How About Derek Hale Seeing His Gf Wearing His Shirt For The First Time?

Learning to Love Again

Steve Harrington x reader

Inspired by this post @forevermoreharrington

Steve had always been the life of the party. With his charming smile and quick wit, he could make anyone feel at ease. But behind that confident exterior, he was hiding a deep insecurity that he had never quite been able to shake.

Steve had always been a romantic at heart. He loved the idea of being in a relationship, of sharing his life with someone special. But every time he tried to get close to someone, it always seemed to backfire.

In his early relationships, Steve would try to be affectionate and attentive, showering his partner with compliments and gifts. But he quickly learned that not everyone appreciated his brand of romance. Some of his partners would pull away, telling him that he was being too intense or that he needed to give them space.

This rejection hurt Steve deeply. He couldn't understand why his efforts to show his love were being met with such resistance. As a result, he began to hold back, to keep his feelings to himself for fear of scaring his partner away.

But even that didn't work. His partners would accuse him of being distant, of not being emotionally available. Steve couldn't win. It seemed like no matter what he did, he always managed to push his partners away.

But then he met you.

From the moment you first smiled at him, Steve felt something shift inside of him. It was a small gesture, just a quick flash of teeth, but for Steve, it was like a bolt of lightning had struck him. He couldn't explain why, but he felt an instant connection to you. Maybe it was the way your eyes crinkled at the corners, or the way your hair fell in soft waves around your face. Whatever it was, Steve was hooked. It was as if all of his insecurities melted away in your presence. You were so warm and open, so eager to be close to him, that he couldn't help but be drawn to you.

At first, it was scary for Steve. In the early days of your relationship, Steve was almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of affection you showed him. It was like a dam had burst, and suddenly he was being showered with love and attention in a way that he had never experienced before.

At first, he was a little unsure of how to respond. He would feel himself tense up when you reached for his hand or leaned in for a kiss. He wasn't used to this level of physical intimacy, and it took him some time to get comfortable with it.

But you were patient with him. You could tell that he was struggling, and you didn't want to push him too hard too fast. So you started small, with gentle touches and soft kisses. You let Steve set the pace, always waiting for him to take the lead. But as time went on, he began to relax into your touch, to let himself be vulnerable with you in a way that he never had before. He found himself craving your touch, yearning for the warmth of your body next to his. He loved the way you would run your fingers through his hair, tracing lazy patterns on his scalp. It was like all of the walls he had built up around himself were starting to crumble.

And then there were the kisses. Steve had never been much of a public display of affection kind of guy, but with you, he couldn't resist. He loved the way you would pull him in for a kiss in the middle of the street, not caring who saw you. It was like you were telling the world that he was yours, and he loved the possessiveness of it.

You would stay up late talking, laughing at each other's jokes and sharing stories about your lives. You would hold hands as you walked down the street, fingers intertwined in a way that felt like you were meant to be together.

And whenever Steve would start to feel that old familiar pang of insecurity, you were always there to reassure him. You would tell him how much you adored him, how much you loved being close to him, how you could never imagine being with anyone else.

It was one of those nights, lying in bed together, that you finally said the words that Steve had been waiting to hear.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft and sweet.

Steve's heart skipped a beat. He had wanted to say those words to you for so long, but he had been too afraid of scaring you away. Now, as he looked into your eyes, he knew that he had nothing to fear.

"I love you too," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I've loved you since the moment I met you, but I was too scared to say it. I didn't want to mess things up."

You reached out to stroke his hair, your fingers trailing softly over his scalp.

"You could never mess things up with me," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, always."

And as Steve held you close, he knew that he had finally found the person who could chase away his insecurities, who could make him feel loved and cherished in a way that he had never thought possible. With you by his side, he knew that he could face anything that life threw his way.

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

Y/N: *is feeling a little down*

Y/N: hey, could you do that thing you do?

Bucky: what?

Y/N: that—that thing you do that like. Makes me feel better.

Bucky: *confused*

Y/N: you know like—the thing:(

Bucky: *realizes* ah, *does that cute Bucky smile*

Y/N: great, thanks:)

Y/N: I’m not lazy, I just find it hard to put effort into things I’m not passionate about.

Steve: What are you passionate about?

Y/N: Sleeping.

Gucci babe

No one knows why Eddie and Nancy call each other "my dear" and "honey" respectively. Not even Steve and Robin, who only give a brief pause (and sometimes a confused, "huh?") before going back to whatever nonsense. Even though it is absolutely, one hundred percent, their fault.

It’s all because Eddie and Nancy are dating two people permanently attached at the hip. "Platonic soulmates" they say, repeated ad nauseam. Two people who should be siblings. A pair of bickering sisters who are also sometimes gross brothers. A brother and sister duo so chaotic they give the Sinclairs a run for their money.

Platonic soulmates who act like two silly drunk girls when they are out at a bar. Two losers who cackle with laughter and sing along far too loudly to the radio on the way home.

A pair of idiots stumbling up the stairs in Steve’s house, gradually discarding jackets, bags and accessories.

Eddie is relatively sober, having played with the band and Nancy is tipsy, never one to entirely shake her sensible and put-together self. So Eddie follows behind, closing the front door, locking it and turning the lights off, while Nancy scurries along picking up the tossed attire.

"You're my best friend!" Robin shouts, squishing Steve's cheeks together as they hang off each other, wobbly at the top of the stairs.

"Love you, Robbie!" Steve says, voice cracking as he sniffles and kisses her on the cheek.

He takes her hand and they disappear up the hall.

By the time Eddie reaches Steve’s bedroom, Steve and Robin are passed out on that plaid bedspread, all curled up together like two creatures huddled together for warmth and companionship.

Nancy grumbles as she straightens up the shoes scattered at the foot of the bed.

"I swear they forget we exist sometimes," she says, huffing as she tugs off Robin’s left boot that she’d only managed to unzip.

"Oh absolutely," Eddie agrees.

He can’t help but walk over to Steve’s bedside and brush his fringe from his face. Steve produces a gross snorting nose at the movement, cuddling in closer to his best friend.

"Stop… snoring… di…" Robin mumbles, not getting out her favourite nickname before drifting back off to sleep.

Eddie steps back and folds his arms, resigning himself to spending his Sunday tolerating two hungover platonic soulmates in their worst and most annoying form.

Nancy rolls her eyes. "Get your bag and come into the spare room."

They make quick work of changing, Eddie in an oversized band tee and a pair of Steve’s checked pyjama pants he had taken ownership of. He looks in the mirror as he stands side-by-side Nancy in the upstairs bathroom, both brushing their teeth in silence. He looks over her pale pink nightdress, embellished with embroidered flowers and can’t help the huffed laugh that escapes him.

"What?" Nancy smiles and spits out her toothpaste in the sink.

"We look like an old married couple who have run out of things to talk about."

Nancy giggles, quickly moving to a washcloth to wipe her mouth before she bursts out laughing. She zips up her cosmetics bag and makes a sharp turn to face Eddie, her brow quirked.

"Honey, did you enjoy the soiree this evening?" she says in an uptight, snooty voice, cocking her chin and giving a sly smile.

"Splendid, my dear!" he replies, toothbrush dangling from his mouth as he bows with a flourish. "Although the band was an absolute bore."

"Don't say that!" Nancy chides, breaking character as she playfully slaps his shoulder.

He snorts a laugh as he finishes up and rinses his mouth out, dripping water everywhere.

"Wheeler, there were like seven people there, including you, Steve and Rob," he laughs, dropping the facade too.

"Shall we retire for the night?" she says, changing the subject and slipping back into character. She offers her hand.

"To the bedroom!" he declares, pointing to the door.

The spare bedroom is, unsurprisingly, similar to the rest of the house. Sparse and low-lit with heavy dark curtains that make Steve’s plaid drapes look light and airy in comparison.

"I hope you don’t snore as much as Steve, Nancy," Eddie warns without any heat behind his words as he punches his pillow into a shape that isn't flat and solid.

"He does snore, doesn’t he?" she wonders aloud as she slips under the covers, huffing a laugh. "Robin talks in her sleep. Nothing serious or anything. Total nonsense."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Of course she does."

"Last week she woke me up," she starts as she pokes at his shoulder. "Tapping on my shoulder saying, ‘Nance, tell the fish it’s time to get ready for school’."

"Di-did you have… fish children?" he asks before doubling over, cackling.

"I think so," Nancy ponders, speaking slow before snorting a laugh.

"Goodnight, my dear."

"Night, honey."

At that, they turn away from each other, snuggling under the covers for a restful night’s sleep.

The following morning, Steve and Robin swap out his bed for cocooning themselves in blankets on the Harrington's gigantic couch as Eddie finishes up making their breakfast. They’d stirred fairly early in the morning, moving into the guest room and not-at-all subtly waking Eddie and Nancy to demand breakfast, all the while complaining about their whereabouts the night before.

Nancy enters the kitchen, freshly showered and laughs at the state of their counterparts. But they do not surface. If anything, Eddie swears Steve’s snoring is getting louder with every passing minute.

"Breakfast is all set, my dear," Eddie says, flinging a teatowel over his shoulder and offering her Steve's plate.

She hesitates but he gestures to the others on the couch. Robin is now babbling something incoherently as she taps Steve on the shoulder.

"Thank you, honey," Nancy giggles as she takes the food.

Warmth | S. R. | oneshot

Mature | Steve Rogers x Chronically Ill Reader

I’ll take care of you, he had said then. I love you. I always will. On the bad days and the good ones.

AUTHOR MASTERLIST | AUTHOR AO3

Established relationship, married couple, romance, fluff & hurt/comfort, angst with a happy/hopeful ending. Reader is good friends with Bucky and Nat.

Word Count: 1,771 words.

Reader Specifics: She/her. Mid-to-late twenties. Has a chronical illness that causes pain and fatigue, no specific diagnosis mentioned. Married to Steve. No description of appearance (other than clothes and such), no use of Y/N.

Warnings: Themes of chronic pain & illness, and the feelings that such conditions may cause, including self-worth and self-esteem issues.

I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

You get close.

The base of the batter is done, butter and chocolate melted, instant coffee and sugars mixed into it, milk and eggs and vanilla extract poured into the bowl. The kitchen of the Tower floor you and Steve share is downright indulgent, spacious enough that you can spread everything out and you try to work fast enough before being up becomes too much to bear. You manage to ignore the nagging tingling of your body, the slow burning that goes in waves from knees all the way to your chest.

You grind your teeth, focus on the task at hand.

Just as you’re about to start sifting in the flour-cocoa mixture, the first red-hot knife sinks into your stomach. You yelp, even as you knew it was coming, and with the second strike of the blade, you drop down to crouch next to the kitchen counter, squeezing the edge of the counter with both hands, fingers cramping from the grip.

Eyes closed, you wait as the pain drums through your body with every heartbeat, nerves aflame with lightning, muscles contracting and releasing. You try to breathe through it, squeeze your eyelids together to keep the tears at bay.

That’s where Steve finds you.

It doesn’t alarm him like it used to; he no longer drops a bag of groceries down when he sees you like this. Instead, he sets it gently down next to the fridge and steps closer, kneeling down on the floor next to you. His warm palm slides over the back of your dress.

“You were supposed to rest, darling,” he scolds gently.

You glare at him with tear-filled eyes, but the anger melts away when you see the worry on his face. That has stayed, even as he has learned that anything like this is not inherently dangerous.  

“I wanted to bake. I was craving mud cake and the store-bought just never hits the right spot.”

“I would’ve baked for you,” he sighs.

“I don’t want you to bake for me! I want to be able to do things myself. I want this stupid goddamn body to fucking function like it should be,” you snap, regretting the bite in your voice the second the words have left your mouth.

“I know,” he says. “I know how it is. I know how much it sucks.”

And he does. It is almost impossible to remember that sometimes, after watching footage of him yanking helicopters out of the sky, but once, this was his life  too.

“Yeah, the difference being that you’re no longer pathetic,” you mumble.

“You are not pathetic. It’s just a rough patch,” he says.

He knows where it’s coming from.

You still remember the time you got your diagnosis, how you told Steve that you should break off the engagement, that you didn’t expect him to hitch his wagon to this. You went as far as sleeping on Nat’s sofa for a week, and then Bucky forced himself through the door and sat you down and looked at you with eyes full of Winter Soldier steel.

You really think he can’t take this, huh? If there’s one person who understands how it feels to be in pain and helpless, one person that will know why you’re full of frustration and anger at times, it’s Steve Rogers, he had said.

It’s not about what he can take. It’s about what he deserves, and what I don’t, you had grumbled in response, desperately not trying to show how much you missed sleeping in Steve’s warm arms at night.

So he wasn’t worthy of being loved and taken care of when he was sick and incapacitated and chronically ill? Would you love him any less if the serum fell out of him and he went back to that state?

Of course not. But that’s different.

How’s that different?

Because you are a fucking asshole, Bucky Barnes, you had spat, knowing that to resort to ad hominem was to admit defeat.

Oh, I am, he had grinned. But right now, I am the fucking asshole who is right.

And he had been precisely that. Steve had welcomed you back with open arms, and you had cried against his chest until you had felt like you could breathe again, until the words ‘chronic’ and ‘illness’ didn’t feel like they were sucking all the air out of your lungs.

I’ll take care of you, he had said then. I love you. I always will. On the bad days and the good ones.

You know that. You know Steve Rogers makes no such promises if he doesn’t mean them, but sometimes it isn’t the same to know something on a rational level and accept it emotionally. On some days, you are full of pain-sharpened thorns and god, you just want to prick something that is beautiful, want to wallow in the self-pity and despise any light that tries to reach your darkness.

“Help you to bed?” he asks, and you don’t want to, but you nod nevertheless.

He lifts you up. It’s spring; he’s been out in simply a button-down and slacks, and you can feel his warmth through the cotton as he holds you against his chest. At least this part was easy. At least you knew that taking care of you wasn’t straining his body.

You’ve done what you can to make the apartment into an oasis of peace, and the bedroom is no exception. The bed is huge, filled with soft sheets and a pile of pillows that can be moved to allow you to rest as comfortably as possible. Steve sets you down on your side and sheds the clothes he’s been outside in before getting into bed next to you. You groan at the feeling of his body, covered only by the boxer briefs, pressing against your back, warm and relaxing like a furnace.

“You’re the best heating pad in the world,” you manage to smile, snuggling deeper into his embrace as your muscles start to relax.

He chuckles against your neck and presses a kiss to the back of your neck. Lying down, as much as you hate to admit, always seems to make a wave of relief flow through your body, muscles relaxing. Steve’s palm smooths over your side, stroking again and again, and the relaxation deepens, seeps into every muscle.

“The oven’s on,” you mumble, as he makes no attempt to move. “The groceries you brought are still in the kitchen.”

In response, he rucks up your dress and places his palm over your stomach, and you can’t help but groan at the relief of the warmth.

“I’m on heating pad duty,” he says. “Those can wait.”

You sigh, despite the smile on your face.

“I really thought I had enough spoons. It was better today, until it wasn’t.”

“It’s okay. It’s not always predictable.”

It’s not. And he knows that’s the worst part of it.

“I wanted you to come home to something nice.”

“I come home to you every day.”

“Flatterer,” you say, but despite the words, you entwine your fingers into his on top of your stomach.

Your wedding rings make a small clink when they touch his. It had been a longer engagement than you had initially planned; you had wanted to make sure he wasn’t marrying you just because of duty, just because he felt like he should, now that he knew you were going to battle with this for the rest of your life. He had countered that with the argument that he had proposed to you even before he had known anything about this, when your illness had still masked itself into bouts of tiredness.

He had convinced you. Your wedding portrait, Steve lifting you up and spinning you around, hangs above your bed, and even on the worst of days, looking at it brings a smile to your face.

Bucky had cried through the entire ceremony.

“Do you want me to get your meds?” Steve asks.

“I already took them; can’t take more right now. Lot of good that did.”

“Hey,” comes the whisper against your neck.

The tears that have barely dried escape your eyes again. Steve feels you tense and kisses the back of your neck again, the hand on you pulling you closer against him.

“I feel so useless,” you say. “Everyone’s so nice to me; I’m everyone’s stupid charity project.”

He has heard all of this before; this conversation comes every time you are going through a rough patch, and every time, his answers are full of patience and love.

God, what have you done to deserve him?

“Or they’re your friends – our friends. They like you. You are more than this, even though it doesn’t feel like that right now. You are plenty of things outside this illness. And I love you, for reasons that have nothing to do with whether or not you’re useful.”

“And you’re the stubborn dumbass who married himself into this mess.”

“I’m definitely both,” he says. “But neither of those have anything to do with the fact that I married you. And the doctor told you to rest, so who’s the stubborn one here?”

“Hypocrite,” you say. “Bucky has certainly told me how good you were at resting up, huh?”

You hear the chagrinned laugh and know the expression on his face. He mumbles something about how he really needs to get Bucky to stop telling stories about his youth to you, if they are just going to be used against him.

“Too late,” you say.

The tiredness is creeping over you again; being up in the middle of a bad flare-up has taken more out of you than you care to admit, and Steve’s closeness has taken all the bitter fight that had remained after the energy had drained out.

“I know it’s hard to rest when it doesn’t feel like rest is making any difference,” he says. “But you still should.”

You want to fight him, but your eyelids are falling closed as his warmth has filled your every crampy muscle and tight tendon.

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear. “Sleep well, beautiful.”

“Loveyatoo,” you mumble in response, the safety of his presence nudging you over the edge of consciousness and into sleep.

An hour later, you wake up to the scent of freshly-baked mud cake floating through the apartment and smile into the room, feeling like you could go for a big slice and a nice cup of coffee, sitting across from Steve and listening to him talk about his day.

Even in a rough patch, it’s not all bad.

THREE MEN AND A BABY - Summer of 87’

(young parents!Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

more dad!eddie can be found on my masterlist

summary: . . you leave eddie to watch your newborn with some ‘help’ (they don’t really do anything) from jonathan and argyle.

a/n: everyone lives in Hawkins because i said so. as always, no beta so mistakes will be fixed later.

* . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * .

“Dude.”  Argyle leaned in for a closer look, staring deeply into the unimpressed, brown eyes peering up at him from her place in her bouncer, tiny fists curled near her head, fuzzy with dark curls. “You had a baby.” Eddie snickered while Jonathan shook his head in amusement. “Yeah, I know that, man.” “No—you don’t get it, man! Like, you had a baby. You’re a dad. She is composed of half of your DNA. The fruit of your looms!” Jonathan choked on the cold pizza he’d been scarfing down at that bit of Argyle’s rant. “She’s—Oh, she got your eyes, too.”  Argyle ended on a coo, a finger reaching down to run over her soft, chubby cheek. From the moment you and Eddie brought Penny home three weeks ago, you’d been attached to her. Utterly and completely obsessed with the perfect little being your body had spent months creating. While you’d been initially incredibly hesitant to meet her—coherently, at least, she’d been placed on your chest briefly when you’d been having a horrible out of body experience from the pain of having just pushed her out seconds before—it was hard for you to put her down now. You blamed that newborn baby smell. It was your weakness, if she was cradled against you, your head was angled down to sniff at her hair. You loved bonding with her in general, but your mother had made sure Eddie knew to not let you withdraw from society once Penny came, and then she’d told Eddie all about Postpartum Depression, effectively scaring the shit out of him. So that’s how you ended up having a girl’s day with Nancy, Eden and Robin. Sure, you’d started crying after showering your little baby in kisses and love and you’d had to be literally dragged out by the girls but Eddie knew you’d have a good time.

Just like he knew he could totally handle Penny on his own. Jonathan and Argyle had come along with the girls, but both were entirely too curious about Penny to leave. Not at all because Eddie had body blocked the door once they realized their ride was driving off. Alright, he was still scarred from day two out of the hospital.  Max and Lucas had come over to the trailer to visit Penny—Lucas loved holding her, you found it so cute—when you had gone to change Penny’s diaper and immediately began crying out for help. Eddie had never bolted so fast in his entire life with Max and Lucas on his heels, and the sight that greeted them was horrifying in a new parent sort of way. Penny had shit so violently once you’d undone her diaper that it was splattered on the wall, she was peeing all over your hands, and she’d thrown up, the milky looking substance also leaking out of her little nostrils. She herself didn’t look at all phased by what she’d just done. So, yeah. Maybe he needed a little back up for now. “Who’s got beautiful, angel eyes? Who’s got beautiful angel eyes? You do! You do!” Eddie watched Argyle gently tap her little nose, and his heart warmed when he could see his baby smiling around her pacifier. He knew it was probably just gas since she was starting to learn how to use her face, but he liked to imagine she knew just how much everyone loved her; that she’d never have to feel like he did growing up, unloved and alone until Uncle Wayne had stepped in when his father had been arrested and he had no one else. His kid had family. And a damn good one at that. “You can pick her up, if you want.” “Whoa.” Jonathan warned. “Hey now.” Argyle took a physical step back from the newborn, eyeing her skeptically. “And risk dropping her—man, that’s not cool.”

“You won’t drop her, so long as you hold onto her. Kind of common knowledge, but simply don’t let go.” Eddie rolled his eyes, stretching forward from the couch to slip his finger into her tiny little hand. She gripped onto it immediately, and he leaned closer to give it a kiss, inhaling the scent of her skin. He couldn’t blame you for sniffing her all the time—she did smell ridiculously good.

“Fine, man. Then you get her out of that chair thingy, ‘cause I don’t wanna hurt her or something. I’m used to Eden’s siblings, they’re like uh a little older by like a lot and stupid invincible. One of her brothers came down the driveway on his bike just when I pulled up and I hit him with my car. Little dude just got right back up, kicked me and left!”  Eddie’s eyes were wide as saucers as he carefully pulled Penny out of her bouncer—the three of them collectively awing in adoration when her lower half scrunched up on instinct as she brought her hands to the sides of her head— and stood up in front of Jonathan. “You get first dibs since you don’t currently have a likely hood of hitting my daughter with a car at some point in her life.”  Jonathan immediately looked like he wanted to runaway, but ended up hesitantly accepting Penny into the crook of his arms as Eddie handed her over. It had been a while since he last held a baby, the last having been Will and he’d been a kid then, too.

He took to it naturally, though, his body relaxing as he held up her hand, thumb rubbing gently over her soft palm. Her squishy little fingers wrapped over his thumb as she stared up at him, most likely curious about a face she’d seen a couple of times before, but not so often this close. Or maybe she wasn’t thinking at all. 

“She’s so. . . small.” That wasn’t what he meant, he’d meant she looked so innocent, so fragile to the world around her. She wasn’t even his kid, but the longer he held her, the more sure he became of the fact that he’d kick ass to keep her safe, something he didn’t do very often, but very effectively. “I’m an uncle.” Eddie smirked, filled with pride as his daughter won another skeptic over. Jonathan ran a hand over her head, mindful of her soft spot, in awe of how soft her hair was. Damn, she really was cute. And she did have Eddie’s eyes.  “She’s a pretty baby.” He commented, moving his thumb around in her hold. “Not gonna lie, I thought she’d you know, be a little ugly when she came out, what with having been squished through a hole, but no. She was even a pretty newborn.” Eddie admitted, he hadn’t seen a whole lot of newborn babies before Penny, but he knew they looked like little aliens fresh out the womb. “You and baby mama must have been some pretty cute looking babies, then. Any kids Eden and I have are screwed, man. I was hairy as hell and I’ve seen her baby pictures, let’s just say they’re gonna get double takes.” Argyle ranted, but he too was focused on Penny and Jonathan, looking a little envious. Once Jonathan got his fair share, he shifted her around in his hold, making sure to support her head as he transferred her into Argyle’s ready and waiting arms. He seemed to change his tune after witnessing Jonathan hold her and successfully not throw her across the room like a football.

Unlike Jonathan who hadn’t wanted to move her around too much in his grasp, Argyle sat her up right, making sure to support her head at Eddie’s prompting. Penny looked startled as her body tried to slump forward, stopped by Argyle’s hold on her. The pacifier stopped moving, and Eddie tensed, waiting for the cry but it never came. Instead, the pacifier began to move again and she let out a soft grunt, but she didn’t seem to mind all that much.

He relaxed, sinking into the couch on Jonathan’s other side. Argyle noticed her drooping lids and deciding to be brave, placed her back into her bouncer as gently as he’d seen Eddie handle her.

Eddie couldn’t help but grin down at her, taken with the way they’d drop completely only to shoot back up. He was reminded of all the late night conversations the two of you had, and how you always fought sleep off, keen on talking to him instead of sleeping. Your eyelids would get all droopy, you’d close your eyes, and then catch yourself, snapping up and briefly awake before doing it all over again.  Eddie wondered how many more memories of you looking at Penny would trigger for him. He couldn’t wait to figure it out.  As if she knew he was thinking about her, Penny’s gaze wandered to him and he locked eyes with a pair identical to his own. Then she forced her pacifier out of her mouth and began to wail something fierce.  They all jumped up immediately, eyes wide at the sudden drop in her mood. “What did I do? Was it something I said?” Argyle asked, blaming himself as he began to panic. Jonathan was running his hands through his hair, distressed.  “No, you didn’t do anything,” Eddie reassured him as he picked Penny back up and walked to the small kitchen, grabbing a bottle from a recent feeding attempt. “You hungry, little bitty pretty one?” He held the bottle to her lips but that only seemed to make her angrier as she struggled against it, head moving away from the nipple. Her face was all squished up and took on a darker tint as her wails died down to whimpers. Eddie knew what that meant.  He was quick to place the bottle back down, but the damage was done. Penny was silent for the briefest of moments before she began shrieking. Water started to pull in the inner corners of her eyes—a new development, up until two days ago, all she could do was cry but her body hadn’t produced tears yet—and she let her little lungs ring loud in the trailer. Eddie knew his neighbors were probably cursing up a storm but they could kick buckets for all he cared. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s not what you wanted, was it? My poor girl. Daddy’s gonna make it right.” Eddie soothed, cradling her to his chest with one hand holding the back of her head.  It seemed to do some good, hearing his voice had stopped the piercing shrieks, but she was still crying and very loudly.  He pulled her little baby bottoms back to check her diaper, but it was still clean so she couldn’t be upset about that. Eddie sighed, raising her a little higher on his chest so he could nuzzle her, pressing kisses into her sweet smelling hair.

Then it hit him. Penny was tired. That was it. She was just tired but unable to fully slip into blissful slumber on her own and she was upset about it. Eddie wanted to beat his head against the fridge for having overlooked something so obvious. He reached down to turn the knob of the radio, bringing it to life before he began searching for a station. Once he’d stumbled upon one crooning out oldies, he swayed, patting her bottom to further soothe her.

Penny’s cries died down almost immediately, turning into soft grunts instead as her lids began to droop again. It was after Eddie started singing along, his voice low and soft, that she was finally able to fall asleep, snuggled up to her daddy with a fist full of his hair that was most definitely going to be super fun getting out of her grip without waking her. Eddie turned to find Jonathan and Argyle watching them. Jonathan had a ghost of a smile on his face while Argyle stared at him in wonder. “Dude. You’re a dad. You just did a dad thing!” Jonathan grinned. “I agree. Looks like I’m the only freak in town now, you’re Eddie ‘The Dad’ Munson, now.” “Hell yeah, I’ll take it.” Eddie didn’t bother trying to hide his smile, he was cheesing’ it up.  You’d called him something similar a couple of times. Teased him about being Eddie ‘The DILF’ Munson, which was really unfair given you hadn’t been cleared by your doctor to have sex yet, so he couldn’t make that a reality.  “It’s crazy how this time last year, we were freshly graduated, you were eloping against every single adults’ opinion and now you have a baby. It’s mind boggling. But like, at the same time it’s not. . .I don’t know, help me out here.” Argyle slapped the back of his hand against Jonathan’s shoulder a few times.

“Being a dad suits you. You’re good at it. You’re a good dad and a good family man.” Jonathan supplied, meaning every word. He’d know, he had a shitty dad like Eddie did.

 That one simple statement hit Eddie hard, and he held Penny just a little tighter to his chest. “Gotta give her everything I didn’t have.” — You nearly broke the door down when you’d gotten back to the trailer. Despite your hesitance to leave Penny, you’d actually enjoyed the time with your friends. Sure, you spent every single second you weren’t talking thinking about your little family, but you still had fun.  The car ride back was spent wondering how much of a mess the place would be. Robin was expecting there to be a small kitchen fire, Eden was expecting one of the boys to be crying, Nancy was just curious to see how Jonathan had lasted in the presence of a baby. For future after college and established careers purposes, of course. You had faith in Eddie, had seen how quickly he had and still was adapting to being a dad. The others you couldn’t ball park so your money was on Argyle being the crybaby to which Eden quickly agreed.

But you hadn’t come home to any of that. The boys were all sat on the couch, fawning over your baby who had woken up in much better mood. “My baby!” You made grabby hands as they got up to greet you, and Eddie let you scoop her up from his arms in exchange for a kiss. You could hear Robin gagging when she realized she was third wheeling three different couples, so you assumed Nancy and Eden were also receiving ‘welcome back’ smooches.  You leaned down to violently inhale Penny’s new baby smell, pulling back with a look of satisfaction on your face. “That’s the good stuff. How’d it go?” Eddie laughed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and trailed a finger through Penny’s curls. “Oh, you know. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

🥺🥺

Billy's cremated. So that his body can't be examined, can't be looked at. So that no one can question how he looks, or why he's got these black veins on his body.

Ashes of him, in a small jar. A whole life, in something quite... well, ordinary.

Max is older now. When Billy had first died, she had conflicting feelings. Thought about those nights where she'd wished for his death. It's been years now. She's older than he was then. The thought is a painful one. Everything is over in Hawkins, but so many had lost their lives. So many would never get to grow old. Just like Billy.

She's free now. Life, well it just moved on. But she never forgot about the ashes. Her mom didn't want them, and Neil hadn't been seen since. She had no idea where Billy's mom was, either. So they ended up with her when she moved out.

Sat up on a mantle, Max couldn't help but look at them everyday. They didn't feel right here. Billy wouldn't want to be some mantelpiece for the rest of his life.

So one day she picks up the vase, and goes out to her car. She's back in California now. She made the trip he always planned too. She made it here.

She'll make sure he does too.

She drives, with him in the passenger seat. Plays music he would've listened to. She hates that she likes it too. That hell, these are his old tapes she's playing on the radio.

She stops the car and gets out, taking him with her. She goes to the water, and carefully pops off the top. She shakes them out, right into the ocean.

He's free now. He's where he'd want to be. He's made it to Cali.

She can almost see him smiling beside her.

She pops the top back on, and now it's just a vase. Just an ordinary vase. The sea has him now, and the sea is anything but ordinary.

He's home.

Behind the scenes of Bucky Barnes