Somewhere Only We Know

Eddie’s zoned out as he prattles off care instructions and wraps up the man’s (very strong) bicep, careful to tug it tight enough as to not hurt him. 

He’s distracted. Has been for the better part of the past hour. 

Steve’s been the ideal client. Perfect, he might even say. 

Hardly nervous at all as he climbed into the chair and made himself comfortable. No flinching at the needle, and he’s been as easy-going as anything. 

His eyes were heavy lidded and fluttery as the needle pressed into his skin, a soft smile gracing his face as he watched his spitfire little girl flip through Eddie’s books for a design she liked. 

“You find anything you like, baby?” He asked.

Eddie took a pause to peek up at the little redhead across the room. Her hair in two little braids, eyebrows furrowed, and tongue poked out in concentration.

“No, I wanted a dinosaur but these are all flowers and stuff,” She pouted.

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh. 

“Tell you what kiddo,” He stole a glance at Steve, blissed out in the chair. “Since your dad has been such a good sport and you’ve been so good, I’ll draw you up a dinosaur when we’re finished okay?”

Max’s eyes lit up and she giggled behind her hands and nodded.

Now that Steve’s tattoo is done, a pumpkin on the inside of his bicep, he sits up and calls her over.

“Come see, pumpkin.”

And Eddie hadn’t asked, but now, as he watches her bounce across the room and gasp at her dad’s tattoo he feels his face split into a smile.

“Daddy it's me!”

Steve laughs and it's so so lovely. He drops a kiss to the top of her head before he stands. 

“It is you, bug.”

Eddie peels off his gloves and puts his hands on his hips.

“Alright miss lady. Let’s draw you a dinosaur. What kind are you thinking? Stegosaurus, pterodactyl?”

She jumps up with her arms bent to her body and roars. 

“I’m a T-Rex!”

Eddie laughs and gets settled at his table. 

“Alright firecracker, let’s draw you a T-Rex.”

*****

After he’s sketched the outline, a little cartoon dinosaur, he runs it through on his temporary tattoo sheet and sets to “prepping” his station.

He sprays down the chair and tugs on more gloves.

He sits on his stool and pats the chair. 

“Come on up Red.”

She squeals and runs over and Steve hoists her up onto the chair.

In the meantime, Eddie rolls over to his mini-fridge in the corner and grabs the cold rag he’s had in the freezer.

He can hear Steve whisper as he tucks a loose hair behind her ear. 

“You excited, huh? My brave girl.” 

And Eddie’s heart melts. 

He rolls back over and puts on his serious face. 

“Okay Max. You’re gonna feel a sting but you’re a tough girl, aren’t ya?”

She furrows her brows and nods. She rolls up her own sleeve. 

“I’m strong!”

He can’t help but smile. 

“You sure are. Look at those muscles!”

He peels off the plastic covering the ink. 

“Where do you want to put it?” He asks.

She pats her upper arm.

“Here. Just like daddy!”

Eddie grins again and Steve is biting back a smile from his spot behind the chair. Eddie sends him a wink and watches the flush bloom across his cheeks.

“You ready, Red?”

Her focus face is back and she nods resolutely.

Eddie lines up the sheet and sticks it to her arm. She turns her head back towards Steve.

“Daddy? Will you hold my hand?”

As if Eddie’s heart wasn’t already a puddle on the floor.

“Here we go, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he presses the cold rag to her skin.

He hisses through his teeth and grimaces like he’s in pain. He holds back a laugh as she puffs out her cheeks and visibly squeezes her dad’s hand.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Steve tells her. 

She lets out a sharp little breath as Eddie shifts and presses the rag back against her skin. 

She looks up towards him and giggles. 

“It’s not that bad. I’m tough like daddy.”

He flops the rag back down on his tray and goes to peel the paper away from her skin.

“Yes you are!” He says as he smiles down at her cute little dinosaur, “Do you like it?”

She looks down at it and squeals. 

“Look daddy! Look!”

Steve hoists her up onto his hip and swings her around, giggles filling the space and Eddie’s heart. 

“I love it, pumpkin! You’re the coolest little girl in the whole world!”

He puts her down and she runs around the chair to where Eddie is peeling off his second set of gloves and bumps right up next to him. He furrows his eyebrows and goes to ask what’s wrong when he’s interrupted.

“Look dad! Just like Eddie!”

And now that he looks at it he sees it. Max’s dinosaur is in the same place as her dad’s tattoo. But it’s in the same place as Eddie’s dragon too.

How's retirement, Bucky? | Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Themes: Funny. Bucky trying to find things to do to kill time, while also being a menace to Y/N and the neighbours. Prequel to 'Ouch, My face.'

Summary: Bucky decides to retire and leave the super hero world behind, but now he doesn't know how to be normal citizen.

A/N: Just another scenario tha rudely popped into my head. . .

Bucky Barnes was retired.

It still felt strange, even after months of settling into a life of quiet mornings and unhurried afternoons. He had fought in wars, spent decades as an agent of chaos, and dedicated years to redemption and healing. Now, here he was—waking up whenever he pleased, making breakfast in a house that didn’t have bullet-proof glass windows or a panic room, and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day.

Today, like most others, started off simple enough: a run through the neighbourhood, a cup of coffee, and a lazy scan of the news. He’d even managed to fix the leaky faucet that had been bothering you for weeks, earning a soft kiss on the cheek as a reward.

But then… the day stretched on. There were no missions, no tactical planning, no world to save. Just the quiet ticking of the clock and the gentle hum of suburban life around him.

So, Bucky set his sights on something—or rather, someone—far more interesting: annoying you.

And thus began the saga of Bucky Barnes’ Retirement Phases.

Phase 1: The Handyman Hero Phase

Duration: One Month

Bucky started off strong, becoming the ultimate handyman of the household. Everything was fair game for improvement. Leaky faucets, creaky floorboards, wobbly shelves—if there was a screw to tighten, Bucky was on it like a well-oiled machine.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” you asked one morning, sipping your coffee as you watched him carefully measuring the distance between each picture frame on the living room wall.

“Making sure they’re exactly one inch apart,” he said without looking up, his voice deadly serious.

“Why?”

“Because last night, I noticed this one—” he pointed to a frame on the far left “—was slightly off-center, and it’s been bothering me ever since.”

You blinked. “Bucky, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Y/N. It’s one and a quarter inch apart. Do you know what happens when things aren’t balanced?” He gave you a haunted look, as if you’d just suggested destabilizing the world order.

“Chaos,” you muttered.

“Exactly.”

Within weeks, Bucky had rebuilt half the house, repainted the walls (twice), and installed a state-of-the-art security system that even Tony Stark would envy. You came home one day to find the couch moved three inches to the left, the coffee table completely gone (“I dismantled it; we don’t need it”), and Bucky seriously contemplating whether the kitchen would look better with marble or granite countertops.

“Bucky,” you said slowly, trying to remain calm, “I’m begging you—stop fixing things.”

He blinked at you. “What do you want me to do then?”

You panicked. “Anything. Just—find a hobby!”

He gave a solemn nod, as if you’d just entrusted him with a new mission. “Okay. A hobby. Got it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. If only you’d known what was coming next.

Phase 2: The Google Scholar Phase

Duration: Two Weeks

With his newfound free time, Bucky discovered the internet. And when Bucky Barnes discovers the internet, chaos ensues.

It started innocently enough. You’d come home to find him glued to his laptop, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“What are you doing?” you asked, setting down your bag.

“Research,” he said ominously, fingers flying over the keys.

“Research on… what?”

He glanced up, his eyes wide. “Did you know sharks have been around longer than trees?”

“Uh—”

“And that banana slugs can grow up to 9 inches long?” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a whole website dedicated to weird animal facts. I’ve been reading for hours.”

And so, you were subjected to two weeks of nonstop trivia.

“Hey, Y/N!” he’d shout from the kitchen. “Did you know an octopus has three hearts?”

Or: “Did you know cows have best friends?”

And: “Do you want to hear about the deepest point in the ocean?”

“Not really—”

“It’s called the Mariana Trench, and it’s seven miles down!”

You tried banning Wikipedia, but he just switched to obscure forums. You blocked YouTube, and he found a random chicken fact blog. The worst part? He’d share his newfound knowledge with anyone who’d listen.

“I’m calling Sam,” you muttered one evening after hearing Bucky recite the entire history of the humble potato to the mailman. “You need social intervention.”

Phase 3: The Home Décor Perfectionist Phase

Duration: Two Exasperating Weeks

Denied access to his newfound internet pursuits, Bucky turned to interior design. You were caught off guard one Saturday morning when he asked, “What do you think of paisley?”

“What’s a paisley?”

“Pattern. I’m thinking of reupholstering the couch.”

“Bucky, no—”

Too late. Within days, every room was a different colour. You came home to find polka-dotted curtains in the bathroom, and he’d somehow managed to install a chandelier in the laundry room.

“Bucky, why is there a 10-foot mirror in the hallway?”

“It makes the space feel bigger.”

“Bucky, this is a two-bedroom house!”

He paused, squinting at the living room wall. “I think the polka dots need to go.”

You nearly wept with relief when he announced he was moving on to the garden.

Phase 4: The Amateur Detective Phase

Duration: One Overly Suspicious Month

After redecorating the entire house, Bucky set his sights on the neighborhood.

“Y/N, did you see that guy across the street?” he whispered one morning, peering through the blinds with a pair of binoculars.

“That’s Mr. Henderson. He’s eighty-five.”

“Yeah, and he’s up to something. No one goes to the mailbox that often.”

“Maybe he likes getting his mail?”

“I’m telling you, something’s not right.” He tapped the binoculars. “I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

And so began Operation: Neighborhood Watch. Every delivery truck was scrutinised. Every dog walker received a full background check. The poor Girl Scouts who came to sell cookies left looking slightly shell-shocked.

The Girl Scout Incident: When Bucky Barnes Met Thin Mints

The Girl Scout incident started out innocent enough—just a kid selling cookies to the neighborhood. But when Bucky Barnes answered the door, things took a turn.

It was a sunny Saturday morning. You were in the kitchen, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when you heard the doorbell ring. Before you could even get up to check, Bucky’s voice echoed from the living room.

“I got it!” he called out, already making his way to the front door.

Curious, you peeked around the corner just in time to see him open it. Standing on the porch was a sweet-looking little girl, no more than nine or ten, decked out in her green uniform, clutching a clipboard and flashing a bright, eager smile.

“Hi, mister!” she chirped, clearly undeterred by the stern look on Bucky’s face. “Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies today?”

You watched as Bucky’s expression softened just a bit, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“Cookies?” he repeated, as if she’d just offered him nuclear launch codes.

“Yep!” She held up a laminated chart with pictures of the various cookies, pointing to each one with a tiny, rainbow-colored pen. “We have Thin Mints, Tagalongs, Samoas—uh, I mean, Caramel deLites—”

He squinted at the chart, clearly trying to make sense of it all. “Why would you need to sell cookies?”

You nearly face-palmed. Oh no.

The girl’s enthusiasm didn’t waver. “It’s a fundraiser! To support our troop activities and trips.”

“Fundraiser?” Bucky’s voice dropped suspiciously. “Who’s your troop leader?”

The girl blinked, a little taken aback. “Uh, Mrs. Patterson?”

“Uh-huh. And how many boxes of these so-called ‘cookies’ are you supposed to sell?”

Her smile wavered just a fraction. “Um, as many as possible?”

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “And where does all this money go?”

“Bucky—” you tried to interrupt, stepping forward, but he held up a hand without looking back, eyes still locked on the bewildered Girl Scout.

“It goes to our troop!” she answered nervously, glancing down at her clipboard as if for reassurance. “For badges and supplies and—”

“Supplies,” Bucky echoed, his tone suddenly sharp. “What kind of supplies?”

“Uh… arts and crafts…?” she stammered, clearly starting to get uncomfortable.

“Arts and crafts?” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Or something else?”

You saw the poor girl’s eyes widen, her grip tightening on her clipboard as if she was contemplating using it as a shield.

“Bucky, stop,” you hissed, stepping forward to intervene. But he was on a roll now.

“Who gets the money, huh?” He narrowed his eyes, peering down at her like she was an enemy combatant. “Do you get it?

“Or does it go to some mysterious ‘troop leader’ who’s hiding behind a desk somewhere, raking in profits from innocent cookie sales?”

“M-Mister, it’s just cookies,” she squeaked, glancing nervously at the boxes stacked beside her. “We just wanna go camping this summer.”

“Camping?” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. “And what kind of ‘camping’ are we talking about here? Deep-woods recon training? SERE training?”

The girl blinked up at him, clearly having no idea what he was talking about.

“Bucky, she’s nine!” you practically shouted, rushing over to save the poor child from what was rapidly escalating into a full-blown interrogation.

“But Y/N, this could be—”

“It’s not a conspiracy, Bucky!” you snapped, turning to the girl and giving her what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Sweetie, how much for a box of Thin Mints?”

“Uh… f-five dollars?” she stammered, still eyeing Bucky like he might suddenly sprout fangs.

You reached for your wallet, pulling out a ten-dollar bill and handing it to her. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” she squeaked, stuffing the money into her pouch with trembling hands.

You shot Bucky a glare. “Apologize.”

He crossed his arms, looking mulish. “But—”

“Bucky.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Uh… sorry… for, um… asking about your troop leader and, uh… the money laundering?”

The girl blinked up at him, clearly not following.

“Bucky!” you hissed, elbowing him sharply.

“I mean, sorry for… for… being weird,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The girl gave a hesitant nod, glancing back at her stack of cookies. “Um… would you like another box, mister?”

Bucky frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe. Which one’s the best?”

“Bucky—” you started, but he was already leaning down, listening intently as the girl launched into a detailed explanation of the flavour profiles of Samoas versus Tagalongs.

Twenty minutes later, Bucky was the proud owner of a dozen boxes of Girl Scout cookies, which the girl somehow managed to upsell him into buying. The look of relief on her face as she walked away was palpable.

You turned to Bucky, hands on your hips. “Really, Buck?”

“What?” he said defensively, clutching his armful of cookies. “I needed to make sure it was legit!”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why we now have enough cookies to feed an army?”

He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I guess I got carried away.”

“Just… try not to scare any more children, okay?”

“Hey, I was just being thorough,” he muttered, glancing down at the boxes. “Besides… these ‘Samoas’ are actually pretty good.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. Because only Bucky Barnes could turn a simple cookie sale into a full-scale interrogation—and then end up buying out the entire stock.

“Whatever you say, Bucky. Whatever you say.”

He gave you a sheepish grin, holding up a box of Thin Mints. “Want one?”

“Sure,” you sighed, reaching out to grab a cookie. Because, at the end of the day, this was Bucky Barnes: ex-assassin, super-soldier, and now… terrifyingly dedicated Girl Scout cookie connoisseur.

The Girl Scout incident, unfortunately, didn’t mark the end of Bucky’s neighbourhood watch endeavours.

“Hey, Y/N, that’s the third day in a row Mrs. Higginson has gone jogging past our house,” Bucky muttered a few days later, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

You glanced over from your spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-huh,” you replied absently, already wondering if now would be a good time to text Steve for a little ‘rescue mission.’ “Maybe she likes jogging?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not natural. It’s a cover for something. Probably espionage.”

“Bucky, she’s seventy.”

“Exactly. No one that age moves like that. She’s gotta be a retired agent.”

“Or she’s trying to stay in shape?”

“Or she’s spying on us.” He narrowed his eyes, peering through the blinds. “Maybe she’s HYDRA.”

“Bucky, she brought us homemade banana bread last week.”

“Which tasted suspiciously good,” he muttered darkly, tapping his pen against his chin. “I’m keeping an eye on her.”

It didn’t stop there. He began obsessively tracking patterns—when neighbors took out their trash, when they left for work, who picked up their mail first thing in the morning. His conspiracy board rivaled the one you’d seen at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, complete with photos, string, and a suspiciously large map of the neighborhood.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

You blinked, looking up from your book. “What’s up, Buck?”

He leaned in, his voice low and serious. “Did you know Mrs. Patterson’s dog peed on our lawn three times this week?”

“I—what?”

“And Mr. Thompson left his house twice yesterday. Twice.”

“…is that a crime?”

“Yes. Who leaves the house twice in one day? He’s clearly up to something.”

“Like… groceries?”

Bucky frowned. “No. Something bigger. I saw him walking to his car, get this—without any bags.”

“Maybe he forgot something?”

He shook his head, eyes narrowed. “It’s a diversion tactic. I’m keeping a close watch on him.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re stalking the neighbours.”

“Of course not!” He paused. “I’m… observing. For science.”

“For science?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Buck. I’m putting my foot down,” you finally managed. “You need to stop this. The neighbours think we’re crazy. You’re scaring the kids and… the mailman won’t come to the door anymore.”

Bucky looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”

“Because you interrogated him about his route last week!”

“He was being shady!”

“He’s a mailman!”

There was a long pause as you stared each other down, Bucky looking defiant and you looking exhausted. Finally, you sighed and ran a hand through your hair.

“Buck… I know retirement is hard. But you need a new outlet. Maybe something a little less—”

“Paranoid?” he offered, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. And a little less terrifying for the neighbours.”

He sighed deeply, like you’d just asked him to hang up his shield all over again. “I was just… trying to be useful.”

Your heart softened immediately. Because that was what it all boiled down to, wasn’t it? The man who’d spent his life fighting wars and doing battle against his own mind was now left trying to figure out how to fit into a world that no longer needed him to save it.

You walked over, placing your hands on his shoulders and giving him a soft smile. “You’re always useful, Buck. Even if you’re not interrogating the mailman about federal postal regulations or… spying on seventy-year-old retirees.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, huh?”

“A little,” you agreed with a grin. “Maybe you should find something else to watch over.”

“Like what?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You bit your lip, thinking. “I don’t know… Maybe get a pet? You could… I don’t know, babysit a cat or something.”

Bucky blinked at you. Then his eyes lit up like you’d just handed him the Holy Grail of retirement activities.

“A cat,” he murmured slowly, as if testing the word. “A cat.”

“Yes, a cat,” you repeated cautiously, wondering if you’d just unleashed some new kind of havoc on the house. “You could train it to… I don’t know, not scratch the furniture or something.”

“Or… I could train it to keep an eye on the pigeons,” he muttered to himself, looking thoughtful.

“Wait, what?”

But Bucky had already gone inside, the gears in his mind clearly turning. You shook your head, deciding to let him have this one. After all, how much trouble could he really get into with a cat?

Phase 5: The Pet Phase (aka Operation: Find a Feline Friend)

Duration: Ongoing, with Fur Everywhere

You didn’t think he’d take it seriously. Until you came home the next day to find Bucky sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, a small, white ball of fluff curled up in his lap.

“This is Alpine,” he announced proudly.

You stared at the kitten, then at Bucky, then back at the kitten. “Bucky, what… why…?”

“You said get a pet,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I did.”

And that’s how Alpine, the grumpy old woman in a cat’s body, became part of your household. Bucky spent weeks trying to train him (“Sit, Alpine! Sit! … Okay, fine, just glare at me, that works too.”), set up elaborate obstacle courses (“Alpine, jump! No, don’t walk away—okay, you know what, just do your thing”), and spoiled her rotten with toys and treats.

With each phase, Bucky’s retirement became a new adventure. And while it drove you absolutely crazy at times, you couldn’t help but smile when you saw Bucky lying on the couch, Alpine curled up on his chest, both looking completely content.

“Retirement isn’t so bad, huh?” you teased one evening, curling up beside him.

He hummed thoughtfully, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “I don’t know… I think I could use a new project.”

You groaned, but your groan turned into a laugh when he grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh no,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “No more projects, Barnes. You’ve nearly redecorated us out of house and home, scared the mailman half to death, and—”

“Don’t forget the gourmet cookies,” he interjected with a cheeky smile.

You shot him a playful glare. “I’m trying to forget the cookies, thank you.”

“Aw, come on. I think I finally got the recipe down. I’ll just try one more—”

“No!” you practically shouted, your voice echoing through the living room. Alpine, unbothered, merely lifted her head, gave you both a disinterested look, and went back to napping.

Bucky chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No more cookies. No more redecorating. No more… scaring the Girl Scouts.”

“Or spying on the neighbors.”

“Or spying on the neighbors,” he agreed, still looking a little too amused for your liking.

You sighed, leaning back into the couch and resting your head on his shoulder. “You know, most people take up hobbies like gardening or painting in retirement.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but those aren’t as exciting.”

“They’re not supposed to be exciting. They’re supposed to be calm. That’s the whole point of retirement, Buck.”

He glanced down at you, his gaze softening. “You really think I’m the ‘calm’ type, doll?”

You snorted. “No, not really. But it would be nice if, just once, I didn’t come home to find you plotting to build a moat around the house.”

“Moats are an excellent defense mechanism,” he said matter-of-factly. “But okay, I get it. I’ll tone it down.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You promise?”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up his right hand. The glint in his eye, however, told you he was already planning something new.

“Bucky…”

“What?” he asked, all innocence. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not for a second.”

He chuckled, then pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Alright, no more projects. I’ll just focus on Alpine. She’s a full-time job anyway.”

You glanced at the cat, who was now sprawled out like she owned the place. “You’ve turned her into a diva, you know.”

“He’s just refined,” Bucky said defensively. “He’s got standards.”

“Uh-huh. Like the way he refuses to eat unless you hand-feed her?”

“Refined,” Bucky insisted.

“And how she sleeps on your side of the bed and shoves you off with her tiny, evil paws?”

“Selective.”

“And how she sits on the counter staring at you like she’s plotting your demise?”

“Observant.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’ve created a monster, Bucky.”

“Eh,” he said with a shrug, smirking down at you. “I’ve handled worse monsters. She’s a good one. Besides,” he added, scratching Alpine’s head fondly, “she’s family.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you smiled up at him. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, content in the peaceful moment.

Then Bucky cleared his throat, and you glanced up to see him shifting slightly, like he was working up the nerve to say something.

“So… I was thinking…” he began slowly.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he said quickly, raising his hands as if to ward off your incoming refusal. “What if we… I dunno… made a baby?”

You blinked, certain you hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

“A baby,” he repeated, his voice steady, though there was a telltale blush creeping up his neck. “You know, a little human—our human. Someone we can train to take over the world… or at least keep me entertained.”

Your jaw dropped open. “You want to have a baby—because you’re bored?”

Bucky gave you a sheepish grin. “I mean, I was thinking it could be a good project… long-term investment… future troublemaker…”

“Bucky,” you interrupted, placing your hands on his shoulders and staring at him, bewildered. “Are you seriously suggesting having a child like it’s another DIY project?”

He shrugged, looking as nonchalant as ever, but his eyes were soft and serious. “Maybe. But I was also thinking it’d be nice to have something, or someone, that’s just… ours. A mix of you and me. Something that isn’t tied to the past, or fighting, or… all the other stuff.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your mind around the sudden turn the conversation had taken. “You really want a baby, Bucky?”

He nodded slowly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I do. Don’t get me wrong, Alpine’s great and all, but…” He sighed, his smile turning tender. “I just think it’d be amazing to have something more. I’ve spent so much of my life taking orders or fighting ghosts. But starting a family with you? That’s something I get to build. Something that’s ours.”

You bit your lip, heart swelling at his words. Despite the completely unromantic way he’d suggested it, there was sincerity in his gaze, a yearning for something deeper than fixing leaky faucets or buying out the Girl Scouts’ entire cookie stock.

“And you think you’d be a good dad?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” he scoffed, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’d be the best damn dad. I’d teach our kid how to throw a proper punch by age five, dismantle a toaster by six—”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So, what you’re saying is… you want to raise a tiny super-soldier?”

His grin widened. “Hell yeah.”

“Bucky, we are not turning our child into a mini-Winter Soldier.”

He pouted dramatically. “Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit,” you affirmed with a chuckle. You leaned in, resting your forehead against his. “But… maybe we could talk about it. You know, actually talk. Not just… plan a tactical baby mission.”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he brushed his thumb along your cheek. “Yeah. We can talk about it.” He paused, then added with a mischievous glint, “After we practice a little more.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh my God, Bucky.”

“What?” he asked innocently, his grin widening. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

You shook your head, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it,” he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Yeah,” you whispered when he pulled away, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I do.”

You glanced down at Alpine, who was still sprawled across Bucky’s lap, looking utterly uninterested in the conversation. A baby. You hadn’t really thought about it seriously before, but now that Bucky had put the idea in your head… you couldn’t help but wonder.

There was a brief pause as Bucky gazed at you, his expression growing thoughtful. “You know,” he began quietly, “after that whole Girl Scout cookie fiasco… I kinda started thinking… I’d really like to have a daughter.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “A daughter?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softening. “That kid was just so… brave, you know? Standing there, staring me down even though I was being a total idiot. It reminded me of you—fierce and unafraid. I couldn’t stop thinking… what if we had a daughter like that? Strong, smart, and completely capable of putting me in my place when I get out of line.”

You felt your heart clench at his words, his quiet admission making your chest ache. “You want a little girl because she’d keep you in check?”

“That,” he said, smiling softly, “and I think I’d like the challenge. I’ve spent so much of my life dealing with people who only saw me as a weapon. I just… want to prove that I can be something else. That I can be gentle… and kind… and love someone unconditionally. The way I love you.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently. “Bucky, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“I know,” he murmured, his gaze warm and intense. “But I still want to try. And I want to be the kind of dad who isn’t just a protector, but a friend. Someone who’d sit through endless tea parties and help her build pillow forts… and buy all the Girl Scout cookies she wants without scaring anyone.”

You laughed softly, tears stinging your eyes at the picture he painted. “You’d be a great dad, Bucky.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and hopeful.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling up at him.

There was another beat of silence before Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “So… when do we start?”

You felt your cheeks heat, a mix of laughter and surprise bubbling up in your chest. “Bucky!”

“What?” he asked, his smile as innocent as ever. “I’m just asking. I mean, you know I’m a man of action. Gotta have a timeline.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands as Bucky laughed softly, his arms wrapping around you.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “No rush. We’ll take it one day at a time, sweetheart. But just know… I’m ready whenever you are.”

And somehow, you knew this next phase—whatever it looked like—was going to be the best one yet.

× × × ×

Ten months later

The soft glow of the nightlight bathed the nursery in a warm, golden hue, casting gentle shadows on the pale blue walls. The room was still, save for the quiet creak of the rocking chair as Bucky swayed back and forth, holding the tiniest bundle of joy in his strong, yet tender arms.

His daughter, barely a week old, was nestled against his chest, her small, delicate breaths in sync with the steady rhythm of his own. Her tiny fist curled around the fabric of his shirt, as if she knew just how safe and loved she was in her daddy's arms.

Bucky hummed quietly, the familiar melody of an old lullaby drifting into the air. It was a song his mother used to sing to him when he was no older than his sweet little girl was now. The words came softly, almost whispered, as if they were sacred—meant only for his daughter.

“Darling, you're my bloodYou have my heartbeatYou have my heartbeat, beating loud,”

His voice was gruff, yet softened by emotion as he sang, the gentle rocking lulling his daughter further into her peaceful slumber. His fingers brushed through her soft, downy hair as he looked down at her with nothing short of awe. How had he, of all people, gotten so lucky?

He had been through so much darkness in his life—seen and done things he would never be able to forget—but here, in this quiet moment, everything seemed to fade away. The world outside could wait. Right now, his whole universe was cradled in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes felt at peace.

Unbeknownst to him, you stood at the door, your heart swelling at the sight before you. You had come to check on them both, worried that Bucky might need help with the baby. But when you saw him there, rocking your little girl and singing so sweetly, you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against the doorframe, content to watch the love of your life in this vulnerable, beautiful moment. 

Bucky was a natural, even if he didn’t believe it. You had seen the worry in his eyes when you first brought your daughter home—the fear that he wouldn’t be good enough, that he wouldn’t know what to do. But here he was, proving himself wrong in the most heart-melting way possible.

The lullaby continued, each note filled with so much love it made your eyes mist over.

"You are my lighthouseA peak of light from the dark cloudsI've lived under my whole life. . .And there's nothing I won't do for you."

Bucky’s voice cracked just a little on the last line, overcome with emotion as he gazed down at his daughter and carefully wiped his tears away. 

She had his eyes—bright and full of wonder, even when they were closed in slumber. He couldn’t help but trace the delicate features of her face with his gaze, committing every tiny detail to memory.

Finally, you couldn’t resist any longer. You stepped into the room quietly, not wanting to startle him. Bucky looked up, surprise flickering across his face when he saw you standing there. His expression softened when he realised you had been watching him.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, his voice low so as not to wake the baby.

“Long enough,” you replied, your smile widening as you walked over to him.

Bucky blushed, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I’m not exactly a professional.”

“I beg to differ, I think you’re the best dad in the world.” you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple. 

Bucky’s heart swelled at your words. He never imagined he would be here—sitting in a nursery, holding his newborn daughter while the love of his life stood beside him, calling him the best dad in the world. It still felt like a dream.

“She’s so small,” he murmured, looking back down at the baby. “So fragile. I didn’t think…I didn’t think I could love someone I barely knew this much.”

Your hand gently rested on his shoulder as you gazed down at your daughter. “You’ve got a big heart, James. I always knew you’d be amazing as a father.”

He glanced up at you, eyes soft and full of affection. “You’re the amazing one.”

You reached out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek, and Bucky leaned into your touch, feeling more complete than he ever thought possible.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family. A reason to feel…whole again.”

You knelt down beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. “You deserve it, Bucky. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

Bucky kissed the top of youe head, holding you close as he continued to rock your daughter. The world outside could be chaotic and unforgiving, but in this room, in this moment, everything was perfect.

× × × ×

Baby at six months

The house was peaceful, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow through the windows. You were out running errands, leaving Bucky home with their now six-month-old daughter, who was currently kicking her chubby little legs and babbling on her playmat. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she reached for her favorite stuffed bear, the one Bucky had given her the day she was born.

Bucky sat beside her, legs crossed, watching her every move like she was the most fascinating thing on the planet. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. 

“You know, blossom,” he began, glancing over his shoulder dramatically as if checking to make sure Y/N wasn’t around. “Your mom thinks she’s the boss.”

Their daughter let out a high-pitched squeal, and Bucky grinned. 

“Right? Can you believe it?” he continued, keeping his voice low as if sharing the biggest secret in the world. “She thinks she’s in charge around here. But between you and me, we know the truth.”

His little girl giggled again, her tiny hands grasping at the air as if she was agreeing with him.

“See, you and I?” Bucky said, tapping his finger gently on her nose, “We’re a team. We know how to get things done. I mean, just look at us—surviving nap time, figuring out how to stack those weird little ring toys, and we don’t even need to look at the instructions. Meanwhile, your mom still thinks I can’t fold laundry properly.”

He paused for dramatic effect, raising his brows. “Can you believe that? Laundry. I fought in World War II, and she’s worried I’ll mess up the towels.”

His daughter let out a delighted shriek, her little legs kicking excitedly. Bucky reached over and tickled her belly gently, making her burst into even more giggles.

“Oh, yeah, I know you think it’s funny,” Bucky chuckled. “But trust me, your mom’s got some pretty high laundry standards. I tried to fold one towel, just one, and she came over with this look like I’d committed a crime. 'Bucky, that’s not how you fold them!' she said. And I’m standing there like, ‘It’s a towel, not a top-secret mission.’”

He leaned in closer, as if telling her something top-secret. “She doesn’t know this, but I might’ve folded them wrong on purpose so I wouldn’t have to do it anymore.”

His daughter cooed, her tiny hand reaching out to grab his finger, which she promptly brought to her mouth to chew on. Bucky let her, his heart melting at the sight. She was his little sidekick, always hanging on his every word, even if she didn’t fully understand yet.

“And don’t even get me started on the bedtime routine,” Bucky continued, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Your mom’s got this whole plan—bath, story, lights out. Meanwhile, you and me? We’ve got a better plan. We chill, we rock, maybe sing a little. You get all cozy, and bam—out like a light.”

“Bababababa,” His daughter babbled something back at him, her little voice full of enthusiasm, and Bucky nodded seriously. 

“Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying. We’ve got this figured out.”

He scooped her up from the mat and held her close, her head resting comfortably against his chest as he walked them over to the couch. He sat down, cradling her in his arms, and continued his lighthearted rant.

“And the thing is, she’s always right, which drives me crazy. Like, the other day, she told me you were gonna try to crawl soon. I thought, ‘Nah, she’s too young.’ But then what happens? Two days later, you’re scooting around like you’ve got places to be. I swear, your mom’s a psychic or something.”

Bucky gazed down at his daughter, who was now looking up at him with those wide blue eyes that never failed to melt his heart. She let out a happy gurgle, and Bucky chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“You know I’m just kidding, right? Your mom’s the best. She takes care of both of us.” He sighed, feeling a rush of affection as he thought about Y/N. “Don’t tell her, but I’m pretty lucky to have her. She keeps me in line.”

Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, and Bucky’s head shot up in mock panic.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered to his daughter, his eyes wide with exaggerated worry. “The boss is back. Don’t say anything.”

You appeared in the doorway, raising an eyebrow as you saw Bucky and the baby cozied up on the couch. “What are you two up to?” you asked, a knowing smile on your lips.

Bucky gave you his most innocent look, bouncing your daughter gently in his arms. “Oh, nothing. Just hanging out with my best girl here. Right, darling?”

The baby let out a little squeal, clearly delighted by the attention.

“Mmhmm,” You said, stepping closer and giving Bucky a playful look. “You haven’t been filling her head with nonsense, have you?”

“Me? Never,” Bucky replied, trying to keep a straight face. “We were just talking about how great you are. Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

Bianca, oblivious to the conversation, giggled and reached for you, and took her from Bucky’s arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Well, if she grows up thinking she’s in charge, I’ll know who to blame,” You teased, casting a glance at Bucky.

He grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Hey, she’s gotta learn from the best.”

You smiled, shaking your head in mock defeat. “You’re lucky she likes you so much.”

Bucky stood and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both looked down at your little girl, now happily nestled between you. “I’m lucky to have both of you,” he murmured softly, kissing the side of your head.

And in that moment, with his two favorite girls in his arms, Bucky couldn’t imagine a better kind of luck.

Stolen Dairy

Word Count: 370

Summary: Bucky doesn’t respect the rules of a communal kitchen.

Warning: Language and a messy kitchen

A/N: This is what happens when @aubzylynn sends me links to help me overcome writer’s block.

Steve hurried into the kitchen that morning, following the sound of yelling and breaking dishes. He was torn between surprise and resignation at the sight that greeted him.

There was broken glass on the floor, remnants of some poor cup or bowl that had gotten stuck in the crossfire. The blender was tipped on its side, a half-blended smoothie spilling out across the counter and dripping onto the floor. Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing” was blaring from the stereo, adding a decidedly ridiculous air of dramatics to the scene playing out in the kitchen. You were perched on your knees on top of the kitchen island whacking Bucky with a wet dish rag which snapped with a painful sound every time it made contact. Bucky had his metal arm raised defensively in front of his face while he chucked pieces of frozen fruit at you with the other.

“Children. I’m living with children,” Steve sighed, hooking his arm around your waist and dragging you off the counter.

“Steve, put me down! No, listen, he deserves it this time!” you whined, struggling to escape his hold on you or at least to put your feet on the ground.

“I didn’t even do anything! I was just trying to make a smoothie, and she came in and started going psycho!” Bucky protested.

“That son of a bitch stole my yogurt!” you yelled, and Steve was forced to devote both arms to holding you as you continued to try to wiggle free.

“How was I supposed to know it was yours? We share a kitchen! I wasn’t aware your dairy was off limits!”

“Alright,” Steve cut in, tossing you lightly onto the couch as you shrieked in protest. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder to keep you from rising. “Buck, go buy her more yogurt.”

“What!?”

“You know how ridiculous she is about food. You either go buy her more, or she’s just going to keep hitting you,” Steve sighed tiredly

“This is bullshit!”

“What’s bullshit is you used all my yogurt to try to make your freaky smoothie! You can’t put plums in a smoothie, idiot! It doesn’t work!”

“You’re the worst.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I hate both of you.”

Tags: @aubzylynn @stephie-rowena

My requests are open!

Requests for-

STRANGER THINGS

Eddie Munson

Billy Hargrove

Steve Harrington

TEEN WOLF

Stiles Stilinski

Liam Dunbar

Theo Raeken

Derek Hale

MARVEL

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Loki Odinson

I won't write smut, or boyxboy, sorry if that inconveniences you, I just don't feel comfortable writing that, and I'm not good with it. I will however write up to the moment and after, but not the actual smut

I also don't write for the actor, just the characters

I will write based off of songs, scenes, movies or shows. Pretty much any concept, I can write.

If you request, please give me a few days, up to 2 days to write, edit and publish your request.

Have a blessed day!!!❤️

Keeper, Sketch, and Scratch

A/N: Just wanted some adorable fluff today. I needed it. Maybe we all need it.

“Watch out! You’re gonna get yourself killed?”

Steve jumps back out of the way of the razor-sharp edge, inches from his face.

“I don’t get why—“ he bumps against the wall and makes an impromptu sidestep “—she’s so angry.” Steve less than gracefully trips over your foot and nearly topples the pair of you. If you both go down, you’ll be at the beast's mercy.

“You’re supposed to save me,” you squeal. “You’re normally so good with women.”

Steve throws you a vicious glance before getting stabbed in the foot. “Ah! Oh, come on, you’ve had food. It’s right there,” he wails.

Alpine, Bucky’s new feline, doesn’t care. She knows Steve is a dog guy and smells his fear.

“Stark said she was nice,” Steve cries weakly, snatching his arm away. Alpine stalks him to the corners of the room. It’s hilarious, but she is actually a pretty terrifying little package of fur.

“Then be like Tony and woo her.”

Steve jumps out of the way again. “How? How am I supposed to do that?”

“Oh, right,” you sigh, “you didn’t even really woo me…”

His head snaps up again. “Don’t you start—AH!”

Alpine latches on tooth and nail to Steve’s beautiful forearm. You don’t blame her.

“How does something so small hurt so bad?”

You’re failing to suppress a smile as you notice the wiggle of her furry body turn playful. She thrashes a bit, sinks in, then waits, staring at Steve with big blue eyes.

“Little white devil, that one,” you mutter, half-laughing.

The two fighters have a silent shake down of head bobs and squinting eyes. Alpine releases her jaw. Steve softly hisses when her claws shift, but it’s because Alpine is rubbing her chin along his thumb.

“I see…” You chance a step closer. “She was wooing you, huh? Had to break you in a bit, I think.”

“Plays rough like her pa,” Steve says with a furrowed brow.

“Or Nat, depending on how you look at it.”

He nods as he reaches his other hand under Alpine’s suspended body and tucks her to his chest, tentatively. He must have great faith in the resilience of his tact suit to bring her even closer, but the pretty kitty sinks into the hold with a little yowl.

You laugh.

It takes a few tries to pull away his other arm, and it’s possible Alpine only releases when it’s clear Steve is moving to scratch at her head. The purrs start full force.

You’re impressed, not just by Steve’s gentility but by Alpine’s extreme emotional range. Strategically feral, just like Bucky, which makes probably the most sense but is still funny.

Steve beams. He holds Alpine like a fluffy baby and coos, then quietly whispers, “see? And Aunty said I wasn’t good with women.”

He looks up at you through his long lashes, thinking he’s won with a sassy last word.

Alpine nips at his finger. Fast learner.

he’s not even boyfriend material, HE’S HUSBAND MATERIAL

hi! i don’t know if you take requests/fic suggestions (if not feel free to ignore), but i love your writing (where the heart is ruined me in the best way!!) and thought you would write this idea super well. basically i saw this instagram reel (and watched it on repeat like 10 times) where a dad tells a waiter that his daughter thinks he’s cute and i thought it could be a cute meet-cute-scenario for eddie (or steve if you write for him)! that’s pretty much it lol, i hope you’re having a good day!

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CmXJ1_zL9F7/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

This may just be the cutest request I've ever gotten. I enjoyed writing this so so so much. I have to thank @munson-blurbs for suggesting I make the reader Hopper's daughter and adding another layer of hilarity to it for me. Fun fact, this scenario happened to my brother once. Only he was like, 11, so nothing was going to come from it and it was just purely my dad trying to embarrass him lol. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this!

Words 2.2k

“Hey, welcome to Breadstix. My name is Eddie and I’ll be your waiter.”

You look up from your menu and do a double take at the beautiful man standing there. He’s tall and thin, his black t-shirt showing off his tiny waist and the light jeans showcasing the length of his legs. He has brown curly hair tucked in a bun at the nape of his neck, with a few loose frizzy pieces framing his face. The tattoos that are scattered along his arms catch your attention; your eyes being particularly drawn to the colony of bats taking flight on his forearm. But it’s when you look into his eyes that you get lightheaded and forget your own name, let alone what you were going to order for dinner. 

Going out for a family dinner with your dad and sister was never something that was particularly exciting, but it just got a hell of a whole lot better. 

“The special today is the brown sugar pork chops with a sweet potato on the side.”

“Huh,” your dad hums, eyes scanning over the menu once more. “That sounds good. I’ll take the special and a coke.”

Eddie takes down the pen that’s tucked behind his ear and scribbles down on the pad in his hand. He looks at your sister next and she gives him a sweet smile.

“For you?” Eddie asks.

“I’ll have the mushroom and Swiss burger, please,” El says. “And a water.” 

He jots that down as well then turns to you. When his eyes land on you, your mouth goes dry. Eddie shoots you a smile and you swear your stomach is too full of butterflies to eat any food. 

“And what can I get for you?” Eddie asks.

A cold shower? A date? An orgasm? 

“Um, I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs. A-And a Diet Coke,” you manage to get out.

“Ah, my favorite,” Eddie says with a wink that nearly kills you as he writes your order down. “I’ll put those right in for you.”

He walks away from the table, and you feel your body deflate, letting out a breath and finally relaxing. You drop your head down on the table to hide the smile spread across your lips.

“What’s with you?” your dad asks.

“Hmm?” You lift your head up and look at him. El is giggling in her seat next to you, clearly knowing why you’re acting strange and bubbly.

“What’s with this sudden…mood change?” Your dad waves his hand around in front of your face, gesturing to your dopey expression. 

“I know,” El snickers and you reach over to playfully shove her. Your dad leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the two of you. He raises his eyebrows at you girls as you nudge one another back and forth with your elbows.

“Well shit, someone slipped something into your Wheaties this morning,” he says.

But your dad isn’t dumb. As chief of police, things rarely escaped his notice. He’s just waiting to see if you’ll cop to it or not.

“No, it’s just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It’s what?” 

A red flush comes to your face and El covers her mouth as she lets out another giggle.

“He’s so cute.”

“Who?” Hopper asks, just flat out playing dumb now. 

“The waiter!” you say in exasperation.

“Eddie.” El says his name, leaning in towards you and wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Ah,” your dad says with a laugh. “That’s your type, huh?”

“Dad!” you admonish, face becoming even redder. 

He lifts his hands in surrender as El dissolves into laughter. Before, you wouldn’t have described yourself as having a “type” but after seeing Eddie, you can’t imagine having a type that didn’t look like him. It was hard to pick out one thing that turned you on about him the most. The package of Eddie as a whole was so overwhelming that you could practically feel the sharp stab of Cupid’s arrow jammed in your back.

You spot Eddie approaching with the drinks, so you swat at El to get her to behave. She bites her lip and stares down at the scuffed wooden table in front of her, so she doesn’t lose it again.

“Here we go. Water, coke, and a Diet Coke. Your dinner should be coming out soon,” Eddie says. “Everything okay here?”

You’re praying your dad keeps his mouth shut as you smile and nod your head at Eddie. When he gives you a smile in return, El covers a laugh by pretending to cough into her hand. You’d throttle her when you got home. Hopper seems to pay Eddie no more mind than he would any other waitstaff that his oldest daughter didn’t find absolutely beautiful.

After Eddie leaves again, conversation thankfully steers away from your romantic inclinations and into the topic of ridiculous calls that came in at the station today. El also tells you about a school project that’s coming up and tells your dad she needs to get a book for her next book report at the library. It’d be easy to think that your father forgot all about your attraction to your waiter, but when Eddie comes to deliver your meals, it’s obvious he didn’t. Sometimes the universe just liked to pull the rug out from underneath you.

“Alright,” Eddie says. He’s balancing the large tray carrying your plates on one hand, muscles rippling under the skin of his arm as he holds it up. The only thing that tears your eyes away from his bicep is when he places your dish down in front of you. “Anything else I can get you guys?”

“I think we’re all set,” your dad says. Eddie nods and tucks the tray under his arm. As he goes to turn away from the table, Hopper lifts his hand and swivels towards Eddie. “Oh, one thing.”

Eddie licks his lips as he spins back towards the table, a friendly smile on his face. “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, nothing,” your dad says with a shake of his head. “It’s just that my daughter here thinks you’re very cute.” He reaches over and pats you on the back so there’s no mistaking which one of his children he’s talking about. 

“Dad!” 

El bursts out into laughter as you raise your hands to cover your face, wanting to die on the spot. The heat in your cheeks is enough to make sweat break out along your hairline, only made worse by how fast your heart is pounding. The adrenaline rush flooding your veins is real. Being a high school student, you’ve been embarrassed plenty of times before in your life, but you think this takes the cake. Having the police chief as a father also came with its own moments of teasing and joking, but this seemed extreme even for him. Somewhere deep inside, you find the courage to peek at Eddie from between your fingers. There’s a shy smile on his face as he looks at you, his own cheeks dusted in a light bit of pink. 

“Well, that’s very sweet,” Eddie finally says, resting his hand over his heart. He opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out and you realize that not only did your dad put you on the spot, but Eddie as well. “I’m flattered.”

Slowly your hands fall from your face and into your lap. Peering up at Eddie from under your eyelashes, he dips his gaze quickly before meeting yours again. The smile on his pretty mouth makes you feel as if there’s an animal jumping and banging around inside your heart, trying to break free. 

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you,” Eddie says before walking away.

Part of you feels a bit disheartened. But what did you expect? Eddie to ask you on a date because your father told him you’re attracted to him? Right in the middle of his shift? God, your dad better give him a big tip on the check. 

“You’re the worst,” you mumble as you twirl some spaghetti onto your fork. But there’s a fond smile on your face as you shoot a glare at the chief.

Eddie comes by twice more while you’re eating to see if everything is okay, and both times you can barely meet his gaze. El thinks it’s all hilarious and has a grin on her face for the rest of dinner. 

Once everyone is finished and your and El’s leftovers are boxed up, Eddie comes over with the bill. You expect him to put it down on the table right in front of your father, but he walks around him to come up behind you and reaches over our shoulder to lay the check down right in front of you.

“I figured you’d be taking care of this,” he says. You can’t see him from where he’s standing behind you, but El catches sight of the smirk on his face and her expression lights up in glee. 

It’s hard to concentrate on anything with Eddie standing so close to you that you can smell the trace of cigarettes under a spicy cologne wafting over you. When he speaks, the scent of mint is added into the mix, so you assume he’s chewing a stick of gum and you’ve never been more jealous of a piece of candy in your life. 

When Eddie walks away, you have to fight the urge to reach out and grab onto him and make him stay. El moving the check in front of you snaps your attention back to the task staring you in the face. You give El’s hand a light smack so she drops the slip of paper. You’re able to snatch it up and hold it up to your face so El can’t read it from where she’s sitting. 

I hope your dad is currently unarmed since I’d like to say that I think his older daughter is very beautiful. And inquire if she might like to go on a date with me? 555-0527 xoxo - Eddie

Your wide eyes can’t believe what you’re reading. It takes a minute for it to click in your brain what you’re actually looking at. The smile spreads across your lips next, making your cheeks ache from the intensity of your grin. 

When the paper gets plucked from your fingers you whine and furrow your brow at your father. 

“What, you going to pay?” he asks as he digs for his money in his wallet. 

“No. But I was reading that,” you say.

“Well hang on, I gotta know how much to leave don’t I? You can kiss his phone number once I’m done.”

The blush flares up on your face at his words. You weren’t going to actually kiss the paper. But the fact that said paper could lead to a kiss is what’s got you so wound up. Hopper slaps some bills down on the table and hands you the precious check back. You securely fold it and clutch it in your hands, afraid to let it out of your sight for even a moment. El grabs the takeaway boxes and the three of you head towards the door. As you take one last look over your shoulder into the restaurant, you see Eddie coming out of the kitchen. His eyes lock with yours and he gives you that smile you swear could stop time. 

“Maybe I should embarrass you more often, huh?” Hopper says from behind you. 

“No!” you and El answer in unison. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, glancing back at your family. 

“We’ll be outside,” your dad says.

“Have fun,” El adds with a smirk before she follows your dad out the door. 

Taking a deep breath to relax your system, you start to walk over towards Eddie. 

“Hey,” he says once you’re standing in front of him.

“Hi. Look, I’m sorry if you felt embarrassed or put on the spot. He can be a bit much sometimes.”

“No, no,” Eddie assures you with a shake of his head. “First thing I thought when I walked over to your table tonight was how beautiful you are. The Chief kind of did me a favor, actually.” 

“Oh. Well, I’m glad then,” you say, face glowing from his compliment. 

“I take it you got my note?” Eddie asks, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. 

“I did,” you say, still clutching it in your hands. “And I, uh, would like to go on a date with you. So, I’ll definitely call.”

“I get off work at nine,” he tells you. 

“You’ll hear from me soon after that then,” you say with a shy shrug of the shoulders. 

“I’m really looking forward to it, uh…”

He trails off and you realize it’s because he doesn’t know your name. You introduce yourself to him and extend your hand. Instead of shaking it, like you expected, he takes your hand in his and leans in to press his lips against your knuckles. You’re pretty sure you’re going to spontaneously combust. Or have an aneurysm. Or just flat out melt into a puddle on the floor. 

“I’ll talk to you tonight then,” Eddie says.

“Tonight,” you repeat, slowly backing away from him. You don’t want to go, but you know your dad will come in and say something even more embarrassing than he already did if you make him wait too long. 

“Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

Found this on pinterest and I just couldn't share it with anyone yet I wanted to share it so here I am posting it on tumblr.

robin: you need a hobby.

eddie: i have a hobby.

dustin: staring at steve’s face isn’t a hobby.

eddie: you’re right. it’s a profession and i excel at my job.