#but idk memory worms

[corrodedcoughin]

Steve gets a job in a sex shop. He’s everyone’s favorite. He’s so approachable, looks harmless and like he shouldn’t know anything but he DOES! He takes feedback from customers he’s helped to heart and adds it to his Big Sexy Binder. Steve Harrington is in the business of orgasms and he takes it very seriously.

Eddie walks in one day after a recommendation from a friend ‘in the know’. Eddie might be an absolute virgin but he’s done a lot of self research into toys/kink/etc. He comes back again and again and again. it might because of the pretty boy with the hair, might be to hear him talk about ‘personal pleasure’, ‘self stimulation’, ‘powerful internal vibrations’ and ‘sensory deprivation for a whole new experience’.

Steve has even been known to slip in a comment about which toys are his favourite. Eddie blue screens for a good five minutes. He all but runs out of the shop, he goes to hide in the shelves to avoid being seen with his tented jeans. Steve and Eddie curse themselves for not making a move, both convinced the risk is calculated enough yet.

Steve has a separate section of his ‘Big Sexy Binder’ just for Eddie where he takes notes on what he might like. Eddie comes back one day visibly frustrated and explains he couldn’t get his newest toy to work. Flustered, flushed and frustrated Steve takes it from him and tells Eddie he’ll give him a demonstration, not think about how THAT sounds. Both of them turn scarlet out of needy desire and fear of rejection. Tension is a physical presence in the room.

Both of them don’t know what to do. Steve rallies because he has mad game (he tells himself he does anyway) but this is the first time implementing that at work. He hopes to god he’s read the room right but he doesn’t need to worry. As soon as he starts to lean in, Eddie follows. A brief chaste kiss is followed by Eddie leaning back just far enough to tell Steve ‘hope you don’t offer every blueballed customer a personal demonstration, think I’d be a little jealous Steve’. And leans back in, this time frantic and needy.

Eddie ends up on the counter, hands clenched in Steve’s hair, on hand hips, anywhere he can get, urging him on as Steve ruts against him. Eddie might now be experienced but he’s researched enough to have an idea of what he likes so he tells Steve exactly how he’s going to make him feel ‘so good, such a good girl for me Steve, going to let me taste you? Going to show me how good you can be?’ He doesn’t know where the words are coming from but he knows they both like it.

It’s moans and needy gasps when the door crashes open, caught by the wind and they spring apart. Clearly both of them look a little less than innocent but Steve remains a professional, offering help the newly entered customer while eddie clears off to the back room that Steve pointed out to him. Steve has to continue helping the person while he Knows Eddie is back there, hot and sweaty and ready. This might be the closest Steve gets to giving a customer bad advice just so he can get to that back room and het on his knees

[godsfavoritescientist]

So there's this webserial called 'worm' about a world where superpowers started suddenly showing up in the 70's, and I'm trying so hard to think of a way to merge it with the stans-and-fidds 70s-and-80s plot events. The thing is, powers are caused by going through a traumatic event, and the powers are tied to both that event and to the person's various issues in ways that sometimes seems cruelly ironic. So you see my dilemma here, with there being so many options for events that could've given these guys powers

[meteoritesystem]

[pumpkin-cowboy]

Do y’all think NotSasha tried to act like friends with Tim? (like how Sasha and him were friends in the Mag162 tapes) or did she just treat Tim like a coworker? Idk which one is more depressing

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

sorry for seeing one negative thing about a thing i like an then being annoyed about it for the rest of my life it's just like that sometimes

[viulus]

So I guess I'm officially fixating on P5/Goro Akechi again 💀

[ohworm9000]

currently thinking abt how my partner and i were watching an Earth’s history documentary abt animals and a nautilus came on the screen and i so forlornly looked in the distance and told my partner i wished nautiluses were still around bc they look so silly and cool, and my partner looked at me and so softly was just like,, babe, they ARE still around. that’s real deep sea footage of a nautilus. lemme tell u, sometimes it IS nice to be ignorant bc then u get fun new pieces of information for ur small brain and it makes u happy :)))

[pokemonfrommemory]

Snout supreme

[kargaroc]

I don't even know exactly how I feel about ascension in rain world, but it drives me up the wall when people equate it to suicide

[somuch-4-stardust]

i love polar bears

[baldmultiverse]

Im beginning to think those animorphs books had too much influence on me

[nickfowlerrr]

whatever he wants

pairing: darkish!bucky barnes x (gray?)curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut. tiny hint of voyeurism. uhhh this isn’t really dark but it’s not not dark either… so idk. if there’s something i’m missing pls lmk.

words: 3.4k

notes: smutty little part two to IOU. hope you guys like it. thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, feedback and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated. please leave your thoughts, let me know what you think. 🖤

You can’t get up.

You’ve tried three times now, and nothing. The heavy metal arm slung around your waist just. won’t. budge.

You’re about to elbow him in the ribs, the heat of his body and the hot summer air is suffocating and you need to get up - you need to breathe.

One more try and if he doesn’t move, you’re gonna make him.

You roll onto your front and his arm drops onto your back, still keeping you from leaving the bed.

You writhe and huff in annoyance, turning your face to look at him.

He’s still sleeping. Still deceptively beautiful.

You stop your wiggling for a moment as you take him in. His pouty lips, his unfairly long lashes that brush just against his cheekbones, the stubble that’s lining his perfectly sculpted jaw, and his unruly bedhead.. He looks peaceful like this. Nice. So nice, you’d never believe he could be such an absolute dick so much of the time.

You stare a bit longer, wanting to commit the moment, how beautiful and content he looks right now, to memory.

You take a deep breath and try to roll back over, but the weight of his arm makes it no easy feat.

“Bucky,” you whisper yell, not wanting your voice to carry through the rest of the cabin.

You’re sure you’re the only one awake right now; well aside from Steve.

His leaving for his morning run was what had woken you up to begin with. You’ve been laying here for fifteen minutes and you needed to get up now, but Bucky still didn’t move.

You roll your eyes and exhale heavily.

If you punch him, he’ll wake up, but he’ll be pissed. And you don’t think you wanna start your morning off dealing with his attitude.

You swear Bucky Barnes might just be the most dramatic man you’ve ever met.

If one thought he was grumpy normally, they’d be entirely unprepared for him when he was woken up by anything or anyone other than himself or his alarm.

With the one exception of you, of course. More accurately: you working his cock.

Whether it was your hand, your mouth, your cunt, what have you - it was a surefire way to make sure he woke up on the right side of the bed.

But you really aren’t in the mood right now.

Instead, you begin to wiggle under his arm again, worming your way down the bed until finally, blessedly, you get free.

You exhale with a breathy laugh as you sit up on your haunches before looking over to Bucky again.

You can tell already that your absence from where he expects you to be beside him is disturbing him. His brows furrow and then his hand is searching for you among the mess of sheets.

You watch curiously as he pats around the bed before he finally blinks open his eyes and meets your gaze.

He scowls when he recognizes you sitting up across from him.

“Don’t start,” you say as you get off the bed, “in fact, don’t say a word. Just go back to sleep, princess.”

He growls, not nearly as loud as you know he’d like, with sleep still clinging to him.

“What the fuck did I say about you calling me princess,” he gruffs.

“Said not to, if I’m not mistaken. But I like doing it, so I’m not gonna stop.”

“Til I make you,” he vaguely threatens, his voice getting darker and more clear as he wakes up fully.

“Like to see you try,” you taunt as you make your way into the bathroom.

Bucky doesn’t scare you so much anymore. Though you’ve had to learn when to stop pushing. You’ve gotten pretty damn good at reading him. Knowing when he’s entirely serious and at his limit is something you can spot nearly right away now. Since that first night all those months ago, the only times you ignore the warnings are when you’re wanting what he’d given you the first time he had you. Something more rough than normal from him. Something purely carnal. Bordering on truly depraved.. And god, he’s never failed to deliver.

You know you’ve become complicit in this whole arrangement, but you’re starting to care less and less. What can you say? A powerful, beefy, hot as hell super soldier wants you. Chose you. He’s possessively protective over you, and problematic as that can be, you find it ridiculously attractive. And the sex if fucking amazing.

Sure, he can be a dick, but he’s been less of a dick to you. And you quite enjoy the way he now directs his annoyance and anger at those he knows irk you, too.

It's not like you don't fight or argue anymore, but it's almost always resolved quite.. nicely. Who are you to complain about that?

And god, the perks being with Bucky has come with.

You never really fed into the whole “fuck your way to the top” thing, but hey, here you were.

Getting better missions, nicer gear, getting more involved with the big leagues. And though you wouldn’t say it aloud, Bucky always having your back - during missions, in meetings, coming to your defense when someone would question your input - it was nice. Sometimes it was like he was your own personal guard dog.

And you loved the way people would shrink in on themselves, making themselves sparse when you and Bucky were around. You'd never admit it, but you guys were definitely a power couple around the tower. And you were thriving.

The attention, the opportunities, the sex. If you hadn't been blackmailed into this whole thing, you wouldn't have a solitary complaint.

You’re spitting out toothpaste and putting your toothbrush away as Bucky barges into the bathroom. You look up from the sink and shoot him an annoyed glance at the unnecessary disturbance.

“Really?” you ask as he grabs his own toothbrush from its spot.

“What?” he says. You roll your eyes and brush past him to start getting dressed.

“Put on your swimsuit,” he orders as he pauses his brushing to speak.

“Why?” you’re already annoyed knowing the answer. You guys have been here on this little summer getaway for two days now, both of which you’ve successfully managed to avoid getting in the water.

It wasn’t that you were scared or couldn’t swim, no, it was nothing like that.

It was that goddamn bathing suit.

The only bathing suit you had, thanks to Bucky who went into your bags after you’d finished packing and took your other two options out.

You’d swear it was skimpier than some of your lingerie.

“We’re going swimming,” he smirks, eyeing you hungrily.

You turn with another roll of your eyes and head to the drawer that holds your swimming wear. You throw Bucky’s trunks on the bed without care and grab your suit without looking at it.

You lean in the doorway of the bathroom as Bucky washes his face off, scowling.

“Can’t we get breakfast first?”

“You can get breakfast while wearing it.”

“You get off on humiliating me, that’s it, isn’t it?”

He barks a laugh as he turns to face you, “You think this is me trying to humiliate you?”

You don’t respond as you keep your face stoic. He approaches and his large hands come around your neck, cradling the back of your head as he pulls your face closer to his. He crashes his lips to yours, the minty feel still lingering as he licks into your mouth, pushing you against the wall as he backs you up, his hands keeping your head from hitting it. You return his fervent kiss, your hands coming up to hold his forearms, despite your annoyance before he pulls away suddenly and leaves you wanting.

You lick your lips as you catch your breath and meet his eye.

“If I wanted to humiliate you, sweetheart, you’d know.”

—

When you’re both done getting ready for the day, you having taken your sweet time to get into the bathing suit, you slowly open the bathroom door you had shut and locked behind you nearly fifteen minutes ago.

You’re overly aware of your belly and the jiggle of your ass and thighs with each step you take.

You hate this swimsuit and you swear you’d burn it if you weren’t sure he’d take you skinny dipping should it mysteriously disappear.

The growl that emanates from Bucky when he sees you genuinely startles you and when his big hands grab you by the waist, you feel that familiar heat growing deep within you.

His hands move down to grab your ass, kneading the ample flesh he finds there as you push against him.

Your breasts are nearly spilling out of the too small cups and though the band of the thong-like bottoms can be pulled to sit high on your hips, it really does nothing to hide or cover your stomach the way you’d like. And the tropical blue color brings too much attention.

It’s not that you’re self conscious, though you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit, it’s just way too revealing for you. You hate that everyone will get to see parts of you you don’t like showing. You feel like you’re giving away parts of your privacy.

But you know Bucky doesn’t care.

As long as he’s the only one who gets to touch you, he’d happily let the world feast their eyes on you like this, show them what they’ll never have.

“This is ridiculous,” you complain for the tenth time.

“You look fuckin’ sexy,” he purrs, letting his hands run back up your body.

“Ugh,” you groan as you push him again, swiping your towel off the bed and slipping on your slides as you pass him and leave the room.

You can feel his eyes on you as he follows behind, his gaze seemingly glued to your body.

You walk downstairs quietly, still unsurprised to find no one else up. Everyone else had stayed up well into the early hours of the morning last night, drinking and chatting, playing stupid games. You and Bucky had been taking part until around midnight when he decided he was done keeping his hands to himself. He took you back to your room upstairs where you both stayed the rest of the night while the party continued on downstairs. You were grateful the loud chatting seemed to drown out your and Bucky’s moans.

You threw your things in an empty bag Nat had left on the table and then followed Bucky into the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.

You were hoping you could get out and into the lake before anyone could see you, so you hurriedly toasted some bread and sliced an avocado while Bucky made eggs. You threw everything together on a paper plate, leaving the used pan on the stove and had Bucky get water while you seasoned the food.

You had the plate in one hand and your bag in the other as Bucky carried the cooler with drinks out behind you.

It was only nine and yet the heat was already sweltering.

The perks of being at a lake house, though, is you don’t have to go far to get to the lake.

The setup from yesterday and the day before was still there as you set your stuff down in one of the big wooden loungers and then put the food down on the long table. The dock was just behind and to the right of you as you sat on the wooden bench attached to the table.

Bucky set the cooler down at the end of the table before taking a seat across from you on the opposite bench.

“You were quick to come out here.”

“Yeah, I’m praying no one sees me in this atrocity,” you say as you pick up your toast and take a bite.

He scoffs before grabbing his own piece.

You both eat fairly quickly, having been hungry from your late night activities, and soon you’re watching as Bucky strips off his tank top.

He grabs your towels and the sunscreen, handing the bottle to you and expecting you to follow him as he walks onto the dock.

You do so after taking another drink of your water and forcing yourself up.

He sits on the edge of the dock, his legs in the clear blue water as he waits for you, the towels thrown down haphazardly, ready for you to use them when you’re done swimming.

You move to sit behind him, opening the bottle and squeezing some sunscreen into your hands.

You rub it between your hands for a second before you start to apply it to Bucky’s back.

More and more until you’ve got him covered, massaging his tense muscles as you do. The groans that slip past his lips let you know he’s enjoying it.

You apply more to your hands as you run them over his shoulders and down his chest. You’re pressed right up against his back as you work. The lower your hands slip, the deeper his groans. You smile to yourself and slip one hand past the band of his trunks teasingly, running gently across the top of his pelvis before you pull away and start to work on his right arm.

“There, you’re all done,” you say as you let your hands run down his solid back once more.

You move back and Bucky brings his legs out of the water as he turns to you.

“You’re not.”

He pushes you to lay down on your towel as he moves to straddle you, the water still on his legs sending shivers across your skin.

He grabs the sunscreen and starts to deliver the same attention to you.

He’s obsessed with touching you. Your softness is his favorite thing, and as he applies the sunscreen to your exposed torso, he really takes his time feeling you, enjoying the goosebumps that raise, the tickles and shivers you try to hide. He runs his hands all over you. You’ve closed your eyes as the sun was shining in them and gasp when you feel Bucky’s hands on your breasts, squeezing them before you feel his lips on you, too. You can’t help the moan that leaves you under his attention.

“Turn over,” he says firmly and headily.

You don’t even think to not listen.

He gets more sunscreen as he covers your backsides, rubbing it in with perfect pressure. Another moan slips as he squeezes your neck with one hand, the other trailing down your spine.

And when he’s done, his fingers move to easily undo the string holding your top together, running his hands up and down your back before he leans further down and starts kissing your bare skin.

“Bucky,” you whine, stopping yourself from sitting up knowing your chest will be on complete display.

“Everyone’s sleeping, no one’s gonna see.”

You want to argue, but you can’t bring yourself to. Even if you did, he always gets his way in the end.

You feel him move the flimsy fabric covering you and you really are moving out of thoughtless desire as you bend your knees and hips up slightly before he starts prodding you with his fingers, your wetness evident as your cunt glistens.

You groan as he slips two thick digits into you, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them just right.

“Fuck,” you whimper under your breath.

You’re so lost in his touch you don’t expect it when his fingers move to part your folds open, your slick hole on display for him as he wastes no time and pushes into you with his aching cock.

You moan into the towel beneath you as he stretches your pussy.

The position is unexpectedly delightful as he hits you deeper and deeper with his every thrust.

You swear you could cry with how fucking good it feels.

“You like that baby?” he pants, “Like having this big dick inside your tight fucking pussy.”

A cry leaves you as you nod your head emphatically.

His speed picks up as his words get dirtier and you get closer and closer to the orgasm you can feel building.

You’re both sweating, Bucky more than you, as you fist the towel and groan loudly through grit teeth.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re aware anyone could come out at anytime and see, but you don’t have the will to care as Bucky keeps fucking into you, his hands tight on your hips as he uses you. Another hard thrust has you careening over the edge, moans and mewls leaving your lips as your toes curl and your walls squeeze his thick cock as you come.

Bucky doesn’t let up as he fucks you through it, hips pummeling against your ass over and over until he growls deep in his chest, his hips twitching as he let’s himself go inside you. His grunts and moans fill your ears until he eventually slows completely and pulls out, slapping your ass as he gets up.

You lay there, trying to catch your breath from a moment before you fix your bottoms and roll over, holding your top together.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” you breathe heavily.

He laughs to himself at your words as you slowly get up. He takes his time adjusting himself in his trunks before he turns on you, grabbing your face and tilting your head up in his direction. He leans down and brushes his stubbly cheek against your soft one as he speaks in your ear, “I know you fuckin’ wish you did.”

He keeps his hold on you as he turns his face and takes your lips hotly in his own. He walks you back. And back. And then grabs your loose top from your hands as you gasp, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips. He moves his hand to grab your ass as he holds you against him, your full breasts pressing against his built chest.

He walks you back once more, smiling wickedly into the kiss. Then suddenly your stomach drops as your eyes shoot open when you feel your feet leave the dock. You're under water in a second and quickly swim back up to break the surface, a scowl etched across your face as you struggle to get your breathing back.

Before you can say anything, Bucky joins you in the water, jumping in and splashing you as he does.

You fight the urge to try and hold him down as you swim to the ladder and blindly search the deck for your top. It may be skimpy, but it’s better than nothing.

Bucky’s arms circle you as he pulls you back before his large palm crawls up your chest to cup your breast. Squeezing your flesh before he starts thumbing and tweaking your nipple.

You hate that your body reacts so fucking quickly to him as you feel yourself getting horny all over again. His lips are on your neck as your ass is against him. Your eyes close as a soft moan falls from you when he moves his attention to your other breast.

The creaking of the deck has your eyes shooting open as you attempt to cover your chest. You see Steve walking up, his chest gleaming with sweat as his running shirt is held in his hands.

You want to just let yourself sink under the water but Bucky’s hold on you doesn’t loosen for a second, in fact it only grows tighter, more possessive the closer Steve gets.

“Morning, lovebirds,” Steve greets with a smirk.

You know Bucky won’t let you go so instead of struggling and bringing attention to your nakedness, you grab his hand under the water and pull his arm across your chest as you hold him there.

Bucky wears a smirk of his own as he palms your tit and feels your body’s instant reaction.

“Hey,” Bucky replies, squeezing your breast again knowingly.

Your eyes widen when you see the twitch in Steve’s shorts, his prominent bulge growing as he stares down at you two.

You risk peering up at him and meet his eye instantly as you do. You swallow thickly as you look back down, trying to keep your composure. You know he can see everything, but as long as no one acknowledges that out loud, you can at least pretend that he can’t.

And then, of course, Bucky speaks again.

“So, you enjoy the show, pal?”

[atryoshka]

Frenchie and Izzy getting together would be genius and tbh I can't unsee it now

Love that Izzy and Frenchie actually have a lot in common on a deeper level that wasn't really apparent to me until s2 when we see how they deal with trauma in equal but opposite ways. We have Frenchie with his little box that allows him to straight up ignore the dark shit he's been through like it doesn't exist, happily eat some blood cake, and thinking that his death being given a clear deadline is a comfort. Then we have Izzy trying to stone face his way through having his body parts severed, just business as usual bc that's the pirate life and it won't change even though he's visibly holding back tears, and then accusing the crew of being too cowardly to kill him, actively inviting death bc he doesn't get why any of it even matters so keeping him alive is pointless.

What's interesting is that given the right circumstances, they could easily trade places, with Izzy being more lighthearted and Frenchie falling apart at the seams.

We've already seen signs of this with Izzy being much more chilled out after the crew made him the new unicorn, finding something in this terrible life that make him see them, and himself, in a more positive light. Like yeah, life is still filled with unimaginable horror, but now has a custom gold painted unicorn leg to trudge through it with, which is absolutely absurd but now he can't help but smile. So he decided his life is so unserious right now and you know what? A shark took his leg, end of story, here's a little wooden shark I made today just for fun lol. Frenchie on the other hand is still pretty relaxed despite everything that's happened so far, but I have a feeling that he was probably very similar to izzy in the past before he joined the crew of The Revenge. His past is pretty mysterious even with the little tidbits we get like him being in the service for bit. It doesn't sound like he was doing it for too long so the other things in his life that he doesn't talk about remain unknown, probably even to himself. The box exists so he can pretend any trauma he experiences doesn't even exist, unlike a fiction which still somewhat acknowledges that there was something that happened to him in a way he could accept. The truth is, he actually never moved on bc all the parts of his life that he's ignoring are still lurking inside him waiting to break out at anytime. I think when something accidentally triggers a memory he suppressed, we'll see a different side to him. Less chill, more shrewd survivalist, like when he and the others reunited with the revenge crew after being stranded at sea. He bounced back pretty fast after they got past the pinnata and cake standoff but it was interesting to see how ready he was to be violent and how untrusting he was of everyone's intentions in that context. He'd usually be much more chill and willing to fast talk his way out of a situation, even when he knows someone has bad intentions. (There's also probably something with religious trauma he's hiding but that's a whole other can of worms I won't get into. All I'll say is that combined with his very strong beliefs of the supernatural and grudging flippant way he does the cross symbol on himself when others do it, when they boarded the cursed ship, he was that only one to not step in the satanic circle before anyone even questioned what the strange lines even were. Did he immediately recognize it and consciously avoid it or was it gut reaction? Idk, but he sure as hell didn't speak up about it and just wearily watched the other step into it and draw their own conclusions. ) But getting back on track Honestly, their dynamic would be really interesting to explore in the show bc they could understand and care about each other in ways that would probably surprise them if given the opportunity to spend more time together on screen. tl;dr: All this to say that I fell down the rabbit hole after realizing that they are basically this meme, which has a lot of potential for so many hilarious and accidentally heartbreaking moments

[helpimstuckposting]

Okay man idk idk this worm wouldn’t leave my head I just love making Steve miserable and tbh he’s not even sad enough here so I’m still not satisfied, I want that man ripped in two

I’m a ghost and you are a shadow

Part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven

—

“Steve Harrington is dead! So what the fuck are you?” Eddie screamed in his face. The world froze for a second. Not the same frozen-in-time that Steve got from downing a bottle of whiskey, where he was the only one on earth and it didn’t matter what happened to him. This was like ice down his neck. Like a shock up his spine. Steve stared at Eddie like he’d just grown three heads.

“Dead?” He repeated back. “What the fuck do you mean dead? C’mon Eddie, seriously you’re freaking me out!”

Eddie just stared at him, and in the silence Steve could hear people at the front door, yelling over each other, calling out to Eddie, checking if he’s okay. He thought he recognized the voices, but that didn’t make any sense. There were always ghosts at Steve Harrington’s door, but they were just in his head. Now, they were banging on the wood as someone fumbled for a pair of keys, and Eddie glanced nervously in their direction. Steve couldn’t get any words to choke out past the growing lump in his throat, couldn’t get any air into his lungs to beg Eddie to tell him what was going on.

The key finally clicked through the latch, and the door swung open with a bang. A stampede of feet trampled their way into the kitchen where Eddie still had Steve pinned to the wall, still stared at him without saying anything.

Steve frantically turned his head toward the people he’d seen die, the people he couldn’t protect, who haunted his every waking thought. He didn’t even care that the motion dug the knife into his throat. They were there. They were right there. Dustin and Eleven, Max and Nancy and Robin. Robin was staring at him, holding Dustin back by the shoulders, and looking like the world was crashing in on her. Steve knew his own expression was the same, couldn’t believe his eyes. Eddie’s grip on him loosened and Steve slid to the floor, unable to hold himself up anymore on wobbling legs. He kept staring up at them all, noticed the age that hadn’t been on their features when they’d… when they’d left him. He took in every line, every scratch, every healed over scar that spoke of years and years of life, life that Steve knows they didn’t get to live.

The air still wasn’t making it past the lump in his throat and he tried to breathe deeper, tried to grasp onto one breath, one lungful of air, but it wasn’t enough. The kitchen swam around him, and he was certain that people were yelling or talking or making noise but Steve couldn’t process any of it, he just saw Dustin eaten alive by demobats, wounds too wide to heal. He saw Robin and Nancy pinned to the wall of Henry Creel’s house, the air getting squeezed out of their lungs and they were gasping just like him, pulling in air that wouldn’t come and listening to the blood rush through their ears. He saw it. He was there.

Until he wasn’t.

Until Eddie was in front of him again, hands on the side of his face, telling Steve to breathe and count the pictures on the wall. His eyebrows scrunched up, pictures on the wall? What pictures?

But Steve looked behind Eddie to the usually bland kitchen wall. There used to be a large painting of nothing, some pretentious gold accents that his mother liked, but he had burned it in a drunken moment of pain. The painting he remembered wasn’t there either, and instead of a blank wall there were dozens of pictures. They looked like family pictures, photos of him and the kids, of the kids by themselves, of him and Robin. There were even pictures of he and Eddie — which Steve knew they never took — and blank spaces that were clearly waiting for more. Waiting for more memories, for more additions and times to look back on.

“Steve, Steve are you with me?” Eddie asked, begged, pulling Steves attention back to the man’s face. He didn’t look angry anymore, but Steve couldn’t tell what emotion was there. He’d never seen it on Eddie’s face before. “How many pictures? Steve?”

“Th-Thirty-Eight?” he whispered back. Eddie nodded, hands still clutching Steve’s face but they were gentler now, not directing his view or holding him still, they were just… touching.

“Is it really you?” Dustin asked from where Robin was still holding him back. Steve glanced over at him, taking in the age and the height, the features that were so new to Steve he seemed almost like a stranger. Whatever had happened, Steve knew he wasn’t dreaming or dead or hallucinating, because through all of his nightmares, the ghosts never aged. They all stayed exactly the same as they’d died, Steve couldn’t even picture them aged if he’d wanted to, all he ever wanted to do was forget. But there they were, there they were, and Steve didn’t know what to think.

He nodded at Dustin’s question. His cheeks were cold, Eddie’s hands had dropped from his face and he was standing by the kitchen counter, arms crossed. The distance between them was suddenly an ocean and Steve was almost sad to see it. Eddie was the only familiar thing in this room to him, the only one who wasn’t impossibly here, the only one who didn’t make Steve feel like the world had ended and was now taunting what he could have had. He still looked like he didn’t believe it, like he was calculating something in his head and didn’t trust Steve at all. He wished Eddie’s hands were still on his face.

Still, no one moved toward him and he couldn’t really blame them. He didn’t know what was happening but he hadn’t ruled out some kind of trick yet. This could all be a trap somewhere in his mind, and if it was, it was the cruelest trick Vecna had ever played. But Eddie had said the same thing, right?

“Well we can’t just leave him on the floor,” Robin said. Her voice was quieter than Steve had ever heard it before. The usually boisterous voice that spoke a mile a minute was soft, hesitant, like she was trying not to wake a sleeping dragon — or agitate a dead man.

She slowly stepped out from behind Dustin and walked over to Steve. He watched as her sneakers stopped an inch away from his own, the gap both too close and not close enough. She stuck her hand out, and his eyes flicked carefully between her outstretched hand and her face. What if he reached out and she disappeared? What if he grabbed her hand and she pulled him into a trap? What if she disintegrated into dust the moment their hands touched? But she was right, he couldn’t stay on the floor.

As if she were made of tissue paper, he slowly and delicately reached out his hand, stopping just a breath before touching her palm. He glanced back at her face, took in the gentle curve of her lips as she tried to give him a reassuring smile, however small it was. He placed his hand in hers.

She was so warm. Her hands were soft, though callused in a few places Steve didn’t remember, and she gripped onto him like a lifeline. Her trembling fingers sank into the rough edges of Steve’s hand, and he could feel the dirt caked under his nails but she didn’t seem to mind, just gripped his hand harder. He couldn’t believe how much he craved that touch over the years. He ached for it. Blood pounded through his ears, as if he were underwater, and the only thing keeping him from drowning was the grip Robin had on him, keeping his head above water.

She was so warm. His heart was in his throat, and Steve was choking now for a different reason. It had been years since he felt Robin’s touch — since he felt anyones touch, really — and his eyes burned, throat clenching around the sudden sharp pain that spoke of unshed tears.

He didn’t think he would ever have this back, assumed he would drink himself into an early grave, assumed that the only way he’d see everyone again is if he died as well. If he followed them into the next life, then he’d get his family back.

But here they were. Here Robin was, hand in his, and she was so warm.

Instead of pulling Steve to his feet like she’d intended, Robin sank to the floor with him. He gripped her hand, her arms, her shoulders, he gripped her so tight just to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere and he could feel her damp tears against his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“I missed you,” she whispered into the fabric, voice as raw as Steve felt.

“I missed you too, Robs. I missed you so much." He clutched at the back of her shirt, face buried in her shoulder and prayed to a god he didn't believe in that this wasn't a trick, that he really had his family back.

—

A little more comfort in this part. I still don't have a plot in mind but I guess my brain is just winging it because I keep thinking of scenes and I just gotta write them down. I've already got most of a part three done, because this part was getting long and I cut it. Stay tuned, folks.

@weirdandabsurd42 @sirsnacksalot

[shepscapades]

I don’t have a clever caption, I just wanted to get this brain worm out

something about. Idk I can’t help but image that, with each new batch of clones, the wiped memories of the previous batch get harder and harder to ignore maybe,,

@yogscastshipbracket