#i will never try to enter steve's head again

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 17

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU 🥰🥰

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Sad steve, a little angst, fluff 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

A/N: ugh finally is all i gotta say

Masterpost

Steve stepped into the apartment quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. The living room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting a soft glow. Sam was sprawled out on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap, the TV playing a muted rerun of an old sitcom. He looked up as Steve entered, his brows knitting together in concern.

“Did you find her?” Sam asked, sitting up and setting the popcorn aside.

Steve nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. She was sitting on a park bench not too far from here.”

Sam leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “And? She okay?”

Steve hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck before walking over to the couch. He sank down beside Sam, exhaling deeply. “She knows,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.

Sam froze, his jaw tightening. “Knows what?”

Steve looked down at his hands, clasping them tightly as if trying to hold himself together. “That I’m in love with her.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sam sat back, his expression unreadable as he processed the weight of Steve’s words. Finally, he cleared his throat. “And what did she say?”

Steve let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “She said she doesn’t love me back. I asked her if she thinks she ever could, and…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “She said at one point, maybe. She believes she could have. But now, with everything going on with Bucky…”

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes softening with sympathy. “Man, I’m sorry.”

Steve leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes as the ache in his chest deepened. “It’s eating me alive, Sam. Knowing that if I’d just made a move sooner, she could’ve been with me. Maybe she wouldn’t be so hung up on Bucky. Maybe we could’ve been happy.”

Sam let out a slow breath, choosing his words carefully. “Steve… you can’t do that to yourself, man. You can’t sit here and play the what-if game. Trust me, it doesn’t help. And honestly? If I’m being real with you, this was always going to happen.”

Steve frowned, his eyes opening to meet Sam’s. “What do you mean?”

Sam gave him a sad smile, his tone gentle but firm. “The universe was always gonna have it be her and Bucky. You’ve gotta know that. They’ve got that messy, complicated, meant-to-be kind of thing. And yeah, it sucks for you—it sucks for anyone standing on the outside looking in—but some things just… are.”

Steve looked away, his jaw tightening. “It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Sam nodded, understanding the weight in Steve’s voice. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared at the muted TV. “No, it doesn’t. And it’s not gonna for a while. But you’ve gotta find a way to live with it, man. Letting it eat at you? That’s not gonna do you any good.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh. “I thought… I thought maybe if I just held on, if I waited long enough, she’d see me. But she never has, not like I see her.”

Sam leaned forward again, his tone firm but not unkind. “Steve, you can’t do that to yourself. I know it hurts, but you’re stuck in a shitty situation. The universe has always been rigged for her and Bucky. That’s not on you.”

Steve’s lips twitched in a faint, bitter smile. “You think so?”

Sam nodded. “Oh, I know so. Hell, I figured it out back in college.”

Steve glanced at him, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Sam gave him a pointed look. “Remember when I asked her out that one time?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly, the memory rushing back. “Of course, I remember. You came back, said it wasn’t gonna work, and then you two were best friends from then on.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, that’s because thirty minutes into the date, I realized she wasn’t just talking about Bucky—she was glowing every time his name came up. I sat there thinking, ‘How the hell did I not see this before?’” He paused, his voice softening. “Doesn’t matter what she says or doesn’t say about him. She’s always been his, Steve. And I think he’s always been hers too. They’re just too damn stupid to admit it.”

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. “You’re probably right.”

Sam smirked, shaking his head. “Oh, I know I am. You should’ve seen Bucky that night I took her out. He didn’t say anything, but the guy didn’t sit still for hours. He kept pacing around our dorm like he was waiting for her to come back. And once I started hanging out with you and Bucky more, it was even clearer. Bucky looked at her like she hung the stars, and she was over there looking at him like he was her entire world. You couldn’t miss it.”

Steve leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face. “So why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t she?”

Sam shrugged. “That’s just who they are. Stubborn as hell, both of them. And I think part of it is fear, you know? They’re both so scared of losing what they have that they’ve been too chicken to reach for more. But, Steve, that’s not on you. It’s not your fault they’ve been stuck in this endless loop.”

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line, his blue eyes clouded with doubt. “Doesn’t make it easier to watch.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam agreed. “But here’s the thing—you’re not second best, Steve. You’re not just a fallback option, and you shouldn’t let yourself feel like one. If it wasn’t meant to be with her, that’s on the universe, not you.”

Steve let out a small, bitter laugh. “That’s easy for you to say.”

Sam gave him a pointed look. “Not as easy as you think. But I’ll tell you this—there’s a world of people out there who would give anything to have someone like you in their corner. Someone who sees them the way you see her. And maybe one day, you’ll find someone who looks at you the way she looks at Bucky. She may be closer than you think….You deserve that, Steve. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Steve’s chest tightened at Sam’s words, but he nodded slowly, the truth of them settling in. “Thanks, man.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a warm, reassuring smile. “Anytime. And hey, remember—there’s plenty of fish in the sea. You just gotta let yourself cast the line.”

Steve let out a weak laugh, but there was a hint of hope in it. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Sam said firmly. “Now, ill grab us a beer and lets figure out what the hell we’re doing tomorrow because I’m pretty sure the group’s about to implode.”

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Sounds about right.”

The two friends settled back into the couch, the weight of the conversation still lingering but lighter now. And as Steve stared at the muted TV, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Sam was right.

College First year

It was a crisp fall evening, the kind where the air had just enough of a chill to make you wish you’d brought a scarf. The campus was alive with chatter and laughter, students hurrying to and from the dining halls or bundling up for late-night study sessions. You’d agreed to go on a date with Sam, mostly because Wanda and Natasha had been relentless about it.

“Come on,” Natasha had said, practically throwing your coat at you. “He’s great. He’s charming. And let’s be honest, he’s got arms that could carry you out of a burning building.”

You’d rolled your eyes but agreed. Sam had always been easy to talk to, Steve said he was the better roommate out of him and Bucky, so that was a good sign and you figured if nothing else, it would be a fun night.

When he showed up to pick you up, he greeted you with his signature warm smile, a casual button-up, and a bouquet of flowers that was just the right mix of thoughtful and not overly formal. “Ready to go?” he asked, offering his arm.

The two of you ended up at a cozy Italian restaurant just off campus. It was charming, with string lights and the soft hum of an acoustic guitar playing in the background. The warm glow of the string lights outside the building made it feel like a scene straight out of a rom-com. Sam opened the door for you with a playful bow.

“After you, milady,” he said, flashing that signature grin that had most girls on campus swooning.

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. “Don’t push your luck, Wilson.”

Sam was, as expected, funny and kind, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. You laughed about your classes, swapped embarrassing stories about your friends, and commiserated over the sheer insanity of trying to balance everything college threw at you. He was cracking jokes and telling stories that had you laughing so hard you nearly spilled your water more than once.

“So, let me get this straight,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Sam recounted an embarrassing story from his freshman year. “You really thought sneaking a chicken into your dorm room was a good idea?”

Sam held up his hands defensively. “In my defense, it was my chicken. His name was Nugget, and he was a gift from my uncle. You don’t just abandon family.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t think a chicken counts as family, Sam.”

“Clearly, you’ve never owned a chicken,” he quipped, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

As the food arrived, the conversation shifted to classes, mutual friends, and campus gossip. Everything felt easy—until Sam tilted his head, his playful smile fading slightly.

But somewhere between the second course and dessert, Sam tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “You know, I’ve noticed something about you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh no. What? Is it the way I hold my fork? Natasha said it’s weird.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just… you talk about Bucky a lot.”

Your fork froze mid-twirl, and you blinked at him. “I do not,” you said quickly, your voice a little too defensive. “Do I?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant as your heart skipped a beat.

Sam nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. I mean, I get it—you’ve been friends forever. But it’s not just that. It’s the way you talk about him. And the way your eyes kinda… linger when you bring him up.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you quickly looked down at your plate, twirling spaghetti around your fork. “It’s not… I mean, Bucky and I, we’re just friends. Best friends, that’s all we’ve ever been.”

Sam gave you a look, one that was both knowing and a little amused. “I'm sensing that maybe someone, not naming names, is feeling a little more than just friends?” He paused, his smile fading into something more serious “Does he know?”

Your stomach twisted, and you set your fork down, your appetite suddenly gone. “No,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “And please don’t tell him. I don’t even know what I want, and the last thing I need is for him to know that I’m…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “In love with him?”

Your head shot up, and you glared at him, though there wasn’t much heat behind it. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Sam said gently, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know how I didn’t put two and two together before, but it’s written all over you.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. “Well, great. Now you know my secret. Are you gonna tell him?"

Sam laughed, reaching across the table to gently tap your hand. “Hey, I won’t. But… you should probably figure out what you want. For your sake, not his. I don’t think I’m the guy you’re supposed to be out with tonight.”

You felt a pang of guilt, but Sam’s easy grin quickly soothed it. “Sam, I’m sorry—” You sighed, your fingers gripping your fork tightly. “It’s not that simple, Sam. Bucky and I… we’re complicated. And I’m not even sure he thinks of me like that.”

Sam let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Man, you’re both blind as hell. But hey, that’s not my business.” He reached across the table giving your hand a squeeze “Don’t be, I’m glad we did this. I mean, it’s not every day you go on a date and realize the person you’re with is completely hung up on their best friend. But hey,” he added, his smile widening, “I can already tell we’re gonna be the best of friends.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing from your shoulders. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Sam said with confidence. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Now, if you’re done breaking my heart with all this Bucky talk, I have an important question for you.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What question?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked, completely serious.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“Ghosts,” Sam repeated, his grin widening. “It’s a make-or-break question for me. We can’t be friends if you’re one of those ‘ghosts aren’t real’ people.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier easing slightly. “I don’t know, Sam. I’ve never seen one.”

“Classic ghost-denier response,” he said with mock disappointment. “But it’s okay. I’ll convert you.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “What are you, the Ghost Whisperer?”

“Exactly,” he said, winking. “And by the end of the semester, you’ll be a believer too.”

The rest of the evening was spent walking around campus, talking about everything and nothing. Sam made you laugh so hard your sides hurt, and by the end of the night, you felt lighter—like you’d gained not just a friend, but someone who truly understood you.

As he walked you back to your dorm, he gave you a warm hug, whispering, “Don’t wait too long to figure out what you want, alright?”

You nodded, feeling both grateful and a little overwhelmed. “Thanks, Sam. For everything.”

“Anytime, Ghost Denier,” he teased, pulling back and giving you a mock salute. “Now go figure out your complicated Bucky situation before I have to knock some sense into both of you.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you opened your door. “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Goodnight, Y/N” he said , turning and walking down the hall. “And remember—ghosts are real!”

As you closed the door, his words echoed in your mind. Figure out your Bucky situation. If only it were that simple.

The city was quieter now, the usual hum of nightlife softened as you made your way back to your apartment. It was late, the chill in the air biting at your skin as you wrapped your coat tighter around you. Natasha’s words echoed in your head, their weight pressing heavily on your chest. Stop wasting time.

When you reached your building, your hands were shaking—not from the cold but from the uncertainty of what waited for you inside. You hesitated for a moment, staring at the door, before finally gripping the handle and pushing it open.

The apartment was dark, save for the faint glow of the lamp in the living room. Bucky was still there, sitting on the couch in the same spot you’d left him hours ago. His posture was slouched, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. But now, his eyes were red and puffy, the streaks on his cheeks betraying the tears he’d shed.

His head snapped up when he heard the door close. For a moment, neither of you said anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, your gaze fixed on the floor as you tried to steady your breathing.

You swallowed hard and turned back toward the door, pressing your back against it as you shut your eyes tightly for a moment. You inhaled deeply, gathering the courage you needed, and when you finally opened your eyes again, you faced him.

“Do you mean it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of everything unsaid.

Bucky blinked, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He stood slowly, his hands hanging at his sides, and took a tentative step closer. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, raw with emotion.

Bucky’s voice cracked as he answered, “It’s the only thing I’ve ever meant.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them wrapping around you like a second skin. You stared at him, your breath hitching as every wall, every defense you’d built, threatened to crumble under the sincerity in his voice.

He stepped closer, his movements slow, like he was afraid any sudden motion would shatter the fragile moment between you. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “I’ve loved you since the day you tied your shoe in kindergarten and told me you’d be my best friend forever.” A hollow, broken laugh escaped him. “I think I loved you even before I understood what love was.”

Your lip quivered as tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over. “Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I mean it, doll,” he said, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach out but didn’t dare. “Every girl, every date, every time I tried to move on—I couldn’t. Because none of it felt right. None of them were you.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the sheer honesty in his gaze cutting through every doubt, every fear.

Your voice broke as you finally said, “You can’t just say this now, Bucky. Not after everything.” You wiped at the tears streaming down your face, frustration mixing with the flood of emotions. “Do you know how hard it’s been? To watch you with other girls, to convince myself that what I felt didn’t matter because you didn’t feel the same?”

He winced like your words physically hurt him. “I know,” he said softly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been such a coward. I’ve spent years too scared to say it, too scared to ruin what we had, and instead, I ruined it anyway.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as you looked away, your voice rising. “You didn’t just ruin it. You hurt me, Buck! You let me believe I was just your backup, your best friend who didn’t measure up to everyone else.”

His voice cracked as he took another step forward. “You were never my backup. You’ve always been my first choice—always. I’m just an idiot who didn’t know how to show it.”

You let out a sharp laugh, the kind born from heartbreak and exhaustion. “And Steve?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Did you ever think about what telling me about him would do? How I’m supposed to face him now, knowing what I know?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I know I shouldn’t have said it. I know it wasn’t my place, but I was desperate. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again—to Dean, to Steve, to anyone.”

“Steve doesn’t deserve this,” you said, your voice softening, your heart aching for the friend who had loved you quietly and selflessly for years. “He’s been nothing but good to me.”

“I know,” Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s why I hate myself for saying anything. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I couldn’t watch you slip away again.”

You pressed your hand to your chest, feeling the frantic beat of your heart as his words washed over you. “You don’t understand what this does, Bucky. To us. To all of us. What if this destroys everything, friendships...”

He closed the distance between you, his hands reaching out but stopping short, hovering near yours. His voice was low, desperate. “Maybe it will. Maybe we’ll burn everything to the ground. But I can’t lie to you anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t feel this—don’t feel you—like a part of me I can’t live without.”

The dam finally broke. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I love you too,” you cried, the words spilling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. “I’ve loved you for so long it hurts. But I don’t know how to trust this, Bucky. How do I know you won’t hurt me again?”

“You love me” He breathed out like it was his last breath, he blinked away the tears of relief his hands finally found yours, his touch warm and grounding. “You don’t,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my life proving I won’t.”

The tears were falling freely now, both yours and his, as the weight of everything settled between you. His hands tightened around yours, and he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. “I’m all in, sweetheart,” he whispered. “No more games. No more running. Just us.”

The room felt like it was spinning, your heart pounding so hard it hurt, but when your eyes locked with his, everything else disappeared. In those piercing blue depths, you saw it. The truth. The love. The promise. The years of unspoken feelings and tangled emotions were laid bare between you, and for the first time in so long, you let yourself believe it—believe him.

Your body moved before your mind could catch up, surging forward, your lips crashing into his with a force that nearly knocked the breath out of you. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a release, a culmination of years of pain, longing, and unsaid words. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, clutching him like a lifeline, while his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in so tightly it felt like he was trying to meld you into him.

The kiss was messy, frantic, and raw. His lips were warm, firm yet trembling with emotion as they moved against yours. His hands roamed, one tangling in your hair while the other settled on your waist, holding you steady against him. You could feel the desperation in the way he kissed you, the silent plea for you to believe him, to stay, to never leave again.

You broke the kiss for a second, gasping for air, but Bucky didn’t let you go. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both stood there, trembling. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t even realized were still falling.

“Doll…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You and me… we can make this work. We have to.”

The intensity in his voice, the sheer vulnerability in his gaze, made your chest tighten painfully. You nodded, your tears blurring your vision, but a soft laugh escaped you—shaky, but real. “You and me, Buck. Always.”

A flicker of a smile broke across his face, small but genuine, as if he could barely believe this moment was real. His arms tightened around you, pulling you so close that you could feel the steady thrum of his heart against your chest.

“I’m never letting you go,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. His lips brushed yours again, this time slower, softer. It was as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you, the taste of you, as if he couldn’t quite trust that you were truly his.

Your hands slid up to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the faint stubble on his cheeks. You deepened the kiss, letting it linger this time, savoring every second. His lips were gentle yet unyielding, like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way he kissed you. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise.

When you finally pulled away again, your breathing uneven, he rested his forehead against yours once more. His voice was soft but resolute, every word laced with a quiet, unshakable certainty. “We’ll be okay. We’ll always be okay. It’s us.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, and for the first time in years, you felt truly whole. “It’s us,” you repeated, your voice a whispered vow.

[scoopertrouper]

ahoy, maties. i return not with a prompt fill, but with a Steve POV companion piece to this post-S2/pre-S3 post-stancy breakup prompt fill because i'm sick in the head. read at your own risk.

3,400ish words (somehow) of nonsense under the cut.

~*~*~*

i'll be alright [it's just a thousand cuts]

He sees her sometimes.

It’s not like he’s, like, looking for her. He’s not, because no matter what Robin says, Steve’s not a maso…a macho…a mecha…okay, like, one of those weirdos who gets his rocks off by getting smacked around or whatever.

He’s not.

It’s just that it’s kinda hard to totally avoid her. According to her brother, Hawkins is, like, smaller than Thor’s thumbnail – and Christ, he really needs to stop hanging around those little dweebs if that’s the kind of shit he’s absorbing – so it’s hard not to see her. Anywhere. Everywhere. 

But it’s usually only just out of the corner of his eye. A flutter of flowery skirt disappearing between the aisles at Melvald’s, or the bounce of perfectly set brown curls right as she’s crossing Main Street, walking with quick little steps that are so purposeful.

(Steve used to spend most of free period making a mess of those curls, tangling them between his fingers, testing how far he could go before she’d swat his hands away. They were soft as one of his mom’s silk scarves, but somehow still not as soft as her lips when they’d curve against his, her little body arching between his hips and the creaky leather of his backseat.)

He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that whenever their paths cross, she’s always just out of focus, blurred at the edges like a messed up Polaroid. 

It’s no secret that Steve’s no great lover of the language arts (no matter how many long lectures Henderson’s given him – from the front seat of Steve’s car, that Steve drives him around in – about why that’s hurting him with the chicks). 

But he thinks maybe if he did give a shit about similes, or metaphors, or any of that crap that he’d mostly slept through in second period English, that it’d be a pretty decent way to sum up their relationship. A couple pictures that might’ve been pretty if they hadn’t gotten all smudged up.

Oh, and her new boyfriend’s a photographer. How’s that for poetic?

Anyway, Steve would have to be an idiot – more of an idiot – to actually go looking for her. So he doesn’t. Because he remembers how much it had hurt, forcing himself through the last seven months of his own goddamn senior year, seeing her every day and feeling tender as a walking, talking bruise, long after the worst of the damage to his face had faded. It’d been almost fucking unbearable, catching her eye only to see exactly how far he’d fallen reflected in them. 

Back then (a whole two months ago) he hadn’t even tried to play it cool, had figured it was still common enough knowledge that she could step on his neck, no questions asked, and he’d probably thank her for it. Ask her to do it again, if only to keep her undivided attention for just one more second.

But that was then. Now, he’s moving on. 

Mostly. 

Trying to. 

It’d help if the universe would cooperate – if, at the same time he’d lost Nancy, he hadn’t also somehow lost every bit of mojo that made Steve Harrington that guy, especially when it came to the ladies. 

Because it’s definitely gone, and he didn’t need Tracey Wiltshire – who’d rocked full headgear until, like, the end of sophomore year – to stammer out some lame blow-off to confirm it.

It’s painfully evident every time he looks in the mirror, because he doesn’t see Steve Harrington – basketball star, swim captain, somebody who’s somebody – anymore. He just sees some loser in a shitty Popeye costume (which itches, Jesus). A loser who got laughed out of goddamn Tech. 

Whose dad barely throws him more than a dismayed glance over the morning paper – when he’s around to read the morning paper, that is. 

Who constantly finds new and creative ways to get splotches of Rocky Mountain Fudge where Rocky Mountain Fudge should never be, and takes home maybe ten bucks in tips on a good night. 

Of course Na - Tracey wouldn’t want to waste her time on a dipshit like that. Who would?

But he’s not gonna give up, because he knows the only sure way out of a slump is to shoot through it. Besides, it’s not, like, not fun, letting Robin bust his balls nonstop on the days that they’re teamed up. She’s pretty ingenious, like, he wouldn’t be surprised if she goes home after every shift and shuts herself away in her little dork hidey hole until she’s got at least ten new zingers locked and loaded.

(Most of the time it's fun. More fun when she’s not leveling him with big SAT prep words, because then he has no choice but to try to return fire without revealing that he still has no goddamn clue what a charlatan is, no matter how many times Nancy’d drilled him on it last summer. And – surprise surprise – that usually doesn’t end well for him. 

But come to think of it, she has kinda backed off from that lately. So maybe it’s more fun for her the other way, too.)

Anyway, he keeps trying, and ultimately racks up more “You Suck” ticks per shift than Robin has room for on her whiteboard (she’s been talking about starting a ledger, and yeah, that’s exactly what he needs, his failures all neatly leather-bound and cataloged in permanent marker). 

You know what, though? It’s fine. It can’t last forever, right? Steve’s a pretty positive guy. Eventually, some girl’s gonna want to buy what he’s selling, even if what he’s selling isn’t a whole bunch more than a final fling with the homecoming king. One last stop on the Hawkins Express before it’s all frat boys and keg stands at Boilermakers tailgates.

(He can only imagine what Robin would have to say about that.)

On one Saturday in late June, he thinks he might be on the verge of a breakthrough. Thinks he’s maybe a free scoop of mint chocolate chip away from talking Lisa Kurtz into the back row of the 7:15 showing of Cocoon – because he’s always kind of wanted to see if her boobs really are bigger than her hair, and he’s running out of time to find out. 

Things are going well, so according to the current logic of Steve’s life, that means something’s gotta step in to ruin it. And boy, is that something a doozy – all five-foot-four of her, freshly permed and pretty in pink kitten heels.

It’s been two months since Steve Harrington fully laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler. Two months since he’s admired – before he can stop himself – the little dimple in her chin and the delicate curve of her neck and shoulders, today draped carefully in a demure sundress. 

Once upon a time, Steve would have taken great pleasure in wrecking that dainty piece of cotton, fisting it in his hands and bunching it all the way up to her waist.

“Hi,” she says softly, biting her lip, and Christ, how Steve wishes she’d stayed in the blurry outer rim of his brain. Because he’s looking right at her, and it’s blinding, the way she just fucking glows for no good reason. It’s worse than that time in fifth grade, when he’d maybe (probably) burned his retinas after Tommy dared him to stare straight into the sun for five whole minutes (he’d made it about fifteen seconds). 

“Hey,” he finds it in himself to reply, and he congratulates himself on the way he stays so chill, right up until Lisa’s cup of mint chocolate chip tumbles out of his nerveless fingers and splatters all over the floor and a little bit all over her shoes. 

(She’s not happy. There goes the 7:15 showing of Cocoon, along with his only shot this week at a mark in the “You rule” column.)

Now his date’s gone, stormed out in a cloud of Windsong so thick he can taste it, and gone too are his chances of escaping this encounter with minimal humiliation. Perfect.

(Thank god Robin’s still on her break. At least someone up there is still doing him a solid or two.)

Nancy’s eyes flick once, twice between Steve and the door.

“Am I…interrupting?” she asks slowly, as if this isn’t a public dining establishment, as if she doesn’t have as much right to be here as any other prospective paying customer. There’s a glint in her eyes that he doesn’t even try to decode. He’s not dumb enough to think he can still read Nancy Wheeler. 

(That he’d ever been able to read her.)

“Not a chance,” Steve lies quickly, flipping the ice cream scoop with suddenly numb fingers. “Always room for one more on this flotilla of flavor!”

He’s pretty sure that was the right way to use “flotilla”, the way he’d overheard Robin say it last week. Like, ninety percent sure. Well. Sixty.

Also, what is wrong with him?

But Nancy smiles that little smile she used to give him every time he said something painfully dumb that she found charming in spite of herself, so no permanent damage, he guesses.

Not that it matters anymore. Because it doesn’t.

“A flotilla, huh?” she plays along. “That’s…a lot of flavors.”

“Thirty-two, to be exact,” he replies on autopilot. “They, uh, wanted one more than Baskin Robbins.” Goddamn it. He swears he used to be able to talk to girls. This girl, in particular.

“Oh,” she blinks. “Interesting.” 

Okay, so. The last time Steve and Nancy had spoken for real, they’d just broken up. Billy Hargrove had basically made scrambled eggs of Steve’s brains. And yet somehow, it had still been less of a disaster than the last minute of his life.

Steve has to salvage this somehow.

“It’s…really not,” he admits. “But you’re sweet to pretend.” Without thinking, he moves to drag his hand nervously through his hair and comes away with his cap instead. Oops.

Still, though, they both laugh, and that’s better. Good, even. Getting back on track. He’s not a total lost cause. 

“So, uh, what brings you to Starcourt?” he follows up, and that’s safe enough. Neutral. Boring. “Feels like most of Hawkins has been through here, not that that’s saying much. Haven’t really seen you around, though.”

That’s less safe, but she doesn’t seem offended. In fact, she’s still smiling, and Christ, Steve remembers why he hasn’t gone looking for this. Why he’s pointedly avoiding asking if she’s here alone.

“Well,” she says with a sly little curl of her lips, “I’ve been pretty busy. But – someone told me I was missing out on thirty-two flavors of ice cream.”  It's almost flirtatious, until she steps forward and winces. “Actually, I think one of them’s on the floor.”

The floor…? Crap. Lisa’s ice cream. It’s still splattered all over where he dropped it.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Steve starts, warmth creeping up his collar. “I can - I can get that cleaned up.” 

Ignoring Nancy’s protestations, he scrambles for the mop bucket they have to constantly keep within reach. Of course, it’s nowhere to be found – which means it’s definitely in the back room, which means he definitely can’t get it without drawing Robin’s attention. He pauses, debating.

“No – look, Steve, most of it’s still in the cup, I can just – I can just throw it away.” 

Steve is circling the counter to assess the damage just as Nancy is crossing his path to get to the garbage can, and they’re one perilous step away from unwittingly splitting a hefty splotch of Maritime Mint Choco Chip when his reflexes kick in.

On instinct, his hands wrap around Nancy’s bare shoulders to stop her just before they collide and – oh. Oh.

See, he hasn’t touched Nancy Wheeler in damn near nine months, and now his - his skin is on her skin. She’s soft, and warm, and his palms look so big against the slim curves of her arms. He can feel exactly where goosebumps are prickling against the pads of his fingers.

This angle also gives him a perfect, painful view of the swoop of her neck that he’s never quite been able to put out of his head. There’s a dull flush creeping up her collarbone, and for one unhinged moment he wonders what she’d do if he just buried his face there, pressing his lips heavy against that searing hollow until she’s gasping, like he’s done so many times before.

He catches her gaze. Her eyes are bright under the fluorescents, and he can’t help but picture them glassy with alcohol and resentment, punctuated by a sullen mouth and punch-stained blouse. Staring him down like he’s some kind of Upside Down pond scum. Bullshit.

He has no idea what she sees now, but it probably isn’t much of an improvement.

Steve swallows, and steps back.

“Sorry,” he says roughly, retreating back behind the safety of the counter, heart pounding. Nancy looks relatively composed as she neatly disposes of her trash, but he at least still knows her well enough to notice how her fingers curl tightly around her purse strap, the only sign that she’s a fraction as shaken as he suddenly is. 

Ask her what she wants. Ask her what she wants and give it to her so they can start pretending this conversation never happened as quickly as possible. 

“So, uh, busy? What’s – what’s up in the world of Wheeler?”

For fuck’s sake, it’s like his mouth is completely disconnected from what’s left of his brain.

“Oh, uh.” Nancy looks startled, like that’s not what she’d been expecting him to say. “Yeah. I got an internship at the Hawkins Post with Jonathan.”

So. No tiptoeing around it. Steve gives himself credit for not flinching like he wants to, for nodding his head like that simple statement hasn’t landed like a gunshot.

“Nice. Probably a way cooler gig than dishing out sorbet to all the Jazzercise moms,” he cracks, only half joking.

She doesn’t laugh, though. Her face drops and she kind of hunches in on herself, and he instantly feels like shit even though he doesn’t think he said anything to be sorry for, doesn’t know what could’ve made her react like that. Good one, Steve.

“You might be surprised,” is all she gives him in response. He doesn’t know what to make of that. And honestly, it’s not his job to make something of it anymore, so he lets it go, and they linger in awkward silence for a few seconds. 

For once – this one time only – he wishes that snot-nosed Sinclair brat would barge in, flanked by her entourage of equally snotty, pint-sized little dweeb friends, loudly demanding free samples of every flavor. That would at least give him a way out of this.

“Hey Steve?” Nancy looks at him like she’s steeling herself, and he recognizes that look, used to dread it back when they were dating. Time, he finds, hasn’t really changed the way he feels about it.

“Nancy?” he parrots back, defensive for no particular reason.

“The reason I came here today – that is, I just wanted to see if…” She cringes, trails off uncharacteristically, and he waits her out, with mounting unease. 

Patience isn’t his strong suit, but he’s found that for Nancy Wheeler, he’s usually willing to try to be the things he’s not. For all the good it does. Did.

She sighs, and tries again.

“I just wanted to ask – how, how are you –”

“Hey, honey, if you’re gonna get your ice cream, get a move on. I still need to stop at the dry cleaners.” A bottle blonde perm pops into the shop, and Steve nearly exhales with overwhelming…relief? Disappointment?

Saved by Karen Wheeler. 

She pauses, and Steve sees her notice him in real-time, watches the surprise dawn in her eyes as she identifies who’s behind the counter. “Oh. Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler.” Karen’s always been nice enough to him, but he’s never been too sure how much she actually likes him. Like mother, like daughter, he guesses.

She gives Nancy an indecipherable look, and honestly, these Wheeler women have got to cool it with all the weird mind reading shit.

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Nancy replies to the question spoken out loud, a tad clipped, before turning back to Steve. “So,” she says, drawing out the “o” and tapping the case. She seems to have set aside whatever she was gonna ask. “I – I guess that’s my cue, then. Any recommendations?” 

Steve’s already mid-scoop, and he’s absurdly pleased to watch her eyes go wide as he slides the cup of strawberry across the glass to her, with just a tiny flourish.

“Oh,” she stammers, “is that –”

“Strawberry,” he interrupts. “Your favorite. If – if that’s still right.” He doesn’t think that much has changed. 

“It is,” she affirms, and there’s a dusting of pink across her cheeks that Steve refuses to believe is anything more than a reflection from the neon sign.

“On the house,” he says when she goes for her purse, and it’s softer than he means it to be, less cheerful – but thankfully steady. He can’t help but smile at her, and she returns it, a tiny, kind thing. 

“Thanks,” she says after a moment. “I’ll…see you around?”

Not if I can help it, is what he thinks.

“Sure,” is what he says instead. “Anytime you need a scoop, I’ll be here.” 

Nancy raises her spoon in a minute, unbearably cute farewell salute, and the swirl of her dress is the last thing he sees of her as she disappears into the food court.

(On her way out, she takes her $2 and drops it into the tip jar, and he pretends it doesn’t smart a little.)

“Well, well. Do my eyes deceive me, or are we looking at another tally for Team “You Suck”?” 

Shit. Robin. Great. He hadn’t even heard her come out from the back.

Steve recognizes the dangerous note of glee in her voice, but for once he doesn’t have the energy to try to head it off at the pass. 

“You know,” Robin continues, “Between this and the truly spectacular crash and burn I know you were hoping I wouldn’t see with Lisa, I think that makes today some kind of record-breaking –” 

She must pick up something unusual in his face, though, because she cuts off abruptly. “Steve?” 

“Huh?” He knows he’s gaping at the door like a dumbass, but it’s too hard to find the willpower to tear himself away while he’s also blocking out the trace after-scent of Nancy’s baby powder-soft perfume. 

Robin doesn’t seem to know what to do when they’re not actively playing by whatever rules she’s silently set for the Shit on Steve Variety Hour. After a minute, he feels a nudge to the side of his foot, and he knows instinctively that it’s the toe of one of her battered Chucks. 

He doesn’t look, but he’s pretty sure she’s staring at him like he’s the weirdo.

“You…okay, dingus?” She sounds genuinely concerned, and that’s what jolts him out of it. Because no way in hell is he gonna spill his guts about Nancy Wheeler to Robin-whatever-her-last-name-is in front the sample spoons and a few carved up tubs of hard serve.

Even if Robin’s not, like, totally tragic. Maybe she’s even kinda cute. If Steve squints. Hard.

“Dude, not the shoes,” he finally mumbles, though she’d barely touched him. Her silence is heavy and unimpressed, perfectly matching her face (as Steve discovers once he finally gives in and spares her a glance).

Reflexively, he hitches his shoulders up in a stiff shrug. Arranges his face into a smile that he hopes is more cool and carefree than psychotic.

“Course I am,” he says, and it comes easily. He returns her nudge with one of his own and ignores her scowl. “I’m always okay. I’m…I’m Captain Okay.”

Jesus. He’s glad that one never made it into the yearbook.

Robin seems willing to at least pretend to buy it, though, and as she threatens him with the dry erase marker (though he notices she doesn’t make a single tally), he feels the grin he’s pasted on edge into something more genuine. He almost believes it himself, in fact. He is okay. 

Will be okay.

(He has to be.)

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[kennahjune]

Having thoughts of The Party being touchy as all fuck after everything.

Like you cannot enter nor leave any kind of hang out without a hug, high-five, pat, or anything from everyone you were hanging out with.

And then, suddenly, you aren’t able to leave without a kiss or hug of some kind from Steve.

It started after the bullshit that was the Starcourt Mall. The kids were leaving Steve’s house from a DnD session maybe 2 months before the Byers left for Cali.

Dustin was taking forever to pull his shoes on and get out the house to his moms car and everyone was complaining. It was one of those rare times where Steve wasn’t the one carting them all around— they all had their own rides.

Dustin got his shoes on and Steve handed him his bag and— without thinking— pressed a kiss to the top of his hat before waving him out the door.

The rest of the kids are silent until Mike speaks up bitchily “what about us, asshole?”

Steve has no idea what they mean until El points to her head with a grin. Steve deals out head and forehead kisses for everyone and waves them off to their respective rides.

And then it just— sticks. At first it’s with just the kids whenever he sees them. He’ll usually greet them with a hug or an exasperated sigh and then say goodbye with a kiss to their foreheads.

Not even Mike complains. This is the kind of shit he never got while growing up— might as well make the best of it.

And then it migrates to Robin as well, and the Nancy is joining in on the hugs (they’re still too awkward for the kisses but the hugs are enough for now).

And Steve never holds back, not even in public. Again, no one complains.

And that’s how Hellfire finds out about the kissing arrangement (that might be the title of this if I make it an actual fic). They watch as Steve presses a forehead kiss to Mike, Lucas, and Dustin before waving them off and then presses a kiss to Max’s head and giving her a tight hug.

The guys try to make fun of the kids for it but none of them are embarrassed.

“It’s Steve, dude. He’s like a mom.”

“The kisses are actually really comforting.”

“It’s a Party thing.”

And then the fuckery of 1986 and Vecna happens and suddenly Eddie’s in on the hugs and pats and high-fives.

And then.

And then.

He’s in on the kisses.

Steve doles out the kisses like usual one night after Hellfire and gives one to everyone— including Eddie.

And Eddie panics and gives Steve one right back.

And then the kids are going feral about wanting to give Steve a kiss too.

And Eddie leaves during the chaos.

And then they don’t talk about it.

Until Steve and Eddie do it again.

And the kids accept is as the new normal; you have to give Steve a kiss back.

And then Steve and Eddie have an excuse to kiss each other on the foreheads and cheeks and noses.

One night they’re hanging out, just the two of them at the trailer after Wayne left for work.

Steve had greeted Eddie with a tight hug the moment he’d gotten in the trailer. Eddie had squeezed back just as tight if not tighter.

Steve was getting ready to leave, and on instinct leant in to kiss Eddie, but Eddie was also leaning in to kiss Steve. So they meet in the middle and accidentally kiss on the lips.

And then the new normal for Steve and Eddie is kissing on the lips goodbye.

Idk, just Steve being a very touchy feely person makes me so happy

[selenitesdawn]

Temperance (Wanda's Version)

pairing: wanda maximoff x female!reader plot: Wanda didn't choose to fall for the girl her boyfriend used to bully in high school. But she did. And if there is one thing Wanda Maximoff is known for, it is always getting what she wants. No matter how. warnings: 18+ !! minors dni. wanda is with vision, cheating, stalking and heavy (mind)manipulation, possessive wanda, power-imbalance, dom!wanda, sub!reader, sexual content word count: 2700 a/n: this can be read as a one shot. however, here is the story from the reader's perspective: Temperance Masterlist

At first, it started innocent. As most things do. Sometimes a small puff of air is enough to trigger a whole tornado. And that was exactly the case for Wanda. It wasn't planned that things would turn out the way they did in the end. But let’s start at the very beginning.

Wanda had been in a more or less happy relationship with Vision for about six months when she found out about you. Vision's oldest friends Steve and Bucky were visiting when the conversation turned to what would change everything.

“Remember that one hot chick from highschool?,” Bucky had asked back then.

Wanda entered the living room just at the right time, serving drinks and snacks for the guests. After handing her home made lemonade to everyone, she sat herself down next to Vision, observing the conversation carefully. 

“Natasha Romanoff?,” Vision replied smugly, earning a side-eye from Wanda.

“How could I forget. I asked her out and after one date she said i’m too obsessed with my ex,” Steve remembered, before getting interrupted by Bucky.

“Which you still are-,”

Steve lightly hit Bucky’s arm who laughed in response.

“Heads up buddy, at least you didn’t embarrass yourself like y/n did,” Bucky tried cheering up his friend.

The memory made Vision laugh wholeheartedly, slapping his own leg as if Bucky had just cracked the funniest joke ever. Steve however didn’t seem amused, nipping at his glass.

“That’s still the one of the nastiest things you’ve ever done Vision. At least in high school,” Steve noted, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“What did you do?,” Wanda chimed in, her curiosity too great to stay silent.

Vision quickly collected himself, noticing the seriousness in Wanda’s tone, “Oh it was nothing, just read this strange poem she wrote about Natasha but-“

“Out loud. In class. After stealing y/n’s notebook from her backpack,” Steve added quickly.

“Vision what the fuck, why would you do that?,” Wanda questioned horrified, her face a mixture of upset and disgust.

She knew Vision wasn't perfect, but he was a good partner all things considered. However, they never really talked about his teenage years before, so hearing how her boyfriend behaved back then really bugged Wanda in a way she didn't expect. Vision on the other hand tried to play it down.

“Relax babe, it was just a joke. Besides, y/n wouldn’t have had a chance with Natasha anyway. I mean, she turned down Steve,“ he tried to justify his actions, pointing to Steve who looked almost as disappointed as Wanda did. 

“I can’t believe you would do something like that,“ Wanda mumbled frustrated.

“Chill Wanda, that was in high school,” Bucky rattled in, trying to defend Vision’s actions. 

“Well, he did do something similar in college so-,“ Steve started saying before Vision firmly stopped him.

“Shut up Steve.” 

That night Wanda felt like she was lying next to a stranger. Had Vision been a bully before she knew him? Did he have a side that she didn't know of? And what else had he done to you? She wanted answers, but of course she couldn't get them from Vision. But she was desperate for answers. And then it happened again. Wanda never did it on purpose. Sometimes one thing just lead to another. And that’s when she saw you in her mind's eye. How you stood crying in a corner of the schoolyard and how Vision ran after you to take pleasure in your suffering. How he cheekily laughed in your face. The pictures in her mind were vivid, like they were happening right in that moment. 

Wanda couldn’t sleep after what she saw, so she decided to get up and search for Vision’s yearbook. It didn’t take long to find you, the photo of you matching with the flashback she had. Her thumb softly brushed over the image of you, as she stared at your younger self. Then, a switch turned inside Wanda. You looked so innocent. So beautiful. How could Vision treat you like that? While browsing through other images in the yearbook, she saw you standing next to Kate Bishop in a bunch of photos. Wanda remembered Kate. They had met some time ago and back then they exchanged their Instagram accounts.

Wanda could have stopped right there. She knew what Vision did and she knew whom he did it to. But for some reason she couldn’t. So instead of leaving things as they are, she went on Instagram, searching through Kate’s account. Not surprisingly, she quickly found yours. You have only gotten more beautiful since high school, Wanda thought to herself as she explored each and every one of your posts, highlights and tagged images. 

At the beginning she thought that the feelings she had for you were merely compassion. Born from the fact that she felt sorry for what Vision did to you. Then, slowly but surely, the compassion started turning into admiration. The next days she caught herself searching for your other social media. And then she spent more and more time finding out anything about you that was accessible to her. Where you live, where you work, where you study. That’s when Wanda had to admit to herself, that something was brewing. At least partly.

It’s just an innocent crush.

Wanda thought. But over time, the quiet admiration grew roots, spreading relentlessly, taking up more of her thoughts than she was willing to admit. Looking at pictures of you wasn’t enough anymore. She needed to see you. The first time she went to the bakery you were working at, she couldn’t find you. The second time, she only caught a glimpse of you working in the back. The third time, you seemed to have a day off again. Wanda almost stopped at this point, feeling weird about her own behavior. But then, a few days later, Kate posted a selfie with you in her Instagram story. Seeing your face once again reignited a fire inside her that she was almost able to extinguish. But how could she stop obsessing over you when you looked so pretty? 

The fourth time Wanda went to your work place, she finally saw you standing behind the counter as she peeked through the window. You were smiling tiredly as you served a customer, your eyes revealing that you hadn’t slept a lot lately. Wanda thought you looked as precious as ever. Like you belonged in a museum, protected from the ugliness of the world. But then, she froze. What was she even supposed to say to you? There is only a single chance for a first impression. And Wanda wanted it to be perfect. You couldn’t find out that it’s a set up. So, she needed to be smart about it.

What if I just bring her to me? 

As the night approached Wanda checked your Instagram again and saw that you posted a story. A donation link for animals in war zones. Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. She remembered how her younger self would be so compassionate about the street dogs in Sokovia and the helplessness she felt from watching them starve on the streets. Now she technically had enough resources to do something good for them. And that’s how Wanda approached Vision, suggesting a trip to Sokovia for a good cause. Vision wasn’t exactly obsessed with the idea but after his dad suggested renting a mansion, and Wanda suggested taking Steve and Bucky on the trip, he was sold. A few days passed until Wanda made her next move, not wanting her plans to be too obvious.

During dinner, Wanda brought up the question she’s been holding back ever since the trip was decided. “Wouldn’t it be nice to invite Kate and her best friend? This one girl you talked about? What was her name again….? y/n?”

Vision who was busy pushing around the peas on his plate, looked up with a grin. For a moment there was utter silence, until Vision started laughing. Wanda however, wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m serious Vision.”

Vision’s laughter stopped, his eyebrows now furrowed. “You’re joking. You don’t even know them.”

Wanda tried to stay calm, her next words precisely calculated. “That’s not true, I met Kate at your birthday party in May. She even told me about this-,” Wanda tilted her head, as if she had to think about it “,-golden retriever she fostered. And she was nice. Besides, I can’t deal with this much testosterone on my own.”

Vision rubbed his eyes, considering Wanda’s suggestion carefully.

“Okay. Kate it is. Fine. But why the fuck would I invite y/n?,” he asked annoyed. But Wanda had expected something like this.

“Well, you have to make up for something, don’t you think?,” she replied confidently.

Vision’s eyes widened, then he laughed again, “There's nothing to make up for Wanda. Besides, why would working without getting any money from it be something desirable.”

Wanda’s demeanor changed quickly, Vision’s reaction seemingly triggering something within her. “I know it’s hard to grasp for your tiny little brain but some people actually enjoy doing something good and meanwhile living in a fucking mansion for three months.”

Then there was silence. The tension in the air was suffocating, as the two of them just stared each other down, both not willing to step back.

“I would rather choke than ask her to join. And how do you even know that Kate and y/n are friends?,” Vision spat out. But Wanda knew what she wanted. And she wasn’t playing around.

“I’m serious Vision. Invite her,” Wanda commanded darkly.

“You can’t just tell me what to do Wanda,” Vision retorted, his tone provocative. 

“Can’t I?,” Wanda hinted with a slight smirk, her head tilting to the side. For a moment time seemed frozen, Vision’s gaze becoming emptier as Wanda’s gaze burned into his soul. Then, Vision seemed to snap back into reality.

“Fine. I’ll invite Kate and tell her that she can bring y/n,” he finally announced, before returning his attention to the peas on his plate.

“Good.”

Soon enough, the first day of the trip finally arrived and the first official meeting  between Wanda and you took place at the airport. To her pleasant surprise, Wanda quickly realized that she had a certain effect on you. She was able to trigger something deep within you, without even actively trying. She only had to look at you a little longer than necessary, which wasn’t intentional but the simple result of weeks of anticipation from Wanda’s side. That was enough to fill a hole inside you that you weren’t even aware of. But Wanda was aware of it. She saw it in your eyes. And she felt it in the back of her mind.

It's not that she thought you were weak or naive. She just immediately understood that you had a weak spot for her. And that set something inside Wanda in motion. Suddenly her hidden desires didn’t seem far from reachable anymore. 

That same night she had sex with Vision in the room next to you, banging against the wall although there was no need to do so. Faking rough, loud moans although she wasn’t feeling satisfied. But you were supposed to hear it. And while you laid in bed, covering your ears so you wouldn’t freak out, your pretty little thoughts were so loud that it was enough to get her off.

At first she felt a sense of satisfaction from making you nervous. How you sheepishly tried to hide the blush spreading across your face whenever she smiled at you. It didn’t take long until she caught herself acting a certain way in front of you. Sometimes that meant swaying her hips a little more when you were walking behind her. Sometimes she would play with her rings when you were staring at her hands again. Then, one day, she innocently put her hand on your leg under the kitchen table. Just for a quick moment really. But it was long enough for you to slightly squirm under her touch. You thought Wanda couldn’t have possibly noticed. But of course she did. Suddenly it wasn't enough anymore to simply have you wrapped around her finger. She wanted to have you. To own you.

It was all about seduction at this point. Wanda gave you too little to feel hopeful but just enough so you would keep yearning for her. Her hands always somehow found their way to your body but disappeared just as quickly, leaving you confused and unsatisfied. After studying you all this time, she understood how to push your buttons. How to make you addicted to the feeling Wanda gave you. 

She wasn’t certain about how long she would be able to keep this play up. But the decision was made for her the day you drove to the shelter together. Wanda just wanted to trigger you a little. She knew how nervous you felt around her, so sitting in a fairly small space together without a way out was the perfect opportunity to fog up your pretty little brain a bit more. 

“Babe, I think I want to drive the Lambo today and give y/n a ride. Please?,” Wanda asked innocently, looking up at Vision with a smile, her arm wrapped around his bicep.

“Keep on dreaming, no one’s going to sit their ass down on the passenger seat, apart from me and you, Wanda,” Vision laughed, his tone patronizing.

In a heartbeat, Wanda’s demeanor shifted, her head tilting sideways as her eyes turned to a darker shade, “No Vision. Try again.”

Once again, time seemed to freeze. The others, including you, were just standing there with empty gazes as Wanda stared Vision down. Vision’s gaze drifted towards you, like he was searching for… help? But that is not what happened in your memory, is it?

“Um…,” Vision started saying, his mouth staying slightly agape as his eyes widened. Then, like nothing happened, his face went back to normal, “…sure.”

As you and Wanda sat in the car, Wanda bathed in the sheer enjoyment of overwhelming you. Your inability to say something, probably scared that Wanda would think you’re weird. When you finally spoke up in the middle of the car ride and wanted to learn more about Wanda, the redhead was almost unable to contain her excitement. She felt proud of you for conquering your fears but at the same time she feared for her own composure. 

So, on the way back, she didn’t ask you to ride with her again. And as she stepped into the car, she saw your bottom lip trembling slightly. She saw your sad face, your teary eyes. And she saw your exhaustion. That’s when Wanda realized that you couldn’t deal with this situation much longer. Back at your residence, when Kate had to carry you out the car as you were unable to walk to bed, Wanda made a decision. It was time to quit the act and get what’s hers. 

The next morning, she wasted no time. Wanda told the others that you’d deserve a day off and that she would make sure that you’re resting well. It didn’t take long after you woke up until her body was pushed against yours, your arousal dripping from your core as Wanda’s hand made its way to your most sensitive spot. After a short interruption from Vision who called out for Wanda to say goodbye, every boundary that had separated you and Wanda began to vanish. All the anticipation from the last weeks melted as she was finally able to get her hands on you without restrictions, owning every inch of you. After all the patience she had, she earned this moment. But the best part was finally hearing the words she had so desperately waited for. 

 “I belong to you, Wanda.” 

As the words left your mouth, electricity raced through Wanda’s entire body. The one thing she was craving, mostly unconsciously, was finally hers. You were hers.

Wanda didn’t plan things to go that way. At least, for the most part. It wasn’t her fault though, was it? What else could she do? She needed you. Even more than you needed her. And if there is one thing that is certain about Wanda; it’s that she always gets what she wants. One way, or another. 

[steddiealltheway]

When Eddie gets excited, he gets a bit overwhelmed. At least, that’s what Steve has noticed, with the way Eddie has to take a quick running lap, bounce up and down, etc. whenever he gets too happy.

Steve secretly thinks it’s adorable and tries his best to induce these little happy zoomies.

It doesn’t take much. Sometimes it’s just a small compliment such as, “That shirt looks nice on you,” that has Eddie bouncing on his heels and fidgeting with his rings with a smile on his face. Sometimes, Steve tries to notice something new like when Eddie trims his bangs or paints his nails, that makes Eddie flush red and mumble, “Yeah, I did,” before taking a quick walk around Family Video before making his way back to him.

This time, Steve isn’t really trying to get a reaction out of Eddie who is angrily storming around the break room of Family Video after Steve had seen his face upon entering the store and ushered him to the back.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie mutters out, running a hand over his face. Steve sits back quietly, letting Eddie go on a little rant. “He said, we were allowed to have the basement for our campaign. All of it. Then, Ted Wheeler in all his glory suddenly says that we’re too loud, and we can’t do the campaign at their house anymore. I mean… it’s one more session! He could’ve sat in that damn recliner and shut him mouth for one more session! Fuck.”

Eddie groans dramatically and sits on the ground, head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. It’s summer so we don’t have access to the school. And I can’t risk breaking in and having them take away my well earned diploma. Plus, my trailer is too small, and no one else has the privacy of Mike’s basement. We’re done for!”

Steve shrugs, seeing a clear answer to the problem. “You can do it at my house. My parents are never home, and I can stay in my room for as long as you need.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, not really sure why he’s so shocked.

Eddie stands up quickly. “You’re positive you can deal with all the Hellfire members in your house?”

Steve nods. “I’ll even buy you guys pizza if you want.”

“Buy us pizza…” Eddie mumbles under his breath in disbelief. “Steve Harrington, are you granting me permission to use your house for Hellfire Club meaning hours of us yelling maybe even late into the night while we play our nerdy game?”

Steve nods and shrugs again. “Yeah. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” Eddie repeats, once again in disbelief. He slightly smiles. “We’re going to be able to complete the campaign.” He bounces on his heels excitedly. “We’re going to complete the campaign!” He runs up to Steve and hugs him tightly, jumping up and down, successfully jostling a laughing Steve in his arms. “We have a place to complete the campaign!!”

Eddie puts him down and pulls back with a big smiles. “Thank you! Seriously thank you. This means so much I could just-”

Before Steve can react, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing his mouth against his in an enthusiastic kiss.

Eddie pulls back quickly and puts his hands over his mouth in horror. “Oh my gosh. I’m so- fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. I just got uh…”

Steve waves him off as Eddie backs as far away from him as possible. “You just got excited. It’s okay.”

It’s okay as it can be considering that Steve really wants to kiss Eddie again although he’s not sure what that really means. But suddenly the urge to make Eddie happy makes a whole lot of sense.

Shit. Okay. He can work with this.

He glances up at Eddie who looks petrified in fear. “I just got excited…” he whispers out.

Steve slowly makes his way to him and puts his hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Eddie. Really. I uh, enjoyed it.”

“You enjoyed it?” Eddie echoes uncertainly.

“Yes. But if it was just an excitement thing, I understand.”

Eddie breathes out, “And what if it was more than an excitement thing?”

Steve takes a step further into Eddie’s space and tilts his head. “Then I’d ask if I could kiss you.”

Eddie swallows harshly and leans forward. “It was definitely more than an excitement thing.”

Steve smiles softly and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, slipping his hands into Steve’s hair as he moves forward again.

This time, Steve knows to respond, moving his lips against Eddie’s gently before tracing his tongue against the seam of his lips, exploring the inside of his mouth when Eddie lets him in.

When Steve reluctantly pulls away from the kiss to check on Eddie, he gets a quick nip to the lip.

Eddie flushes red. “So, I sometimes bite when I’m happy.”

Steve leans in again and whispers against his lips, “Thank god I’m into that.”

And he’s going to make sure to learn all the ways to elicit these responses from Eddie, but first, he’s going to learn all the ways Eddie likes to be kissed.

[transvampireboyfriend]

Here's a bit from a fic I'm not sure I'll ever start writing. for context, this is Corroded Coffin's first tour and they brought Steve along (bc Eddie would never even imagine having it any other way)

Jeff and Eddie are walking towards the green room discussing the way their melodies turned out at tonight's show, when Gareth catches up to them, a little winded,

"Hey," he pants, "Freak says he wants to try that tacos place we saw on our way into town, you guys up for it?"

Jeff simply nods and Eddie shrugs, "Sounds good" he answers,

Gareth claps them in the back and says to Eddie "Awesome, I'll go ask your wife",

He goes to skip ahead between them but Eddie grabs him by the scruff of his tshirt and yanks him back, causing his head to slap itself against Eddie's waiting palm.

Jeff snorts but Gareth isn't amused.

"OW dude! What the fuck?!" he demands with wide eyes. Eddie doesn't buy it for a second, launches into the same warning he always gives them,

"I told you! if he hears you saying that he could get really pissed, and then you'll get me into serious trouble!" he still has Gareth by the scruff, so he yanks him again for emphasis,

"Do you want me to be in serious trouble, man?" Gareth shakes his head, Eddie yanks again,

"Do you want me to be in serious trouble because of you?" Gareth frantically shakes his head but holds his palms up as he weasels out of Eddie's hold, half-laughing as he turns to face them and walking backwards as they advance,

"I do NOT say it around him!" Gareth defends, Jeff scoffs beside Eddie and Eddie just narrows his eyes,

"Plus, I told you that he's into you, man!" Gareth continues, Eddie rolls his eyes at that so he can't see the significant look Jeff gives him, agreeing with Gareth.

"This again" Eddie groans, "you're delusional. Just stop calling him that altogether and we'll be good," he insists.

Gareth just sighs "Fine. Can you go ask your very platonic friend, that you share a bed with every night, if he wants tacos? Or should we not even ask his opinion?"

Eddie flicks his ear and Gareth frowns dangerously, meeting the end of his rope.

Jeff says "Okay-" and holds his hands up placatingly, but Eddie doesn't like his chances so he sprints down the hall laughing and Gareth takes off hot in his heels.

Jeff groans as Freak catches up with him,

"Children." Freak states, tutting.

---

When Steve comes back to the green room he finds Eddie and Gareth wrestling on the floor.

"Um-" he starts and Eddie, who had been making Gareth slap himself turns excitedly to him,

"Stevie!! What did you think?" he asks, wanting to get Steve's opinion on tonight's show, and probably very specifically, the melodies he and Jeff had been working on for weeks now.

Steve's lucky that Gareth pulls on his hair and distracts him by slamming him on the floor, otherwise Eddie would have totally noticed him blushing.

He'll never get over Eddie wanting his input, especially when it comes to something as important to him as his music, his band.

"OW!" Eddie shouts as Gareth pulls his hair again, reaching to pull on Gareth's nose.

That brings Steve back. He ceremoniously places his hands on his hips, and calls "Children!",

It startles Eddie into slapping Gareth's arm away particularly hard and Steve hears muttered apologies as the two of them sit up criss-cross side by side.

"He started it!" Eddie accuses, playing along with Steve's babysitter bit, "He said we shouldn't ask your opinion on dinner," Gareth gasps indignantly and tackles him again.

Steve just sighs, used to them buzzing with energy after shows.

He hears Jeff and Freak enter the room and turns to them as if they had been there all along, "Dinner from where?" he asks them,

Freak looks up from the boys wrestling and says "Remember that tacos place we saw on our way in? last Thursday?"

Steve's expression clears with understanding, he nods "Oh yeah! Yeah, that place! Okay. Sounds good." Freak nods and goes to their clothes rack.

"Soon as these two finish," Jeff comments.

Gareth has Eddie in a chokehold now and Eddie is trying to lick his arm while also pulling on Gareth's hair.

"I should record you and put it up on the internet," Steve threatens.

Jeff joins in "It'd humiliate our lead man, but it's a risk I'm willing to take" he claps his approval on Steve's back and goes to the clothes rack as Freak goes to change his outfit.

Eddie taps twice on Gareth's arm to be released and Gareth raises both arms above his head triumphantly.

Eddie points a finger at Steve, then Jeff and says "I'm vetoing that!"

Steve frowns. "I didn't know you had vetoing rights" he teases, tilting his head.

"He doesn't" Jeff and Gareth answer in unison,

"You just said I'm the lead man!" Eddie whines to Jeff,

"I was talking about Gareth" Jeff shrugs.

Gareth puffs out his chest and Eddie shoves him, knocking him on his ass again.

Steve can't help but chuckle at them. Eddie turns to look at him with mirth in his eyes then, extends his arms to be helped up.

Steve pulls him to his feet with his heart in his throat.

"So?" Eddie asks,

"What?" Steve asks quietly,

"What'd you think?" Eddie asks again, quiet too like it's their secret, giving his arm a little impatient tap, reminding him he hadn't answered before.

Steve doesn't remember when he started smiling so big "It was good." he tells him, just as quietly, having created a little bubble for the two of them without meaning to, but not wanting to burst it.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, the corners of his mouth twitching up,

"Mmhm," Steve confirms, starts fiddling with one of Eddie's many chains, "I think the change you made yesterday was smart, the crowd was definitely wilder tonight" he comments,

"Well, that was Jeff, 'member?"

"Hmmm" Steve hums, letting go of the chain and leaning his elbow on Eddie's shoulder to turn to Jeff,

"Well that was a very smart change Jeff!" he calls loudly, enjoying Eddie's flinch. He has to clear his throat because his voice comes out raspy for some reason.

----

Jeff frowns, confused.

"The new arrengement from yesterday," Eddie clarifies, eyes on Steve. Jeff ignores him, but takes the clarification all the same,

"Oh! thanks! Man, did you see the crowd tonight?" Jeff marvels,

Steve says "That's what I was just telling Eddie!" and they launch into specifics that Eddie misses.

He's thinking he usually doesn't like being teased but his cheeks are burning and he can't feel anything other than a pleasant warmth right now, Steve Harrington broke him.

He shakes his head and comes back to reality just in time to see Steve turn to him and say, "You did great tonight, Eds. You were super comfortable using the space on stage tonight, people loved it,"

Eddie doesn't say he was only comfortable because he had a clear view of Steve in the crowd.

"Thank you Stevie" he tells him instead. Steve smiles brightly at him. It makes Eddie want to rub his face on Steve's shoulder.

He pinches Steve's waist instead, gets all up in his space, still buzzing with energy from running around on stage.

"Help me pick something out for tacos?" he requests, hopeful. He loves the idea of Steve thinking about what would look best on him.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, grabbing the hand that pinched him and leading Eddie to the rack.

Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie as they walk past him and Eddie flips him the bird.

[menagerofmischief]

Dia's Diner Menu

olives and cheese friends to lovers cold appetizer rough sex ceaser salad "Lie to me again and you're not gonna like what happens next" sarma "Gonna put a baby in you" orange juice overstimulation strawberry lemonade breeding kink (chicken skewer) "Be a good girl and come for me"

Oscar Piastri x best friend!roommate!reader

TW; fingering, unprotected sex, tinder and bad tinder dates, kind of asshole!oscar at the start

WC: 2k

A/N: can't decide if I love or hate this. also tysm for 100 followers, I love you guys.

❀

I hummed, doing my best to pretend I was listening for possibly the hundredth time this night. I watched as Jake, proving by every second to be my very failed Tinder date, rambled on and on about himself. The stories were never ending, and therefore neither was his talking. 

I leaned my head on my hand, praying he was going to run out of oxygen and choke so I wouldn’t have to listen to him talk anymore.

This whole thing was a bad idea.

I first joined Tinder because I was bored and wanted an easy out from my crush on my best friend, Oscar. This was my third date with a guy I met on the app and each guy, along with each date, was proving to be worse than the previous.

Example A: Steve

First of all, who goes on a date with a guy named Steve. But putting names aside Steve wasn’t all that bad until he was asked me to go back to his place. Which was his mother’s basement. 

Example B: Tod

Was holding a fish in his profile photo. Ordered me a salad. Proceed to talk about his buddy Kevin for the whole night and then ditched me to hang out with him. He may have been more into Kevin than me, to be honest.

And finally, sitting opposite of me, talking about his big finance job, we had example C: Jake.

Perhaps it was about time I gave up trying to find anything on that stupid app and accepted defeat. “Listen,” I pushed my chair away from the table and got up, grabbing my bag. “This has been really interesting but I need to get going.” I took enough money to cover the things I had and put it down on the table before walking away.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Had fun?” Oscar asked from the couch once I entered the apartment.

I put down my purse and the bag from the convenience store and started taking off my heels. “Sure,” I said, straightening up once I was done. “I just love hearing about finance.”

I looked over at him. Oscar was sitting on the couch in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white shirt. He was watching TV, some random movie playing on one of the channels.

Oscar and I shared an apartment - but he really only occupied it on the off season when he wasn’t traveling from one country to another every week. It worked out well for us, I had someone to split the rent to and Oscar didn’t have to bother with finding someone to take care of his place while he was traveling - so it was win-win.

I walked over and sat down next to him on the couch. I pulled a pack of Oreos from the bag and opened them, putting one in my mouth before offering the pack to him. “Want one?”

Oscar took one, turning it around in his hands quietly before looking at me. I could tell by the expression on his face that he was annoyed and his eyes had a dark look in them.

“Wow, okay.” I said, trying to get up from the couch. Sitting in my room and binging Criminal Minds it was then. “If I was annoying you, you could have just told me to go to my room.”

Before I could make my move to leave, Oscar grabbed my wrist. His hold was rougher than I expected, fingers digging into my flesh. “Why are you going on all these dates?”

“Honestly Oscar, why do you care?” I tried pulling my hand away but his hold wasn’t budging.

“Because every time you get dressed up, go on a date with some random guy and come back here with snacks. And then we sit on the couch, eat snacks and you tell me all about how terrible your date was.” He said, his eyes narrowing. “And I nod along, so sympathetic, pretending I actually care.”

I scoffed at him, using all the force I could and yanking my hand out of his grasp. “Fuck you, Oscar!” I told him, rolling my eyes. “No one made you listen to me. You could have told me I was bothering you and I would have fucked off.”

“It’s not that you were bothering me!”

“Oh yeah? Then what is it?”

“I like you, damnit!” Oscar all but yelled, jumping up onto his feet. His hands grabbed my shoulders and I looked up at him. “I like you! And I’m mad. Mad that you’re dressing up for some guys from Tinder when I’m right in front of you.”

My eyes widened, mouth agape. I must have looked like a fish. “Oscar,” my words were quieter than I expected them to come. My voice cracking. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” He confessed, his thumb rubbing the skin on my shoulder.

I licked my lips, looking up at him and offered a gentle smile. “I like you too,” I whispered, almost afraid to say it any louder.

Oscar doesn’t waste a second. As soon as the words are out of my mouth he is surging forward, smashing his lips against mine in a kiss much different from what I imagined our first would be like.

His hands move from my shoulders to wrap around my waist, pulling me into him. His lips are rough against mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I can barely breathe and my head is feeling fuzzy but still I do my best to kiss him back.

Before I know it, Oscar is picking me up, my legs wrapped around his waist and our lips still connected. Then he’s carrying me to his room and laying me down on his bed, crawling up to me to resume our kiss.

“Fuck,” Oscar mumbled, finally detaching his lips from mine and pulling back to look at me. “I wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” I said, cupping the side of his face, rubbing his skin with my thumb. I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying my best to grind up into him and gain any friction by rubbing myself against the bulge in his sweatpants. “Please, Osc, need you!”

“Need me?” Oscar growled, pulling away a little and pushing up the bottom of my dress, exposing my panties to him. His fingers rubbed over the wet patch on my panties, making me buck up into his touch. “Is that right? You need me to fuck you full of my cum and make you go stupid on my cock, is that it?”

I whined when he took off my panties and roughly pushed two fingers inside of me without any warning. It was an unexpected stretch with just a little burn to it to leave me breathless.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he started, his fingers pushing into me hard and fast, not slowing down at all. “Why’d you join dating apps?”

I took a breath, trying to compose myself enough to form a reply. “Was bored,” I whined, gripping onto the sheets.

He gave me a dark look before his free hand, the one he wasn’t pleasuring me with, came down full force to slap my pussy. I all but screamed out, my body jolting forward with the shock of it and grabbed his shoulder with one hand to steady myself.

“This was a little preview,” Oscar said with a chuckle. “Lie to me again and you’re not gonna like what happens next.” His eyes fixated on me and my cheeks burned both with embarrassment and from how good I was feeling. “Now try again.”

“I didn’t think you liked me so -” I cut myself off with a moan when his fingers pressed against my G-spot, stroking it a few times before going back to thrusting in and out of me. “Fuck Oscar! I wanted to find someone so I could get over you!”

“Good job telling the truth, bad job at trying that,” he said. His thumb started playing with my clit, rubbing it in circles and I moaned loudly, feeling my orgasm approaching. 

“Osc, I’m gonna cum, please let me cum.” I begged, the feel of his fingers inside of me and the added pleasure of having my clit toyed with pushing me fast toward the edge.

“Go on,” Oscar encouraged, keeping the rhythm of his fingers. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I was sobbing out from pleasure, my orgasm crashing over me and my hips bucking up. 

Oscar pulled his fingers out of my pussy, making me whine at the loss of being filled with something, and keeping his eyes on mine brought them up to his mouth and sucked them clean. 

I sat up a little and reached for him. Oscar let me pull off his shirt and I took a moment to admire his naked chest, running my hands over the ridges of his abdomen. Then he helped me take off my dress and bra, kissing me gently before he started trailing kisses down to my neck and collarbones.

“Osc,” I mumbled out, my fingers pulling on the strings of his sweatpants. “Fuck me please! Need to feel you in me. Need to feel you filling me.”

Oscar wasted no time, taking off his sweatpants and boxers in one go. I only got one good glance at his dick before he was pushing it inside me, bottoming out in one thrust.

He was big, the tip of his cock kissing against my cervix and with each thrust I could see an outline of his dick bulging out on my stomach.

“Fuck,” Oscar grunted. “We could have been doing this much sooner if you had just said you wanted me to fuck you.”

“You could have said something as well,” I shot back.

“Yeah but I wasn’t the one on dating apps.”

Oscar’s hand sneaked between us, his thumb once again finding my clit and starting to circle it. I screamed out in pleasure, hiding my face into Oscar’s neck. “So good, Osc, fuck,” I babbled. “Gonna cum again.”

Oscar sped up, both his thrusts and his fingers. “I’m gonna cum too,” he grunted. “Fuck, gonna put a baby in you so everyone knows you’re mine. You like that huh? Yeah you do, I can feel you clenching around me.”

His thumb brushed over my clit one more time and I was screaming out as my orgasm crashed into me. It didn’t take long for Oscar to reach his peak either. His hips stilling as he spilled himself inside of me.

Oscar rolled himself off of me and laid down on the bed. We laid in silence for a few minutes, only the sounds of us panting for breath filling the air. Then the bed creaked when Oscar got up.

He left the room for a moment and then came back with a towel and my pajamas. He got on his knees in front of me on the bed and started cleaning up the mess between my legs. I whined when he brushed my clit, “Hurts. Too much, Osc!”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m just cleaning you up.” He said, bowing his head down and pressing a gentle kiss on my thigh. I let him do the rest without much protest. Once he was done he tossed the towel away and helped me put on my pajamas, then got into his.

Finally we got under the blankets and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a cuddle. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He asked, his fingers playing with my hair, making me shudder with delight.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good,” he hummed. “I’m taking you out on a date.”

I only managed a smile and a nod in response before falling asleep.

[stevie-petey]

episode three: the monster and the superhero

“Breaking and entering into the school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.” You wince. It’s as bad as it sounds. Tapping Dustin’s shoulder, you break him away from the walkie. “Wait, we won’t need my files, right?” Steve eyes you up and down, shrugging indifferently. “Well–” Hitting his chest, he sputters at you. “Why do you keep doing that?” “You’re not reading my files, Harrington.”

Summary: you and steve can never have a normal conversation, dustin threatens nasa, eddie sadly eats his cereal because youre mean to him, youre once again nancys biggest fan, dustin and steve have an awkward heart to heart, and you and max become felons together and trauma bond (again) !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of blood, trauma lol

Words: 13.5k

Before you swing in: hi hi hi !! so so so sorry for the wait. this chapter was a pain to write and i was so busy with school and work :( promise updates will become more regular soon. i was just simply in the trenches for a hot few weeks. things in the story are heatin up, so get ready gamers. anyways, enjoy !!

–

It’s quiet in Steve’s car. 

Streetlights glow faintly, lighting the way home. The windows are down; the thick late spring air fills the car with the bittersweet scent of honeysuckles in bloom. In the dim of the car lies Steve’s faint outline as he drives. His hands rest against the steering wheel, his chest rises slowly as he inhales all the fear that settles inside the car. 

No one speaks. The tension is suffocating you. 

In the backseat resides Robin with Dustin and Max. The oldest sits in the middle, her fingers drum nervously against the head of your seat. Dustin stares out the window, he hasn’t looked at you ever since promising Eddie you’d be back for him tomorrow. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, he begged you to let him stay in the boathouse, but you wouldn’t let him. 

Max stares out the other window. Her eyes are closed, she’s pretending to be asleep. You’ve come to learn what she looks like when she pretends. Her nose pinches slightly, her eyes can never stay still enough to convince you she’s asleep. It’s what she does whenever she doesn’t want to face your questions, your concerns and your fears. 

Tension builds in the back of your skull, a dull throb rings within your ears. Exhaustion washes over you, fear pierces her nails into your skin. You can’t get Eddie’s terrified eyes out of your head. The way his voice trembled, the sticky blood on his fingernails from the skin he picked at. 

If they’re back again, we need to know.

Vecna’s curse.

The static Eddie felt, Chrissy’s trance-like state. Her bones, the morbid angles they snapped. Barbara Holland, daughter and best friend. Bob Newby, superhero. Billy Hargrove, dearly missed son. Jim Hopper, renown chief and beloved father. 

You’re the best of them, kid.

If the gate really has opened once again… Thick molasses grief coats your tongue and fills your mouth with remorse. There has been so much loss, so many funerals you’ve had to attend. Too many bodies buried without answers, without closure. 

Over and over again. 

“We’re here, Robin.” The gravel of Steve’s voice cuts through the endless dread. He parks the car in front of her driveway, the lights are off inside and you know that Robin is afraid of the dark.

“Need me to walk you in?” You ask her, quiet, but unyielding with all the love you have for her. 

She shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m brave, aren't I always brave?”

“The bravest,” Steve smiles at her, soft and unbroken. “Get some sleep, yeah?”

“I’ll… I’ll try.” Her facade slips, the fear that grips everyone tightens its hold. How could anyone sleep at a time like this? She shakes her head again, her smile returns, albeit forced, tired. Then she messily crawls over Dustin to exit the car, ignoring his cries of annoyance and pain when her elbow catches his ribs. “Sorry, little Henderson!”

“I don’t even let Steve call me that–”

“Too late, I’ve already decided to call you little Henderson,” Robin climbs out the car, lands with a soft thud on the pavement. She shuts the door with a glint in her eyes before poking her head through your passenger window. “Hey, uh. Y/N?” Her voice drops low, her eyes skirt to Steve, whose cool gaze meets her weary one. Robin clears her throat, you nod your head at her with slight concern. You know that she knows about your argument with Steve. He adores her, what he doesn’t confide in you, he confides in her. Knowing that Robin means well, you soften your voice. “Yeah?”

Robin hesitates, caught between her two favorite people in the entire world. Steve sees her hesitancy and sighs, turning away to provide some semblance of privacy. Relieved, Robin ducks her head down and whispers into your ear, “Talk to him.”

She’s gone before you can exhale. 

Steve starts the car again after Robin has safely made it inside her home. Max and Dustin are quiet in the backseat. As Steve drives, his fingers absentmindedly play with the frayed edges of his leather bracelet. It had been a gift from you, the word constants etched into the material. 

Constants. You were Steve’s constant, he was yours. Through everything you’ve been through together, all the heartbreak suffered in order to fall into one another, he’s the constant within your life. 

Now you’re afraid that you’re losing him. 

There’s still so much Steve doesn’t know. There are stories about your father that you still need to tell him about. Words Jonathan told you last night, the dangerous what if he brought into your life. You’re terrified of how Steve will react, he’s always been so trusting of you and Jonathan even after knowing the history you share. 

And yet Steve also doesn’t know that the future you see involves him, that he’s in it with as much certainty as the sky is blue; you just don’t know how to tell him this, how to articulate the abandonment that sits heavy within your chest that prohibits you from getting what you want in the end.

You have to talk to him. Steve deserves to know everything, all he’s ever asked of you is to be honest with him. 

The broken lamppost in front of Max’s trailer greets you. Steve slows the car, puts it into park. His eyes find hers in the rearview mirror. “This is you, Mayfield.”

“Thanks,” Max responds quietly. She goes to open the car door, but you turn in your seat and stop her. 

“Hey, look at me.” Your tone leaves no room for arguments. She listens, her blue eyes meeting your gaze. For a moment you see Billy’s eyes reflecting within hers. It’s only for a brief second, it ends before you can even realize what’s happened. Startled, you momentarily choke on your words. “I–”

Max raises an eyebrow at you. You’ve been acting strange all night, she doesn’t understand why. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Her words couldn’t be more ironic, more painful to hear. “I-I’m sorry.” Billy is dead, he’s gone. You shake your head, try to get his eyes out of your head. “Just… promise me you’ll call if anything happens, please?”

You know that Max isn’t in any danger, she’s safe at home with her mother, but across the street resides yellow caution tape and boarded up windows. Eddie’s trailer is across from Max’s, the proximity makes you uncomfortable. It’s an eerie feeling, Chrissy died here last night. 

Max seems to understand your concern, and she allows herself to nod. She doesn’t want to fight you, not tonight. “I will, promise.”

Squeezing her hand, you leave Max with a soft reminder to get some sleep. She smiles, a hidden joke between the two of you. Both of you know that there will be no sleeping tonight. 

Once she’s gone, it’s just you, Steve, and Dustin remaining in the car. Tension creeps slowly upon the three of you. Dustin’s never ending annoyance towards you clashes with all the unspoken words left floating between you and Steve. 

Dustin coughs awkwardly. Steve’s fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel. You keep your head down, your fingers pick at the skin between your nails. The ten minute drive from Max’s house to yours is unbearably long. Stuck at one of Hawkins’ only stop lights, Dustin can’t take the silence any longer.

“Well, this is awkward.” He says to no one in particular. “Lots of tension tonight, huh?”

Neither you nor Steve laugh, and Dustin rests his head against the seat in defeat. He understands why you and him aren’t talking, he’s still angry with you for holding a knife to Eddie’s neck. What he doesn’t understand, however, is why there seems to be so much distance between you and Steve tonight.

Normally you’d be all over one another by now. The two of you can never keep your hands off of each other. As much as Dustin hates it, he’s grown used to the way your hands are always intertwined with Steve’s. Whenever he’s in the car with you guys, your hand always rests against Steve’s arm as he drives. At red lights Steve will always turn to you, pulled in by your smile. 

Except tonight Dustin doesn’t think he’s seen Steve look at you once during the drive home. Your hand rests softly at your side, balled into a small fist. There’s a coldness between the two of you, one Dustin is ashamed to admit that he hadn’t noticed before. 

Then he remembers last night. He’d been too lost in his anger towards you to recognize the tears in your voice. He hadn’t even stopped to consider that you wanted a code blue for any other reason besides lecturing him. His stomach twists with guilt at his own selfish actions. 

Something happened between you and Steve, and you had needed your brother last night. But he had abandoned you, denied the code blue you’d needed so desperately. 

When Steve’s car pulls into your driveway, Dustin runs out as soon as the vehicle stops. He’s frantic to escape his guilt, to escape the chasm that surrounds you and Steve. Slamming the door, he shouts, “Talk to each other!” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Good luck, Steve!”

The slam of the door echoes into the night. 

It’s just you and Steve, now. 

The air stills between you, reminiscent of the night you drove him home from the Halloween party. A year has passed since then, it’s been so long since Steve’s presence made you feel anything other than peace. The strings that have always followed you constrict against your throat. 

“We need to talk,” Steve says, but at the same time you say, “We need to talk about Jonathan.”

The words come tumbling out of your mouth, slipping through the grooves of your teeth before you can stop them. They’d been building within you all day, fizzling to the surface. And now they spill out into the silence of Steve’s car. 

His head turns to you, the street lights illuminate the shock and confusion on his handsome face. It pinches with bewilderment, he doesn’t understand. He had been ready to apologize to you, despite still not being able to comprehend how you don’t see a future with him. Steve doesn’t want to fight with you anymore, he was ready to just forgive and forget and hold your hand without the weight of guilt behind it.

Steve had been ready to salvage your relationship, and now you want to talk about Jonathan?

“Jonathan?” Shamefully, his voice cracks. He feels like a helpless little kid again, his stomach twists with the foreboding nausea that something bad is about to happen. “Why… why do you want to talk about him?”

The raw frailty on Steve’s face almost kills you. He’s drawing into himself again, preparing for the final blow that will decimate him and everything he knows.

You take a deep breath. This won’t be easy, nothing you’ve ever had to do has been easy. But Steve deserves to know. To hide something from him feels foreign, to lie to him feels like a betrayal. 

“Jonathan, he–” Your voice shakes almost as violently as your hands do. Steve is looking at you but you can’t bear to face him just yet. “He called me last night, after our… after our fight.”

“What did he say, Y/N?” Steve knows, even before you tell him, where this is going. The light in your eyes whenever you talk about Jonathan is gone. His name doesn’t grace your face with a smile. Instead, the grimace of guilt replaces it. Steve’s stomach twists into tighter knots. It’s happening again.

Inhaling, you close your eyes and try to commit to memory the before. How Steve looked at you with such adoration before tonight. How his soft hands, laced with trust, felt against your skin before tonight. His open gaze, one filled with vulnerability, stared into you before tonight. 

Opening your eyes, you exhale. Nothing will ever be the same again. “Jonathan asked me if I ever wondered if… if we made a mistake. Him and I.”

“A mistake?” Steve’s jaw tightens. 

“I think-I think he was asking me if I ever… thought about what could’ve happened between us. If somehow,” you swallow, the words cement in your mouth. “If-if somehow we made a mistake, choosing you and Nancy.”

Steve is quiet. The muscles in his body pull tightly together. He fills with venom, anger and jealousy and hurt; so much hurt. “And you think he’s right.”

It isn’t phrased as a question. 

Immediately your body turns to his. “No! God, no,” your hands search for any expanse of his skin you can find. Steve doesn’t lean into you, he doesn’t react to your touch. Panic overwhelms you, suddenly all you can do is talk and plead and beg. “Steve, I don’t think Jonathan even knew what he was saying, okay? H-he was high, and he’s been so lonely and-and he kept saying things were easy between me and him but-but that’s not how love is supposed to work and I know he’s just scared. He’s scared and he’s never been so alone before and I think-he’s just lost, okay? He’s lost and–” 

“Why are you telling me this, Y/N?” The hardness in Steve’s voice cuts into you, stings your skin. He isn’t screaming, not like he did last night, but you almost wish he were. The way his voice is leveled, cold and hard, scares you even more. 

“Would you rather I didn’t?” You’re helpless against his anger, you know he has every right to be, but you don’t know how to fix this.

Steve laughs bitterly. “I’d rather you not make shitty excuses for the asshole.”

“I’m not making excuses for him, I just wanted you to understand–”

“You are!” His voice raises slightly, almost imperceptibly so, but you hear it anyways. Steve’s chest rises and falls quickly. His hands fly wildly everywhere, he doesn’t know what to do, either. Then, almost as quickly as the anger surfaced, insecurity replaces it. “Is… Jonathan why you don’t see a future with me?”

Your fingers tighten around his wrist, almost as if you’re afraid he’ll slip between your fingers any second now. “I do see a future with you–”

“Pretty fucking hard to believe when you’re wearing the goddamn necklace he got you.” The words drip with acid. They’re hissed out with a jaw clenched so tightly you’re afraid he’ll somehow hurt himself.

The words startle you, catch you off guard. Your hand slips from Steve’s wrist. He’s never once insinuated any jealousy regarding you and Jonathan. He’s always been so trusting of you two together, he’s always been kind towards him. He always knew that he could never touch what you guys have, and yet his gaze now flickers cruelly to the bee pendant that rests against your neck. 

What Steve has said hurts you, deeper than he ever intended to. He knows how you love, how deeply you care for others. It’s who you are. Regardless of the hurt he may be feeling right now, it doesn’t give him the right to throw this crucial part of you back in your face. 

“I’m made of pieces of everyone I’ve ever loved, Steve. You know this.” The bee pendant rests against your skin as heavily as the charm bracelet does. 

And Steve does know that you’re made of pieces of everyone in your life. It’s what he loves the most about you. His eyes follow where your fingers reside, skimming the silver chain that encases your wrist. He hadn’t meant to say what he did, the words had slipped out before he could stop them. 

“Y/N…” Your name is spoken as an apology, it’s all Steve can manage in his shame. 

But the moment is ruined, you’re exhausted and all you want to do is go home. 

You shake your head at Steve, try to hide the tears in your eyes. He sees them anyways. “Can I leave, please?”

The way you ask so delicately to escape breaks Steve. Something in his chest shatters, his mouth fills with the taste of a broken promise. You don’t need his permission, he hates that you feel that you do. 

“Yeah,” his voice is softer than it’s been all night, but it’s too late. He knows this. Swallowing, all Steve can do is be gentle with you. “Yeah, of course you can leave, angel.”

Angel.

You nod at him; if you try to speak you’re afraid you’ll break before him. 

No other words are spoken between you. Steve watches as you leave. 

– 

The next morning you sit hunched over a mug of coffee, more exhausted than ever before. You haven’t slept properly in days now. Dustin finds you with dark circles under your eyes and a pathetic bowl of cereal before you. From the dazed look in your eyes, he knows you haven’t noticed his arrival, and he awkwardly clears his throat to get your attention.

“So, uh.” He scratches the back of his neck, your eyes are slow to look up at him. Pointing to your coffee, Dustin raises his eyebrows. “Rough night, I take it?”

You nod, too tired to say anything else. The cereal goes uneaten. Dustin doesn’t think your coffee is even warm anymore, he hadn’t heard you wake up this morning. He’s worried that you never even went to bed last night. You’re pale, sickly so, and Dustin hates that he hadn’t noticed the signs sooner. 

“Hey,” he pulls a chair beside you, sits down with a playful shove to your shoulder. He’s your brother, it’s his job to take care of you just as much as it’s yours to take care of him. It’s how the two of you have always been. 

For Dustin’s entire life you’ve looked after him, kissing his scraped knees and warding off monsters hidden underneath his bed. When your father left, the depression your mother fell into afterwards left Dustin clinging onto you. You were all he had left. 

Dustin leans against you, he used to do this when he was a little kid and could still fit between your arms. Resting his head against yours, shoulders pressed together, the angle is awkward and uncomfortable, but it’s safe. “Is it too late to have that code blue?”

It’s a peace offering, an extension of an apology, and you can’t help but smile at your brother. Hand finding his mess of curls, you ruffle his hair and laugh softly. “Yeah, guess we can have a code blue now.”

“Good, you know I always love to shit talk Steve.” Dustin says with humor. You both know he admires the boy.

“Language,” you remind him as you always do. Dustin knocks his head against yours in response and the two of you break into laughter; laughing with your brother again feels good.

In between sips of cold coffee and bites of soggy cereal, you tell Dustin about Steve. You explain the original argument a few nights ago, how he didn’t understand why you wouldn’t want him to follow you to New York. 

“It’s what mom did with dad,” Dustin says, looking down at the table. 

You nod at him, you knew he’d understand better than anyone. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Does he know what happened with dad?”

“No, and I know I should explain what he did, but there’s–” You cut yourself off. Dustin would kill Jonathan with his bare hands if he found out about the phone call. Even though it technically goes against the rules of a code blue, you can’t tell Dustin about Jonathan. Not yet, at least. Clearing your throat, you continue. “There’s… other things that have prevented me from explaining dad to Steve.”

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Other things?”

“Other things,” you look pointedly at him, standing your ground about not elaborating. He denied your original code blue. You’re allowed to lie this one time. “And now Steve thinks that I don’t see a future with him.”

“Well then he’s an idiot.” Your brother scoffs. Anyone with eyes can see how much you fawn over Steve. Dustin has watched you fall for him for years now. “You’re practically ready to marry the guy.”

Taking a bite of cereal, you grimace slightly. “Okay, marriage is a little much–”

“Tell that to mom, she’s already started planning the wedding.” 

Of course she has. She wouldn’t be Claudia Henderson if she wasn’t already planning the names of her grandchildren from Steve. 

The bite of cereal turns into cement, your heartbeat pounds against your throat. With everything going on with Steve, the hurt the two of you have brought down upon the other, you’re not even sure there will be a wedding at the rate things are going. 

As the days go on, you can feel Steve slipping away from you more and more.

Dustin must sense that the subject is hurting you, so he stands from his seat and claps his hands together. “Alright, I feel like we’ve covered our bases for a code blue. Checked all the boxes, felt the feelings needed to be felt.”

“I don’t like the feelings being felt,” you mumble, shoving your bowl away. You’re still drawn into yourself, pale and frail and unlike the lively girl your brother has come to miss. He knows things have been difficult between the two of you, a strain that can’t quite be loosened. 

Dustin falters, his bravado fades. He sighs again and his hand settles against your shoulder. He looks at you with sincerity, his expression softens. “Look, you and Steve will figure things out. You guys always do.”

And he truly believes this. Steve loves you with such a ferocity that rivals your love for him. Dustin can’t imagine a world in which you’re no longer with Steve, where he’s let go of you and allowed you to walk away. 

Except Dustin doesn’t know how to express this to you, but you can understand him anyways. Placing your hand over his, you squeeze it. “Thanks, Dustin.”

He smiles back at you and the code blue is over. The moment lingers for only a second longer before he frowns and sits back down next to you. “Do you think Eddie will be okay?”

And there it is. Eddie fucking Munson again. 

Shoving down your annoyance, you force yourself to focus on the situation from last night. As hurt as you are that Dustin wants to talk about Eddie right now, you can understand why he would. Chrissy died in front of him, he’s being accused of murder. 

You’re just being childish, easily irritated from lack of sleep and the stress of it all. 

“I don’t know, I mean…the cops will be looking for him.” With ease you fall back into strategizing, putting the situation above your own thoughts and feelings. Your mind spins with everything you need to do, trying to come up with whatever you can do to help. “If we have any shot of protecting him, we need to figure out what they know.”

Dustin nods, following along. “Cerebro can tap into the Hawkins PD system, we can easily get intel from there.”

“It terrifies me that Cerebro can hack into our town’s police system.”

“Be grateful I stopped there, Suzie wouldn’t let me use it to tap into NASA.”

You learn two things after using Cerebro to gather information. 

One, the radio is far too powerful to reside in your fourteen year old brother’s hands. He’s able to access the PD system with incredible ease, almost as if he’s done so before. It’d be impressive if you didn’t know the horrors that went on inside the kid’s head.

Two, Eddie is well and truly fucked. 

He’s the main suspect. They think he’s killed Chrissy and have every man in the force scouring Hawkins to find him. Her death was gruesome, you understand the manhunt that unfolds. Dustin, however, nearly loses his mind when he hears chief Powell instructing his men to search Eddie’s neighborhood for the teen. 

“We have to go warn him,” Dustin scrambles to his feet, the chair almost toppling over in his haste. “We need to leave, now.”

There isn’t time to argue, Dustin is already ringing Steve’s number. Either he’s already forgotten about your argument with the teen, or maybe he just doesn’t care. Regardless, the thought of seeing Steve again so soon after last night makes your stomach churn. You want to stop Dustin, make up some excuse to him about why you can’t help Eddie, but you know it wouldn’t matter. Your brother would only beg you to come, your worry for him would force you to listen. 

All you can do is drop your head into your hands and sigh.

– 

It was your idea to stop and get Eddie food. 

Steve had arrived at your house within minutes. Dustin immediately went for the passenger seat, which was more than okay with you, and Steve had mumbled a soft “hello” to the two of you. His greeting went ignored by you, still trying to find your breath around him, and Dustin, who promptly demanded that Steve pick up Robin and Max before returning to the boathouse. 

Halfway to Max’s, the silence in the car was thickening rapidly, so you offhandedly suggested stopping at the local grocery store to get Eddie some food and water. You figured he would appreciate the small act of kindness, especially considering the grime news you’d be delivering to him soon. That, and it’d give you an excuse to leave Steve’s car for a few moments and steady your breathing. 

The boathouse isn’t nearly as creepy in the daylight, but still you make sure your knives are in your pocket before approaching it. Robin walks beside you, helping you and Dustin carry the groceries, while Max and Steve walk silently behind. 

“Think we got him enough?” Robin asks, holding up one of the grocery bags. “I mean, don’t stoners eat a lot? Munchies or whatever?”

Rolling your eyes, you undo one of the buttons on your sweater, allowing the crisp spring air to soak your body. The sun is too warm to be worrying about whatever stoners eat. “If he complains, then he can starve.” 

“Cat’s got claws today,” Robin nudges you with her arm. Turning to make sure Steve is far enough away so he doesn’t overhear, she lowers her voice. “Guessing the talk didn’t go well last night?”

“Oh, it was just peachy,” you grit out through a forced smile. “But we have to focus on harboring a murder suspect right now.” Because nothing in your life can ever be simple. If you aren’t hunting monsters, you’re protecting the town. If you aren’t protecting the town, you’re fighting alternate dimensions.

Robin opens her mouth to say something, but Dustin shoulders past her and bursts through the boathouse doors, ending your conversation. “Delivery service!” 

Eddie nearly has a heart attack at the abrupt entrance. He jumps out of his skin and clutches at his chest after letting out a very unmanly yelp. The reaction is almost enough to brighten your foul mood, momentarily forgetting that Steve stands behind you. 

“Someone’s jumpy,” you sidestep your brother and walk over towards the table. Setting the groceries down, you begin to unload them. “We got you some food, but please don’t eat it all at once. I really don’t want to spend any more money on you.”

“Thanks…?” Eddie slowly approaches you, both relieved for the food and offended you seem so begrudged to have gotten it for him in the first place. From his few interactions with you since last night, he’s coming to learn that you’re far from the girl who showed him such selfless kindness all those years ago.

Eddie doesn’t think you even remember what you did for him. He had been at such a low point in his life, one failed exam away from dropping out of high school and disappointing his uncle, until you appeared. It’d been your sophomore year, Eddie’s failed one, and you had given him your pencil.

The action had been small, meniscal, yet it saved Eddie’s life. He hadn’t brought his own pencil for some stupid English exam. He’d been too nervous for it that he had forgotten his, and Mrs. Greer, the teacher who couldn’t have cared less whether or not Eddie died, threatened to fail him. 

The threat sank deep into his bones, freezing his intestines with dread. Eddie had promised his uncle he’d try harder in school, that he’d graduate, and yet he couldn't do something as simple as bringing a pencil to an exam. Close to tears, embarrassed and overwhelmed, Eddie almost hadn’t registered your softly whispered voice.

“Here,” you tapped his shoulder. Eddie remembers turning around, surprised you were even talking to him, and he remembers the immediate relief that sagged his bones when he saw the pencil extended in offering. He had nodded curtly at you before frantically rushing to begin the exam. He’d already wasted five minutes, he couldn’t afford any more. 

It would only be later that Eddie learned you willingly failed the exam because you’d given him your only pencil, just so he wouldn’t fail. In the end, he passed. It was the first exam Eddie had passed in a long, long time; his uncle had been so proud of him that he bought him his electric guitar.

Eddie never thanked you for that. 

And now you stand in front of him, once again extending your arm out to him with yet another offering, but your eyes are cold. Your body is tense around Eddie’s, he doesn’t miss the wide berth you seem to always give him. 

“Thanks,” he says to you again, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He accepts the box of cereal you offer him and he wills himself to smile. “I, uh. Appreciate it. I’d offer to pay you back, but…”

“You’re wanted for murder.” You finish for Eddie. 

He drops his head. “Yeah, it kinda ruins a person’s life, ya know?”

“I don’t, actually. Never been accused of killing someone.”

Eddie blinks at you. He doesn’t know what to do with the disdain you display towards him. “Right.” He looks at Dustin for help, silently begging the kid to step in before you gut him with your knives.

“Okay, why don’t you crack open that box of honey combs while we all gather around for a fun story time!” Dustin sets down the remaining groceries and ushers everyone to spread around the boathouse. 

“‘Storytime’?” Eddie asks him, looking around in confusion. 

“Y/N and Dustin did some detective work,” Robin offers him, trying to make her voice sound as cheery as possible. “They-uh. Well they found-I mean,” she doesn’t know how to break the news to Eddie, she feels awful for the guy. Deflating, she mumbles, “They’re definitely good detectives.”

Eddie only looks more confused by this, and Dustin sits down awkwardly on a stool next to you. “So, we got, uh. Some good news and some bad news.”

You snort at your brother. Steve stands next to you, his body angled away from you so that your skin doesn’t touch. The distance is small enough to go unnoticed by anyone, yet it’s a chasm that your stomach drops into. “That’s really how you’re gonna break it to him?” 

“What are you guys breaking to me?” Eddie asks, eyes wide.

Dustin hits your leg and gets the teen’s attention. “Ignore her, look at me, alright? Now, how do you prefer it? Good or bad first?”

“Bad news first, always.” Eddie doesn’t even think about his answer, he responds immediately while shoving cereal into his mouth. 

“The bad news is that you’re pretty fucked.” You inform him, arms crossed over your chest. There’s no easy way to lessen the blow of what you overhead from Hawkins PD. The news is bad, it’s all bad. 

Dustin snaps his head towards you, “Y/N!”

“I’m not going to lie to the guy or sugarcoat things!” 

“Would you just let me handle it–”

“Dustin,” Eddie hasn’t moved from his seat. His hand remains in the cereal box, his voice jagged and defeated. He’s tired. He just wants to go home. “Just say it.”

Your brother’s shoulders drop, the anger in his eyes extinguished. “We… We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you.”

“Chief Powell thinks you killed Chrissy.” Unable to look at Eddie, your eyes trace the ground. As much as you hate him, you can’t help but feel awful for the hand he’s been dealt. No one will possibly believe he’s innocent. “He ordered all his men to track you down before word gets out that you’re the prime suspect.”

“Which leads us to the good news: your name hasn’t gone public yet.” Robin continues for you, her own expression pitying. “But if Y/N and Dustin could find out about you during breakfast, then it’s a matter of time before others do, too.”

“And once that gets out,” you shake your head, you know how cruel a small town like Hawkins can be. “There’s going to be a lot of angry people who know your name.”

Eddie clenches his jaw. You can see tears forming in his eyes; you’re not sure if they’re from frustration or fear. He inhales sharply, licks his lips in disdain. “Hunt the freak, right?”

It’s the way he says it, with so much despair and venom in his voice. The look of resignation on Eddie’s face breaks your heart. He knows his odds, he’s been tormented and abused his entire life by the people in Hawkins. You’ve heard all the stories. The exile he faced because of how he looked, who he would hang out with, the music he listened to and the drugs he smoked. 

Eddie Munson, the freak. The moment the town finds out he’s wanted for murder, you’re afraid he’ll never come out of it alive. 

The ice-hot contempt you feel for him begins to melt. He’s only a year or two older than you, still just a scared kid with no place to call home anymore. Despite the protests of your body, you step towards Eddie and place a hand on his shoulder. Your hand is tense, your fingers scratch on the rough material of his denim jacket, but he seems to calm at the touch. 

“Hey, we’ll protect the freak, alright?” You mean what you tell him, your hand warms his skin. Whatever history you have with Eddie, good or bad, it doesn’t matter right now. He needs you, he’s lost and alone. 

Eddie looks up at you, your kindness startles him slightly, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his eyes find yours. They’re brown, almost doe-eyed, with a vulnerability within them so intense that it leaves a lump in your throat. 

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Eddie.” Dustin’s voice cuts through, reminding you of where you are. Stumbling slightly, you remove your hand and walk back over to Steve, who gives you an odd, confused look. You ignore him. “We have to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.” 

“That’s all, Dustin?” Eddie mocks, he doesn’t stand a chance and he knows it.

Dustin draws into himself, uncertain, before letting out a feeble response. You allow yourself to smile, enjoying his wallowing. You understand where Eddie is coming from. “It is a lot that we have to do in order to clear his name.”

“Okay, I know that everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this before.” Robin tries to reassure him. She’s leaning against a doorframe, she’s trying her best not to let her own uncertainty show. 

“We’ve been here before,” you say with slight bitterness. “You’d be surprised how many times we’ve almost died.”

Robin laughs nervously. “Well, mine was more human-flesh-based, theirs was more smoke-related. I didn’t necessarily almost die, but Y/N has some pretty sick scars on her body and Steve has been concussed more times than he’s had girlfriends–”

“Get to the point, Robin.” Steve finally speaks up, no hint of amusement in his voice. His hand rests besides yours, his fingers ache to curl against your skin. You’re wearing a soft blue sweater, tucked into your skirt, and your eyes shine against the spring cold. He doesn’t want to be here right now.

“Right. The bottom line is, collectively, I really feel we got this.”

Unable to bear the itch in his skin to touch you, Steve brings his hand to his face and rubs at his jaw to distract himself. “Except we usually rely on this girl who has superpowers, but-uh. Those went bye-bye, so–”

“And she’s in California, hundreds of miles from here.” You add on, picking at your nails. The topic makes you uncomfortable. With California comes the reminder of Jonathan.

Robin points at you and Steve. “Both good points, so I guess you could say we’re more in the-in the…?”

“Brainstorming phase.” Max supplies, which Steve snaps his fingers in agreement and Dustin hums thoughtfully. 

“There’s-uh. There’s nothing to worry about!” Your brother says unconvincingly, voice high pitched and full of lies. 

Eddie stares at everyone around him, studying the collective mess that he somehow must place all his trust in. None of you can give him a straight answer about what will happen next, and as you listen to Steve and Dustin try again to make sense of what’s going on, you recognize how hopeless it all sounds. 

“We may not sound like much,” you interrupt the boys, trying again to ease the hopelessness Eddie must be feeling. “But we’re kind of your only option right now–”

The distant wailing of sirens drown out your words, loud and piercing. The sound sets everyone into a panic. Robin instructs Dustin to cover Eddie with a tarp while you, Max, and Steve run towards the window. Squished together, you watch as multiple cop cars fly down the street with an ambulance following them; your breath catches. 

The last time you saw this many cop cars speeding through Hawkins, they had been a dead body in the quarry. It had been Will’s body, lifeless and pale. You had watched as his body was pulled from the water, you held Lucas and Dustin as they cried.

Only this time Will is in California, far away from danger. The onslaught of cars can only mean one thing. 

“I think…” Your mouth fills with syrupy dread, coating your tongue with grief. Breathing becomes difficult. You hope, more than anything, that you’re wrong. “I think someone else died.”

The moment the words leave your lips, Steve grabs his keys and instructs everyone to get into his car. He doesn't ask any questions, he doesn’t question how you know. Dustin quickly tells Eddie to stay in the boathouse while you leave. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as Steve drives, your hand clutches the seat in terror. Every second that passes, your body becomes heavier and heavier from dread. Steve’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel. Robin can’t look at you, Max and Dustin don’t say a word.

The white blanket draped over a body is what you see first. A horde of police surround it, there are lights flashing everywhere. People crowd behind a barricade, necks straining to get a look at the body on the ground. 

Then you see who the cops are talking to, and your heart drops. 

“Nancy,” you breathe out, already opening Steve’s door before he can even park the car. Something terrible has happened. Nancy stands in front of the officers, her arms crossed against her chest as if to calm herself down. She’s never looked so weak, she needs you.

Standing outside the car, the others join you. Steve has parked as close as he can to the crime scene, no one moves. Nancy releases a shaky breath when her eyes find yours. Raising her hand, she waves at you, unsure, and you wave back. She smiles, timid but genuine, and a pit forms in your stomach.

You haven’t told Nancy about Jonathan. 

Steve looks away from her, gaze turning towards you, and he’s thinking the same thing. 

– 

Nancy guides everyone to a park bench at the trailer park. She doesn’t say anything as you all walk, her eyes are exhausted. The police hadn’t wanted her to leave just yet, they had more questions for her, but you’d quickly spoke with the men to let her go. 

Sitting around the table, a bitter cold creeps into the air. The sun is out yet winter still lingers. Nancy sits across from you with Robin and Max next to her. You’re with the boys, Steve pushes his weight against you while Dustin sits stiffly beside you. 

Seeing Nancy’s sunken cheeks and glass eyes, you reach across the table and grab her hand. “What happened, Nance?”

Tears well in her eyes and for once she doesn’t wipe them away. Nancy’s hand twitches in yours, she doesn’t hold onto you like you do her. She’s grieving, you’ve come to learn all the signs of someone who has lost a friend. “It-it’s Fred.”

She explains what they’d been doing, investigating Chrissy’s death at the trailer park. Guilt laces her words, she didn’t think anything would happen to Fred. He’s always been sweet to her, his crush obvious to you but unknown to her. A shiver runs through you; Fred was smart, he was nice to you whenever you spent your days in the yearbook room. 

He didn’t deserve to die. Neither did Chrissy. 

“That makes two deaths in two days,” you say out loud, voicing what everyone else is thinking. Death is common in Hawkins, an inevitability of what lies underneath it, but there’s never been such gruesome deaths so close together. “It’s happening again.”

“What’s happening again?” Nancy shakes her head. “I-I don’t understand, you guys already know what’s causing all of this?”

“We have a working theory, but it’s… not great.” Dustin slouches down, he isn’t sure how much he can explain to the girl with all that he still doesn’t know. “We think it’s connected to Chrissy’s death, something killed her in Eddie’s trailer. He told us she had gone into some sort of trance before her bones snapped and her eyes exploded..”

Nancy grimaces at the gory imagery and you squeeze her hand again. “I’m sorry about Fred.”

She gives you a tight smile before turning to your brother. “A trance? Like El? You aren’t… do you really think this has something to do with–”

“The Upside Down.” You and Max say at the same time.

“‘It’s happening again’,” Nancy echoes your words from moments ago. She understands, now. “So this-this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy is from the Upside Down?”

Steve nods at her and Dustin sighs heavily. “We think he attacks with a spell, or maybe even a curse.”

“But we don’t know if he’s under the Mind Flayer’s control,” you point out. “For all we know, he could just be someone with El’s powers. We know the lab tested on other kids, right?”

Max looks up at you and her face twists with apprehension. “I don’t know, something feels different about this, it’s almost like it’s something new. I don’t think it’s anyone like El.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Nancy mumbles.

“No, I think Max is right. Something feels off about all of this.” Your arms draw together, it’s impossibly cold for late March. The chill has set into your bones. 

Nancy nods at you, but there’s something else on her mind. “But Fred and Chrissy also don’t make sense. I mean, why them?”

“Maybe they were just in the wrong place? They were both at the game.” Dustin offers, and you shiver again.

Billy had been in the wrong place, too. It’s how the Mind Flayer got him. He’d just been unlucky and alone.

“And the trailer park,” Max adds.

Steve’s eyes widen slightly, he shifts against you and unconsciously moves you closer to him. “We’re at the trailer park, should we… maybe not be here?”

The wind picks up and a crow cries overhead. The barren grass rustles as shadows fall against it. Your spine prickles with nerves. Steve is right to be worried. There’s something eerie about the trailer park, the caution tape that guards Eddie’s door is still too fresh. 

You wrap your sweater tighter to your body, cold with unease. Nancy’s eyes flicker around the park as the wind rustles the leaves. “Fred started acting weird the second we got here.”

Robin asks what she means, and when Nancy begins to explain how scared and on edge Fred had been, a dull throb slowly creeps up the base of your neck. The sensation builds until it’s a roar of nerve endings exploding against your temple, and you wince in pain.

Steve’s fingers skim the crest of your wrist. “Hey,” he’s lowered his voice so the others can’t hear, he knows you never like to worry others. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” the concern in Steve’s eyes burns you. He hasn’t spoken to you all day, but still his skin warms yours and he wants to make sure you’re safe. Comfortable. Okay. Even with the anger between you and all the unspoken half-truths, he still cares about you. 

You want to tell him that you haven’t slept in days, that the nightmares are back and that they’re worse than ever before. You want to rest your head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It’s the only way you’ve been able to keep the migraines at bay. 

But you don’t tell Steve any of this. Instead, you lie through your teeth. “I’m fine,” you reassure him again. There isn’t time for you not to be okay. Two people have died already, your migraines can wait. 

Steve doesn’t look convinced. He knows you, he knows how you are and how much you push down for the sake of others, but before he can press you further, Robin interrupts. “Hey, lovebirds, we’re trying to solve a murder case here.”

“I’m listening,” you roll your eyes at her, skin flushing a bit with embarrassment. “Anyways, what if Fred and Chrissy saw something that made them go catatonic? I think we should be focusing on the trace-like state more, it’s a trauma response.”

“What, so they’re insane asylum patients?” Dustin asks with slight displeasure. “I mean, I guess that makes sense. But Vecna can cast spells, at least in DnD. I don’t think they just ‘saw’ something.” 

Steve scratches his nose. “If I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone.”

“Would you, though?” You don’t mean for the question to come off as condescending, and you quickly try to alleviate the offended look on the teen’s face. “What I mean is, who would you go to about something like that?”

“I… I think I know who they’d go to.” Max stares down at the table, her eyebrows furrowed together. She’s deep in thought, remembering something. “I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelly’s office. If you saw a monster, you wouldn’t go to the police.”

“They’d never believe you,” you bear your weight against the table. Nostalgia wraps around you at the memory of how scared you’d been to tell Hopper about El, the years it took for you to trust him. “That’s why I never went to Hopper when I first found El.”

Max nods, she’s relieved you get where she’s going with this. “Exactly, but you might go to your–”

“Shrink.” Robin finishes, sending you an apologetic smile for the offensive language against the profession you hope to one day go into. “No offense, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, feeling defensive. “Again with calling Ms. Kelly a shrink. She’s not a shrink, she’s actually really nice.”

“You sound like you know her personally.” Dustin narrows his eyes at you. Nothing goes unnoticed by him. 

All eyes turn to you, and you sink down in embarrassment. “I’ve… had a few meetings with her.”

Simultaneously both Steve and Dustin widen their eyes. They hadn’t known you were seeing Ms. Kelly. Nancy looks at you curiously, Robin bites her lip, and Max nods solemnly. It’s a large range of reactions, one that makes you anxious to deal with. “Can everyone stop staring at me, please?”

Steve lets out a quick breath and runs a hand through his hair. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing the school’s guidance counselor, Y/N.”

“She didn’t tell me, either.” Dustin mumbles bitterly. You’ve never hidden anything from him before. He wonders, distantly, when you started to.

“I didn’t want to worry you guys, it really isn’t a big deal.” When both boys bristle at this, you hold your hand up to silence them. “No, I don’t want to hear it. It’s not like I was seeing Ms. Kelly for anything serious, okay? She’s the guidance counselor, so I just. You know. Needed some guidance.”

It’s a horrible lie, you know that no one believes you, but they take pity on you and move on. Originally you really were seeing Ms. Kelly for college admissions help, but after a few sessions you slowly started opening up to her about the sleepless nights. The image of Billy’s lifeless body. Max’s screams. 

Nancy clears her throat and changes the topic. She comes up with what to do next, creating a plan to ask Ms. Kelly what she knows, and you sit silently. You’re relieved the attention is finally off of you. Within minutes a plan is formed: you and Max will talk to Ms. Kelly to try and get more information.

Steve agrees to drive to the house. As you’re walking to his passenger side door, he notices that Nancy isn’t following. Instead, she’s going to her own car. “Hey, Nance. Where’re you going?”

Nancy turns around, a guilty but determined look on her face. Her eyes land on you, knowing you’ll be the hardest to convince of her plan. “There’s just-there’s something I want to check on first.”

Predictably, your shoulders tense and your eyes ignite with worry. “Please don’t make me remind you that there are people dying right now. You can’t seriously think it’s safe to be on your own.”

“I can protect myself, Y/N.” Nancy reminds you gently, understanding your concern but knowing it isn’t needed.

“You care to share with the rest of us?” Dustin calls over to the two of you.

“I don’t want to waste your time,” Nancy shoves her hands into her jean jacket. “It’s… a real shot in the dark.”

You frown at this. “If it’s something you think is worth looking into, then it isn’t a shot in the dark. You’ve always been right.”

Nancy blushes at your words, but Steve silently fumes beside you. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you guys out of your mind? No way is Nancy flying solo with Vecna on the loose.”

“I never said that she should fly solo,” you say slowly, not at all liking how he’s twisting your words. You had been complimenting Nancy’s intelligence, restoring her faith back into her work. You don’t understand where this protectiveness from Steve is coming from. “I know it’s too dangerous, that’s why I was going to suggest–”

“You’re right. It’s too dangerous. Bottom line. She needs someone to-Christ.” Steve isn’t listening. He’s too caught up in his head as tosses his keys to Robin, who only barely manages to catch them. “Here, Y/N and I will stick with Nance.”

You cross your arms and glare at him. “I’m sorry?”

Steve doesn’t look at you, he’s too busy staring at Nancy, and for a brief second you truly believe that there’s something soft in his gaze when he looks at her. They’re friends, you know this. There’s a history between them that rivals your history with Jonathan. Nancy was Steve’s first love, and now he loves you, and you try desperately to shake the insecurity that you feel. 

If you’re being completely honest, you’re not even sure why you’re suddenly thinking all of this. You’ve never been insecure, at least not in your relationship with Steve. During the almost year you’ve been with him, there’ve been times girls have flirted with him or old flings that have tried to vie for his attention. But through it all your trust in him never wavered, you knew that at the end of the day it was your bed he was crawling into. 

And yet there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you that the way Steve is looking at Nancy right now is different; it’s how he looks at you. The voice is darker, more cruel. It’s one you don’t recognize, and yet you do. 

Steve seems to come back to himself and turns to you. “Robin can go with the kids to the shrink. Max can talk to her alone, it’s no big deal.”

Robin holds the keys away from her as if they’re poisoned. “I don’t think you want me driving your car.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a license.”

Steve shakes his head with impatience. “Why don’t you have a license?”

“I’m poor,” Robin shrugs, and you laugh slightly. 

Max raises her hand. “I can drive.”

“No!” You and Steve exclaim at the same time, both of you getting war flashbacks to when Max had driven you after Billy had knocked you guys unconscious. It’d been a rough night and waking up to a thirteen year old driving a sports car definitely hadn't helped. 

“Please,” you look at Max with genuine longing. “Never, ever drive me ever again.”

“Literally anyone but you–” Steve sees Dustin make a face, offering himself to drive, and the older teen snaps his fingers at him in annoyance. “No chance.”

You shake your head as well. No way in hell are you allowing the kid to drive either. “Absolutely not, Dustin. You couldn’t even drive a golf cart properly.”

“I did a decent job!”

“I still think you’re the one who gave Steve his third concussion with your horrible braking.”

“We were being chased by evil Russians!” 

Robin steps between you and your brother, holding her hands up. “Alright, this is stupid.” She grabs Dustin’s walkie from his backpack and marches to Nancy while handing Steve his keys. “Us ladies, sans Y/N, will stick together. Unless Steve thinks we need him to protect us?”

She raises her eyebrows, challenging the teen, and you watch him. He shuffles nervously, ducks his head down. Steve is guilty and ashamed and embarrassed. Your stomach clenches. 

“He knows better than to doubt you guys,” you step in for him, saving him. “Right, Steve?”

Nancy laughs at the look of fear on his face and Robin smirks. Satisfied, they turn around and start to head towards Nancy’s car. You wish them luck as they leave, tell them to be safe. They wave back at you, and although you wish you could join them, you know that Max will want you by her side while she talks to Ms. Kelly. 

Once the girls are gone, you hit Steve’s chest. “Nice one, buddy.”

He lets out a pained huff, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows he had it coming. With a sigh he follows you back to his car and gets into the driver’s seat. Dustin stares at him through the rearview mirror with a shit eating grin on his face. Tired, Steve glares at him. “Not a word.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Dustin defends himself.

“No, but you were going to, and-hey,” Steve turns in his seat and glares even more at your brother. “Did you make sure to wipe your feet?”

“Yes,” Dustin says at the same time as you and Max say, “No.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and starts the car angrily. His movements are jerky and uncontrolled. “Always the goddamn babysitter!” He exclaims, resentment marring his face.

You jump slightly at his raised voice. He hates being sidelined, you know this. Similar to you, all Steve ever wants to do is help. He does whatever he can, he tries harder than anyone. It’s what you first fell for, back when Steve originally crashed into your life. 

It’s because of his kindness and devotion to others that you reach for Steve’s hand. His skin is cold, goosebumps raise at your touch, but you interlock your fingers through his and slowly, piece by piece, Steve relaxes. 

He’s missed your touch. You’ve missed his, too.

– 

Ms. Kelly, to her credit, tries to mask her surprise when she sees you and Max standing at her door. “Oh, hello, girls.”

“Hi,” you smile kindly at the woman. “We really hate to bother you over spring break, but do you possibly have a minute to talk?”

“With the two of you?” Ms. Kelly knew that you and Max were both grieving Billy, but she hadn’t known that you knew each other. “Y/N, I’m sure you’re aware that this is highly unusual to request.”

You wince. “Yeah, I’m definitely aware that this is a pretty strange thing to ask. It’s just that I was the one who convinced Max to start seeing you in the first place, and now that I’m also seeing you, we figured we could… talk to you together?”

It’s a horrible excuse. The lie is vague and too transparent to believe. Neither you or Max had a lot of time to come up with a convincing cover story during the drive here. 

“I don’t know,” Ms. Kelly’s face strains with contemplation. 

Max softens her eyes and does her best to look small, pleading. “Please?”

You try to appear troubled as well, though it isn’t hard. Your headache hasn’t left. The pounding in your head has only intensified since leaving the trailer park. Ms. Kelly’s gaze flits between you and Max, reading for any signs of lying or ill-will, before her resolve crumbles.

“Oh, alright.” She opens her door wider, ushers the two of you inside. “Come in.”

Steve and Dustin watch as you disappear inside the house. They’ve parked across the street, opting to be the lookout in case anything happens. You spare one last glance over your shoulder, eyes meeting Steve’s, before Ms. Kelly closes the door. 

“Okay, they’re in.” Steve states the obvious, slightly unsettled to be stuck in the car while you’re inside.

“I’m missing collarbones, not eyes.” Dustin snorts. He expects Steve to say something snarky in response, but then he notices that the teen is still staring longly out the window, tracing Ms. Kelly’s door. He looks pathetic, waiting for you, and Dustin sighs. “So… we gonna talk about it?”

Steve’s eyes linger on the doorway, a far off look on his face. When he realizes that Dustin has spoken, he turns to him slowly. “Huh? Sorry, talk about what?”

“Your temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance? In front of my sister?” 

“Okay, first of all, that’s not what happened.”

Dustin glares at Steve, defensive over you. “Oh, really? I’m pretty sure it did, there were a lot of witnesses. Y/N included.”

“What are you implying, little Henderson?” Steve rubs his face, too tired for the kid’s mind games. He knows he was being weird earlier with Nancy, but he would never do that to you. Ever. He had simply been overwhelmed and confused and feeling a multitude of things that he still isn’t ready to face.

“I’m not implying anything,” Dustin puts his hands up. “All I’m saying is that I know you and Y/N have been fighting lately and that for some stupid reason, you’re doubting your relationship.”

Steve throws his head back against the seat. Of course you told Dustin about last night. “Look, I’m not-I’m not doubting our relationship, alright? I mean, I love her, man. So, so much. We just… things have been hard, lately. Really fucking hard.”

He isn’t sure how much you’ve told your brother. He doesn’t think you’d tell him about Jonathan, at least not until you know yourself whatever the hell he’d been trying to tell you the other night. 

Dustin doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He stares past Steve, his eyes almost seem to glaze over. “It’s because she’s leaving, isn’t it?”

All the air in Steve’s lungs gets knocked out of him. “Yes,” he breathes out. His mouth is dry. He swallows, his tongue feels too thick for his mouth. “Sometimes it feels like she’s, I don’t know, like she’s outgrown me? I-I know it’s stupid, but she’s going so far for college and I’m stuck in Hawkins like some fucking moron and she-she didn’t want me going with her.” 

“Did you know that I cried when she got into NYU?” Dustin asks him, a hurt smile on his face. When Steve shakes his head, the boy inhales deeply. “Yeah, cried like a baby the whole night. I mean, I knew she applied, I knew she’d get in, but… you’re right. She is going pretty far. I’ve never,” he wipes at his eyes quickly, embarrassed that he’s crying. “I’ve never had to spend a single day without my sister.”

Steve stares at your brother, finally beginning to understand the distance between the two of you. For weeks now it’s all you’ve complained about to Steve. How much you resented Eddie for being Dustin’s new favorite person, how much you miss singing with him in the kitchen while you baked. But now here Dustin is, teary eyed, explaining to Steve just how scared he is to be without his sister. “It feels like she’s leaving you, too.”

“Yeah,” Dustin wipes his eyes again, nodding. “Yeah, sometimes it feels like she can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Even though we’ll still be here,” Steve says solemnly. 

It’s quiet again. A few birds sing in the tree above them. You and Max haven’t returned, yet. After a while, Dustin turns to Steve. “She doesn’t mean it, you know.”

“Who?”

“Y/N,” the boy clarifies, and Steve’s heart skips a beat. “She doesn’t mean it when she says she doesn’t want you going with her to New York. She’s just… she’s scared, and she knows that it isn’t what you really want. Nothing gets past her, it’s really annoying.”

Steve scoffs a bit, fondness running through him. Dustin’s right. Nothing ever gets past you, you notice and see everything. But then he thinks about what your brother has said, the fear he hadn’t known about. “Why would she be scared?” 

Dustin stiffens in his seat, his gaze once again blurs. He twists his hands anxiously, fixes his hat. The atmosphere shifts, Steve can see that he’s uncomfortable now. He’s about to tell Dustin that he doesn’t have to answer, but the kid does anyways. “Our parents, they-um. Met in college.”

Steve sits up as well. You and Dustin never talk about your parents, at least not about your father. Steve can’t remember the last time you’ve even mentioned him. He thinks maybe the man had called you once, during Christmas. 

“They got married right before graduation. Our mom had been pregnant with Y/N, they got hitched and in their marital bliss, our dad somehow convinced our mom to leave Indiana. She grew up here, but our dad was from Virginia and he insisted that she move there.”

Bitter. Dustin is bitter.

“Everything was fine, I guess. I liked Virginia. Y/N did, too. But our mom was lonely, anyone could see that. We lived in a pretty small town, our dad was basically a goddamn Kennedy there. Everyone adored him, but our mom… things were different for her. She was always in his shadow, but Y/N and I were too young to notice for a long time.”

Steve swallows. “And then… the divorce?” 

“The stupid fucking divorce.” Dustin spits out. “It wasn’t a surprise, but somehow we still felt blindsided. One day our dad was charming, cracking jokes with everyone and playing the guitar with us, then the next he just-he snapped. Became bitter, mean. Y/N idolized him, but when our parents started fighting every night and our mom cried over some woman named Carry… I lost my sister, for a while.”

“She told me,” Steve whispers, remembering the rawness in your voice the night you confessed to him that you were once cruel. “I had to remind her that she came back, in the end.”

The corners of Dustin’s mouth turn upwards slightly. “Yeah, she came back.” But then his expression darkens, his mood sours. “Our mother almost didn’t, though. After having to move back to Hawkins with barely any money to support us, it basically destroyed her. She had lost all her friends by that point, her own parents died while we lived in Virginia.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve’s throat constricts. He hadn’t known any of this. He feels like such an asshole now for assuming the worst in you. For allowing his own insecurities to blind him. “I-I didn’t know about any of that.” 

“Yeah, well.” Dustin shrugs. “Now you do. And you need to know that Y/N is being her usual selfless self because of our mom and what happened to her. She doesn't want that happening to you, dipshit.”

Steve exhales through his nose, his head is swimming with so many more questions, so many apologies he wishes he could say. Instead, he stares out the window, waiting for you to return. 

–

“So, what would you girls like to discuss with me?” The clock on Ms. Kelly’s walk ticks ominously behind her. She’s seated you and Max in her basement den. You can tell by the stack of books and messy desk that she uses the area as her makeshift office. 

Max slouches against her seat. “Oh, it’s nothing too serious, we were just–”

“I’m worried about Max.” You interrupt the girl, not daring to look at her.

Ms. Kelly raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I think with all the murders happening, it might be affecting her.” It isn’t necessarily a lie. You have been worried about Max and her behavior. Especially these last few weeks. “It might be resurfacing some… memories.”

Max tries to argue, but Ms. Kelly holds her hand up. “You’ve both experienced trauma, Y/N. She lost her brother while you held his dying body.”

A lump forms in your throat, your lungs feel cold. 

The woman turns to Max, now. “And when you keep your feelings in, your pain, bottled up the way you do, it doesn’t take much to trigger them again. I can see why Y/N may be worried.”

Max doesn’t meet Ms. Kelly’s eyes. She swallows heavily and looks down at her hands. “Yeah, I know.”

“You know you can always talk to me, Max.” You say softly, wanting desperately to reach out to her. But you’re afraid it’ll only drive her further away.

She frowns at you. “Like how you talk to Dustin, or even to Steve?”

Her accusation cuts deeply. You hadn’t known that she was paying attention to you. That your disguised “I’m fine’s” weren’t convincing her. Max must know this, because she lowers her eyes again and mumbles a quiet apology. 

Ms. Kelly notices the tension and leans between the two of you. “Do you think you’re ready to talk more about that night?”

Max’s eyes gloss over briefly, her face distorts with discomfort. An onslaught of memories overtakes her, just as they overtake you. The echoes of her screams for her brother replay in your mind over and over again. The squelch of Billy’s blood trickles down your spine. You were right next to her when it happened. The blood still stains your clothes from that night at Starcourt. 

“I live next door to where it happened.” Max changes the subject, her voice returning. When Ms. Kelly asks for more clarification, she continues. “Next to where Chrissy was murdered. The cops asked me a bunch of questions. Did they talk to you?”

The woman sits up, apprehensive. She hadn’t been expecting to talk about this. You sit there quietly, head still pounding from earlier as Max takes over. She interrogates Ms. Kelly, who does her best to dodge every question, and suddenly the warmth in the room becomes unbearable. 

“Excuse me,” you stand up, hand clutching your stomach. Nausea swirls within you. You feel faint, the pounding has increased and sweat trickles down your neck. Both Max and Ms. Kelly look at you in concern, but you ignore them.

Blindly you stumble towards the kitchen you remember seeing when you arrived. Too nauseous and overwhelmed to care about niceties, you dig through Ms. Kelly’s cupboards until you find a cup. After filling it with water, the icey coolness of the liquid settles uneasily in your stomach. You lean over the sink, hands clutching the edge. Everything in your body feels unsteady.

Max comes up the stairs and finds you breathing heavily. “You’re not going to hurl, are you?”

“Trying really hard not to right now,” you breathe through your nose, out through your mouth. “Thanks for the concern.”

No response comes. Instead, footsteps walk up behind you. You hear metal clanking against glass, and when you turn around, you find Max holding up a pair of keys. She smirks, flashing you the white keyring attached to them labeled, “office”.

Your eyes bulge out of your head. “No, we are not stealing–” 

Except Max grabs your arm and practically flings you out the front door. She shoves you, urging you to start running towards Steve’s car, and all you can do is stumble over your feet and follow after her. When you make it back to the car, panting from the exertion and thrill, Steve and Dustin turn to you with wide eyes. 

“What’d she say?” Your brother asks, noting your frazzled appearance. 

“Nothing, just drive.” Max dismisses. 

“I just became a felon.”

The girl rolls her eyes at you. “Personal property theft isn’t a felony.”

“Jesus,” Steve does a double take, baffled by this entire conversation. “What the hell did you guys do in there?”

“Steve, drive!” Max shouts at him. 

The tires of the car squeal against the pavement as Steve steps on the gas. He steadies the car, a wild look in his eyes. “Where are we even going?”

“The school,” Max holds up the keys she stole.

Dustin looks at her incredulously. “Are those–”

“The keys to Ms. Kelly’s office? Yeah.” You nod grimly. “I told you, I’m now a felon.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic–”

A voice comes through Cerebro, cutting Max off. “Dustin? It’s Lucas. Do you copy?”

Relief washes over you hearing Lucas’ voice. Between tracking down Eddie and dealing with interrogating school guidance counselors, you’d also been slowly worrying yourself to death over the boy. It’s unusual for him to be quiet for so long, and with all the murders now occurring… You’d been terrified. 

“Lucas? Where the hell have you been?” Demands Dustin.

“Just listen, are you guys looking for Eddie?”

You and Steve share an uncertain look. Why would Lucas be radioing about him? How much does he know?

Your brother tells Lucas that you’ve found Eddie and tells him where he is, that he’s safe. Immediately, the boy responds, “You guys know he killed Chrissy, right?”

Predictably, Dustin doesn’t take this very well. “That’s bullshit, Eddie tried to save Chrissy.”

Lucas presses further, not believing what he’s hearing. Max snatches the radio from Dustin, tired of all the vague responses. “Lucas, you’re so behind it’s ridiculous, okay?”

“Technically we still haven’t elaborated on the whole Eddie thing,” you point out, which she glares at you for. 

“Y/N?” Lucas asks, surprised to hear you’re with them.

You grab the walkie. “Hey, how’s your day been?”

“Awful,” he responds bluntly while Steve snorts at your question. “Why are you guys so sure Eddie didn’t–”

“Just meet us at school. We’ll explain later.” Max instructs, leaning over the car’s console. 

“I can’t,” fear leaks through Lucas’ voice. You sit up now, looking at Steve again. He hears it, too. “I think some real bad shit’s about to go down.”

You feel your heartbeat pick up. “Lucas, what does that mean? Are you okay, where are you?”

“Sinclair!” A voice shouts, before the radio cuts into static. 

“Lucas? Lucas!” Max shouts into the walkie, but he doesn’t respond. She sounds scared, it’s the most emotion you’ve heard in her voice in months.

You’re no better. You sit in the passenger seat, numb. The voice, you recognized it. You’d know Jason Carver’s voice anywhere. Everything clicks; you remember how Lucas was supposed to go to the party after the basketball game. Chrissy had been Jason’s girlfriend before she was brutally killed. The cops would’ve questioned him, they would’ve told him how her body had been found in Eddie’s trailer. 

Eddie Munson, the town freak everyone hates. 

“What shit could Lucas get into?” Dustin questions, annoyance twinged with worry for his friend. 

You try to steady your breathing, nausea returning. You almost don’t recognize the sound of your own voice. “It’s Jason. He’s-he’s angry.”

The words settle in the car, linger in the air, before they crash heavily upon the four of you. The realization dawns on everyone, the inevitability of what will happen next is an unbearable weight.

Steve steps even harder on the gas. He knows the basketball team, how cruel teen boys can be. 

– 

Every time you’ve snuck into one of Hawkins’ schools, it’s never led to anything good. The first two times had been in the middle school for Will. Neither time involved very pleasant memories. This year you’re sneaking into the high school in order to violate your classmates’ privacy and read their deepest, darkest secrets.

“This feels wrong,” you huff under your breath, barely keeping up with Steve and the others as they run through the hallway. “I’d hate it if anyone read my file.”

“Would you rather risk anyone else dying?” Max responds, giving you a pointed look.

You frown but don’t say anything, figuring she’s right. As much as you hate to do this, it’s objectively the lesser of two evils. You’ll apologize to the students after this is done. If they question why you’ve baked them brownies, you’ll simply lie and say you had extra laying around. 

“Dustin, do you copy?” Robin’s voice carries over the radio. Your heart skips a beat hearing her, you’ve missed her today. After your brother responds, she starts to explain what she and Nancy found. “So, Nancy’s a genius.”

“What else is new?” You say, and Robin laughs.

“My thoughts exactly, pretty girl.” She clears her throat. “Anyways, Vecna’s first victims date back all the way to 1959. Her shot in the dark was a bull’s-eye.”

The new information startles you. Vecna first started killing in 1959? Why didn’t you hear anything about it until now, and why didn’t El sense him before?

Dustin looks equally unsettled by the news. “Okay, that’s totally bonkers, but we can’t really talk right now.”

“What are you doing?”

“Breaking and entering into the school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.”

You wince. It’s as bad as it sounds. Tapping Dustin’s shoulder, you break him away from the walkie. “Wait, we won’t need my files, right?”

Steve eyes you up and down, shrugging indifferently. “Well–” Hitting his chest, he sputters at you. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“You’re not reading my files, Harrington.”

Meanwhile, Dustin urges Robin and Nancy to meet you guys at the school. By the time their conversation wraps up, Max has unlocked the office door. She heads straight towards the drawers, long familiar with the layout; you follow after her.

Steve and Dustin look around while you and Max dig through the files. They mumble something about Watergate, but you can barely hear them over the rush of blood in your eardrums. Max’s fingers rest on a specific file. The name printed on it makes you feel sick.

Fred Benson.

“Holy shit,” she exhales, grabbing it.

“Found it?” Dustin stands next to you now, neck peering down. 

You struggle to breathe. “We didn’t just find Chrissy’s file.”

Dustin tilts his head, he doesn’t understand, and Max holds the file up. “Fred was seeing Ms. Kelly too.”

Steve and Dustin freeze. You can practically see their heartbeats still. The air in the room goes stale. Their eyes linger on you, they wish they couldn’t piece it together. Chrissy and Fred were seeing Ms. Kelly up until their deaths. You and Max have been seeing her, too. It’s one hell of a coincidence. 

But that’s all this is. A horrible, awful coincidence. 

“Y/N…” Steve breathes out, but you shake your head at him.

“Please,” your lip trembles. Not here, not now. He can’t look away from you, but you can’t bear to look at him. Instead, you grab the remaining files and hand them to Max. “We need to go through them. All of them.”

Dustin sits at the desk, Steve’s hand rests on the small of your back as you lean over Max to read the files. He shines a flashlight for the two of you, Chrissy’s file is the first one you read. The image of her once vibrant and alive smile stares back at you. There’s a column of writing to the left of her photo, the handwriting is neat, orderly, and it catches your attention.

“Are those…?”

“Symptoms.” Max softly answers, eyes skimming down the list.

Past trauma.

Terrible migraines.

Difficulty sleeping.

Headaches.

Max’s entire body tenses, her muscles pull taut against you. Your own body shakes, the tremors misalign your bones. Slowly, she looks up at you. Her eyes silently beg you to tell her that you’ve gotten it all wrong. Max’s blue eyes plead with you to tell her that none of this is real.

“Steve,” your voice catches, unable to inhale. “Can we see Fred’s file?”

He softly agrees, handing you the file immediately. You take it from him. The paper trembles in your unsteady grasp. Laying them down, you open the file and Fred’s photo burns you. Next to it is a list of symptoms.

They’re the same as Chrissy’s. 

They’re the same as yours. 

The headaches. Sleepless nights. The trauma you’ve been through, the nightmares that will never truly go away. Everything you’ve experienced within the last week. 

Nosebleeds is starred, and for a moment your heartbeat settles. You haven’t had a nosebleed since you were five. It isn’t one of your symptoms; it can all still be a coincidence.

“This-this can’t be right.” You don’t know if you say this to reassure Max or yourself, but when you look down at her, you know. She has a far off look in her eyes. She doesn’t react to what you’ve just said. 

It’s only then that you remember her nosebleed from earlier this week; it hadn’t been a coincidence. 

“Max?” You shake her shoulders, tears already in your eyes. You know better than to be so naive, so blindly ignorant. You should’ve known better. You should’ve known that something was wrong.

Dustin and Steve try to wake Max, but she’s already left her body. She’s unresponsive, lost in whatever trance she’s in. 

“Y/N, what’s happening?” Steve demands, fear in his own voice.

You’re hysterical, screaming and sobbing for Max to wake up. Her body is so small against yours, she’s frail and weak and her skin has never looked so translucent. Over and over you shake her, your palms rest against her cheeks and you cry.

You’ve come to know what fear is. How it can blind a person, leave them stricken with such raw anguish. Fear takes whatever air is left inside you and it poisons it with sulfur and leaves you choking. 

The day Will went missing, the only air left in your body had been blood. 

When inside the tunnels defending your little brother from monsters, the air in your body had been carbon. 

Starcourt mall and the fireworks that exploded over Billy’s dangling and bloodied body left only just enough air in your lungs to scream.

But this fear, seeing Max unresponsive to your pleas, this fear doesn’t spare you any air. 

Gasping and choking, you’re a wreck. “Max!”

Faintly you can feel Steve’s hands on you, or maybe they’re Dustin’s. Someone grabs you, pulls you away, but all you can do is scream.

It all makes sense now, Nancy’s question from earlier rings in your ears. You know why Chrissy and Fred were targeted. Why Ms. Kelly was somehow the center of it all.

The symptoms they experienced prior, the same ones that plague you and Max. You know what it is.

Venca’s curse.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 12

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11

He’s got to be heading to the quarry, right? That’s where he goes on Wednesday’s after school to sell his stash, he’d told Steve so umpteen notes back. Steve’s poured over each one enough times to damn-near have the things memorized.

He’s in his car, speeding fast enough that if Hopper catches his ass, he’ll be hauled into a jail cell before he can even make it. Steve pushes his foot down on the pedal harder, trying to eke out any last bit of speed.

When he reaches his destination, Carver’s car is parked sideways across the dirt road that leads off to the quarry, blocking anyone else from entering. Steve slams on his breaks, kicking up dirt all around him, obscuring his view of the windshield.

He steps out into it, dust gritting up his eyes. The only way out is through, so he heads toward the sound of raised voices, stumbling over a raised root as he goes.

He can just barely make out the words now.

“—leave her alone, or you’re dead, do you hear me?” Carver’s not yelling, but when he comes into view, his eyes are hard, and he’s clutching at Eddie’s t-shirt with enough force that he’s holding his knees off the ground.

There’s blood on Eddie’s face, dripping down off it and staining the dirt beneath him.

Steve doesn’t think. “Hey!” he calls, rushing forward to insert himself between them, but before he can, Carver drops Eddie into an ungainly heap on the ground and spins around to face Steve.

Steve lets him; if his eyes are on him, then he’s not looking at Eddie.

“Harrington?” Carver asks, shoulders slumping like Steve’s a friendly, not one wrong move from popping him one in the nose. “What are you—”

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here before the cops show?” Steve asks, using his Team Captain voice.

Steve watches it land. Carver’s shoulder slump, and he looks over Steve’s shoulder at where he’d abandoned his car. But then Eddie spits a glob of blood onto the ground, and Carver’s face shores up into something vicious.

“He was going to ask your girlfriend out, I heard all about it from his little friend!” Carver spits, like the words hurt as they come out of his mouth. “You should thank me on hands and knees!”

“I bet you’d love him on his knees,” Eddie cuts in, words slurring worryingly together.

Carver turns back toward Eddie, face gone almost translucent in the light of the afternoon sun. “Why, you—“

“Shut up, man,” Steve says, finally looking away from Carver to where Eddie’s on his knees, partially obscured by Carver’s body.

Eddie looks up at Steve, defiant as he spits a glob of saliva and blood into the dirt again then wipes his mouth with a shaking hand.

Steve stares down at him, stomach twisting in on itself as Eddie’s glare only intensifies. There hadn’t been much in his eyes when he’d been looking at Carver, but when he’s looking at Steve? That’s rage, barely banked by what must be a killer concussion. Steve turns away from it, unable to bear it a moment longer.

“What’s the point of this?” Steve asks Carver, the exhaustion he’s starting to feel leaking into his voice.

“Chrissy doesn’t need—”

“Chrissy is an adult who doesn’t need either of us fighting her battles for her,” Steve cuts in. “Besides, they’re friends.”

Carver’s mouth curls in on itself. “She would never be friends with this f—”

“She’d kick your ass herself if she heard you talking about Munson like that.”

Carver turns his back on Eddie entirely, glaring at Steve like they’re in some sort of quick-draw stand-off in a stupid Western. Steve’s tired of this guy and all his hate, he’s tired of people he loves being hurt, tired of having to be Chrissy’s shield against the asshole in front of him, and Robin’s shoulder to cry on, and going home to an empty fucking house.

He’s just tired.

It’s a relief when Eddie stands on his own two feet, legs visibly shaking but holding his weight. Because nothing will ever stop Eddie from being Eddie, he claps like Steve and Jason are kindergartners and he’s their beleaguered teacher sent to corral them.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eddie says, grinning around the blood in his teeth. “But there’s only so much jock on jock violence I can take before I break out in hives. So, can I go?”

He throws a taunting thumb over his shoulder where his van’s parked closer to the cliff’s edge, turning to stumble toward it without another word. Carver and Steve both rush to stop him for opposing reasons.

“I’m not done with you,” Carver hisses.

Steve grabs his shoulder, yanking him hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps. “Leave it, Carver, or I’ll ruin you.”

“What the hell could you even do?” Carver demands.

Steve stares him down, dead-eyed and entirely fed up. “I can tell Chrissy what you did, and she’ll lose what little respect she had for you. Then? I’ll have a meeting with Coach and get you kicked off the team. Then, who knows, maybe I’ll plant drugs in your locker, shave your head while you’re sleeping, vandalize school property in your name. Do you really want to stick around and find out what else I can think of?”

Carver holds his gaze for another, endless second before turning away and slinking back the way he came. Steve watches until Carver starts his own car, swerved recklessly close to Steve’s own parked car, and sped away.

When he turns back, Eddie’s nowhere to be seen. He slinks toward his van, unwilling to spook the guy further if he doesn’t need to.

He’s in the driver’s seat of his van, cursing as his shaking hands fumble with the keys, missing again and again as he tries to jam it into the keyhole.

“You can’t drive,” Steve says quietly.

Eddie still jumps, dropping the keys into the well beneath his feet as he snaps his head up, eyes wide and pupils eating up his face. There’s a bruise already swelling up his eyes, and blood caked beneath his nose. He looks a downright mess.

“Here to finish what your buddy started?” Eddie asks, showing off his bloody teeth again in a grin, as if Steve can’t see him shaking.

Steve shakes his head, throat clogged with too many words to name. What comes out is, “you’re not supposed to drive with a concussion.”

Eddie, tellingly, does not argue the concussion, but his bared teeth are starting to look more like a snarl as he replies, “I’m not leaving my van here.”

Steve stares at him. He’s sweating, with injury or panic, Steve’s not sure. There’s dirt in his hair, like before Steve had arrived, Jason had him on the ground, glossy curls pressed into the dirt. Steve clenches his hands into fists the more he sees. His t-shirt is black, but there’s a rip at its hem that Steve doesn’t think was there before.

He aches to reach through the open window and touch that busted face, find the split in his lip, clear the blood from beneath his nose.

Instead, he opens the driver’s side door, feeling like absolute scum as Eddie shuffles away, eyes wide as he presses himself as far away as possible as Steve climbs in.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, voice all wobbly.

Steve bends down to pick up the keys where Eddie had dropped them. He slides the key home and Eddie’s van tick tick ticks itself to life. When Eddie’s music blares, Steve reaches across to turn the dial down, ignoring Eddie’s flinch at his movement.

“Taking you home.”

Eddie’s van is bigger then he’s used to driving, the ride bumpier as he turns around and slides carefully past his own car, his keys probably still abandoned in the driver’s seat somewhere.

Hopefully it’ll still be there when he comes back for it.

*** 

“Did Chrissy put you up to this?” Eddie asks, voice small, small, small.

Harrington’s shoulders slump, clenched fingers loosening on the steering wheel. He sighs, long and loud, perfect hair rustling with the movement.

“Robin, actually,” he replies, lips tucked up into a facsimile of a smile.

Robin, Robin, Robin, does he know a Robin? His brain’s not working, too scrambled up inside. Eddie’s entire face aches as he scrunches it up in thought before cutting that shit out. No thinking for him until some of this heals. Still, he worries against the name, until, “Buckley?” comes out of his mouth.

Harrington smiles, warmer this time. “Yeah, she saw Carver following you.”

“And went to you?” Eddie asks, voice squeaking embarrassingly on the last word.

Harrington doesn’t answer, but his hands clench tight enough against the steering wheel that his knuckles turn white.

Eddie resolves himself to shutting the fuck up for the rest of the drive.

“How do you know where I live?”

“You’re…loud, dude,” Harrington says, pulling into Eddie’s empty driveway. Harrington’s right, he is loud. It still sounds like a lie. “Is your uncle home?”

Eddie squints, busted eye bursting with pain as he asks, “how do you know I live with my uncle?”

Harrington raises his eyebrow, clearly saying “you’re loud, dude,” again without even needing to open his mouth. Eddie kind of hates him for it.

“He’s on a fishing trip,” Eddie sighs.

Without another word, Harrington turns off the engine and slides out of the van, shutting the door gently behind himself. He rounds the front of the van and Eddie sits, stupefied in his seat as Harrington pulls open the passenger side door and holds his hand out like Eddie’s some swooning maiden. Feeling flustered and frustrated in turns, Eddie slaps his hand away and steps out of his van on his own two feet, slamming the door closed behind him.

Harrington doesn’t move out of the way as Eddie storms past, their shoulders banging into each other makes Eddie’s teeth rattle painfully in his bruised skull. He only remembers he doesn’t have his keys when he’s standing in front of his front door, hand empty.

He stares down at it, betrayed.

His house keys jingle in Harrington’s hand as he steps up beside him. Without even a by your leave, he inserts the key into the hole and twists, inexplicably choosing the right key on the first try. Is Steve Harrington a mind reader?

Harrington pushes the door open and holds it open for Eddie, as if it’s not his house they’re walking into.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie demands, standing on his own front porch like a loser as Harrington bends down and takes his sneakers off.

He lines them up neatly by the wall like he’s staying in The Ritz or something and doesn’t want to stain the dingy carpet.

“Taking my shoes off?”

“No!” Eddie wails, clutching handfuls of his hair, beyond frustration and into something that feels a lot like hysteria. “What are you doing here?”

Straightening up, Harrington stares down at Eddie where he’s still standing on his own porch. He looks incredulous, as if Eddie’s the one who’d saved him from getting killed by some jock, and Eddie’s the one who followed him home after like a lost puppy.

Like Eddie’s the one that doesn’t quite fit in the trailer park, and not Steve Harrington with his squeaky white shoes and ironed polo, and luscious hair, and skin that’s all sun-kissed even as summer’s barely a memory in a little girl’s eye.

“Your uncle’s not home.”

Eddie stares, gobsmacked. What the fuck are they putting in the water in Loch Nora, Jesus Christ! “So?!”

Harrington squints at him again, his aloof cool-guy shtick finally breaking to show the judgmental mean girl barely hidden beneath. “You’re totally concussed, dude,” Steve replies, a King handing down a decree to his loyal subjects. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t like, die.”

Eddie, never one to follow anyone’s decrees but his own, immediately starts bitching. “So, what? You’re playing home invader until someone comes to relieve you?”

He nods, smiling down at Eddie like he’s a puppy who finally learned not to piss on the carpet. Fed up with being a rung lower, Eddie takes that last step up onto the stoop and brushes past Harrington into his own goddamn house.

Harrington shuts and locks the door behind him.

Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor for the first time in his life, Eddie continues further into the trailer without turning around, not stopping until he’s got the bathroom door as a barrier between his vulnerable back and the latest interloper.

The light hurts his eyes as he flicks it on. His face hurts worse, and he can see why, now. One of his eyes is well on its way to swelling shut, a deep red bleeding into purples the farther out it goes. There’s blood beneath his nose, and it’s ballooning out making him look like some old lady’s prized pug. There’s a split going straight through his lip from Carver’s class ring.

He looks like an extra in a horror movie; the guy who’s about to make the sacrifice play because he’s not going to make it. And yeah, maybe there’s a little melodrama in the thought, but Eddie’s pretty sure he deserves it at this point.

God, what a day.

As punctuation to his own thoughts, someone knocks quietly on the door. Eddie’s ribs ache as his shoulders slump, head hanging damn-near into the dirty sink.

“Eddie?” There’s a moment of silence where Eddie’s response is supposed to be. He doesn’t heed it. “Can I come in?”

Eddie groans, loud enough that it’s gotta be audible through the tissue-paper door between them. “Why?” he says–whines pitifully, really.

“I want to check your injuries.”

Eddie, against his better judgment, cracks the door open wide enough to peer through. “What’s it to you, Dr. Harrington?” he asks, that same question wrapped up in a new package. Why are you here, why do you care, what do you want from me?

Harrington just smiles, and pushes at the door with just enough force that Eddie has no choice but to back up and let his unwanted guest in.

He takes Eddie’s face in his hands, rubbing gentle fingers against each wound, murmuring soothing placations. It works enough that Eddie stands still as Harrington sanitizes and bandages each of his wounds.

“You should ice them after this, okay?”

Eddie nods dumbly because Harrington’s moved on from painfully prodding his face to running his fingers through his hair, checking every inch of his skull for bumps and bruises.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” he asks.

Eddie hums, relaxing against his will, body slumping into the cupboard behind him as those nimble fingers have their way with him.

“My ribs, maybe,” Eddie murmurs, eyes closing as Harrington’s fingernails scrape against his scalp before he withdraws his fingers.

His eyes snap back open a second later when those same fingers yank his shirt up without asking, warm palms chasing away the chill on his skin as they skirt over his ribcage, applying gentle pressure to whatever Harrington finds. Eddie shivers involuntarily as Harrington bends down, breath puffing against his stomach.

“Wh—what are you doing?” Eddie asks, stuttering over every other word.

He’s clenched up tight enough that his whole body aches with it—spine, jaw, wrists. But then Harrington looks up at him, usually impeccable hair softened by the day and flopping gently into his face. Eddie always assumed his eyes were brown, but they look sort of gold in the shitty fluorescent light of the bathroom.

He’s never been this close to Harrington before.

“Checking your ribs,” he replies, breath puffing against Eddie’s uncovered skin with every word. “Does that hurt?”

And then he just dismisses Eddie in favor of palpitating what must be a nasty bruise. Eddie whines, inexplicably, embarrassingly, before squeaking out a tiny, “no,” when Harrington looks back up at him with his big, worried, puppy-dog eyes.

Eddie’s own words to Carver make a reappearance, flashing red in neon lights inside his empty skull—I bet you’d love him on his knees. He’s on them now, between Eddie’s spread thighs, looking at Eddie’s body with an intensity that’s skinning him alive.

His skull’s not empty now; it’s bursting with half-formed thoughts, and panicked wheezing he hopes is just internal, and through it all, the words run rampant—on his knees, on his knees, on his knees.

Steve Harrington stands up, takes a step back, and smiles at Eddie. “I think they’re just bruised,” he says, seeming not to notice Eddie’s ragged breathing. “We should ice them, too.”

And then he just…walks out of the bathroom like Eddie’s not full to bursting with thoughts and feelings he doesn’t understand. Like it wasn’t Harrington that had dropped them at his feet—on his knees.

*** 

Steve sticks his head into Eddie’s freezer and resists the urge to scream. It’s just—Eddie had been blushing when Steve had looked up from checking his ribs for cracks. Steve’s never seen him blush before, and it’s seared into his brain (the way it’d started from his ears and meandered across his cheeks before slowly spreading its splotchy hue down his neck).

For a second, it was almost like Eddie didn’t hate him.

Steve suppresses the thought. Boys shouldn’t have crushes on straight boys who hate their guts, and letting even the tiniest flutter of hope touch his heart would be stupider still. There’s his silly little notes, and there’s his pining little glances.

He doesn’t need anything else.

“Are…you okay?” Eddie’s hesitant voice comes from behind him.

Abruptly remembering his position, Steve pulls his head out of the freezer and grabs the first bag he sees: a half-full package of frozen peas. He turns to Eddie with the best smile he can manage, holding them up as explanation for the unasked What the hell are you doing? hidden beneath the bemused smile on Eddie’s lips.

“Just finding you some ice, dude,” Steve replies breezily, walking over to drop the bag into Eddie’s hand.

“Uh, thanks?” he replies, walking past Steve to close the freezer he’d left open. Steve winces. “You can like, go now.”

It’s a demand hidden beneath a polite question. Steve’s feet start moving toward the door before he remembers the lump he’d felt on the back of Eddie’s head, and the way his eyes had gone all glassy and dazed in the bathroom as Steve had patched him up.

“Unless you want to call someone else, you’re stuck with me until your uncle gets here.” Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but Steve holds up his hands palm out, forestalling his complaints. “Possible concussion, dude.”

Eddie whines, actually stamping his foot squeakily against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. Steve smiles, helplessly endeared, and hates himself for it.

“Why is it your problem if I nod off in my sleep, you don’t even like me.”

The warm feelings flee like they’d never been there at all.

Steve turns his back on Eddie’s petulant frown and stomping feet, unwilling to look him in the eye as the emotions crash through him. Just for a second, he lets his face drop.

“I like you, just fine,” Steve replies, ignoring the little scoff from Eddie in reply.

The trailer’s small and crowded with things on damn-near every surface, but it’s cozy. Steve’s imagined this moment—getting through the Munson’s front door and finally seeing what’s inside. It’s warm, a hot cup of tea, a blanket on a cold night, somewhere to feel safe in.

All Steve feels is cold.

Instead of answering Eddie’s scoff, Steve lets his own little tantrum stomps lead him over to the ratty couch. He sinks down, crossing his legs as he leans back into the cushions, and finally, finally looks at Eddie. He’s still pouting, bottom lip having split open against the pressure of his frown. Steve raises a pointed eyebrow before turning back around to stare at the black of the TV screen.

Eddie groans again, and it takes all his willpower not to turn around, not to let his shoulders curl in as he hears footsteps coming closer. But, all Eddie does is settle onto the other side of the couch and grab the remote.

It’s going to be a long night. 

PART 13

[l0nelyish]

It‘s about that sandwich!

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

prompt: where you just can’t help but stun Natasha… and maybe get on her nerves? she doesn’t know which one it is.

nothin but pure fluff and nat being pouty af

lil bit of grumpy nat x sunshine reader if you squint.

3rd pov

„That‘s it.“, Wanda turned around, confused. Witnessing Natasha angry, sure thing. Witnessing her confused? never.

“What’s the matter with you, everything alright?”

Natasha huffed, pouting almost childlike. It’s so not like her to seem this openly frustrated, but she couldn’t care less. “Do I seem alright to you? No. This is the fifth time this month she’s been emptying one of the pbj ingredients before i could make one for myself.”, she dragged her eyes across the room, almost analyzing as in ‘hide and seek’. Where could you have been? And why do you have to steal ‘her’ ingredients? Natasha was bothered by you, yes. Extremely.

Wanda took another look at Natasha and chuckled: “Damn, does a peanut butter and jelly sandwich really have that much value to THE black widow? Oh my Lord.”

Natasha almost wanted to hit Wanda in the head with her slices of bread. It was really tempting, she had to admit. The witch shot her a knowing look, most likely hearing her thoughts. Again, the Russian woman huffed. Her temper was really not her strongest suit. Especially not after provoking it.

“It has a decent amount of value, thank you. What do you want me to say? ‘Oh my God! I can’t live without a pbj sandwich! Help me!’ ?”, Natasha shot her a glare, sarcasm being her best suited form of selfdefense. She truly is a witty woman.

On the other side of the kitchen aisle, Wanda tried her best not to fall into a laughing fit. Never has she ever seen Natasha this distressed, this fuzzy. And then, after really considering who they were discussing, she sent her friend a knowing smirk:

“Are you really this cranky about two bread slices or is it because of your ‘definitely not crush’ ?”

Natasha stared at her, eyes blown in shock: she got caught. Again. She usually wouldn’t let someone else read her this easily, but since this is you they’re talking about, and it’s Wanda she’s talking to, there really is no reason to facade it. Still, she tries to deny: “I told you a hundred times, I don’t like her! I can’t even stand her. I mean, she empties the food. What am I supposed to eat now?” So wrong. Even Natasha knows her whole act of trying to hate and blame you for everything is not working and it’s just her best shot at ignoring the rising feelings she’s got for you. But could anybody blame her, really? When you were this excited, extremely beautiful, empathetic and shiny human being?

You entered the kitchen, unaware of the ongoing dispute. Hot on your heels, you scanned the room and reacted to Natashas last sentence: “Did Steve forget the groceries? Are you hungry?”

And just like that, after merely 5 seconds, Natasha dreaded holding a grudge. Her whole demeanor snapped (no pun intended) and her eyes gazed almost neutrally into your warm gaze: “Someone emptied the whole peanut butter jar. And now I can’t make my dinner.”

Surprisingly, you sent her a goofy smile: “Oh! That must have been me, I’m extremely sorry, Tasha. I do have another half of my pbj sandwich left though, I was about to refrigerate it.”, you held up your plate. She gave it a look and panicked internally: were you really about to share your meal? As if gathering her freight, you again sent her a toothy smile and handed her the leftover half. “Enjoy!”, was all you stated, leaving both women standing around the kitchen isle. Plus the pbj sandwich, which Natasha stared at for longer than necessary. The corners of her mouth started to form a smile, which after some contemplation she insisted on not following through.

Wanda, who encountered the whole interaction, had a huge smirk on her face.

Natasha on the other hand, without having to look at her friends face, mentally face palmed herself for always getting so stuck up around you.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything… but enjoy your meal.”, with that, Wanda left a flushed Natasha stood in the compound’s kitchen.

The widow took another look at your, no her, plate. And after a year, she still can’t wrap her head around it:

What was she going to do about you?

[buckyalpine]

I'm just throwing out an idea while attending to my garden of boundless wips but just imagine the compound getting attacked and the one area that's the most damaged is the lab. Hackers want to steal all the Stark technology and they stop at nothing, waiting for the team to leave before they destroy the building, blowing the structure till it crumbles. The only one still remaining in the building is the lab tech.

The jet nears the compound; Tony and Steve are already suited up again while Sam adjusts his wings, Nat and Clint armed and ready to go.

Everyone but Bucky.

"Tony was anyone still in the building?" His face is filled with horror, staring at the smoke emitting from the areas that were hit, his heart hammering against his chest.

"My lab tech, y/n, she was still working when we left" Tony ran a hand over his face and the color drains from Bucky's cheeks.

"WHERE IS SHE" Bucky does everything in his power not to lose control, snapping back into soldier mode and strapping his weapons, shoving past Steve so he can jump out first as they near the compound.

"Barnes its okay, we'll find her" Tony reassures him but he can't hide the confusion on his face because why on earth was Bucky this concerned over his lab assistant. They had never spoken a word to each other, in fact he didn't even realize Bucky knew you existed.

"She's pregnant!" Bucky had never sounded so scared in his life, pulling himself together to keep from breaking down.

"What-when-how-how do you know" Tony had never felt more confused in his life while the others all whip their heads around, shocked at what he'd just said.

"That's my wife"

The jet doors open and Bucky is the first one out, sprinting through smoke and flames till he gets to the worst part of what's left, debris and rubble scattered over the floor. Bodies hit the floor as he takes out anyone that he sees without a second guess. He frantically searches, holding back his emotions till he spots the broken glasses first. Dust and crumbles cement cover your unconscious form, blood dripping from you forehead and he doesn't pause to try and wake you up himself.

She's in his arms and he's rushing to the med wing while the rest of the team trail behind him, seeing as he's already killed anyone that broke in. Once your taken in, all he can do is wait, pacing up and down the hall till he's given the all clear to see you. He sits by your bed, desperately holding onto your hand, Steve being the first to check on his best friend while the the others quietly enter after.

No one breathes a word till you finally open your eyes, giving you and Bucky privacy till you're ready to see the others. He's tucked into bed with you as they enter, his arm wrapped around your tummy, rubbing soft circles with his metal hand. You weren't showing much yet, seeing as it was still early on.

"Okay, spill, when did you marry my lab tech" Tony playfully teased while Bucky blushed, hugging you closer.

"Last year" He admitted, while Steve smirked, coming over to check on you.

"Doing okay sweetheart?" The blonde asked, plopping down on a chair beside your bed, smiling when you nodded, "How's my godchild"

"You knew?" Sam wacked Steve's shoulder only to be met with a snicker from both soldiers.

"Who do you think was the bestman" The captain smiled proudly while you giggled, giving Tony a sheepish smile.

"I was gonna tell you Mr. Stark"

"When, did you think I wouldn't notice a little super soldier running around the lab?" He cocked an eyebrow with a smile.

"You knew?" Sam repeated, still deeply offended while Steve shook his head, kissing your forehead before getting up so you could get some rest. The rest of the team followed after, deciding to bombard the two of you with questions after you'd slept.

"YOU KNEW?"

"Give it a rest Sam"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Almighty Captain, Never lies, Sir Honest A Lot, YOU KNEW?"

"Sam"

"YOU KNEW?!"

I'm sorry, this wasn't the most organized drabble, just an idea I wanted to toss out into the world.

[royalsweetteaa]

Hi can you do a Steve Rogers x shy reader smut

Where she’s shy to make moans while Steve paces harder to make a moan🥰

Title: Music to my ears

Pairing: dom!Steve Rogers x shy!reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: explicit smut, smut with no plot, fluff, rough sex, dom!Steve Rogers, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamic, p in v sex, cumshot, praise kink, pet names.

It’s quiet as the only noise echoing in the bedroom is the queen sized bed squeaking.

Steve is on top of you, entering the stage of home base as he pushes the tip of his cock past your pussy lips and into your pulsing core. He already goes into a steady pace with your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

Your breathing becomes heavier, but that’s about the only sound he gets to enjoy from you while he in contrast audibly grunts. Light squeaks leave your lips at best, and while he absolutely adores those short little noises, he knows there’s more in you.

He knows you’re ashamed and you keep feeling the need to suppress those moans and cries as he makes you feel good with the way his cock hits your cervix with each thrust.

He has heard you scream from horror before as you have watched scary movies together, so he knows the high level of sound your lungs can create.

And oh, how he wishes to hear you scream from pleasure.

Steve doesn’t stop praising you as he continues to roll his hips against yours, his huge cock thrusting in and out of your tight hole, making you see stars by how much he fills you.

“Feels so good being inside of you, baby…” Steve groans as he closes his eyes for a moment, taking in the way your pussy sucks in his cock as he drags himself out before he fucks home again. “I’m going to move a little faster from now on, is that okay?”

You nod shyly as Steve plunges in deeper, and you quickly slap a hand around your mouth to keep quiet as the pool of arousal in your abdomen tests your limits. Already by then, you pick up the look of disapproval Steve pulls, and you frown.

“A-ah, no covering your mouth. I won’t allow it anymore...” Steve sets the new rule as he pins your hand to the side, making your eyes go wide as blood rushes through your cheeks.

“B-But…- mmmhaaah!” A sudden mewl is ripped out of you as Steve starts to pound into you faster, his heavy balls beginning to slap against your ass at the quicker pace.

You become overwhelmed, your mouth left hanging to let out cries for each thrust Steve performs. Embarrassment showers over you like cold water, but the heat from Steve’s breath tickling your neck and the constant friction is enough to distract you from it.

In final attempts you try to keep your mouth shut, but Steve surprises you yet again as he holds you by the chin and kisses you, slipping in his tongue to meet yours. It’s beyond erotic, and it prevents you from keeping any noises slip. When he pulls back, he gives you the warmest smile, stroking your cheek ever so lovingly before he speaks.

“I know you’re shy, hun…but I’m about to show you how much I want to hear you…how desperate I am to have you moan for me…if you won’t allow yourself to make noises, I’ll have to force them out myself.”

He thrusts harder, making sure you feel every inch of his thick shaft slide inside of your wet cunt. Your eyes roll back with your head as you let out the loudest moans you have ever made before. Steve holds you by the hips, pulling you back as he slams into you, causing his cock to enter you ever so deep. You cry out so loud you think everyone in the city must be hearing it, but Steve’s hums of delight reassures you there’s nothing to worry about.

“Mmmh, my love…I could never say enough about how wonderful you sound. Keep making those sounds, be as loud as you want. Let me know how amazing it feels to be stretched…how much you crave to be fucked…”

“O-Oh Steve…Aaaaah!~ Feels too good! I-I can’t - nngh!~ M’gonna cum!” Cries and moans escape your mouth uncontrollably now as Steve pounds away, making him grin with pride. There it is, he thinks.

“That’s my girl…cum for me, doll…sing for me…”

Your back arches against him as you reach your climax through a cry, making your cunt hug Steve’s cock tighter as a new flow of wetness surrounds inside. Steve grunts and snaps his hips into you once more before pulling out, cumming all over your stomach and making a hot mess.

He pants with his chest rising, and hovers over you one last time to kiss your lips tenderly before he lays down to rest next to you.

Steve sighs with content, “That was…”

“Embarrassing…” you barely mutter with your palms hiding your face.

Steve frowns, and let’s out a sudden chuckle as he playfully pinches your cheek, “It was no such thing, my love. Quit speaking nonsense. You were amazing…made me cum so hard and fast hearing your cute cries as you clung onto me desperately during your orgasm…you’re my precious doll…” he picks a towel by the nightstand and cleans his mess off your stomach before he drags you closer to him, giving your shoulder a peck.

“…I love every part and aspect of you. Don’t think otherwise...” He whispers, and it makes your stomach swirl with butterflies at his reassurance.

N/A: Thank you for some inspiration, anon! This became just a simple drabble but it helped getting my writing skills in use!

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! Thank you! <3

[biteofcherry]

Morning menace

alpha!Steve Rogers x omega female reader

warnings: none; unless we count early morning (basically night) rudeness

Author's Note: This is a short, silly thing inspired by my own "eagerness" to get up in the morning 😂 Shout out to the always amazing @buckets-and-trees, who often has to hear my grumpiness in the wee hours 😆

Grain of Truth Masterlist

Main Masterlist

There’s an annoying beeping sound that spears through the sweet, comfy clouds of slumber and you clench your eyelids shut harder, hoping that some bird of prey would swoop in and swallow that shrilling monster. 

Your pillow moves, adding to the growing annoyance as your subconsciousness tries the hardest to hold onto sleep. 

Finally, that irritating sound ceases, but your pillow continues to slip away. 

So you tighten your grip on it and move your leg further around the wide, hard breadth of it; clutching it both with your arm and your thighs. 

“Come on, babe,” a raspy, deeply masculine voice enters your sleep. 

The sound of it is very pleasant, making you hum in delight and snuggle into the warm pillow. Unfortunately, his words are far from what you want to hear.

“It’s time to get up.” 

“No.” Your reply comes instantly, your nose scrunching up in detestation. 

A low chuckle follows your refusal. Then an arm, which was cradling your back, moves along your spine. A big, strong hand gently grips the back of your neck; his thumb rubbing up and down. 

“I’m afraid it really is. We need to leave in an hour.” 

“No leaving. Staying. An’ sleepin’.” You grumble and though your eyes are still closed and your mind is keeping you halfway submerged in sleep, you recognize that the pillow you’re partially draped over is in fact your Alpha. 

To emphasize your stance on getting up, you roll your body fully on top of him. With a huff, you press your head under his chin and twine your limbs around his massive body. 

“I know you hate early mornings, Sweet Brat.” Steve laughs, palming your naked ass with his free hand. “But we’re about to go for vacation, if you remember. Two weeks away. And then you can sleep even till noon. But to get there, we agreed to leave early.” 

“I would never agree to such idiotic idea.” You protest, growing more annoyed as your sleep starts to truly fade away the longer you continue conversation with the very rude Alpha. 

Steve only snorts. Then attempts to move. To which you respond by clinging harder and giving a small, displeased whine. 

The way he instinctively gives a short purr to soothe you has your lips curving in a smile and your cheek pressing against his sternum. 

“Ten more minutes,” Steve sighs. “I’ll start a breakfast for us. But not a second longer, grumpy brat.”

You whine again, more petulantly this time, as Steve manages to gently roll away from under you. Your body sinks into the warm spot on the mattress that’s soaked with your mate’s scent. 

You instantly bury your nose into it, your body dropping back into a fully relaxed state, so eager to trott back into the dreamland. 

“What kind of vacation requires getting up at this ungodly hour? I don’t want a vacation like that.” You try to reach for the covers, but they seem to be too far away. You’d have to open your eyes to find them, but you really don’t want to. 

“I’d rather stay here. In bed. And rot.” You mumble into the sheets. “You go on stupid early vacation yourself.” 

“You’re worse than Bucky.” Steve gives an exasperated sigh. “And he’s really insufferable before 9AM.” 

Giving a little kick with your leg, you turn your face to the other side and reach for a pillow to cover your head with. In case your bossy Alpha decided to lift the blinds and scorch you with morning sun. 

Though you were pretty sure there was no sun yet on the horizon. There couldn’t be. It was too fucking early! It was basically still night.

“Then maybe go on this mid-night vacation yourself and send Bucky here to me. We’ll be grumpy together and sleep like normal people do.”  

You shriek aloud, your eyes opening instantly, when a brutal sting burns your asscheek. Then another one lands, on the other side of your butt. 

Before you get a chance to react to the spanking, Steve grips your ankles and pulls you across the mattress in one, swift move. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed, feet kicking above the floor. Then strong hands are gripping your hips and you’re lifted into the air. 

Steve turns you in his arms, with the skill of a man who’s done that plenty of times, so you’re facing him. It’s body memory, or whatever cognitive reaction, to wrap your legs around his hips as he carries you. 

The light in the bathroom turns on, causing your eyes to squint in protest. With another huff, you hide your face in the crook of Steve’s neck. He really smells good in the morning. Damn  him! 

He eases you down, until your feet touch the tiled floor. He cups your chin and tilts your head up.

“You have fifteen minutes to get ready, Sweet Brat. And if you even try to sneak back into bed, I’ll make sure that sitting through the few hours drive is going to be a real pain in your cute ass.” 

You scowl at him, but either your sleepy, straight-out-of-bed look doesn’t help with the murderous effect, or your Alpha simply isn’t bothered by your non-verbal threats. 

Quite the opposite, he flashes you a bright smile. Then, still holding your chin in his hand, he seals a short, but rather intense kiss on your lips. 

You watch him leave, still glaring. And maybe - but only a tiny bit - ogling. 

“Next year I’m gonna opt for staycation,” you mutter under your breath.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Boss -(long) Oneshot

Word count: 9284 This one got away from me... sorry. Hope you like it, tho!

Part 2 Part 3

Y/N smiled as she stared up at the huge high rise building.  It was her first day working at Avengers Legal, the offices of Barnes, Rogers and Stark.  She had been really lucky to find an opening as one of the head lawyers’ personal assistants, she just didn’t know which one yet.  She had a little background in law, but didn’t go to law school, as much as that killed her parents.  A little bump in the road in the shape of her now ex boyfriend had derailed that future, and after freeing herself she was now working on her fresh start.  She followed the instructions from the head of HR that she had been in contact with, and walked out of the elevator to the smiley woman sitting at the reception desk.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked in a chipper tone.

“Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.  It’s my first day?” Y/N said.

“Oh!  The new personal assistant!  Yes, Pepper told me,” she said happily.  She stood and held out her hand.  “My name is Kamala Khan.  Receptionist.”

“Kamala, that’s beautiful,” Y/N complimented her, and Kamala smiled even wider.  

“You’re sweet.  I like you already,” Kamala said.  “Follow me.”  She moved around the desk and walked ahead of Y/N towards the hallway to the right.  “Now I don’t know which partner you’re working with,” she said lowly, sidling up to Y/N.  “And please don’t let this scare you off, but each of them work differently.”  

“Okay,” Y/N said, speaking quietly as well.

“If you get Steve, that’s the Rogers part, he’s a sweetie.  Super friendly.  If you get Tony, the Stark part, he’ll tease and make fun of you, he’s very sarcastic, and sometimes he’ll flirt or compliment you like crazy, but it’s never gross and he means nothing by it.  He’s married to Pepper.”  Y/N nodded, intaking all the information as best as she could.  “Then there’s James, the Barnes part.  He’s the more serious of the three.  Friendly, but busy, very professional and no-nonsense.  He likes things done quickly and efficiently.  If he lets you call him his nickname, Bucky, then you know you’re in the inner circle.”

“Inner circle?” Y/N asked as Kamala stopped in front of a door that read Pepper’s name and title.

“It’s like the main team of Avengers Legal,” Kamala said, nearly whispering.  “The partners, their top legal assistants that get to have the most fun or high profile cases, and only the best personal assistants.  Those are the ones that get to travel with them, and usually get to network with top of the line people in the industry.  It opens a lot of doors,” she said, raising her hand to the door.  “So good luck with whoever you get.”

Y/N nodded as Kamala finally knocked.  “Come in!” a voice called out.  Kamala opened the door and gestured for Y/N to enter first.  “Y/N!  Welcome,” Pepper said and stood from her desk.

“Hello, it’s good to see you again,” Y/N said, walking over and shaking her hand.

“Thank you, Kamala,” Pepper called out behind her, and Kamala smiled and closed the door.  “I’m sure she gave you all the beginner’s gossip,” Pepper smirked as she sat back down and gestured for Y/N to sit at the chair in front of the desk.

“Yes, she did,” Y/N huffed a laugh.  

Pepper rolled her eyes.  “The partners are all just overworked, typical men.  Not nearly as special as they like to think they are.”  Y/N bit back a smile.  “That being said, after reviewing your profile and discussing things with them, I think you’ll be best fit with Mr. Barnes.”  Y/N felt a little trepidation at that from what Kamala had said, but nodded.  “He’s…quiet,” Pepper said, choosing her words carefully.  “But honestly one of the best attorneys in the state.  He runs a tight ship, and expects the best out of anyone working under him.  If they disappoint him, he can have quite a temper, but he’s normally very friendly.”

“Are you trying to convince me to back out?” Y/N asked with a smile.

“No!  God no, please stay,” Pepper said, waving her hands in front of her.  “I’m just trying to forewarn you.  He’s had a hard time keeping a personal assistant for the last few years.”

Y/N nodded.  “And he is aware that I’m not a paralegal?”

“Yes,” Pepper nodded back.  “We don’t blur lines when it comes to personal assistants versus legal assistants.”

“Then I’m ready,” Y/N said.

She signed the contract for her employment, then Pepper gave her a tour of the office and had her meet the teams and other partners.  Finally they walked into the office that had his name on it.  “Buck?  I’d like to introduce you to your new personal assistant,” Pepper said as she held the door open for Y/N.  Y/N walked in and took a quick look around at his office before her eyes landed on him sitting in the desk chair.  She had to stop her eyes from widening when she met his gaze.  That is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

“Meet Y/N Y/L/N.  Y/N, this is Bucky. Oh!” Pepper rolled her eyes.  “I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Pepper but gave her a teasing smirk.  “Thanks Pepper,” he said in a dismissive tone.  

Pepper scoffed then squeezed Y/N’s upper arm.  “Come see me before you leave today.”

Y/N smiled and nodded at her and Pepper walked out, closing the door behind her.  Y/N took that short moment to look him over.  Tall, broad shouldered, and from what she could see, built under his suit that was impeccably tailored to him.  His dark brown hair was long and tied back in a small man-bun, which was surprising as a lawyer, but that coupled with his full beard offset the austerity of his suit and made him seem approachable.  His bright blue eyes were looking her over, too, like he was sizing her up.  It was an intense stare, and she had to stop herself from shrinking under his gaze.

She took the initiative and walked forward to his desk.  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” she said, offering her hand to him.

Bucky looked at her hand then back to her face, his hand reaching forward as he smiled politely.  “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand firmly.  Y/N made sure to be firm in her grip with him, and his smile slightly widened.  “Take a seat, and we can go over what it is I expect from you.”

Y/N sat and took out a notebook and pen from her bag, getting comfortable in her seat then looking up at him expectantly.  Bucky seemed to be watching her carefully, and she could start to see a small tell in the type of smirk he gave as to how he was feeling.  The wider smirk he gave Pepper was a friendly one, whereas these small ones as he greeted her were when he was impressed with something or pleasantly surprised.  They had a good, long discussion about what it was he wanted, how he liked to work with others, his normal routine and the possibility of travel at times, but she wouldn’t hold her breath for that.

“That’s about everything I can think of,” Bucky said.  “Any questions?”

“Yes, what’s your favorite drink order?” Y/N asked as she finished jotting down her last notes. 

Bucky scoffed.  “My favorite drink order?”

Y/N smiled.  “Just in case.”

His impressed smirk came back.  “Lately it’s been sweetened matcha.”

“Sweetened with what?” Y/N asked.

“Surprise me,” Bucky said.

Y/N smiled widely.  “Yes sir.”

Bucky frowned.  “No sirs.  Mr. Barnes in front of clients, otherwise Bucky is fine.”

She beamed at him for accepting her so quickly.  “Alright…Bucky.”

***

This job was a baptism by fire.  Y/N was thrown into work life with Bucky, accompanying him all around the city, taking endless notes in meetings and relaying messages to his legal team.  Per Bucky’s request she became close with all the assistants on his legal team, learning the process of working on a case and seeing how they all worked together.  She also scheduled everything in his personal life, making sure he was getting to doctor's appointments, picking up the dry cleaning, making sure the house cleaner was on time, taking personal phone calls during the work day, and handling anything else she could anticipate for him. 

Kamala was right, he was very particular and wanted efficiency above all else.  He didn’t like people wasting his time, and expected everyone to be at their best while at work.  There were times Y/N would catch him having a casual moment with one of the other partners, Steve, who was his best friend from childhood.  He would laugh at something Steve said and she’d be gifted with the sight of his full, real smile that he rarely gave anyone.  That being said, as the months went by he was opening up to Y/N, teasing her, making jokes and even at times bordering on flirtatious.

Steve was still looking for a new personal assistant, since his previous one, Peggy, he just so happened to start dating seriously, and since they struggled to differentiate work versus their personal lives she had resigned.  Every once in a while Bucky would lend Y/N out to Steve to help with some things that he needed while Pepper was in the process of finding him a new assistant.  “Good morning, Steve,” Y/N greeted him one day while she was helping him for a week.  She daintily put down a large coffee cup in front of him and his eyes widened.

“Oh you angel,” he whispered, grabbing the warm cup.  He brought it to his lips, taking a slow sip and he hummed appreciatively.  “You’re heaven sent, you know that?”

“I know,” Y/N smirked.  

“Oh I see how it is,” Bucky’s voice came from behind her.  She turned to find him walking toward her into Steve’s office with a teasing smile.  “One week with this jerk and you forget all about me.”

“Punk,” Steve spat as he sipped his coffee.

Y/N rolled her eyes and held up the other cup in her hand.  “How could I forget your cafe style sweetened matcha with three pumps of lavender and oat milk?”  Bucky hung his head and huffed a laugh as he took the cup from her.  “You just came here before I had a chance to come to you.  So needy,” Y/N teased him.  She took out her work phone provided by the firm and started scrolling.  “By the way, your date from last week keeps texting and calling.  What excuse do you want me to give dearest Dottie?”  

Bucky groaned and Steve laughed loudly.  “What was wrong with this one, Buck?” Steve snorted.

Bucky glanced at Y/N like he wasn’t sure how to talk about it in front of her.  “Well, judging by these texts, she’s very thirsty,” Y/N said in a deadpanned tone, making Steve almost spit out his coffee.  “Like, all of the time,” Y/N said.  “Shall I?” she smiled wickedly, waving the phone in front of Bucky’s face.

His eyes widened and he slammed the drink down before lunging toward her to grab the phone but she sidestepped him and ran behind Steve’s desk.  “Read it!  Read it!” Steve said, standing from his chair to block Bucky from getting to Y/N.

“Don’t you dare!” Bucky growled as he tried to go through Steve.

“‘Let me know when I can see you again, baby.  We can pick up where we left off,’” Y/N read, her voice taking on an exaggerated Bronx, New York accent like what she’d heard from Dottie’s voicemails.  

“Oooh where did you leave off, Buck?” Steve asked.  

Bucky tried to push past him.  “No where,” he grunted.

“These get worse by the day,” Y/N frowned as she read through them.  She had mostly ignored them every time she saw Dottie’s name pop up, not engaging in her constant ramblings in trying to get his attention.  This was why he gave out the work cell phone number rather than his actual, personal one.  “‘I want your tongue so deep inside me I can taste it,’” she read in the accent again, her eyes wide and eyebrows raised high.  “Good Lord.”

Bucky finally got past Steve and ran after Y/N as she squeaked and ran out of Steve’s office, Steve’s laugh echoing down the hallway as she moved as fast as her heels would allow her.  She ducked into an empty conference room and ran around the table, Bucky on the other side.  “‘I feel like a vampire, I wanna suck everything out of you,’” Y/N read, cocking an eyebrow at him.  “Jesus, Bucky, where do you find these girls?”  He edged around the table toward her and she jerked to the side, making him frown deeper at her.  He suddenly jumped and slid over the table, making Y/N screech as she tried to run but he caught her with his arms around her waist, hoisting her up off her feet.  She kept the phone out of his reach as he tried to maneuver her to take it from her.  “Ooh this one is really naughty,” she giggled.  Bucky pushed her into the corner of the room, making her face him as he grabbed at her hands.  He finally caught her wrists and as he held them together she read: “‘Fuck me like an animal.  I wanna be your little cum slut,’” she finished, laughing at the end of the phrase and losing the accent.

Bucky pried the phone out of her fingers.  Y/N’s laugh died on her lips as she looked up at him and saw the look on his face.  He wasn’t frowning or smiling, but looked surprised and…aroused.  Y/N realized the position they were in.  She was pushed in the corner, his leg between her legs with his knee almost cradling her core, the rest of his torso pushing against her front to keep her there, his hand holding both of her wrists against his chest and his face hovering mere inches from her face.  His eyes flicked back and forth between her eyes, then glanced at her lips.

Y/N gasped and pushed him away, Bucky quickly backing up with the phone in his hand.  He exhaled sharply, his eyes widening.  “I…I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault,” Y/N said, shaking her head and looking down.  “I’m sorry…I got carried away.  I’ll um, let you handle that and you can give it back when you’re done,” she said, glancing at the phone, then gave him a quick look and walked away.  She nearly ran to the bathroom, hiding in one of the stalls and sliding down to the floor as she tried to even out her breathing.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want Bucky to touch her, in fact she’d had way too many dirty dreams starring him doing much worse things to her since she started working here.  She would gladly fuck Bucky, but she didn’t want to lose her job or have to give it up like Peggy had with Steve.  She needed this job.  She needed to take care of herself, so that if he ever came around, she wouldn’t fall for it all again.  

***

The rest of that day she had focused solely on Steve and all he needed her to do.  When the day was over she marched toward the front door by the reception desk where she found Bucky talking to Kamala.

“Oh, have a good night, Y/N!” Kamala called out to her and waved.

“You, too, K,” Y/N said quickly, giving her a quick smile.  She glanced at Bucky quickly.  “G’night Buck.”  She walked fast out of the office toward the elevator down the hall.  She heard Buck say goodbye to Kamala then follow her out.

“Y/N, hey, hold on,” he called out to her.

She sighed silently as she pushed the down button and turned to face him with a polite smile.  “Yes?”

Bucky stared at her for a moment before the elevator dinged and they both entered the elevator.  Y/N pressed the parking floor level button and leaned back against the elevator wall.  Bucky’s mouth opened and closed multiple times before he finally turned to face her with a heavy sigh.  “I’m sorry, again,” he said, his voice sounding strained.  

“It’s fine, Buck–”

“No, it’s not,” he interrupted her.  “I shouldn’t have…roughhoused you like that.”

Y/N chuckled.  “Roughhoused?”

“Yes, I’m an old man, don’t judge me,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes, a small smile on his face.

“I’m sorry I teased you with the texts so much,” Y/N said.  “I just have a bit of a…history, and it threw me for a loop for a second.”  He looked at her quizzically but she didn’t want to explain.  “She’s got quite the vocabulary,” she said with a teasing smirk, changing the subject.

Bucky snorted, hanging his head as Y/N laughed.  “Yeah, it was uh…quite the date,” he said.  “That’s why I didn’t text her back.  It was all just a bit much.”  Y/N hummed and he handed the work phone back to her.  “I politely told her to get lost and blocked her number,” he said.  She took the phone and nodded.  “I really am sorry,” he repeated.  Y/N met his gaze.  He was sincere and repentant, a knowing look in his eyes.  “I didn’t mean to hurt or scare you.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before giving him a small smile.  “I know.”

***

Y/N was walking by the reception desk one day on her way back in from lunch when she stopped in her tracks.  Kamala was speaking to a man that Y/N recognized.  It was Vic, her ex.  Kamala looked uncomfortable and met Y/N’s gaze with a concerned look.  Y/N’s eyes were wide and she shook her head minutely, hoping Kamala would get the message.  Kamala looked down then back up at Vic.  “I’m sorry, we don’t have anyone here by that name,” she said sweetly.  “Maybe you have the wrong address?”  She distracted him, making him face away enough that Y/N was able to slip by down the hallway.  Once she was out of earshot she ran into Bucky’s office, closing the door and locking it behind herself.  She was panting, trying to calm herself.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice came from behind her.  She whirled around to face him.  He looked confused.  She held her finger to her mouth and a call came into his office phone.  He frowned and answered the call.  “Yes?” he asked.  He listened for a moment before looking at Y/N.  “A Victor Creed is here to see me?”  Y/N shook her head frantically, her eyes stinging with tears flowing fast.  Bucky’s face shifted into a look of surprise at her response as he stood.  “I’ll come up front in a moment,” he said before hanging up.  He rounded his desk and reached out to her, taking her hands in his.  “Who is he?” he asked quietly.

“History,” Y/N whispered.  

Bucky’s face twisted in recognition at the conversation they’d had weeks before, then his expression became stony.  “Stay here.  Lock the door.  I’ll knock twice once it’s safe.”

Y/N sniffled and nodded as he squeezed her hands, then had her stay behind the door as he opened it and walked down the hallway.  She locked it behind him and stood stock still as she waited and listened.  She could only hear muffled voices for a few minutes, then Vic’s voice getting louder before a slammed door made her jump.  Footsteps came back down the hallway, then two quiet knocks on the door.  She sighed as she unlocked the door with a shaky hand.  Bucky slowly opened it, watching her carefully.  “He’s gone,” he said, taking a step toward her with his hands up.  “Kamala is calling security to have him trespassed from the building.”  Y/N nodded, gnawing on her lip as her arms were tensed and tightly wrapped around herself.  “It’s okay.  You’re safe.  Everything’s going to be alright,” he said quietly.  She swallowed harshly as her tears kept falling.  “Can I give you a hug?” Bucky asked.  

Y/N stared at him for a moment before a sob broke through, and she nodded as she hung her head.  Bucky stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest as she cried heavily.  She gripped the lapels of his suit jacket, shivering against him.  “I told him it was over,” she cried.  “I told him to leave me alone.”

Bucky’s fingers pet the back of her head, running through her hair.  “This isn’t your fault, Y/N,” he said quietly.  “He’s obviously stalking you.”  

She nodded against his chest.  After another moment of him holding her she pulled away and sniffed quickly, wiping her face.  “God, ugh, I’m sorry,” she grunted, clearing her throat.  “I’m so sorry to bring this…drama to the workplace.  I thought I had handled it but apparently not.  I completely understand if you have to let me go–”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Bucky scoffed.  “You’re the best personal assistant I’ve ever had.”  He stepped toward her again and reached for her hands, holding her fingers lightly as his thumbs ran over her knuckles.  “Here’s what we’re going to do.  He’s being trespassed from the building.  You will be escorted by security, or at the very least one of us, to and from your car every day.”

“Buck you don’t have to–”

“Like hell I don’t,” he interrupted her with a stern look.  “You’ll turn on your location on the work phone and share it with me and the others.  And you and I are going to go to the police station to make a report, go online and fill out a protective order or stalking injunction, then drop it off at the court later.”  Y/N’s tears came back.  She hadn’t been able to rely on anyone for years, had lost all contact and close relationships with her friends and family because of him, so to have someone worry and care about her enough to try to help her was overwhelming.  Bucky let go of one of her hands and reached that hand up to wipe away her new tears.  “Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” she nodded.

***

Bucky, the other partners, and the entire office was a godsend to Y/N.  He had accompanied her when they filled out the protective order and turned it into the courthouse, then to the police station as she made a report.  Working in a law firm was helpful in that she was able to file a cease and desist by the end of the day, and with Bucky’s connections to certain officers at the station was able to know when Vic was served with everything.  Over the next few weeks she was accompanied to and from work from her car in the parking garage by someone, usually Bucky, Steve, Tony, and at other times by some of the paralegals.  Scott was one of her favorites, always making it seem like she was the president and he was the secret service.  

She was grateful to all of them for their efforts and willingness to help her.  It made her feel like a burden, but she was quickly reminded that they really didn’t mind when she brought it up.  Her protective order was granted, and she proceeded into getting a restraining order since they lasted longer.

Five months later as Bucky’s team was working late on a big case she packed up her bag.  “Alright, I’m heading out,” she announced to the room.

They all hummed or bid her half-hearted farewells, their attention all focused on the paperwork in front of them.  Bucky’s head snapped up.  “Hold on, doll, let me walk you down.”

“Bucky, it’s fine, honestly,” Y/N waved away his concern, backing up to the front door.  “It’s been months.  I’m sure I’ll be fine.  You shouldn’t have to babysit me–”

“Freeze,” he barked at her.  Y/N’s eyes widened and she stood still, everyone else falling silent at his raised voice.  “I’m coming with you,” he said with no room for argument.  He slipped his jacket back on and grabbed his keys before walking up to her.  “Let’s go,” he said in a quiet, much more gentle tone.

The ride in the elevator and walk to her car was silent.  Once she had unlocked her car door and put her purse in she turned to Bucky.  “Thank you–”

“Y/N, I need you to understand something,” Bucky interrupted her.  He was frowning, looking down at her with an intensity she’d never seen directed at her before.  “You are not a burden.  I am not babysitting you.  I want to help you.  I want you to be safe.  I need you…” he paused, swallowing harshly.  “I care about you,” he said quietly.  

Y/N stared at him in disbelief.  She had made good friendships at the office, and she and Bucky had become close, with her managing every aspect of his job and life for over a year.  She trusted him, and if she were honest with herself, she liked him as much more than her boss, and more than a friend.  But to hear it from him in this context made her feel emotional.  She felt tears start stinging her eyes and blinked rapidly to make them go away.

“Thank you,” she replied.  “I appreciate that.  I…I care about you, too.”

Bucky watched her for a moment before taking a step toward her.  He looked down at her for a moment, the intensity in his eyes making her knees feel weak.  His gaze fell to their feet then he wound an arm around her shoulders and hugged her, kissing her forehead lightly.  “I’ll see you Monday,” he whispered into her hair.

Y/N gently hugged him back, enjoying how his cologne wrapped around her like a blanket.  She closed her eyes as he held her, then opened them when he stepped away.  “See you,” she said quickly.  She gave him a small smile then got into her car.  Bucky stepped back and watched her drive away.  Y/N didn’t know what to think of the interaction.  It wasn’t necessarily work appropriate, but also not quite wrong between friends outside of work.  When she got home she tried to shake it off as another strange moment as she took off her heels and dropped her bag in the entryway.  She walked to the kitchen, pulling some things out to make a quick dinner when she felt like something was off.  She glanced around, then saw a shadow in the corner of the dining room.  She froze when she saw Vic standing there out of the corner of her eye, watching her.  Y/N knew it was too late, and subtly called the last number she had called, which just so happened to be Bucky.

As it rang quietly she turned around and faced Vic head on, looking him in the eye.  When she could hear Bucky pick up she spoke loud enough for him to hear.  “What are you doing here, Vic?” she asked, her voice sounding angry, which she was thankful for with how afraid she was.

Vic chuckled and stepped toward the kitchen into the light.  He looked rougher than the last time she saw him, like he hadn’t been eating, and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in a long while.  His eyes were bloodshot, and with how he swayed as he walked she could tell he was either extremely drunk or high on something.  “Hey princess,” he slurred.  “Just came to see how things are going.  How’s the new boy toy treating you?”

“Boy toy?” Y/N scoffed.  “Who are you talking about?”

“That boss of yours,” Vic snarled, stumbling toward her.  He tried to reach out and grab her, but she quickly stepped out of his reach.  He grunted as he righted himself.  

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Y/N said.  “Even if he was, you have no right to be jealous of me or who I associate with.  We are not together.”

“Right, you being an ‘independent’ woman and all,” Vic mocked her, making air quotes with his fingers.  

“Y/N!  I’m coming!” she heard Bucky’s voice muffled against her chest from her phone.

Y/N tried to keep her wits about her, thinking through her options.  Help was coming.  Bucky was coming.  Just keep talking.  “I am now,” she asserted herself.  She angled her body sideways, getting into a better fighting stance and turning toward the front door.  “You hurt me, Vic.  You controlled, isolated, and abused me.  And I deserve better than that.”

Vic laughed.  “You deserve what I think you deserve.  Which right now, is to be my little cumslut, like you used to be when you were a good little princess.  So, get on your knees,” he said, rushing toward her.  

Y/N punched him, making his head whip to the side, then used his drunkenness against him as she pushed him as hard as she could away from her, making him stumble and fall to the floor.  Y/N held her phone as she ran to the front door.  As she was unlocking it Vic ran up behind her and lifted her off her feet, throwing her back toward the dining room where she fell hard on the floor.  The phone clattered a few feet away from her, and as she crawled toward it Vic grabbed her feet, trying to pull her back.  She kicked and screamed, hearing Bucky’s voice faintly yelling through the phone, a few feet beyond the knife.  

As Vic was able to turn her to her back, she punched him again, enraging him further.  “You stupid bitch!” he screamed in her face.

Y/N screamed back in his face, then Vic was pulled back off of her.  She gasped as she saw Bucky wrench Vic away, put him in a chokehold and fall on top of him.  Vic struggled, scratching at Bucky’s arms and hands as he choked and gasped for air.  Bucky grunted and tightened his grip more.  “Go to sleep, fucker,” he growled.  After another minute Vic slowly lost control of his arms, his eyes rolling back in his head until he passed out.  Bucky let go of him, but stayed on top of him in case he woke up.  “Call the police,” Bucky glanced at her.  

***

She watched the police officers and paramedics work on Vic in the entryway, loading him on a gurney that he was promptly handcuffed to.  They checked her and Bucky over, treating the scratches on Bucky’s hands and arms and her bruises and scrapes. She was questioned by police officers as they took pictures of her and Bucky’s injuries as well as the knocked over furniture in her apartment.  Y/N answered them as best as she could, Bucky sitting with her the entire time until they finally left.  

“Y/N?” Bucky called to her, turning to face her.  She looked at him blankly.  He was watching her carefully, reaching a hand out and taking hers closest to him.  “Do you wanna stay here tonight?”  She shook her head fervently.  “You can stay with me if you want,” he offered.  “Would you like to do that?” 

Y/N nodded absentmindedly.  She couldn’t think of anything better in that moment than a shower and a different place to stay.  Bucky helped her pack a bag, then guided her out of her apartment to the parking lot.  He helped her into his car, and she melted into the front seat.  She felt numb, unable to get her thoughts together to form anything coherent.  The rational part of her mind knew that it was trying to protect itself from the trauma of the night, but she couldn’t quite come to that conclusion yet.  

She was almost falling asleep when Bucky pulled into the garage of a home.  He got out and helped her out of the car, carrying her bag as he guided her into the house.  He led her through the house until he walked into what looked like a guest bedroom, setting her bag on the bed.  He turned to look at her.  “The bathroom is there,” he pointed at a door in the corner.  He looked at her nervously.  “Do you…do you need, um, help?”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment.  She didn’t know what she wanted.  Her eyes flicked around the room.  “I…I don’t…know,” she whispered.

Bucky nodded.  “Okay, well, how about you go shower, and uh, here,” he opened her bag and pulled out some pajamas and underwear, walking to the bathroom and putting the clothes down before coming back out, “and I’ll wait here just in case.  Is that okay?”

Y/N nodded.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  She couldn’t seem to find her voice, afraid that if she were any louder it would somehow make everything real.  Bucky nodded and gave her a small, reassuring smile before he sat himself on the bed.  Y/N walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind herself.  She felt like she was jerky in her movements as she stripped herself of her clothes, heaping them in the sink.  She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment.  Her hair was a mess from fighting him off, her mascara streaked down her face from the tears she unknowingly shed earlier, and a bruise showing near her hairline from when she hit the ground.  She shivered and turned on the shower.  The water was too hot, but she barely felt it as she washed herself.  

Y/N turned off the water and walked out of the shower.  She wrapped herself in a towel as she dried off, fixing her hair and rubbing her face.  She looked at herself in the mirror again.  Back to normal, she thought.  But this wasn’t normal.  Nothing about tonight was normal.  Nothing about her life for the past few years had been normal.  The adrenaline seemed to all wear off in a second, and her sobriety made her gasp.  She doubled over as the soreness from the fight hit her out of nowhere, and she cried out as she held herself and kneeled to the floor.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice called out from behind the door.  “Are you alright?  What was that noise?”  She couldn’t answer.  Her throat was closed, choking on sobs.  “I’m coming in,” he warned her, then the door opened.  He looked around, finding her on the floor in the fetal position.  “Oh, doll,” he cooed, kneeling down quickly.  Bucky’s arms cradled her, moving her until he was able to help her stand.  “Come on,” he said, grabbing her clothes and leading her to the bed.  She cried as he held her, her face buried into his collarbone, her fingers gripping his shirt tightly.  He sat her on the bed and kneeled in front of her to catch her eye, reaching a hand up and wiping away her tears.  “Can I help you get dressed?” he whispered.  Y/N nodded as she hung her head in her hands.  She didn’t care about how awkward or inappropriate this was at this point.  Bucky handed her her underwear, then closed his eyes.  Y/N dropped the towel and put on her underwear quickly.  Bucky then blindly grabbed her shirt, opening his eyes while his head was facing down as he fixed the shirt, then closed his eyes again as he held it up so she could slip her head and arms through it.  He did the same for her sleep shorts, the backs of his fingertips sliding along her thighs and hips momentarily.  

Bucky then stood and opened his eyes, looking down at her as he stepped forward in between her legs.  He slowly cupped her face in his hands and made her look at him.  “I know it’s a really stupid question, but, are you okay?” he asked.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, a fresh wave of tears starting to fall.  “He…he was going to hurt me again.”

Bucky nodded.  “I know, but you did the right thing in calling for help.  I’m just sorry I couldn’t get there sooner,” he said, biting his lip when it trembled.  “And you fought back, Y/N.  You fought hard and you won.  Do you hear me?” he dipped his head down to be eye level with her.  “You won.  He’ll never hurt you again.  You protected yourself, and I’m so proud of you,” he paused, his voice wobbling with emotion.  “I’m proud of you for keeping yourself safe.  God, when I saw him on top of you I–” he gritted his teeth, frowning deeply.  “I can’t lose you.”

Y/N stared at him.  He’d confessed he cared about her earlier that night, but now he seemed like he maybe cared more than he’d let on.  “I’m just your assistant,” she said.

Bucky chuckled.  “Best assistant I’ve ever had,” he smiled.  “But you, you’re…like I said, I care about you.”

Y/N eyed him warily, but she was too exhausted to try to argue or read into it anymore for the night.  She sighed and nodded.  “I need to sleep,” she whispered, her body feeling like it could collapse at any moment.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, moving to the top of the bed and turning down the covers, helping her get situated.  

“Please stay,” Y/N said, grabbing his wrist.

Bucky’s eyes widened but he nodded.  “Okay.”  

He sat at the end of the bed as Y/N got comfortable.  After she shifted repeatedly she looked at him.  “Could you, um…would you please…hold me?” she asked hesitantly.  

Bucky immediately nodded.  “Yeah,” he said, then climbed up the bed.  He settled under the covers and held his arms open to her.  Y/N scooted close to him, her head tucked under his chin, resting against his chest, and the moment his arms were wrapped around her protectively she cried again, this time quietly, her body trembling as it tried to relax.  “It’s okay, doll, I’ve got you,” he mumbled, kissing the top of her head.  “You’re safe.  You’re safe here.  You can stay as long as you want.  I’m right here…”  He rambled on for a while, his low voice helping soothe her nerves and lull her to sleep.  The last thing she felt was his hands rubbing her back gently, his lips kissing her forehead.  

***

Y/N woke up the next morning extremely warm and comfortable.  The bed underneath her was…moving?  She shifted herself, realizing that the bed she was on was a body.  Her head snapped up and looked to see Bucky.  He was still asleep, laying on his back with Y/N draped across his side, her head still on his chest, her arm across his waist and her leg hiked up over his groin and legs.  A flood of memories rushed in her head, making her shut her eyes tight at the headache it caused.  She laid her head back down on his chest, groaning at the soreness in her body.  His arm draped across her back that held her against him instinctively tightened and he hummed as his free hand bent up and under his head, making him look relaxed.  Y/N couldn’t help but to stare at him.  Getting to see Bucky asleep was quite the sight.  The nearly perpetual frown he had at work when focusing on cases and handling issues was gone, making him look younger and peaceful.  

Y/N reached a hand up and softly scratched at the beard hair on his chin, caressing his cheek and tracing along different parts of his face.  She felt like she was skipping a lot of steps, and that this was definitely inappropriate, but couldn’t find it in herself to care.  His eyes fluttered as she traced down his nose, and he started to wake up.  She tucked herself back into his side quickly, closing her eyes as Bucky started to squirm.  He groaned beneath her, stretching as best as he could with her nearly on top of him before she felt his lips on her forehead again.  “Y/N,” he grunted, then cleared his throat.  “Good morning.”  Y/N didn’t want to move.  She didn’t answer and his free hand shuffled from underneath his head to reach down and poke her side gently.  “Come on, doll, time to wake up,” he said quietly.

She hummed unhappily, shaking her head against his chest.  “Five more minutes,” she rasped.  

Bucky chuckled, making her shake.  “As comfortable as I am, let’s get you fed, huh?”  She shook her head again, her arms tightening around him.  He shifted himself to face her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.  “Were you touching my face?” he asked, a teasing tone in his voice.  Y/N hid her face into his chest to hide her blush.  Bucky chuckled again.  “Why were you touching my face?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N replied, her voice muffled in his shirt.  “You just looked so…peaceful and cozy.”

He hummed, the vibration in his chest warming her face.  She finally moved and looked up at him, meeting his tired gaze.  “Hi,” he whispered.

“Good morning,” Y/N whispered back with a small smile.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked quietly, reaching a hand up and moving her hair out of her face.

“Hm…tired, and sore,” she groaned.  Her stomach growled then, and it made him smile widely.

“And hungry,” he smirked.  “Come on.”  They both slowly got up, and separated for a few minutes to get cleaned up and ready for the day.  He met her at the door to the guest bedroom and led her to the kitchen, where he had her sit at the bar stool at the island while he gathered some food together.  “You like waffles?” he asked.

“I love waffles,” Y/N smiled brightly.  

While Bucky worked on breakfast Y/N took a look around the kitchen.  Since they had come to his house late at night and she had been merely surviving emotionally at the time she hadn’t been able to get a good look at the house.  She gazed at the design and layout of the kitchen that was open to the dining room, and just beyond an arched wall she could see into an office, sitting room area.  The entire house was a moody, dark academia style, making her smile again.  Dark and brooding but with charming aspects, like the man making her waffles.

“I love your house,” she said, catching his attention.  “Did you have it designed?”

“I did,” Bucky smiled, plating a waffle for her.  “My sister is an interior designer.”

“Your sister?” Y/N asked with raised eyebrows.  “How did I not know you have a sister?”

“Just because you’re my personal assistant doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you everything,” he smirked as he handed her the plate, along with a butter dish and the maple syrup.

“Obviously not,” Y/N smirked back at him.  She buttered the waffle and poured the syrup before cutting into it and taking a bite.  She sighed happily at the taste, giving Bucky an appreciative nod, making him smile.  “So good,” she mumbled around the mouthful.

“Good,” Bucky said, then turned to make some more.  He cooked up some eggs and poured her some coffee and juice.  He leaned on the island across from her and ate as well, both of them getting their fill until the waffles and eggs were gone.  He took the dishes and put them in the dishwasher before turning back to face her again.  He stared at her for a minute before licking his lips.  

Y/N sighed.  She couldn’t keep playing this back and forth, weird sexual tension game anymore.  Her emotions were all over the place, and annoyance was winning.  “You keep saying ‘I care about you.’  What does that mean?” 

Bucky’s eyes widened as he frowned.  “It means I care about you.  I want to help you, like I said.  I’ve seen these things happen before and I couldn’t just let it be–” 

“‘I’ve seen these things happen before.’  So you wanted to save me.”  She knew she was lashing out, but couldn’t stop herself.  “But it’s never happened to you, has it?”  Y/N slipped off the stool, rounded the island and came toe to toe with him, Bucky backing up slightly at her voice raising.  “You don’t know what it feels like to be afraid every day.  You don’t know what it’s like to be stalked, harassed, beaten, raped, broken!  So why do you care so much?!”  She asked, her eyes burning with more tears falling.  

Bucky’s own eyes looked teary as he looked down at her sadly.  “My sister was in an abusive relationship,” he said quietly.  “He almost killed her.  She got away and didn’t want help, but it haunted her.  She was a shell of herself.  I couldn’t lose her, she’s the only family I have left,” he swallowed harshly.  “So I helped her as best as I could.  It took her a while, but eventually she got better, and is still healing.  I don’t know how it feels.  I don’t know what you need.  I just want to help,” he said, his lips pressing together firmly.

Y/N digested his words, her mind still feeling slow in processing things.  She blinked rapidly as she sniffed.  “Fine,” she agreed.  Bucky seemed relieved and nodded.  “I’m going to get my stuff, then I’ll be out of your hair,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don’t do that,” Bucky said gruffly back.  

“Don’t do what?” Y/N asked.

“Don’t push me away just because I offered you help.  Don’t get angry and defensive because someone wants to take care of you,” he replied.

“I never asked for your help,” she said quietly.

“Stop it,” Bucky said, stepping closer to her.  “If you didn’t want help you wouldn’t have called me.”

She stared up at him defiantly.  He was close to her like that day when she teased him in the office a while ago.  Y/N wanted to push him, see how far he was willing to go in this back and forth they’d been having for so long.  “I care about you,” kept rattling around in her head as she tried to make sense of it.  Yes, he cared.  But it felt like something else.  Something more simmering underneath the words.  

“You care so much,” she sneered, stepping even closer.  “Why?”

“Because I’m a good person?” Bucky said incredulously.  

She shook her head.  “And?”

He looked like he was fighting against himself.  “I don’t need another reason.  And I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Is it because you want something from me?” she ventured.  “You help me and I’ll be so eternally grateful I’ll throw myself at you?”

Bucky recoiled.  “Stop that.”

“Well that’s what you want, right?” Y/N pushed further.  “I saw it that day when Steve and I were teasing you, and it went a little too far.  You wanted more,” her eyes flickered to his lips and back to his eyes.  

Bucky shut his eyes and shook his head, taking a step back.  “Y/N, you just went through something traumatic.  You’re lashing out because you don’t know how to handle it right now–”

Y/N said, stepping toward him again.  “All I need is a straight answer.  You wanted more, yes or no?”

Bucky opened his eyes but couldn’t keep her gaze.  “It doesn’t matter what I want,” he said, his jaw ticking when he finished.

“Still didn’t answer my question,” Y/N said, sounding more annoyed.  “You wanna help me?  Think of this as my first round of therapy.  I’m working through some rough feelings right now, Boss.  I need an answer!”

“Yes!  Okay?  Goddammit,” Bucky said, throwing his hands up in frustration.  “Yes, I want more with you.  But that doesn’t matter.  Especially right now.  I’m not going to take advantage of a highly emotional moment in your life and try to slip in just to ‘get some,’ that’s not what I want.  And it’s insulting to me that you think that of me,” Bucky pointed his finger at her.  “Some people really do just care about you, you know that?  Some people really just want to help because they care about you, because they like you, they love you!”

Y/N was fully crying again, her arms holding herself even more tightly than before.  His raised voice was making her shrink into herself.  “No one loves me,” she whispered.

“I do!” Bucky yelled.

Y/N flinched and Bucky’s face crumpled.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Y/N said, taking a step back.  “Just please stop yelling.”

Bucky sighed heavily, his hand rubbing his face harshly before he raised his hands in front of himself like he was surrendering.  “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to yell,” he said quietly.  “Please, I…I’m just trying to help.”

Y/N bit her lip as she tried to control her crying, but instead it just made her choke on a sob that broke through.  She wasn’t scared of Bucky.  She knew he would never hurt her, but the raised voice and yelling was triggering.  “I know, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for questioning you and your motives.  I’m sorry,” she tried stepping away but he walked toward her.

“Y/N,” he pleaded.  “Don’t run away.  Please, I’m sorry,” he reached toward her, leaving his hand outstretched with his palm up as an invitation.  

Y/N’s eyes flicked from his hand to his face repeatedly.  The dichotomy of wanting to run away and hide versus wanting to be comforted was making her panic.  Ultimately she slowly reached out and gave him her hand.  Bucky slowly stepped toward her, taking her hand and holding it gently but firmly as he pulled her towards him.  She stepped toward him hesitantly, and he moved slowly as he wrapped his arms around her, watching her reactions carefully.  He pulled her until their bodies were flush against each other and her arms wrapped behind his back, tucking her face into the crook of his neck.  His hand moved to hold the back of her head against him gently, running his fingers through her hair as they breathed deeply, and she matched her breathing to his to calm down.  “I do want you,” he whispered in her ear.  “I do like you.  If I’m honest, I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment I met you.”

Y/N huffed a short laugh against his skin.  “I knew it,” she whispered.

“Can you blame me?” Bucky chuckled, nuzzling her hair with his nose.

Y/N smiled.  “Thank you, Bucky.  I’m sorry I…I don’t know what’s going on with me right now.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Bucky breathed, squeezing her tighter.  He pulled away just enough to look at her. 

They stared at each other and she gulped.  “Can I have…could we try…one k-kiss?” she asked.

Bucky’s eyes minutely widened, inhaling sharply.  “I-I don’t know if I could…stop myself at one,” he confessed.

“That’s okay,” Y/N said.  

Bucky’s eyes flickered to her lips and back to her eyes.  His hands moved from her back up to her face, cupping her cheeks and angling her head upwards.  “You want me?” he asked breathily.  Y/N nodded as he leaned forward, angling his head and brushing his lips across hers first, like he was testing the waters of his own sanity.  He finally fully pressed his lips on hers and kissed her softly.  

Y/N sucked in a breath, kissing him back just as softly.  It was just as perfect as she had dreamt it would be, from all those nights she had fallen asleep to the thought of him, while chastising herself for her feelings and denying it.  It ended too soon when he pulled away, though not too far as his nose nuzzled her nose.  Y/N whimpered at the loss, and he had to shut his eyes tight again.  “Fuck, doll, that was a pretty noise,” he groaned.  His fingers slipped back into her hair.  “More?” he begged.

Y/N nodded and he kissed her again.  This one was firmer, heavier, and his grip on her was tighter.  Her fingers fisted his shirt, her arms pulling him by the waist impossibly closer to her as she angled her head more and pushed up on her tip-toes to deepen the kiss.  Bucky grunted, and before she knew it he was picking her up and setting her on the kitchen counter.  The kisses were passionate, Bucky’s tongue sneaking out to lick at her bottom lip and Y/N opening up to him easily.  They tasted each other, nipping at each other’s lips, their hands roaming each other’s bodies.  Bucky was standing between her spread legs, his hands now kneading her thighs up to her hips as she tasted him and sucked on his tongue.  

“Holy shit, doll,” he moaned when she released him.  “I just wanna make it clear that I’m not trying to take advantage of you in a fragile state–”

“Just fuck me, Bucky,” Y/N groaned, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him back in for a seering kiss.

“Yeah…yeah okay,” Bucky huffed against her mouth, picking her up and carrying her back to the guest room.

*** 

When they got to work that next Monday Y/N was greeted with excited smiles and hugs.  Apparently word had spread quickly.  “Oh!  I’m so glad you’re okay!” Kamala said, hugging her tightly.  

Steve stepped up afterward, hugging her like she was his little sister.  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said quietly.  “So proud of you.”

Y/N smiled appreciatively at him.  “Thank you.  Thank you, everybody,” she waved at them all.  “I’m fine, really.”

“Now quit distracting my assistant.  Fuck off!” Bucky said loudly, and they all went back to work in a hurry, Steve just rolling his eyes and smiling as he walked off to his office.  Bucky had his hand on her lower back as he guided her towards his office.  Once they were inside he shut the door.  “Take a seat, doll,” he said.  “Let’s go over the schedule.”

“Alright,” Y/N nodded, getting herself settled and her notebook and phone ready.  “And uh, thank you, by the way, for kinda saving me back there.”

“No need to thank me,” Bucky shook his head.  “Now listen, I know we’re in a weird spot right now.  I want this,” he gestured between the two of them, “to work, but I don’t want you to lose this job on account of that, either.  And you’re honestly the best personal assistant I’ve ever had.  So, I want work to be work, and home to be home.  Does that sound fair?”

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling at how business-like he sounded.  

“Great,” he nodded back.  “So…the schedule.”

THE END?

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 1

Surprise!!! I have six chapters of this and really need to start getting it out, so I figured with Act 1 ending last week and my backlog on this and Of Butterflies and Backstrokes (Olympic Swimmer) being so low thanks to me trying to the Halloween themed sequel to Icarus (Metal Band) that I would put this out until I build that back up and lower the amount of backlog this one has.

Summary: Eddie Munson is a in bind, set to go on a three month reunion tour, he is in need of nanny for his twin girls Janice and Joan since his partner, Ethan blew up their lives a year ago. Enter nanny extraordinaire, Steve Harrington. Both men struggle with treading the line between boss/nanny and their strong attraction to each other. Will Eddie learn to trust again? Will Steve realize that he was always meant to be right there by Eddie's side?

~

Eddie hung up the phone with a sigh. He wanted to do the tour, because of course he did. But he also had two very rambunctious little girls now. Eddie was a good dad, but he wasn’t the nurturing kind the way Ethan was. But sometime in the last year, Ethan had changed.

He had grown distant and cold, going as far as yelling at the girls which he never used to do. So Eddie quit producing music to give Ethan some much needed time for himself. Fat lot of good that did.

Because apparently Ethan was banging...well, just about everyone but Eddie’s friends. The pool boy, the guy who delivered their food, the cleaning lady, their personal trainer, hell even the barely legal dog walker got more of his husband’s dick than Eddie did.

Which he didn’t find out, by the way. Ethan had told him after handing him divorce papers and legally renouncing parental rights to Joan and Janice. He threw it in Eddie’s face the numerous affairs he had. The one thing he wouldn’t tell him was why.

Why was Ethan so unhappy when Eddie had done everything right?

He buried his head in hands. Janice and Joan were only four and they had been adopted at birth. They never met the mother and were only told that she didn’t want them and never wanted to see them ever again.

So how could Ethan look at those two little angels and decide the same?

Eddie was heartbroken and not ready to move on. So he had agreed to the tour as a way to cope with the sudden explosion of his life. His friends knew Ethan had left, but they didn’t know the extent of his ex’s destruction.

He thought about taking the girls with him, but they were too little. They wouldn’t have fun and would be more terrified then thrilled. So live-in nanny it was.

Thankfully he had a month to find someone who would cook and clean and watch the girls. Especially after having to fire all of his help in the wake of Ethan’s destruction.

He had this.

~

Eddie did not in fact have this. He only had three more days until he left and he was at his wit’s end. He had rejected candidate after candidate for a myriad of reasons. One only wanted part-time despite the ad before a live in nanny. Another said she was strict disciplinarian and thought spanking was the only way to teach a child. And even another just gave off weird vibes.

So he called the agency one more time.

“You’ve gone through all of our female nannies,” the woman huffed on the other end of the line. “We only have male nannies left, surly you don’t–”

“Just send the best male nanny you’ve got!” Eddie barked. “I don’t care about gender for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not sure–” the woman protested but Eddie hung up on her.

He didn’t have time to listen to whatever excuse she was going to come up with. He was running out of time before the tour and needed someone. Anyone.

He got a call back five minutes later from another woman telling him that they would be sending over their best male nanny at 2pm if that was acceptable.

He sighed with relief. “Yes, that will be perfect. The girls will be down for their nap then.”

“That’s wonderful, Mr. Munson,” she said cheerfully. “The gentleman we are sending over, his name is Steve Harrington, and I sincerely hope he will be a good fit for you.”

“You and me both,” Eddie sighed again. “You and me both.”

~

When Steve got to the house, he would have liked to have said that he wasn’t impressed because he had seen dozens of large houses and even larger sprawling mansions in his time as a full time nanny, but he was. Very much so.

It wasn’t a gaudy modern monstrosity for starters. It liked a Victorian era manor that had been modernized for living in today. It gave off a spooky vibe, but in a fun way and not a horror movie way. Like the Addams family or the Munsters kind of vibe.

He really dug it.

He went up and knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately to reveal a pretty, petite woman with sparkling green eyes and strawberry blonde hair. She had a sweet smile.

He knew this wasn’t the mother, the file said that it was a single father of twin girls. A rockstar of some sort, though Steve didn’t recognize the name. This must be some kind of servant or PA or something.

“Hi, I’m Steven Harrington,” he greeted putting out his hand for her to shake. “I have a two o’clock appointment with Eddie Munson about the nanny position.”

Her smile widened, dimpling her cheeks. “Hi, I’m Chrissy Cunningham, I’m Corroded Coffin’s manager. Come on in, he’s waiting for you.”

Steve followed her through the house. It was just as impressive as the outside. It was beautifully decorated in dark browns, reds, and black. God, he hoped he got the job. He could really see himself living here.

She opened the door to the office allowed him to walk through, closing it behind him. Which normally wouldn’t have been a problem for Steve but now he was in a room with the hottest guy he had ever seen in his life and he really didn’t need an erection at a job interview.

Eddie looked up, and yup. Steve was done for. He had the biggest brown eyes he had ever seen outside of a Disney cartoon.

“Mr. Munson?” he said, reaching out for a handshake, mustering up every ounce of professionalism he had. “Steven Harrington, how do you do? You can call me Steve.”

Eddie grinned back. “Hey, Steve. Thanks for coming at such a short notice. I understand you’ve been brought up to speed on everything I’ll be needed you to do?”

Steve crossed his legs and put his hands on his lap. Shit, even his voice was sexy as fuck.

“Yes, I’ll be watching the children twenty-four/seven,” Steve recited dutifully, “with doing all of the cooking and some of the cleaning.”

“That’s right,” Eddie said. “That normally wouldn’t be the case, but I’ve had to recently fire all of my staff. In fact, if you are hired on, you’ll be working with Chrissy over the next couple of months to help bring staff back on. I would be putting a lot of trust in you not to fuck me over.”

Steve nodded. It was a bit like Robin’s period dramas. He would be running the household while Eddie was away.

“Wouldn’t Chrissy be needed on tour with you?” he asked, not sure what her role actually was.

Eddie shook his head. “She usually does, but I need her here to help to get this house running again. It was hard enough trying to explain to the girls why everyone had to leave. Especially their other dad. She just has her own place and a very demanding job. And the other people I trust with my kids are going on tour with me, so...”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve said huffing out a chuckle. “I’m willing and able to take the job. There is just one more thing we have to do first.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “I don’t think I offered you the job yet.”

Steve burst out laughing. “No, I don’t suppose you did. But you really should. I’m really good with kids, I’m great cook, my references are impeccable, I have a degree in early child development, and you’re desperately out of time.”

“I noticed that all your previous families had older kids,” Eddie said picking up Steve’s resume. “Can you explain that?”

“Yes,” Steve said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, despite being practically perfect in every way,” Eddie huffed out a small laugh, “if I was a woman I would be the most sought after nanny in the whole god damned state. Even more so if I was older fifty. But because I’m a young man not even thirty yet and all they see is a predator.”

Eddie winced. He held up a finger. He picked up his phone and called the agency. “Hello? Hi Nancy, this is Eddie Munson. Yes, I will be taking Steve Harrington on as my nanny. Thank you so much for sending him over. Can you tell me who it was the first person I spoke to this morning? Yes, yes that’s the one. Kindly inform her that pushing harmful stereotypes only makes you look stupid. Mhmm. Yes. Yes. I want her fired. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Steve looked at him in awe. “Oh wow.”

Eddie grinned at him but before he could open his mouth to say something more, Chrissy poked her head in. “Sorry to disturb you but guess who woke up?”

“Janice?” Eddie replied with a fond smile.

“And guess who woke up her sister because she wanted someone to play with?” Chrissy said.

“Also Janice.” He sighed and turned to Steve. “You want to meet my little monsters?”

Steve smiled and stood up. “That was the one thing I was going to suggest we do before you hire me, is meet the girls. But having met their dad, I can already tell they’re going to be a handful.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested. But Chrissy laughed.

“Come on,” he said grumpily, “let’s go see the munchkins.”

Chrissy opened the door all of the way and Eddie and Steve followed her out. They reached the kitchen and there seating at a table were two of the cutest kids Steve had ever worked for. They both had light, curly brown hair and deep brown eyes, but that was where their similarities ended.

The one of the right had her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail with a denim overalls over a pink shirt. The overalls had a cute pink kangaroo on the pocket on the front. The girl on the left had her hair carefully braided and wore light blue shirt and a black pleated skirt. They were both munching on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

“Meet Janice and Joan,” Eddie said brightly. “Janice is the one on the right and the other is Joan. Janice is the oldest by seven minutes and she never lets Joan forget it.”

Joan stuck her tongue out at her dad around her sandwich and then went back to munching on it. Janice looked over at Steve and cocked her head to the side.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” she asked. And suddenly Steve was struck by how much the little girl acted like her dad.

“Girls,” Eddie said sternly, “do you remember when I said that Daddy was going to be gone for three months and you were going to be looked after by a new friend?”

Joan scrunched her nose and Steve was endeared. “Is he like one of those nannies that were so mean to us?”

“No, of course not, Joanie,” Eddie said, “not a nanny...” He looked to Steve for help.

“I’m what’s called an au pair,” he said brightly. “I’m here to watch over you and do a little of the cooking and cleaning, too. A nanny wouldn’t do that right?”

Joan and Janice shared a glance. And Steve was struck for the first time that they were really were twins. They acted so differently that he had already put them in separate boxes. But they moved in unison as they both shrugged.

“I guess not,” Janice huffed. “Are you going to be fun like Chrissy or strict like Daddy?”

The adults laughed as Steve walked over to the table. “My hope is to be somewhere in the middle. But I guess we’ll just have to see.”

He turned to Eddie and Chrissy. “If it’s all right, I’d like to get started now, give the girls time to get use to my presence while you’re still here, Eddie. That way we can smooth out any real problems before you go.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a glance.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “that’ll be fine. Great even. I’ll give you a couple of hours to get your things and come back here. Would you be okay making us dinner?”

Steve beamed at him. “Sure, give me an idea of what you guys like and I’ll find something to make you. Let’s consider it part of the interview.”

Eddie smiled back. “Well I think you have yourself a deal.”

Steve and Eddie shook hands.

This was either going to the best decision of Eddie’s life or his worst. Currently the jury and his brain were still out on that one.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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