “We’ve been through so much, but we’re still here. Together.”

Sam smiled, the warmth in his expression offering a quiet reassurance. “That’s what matters in the end. Not what you lost, but what you’ve kept.”

“Till the end of the line,” Steve spoke, the words heavy with emotion and depth.

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky echoed, pulling you closer to his side.

You glanced around the room at the faces of the people who had become your family—the ones who had stood by you through the darkest of times.

As the pages of the scrapbook turned, the photographs shifted from black-and-white to colour, reflecting the passage of time. The images grew fewer as the years became harder, but each one was more precious because of it.

Finally, you reached the last page, where an empty space awaited a new photograph. You looked up at Bucky and Steve, both of them gazing at the book with a mix of nostalgia and gratitude.

“You should take a new photo,” Sam suggested, his voice soft but certain. “One to mark this moment.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that melted away the years. “Yeah, we should.”

Steve grinned. “I’ll get the camera.”

As Steve stood to retrieve a camera, you leaned into Bucky, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand. This was the life you had, and it was more than enough. The empty space in the book was no longer a reminder of what was lost, but a promise of what was yet to come—a new chapter, filled with love, laughter, and the people who mattered most.

Sam took the camera from Steve, ready to take the picture. But just as he was about to snap the shot, you paused. “Wait!”

“What? You don’t have food in your teeth, but your hair…” Sam teased with a smirk.

“Well, I was going to say I want you in the picture too, but…” You trailed off

“No, no! I’m sorry, you’re beautiful… perfect—”

“Sam, watch it, that’s my girl,” Bucky warned, a protective edge to his voice.

Sam rolled his eyes, chuckling. “The whole world knows that, Buck.” He placed the camera on the tripod and took a seat beside Steve. “You sure you want me in this?”

“Of course, Sammy! You’re one of us now,” you insisted, smiling warmly at him.

Sam’s expression softened, and he nodded, touched by your words. As the camera clicked, capturing the four of you together, you knew that this was the memory that would fill that final page—the proof that even after everything, you still had your boys, old and new, and they still had you.

The book might never hold the life you once dreamed of, but it would hold the life you had lived—the one you had fought for, the one you had loved.

And that was more than enough.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 | steve x reader ; eddie x reader

summary: when your boyfriend dies as a result from saving you and your friends, you find yourself deep in the throes of grief. and in your lowest moment you find a new vice, something… or rather someone unexpected.

6.1k, reader is named “nellie” simply bc i refuse to use y/n, smut, 18+ only, multiple chapters, future drug use, mature themes, heavy depictions of grief/suffering leading to questionable decisions

big s/o & thanks to @rebelfell + @rxqueenotd for spit ballin’ ideas and beta’ing ❤️‍🩹

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

His body laid for three days before Owen’s team braved that cold and eerie pit of desolate hell. Strong hands had pulled you away from his body, and you had tried to claw your way back to him, begging for death to take you instead. 

That night you watched him choke on his last breath, his lungs gurgling with a squelching pop of blood as hesmiled one last, and final time, his last words played over and over again. 

“I’m so lucky to have been loved by you.”

His skin was still warm when the others found you clutching onto him, laying beside him as if you were cuddling during another time. A time when monsters didn’t exist and all you had was happiness. Legs thrown over one another as you watched a movie in the Wheeler’s basement, or when your wet hair seeped into his skin after a late night of swimming at Lover’s Lake, or the feel of his fingers tucked into the nape of your neck while you kissed him at your lockers back in high school. 

Never. You’d never feel that from him again. 

Large arms wrapped around your middle hauling you away. And you scrambled, kicked and slapped to get back to him. Screaming his name over and over. Because they weren’t his hands, and they would never hold you again, he was dead, Steve was dead. 

The hours after were a blur, somehow the rest of you had managed to get away. Eddie jump started an abandoned military vehicle that a rescue team had left while under attack, driving back to the gate that reopened under the ruins of StarCourt. 

Your head laid in Robin’s lap the entire ride back while Eddie drove, silent tears falling down everyone’s cheeks, Dustin sobbing into Nancy’s bony shoulder. 

You all stayed together those first few nights, laying in a fortress of blankets and couch pillows in your living room. It all seemed to move in slow motion, a terrible aching dread filled your soul and refused to leave the hole in your heart. 

The house you and Steve had rented was large enough to accommodate everyone for a few days. Those days were spent telling favorite stories of him. Talking about the pride he had for everyone, the mother hen of the group. How he would lay down and sacrifice himself for everyone he knew and he did just that.

A solemn silence fell over everyone, after a kick to the chest of reality fell like a veil—that he would never again come walking in the door. That Robin lost her best friend and confidant. That you would mourn your boyfriend, lover, and friend until your dying days. That Dustin lost his first male father figure. It all came crashing down at once, and no one spoke much after that besides the occasional sniffle or to open the back door to chain smoke the anxiety away. 

Claudia eventually called to have Dustin come home. Jonathan stopped over with his long haired friend from California, and you were anything but friendly to them. How could you be? You watched in jealous rage as Jonathan pressed kisses to Nancy’s cheek and rubbed her back soothingly. 

She lost a friend. You had lost the only person who knew you from the inside and out, and it wasn’t fair. 

Everyone trickled out of the home you shared with Steve. One by one, silently not wanting to be the last to leave, to have to watch your eyes wet as you were left to your own vices, left in this empty house that held all of your memories.

You couldn’t blame them. Hell was here and you were swallowed by its warmth, the flames licking your neck as you fell deeper into it, succumbing to the heat.

Eddie was the last to go. He was oddly quiet during the last few days, leaving late after everyone had fallen asleep just to return again in the morning. He had asked to use the phone only once, quietly excusing himself to use the bathroom afterwards, coming back to the living room looking even more lost than he had earlier, his eyes wet with fresh tears. 

It was almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should be here or not. He didn’t know Steve as long as everyone else did, but over the last year they’d gotten close, as if they were almost family more than they were friends. 

You had come to know and accept Eddie and Chrissy well, over the last year you’d spent a few nights every couple of months double dating at Enzo’s or game nights playing Scrabble at your house. When the world flipped upside down again, all of the fun came to an end, and the last nine months or more had been spent strategizing… trying to find a means to end this real life hell once and for all. 

And it did end, but at what cost?

Eddie’s shadow lingered by the front door as you walked over, one of Steve’s button down shirts hanging loose on your shoulders, the sleeves damp with your tears. 

His dark eyes swam with something you hadn’t recognized at all the past week, it wasn’t fear like it had been when you were miles below in another dimension. But you couldn’t nail down what he was feeling as he asked, “are you gonna be okay?” 

You stared at him, raising an eyebrow with an exhaustive look. 

His fingers worked the rings on his left hand. “I mean, tonight… are you alright, alone? I can stay if you...” He paused for a while, his tongue pressed into his cheek as he stared at the blue rug, his boots pinching his aching feet. Raising his eyes to yours once more, “I— I know how it feels when someone you love dies, it’s…hard.” 

Tears welled for what felt like the hundredth time in twenty four hours, and you shook your head. You dreaded this night when things should return to normal, when your friends had to return to school, their jobs. Things had to go back to the way they were— but you couldn’t. Not now, Maybe not ever. 

You remember how Eddie had missed school for weeks years ago back in elementary. But you weren’t friends then so you never knew, and you felt like a bitch for never asking. “I’m sorry, I— I didn’t—.” 

He turned his face away, smiling and finding interest in the wood grain of the front door, “it was a long time ago, I’ve had time to heal, but it takes awhile.” 

All you had was time. Time without Steve. Time to mourn the loss of the only man you’ve ever loved. Silent streaks slid down the apples of your cheeks, and Eddie stepped forward like he might crush you into a hug, but he stopped short. Instead rubbing his hand lightly down your arm, “I left my number on the counter, call anytime. Okay?” 

You blinked back at him and nodded. If you wouldn’t have been crying you could have seen the turmoil stir in the caffeinated browns of his. 

“Thanks, Eddie… I might just take you up on that.” 

He smiled gravely, “I did— I didn’t know Steve for as long as everyone else did… but he was a really good friend to me.” 

You looked up at him, eyes welling with tears at the man all of Hawkins marked to be a Satanic Cult Leader.

“He cared about you and Chrissy a lot, Eddie.” 

He smiled sadly and turned away before you could catch him wiping his eyes, or notice the wobble of his bottom lip. 

“I know, I did too…take care, Nellie.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Steve’s cologne was still on the bathroom sink. Dried toothpaste was stuck between the bristles of his toothbrush left from his rush to leave that morning— the last one he’d ever have. 

His bar of soap in the shower still held dry bubbles from lathered skin the last night you’d spent together. You had shared the warmth of a shower, shampooing his hair and Steve attempting to help shave your legs, giggling between the spray of the water. Later he laid you down making you whimper as he kissed your neck, fucking you slow and deep, whispering in your ear how you were his entire world. 

You hadn’t slept in your shared bed since his death, and now that the chaos had dissipated, and the house was quiet outside of the usual clicks and hums from the refrigerator, you braved the lonely queen sized bed and slipped between the cool sheets. 

The sweet burn of cedar, clove and a tangy bit of citrus surrounded you. Steve’s aroma, his smell held you like a child as you cried into his pillow. Curling your body into his side of the bed, you imagined his large hands splayed across your belly as he held you close to him, pulling you tightly against him so there wasn’t a single inch of him not touching you.

But in the end it was just you alone, trying to find warmth in cold sheets with a wet pillow. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The alarm clock had scared the shit out of you.

The ringing turned to chimes in your dream, and when you woke— alone, it was in a puddle of sweat, the bed sheets wrapped around you like those horrible black vines had. 

The kitchen tile was cold on your bare toes as you padded to the coffee maker. Steve considered himself the best barista in Hawkins, and no matter how hard you tried to replicate it your pot of coffee never stood a chance next to his. 

Digging into the Folgers can, you dump two heaping dollops of grounds into the filter, pressing the ‘on’ button, mentally preparing for the worst cup of coffee you’d had since before you had started dating Steve. No hope to be found, optimism long gone. 

It took only a moment, a single sleep riddled half thought for you to slip up, your mind forgetting for just a second as you accidentally wondered what you and Steve would do for the weekend. 

Your nerves went into shock, you gasped in guilted embarrassment at the audacity to forget that. How? How how how how how! Pulling at your hair you scanned the kitchen table, eyeing Eddie’s number written on a pad of paper, but grabbing the phone you dialed a different one instead. 

She answered on the second ring, her voice sleepy and haggard as you whispered through choked tears, “h—he’s gone.” 

“Yeah,” Robin answered, sheets shuffling around, “he’s gone.” 

Tears fell in large drops down your face, as you nodded at the answer you already knew, silently needing the confirmation. 

How would you be able to walk the streets alone without Steve’s big hand crimped tight around yours? How could you live without ever hearing his voice, his laugh ever again?

When you hung up, Robin didn’t call back, and even if she had you wouldn’t have picked up. The day brought visitors trying to cheer you up. Rubbing your back as you stared blankly at the wall. Promising you things would get better, would be easier as time went on. Bullshit. All of it. 

As sweet as they were, how the hell would they know? How could they possibly hurt as bad as you did?

They had lost a friend, an older brother figure, but they didn’t know Steve on the intimate levels you did. They had no idea that he woke with terrors almost every night. Or that he had failed his driver’s test twice, or that he had a patch of light freckles on his nether region. 

Steve had been everything to you and now that he was gone you didn’t know how to cope in a world without him. If whatever higher power could grant Chrissy new life, and Eddie was spared from the bats, why wasn’t Steve? 

Your questions went unanswered as your mind reeled with pictures of him, flicking like a movie, your eyes stinging with anger. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Every night since he had died, you had slept in a pair of Steve’s boxers and a Hawkins High Prom 1984 shirt. 

From what you could tell, Robin was in the same shape you were in, unable to go back to work, barely sleeping. The only difference was she had Vickie at home to comfort her, hold her and wipe away her cries. 

You couldn’t help but feel nothing but jealous and sick to your stomach at the thought of how you were having to go through this alone. No matter how selfish that made you, you simply couldn’t care. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Nancy woke you the morning before the funeral with a sharp knock on the front door, and an armful of baked goods. She made coffee as you stared a hole into the kitchen floor, she vacuumed as you thumbed through Steve’s wallet, silently tearing up over his driver’s license picture. 

She folded laundry while you sobbed and screamed at a very surprised Keith when he called to ask why Steve hadn’t shown up for his shift. Nancy didn’t blink when the phone was pulled from the wall and sent flying across the living room as you pulled your hair in a fit because Steve is gone. Dead. Not coming back.

Nancy simply rubbed your back, pushing away hair from your wet cheeks after you fell asleep with your head in her lap. And when you woke, feeling worse than hungover with swollen eyes and a sore throat— she wouldn’t let you apologize. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Surprisingly, Steve’s parents found it in themselves to pretend they gave a shit long enough to plan his funeral. 

Everything was gaudy. Overdone and full of rich smells of roses so strong you wanted to vomit. 

Pearls clung to your ears and neck. The velvet of your black dress was warm on your body despite the cold gusts of wind that chapped your stocking clad legs. The sun wouldn’t shine today, or in your mind ever again. 

Robin showed up first, clinging to Vickie’s arm, a sad smile on her freckled face. She wore a dress, a sort of last laugh for Steve’s sake to see her dressed up. She throws herself at you, all legs and tear stained cheeks, squeezing your face into her shoulder.

“He would have hated this,” she sniffled after glancing around at The Harrington’s entourage, “look at her wiping her eyes as if she’d even talked to Steve within the last year.”

Steve’s mother stood in all of her Chanel No 9 glory, delicately dabbing a silk hanky to her dry eyes, as funeral goers grasped her manicured hand and spilled condolences. 

The sight alone made you sick. Mary could win an Oscar for her performance. Nobody but you and Robin would have any idea that Steve hadn’t spoken to his parents in over a year. Christmas to be exact. The first and last one you two had spent at their enormous home. 

What should have been a nice evening ended in harsh words and Steve’s father saying he was disowning him. Steve held his head high on the way home, apologizing for his parents and promising that he would never have anything to do with them again. 

And from there up until they were told of their only son’s death— The Harrington’s never once tried to make amends. 

“Always a show with her,” you sighed angrily. 

“How are you doing? Vickie asks shyly, “Is there anything we can do?”

“I’m fine, really. I—I’m okay, slowly but surely.” 

Vickie smiles and squeezes your hand, “He never loved someone as much as he loved you, Nel.” 

The words hit like a bullet. 

You knew.

Of course you had known. Steve told you that himself on more occasions than you could count, you didn’t need to hear it from someone else, didn’t need the reassurance that a man who literally died to protect you really did love you. 

It felt foreign—sounding horribly wrong coming out of a mouth that wasn’t his. Body on fire with something worse than rage, all you wanted to do was scream. Nodding your head once you excuse yourself, pushing out of the side exit and down some cement steps to the outside.

Air. You needed to force air into your lungs before you collapsed. Your chest felt as if it was going to burst into flames, suddenly everything felt so restricting. The air was frozen and bitter, resembling yourself lately and the outcome of the last few days. 

Gasping, choking on wailing cries you pulled at the neck of your dress, kicking your shoes into the dead grass. You yanked barrettes from your hair and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes until you saw spots of gold and green. Anything to try to get some relief try to stop the sensation of being suffocated by something you couldn’t even see. 

“Nellie?” 

Tears poured from your face as you whimpered, struggling with the zipper on the back of your dress. 

It wasn’t fair. Why him? Why Steve? He was so good. Much better than you. He was kind and handsome, he loved big and treated everyone around him like they were the most important person in the room. 

He was the best friend, best boyfriend, best everything.

It should have been you.

A pair of warm hands land on your shoulders pulling you backwards and upright, frightening you before the warm tobacco spiced voice whispers in your ear.

“Breathe, Nel… c’mon sweetheart.” 

“I- c—can’t… Eddie…I—” coughing and clawing at the necklace of pearls, you desperately tried to unhook them, their weight feeling like boulders sitting on your chest, threatening to break you to pieces.

Eddie moved the hair from your neck, and in one little clink the necklace fell into your hands. 

“It’s off, it’s off— c’mon now, you gotta take a deep breath for me.” He spun you around placing his warm hands on your cheeks, sweeping away the icy tears. 

He was dressed in all black, his leather jacket tight on his arms. A frumpy, wrinkled tie loose around his neck looking like it had been tied and re-tied too many times before he just gave up. 

“In and out,” he instructed softly, taking your hand and placing it against his chest, “match it to mine. Feel it?”

It didn’t work, it wasn't helping. Eddie didn’t waste time before the cold leather of his arms wrap around you, delicately rubbing your back as you collapsed into him. 

The wind bit at his face as he held you close, stroking your hair. “It’s alright, ‘s gonna be okay, I’m here— we all are.” 

You let yourself break, let the sadness consume you before the funeral could start and you had to be brave for everyone. You wouldn’t let his parents see you this way, they already thought you were every bit of trash but Steve had always held you higher, placing you on a special little pedestal. And with him, nothing else mattered. 

Wiping your eyes, you pull back enough to see Eddie’s face, the dark sunglasses he wore were fogged up on the inside, shielding away his own turmoil, but his lip quivered slightly. 

“God, Eddie,“ you sniffed, voice wobbly as you murmur, “Sorry.. ‘m such a mess.” 

“Don’t do that,” he almost whispers, voice low and sensual, “don’t apologize.” 

If you could see his eyes you would notice how sad they were, how he was doing his very best to hold it together. How he had bags under his eyes from not sleeping. You’d see the guilt etched into the darks of his irises for being alive, for coming out of there alive.

The door swings open with a loud crack, caught in a gust of blustering wind, Dustin standing on the threshold trying to hold onto the handle for dear life, he winces when he sees the two of you. 

“Hey, it’s—” he looks at his watch, “they’re ready to start.” 

Eddie removes his hands from your arms and shoves them into his pockets, all the warmth leaving you as the wind creeps through the fabric of your dress.

“Be right there man,” Eddie answers tight lipped, trying to convey to Dustin that you needed a minute to collect yourself, “save me a seat.” 

When the door shuts with great force on Dustin’s end, he bends down to scoop up your discarded heels, holding them by the backs. He sets them on the ground between the two of you, gathering your arm in his hand as you steadied yourself with his body to balance while you slipped your feet in. 

Taking one last ragged breath, Eddie moves beside you looking up at the church, then back at you.

“I don’t think I can say goodbye.” 

Eddie swallows hard, reaching out with a cautious hand but deciding at the last minute to shove it into his pocket, “you don’t have to, y'know? My m— well, I heard once that a person’s spirit can live on as long as you need them.” 

“D’ do you believe in that kind of stuff?” you ask solemnly, “The afterlife? Reincarnation?” 

“I believe that Steve would want all of us to keep going, to be the best versions of ourselves…. and he would probably scold us for being late to his funeral.” 

You smile then, wrapping your hands around your arms rubbing warmth into them. “He definitely would, I can almost hear him fussing.”  

“Hands on his hips, no doubt,” Eddie said with a grin, “But he’d pull himself together…be strong for everyone, he was always good at doing that.”

You look at him, completely unaware of his own inner struggles. “That was Steve, always brave, always willing to defend someone.”

The door busts open again, this time it’s Hopper, his bristly mustache matching his thick eyebrows as he stares with annoyance at your tardiness. 

“Shit,” Eddie jokes, “better go before he calls the hounds.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

It was a closed casket per your request, even though his mother argued to have it open. Wanting the sympathy from her friends of being a parent “burying-their-child” and to have people comment on how he looked like her, how beautiful they both were— it was sick. 

Dustin made a speech. His hair pushed back just how Steve had taught him back in high school. He shed a tear at the end when he referred to Steve as his best friend. Climbing down from the podium, he slumped in the pew next to Eddie, sniffling softly as his shoulders shook. 

Robin recited a light hearted poem, promising to keep the store running and to finally get her driver’s license. Her eyes sparkled as she recounted the laughs she and Steve had shared. 

When it was your turn, your heart felt like it was filled with lead, the walk up the ugly church carpet felt as if it drug on forever, and you had to take several deep breaths before adjusting the mic. 

Your poorly written speech talked about how Steve lit up every room, how he was adored by everyone at Hawkins High. But now, under the scathing florescent lights under the wet eyes of your closest friends, the jumbled words looked like nothing but bullshit. 

Tears rimmed your eyes and you felt the same death grip of panic rising on your throat. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, body shaking as you fumbled with the index cards, “I- I can’t.” 

It was Joyce who met you at the podium with a caring smile, and open arms guiding you back to the pew. She didn’t mind that you sobbed into her shoulder making a mess of her cotton dress. And when the service was over and it was time to go to the cemetery, she held your hand and led the way.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You felt numb as you stood next to Robin. Her icy fingers laced with yours as you zoned out completely while standing at his gravesite. Someone was talking but you couldn’t register who it was or what they were saying. 

Your body was present but your mind was floating in a memory. 

“Should we have spaghetti tonight? Or do you wanna order a pizza and I’ll pick it up after I leave work?” 

Steve’s comforting voice filled your ear as you twirled your finger around the cord in the stockroom at Melvald’s. A common occurrence for the two of you, each sneaking off to call each other during the day. Eight hours away from him was too much. 

“Already got the noodles boiling for spaghetti, honey,” he practically purred into the phone, “tell Joyce you’re taking off for the night and come home to me.” 

Your smile squeaked through the receiver, your heart skipped beats at the thought of Steve Harrington wanting you… two years together it still seemed like yesterday that you had gone on your first date.

“Steve,” you giggled, “You didn’t have to.”

“Ah ah ah, I won’t listen to that,” Steve lightly scolded, “I like to cook and take care of my girl, we’re a team, Nellie.” 

You begrudgingly sigh and feel heat rise to your cheeks, you really were one of the luckiest girls. “Okay Captain, what kind of noodles are you making?” 

Steve chuckles through the receiver, cream colored phone balancing on his shoulder as he adds salt to the boiling water. 

“It was a toss up between angel hair or fettuccine… fettuccine won, and I picked up some garlic bread from Enzo’s.” 

“Ohh, you’re spoiling me rotten,” you purr, imagining what you would do to thank him…something involving your favorite part of him and your mouth, “I’ll stop at Bradley’s for some drinks, what are ya thinkin’?”

Steve smiles, putting a dish towel on his shoulder, “surprise me.” 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The church basement reeked of furniture polish, clashing with heavy floral perfume to mask the smell of mildew from a previous heavy rainfall. 

The Women of Fellowship were serving ham on wheat buns with chips and a veggie tray. Their faces planted with a christian sympathy smile as they cut brownies and refilled the punch bowl.  

A bottle of champagne sat chilled in a bath of ice per Mrs. Harrington’s demands. No reason to be so down all day, might as well make it a special occasion! As if the death of her only son wasn’t enough, was too boring for her. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved your plate away as her obnoxious laugh erupts from behind you. Steve’s father telling his colleagues a dirty joke no doubt, his face red from stifling a laugh and the whiskey he clutched in a monogrammed flask. 

“Nellie?” Nancy chirped, adjusting her slim figure to whisper gently across the table your group of friends were sulking at,  “I have some frozen meals my mom and I put together, I can come over tonight and give you the instructions if you’d like?”

Nodding softly you meet her eyes, “Thanks Nance, that’d be really nice.” 

It went silent again, Max fidgeted with her hair, pulling it back in a loose ponytail. Will’s watch beeped but he clicked it off lazily, running his hands down his face. Nobody knew what to say or what to do. What do you say at a friend's funeral? 

“Are they always like this?” Eddie blurts through the quiet, cocking his head towards the Harrington’s. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm slung over the back of an empty chair beside him, his sunglasses were still on, just as they were through the church service and at the gravesite. 

Everyone at the table looks to you, expecting some sort of an explanation, but you simply shrug, “I- I don’t really know them very well.” 

“Steve’s parents?” Nancy questions, “they’re super sweet, when I—”

She stops then her mouth closing with a pop to remember that it probably wasn’t the time to talk about her long ago relationship with Steve at his funeral in front of his current girlfriend. 

“… they uhhh.. they were always nice.” 

It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know. Mostly because you and Steve had never mentioned it to anyone besides Robin. But her words stung, hit your chest like a thousand mad bees. 

You stand on shaky legs, “I need—yeah…” Without giving anything more you walk away, almost taking the table cloth with you from it tangling in your purse. 

“Nellie,” Robin tries, her own eyes swimming with hurt, but you’re already two tables away, squeezing between padded shoulders and hands holding plastic cups of punch, bleary eyed to find anywhere to be but here.

Turns out a broom closet storing Christmas decorations stuffed right with the plastic light-up yard Bethlehem set, was the right place to have a breakdown. 

You were hiding for a solid ten minutes before you heard a soft knock and a quiet ‘Nell?’ And your unladylike sniffling gave you away as you wiped your nose on the blanket swaddling baby Jesus. 

“Rob,” you exhaled annoyingly, “I’m fine, okay? Tell Nance I’m sorry.” But to your surprise it was Eddie.

“Hey.” he says cautiously, clicking the door behind him and leaning against it. 

You looked from him to your shoes and muttered out a soft, “hi.”

“So… Mr. and Mrs. Harrington seem like real big pieces of shit… wow.”

You snort airily fiddling with the run in your stocking, “Yeah, they’re something alright.” 

Eddie slides down the door, sitting with his legs crossed in front of him, exhaling a deep breath,“It’s been a long day,” he finally said.

“I don’t know what to do next.” 

Eddie looks at you confused, and eyes you when you stand abruptly and start pacing around the cramped closet. 

You’re erratic, talking fast and crazed, “I told myself that all I needed to do was just make it to the funeral. Make it through the funeral and…and then I would figure it all out from there! Now here we are— and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do after, Eddie!

“After it’s over? And– when I leave… he’ll still be here in the ground, and I— ” you start to apologize but refrain, “.. I should go.” 

“Talk to me,” Eddie stands to his full height, reaching towards you, just barely grazing your elbow with his fingertips. His voice nearly breaking, “it helps to get it out.” 

You hiccup, and pull away, stumbling over a slew of strung together sentences that you’re barely breathing through to get out. 

 “..’s… shit, he was all I had. My parents are gone, I don’t have any siblings. It’s been… d’ you know that his parents have never approved of me, but Steve he— he fought for me, for us. Without him…I’m alone.” 

Eddie follows you his hands firm your biceps to try to calm you down. “All your friends are here. Robin, Vickie, the kids…” 

His words have no meaning to you, none of it mattered, your pain was demanding to be felt, and frilly words with no merit wouldn’t sugar coat this. “He’s gone, Eddie! He didn’t get to have a second chance he—died!”

He’s level headed but slowly losing his own battle, trying not to break thinking about his luck and the never ending guilt he carried. 

“We were all there, all of us are hurting, Nellie. You can’t shut people out and clam up.” 

You try to wriggle free from him, but he’s stronger, and all you can do is cry, “I— can’t keep going! Not without him!” 

Feeling the weight of survivor's guilt and the agony of never being able to be consoled by Steve again, you break. Sobbing uncontrollably. Eddie’s arms surround you, holding you tight and engulfing your cries with his own tears, and little shushes from his throat. 

“I’m sorry, Nellie. I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t cry— it will take time but you.. we will be okay.” 

His voice is wobbly and his chest shakes as he cries silently grieving for his best friend. With tears running down your cheeks you pull away slightly to see his face. 

In the dim light you can make out that his nose is tinged red, and with unsteady hands you reach up and pry his sunglasses from his face.

His eyes were red, a little swollen from rubbing them and fatigued with lack of sleep. You could kick yourself for not recognizing how hurt he was, how self absorbed you had been. Both of you are crying together, clinging onto each other under the yellow light in that makeshift storage closet. 

Throwing yourself at him, your cheek presses into his chest as you both sob into one another. Meshing your suffering with his. 

His chin is resting on your head, hands wrapped in your hair. Your hands are clutching the opening of his shirt, fingers just barely grazing over his bare chest. Minutes passed and you exhale an exhausted sigh. 

Lifting your face up to tell Eddie that maybe you should get back, your nose brushes against his. And when you both should be moving away, straightening yourself up and wiping your eyes, neither of you pull back. 

Eddie’s breath fans against your cheek, a small shudder on your skin, the emotional hold of the day, his arms wrapped around you it was nice… it felt, good. Without thinking, without acknowledging what you’re doing you tilt your head and line your mouth up with his, pressing your lips to his. 

It’s unexpectedly tender, and what should startle him doesn’t, but all of that sweetness is quickly swallowed by a hunger you had never felt before. 

It’s nothing but grabby hands and needy mouths. His hands go from soft and consoling to roughly working his pants down in the same hastiness- that you’re hauling your dress up.

Eddie grabs you from the crook of your knees as if you’re weightless and shoves you up hard against the wall. Your mouth hangs open in a silent plea as your panties get ripped to the side. Tears are still flowing down your face and if you were to look at him, you’d see that his haven't stopped either. 

It’s desperate the way you’re clutching onto his shoulders. As if every ounce of pain was leaving you with every inch of him. You whimper with each pump of his hips and Eddie is doing the same, holding you impossibly tight, grunting into your ear. 

It’s raw and harsh, the shelves shuddering with the pace of him taking you, and you’re all in, moaning when you’re close. Holding the nape of his neck and wringing his curls as you start to unravel, your nails clawing into him as your mind explodes. 

When you finish, he’s close behind, groaning deep and biting his lip as he shakes violently with his release, pumping all he’s got into you. 

What’s left between you is gasping breaths and tear kissed skin, a set of broken Christmas lights under Eddie’s boot. 

His jacket is still in your clutches when you open your eyes, coming down from a high you clung to stay up on. But the weight of your decision comes crashing down when you realize what you had done.

Regret is painted thick on your face as the realization comes full force. You need to get out of here. What kind of grieving girlfriend were you to have fucked your dead boyfriend’s best friend in a church basement at his funeral. 

A whore is what you are. 

Eddie must have realized what kind of slut you were too because he sets you down and immediately turns away from you, shoving himself back into his pants. 

But, before he can say anything, before he can try to talk you off a cliff— you’re already out of the door, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the horrifying expression twisted onto your face. 

You don’t hear Eddie calling after you, or the way his face turned to fear as you threw open the door, practically sprinting away from him. 

Lucky for you, nobody questioned why you were darting up the basement steps, or why you looked absolutely wrecked. Your keys fumbled in your hands as you unlocked your car, terrified to look back, running from your mistake, from Steve from Eddie.

The road was a dangerous blur on your drive home, your eyes flooding over obscuring stop signs and headlights. Your cheeks were still stained with yours and Eddie’s tears. 

Tears that were shed in grief from the death of your boyfriend, the same ones that stayed on your face as you got fucked in a closet by his best friend. And more tears fell as you tried to comprehend why for the first time since Steve’s death, you felt comfort.

—

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: discussion of past parental death due to overdose, mention of drug use

Steve stumbled upon the article when he was helping Robin collect articles for a project for her Industry Studies course.

He didn’t think much of reading about another small time musician getting caught up with the wrong crowd, and overdosing or getting in a drunk driving accident. It seemed like a pretty common theme. It was terrible, sad, horrible, but he’d seen about 30 stories like that in the last two days and he was kind of getting numb to it all.

Until he saw the name Munson.

Until a picture of a woman with long, curly hair and Eddie’s smile stared back at him next to a headline that read: “Kentucky Country Queen Dead at 27.”

He read the article with tears in his eyes.

Elizabeth “El” Munson, a hopeful country singer and guitarist, was found dead in her home by her six year old son, Edward. The boy reportedly tried calling his father at work with no luck before finally calling his uncle, Wayne Munson.

Toxicology reports show that she overdosed on multiple illegal substances. At this time, it is believed to have been accidental and no foul play is suspected.

It has now been made clear that Elizabeth was seeking a divorce from her husband, Al Munson, but had not been successful as lawyers were unable to locate him until her funeral. Their son has been put in the care of Wayne until further notice.

Robin found him 20 minutes later, staring at the page with swollen, red eyes. She took the paper, read the article, and put it back in the files wordlessly.

“I don’t think he wants us to know,” she finally said.

She was probably right.

But Steve had grown pretty close to Eddie over the last six months, had opened up to him about his parents, his fake friends, his concussions and nightmares. Eddie had started opening up to him, too.

He thought he had, anyway.

He told him about how his mom died when he was young and his dad was awful so he moved in with Wayne. He told him about how his dad appeared every couple years looking for money or a place to stay and Wayne always turned him away.

But he never really talked about his mom, always said he barely remembered her.

Did he know what happened?

——

Steve asked Wayne the next morning.

He’d come by to pick Eddie up for a day with the kids, but Eddie hadn’t set his alarm and was still asleep.

Perfect opportunity to find out more.

“So. Eddie’s mom.”

Wayne tensed over his plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He didn’t look up, just took another bite of food.

“Does he know how she died?”

“Do you?”

“Newspaper said overdose,” Steve tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh. “Says Eddie found her.”

“Trauma messes with your memory.”

It was final, a statement that left Steve with more questions, but a certainty that he’d get no answers.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “I’ve heard.”

——

Steve doesn’t bring it up to Eddie for a while.

He figured Wayne’s reaction said a lot about what Eddie knew or would be willing to share.

But they were a little high and alone and Eddie’s hand was warm in his and his filter was broken.

“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find your mom.”

The air around them was thick. The silence was deafening.

“Me too.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, nothing like his usual playful tone.

Steve immediately wanted to put this conversation in reverse, pretend his curiosity didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve, his arm a constant pressure against Steve’s. His head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

“Wayne doesn’t know I know how she died. He doesn’t know I know my dad gave her bad drugs, convinced her all the up and coming musicians were doing a new strain of heroin. She’d kicked him out of the house,” Eddie’s breath caught. “She shouldn’t have let him come back that day. I heard them arguing before I left for school. She told him she was finding a manager and recording an album and that she was divorcing him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it was bad.”

“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I know, Stevie. But you know everything else.” Eddie’s face turned until his nose and mouth were pressed against Steve’s arm. “I went to school. Didn’t think about it. Figured my dad would be gone when I got home and might come back in a few days once they cooled off. But when I got home, he was gone and my mom’s bedroom door was closed. And I opened it and there she was.”

Steve turned so he was face to face with Eddie, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheek in encouragement.

“I don’t even know why I tried calling the store first. I didn’t even know if he still worked there. But then I called Wayne and it’s like he just knew.” Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “Don’t think he’d ever gotten to our house so quick.”

“Did he know all this?”

“He knew enough. I stayed with him and then my dad gave up his rights. Lied to the counselor about what I knew so Wayne wouldn’t freak. Kept it up for a while,” Eddie let out a small exhale that slightly resembled a laugh. “I read the article about eight years ago. A kid in my class made a joke about me being an orphan because of the drug problem in America as if he even knew what that meant and I decided to see what the newspaper reported.”

“Do you play because of her?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked back at him.

“I play for a lot of reasons. But I started because of her, yeah,” he whispers. “You’re the first person to ask me that instead of give me that look of pity.”

“I’m sad about how it happened, but giving you pity doesn’t change it. I’d rather hear how it changed you,” Steve whispered back.

They were close, legs intertwined, hands touching bare skin under shirts and on faces and necks.

“It changed everything for me. Wayne packed us up and moved us here as soon as he legally could. Probably for the best. Well,” Eddie gave a small smile. “Definitely for the best. Wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t.”

“Do you ever go back?” Steve did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Her birthday every year. She’s got a nice spot near her mom.” Eddie bit his lip. “It’s actually coming up in a couple weeks. Maybe you could come with me?”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Eddie nodded. “If it doesn’t weird you out that I talk to her. I like to give her updates on my life, Wayne’s life, music. Think she’d find it quite funny that I bring the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years.”

It takes a minute for the words to sink in.

“Two years?” Steve’s lips curled up into a smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

“I think she’d like you. She’d definitely make fun of me for having a boyfriend who wears polos though.”

“Is that how you’d introduce me?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I know we haven’t talked about what we-“

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, nearly knocking their noses together painfully in the process.

After the initial shock, they both relaxed into the kiss.

“I’d love to go. As your boyfriend,” Steve said after pulling away for air. “What was her favorite flower?”

“Gardenias. Always wore perfume that smelled like it. Why?”

“Because I have to impress her, right?”

“You realize she’s not gonna actually see or hear you? She’s definitely dead.”

Steve snorted. “I know. But she can still have nice things. Maybe us bringing her nice things in death is a way to apologize for the not nice things she had in life.”

“You’re a pretty incredible boyfriend, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the tip of his nose. “And you now know more than Wayne, so it’s time for a pinky promise.”

Steve giggled before holding up his pinky. “I swear I won’t tell Wayne anything.”

“And you’ll kiss me whenever I want…”

“That’s a guarantee.”

“And you’ll let me win at Go Fish…”

“Not a chance, Eds.”

Eddie laughed. “Worth a try.”

Steve curled his pinky against Eddie’s. “So do you think she’d like me?”

“Oh. Oh god. She’d love you. You’re exactly who she’d want for me,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve flipped his hair back confidently. “And she’d braid your hair every night while you gossiped and sipped tea.”

“And what would you do?”

“Probably just soak it in. Appreciate having her and you around. You’ll just have to gossip with Wayne.”

“Wayne doesn’t strike me as-“

“Oh, he’s got you fooled! He’s a worse gossip than the ladies at the hair salon. Just ask him about the mailbox at the end of the road sometime. Make sure you’ve got an hour to spare.”

“Really?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “Is he home now?”

Eddie pulled Steve forward until he was flush against his front. “No and I have much better plans than gossiping with my uncle.”

“Oh?” Steve’s brow raised.

“It involves my bed and handcuffs. You in?”

“Hopefully you’re in.”

“God, you’re ridiculous. C’mon, now I’m even harder from your stupid flirting,” Eddie sat up and tugged until Steve followed. “Can’t believe this is how my night’s going.”

“Believe it, baby.”

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Naughty Nanny Chapter 1

Summary:  Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought.

**In this universe Steve never left, Tony never died.** **curvy reader** Warnings: talk of sexual harassment, unwanted/non-consensual touching/sexual assault, eventual smut

Next chapter

“Please go to sleep,” Bucky begged quietly as the baby wailed in her crib.  He rubbed his face roughly, his eyes burning from lack of sleep.  He felt a wave of emotion through him and started crying, which surprised him.  He had gone through years of torture, being put on ice, memories wiped, the worst things imaginable done to him and forced on him to do to others, sleep deprivation worse than this and yet here he was crying over a crying baby.

He’d never had a lot of experience with babies.  He had sisters back then, but his mother had always been the one to take care of them as infants.  None of the other Avengers brought their kids around to headquarters.  This baby was unknown to him until four weeks ago.  

“Hey Bucky, uh…you’re needed in the lobby,” Sam’s voice rang through Friday’s intercom.

“Okay,” Bucky answered back up to the ceiling, then headed down to the front of the building.  When he approached the front desk a small group was forming around something on the floor.  “What’s going on?” he asked as he walked up to Sam.

Sam gave him a worried look then pointed to the floor.  It was a baby in a carrier, fast asleep, covered in a blanket, a diaper bag and a box of things next to it.  Steve was holding a note in one hand and reading it over and over again, the other hand holding a small stack of papers.

“Oh cute, whose baby?” Bucky said, smiling softly.  Everyone in the room looked at him uneasily.  

“It’s um…it’s yours,” Steve said hesitantly, handing him the note.

“What?  That’s–” Bucky scoffed then read the note.  It was scribbled hurriedly and he read it slowly.

‘James Barnes,

You won’t remember me but we had a one night stand a few months ago.  I didn’t realize I was pregnant till it was too late to have an abortion.  I’m not cut out for motherhood, and won’t be able to give her the life she deserves.  You’re an Avenger, so I’m guessing you’ve got money or options to make sure she’ll get a fair shot.  I haven’t named her, and I’ve signed away my rights.  She was born March 10.  I’m sorry to drop this on you.

Good luck.’

Bucky stared at the note.  He really couldn’t remember most of the one night stands he’d had.  They had usually been drunken encounters after too much Asguardian mead at one of Tony’s many parties.  “I…I don’t...”

“We should take a DNA sample, make sure it’s actually his,” Tony piped up.

“Oh please, Tony, just look at her.  She looks just like him,” Pepper smacked his arm.  “Let’s get her checked out by a doctor and then we’ll go from there.”

Steve stepped up to Bucky.  “Buck?”  He clapped his shoulder, bringing him back to the present.  “What do you want to do?”

Bucky eyed the papers in Steve’s hand, seeing the “Termination of Parental Rights�� in bold at the top of the packet.  His ears were ringing, his eyes wide as he fought off a panic attack.  He looked at the baby again.  She did look like him, a tuft of dark brown hair atop her head and his lips and dimpled chin.  He stepped toward her and knelt down.  He reached forward a finger and softly stroked her cheek.  It made her stir a little and her eyes opened a little, flashing the same blue color of his eyes.  She even shared his birthday.  He smiled.  “My baby,” he mumbled.

Bucky decided to name her Winnie, after his mother.  The entire Avengers team had jumped into action that day, Tony and Pepper calling multiple people and getting baby items delivered to the compound, Bruce coming to take a DNA sample and do a preliminary check up on her until a pediatrician could come do a thorough examination, Steve and Sam standing with him as he held her and stared at her, giving him advice and trying to talk through what to do next.

As time went by he learned a lot.  Tony brought in a few people to teach him parenting skills and how to feed her, change her, bathe her, what different cries could mean, and so much more that it made his head swim.  He’d gotten the hang of it for the most part, getting into a routine with her, but on a night like tonight where the team was gone on a mission, with no one to help him, and it didn’t seem to matter what he did she just would not stop crying, he felt overwhelmed.  Bucky didn’t know how parents did this, let alone with multiple children.  He picked her up from the crib and cradled her against his chest, patting her back firmly but gently as his body bounced to try to soothe her again.  She continued crying but it died down a little at having him close.

“Please, Winnie, I can’t…I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered and shushed her.  He quickly wiped his tears, but they kept coming as her head thrashed against his sternum, like she wanted to burrow into him.  He carried her to the front room of his apartment suite in the compound then to the kitchen, grabbing another bottle and warming it in the microwave.  The movement seemed to help calm her a little until she was sniffling, whimpering and only occasionally letting out a little wail.  He made sure the formula wasn’t too hot then sat on the large sectional couch and leaned back against the pillow.  Before she could start crying from the loss of movement he stuck the bottle in her mouth and she immediately started eating, her wet eyes blinking up at him as she drew in a shaky breath.

“There you go,” Bucky breathed.  “See, all that fussing for nothing.  You stinker,” he smiled as he sniffed and wiped his tears again.  He snuggled her against him as he tried to even out his breathing.  She was so tiny against his large frame that it made him smile wider.  He hoped this would be enough to get her to sleep for longer than 45 minutes this time.  He stared up at the ceiling then got an idea.

“Friday?”

“Yes Sergeant Barnes?”

“I need interviews with potential nannies,” Bucky said, looking back down at Winnie.  “Specifically for live-in, night nannies.”

“I’ll compile a list and reach out for preliminary interviews.  Any specific qualifications that you would like to have listed?”

“No, just someone who knows what they’re doing,” Bucky sighed, his eyes getting heavier.

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you,” he yawned as Winnie finished the bottle.  He burped her, thanking whatever higher being there was in the universe for her milk-drunk expression as she drifted back to sleep, joining her shortly after.

**Once again, thank the AI/Photoshop gods for this perfect picture of Bucky found on Pinterest.**

@angelbabyyy99 @capswife @julvrs @bellabarnes1378 @mostlymarvelgirl @mega-kittyglitter-1 @buckitostan @drdbnkl2008 @wintrsoldrluvr @danzer8705

[sidekick-hero]

I've got a ghost in the hallway grinning

Written for @steddieangstyaugust day 2, prompt: ghosts. Title from Euclid by Sleep Token.

Tags: Ghost!Eddie, Angst with a happy ending (!), childhood friends, canon divergence

words: 1.7k | AO3 | teen

"You are such a charmer, big boy. Oh, wow, your eyes are so blue; it's like looking at the ocean. I can't believe she let you get to second base after that line."

"Oh, please, what do you know? How many second bases have you been to?"

Eddie recoiled at Steve's words, and Steve immediately wanted to kick himself. That was a low blow, even for him. Eddie's constant teasing about his dates always got under his skin. It’s why he mostly stopped bringing girls over, but Megan had insisted they couldn’t go to her place because her mom was always home. She didn't want to risk getting caught in his car.

So he brought her home to let his house ghost judge his moves.

What was his life, anyway?

Despite his irritation, Eddie was his best friend, alive or not, and Steve didn’t want to hurt him.

"Shit, Eddie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"But you did, Steve. And you're right. I haven't even kissed anyone. All I know is from those cheesy movies you secretly watch."

Steve gave Eddie a faint smile. "Oh my God, that was once. Maybe twice. And no one was supposed to know."

Eddie looked up at him, his big brown eyes still sad. "Who would I even tell? You're the only one who can see me. Don't worry your pretty head, Stevie, I'll take all your secrets to my grave."

Now it was Steve's turn to look sad, all his earlier giddiness from making out with Megan gone.

"This isn't funny, man." Steve's voice broke, and that finally snapped Eddie out of his strange mood.

Eddie approached, hand hovering over Steve’s arm, like he wanted to touch but couldn’t. Steve knew he couldn’t.

Eddie couldn’t touch him because Eddie was a ghost. He was dead, with no body to touch Steve with. They had tried, when they first met, and several times since. It never worked, just a cold whisper against his skin, but nothing substantial.

"Sorry," Eddie mumbled, looking contrite.

"It's fine. I just want to be alone for a bit, though. Please."

"Sure, Stevie. I’ll just… go, I guess. See you later?"

Steve forced himself to smile at Eddie to show him everything was okay between them. "Yeah, definitely. We still have to watch the new Star Wars movie, right?"

"Right. Just call when you're ready, and I'll see if I can fit you in."

With that, Eddie disappeared to wherever ghosts go when they’re not here. Steve still had no idea how it all worked, just that Eddie always came when he called.

The one time he didn’t, after a particularly bad fight—the worst they’d ever had—Steve had a panic attack. He had been alone at the time, as had become more and more usual for him. It was the only time Steve swears he felt Eddie, who had hugged him as tight as he could, begging him to ‘breathe, Stevie, please, just breathe, pleasepleaseplease.’

After that, Eddie had always been there as soon as Steve said his name, even when they were fighting.

Steve lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

He wondered what had changed between him and Eddie, when it stopped being so easy. He had known Eddie since he was six years old, when his parents and he moved into this house.

It was a hot summer day, and Steve had been hiding in his room, playing with his toy cars, when a voice behind him startled him. “What’re you doing there?” the voice had asked, and when Steve turned around, a little boy around his age was standing behind him.

They both had been lonely up until they met. Steve, a shy boy in a new neighborhood, found it hard to make friends. Eddie, a ghost with no memory of how he died, had been wandering the house for what felt like an eternity. They became best friends quickly, finding solace in each other's company. Strangely, Eddie seemed to grow up alongside Steve, his ghostly form aging in tandem with Steve’s living body.

They played together, laughed together, and shared secrets no one else would understand. Eddie was there for Steve’s first day of school, his first crush, and his first heartbreak. They spent countless nights talking about their dreams and fears, their bond growing stronger with each passing year. Despite the oddity of their friendship, it felt natural to them—an unbreakable connection that transcended the boundaries of life and death.

But lately, something had shifted. The effortless camaraderie they once shared now felt strained. Steve couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but he missed the easy days of their childhood when everything made sense and nothing seemed impossible.

Steve knew that it wasn’t just Eddie who was responsible for the new tension between them. It was Steve who had fallen in love with his dead friend.

It all started when he was thirteen. He had woken up to the strange feeling of being watched, and when he opened his eyes, he caught Eddie leaning over him, his translucent lips pressed against Steve’s. Before he could try to kiss back, Eddie had jumped away.

Eddie had apologized profusely, telling Steve he’d just been curious. He said it always looked so magical in the movies when people kissed, and he wanted to know what it was all about. Nothing more—it didn’t mean anything.

Too bad it meant a great deal to Steve. It had been his first kiss, and he didn’t even feel it.

A week later, when he kissed Tina to see if it would cause the same flutter of butterflies in his stomach, Eddie had caught them. Steve would never forget the look on his face.

Steve had apologized, even though he didn’t know what he’d done wrong—just that Eddie was hurting, and it was somehow his fault.

Eddie had been cold and distant, acting aloof and laughing in Steve’s face. He mocked him, saying he was already training to become a man-whore, asking if he’d kiss anything with a pulse and without.

That had been their first fight, and even though they made up afterward, things started to change.

The room was dimly lit, the glow from the TV screen casting flickering shadows on the walls. Steve and Eddie were sprawled on the couch, watching the latest Star Wars movie. Despite the tension between them, movie nights had remained a cherished ritual.

Steve’s dating life had become the elephant in the room, a sore topic between them that neither he nor Eddie wanted to address.

As the film progressed, a romantic scene between Leia and Han Solo unfolded. The characters on screen leaned in for a kiss, and Steve felt a familiar pang in his chest. He glanced at Eddie, who was watching intently, his expression unreadable.

The scene ended, and Steve felt the words bubbling up before he could stop them. "You know," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish I could have felt it when you kissed me."

Eddie turned to him, his translucent form shimmering slightly. "Steve, I—"

"I know you were just curious," Steve interrupted, his eyes fixed on the screen. "But it meant something to me. It was my first kiss, and I wanted it to be you, but I also wanted to feel it."

Eddie’s expression softened, a mixture of regret and sorrow in his eyes. "I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t know it would mean so much to you. I never wanted to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted."

Steve sighed, leaning back against the couch. "I know. It’s just… I’ve thought about it a lot. Wondered what it would have been like if you were—if you weren’t—"

"If I weren’t dead," Eddie finished for him, a bitter smile on his lips.

"Yeah," Steve admitted, feeling a lump form in his throat. "If you were alive, things might have been different."

Eddie moved closer, his ghostly presence sending a chill down Steve’s spine. "I wish things were different too," he said softly. "But I’m still here, Stevie. Maybe not in the way you want, but I’m here."

Steve turned to face Eddie, their eyes locking. "I know. And I’m grateful for that. It’s just hard sometimes, knowing what we could have had."

When Steve meets Eleven, he's trying to protect the kids—his kids, in a weird way—from monsters that came from another dimension. A ghost he’s in love with living in his house is no longer the strangest thing happening in his life.

They sat in silence for a moment, the movie playing on in the background, both lost in their thoughts.

When El and Chief Hopper disappear inside the lab to close the portal, they all listen in through the walkie Dustin insisted El take with them.

They hear her scream, they listen to her win, and then the tearful cheering from her and Hopper.

"You did it, Kiddo. I knew you could do it. Come on, let’s get outta here," Chief Hopper says, sounding prouder than Steve's dad ever did. But then again, Steve never saved the world, so maybe that’s fair.

His heart stops at El’s next words.

"Wait, Dad. We need to save Eddie first."

Eddie.

We need to save Eddie first.

"Who’s Eddie?" Hopper asks, and Steve snatches the walkie from Dustin, not wanting to miss a single word.

"He's another boy like me, but he's asleep. Always asleep. They somehow take his energy from him to power their weird experiments. I don’t know how it works, just that he’s lying in this room all alone. We can’t leave him here, Dad. We can’t."

Steve’s mind races, trying to process what he’s hearing. Could it be the same Eddie? His Eddie?

"Eddie," Steve murmurs, gripping the walkie tighter. "Eddie, if you can hear me, we're coming for you. Hold on."

The group falls silent, the gravity of El's revelation sinking in. Steve's heart pounds in his chest, hope and fear swirling inside him. The ghost he loves might not be a ghost at all, but a boy trapped in a nightmare, waiting to be saved.

[heliads]

you're going to have to shut this down - steve rogers

You grew up with Steve Rogers in the 1940s and froze with him until the present day, too. When he leaves you after killing Thanos to return to the '40s, it's the biggest betrayal of your life. If there was a way to ever see him again, it would require the crossing of many timelines, something you'd know nothing about. The TVA might, though.

masterlist

a/n: back from the dead! who would have thought (not me). who can say how long. enjoy xoxo

You join the TVA because you have nothing else to do. It’s not a bad gig, all things considered. It makes about as much sense as life normally does for you, which is to say, not at all. You’re getting better about understanding the splashier technology, the speedier cars, the altered accents. Not everything is going to seem like it’s fresh out of the 1940s, because only you are. It’s been several years since they got you out of the ice. By all accounts, you should have settled in a long time ago.

And you have, honestly. You did a good job of learning fast and moving on. Still, all it takes is one odd word of slang you don’t understand or a reference to a world-altering event that you never heard of to shove you two steps back instead of forward. You never expected it to be easy, trying to live in the new century. You just didn’t think you’d have to do it alone, either.

The Avengers helped. Despite the infighting and the many false retirements and the deaths, that job helped put you together more than anything else. Everyone was strange there, so no one was. Even the person out of time. 

Maybe that’s why the TVA reached out after it was all over– they knew you needed a fresh start. A new team, too, one that didn’t really care about your understanding of any one particular timeline. It was the perfect fit. Why not risk your life for someone else all over again?

It had made sense at the time. After Thanos was defeated, you’d lost your purpose. The Avengers didn’t technically disband, but enough of the original core had been lost to death and retirement and better things. You could sense a new generation rising up to take the mantle, and, not wanting to go through the same cycle of learning new faces just to lose them again, you stepped aside.

Retirement wasn’t good for you. All that time on your own left you twitchy, waiting for something to do, someone to see. You suppose it wouldn’t have been a problem at all if it weren’t for one specific absence, but that’s just the way it goes sometimes. Maybe you should have learned a long time ago to never bet your happiness on Steve Rogers, because when he left, you felt like you’d lost everything.

Even after all this time, you still can’t fathom why he did it, why he left you behind. You had grown up in the 1940s by his side, next door neighbors and family friends. Your parents knew his, and died around the same time his did, too. You’d been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You thought it was the worst pain in your life when he and Bucky went to war, so you followed, taking on a position as a medic in their regiment.

Steve had been absolutely furious that you’d put yourself into harm’s way like that, but you didn’t care. Everything was good so long as you were still together, and for a while, it was. Sure, it took you a while to remember how to act normally after he underwent his Captain America transformation, but he was still Steve, your Steve. And that was okay.

You were almost starting to believe in fantasies that you’d be able to make it back to Brooklyn one day, and then the cards stopped falling in your favor. First, you were sent to hunt down Zola, which was doomed from the start. You’d lost Bucky from the side of the train, which was the beginning of the end. Steve was spiraling and you knew it. It should have come as no surprise that he’d plunge himself into whatever danger he could find to try and keep his mind off the loss. It should have come as no surprise that you’d go with him.

However, neither of you expected to find yourselves on a plane headed into the ocean. It felt fitting somehow, dying with Steve. Bucky was gone anyway. You might as well join him. It was cold enough that you didn’t feel the water entering your lungs. You knew Steve’s hand was in yours even after you lost the sensation in your fingers. You felt him with you even after you closed your eyes for the final time.

Only, it wasn’t the final time. You woke up after what seemed like a matter of hours and ended up being several decades. The new century was full of trouble, but you and Steve were determined to run headfirst into it. You can still remember listening to the new music with him, quizzing each other on current events, doing everything under the sun together in the name of embracing modernity.

Even if it felt wrong to be so suddenly transplanted out of your normal world and into this bright, fast-paced future, some part of you was glad for it. You’ve had a secret crush on Steve since you were ten years old and starry-eyed for the boy next door. What did you lose by leaving the 1940s, anyway– sickness, the war, significantly worse water quality? Steve needed you here more than he ever needed you there. There was so much more in this modern world that would bring the two of you together, and you were delighted for it.

You were delighted, that is. You had assumed that Steve was, too. He certainly seemed like it, always down to visit a new museum or take a trip out of the city. He’d been happy with you. You were certain about it.

Yet, years after you first woke up together in a strange new world, he traveled back in time to return the Infinity Stones and came back as an old man who had already lived his life back in the 1940s. You weren’t there when it happened. Steve had actually sent you away, back to New York, so you could monitor the sites where the transfer of the Stones would take place to see if anything went wrong in the future. You’ll always wonder if he did that on purpose, to make sure you didn’t come with him, or if he really was worried about something as mundane as the Stones after all.

In the end, you’ll never know. Steve never told you about his plan to go back. You’re certain that Bucky was aware of it, even if he denies it. You saw the look on his face when Bucky returned from the job alone and told you that Steve had made his choice. He wasn’t surprised or shocked like you. He was sad, but accepting, because he already knew.

It was the worst betrayal of your life. You told Steve everything except the fact that you love him, and he left without telling you a single goodbye. Somehow, somewhere along the line you had walked together all your lives, Steve decided that he would rather live and die in the past without you than face the future you’d been building since they took you out of the ice. You’ve tried to remember moments in which he wasn’t happy, when you could have seen the signs and known that Steve was going to leave, but you can’t. Steve never seemed to have a problem with the modern world until he left it. It makes no sense, and so the awful mystery consumes you whole.

It would be one thing to retire from the Avengers with Steve by your side, just like always. Now, though, you’re losing not just your main activity but the last vestige of your heart. Bucky is your friend, close to family, but he’s not Steve and never will be. You’ve tried to spend time with him, but every time you see Bucky, you’re haunted by a third presence that should be there yet isn’t. You haven’t talked in a while. It’s probably better that way, anyway.

Luckily, you weren’t left to your own devices forever. One lonely morning, an orange panel of light opened up in front of you, and out of it stepped Loki, who, according to Thor, should have died when Thanos visited. He’d explained briefly how he was still alive, but focused more on offering you a chance to work with the TVA. Without anything better to do but sit around and mope, you’d agreed.

You and Loki have gotten along well for the most part, surprisingly enough. Barring the part where he’d tried to invade New York, you’ve come in contact with him through Thor several times and gotten along through a shared sarcastic sense of humor and biting wit. You’re probably one of the Avengers Loki tolerates the most, a title you bear with no small semblance of pride. Loki had needed someone to advise him on a variant, and he’d gone to you.

It’s a good job for someone out of time. The timelines all converge and diverge in mysterious ways, so who could truly say what’s current or out-of-date? You help Loki and the other TVA officers in maintaining the timeline. Slowly, you settle in, and you stop thinking about going back to your usual timeline. Why bother, anyway? There’s nothing left for you there. Bucky has moved on. Steve is gone. Your family passed on decades ago, and your friends in the Avengers are dead or busy. It’s not a place for you anymore.

Honestly, it’s decent work, all things considered, until you hear about an errant variant totally destroying not just his universe but every one to cross his path. Loki comes bursting into the main office, which isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, but the look in his eyes certainly isn’t. Apparently, there’s some guy who left his universe and started jumping around in many others. He’d stayed in his first place for many years, but made so many major changes that the timeline was all but destroyed. Once this variant took note of the fires he couldn’t put out, he started jumping into other places, doing the same thing in less time.

He’s someone who’ll have to be stopped, to say the least. It’s certainly a cause for concern, but that doesn’t explain the cagey expression on Loki’s face. There’s something he isn’t telling you, to be sure, something big. Something that might make you rethink this assignment entirely.

“Loki,” you say slowly, once the god of mischief has calmed down enough to go from frenetic pacing to merely glaring at the small hologram of Miss Minutes across the room, “What’s really going on here? Who exactly is this variant?”

Loki hesitates, and you know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. This variant isn’t just anyone, is it? No, of course not. That would be too easy, and if you’ve learned anything in your voyages across the timelines, it’s that nothing in any universe is ever easy.

The variant destroying the worlds– it’s Steve. And it’s your Steve specifically, the one who’d decided to leave you to go back in time. It’s the precise version of Steve Rogers from your universe who had abandoned all you’d built to go back and live to old age in the 1940s.

You suck in a harsh breath. “That’s impossible. Steve would never do a thing like that. He saves the universe, he doesn’t destroy it.”

Loki laughs bitterly. “Think again, Y/N. It’s him.”

You shake your head unthinkingly, but as little as you want to even contemplate the idea, you can’t deny that it might be likely. Steve already upset the laws of the multiverse when he went to live his life in the 1940s. Who’s to say what else he might do?

You stand up and join Loki in his pacing. “Don’t go through the usual steps. Bring him here.”

Loki starts to protest, but you silence him with a glance. “Think of it as a favor. You owe me, you know that. I won’t kill him, not yet. Not until I know what’s going on.”

One desk over, Mobius holds up his hands. “Wait, wait. Maybe this Steve is a friend of yours, but he’s still a dangerous variant who is quite literally destroying the fabric of time with every jump he makes. Are you sure that bringing him into the TVA is the best idea?”

You lift a shoulder. “Do you have any other ideas of where to put him?”

Mobius sighs. “No, but I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like this,” you tell him, “but I need to talk to Steve. Please.”

You look over at Loki hopefully, and feel a crush of relief when you see him caving. “Fine, but the second Rogers tries anything, we’re all over him. We can’t risk the multiverse for one melodramatic walking flag.”

You chuckle in spite of yourself. It’s not a happy sound. “Just let me see what I can do.”

You have no idea what you’ll do with your errant Steve once he gets here. Before that, though, you’re going to have to solve the problem of bringing him here in the first place. If what Loki says is true, Steve is not going to come quietly.

You’re still having trouble wrapping your mind around the whole concept. Steve– your Steve– destroying timelines? Rampaging through the multiverse? It doesn’t even compute in your mind. After all you’ve seen of him, through every decade, in every incarnation, every uniform, he has still been himself at the core. Even when he just came out of the ice. Even when he lost Bucky after Thanos’ snap. Even when you lost the biggest battle of your lives.

Something must have happened to him when he was going back in time, that’s all you can imagine. It’s certainly a better thing to tell yourself, it makes you believe that there was a reason outside his control that he would have left you in the dust. Yes, this must be the fault of traveling through time, and not the simple fact that Steve didn’t want you anymore.

You suit up with the rest, ready to head out and collect your errant Captain. You deliberate over the helmet when Mobius advises you to hide your face in any way possible. He’s had many bad dealings with variants over the years, he claims. No one knows what Steve would do if he saw you.

Face obscured, you walk through a Timedoor to the latest universe Steve has attempted to conquer. It doesn’t take long to find a disturbance; you’ve hardly stepped through the orange portal before you’re greeted with the sound of screaming, the smell of smoke. Buildings are burning. It’s like the world is on fire, and all you can think about is that somehow, Steve caused this.

“We have to move fast,” Mobius urges. “The timeline is unraveling by the second. Find the variant and drag him through a Timedoor as fast as you can.”

You nod your assent and start moving. The easiest thing to do is to head towards the center of the chaos, and so you do, the other TVA agents not far behind you. The smoke gets thicker, all culminating around one building in the center of the city. With a chill, you realize it’s what should be the old Avengers complex, but the letters on the outside still read Stark Tower. This universe might not have gotten the chance to ever get its Avengers, so there is no one to fight off a corrupted Rogers except the TVA, too little and too late.

“I see him,” Loki shouts suddenly, pointing towards a figure moving through the rubble. “Amazing, his hair shines even in a bonfire.”

You don’t have it in you to laugh, but surge forward recklessly. You have to see, you have to know, is it him? Could it be? As you draw closer, you’re certain that you see him, that Steve is here after all this time. A lump rises in your throat utterly unrelated to the pollutants clogging the air. You’ve missed him for so long, and now he’s right in front of you.

Mobius flings out an arm, stopping you short. “Wait,” he says. “He’s a variant, Y/N. Remember that.”

You come thundering back to reality at his words. When you look again, Steve isn’t standing there harmlessly, but holding an unconscious figure in his arms, the head thudding lifelessly against his bicep. This is the real Steve right now, someone you could never recognize.

Two of the TVA agents hurry forward, attempting to cuff him, but Steve brushes them aside easily, even after Loki and Mobius try to enter the fray. Suddenly, the situation looks like you’ll lose it for good, until a wild, terrible idea occurs to you and you shout out to him, “Steve!”

Instantly, Steve’s whole body goes rigid, and he starts scanning the area frantically. “Y/N?” He calls out.

He sounds like a madman, that’s the first thought that rises to your mind. His eyes are wide, his syllables unsettled. You rip off your helmet and Steve turns to you as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Y/N?” He repeats again, this time far more quietly, the words all but disappearing on the smoke-burnt wind.

Steve starts to reach out a grimy hand to you, but one of the TVA agents surges up behind him, jamming a syringe in his neck and knocking him out cold. Cuffs are tightened around his wrists moments later, and Mobius conjures up the requisite Timedoor straight to a holding cell back in the TVA. Everyone starts filing away, but takes you a few more moments to gather yourself together long enough to follow them.

Once back in the halls of the TVA, lights buzzing cheerfully overhead, Loki turns to you at last. “The move with the helmet was risky,” he chastises.

You can’t focus on the rebuke. “He knew me,” you whisper. “He knew me, and he stopped fighting.”

Loki’s lips thin. “That’s not Steve,” he says. “Not the one you know, at least.”

You steal a glance towards the locked door of the cell anyway. “I have to talk to him.”

Loki’s expression shifts from frustrated to simply tired. “I know.”

Still, you’re not blind to the wishes of the TVA, and you let Mobius go in to talk to Steve first. You decide it’s probably best if you’re not the first face he sees, and if you’re not going, Loki would be an even worse choice, so it’s Mobius alone in there with a few guards for security. He barely makes it ten minutes before he comes storming out again, though, obviously frustrated.

You could hear shouting outside the cell and down the hall, but still, you’re curious enough to ask Mobius, “What happened in there?”

Mobius drags an irritated hand through his hair. “Your little hero isn’t really the talking type.”

You frown. “That’s unlike him.”

“All of this is unlike him,” Loki intercedes. “You really couldn’t get through to him, Mobius? That’s startling. Surely there’s some sort of homegrown charm you could pull on him to twist his mind in your favor.”

“That’s just called manners,” Mobius frowns, “but no, I tried. He refuses to talk to anyone but Y/N.”

Loki swings around to stare at you curiously. “Fascinating. He left you and now he won’t even indulge in a friendly conversation with the authorities. What sort of Captain Rogers is this?”

You roll your eyes to hide your growing discomfort. “Forget that. Are we going to give in so fast? Don’t tell me you’re the type to give up on interrogating a suspect after less than half an hour.”

Mobius shrugs. “We might as well let you in. Might learn something, he doesn’t seem inclined to give us anything else otherwise. Why waste more time?”

You might argue a little harder were it not for the fact that you’ve been dying to see Steve since he got here. Before that, really. You’ve been wanting to talk to him since he left you in the first place. Maybe it’s not the best strategy for dealing with a variant, but in your heart, he’s still Steve, and always will be.

Steve’s head is down when you enter the cell, but it flies up the second you take a seat opposite him. He’s sitting down, hands cuffed behind him, but you have no doubt that he could free himself in a heartbeat if he tried.

Still, he isn’t trying. He’s just looking at you, eyes wide, mouth a little agape, as if he really can’t believe it’s you even after demanding to meet. “Y/N?” He asks quietly.

You nod. “Steve.”

Your voice seems harsh in the hollow stillness of the TVA cell. Steve doesn’t flinch, but he might as well; his eyes gain a thin veneer of hurt you’ve known since the forties. 

“You’re not my Y/N, though,” he decides. “You know, I never really believed in the whole multiverse thing. Strange tried to explain it to me after Thanos, but I just thought it was a bunch of crap. No way there were a million versions of us. But I’ve met enough of you and me to know otherwise now.”

Your heart feels heavy in your chest. “You’re referring to all of the universes you hijacked.”

“Hijacked,” Steve muses. “That’s a strong word.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “You entered universes that were not your own and caused chains of events that led to destruction of that world, every single time.”

It horrified you, looking at the footage. Every single universe was the same:  heroes gone or killed, skies full of smoke, thousands of dead. Everywhere Steve went, chaos followed him. It felt impossible, but it was true. Shockingly, awfully, it was true.

Steve’s eyes go dark. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“But it still happened,” you point out. “And you saw it happen but you kept going in more universes anyway. Why? Why didn’t you stop?”

Anger sparks in Steve like a match to gasoline. “I wasn’t trying to tear the universes apart, I was just trying to go back home,” he spits. “I couldn’t find the way back. I didn’t realize how delicate the multiverse was. Maybe that means you guys are bad at your job if a few detours can send the whole thing spiraling.”

The jab doesn’t even land, you’re too distracted by what he said before it. “You– you were trying to go back? Back where?”

A thundercloud of emotion passes over Steve’s face. “Back to the present,” he says softly.

He looks like he wants to keep talking, but he glances sharply back at you again and cuts himself off. “What does it matter to you, anyway? You’re just another version of you. What universe are you from, anyway? One where you leave instead of me?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” you whisper. “You have no idea who I am, Steve.”

He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “No. No, I know you’re not my Y/N. My Y/N never would have agreed to go in the same room as me.” 

He straightens up suddenly. “Say– you’ve seen all the endings of the timeline, right? Is there any– are there any universes where you forgive me? Where I’m able to go back?”

Your breath feels faint in your chest. “You want to know if you ever go back to the present?”

He nods. “Surely I could do it at least once. Don’t tell me it never happens. And if I do, don’t say you hate me for leaving.”

His face, suddenly pleading, makes you almost sick to your stomach. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I never looked. I was too afraid that you would have left me for nothing.”

Steve draws back suddenly, looking at you with a fresh wave of curiosity. “You mean– Y/N. You’re the one I left? How did you get here?”

You nod. “I was lonely after you disappeared. I needed something to do. But Steve– I thought you would stay in the forties. Why would you ever go in the first place if you were just going to leave again?”

Steve looks stricken. “I thought I would like it better back then. I wanted to go home, but Y/N, I was wrong. The forties weren't home, you were. I realized it after a few months. Nothing felt right without you. I tried to go to our present day again, but it had been too long since I jumped and I couldn’t figure it out. I tried finding Strange, but of course he hadn’t been born yet, and I was sent into another universe instead of ours.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t understand. If you were trying to get back, why destroy all those universes?”

“I wasn’t trying to destroy them,” Steve says lowly, “I was trying to get you back. Only– you’re pivotal to all of this, and you don’t even get it. If the Avengers formed without us, they wouldn’t make the decisions needed to stop the Chitauri, or save the world from Thanos, or anything.”

You comprehend it all at last. “You weren’t destroying the multiverse, you were meddling with the timeline. Of course. The TVA always insisted on the danger of even the smallest variant. I get it now.”

“I made a mistake by leaving, Y/N,” Steve tells you. “I’m trying to make it right. Will you let me?”

And, looking at him in the low fluorescent lights of the TVA, you ask yourself if there’s still a place in your heart for the man you’ve known all your life. It’s been a long time since you saw him. It’ll be longer still before you forgive him for leaving in the first place. However, there’s not many people like you in this world or the next. You have Steve back at last. How could anyone not take a chance like that?

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[alittlebitofloveliness]

The last time Dally was having a week this bad he was eleven years old and fresh out of juvie, running from New York with nothing but the clothes on his back and three dollars his sister gave him instead of any sort of proper goodbye.

Shoot, but he’d thought he left that all behind, coming to rodeo country from brooklyn had felt like a retirement of sorts, and he’d gotten half used to the quiet, even if the itch under his skin sometimes still had him wishing there was blogger trouble to get into than tussling with Shepard or baiting some soc into a fight.

Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to end up in another murder wrap. Then again, he probably could have dealt with it a whole lot better if it had been anyone else who’d done it. If Tim had shown up at his place, cool but just a little less collected than usual, Dally would have grabbed a bag of salt and a shovel and driven with him into the backwoods to dump the body without having to think twice. If Darry or Two, or hell even Sodapop had showed up at his door he could have given them a lot better advice than to run a few towns over and hide out in a busted out church. 

But it wasn’t anyone else. It was the kids. Of course it was. 

He knows he’ll never forget it, the way Johnny had looked holding that knife, dried blood like scales on the back of his hand and soaked into the cuff of the jacket Dally had given him a year ago, a look in his eyes Dally had only ever seen once before, years ago, in a different face in a different life. It wasn’t fear, wasn’t anger, wasn’t even really panic- it was exhaustion, plain and simple. The type of bone deep resignation that came with being so beaten down and broken that when someone finally snapped they couldn’t even find themselves to be surprised by it. That look in Johnny’s eyes- just a year younger than him, but somehow so much older and younger at the same time- had haunted Dallas ever night for the past week, stealing the scant minutes he’d managed to set aside to sleep, as those soulful, empty eyes rose in his subconsciousness, staring at him for hours in the darkness.

Then there was Ponyboy, small for fourteen and even smaller shivering in the darkness, eyes wide in his peaked pale face, terrified and naive and stupid. 

What was Dally supposed to do? The kid had been so pissed he wouldn’t have gone home to Darry even if he’d begged on bended knee, especially if he’d suggested hiding Johnny anyway. The whole gang knew Pony worshiped the ground Johnny walked on and hardly seemed to realize it. 

So he’d sent them, the broken one and the baby, a few towns over with 50 bucks and bullshit he could pass off as advice instead of half crocked wishful thinking, and had paid the price for such an idiotic rash decision ten times over. He’d deserved the cracked rib Darry had given him when he found out about the whole thing, especially since he still hadn’t let slip where the kids are. He hadn’t deserved Steve’s icy silence, but he’d taken it with as much grace as he could muster anyway. Steve had already lost a lot in his life, and it was no secret Pony was a favourite of his even though he worked too hard to hide it. Dally could take a little bit of heat if that’s what it took to stop Steve from following Soda into full raving lunacy.

At least the benefit of his shitty advice is this: the kids are still close enough to reach, close enough for him or any of the rest of the gang to get to if they need to, at least for the moment. Not for long though- his selfish desire to keep them close can’t last much longer, he knows. He’s been planning, fund them a half safe route across the border that’ll keep them out of trouble until the whole thing dies down. 

For now though, he parks Buck’s shitty car down a dirt road thats barely more than tire tracks in worn down earth, and starts walking, the church on Jay mountain looking a bit more decrepit than it had the summer he spent out here a few years back working as a ranch hand. 

As he draws closer he notes the broken windows and missing boards and soft part of him, the part that knows he loves these fucking dumbass kids as much as he wishes he didn’t, hopes they weren’t too cold these past few nights.

He banishes the thought from his mind, instead letting out a long low whistle followed by a sharper, higher note, the one Tim’s gang uses to communicate with each other, but that Johnny knows because he spends enough time around Shepard territory to be half decent buddies with some of the younger guys in that gang.

Sure enough, as he rounds the hill a familiar head of jet black hair peers around the side of the church, breaking into a grin at the sight of him, and Dally’s traitorous heart leaps, relief a better upper than Tim’s good coke.

“Hey Dal!”

“Heya Johnnykid,” he can’t help the urge to reach out and ruffle the guy’s hair, especially since it been hacked off in a poor approximation of any sort of haircut, “geez, what’d you do to your hair, huh? Let Pony attack you with scissors, in the dark, blindfolded?”

“Shut up,” Johnny shoves at him halfheartedly, “I thought it’d be a good way to disguise ourselves.”

“Well it's true no one’ll mistake you for a murderer but they’ll take one look and think you escaped the looney bin.”

The kid winces a bit at the word murderer and he immediately feels bad, even though there isn’t much he can do to take it back now, is there?

“Where’s the kid?” He changes the subject, “I figured he’d be tearing down the hill the second he heard me whistle?”

“Inside,” Johnny jerks his head towards the church, leading Dally through the half rotted doorway.

Inside is as dingy and gross as Dally remembers from the one time he came to scope the place out before. The pews are rotted to the point it looks like if anyone older than three tried to sit on them they’d fall right through, and the concrete floor is so covered in dirt it's nearly black.

All of this ceases to matter of course, when Dally spots Ponyboy’s thin frame curled up in the corner, eyes closed, face white as a sheet. If he weren’t trembling ever so slightly, Dally would swear he was dead.

“Jesus,” he hisses, and Johnny nearly flinches, “what the fuck is wrong with him?”

“Nic sick,” Johnny sighs, shaking his head, and for a second he looks so much like Darry Curtis its comical, “I told him to cool it with the cigarettes but he didn’t listen.”

Dally sighs. No wonder he couldn’t bring himself to give them a proper escape plan a week ago. Six days in and Ponyboy’s smoked himself into a stupor, meanwhile Johnny’s lost about three pounds and whatever remained of his innocence.

Whatever. He’s here now. That’s what matters.

“Glory,” he says to Johnny, nudging the tip of his boot into Pony’s side, “he looks different with his hair like that.”

Ponyboy’s green eyes snap open.

The story continues.

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 1

Hello! Sorry it's been nothing but one-shots lately, but as I said in this post here I haven't abandoned anything, my life has just got a little crazy lately.

This was conceived because my sister's former mother-in-law passed away due to massive heart failure a week ago and I chose to write this story as a way with dealing it. I didn't know her well, but I did know her and that's enough I think to feel some grief at her passing. She was a year younger than my dad.

Summary: Eddie and Wayne have to go back to Kentucky when Eddie's grandmother (and Wayne and Al's mother) passes. Steve comes along when Eddie suggests that he would feel better if he came. Along the way they learn about each other's pasts and find out that they are each other's future.

***

Eddie walked into the Family Video and had to stop and gaze fondly at the sight before him. Steve was draped over the counter reading a magazine and steadfastly ignoring the bell above the door that announced his arrival.

He got up to the desk and greeted affectionately, “Hey, Stevie.”

Steve bolted straight up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh hi, Eds. I didn’t realize that it was you.”

Eddie smiled for the first time in days.

Steve grinned back. “You know, a boy could start to think you were avoiding him. You know, since I haven’t seen you around in days.”

Eddie winced, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Sorry, man. I had family stuff.”

Steve’s teasing grin slid off his face. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was a dick move.”

Eddie waved his hands. “No, no. There was no way for you to know. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t think that I’m avoiding you. Because I wouldn’t. You see Wayne and I have to go back to Ashland for a funeral.”

Steve’s already contrite expression softened further. “Oh, Eds. That’s awful. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Eddie’s eyes welled up and before the first tear could fall, Steve was over that counter and wrapping him up in his arms.

“I’ve got you, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I’m here now.”

Eddie sobbed and sobbed as Steve just gently rubbed his back until he calmed down enough to talk.

“It’s Uncle Wayne’s mom, my grandma,” he explained, clutching Steve’s shirt like a life line. “She was just the sweetest old lady and now she’s gone. I’m going to miss her.”

“Oh, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I’m sorry. That must just be awful for you. If there is anything I can do, just let me know.”

Eddie chuckled into Steve’s work vest. “Too bad you can’t come with. I think I’d feel braver about seeing all Dad’s family again if you were there.”

Steve grabbed his biceps and pushed him back gently. “Done.”

Eddie stuttered and sputtered. “Stevie, no...”

Steve picked up the phone on the counter and dialed a number. “Stevie yes.”

And Eddie watched in awe horror as Steve’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears and he rubbed his nose.

“Keith?” Steve said, his voice rough as if he had been doing the crying. “Yeah, I just got a call from my mom. My grandmother has died and I have to go to Kentucky for the funeral.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. He didn’t even know that Steve knew where Ashland was.

“Yeah, my mom is from Lexington,” Steve said with a wink at him. “A real southern belle. I’ve seen pictures of her debutante ball and everything.”

Eddie snorted, because of course she was.

“I would need at least a week,” Steve was saying. “With the reading of the will and all.”

Eddie scoffed. If there was a will, he very much doubted there would be anything as formal as a reading of the damn thing.

“Oh thank you so much,” Steve sniffled. “I’ll even call Robin and let her know about her needing to pick up a few shifts.”

And like that Steve had gotten the week off.

“And the award for best crocodile tears to get out of working goes to Steve Harrington!” Eddie said, waving his hands back and forth. “Holy shit, man, how did you do that?”

Steve snorted. “As any good actor will tell you in order to cry on command, you just need to think about something that makes you cry.”

Eddie frowned. “What did you think of?”

Steve just shrugged. “What time are you guys leaving?”

“Tomorrow, early,” he said. “But serious, dude, even after that stellar performance, you don’t really have to come. Take the week off. Enjoy life for a change.”

Steve shook his head. “I would just be at home worried about you. Don’t make me stay. Please. Not when you said you would feel better with me there.”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped as he gave in. “Of course I want you there, but I would be selfish to take you away from your family for so long. Robin, Dustin...the rest of the them all need you too.”

Steve sighed heavily. “You’re part of that family, Eds. And I’m not dumb enough to think that they aren’t going to make a run for it the second they’re able to. As they should. I have to live my own life and not be afraid to go places.”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “I hate when you make sense.”

Steve grinned. “Now the only remaining question is which vehicle we’re taking, Wayne’s truck, your van, or my car?”

Eddie laughed. “God, Stevie. I am so glad you’re coming with me. I needed that. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Steve’s grin turned soft and fond. “Let’s hope you never have to find you.”

“Damn straight.”

*

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Robin groused when Steve called her after Eddie left.

“What was I supposed to do when he asked?” Steve questioned, twirling the phone cord around his fingers. He leaned against the counter, keeping an eye on the door.

The last thing he needed was Keith finding out he fucked around after giving him the week off.

Robin scoffed. “Not go?” she questioned. “He obviously wasn’t serious about you coming with.”

"You know I would do the same for you," he said with a sigh. "For any of you. Plus his life has already been turned upside down enough, don't you think?"

Robin sighed. "I'm not really mad," she said. "It's just that this will be the longest we've been apart since the Russians under the mall."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just think of it as a trial run for when you go to college."

"Yeah okay," she said resigned. "Just call me before you leave and again when you get there, okay?"

"Aye, aye, captain!" Steve said with a grin.

Robin giggled. "Shut up!" She paused for a moment. "I'll miss your stupid face, dingus."

“I’ll miss yours, too,” Steve said with a sigh. “I’ll call as often as I can okay?”

“You better.”

They talked a little bit longer until a customer came in and he had to hang up.

*

When he got home he started calling all the kids and packing for a week long trip. He wasn’t sure what he should bring in terms of clothes and ended up calling Eddie.

Eddie who laughed when he asked. “Just bring what you would normally wear this time of year.”

Steve chewed on his lip. “So I won’t get mercilessly teased about my preppy clothes?”

“Oh no, you will,” Eddie confirmed. “It’s just you don’t have to change yourself to fit in with a bunch of assholes who would make fun of you. Okay?”

Steve let out a slow breath and his anxiety went with it. He could handle that. Those assholes had never met a bitch like Steve Harrington before.

“Yeah, okay,” he said after a moment. “You and Wayne decide which vehicle we’re taking?”

“Yeah, he suggested we take his truck and your car,” Eddie said. “He knows he’s going to be taking a lot back and thinks your car will make it better than my van.”

“Sounds good,” Steve murmured, a little disappointed. “So who will you be riding with for the trip down?”

He could almost feel the grin from here. “With you, of course, darlin’.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah okay. What time do you need me at your house?”

There was a beat and then two before Eddie said, “I was thinking that you should spend the night so we could leave first thing in the morning.”

Steve’s heart sped up as his breath caught in his chest. “Yeah. Sure. That’s a good idea. I’ll show up at eight tonight, give myself a little bit more time to pack.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie replied. “Wayne suggested it because it’s a six hour drive and we want to leave as early as we can so it’s not too late when we get there.”

Steve felt a jumble of emotions at that statement. It was a relief that it was a practical reason, but at the same time it was a disappointment that it wasn’t Eddie’s idea.

He took a deep breath. “I hear that. I remember the trips to Lexington when I was kid before we started flying. They were a bitch.”

“It really surprises me that you have family in Kentucky. I don’t know why, a lot of people in Indiana do, it’s just...”

“Harringtons are so entrenched in Hawkins it’s weird to think we have connections outside of it?” Steve supplied.

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, that.”

“My parents met in college and I didn’t move to Hawkins until I was eight,” Steve said.

“Wait,” Eddie said. “No way. You aren’t a Hawkins native?”

Steve chuckled. “Nope. I’m more like you and Dustin then the Wheelers and the Byers. And the Sinclairs.”

“Huh,” Eddie said after a moment. “You certainly have hidden depths, my friend.”

“You have no idea,” Steve teased.

“Then I’ll just have to use this trip to dive deeper,” Eddie teased back.

“I have to pack, you dork,” Steve said fondly. “I’ll be over at eight.”

“See you then, Stevie.”

***

Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7|Part 8|Part 9|Part 10|Part 11|Part 12

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[eyesofshinigami]

Eddie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Rating: T

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, very very mild sexual content (blink and miss it)

Prompt: For @lihhelsing "Love is helping them unwind after a rough day"

WC: 852

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 19

Eddie knew it was going to be a bad day as soon as he woke up. He managed to stub his toe twice on the way to the shower. His waffles got burnt in the toaster and they were out of syrup. He missed the bus by a minute, watching it drive away from the stop just as he ran up to it. It started raining while he was waiting for the next bus, so of course he got drenched.

He hoped that it had ended there, but no. Eddie got to work fifteen minutes late due to a traffic jam, wet and hungry and already done with today. His boss yelled at him and put him on tape-sorting duty, marking down the new shipment of tapes. Of course, halfway through, his pen exploded and covered him and the sheet he was using, so he had to start over.

By the time the end of his shift had rolled around, Eddie was tired, had a headache the size of Montana, and he was ready to throw himself into the void. Mack, the other guy on shift, patted him on the back and all it did was make his skin crawl. 

The journey home wasn’t much better. The bus was late again, and Eddie couldn’t find a seat so he had to stand. The bottom of his sneaker apparently acquired a random hole and he had to walk back to their apartment with wet socks.

Eddie was done. He was so fucking done that all he wanted to do was crawl into the bed and cry until he couldn’t anymore. He also hoped that Steve wasn’t home yet from work; he was scared that something bad would happen, like they would end up arguing or not speaking to each other.

What Eddie didn’t expect was to come home to a house that smelled a little like heaven. It was warm and he called out, “Steve? That you?” 

“Yup! In the kitchen!”

Eddie toed off his shoes and stripped out of his still damp jacket and hung it up on the rack. He still felt really keyed up from the day he had, so he steeled himself against his own feelings and headed into the kitchen. 

Their table was set. A lasagna was cooling in the center, set on a potholder right next to a spray of daisies. Two beers were set beside their plates, still cold enough that condensation was gathering on the glass. 

Steve himself is dressed in comfortable clothes, bent over the oven and pulling out what looked like cheesy garlic bread. Fuck, if it wasn’t all of Eddie’s favorite things wrapped up in one beautiful little scene. “Hey! I must have timed it just right!”

Eddie felt tears starting to gather in his eyes. “How… how did you know?”

Steve set the garlic bread down on the stove and pulled off his oven mitts before he reached up to cup Eddie’s cheek. “I heard you this morning. And then Mack called me before you left, saying you’d had a pretty shit day. So… I got home a little early and wanted to surprise you with something good.”

Okay, yeah, Eddie was absolutely going to cry now. “For me?”

“Of course, baby. After dinner, I figured we could take a bath together and I could wash your hair? Then we could crawl into bed and watch that new Beetlejuice movie? I grabbed it on the way home.”

“Steve… that…” It sounded incredible. It was perfect. So why was Eddie blubbering like he’d just been told his dog died? 

But Steve, wonderful, beautiful Steve, seemed to just understand. “Because you deserve it. You had a bad day, and I just wanted to make it better. You’d do the same for me, have done it in the past. Let me take care of you, okay?” 

What else could Eddie do but nod?

Dinner was delicious, Eddie ate until he couldn’t anymore, realizing he’d forgotten to eat lunch in the midst of the rest of his terrible day. He listened to Steve talk about what he’d done that day, letting his boyfriend’s words wash over him. 

The bath was just as nice. Even if they were two grown men, they managed to squeeze themselves into their tiny tub. It was ridiculous, but it made Eddie laugh and he felt light for the first time since he’d woken up that morning. Steve had washed his hair, took his time rubbing conditioner through Eddie’s curls, and then it ended up with them wrapping hands around each other’s cock and Eddie panting into Steve’s mouth.

Fuck, but he loved this man so much. 

Loose from the bath and from his orgasm, Eddie crawled into bed with Steve and curled up as the movie started.

“Love you, Eds,” Steve murmured, kissing the top of his head. He grabbed the remote from the bedside table to fast forward through the previews.

Ed smiled into Steve’s collarbone. The day might have started pretty fucking awful, but Steve had turned it right around. Now, it felt like the best day ever.

[buckrecs]

Hello! You are doing the lords work here on this blog🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 do you have any soulmate au recs? I know some people don’t like them so no problem if not and sorry if you’ve been asked before!

Soulmate AU

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

the knowing by @noctumbra

ten days later, james barnes got a call from the police.

for your love by @noctumbra

they were very young; a little shy from being fourteen at that time, but both of them knew they were it. soulmates.

The Owl and the Wolf by @waiting4inspiration

In a world where a person can their soulmate’s spirit animal speaking like a human, Bucky hears your owl’s voice one day.

Snowflakes by @all1e23

Steve drags Bucky to a Christmas festival to take his mind off the fact that he has yet to meet his soulmate.

Colors in the Dark | 2 by @buckychristwrites

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

Say That Again by @justsomebucky

Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Teddy Bear by @softlyspector

in which when one soulmate loses something, their other half finds it.

Winter Sun by @softlyspector

When you and Bucky are kidnapped, you find out just how far you would go to keep each other safe.

Assassination to Soulmates by @bxcketbarnes

See the World the Way You Do by @vanderlustwords

You start to see colour when you meet your soulmate. Bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing—you get one and that's it. His world used to be colourful once and then he lost that. He's resigned to see black and white for the rest of his life...until flashes of colours would appear from the corner of his eye. And it seemed to happen more and more as Bucky spends time with you.

Stay Still | Please, don’t by @buckysknifecollection

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

Enchanted by @natasharomanovf

The reader is in a loveless relationship when she meets her true soulmate, Bucky.

what’s in a name? by @ciarawritesmarvel

When you love someone, their name appears on your shoulder. If it’s in blue, it’s unrequited. If it’s in red, it’s requited. The name turns black when your love dies. 

SERIES

Who I Was Looking For by @soopranatural

Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you’re not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words “Sorry, you’re not who I was looking for” are written in black ink on your skin.

The Only Exception by @whitestarbucky

Humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. A lesson that taunted Bucky Barnes his whole life. Perhaps it was why he refused to believe in it. He couldn’t afford to. Then you came into his life to challenge his fears to their deepest degrees, not once, but twice. Whether he liked it or not.

A Moment Of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl

A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate? 

Scars by @tokoyamisstuff

whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.

Flowers Bloom by @revengingbarnes

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

Heartbeat by @after-avenging-hours

Where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together...  

The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

My night demons by @themorningsunshine

In which one can see their soulmate's dreams and communicate with them through those dreams.

.

.

.

.

.

[allthingssteddie]

The Harringtons money came from blood money

Edmund Munson and Richard Harrington both alpha and omega were childhood best friends. They both dreamed of leaving their tiny town and thinking about ways to make money.

One day Edmund received a letter that his grandfather which he knew nothing about died and leaving him the mine that he owned. Not knowing if he should just sell it to someone he talks to Richard who tells him they could make some money from this and should just keep it. Ed agrees to this from their they were making more money they have ever had but over the years the conditions were getting worse and he didn’t know what was going on with rich he was being secretive and not involving him with decisions. But one day when there is In order to excavate a new shaft quickly he employs a dynamite charge but the explosion causes the mine to collapse

Which kills a bunch of people Richard blames Edmund for the death of those people saying he was cutting corners and underpaying his workers. Betrayed Ed being an omega knowing that no one would believe him says nothing the next day couple of days he hung. Leaving Richard with all that money. On his wedding day Ed’s mom apears and tells him every omega boy in that family will be killed by the beast just like her son was.

The Harringtons hadn’t had an omega in that family for the next decade until Steve was born. When he presented at 14 parents grew scared and had him locked at home telling him it wasn’t safe out there and he wouldn’t go to school. But over the years he had learned of ways to sneak out when everyone was asleep and would go to the woods. There was something about it that felt like he was actually home a feeling he hadn’t felt ever. He had started to talk to the woods which he felt silly about at first but began to grow used to. He felt as if the woods were listening and the wind would hum in acknowledgment. But that night when he accidentally slept on the ground he heard the winds warning “run “it whispered . But as he was about to run back home he heard a whimper “Help .” He turned around to find a man naked he looked sick his face pale and he was sweaty and looked like he injured his hand looked to be a huge bite on it. He could feel something in him there was a familiarity about this man. He picked him up sneaking him into the shed. He cleaned his wounds from his hands. He was debating at first if he should call an ambulance. But before he could head back to call the boy awoke and after he questioned him the boy he found out was named Eddie was confused at first and told him he must of been sleep walking he been doing that for a couple of months now .

So to try to make it short somthing in Eddie been trying to find Steve and one night sensing him he turns into a wolf which he has no control over him self and seeing Steve and having the urge to bite him he bites his own hand . When he wakes he doesn’t remember. But they start to bond and they feel this connection where it’s like they can’t be apart like it actually hurts them just being away from each other and Eddie’s urges to atack him scares him he doesn’t know where this is coming from. When learning Steve’s last name Eddie stops talking and when Steve’s having rejection sickness Eddie’s having it too and goes to him.

I had a lot more ideas to write on this but I’m exhausted. Also I won’t be writing this it’s just an idea that I had.

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests: Steve has a good relationship with his parents & when they come back from wherever & someone (Nancy/Robin) tells them about the UD & his parents react by calling out every single adult involved. Maybe he got badly hurt, & they were called in & upon finding out they call out Joyce, Hop, Owens & Murray for the way no adult inthese kids lives had any clue about what their kids were going through. Nor were their parents given notice esp bc having underaged kids sign NDAs is not legal nor legally binfing (Maybe all the parents of the party kids are there and get all the info just like the Harrington's)

MY DARLING! LIGHT OF MY LIFE! HONESTLY this one hit different. You know how much I love making Steve suffer and when he has good parents, a lot of his suffering disappears. But it was nice to branch out a bit. Also finally some common sense! KIDS SHOULD NEVER BE SIGNING AN NDA THEMS THE FACTS! Steve's parents are here to fight for everyone so WELCOME TO THE CHAOS OF STEVE'S OVERPROTECTIVE LAWYER PARENTS! - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------

Steve Harrington had managed to avoid the hospital for years. Not because he shouldn’t have gone, but because he refused to go.

But this time, he was unconscious, which means he didn’t have a choice.

And now, staring at his parents’ shocked and appalled faces next to his bed, he realized he wished he’d just died, actually.

“This happens…often?” Anne Harrington asked Dr. Owens, who looked like he wished he was also dead.

“It does happen more often than we like. But it appears to be fixed now! Steven has been a wonderful asset to us, which is why we want to make sure he is comfortable and all his medical expenses are paid.”

He handled that well, Steve thought.

“And this is the first time anyone has bothered to call us?” Richard Harrington asked much too quietly.

That was his ‘I’m about to lose my shit’ voice and Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

“I do apologize, we had to deal with enough NDAs as it is,” Dr. Owens replied, not realizing that he was speaking to two lawyers who were about to ruin his life.

Steve let his head rest against the pillow of the hospital bed, sighing.

“At what age did Steve sign his first NDA?”

“I believe he was 16.”

“And did he have a lawyer present?” Anne didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “I can tell you he didn’t. We’re his lawyers and we were not even called. Are you the one in charge of this shitshow?”

It wasn’t often Anne Harrington said a curse word. Steve only ever heard it a handful of times, usually after hanging up with a client who would lose their case.

“I am one of the people who is tasked with this, yes. But if you don’t mind, I need to check in with a few people before I can truly devote time to this conversation.”

“Oh, please. Continue on with your day. Don’t mind us sitting next to our son in the hospital.”

Dr. Owens sighed, knowing this fight was barely even starting, and left the room.

Steve’s parents turned to him.

“How many concussions have you had?”

“Why didn’t you call us?”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Will this happen again?”

The questions were too much, and Steve’s head was pounding. He couldn’t do this right now.

“Hopper.”

“Jim Hopper? I thought he died.”

Admittedly, his parents had been out of town for a while. They didn’t know Hopper was back as of a few months ago, and probably didn’t realize he’d taken over as chief again.

“He didn’t. He’s around here somewhere.”

“He knew about all this?”

“Mom, I love you, but my head is splitting down the middle. I need to stop talking.”

Anne slowly brushed her hand through his hair, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Of course, honey. We’ll be back soon. Do not sign anything without us here, okay?”

“Okay.”

His dad briefly touched his shoulder before they both left the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

Until he was woken up by yelling.

Not just any yelling. Richard Harrington yelling.

If he wasn’t chained to the bed by an IV and blood transfusion bag, he would be up and in the hallway.

Apparently, he didn’t need to worry, though.

His mom came into the room, leaving the door open to the hallway so he could hear everything.

“I’m glad you’re awake, honey. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Who is he yelling at?”

“Every adult who didn’t bother to take care of you the way they should. Not just you, but all of these kids,” she said, tone more annoyed by the second.

“I don’t understand.”

“Honey, you’ve been protecting these kids in ways you never should have had to. All these adults who were involved never told any of us what was going on. They let you keep standing in the line of fire, getting hurt, seeing things you shouldn’t have to and never even bothered to call us. You signed NDAs with the government without parents or lawyers present. That alone is illegal, do you understand that?”

“So I’m in trouble?”

“Oh, honey, no. You’re not in trouble. Your dad’s having a few words with the chief and Dr. Owens.”

Steve tuned in to what was being said in the hall.

“I cannot fathom what you’ve done. Expecting these children to save this town, the world, and not even have their own parents know? Who are they supposed to turn to? You? And what have you done to help them? As far as I’m concerned, you should be arrested and imprisoned. If I have anything to say about it, you will!”

“Mom, can you please get him to stop? I know he’s upset, but Hop really protected us a lot, okay? And Dr. Owens was just doing his job.”

“A lot of people have just been doing their jobs instead of considering that maybe children shouldn’t be responsible for defeating actual monsters.”

Well. Yeah, she did have a point there.

“Where is everyone?”

Anne sat on the edge of his bed, holding his hand, running her thumb along the back of it.

“The Munson boy is in the room next door, he’ll be okay. Robin is home with her parents. Most of the kids are now with their parents, but that Sinclair boy is still being watched for concussion symptoms.”

Steve sighed with relief.

No one was lost. Everyone had pretty minor injuries. Maybe he was able to protect everyone.

“That Dustin boy is relentless,” Anne said with a smile. “He really looks up to you.”

“Yeah, he’s like a brother to me.”

“His mom didn’t know about any of this either, did she?”

Steve thought about it.

Honestly, she probably had some idea. Maybe not of the real details, but she had to know Dustin was involved in something he couldn’t talk about. Same with most of the parents.

But Steve’s parents were gone a lot. Their main office was in Boston, and they would often have to travel around the country for their clients. He was used to not seeing them, only getting to talk to them on the phone once or twice a week.

It’s easy to hide shit over the phone, and when they did manage to make it home, the Upside Down monsters were safely tucked away underground.

They had no way of knowing anything was wrong. He did it on purpose, just like all of the kids did.

Even without signing the NDAs, he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have told their parents.

“I think we just thought we were protecting you guys.”

“Honey, it’s not your job to protect us. It’s our job to protect you.”

She looked so sad.

Steve didn’t want her to be sad.

“Mom, you couldn’t have done anything. And we’re all safe.”

His dad walked in the room, face red. He closed the door behind him and ran his hand over his face.

“Doctor said Steve can go when the nurse comes to disconnect him from everything soon,” he said, coming to sit in the chair by his bed.

“That’s good news. We’ll get you home and settled. We canceled our flight out so we can stick around for a while and make sure you’re okay,” Anne said with a smile.

“You guys don’t have to cancel your trip. Your clients need you.”

“Not as much as you need us, son,” Richard said, giving him a soft smile.

“I’ve handled it before, though.”

“And you shouldn’t have. Trust me, this town, the government, they’ve got a shit storm coming and I’m leading it,” his dad huffed.

A knock interrupted Steve’s response, the door opening slightly before they answered.

Eddie.

“Steve? You okay?”

Steve’s parents looked at the door, then back at Steve, who was doing his best to hide the fond smile on his face.

It wasn’t working though, not when he saw the way Eddie was trying to take inventory of his injuries from across the room.

“You can come in, Eds.”

“Who’s this, honey?” Anne asked.

“This is Eddie.”

“Oh! You poor thing. I heard all about what you’ve been through. Let me just say, if we had caught wind of it earlier and knew you were Steve’s friend, we would’ve been representing you in court,” Anne rushed to say, her hands fluttering over Eddie’s when he got next to the bed.

Eddie’s wide eyes would have been amusing if Steve didn’t worry that he might run for the hills at the care his parents showed.

“Uh. Thank you?”

“Do you need anything right now? Do your parents need anything?” Richard asked, sitting forward in his chair, business face on.

“Um, just me and my uncle, but no. I’m heading home, but wanted to check on Steve before I go.”

“Of course! You guys are close friends?”

It was an innocent question. His parents just liked to know who was in his life, that’s all. But Eddie looked at him with panic written all over his face.

Steve gave him a small smile, then turned to his parents.

“Actually, he’s my boyfriend.”

They were quiet for a moment, which Steve expected. No matter how well he thought they’d take it, he knew it would be a shock.

But his parents didn’t let him down.

“How long have you been together, Steve?”

“Since March. Four months?” He watched as Eddie started to back away, probably expecting the worst.

Anne smacked Steve’s arm, forgetting for a moment that he was in the hospital for a reason.

“Sorry,” she said before crossing her arms. “You’ve had a boyfriend for four months and didn’t tell us? We could have come back and arranged dinner to meet him. I’m so sorry our son is rude, Eddie. He wasn’t raised that way, I assure you.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“Um. What’s happening right now?”

“We’ll be home for a while to make sure Steve is alright. We’d love to have you over for dinner soon. With your uncle if you’d like,” Richard added as Eddie just stared between them.

“What do you like? I just got a new cookbook that has so many European dishes I want to try. Are you a fan of Polish food? You know what, no, what about Greek? We haven’t had good Greek food in so long.”

Steve was laughing, he couldn’t help it.

“Steve, what the hell is going on here?”

“Eddie, that’s my mom, Anne, and my dad, Richard. They’re kind of the best, and apparently they want you and Wayne to come for dinner. Think you can find time in your schedule?”

“Uh.”

“Oh dear. Do you have a concussion? They should monitor you kids better,” Anne worried, moving her hands up to cup his cheeks and look in his eyes. “Should I get a nurse?”

“No, mom, he’s okay. He just expected you two to freak out.”

“About what?”

“The fact he’s a man.”

“Oh! I do suppose that’s a reasonable concern.”

“Eddie, let me ask you this: do you make Steve happy?” Richard asked.

“I think so.”

“And he makes you happy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then it sounds like we have no reason to be upset. Now, dinner? Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Okay.”

Steve laughed loudly.

“Eds, come here,” Steve gestured for him to come closer.

Eddie moved next to the bed, his arm bandaged, and a new cut with stitches in it on his forehead.

“Closer.”

Eddie leaned in.

Steve leaned up and kissed his lips. Just a quick peck, just enough to get the point across that this was really okay and really happening.

“Tomorrow at 6?” Steve asked before he pulled away completely.

Eddie nodded.

“And please bring your uncle, we need to discuss our plan for a lawsuit on behalf of all of you,” Richard spoke up from his chair.

“Oh. Yes, sir.” Eddie pulled away from the bed, nervously playing with his rings.

“Richard is fine, son.”

Eddie was blushing, which Steve was absolutely going to make fun of him for later.

“See you tomorrow, then?” Eddie asked awkwardly.

“Love you, Eds.”

“Oh. Uh. Yep. Love you too, Stevie.”

He raced out of the room, leaving Steve and Anne laughing quietly.

“Poor boy. Didn’t know what to do, did he?”

“No, I think he isn’t used to a positive reaction when people find out about him.”

“His uncle knows about you two, though, right?”

“Yeah, Wayne’s been great.”

“Good. Well, I’m going to find a nurse so we can go home. You should be comfortable in your own bed.”

“And I am going to make a quick call to my buddy in Chicago to see if he can pull some information on this Owens guy. We have a lot of work to do.”

Steve was used to this. For some kids, maybe this wasn’t good parenting. Maybe his parents being gone for a lot of his life had a negative impact.

But Steve never doubted how much they loved him. They still came home for every birthday, every Christmas. They still managed to take a family vacation every year. They gave him everything he needed and most of what he wanted. They supported him through everything, the proof right here in front of him now.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Naughty Nanny Chapter 5

Summary:  Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought.

**In this universe Steve never left, Tony never died.** **curvy reader** Warnings: talk of sexual harassment, unwanted/non-consensual touching/sexual assault, eventual smut

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The next few weeks were like clockwork.  Bucky felt well-rested and lighter than he had in years as Y/N helped with Winnie.  Y/N quickly became another part of the Avengers family, her calm and inviting demeanor making the others feel comfortable being open with her.  She was bright and outgoing, often spouting one-liners that had the entire group doubled over laughing.  Bucky could feel himself getting in dangerous territory with her as he naturally got closer to her as friends, building an emotional and at times physical connection with her.  He reveled in the moments he’d muster up the courage and give her a side hug that she happily reciprocated, a lingering touch between their hands, when she would fall asleep on his shoulder as they watched a movie with Winnie, or be close to her as they both played with Winnie.  If he didn’t know any better he would think that she copied his stare, catching her looking away from him hurriedly every once in a while.  He didn’t want to push it, but was finding it more difficult as time went on.

“Hey Buck?”  Y/N asked him one day.

“Yeah?” 

“Um…I’m sorry to do this but, I need next Saturday night off,” Y/N said hesitantly.

“Oh, okay.  That should be fine.  May I ask why?” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m helping out a friend with something,” Y/N said, clearly not wanting to give him any details.

“Okay, yeah I can handle my kid for one night,” Bucky smirked at her.

“Psh, you sure?” Y/N teased him.

Bucky rolled his eyes.  Their playful banter had become second nature to them by now and he secretly loved it.  “Yes.  Jesus, how little faith you have in me.”

Y/N shoved his arm playfully.

***

“We go next Saturday,” Steve announced to the room.

“Next Saturday?” Bucky asked incredulously.  “I can’t, Y/N’s gonna be out that night.  Who will watch Winnie?”

“I can,” Pepper piped up.  

“Good,” Steve continued.  “We’ll go in as patrons.  Scott will take a look around while we observe the club and Kingpin’s guys.  He won’t be there, he’s scheduled to be out of the country until next Sunday,” Steve continued rattling off the mission plan.  Bucky’s unease didn’t let up.  Something about this seemed off, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

The next Saturday Y/N had already left earlier in the day and Pepper was watching Winnie as Bucky got dressed.  They were going to a fancy burlesque club downtown and they needed to look like they belonged.  He wore a faux skin over his metal hand to make it look like regular flesh and an all-black outfit that was much tighter than the t-shirts and sweats he enjoyed.  Steve and Scott met him downstairs, Steve dressed in a similar sharp outfit and his beard growing in, making him slightly less recognizable, and Scott in his Antman outfit so he could get tiny and spy all over the club quickly.  They were looking for intel on weapons manufacturers that Kingpin was working with to deliver some previously-thought-lost alien weaponry into New York.

They arrived at the club at about 11:15 p.m. and were ushered into the VIP section, courtesy of Tony making a call ahead of time.  Scott was buzzing around somewhere as Steve and Bucky ordered drinks and observed the club around them.  Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, the regular set up of Kingpin’s men there as bouncers and security.  

“Guys, he’s here,” Scott’s voice sounded panicked through the earpieces.

“What?” Steve said, his brow furrowing, but otherwise keeping a straight face.

“A whole caravan of cars just pulled up, it’s him with his entourage.  Looks like about 15 more men with him.”

“Why would he come back early?” Bucky asked, his eyes sweeping across the venue slowly.  Just then Kingpin and his group entered.  He was freakishly tall, bald, and burly, a mountain of a man compared to his bodyguards.  He was dressed in the most expensive materials, his pearly white veneers glowing eerily between his lips, large rings on his fingers.  “Typical,” Bucky sighed heavily as he watched him cross the club to his own VIP section that was front and center to the stage.  

“Tell me about it,” Steve scoffed.  Just then the announcer came overhead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest for you tonight.  Back for one night only, give a warm welcome to the one, the only, Big Booty Baby!”

Kingpin stood and clapped, his eyes trained on the stage territorially.  Bucky and Steve shared a knowing look before looking toward the stage, noting how much the crowd was clapping excitedly as well.  The curtain pulled back as the music started, a bright pink light outlining the body of the dancer who was posed with her back to the audience.  She was plus size, thus the name, but it wasn’t until the spotlight came on and she turned her head to her profile that Bucky’s mouth dropped open.  Steve looked at him strangely then took another look at the dancer and his eyes bulged.  It was Y/N.

“Did y’all miss me?” she asked in a sultry tone, her voice being picked up by the microphone hanging over her head.  The crowd cheered, whooping and hollering.  She giggled then turned and posed again, looking out over the audience.  The song picked up and she started to sway and move, dancing while lip syncing the lyrics to “Fever,” a song Bucky actually recognized.  He squirmed in his seat as he watched her slowly pull off her glove.

“Um…did you know she was going to be here?” Steve breathed.

“No,” Bucky seethed.  He was angry.  Not necessarily at her, or that she didn’t tell him she would be “helping a friend” at the burlesque club, but that she was here in a dangerous situation with the likes of Kingpin.  If he wasn’t already invested in this mission and ending this man, he definitely was now.  Especially as he saw Kingpin watch her hungrily, whispering to his men next to him who all chuckled darkly with him.  “We need to get her out of here, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve said, looking around for quick exit points and options.

“I found the jackpot,” Scott’s voice crackled through.  “I’m collecting it all now and I can meet you outside in 10 minutes.”

“Something came up, Scott.  Take what you have and go back to the compound.  We’ll meet you there,” Steve instructed lowly.  Scott agreed and disconnected.  “What’s the play, Buck?”

“I’ll buy a private dance.  You find an exit point and get the car ready and we’ll get out of here,” Bucky said, his metal hand creaking slightly as he made a fist when she stripped off another layer of clothing.  Steve gestured to one of the waiters, asking to buy a private dance with her for his friend.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, but he’ll have to wait till after Mr. Fisk has his dance,” she said sweetly.  “But we can get another girl for you?”

“No, just her, uh…how long are the private dances?” Steve asked as Bucky sent a murderous glare Kingpin’s way.

“They’re scheduled anywhere from 5 minutes to 20 minutes.  Mr. Fisk always takes 20,” she rattled off.

“I’ll take a 20 after him for my friend,” Steve said and paid her the money.  She nodded and walked off as Steve turned back to Bucky.  “Buck, you need to stay calm.”

“I am calm,” Bucky grunted.  “Twenty minutes is a long time.”

“Right,” Steve said, sounding worried.

They both sputtered as Y/N took off her last layer of clothing, her nipples covered in heart shaped pasties and her nether regions barely covered by a small, glittery red bikini bottom, her full ass hanging out as she jiggled it to the audience, the fan in her hand shaking as she finished the song.  She did her last pose and then smiled wide at the cheers, blowing kisses to people and bowing, covering herself with the large fan.  Her eyes seemed to catch sight of Kingpin and she froze for a moment, her eyes widening and the smile dropping from her face before she quickly recovered, smiling politely as she grabbed her clothes and dollar bills and exited the stage.  Bucky could tell she was scared, and it made him even angrier, and nervous.

When it was over Bucky quickly stood and marched over with Steve to the private dance area.  Kingpin was right behind them.  Bucky decided to try his luck as he stepped up to the podium.  “Hi, I paid for a private dance with Big Booty Baby,” he said in an even, flirty tone to the woman.

“Ah, sorry, sir, our owner has first dibs,” she said, looking behind him.  

Kingpin stepped forward and stood next to Bucky.  He seemed to size him up, which made Bucky level him a cocked eyebrow.  Kingpin was a head taller than him and bulkier, probably weighing close to 400 or more pounds.  He could probably squash Bucky just by sitting on him, but Bucky didn’t let it get to him.  “It’s alright, Roxy, this gentleman can take his turn first,” Kingpin said, trying to play it off as a kindness, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.  “Oh and uh,” he leaned forward to Bucky, “she’s a spitfire.  Feisty.”  He winked at him.

Bucky wanted to deck him right there but just gave him a tight smile.  As he turned to enter the private area he glanced at Steve who was already nodding and turning to leave to find a back door to the area.  Bucky followed Roxy’s instructions and nodded to Kingpin before heading into the private room near the back, thankfully right next to the exit.  When he walked in the room Y/N was pressed into a corner, dressed in a robe and turned away from him.

“Stay away from me, Wilson,” Y/N said firmly, not looking at him.

“Y/N,” Bucky said quietly.  She turned, looking at Bucky in shock.

“Bucky?  What?”  She stared at him then held her robe tighter over her body.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he held a hand out to her.

“I can’t,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.  “I’m covering for Tiffany.  He wasn’t supposed to be here,” she said, her chin trembling.

“It’s not safe, Y/N,” Bucky said, slowly approaching her.  “We need to leave.”

“There’s cameras everywhere,” Y/N said.  “It’s in the corner behind you.”  Bucky stiffened and sighed.  “They’re always watching.  I have to give you a dance or the manager or Fisk will come back and do something.”

“Okay fine,” Bucky said matter-of-factly.  He turned to the large, wide armchair behind him and sat in it stiffly.  “Give me a dance, then we’ll head towards the door like you’re sending me off, and slip out the exit.”  Y/N stared at him wide-eyed, her eyes flicking to the camera and back to him.  “Come on, Y/N, we only have 18 minutes left,” Bucky urged her.

Y/N watched him for another moment then nodded solemnly.  Her hands released her robe and slid it off her body, showing off her bright blue bustier top she had changed into.  She was wearing a matching thong and garter set with sheer blue stockings, her feet bare.  Bucky swallowed thickly as he looked at her.  She swayed her way over to him, matching the beat of the music bumping around them, putting on a show for the camera.

When she reached him she pulled a leg up and set her foot on his knee, moving her hand from her thigh down to her foot slowly, tipping her body forward to show off her heavy cleavage.  Her hand edged off her foot to his thigh, kneading the flesh there as she climbed onto the chair, straddling his legs, her hips slotting over his.  Bucky didn’t dare move.  The feelings he’d been tamping down were coming out full force, refusing to believe that it wasn’t real.  Her fingers scratched up his shirt, and when she reached the top buttons she undid three of them and leaned in.  She placed a kiss on his chest then dragged her mouth up to his neck and licked just under his jaw.

Bucky’s hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly to help ground himself.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Y/N whispered into his ear, giving his earlobe a nibble as her hands roamed along his chest and arms.

“It’s okay,” Bucky breathed, his hips trembling when she started to grind down on him.  “We’ll…mmh,” he moaned as she bit his neck lightly, her hands moving to his hair and scratching his scalp.  “We’ll talk about it at home.”

Y/N nodded against his neck.  She glanced at the timer behind him.  10 minutes.  “Forgive me,” she said quietly.  Bucky didn’t understand until she suddenly pulled away and got off the chair.  She turned around and slapped her ass, making it jiggle in his face, then took his hands and led them to her ass, encouraging him to touch her.  Bucky tried to act like he didn’t want to, but it was no use.  He sat up and kneaded her ass, his face close to her right cheek.  He wasn’t sure what came over him but he slapped that cheek, making her gasp, then leaned forward further and lightly kissed the welt that started forming.  Y/N moaned this time, her hands tightly wrapped around his wrists.  She pushed him back and sat back on his lap.  She started grinding her hips into his, her hands supporting herself on his knees.  Bucky helped guide her hips where he wanted them, the crack of her ass enveloping his covered cock so perfectly it had his eyes rolling.

“Buck?  I found the exit nearest you.  Where are you?”  Steve’s voice rang in his ear.

“Almost there,” Bucky said as evenly as he could.  Steve copied and Bucky silenced his earpiece.  Y/N leaned back so they were cheek to cheek, Bucky’s panted breaths huffing against her face.  She pulled his hands to her thighs, which he immediately started gripping roughly.  “Fuck, honey,” he groaned, watching her grind against him.

“Honey?” Y/N said, her voice airy and sultry like it was on stage.

Bucky nodded as she slid across his cock just right that his hips rutted up against her.  Y/N smiled and kept grinding on him that way.  Bucky’s hands slipped up her body until his covered metal hand cupped her left breast and his flesh hand wrapped around her throat.  He was losing all sense of self, just enjoying this pleasure while he still could, almost forgetting the danger they were in.  “Sweet and smooth,” he murmured, his metal hand rubbing her breast then down her stomach, “like honey.”

Y/N whimpered as his voice dropped.  She grabbed his metal hand, pausing when she saw it covered by the faux skin, but then brought it to her mouth. She stuck her tongue out and licked his pointer finger slowly, swirling around it then sucking his middle finger into her mouth with it, licking and sucking them together like it were his cock.  That combined with her gyrating hips had him growling into the crook of her neck as his hips jerked and he came in his pants.  Y/N gasped around his fingers but kept sucking them as he jerked a couple more times with how much he was cumming.  He’d never seen something so erotic, and he kissed her neck as his breathing evened out.

Y/N slightly turned her head and looked behind him.  2 minutes.

“We need to go now,” Y/N said.  She quickly stood up and put on her robe, grabbing a bag that was hiding under the couch across from them.  Bucky cleared his throat and tried to fix his ruined pants as he stood.  He looked at the timer and then turned his earpiece back on.  

“Steve, we’re coming out now,” he grunted.

“Ready when you are,” Steve replied. 

Bucky grabbed Y/N by the arm and led her to the door.  He opened it and looked out into the hallway.  Seeing no one coming he opened the exit door next to them and held it open for her.  Just as Y/N stepped out and was one foot out the exit, Kingpin rounded the corner.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted as he started running towards them.

Y/N gasped and looked panicked as Bucky pushed her out the door.  Steve was in a car right next to it and Bucky hurried her inside and slammed it behind himself.  “Go!” he yelled and Steve took off.

Kingpin burst through the exit door when they were already halfway down the alley.  “GET BACK HERE YOU BITCH!  I OWN YOU!!” he yelled.  Bucky looked back just as he saw Kingpin pull out a gun.

“Duck!” he yelled and pushed Y/N’s head down.  

A shot rang out and ricocheted off the bulletproof back window, making Y/N scream.  Steve peeled around the corner and they quickly drove away.  They circled around, taking different twists and turns.  When they were sure they weren’t being followed Steve headed back towards the compound.  

Bucky couldn’t relax, his head on a swivel as Steve continued home.  The car was quiet until a small sniffle came from Y/N.  Bucky’s head whipped toward her and his expression softened.  She was still hunched over, like she was afraid she could still get shot.  Tears poured down her cheeks as she clutched her robe tight around her.  She was shivering.  Bucky sighed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him.  She flinched at first, looking at him with wide eyes, but then she melted against him, tucking her head against his chest as she cried.  He held her close, rubbing her arm and whispering comforting words into her hair.  

When they pulled up to the compound Steve quickly turned around in the car.  “Y/N, are you okay?”

Y/N sighed and sat up, wiping at her eyes.  “I’m fine, thanks Steve,” she whispered.

Steve gave her a long look then turned to Bucky.  “You good?”

“As much as I can be,” Bucky shrugged.

“Alright.  We’ll meet in the conference room tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.  All of us,” he looked at Y/N pointedly.  She hung her head and nodded.  “Go clean up and get some rest, the both of you.”  He exited the car and headed inside, leaving them behind.

Bucky grabbed Y/N’s bag and exited the car, holding the door open for her.  She followed him out and trailed behind him as they walked inside.  Thankfully everyone was either away or had gone to bed already so they weren’t bothered as they headed to their suite.  The elevator ride was deafeningly silent, and the walk down the hallway was eerie with the thud of their footsteps echoing.  When Bucky opened the door he let Y/N enter first and they were greeted with Pepper sitting on the couch.

“Welcome back, how–” she stopped when she saw Y/N.  “Y/N?  What…?”  She walked over to her and reached out a hand, pushing back some of her hair.

“I’m fine,” Y/N waved off her concerned look.  “It was just…a lot.”

Pepper looked over her tear stained and makeup streaked face and then down her body at her outfit.  Y/N closed the robe again.  “I thought you said you were done with the burlesque club.”

It sounded accusatory and Bucky stepped forward.  “Pepper, don’t.”

“I was,” Y/N spoke up, giving Pepper a hard glare.  “My friend needed help.  I told her I’d cover this one shift so she could audition for a new place that’s not owned by the same person.  He’s dangerous.  I was…helping a friend,” she sniffed, her lip trembling.  “I will not apologize for that.  But I will apologize for not making everyone aware of what I was doing.”

Pepper nodded then turned to Bucky.  “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes,” Bucky said resolutely.

“Fine.  But no more,” Pepper said, looking back at Y/N.  Y/N nodded.  Pepper sighed then walked around her and headed for the door.  “Winnie’s been fine.  Fell asleep about two hours ago,” she said as she opened the door then shut it behind her.

Bucky and Y/N stood silently in the front room.  Bucky walked toward Y/N’s room with her bag.  She slowly followed him.  He entered the room and set the bag down on her bed before turning back to look at her.  She was looking anywhere but at him, her arms still wrapped around herself.  Bucky watched her for a moment then stepped toward her.  He lifted her chin with his finger and gazed deeply into her eyes.  “Are you okay?”

Y/N gazed back at him, her makeup smeared and her cheeks still flushed.  She gave him a sad lopsided smile and shrugged one shoulder.  “I’m fine.  Thank you, for helping me,” she whispered, her voice coming out hoarse.  Bucky waited to see any lie in her eyes, but after a moment pulled his hand away.  

“Okay,” he said simply.  “Get some rest.  We can talk about all this tomorrow.”

Y/N sighed again, closing her eyes and nodding.  Bucky was about to step around her but stopped himself.  He stepped closer to her again, lifting his hand to cup her cheek.  Her eyes flew open and she stared at him with wide eyes.  His eyes searched her face, flicking between her eyes to her lips and back.  He leaned forward slowly, waiting for her to react or pull away.  When she didn’t he took that as a good sign and closed the gap, kissing her cheek, so very close to the side of her mouth.  He pulled away and stared at her lips for a moment before looking back up at her eyes.  Her mouth slightly hung open, her own eyes focusing on his lips.  

“Thanks for the dance,” Bucky said, a small smirk lighting up his face.  He dropped his hand from her face and stepped around her as she gasped lightly.  When he turned to close her door she was staring at him with a stunned expression.  He winked and closed the door behind him.

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