#but i want to do a family portrait for steve's family

[geminiwritten]

desperate measures ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: based on this song but a little more angsty than i had originally planned (the avengers are struggling to infiltrate an underground crime ring and decide that bucky should go undercover to seduce one of the kingpins' daughters, and you aren't happy about it)

notes: bucky is back, baby!!! but i fear i may have forgotten how to write him? i don't know, i had big plans and then feel like i really struggled toward the end, but i persevered! let me know what you think, please!!!

word count: 6329

The Avengers have protected the entire world against aliens, robots, and superhumans. They’ve defended continents and countries, defeating threats that should have been impossible to beat. So, you would think that taking down one of New York City’s biggest underground crime ring would be a piece of cake, right? Wrong.

It’s been four months since representatives of the Attorney General's office and the FBI’s Deputy Director came knocking, asking Earth’s Mightiest Heroes for help on a matter that would normally be handled by detectives. Steve and Tony were hesitant at first, but Natasha and Clint convinced them that with their espionage backgrounds, this would be an easy assignment for the team. Also, wrong.

Four months of reconnaissance, undercover work, and meeting after meeting with agents from the Bureau but still nothing.  There are suspects, crimes, and witnesses, but the operation is so tightly run that no one on the outside has any information on how the puzzle pieces fit together.

“We need to get inside,” Clint says, resting his palms on the glass tabletop and shifting all of his weight forward. He is standing at the head of the table in front of the interactive display flashing through numerous headshots of mean-looking thugs.

“We know that much,” Steve sighs, sitting beside where Clint is standing. “What we don’t know is how.”

Everyone looks defeated and bored, because you’ve been having the same meeting every week for the last fifteen weeks with almost no new intel to discuss. After the first month, you started tuning out, instead using the two hours to daydream about the brunette super solider sitting across from you.

You’re not sure when you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, all you do know is that you are in love with him, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not that you’re at all subtle with the way your eyes trace his features, cheeks turning pink when he meets your gaze with a little smirk.

If you’re being completely honest, you’ve both been dancing around your feelings for each other for months. You’re constantly with each other, talking and giggling, working out together and finishing mission reports together; practically inseparable, but always being careful. You’re too scared to cross that line, because neither of you want to put that kind of pressure on the team or leave yourselves vulnerable to heartbreak.

Physical pain, you can do, but you’ve let yourself fall so hard and fast for this man, you can’t imagine surviving the impact when you hit the bottom, so you’ll just keep falling.

“I have an idea,” Nat says, standing abruptly and walking quickly around the table toward Clint. She uses her fingertips to enlarge one of the holographic images, the Petrov family portrait. “Sasha Petrov,” she points at the eldest daughter, “she’s a weak link, we can exploit that.”

You scan the stoic faces of the Russian family now on display. The Petrovs are allegedly one of the two ruling families of the crime syndicate, led by their patriarch, Alexander Petrov; a man the FBI would do anything to pin down.

“Holy shit,” Tony smacks both hands against the table, “Romanoff, you’re a genius.”

“Wait,” Steve frowns, “what am I missing?”

“Sources report that twenty-four-year-old Sasha Petrov is outgrowing her family's conservative lifestyle,” Nat reads from the tablet in her hands, “she has been photographed at various nightclubs and house parties, clearly unbothered about keeping a low profile.”

“So?” Steve asks, “What credibility does some tabloid article have?”

“Our sources are reporting the same behaviour,” Tony says. “She’s out almost every night, she’s been seen staying at friends’ houses, and missing events.”

“The Petrovs are one of New York City’s wealthiest families,” Nat explains, “for their eldest daughter to skip society events is a huge statement.”

“She’s rebelling,” Tony states.

Steve nods slowly, “So, she’s a liability, but how to we exploit that?”

Tony’s lips curl into a mischievous smile, “What is the number one act of rebellion that a daughter can do to piss off her father?”

“Date a guy he hates,” you reply before anyone else does.

“Exactly,” Tony turns toward you, “bonus points if you can tell me why daddy hates your new boyfriend.”

“He’s older, has long hair, only wears black, probably has a tattoo, and he rides a motorcycle,” you respond, sitting back in your chair with a proud smirk.

“Exactly!” Tony repeats louder.

It’s almost as if a lightbulb flashes above Steve’s head, but he doesn’t look nearly as pleased as Natasha and Tony. “Bucky,” Steve says, “Bucky is your idea?”

Nat nods, “Barnes is our weapon.”

Clint’s eyes grow wide, “Wait, you want to use Barnes to seduce the mobster heiress?”

Your heart sinks right down into your stomach, your gaze moving back over to the Petrov family portrait. The eldest daughter is tall and gorgeous, with long blonde hair, flawless fair skin, and honey-coloured eyes. Her lips are full and puckered, and all you can think about is those lips on Bucky.

“No,” you speak before you can think, quickly looking toward Steve for backup.

He nods once in agreeance, “Y/N’s right, I’m not sure Bucky can-”

“I can do it,” Bucky interrupts. He doesn’t look shocked or at all blinded-sided the way you know you do. He seems calm, leaning back in his seat with his left ankle resting on his right knee and his hands fidgeting with a pen in his lap.

Bile rises in your throat. He wants to do it? You know you haven’t exactly been forthcoming about your feelings for him, but you had yourself reasonably convinced that he felt the same way.

Sam chuckles, breaking the tension in the room, “You’re going to turn Barnes into a heartthrob?”

Bucky cracks a smile, “Just a bit of minor surgery.”

“Actually,” Nat says, “I think you’re already perfectly ready for this assignment.”

Tony holds up a finger, “Do you have a tattoo, and if not, are you willing to get one?”

“No one is getting any tattoos,” Steve interjects, “but if we are doing this – if we’re sending Bucky in solo – we need to plan it carefully.”

Your eyes dart back to the gorgeous blonde in the family portrait behind Nat, and you feel sick. You completely tune out of the conversation happening around you and sink back in your chair to focus on keeping your lunch down. Your mind races to come up with some brilliant excuse that could stop Bucky from doing this, but the only thing you can think to say is I love you, please don’t.

After barely a minute of listening to them discuss how to get the mobster’s daughter to fall in love with Bucky, you decide you can’t do it. You push your chair back and quickly leave the room, slipping out the door before anyone can protest your departure.

Once in the hallway, you slow your steps and let a couple of tears run down your cheeks. You feel stupid, of course, but you can’t help it. You know you shouldn’t be this emotional, Bucky will only be doing his job, but he’s supposed to be yours. You don’t want anyone else seeing him the way you see him or touching him the way you want to. If the plan works, this woman might genuinely fall for Bucky, and the idea of that makes you want to kick and scream.

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice echoes down the hall, startling you.

You keep your back to him as you hurriedly wipe your cheeks. His footsteps grow louder as he approaches, not saying anything until he’s right behind you. “You alright?” he asks.

You nod, turning to face him with your eyes cast downward, “Yeah, sorry, just-”

“Don’t bother,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, “I’m not stupid, and neither is Barnes. I know you’re worried about whatever is going on between you two, but this is work, and it’s the closest we’ve gotten in four months. It might not be ideal to send one man in alone, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

You finally look up at him and sniffle, “I know, I just don’t like it.”

He sighs and pulls you against his chest, hugging you tightly for a moment. “If you don’t like it,” he says before stepping back, “then stop crying and do something about it once this is all over.”

Your brow creases and you look up at him curiously, “Do what?”

He shrugs, “You’ll figure it out.”

You watch him walk back down the hallway and return to the meeting room, but you can’t find the will to force yourself to follow. Instead, you turn around and continue on your way back to your room.

Two hours pass before you hear signs of life filtering through the compound once again. You’ve since changed into your comfiest pair of sweatpants and curled up on one of the lounges by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the common area, book in hand.

Sam and Steve are the first to appear, still deep in discussion as they head into the kitchen and begin raiding the fridge. Clint, Nat, and Wanda are next, also seemingly unfinished with their conversation as they take up residence on the lounges in front of the television. Only Nat notices you curled up near the window, offering you a smile that says ‘we’ll talk later’.

You manage to tune out most of their voices and focus on your book, reading quickly to try and get to the part where the main characters finally get together. You’ve been stuck on romance novels lately, craving that which you lack in real life.

“Hey,” Bucky startles you, suddenly appearing beside you.

You smack your hand against your chest, “Jesus.”

“Nope,” he chuckles, “just me.”

You roll your eyes and curl your legs up further to make room on the lounge. He takes the offer and flops down, half of his right leg covering your toes, but you don’t mind. In fact, you like the physical contact, however small.

“What are you reading now?” he asks, snatching the book from your grasp before you can object.

Your cheeks begin burn immediately, heart racing as you watch his eyes scan the pages that you’d just been reading. The smile on his lips slowly fades as his eyebrows rise, blue eyes darting from side to side until he finishes two entire pages.

“So, this is why you’ve always got your nose in a book, hm?” he asks, his own cheeks now a pale shade of pink.

You take the book back and jam your bookmark between the pages where the lead male is jerking off to fantasies of what he wants to do to the lead female. “It’s not all porn,” you defend yourself weakly, deciding not to add that this is one of your more PG-rated novels.

“I’m not judging,” he says, “we’ve all got needs.”

You want to agree wholeheartedly and tell him that you need him, and more importantly, you need him to not agree to this stupid mission with the supermodel Russian heiress, but you can’t. Instead, you simply nod and tuck your book between your thighs.

He clears his throat, “Anyway, I just wanted to check that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say, “just sick of those meetings.”

He frowns, “Are you sure?”

You open your mouth to lie again but hesitate, noticing the way his eyes dart toward your lips every few seconds. There’s nothing wrong with voicing your concerns about the assignment, right?

“I’m just not sure,” you finally say, “for a first effort, this feels kind of last ditch.”

“First effort?” he repeats with a chuckle. “This is far from our first effort, Doll.”

“I know,” you sigh, struggling to find the right words, “I guess it just feels a little drastic, sending you in alone. Couldn’t the FBI handle this?”

He rests his flesh hand on your knee, “I appreciate the concern, but I think I might be able handle this better than an FBI agent, and I speak Russian.”

The warmth of his touch and the fact that you can smell his coconut-scented shampoo is turning your brain to mush, and you struggle to remember your argument. All you want to do is throw your arms around his neck and beg him not to go.

He leans forward, “What are you really worried about?”

“You,” you reply, “I-I’m worried that you’re going in alone.”

He sighs and leans back, “You don’t need to worry about me, Doll, nothing is going to stop me from coming back to you.” He stands up from the lounge as he says, “I promise.”

You’re too shocked to speak, or even move, until he’s in the kitchen with Steve. You can feel your pulse in your ears, fast and loud as your heart pounds against your ribcage. Was he trying to get you to say something? Does he want you to cross that line?

You spend the rest of the afternoon finishing your book and then starting another. After a quick dinner with Natasha, you decide to have a bath and try to tame your thoughts, but it’s useless. All you can think about is Bucky, in fact, you ‘think about him’ twice while in the bath and end up getting out even more flustered than when you got in.

You lay on your bed in your towel for almost an hour, wondering whether you should go and confess your feelings to Bucky or just wait and let him do this assignment with a clear head. Nat told you at dinner that he will be going undercover for the first time tomorrow night, and that Clint and Tony are working overnight to prepare his fake identity in time.

Eventually, you decide that it’s too late and you shouldn’t bother him, so you put yourself to bed. You stare at the ceiling spiralling through thoughts for twenty minutes before picking your new book up again and by 3AM, you’ve finished it.

The night rolls into dawn, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t had more than thirty minutes of uninterrupted sleep. At 5AM, you decide that it isn’t too early to be making noise, so you change into your gym clothes and make your way downstairs. You work out for two hours before you see anyone else, and by then, you’re exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, standing in front of where you’re sitting on the blue foam floor mats.

You’re supposed to be stretching, but you’re fairly sure you were falling asleep right before she came in. “Yeah,” you mumble, “didn’t sleep much.”

“I can tell.” She sits beside you, “Are you really that worried?”

You sigh, “I don’t know.”

She places her towel and water bottle on the floor beside yours before sitting down opposite you, legs crossed. “You don’t know if you’re worried, or you don’t know what you’re worried about?”

“The second one,” you mutter.

She nods slowly, allowing a moment of silence before asking, “You don’t really think he’s going to fall in love with this woman, do you?”

You sigh and rub your tired eyes, “No, I don’t think so. I know he’s not stupid.”

“And you know he’s in love with you,” she states.

“Is he?”

She rolls her eyes as she uncrosses her legs, stretching them out either side and leaning forward slightly. “Don’t be dumb, you know he is.”

“Then why hasn’t he done anything about it?”

“It’s Bucky,” she says, as if the answer is obvious.

“So?”

“So, you need to make the move, because he’s being as forward as he knows how, but he hasn’t done this kind of thing in over seventy years.”

You frown at her, not because you’re confused, but because you’re annoyed that she’s right. Maybe you haven’t both been ‘dancing around’ your feelings, maybe Bucky has actually been trying to make a move but you’re the one keeping it friendly.

“But please wait until after we’ve put Petrov and his buddies behind bars,” she adds, “because we need Barnes to be focused.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, “How do we even know that this woman is going to fall for him?”

“Based on her previous relationships and assuming Barnes does everything I tell him to do, we shouldn’t have a problem,” Nat replies as she pushes up from the ground. She offers you a hand, “Now, please go get some sleep so you’re not crying your eyes out when we send him into the lion’s den tonight.”

You take Nat’s hand and collect your things before sluggishly making your way back to your room. After a quick shower, you fall into bed and out of consciousness in less than a minute, dreaming of nothing but that darn brunette super soldier.

Funnily enough, the name of the exclusive nightclub Bucky will be meeting Sasha Petrov in is called the Lion’s Den. It’s just south of Manhattan, somehow hidden from the busy streets and can only be found if you know exactly where to look for the entrance.

The whole team is working tonight. Wanda and Sam will be going into the club with Bucky so he doesn’t look like a complete loner, and as emergency backup in case anything should go wrong. Clint is the eye in the sky and Nat is patrolling the streets, looking out for anything suspicious since crime seems to follow the Petrov family around. That leaves you, Steve, and Tony set up in a nearby office building with all the surveillance technology to watch from afar.

“I just need to send word to the Deputy Director before you go in,” Tony says over the comms.

He has his tech set up at one of the desks closest to the window on the fourth floor of the office building. The FBI had assisted with securing this vantage point, shutting down the whole building for ‘overnight maintenance’ just in case any sad nine-to-fivers decided to sleep in their offices.

“We’ll take a little detour,” Sam says, his voice right in your ear even though you know he’s over a block away.

You’d all separated about two miles away from the club, taking different routes and transports to get to your respective posts. Bucky, Sam, and Wanda had decided to walk, giving the rest of you enough time to set up and be in position for whatever might happen when Bucky enters the club. He has very strict instructions from Natasha on how to approach Sasha. Apparently, they’d be practicing all day while you had been sleeping.

“How long until you’re at the door?” Nat’s voice comes through your comms.

“Eight minutes,” Wanda replies.

“Bucky, you good?” Nat asks.

“I’m good,” he says, the sound of his voice making your chest ache.

You can’t stop wringing your hands as you look out the huge window to the street below. There aren’t many people walking by, but the few that you do spot all seem to be heading in the same direction; the Lion’s Den.

The sound of your pounding heart thrums in your ears, drowning out the conversation between Bucky and Natasha as they recap everything that she’s told him to do. You're not sure you’ve ever felt this nervous in your life, but you’re not entirely sure what for. Nothing bad has happened yet, and Bucky is fully capable of defending himself if something does go wrong.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice breaks through the white noise that your anxious brain was creating, “are you okay?”

You turn to face him, “Yeah, sorry, I-”

“You’re really pale,” he says, pressing his hand to your forehead, “have you eaten today?”

“Not really.”

Steve glances back at Tony, who is worrying at his bottom lip as holds his phone to his ear, no doubt waiting for the Deputy Director to answer.

“I told you to stay behind,” Nat states.

You frown, even though she’s almost half a mile away right now, “I’m fine.”

“Y/N?” Bucky says.

Your heart leaps in your chest, “Yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay,” he pauses, and you try to calm your breathing, “I’m going to be okay.”

Tony snorts and pretends to gag before turning back to his computers and sitting in one of the empty desk chairs, obviously no longer worried.

“I just-” you hesitate, “I can’t let this-” you huff and pull your comm out of your ear, “I can’t let this go.”

You take off running through the open plan office area until you reach the door to the stairwell, shoving it open and leaping down the stairs as many at a time as you can manage. Once you reach the bottom landing, you pull your phone out of your back pocket and hang up on the incoming call from Steve before opening the tracking app that Tony installed on everyone’s phones. It isn’t always active, only during missions.

Bucky’s location pings a quarter mile down the street. You exit the building and turn in his direction before taking off in a sprint, your lungs burning with every breath. It only takes a minute until you can see the three of them up ahead, on the opposite side of the street, and it only takes about ten seconds for them to notice you. They all stop, probably trying to figure out if you’re a threat or not, but after another few seconds, Bucky recognises you.

Your energy wanes and your pace slows to a jog. You look behind you to check the traffic before crossing the road, but when you turn to check the traffic up ahead, Bucky is already right in front of you.

You practically crash into him, but his hands catch your waist and hold you still, “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you pant, struggling to catch your breath, “I can’t let this go.”

He isn’t angry, but you can’t quite place the expression despite how close you are to him, your body pressed against his. “Can’t let what go?”

You take a deep breath to try and appease your burning lungs, “I got you right where I want you, and-” you take another breath, “I’ve been pushing for this for so long.”

His brow furrows, “What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

Your chest finally stops aching, and you look up at him through your lashes, “Kiss me, just once, for luck.”

His frown disappears, and you worry for a moment that you shouldn’t have crossed that line, but then his hands move to cup your jaw and he closes the distance between your lips. Your hands find purchase on the nearest part of him, fisting the hem of his shirt as one of his hands slides down your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. You part your lips and he sighs, pressing his body impossibly closer to yours.

He tastes like spearmint and cold air, and his lips are so soft that you have to wonder if you’re dreaming, but then he startles and pulls back. Panic washes through you as you watch his face, his eyes no longer on you but cast across the street at Sam and Wanda.

“I’m sorry, Doll,” he says, before placing another quick kiss on your lips, “I have to go.”

Without the warmth of his body, the night air is biting. You instinctively wrap your arms around yourself and turn back the way you came, your mind racing. Did you just fuck everything up? Surely not. Bucky is still going in, and it’s not like one little kiss is going to completely derail this mission. Right?

It takes you a lot longer to get back to the office building than it did for you to leave, but thankfully, Bucky is already inside the club and Steve and Tony are too focused to berate you.

You sit in one of the spare desk chairs and watch over Tony’s shoulder, refusing to put your comm back in. You don’t want to hear what’s happening, you want to remain in blissful ignorance instead of listening to the man you’re in love with chat up some mobster’s supermodel daughter. Bucky can be incredibly charming when he needs to be, and according to Steve, he was a major ladies’ man back in the day.

After an hour or so, you slide your chair over to a spare desk and lay your head down. You feel useless and a little stupid, but mostly, just tired. You know the team are annoyed at you and just waiting until tomorrow to reprimand you, but technically, it’s their fault that you did that. They pushed you toward desperate measures.

The next thing you know, someone is gently shaking your shoulder and interrupting your dreams of Bucky. The images of him standing over you while you wait on your knees for him to finish in your mouth quickly fades, and you open your bleary eyes to see Steve.

“Hey,” he whispers, “time to go.”

You sit up slowly, “What happened?”

Something about his expression is off, and you wonder why he’s being so gentle as he wraps an arm around to help you stand. It’s almost as if you’re a child and he’s trying not to wake you for the fear that you might not go back to sleep.

“Steve,” you say, pulling away from him and standing on your own, “what happened?”

He takes a deep breath and steps back, “Bucky did really well, that’s all. Nothing happened.”

“Yet,” Tony adds.

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t baby her, Steve,” Tony says before turning his attention to you, “Barnes took Sasha home.”

They both watch you carefully, waiting for the explosion, but you know you’ve already given them enough to deal with today, so you muster every ounce of your self-control to stay calm.

You swallow thickly, “Okay. Let’s go.”

You pick up one of the cases by Tony’s feet and continue walking toward the stairwell. As soon as you begin descending the stairs, tears start to fall down your cheeks. You try to focus on your feet through your blurry vision, making sure you don’t trip until you reach the bottom landing.

Natasha pulls up with the car and Clint jumps out to help load the trunk. You climb into the back, buckle your seatbelt, and press your head against the cold window. The car rocks as the others climb in, and normally you would love to make fun of Steve and Tony squished in the back with you, but not tonight.

The drive home is long and awkward. Wanda calls in and Nat answers via the Bluetooth, immediately informing her that you’re in the car so that she doesn’t go into too much detail. However, she does let you all know that it went better than expected and Barnes will report back in the morning. He’s taken Sasha to the apartment that Tony set up as a part of the fake identity.

If you’re being honest, you hadn’t even thought about this part. You knew he would flirt and touch her, and they would probably kiss, but you completely forgot about sex. How? You have no idea, especially considering that every time you close your eyes, you’re picturing him naked.

You feel sick and you know you won’t sleep tonight, but most of all, you feel like an idiot. You almost jeopardised the entire mission just because of your feelings. You want to apologise to the team and tell them you’ll never do it again, but you can’t stop crying and you can’t make that promise right now.

When you finally get home, you start dragging your feet toward your room, but Natasha stops you. “Hey,” she tugs on your hand, “want to watch a movie?”

You frown, “It’s really late.”

She shrugs, “I’m not tired.”

After a quick shower, you change into your pyjamas and meet Nat in the living area. She is already curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, flicking through Netflix, so you join her silently and rest your head on her shoulder. She doesn’t ask what you want to watch, she just picks a random comedy from the late 90s and snuggles up beside you.

Your whole body is tired, but your mind won’t stop racing. You can’t stop picturing him with her, wondering what they’re doing right now, and regretting what you did right before he walked into that club. Obviously, it hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to you, because you know you couldn’t possibly have gone off to sleep with someone else after that, but you have to keep telling yourself that it’s a good thing. He’s doing what he needs to do to finish the mission, it doesn’t matter how sick it makes you feel. He’s doing his job.

An hour passes but your nausea doesn’t ease, nor do you feel at all like you might fall asleep. Nat is still awake too, and you know it’s not because she isn’t tired but because she’s worried about you. When the first movie finishes, she stretches her legs out and declares that she’s going to make a coffee, so you too unfold your legs and shuffle into the kitchen with her.

“Is Tony going to be mad?” you ask, your voice thick from crying.

Nat sighs, “I don’t know. I think it depends on what Bucky reports in the morning.”

Your stomach swirls angrily, threatening to eject whatever is left of the small amount of food that you ate almost eight hours ago.

Nat finishes making her coffee and holds it in both hands, watching you with worried eyes as fresh tears streak down your cheeks. She opens her mouth to speak again but the sound of heavy footsteps interrupts her. Both of your heads turn quickly toward the door, and for a second, you think you might be hallucinating.

“Bucky?” Nat says, confirming she can see him too. You’re not that crazy.

He doesn’t look at her, he doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are locked on you, his breaths coming and going quickly as if he ran all the way from the city. The only thing you can feel is your heartbeat, radiating through your whole body like a drum beat, pounding in your ears.

“Okay,” Nat says slowly, “I’m going to go, but- uh,” she looks toward you, “forget what I said before, Tony might be mad.” She puts her half-drunk coffee in the sink and moves quickly out the door.

Silence blankets the room, save for Bucky’s laboured breathing. He still looks gorgeous, despite his dishevelled clothing and flushed skin. His hair is out, though you distinctly remember it being tied back before the club, and there’s a smudge of pink lipstick on his shirt collar.

“What happened?” you ask, though you’re not sure you really want to know.

He doesn’t respond, he simply takes four long strides to reach you and cups your jaw before pressing his lips against yours. You don’t react at first, partly from shock and partly because he doesn’t taste the same, but when his hand slides down your throat the way it had before, you kiss him back.

He takes half a step closer, pressing your bodies together as his tongue slides past your lips. You sigh and lean into him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his pants to pull him closer. He shivers at your touch, instinctively arching his hips toward you and tilting your head back to deepen the kiss.

When he pulls back for a breath, he murmurs against your mouth, “Couldn’t do it.”

You push up onto your toes to kiss him again, to which he enthusiastically obliges. His hands wrap gently around the base of your neck and his fingers tangle in the hair at your nape, tugging softly as your tongue laps at his.

This time, you break away for air, “What do you mean?”

He sighs and relaxes completely, his body no longer pressed against yours but still close. His hands find yours and gently pull them out of his pants, though it seems to take a lot of self-control for him to do so.

“I thought I could do it,” he says, “because it’s work, and it wouldn’t mean anything.”

You drop your gaze to the collar of his shirt, the smudge of pink lipstick.

“She was-” he struggles to find the right words, “well, she was really into it, but I couldn’t even kiss her.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, trying not to appear satisfied about the fact that you practically ruined the whole assignment.

“She didn’t seem to care, though,” he adds, “and it wasn’t hard to get her to come home with me.” You drop your gaze again and try to pull your hands out of his grasp, but his grip tightens and he tugs you closer again. “I could barely look at her, let alone touch her.”

He crooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts your head back up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “So, to answer your question,” he says, leaning toward you, “nothing happened.”

He closes the distance and kisses you again. Your mind goes blank, clean of any thoughts or worry, completely consumed by the way his lips feel against yours and the way his hands are moving down your body.

Your heart throbs, threatening to burst as you whisper against his lips, “I love you.”

You can feel his mouth curl into a grin, feeling more teeth than lips against your kisses. His hands brace themselves against your back, one splayed between your shoulder blades and the other on your lower back, holding your body against his.

“I am yours,” he mutters, “my body, my heart, all of it... yours.”

You can’t help but giggle, happiness creeping through your body for the first time in twenty-four hours. You feel high, as if Bucky is a drug and if you ever have to be away from him again, the withdrawals might kill you.

He gives you another quick kiss before taking a step back and shedding his jacket. He dumps it on the counter and looks back at you, “There are a lot of things I want to do with you right now, but I am way too tired to do them properly right now.”

Your stomach does a little anticipatory somersault, but you too are finally feeling the ache of exhaustion and need for sleep. You take one of his hands in yours and drag him toward the lounge where you and Nat had been laying. You pick the blanket up, sit down, pull him down beside you, and throw the blanket over both of you. He quickly kicks his boots off and shuffles around until he is lying beneath you. With your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you fall asleep in mere seconds.

The sound of whispered chatter wakes you up, and you blink blearily against the bright morning sun as you try to sit up. Bucky is still asleep, but over the back of the couch you can see your other teammates gossiping in the kitchen.

Natasha notices you first, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

You carefully push yourself up and rub your eyes, mumbling, “Morning.”

"Did you two fuck on my lounge?” Tony asks bluntly, pausing in the middle of the kitchen with the coffee pot in one hand and a mug in the other.

You frown, “No.”

“Good,” he says, beginning to pour the coffee into his mug, “so, all you did was ruin our one shot at real insider intel.”

A pebble of guilt sinks to the bottom of your stomach, weighing it down despite the butterflies still dancing around about the fact that Bucky is finally yours.

“Calm down, Stark,” Bucky grumbles, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes barely open. He sits up slowly and looks up at you, a little smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

“Oh, excellent,” Tony walks halfway toward the living room, “you’re both awake so I can yell at you both for-”

“I took her phone,” Bucky interrupts, gesturing at his jacket on the kitchen counter, “it’s in the pocket. You better be quick though, because she’ll probably realise pretty soon.”

Tony’s eyes grow wide, “What? How did you-”

“She was really drunk,” Bucky shrugs, “I convinced one of the bartenders at the club to come home with us and then I snuck away when the two of them were preoccupied.”

“Oh, my God,” Nat says, a wide grin plastered across her face, “Barnes, you’re a genius.”

“That’s why you were flirting with the bartender,” Sam chuckles, “man, I thought he was more into you than her.”

Tony hurries back to the kitchen bench and plonks his mug down with a slosh before rifling through Bucky’s jacket. He finds the phone quickly and beckons Steve with him as he disappears out the doors. Wanda and Sam begin regaling Nat with stories about last night and Bucky turns his attention back to you.

“Good morning,” he says, offering you his hand and yawning widely.

You can’t help but yawn too, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head in the crook, enjoying the smell of his cologne mixed with sleep and warmth. He kisses your head, and you move to kiss his neck before spotting the pink lipstick stain and pulling back.

“How about a shower?” you ask. “Then we can burn this shirt.”

He frowns, and you stretch the material out just enough for him to peer down and see the mark. “Oh,” he chuckles, “alright, but it’s only fair if we both take our clothes off.”

You press your lips against his, mumbling, “Deal.”

END.

[ghostlynimbus]

I want to do so much art of this AU

[mulderiloveyou]

obsessed with david duchovny in this photo

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

good morning!! it's @henderdads' birthday!!!! happy happy happy birthday to youuuu cass!!!

The minute Eddie Munson turned 18, he could see it; the only color he would see until he and his soulmate kissed for the first time.

Yellow.

Rays and rays of warm yellow sunshine, the middle light (and middle light only) of the one stoplight in town, one half of their school colors, the dandelions spotted agross the grass between the trailers, the stubborn daffodils that keep reappearing in Ms. Wilson’s garden though she’s long since passed…

The half-toned things he’s told are green, half yellow, half blue, and that he got lucky his soulmate’s favorite color wasn’t black or gray (then he felt glad he’d settled on a different color than either of those by time he was older, he didn’t want to subject his soulmate to more black and white..

After Steve Harrington turns 18, he can see the color of the lipstick his mom wore in their last family portrait, the color of the punch that gets spilled all over Nancy’s shirt at Tina’s halloween party, the stripes and piping on his godforsaken Scoops uniform, the red of his own blood rushing down the drain beneath his feet.

The dark tone puddled beneath Eddie’s limp body in the Upside Down.

The same color splashed onto Dustin’s arms and legs.

Pressing his hands into it to stop it from spreading, to start it flowing again, Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s once…he hasn’t done CPR since he worked at the pool….twice…”C’mon man, don’t leave him like this.”....

The third time is when it happens.

The feeble beat of Eddie’s heart starting again, the push of breath into his lungs, the sudden flood of cool, dark colors around them. 

“Eddie? Eddie! C’mon man, stay with me.”

It looks like it takes a herculean effort to do so, but Eddie’s eyes open. “H–hey, Harrington. Wh–”

“I’m going to pick you up now, Ed,” Steve says, doing just that, tucking Eddie into his chest and starting for the trailer. “El is keeping the gate open for us but we gotta hurry.”

The four of them manage to get him out through the gate and into the RV, this time with Nancy behind the wheel. 

Having to let him go at the doors to the ER is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but he manages, Robin telling him over and over again that she’d already called Eddie’s Uncle and that he’d be safe.

While they’re waiting, filthy and exhausted but victorious nonetheless, Nancy says to him: “It’s blue, by the way. The…everything down there has some sort of blue tinge to it.”

Steve doesn’t ask how she knew, just appreciates that he can look at something and she’ll tell him the name of the color. 

The pattern of the chairs is orange and purple, the plant in the corner is green (“All plants are some shade of it for the most part.”), the wallpaper is his favorite though.

“It’s yellow.”

“I guess I know what color Eddie’s been seeing the past few years..” It’s the first and last thing he says until Wayne Munson comes to get them.

“You three need’ta be looked at too. Not jus’ Henderson.”

He leads them back to a room, and Steve recognizes Dr. Owens there waiting for them.

They get looked over, they get cleaned up, and Steve gets a shot of something that’s supposed to help stave off anything those flying rats may have given him.

And for the next week, he stays. 

He and Wayne maintain a constant vigil at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne leaves for his shifts when he has to, Steve is allowed to stay because of his soulmate status, and Eddie wakes up a little more than a week later.

Wayne had left a couple hours ago, so Steve will have to call him at the plant but first: “Steve?” Eddie manages to croak out when his eyes crack open the first time.

“Hey Eds, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Eddie shuts his eyes and huffs a laugh, then cringes, “Still painful as always, I see.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you see?”

Steve watches his brow furrow as he tries to make sense of the question, watches as he opens his eyes again, a bit further this time, and when they widen in amazement as they travel around the room.

“What–? What the hell..?” The heightened beeping of his heart monitor makes Steve feel almost giddy, getting to watch him see this for the first time. “What nurse kissed me while I was out?” He pauses, staring down a painting of colorful wildflowers on the opposite wall before turning back to Steve. “And can they come back so I can get more pain meds?”

Steve chuckles as he stands stiffly from the hospital chair he’d been all but glued to for the last week, reaching over Eddie’s head to press the call button.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, of course.”

“Thank you, I try, but what’d I do this time?”

“It wasn’t a nurse, Eds.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment, confused, “I don’t quite have the brainpower for riddles, Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the nickname, “It wasn’t a nurse, it was when we were still in the—down there.” he pauses, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Did Eddie want it to be him? His first assumption was one of the nurses… “Someone had to give you CPR.”

He watches as Eddie scrolls through what he can only assume is a roster of their “Team Vecna”; Nancy? It’s been known that she’s been able to see in full color since she and Jonathan got together. Dustin? Yeah..no. Ro–

“And it wasn’t Robin.” Steve says when he sees Eddie’s lips curl into an ‘R’.

“Then who—”

It dawns on him at the same time the summoned nurse arrives with a new shot of whatever it is he needs.

She leaves with an excited “We’ll call Wayne!”, and Eddie drops his head back to his pillow.

Steve’s stomach twists anxiously. “Eddie?”

“So you’re telling me that the one and only Steve Harrington gave me the kiss of life and also the gift of colorvision, and I wasn’t conscious enough to experience it properly?”

Steve ducks his head, scratching behind his ear nervously. “Uh…yeah…? Sorry Eddi–”

“Can you do it again?”

His head snaps up again, “Huh?”

“And preferably before I lose the battle for my consciousness?”

Eddie’s face is soft and open, a smile quirking the pink of his lips and crinkling those dark eyes of his…Who is Steve to tell him no?

He smiles softly in return and stands.

Leaning forward with his weight braced to one side of Eddie’s head, the other hand coming up to cup his uninjured cheek, Steve kisses him properly for the first time.

The first of many many many more to come.

eeee i hope you liked this little thing!!! i've never written anything w soulmates before!! 🥹 i hope you have the most bestest day today, friend!! 🫶🫶

[hello-sweetheart]

Fame and Fortune

Do you dream of glory? Crowds of thousands all adoring beneath you. The roaring cheers echoing in the arena. Countless of small white lights held up like beacons creating a sea of waving stars all for you. Breathless exhilaration has your chest heaving, skin glistening and damn. To feel like a god: never ending, eternal.

What would you be willing to do to get it?

What are you willing to sacrifice for fame?

Who are you prepared to lose?

Could the love of millions be worth the love of one?

——

[Backstage: Corroded Coffin Global Tour-Los Angeles, Ca]

Eddie is pacing, more than just pre-show nerves numb his hands. His cigarette burns quickly, ash falling on the carpeted floor, but no amount of nicotine filled lungs will fix this. Gareth, his drummer and long time friend, is watching him pace, eyes pleading.

“Is it worth it, Eddie?

We all got what we wanted; why are we miserable? You can’t lie to me, we all feel it. I see it in everyone, even you! You haven’t been the same since—“ He receives a withering glare from the frontman and sighs, speaking softer.

“I miss mom and my little sister. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them… I’m no longer drawn in her crayon family portraits, did you know that? Does Anne even remember me, anymore?

How can you keep going like this and expect us to do the same? I’m grateful—I really am—for you. You got us where we are now, a fantasy that we never even dreamed would become reality. It was amazing, I’m glad I got to experience it all with you, but I’m tired. I’m so tired guys.

I just want to go home.”

The long drag he takes burns his throat,

“Look, we’re all tired, I get it. Really, I do, this tour has been… particularly grueling I’ll admit, but come on. This is our last show, the big finale! We’ll give them all we got and then we’ll be able to take a break to freshen up before doing what we do best: creating kick ass music.

Like always. You’ll feel better after this, we always do after the last show—“

Gareth cuts him off, his patience clearly stretched thin.

“No, Eddie, listen to me! It’s different this time. I’m happy with the money we’ve made, we all have enough to live comfortably and I’ve been thinking that, you know, it’s time to settle down. I can’t do that if I’m always working. This, the band, it doesn’t… it doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

Jeff stands and his imposing figure makes Eddie pause from wearing a path into the floor.

“He’s not the only one, man. Im sorry, but its killing me. We don’t expect you to give it up either, you can keep the band name, find new members, keep signing… But for us? We can’t keep going, man. This is the end of the line.”

‘Not him too. Fuck. Fuck!’

“No! What am I—I’ve given up too much for this, you can’t just, fucking, bail on me!” This band, playing with his friends, it’s become his entire world. He’s lost too much to get here.

“Woah, woah, hey! No one fucking told you to and you know it. We’ve always had your back no matter what, but anything you chose to do is on you. Not us. The least you could do is extend us the same fucking curtesy and respect the fact that we’re fucking done with this bullshit.”

His gaze is venom as he looks at band, Grant and ‘Freak’ silent but agreeing with the rest. They refuse to meet his gaze.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” He turns and leaves. They’ll be starting in 15 minutes.

Fucking cowards. Ungrateful bastards.

A memory plays in his head. Brief and intrusive. The voice of someone long gone from his life rings in his mind.

“I’ve missed you, Ed. Are you done at the studio, yet? When are you coming home?”

“Steve, this is important. You know this. I’ll be pulling a few more all nighters here—this album has to be perfect, baby.”

A crackling sigh is barely audible through the phone.

“I know, I know. I’m just being selfish. I’m sorry. Miss waking up to you next to me.”

“Miss you too, baby. You’re my world you know. Love you more than anything.”

“More than music?” It’s a timid question.

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he’s the only one to laugh into the receiver.

“Right… night, Eddie.���

“Wait, Stev—“ fuck. It was only joke. Whatever, he’ll apologize tomorrow.

Right now, he has music history in the making.

[strangersatellites]

It had all started in Photography 101. 

All he had needed was one more elective added to his schedule for the fall semester to be considered a full-time student. It was Robin who had suggested photography.

Steve had never had that great of a memory to begin with, the numerous blows to the head from juvenile high school fights certainly doing him no favors. Sometimes the amount of time it took to jog Steve’s memory surpassed the time it would’ve taken to simply tell him the story as if he hadn’t been there himself. 

He was always able to grasp the memory eventually, but sometimes they were slippery in his mind. 

He and Robin had found that his memory was ten times better if he had something to look at. Sometimes that was a souvenir from a trip, sometimes it was a takeout menu with his order circled in red pen, sometimes it was a physical scar on his skin from some silly injury. But most of the time it was pictures. 

Steve took to taking photos of everything. His friends, his food, the landscape, a book with a pretty cover, anything he wanted to be able to remember.

The walls of his room grew to be covered with polaroids and prints, some staged, most not. Many blurry and out of focus, but in the moment just the same. 

So when Robin suggested Photography 101, Steve saw an opportunity to take something he did for his own benefit and turn it into something he really enjoyed, something he was good at. 

The semester was a breeze and Steve flourished under the attention of his professor. He was constantly drowning in compliments about the movement in his photos and his eye for composition. 

(Robin would tell him on several occasions that she had never seen him enjoy something this much.)

By the time the semester was coming to a close, he was left with one final project. The professor had been intentionally very vague in her description of it throughout the semester, so Steve was a little on edge. 

Sitting in the front row of the small classroom, he twirled the strap of his camera around his fingers while he daydreamed. The room slowly filled and the professor settled in behind her desk. 

About five minutes after class was supposed to have begun Steve noticed they were all still sitting in silence. Glancing at the professor he saw her brows furrow and a frustrated lilt to her lips as she looked at her watch.

What are we waiting for? 

She stood and dusted off her pants before clapping her hands together.

“Well,” she began, “I guess we can go ahead and get start–”

The door at the back of the room swung open and knocked against the wall with a resounding slam.

“Shit! Fuck! So sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

Steve is so caught off guard by the man who just burst into the room that he barely even registers the words he’s saying. 

He’is tall and all lanky muscle, dark curls and jewelry, tattoos and the smell of smoke, chains and leather and everything Steve’s not. Everything nobody in this class is.

He’s even more caught off guard when his professor laughs and pulls the man into a tight hug. There are only five other students in this class, surely he’s not the only person confused.

He keeps an arm around her shoulders as she introduces him to the group.

“Guys, this is Eddie. He’s a family friend and he’s going to be your subject for your final project.”

Steve’s own eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand how this was the project she has been keeping under wraps. They’ve had plenty of portrait sessions this semester, with models and subjects of their choice alike.

The guy, Eddie, claps a hand to his chest in a dramatic show of faux humility. 

“Thank you for having me, Joyce. It's such an honor to be here.”

She smacks at his arm and carries on.

“So, Eddie is your subject and you have no parameters. The only requirement is that he is the inspiration for your shoot. This can look like a standard portrait session, this can be contemporary urban street photography, whatever you like. Eddie does not even have to be in the photo! He just has to be the inspiration for it.”

Steve's brain is already running a mile a minute, conceptualizing shots faster than he can keep up. 

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But one idea sticks out from the rest. As Steve lifts his eyes to Eddie once more and meets his own twinkling with mirth and smirking back at him he makes his decision.

He’s going to take his mugshot.

*****

“I want to take your mugshot.”

They’re at the campus coffee shop. Joyce had scheduled a few hours for Eddie to meet with the other students during their class time so they could talk through their projects.

Eddie barks out a laugh. “What, man?”

Steve twirls his straw around his drink and tries not to bristle at the reaction.

“Look,” he starts, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I don’t really know where the idea originated but once I had it, it stuck. I just saw this vision of the shot in my head and it was sick, dude.”

Eddie leans back in the booth, one of his boots knocking into Steve’s foot under the table. He crosses his arms and tilts his head. 

“Thought this shoot was supposed to be inspired by moi,” he says, gesturing a hand towards himself. “You saying I look like I should be in jail?”

Steve groans and puts his head in his hands. “No. I already told you I don't know where i got the idea–”

But that’s a lie isn’t it. He knows exactly where he got the idea. It was somewhere between the chains dangling from Eddie’s jeans and the handcuff belt he was wearing the day they met.

He put his hands together on the table between them. “Okay. No, I’m not saying you look like a criminal, Eddie. I’m saying I think you want to look like one.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment before his face breaks into a slow smirk. He huffs a quiet laugh and leans closer. “Guilty as charged, Stevie. Besides, I was arrested once actually.”

Steve gawks while Eddie laughs. He is unfairly attractive when his dimples pop and Steve is going to have such a hard time holding it together behind the camera. 

*****

Steve takes his shoots very seriously. Every detail has to be perfect, even the ones not relating to the subject of the photo.

So it is wildly convenient that his professor happens to be married to the chief of police back in Hawkins. 

One quick phone call from Joyce and Steve and Eddie were granted access to the booking room at the police station. You know, for the sake of realism. 

Steve’s setting up his tripod while Eddie takes a chalk marker to the placard and writes up his own booking ID, a long series of random numbers with E.M at the end. 

Steve would be lying if he said Eddie’s choice of clothing wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. 

He’s wearing a ratty, old band t-shirt for some group Steve’s never heard of. There’s his usual black leather jacket and the silver chain around his neck. His ripped black jeans and fingers covered in rings and black nail polish. 

It's perfect for the shoot. But Steve’s sanity is struggling.

He gets the camera and the lighting set up just as Eddie steps into place in front of the height measurement wall. 

Steve puts his hands on his hips and gives instructions.

“Okay, so I know you’ve done this before–”

“Hey! It was one time!”

“So you know how this goes. We’ll do one forward and then one to each side.”

Eddie shakes out his hair and rolls his shoulders back. He holds the placard up in front of him and levels the camera with a dead-eyed stare.

He looks good. 

Steve is less than shocked that he looks even better on camera.

He lines up his shot. Click.

Eddie turns to his left. Steve gets a little distracted by the line of his jaw.

Click.

He turns to the right and of course only now does Steve notice his ear piercings. 

Steve takes a deep breath and focuses.

Click.

Before he can even look through his shots Eddie is dropping the placard on the desk.

He’s halfway out the door before he grabs the frame and leans back in. “One second pretty boy, I have an idea.”

He’s back before Steve snaps out of his stupor at the nickname. This time, he has a pair of handcuffs swinging from his index finger.

Steve snatches them out of his hand. “Where did you get these?”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. “I know a guy.”

He rolls his eyes. 

He’s already picking up the placard and setting up some detail shots when Eddie grabs his wrist and stops him. He freezes for more than one reason.

“Hey, uh. Not to step on your toes or anything, but I actually have another idea.”

Steve is about to start on his spiel about ‘not messing up his flow’ when Eddie rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist. Gentle and reassuring. 

“Do you trust me?”

Honestly Steve has no reason to trust him, he’s basically a stranger.

A pretty one. His brain supplies.

But he does. Trusts him enough to let him take Steve’s creative liberties and throw them out the window apparently.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is blinding. He turns Steve’s hand over and drops the handcuff key into it.

“Don’t lose this big boy,” he says as he snaps the cuffs around each of his own wrists.

Steve laughs, loud and shocked. He waggles his eyebrows at Eddie. 

“Well, now didn’t this take a turn.”

Eddie rolls his eyes this time and lifts his hands as much as he can.

“Don’t try to sexualize my creative prowess, Steve. I am a professional.”

He nearly trips on his way back to his place in front of the wall and Steve has to hide his laugh into a cough.

Steve’s back behind the camera, hands back on his hips when he asks, “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Eddie smiles and says, “You just shoot, Harrington. I’ll do the rest.”

He leans down to finalize his camera settings and line up his shot. When he finally looks through the viewfinder his jaw drops. Because while Eddie was clearly joking about being a professional, if Steve didn’t know any better, this shot would have him believing it.

Eddie’s got both of his pinky fingers tucked in the corners of his smile, tongue bitten between his teeth. His thumbs are raised along with his middle fingers, while he’s got his nose scrunched and one eye squeezed shut. The cuffs hang right under his chin and accentuate his silver jewelry in a way Steve never would have anticipated.

Click.

Click. 

Click.

The next is a close-up of the booking placard between his teeth.

His hands twisting to unlock his own cuffs.

He’s a natural, and Steve’s camera roll can attest to the fact.

It wouldn’t be until Steve was reviewing and editing the shots that he caught on. The booking ID on the placard looked long because it was. It was Eddie’s number.

*****

Steve got an A. 

He got an A, an endless stream of compliments from Joyce and a dorky hot boyfriend. 

The rest of the class went the route Steve expected them to.

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But Steve’s mugshot series stood leagues above the rest.

Later in their lives, when one of their friends would see the photo in Steve’s wallet they would ask when Eddie got arrested and why.

It quickly became a game between the two.

He’s been arrested in high school for selling drugs (True.)

When he was twenty for public indecency.

At twenty-two for arson.

Thirty for contract killing. This one was followed up with the claim that he was in witsec and was now going to have to change his identity and flee the country.

But the real when and why Eddie got arrested is because when he was twenty-one Joyce told him there was a nice boy in her class that she thought he should meet.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Secret Santa

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: secret santa but somehow nobody picked me

A/N2: I hope you don't mind, I'm kinda gonna cheat again because I really like doing the full cast of characters in the same prompt. But I'm going to cheat even further by going with "Each of the Tech Tuesday cast as your Secret Santa".

Bucky Barnes

Bucky is far more observant than people think. You might think he's the type to get you a random gift from the thrift shop but no. He gets you something he knows you'll like. Something that requires thought.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Curtis Everett

Gift cards are Curtis's go-to for these things. He already knows more about the people in the department than he cares to know. If he's got your name for Secret Santa, you're getting a gift card to a popular place. If he knows anything about you, you're getting a gift card for a place you've mentioned.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Geralt (of Rivia)

Bemoans the fact that Secret Santa even exists. He only participates because he knows it's important to others. He doesn't bother looking at the price cap because whatever he gets you is going to be something he made himself. Most likely something small you can use as decoration. Curtis still has the kikimora figurine on his desk.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

God (the bounty hunter)

Also hates the fact that this is something that happens. But where Geralt makes his gift, God goes ahead and buys you something he likes. Complete with a gift receipt.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Jake Jensen

Let's face it, it's Sunshine who's making you whatever gift Jake gets you. But neither you nor Sunshine are gonna complain. Jake's the one everyone wants as their Secret Santa because you'll get some really amazing homemade thing(s).

One year Steve got a few dozen Christmas cookies. He promised himself he'd just eat one or two and share the rest. He'd eaten over half of them by the time he left for home!

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Johnny Storm

Johnny definitely got a last minute big bag of candy for you. And, really, he got it for himself since he knows you keep a bag of that exact candy to bribe him to leave you alone when he gets to talking.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Jonathan Pine

Honestly, he might be the reason there's a price cap on the gifts. It's not that he'd buy a lot of things for you, rather he'd find one item, that would be an incredibly great gift, and not even look at the cost. It's not that he's rich, per say. He just takes his gift giving a little seriously and wants to put the recipient ahead of the price. Also, do him a favor and help make sure Rose doesn't see how much he spent on her?

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Lloyd Hansen

He ain't doing this bullshit game. It's for small-minded peons who---wait? Maestro wants him to partake? UGH! FINE! But she owes him.

Most likely to gift you something that just takes up space. Like a paperweight that caught his eye.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Mike

He's getting you swag from his college (that he gets for free). In his defense, he's a college student. In your defense, his family is rich. Really he's about as bad as Johnny.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Ransom Drysdale

Before Bubbles came along, Ransom was a lot like Curtis in terms of gift giving. You get a gift card to place you maybe like.

After he and Bubbles become friends, though, he asks for her help in getting something. He regrets it soon after because he's inundated with questions about his recipient that he doesn't have answers to. He didn't realize how much thought could go into gift giving. But, with Bubbles' help, you'll get a good gift.

And now Ransom knows how to get Bubbles a good gift.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Steve Rogers

You're getting something handmade. Probably a small painting of something you like. Not a lot of people know Steve's got skills with physical media and he's happy to surprise them. Syverson still has the portrait of Lily hanging in his office.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Syverson

Like Bucky, Syverson is a better gift giver than people think. There's a reason he's such a good manager for his department. He knows what his people like, dislike, or need in order to get their work done. It might more on the practical side of things, but it'll be something you actually like and use.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Walter Marshall

He's very much another "gift cards" kind of guy. The primary difference between him and Curtis is that Walter prefers to get you a card from a local business as opposed to a national/international corporation.

He actually prefers to get Bucky's name because he knows the coffee shop Bucky frequents is nearby and he can grab the gift card on his way into work.

Tagging:

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[dreamwatch]

Exposure

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #24 - Prompt: Behind The Scenes | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: scars, ableism, facial differences seen negatively by others (a photographer) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, photoshoots

It was inevitable, honestly.

Their first professional photoshoot, not just Matty’s brother, Brian, with the family Pentax, shooting in black and white because it’s ‘artistic.’ Usually they didn’t put photographs on the flyers, just their logo, but once they moved to Indy a couple of independent labels came for a sniff of the goods and they wanted photos. Thank you, Brian, your services to photography will be forever remembered.

Once they were signed though, the label wanted professional photographs, which was fair, because honestly Gareth’s garage didn’t make the sexiest back drop. So anyway, here they were in a studio in Indianapolis getting their photographs taken, with a real professional photographer.

He doesn’t know a lot about this kind of gig, but he knows guys on TV get their makeup done all the time on account of the lights making their faces shiny, so at first it’s like, whatever. But then they’ve got them all lined up, real Metal Hammer pose, cloudy blue and gray backdrop like some extreme high school portrait, and the photographer is eyeballing him. Like hard stares. And he’s not looking him in the eye. He’s looking at his cheek.

Then the guy’s in a huddle with the makeup artist, and she’s looking at him and the photographers looking at him, and now they’ve got the assistant there. 

“What the fuck is the hold up,” whispers Gareth, and the boys mutter but Eddie says nothing because he knows. He knows and he’s dying a little inside.

Then the huddle is broken, and they’re getting moved around and now Eddie’s facing a different direction (‘we can just flip the neg’) but that’s not working for them either, and the studio lights are getting dimmed on his side, and his heart is racing, and the makeup girl is in his face, “Sorry,” she says, and she’s being gentle, likes she’s trying to be respectful, but she’s painting this shit on his face, on his neck, and he can see the shock, the way her eyes go wide when she starts to move the collar of his shirt and she realises it goes further down and that’s it—

“Can you—“ he snaps, ducking backwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” she says all sheepish and apologetic, and she probably means it but he doesn’t care, he’s done, he wants out.

The photographer wraps it up, and he’s talking but Eddie’s not listening, he’s gone, out to the Jeff’s car waiting by the door, but they’re up in the studio playing rockstars, like they’re not driving to gigs in shitty vans, and he’s had it actually, fuck this.

He walks for an hour and then stops at Molly’s and has a few beers. And it feels stupid, at this point, like he’s over reacting, it’s a scar, and they’re in the image industry, and of course they’ll try to hide it. So what? So fucking what?

It’s dark when he finally comes up for air and heads back to their dank little apartment. The guys do that thing where they’re being casual but watching him out of the corner of their eye, but he shoos them away, he’s fine, thanks, nothing to worry about. Gets himself a sandwich and then goes to his room to sleep the day off.

He’s half asleep when he hears his door click, the dip of the bed as someone sits down. He opens his eyes, checks his watch, it’s a little after two in the morning, and when he flips over in the bed Steve Harrington is sitting next to him.

“Heard you had a day.”

“Who called you?” he asks.

Steve kicks his shoes off and slides up the bed, back against the headboard. 

“Gareth. He told me what happened. It fucking sucks.”

Eddie sits up, pulls himself next to Steve. “You drove all the way here to commiserate with me on my sucky day?”

“I drove all the way here to make sure you were okay,” Steve says, like it’s nothing, like Eddie can’t feel his heart squeezing tight at the words.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, needs to process it, what to say.

“I just wasn’t expecting it you know? Which is fucking stupid, and all, but you know, when have I ever been known for my smarts?” he jokes, half assed, because none of this is funny. “It’s just… like, it was so… they looked at me like, how do we fix this? How do we make this go away? Like I was ruining the shoot with my…” he gestures to his cheek, to the jagged red scar that runs all the way down his neck.

Steve listens, because he’s good at that, doesn’t butt in even when you know he’s trying to think of ways of fixing everything.

“And like the thing is, if we make it, it’s gonna be a thing you know? It won’t be the last time.”

Eventually Steve chips in. “I know mine are easier to hide, so I don’t like, know how it is, exactly, but… but people see them and then they’ll forget about them. People look out of curiosity, you can’t stop that, but then they just, they’re not bothered, you know? Like, your fans—“

“Fans?’ Eddie scoffs.

“Yeah, fans! They’re not gonna give a fuck, man. I know that doesn’t really help, not right now, but…  I think it’ll get easier.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Eddie says under his breath. He rolls his head to the side, making eye contact for the first time.

Steve kicks his jeans off and they climb under the covers, Steve’s back against his.

“You know when you’re rich and famous, first thing you need to do is get a bigger bed. This is ridiculous.”

Eddie can’t help himself, lets the giggles take him, feels Steve’s arm wrap around his waist and pull him close. He finds himself being infinitely grateful to his friends for knowing what he needed, and infinitely grateful for Steve Harrington.

[phantomdreamgirl]

Whispers of Desire

(Soft) smut with OldMoney!Steve Harrington x reader

18+

A chill creeps up your spine as your boyfriend leads you down a never-ending hallway. The blistering heat of the day is all but forgotten within the hallowed halls of the Harrington estate. The coolness of the stale air doesn't feel refreshing. It feels ominous.

You try not to think about it, as the only thing you want on your mind is the impossibly handsome man who's guiding you through a labyrinth of wood paneling and eerie family portraits.

Finally, he reaches a door and grips its ornate handle with his free hand. You barely have time to breathe a sigh of relief before he pulls you into the room and presses your back against the swiftly closed door.

He kisses you urgently, hungrily, making your head spin. Your hands grasp at his chest, with your fingers curling along the collar of his shirt. Your knees are already trembling from the intensity of his affections. You sigh his name into his mouth as his right hand cradles your face while his left has a tight hold on your hip.

"I couldn't go another minute without kissing you," he whispers. "I missed those pretty lips too much."

You smile dreamily as he pulls away just enough to admire you.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he then laments.

He leans in for another kiss that has you gripping his shirt even tighter. A whiny moan escapes your lips as he pulls away.

"We have to be quiet, angel. We can't disturb the ghosts," he then playfully scolds.

"You know I don't believe in all that," you challenge, breathless.

"You say that now, but I can assure you they're real," he counters, nuzzling his nose against yours. "They lurk in the shadows, always keeping a watchful eye on the inhabitants of their house."

"Do you really believe all those ghost stories you were told as a child?" You ask, pulling away slightly.

"There's some truth to them, y'know. This house is over a hundred years old, so there's bound to be some lingering spirits still roaming around..."

He leans in to kiss you again, but you gently push past him and walk further into the room. It's then you realize that he's brought you to his room. You turn around, but before you can speak, he pulls you into an embrace. He gently grips your chin between his thumb and index finger, silently guiding you to look at him.

"The past has a way of revealing itself to all who reside here," he quietly begins, leaning in close. "You'll find that out soon enough, but at the moment, all that matters is the here..."

He pauses to press a soft kiss to your waiting lips.

"...and now."

You whimper into his second kiss as he presses more of your body into his. You're soon laying on his bed with him on top of you, kissing you slowly, as he's savoring the taste of your lips. Your hands move from his hair to the buttons of his shirt.

You manage to unbutton what you can, considering he had already left the top few undone, just enough to tease you with a glimpse of chest hair. You longed to glide your fingers through it, but also along his broad shoulders and toned biceps. He groans into a kiss when he feels your fingernails lightly graze the tops of his shoulders as you try to push his shirt out of the way.

You smile as he sits up only to fling his shirt to the floor before he's almost crushing you under his weight again.

"Touch me, angel, please..." he practically whines, against your lips.

He already sounds so wrecked and it has you reeling.

You quickly oblige, pressing your palms to his back before gliding your fingernails across his skin, trying to connect all his freckles from memory. He shudders and you feel how painfully hard he is through his dress pants.

His kisses are desperate as he grinds himself against you. You're not sure how much more you can take, as you shift your hips, moving them upward to match his movements.

"Steve, please..." you whine, reaching up and slightly pulling his hair.

A small whimper leaves his lips before he settles his hazy eyes on yours.

"What's wrong, angel?" He asks, still managing to be infuriatingly smug.

You gaze back at him, eyes nearly watering from frustration.

"I need you," you softly answer, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

"But I'm right here," he smiles.

"You know what I mean."

"Do you think you can be quiet for me?"

You nod. "If you're really that concerned with not disturbing your 'ghosts...'"

"Not so much that, as I want to see if you can do it," he clarifies, while his lips move to your neck. He lowly hums into your skin as he collects remnants of sweat on his tongue with every wet kiss.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, not wanting to give him the added satisfaction of hearing how weak you are for him.

"Why challenge me when you're usually the loud one?" You counter, now with a wry smile of your own.

He glances up at you while a look of faux hurt flashes across his face before he smirks.

"That's technically true, but I'm a man of many talents, some of which you already know..."

"I think you should remind me," you reply, watching as his eyes darken.

"Take off your dress, then," he quietly instructs, before sitting back on his knees.

He watches as you slowly sit up then kneel in front of him.

"Will you take something off, in return?" You sultrily ask, as you wrap your fingers around his belt.

"As if you have to ask..." he replies, while his large hands cradle your face.

He leans in for another kiss before you each climb off the bed. You undress simultaneously while he unashamedly stares at your bare chest, once your dress falls to the floor. He palms himself through his briefs, continuing to watch as you peel off your sticky panties.

"You alright over there?" You inquire, with a smile, while laying on the bed.

"Never better," he answers, before quickly taking off the last article of clothing keeping him from you.

He crawls onto the bed, eager to feel your hot skin against his. He presses his body to yours, noting to himself how perfectly you fit together. He'll always want you like this- with your eyes shining up at him with lust and infatuation. It's enough to ruin his stamina, if he gazes at you for too long.

Your hands find his shoulders again and you trace little patterns with your nails as he brushes his lips against your cheek.

He leaves a few wet kisses, before quietly asking, "Ready?"

"Yes," you reply, guiding him into a kiss.

With your arousal coating him and the sheets below, he's able to push himself inside you with relative ease.

Gasping, your body arches into his when his hips meet yours.

"That good already, huh?" He teases, while you glare at him.

You dramatically throw your head back, against the pillow and try to conceal a whimper from how you can feel him throbbing.

"You're so pretty like this, angel," he breathes, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

He pulls out almost halfway before harshly thrusting back in. It seemingly knocks the air out of you until you gasp his name.

"Don't stop, please..." you softly beg, earning another pleased smile from him.

"You need to stay quiet, remember?" He reminds, in a whisper.

You nod, reiterating, "I need you."

"I need you, too..." he replies, moving his hips. "...more than I've ever needed anyone, fuck..."

He settles into a steady rhythm once you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips cover yours, wanting to swallow all the sounds you make just for him. He likes having this power over you during something so intimate and primal.

"Tell me you're mine," he breathily commands, between kisses.

"I'm yours," you whisper, in return.

He groans, as he pushes himself even deeper. Your nails claw at his biceps while gasping his name.

"Tell me...tell me again..." he pants, pressing his sweaty forehead to yours.

"I'm yours, Steve... I always will be," you reassure, reaching up to caress his cheek.

His hips slow as he gazes into your eyes.

"You must really like me then," he smiles.

"I think we're past 'like,' at this point," you reply, voice laced with exasperation.

"I guess you're right..." he sighs as he starts moving his hips again. "I guess you could say... it's more like love."

"It is," you agree, with a smile.

"I love you," he breathes, against your lips, before kissing you deeply.

You struggle to reciprocate his kiss at first, momentarily stunned by the realization that you were both madly, hopelessly in love with each other. He notices and pulls away, worrying he's somehow said the wrong thing.

"I- you don't have to say it -"

You immediately pull him into another kiss. He softly moans into your mouth and you can feel him now pulsing inside you. You squeeze your legs even tighter around him.

"I love you, too," you breathlessly reply against his plush lips.

"I'm gonna buy you the prettiest ring, angel," he begins, thrusting a little faster. "Want everyone to know that you're mine."

You sigh his name as he sloppily trails kisses down your neck. You feel as though he's melting into you, as your body is covered in a mix of yours and his sweat. It's a deliciously intoxicating feeling that you never want to come down from.

"Oh angel, you're so good for me..." he praises, with his face still buried in your neck. "So fuckin' good and so fuckin' wet..."

Your hands cling to his slippery shoulders, barely able to hold on as he claims you as his. He attaches his lips to your skin, alternating between kissing and biting.

"Mine, all mine," he breathes right before his orgasm hits.

He quickly raises his head, pressing his lips to yours messily. Your release washes over you soon after, leaving you both panting into each other's mouths.

You dreamily gaze at each other, while he smiles.

"So, you really love me...?" He quietly asks, almost bashful.

"Yes, I love you, Steve Harrington," you also smile.

"Mmm, okay, future Mrs. Harrington," he replies, nuzzling his nose along your jawline.

You feel yourself actually blushing at him, referring to you like that. His warm eyes meet yours again, and it's then you know, with absolute certainty, that you'll gladly spend the rest of your life with him, ghosts and all.

[artiststarme]

Come to Poppa

Based on a prompt sent to me awhile ago from @yaoiprofessoryuki. I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you like it!

~*~*~*~

Steve was never close to his dad, not like a father or son should be. They never played catch in the front yard or camped out in the woods. They certainly never talked about sports or girls. The closest they ever got was performing elementary science experiments at the kitchen table until his mother scolded them both over their own laughter. One day though, everything changed. Out of nowhere, Steve became less of a son and more like a roommate that coexisted in the same house.They lived in the same house and their paths intermittently crossed when they were both in the house at the same time, but their relationship was gone. 

Nevertheless, all Steve wanted after fighting the demogorgons with the kids was to see his dad. He craved the comfort that only a dad could give through all-consuming hugs and emotionally stunted advice. His dad was a scientist, surely he could ask him just what the fuck those monsters were. If anyone could understand, his dad would. 

But after waiting up all night and into the next day, his dad didn’t come home. His secretary didn’t pick up the phone when he called and the hospital had no records of him. His dad was just gone, disappeared just like all the evidence of the demogorgons. Steve’s mom filed a missing persons report with the Sheriff’s office but even their investigations were moot. It was like his dad fell off the face of the earth. 

***

After their 1984 encounter and getting the absolute shit kicked out of him by Billy, the kids start hanging out at his house. His mom had taken to leaving for weeks at a time at the drop of a hat to avoid thinking about his father and Steve was climbing the walls in order to escape some of the oppressive loneliness that the house seemed to ooze. He thought the kids would find it fun to have a big house to themselves to make a mess in and just be kids away from the responsibilities of the Upside Down. He was wrong. 

Eleven froze as soon as the door swung shut behind her, her eyes on the family portrait that hung in the living room. In it was a sixteen year old Steve, his mother in her nicest dress, and his graying dad. It was one of the last pictures that they all looked happy in. But Eleven wasn’t looking at the picture in happiness or curiosity, she was looking at it in horror.

“El? What’s wrong, what’s going on?” Mike stood between her and the photo, his hand comfortingly rested on her shoulder.

All the kids surrounded her and Steve just followed her gaze and looked at her in confusion. When Dustin saw him looking back and forth, he snuck a peek before his eyes widened in sudden realization. “Holy shit, guys! Look at the picture! Steve, how the hell do you know Dr. Brenner?”

Steve’s eyes scrunched in confusion, “what? I don’t know a Dr. Brenner.”

“There’s a picture of the two of you right there!” Lucas flailed his arm towards another picture of the two of them in black suits at his cousin’s wedding. 

“And right there,” Max added, pointing at a picture of Steve holding a report card with straight A’s and his dad beaming with pride to his left.

“That’s not Dr. Brenner, that’s my dad. Martin Harrington, not a Brenner,” he said while rolling his eyes in exasperation. The imagination of these kids was going to make him lose his mind one day. 

“No, papa.”

“Eleven, that’s not the man that hurt you. That’s my dad. He was boring and dorky, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Papa!”

“I think she would know who experimented on her for years,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. 

“Not if she thinks it's my dad!” Steve was really reaching his limits. He’d just wanted the kids to have fun for a day, he hadn’t expected slander against his dad. 

“What if it's the same person? Your dad and Dr. Brenner,” Dustin pondered. 

Steve just shook his head. “There’s no way, my dad worked at the Department of Energy for the government. He ran research experiments on electricity and water and shit. He never worked with kids!” 

“The Department of Energy was just a cover up for the experiments on kids!” Mike screamed.

That was the last line for El. As soon as Mike raised his voice, she flinched and threw the family portrait to the ground with a flick of her wrist. The frame splintered and the glass shattered upon contact with the fireplace tile. Most disturbingly to Steve though was the long tear in the photo separating his dad from him and his mom. An unfortunately positioned shard of glass had separated his dad from his family in the portrait just as an unknown force had in reality. 

“Hey! That’s one of the last pictures I have of him! He disappeared last year and you just ruined our last picture together. Fuck Eleven, he’s not your papa.” Steve dropped to his knees next to the broken frame without regard for the glass and fretted his hands over the portrait. 

“He’s a monster!” El yelled, an accusing finger pointed directly at the ruined canvas in his hands. All of the pictures on the walls fell to the floor with a deafening crash. In a single moment, all remnants of his dad were erased from the living room. 

“No! You’re ruining everything, stop! My dad was just a nerd that loved science. He might’ve been a little strict about grades but other than that, he’s a good guy!”

“Steve, we are telling you that that is Dr. Brenner. I don’t know why he has a different name at work or why you don’t know what he did at work but it is him. We met him last year and he’s missing because… Well, we’re pretty sure El killed him or at least really hurt him. That’s why he didn’t come back.” Dustin delivered the news as gently as possible but his words still registered like a knife in the back. 

“What.”

Suddenly, Steve saw everything differently. The missed basketball games, the unexplained absences and late nights at work, the weird interest in his experiments. It felt like the loving dad that he grew up with was a stranger he never knew at all. The kids didn’t seem to notice his shock or the fact that they had just ruined his life. They continued arguing amongst themselves until Steve tuned back in. 

“What if Steve knew about it? For all we know, he could've had a part in it! Maybe that’s why he wanted to join the Party. He could be reporting back to Dr. Brenner right now!” Mike ranted. Jesus Christ, Steve hated that kid.

“You really think Steve had something to do with it? I’m pretty sure he’s failing at least three classes right now. There is no way someone would use him as an accomplice in a conspiracy this big,” Dustin shook his head and sent a wink at Steve as if he was defending him. But Steve didn’t take it that way. 

They knew about his dad’s disappearance and were now insulting him? Fucking shit, he’d risked everything for these kids; his reputation, his old friends, his relationship with Nancy, his life! And they still doubted him and saw him as an idiot. They saw him as a traitor that would work as an accomplice to torture other kids. Fuck it. 

“Get out.”

“Steve, Mike didn’t mean-”

He cut Lucas off with a glare. “Get out! I don’t want you here. Just get out!”

They all walked out with varying degrees of guilt until Steve was left alone with nothing to do but look at the ruined family portrait with its shards of broken glass and cry about the injustice of it all.

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[messierthanthou]

Untitled - Bottom!Billy - Rated E - 2.5k Words - Written in Honour of @aggressiveviking !! Enjoy, everyone!

If it wasn’t for Neil, Billy could and would love more. But it has all been beat out of him, scared to ever even think of the things he wants to. Daily life is a masquerade, him in a lion’s mask, the rest surrounding him those of lambs.

It was a long way to the top of the food chain, but even greater would the fall be, if it was that anyone dared threaten his role at the top of the school’s hierarchy. 

Which - perhaps unintentionally - one Steve Harrington attempts purely by existing. Those deep brown eyes that sees past the mask of the still freshly crowned king disturbs Billy on such a ground-shaking level that it is do or die, whether either of them wants to or not, a battle is brewing between the two, and Billy, no matter his pains in life, is not ready to give up.

So he finds himself in the pouring rain, standing just a few feet away from the Harrington mansion, soaked to the bone but it doesn’t cool off his heated temper nor does it calm down his pounding heart.

Billy doesn’t know exactly what he wants, but he can’t let it keep bubbling up inside him at school, because what if he loses it? Exactly what it is he could lose, he doesn’t know, but he does know that he needs to release some of the pressure burning inside him.

Without forethought as to what he’ll say or do once Steve is there, he knocks on the door and rings the bell. He’s angry, he’s nervous, he’s unsure; everything floods his senses all at once, and as soon as the door opens even an inch, he pushes it all the way and stomps inside, past a startled Harrington.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Steve erupts immediately.

“You alone?”

“Why?”

“No reason.” Billy shrugs, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“You can’t just barge in like this, Hargrove. What are you even doing here? Get out!”

The door is still wide open.

“You’d really send me out into the rain? Cold.”

Harrington groans out in displeasure, then closes the door. Billy figured he’d be a good sport. He’s too kind, even to his nemesis, and it makes the fury in Billy boil worse.

“I’ll get you a towel.”

While Steve vanishes to go find that towel, Billy stomps around the place, dripping on the floor as he goes. He knew they were rich, Steve’s parents, but this is ridiculously fancy for Hawkins. Hell, even their family portrait in the living room is an actual painting, and not just an oversized photograph.

Harrington catches up to Billy when he’s neck deep in the fridge, looking for the cold beers that he finds.

“You can’t just-” Steve starts off with, but Billy is quick to crack open the bottle against the marble countertops. 

Then Billy yanks the towel from the brunette’s grasp and throws it over his shoulder before taking a large gulp of the beer, which tastes far better than what comes out of a keg.

“Nice castle you got here, princess.”

Steve avoids eye contact at that, looking to the side and shifting in place. “What do you want?” he asks skittishly.

Billy doesn’t answer right away as the bottle occupies his lips, and soon there’s not a drop left. “I don’t know.”

“You… you don’t know?” Steve scoffs. “You barge into my house, and you don’t know why?”

The blonde shrugs and shakes his expressionless head.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

As a matter of fact, he does.

Steve then looks down at the floor. “You’re dripping everywhere, dry up for Christ's sake!”

Then Billy smirks a little, teasingly so. “Make me.”

He watches as Harrington clenches his fists before they come near his face, and Billy accepts it; the inevitable punch coming his way. It’s possibly what he deserves, he’s unsure of actually what, but a hit might be it. And yet, he doesn’t hurt, instead he feels softness caress his face, going through his hair, as Steve dries him off with the towel.

“Take off your jacket.”

“What?”

“I said take off your jacket,” Steve repeats.

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t get you dried off and warm, you’ll get sick.”

“And why do you care?”

The pretty boy takes a step back, towel still in hand. This time he’s the one to shrug, and doesn’t offer another word, lowering silence onto the two of them.

For a moment too long and quiet, Billy considers why Steve wants him out of his clothes, but perhaps the reason is simply more innocent than what Billy imagines. So he does as suggested, taking off his jacket.

“You can borrow some dry clothes, but once the rain is done you’re out, understood?” Steve sounds so certain of that.

“Sure thing, princess.”

Steve exhales hard enough for Billy to hear it, and is that a slight blush to his cheeks? Or anger at the pet name?

“Come on.”

Harrington’s bedroom is surprisingly barren in comparison to the rest of the house; nothing on the walls besides that shit ass ugly wallpaper, a few pieces of furniture around the room, curtains, and lamps. Billy’s room is a cluttered mess in comparison, but at least his got personality, and this is more like a showroom at a furniture store.

“I’m sure I got something that will fit you…” Steve starts rummaging through the dresser, and as his back is turned to Billy, the blonde starts undressing.

All of it.

And when Harrington turns around, there’s just a gentle gasp from open lips as his eyes seem to be guided like a magnet down to Billy’s limp dick. For whatever reason, Billy gets a kick out of the stare, feeling heat shoot through him to his groin.

“Billy…”

“What?” He grins wickedly. “See something you like?”

Steve looks away, but being naked in the pretty boy's bedroom, it excites Billy beyond belief, beyond understanding. Beyond common sense.

So he takes a step forward, just a small one to test the sudden tension between them. Steve tries to take a step back, but bumps against the dresser behind him.

As much as his heart is beating him into a weak pulp, Billy can’t stop walking closer after that initial tentative step. And he plans to continue till Steve says or does something to stop him. But he doesn’t, so the blonde winds up with his feet next to the other’s, too close perhaps, as he can smell Steve’s body soap and hear his elevated breathing.

They’ve been quiet for too long, so Billy says, “Steve, look at me.”

Without blinking Steve turns his head to look straight into ocean blue eyes, and their noses early touch. He looks concerned.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy, huh?” Billy whispers in a teasing way, almost sensual without intending to be, but the nearness makes it seem like something it might not be. “You wanna punch me, don’t you? Start a fight?” Billy gazes down at Steve’s plump lips, then back up to meet his stare. “Come on then, do it. Hit me. Show me with your fists how much you hate me.”

And for a second time tonight, Steve touches Billy in an unexpected way, as his mouth gently and experimentally presses a kiss against Billy’s.

Who’s stunned. Such a tender act, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and two thoughts cause war in his head.

Kiss him back, or punch him.

The kiss wins.

But his hands don't stay idle either, as they grab the collar of Steve’s polo shirt and pull him into a far more ravenous kiss than what the brunette offered before. And it does things to Billy that he’s unsure of why it does. He’s confused, angry, furious in fact, but also undoubtedly and impossibly turned on. Never before has he gotten so hard so fast.

And when Steve grabs him by the hips he moans into their brutish kisses. It’s almost as if he can’t think any further past this moment, and yet his hands act by pulling at Harrington’s shirt till Steve takes it off. While his hands are off Billy, they go down to undo his belt and loosen the button on his jeans before the zipper runs free.

With his hands back on tan skin, he softly pushes as he guides Billy backwards and onto the bed, where they both fall together and bounce around a little with slight chuckles.

Billy can’t remember when he last laughed in earnest.

But he doesn’t linger in that moment, instead he crawls back till he meets the headboard and a couple of pillows. Then he spreads his legs for Steve, who places himself between Billy’s thighs and leans down to kiss and nibble across his waxed clean chest. The blonde moans when a tongue finds its way to a nipple, and the tip plays with the sensitive bud, hardening it before lips close around it to suck, and Billy’s sounds grow even more elated.

There are no real words uttered past hoarse curses and yes’s, yet Steve seems to understand what Billy wants as he reaches for a drawer in the side table, and brings out a bottle of lube.

The lid comes off with a clear pop, and the clear fluid pours over three of Steve’s digits. But he pauses, both of them out of breath and silent as the cold lube runs down Steve’s hand and drips onto Billy’s chest. Their eyes then meet, and he can tell that Harrington is searching for approval.

Billy’s heart is in overdrive, but so is his lusty need to feel the other inside of him, so he nods just the once, which proves to be enough for Steve to bring his hand down between them, between Billy’s thighs, between his buttocks and into his hole.

It’s not something he’s used to past a few trial runs with his own thick fingers, but Steve’s are thinner and longer, reaching deeper than Billy expected to, and it takes a moment to get used to the sensation.

And what an amazing sensation it is; Billy gets worried that the pure anticipation of getting fucked by Harrington’s cock might undo him too soon, but he resist the urge to touch himself and finish it all so quickly.

After a few thrusts he dares beg, “More.”

The thrill of a second finger makes him louder, more keen on expressing his incoherent thoughts, and when Steve continues to thrust ever so gently, Billy leaks onto his own stomach whilst gripping at the sheets.

Harrington simply stares starry eyed at the expressiveness of the blonde’s expressions of elation.

It doesn’t take long for Billy to need another finger. “Fuck, pretty boy, more…”

The stretch of the third hurts just a little bit, a slight burning sensation of his rim, but on the inside he feels like melting butter, easy and pliable in the brunette’s hands, a moaning, leaking mess of spectacular nerves coming looser and looser, til those three fingers aren’t enough anymore.

“Come on then, princess, give it all to me. Fuck me.”

It’s more uncomfortable being empty of Steve than it was getting fingered by him, but it gives Billy a moment to breathe without gasping and moaning as he watches Steve lather up his cock and guide it up to Billy’s expectant hole.

Slowly, inch by inch, he glides inside with the most tender of movements, and if Billy thought that Harrington’s fingers were long, reaching where he couldn’t himself, his prick goes past that, pushing in till Billy’s convinced it’ll fill him up completely.

It is breathtaking. 

“You okay?” Steve asks him softly once he’s completely inside of Billy.

He nods. “Yeah, I’m fine, princess.”

“Good… Good. I’m gonna start moving, just tell me if you want to stop.”

The blonde understands now why all those girls want Steve. He’s nice. Too nice maybe. Billy can’t stand looking at him, turns his head to the side and nods.

So Harrington starts, pulling out carefully before pushing in again, and Billy swears he’ll meet a swift end to this experience if he doesn’t hold back, for the feeling of getting fucked so gently is beyond excellent. Every motion, every inch, it consumes him with blinding and deafening lust, all of which he gives clear sound to by the way of moaning and gasping. 

Then Steve leans in to kiss his neck, somehow finding soft spots Billy didn’t know he had, and it helps in the worst way. 

Minutes pass this way, slow thrusts and kind kisses, so tender it might just ruin the war between the two for good, make Billy fall head first into growing a crush on Harrington, something he’s sure he doesn’t want, but doubt comes in with every near loving touch.

“Billy…” Steve mumbles and it sounds perfect coming from him.

So the blonde turns his head to meet those brown eyes gazing dearly down at him.

“Please, keep looking at me.”

Oh it brings forth buried feelings like it’s golden treasure that Billy has been trying to find for so long. Something he didn’t know he even could find within himself. So he looks at Steve as they go through this gentle time together. Billy didn’t think it possible that he and the brunette could be like this. Normally he’s so calculative, thoroughly thinking every word before saying them, practicing in the mirror for hours, but this all came so naturally once he was naked in Steve’s bedroom.

This is easier than hating and fighting him. This is it. Completeness.

“Faster,” he pleads.

And Steve complies, increasing the pace of his thrusts, and every time he bottoms out inside of Billy, the blonde calls out louder and louder, the heat in his gut building up till it engulfs him with fiery passion that can undoubtedly be heard all throughout the woods surrounding the mansion. 

“Billy, fuck!” Harrington hasn’t been completely quiet throughout, but now he’s becoming wilder with his voice, calling out the blonde’s name, telling him how amazing he feels, how incredible this is.

All the praise is what brings him to climax, his dick untouched by hands but rubbed between their stomachs proves to be enough friction, making him moan as his body tenses up and his cock empties out in the space between them.

“Don’t stop!” he calls out, riding the wave of ecstasy for a while longer than what masturbation brings him to. 

“I-I- ah!” Steve tries to speak, but is cut off as he too reaches the peak, which Billy can tell from the way his thrusts become erratic and his whole body shivers and trembles, then it stills, then collapses onto the blonde with his entire weight.

And Billy releases his grip on the sheets that he’s been choking out this entire time. Everything is peaceful and soft and he doesn’t want this moment to end, ever. 

Steve breathes out from exhaustion, and says, “How about a shower?”

Billy hopes that Steve can’t see the little secret smile he has when he responds with, “Sounds great.”

[madaboutmunson]

sad-rockstar-Steve x tour-photographer-Eddie

Little idea I had and decided to write it

"I do NOT want this assignment, Marney!" Eddie pushes the flimsy file back over to his agent. He already knows what's inside. It shows up at least once a year, which was a relief comparing it to how frequent the request used to be.

"Eddie, baby, hear me out. It’s not an assignment. It is a project. It could get you back on the radar. It's not even a tour, really, it's a residency, and his team have already provided you with a list of shots he wants for the book. It's pose, point and shoot, Ed. Easy money." She slides it back over to him, keeping her fingers on top of it firmly, drumming her bright red talons on the card as she looks him right in the eyes, "and it's not like the gigs have been rolling in for you, now have they, sweetheart? Other than the family portrait business that I know you absolutely adore!" She smirks and holds his gaze. Using his favourite pet name against him makes his blood boil, but he isn't angry with her. It was Him.

"Gigs drying up for us is not my fault! The last client wanted all candid behind-the-scenes shots. I provided that. I edited them, barely, because they wanted the realism of life on the road, and they ok'd them. It's not my fault the internet is a cruel, unforgiving place!” Eddie exclaims in annoyance, “Especially when it’s full of Harronites, or whatever those lunatics call themselves." Eddie mumbles under his breath.

She raises her eyebrow at him, "He asked for you specifically." She says, and flicks open the folder revealing an old photo Eddie had taken of Rock Phenom Steve Harrington at one of his shows. He didn’t know what was so special about the picture. He’d taken this shot hundreds of times for artists. It's on a list of shots they can ask for. The artist climbs the barrier, and the hands of the fans reach up to them like worshipers praising their false idol. Eddie waves his hand, and the artist looks straight down the lens. It's supposed to be a duality of intimacy. The solid eye contact with the camera whilst in the arms of strangers, eager to reach out and touch their obsession which none of them would ever possess. Lest of all, that guy. 

What a piece of work. Ruined Eddie’s career and, damn, near ruined his life! 

"He says," she balances her reading glasses on the tip of her button nose and pulls the sticky note from the photo, "no one captures his truth like Eddie Munson." She flips over the message so Eddie can see, “Signed it too. Could be worth something?”

"I've never even spoken to the guy. Why's he so obsessed with me?" Eddie whines, and his agent shrugs.

"Does it matter, Ed? There are a lot more zeros here than we'd see normally."

"Something seems off about this. I don't like it."

"You like his stuff, don't you?"

"Did! I did like his stuff until I published that stupid photo. He's been on my case ever since."

"Not flattered, Eddie?" She laughs

"At first, sure. Until his demands started rolling in, and his fans started giving me grief for declining them. They called me washed up! I hadn't even begun! I thought that picture was gonna be my big break! It went viral! Remember you told me that! But it was actually my demise, Marn!" Eddie seethes, “Imagine calling up your horde of rabid fans because you couldn’t get your way!” He closes the file and folds his arms. “No fuckin’ way! I can’t post a picture of a fucking sunset without his fans all over it like a rash.”

“Then just say yes, Eddie. It can’t be any worse than it is right now.” Marney says with a kind smile of compassion. She did want what was best for him, and though it killed him to admit it, he did need that money. He was in debt up to his eyeballs, barely breaking even at the studio, and the numbers on the cheque he saw, could clear that and then some.

Eddie sighs and sinks back into his chair, “I’m gonna regret this. I know I am.” he says tensely, running his hand through his hair.

He looks up at her, and she is already back in her chair, phone in hand, finger poised over the green call button. 

At his lowest, Eddie admits defeat and nods.

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

Once A Part of the Family, Always a Part of the Family, CHAPTER 2

SUMMARY:

Twenty eight year old Annalisa Stone had once upon another time dated fierce mob boss Bucky Barnes. After a vicious argument, she left him and seven month later gave birth to Sarah Jo and little Jimmy. When Bucky reenters her life once more, the hardened mother much open her heart once more to save the life of her son.

Mobster Bucky Barnes AU

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:

Inspired by a bunch of asks sent in to @bucky-plums-barnes

WORD COUNT: 1134

Forty minutes later, Annalisa, the twins and Steve exited the apartment building, the man carrying both duffle bags and the four year old twins holding onto their mother’s hands as they all approached the Lincoln.

James Barnes’ eyes flew comically large at the two little children. For once, the most feared mob king in all New York was stunned into silence as he opened the back door. Little Sarah Jo scrambled in without a care while little James Jr. struggled to get in.

Before Annalisa could help him in, Bucky scooped him into his arms and held the sick little boy in his arms as he promptly nodded off to sleep, grasping at his coat in his tiny little hands.

“Hello, Annalisa,” he greeted his ex-girlfriend with a small smile, helping her into the car before getting in and Steve got into the driver’s seat.

“James,” she greeted him stiffly, situating herself into her seat directly in front of the mobster and their son.

“Mommy, Jimmy and Mr. James both have the same name!” bubbled Sarah Jo excitedly as Bucky leaned across to buckle her into a booster seat that he had bought- one for each child, top of the line and from the best manufactures.

“Huh, isn’t that ironic?” Annalisa snarked as she eyeballed her ex-boyfriend, who was smiling as he settled Jimmy into his booster seat, his movements gentle and careful as he buckled the sleeping child in before turning to face her.

“Ana, it’s been far too long,” he sighed, a small smile on his handsomely bearded face.

“Not long enough,” she retorted hotly, not looking away as his sky blue eyes locked onto her sapphire hued eyes. “I could’ve done an entire lifetime without seeing you again!”

“Mommy!” Sarah Jo gasped. “That’s not a nice thing to say!”

Bucky burst out into sudden laughter, joined by Steve’s gruff chuckles as he turned into a driveway and went up to the mob boss’ massive estate home, located out in the countryside of New York.

“Alright now, do you want to see your new bedrooms?” Bucky asked the plucking little girl as he undid his and his son’s seatbelts.

“Will Jimmy and I have our own bedrooms, or will we share?” Sarah Jo wondered as she latched onto her mother’s hand.

“You both have your own bedrooms, but will share a bathroom.” annaline knew automatically that he was talking about the Jack and Jill, located just down the hall from the master bedroom.

“God, you thought of everything, haven’t you?” she snorted sarcastically, coming to a stop at the stairs. Bucky noticed and pointed over to where a handicapped lift had been installed into the side of the stairs. On the other side, was a little handrail, set  at just the perfect height for the twins to easily go upstairs and downstairs again.

“Just about,” he grinned as she began to go up the stairs with a speedy little whirl, Sarah Jo coming up to seize Bucky’s hand as the four of them headed up the stairs.

“In here, Miss Sarah Jo,” he told her, opening a door to reveal every little girl’s dream bedroom- the walls were painted a pink white ombre, the walls were tastefully decorated with portraits of scenes from fairy tales, and the canopy bed was draped in pale violet.

“WOWIE!” she yelled before going off to explore the book corner as Bucky went into the adjoining room, revealing a bedroom that looked to be inspired by a treehouse- the hardwood floors, a little ladder led up into a little hidey hole and a closet that was set into the trunk of the faux tree made Annalisa feel like she was a child again.

“Wow, never thought that you’d be the fatherly type,” she quipped as she watched Bucky settled Jimmy down onto his bed, where she noticed that an IV pole was lingering, waiting to be used. “Tomorrow, we’re scheduled to go to the hospital so that Jimmy can receive dialysis.”

“Perfect.” Annalisa blinked owlishly, confused at his please word. “I want to be tested to see if I’m a match to donate a kidney to my son.”

She opened her mouth to protest only to be cut off by a fierce snarl as he led her out and into the hallway.

“You will not fight me on this, his is MY son!” he told her in a final tone of voice. “He is my son, and I will move heaven and earth to give both him and my daughter a good life.”

“Fine.” Bucky couldn’t believe his ears- had stubborn Annalisa Olive Stone bended the metaphorically knee to him? “But I don’t want you to tell them that you’re their father.”

“Why not?” Bucky snapped before seeing the barely there flinch from the mother of his children. He reached for her hand, squeezing it apologetically. “Why not?” he repeated in a gentler tone of voice.

“Because you murdered my father, and therefor, you do not get the pleasure of my twins calling you their father.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE (http://ko-fi.com/A0A4A4UD) It only costs $3!!!

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@kayteewritessteve

@imamotherfuckingstar-lord

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin 52:

The Band's Moondog Matinee

Ah, The Covers Record: it's every singer-songwriter's supposed flag of surrender.

As with most things in the Dollar Bin, Dylan charted the course. Despite decades of explanation, reconsideration and defense, Dylan's first covers record, Self Portrait, remains, by and large, a smoldering load of crap, with Bob's version of The Boxer serving as the living embodiment of how not to make art.

(Well, I wrote that assessment above and then proceeded to kinda enjoy Bob's trainwreck of a performance.... But back to my point!)

Self Portrait's disaster hasn't stopped just about everyone from making a cover record of their own. Valerie June and Lucy Dacus both used Covid as an excuse to issue theirs; Tori Amos, Neil Young, Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Steve Earle and Bruce Springsteen made theirs the moment they ran out of good ideas.

Willie Nelson must have over 75 cover records to his name at this point. And Lucinda Williams seems determined to follow his lead; her new Beatles record is her sixth or seventh covers collection from the last few years; some of that output sounds like karaoke; some sounds pretty damn good:

And Dylan himself has made 6 cover records already this century (Triplicate is exactly what it claims to be: three albums worth of dull songs you never needed to hear him sing); indeed, it's high time I tormented my family by dialing up his fantastically wacky Christmas in the Heart.

Joni Mitchell, Richard Thompson and Paul Simon are Dollar Bin artists who can proudly claim they've never made a cover record; all of them, however, would be lying to say so: they all covered themselves through late-career records dedicated to rerecordings of their own damn songs.

Suffice it to say that if we want to hear great covers of classic tunes we do not turn to singer-songwriters; rather we turn to the world's most beautiful singers and musicians: Aretha Franklin, Nina Simone, John Cale, Linda Ronstadt, Emmylou Harris and, of course, Chan Marshal.

And so it was without much enthusiasm that I plucked The Band's Moondog Matinee out of a Dollar Bin 22 years ago. Rick, Levon, Garth, Richard and Robbie were all great songwriters at one point but beauty was never really their thing. I mean, come on, let's compare them to Chan Marshall:

It's like comparing me and my buddies (sorry guys) to Helen of Troy.

I was in a fun phase of my life when I discovered Moondog Matinee: my first career as a social worker was winding down, I had a short commute, my wife was selflessly doing the real work at home with our one year old and, after a decade of largely buying CD's, I had just sworn them off forever and set my record player back up.

And so, once or twice a month, I'd spend an hour or so tunneling through my local dollar bin, hunting up treasures and making discoveries: who knew Cat Stevens even had a record called Numbers? Turns out Band on the Run is a killer album... LA Express was not worthy of a record deal... And Linda Ronstadt is the Dollar Bin's Great Living Artist.

I remember asking my famous brother about Moondog Matinee before dropping the needle on it for the first time. He was already getting big on the internet: just out of college, he wrote at a torrid pace for a long dead music site called Junk Media; the kid had already interviewed Robyn Hitchcock and recorded an EP of his own music. Why are we reading Pitchfork and listening to The Decemberists today instead? I've got no idea.

Anyway, Moondog Matinee, my famous brother informed me, marked The Band's demise: by 1973 writers block had set in for Robbie Robertson, Garth Hudson was already old and done, and the rest of the band were just too stoned to rock. I nodded at him sagely; I'd always kinda hated Cahoots so how could the group's follow up cover record be any good?

Well folks, that was a hell of a long time ago, an era in which my famous brother was actually capable of musical malfeasance. Moondog Matinee does not mark The Band's demise. Indeed, I hereby proclaim it to be The Dollar Bin's Greatest Covers Record.

Just listen to the ringing, jubilant and razor sharp groove set on the record's opening track.

I remember standing in our first little rented home the first time I dropped the needle on this thing. Our one year old was crawling about at my feet, tasting all her toys. My wife definitely was not around. The track's piano began to pound; the whole thing wound up tighter and tighter and then unfurled like a hilarious tornado: cows, tanker trucks and automobiles cycled within it. And then Levon Helm started his patented vocal version of hillbilly bellydancing.

I stood there listening, instantly transfixed. Then I turned the song way up, far too loud for one year old ears. But my sweet little girl rocked about a bit anyway, climbing my leg to shake her diapered hips. Then she grinned at me, clapped her chubby hands and crapped her pants. It was awesome.

If you're going to make a covers record there is no excuse for picking a bad song or striking a dull note. And all of Matinee's Side 1 is a master class in care, pace and arrangement. Holy Cow warbles and shimmies; Mystery Train brings the white funk; and the theme from Third Man is suitably bizarre: it has no business whatsoever appearing on this record and so we love it.

And in the midst of it all, Share Your Love, with its clean guitar lead and its surging sway, makes a case for poor, lost, Richard Manuel as the greatest white male singer of his generation.

Side 2 offers more of the same, with Manuel and Helm trading lead vocals back and forth, fantastic piano and ramshackle drums throughout. Indeed the only real misstep may be The Band's attempt at a song that was already perfect to begin with:

After all, Rick Danko, well, let's make that no one, can hold a candle to Sam Cooke.

[starsarefire824]

Another little illustration from The Pact. Truth or Dare anyone?

Then he frowns. “I don’t want to sit here and sulk over how big of assholes we are. Let’s do something dumb.” 

“Dumb?” She asks.

“ Fun and dumb, ” Mike clarifies.

Max hums as she mulls it over. There aren’t many options that don’t require leaving this room. And she most certainly is not leaving here until it's time to go home. “Okay—-“ She bites her lip. “How about truth or dare?” 

Mike groans. “Oh no— really ?” He wipes his hand over his face like he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe he has , Max thinks devilishly.  

“Well if you can think of something else fun to do that doesn’t require leaving this room, I’m allll ears.” 

Mike furrows his brow at her and doesn’t speak for a long while like he really is trying to think of something else. Then he sighs, “I got nothing.” 

“Thought so,” Max teases. “Okay you first.” She definitely notices she slurs the “st” in first. 

He grins at her as he sets the bottle down on the table and leans on his knees with his elbows, hands hanging relaxedly between his legs. “Truth or dare?” 

“Mmm—dare,” she replies.

Mike’s eyes light up with surprise. “Hmph,” he says. “I didn’t think you would actually say dare. Okay—” Mike puts his hand to his chin and peers around the room like he is Columbo. 

“I dare you—” he says slowly, still thinking. Then he stops, his gaze set on the side table behind the desk. “I dare you—-to draw on Mr. Harrington’s face in that picture.” He nods towards it and Max follows his line of sight to the picture in question. It’s a rather depressing professional family portrait in a gold frame. Steve, his mom and dad are all unsmiling. His dad has an awkward hand on his mothers shoulder and Steve looks completely miserable in some preppy outfit he wouldn’t be caught dead in these days. 

Max grins. Okay, that is pretty funny. One point for Mike Wheeler. Max gets up, leaning a little too heavily on the armrest and tries not to stumble right onto the coffee table. She goes to the desk and she can hear Mike follow her. She opens the drawer and after a little hunting finds what she is looking for. A red pen. Then she, rather gracefully considering how drunk she is, undoes the back of the frame and slips out the picture of the Harrington family and then quickly doodles little devil horns and a tail and angry little eyebrows on Mr. Harrington’s face. Then she holds it up to the light and they stare at it. 

“Eh-I think he looks better,” Mike says approvingly behind her, and Max sputters, a real giggle bubbling up in her belly. She hits his stomach with the back of her hand. “You’re such a dick,” she says as she puts the photo back in the frame and sets it exactly where it was on the table. 

“I’m not the one who just turned Mr. Harrington into a devil.” 

“Touché,” she says and they head back to the couch.

[genuinerio]

CHAPTER II. The Weirdo On Maple Street.

She’s A Rainbow ↠ 「 STEVE HARRINGTON 」

PAIRINGS: Steve Harrington (eventual love interest), Jonathan Byers x sibling!OC, Joyce Byers x daughter!OC.

WARNINGS: the following mentions of both the usage and talk of drugs.

WORDS: 7, 203.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the gifs used nor original plot lines of Stranger Things however, I do own the storylines of my OC, Nadine. Italics are both Nadine’s thoughts and memories and third chapter for “Oh, Darling,” is in the works, thank you everyone for being patient. Also, I am extremely sorry for such a long wait as I had been very conflicted on a particular storyline of Nadine’s that happens in this chapter but since I could no longer decide on the storyline, I decided to scrap the whole thing and start over. Another thing is when it comes to my writing, I can be quite a perfectionist. Happy Stranger Things Day! Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading!

Monday, November 7th 1983.

WAKING UP TO A THROBBING SENSATION OF AN AWOKEN HEADACHE, Nadine who was stretching out her arms while she remained sitting up in bed, had begun to notice her picture frame; a picture containing of her and her family. It wasn’t Jonathan nor Joyce that she had noticed in particular but of her dear little brother, Will that her face immediately fell into glumness. Getting out of bed, Nadine grabbed a bottle of painkillers and carried on with getting ready for a new day. Looking around her bedroom, she had glanced at her Norman Whiteside poster, who was one of her favorite soccer players that she had received as a gift from her brothers and to whom was quite cute had she added. As she kept glancing away, she noticed her portraits, majority of them having her family as the subject for her artwork, her family being her biggest support whether it was with her art, her soccer team or simply grades. But this particular art piece, irked Nadine because it was one of Will that she had painted of him as he had modeled for her to paint.  

While changing out of her previous clothing and into new clothes, Nadine had kept thinking about her brother and where exactly he had gone. She couldn’t help but feel immense guilt based on the fact that if she hadn’t been busy that night, he wouldn’t had been missing.

This is all your fault, Nadine. Will is missing because of you and everything is all of your fault.

Trying to shake the toxic thoughts in her mind, Nadine had begun to carry on going downstairs only to foresee her mother and Jonathan sitting down to eat breakfast, “All right, Mom. Breakfast is ready.”

“What? No, be careful of the poster.” A distraught Joyce had commented to Jonathan. As Nadine carefully walked into the kitchen, understandingly not wanting to be there, she couldn’t help but feel awful for her mother’s current mental state.

“Yeah, okay. All right.” Jonathan had placed the breakfast plates in front of Joyce, “I can’t eat.” Jonathan had attempted to get his mother to eat, “I just need you to eat, Mom.”

“Listen. Listen, the Xerox place opens in, like, 30 minutes.” Her mother mentioned sniffling as Nadine sat down at the table. “Yeah.”

“And I don’t want you to go alone and I don’t think Nadine will be able to go with you since she has soccer practice.” Joyce had mentioned as Nadine forced herself to remain silent but nodded in acceptance, “No, we know. We told you, we got it.” Jonathan had mentioned as he and Nadine were aware of Joyce’s fear.

“So, I’m gonna have Karen take you, ‘cause I should be here.” Joyce had informed Jonathan as Nadine nodded her head, “Actually, I think I can go, instead. I’ll just explain to my coach that I have something else going on.”

“But Nadine, this game is really important for the team.” Joyce had tried to explain but Nadine cut her off trying to reason with her mother, “Yeah, but finding Will is way more important for us, for me.”

“Okay.”

“We need to make, what, 200, 300 copies? How much is a copy?” Joyce had asked both of her children, “Yeah, okay. Okay, Mom. Mom.”

“Ten cents? If we... ten cents-“ Joyce had begun to stammer as Nadine and Jonathan tried to calm her down, “Mom. Mom. Mom!”

“You can’t get like this okay?” Jonathan had advised as him and Nadine had comforted their mother as she begun to stutter, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No? It’s okay.” Both Jonathan and Nadine had stated, only for a knock on the door to remove them from the comforting of their mother, “We’ve been waiting six hours.”

“I know. I came as soon as I could.” Nadine immediately recognized that voice once she heard it, Hopper. “Six hours.”

“A little bit of trust here, alright?” Hopper had motioned as he shut the door once Nadine had walked carefully into the living room trying to get information but not being assumed to be eavesdropping. “We’ve been searching all night. Went all the to Cartersville.”

“And?” Her mother had asked, looking at least a little grimmer of hope that Will would be found, “Nothing.” The word that had caused Nadine to drop her head down in a complete distressed state.

“God.”

“Flo says you got a phone call?” Hopper had commented, trying to place Joyce’s mind on newfound faith, “Oh yeah.” Joyce had remembered throughout her sniffles as all four of them walked to the wallphone in the living room.

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper had discussed as he held onto the burnt phone, “The storm?” Joyce had asked, believing the cause to be completely different. “What else?”

“You’re saying that, that’s not weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper had freely admitted, “Can we, like, trace who made the call?” Jonathan had asked as Nadine joined in, “Contact the provider? Or something-“

“No, it doesn’t work like that. Now, uh, you’re sure it was Will? Because Flo said you just heard some breathing.” Hopper had suggested but Joyce stood her ground and insisted as her voice began to break, “No. it was him. It was Will. And he was scared. And then something-“ Nadine and Jonathan both immediately began to comfort their mother.

“It was probably just a prank call. It was somebody trying to scare you.”

“Who would do that?” Jonathan had wondered, “Well, this things been on TV. It brings out all the crazies, you know. False leads, prank calls, uh...”

“No, Hopper, it was not a prank. It was him.” Joyce declared, believing she knew exactly what she heard but unfortunately, Hopper didn’t believe so, “Joyce.”

“Come on, how about a little trust here?” Joyce demanded of Hopper, “What, you think I’m...I’m making this up?”

“I’m not saying that you’re making it up. All I’m saying is it’s an emotional time for you.”

“And you think I don’t know my own son’s breathing? Wouldn’t you know your own daughter’s?” Joyce had declared in a fit of protest, something that had irked something in Hopper as Joyce continued to sniffle.

“You hear from, uh, Lonnie yet?” Hopper had asked in a moment of tension as he began to move into another position of the room, “No.”

“It’s been long enough. I’m having him checked out.” Hopper mentioned as he placed his sheriff’s hat on his head and began to walk outside, “Oh, come on! You’re wasting your time.” Joyce reacted as she sighed.

Nadine had swept her mother into a hug as she began to mumble comforting words and the fact that Will will be found soon as Jonathan followed Hopper outside, “Hey, Hopper. Hopper. Let me go.” Jonathan began panting walking up to Hopper’s police truck.

“I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s. Nadine could overhear Jonathan’s plea as she heard his conversation with Hopper, “You know, if Will’s there, it means he ran away. And if he sees the cops, he’ll think he’s in trouble. He’ll.:. He’ll hide. You know, he’s good at hiding.”

“Yeah? Well cops are good at finding. Okay? Stay here with your mom and Nadine. She needs you, she needs both of you.”

As Jonathan had walked back into the house, Nadine had walked towards him, “Jonathan? Are you going to visit Lonnie?” Something that she immediately knew was true and despite the trauma that Loonie had put her through, she loved her dear brother and was willing to suck it up and find him at all costs.

“Yeah, want to come?” A nod of Nadine giving Jonathan a yes of confirmation because despite the two not being as close, Jonathan still believed that he should include Nadine in any searchings for Will because he is both their little brother and they care deeply for him.

As both Jonathan and Joyce had left for school and work, Nadine had opened the cabinet found within the kitchen only to find multiple bottles of medication. One in particular, her ADHD medication, something Nadine had been diagnosed with since she was a young girl considering her hyperactivity, easily distraction and infamously, her exaggerated emotional responses.

Despite advised not to over do it, Nadine when the girl ran out of various of drugs, like heroin or speed, she would turn towards popping multiple tablets of her ADHD medication as an exception of an excuse for a drug induced high.

Eventually, grabbing her backpack, Nadine had left to attend school; something that she had admitted to being awfully early to this particular morning than most of other times. Arriving to Hawkins high school, she was immediately greeted by her closest friends, Steve whom with being the kind friend he is had often walked her to her first period class considering the fact that he wanted to make sure she was alright.

Sitting throughout her first period class, Nadine couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmed with thoughts about Will and the guilt she placed over herself. This is all your fault, if you had stayed home that night, he wouldn’t have gone anywhere. Trying her best to control her mind to think about a different topic, she just couldn’t. The girl couldn’t help the heartbreak within herself as she processed the theories on where she and Jonathan could find, where they could possibly find him.

The ringing of the school bell had echoed throughout her brain had awoken her back to reality. “Nadine, I need to talk to you.” Gulping her breath at Mr. Carter’s words, Nadine slowly walked up to his desk, the girl hoped that it wasn’t anything nerve wracking because she was already going through so much as it was already.

“Nadine, you’re failing my class and I need you to begin to put the effort into your work.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Carter. I’ve just had been going through a lot, with my family and my brother’s disappearance with soccer practice...I-.” Trying to explain her reasoning of failing his class, Nadine was cut off.

“Nadine, now, I understand. Tell you what, I’ll give you an exception but please, catch up. Alright?”

His words had comforted her and she deeply needed this opportunity because she couldn’t let her family down. Her family was already going through so much and she didn’t want to put more stress on them than there already was.

“I have soccer practice after school and then after that, work but I guess, I could tell my coach that I need to take the time to study. I’m sure he’ll understand.” She was indeed correct, Particularly, Nadine’s coach was an understanding man and someone who Nadine had valued as a father figure besides Hopper of course, considering they were more like her father than Loonie ever was.

Attempting to wash her worries away, Nadine had started to play with her fingers as she walked into the school’s hallway. Walking towards her friendship circle but in a slower manner to collect her thoughts, she could overhear Steve mention to Nancy, “My dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause you know, she doesn’t trust him.”

“Good call.”

“So are you in?” Steve had asked to a confused Nancy, “In for what?”

“No parents? Big house.” Carol informed to Nancy, “A party?” A gullible Nancy questioned which had caused Nadine to want to stop and facepalm right in the middle of the school hallway.

“Ding! ding, ding!” Carol teasingly mocked as Tommy chuckled at the joke.

“It’s Tuesday.”

With Steve trying to convince Nancy to attend his house party despite her unawareness that they don’t care that it’s a weekday to throw a party. “It’s Tuesday! Oh my god.” She could hear Tommy mocking Nancy’s remark.

“Come on. It’ll be low key. It’ll just be us. What do you say? Are you in or are you out?” It was clear that Nancy would need to think about this situation a bit more.

Finding her friends including Nancy and Barb in the hallway, Nadine had quickly been alerted of a house party that Steve would host whenever his parents were out of town which was a lot. “Dean, Steve is throwing a party tonight since his parents aren’t home, you coming?” Carol had mentioned, calling Nadine out by her nickname that her closest loved ones would call her.

“Definitely!” Nadine was known to be quite the socialist, quite opposite to her twin brother who was a very introverted boy. Most people were surprised to find out that they were twins nor even related because their differences overpowered their similarities the two had shared. “But wait. I just realised I can’t!”

“What? Why not?” Both Steve and Carol questioned in unison, “I have ‘work shift’ tonight and I can’t call it off because my family and I really need the money. Even if my boss is a a fucking asshole.” Nadine applying air quotes to the words of the work shift because it wasn’t always a work shift but rather, her own personal hell but she couldn’t pass this up either unfortunately.

“Nadine. Your boss is full of shit, why do that to yourself? I’m sure that it won’t matter if you miss one shift. Besides, your boss is not really giving you a work shift but rather, his only way to take advantage because he likes to take advantage.” Tommy advised, which caused Nadine to roll her eyes. She was no doubt aware of this but she didn’t want to put anymore stress on her family than there already was already.

“Wow! Thanks Tommy, for such comforting words. Besides I know that, if my family finds out though, then I’m so screwed. My family is going through enough as it is.” Nadine’s sarcastic comment failed to give her a grimmer of comfort like it always had this time at least.

“I think I can attend afterwards but can we please talk about something else, please?” With those words, her wish was granted as Carol looked beyond her, “Oh, God. Look.”

A phrase that caused Nadine and her friends to turn around only to see that her friends were now placing all their attention into watching Jonathan as he plastered the “find Will” posters that him and Nadine had spent the previous night creating.

“Oh god. That’s depressing.” Nadine pressed her tongue to her cheek in a fit of anger. Despite her friend’s treatment to Jonathan, Nadine had vowed to never treat her brother in the way her friends do because despite them being at complete odds and regardless, he is still in fact her brother and that’s something that will never change whatsoever.

“Should we say something?” Nancy asks while giving a quick glance at Nadine, “I don’t think he speaks.” Shaking her head at the annoyance, Nadine mentioned to Carol, “Fuck off.”

“How much you want to bet he killed him?” Tommy’s words is what immediately enraged Nadine as she clenched her jaw but tries to remain silent in a calming manner but that does not stop her from speaking in a furious state, “Shut up!” Steve motioned.

“Fuck you Tommy, I will beat the shit out of you if another word comes out of your mouth like that again!” Her words causing Tommy to raise his hands up.

A tensed up and protective Nadine had mentioned, something that her friends may have not gotten an answer to but Nancy was surely aware of that statement considering she was aware of the girl being a Byers child as Tommy raised his hand in a supposed defenceless manner.

Despite her strained relationship with her twin brother, Nadine no doubt still cared deeply for her family and still defended them too particularly Jonathan whom her friends would pick on.

Holding her binders in her arms, Nadine had decided to ditch her friends in order to help her brother in posting find me posters onto every place and every wall they can find only to notice that Nancy was following closely behind her.

Standing close by to Jonathan, she took some posters of Will and assisted him in plastering them as she heard Nancy, “Hey.”

“Oh, hey.”

As Nadine could overhear Nancy trying to make conversation with Jonathan, she couldn’t help but think that despite her dislike of Nancy, this would make Jonathan’s day especially since he’s harbored a crush on her since childhood, “I just…I wanted to say, you know, um…I’m sorry about everything.” As Jonathan and Nancy glanced back at Steve, Carol, Tommy and Barb.

“Everyone’s thinking about you. You too, Nadine.” As much as Nancy tried to make nice with her words, Nadine despised pity and constant sympathy and would rather just ignore it altogether despite people deeming her as heartless and not caring about anyone but herself.

“It sucks.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan sadly said as him and Nancy stared at one another.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a smart kid. She could overhear Nancy reassure Jonathan alongside herself but the conversation between the two was interrupted by the school bell ringing.

“I have to go. Chemistry test.” Nancy had chuckled in explanation.

“Yeah.”

“Good luck.” The girl had hoped for them both.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, Nadine!” Overhearing and recognizing the voice of one of her teammates on the school’s soccer team, Marlee which caused the blonde to turn her head.

“Hey, Marlee! What’s up?” Marlee was a teammate and classmate that Nadine was close with and among the nicest of their team, some were also nice but not as much as Marlee.

“We’re going to meet at the gym, this time at 3:30. Don’t be late because coach Johnson will be scolding.” Her teammate had teased but Nadine had just remembered, “Shit! I can’t! I have something to do today plus work.”

“But, what about our big game? You’re one of our best players and among coaches favorites plus practice means a lot to the team.” Marlee had tried to get Nadine to reconsider to no avail.

“I know, but, what I have to do is more important. I tried to telling him but could you because I couldn’t find him?”

“Yeah, sure.” Marlee nodded as the two shared a hug in reassuring, “Thanks! You’re the best.”

Glancing at Marlee and Nancy walking away, she noticed Steve was waiting for her, “Come on, Nadine!”

“I can’t, I got to go.” She could tell Steve didn’t quite understand what she meant, “Don’t worry. I’ll see you later!”

As she turned back to Jonathan and overhearing over the intercom, “At 8:00 pm. tonight, there will be an assembly on the football field. In support of Will Byers and his family. All are encouraged to attend. Volunteer sign-ups for search parties are still available in the office.”

Hearing that caused Nadine to subtly shake her head, as much as she loved her brother, she hated the once again feeling over people constantly comforting her. Her and Jonathan left the school and went on their way to their estranged father, Lonnie’s household.

Silence within sitting in the car with Jonathan on their destination to Lonnie’s as she fiddled with the radio felt uncomfortable to Nadine, the eldest Byers children didn’t have much in common like they used to nor discussed greatly either, the two were simply on completely different pages and paths now. Despite how badly, Jonathan wanted to deny, he felt Nadine was now, one of those jerks that consisted of Steve and their shared friends.

Looking up and glancing at one another before staring down as the song, “Should I Stay or Should I Go,” began to play on the car’s stereo. The song from The Clash had embarked a shared sweet memory between the two and their little brother. A bittersweet feeling of reminiscing about said memory brought a smile to Nadine’s lips.

She remembered, walking inside her home after a long tiresome shift and on her way to her bedroom, Nadine felt she was over it. Since, her room was after Will’s he noticed her heading towards it but called out as he was listening to a song with Jonathan. “Nadine, over here.”

The lyrics from the song echoing throughout the hallway, “Should I Stay or Should I Go.”

Will had called out as him and Jonathan were listening to “Should I Stay or Should I Go.” And he wanted his sister to join them. “What’s up?”

“Listen to the song with us.” As much as she was exhausted from her shift, she still enjoyed hanging out with her family, especially Will as they were all very close family. In doing this, she joined.

Walking into and sitting in his room, she noticed Will and Jonathan bobbing their heads, a clear sign of them enjoying the song. Jonathan questioned, “You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Will had confirmed, “What do you think, Dean?”

“It’s one of my favorites. Definitely.”

Responding back to their brother, “All right, you can keep the mix if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. All the best stuff’s on there. Joy Division, Bowie, Television, The Smiths. It’ll totally change your life.”

“Totally.”

Nadine had agreed as she pointed out, “Bowie and Joy Division are the best though. You’ll enjoy them in particular among the others too.”

In an uncomfortable position, they could overhear their mother faintly, “Where the hell are you, Lonnie?”

Joyce muttered indistinctly, “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear it.”

Noticing her brother’s sad expression, she sat on his bed and attempted to comfort him, “Don’t be sad.” She had motioned for Jonathan to shut the door, “This is ridiculous! I’m so sick of your excuses.”

The music continued to play but as they stayed inside, Jonathan lowered the volume. “He’s not coming, is he?” Will’s questioning of them both caused Nadine and Jonathan to share a glance, “Um, let’s not talk about that.”

“Do you even like baseball?”

Will had denied, “No, but… I don’t know. It’s fun to go with him sometimes.”

Nadine had asked, “Come on. Has he ever done anything with you that you actually like?” Jonathan had added on, “Yeah, you know, like the arcade or something?”

Will tried to recall, “I don’t know.”

Nadine had insisted, “No, all right? He hasn’t. He’s trying to force you to like normal things.” In stating this, Jonathan had added on advising, “And you shouldn’t like things because people tell you you’re supposed to. Okay?” A nod in agreement had pointed towards Nadine’s similar thought, “Especially not him.”

“And Will, there’s nothing wrong with liking the games at the arcade or playing Dungeons and Dragons.” Nadine had encouraged, “And hey. I’ll play it with you once I get home. I may not be as good as you or Mike, Lucas and Dustin though.” She could tell Will had appreciated her offer and could see him taking up the possible offer at some point.

Turning the conversation, Nadine had asked, “But you like The Clash? For real.”

“For real. Definitely.” Will’s confirmation had made Nadine smile, another thing that they’d all enjoy together as siblings. Raising the volume of the stereo, they all started listening and enjoying the music once again.

Removing themselves from the memory was the time, they finally arrived at Lonnie’s neighborhood. “You see his house anywhere?” Breaking the silence, Jonathan had asked as they glanced out of the car window in search of his home, “Not yet.”

Stopping on the side of the road, they made it to their father’s home. Nadine couldn’t help but feel a tad overwhelmed, she no longer had a somewhat good relationship with Lonnie anymore and was a bit nervous to see him, This is it. She had thought. With the two walking up to his front door, Jonathan had peeked into the front room as they could overhear music playing, echoing through the house. Sharing a gaze, Nadine had knocked.

They could hear footsteps walking towards them and a voice, “Yeah?” Opening the front door, the woman noticed the two, “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah. Is Lonnie around?” Nadine replied first, “Yeah, he’s out back. What do you guys want?”

“To look around.” Not caring about approval and just wanting to look for their little brother, the two stormed inside, “Hey, what do you guys think you’re doing? Hey!”

“We’ll be fast.”

“You take this side, I’ll take this one.” Nadine told Jonathan as they searched calling out, “Hey, Will? Will!”

“Will, you here? Will!” Banging on the door and searching every room in the hallway, Nadine was surprised when hearing a grunt. Jonathan was held against the wall with Lonnie near by. “Get off!”

“Damn, you’ve gotten stronger.” In a realization, Lonnie had observed not only that Jonathan wasn’t as easy to push around but also, that his little girl, Nadine was there. With perceiving him coming towards her, Nadine denied, “Don’t touch me.”

Wanting answers between all three, the woman asked, “Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?”

Lonnie had announced in introducing, “Jonathan, Nadine, Cynthia. Cynthia, this is Jonathan and Nadine. My two oldest.”

“Come here.” Her father tried in an attempt with a hug but she nor Jonathan were having it, “Get off us, man.”

Wondering around Lonnie’s new home, she took a look at all these he had in the living, the stereo, the photographs and the alcohol. Besides a huge amount of usuals within drugs, there were many times that Nadine also had drank alcohol especially with her friends, seeing most times as an alternative substitute when she ran out of drugs.

“Jonathan, Nadine, let me show you something.” Lonnie called out, the two were both a bit unsure with following him but did so, nonetheless. He showed them his new car, “Take a look at this beaut. Should’ve seen it when I got it. Took me a year, but it’s almost done.”

Once Lonnie caught a glimpse at Jonathan opening his trunk, he asked, “Really? Want to look up my ass, too?” Rolling her eyes, Nadine understood Jonathan’s reasoning to do so, “There’s no harm in looking, is there?”

“I told you both, the same thing as I told those cops, he’s not here and he never has been.”

“Then why didn’t you call Mom back?”

“I don’t know, I just… I assumed she just forgot where he was. You know, he was lost or something.” Scoffing as his excuse, “Bullshit! Mom would never forget where any of us where.”

Ignoring his daughter’s response, Lonnie told, “That boy never was very good at taking care of himself.”

“This isn’t some joke, alright?” Jonathan pointed out, “Yeah, I mean, there are search parties, reporters.”

“Hopper’s not still chief, is he?”

“Tell your mother, she’s gotta get you both out of that hellhole. Come out here to the city. People are more real here, you know? And then, I could see you both more.”

Neither of them believed any of Lonnie’s words, he didn’t give two shits about either, “What, you think I don’t want to see either of you?”

“We know you don’t.”

“See, that’s your mother talking right there. Does she even know both of you are here?” Their silence confirmed his suspicions, “Oh great. So one kid goes missing, the other two run wild? I believe that about Nadine, but not you, Jonathan. But that’s some real fine parenting right there.”

“You know what, fuck you! Since when do you suddenly care about us and about being a fine parent, anyway?” Nadine suggested as she mockingly chuckled to which Lonnie heard, “Look, all, I’m saying is, maybe I’m not the asshole, all right?”

“Here! In case you forgot what he looks like.” Nadine shoved a have you seen me poster of Will to Lonnie’s chest, “Let’s go, Dean.”

On the car ride back to Hawkins, Nadine numerous thoughts throughout it all. The blonde haired with hazel eyes girl had felt like her past and mistakes overall were coming back to haunt her. She hadn’t mentioned this to anyone but the past few days that Will had been missing, she had been dreaming of him.

“Nadine, Nadine!” The Byers girl felt a shake which snapped her out of her head’s mind. A confused glance on her face proved to Jonathan how engrossed she was in her thoughts, her own little world, “Huh?”

“We’re here.” She fluttered her eyes while raising her head as Jonathan pointed to the building of her workplace. Letting out a groan, remembering that her shift starts in just minutes from now.

Huffing in annoyance when the thought of her boss came up as she stared at the sign that read, Bradley’s Big Buy which was a supermarket in the small town of Hawkins. As much as she appreciated the money that she received from this particular job since it not only would help her mother and the rest of her family but support her addiction and supply her with drugs. However, she hated her coworkers, specifically the male ones since they were so grossly disgusting.

“Let me know if you need a ride home.”

Nodding at Jonathan’s words, she took her bag, turned around and walked inside as Jonathan drove off. The coworkers had acknowledged her presence, “Hey Nadine.” But the girl paid no mind as she wanted to finish her work shift and make it to Steve’s party in time. After working for an hour with stocking items, a coworker to which Nadine remembered his name was Thomas was standing in front of her holding a broom.

“Here.” Handing her the broom as she stopped, “You sweep the floor. This is a women’s job, anyway.” The tone in his voice let alone his sexist words left such a sour taste in Nadine’s mouth that resulted in a clear disgusted reaction, “You can do something else to clear your time. With me, doll.”

“I’ll pass.” Feeling defeated, Nadine accepted her fate. She didn’t even want to work today but she knew it was the best thing, her family needed the money let alone the fact that they were going through such a devastating time and it distracted her from the disappearance of Will.

Eventually with noticing the clock ticking and getting closer to the time of Steve’s party as well as the sun going down, she realized that her shift was coming to a close. Nadine headed to the back room as she prepared to grab her things before realizing that Thomas’s backpack was open as well as the fact that his wallet was there in an open area for anyone to take.

Well, just do it! Payback for what he did.

In his wallet was a two hundred dollars, she knew that it would help get her another supply of drugs. In no more hesitation, Nadine took the money and put it immediately in her bag as she turned around, said her goodbyes for the day and walked outside.

Outside was a pay phone near by to the store and with remembering Jonathan’s words, she called to no unfortunate avail with a huff, Nadine thought of another person to call. Steve.

Dialling the numbers and tapping her foot on the concrete, she hoped that he would answer and after a few rings, he did. Thank god.

“Hello?” An uncertain tone in his voice as he was unsure who was calling, “Hey, Steve.”

“Oh hey, Dean. What’s up?” Steve felt more comfortable in his response considering he knew who he was exactly talking to now. “Nothing much. Um, I was wondering, could you give me a ride?”

“Yeah, sure. Where are you?” The boy agreed with no second thought.

“I’m outside of Bradley’s Big Buy.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He assured, “Sorry, my brother and I carpooled today and he has the car.” Nadine began, “He’s not answering and I don’t know where he is.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve was a very understanding and sweet friend when it came to Nadine as he would help her with whichever problem she had and would consistently come to her defense, everyone would typically tease him with nicknaming her as her knight in shining armour.

The two were always believed to be more than what they actually were and for the first time that year, the people might’ve actually been correct as Steve and Nadine had shared a kiss which ultimately led to questions, assumptions and eventually denial.

In realizing that their accidental romantic interaction was a pure mistake, Nadine had decided to ignore it and pretend it never happened which perhaps hurt Steve more than he led on considering their unexplained feelings for each other. He had chose that the best choice for himself was to move on which he had by engaging in a relationship with goody two shoes, Nancy Wheeler.

To say that Nadine wasn’t as equally disappointed with Steve’s decision would be a lie but the girl was able to hide her feelings more easily and in pretending that she wasn’t badly affected by his choice. She was hesitant of Nancy but still remained a supportive friend.

Nadine decided to make a quick stop to the local store nearby in order to distract herself as she waited for Steve. Strolling along through the lonely aisles, she grabbed herself a pack of cigarettes and a beer while also making a short conversation. Because, she was known to be a frequent customer and the guy who owned the store liked her, he had no issues with her purchasing substances despite the high chance risk it could cause.

By the time that she was done, Nadine had noticed Steve’s car in the street. Immediately thanking him for giving her a ride as they headed towards his to hangout along with their mutual friends, “Thanks, Steve. I owe you. I just.”

Nadine had tried to explain her train of thoughts but it felt too hard to explain, “My brother said he’d give me a ride once I called but nobody’s answering back home.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, how come I’ve never met your brother before?”

Trust me, Steve. You’ve met him, alright!

Her eyes had widen, the girl felt so trapped. What was she going to say? Yeah, it’s Jonathan, the guy you and Tommy constantly tease.

“Oh, um.” Nadine hoped that she could find a way out of this conversation and to come up with an excuse but eventually deciding upon a half truth. “We’re not that very close.” To be fair, it wasn’t a lie considering her and Jonathan were no longer that close like everyone refuses to accept especially their mother.

Before Steve could answer any more questions, Nadine was thankful to point out that they finally arrived at Steve’s home in which Nadine ran outside to greet her other friends. In the backyard, she could overhear rock music playing.

Grabbing a beer, she headed outside to Steve’s backyard to catch up with her friends despite it only being a few hours since school, “Hey, Nadine!”

In trying to rid herself of the guilt and shame that she felt towards herself because Nadine couldn’t help in blaming Will’s disappearance upon herself. She truly felt like if she had been there that night, nothing would have happened.

The sound of Carol shrieking as Tommy carried her above the pool, teasing her as if he was going to drop her in while he counted, “One! Two!” Had removed her from her thoughts, “Dean! I need some help here! Should I drop her in?”

Tommy had asked Nadine before he continued on to which she playfully smirked, jokingly saying, “Why not?”

“Nadine!”

“Three!” With a chuckle, Tommy carried on as Carol warned, “Stop it, Tommy, no! Don’t!”

Tommy laughed, “You’re such an asshole, Tommy.” Carol had mentioned as she pushed him. “And you.” Carol pointed towards Nadine, “You shouldn’t have told him!”

Nadine had raised her hands in an apologetic manner despite her and Tommy sharing a laugh in unison over the manner.

Seeing Steve opening a can of beer, she alluded to him, “I’m going to need more than one, Steve. I had the worst shift.”

“Yeah, coming up.” Steve went back inside, bringing more cans of beer out.

“Your boss giving you problems?” Carol had asked, initiating an all too familiar topic, “When is he not?”

“Why don’t you just quit?”

“I can’t.” Nadine struggled to find the words, “Even if I wanted to, it’s just not a good time. My family is going through a lot right now.” A statement to which only Nancy was well aware in what she meant.

Thankfully, Steve had brought Nadine her beer by this point. She watched him as he quickly drank his beer to the neck in which she noticed seemed to make Barb uncomfortable. Nancy, however was impressed.

“Harrington, let’s make a challenge.” Something that surely got Carol and Tommy all riled up, “Uh, I don’t know.”

Steve was uncertain, Nadine teased him, “Why? Pussy?” The girl’s words an attempt to get him interested as Steve shrugged, not caring about her words. Nadine was someone who could at times be very competitive when she wanted to be and this was her moment.

Nancy nor Barb didn’t notice the flirtatious behavior between the two but Tommy and Carol, whom were both good friends with the pair definitely did.

“Fine.” Guilted into the peer pressure of his friends, Tommy and Carol tracked them once the two each got a can of beer. “And I win!”

Steve exhaled as he came into second place, Nadine laughed as she sat down on the chair next to Steve’s, “Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy had asked Steve as he sat down with his cigarette in his lips, “You’re not?”

“You are a cliché, you do realize that?” Nancy had remarked in a response. “You are a cliché.” Noting as Steve continued while lighting his cigarette, “What with your grades, and your band practice.”

With a laugh, “I’m so not in band.”

“Okay, party girl. Why don’t you just, uh, show us how it’s done, then?” Once Steve placed his lighter down, Nadine grabbed it to light her own cigarette as she mumbled, this is exactly what I needed to herself.

Steve handed the knife to Nancy as she agreed to prove upon him, “Okay.” Standing up, he had preceded to give her directions, “You gotta make a little hole right in.” Not giving him a chance to finish his sentence, Nancy cut him off, “I got it.”

“Yeah, she’s smart, you douche!” Tommy, who was cuddling Carol had said in defending Nancy as she cut a hole, Nadine was surprised that Nancy was at this party, let alone chugging a beer despite her relationship with Steve as she was always someone who was a “good girl.”

“Chug, chug, chug.” They all chanted, the friends all laughing and whooping in unison as Nancy threw the beer she just finished. Nancy just barely noticing her deserted friend had asked her, “Barb, you wanna try?”

“What? No.” The wary redhead denied, instantly. Nadine understood since she always saw Barb as very introverted, “No, I don’t want to. Thanks.”

“Come on.” Trying her best to convince her friend, Steve joined in, “Yeah. Come on. Yeah.”

“Nance, I don’t want to.”

“It’s fun! Just give it a.” Barbara cut her off, “Nance.” But despite how many times she’d deny, Nancy still tried, “Just… Just give it a shot.” Giving her a beer can, “Okay.”

Barb stood up, holding the knife and preparing to cut a hole, “So, you just…” Tommy had chuckled, “Gnarly.” In which Nadine mumbled, “Shut up.”

“Are you okay?” Nancy questioned as Barb had accidentally cut herself with the knife, “Do you need us to bandage that up?”

“Yeah.” Barb excused the cut, in what Nadine believed was a way to make it seem as not bad of an issue, “Barb, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Oh, it’s… it’s uh, down past the kitchen, to the left.”

Steve showing Barbara inside on where to go, “Okay, thanks.”

Nadine brought her cigarette to her lips as her friends chuckled, as if this wasn’t a big deal, “Oh.”

The smoke from her cigarette exhaling throughout her mouth, she recalled, “This is the good life.” The girl was at a high chance of being intoxicated but she didn’t want anyone knowing that.

Carol and Tommy chuckled at her words before Tommy randomly pushed Carol who was standing by the pool nearby in as she screamed.

“Oh my god! What the hell, Tommy?”

Nancy and Nadine both couldn’t help themselves in laughing as Carol continued to yell, “No!” Once Tommy jumped in.

Nancy shrieked as Steve pushed her in, “Whoo!”

“Dean, you’re next!” Nadine pleaded with Steve as she tried to convince him otherwise as he tried to trick her into thinking he wouldn’t but yet he did push her in, “Steve!”

Jumping in himself, Tommy laughed. Nadine laughed as Steve came near, pretending to give him a piggyback ride while in the pool.

Eventually, after some time in the pool, they all decided to leave the pool and head inside as Steve handed Nadine a towel as she shudders, “I’m freezing.” Carol noted, “Me too.”

“Hmm… well, I hear his mom’s room has a fireplace.” Tommy remembered as he walked upstairs, “Are you kidding?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Okay, well, you know, you are cleaning the sheets.” Steve had advised the two. “You both all right?”

“Yeah.” Her and Nancy said in unison. “Steve, you mind if I take a shower?”

Steve shook his head no to inform Nadine that he had no issues, “Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes. You can borrow some too, Dean.”

Mumbling a thanks, Nadine headed upstairs but despite no longer being around them, she could still overhear the conversation between Nancy and Barb. “Nance.”

“Barb. I’m fine.”

The words that struck her is when Barb told Nancy, “This isn’t you.” Those words were burned into her mind, she could remember the time when Jonathan said those words to her. He always believed that Steve was the time she became someone new, someone he didn’t recognize especially considering they were so close as children.

She let the water run over herself, Nadine had various things running through her mind, Will being the main one. The girl hoped this party would distract her from her troubles but she isn’t so sure and as of now as she stares in the mirror, she’s unsure if she recognizes the person that she is.

Changing into Steve’s hoodie and sweatpants, Nadine decides to leave earlier than usually. Not wanting to cause a scene or interrupt, Nadine heads out back to which she comes across Barb. A mysterious noise that sounded like the mixture of a growl and shriek echoes throughout the backyard to which Nadine wonders, “Where’s Barb?”

Maybe, she just went home.