#what is Steve���s last name?

[woahrarepairsagemare]

the last supper

[waugh-bao]

I noticed they changed their Spotify profile pic to just the three of them. I get that Charlie isn’t in the band anymore, but it just feels wrong on so many levels.

And you made a good point about that physical gap between Mick and Keith in the photo and how they would probably end up calling it quits if something happened to Mick or Keith. I honestly think they would continue on without Ronnie if it came to that, sadly. I just have so many feelings about this.

The picture that they use in their description:

Used to be their profile photo, and I wouldn’t be shocked to see that change in the next couple days either.

I don’t even know anymore…

[eddiesxangel]

Never Have I Ever… | E.M x Virgin!Reader

TJ’s 2K Request celebration!

@nailbatanddungeon : “I have a request for youuu. Okay, this is Eddie x Virgin!reader, reader is still new to everything, but there is one thing that the reader needs but is scared to push because the reader is TOUCH STARVED (So am I)”

Cw: reader and Eddie are in their mid to late 20’s, touch starved virgin!reader, angst, fluff, alcohol, throwing up(too much alcohol consumption), hangovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex. Friends to lovers

WC: 3.1k

I hope you enjoy!! 💗

“You’ll get there; you’re just a late bloomer, is all”

A late bloomer, you’ve heard it your whole life- and you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling behind in life? You’re in your twenties now and getting absolutely shit-faced because you’ve never done anything in this game of never have I ever.

You, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, and a few others were at the block party, and you somehow ended up involved in the juvenile game.

“Never have I ever kissed the same gender,” you drank.

“Never have I ever dumped anyone,” you drank.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” you drank.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” That’s rich because you’ve never been in a bed with anyone to begin with.

You hadn’t relized how much you’ve had to drink until you stood up.

“Woah, you okay?” You hear Nancy speak as you wobble.

You had wanted to get up and get more to drink because, unlike the others, your cup was empty.

“Yeah.” You tried to get out, but it sounded more like a grunt to the others.

Ignoring their protests, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen, feeling sorry for yourself.

You fumble with the lid of the hard liquor bottle until a strong ring-clad hand clasps over yours. You freeze, pissed off and embarrassed, knowing who the hand belongs to.

Even in your inebriated state, you get that same feeling whenever he is around you. You feel the heat in your cheeks instantly as the butterflies in your stomach irrupts.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart.”

You look down, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I don’t care” you slur. God, you will hate yourself in the morning.

Of all people, it had to be Eddie to come and check on you?

That’s how he was—always worried, always babying you because you “weren’t experienced in life,” according to his words, and it made you mad! It made you seem like a child, and you were sick of people treating you as such. You were a grown woman, you had a 9:00-5:00, an apartment, and a degree, but none of that mattered—not when it came to dating and love.

“Sweetheart, please, you need to slow down.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a big girl I can handle my alcohol.” You huffed.

“I just think— "

"IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU THINK!" you've had enough. No one took you seriously, and you couldn't help that Eddie happened to be the only one to feel your wrath.

"Woah, okay-okay, I’m sorry."

“I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child!" the dam broke, and streams of mascara fell down your cheeks.

"I don't think you're a child." Eddie timidly reached out his comforting hand.

"Yes, you do."

"When have— "

"ANY TIME WE ARE OUT, EDDIE! Like last week at the bar, I was so close to getting that guy's number and you swooped in acting like my father!"

"Sweetheart I—"

"Don't sweetheart me!" You cut him off once again. "It's demeaning."

"y/n. Let me take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I don’t want to."

"Too bad we are going." Eddie no longer gave you a choice. He took your hand and started to pull you along with him.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet because your balance was gone completely.

“Woah, see my point exactly.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but stifle a laugh. You were so cute.

Eddie didn’t mean to make you think you were juvenile…. He admired you and wanted to protect you; you were a woman to him, all women. He liked you; he really liked you. The only reason he swoops in is because he doesn’t want you with anyone who isn’t him, not because he doesn’t think you’re not capable… He dreams about how capable you can be. He just didn’t have the balls to say it to your face.

The thought of you not having any experience never even crossed his mind. He still had no clue you’d never been intimate with someone; he didn’t even know how inexperienced you were until the game. He watched and raised an unknowing brow each time you took a gulp.

Eddie took your keys from your hands and unlocked your front door for you. The whole car ride had been eerily silent. You didn’t dare speak a word without the threat of vomit coming up with it.

You silently stumbled into your home. Eddie followed closely behind. He helped you take off your sneakers. He led you to the bathroom and found some makeup wipes to help you take off your makeup, but halfway through, you turned to the toilet as the tequila made its way back up.

That’s when you broke; you were so embarrassed. “What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing is wrong with you, swee-.” But he cut himself off, remembering that you scolded him earlier in the evening.

“Yes, there is something wrong with me! Nobody wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Eddie stroked the back of your head as you emptied out the contenders of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Then why am I still a virgin?!” You sobbed.

Eddie was stunned, speechless. He had no idea. He just thought you didn’t like sharing your sex life, not that you didn’t have one.

So he let you cry into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care; he was here to take care of you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he guided you after he helped you ride your mouth out.

You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. Eddie thought of leaving but was worried you would need him if you woke up, so he took the couch.

You awoke with a throbbing pain pounding in your head. You were never drinking again. The night was murky; you started remembering bits and pieces but not everything. You get up and notice the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water you definitely didn’t put there.

Then you remembered Eddie bringing you home and let out an aggravated groan. How could you have been so messy? And in front of Eddie, out of all people? Why couldn’t Robin and Nancy bring you home? What did you say to him? Were you mean? Did you yell at him? You remember crying, but the reasoning was foggy.

You begrudgingly take the water and pills and almost gag, trying to get them down, but you manage. You also smell like a minibar, so you strip and walk to your bathroom.

After a long hot shower, you get dressed and must put some food into your empty stomach.

You walked past a sleeping Eddie, not seeing him curled up in the living room, and started noisily making yourself some breakfast.

“Is that the way you wake up all your guests?”

You screamed as you threw the fork you had in fright.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” You clench your chest as you take big breaths to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, Angel”

Angel… that’s new? It’s always been sweetheart.

“I didn’t know you stayed?”

“Yeah… you um. Were in pretty rough shape last night, I didn’t want you to be alone... so I slept in the couch. I hope that’s okay”

“Thank you, Eddie, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You looked down, ashamed.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He shook his head.

“Well, I owe you one,” you giggle awkwardly. Eddie and you hardly ever hang out one-on-one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit.” You hand Eddie a black coffee.

“Yeah, well, you really went hard in that game of never have I ever.”

You met out a moan of embarrassment. Your memory came flooding back.

Mortification consumed you as you didn’t want to look Eddie in the eyes. You cried in his arms last night after you puked your guys out.

“Oh god”

“It’s okay, Angel. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What happened to sweetheart?” You tried to change the subject.

“You said it was demeaning…”

“Oh god, I did?” You peek up and see Eddie silently nod his head yes.

“I’m sorry, it’s not… I like the nickname. I just…. I was feeling so emotional last night, and the alcohol.” You tried not to gag at the thought.

“S’all good.” He shrugged. But he was replaced to hear you liked being called sweetheart. It suited you; he didn’t call anyone else that, either. It was reserved just for you.

“Um, so about last night, you mentioned nobody wanting you….” Oh god, was he really doing this now? “I don’t think that’s true.” Yes, he was.

“Huh?” You sit up, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You cried about how you didn’t think anyone wanted you, but it’s not true… I want you.”

Did you hear that right? Did you get water in your ears from the shower?

“You do?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he looks at you sheepishly.

“Oh?” You were in shock.

“Shit-I-I’m sorry, I ruined everything.” Eddie stood up, but you stood up with him, not wanting him to leave.

“No, Eddie, wait!” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. You couldn’t let him leave, not now.

“Sweeetheart, please let me be mortified in peace.”

“Kiss me.”

Eddie stares at you before you tell him one more time.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

Then you feel his hands grip the back of your head and pull you in.

You didn’t think anything could cure your hangover but this comes pretty damn close.

You melt into his touch, his hands cup your head, your hands find his waist. It feels right, so right you think you’re floating.

No one had kissed you in what felt like years, and maybe it had been, but it was worth the wait.

Hands danced around one another’s bodies, and tongues and teeth clashed. It was messy; it was needy.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, hold on.” Eddie pulled back breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, concerned…. Had he changed his mind?

“I think we should slow down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We have time.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—"

"No! I need this, I want this." You look him dead in the eyes.

"You tell me if you want to stop, okay? Promise me."

"Okay, Eddie."

Eddie waists, not another second to take you in a feverish kiss. His hands roam your body, landing on your ass. It excites you so much you can feel the familiar tingling ruminating lower and lower.

You moan his name and press your whole body into his; you need to feel him, all of him… and you can. His hard cock is digging into your hip bone, and you connect your bodies.

Stumbling back without breaking the kiss, Eddie leads you to your bedroom. You fall backwards onto your bed with a gasp.

hovering above you is Eddie. You can see the lust behind his eyes as he scans your body.

"If im doing anything you don't like, tell me. This is about you, okay?"

“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers down to his knees. You watch his hands run up the tops of your thighs before spreading them wider so he can have access to where he wants you the most.

Running his fingers down your centre, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You are greedy; you want to feel everything all at once.

Wasting no more time, you pull down the stretchy waistband of your pants and yank your underwear down with it. No time to be self-conscious- the need to feel Eddie fueled your desire.

“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered as he left a trail of kisses up your thigh, hovering just above your mound.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please. Take care of me, I want it so bad,” You whine desperately. If you weren’t so horny, you’d be embarrassed by your words, but with Eddie, everything felt right.

Eddie’s lips latched into your soaked pussy, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in enjoyment. He didn’t hold back; he wanted this to be the best head of your life, even if it’s the only head of your life. You grip his hair in your fist, not expecting the pleasure to ripple through you so quickly.

“Taste so good, sweetheart; I wanna live in this pussy.”

“Oh god!” You cry as a single digit breaches your wanton hole.

Slowly, with his tongue and his finger pumping into you, you’re nearly there. Considering how long you’ve waited for this moment, it doesn't take much more. You’re cumming within minutes.

“Good girl, you okay?” he slaps the inside of your thigh and your body jerks.

“More,” you beg. It wasn’t enough; nothing would be able to satiate you until his cock was deep inside you.

“You sure? We can stop if you’re not ready”

“Need you now.” You grab him by the shirt collar and pull him towards you for a searing kiss.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your mouth, crawling up your body.

You loved the feel of his weight on top of you, consuming you with every kiss.

“Want you, Eddie” you moan as your hands toy with the hem of his shirt.

“You have me.” He dips his head lower to caress your throat with his lips.

Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth scrape across your soft, delicate skin.

Eddie didn’t lift his head until he was satisfied with the dark mark left on your neck.

When he unlatched from your throat, you demanded he take his clothes off.

Eddie loved your eagerness; he saw a spunk in you that he could only have dreamed of.

You also removed the rest of your clothing as he stripped.

When Eddie removed his last layer over his head, he couldn’t help but ogle your body, the way your head sunk into the pillows, your breasts, your soaked pussy on display for him. He was devouring you with his eyes.

You motion him to you with a single finger, breaking him out of the trace you put him under.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Eddie was like a feline the way he crawled up on the bed to you.

The heat rushed to your cheeks; somehow, this felt more intimate than what he was doing between your legs a moment ago.

“I want you,” you repeat yourself.

Eddie cups your face, and you cup his in return. His eyes bore into your soul, leaving not a trace unturned as he searched your entire being before kissing you one more.

You moan into his mouth, and Eddie’s cock grazes your mound collecting your slick as his hips ground into you.

“Ready?” He asked desperately; he needed to be inside of you.

“Yes.”

He quickly got up and you moaned,

“What are you?- oh,” you blush

You see him reach for his pants pocket for his wallet as he pulls out a condom.

Quickly he rips it open, and your mouth waters as he rolls it over his cock. This is the first time you’re seeing what he looks like down there, and you’re getting nervous because how is that supposed to fit?

“Sweetheart? You'll be okay.” He smirks.

Cocky, shit.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to do this myself.” You huffed.

“Oh really? How do you suppose that?” He pounced back on top of you.

“I have my toys.”

Eddie’s head drops back. “We will get back to that later. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Finally”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just slowly slides his cock through your slick folds collecting your natural lube before inching his way inside of you.

“I need you to relax, sweetheart.” You naturally clench around him. He was so tickled and long. Never had you felt so full, but little did you know Eddie was only a quarter-way in.

“Fuck you’re big,” you gasp.

“No need to stroke my ego, baby girl”

That made your pussy clench down again.

“Oh, you like that?”

You nod your head, yes, unable to speak.

“Noted”

You could kill him if he wasn’t making you feel so good.

“Eddie!” You scream as he finally reaches the hilt, gripping him like a koala you don’t want to let go.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight” Eddie slowly works his hips in and out of you; with each thrust, you can feel his bush brush against your clit, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

You moan in response; everything feels like it is on fire; never had you expected this level of sex. No wonder everyone is obsessed with it.

“Harder”

“You sure”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie's hips snap into you with such force your head almost hits the headboard. The bed is rocking; you have never experienced something so wanted, so needed, so absolutely taken over by someone else.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name, which only makes him go harder. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so hard, not ever wanting to let you go.

“Fuck me, this pussy s'good.” He spits through his teeth. His primal side is showing, and you can't get enough.

Nothing can again amount to this amount of pleasure; you're ruined for life.

"You close, baby girl?" Edie smirks when he feels you clamp don't on his cock when he spits out the words.

A guttural moan is unleashed from your throat in response because, god, you're so close.

The pressure building inside of you is about to burst as Eddie's calloused fingers find your sensitive clit.

"Come on baby, I know you gotta another one for me. I know you do."

Eddies words tipped you over the edge. Your body seized as his thick cock continued to pump into your greedy pussy. Your orgasm took over, and Eddie watched you silently scream for him.

Before you became overstimulated, Eddie also came shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spilled himself into the condom.

With Eddie beside you huffing and puffing, you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off your face.

"That good, huh?"

"I don't want to stroke your ego, but yeah... fuck me" You hid your face.

"I just did." Eddie rolled over to kiss all over your face and you can't help but giggle.

"I hope we can do that again," you shy away.

"Oh, we are one thousand percent doing that again. "

Tagging some mooties: @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @lofaewrites

@starkeysprincess @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @stardancerluv

[fairylights-throughthemist]

Bad Timing

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

wc : 1.2k

Warnings: use of Y/N, smut, fluff, slight angst, making out, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use (weed), pet names (baby, good girl, sweetheart, angel, sweet girl), van sex, unprotected p in v (don’t do this irl), (unsuccessful) pull out method (be smarter than them), mentions of bruising, they’re both in highschool, not proofread, mentions of (period) blood.

A/N: English is not my first language and this is my first time writing smut.

Based on this post

Parties weren’t his scene. He knew that. You knew that. Everyone knew that.

But Robin begged you to come and you didn’t want to go without Eddie (He didn’t want you to go alone either.)

It was Steve’s party, which he threw for no certain occasion.

As you arrived at the party, Eddie whispered to you “Y/N this is so stupid. No one wants me to be here.”

“I want you here Eddie, and Robin invited us, she wants you here too.”

“She invited you sweetheart, not me.”

“She knows we’re a package deal, Munson.” You said and smiled at him.

After a few hours and a few drinks too many Eddie spots you on the dance floor with Robin. At this point Eddie is a little high and very horny. Seeing you dance provocatively was his last straw. He walks up to you and hugs you from the back and whimpers into your ear.

“Y/N I’m so hard for you.” You can feel the hard bulge in his tight jeans pressing against you.

You turn around and look up at him with a surprised, but understanding look. You said goodbye to Robin while Eddie guides you to his van. Instead of opening the passenger seat door for you, he opens the back door. While the back of his van wasn’t an unusual spot for you guys to have sex in, you expected him to drive home and fuck you in his bed. Maybe it’s best this way, seeing how hard he was afterall.

He helps you in, acting like a gentleman even when he’s about to fuck you in the back of his van. He’s hot on your heels as you both start taking off your shirts.

“Do you want me to ride you Eds?” You asked.

“I’ll do the work this time baby.” He said with a smirk.

The two of you share a passionate kiss that quickly turns into a make out session while he circles your nipple with his calloused fingers. He kisses down your neck while his hands go to take off your pants. You’re left in only your panties, which he carefully removes and unsurprisingly shoves in his back pocket. You would scold him for taking yet another pair of your underwear if you weren’t so damn horny.

He starts kissing your clit but you have to stop him so you push his head away.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“N- nothing, just need you inside so so bad.”

“Oh my sweet girl needs me inside?” He said with a chuckle as he moved up to kiss you. He unbuckled his pants and pulled his dick out. His glistening tip softly hit his stomach.

He nudged your clit with his tip, pulling a whine from you.

“Eddieeee.”

He was teasing your dripping hole with his tip when you tried pulling him closer.

“So wet n’ I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Stop teasing me Eds.”

“You forgot the magic word angel.” He said with a grin.

“Please.”

“Say it again.”

“Please stop teasing me Eddie.”

“That’s more like it, baby.” He smacked a kiss onto your forehead.

“Do you have a condom?” You said breathlessly.

“Fuck.” He sighed.

“Seriously?”

“We used the last van-condom three days ago.”

“Just pull out. And do it in time.” You sighed.

“Really?”

“Yes Eddie I need you so fucking bad.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He quickly pushed in and you whimpered into his ear as you were practically hugging his neck.

“S-so big Baby.”

“You’re taking me so well baby. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

He started thrusting in and out of you, pleasure radiating off of the two of you. The force of his thrusts making the whole van move, making it very obvious what was going on inside the vehicle.

Your whines kept getting louder and louder which only boosted Eddie’s ego.

“You’re being so good for me baby.”

“F- fuck Eddie. Feels so good.”

“Yeah that’s it princess. Taking my cock so well.”

You just whined in response. You already felt yourself getting close due to being so wound up from all of Eddie’s teasing.

“Eddie… Eds… I- I’m close.”

“I know baby, squeezing me so tight, God, I’m so close.”

He brought two of his calloused fingers down to your most sensitive spot and started circling it.

“S- so close baby.” You whined.

“Go ahead baby, cum for me princess, you’re so good for me angel.”

All of his praise sent you over the edge and the only thing you could feel, hear and see was Eddie.

Despite your orgasm Eddie kept going, chasing his own euphoria. His thrusts sped up and his hands gripped your hips so hard that you knew you’d be left with bruises.

“Fuck, I’m almost there baby.”

You bring your hands up to his head and slightly pull on his hair, this action leading him to lose all composure. He cums with a loud growl.

“Fuck, feels so good.”

Not even three seconds pass before your eyes shoot open and realize what’s wrong.

“D-did you fucking cum inside.”

“Oooh fuck.”

“Are you serious?”

“Baby I’m so-”

“Eddie what the fuck!”

“Shit! I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

“You said you’d pull out!”

“I- I- Fuck! I’m sorry baby.”

You hurry to find your clothes and get dressed. You’ve got your shirt back on when you can’t find your panties.

“Give me my fucking panties.” You told him with a stern look.

He hesitantly reaches into his back pocket and hands them to you. You snatch them back and begin putting them on.

“Baby I know I fucked up but-”

“What the fuck am I gonna do. We’re still in high school Eddie we can’t have a fucking baby.” Your anger quickly turned into a mix fear and sadness. You looked at Eddie with tears in your eyes. He pulls you into a himself and kisses your forehead. You lied down like that, next to each other, with your face against his chest.

“Y/N, I promise it’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not. How would it be. We c- can’t have a b- baby.” You said in between sniffles.

“You know, with all the weed i’ve smoked my sperm might not even work.”

“Shut up.” You said with a slight giggle.

“I love you, Sweetheart. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

“I love you too, Eddie.” You said into the crook of his neck.

A week later

You just got home from hanging out with Eddie. You put your bag in your room and went to the bathroom. As you wiped you saw blood.

“Oh thank God.” You sighed.

You washed your hands and rushed to your room to call Eddie.

“Munson residence, Eddie here.”

“I got my period!”

“Thank fuck.”

“God that was scary. I love you Eddie.”

“I love you too my sweet girl.”

Your worries were fading away, just like the bruises he left on your hips that night.

A/N: Ahh I’m so scared to post this. The ending felt a little rushed but I just want to post this🥲

[antiquarianfics]

Marry me? Nah. Marry me? Yeah.

4 times Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you refuse. 1 time Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you accept.

A/N: I have been working on this for the last day, so enjoy. HOWEVER, I wrote it on my phone and refuse to proof it. Warning(s): Some canon level violence, swearing. Note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

—

Proposal 1

The first time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you aren’t even dating. The two of you are paired on a mission to dismantle a HYDRA base hidden deep in the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky. You had met before but never shared more than polite conversation. Steve had assured Bucky you weren’t scared of him, but that you wouldn’t push him to speak with you. Bucky never quite believed him, so he never attempted to converse with you either.

However, when you’re paired on this mission, you take that as the go-ahead to finally speak to him.

“So, Barnes,” you say, nudging his shoulder with your own, “guess we’ve got to come up with more conversation topics than the weather.”

“Guess so,” he replies.

It is during the mission he proposes. There are more HYDRA agents active than expected, and they come at the two of you guns blazing while you’re distracted setting up an explosive at a structural point of the complex.

“Y/L/N,” Bucky says to grab your attention, “we’ve got company.”

You bite your lip, finishing your task before standing and pulling your rifle from your back, preparing yourself for a fight.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got this one,” you tease, shooting him a wink before unleashing precise kill shots before Bucky even thinks to pull his own trigger. After taking out a dozen soldiers, a few manage to get close to you, and you hit one in the head with the butt of your gun and then quickly pull a knife from a thigh holster while pivoting on your foot to slit another’s throat. You shoot the unconscious soldier in the head for good measure before wiping your knife on your pants.

With your knife returned to its home on your thigh, you look up at Bucky who is staring at you with a dumbfounded, albeit impressed, look on his face. You had taken out 14 men on your own. He was in love.

The words “marry me” slipped past his lips before he could stop them, and you laugh.

“Maybe buy me dinner first, Sarge.”

Proposal 2

The second time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you’re comforting him after a nightmare. It is late at night, at the point it was really morning, and you happen to hear his screams through his bedroom door.

You stop at his door, letting a frown set on your face before reaching out for his doorknob. You hesitate before opening it, wondering if he’ll appreciate you barging in on him in such a vulnerable state. Then, he screams again—louder—and you turn the doorknob, letting yourself in.

The sight you’re met with is heartbreaking. Bucky is tossing and turning, his sheets bunched at his feet, comforter on the ground. He’s sweating buckets and whimpering what sounds like, “Please, no. Not the chair. Please!” over and over again. You choke back a sob before crossing over to him, gently lying a comforting hand on his shoulder and calling out his name.

“Bucky, honey, wake up. It’s just a dream, hun.”

The touch and sudden sound wake him up from what is truly a light sleep. Bucky shoots up into a sitting position, right hand shooting out to grab the hand touching him, and eyes darting around the room until they land on you.

“Shh,” you coo, “you’re okay, Bucky. It’s me, Y/N. It was just a dream. You’re safe.”

Bucky’s heart rate slows to a normal pace, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N?” He asks hesitantly. “W-what are you doing here?” His voice is small, like a terrified child’s, and you can’t help but frown at the thought.

You let your hand move to cup his face, noting that he relaxes at the gentle touch, leaning his face ever so slightly into your touch.

“I was headed to the kitchen and I heard you scream. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

He nods, eyes searching yours for some sort of anger or resentment for bothering you. He doesn’t find any.

“Can I do anything to make you feel better?” You ask kindly.

“Um,” Bucky says, voice shaky. “Would you mind—you don’t have to—but would you mind staying with me? Only if you want.”

You smile kindly, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek before climbing into his bed with him, pulling his head close to your chest.

“When I was little, I lived in a house in the woods for a while,” you say randomly, catching Bucky’s attention. His eyebrows scrunch together in some sort of confusion, but he says nothing. “At dinner one night, I look out the glass door onto the porch. Wanna know what I saw?”

Bucky hums his agreement as your hand works it’s way into his hair and your fingers begin to massage his scalp.

“4 raccoons!” You exclaim. “3 babies and a mama. We had a toddler slide on the porch at the time,” you continue, “and the baby raccoons kept climbing the little ladder and sliding down. The mama just sat a little bit away and watched and stole cat food occasionally.”

Bucky chuckles, finding your story cute but also recognizing your attempt to distract and soothe him after his nightmare. He appreciates it more than he himself understands; he is comforted by your voice more than he feels he should be. He lets the proposal slip a second time: “Marry me?”

You grin and press a kiss to his head.

“Not yet, hun.”

Proposal 3

The third proposal comes after the two of you begin dating.

Bucky takes you out on a date to a little coffee shop in Brooklyn you both had become fond of. You’re standing to the side of the café, out of the way, waiting on your order. Bucky has his right arm around your shoulders while you lean into him; his left hand stuck in his jacket pocket.

“So Natasha’s screaming at Clint to show himself so that she can kill him, right? Like, she was so fucking pissed at him. And Clint is in the fucking air vents—like those big ones people crawl through in action movies—hiding from her. Over a remote, Bucky!” You excitedly recount one of the most ridiculous encounters you’ve ever had with the Avengers to your boyfriend who is quietly listening with a fond smile.

“Like, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ my ass,” you scoff. You’re about to add another thought to the discussion when you hear someone else’s conversation from a few feet away.

Bucky tenses. You tense.

“Personally, I think they should’ve carted him off to the South, or somethin’, and put him in the chair,” a younger man—college age—says. “The death penalty, y’know? An eye for an eye, and all that. I mean, the guy killed a lot of people.”

“Fuck, man,” his companion, another college aged man, says. “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I mean, he’s also like a war hero and a prisoner of war.”

“He killed innocent people, man. Like, people’s kids and shit.”

“I guess.”

Bucky clenches his jaw, and he also tightens his grip on your waist when he feels you start to move away from him.

“It’s fine, doll,” he assures you, but he doesn’t seem fine to you.

The barista calls out “Barnes” and Bucky kisses the top of your head before moving to grab your drinks. You, however, take the opportunity to address the disrespectful boys while your boyfriend isn’t holding you back.

“Excuse me,” you say, walking up to them.

“Fuck!” One says, jumping a little. “You’re an Avenger.”

“Mhmm,” you agree. “So is Sergeant Barnes who you so innocently suggested deserves the chair.” You jam a finger into his chest.

“You have absolutely no fucking right to talk about him that way. He gave his life for this fucking country; fought alongside your grandparents. The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Shit. It’s not like my opinion is gonna change anything.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel Bucky’s hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from the college kids and into his side. He leans close to your ear to whisper, “Doll, it’s fine. Come on.”

He pulls you out of the coffee shop before you have time to protest.

Walking down the street, you’re ranting, letting your arms flail around angrily.

“What the actual fuck is their problem?! You can have your obviously wrong opinions, but why would you express them so loudly in front of the person you’re talking about? You’re a fucking Avenger. You’re a good man. Why would they pardon you if you weren’t? Why would the Avengers adopt you as one of our own if you weren’t? Pieces of shit! Hateful, fascist, brain dead, ungrateful, military-hating, assholes!”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at your insults, and he can’t help but feel flattered that you care enough to defend him.

“Sweetheart, it’s really fine. I’m used to it,” he assures you, finally handing you your coffee he’d been balancing in his hand.

You take it, but shoot him an incredulous look.

“Like hell it’s okay! You deserve better than that bullshit, Bucky. You deserve to go out on a date with your girlfriend without being fucking harassed.”

Bucky pulls you into his side, kissing your head like he had earlier, and murmurs into your hair his third proposal.

“Marry me.”

You smile softly.

“Nah,” you say, leaning into his hold. He laughs.

Proposal 4

The fourth time Bucky proposes to you, it’s less direct.

In fact, you’re in the field, lying on your back in Bucky’s arms while he frantically puts pressure on a bullet wound in your gut.

“Steve,” he says into the coms, “Y/N’s down. She got shot. I’ve got to get her back to the jet.”

“Go,” Steve responds quickly, “I’ll cover you.”

Bucky’s attention falls to you, grimacing at the blood covering his hands.

“Hold on, baby. I’ve got you,” he says, lifting you into his arms as gently as you can.

“I’m fiiinnneee,” you slur, unsteadily and awkwardly reaching to pat his face. Your action, meant to be comforting, only adds to your boyfriend’s anxiety.

“Doll, you’ve been shot, and it isn’t a clean wound.”

“That’s nothin’!”

Bucky grunts indignantly in response.

Finally, he gets you back to the jet, moving through the aircraft quickly to get you to a stretcher to triage you best he can. When there is nothing more he can do, he holds your hand, doing his best not to cry or show how scared he is.

“Y/N, stay awake for me, alright?” He pleads, squeezing your hand.

Your eyes flutter open and you smile goofily.

“No worries, Doll,” you giggle as you call him by the pet name he reserves for you. “I’m A-Okay.”

Bucky scoffs.

“You’re bleeding out.”

“You fixed me.”

“Not fully; I put a bandaid on you really.”

“Silly. Bandaids fix you!” You try to comfort, but you fall into a laughing fit.

“Doll, I need you to take this seriously so you make it. You’ve gotta marry me.”

“You didn’t ask me to!” You say, narrowing your eyes and pointing accusingly.

Bucky smiles at your antics.

“Marry me, Doll?”

You smile fondly as you stare up at Bucky.

“Ask me again when I’m not bleeding out.”

Proposal 5

The fifth time Bucky Barnes proposes to you is the last time.

You convince the super soldier to go hiking with you; you argue he deserves to sit and watch a waterfall with his girlfriend. He gives in easily because you’re not easy for him to say no to.

The two of you find a local hiking trail that leads to a decent sized waterfall, and you’re pleased to find the trail is mostly deserted. You only run into a few stray hikers along the trail.

Bucky smiles as you hike, watching as you excitedly stop to watch centipedes cross the path, or point out woodpeckers, or smell flowers. Finally, the two of you reach the waterfall and you squeal in excitement, running a few paces ahead of Bucky and jumping to let out some excited energy.

“Buck, look! It’s gorgeous!”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, slowing to a stop behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin in the crook of your neck.

The two of you stand like that, in each other’s embrace, for a few minutes, watching the waterfall, listening to nature around you.

“Thank you for coming up here with with me,” you say, turning around to place a grateful kiss on Bucky’s lips. He gently returns the kiss before pulling away.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You peck his lips again before turning back to the waterfall.

“Look!” You say upon turning around. “Bucky, a rainbow!” The spray of the water and the beams of sunlight meet to display a rainbow in front of you.

When Bucky doesn’t respond, you curiously turn around.

“Bucky? Oh!”

Bucky is on one knee, a ring box open in his hands, held out to you.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

There is no speech, there is no absurd gesture. There is just Bucky, and there is just a question.

It’s perfect.

“Yes.”

“Finally.”

[osmanthusoolong]

“A Canada Post worker says she was suspended after refusing to deliver flyers that compare gender-affirming medical care to child mutilation.

The flyer from Campaign Life Coalition, an anti-abortion group based in Hamilton, Ont., calls for a ban on "child sex-change."

Shannon Aitchison said she is the mother of a transgender adult and given that gender-affirming surgery is only available to people aged 18 and above, believes the wording of the flyers is harmful and discriminatory against transgender people.

"It's misinformation. It is lies and misinformation being presented as truth," she said.

This is the third flyer sent by the group since August. The first two were in support of the Blaine Higgs government's changes to Policy 713, requiring parental consent before school staff can use a child under the age of 16's chosen name and pronouns.

Higgs's campaign manager, Steve Outhouse, has previously said the Progressive Conservatives have "no involvement with this flyer or the actions" of the group.

The most recent flyer calls for banning gender-affirming health care for youth.”

“The Medical Consent of Minors Act in New Brunswick gives anyone 16 years or older the right to consent to medical treatment, including taking medications, such as hormones, or going to counselling. Medical professionals may grant parental-consent exceptions for younger teens who are deemed mature enough to make decisions.

Gender-affirming surgeries are available for those over 18 years of age in New Brunswick.”

…

“Aitchison said she's delivered mail in the past that she personally didn't agree with, but the flyer goes a step further.

"This is the first time I have ever drawn a line in the sand and said … I will not be party to delivering propaganda," she said.”

…

“When the first of these flyers showed up in New Brunswick mailboxes last month, the Canadian Union of Postal Workers said its workers "have been given the option of not delivering the offensive material if it would cause them mental anguish or if they fear for their health and safety."”

…

“It's not clear whether the option was given by the union or Canada Post, and why Aitchison was suspended despite what the union said. The union has not yet responded to CBC questions on the issue.

After three days of suspension, Aitchison said she had a disciplinary meeting and is still awaiting a decision. She said the union has filed a grievance on her behalf.”

I really hope she wins, this is horrendous.

@allthecanadianpolitics

[natsaffection]

heyy this is my first time making a request and idk if it's okay but what if reader is like an anti-hero or villian and when reader gets hurt she shoves up to Natasha's apartment thinking she would maybe help her? idk if it works but I've been thinking about something like this and it would be great if you actually write itt😭😭😭

Lines crossed. | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Gore and injurys

Word Count: 2,6k

A/N: These are the stories I like the most. 🙏🏻 And I feel honored, that I can write your first ever request! 🏆

The city of New York was no stranger to chaos, but in recent months, a new shadow had begun to loom over its streets. This shadow was not the kind of evil the Avengers were used to dealing with..This was different. And this, was you, a name whispered in fear among the criminal underworld, a vigilante with a taste for vengeance and a history stained with blood.

You had risen to the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list, a place usually reserved for supervillains and global threats. Your methods were brutal and unyielding, your sense of justice unwavering. To some, you were a hero. To others, a menace. But to the Avengers, you were a problem that needed solving.

“Another one,” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, murmured as she stood over the lifeless body of a notorious gang leader, his blood pooling around him in a grotesque halo. “It’s her again.”

Clint joined her, shaking his head. “She’s getting bolder. This is the third one this week.” Natasha's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the familiar hallmarks of your handiwork. The precision, the brutality, the unmistakable sense of finality. "She’s not hiding anymore. She wants us to know it’s her."

Nick Fury appeared behind them, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to bring her in. She's crossed too many lines, and now the media's starting to pick up on it. The last thing we need is a vigilante making us look incompetent."

Natasha nodded, her mind already running through the many encounters she’d had with you. Each one had been a battle of wills, fists, and wits. You were good, damn good. But Natasha was determined to be better.

You wiped the blood from your hands, your breathing steadying as you looked at the man you'd just eliminated. He had been a monster, a predator preying on the weak and innocent. You felt no remorse. In your eyes, justice had been served.

You knew the Avengers were close. You could feel their presence like a storm on the horizon. Especially Natasha. Your fights had become a dance of sorts, each trying to outmaneuver the other, each knowing that one day it would come down to a final, decisive confrontation.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced at the message: another target, another mission. Your work was never done.

Back at the Avengers' headquarters, the team gathered around a holographic display of the city, pinpointing the locations of your recent activities. "We need to be strategic," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. "She’s not just any criminal. She’s trained, skilled, and she's got a mission."

Natasha’s eyes never left the display. She knew you better than most. She understood your motivations, your drive. And she knew that stopping you would require more than just brute force.

"It’s personal for her," Natasha said quietly. "And if we’re going to bring her in, we need to understand why she’s doing this." The team nodded, each member resolving to bring an end to your bloody crusade. But for Natasha, it was more than just another mission. It was a challenge, a test of her skills and resolve.

You moved through the city like a ghost, your mind focused on the task at hand. You knew the Avengers were watching, waiting. You relished the challenge. Each encounter with Natasha had pushed you to be better, sharper.

But you also knew that the game couldn’t go on forever. One day, it would come to an end. One way or another.As you prepared for your next mission, you couldn't help but wonder: when that day came, who would be the one standing? You or Natasha?

The city was alive with the sounds of sirens and distant traffic, but your focus was razor-sharp. You moved through the shadows, your target's location clear in your mind. You knew the Avengers were closing in, but you thrived on the edge, where danger and adrenaline fused into one intoxicating rush.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your target, a corrupt businessman with ties to multiple criminal organizations. You slipped past his security with ease, your movements precise and silent. As you stood over him, your eyes cold and unyielding, you knew this would send another message to the underworld and the Avengers alike.

Just as you were about to strike, the window shattered, and Natash swung in, landing gracefully on her feet, guns drawn. "Y/n, this ends now," Natasha said, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency. You smirked, stepping back to assess the new threat. "You always know how to make an entrance, Romanoff."

The two of you circled each other, the tension thick in the air. You made the first move, lunging forward with a series of rapid strikes. Natasha countered, your fists and feet a blur of motion. Each move was calculated, each strike intended to find a weakness.

The fight spilled into the hall, your movements fluid and fierce. You were relentless, your skills honed by years of training and combat. But Natasha was no less formidable, her experience and agility a match for your raw power.

In a desperate bid to escape, you knocked over a set of shelves, creating a momentary barrier. You dashed down the corridor, but your path was blocked by Steve. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, raising his shield.

You didn’t hesitate. You launched yourself at him, your attacks relentless. Steve defended himself with his shield, but your sheer ferocity pushed him back. You knew you had to move fast. Every second counted.

A blast of energy struck the ground near you, and you turned to see Tony Stark hovering in his Iron Man suit. "You’re surrounded. Give it up."

With a quick glance, you calculated your options. You grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, using it to create a cloud of smoke. In the confusion, you darted through a side door, your escape route planned to the last detail.

In the aftermath, the Avengers regrouped, frustration evident in their expressions. "She’s good," Clint said, rubbing his bruised arm. "We almost had her."

"Almost isn’t good enough," Tony replied, scanning the area for any sign of you. "She’s always one step ahead." Natasha looked at the ground, her mind replaying the fight. She admired your tenacity and skill, but she also knew that each encounter brought them closer to a dangerous tipping point.

"We need to change our approach," Natasha said. "She’s playing a game of survival. We need to make her see that we’re not the enemy." Steve nodded. "Agreed. We need to understand her motivations. If we can reach her, maybe we can end this without more bloodshed."

Weeks turned into months, and the chase between you and Natasha became legendary among the Avengers. Your reputation as a formidable adversary was solidified, but so was Natasha's determination to bring you in. Every encounter became a game of wits and skill, a deadly dance with an undercurrent of something more.

One night, Natasha found herself on a stakeout at a high-end nightclub. Her sources had tipped her off about a major criminal deal going down. She knew you would be there, drawn to the opportunity like a moth to a flame. Natasha blended into the crowd, her eyes scanning for any sign of her elusive target.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. "Looking for someone?" your familiar, flirty voice whispered in her ear. Natasha spun around to find you, dressed to kill and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Yes, you." Natasha said, her voice steady despite the surprise. "You're getting bold." You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you're getting predictable, Romanoff. I knew you'd be here."

Natasha moved closer, lowering her voice. "This ends tonight. You're coming with me." You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, or is this another one of your attempts to arrest me?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk. "Depends on how you look at it." Before Natasha could react, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's ear as you whispered, "Catch me if you can." Then, with a swift movement, you disappeared into the crowd.

Natasha's heart raced as she pursued you through the crowded club. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and she couldn't deny the electric connection between you. You were always one step ahead, leaving clues and taunts that kept Natasha on her toes.

The chase led them to the club's rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath them. You stood at the edge, the wind whipping through your hair. Natasha approached slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"You can't keep running forever.“ Natasha said, her voice a mix of determination and something softer. You turned to face her, your expression unreadable. "I'm not running, Natasha. I'm fighting. Just like you."

Natasha took a step closer, her heart pounding. "We don't have to be enemies, Y/n.. Let us help you." Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Natasha saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior. "You don't understand. I've crossed too many lines. There's no going back for me."

Natasha reached out, her hand brushing your arm. "It's never too late to make a different choice. You can Trust me.“ You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for something. Then, with a sigh, you pulled away. "Maybe in another life, Romanoff."

Before Natasha could react, you leaped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on a fire escape below. Natasha rushed to the edge, but you were already disappearing into the night.

—

One fateful evening, you found yourself cornered by a gang of criminals. You fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. By the time the dust settled, you were grievously wounded. Blood soaked your clothes, and every step sent waves of agony through your body.

Desperation set in as you stumbled through the dark alleys. You knew going to a hospital was out of the question. The police would arrest you on sight, and SHIELD agents were everywhere. You tried to treat your wounds in an abandoned building, using whatever you could find. With shaking hands, you attempted to stitch a deep gash on your side, but the pain was too intense and your vision blurred.

Realizing the severity of your injuries and your inability to treat them alone, you remembered, „You can Trust me.“ You had placed a small tracking device on Natasha’s shoe during one of your fights, anticipating you might need to find her someday.

The rain pelted the city in relentless sheets, washing away the grime of the day. You stood in front of Natasha's apartment door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You leaned heavily against the frame, your vision swimming. Despite the pain, you forced a playful smile onto your lips. You had to get inside. You had to see Natasha.

With a trembling hand, you knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity before it finally swung open. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"How did you find me?" Natasha asked, her voice cold. You tried to straighten up, wincing as you did. "Miss me already, Romanoff?" you said, your voice weak but carrying a hint of flirtation. "Couldn't stay away.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here. Why are you here?" Ignoring the question, you leaned against the doorframe, your legs barely holding you up. "Thought I'd drop by... see your lovely face," you managed, your vision beginning to darken around the edges.

Natasha's patience snapped. She grabbed her phone, her fingers quickly dialing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s number. "Enough with the games. I'm done with this."

Your heart sank, your body swaying. You tried to take a step forward but stumbled, your strength failing. You collapsed into Natasha, who caught you out of reflex. As your full weight pressed against her, Natasha's eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and sticky, covering Natasha's hands.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her phone slipping from her fingers as she cradled your limp body. "Y/n, what happened??" Your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to stay open. "Guess I... pushed it too far this time..“ you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Natasha quickly assessed the situation, her mind racing. "We need to get you inside.“ she said, her tone urgent. She half-carried, half-dragged you into the apartment, laying you on the couch. Blood pooled on the floor, and Natasha's hands shook as she grabbed her first aid kit.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Natasha urged, tearing open your shirt to reveal a deep, gaping wound along your side. The sight of old scars crisscrossing your chest made Natasha's heart clench. "God, what did you do?!“

She worked quickly, her training kicking in. She poured antiseptic over the wound, her hands moving with practiced precision. Your body trembled with pain, your fingers digging into the couch. "God, that burns," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Natasha, it h-hurts..“

"I know it does," Natasha said, her voice softening. "But I need you to stay with me. I don't have any narcotics, so this is going to be rough."

Your eyes were glazed with pain, your breathing shallow. "Just do it…" you managed to say. Natasha threaded a needle, her fingers slick with blood. She began to stitch the largest wound, her focus intense. Your body shook with each stitch, your teeth clenched to hold back screams. The raw pain was almost unbearable, and low moans of agony escaped your lips despite your best efforts.

"You're doing great," Natasha said, her own voice trembling. "Just a few more." Your fingers clawed at the couch, your knuckles white. "Natasha... please, hurry," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Natasha's heart ached at the sight of your suffering. "I'm almost done," she said, her tone soothing. "Just hold on a little longer."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast. "Sorry... for your couch...and for everything," you whispered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. "I never wanted it to be like this.."

Natasha's eyes were full with understanding. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I need you to hold on." She finished the stitches, then bandaged the wounds as best she could. Your body relaxed slightly, your breathing still labored but more steady.

"It's done," Natasha said, sitting back and wiping her forehead. "You're going to be okay." Your eyes closed, exhaustion overtaking you. Natasha grabbed a blanket and covered you, then sat beside you, holding your hand gently. "I'm here," Natasha whispered. "You're safe now. Rest and we’re sorting everything tomorrow out, okay?"

You whimpered softly, your body shaking from the pain and the cold. Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, her expression tender. "I never thought I'd see you like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on Natasha with difficulty. "Guess... I can't always be the strong one.“ you murmured, a weak smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's heart tightened. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she said softly. "It's okay to let someone help you." You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting closed again. "Thank you, Natasha.“ you whispered.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, "You're going to be alright," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As she sat there, watching over you, Natasha knew that this was a turning point. You had come to her for help, and that meant there was still hope. She would find a way to bring you back from the edge, no matter what it took.

Part 2

[eideticboywonder]

─── ̩̩͙✩ sweet like honey, part i ; steve harrington

summary — all it took was a smile from you to bring steve harrington to his knees.

pairing — fem!reader x steve harrington

warning(s) — use of she/her pronouns, love at first sight, lovestruck steve, just sweet fluff :)

word count —  2,312

read part two here ❤️

The interaction only lasted mere seconds, but Steve had every single detail forever ingrained in his mind.

It was a dreary morning, unusually chilly for early summer. The newly opened Starcourt Mall, not yet abuzz with the newly released children and teens of Hawkins, echoed with the rain beating against the glass roof. Steve, who’d just rushed in from his car donning only the ridiculous navy Scoops Ahoy uniform, ran his hand through his once perfectly styled hair, now slightly undone by the wetness in an attempt to fix it. He flicked droplets from his arms as he walked toward the ice cream shop, muttering in irritation under his breath as he went. 

That is, until he felt a light hand on his back and turned to find you behind him. He stopped cold, every drop of annoyance previously flooding his system vanishing. The world around the two of you dulled, every person, each sound fading away until there was only you.

You had been wearing the dark maroon vest of your movie theater work attire and black formal pants that hugged the curves of you just right. Even with your hair pulled back, damp from the weather, the coconut of your shampoo married with the vanilla of your perfume infiltrated his senses. 

“Sorry, I just—” Your voice dripped with a honey so sweet, so hypnotic Steve’s brain momentarily short circuited. He couldn’t even register his keys in your grasp, he was too focused on your eyes; he didn’t know it was possible for eyes to be that beautiful until he’d looked into yours. “You dropped these.”

The shy smile gracing your lips made his heart skip, then leap into his throat when your fingers grazed his as you handed him his keys. Your touch was warm against the chill in the air, and he hoped the flush rising in his cheeks could be disguised by the crisp temperature. 

Realizing he hadn’t yet spoken a word, Steve finally managed to get out a “Thanks.” before you offered one last knee weakening smile and brushed past him, presumably continuing on your way to the theater. 

He stood there for a second with his hand still held out, his brain slowly thawing. By the time he’d finished buffering and turned to call after you and ask your name, you were already too far to go after without looking like a creep. 

That was it. The “king” of Hawkins High brought down by a smile and six quiet words.

Steve told himself he’d go find you on his break, properly thank you and at least get your name (which he had no doubt would become his favorite the second he learned it). But when his break came, he made it no further than the threshold into Scoops before his stomach quickly filled with anxious butterflies, preventing him from going any further. 

Robin, of course, didn't miss the chance to give him shit about it. “You all there, Harrington? You look like you're gonna yack all over my clean floor.”

He rolled his eyes, dropping into one of the cold metal chairs. “I’m fine, your precious floor is safe.”

Her brows furrowed, leaning over the window separating the break room from the front of the store. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You haven’t been nearly as annoying as you usually are. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

“First of all, thanks for that.”

“You're very welcome.”

Steve gave a pointed glare, not even bothering to lift his arm from the table as he offers a lazy middle finger with a tight quirk of his lips. “Second of all, I said I’m fine, alright? I’m totally, one hundred percent fine.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that was just so very convincing, Harrington. If you ever had any aspirations to go into acting, I’d give up and stick to slinging ice cream.”

His second attempt occurred that day after Steve’s shift, even made it all the way to the theater this time. However, as soon as his eyes found you behind the counter helping a mother and her daughter, the warmth emanating from that damn smile of yours turned his legs into jelly, effectively putting an end to his movements. His mouth felt dry, whatever words he’d previously been able to come up with dissipating completely as he became helpless to do anything but stare. 

Then, just as you’d finished handing the little girl her popcorn, your head began to turn in his direction, triggering his legs to finally move once more… but in the opposite direction.

What the hell was wrong with him? Getting tongue tied over a girl? Steve Harrington always knows what to say, the perfect line or simple look to turn women into putty in his hands. And yet, somehow, you’d achieved the impossible by simply existing. 

In the days that followed, in addition to work, Steve suddenly saw you everywhere, his subconscious seeking you at every turn. 

At the arcade the following night when he dropped the kids at Dustin’s insistence. You’d been coming out as they went in, laughing with another girl, arms linked; your hair flowed freely this time, dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie that looked a little too big, unencumbered by workplace regulations. Even in the dim light from the arcade, your smile pulled Steve in. Your laugh, light and contagious, quickened his pulse and sent pleasant goosebumps down his spine. (He didn’t know it then but he’d spend the rest of his life trying to elicit that angelic sound from you as often as he could.) 

The community pool for the official summer opening that weekend. Steve had to work that day, so he didn’t arrive until the late afternoon. Whereas you’d been there almost all day to appease your best friend’s desire to ogle the lifeguards, so by the time he arrived the several sun exposure and energy spent in the water had you drained. 

This time, Steve came across you passed out alone in one of the reclining pool chairs on his way to the bathroom. You were positioned laying on your side, curled into yourself with your wrist tucked under your chin. A bright pink and blue beach towel was draped over your not completely covered body, contouring to your shape. Your brow is creased, a slight frown pulling on your lips. He mirrored it, wondering what could be troubling that beautiful head of yours. A breeze blows over you then, making you shiver a little and shift, which reveals the top of your white bikini peeking from under the towel. 

A deep crimson that worsened as you adjusted again spread across his flustered face, eyes wide and lips parted, and immediately averted his gaze out of respect. Steve’s eyes land on one of the white towels provided by the pool sprawled across the empty chair to the left of you. He grabbed it, feeling the residual heat from the sun before leaning forward to place it over you as added protection and warmth.

Once you were covered anew, your still sleeping face relaxes; brows unfurrow, frown receding to a more peaceful appearance. He was helpless to the soft smile that took hold as he observed you, so enchanting even unconscious. Then, before he can start to feel too much like a creep, Steve continued on his original path to the locker rooms, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

Then again, a few days later at the grocery store. Steve’s father, as a part of the whole “teaching him to be responsible” thing after not being accepted into a college, told him he needed to learn how to shop for himself with the money earned from Scoops instead of relying on his mother. He was standing in the frozen aisle, surveying his pizza options when he heard it— that voice dripping in honey he knew could only belong to you. 

“Come on, we’ve been working hard all week. We deserve a sweet treat, I refuse to take no for an answer.”

His eyes snapped in the direction it came from and landed on you at the opposite end of the aisle where the ice cream was displayed. You stood with your arms hugging yourself, the t-shirt you wore clearly not enough to shield you from the chill coming off the freezers. You craned your neck to look at the options on the upper shelves, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip in thought. Too entranced by the sight of you, Steve didn’t notice the guy with you until you pointed at something out of your reach and he opened the freezer to grab it for you. You smiled at him in thanks as he handed you the pint of ice cream, and a tinge of disappointment pinged at Steve’s chest. 

Shaking his head, Steve grabbed a random box to throw in his cart, turned and walked away as he pushed the feeling aside. He had no reason to be jealous— he didn’t even know your name yet. 

Even still, whenever he went back to work, he found himself frequently glancing up and out from behind the ice cream counter or as he wiped tables. Each time he caught a glimpse of you effecting him all the same. Until one night you’d looked over as he was sweeping through the lobby at closing, gaze locking with his. Recognizing him as the cute, shy guy you’d helped the week prior (and have noticed numerous times since), you flashed him a smile and offered a small wave. 

He wasn’t ready for this— heat crept into his face, tinting it an adorable shade of pink, which only deepened when he tripped over the broom he was holding, sending the dustpan beside it and its contents sprawling. Just great.

You giggle, finding the whole thing endearing, covering your grin with your hand as you approach him. “Are you okay?” 

Steve does his best to avoid your eyes, knowing it would further the embarrassment and complicate his ability to think coherently. “I mean, if you classify my apparent inability to walk and operate a broom at the same time as ‘okay’, I’m doing fantastic.”

“I don’t know, I think walking and sweeping is a pretty tough skill to learn and yet, you just made it look so easy.” 

“Ha ha,” He rolls his eyes, his sarcasm playful. “You're a real comedian.”

“Why, thank you for noticing, uh…” You trail off, becoming aware you're missing a key piece of information. “I actually didn’t catch your name the other day, I was in such a rush. You know, with the keys, and the rain.”

He finally lifts his eyes from the the cleaning supplies in hand to meet yours, the now all too familiar sensation of butterflies and brain fog washing over him. “Trust me, I remember.”

Little does he know the honey brown warmth in his are having the same effect on you, your breath hitching in your throat and pulse racing. The corners of your mouth instinctively curl as you look up at him, admiring the scattered moles adorning his beautiful face, the way his shaggy hair falls just so against his forehead. Your eyes trace a path from his pink lips back up to his, a shiver travelling down your spine at the way he’s looking at you; no one has ever looked at you this way, like you’re the most precious thing they’ve ever seen.

It’s then that Steve seems to realize he hasn’t responded to your original inquiry. “Oh, um, Steve. Steve is my name, by the way. Since you… asked.”

“Well, Steve,” His name has never sounded so melodic coming from anyone else’s lips. “It’s nice to finally be able to put a name to my accidental stalker.”

“Oh, I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” Your brief touch on his forearm meant to be an act of assurance lights his skin on fire. “It’s not like there are that many places to go in Hawkins. There’s bound to be some overlap.”

“Actually, I was thinking Hawkins must be bigger than I thought if I never noticed you before.”

“You know what they say. ‘Sometimes you never really know what you’re missing until it’s right in front of you’, right?” The eye contact holds for a silent beat, the air crackling. Neither of you are aware the same delicate expression of adoration on your face is reflected in the other’s, shown in the near identical adoring grins faintly toying on your lips. Your eyes catch the clock hanging on the wall behind him, trying not to let your disappointment at the time show too much as you start to back away. “Shit, I have to go. My ride’s waiting. To be continued.”

“Wait,” You pause, facing him just outside the store; he almost forgets what he was going to ask as his eyes meet yours again. “Do I get to know your name?”

“A week hasn’t been long enough, stalker?” The mischievous glint in your eye paired with your teasing tone and amused grin feels like you’ve known each other a lifetime, warm and familiar, and he wants to stay in it forever. “When you finally do find it, let me know. Just don’t take too long because I might have a new, more motivated stalker to take your place by then.”

Then you’re gone, leaving Steve reeling in the remnants of coconut and vanilla tainted with popcorn left behind. He’s temporarily dazed, almost certain that what just occurred was nothing more than a dream (which wouldn’t be far fetched, you’d made several appearances in his sleep since that fateful day). He kicks himself for not just talking to you sooner, already impatiently awaiting your next encounter. 

Still, there's no stopping the stupid, lovestruck smile that remains on his face the rest of the night. All because of you. 

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, angst, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

You don’t reply.

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[bucks-babe]

Not Like This

Summary: A night at the bar doesn’t go the way Bucky or you ever thought

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: established relationship, Bucky trying to get Steve a date, angst, attempted drugging with the intention of SA (nothing happens though), mentions of a knife/stabbing (doesn’t happen), smut, but like angsty smut not the sexy smut, Bucky being a huge idiot, lack of communication, dub-con/bordering non-con at times, degradation, oral m!rec, subspace, manhandling, very mean Bucky, safeword being called, crying, spanking, self-hatred, insecurities, self-reflection, aftercare, scared Bucky and reader, overstepping boundaries, communication at the end, some fluff

A/N: This is my gift to @buckys-wintersoldier for her birthday! This fic contains topics that maybe sensitive to some people. This is your last warning. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Updates are posted to my side blog @bucks-babesideblog

“This is getting hard to watch, Buck.” You grimace and turn your head towards your boyfriend. Steve stands on the dancefloor in a futile attempt to talk to the girl he’s been eyeing up for the past hour and a half. Bucky takes another swig of his beer before meeting your eyes with the same grimace. “ You should go and help him.”

“And what am I supposed to do, doll?” Bucky leans back in the booth, left arm resting behind your head as he whispers in your ear. A shiver passes through your body and your thighs clench involuntarily. His scent mixes with the faint smell of his last beer and the crowded bar’s sweaty stench.

“Go play wingman, apparently you were great at it in the 40’s.” You playfully nudge him away, mostly because you can’t think straight when he’s pressed so close to you, your body craves his already and you don’t need to make it any harder for yourself. “While you’re at it, I’ll get myself another drink.”

Bucky grumbles as you stand up without giving him a kiss. “Make sure you put it on my tab, doll.”

You giggle as you spin around to face him, dress swaying as you do so. “You know I will, hotstuff.” You take your seat at the bar and signal for the bartender, turning around to watch Bucky try and get Steve a date. You thank him as he places your drink down, but before you can get up, another man seats himself in the stool right next to yours.

“Hello, gorgeous.” At first you don’t realize that he’s talking to you, too caught up in the way Bucky’s muscles flex as he gestures to Steve. “I say, you’ve caught my eye tonight. Mind if I ask your name? I’m Jake.” It dawns on you that he wasn’t talking to anyone else, only you.

As you go to turn around to decline his horrible attempt at flirting, you see him slip a pill into your open drink out of the corner of your eye, so fast that none of the other patrons nor the bartender saw, but you did. Ice shoots through your veins. He tried to drug you. What do you do now? Leave? That would look suspicious. Call the bartender and say that it wasn’t the right drink? No, he heard your specific order.

“Umm,” you trail off. At first you were gauging how far you would have to run to make it to Bucky, but then you saw the pocket knife bulging out from underneath the man’s shirt. “Sorry, I’m here with my boyfriend.” Good, let him know I’m not alone.

“Him? Well he seems quite friendly with the lady in blue over there.” You don’t turn to look, not trusting to take your eyes off of him. “If I were him, we wouldn’t even have made it to the bar when you’re wearing a number like that.” He lets out a low whistle, eyes hungrily raking up and down your body.

You want to yell out for anyone to come over, but you’re too scared when you know that he has a knife. Yes, Bucky is a super soldier, but Jake could stab you faster than Bucky could reach you. “We have an open relationship actually.” Open relationship, really? Why would I fucking say that?

“So you’re telling me that I have a chance.” His beatty eyes lock in on your cleavage and you shift around uncomfortably. “Why don’t you have a sip of your drink? You seem pretty tense over there.” You pick up your drink with shaky hands before bringing the straw to your lips. You pretend to take a small sip which makes Jake smile, showing off his smoke stained teeth. “There you go, good girl.” Where the hell is Bucky? Come on, please come back.

You’re practically shaking in fear as his sweaty palm lands on your knee, creeping up to your thigh. Behind you resides Bucky who has overheard most of the conversation. Anger doused his entire body. He didn’t see Jake drug your drink or how scared you were, too caught up in your words. Open relationship? Letting him call you good girl? Touching you?

You almost shriek when Bucky’s metal hand grabs your wrist, pulling you away, but you instantly relax when you notice that Bucky’s come to save you. The fear still lingers under the surface but it feels like you can breathe without a heavy weight on your chest. “Thank god, Bucky. I-” He cuts you off as he spins around, flesh hand wrapping around your neck.

“Thank what? I leave you for five minutes and you turn into a little slut, huh?” Your eyes widen. There’s no way that he thinks that you wanted to even talk to that man at the bar. Before you can answer he lets your neck go and continues to drag you along. “Keep your fucking mouth shut. You want to be a little slut,” he pushes you into the passenger seat of his car before slamming the door and getting in the driver seat. “Then you can keep your mouth stuffed with my cock.”

He doesn’t even look at you as he slides his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his semi hard cock. He doesn’t see the tears welling up, or how you’re silently begging for him to comfort you, hug you. To tell you that everything is going to be okay, you’re safe and he loves you, but no, Bucky is furious at you.

You feel yourself start to slip into subspace, the fear of your previous situation in addition to Bucky’s harsh words have you floating off into space. You want to please him, show him that he’s the only one you want, but you also don’t want to have sex right now. Either way, he grabs the back of your head and forces you down on his cock before slamming his foot on the gas, making you lurch in the car.

“Keep your fucking head right there. You’re gonna let me use you however the fuck I want since you seem to think that you’re not mine and I’m not yours. You really fucking think that I would want another pussy? Another mouth? Oh, shit. Choke on that fat cock. Think Jake can fill up your mouth like this?” For just one moment, you forgot about Jake, about what could have happened to you, but at the mention of his name you try to pull off, suddenly not wanting to have your boyfriend’s cock in your mouth.

“Don’t fucking run away from me. Never gonna share this perfect body. Shit, can feel you slobbering on my nuts. Bet you fucking like it too, being my little cocksucker.” No, you don’t like it, at least right now. I just want you to hold me.

“You’re so fucking good at this. Already gonna cum, ready? Fuck, gonna make me crash the fucking car just from some head. K-keep going, shit.” Tears stream down your face, partially from all your emotions bubbling over and partially from the brutal facefucking. His flesh hand grips the back of your neck and rails your head, spit and tears everywhere, makeup completely ruined, black streaks running down your face.

He cums with a shout, balls pulsing on your cheek where he holds you down. The breaks squeak as he pulls into your shared driveway, ripping you away from his dick. “You look fucking pathetic right now. Trying to get another man’s cock and then gobbling down mine it’s your only purpose.” You can’t find any love in his eyes, only rage and lust. More tears fall down your cheeks.

“B-b-buc-” You try to speak but your voice is hoarse from his cock ramming down your throat.

“Just get upstairs. On the bed, face down, ass up, naked.” If his jaw clenches anymore you’re sure he’ll break some teeth.

“Please, just let me-” He cuts you off again after you’re able to speak.

“Do what I said or else it’s gonna be much worse for you. I don’t take well to insolent whores.” Why can’t you see I need you?

Without another word, you head to the bedroom, trying to wipe away your makeup but only smearing it around even more. You don’t have any more fight left in you. All you want to do is forget the whole night, but you know that it’s nowhere near over. You do as you were told, grabbing the stuffie Bucky won for you at the carnival over a year ago and clutching it to your chest.

You gulp at the sound of Bucky’s clothes dropping to the floor. “Don’t make a sound.” It’s the only warning you get before his hand smacks against your ass, hard. You bite the stuffie, more and more tears falling from your eyes. He slaps your ass over and over again, no doubt leaving bruises. By the end, you’re so deep in subspace that all you want to do is please him.

It doesn’t matter that you don’t want to have sex, that what you want from him is his warmth and comfort. If you make him happy then he will take care of you after. You need to please him, make him proud of you. Just take the punishment. Don’t make him angrier.

Without warning, he slams into your cunt, driving in and out with no regard for your pleasure. He wasn’t trying to make you cum, and you could tell just based on his thrusts. He was using you to get himself off. This is what Jake planned on doing to me, isn’t it? You bite onto the stuffie harder. It hurts, but it feels so good. This is what I deserve.

He cums in your pussy but doesn’t stop moving. The added lubrication makes his thrusts easier and the pleasure starts to build in your stomach. Trying to hide your moans as you near the edge only for him to pull out and slap your ass again and again before railing you again. You try to reach a hand back, maybe to get him to slow down, maybe just because you needed to feel some sort of tenderness, but he only pushes your hand away.

Any thoughts of Jake leave your mind with every plunge of Bucky’s cock. You melt into the mattress, focusing on the pleasure Bucky’s bringing you. He loves me, that’s why he’s so mad. “Fuck, pussy’s so fucking good, never want to leave her. M’going to fuck this little cunt all night if I want to.” Do I want that? It feels so good, but I want him to cuddle me.

You can feel your orgasm build up in your stomach, threatening to burst at any moment. “Can I cum?” It’s the first words you’ve said since he started fucking you. For a fleeting second you think that he’ll pull out again and take your orgasm away, but he only fucks you harder, right hand coming down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles. It hurts in the best way, throwing you over the edge as you cream all over his dick.

“Good girl, no one else can make you cum like me, can they?”

Those two words take you right back to the bar, where the threat of what Jake could have done is still fresh. “RED!” Mid orgasm, your mind reels in fear. Bucky pulls out immediately, all the rage coursing through his body leaving at once. You collapse on the bed, curling into the fetal position, still clutching the stuffed animal to your chest as sobs take over your body.

Bucky shakes as he watches you fall apart. He has no idea what really happened at the bar but he knows that he pushed you too far. He replays every word and act that occurred in the past hour. How he didn’t let you talk, how you looked so small, like you were trying to curl into yourself, how he didn’t even look at you as he shoved his cock down your throat. All the names he called you, the roughness, the lack of care.

He tries to reach out to you, but you jerk away, sobbing harder. Panic swells in his chest. What did he do? How could he hurt the love of his life? Bucky gets off the bed and heads to the bathroom, getting a damp washcloth and walking over to your side of the bed, crouching down so that he is at eye level with you. “Doll?” You whimper in response yet meet his eyes. “Can I clean you up?” You give a small jerk of your head, all you can muster.

Bucky’s heart drops to his stomach as he sees your swollen cunt. He caused that. As gently as he can, he wipes away his cum and your juices before tossing the rag across the room and settling next to you, leaving space so that you can decide if you want to cuddle with him. You crave his warmth so you curl yourself into his side, sighing at the comfort his skin brings.

Self hatred licks at his spine. He wants to run away, not giving himself the chance to do anymore harm, but you need him and he can’t let you down again, not after what he did. Eventually, your sobs ebb and your tense body relaxes. “He tried to drug me.” You say it so quietly that if Bucky didn’t have enhanced hearing he wouldn’t have caught it.

He jolts away, ignoring your whimper at the loss of contact. The morsel of responsibility that was keeping him next to you vanishes. He treated you like a whore, thinking that you were flirting with another man, when in reality you were just trying to keep yourself safe. Bucky stands and paces the room, darker and darker thoughts run through his mind.

“He what?” Bucky can’t breathe, he can’t fathom what he just put you through after one of the worst experiences of your life just happened. You needed him and he wasn’t there in the way you needed.

You try to keep the tears at bay, but you can’t help it. “He slipped something in my drink when he thought I wasn’t looking. I was so scared and you were so far away. I-I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I stalled him long enough I would be okay until you came back.” You shrink into yourself again, the stuffies head tilted at an odd angle at the force you were applying.

“And then I, I let myself, I should have-” He can’t think straight. Anger flairs inside of him. At himself, at the man at the bar. “I’m so sorry.” Tears stream freely down his face as he rounds to where you lay, dropping to his knees.

“Please hold me.” Bucky jumps back into bed, he was fully ready for you to kick him out, hit him, make him beg on his knees for your forgiveness, but not for you to want him to touch you again, not after the pain and fear he inflicted. “I just want to be held, want you to love me.”

“I do love you, sweet girl. I love you so goddamn much it hurts. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have listened to you, should have seen how uncomfortable you were, but I was so caught up in my own head, that you were looking for someone else because I wasn’t good enough.” He hastily wipes his tears away before wrapping his arms around your frame. “And that is no excuse for what I did. I let my own insecurities blind me and I hurt you as a result.”

He trails off before speaking the words that he has been too scared to ask before, but he knows the answer to. “You didn’t want to have sex, did you?” It’s framed as a question, but he says it like a statement, because he knows that you didn’t. Not at the time, mostly because of his own rage, but if he would have thought about more than himself he would have.

“I wanted to please you, though. Thought if I took my punishment that you wouldn’t be mad at me anymore.” Bucky feels his heart break in two. You didn’t have to answer his question. His stomach churns at the fact that the only reason you went through with anything was because you thought that you needed to, for him to treat you the way you deserve, with love and devotion.

You don’t blame him, maybe it’s because you still are so deep in subspace, but either way, he’s taking care of you now. “You never have to do something you don’t want to do just because of me. You know that right?” Clearly, he made you feel like you had to.

“Please, it’s not just your fault. I could have tapped your leg three times, I could have said our safeword long before you fucked me.”

“But I didn’t even let you fucking talk.” You see the hurt in his eyes, not at you, but at himself.

“My hands were free. I could have tapped you at any time. This isn’t just on you. We both fucked up.”

“The only reason you didn’t was because you felt like you had to please me though.” Why is he so desperate to put all the blame onto himself?

“Partially, but also because I wanted to forget about what happened. I thought that if we had sex that your touch could wash away his. But when I knew it couldn't, I should have stopped you.” Both of your eyes were red and full of tears. “Neither of us are exempt from the blame, okay?”

Bucky nods his head, not fully believing you, but not wanting to fight about it. “Can we take a bath and cuddle? We can talk about it tomorrow. I just want to be held right now.” With shuddering breath, Bucky nods his head and picks you up, taking you to the bathroom to get the tub ready.

You both have to work to get past this, to understand what you both could have done better to prevent it from happening again, but you still trust Bucky with your life. There is no love or trust lost between the two of you. It happened and you can’t change that. You doubt that you’ll be going to any bars soon, and there’s going to be a lot of trauma that you’ll both have to work through. Him with his insecurities and you with how easy it would have been for someone to take advantage of you, how you didn’t communicate your needs. But you have Bucky and he has you, and he is going to do everything in his power to make this up to you, that this never happens again.

[steddiehyperfixation]

wrong again

wrote this in an hour in a sudden burst of inspiration lol. could be read as a kinda sorta part two to this, or completely standalone. @steddie-spooktober day 21: "it's warm in here" | 1,037 words | T | cw: mild description of an anxiety attack

Steve and Eddie haven’t talked about what they are. They kissed for the first time almost a month ago, the moment something sweet and unplanned. One kiss led to more, led to holding hands and cuddling and spending nights at each other’s places, led to gifts and pet names and taking each other out to dinners and movies. But they still haven’t talked about it. Not really. They don’t need to. What they are to each other, how they feel about each other, is clear enough in the things that they do. Steve pours all the depth of his affection into every kiss, every touch, every home-cooked meal and bouquet of flowers, and Eddie has matched him - even exceeded him sometimes - in his effort, his passion, his gentleness. So even without the words to prove it, there shouldn’t be any doubt that everything Steve feels for Eddie, Eddie feels the same for him. 

Except, well…Steve’s been wrong before. Real life is not like a movie or a book of poetry, and the rose-colored clouds that cover the eyes of a hopeless romantic have led him astray in the past. He’s thought many previous relationships were something more than they were, that the other person cared as much as he did. And he’s been wrong. 

He tries not to think about it, usually. Pushing those thoughts away hasn’t been too hard throughout the past month, when a smile or a kiss from Eddie has often been enough to dissipate them. But right now, sitting on a couch at a Halloween party watching Eddie grab a drink from the punch bowl, suddenly it’s all Steve can think about. He remembers the last time he was at a Halloween party, the worst time he was wrong. It encompasses his mind like a flashback, oppressing his present senses and filling them in with echoes of the past, Nancy’s drunken speech about their love being bullshit ringing in his ears. 

His vision blurs like he’s had too much to drink and everything sounds like it’s underwater. When Eddie returns from the punch bowl and tucks himself back against Steve’s side, it doesn’t give him that easy warmth it usually does. Instead it just feels strange and suffocating. Because what if this doesn’t mean the same thing to him as it does to Steve? What if it’s all bullshit? He’s not sure he could survive this being bullshit. He needs Eddie too much, loves him too much. If he’s wrong again-

“Stevie,” that sweet voice breaks through his thoughts. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve lies. He feels like he can’t breathe. “It’s just, uh-” He loosens his collar, makes up an excuse, “It’s warm in here.” 

Eddie pulls away from him, studying him with worried eyes. He sets his drink down and stands before grabbing Steve by the hands to tug him to his feet. “Come on then, sweetheart, let’s get you some fresh air.” 

Steve lets himself be led outside and guided to sit on the backyard’s wide porch step. He’s still struggling to take a proper breath. He yanks his hands away from Eddie’s, can’t bring himself to look at him, because what if he’s wrong what if he’s wrong what if

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to take you home?” Eddie’s still fretting over him, newly freed hands fluttering towards and then away from him like he isn’t quite sure what to do now, if he’s allowed to touch him or not. 

Steve’s not sure either. 

“Eddie, what are we doing?”

Eddie stills. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean this, us.” Steve gestures between them, finally lifting his gaze to the boy sitting beside him. “What is this? What are we doing? Because I- I mean we’ve never talked about it, we’ve never said, and I don’t know. We’ve just- we’ve been doing all these things, acting like we’re in love and it’s all sweet and magical and we know what we’re doing, but I don’t-” 

“‘Like we’re in love’?” Eddie echoes, and Steve’s stomach drops. The past has spun on its head and rushed into the present, distorted and disorienting. Steve opens his mouth to quickly stammer out an apology, to take it all back before Eddie can jump to the same devastating conclusion Steve had with Nancy all those years ago. But Eddie doesn’t seem to take it that way, because his frown is more confused than hurt, eyes more soft than accusing, and he says instead, “Steve, I do love you.” 

Steve gapes at him, stunned into momentary silence. That was really, really not what he was expecting him to say. “You love me?” 

“Yeah, I thought I’d been making that pretty obvious.” Eddie exhales a short breath of nervous laughter, worry and doubt only just now beginning to creep into the edges of his expression. “I thought we were boyfriends, I thought we were on the same page here…?” 

“We are!” Steve hastily agrees. A wave of relief and joy rolls through him, providing him with a burst of energy that has him taking Eddie’s hands and pulling him into a short kiss. “We are on the same page. I love you too,” he tells him with a smile. “I just- I wasn’t sure. I need to hear the words sometimes.” 

Eddie smiles back, so bright and beautiful. “Okay.” He squeezes Steve’s hands. “I’m sorry I never said it before. I’ll make sure to tell you more often now. I’ll say all the words all the time,” he promises, leaning playfully into Steve’s space. “I’ll say it so much you’ll get sick of me.” 

Steve laughs. “Okay.” 

“I mean it.” Eddie grins. “I’ll say it over and over. I’ll say: you’re my boyfriend and I love you.” He smacks a kiss to his cheek. “You’re my boyfriend and I love you.” He repeats it again and again between kisses as he peppers Steve’s face and neck with them, breath warm and ticklish against his skin. 

Steve giggles and pretends to try to shove Eddie off of him, but it’s a weak effort. Really, he could stay right here in this moment forever, laughing and loved and not wrong at all. 

(ao3)

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 24: pumpkin | G | 655

“Ope, here he comes,” Robin says, glancing up out the front window of Family Video.

“Wonder what it’s gonna be this time.” Steve sighs, stacking one last tape on the counter before abandoning the task to focus on the incoming metalhead.

“What’s what gonna be?” Dustin asks, looking between the two older teens.

“Eddie’s taken it upon himself to give us a greeting every time he comes in recently.” Robin explains, watching Eddie’s attempts to fix his atrocious parking job.

“Okay, and?”

“It’s been getting more and more ridiculous each time.”

“...Okay…?”

Robin starts to explain, telling Dustin about a couple of notable visits Eddie’s made since the world almost ended.

-

“Merrily met, Lord and Lady Buckley of the great town of Famally Vidu!”

“...I’m ‘Lord’, I call it.”

“You can’t be Lord!”

“I can be whatever I want to be, It’s my last name!”

-

“Hey Stevie, what’s a beauty like you doing in a place like this all alone?”

Steve had just blinked at him, “I work here.”

“And he’s not alone!” Robin calls from where she was crouched behind a nearby shelf.

-

“Good morning Pumpkin,” (“He said this directly to Steve, mind you.” Robin says.)

“Eddie, it’s 3 in the afternoon.”

-

“Hola Querido, Querid-ess.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Eddie, that’s not how Spanish works.”

“‘S how it does in my household, Bobin.”

“Someone tell me what queer-eedo means!”

“It means asshole.” Eddie says quickly, face tinging pink.

-

Steve thinks back on all these, and from what he can remember about that last one (and the shade of red Eddie’s face had turned), he doesn’t think Querido means what Eddie said it did.

“I think he’s been flirting with me.” Steve says, cutting between their conversation, still staring at Eddie in his van. He’s checking his teeth in the rear-view mirror now.

“Yeah, okay, Eddie was flirting with you.” Dustin scoffs.

“No, he was.” Robin says, leaning back on the counter.

“Steve, just ‘cause you had good hair in high school doesn’t mean that everyone’s always flirting with you. And no he wasn’t.” he says, directing this last at Robin.

“Would it be so horrible if he was?” Steve turns around to face him, “If he was flirting with me, that is.”

“No, of course not, he can flirt with whoever he wants.”

“Just not me?” 

“Well duh.” he says as if it’s obvious, “You guys are basically like my brothers, it’d be weird. Plus, you’re not even into guys, it wouldn’t be fair to Eddie.”

“Wait, you know about Eddie?” Robin says, rounding on him, shocked. There’s a dull thud from behind them. Eddie must’ve finally gotten out of his van.

“You know about Eddie?”

The bell jingles merrily above the door, and they turn to look at him.

Eddie takes them in, then says “Hello to everyone except Steve.” he leans forward on the counter nearest him, eyes boring into Steve, “And a special ‘Hello’ to everyone else.”

There’s a two second silence, then, “Oh my god that was horrible.” Robin laughs.

Dustin gags, “Ugh, ew, I think you’re right Steve.” 

Steve, however, is just staring back at Eddie. 

Eddie, who’s visibly getting more uncomfortable the longer it’s taking Steve to respond.

Steve, whose face blazes red a second later, “You’ve been flirting with me this whole time.”

Eddie straightens up, flushing a bit as he rubs the back of his neck. “Uh.. yeah, I have. That okay?”

“Yeah.. yeah, it’s good.” Steve laughs, a little breathless. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, “Hey, wanna go see a movie on Friday?”

This question seems to genuinely shock Eddie, he stands there, frozen, only unfreezing when Steve continues on with “As friends if you want, but I was thinking that since you’ve been flirting with me for the last six months…” 

“No! I mean, yes. Yeah, yep. Absolutely I do. Want to go on a date with you.”

Steve grins, “Cool.”

and then they go see Trick or Treat bc it opened that friday (Oct. 24th 1986) and bc it sounded like a halloween movie, only for it to be the best/worst b-list horror movie about a bullied metalhead named eddie and the ghost of his fave rockstar

rip eddie munson, you would've loved trick or treat

dividers from @saradika-graphics

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

🤍

sooo here is my request! thank you!

Reader is bucky's ex fiancé (40's) and she is like a supersoldier too (she froze with steve and now she is an avenger)

but bucky does not remember her, so she has to deal with watching him dating some agents while she tries to make him remember that part of their life together (maybe with some letters and pics of them)

some angst - hurt / comfort with happy ending! 😭🤍

just bc i love this blog i would like to be "🕷️ anon" 😂

Remember Me » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Ex Fiancée/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Ex Fiancée/Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be engaged in the 1940s, but he doesn’t remember you and you have to deal with him going on dates with other agents so you do everything you can to get him to remember you.

Warnings: mix of Angst and Fluff, language, crying, flashbacks, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also you can be my 🕷️ anon🥰

A/N #2: Italic text is flashbacks. I imagined this as Bucky’s post Winter Soldier phase and the reader is a Super Soldier in this.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

You stood in the doorway of the conference room, patiently waiting for Bucky to stop flirting with an agent so you can get him to sign paperwork from a previous mission. You couldn’t help but feel jealous. You and Bucky were engaged in the 1940s, but it didn’t last long. After a few minutes, Bucky finally noticed you standing in the doorway.

“I’ll see you tonight, doll.” Bucky says to the agent and kissed her cheek.

Hearing Bucky call her doll felt like someone ripped your heart out of chest and crushed it in their bare hands. That’s what he used to call you.

“Can I help you, Agent?” He asks you.

“I need you to sign these papers from your mission last week.” You tell him, handing him the file.

“I’ll get these to you later.” He says.

You nodded and walked out of the conference room. You were about halfway down the hall when you had to lean against the wall and take a moment to yourself. Your back slid down the wall and you sat down on the floor. Your mind began to wander.

“You know I love you, right, doll?” Bucky asks.

“Of course I know that, Bucky.” You say with a smile.

Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours and kissed your lips sweetly.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yes.” You lied.

You stood up from the floor and walked past Steve. Your walk was cut short when Steve gently grabbed your arm.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He pleads softly.

“You already know what’s wrong.” You said. “I have to live with the fact that my ex fiancée doesn’t remember me at all and I have to deal with him dating other agents.” You say.

“Give him time, Y/N. He’ll remember you.” He says softly.

You gave him a soft smile before walking away.

Later that same day, you were in the gym, punching the punching bag as hard as you could. You were trying to get the thought of Bucky out on a date with that agent. You punched the punching bag one last time before leaving the gym.

You got on the elevator to go to your bedroom. As soon as you got off of the elevator, you seen Bucky kissing that agent. You stood there with a shattered heart. You quickly went to your room before he seen you.

You immediately caught a glimpse of the picture of you and Bucky from the day he proposed to you. You picked up the picture from your nightstand and looked at it, reminiscing that day.

“Where are you taking me, Bucky?” You asked, followed by a giggle.

“You’ll find out in a minute, doll.” Bucky says.

Bucky told you he had a surprise for you and blindfolded you for it. Your walking came to a stop and Bucky let go of you.

“Take the blindfold off.” He says.

You took the blindfold off and gasped. Bucky took you to yours and his favorite tree. Your favorite flowers were surrounding the bottom of it and he carved “Will you marry me?” on the tree with a pocket knife.

“Bucky-” You turned around and gasped.

“What do you say doll?” Bucky was down on one knee with a small velvet box with a beautiful diamond ring in it. “Will you marry me?” He asks.

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!” You answered with happy tears streaming down your cheeks.

Bucky smiles widely and stood up. He slid the ring on your ring finger and kissed you passionately.

That memory slowly faded away. You let out a shaky breath and your eyes began to water. You took a deep breath before taking a shower and went to bed.

The next morning, as you were getting dressed you seen something shining on your dresser from the corner of your eye. It was Bucky’s Army dog tags. You picked them up and looked at them. A smile grew on your face when an idea popped into your head. You immediately went to the kitchen, already knowing Bucky was in there.

“Morning, Bucky!” You chirped.

“It’s Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky corrects you.

“What?” You asked, blinking a couple times.

“You called me Bucky. Only friends call me that. Agents call me Sergeant Barnes.” He says.

“Oh…” Your voice sounding sad. “I umm…” You found what you were trying to say. “I just wanted to show you something.” You finally say.

“What is it?” He asks.

You held out your hand, showing him his Army dog tags. Bucky snatched them from your hand, making you flinch a little.

“Why the hell do you have these?” He asks harshly.

“I uhh… Steve gave them to me in 1945 when you di- fell off the train.” You tell him. “He thought that I might want them cause you’re my ex fiancée.” You explained.

“I’m not your ex fiancée.” Bucky’s words cut you deep like a knife. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I sure as hell know that I’m not your ex fiancée.” He says before walking away.

You stood in the middle of kitchen with tears streaming down your face. You hoped that showing Bucky his Army dog tags would spark something in his memory of you, but you guessed wrong.

“Why would you give these to Agent Y/L/N after I fell off the train in 1945?” Bucky asks Steve when he walked in the conference room.

“She’s your ex fiancée. I assumed that’s what you wanted. I was just honoring your wishes.” Steve answered.

“She’s not my ex fiancée! I’ve never been engaged in my life!” Bucky raised his voice. “You’re the second person to say that to me today!” He says.

Bucky walked out of the conference room before Steve could say anything else. He stood up from his seat and went to find you. He found you crying at the kitchen table. He sat down next to you and immediately started comforting you.

“I’m fine, Steve.” You lied, your voice cracking.

“No you’re not.” Steve said. “You have every right to be upset.” He says softly.

You turned towards Steve and laid your head on his shoulder, letting your tears free fall. Steve being the good friend he is, comforted you in the only way he knows.

“He basically said that I’m not his friend and I can’t call him Bucky.” You cried against his shoulder. “It’s like I never existed to him.” You say.

“You’re more than his friend.” He says softly.

“I know that, but he doesn’t.” You say, followed by a sniffle.

Later that day, you kept trying to come with ways to get Bucky to remember you. So far you couldn’t come up with anything. You were sitting in the conference room, filling out paperwork when you got lost in your memories of you and Bucky.

“Bucky!” You squealed as Bucky picked you up from behind and spun you around, making burst into a fit of giggles.

Bucky finally put you down on your feet and turned you around so you were facing him. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately.

The memory was interrupted when Bucky dropped a file on the table in front of you. You looked at the file and then looked at Bucky.

“Steve said to sign these and to get them to him by the end of the day.” Bucky says blandly.

“Will do, Sergeant.” You say.

You watched Bucky walk out of the conference room. You stared at the unopened file for a moment before leaving the room without finishing your paperwork. You went straight to your bedroom to get something. You wanted to try to get Bucky to remember you again.

You went in your closet, going to the back of it. You opened a plastic storage container where you kept all of the letters Bucky wrote you while he was in the Army. You picked them up and immediately went to find Bucky. You found him in the lounge room kissing another agent.

“Sergeant?” Bucky acted like he didn’t hear you. “Sergeant Barnes?” You say louder.

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes before looking at you. The agent he was kissing walked past you, giving you a small smile.

“Is there something I can do for you, Agent?” Bucky asks.

“I wanted to read these papers.” You say.

You hand him the old letters. Bucky took the letters from your hands and read them, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion when he seen his name signed at the bottom of each letter.

“What are these and why is my name on all of these?” He asks.

“Those are the letters you sent me in the 1940s when you were in the Army.” You tell him.

Bucky continued to read the letters. A hopeful smile grew on your face, but didn’t last long. He stood up and shoved the letters in your hands.

“That’s not me.” He says.

“But-” You got interrupted.

“But nothing. We were never engaged. Stop trying to get me to remember things that never happened.” He says.

You nodded as your eyes began to water. You went back to your room and put the letters back. You were about to close the container when you saw a stuffed puppy Bucky won you at Coney Island on yours and his first date. You took it out of the container and sat on your bed, holding it close to you as the memory of that day appeared in your mind.

You stood next to Bucky and watched him knock down all the bottles with a small ball. You smiled and cheered him on.

“What prize would you like, doll?” Bucky asks you.

You looked at the variety of stuffed animals displayed in front of you. You smiled when you seen a stuffed puppy with a red bow on it.

“That one.” You say, pointing at it.

The worker handed it to you. You took it from him and held it close to you.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say, smiling up at him.

“Anything for my best girl.” He says, kissing you sweetly.

You sadly sighed and laid down with the stuffed puppy in your arms. You didn’t even know you fell asleep, because you woke up to the sound of someone knocking on your bedroom door. You got out of bed and opened the door to see Bucky.

“Can I help you, Sergeant Barnes?” You asked.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks.

You nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to come in your room. You closed the door behind you and waited for him to say something.

“I just wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been talking to you the past couple days.” He apologizes. “I just don’t understand why you keep saying we were engaged years ago when-” That’s when Bucky seen the picture of you and him on your nightstand. “This is me.” He says, picking up the picture to look at it.

“It’s me and you in 1941.” You tell him. “I have more pictures if you want to see them.” You say.

Bucky nodded. You went in the closet to get the pictures. You opened a photo album, showing him a bunch of pictures of the two of you when you guys were together. He took the photo album from you to get a closer look at them. He looked through the pictures without saying a word. Another hopeful smile grew on your face, hoping that Bucky will remember who you are this time. The smile was short lived when Bucky shoved the photo album in your hands and left your bedroom without saying a word. A sad sigh left your lips and you put away the pictures. You were beginning to think that Bucky was never going to remember you, but you weren’t going to give up that hope.

Bucky was supposed to be getting ready for a date with another agent, but those pictures of you and him together were the only thing on his mind. He sat in the lounge room, trying his best to remember who you are, but nothing rang a bell. His thoughts were interrupted when the agent he’s supposed to go on a date with walked in the room.

“Hi!” The agent chirps. “Are you ready?” She asks.

“Yea, I just-” That’s when his memories of you flowed back in his mind like a broken dam. “Actually no. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.” He says, leaving the room and leaving the agent confused.

Bucky searched around the whole compound for you, but couldn’t find you. He accidentally bumped into Steve without realizing it. Steve walked after him and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Buck, calm down. What’s wrong?” Steve asks.

“Y/N. Where’s Y/N?” Bucky asks.

“She’s outside.” He tells him. “Why?” He asks.

Bucky didn’t answer Steve’s question. He just ran outside, looking for you. He didn’t have to go far. You were sitting on the bench trying to figure out another way to get Bucky to remember you. He walked over to you and grabbed your arm, pulling you up from the bench and kissed you passionately. You were caught by surprise, but kissed him back. He pulled away from your lips, leaving the two of you breathless.

“I remember.” Bucky tells you. “I remember you.” He says.

“You remember me?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

“Yes.” He confirms. “Seeing those letters and pictures made me remember everything.” He smiles. “I’m sorry for the way things ended between us. I was just pissed. Please forgive me and give me another chance, doll.” He says apologetically.

Your eyes began to water with happy tears, a couple tears rolled down your cheeks. Hearing Bucky call you doll for the first time in years made you happy.

“Don’t cry, doll.” He wipes your tears away. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes again.

“I can’t help it.” You sniffled. “I just missed you.” You say.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly, not wanting to let go. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him.

“How about we picked up where we left off.” Bucky suggests.

“You still want to marry me?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course I do.” He smiles widely. “You’re my best girl.” He says.

“I don’t have the engagement ring you gave me anymore. I accidentally lost it.” You say, feeling ashamed.

“It’s ok. I’ll buy you another one. In the meantime…” Bucky took his dog tags off and put them around your neck. “You can wear these as an engagement ring.” He says.

You looked down at his dog tags, smiling widely. You looked up at him and cupped his stubbly cheeks. You stood on your tippy toes and kissed him passionately. Bucky’s hands found their way to your waist and pulled you against his body.

“I love you so much, Bucky.” You say against his lips.

“I love you more, doll.” Bucky says softly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part 5

Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst, swearing, violence

A/N: I figured I should put part 5 out early because i feel bad for the mix up i did with the parts last night 🫶🏻

Masterpost

---

You sit in the quiet office, the faint hum of the rink beyond the door only amplifying the deafening silence in your head. Bucky’s laughter and the cruel words you overheard replay on an endless loop, cutting deeper every time. Your back presses against the desk, your legs shaky as you reach for the lock. The soft click of the bolt sliding into place feels like a feeble shield against the chaos threatening to consume you.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring blankly at the papers scattered across the desk. Your chest rises and falls unevenly as you try to push back the tightness in your throat. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not now. You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing, at shoving everything into a box in the back of your mind and sealing it shut. This moment will be no different.

With trembling hands, you grab the clipboard, flipping through the practice schedule as if it holds the answers to your unraveling thoughts. You move on autopilot, sorting paperwork, organizing tasks for later, going over all the shots you need for later, clinging to the routine as though it can steady you. The motions help, but only slightly. The ache in your chest refuses to ease, no matter how many times you tell yourself to breathe.

Your phone buzzes on the desk, the sharp vibration breaking the heavy silence. You glance at the screen, Steve’s name lighting up in bold letters.

S: Hey, gave Natasha your number. She just went to the washroom. Also, where are you? I got a couple minutes before I have to get on the ice—hurry!

You take a shaky breath and type back: Office. Almost done here.

The phone buzzes again before you can set it down. This time, it’s an unknown number.

Unknown: Where are you?

You know who it is without even thinking. Your fingers hover over the screen before you type: The office.

Unknown: OMW.

You exhale softly, the weight in your chest shifting slightly as you unlock the door just as Natasha steps in. Her sharp gaze sweeps the room, instantly locking on your face.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks, her tone more curious than accusing.

“Nothing,” you reply, too quickly. You shuffle papers around as though you’ve been deep in work. “Just catching up on some things. I’ll head out to the stands later to grab pictures for socials.”

Natasha crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Aren’t you usually out there for the whole practice? You know, for all the pre-action shots?”

You shrug, trying to sound casual. “I can miss one half of practice. I’ll just go out at the end for the important stuff.”

Her brows knit together, and she leans against the doorframe, studying you. “Everything okay?” she asks, her voice softer now, concern lacing her words.

“Yeah, totally,” you say, forcing a smile. It’s the kind of smile you’ve perfected over the years—wide enough to seem real but not enough to fool someone like Natasha. You pick up your camera, fiddling with the strap. “Nothing to worry about.”

She doesn’t push, though you can tell she doesn’t believe you. Instead, she walks over and perches on the edge of the desk. “Alright,” she says lightly. “But you know, if you ever want to talk, I know we barely know each other but I’m here.”

The sincerity in her voice nearly cracks the wall you’ve built, but you nod quickly, not trusting yourself to say anything else. “Thanks,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eventually, you shove the paperwork into a folder, eager to escape the suffocating stillness of the office. “You coming with me?” you ask, glancing at Natasha.

“Of course,” she says with a small smile. She loops her arm through yours as the two of you step out into the rink. Despite the ache still weighing you down, her warmth feels comforting. For a fleeting moment, you’re reminded of how rare and precious this budding friendship is. It’s always been you and Steve, and you’ll always be grateful for that, but this is different—something you’ve been missing without realizing it.

The sharp sound of skates cutting across the ice fills the air, grounding you in the familiar atmosphere of the rink. You immediately spot Bucky. His effortless movements, the way his broad shoulders shift with each turn, draw your eyes like a magnet.

Your breath hitches when his gaze meets yours. He offers you a smile, easy and warm, and the ache in your chest sharpens. You hate how your heart flutters, even now, after everything.

“Hey,” Natasha says, gently nudging your arm. “Snap out of it.”

You blink, realizing you’ve stopped in your tracks. Natasha tilts her head, her expression cautious but knowing. “Have you talked to him yet?”

You shake your head, gripping your camera tightly. “No,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Natasha sighs, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she sits beside you on the stands as you adjust your camera, focusing the lens on the team below. The steady click of the shutter becomes your anchor, each snap a momentary distraction from the storm swirling in your chest. But no matter how much you try to lose yourself in the task, you can still feel his gaze on you, burning through the lens, making it impossible to ignore the weight of everything unsaid.

---

Natasha stops just before stepping onto the stairs leading down to the ice, turning back to you with a sharp gaze. “You coming to wish Steve good luck? You always do. He calls you his good luck charm.” She smiles, trying to lift your mood.

Your stomach twists at her words. You stare at your shoes, your fingers gripping your camera strap tightly. “I think I’ll skip it this time,” you murmur. “It’s just one game—it’ll be fine.”

Her eyes narrow, and you can feel her studying you, her sharp instincts zeroing in like a laser. “Okay,” she says slowly, clearly unconvinced. “This is more than just skipping photos or not wishing Steve good luck. Did something else happen?”

The air feels heavier, your chest tightens, and your throat constricts. “Nothing,” you mumble, avoiding her piercing gaze. “I’m fine.”

Natasha crosses her arms, her jaw tightening with determination. “Alright,” she says, her voice leaving no room for argument. Before you can protest, she grabs your arm, not harshly but firmly enough to let you know she’s not letting this slide. “We’re talking. Now.”

She pulls you toward the girls’ locker room, and the sharp sound of the door locking behind her makes you flinch. The quiet of the room is deafening, and Natasha spins to face you, hands on her hips, her expression set like stone. “Spill.”

Your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths as you fight the lump building in your throat. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and no matter how much you try to push them down, they spill over. You take a shaky breath, your voice cracking as you finally say, “I… I heard them in the locker room.”

Her brows furrow, her expression softening with concern. “Who? What did you hear?” she presses gently.

“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Their teammates. They… they were laughing about the picture.” You swallow hard, each word dragging out of you painfully. “He said I was easy. That it meant nothing. He laughed with them, made stupid jokes with them about me.”

Natasha’s eyes widen, the softness vanishing in an instant, replaced by a storm of fury. Her jaw tightens, and her fists clench at her sides. “What?” she snaps, her voice low and sharp. “He said that?”

You nod, wiping at your tears furiously as though erasing them could make the situation less humiliating. “I should’ve known better,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s Bucky. He’s been so kind all year, gone out of his way to… I thought he cared, I thought he was different, one of the good ones, god I'm so fucking stupid."

Natasha’s face hardens, and she looks like she’s ready to tear through the locker room door. “I’m gonna kill him,” she growls, already turning.

“No, no, no!” you plead, grabbing her arm with both hands and holding her back. “Please, don’t. It'll just make it worse.”

She freezes but glares at the door, her fury simmering just beneath the surface. “You have to tell Steve,” she says firmly. “He’ll want to know.."

You shake your head violently, your breath hitching as more tears spill over. “I can’t,” you whisper. “It’ll crush him. Bucky’s one of his best friends…He just picked him to be the assistant Captain.... I know he loved having a guy friend, I don't want to take that from him.....I just… I can’t handle this right now.”

Natasha takes a deep breath, running a hand through her hair as she processes your words. Finally, she exhales sharply. “Fine,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “Okay....but you can’t keep this bottled up forever, you know that, right?”

You nod faintly, clutching your camera like it’s a lifeline. “I just want to do my job,” you say, your voice trembling with desperation. “That’s all.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she brushes her hand over your arm in a comforting gesture. “Why don’t we stay here until the game starts?” she suggests. “I’ll be right back—I just need to wish Steve good luck.”

“Send my luck to him too,” you manage to say softly.

Natasha nods, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. Left alone in the quiet room, you let out a shaky breath and sit down on the bench, your body trembling as you try to collect yourself.

You pull out your camera, focusing on transferring the photos to your phone. The task feels mechanical, something to occupy your hands and drown out your thoughts. But no matter how hard you try, the sting of Bucky’s words keeps echoing in your head.

Your phone buzzes, breaking your focus. You glance at the screen and freeze when you see his name.

Bucky: Hey, where are you? Are you okay?

Your throat tightens as fresh tears well in your eyes. You stare at the message, your hands trembling as you fight the urge to respond. Instead, you cough softly, trying to clear the lump in your throat, and set your phone down beside you, ignoring the message entirely.

Focusing back on the photos, you swipe through them, editing as best as you can with unsteady fingers. But no matter how much you try to distract yourself, the ache in your chest remains, raw and relentless, as the weight of everything threatens to overwhelm you all over again.

---

The locker room buzzed with pre-game energy, the air thick with the smell of sweat and adrenaline. Laughter and shouts echoed off the walls as the guys hyped each other up, their sticks tapping against the floor in rhythm. But amidst the chaos, Steve stood like a statue, his face set in stone. His mind wasn’t on the game—it hadn’t been for hours.

“Buck, a word.” he called out, his tone sharp and cutting through the noise like a knife.

The room fell quiet almost immediately. Heads turned, wide eyes watching the Captain call out his teammate. A few of the guys exchanged amused smirks, one even whistling low under his breath, but Steve’s icy glare shut them up fast. Bucky, standing by his locker, raised a brow but didn’t argue. He slung his stick over his shoulder and followed Steve without a word, his skates clicking softly against the floor.

Steve led him to the office and closed the door behind them with a firm click. For a moment, he leaned against it, exhaling sharply, as if trying to steady himself. When he turned, his hands were on his hips, and his jaw was tight.

“What’s this about, Cap?” Bucky asked, though there was a hint of unease in his voice, the usual cockiness nowhere to be found.

Steve didn’t waste time. “You saw the picture,” he said bluntly, his voice low and sharp. “You knew about it, and you didn’t do anything.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Steve, I didn’t even know about the picture until it got sent around today. I swear, as soon as I saw it, I’ve been trying to figure out who took it.”

Steve’s arms folded tightly across his chest, his blue eyes boring into Bucky. “So you just didn't try to find her? To talk to her about it? All day?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, guilt flickering across his face. “Look, I tried to find her earlier. She wasn’t anywhere, and I texted her, but she hasn’t responded. I didn’t mean for this to happen, Steve.” His voice softened, his blue eyes meeting Steve’s. “She’s not just some… one-night stand to me. You know that, you gotta know that."

Steve stared at him, his expression unreadable, though his hands had curled into tight fists at his sides. Finally, he let out a long, slow breath and pulled a chair over, sinking into it heavily. “You’re a good guy, Buck,” he said, his voice measured. “But she has baggage, a lot of it. And when she feel things, she feels them hard. This isn’t just about you. If you’re in this with her, you better be damn sure, because she doesn’t deserve to get hurt, not after everything shes been through already."

Bucky’s gaze hardened, his voice steady. “I’m already in it, Steve. I care about her.”

Steve leaned back, his expression softening slightly, though his eyes were still clouded with frustration. “Alright,” he said after a beat. “I’m gonna trust you. But if you screw this up—”

“I won’t,” Bucky interrupted firmly. “I swear.”

Before Steve could respond, there was a knock at the door. Natasha stepped in, her fiery green eyes immediately locking onto Bucky like a laser beam. Her presence filled the small room, her sharp gaze unrelenting.

“Steve,” she said, her voice tight with restrained anger. “Can I talk to you? Alone.”

Bucky, sensing the shift in the air, raised his hands in mock surrender. “That’s my cue,” he said, his voice lighter than the tension in the room warranted. “Almost game time, Cap. See you out there.” He slipped past Natasha, avoiding her piercing glare as he left.

The sound of the team’s laughter spilled into the room for a moment before Steve shut the door again, sealing them in quiet. He turned to Natasha, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Natasha crossed her arms, her posture tense as she leaned against the desk. Her fiery demeanor softened slightly as she glanced at the closed door, then back at Steve. It was clear she was weighing her words carefully.

“What is it?” Steve pressed, stepping closer. He rested his hands on her shoulders, his voice gentler now. “Nat, talk to me.”

She exhaled sharply, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Steve… I have to tell you something. Y/N told me earlier, i promised i wouldn't say anything, but fuck it you deserve, no, need to know.”

Steve’s stomach twisted, a sinking feeling spreading through him like ice. “What'd she say?”

Natasha hesitated, her green eyes flickering with something between anger and sadness. “When she got here before practice, she came through the office. She heard Bucky and some of the guys talking.”

Steve’s face hardened instantly, his jaw tightening. “What'd she hear?”

Natasha ran a hand through her hair, her frustration palpable. “One of the guys made some gross comment about her. Something like how they knew she’d have a nice rack. And Bucky…” She paused, her teeth clenched. “Bucky laughed. Said she was easy. That she practically begged for it.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed on. “Then he said it wasn’t even that good.”

Steve’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, his face a mask of disbelief and fury. “You’re sure that’s what she said? What she heard?" His voice was dangerously low, each word like a blade.

Natasha nodded firmly. “She’s too scared to tell you because she knows you’ll kill him.”

Steve stood there, frozen, the weight of Natasha’s words sinking in. His breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling as his rage simmered just beneath the surface. “She knows me best, because I'm going to kill him,” he muttered, his voice like steel.

Before Natasha could respond, there was another knock at the door. The coach stuck his head in, oblivious to the storm brewing in the room. “Game time, Rogers. Let’s go. Wrap it up.”

Steve didn’t move right away, his body tense with anger. Natasha stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “Good luck out there,” she said softly.

Steve nodded tightly, his jaw still clenched as he stormed out of the office. His mind was a whirlwind of fury and betrayal, but he knew the locker room wasn’t the place for a fight that's for the ice.

As he headed toward the rink, the team’s laughter echoed faintly in the distance, each sound like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. But Steve’s focus had narrowed to one thought: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

----

The arena buzzed with the electric energy of the game. The crowd roared with each pass and shot, a wave of noise echoing through the building. You stood at your usual spot near the boards, camera in hand, your focus shifting between capturing the action and watching Steve. Something about the way he was playing tonight seemed… off.

Steve, typically a controlled and calculated player, was skating with an unusual edge. He was throwing his weight into every check, slamming opponents into the boards with a force that drew cheers from the crowd but left you uneasy. His movements were sharp, almost reckless, and you caught yourself flinching every time he collided with another player.

Your camera clicked away, capturing the intensity of the game. It was the second period, the score tied at 2-2, and you knew every moment mattered. When the puck found its way to Steve’s stick, he moved in like lightning, his eyes locked on the net. You held your breath, the camera lens trained on him as he wound up for the shot.

He fired, but the puck sailed just wide, barely missing the post. You could see the frustration etched across his face as he muttered something to himself. Before you could process, the rebound came flying toward Bucky, who was perfectly positioned in front of the net. With a clean slapshot, Bucky buried the puck in the top corner, the red light flashing as the arena erupted in cheers.

Normally, Bucky would skate over to Steve, their silent but familiar way of celebrating their teamwork. But this time, Steve didn’t even glance at him. Instead, he skated off, his jaw tight, leaving Bucky to celebrate with the rest of the team.

You lowered your camera, frowning. Something was definitely wrong.

As the period progressed, your attention kept shifting between the game and Steve. He was more physical than ever, throwing hits and barking at the refs. But what really caught your eye was the way Bucky kept glancing at you. Even from your spot on the sidelines, you could feel his gaze between plays, his blue eyes searching for yours like they always did. Normally, it sent butterflies fluttering through your chest. Tonight, it made your stomach twist with unease.

You weren’t the only one who noticed.

During a line change, Steve caught one of Bucky’s fleeting glances in your direction. His eyes narrowed, his face darkening. The tension was almost palpable, and you felt the shift in the air before anything even happened. “Hey Natasha?” You questioned as your eyes stayed on the ice.

She leaned forward from her seated position beside you. “Yeah?”

You swallowed, as you recognized the look in Steve’s eyes, the way his jaw was set. “Did you tell Steve by any chance?” She didn’t get the chance to answer.

Steve was skating hard, charging into the offensive zone when he veered sharply toward Bucky—his own teammate—and slammed him into the boards with a force that made the glass rattle. The crowd gasped, the sound cutting through the game’s usual noise.

“What the hell, man?!” Bucky shouted, spinning to face Steve as he skated past.

Steve stopped abruptly, turning back with fire in his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m not beating your fucking face in right now.”

“What are you even talking about?” Bucky snapped, his brows furrowed in confusion.

The referee’s whistle blew, signaling a stoppage, but Steve wasn’t done. He skated closer, shoving Bucky hard in the chest. “She heard you.”

Bucky froze. “Who? Heard what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Steve growled. “Your whole little shebang with the team. Saying she was begging you, calling her desperate.”

Bucky’s face fell, the color draining from his cheeks. “Steve, let me explain—”

“Explain what?!” Steve shouted, his voice carrying over the ice. “That you’re a lying piece of shit? That you treated her like she was nothing? I just said I was going to trust you!"

The refs rushed over, trying to separate them, but Steve wasn’t backing down. He shoved past one of the officials and ripped Bucky’s helmet off with a furious yank, sending it clattering to the ice. “You’re done talking, and I'm done listening.”

Before anyone could react, Steve’s fist connected with the side of Bucky’s head, sending him stumbling back. The arena gasped in unison, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.

Bucky recovered quickly, his eyes blazing with anger. He dropped his gloves, grabbing Steve by the collar of his jersey and landing a clean uppercut that snapped Steve’s head back. The two of them were a blur of fists and fury, blood splattering the ice as they went at each other like enemies, not teammates.

The benches cleared as their team skated over, trying to break them apart. The crowd roared, some cheering, others shouting in disbelief. By the time the refs and assistant coaches managed to separate them, both men were bleeding, their jerseys torn, and their faces etched with rage.

“Get them the hell off the ice!” the head coach bellowed, motioning for the assistants to escort them to the locker room.

As Steve was guided toward the tunnel, he twisted out of the one of the assistant coach’s grip just enough to turn back to Bucky. His voice was cold and venomous. “If you ever fucking look at her, go near her or talk to her again, you’re dead.”

[stevenose]

while we’re on the subject…

I feel like Steve wouldn’t be that into smoking, and even if he wanted to he’d end up babysitting everyone who was high bc yknow forever a mother.

but but but imagine he has a crush on reader who is very big stoner vibes, but he’s been too nervous to make a move. they’re at a get together with the older kids and maybe some randoms. they go outside with Eddie a few others to smoke, and for the first time ever Steve ends up opening the sliding door and asking to join.

He sits next to reader and takes a hit and suddenly he’s back to his king Steve bullshit. He’s brazen with his stares, his compliments and little touches. Everyone is too high to notice, except reader who has no idea how to respond. Something about not only seeing Steve going back to his cocky, brazen self, but to do it all while holding a joint between his fingers, does it for me personally.

i love this so so much….!!!!! anon this is such a good idea.

like it’s a little bit pathetic when he comes out and coughs his head off and refuses water when everyone knows he needs it. and he still sort of chastises everyone because you’re smoking too much, you’re gonna get sick!

but he kind of forgot how awesome being high is. he hasn’t smoked since senior year of high school and he’s almost wondering why he stopped.

and, actually, his old high school self comes out when he smokes. ten minutes after his last hit he’s walking like he owns the world, cracking witty jokes, winking at you like you’re sharing a secret. you’re taken aback, not used to a laid back, suave steve.

he sits side by side with you, his thigh pressing against yours. he’s hot. always runs hot. he’s making you hot, the joint back in his hands as it rotates around the coffee table. he’s telling a story, animated, chuckling. ashes the joint and holds it out to you.

“take a big hit for me, huh?”

steve holds the damn thing while you inhale, staring at him with wide eyes. he disappears in a cloud of smoke when you exhale, and it’s like it’s only you and him. there’s a sidebar conversation happening over something steve said and no one notices when he winks at you.

and he passes it past you to the next person, casual again while you sit reeling. your heart beats quick and you wonder if he can feel it or hear it. if he knows how worked up he just got you.

“you okay?” he asks, leaning over to speak softly into your ear.

“yeah.” it’s unconvincing.

he puts a hand on your thigh as if to comfort you. “too big?”

your eyes widen. “huh?”

“the hit,” he grins. “too big for you?”

you stare because you don’t know how to answer. really dumbstruck over him. you didn’t even know he could be this way.

“you’re really pretty, you know.” steve squeezes your thigh, makes sure to drag his fingers inward and up swiftly before pulling away. “look so pretty with your lips wrapped around that.”

he nods towards the joint that’s been stalling in eddie’s hands for about three minutes now, while everyone listens to him tell the story about how he spent three days in jail.

you still don’t know what to say, suddenly feeling too high - dizzy, a little in love. “thank you.”

he tilts his head, furrows his brows, a gleam in his eyes giving away his lack of sincerity. “makes me wonder what else your lips look good wrapped around.”

“harrington! what’s the name of that jackass football player that bought the blow from me?”

steve turns to answer him, like he didn’t just make your thighs clench. you take a deep breath and run your hand through your hair, looking around the room to see if anyone else noticed. they didn’t, of course.

but he’s back, casual again while he puts his arm around you. makes it look like he’s just getting comfortable. you can smell him - the cologne, the hairspray, the weed, his sandalwood deodorant. it’s all encompassing, comforting, makes you salivate for more.

you turn to look at him, catching his little smirk.

steve looks back at you, so fondly, his soft eyes red.

“what?” he asks.

“steve.”

his fingers find the strap of your bra under your shirt. he rubs over it. “somethin’ wrong? y’got somethin’ to tell me?”

you feel hypnotized by his eyes. “‘n-no.”

he talks softly to you. “you need somethin’, then? you feeling okay? need me to take care of you?”

you freeze, thinking for a long moment before nodding. because he looks to damn good with his hooded eyes and a shirt that might rip if he exerts his muscles to much. it’s precisely what you’d like to see, in fact. need to see those strong biceps, need to see them straining while he holds himself up over you. need him to take care of you like he always does when he’s sober.

“think you should go lay down.” his nose almost touches yours. “be right up to make you feel better, ‘kay?”

and you’re running up to the guest bedroom within seconds.

[withlovemark]

you were never mine

warning(s): suggestive

pairing: minho x reader

words: 400+

an: hi friends, anyone here watched xo kitty? i know this is a little different from your usual steve harrington fics but i cant get this cutie out of my mind, i had to write something :)

summary: minho's on tour and you're a back up dancer on tour with minho's brother. you are also minho's childhood friend turned best friends (with benefits). but thats all there ever is! really!

-

hands entangled in the hair of the boy towering above you, lips in sync, minho's warm hands leaves a burning sensation around your waist as he pulls you in closer and closer - the feeling of want escalating throughout the enclosed space of his hotel room. sounds of his tiny whines and grunts occupying every second of your headspace, until… 

“kitty-”

you quickly push him away, halting every movement. silence. 

“what did you say?,” you asked, in shock of the name that slipped past his lips. 

“i-i said…pretty,” minho stumbles over his words for a second before his confidence returns, standing his ground and twisting reality. 

“you’re joking right?,” you let out a sigh, sitting up at the edge of his bed as he quietly joins you, slightly afraid. 

sitting side by side, you decide to end his torment, playfully nudging your shoulder against his “i knew you still liked her,” you giggled and he lets out a sigh of release, quiet laughter mixing in with yours.  

“i’m in trouble aren’t i?,” his shoulders droop down, looking like a defeated puppy, awaiting your answer.

“why don’t you tell her?” you suggest to the broken hearted boy beside you. 

“i already did that remember,” he reminds you. 

“how could i forget?...you facetimed me as you were leaving the plane and complained for a straight six hours about how much she’s missing out and that you’re the best there ever is and blah blah blah” you smiled at the memory, remembering the sadness in his voice, one that he tried so hard to mask off by playing it cool. 

“it was actually five,” he corrects you, the two of you bursting into another fit of giggles. 

“i also remember,” you say as the laughter dies down, “that you confessed to her literally the same day she broke up with dae,” you remind him. 

“yeah, and?...she still rejected me,” he argues back. 

“well, time can change things y’know?,” you point out, “but this thing between us is not gonna help you get the girl,” you continue, catching his attention. 

you knew that if you really wanted your best friend to be happy, you would have to spell this out for him.

“are you giving me away?” he playfully smirks, eyes on yours, as gentle as ever. 

“you were never mine,” a quiet laughter escapes your lips, replaced by a sad smile. a snap back to reality that this - this thing between the two of you, was never meant to be. 

pressing one last gentle kiss on his lips, you savor the feeling, completely aware that it's over. 

“friends?,” you whisper against his lips, forehead against his. 

“friends.” he agrees, pulling away and sharing a smile of recognition.

his heart belonged to someone else and just like every other kiss with him, there were no butterflies in your stomach flying around when his lips touches yours.

but still, it was good.

it was safe and comfortable, and completely…over. you tell yourself. 

-

an: im such a kittyminho shipper im not letting you have him. sorry! requests are open for minho fics! thank you for reading<3