#nancy prefers long range so she sits back at watches

[patchworkgargoyle]

Steve would be an absolute menace (pun intended) with the fake, clunky, plastic lightsabers that start being sold when the Star Wars prequels come out.

He doesn't get one for himself, he steals one of Eddie's or Dustin's and twirls it in his hand before he whacks someone with it. The only people free from his viscous lightsaber attacks are Max and Erica.

Yes, this does devolve into Steve, Eddie, and the Party having giant lightsaber battles in somebody's backyard. Eddie has Darth Maul's double-ended one and smacks himself in the face with it more than he hits anyone else.

[plotting-against-you]

Hold You, Console You, Really Get to Know You

Fandom: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)

Characters: Ryan Hudson, Nancy Drew

Synopsis: He knew a panic attack when he saw one. He’d had a few of them throughout his life, and he knew that Lucy had too, but he never wanted his child to experience anything like it. Knowing that he and Lucy had passed on this terrible disease to their baby made him feel awful, but at least he knew how to help.

Prompt: Based on a prompt I received from ao3: "Could you do one where, while Ryan is living with them, he sees Nancy having a panic attack and learns she has anxiety and depression she calls him dad as well."

Warnings: Anxiety, Depression, Mental Illness, Panic/Anxiety Attacks

The sky was dark outside the Drew household as Ryan settled himself deep into the couch to watch a documentary on Netflix. Ever since moving in with his daughter and her adoptive father, he’d found that he didn’t mind a quiet night watching television alone now that he knew he wasn’t actually alone.

Living with Nancy and Carson—and subsequently, Bess—was definitely something to adjust to, he’d realized pretty quickly. Not only was he not alone, he now had two people in his life who had their own lives and jobs and places to be. Sometimes that made him anxious and a bit lonely; sometimes, like tonight, he was grateful for the out-of-town trips and girls’ nights.

Carson had left early that morning for a weekend trip to Boston, which didn’t surprise either Hudson descendant. He was still trying to build up his practice again, and neither Ryan nor Nancy were children, so they were capable of taking care of themselves.

When Bess announced at breakfast that morning that they were doing a girls’ night at a local hotel with George, Nancy hadn’t seemed too pleased but had smiled and agreed with the plan. He knew they wanted some time with their newly engaged friend, and though a part of him wished she’d stay home and log some one-on-one father-daughter time with him, he knew he had to take the moments where he could get them.

But as he flipped through the choices onscreen, he was startled by the text that reached his phone. Fumbling to find the device in his pocket, his brow furrowed as a message from Bess lit up in front of him.

“Sorry to bother you. Has Nancy left yet?”

He quickly typed out a reply to his new housemate and waited for her next response. “Uh, no? I thought she was with you.”

Bess’ response took longer than he’d like to come through, but finally, his phone rang again. “Oops, my bad! I forgot that she had to stop for a few things. She probably just got caught up at the store. No need to worry!”

He narrowed his eyes at the words and sat up again. To any other person, this might have sounded like a perfectly reasonable explanation. But they were talking about Nancy Drew, and anything regarding his daughter had extra layers that needed exploring.

He knew she hadn’t seemed too excited about the overnight, but she wasn’t the type of person to blow off her friends like this.

Just as he opened the text message thread he shared with her, a loud thud sounded above him that had him rising from the couch. He knew that Nancy’s room shared a floor/ceiling with the living room and hesitated only briefly.

With everything that she and her friends got into on a daily basis, part of him considered the idea that there was some sort of ghost or being haunting her bedroom. It wouldn’t be entirely out of the question as she’d mentioned seeing Lucy in there more than once, but then he thought back to Bess’ text and found himself moving quickly.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he ascended the stairs, and when he got to the top, he was met with an eerie silence. “Nancy? You here?”

There was no response besides a slight creaking sound that came from within her room. Either Nancy was home, and he’d somehow missed it, or her room was haunted, and he would probably need to call her home anyway.

He wasn’t sure which option he preferred at this point.

“Nance?” Ryan turned the doorknob gently in his hand and was met with a dimly lit room that looked much more disturbed than when he’d seen it that morning.

The first thing he noticed was that her floor was covered in the newspaper clippings and journal entries that had once littered her bulletin board. Then he saw that one of her windows was wide open and paused.

What if someone had broken in? He didn’t have anything to defend himself, and he’d left his phone downstairs, so he couldn’t even call for help.

He was just about to back out of the room and find something to use as a possible weapon when he caught sight of a familiar purse on the floor next to the window and sighed.

No one had broken in, Ryan realized, except for the person whose room he was now standing in.

Walking carefully to the bag, he crouched down to retrieve it and any clue he could find as to why Nancy might have snuck into her own house when he caught sight of her closet door slightly ajar. Sighing heavily, he walked over to it and felt his chest tighten at the scene in front of him.

Nancy sat on the floor, her arms resting on the knees she’d drawn tightly to her chest, with her head hiding in the protective bubble she’d created. Her hands were shaking, and he could see her foot tapping softly in a fast rhythm that kept no beat.

Ryan didn’t speak right away but quietly lowered himself so that he could sit next to her. He shuffled backward so that his back was against the small closet wall and made sure he was close enough where she could feel his presence and not feel crowded by him.

“Hey.” He kept his voice low and calm. “If I had known you wanted to stay here tonight, I could have come up with some excuse for you.”

She didn’t reply or even react, to his light teasing, letting him know that something was seriously wrong with his little girl. It made his chest hurt again.

All he wanted was for her to be happy; he hated seeing her as anything but herself.

“I don’t know what happened today or if there’s even a logical reason for these feelings, but either way, Nancy, I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere until it passes, okay?”

He knew a panic attack when he saw one. He’d had a few of them throughout his life, and he knew that Lucy had too, but he never wanted his child to experience anything like it. Knowing that he and Lucy had passed on this terrible disease to their baby made him feel awful, but at least he knew how to help.

“It’s too much.”

Looking down at her, Ryan’s brow lifted in curiosity. “What’s too much?”

“I did it again.”

“You did what?” His voice was still quiet and calm, but inside he longed to hold her close and protect her from the world.

She moved then, lifting her head and digging her hands painfully into her hair. “I cursed the town. Again.”

“I thought you guys had fixed the security boxes and had gotten a lot of the spirits that had been let out?” She’d told him and Carson about her desperate attempt to save George and the resulting hauntings that came from it.

She shook her head frantically, and he now saw how pale her face had become. “When…when we reversed the Wraith attachment…I didn’t know it was her.”

“It’s okay….”

She cut him off. “No, it’s not okay. I had to…I had to provide blood to get the machine going again. But I gave too much, and now…now she’s back, and she’s cursed Horseshoe Bay because of me.”

Ryan was extremely lost. “Who is back?”

He chose not to comment on her ‘I gave too much blood’ story for the moment.

“Temperance Hudson. Our ancestor.” She said and only then looked up at him.

Tears swam in her red-rimmed blue eyes, and her bottom lip quivered. Her gaze was desperate, and she looked much younger than the strong twenty-year-old he was privileged enough to see every day.

“Can you just…leave me alone, please?” Her voice shook and was thick with tears.

He shook his head as soon as the words were out. “I can’t do that, Nancy.”

“Please.” She begged him, closing her eyes and letting a waterfall of tears run down her cheeks.

He sighed. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know that would happen, and you needed to use the device to save your life. Whatever comes next, we can deal with it, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

She let out a sob now, and it tore at his heart. “Listen, this might sound weird, but can you do me a favor?” She didn’t respond, so he took that as his cue to continue. “Name five things you know.”

She looked up at him again, this time with confusion on her face, but did as she was told. “Um…uh, I brought our murderous ancestor back from the dead.” He didn’t like that she started with that but let it slide for now. “Carson is out of town. I am supposed to be doing girls’ night with George and Bess right now. You’re sitting next to me. We’re in a closet?”

She said the last part as if she’d just now realized where they were, but he moved forward. “Now, four things you can feel.”

She blinked. “My clothes hanging above my head. My hair in my hands. My shoes are tied too tight.” Then she paused.

“Come on, one more.” He coached her.

She bit her lip and grabbed his hand in her own. “You.”

He felt her squeeze his hand tightly as if she was afraid he wasn’t real and squeezed back. The fact that she’d initiated the touch helped ease the tension in his chest.

“Three things you see.”

“Again, you.” She sent him a weak smile. “My bed. The mess I made on my floor.”

“Okay, two things you can hear.”

She paused again before speaking. “Your voice. My breathing.”

He nodded. “One thing you can either smell or taste.”

“Burnt popcorn?”

“Oh shit.” He’d forgotten about the snack he’d started preparing and hoped the smoke detector didn’t go off.

She chuckled at his comment and slumped against him, seemingly exhausted. “What was that?”

He sighed and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side. “That was something I learned from my therapist a long time ago. How do you feel now?”

Nancy groaned. “Tired. Worried. Embarrassed.”

“Hey,” He shook his head. “you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

“So, I didn’t know you had anxiety.”

It was her turn to sigh, and she moved out of his touch. Standing, she offered him a hand, and they moved to sit on her bed. Then she moved, so she was leaning against her headboard and looked past him.

“I didn’t, or I thought I didn’t until Ted went missing.”

He looked at her in confusion. “George’s sister?”

The redhead nodded. “Yeah. I, uh, I noticed during that case that there were a lot of similarities to the Rose Turnbull case from when I was younger.”

“Your first case, right?” He remembered reading it in the paper.

And if he had gone to the Horseshoe Bay Gazette and asked for a copy of the original article to keep in his wallet, well…he didn’t tell anyone about it.

“I went back to the warehouse where Nathan Gomber…where I found her that day.” She told him. “Carson came with me, and we pieced together that something happened to me down there, too.”

“Did he hurt you? Gomber. If he put his hands on you….” The surge of panic and fear that rose in his body was stilled by her hand capturing his again.

“No. He didn’t…no.” She thought for a moment. “I heard him speaking to this…thing…in the dark. He called it Si-Simon.”

She was getting worked up again, so he moved closer. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about this if it’s….”

Nancy shook her head. “Simon, uh, he made…he made us forget. That’s what he does to children. He causes them to forget what happened. My parents, they took me to a therapist after that. Carson told me I was so calm when they got there…too calm.”

“What did this Simon make you forget?” He was afraid to know, but he knew she needed to get it out.

Tears filled her eyes again. “I was so scared, Dad.”

His breath caught in his throat at the term. She’d never used it before, and though he hoped she would one day, he hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught of feelings that came with it.

“I thought I was going to die.” She continued. “I never would have seen Carson and Kate again. I would never have met my friends…or you. I would never have known my other father, and it just…I can’t imagine it now.”

“But you didn’t die.” He said, emotion filling the ferocity in his voice. “You beat this Simon. Twice, it sounds like.”

“Yeah, I did.” She swallowed thickly. “When I burned the vigil that Gomber and his girlfriend had built for him, it broke his power and brought all these…these feelings back. Fear, anxiety, despair. I haven’t been able to get away from them since.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” He told her sincerely. “I know that doesn’t help you at all, but I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you through it all. I am now.”

She sniffed back the tears and nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You know I love hearing that, but don’t feel like you have to say it. Say it when you’re ready.” He told her.

“I am ready.” She cleared her throat. “It’s nice to have two parents again, and…you are my dad.”

“Yes, I am. And as long as I’m around, I will do everything I can to keep you safe from things like Gomber and Simon. Even Temperance Hudson.” He squeezed her hand again.

A few tears rolled down her cheeks again. “Please. I know you can’t realistically make this promise, but…please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone again.”

“Nancy…” He moved so that his knees touched hers and put his hands on her face, forcing her to look directly at him. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll never be alone. Ever.”

Then he pulled her to his chest again and held her as she gripped his shirt. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one worried about being alone in this life.

They sat there until she calmed down before pulling away again.

“Hey, you know if you are too wiped out to do girls’ night, I can text Bess and come up with an excuse.” He told her, causing her to smile.

“Thanks, but I think I’m okay now.” She squeezed his hand again. “Maybe tomorrow we could do dinner and watch a movie?”

Now it was his turn to smile. “Definitely.”

He helped her up and waited as she gathered her things. Then he watched from the front door as she backed out of the driveway, waving to him before she drove off.

Moving back to the couch, he picked up his phone and scrolled through the numbers he’d saved to his contacts. They’d changed a bit since he found out Nancy was his daughter—having then added the entire group just in case—but he didn’t mind it. Finding the name he was looking for, he pressed it and settled back against the cushions as he waited for the person to answer.

“Hannah Gruen? Yeah, Ryan Hudson.” He paused. “Uh-huh. I need a favor. I need you to tell me everything you or Nancy and her friends have learned about my ancestor Temperance Hudson.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d learn, but at least he’d be prepared for whatever came next.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Steve //Boys Like You (part 4)

part 1

“I thought you liked me?” 

And there it was. 

He actually admitted that he knew. 

“You’re unbelievable Steve.” You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Just leave.” You say and wipe the tears away that are threatening to escape.

“Y/n.” He grabs your arm but you pull it out of his grip. “I’m really sorry.” 

“No you’re not!” You shout. “If you were truly sorry you wouldn’t keep doing this. You would be an actual friend to me instead of doing this time and time again. I’m sick of it.” 

“I know.” He sighs, looking at the floor. 

His hair has fallen into his face, and this time last week, you would have thought it was adorable. But right now you can barely look at him. So instead you look at your bed, there’s a dip where Billy was sat and you can’t help the small ache that appears in your chest. But you push it down and continue staring. You close your eyes, trying to clear your head. For the past month your brain has felt like its on fire with Steve and Nancy and Billy. You feel like you’ve barely had a minute to breath. And so with a shaky breath, you say something you, nor Steve, ever expected you to say. 

“Goodbye Steve.” 

“What?” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with disbelief, and the hurt on his face almost makes you want to hug him to make everything right again. But its not enough this time. Those brown eyes aren’t going to charm you, he’s done too much damage. So you just look at the floor again and he takes the hint, quietly leaving until you’re stood alone in your bedroom. 

At school you manage to avoid both Steve and Billy. Choosing to hang out with Robin and her band mates. At first they’re confused. Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s best friend is stood talking to them, like in public. But as soon as you make eye contact with Robin, she nods and tells her friends to leave you alone. With a promise to tell her what happened at lunch, she leaves you alone too, to stew in your own anger. 

She prefers silence anyway today, at least for now. She’s got a test after lunch thats gonna kick her ass if she doesn’t cram some last minute studying in. Which is why she chooses to go to the library during her study period while you’re in English. 

Its going well, she’s done quite a lot and nobody has bothered her. Well, thats until she feels someone stood behind her who shows no interest in going away. 

“Can I help you?” She asks, not even looking up from her text book and she can feel the person behind her shift from foot to foot. 

“You’re Robin right?” A deep voice asks and she rolls her eyes. She’d recognize that voice from anywhere, and not for good reason. Billy Hargrove had a reputation around this school, as well as Hawkins. And if he was trying to get into her pants, it was never gonna happen, for so many reasons. 

“Who wants to know?” She replies. She may know he is, but she isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of him knowing that she knows who he is. 

“I’m Billy. You hang out with Y/n right?” He asks and she rolls her eyes, turning in her seat. 

“Right.” She narrows her eyes at the tall boy. You hadn’t told her what happened yet, but she guessed it had something to do with either Billy or Steve. Her money was on Steve after everything that has happened, but she wasn’t that surprised seeing Billy. “Listen, and I mean this is a totally offensive way, but what do you want?” 

“Listen here you littl-” He starts and Robin raises an eyebrow. Billy takes a deep breath before continuing, deciding to change his tactic and be nice to the girl that could possibly help him. “I just wanted to talk to her. To apologize for being kind of an ass yesterday.” 

“From what I heard you were more than ass.” She replies. She hasn’t a clue what happened, but she wanted to see him sweat. See how bad he had treated you, and how far he was willing to go to make it up to you. “ Something about Nancy.” She continues. She’s completely making this up as she goes, but by the look on Billy’s face, she’s going in the right direction. “But if it makes you feel any better, I hear Harrington was much worse. Something about a kiss.” That last part she did know about. You had rang her late last night rambling about a kiss, but before she had a chance to ask you about it any further, you’d hung up, and when she tried ringing back there was no answer. Until right now, she’d thought it was just a really weird dream. That everything that was happening in your life had somehow infiltrated its way into her head, but now she knows it wasn’t, she can sleep a little easier tonight. There is no way she wants Harrington in her dream again, it turns them into nightmares. 

“Harrington tried to kiss her?” 

“Big time.” She replies, a small smirk on her lips as she watches Billy go through a range of emotions, before eventually settling on jealousy. He’s got it bad for you apparently, and she makes a mental note to tell you everything that is happening as soon as she sees you. 

“Did she, er. Did she kiss back?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck. 

“What’s it to you?” She replies, narrowing her eyes. She never knew how much she loved to see people squirm, especially popular people. But as fun as it is, its also very annoying and she wants to wrap up this conversation as quickly as possible. She thinks if she had to spend her entire day in the same vicinity as someone popular, apart from you, she would kill herself. 

“Just curious.” He shrugs and she nods sarcastically. 

“Sure you are.” She replies. “But she pushed him away and kicked him out, I think.” She tells him. She’s again just guessing at this point, but she can imagine thats something you would do. Well she hopes after everything Steve has put you through. 

“Ha, stupid Harrington.” 

“Would you be here if you also hadn’t done something stupid?” She asks and he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I don’t want to be seen with you anymore so please never talk to me again.” She turns around and starts reading her text book again, however apparently, Billy is adamant to continue to talk to her.

“Wait.” He says quickly and she turns back around, sighing loudly. Billy glares at her before he starts talking again. “Will you just tell her I’m sorry. And if there’s anything I can do to make it up to her, I will. I er-I really like her.” 

“As long as you promise never to talk to me again, sure.” 

“I promise.” He nods and she smiles. 

“Then we have a deal.” She says and stands up, deciding to give up and go wander for five minutes for the bell for lunch rings. 

As soon as she walks out the library she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She hopes nobody in band practice caught her talking to Billy otherwise she’d never hear the end of it. 

“Rosie!” Someone shouts down the corridor and she rolls her eyes at how obnoxious the people in this school are. “Rosie!” The shouting gets louder and she furrows her eyebrows. Is this person shouting for her. “Rosie!” The shouting is practically in her ear now and she stops walking abruptly, making whoever was shouting bump into her. 

“Are you talking to me?” She asks and turns around. “Great.” She mutters once she see’s who was trying to get her attention. None other than Steve Harrington. 

“You’re Rosie right?” He asks and she rolls her eyes. Of course he doesn’t know who she is. She’s surprised he knows the names of the people he hangs out with, let alone anybody else. And she decides if she had to spend a day with him, she’d definitely kill herself. 

“Its Robin.” She deadpans and Steve sighs. 

“Ah, sorry.” 

“Whatever.” She shrugs. “What exactly do you want? Because I have a reputation to uphold and hanging out with you, really isn’t gonna help.” 

“You have a reputation to keep up?” He asks in disbelief. 

“If you’re wanting my help, you’re really not going about it in the right way.” 

“Sorry.” He mumbles. He knows its a fake apology, she knows its a fake apology, but neither of them care. He really doesn’t want to be talking to this band geek, but he knows you hang around with her sometimes and right now he’d take help from just about anybody. 

“Soooooo.” She prompts him to start talking and he nods his head. 

“Right, yeah. You and Y/n hang out sometimes?” 

“When she isn’t following you around like a lost puppy, yeah we hang out. But shouldn’t you know that? Being her best friend and all?” 

“Yeah well, I’ve kind of been a crappy friend recently.” He replies guiltily and she arches a brow. 

“Recently?” 

“Fine, forever.” He snaps. “Just, can you give her a message?” 

“Sure, what the hell. Everybody else has been annoying me today. Whats the message? Wait, let me guess. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break your heart at least once a week. I’m sorry I ignored you and only wanted you when my girlfriend, or whoever I was sleeping with that week, didn’t want me’. Is that right?” 

“Yeahhhhhh.” He says awkwardly. 

“Got it. See ya dingus.” She says, glad that the conversation has finally come to an end so she can go eat lunch. She’s about to turn around when Steve shouts again. 

“Wait!” 

“What now?” She asks, now very annoyed. 

“Tell her to meet me in the gym after school?” 

“Fine. Sure. Just leave me alone.” She says and he nods. She sends him a small smile before walking into the cafeteria and finding you sat with the rest of the band geeks. 

“Hey Y/n.” She greets you as she sits down. “I dunno if you heard, but I got a job today.” 

“Oh.” You furrow your eyebrows together. “Er, congratulations. What’s your job?” 

“Mailman apparently.” She replies sarcastically and you stare at her even more confused. 

“Huh?” 

“And your personal assistant too.” 

“What?” 

“Hargrove and Harrington have both bothered me today.”

“Why?” You ask, more loudly that you anticipated causing a few people to look at you. “Why?” You repeat much quieter and she laughs softly. 

“Because they’re both infatuated with you.” 

“What?” You ask again, now the most confused you’ve ever been and she rolls her eyes. “What exactly did Billy and Steve want?” 

“Hargrove wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry and he wants to make it up to you. And funnily enough Harrington wanted me to tell you the exact same thing. Plus he wants you to meet him in the gym after school. Okay? I now resign as mailman.” 

“...thanks?” 

“And if Hargrove and Harrington ever so much as look in the same direction as me I’m holding you personally responsible and I will make you’re life a living hell.” 

“Okay.” You agree. 

“Good. Now I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so. You really do love a nightmare.” 

-------

“Y/n?” Steve’s voice makes you jump and you quickly look around to find him standing by the bleachers.

“Steve? What do you want?” You ask and he starts to walk towards you. 

“I wanted. Actually I needed to apologize.” He says, stopping in front of you.

“Its fine.” You shake your head. “You were upset the other night.” 

“No.” He argues. “Not just for last night. And I’m sorry I interrupted you.” He laughs awkwardly making you smile. “Listen, you’ve been my best friend since we were six. You’ve been a constant in my life and I’ve been such a disappointment in yours. You stuck with me when I stole your toys and refused to give them back, and when I broke your nose...and arm. And all the times I’ve had my heart broken or when I’ve broken somebody’s heart. Or when my dad has upset me. And you go along with all my crazy schemes and then you bail me out when they go inevitably go wrong. You give me your homework to copy when I forget it, which I always do, and you help me study at 2 in the morning before a test I also forgot about. Hell, you even hung out with Tommy and Carol for four years of your life for me. God, you agreed to go to summer camp with me Freshmen year when my dad was making me go. But you ended up going alone with Carol because I managed to get out of it and forgot to tell you until the day before. I’ve literally been the worst friend in the world but you’ve stuck with me no matter what...I really don’t deserve you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I used you. And for the record, I knew you liked me. I’ve known since Sophomore year, but I didn’t say anything because I guess I liked the idea of having someone to follow me around. And that was a really shitty thing to do. I guess everything I’ve done is kind of shitty. And I’m not saying this because Nancy dumped my ass, I’m saying this because I really, really mean it. I’m sorry.” 

“Steve...” You start, your eyes watery as you reach out to hold his hand. 

“I’m not finished.” He replies and you smile softly. “This whole thing with me, you and Billy. Its ridiculous. And I was being childish and stubborn and just stupid. Which is why I told him to meet you here...now.” 

“Wha-” 

“Y/n?” Billy asks from behind you and your eyes go wide. “You wanted to talk to me?” 

“Err. Ye-”

“Billy!” Steve says happily and he shoots him a glare. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Harrington?” He spits. “What do you want?” 

“Well, I was just practicing, and Y/n here said something about waiting for you.” 

“You need all the practice you can get.” He smirks and Steve just simply smiles at him. “But Y/n, did Robin give you my message?” 

“She did.” You nod. “But why couldn’t you have just said sorry in person?” 

“Because thats not what I do.” Billy replies and you and Steve give him a look. 

“Dude...no.” He shakes his head and Billy rolls his eyes before turning to face you. 

“I’m...sorry.” He forces. “I really am. I made a shitty joke and was just a shitty person in general. I’d like to make it up to you if you’d let me.” 

“Fine.” You agree. “But its not a date. I’m not going on a date with you.” You say in a teasing tone and he laughs softly. 

“Okay.” He agrees. “It could be a date, depending on how it goes right?” He asks, the signature Billy smirk is back, making your stomach flip. 

“Maybe.” You reply. “But no funny business.” You warn. 

“Don’t worry. I remember you’re previous warning.” He says and the two of you grin at each other. “You ready to go?” He asks and you nod. 

“I’ll catch up with you.” You say. He looks between you and Steve before nodding and waking out, telling you that he’ll meet you by his car. Once he’s gone you turn your attention back to Steve who gives you a confused look. “Thank you.” 

“No problem.” He shrugs. “What are friends for?” 

“I have one question before I go.” 

“Anything.” 

“Did you ever like me...like that?” You ask.

“Ermmm.” He scratches the back on his neck. “If I’m being honest, I do right now.”

“Steve...” 

“But its okay.” He shakes his head quickly. “I think I need to be alone right now, to figure out who I am outside of a relationship.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’m proud of you Steve.” 

“Thanks.” He says, a soft blush spreading over his cheeks and you smile at him. 

“And Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

“There’s a name for boys like you.” 

“And whats that?” He asks.

“Just...steve.” 

Thats it! Thats the final part! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it! But, I do have a surprise for you all. When I’m less busy I’m gonna do a sequel to this based off season three, so I’m excited for that!! It’ll probably be early next year, so keep your eyes peeled. 

[catharrington]

only the 3rd weirdest thing 

Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington don’t talk, they don’t longingly glance, and they sure as hell don’t go to the same parties and play spin the bottle.

(2.9 k words. This is my first fanfic in this community~ I love silly tropes and this is literally just spin the bottle trope. But I also love a sad, ptsd struggling Steve. Enjoy, thanks!)

***

Steve was tired of parties. It’s all bullshit rang in his ears like a mantra, but yet here he stood. Outside Carol’s door knocking so softly he wished she wouldn’t hear it. But of course they were eagerly awaiting the arrival of King Steve.

Tommy and Carol opened the door and smiled in unison. It made Steve think briefly of twiddle dee and twiddle dum from Alice in Wonderland. He scolded himself for insulting his friends and forced a smile back. That’s why he had come to this party after all: Tommy and Carol are his friends! And it’s his senior year so the parties are louder and larger and he just has to be there or be square! Steve could hear the voice of Carol and her pink lipgloss saying those words to him last week. A hard clap landed on his shoulder and he was lead inside.

“Steve you actually showed!” She announced, her pink lip gloss toned up with a bright red one instead. It did nothing to hide her cruel smirk. There was a respectable amount of people already gathered in the house who were all equally interested in his arrival.

“Yeah, well,” Steve stood up tall and smiled, “couldn’t pass up taking some of your free beer?” He said so very cool. Like none of this bothered him, and there were not demon creatures living in the woods he fought off with a bat covered in nails the other month. Steve was interested in the free beer.

Tommy laughed his familiar laugh and said, “Let’s get this guy a beer then!” And just like that a beer was pushed into Steve’s hand. He didn’t need the peer pressure to want to open the can as quick as it was passed to him and start chugging it down. If being in this light has taught him one thing it’s the more you drink the better you feel. And right now Steve didn’t feel peachy. So he drank it all in one breath and reveled in the applause. Just like nothing had changed.

He crushed the can and passed it to carol who was graceful enough to take it and lead him to the kitchen to find more. He just hoped he wasn’t coming off as desperate to get drunk, but in honesty he was desperate to get drunk.

Three beers down and he was feeling warm already but not much happier when the door opened again. This time it wasn’t a silence waiting to be impressed, the crowd didn’t need pleasing. They erupted into another fit as soon as the new guest entered. Hot and heavy, Billy Hargrove strutted inside and shrugged off his jacket- giving the audience a good show of his open shirt. Tommy lunged to catch the leather before it fell, and gingerly placed it on the rack.

Steve grabbed another beer and drank it down. He hasn’t talked to Billy since he got his face beat in by the other boy. They had passed in hallways and played basket ball once in the short time, but they haven’t spoken a word to the other. Steve has noticed that Billy’s insistent glaring and snarling hasn’t let up. Usually when there is beef it ends with a fight, but something in Billy has yet to be quenched.

Billy basked in his greatness a minute longer before he too was ushered into the kitchen to get a drink and maybe put on a show of seeing Steve like he had at the last Halloween party. The audience was red hot for their meeting, and charged electricity was in the air. But Steve didn’t give them a show. He just kept leaned over on the island counter, in a very cool way, and buried his face in his can. Billy surprisingly did nothing but smirk.

There was a moment of silence in the crowded kitchen as the two boys stood on either end of the island counter. They watched the other: Billy like a hound dog, and Steve like a fox.

But the moment didn’t last forever as teenagers attention spans are short. Chatter about movies and sport games turned up like a dial on the radio. Begrudgingly, Tommy, Carol, and Billy chit chatted about the latest basket ball game instead of noticing Steve.

The party went on like a normal party would. No demons in the forest or bats with nails to wield. One six pack in and Steve had actually begun to feel happier. He actually lifted himself from the island counter and was holding a conversation with a pretty girl from his language arts class. Her name was something that started with an A, and she had short brown hair that bounced everywhere. Steve spent a good portion of his attention span trying to not think of how it looked like Nancy’s hair. He has always had a preferences for blondes with curls, he argued with himself, Nancy ruined brown hair forever thanks a lot.

Amy- Annie- Amanda? She asked Steve if he wanted to join them in a game and he was just drunk enough to say yes. He followed her to a quaint circle of equally drunk teens that were holding an empty bottle of tequila. Steve might be drunk, but he knew spin the bottle when he saw it. Maybe this would be a good distraction, he considered. Maybe this would distract him from the shame of how he was to scared to go anywhere without remembering to put a bloodied bat full of nails in his trunk. Steve agreed it was worth a try as he let himself be guided and pushed down to a place in the circle.

They were in game and happy to see more people join, especially the girls were happy to see Steve join. It was a while before Steve’s turn and he just smirked like he had everything under control. Two turns went by, two boys who were friends got the same girl in a row and she blushed but leaned forward for a short kiss both times. The boys high fived, then passed the turn to a girl on their left- but the bottle was snatched up.

Billy Hargrove loomed over the circle like a lion on a rock, smiling. “Would you guys mind if I joined?” He purred, then made room for himself to sit down without waiting for a reply. “Used to play this game back in California, I can show you how to really get your rocks off, Hawkins!” He placed the bottle expertly down in the middle and flicked his wrist to let it spin.

The smile had mostly faded from Steve’s face when Billy sat down all except what he could force to stay, but when the tequila bottle slowed and stopped to point its rim right between his big brown eyes, Steve’s smile completely slipped. A melodious ringing of giggles from the girls drowned out the gasping from the boys. It was fun to have a same sex kiss, they wanted it from the girls, but when it came to the boy’s it was a test of true strength. A double dog dare to see how far someone could be pushed. Steve had done it before of course he knew he was strong enough but it’s different now.

Now he was back at the Byers drive way watching Billy blow smoke and puff out his chest through tears. Steve might need help with his algebra but he's not dumb enough to miss someone on the brink of a breakdown when he’s seeing it, he’s looked in a mirror enough. It wasn’t the horrible dreams and nightmares, even before that it was his father being so disappointed he wouldn’t spare Steve a single word. It was his mother looking on sadly then plastering a candy smile on her face when she noticed that Steve was looking at her. “We can pay for you to have a tutor!” She chirped. Because that’s what Steve needed. He needed his parents to spend more money like he needed another black eye.

And Steve could see it in Billy’s eyes that night that someone let him down. Someone who Billy cared about didn’t know what he needed. Someone didn’t care about Billy back. Steve knows that flavor of longing so well it made him dissociate when he fought with Billy that night. Really he would loved to have shared with him that he knows, he can see, and he doesn’t deserve that. No one does, not even the big school bully Billy Hargrove. But in Hawkins boys can’t talk about that. Steve wouldn’t want his dad to say that specific word to him in that specific tone of voice that made Steve’s heart shrivel up and blacken.

Now he was back in the living room at the party with Billy leaning into the circle, his tongue dancing as he laughed along with the girls. “Harrington,” he leered and it was soft like a silk kimono robe, “I gotta say, I thought I’d be bashing your face in again tonight, not some girly shit like this?” He turned it up at the end like a question.

“For real, Hargrove,” Steve willed the words out and thankfully they didn’t break. “I didn’t think you’d do anything to me tonight, except give me a headache with all your prissy shit talking.” That earned a chorus of laughter.

Billy rose to his knees. He lifted one leg to a kneeling stance and leaned over to even his eyes with Steve. “Are you going to play the game? Or pussy out?” Billy dragged out the words with more lip licking. Steve felt his stomach tighten up at the thought of how he had tempted him so long with that from a distance and now he’s got those wet lips face to face.

Steve lifted himself to his knees and mirrored Billy’s knelt over stance. They have to lean awkwardly into the middle of the circle and kiss for everyone to see. That’s the rules of the game. Billy was already there with his top half in the middle, waiting for his chance to pounce. Steve kept his back straight and taller than Billy, letting himself look down at the other boy. If he ever wanted to know what it was like to put his hand into an open flame, this would be the closest thing. Billy was on fire and Steve could read it all over his face, and his warmth was making heat rise in Steve. The heat started at his hips, just where his sweater brushed over the hem of his jeans, and he just hoped it wasn’t showing as a blush on his cheeks. Boys are not supposed to blush when they kiss other boys. Steve could hear his fathers voice again and he finally leaned down to touch the flame.

Billy took the reigns, always hot and heavy, he reached forward to grasp the back of Steve’s arm and lead him the rest of the way forward so their lips ghosted over each other. Steve’s eyebrows where furrowed together but he rolled his eyes at the eagerness. Billy pulled him in and kissed Steve with everything he had. Both their eyes fluttered closed but Steve almost snapped his back open when he felt the teeth scraping against his bottom lip.

Instantly, it clicked for Steve that Billy wanted more than a peck. It happened in that instant that Billy licked open Steve’s lips and let himself inside, wetting and tasting all the crevices he could reach with that skilled tongue. Steve had to will back a thirsty moan. It had been a long time sense he kissed someone who really wanted to be kissed. But the context was different, Billy was a showman and he wanted a fight with fists or with tongues. The demons in the woods gurgled up a scream and the sharpness of the nails glittered in the moonlight, and Steve decided that he was done fighting with Billy Hargrove.

So his lips turned up in the corners showing a small smile, and his hand delicately lifted to cup Billy’s cheek, and Steve let him pour as much as he could into this kiss. Billy lashed out his tongue and thrashed with his teeth but Steve only replied with softly moving his jaw in time and allowing the boy to taste every inch of his month he claimed. He wasn’t going to fight back, especially against the voice in his head thinking of how much he loved the feeling of fire. Even Billy’s chin that looked so strong was soft under his fingers, even the muscles seemed to give with a gentle touch.

Steve didn't have much time to feel more before Billy was backing away. The lion leaned back on his heels and watched Steve from down the bridge of his nose. It was evidenced on his face that Steve did not give him the reaction he was looking for. Only a second ticked by, just as Steve let out a breath he was holding, before the audience erupted into cheering. Billy did it: he gave the gaggle the show they were looking for. Steve smirked at them and knew that he was a contender in his own sense, less like a lion and more like a ninja. Billy made a large production of wiping the back of his hand over his lips and bumping elbows with his friend sitting beside him.

Steve sat back cross legged on the floor and felt like he could see two large red velvet curtains drawing to a close. There were many things he wanted to say, and there was almost an awkwardness in the silence of the two. But nothing was spoken. The bottle was simply picked up and passed to the next player.

Amy- Ashley- Amber? was still stilling next to Steve and courageously ran her fingers over his hand and up his arm, pushing the sleeve of his sweater up as she went. Steve became aware how tight his muscles were drawn, he couldn’t even feel the way his veins were standing out. Breathing was hard when all he wanted to do was reach over and pull Billy back for another kiss.

“Let’s go someplace else?” She asked, “You want another beer from the kitchen?” Steve let himself be manhandled again and smiled so very cool as he agreed to another beer. They rose and walked away arms locked, Billy only glanced once as they walked away.

Steve drank another and made out with his classmate, her name did start with an A he remembered, only for a short time before he could feel exhaustion take its toll. She was upset so he let her write down her number before he left. Just her number and not her name so that’s very helpful.

When Steve finally made it outside into the cold air he let it get taken by a gust of wind. And almost like the paper he stumbled over to his burgundy car and fumbled around with his keys. Driving drunk was low on the list of dangerous super stupid decisions he had made that year. He was still trying with the keys when a heavy hand clapped over the roof of his car. With hazy eyes, Steve looked up to see Billy watching with amusement.

“How many have you drank tonight, King Steve?” He kept his voice low.

Steve sighed and returned to his keys. “7? Maybe 10? Don’t think it matters to you much, Hargrove. Thought you wanted me dead?”

Billy smiled as softly as his voice. “Dead,” he repeated, “nope. How am I supposed to kick your ass again on the court if you wrap this preppy shit around a tree?”

Steve sighed and threw his hands up. “Don’t insult the ride!” He slurred. “What are you even doing here, haven’t you had enough? Are you going to lecture me on safe driving or some shit? Give me a ride home? Turn me into Hopper and let me sit in the drunk tank?”

Steve was rambling so he stopped to take a breath, “Whatever you do I just don’t care anymore. It’s all bullshit!” He knew he was looking messy, but he couldn’t help it. Keeping up appearances was mentally exhausting and he couldn’t stand it a second longer.

Billy looked up at Steve, the smile gone from his kiss swollen lips and the fire almost gone from his brilliant blue eyes. Steve felt like he was looking into the ocean, dangerous and beautiful all at the same time, and it made him blush.

“Am I gonna lecture you? No. Turn you into Hopper? Tempting... but nah.” Billy sighed softly as he lifted himself from the side of the car. “But I am offering you a ride home, Harrington.”

Steve had a lot of weird things happen to him lately, but this is neck and neck with the weirdest. He took a long moment to just blink, his brown eyes sagged and glossy with beer. And he knew he was allowing his mouth hang open as he considered, and that was also something he wasn’t fully aware of, but he did notice how Billy’s eyes trailed down to them. Another second of consideration and Steve made his own show of shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, okay, alright,” he let the words roll off his tongue almost all at the same time. “But can we stop and get like a burger or some shit?”

Billy smiled all the way up to his eyes. “Yeah, a burger or some shit sounds good.”

[omeliashepherdhunt]

Clarity and Closure

Ch. 2

A little late, and a little short, but life got really chaotic for a while and it took a while for writer’s block to go away. I’d love any feedback or reblogs. Enjoy!

“Welcome to LaGuardia, thank you for flying Southwest.”

The long flight with a 10 month old baby was enough to do Amelia in and the trip really hadn’t even began.

Leo was asleep in the baby carrier strapped to Amelia’s chest. All he wanted was Amelia and she was finally able to get him to doze off about twenty minutes before they landed. They had no clue if he’d stay asleep when they transferred him to his car seat in the rental car but either way it had to be done.

After baggage claim and checking out the rental, they were happy to get on the road. It was 6 p.m in New York which meant it was 3 p.m back home. Owen thought it would be best to not get Leo’s sleep schedule messed up so they would still be going by Seattle’s times.

“Where to first?”

“362 Rosalind Road. Queens NY. That’s my mom’s house.”

Owen typed it into the car’s GPS and forced out a smile for Amelia.

“Does she know we are coming?”

“No. I reached out to my niece Brooklyn, Lizzie’s oldest daughter. She lives with Mom because Nancy kicked her out for not going to college. Brooklyn said she’d be home tonight.”

“Okay, good. Maybe with Brooklyn and Leo there, she won’t be too upset we are just dropping in.”

Their 35 minute drive from the airport to Carolyn’s house was tense. Amelia hardly had anything to say and Owen tried his best to be there for her but to give her space. She hadn’t seen her mom in many years. This would be a huge deal.

“We’re here. Should I carry Leo or do you want to?”

“I will. Hopefully holding him can help keep me calm. He makes everything better.”

With Amelia’s arms full of young toddler, Owen rang the door bell. In less than 30 seconds, a young Shepherd opened the door.

“Aunt Amelia! Hi! Look at you. You look so great. Nana just got done putting away dinner. Come inside, I know it’s cold.”

Owen was amazed at how much Brooklyn looked like Amelia. The Shepherd genes were incredibly strong he had come to know and instantly his mind wandered to thinking of what their future kids would look like. Surely they’d resemble Amelia probably more than they would him.

“Brooklyn... the last time I saw you, you had no front teeth. You’ve grown up and look so much like your favorite aunt.”

Brooklyn smiled a dimpled smile that mimicked Amelia’s almost perfectly.

“That is probably what keeps my mom and Nana up at night.”

Just then, Carolyn Shepherd came from around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks.

“Amelia?”

“Hi mom.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you. It’s been a long time.”

It was too hard to read all of the emotions in the room. Carolyn looked less than pleased.

“Come sit down. I’ll get everyone some water.”

Owen followed Amelia and Brooklyn into the living room and sat beside her so he could hold her hand for support. Carolyn reappeared shortly after with four glasses of water.

“Owen, it’s nice to see you again. I’m a little surprised you two are still married. Amelia has never been able to stay with anyone for more than a few months.”

Neither of them were willing to tell Carolyn that technically they were divorced but now back together again.

“Mom. I’m not sure that really matters. We are happy together. This is Leo, our son. He’s almost one and the most amazing baby there is.”

“He is cute. I’m not sure which one of you he looks like.”

“He can resemble me a little but he isn’t our biologically. We actually just adopted him.”

Carolyn was taken back. She never expected Amelia to mature to such a level she willingly would adopt someone else’s baby.

“So what did you come here for? You make more money than I get paid from social security so I hope it isn’t about that. I can’t support any drug habit of yours.”

“Umm, no. I don’t need money. I’ve been sober for years. I wish you could move past that.”

“That’s a bold wish to have. Stuff like that just doesn’t go away. You have stayed away for 11 years and now you want to reappear with a husband and baby? It doesn’t get to be that easy for you.”

Amelia could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t believe this would happen.

“Mom, I didn’t just stay away. I always tried to call or text you. You never bothered to respond. I invited you to my wedding. I cried and begged and pleaded for you to come.”

“I have a dead husband and a dead son. I am protecting myself because if you overdose, I cannot be destroyed over it. I’ve lost too much. I won’t apologize for protecting myself. ”

“Wow, okay. Clearly coming here was a terrible idea. You’re mad at me for your own choices.”

“Of course I’m mad! You think after all these years you can just come waltzing back into our lives? You made the decision to stay away!”

And so the night kept getting worse...

“You’re very delusional if that is truly what you believe happened.”

Carolyn let out a sarcastic snort.

“I’m not the delusional one. I wasn’t the one on and off drugs for half her life!”

Brooklyn jumped up from her chair, utterly shocked her grandmother could be so cruel to her aunt.

“Nana, please stop!”

Amelia was the next one to stand with a very confused Leo in her arms, looking around to try to figure out why all of the grown ups were so upset. Amelia’s bottom lip started to quiver and she knew her voice would start to break.

“I can take you doing and saying a lot of things to me but I won’t take it from you in front of my husband or my own son! Dad and Derek are rolling in their graves right now without a doubt. You’re an empty shell of a mother and as vain and unforgiving as they come. Eleven years wasn’t nearly enough time to stay away. I wish you the best but I’m done. Leo and any other kids I may have don’t deserve to have such a hateful grandmother in their lives. He won’t ever grow up knowing who you are. Goodbye mother.”

Owen watched Amelia storm outside and quickly tried to gather her purse and the diaper bag so that they could leave.

“You know... Amelia coming here to try to patch things up with you was a really big deal. It’s a shame you don’t treat her with the same grace you do your other daughters.”

Owen grabbed their stuff and basically jogged back to the rental car.

“Wait! Aunt Amelia, can I come stay with you?”

Brooklyn had her purse in hand and looked desperate to get out of there. Amelia closed the door from buckling Leo back in and forced out her best smile even with her watery eyes.

“Of course Brook. Come on, we are staying in a suite so you’ll have your own bed and not be right on top of me and Owen.”

“Thank you so much.”

.

With their bellies full from amazing room service food, everyone got settled in for bed. It didn’t take Brooklyn long to fall asleep on her bed in the living room area of the suite along with Leo who was fast asleep in his pack and play next to her. Amelia was grateful they had a bedroom private to them because she needed a good cry and didn’t want to disturb her niece or her son. Brooklyn had filled them in on all the awful stuff the family had said about Amelia through all the years. They were even told about Nancy kicking Brooklyn out for not going to college and that even Carolyn was hesitant to take her in if she wasn’t going to be doing something with her life. Shepherds went to college. It was basically a rule. Brooklyn preferred to enter the work force immediately which was a taboo choice.

Owen took one look at Amelia and instantly his heart ached. She looked so small all curled up on her side, hugging her knees to her chest. He wish he could take all of her pain away... She deserved so much love and happiness. He had been so awful to her for so long and he hated how it made him feel now which made it even harder to think about how terrible he made Amelia feel. She was his Amelia— the kick ass chief of neurosurgery, smart, beautiful, and so damn sexy, protective and loyal to both him and their son. She was everything to him and now he saw that even clearer than before.

“Amelia?”

“What?”

“You can lay with me, you know...”

“I want to be strong. I’m just not. I feel like I’ve simultaneously been slapped across the face and punched in the stomach. I definitely got the closure I needed from my mom. I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.”

Owen gently pulled Amelia to his chest and tucked a piece of her soft chocolatey hair behind her ear so he could see her face. Her eyes were still glistening with tears which made Owen want to trade places with her even more. In one swift movement, he turned her over and held her closely to his warm chest. Instantly that opened the floodgates and Amelia lost all composure. Her sobs were muffled by his shirt and he tried his best to console her. Kissing the top of her head, wiping tears as they fell, or rubbing her back— whatever it took, he would do.

“You may not feel strong right now but you are by far the strongest person I have ever met. I’m not just saying that either. You’re a freaking superhero. You’re going to be okay. I’m right here for you, and I always will be.”

[blackberrywidow]

Undercover, In Over Your Head

Summary: Spy AU. After months of being undercover as Bucky’s wife, it’s time to finally finish your mission. The stakes are high with both of your lives on the line, but somehow the only thing you’re worried about is giving up your life as Mrs. Jones. Getting out of this alive is one thing, but getting out of it with your heart still intact is another. 

Warnings: Nothing too bad. Language. Some mildly steamy action. 

Word Count: 6.8k

Prompt: “Kiss me. Quickly!”

A/N: I’m doubling this up as a request from the lovely @everythingbooknerd and my submission for @peekaboo-parker and @onlytomholland-archive‘s writing challenge since the theme and timing worked really well together. I hope it doesn’t suck as much as I’m afraid it does. This took me entirely too long to write.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sandy asked, sipping on her long island iced tea like it was lemonade and giving your “husband” a look that made your blood simmer.

“College,” came your rehearsed answer accompanied by an even more rehearsed smile. You leaned in conspiratorially, licking your lips as your eyes locked on Bucky’s smiling face, and whispered, “We had chemistry together.”

“Oh yeah,” Sandy chortled, giving Bucky one last appreciative glance before giving you an I wish I was youlook. “I bet you did.”

Bucky glanced over at you then, catching your eye and smirking at you when he saw the slight tilt of your head and widening of your eyes that served as your pre-determined indicator that you wanted an out. He excused himself from whatever boring conversation he was currently sitting through with Mark, the engineer from across the street, and made his way over to you, all swagger and handsome smile.

“Mrs. Kavinsky,” he greeted, inclining his head at Sandy. She giggled obnoxiously, though you honestly couldn’t blame her. He had that effect on everybody—especially you, though you were loath to admit it. “Do you mind if I borrow my wife for a moment?”

“Of course.” Sandy shot you a coy smile and a wink before sauntering off to find her husband—he had disappeared from the party ages ago, and if you had to guess he was currently attempting to discretely sneak a cigarette in your upstairs bathroom despite his promises to his wife that he had quit months ago. You could smell the smoke from the back yard, and from experience knew that Mr. Kavinsky would return with an easier smile and steadier hands.

“You’d think you would be better at that.”

Your eyes snapped up to Bucky’s, taking in his small smile and the piercing blue of his stare. “At what?”

“At keeping a poker face. I can practically see the gears turning in your head. Which of our neighbors are you plotting against now?”

“Not plotting,” you corrected, your lips involuntarily tugging up at the corner. “Just observing. And I think that maybe you ‘seeing my gears’ has less to do with my shitty poker face and more to do with the years of experience you have, honey.”

Bucky smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer as you watched your guests mingle in silence. It was domestic. The perfect picket-fence life.

You could almost believe it was real, this perfect life of yours. A happy marriage to James Jones that spanned years. A lifetime of happiness to look forward to in suburbia.

In reality, you had been “married” to James for 256 days. Though Agent James Buchanan Barnes preferred Bucky when you weren’t undercover.

“I think I am finally figuring you out, Mrs. Jones,” he finally replied, taking a long pull from the beer bottle in his hand.

“What a relief,” you snorted, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Now all you have to do is figure out who’s selling missiles to Hydra and we’re golden.”

---

“So… Marianne seems like a possibility,” you mused, taping a pen to your lips as you watched over the security tapes later that night.

“No,” Bucky responded immediately from where was reclined on the couch, tossing a ball against the ceiling before catching it seconds before it hit the ground, again and again. You wanted to be annoyed by his apparent lack of attention, but you knew by now that he was aware of everything you were saying and everything taking place on the screens. Besides, the rhythmic thumpand smack that rang through the small room with each pass of the ball was soothing in a strange way.

“She’s been having late night meetings with odd men in their cars for the past week,” you say in exasperation. “How can you be so sure she isn’t?”

“She’s selling pot.”

You whipped your head around, raising a brow as he smiled at you. “And how do you know this?”

Bucky shrugged, looking away from you and resuming his game of one-man-catch. “We talk.”

“Right,” you scoffed, turning your attention back to the tv screens and gritting your teeth as heat rose to your cheeks. “I suppose that explains why Sandy wanted to ‘kindly inform me’ that you two had been spending some time together while I’m at work. You know the whole point of this operation is to pass ourselves off as a normal married couple, right? If you keep doing this shit, it’ll raise suspicion.”

“Oh please,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “They would be more suspicious if I wasn’t seeing women behind your back. No one trusts a perfect marriage these days, (Y/N). You don’t have to be a highly trained intelligence operative to know that.”

“No,” you huffed, fiddling with the pen as you steadfastly avoided the gaze that you knew was now trained on your face. “But I suppose being a man helps.”

“Well one of us has to do something to speed this up. We’ve been here for almost a year, (Y/N). Fury wants answers and I want out of this suburban shithole. So I’m sorry if I don’t particularly care about how that makes our fakemarriage look to our fake neighbors.”

You waited patiently through Bucky’s rant, noting the way the way the rhythmic thump-smack sped up in time with your heart rate. You hid your hurt though, the way you always did—with a blank expression and watchful eyes. The way spies like you were trained to hide everything they felt. You tried not to take it personally anyway—Bucky didn’t hate you. He hated long missions with little to no action. He missed Steve. He probably missed not being “married.”

At least, that’s what you told yourself. For all that Bucky showed, he may very well hate you or hold you responsible for the length of your mission. It was always hard to tell with spies. It’s why you had a very strict rule against dating them—there isn’t room for two liars in a relationship.

But Bucky Barnes was certainly enticing enough to tempt you. That is, if he ever pulled the stick out of his ass.

“Are you done?” You finally asked after ten full seconds of silence, giving Bucky enough time to cool down and you enough time to stop imagining what it would be like being married to him for real.

“Yeah,” he sighed, sitting up and hanging his head as the ball made one final thump against the ceiling and fell to the ground, forgotten. “Sorry. I know this isn’t exactly a cakewalk for you either. It’s just… if I have to hear about how fantastic Nancy Mitchell’s fucking casserole is one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

A surprised laugh burst out of you, breaking through your mask and forcing a smile on your face. “You know what her secret ingredient is, don’t you?” you teased, smile widening when Bucky’s expression only saddened.

“I really, really don’t care.”

“No? Well, that’s too bad. I was going to recommend that you warn your friend Marianne that she has competition. She’s smuggles coke in it—hands it off to all the exhausted moms in her spin class as an innocent ‘gift’ and gets paid with Target gift cards in the mail. The woman has a shopping problem, to say the least.”

“Cocaine?” Bucky asked, suddenly perking up—a reaction that had you laughing so hard you doubled over. “I can’t believe your story is better than mine! How did you find out?”

“I run the surveillance, remember?” You shook your head, forcing your outburst to subside enough to give him a decent answer. “I looked into it three weeks ago—I thought it was weird that she did so much online shopping and paid for it all in gift cards. Especially since she has everything delivered to her office and sneaks it all inside when her husband isn’t home. But no illegal arms dealing—just a normal wife playing drug dealer to fund her shopping addiction.”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head before standing to watch over the cameras next to you. “Is that what we consider normal now?”

You shrug, eyes trained on the cameras once more as Mr. Kavinsky exited his home.  A little unusual at 10 o’clock at night on a Thursday, but nothing worth your concern yet. “Normal is relative, Bucky. Our normal is full of the kind of evil that would make these people terrified to leave their homes. But they’re just as fucked up as we are, in a way. They create their own monsters and can’t see past their front lawn as far as others’ welfare is concerned. That’s normal here. People throw away their chance at a simple, happy life for a few bucks and the thrill of being ‘bad’ when they don’t actually know the meaning of the word.”

You saw Bucky look at you out of the corner of your eye, his expression carefully neutral. “That seems like a pretty harsh assessment. “

“This coming from the guy who just told me that I shouldn’t care that people think my husband is cheating on me.”

“That is compl—”

“Hey,” you cut him off as you furrowed your brows and whipped your pen up to point at one of the TV screens. “That look suspicious to you?”

Bucky reluctantly tore his eyes away from you and scoffed. “You’re the tech expert. You tell me…” you watched as he trailed off, his whole demeanor shifting when he caught sight of Mr. Kavinsky waiting for a town car only to have a man spring out to throw a bag over his head and pull him into the backseat of the car before it sped off.

His shoulders straightened, his face fell back into an expressionless mask, and his blue eyes seemed to become hyper focused on the screen as he said, “Get your coat.”

You turned away to comply, smiling widely and suppressing the shiver that wanted to run down your spine. As much as you enjoyed playing the domesticated happy couple with Bucky, you loved it when he was like this. Like the highly trained special operative that he was. The one who could use that tone and get you to do anything he wanted.

It was a vulnerability—a dangerous one, considering your line of work.

You were glad, in a way, that Bucky didn’t reciprocate your feelings. Love was a luxury you couldn’t afford in your world of assassins and espionage. The closest you would ever get was being Mrs. James Jones.

You were almost sad that that this may have to be the night you had to give her up for good.

---

“Oh, this is definitely it.”

Bucky’s excitement was palpable, and you tried not to let it disappoint you.

“I think you’re right,” you whispered, taking one last peek through the binoculars. They had hauled Ray Kavinksy out of the vehicle and he was now nervously pacing in the penthouse of a hotel across the street. “We should call Hill and report this.”

“Wait.” Bucky grabbed your wrist, halting you in your attempt to go back to the car and retrieve your cell phone. “Look. It’s him.”

“Who?” you huff, turning back around to snatch the binoculars out of Bucky’s hands. And almost immediately dropped them.

It was Alexander Pierce.

“No,” you said at the same time Bucky said “I’m going in.”

“This is huge, (Y/N),” Bucky whisper-shouted at you, as though you weren’t already aware. “He runs the entire American division of Hydra—we take him down, we take them all down.”

“You’re right, Bucky. Which is exactly why we should at least try to contact Hill—let her know what’s going on so she can give us our orders.”

“We already have our orders. This doesn’t change that.” Bucky’s tone left no room for argument. He stood up from where he had been crouching near the edge of the parking garage you currently occupied and started walking toward the car.

You followed, hot on his heels. “Our orders are to observe and gather and intel. Not attack a high-ranking Hydra operative. We need to call this one in, Bucky. You know that.”

“And while we’re jumping through SHIELD’s hoops, what if he gets away? Or worse: what if we do call this in to Hill and she tells us to leave it? You know Pierce and Fury have history. If we give them the chance to say no, we’ll regret it, (Y/N). Please, just… let me do this.”

You sucked on your bottom lip, arms crossed as you took in his pleading eyes and determined tone. You knew that Bucky and Pierce had history too—a mission gone south several years ago that had ended in days of torture at Pierce’s hands that had nearly claimed Bucky’s left arm before Steve and his team had found him.

The right thing to do would be to call Deputy Director Hill and let her make the call. But looking at your partner now, you knew you couldn’t do that to him.

“Two conditions,” you finally said, to which Bucky immediately scoffed and shook his head. “I’m serious, Bucky. If we do this, we aren’t going after Pierce—at least not directly,” you hastily corrected when Bucky started to protest.

“Okay, I’m listening,” he conceded, leaning back against the car and looking at you in careful contemplation.

“Alright.  So, condition one: you’re not assassinating Pierce. You know as well as I do that isn’t going to fly. We stick to our mission—observe, gather intel, and report it. If we happen to get enough evidence to take down Pierce along with Kavinsky and his buyer? Just icing on the cake. Icing that won’t end up biting us in the ass if Fury decides that killing a Hydra official on an intelligence mission was the wrong call.”

He hesitated a long moment, biting his lip as he considered your proposal. His dark blue eyes bored in to yours, and you held your breath and prayed that he would see reason, knowing you couldn’t stop him if he didn’t. Knowing it could get him killed at worst and expelled from SHIELD at best.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, making you sigh in relief. “We’ll do it your way. What’s the second condition?”

“Oh, I thought the second condition would be obvious.” You breezed past where he was leaning against the tan SUV SHIELD had given you—the one Bucky referred to as a “mom car”—and opened up the hatch to begin rifling through your stash of hidden weapons. “I’m going in with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky growled, grabbing your arm and whipping you around to face him. You reeled back against the car in surprise, but he pressed forward, touching every inch of his chest against yours as he got in your face. He pressed his lips against your ear, causing an involuntary shiver to rack your body as he whispered, “You’re going to stay here and run surveillance from a distance. You’re a non-combatant—that’s your job. You are not going to get within ten feet of Alexander Pierce, understand?”

“No. Way,” you hissed between clenched teeth, planting your hands on his chest and managing to push him back just enough to look him in the eyes. “We’re in this together, honey, and what kind of fake wife would I be if I let you run off and blow this entire operation on your own? I’m going with you, and we’re both going to stay clear of Pierce. Do you understand me, Barnes?”

Bucky shook his head and took a step back from you, but if you didn’t know better, you would have thought a small smile was tugging at his lips. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, (Y/N). This is bigger than some weapons dealer now. Pierce is involved, and he’s… Alexander Pierce is a dangerous man, Doll—if he or his men get ahold of you, I…”

He seemed to become lost in thought, eyes going distant as he trailed off. You stepped forward, placing your hands against his cheeks and turning his head back to face you. His blue eyes locked on yours, wide and haunted, and you knew that he was reliving every second he spent under Pierce’s knife. It made you want to go in there and kill him yourself, but it was even more of a reminder of why you couldn’t.

“That’s why we’re doing this together, Bucky. We won’t make contact with Pierce, and we’ll have each other’s backs. Then we’ll take everything we find to SHIELD, and we’ll take Pierce and the entire American-sector of Hydra down. It’s the smart play. You know that.”

Bucky stared back for a long second, not saying anything as he simply allowed you to hold onto him before finally bowing his head and sighing, giving you a single nod. “Okay. Minimum weapons then, and we’ll need to find a way to get close to him without raising suspicion.”

“I’m already ahead of you.” You smirked and turned your back on him, bending down to continue going through the weapons you would need just in case things didn’t go according to plan.

“Here,” Bucky reached over you to grab something, making you roll your eyes. He was perfectly capable of moving around you to get what he wanted. He was such a tease. However, all thoughts of teasing Bucky slammed to a halt when he handed you the knife you had been looking for. “This is the one you always use, right?”

You nodded mutely, taking your lucky knife that had been your trusty companion since you first joined SHIELD, and lifted your knee-length black cocktail dress you hadn’t bothered changing out of enough to slide it into the holster on your thigh. Your eyes were still trained on the knife, so you didn’t see Bucky reach for you, causing you to jolt when his knuckles grazed your cheek.

Your eyes snapped back up to his, letting him brush a strand of wayward hair behind your ear. He was staring at you again, in the way that made your heart seize in your chest and reminded you that out of all the missions you had been on, this one was somehow always different. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

You wanted to ask, but he seemed to gather himself and dropped his hand before you could. “Be safe,” was the only thing he offered you.

You tried not to dwell on it too much as you climbed into the passenger seat so Bucky could drive you across the street to the hotel. This was it—either your last night as Mr. and Mrs. Jones or your last night alive. You needed to be completely focused if you wanted to survive such a close encounter with Hydra.

---

“How’d you manage to get this?” Bucky asked, looking around the hotel room you had procured for yourselves for the night.

“I asked nicely,” you replied, smiling coyly at him from over your shoulder as you set up the surveillance equipment.

The room was directly underneath the penthouse Pierce had commandeered. It was the best possible place for you to gather intelligence without raising suspicion—you had booked the hotel under your covers’ names and were keeping a distance. No one would recognize you, other than Mr. Kavinsky, but Pierce and a good number of his men had seen Bucky before. If the wrong person got a glimpse of him, it was all over.

“So, here’s the plan: we’re doing audio from down here. I’ve got it all set up already. Then we wait for them to move and go upstairs and go through his shit. Easy peasey.”

Bucky’s lips twitched as he watched you bounce around the room, quietly setting up all of the necessary equipment you had hidden in your luggage. “You know that things usually don’t go that well, right?”

“I do, but I’m optimistic. So, everything is going to go well and neither of us is going to get caught or killed, got it?”

“Got it boss,” Bucky replied with a lazy salute and an even lazier grin.

The next several hours were incredibly boring, as most stake-outs tended to be. You and Bucky sat quietly, attentively listening to the feed coming from the floor above, making notes of anything you thought was of particular importance or just screwing around while you waited for them to finally stop drilling poor Mr. Kavinsky about the weapons he was smuggling in under his company’s name.

“It’s been three hours,” you sighed, slumping against the side of Bucky’s chair from where you sat on the floor. “It’s almost two in the morning. How long is this going to last? Don’t these people sleep?”

“Didn’t you know? ‘Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” Bucky chuckled, knocking his knee against your side, causing you to swat at him in annoyance.

“Now I know it’s too late for us to be up. You’re making lame jokes.”

“Hey,” Bucky protested, only sounding half as offended as he intended. “None of my jokes are lame.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, but I distinctly remember hearing you tell a knock, knock joke at the Millers’ barbeque last week.”

“Yeah, a funny knock, knock joke.”

“There is no such thing as a funny knock, knock joke, Bucky.”

“That’s discrimination.”

“Discrimination?” you snorted, dropping your head against his knee and allowing your eyes to drift shut. “I think the lack of sl—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, leaning forward so suddenly you fell forward and hit the carpet face-down. “They’re moving.”

And suddenly you were awake, your eyes springing open as you scrambled to get up and gather what you would need to properly search the penthouse for evidence against Pierce.

“Are you ready for this?” Bucky asked, giving you one last once-over as you met him by the door. “No going back now.”

“There never was, Bucky.” You gave him a small smile, willing some confidence into your appearance. “Pierce and his men are dangerous, but we’ll never even come into contact with them. That’s what makes espionage so fun. Not getting caught.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening the door and allowing you to step out first. “Right.”

You walked to the elevator, deciding that using it to go up one floor would be less conspicuous than taking the stairs.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, eyes narrowing on the spot designated for the keycard required to get you to the penthouse. “We need—”

“I’ve already got it,” you sang with a smirk, fishing the card out of your bra (not having pockets in your dresses was a crime, really). “I swiped it from the front desk on our way up.”

“I love you,” Bucky said, shaking his head and grinning at you, making your stomach swoop. It was a phrase that you had gotten used to over the past nine months, said with laughter or soft looks, but always in the presence of an audience. Always for the sake of the mission. Never like this, in close quarters when it was just the two of you and with something like admiration in his eyes. You tried not to read too much into it, but God did you want to.

“You’ll love me even more when we pull this off, Barnes. So get ready.”

You scanned the card, and the elevator jolted as it took you up to the next floor. Bucky took a step back, facing the door and placing a hand near the inside pocket of his jacket, ready to pull his gun out if the situation called for it. According to your surveillance, the room should be cleared now that Pierce moved the meeting down to the basement of the hotel where Kavinsky had moved the weapons. But you could never be too careful.

Bucky stepped out first, drawing his gun and making a sweep of the room while you followed behind him in suit. “Clear.”

Bucky kept his gun raised and ready while you raced across the room and got started. This was what you were best at: gathering intel that you could use to bring empires to their knees. You could fight, sure, but the real spy work was where you thrived.

You found the laptop situated in the corner of the room and your fingers flew across the keyboard as soon as you sat down, hacking into their system with an ease that came with natural talent and years of practice.

“Beautiful,” you breathed, pulling out the flash drive you had hidden in your bra and plugging it in, eyes scanning the screen relentlessly.

“I take it that’s good?” Bucky asked, not looking away from the elevator door.

“It’s better than good,” you replied, fingers once more clacking against the keyboard as you sifted through the information it held. “Pierce’s name is all over this stuff—bank statements, hit orders, weapons sales, you name it. Not to mention the names of at least thirty U.S. government officials in connection with him. It’s a pretty secure system, one that is nearly impossible to get into unless you’re working directly on this drive. It must be Pierce’s personal computer. It’s got everything you would need to take him down.”

“And now we have it,” Bucky replied, glancing back at you with a warm smile.

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘p.’ “See? I told you this was the way to go. This will publicly out Pierce and destroy everything he’s ever built. Better than just killing the guy. It’s almost surprising that—oh shit.”

“What?” Bucky asked, immediately abandoning his post to go to your side.

You were frantically typing now, eyes focused on the screen as you tried to fix what you had just done. “A security system,” you replied after a moment through gritted teeth. “It’s already alerted him, and someone from the outside is trying to kick me out. I’m so sorry Bucky—I didn’t see it before it was too late.”

“But you can fix it, right? You can finish the download?”

“Maybe,” you said, still typing furiously, eyes trained on the screen. “But they’re probably already on their way up. If we don’t go now—”

“They’ll find us,” Bucky affirmed, nodding and taking a step back. “Fine. I always liked this plan better anyway.”

“Bucky, no. I don’t have time to argue with you about this right now, but we are not attacking Pierce.”

“Doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice, Doll.” Bucky was moving back to the elevator, taking a position to the side that would provide him cover and a clear shot.

You took a deep breath, not pausing in your typing, determined to find a way to get the information andsurvive.

After what felt like years but was in reality only a few moments, you managed to break through their defenses again and finish the download without really even knowing how you did it—your mind was only focused on getting out of this alive with Bucky by your side.

You shot back from the computer once it reached 100%, snatching the flash drive up with a loud whoop.

“What?!” Bucky called from across the room, not looking away from where he had his gun trained on the elevator and the quickly rising number that promised your death when it reached your floor.

“We gotta go,” you whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him up with you as you ran for the door that led to the stairwell.

“But we can’t go without the drive,” Bucky said, pulling against your hold and looking at the elevator with frantic, murderous eyes.

“I’ve got it, Bucky. We can go,” you huffed, desperately tugging on his arm.

“But I thought you said—”

“I’ve got it Bucky. Please, we have to go now.”

“Pierce is coming,” Bucky said, eyes distant as he stared in the direction of the elevator. “I could end him right here. Right now.”

“Bucky, you can’t. There are too many of them to take on your own, you know that. Please, just come with me. We’ll take him down, I promise. Just come on,” you plead, holding out a hand to him in desperation.

“Take the flash drive (Y/N). Report back to Hill. I’m not letting him get away again.”

Bucky was focused on the door as the numbers slowed the closer they got to you, gun raised and ready to fire at Pierce the second he laid eyes on him. You knew it would be the last thing he did. You suspected that Bucky knew that too.

“Fine,” you said, resigned as you stuffed the flash drive back in the bodice of your dress and withdrew the gun from your thigh holster. You preferred your knife, but a fight like this called for something with a little more range. “Then we’ll stay.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky snapped, looking back at you with wild eyes. “I said get out of here!”

“We’re in this together, Bucky,” you reminded him, shaking your head with a sad smile. “’Till death do us part, yeah?”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, taking in your determination and the fire in your eyes as you offered up your life to his need for vengeance, and he seemed to come to some sort of decision.

“Fuck it,” he growled, lowering his gun and taking a large step towards you. “I told you he’s not gettin’ within ten feet of you, remember?”

He snatched up your hand and you bolted for the stairwell at the same moment the elevator dinged.

You let the door slam behind you as you raced down the single flight of stairs, Bucky fishing out his key and swiping it to give you access to your floor once you reached the door. You couldn’t believe that it was that easy after all—you had gotten the information you needed and talked Bucky out of getting himself killed just to get a shot at Pierce. All you had to do was make it to your room and hide out until Hydra cleared the hotel. You were almost in the clear.

Then you heard the thunder of footsteps pounding down the stairs, dozens of men on their way to find you.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, hearing their footsteps beat closer and closer with as your heart thudded against your rib cage in tandem. “They’re coming down the stairwell now. They’re probably searching every floor.”

“Yeah, I hear them. Come on,” Bucky pleaded, tugging on your hand and increasing his pace, trying to get you to your room. “It’s just down here.”

“No time,” you hissed when you heard the door to your floor open. You spun yourself in front of him, grabbing him by the collar of his white button up. “Kiss me. Quickly!”

Bucky wasted no time in complying. He dropped his hand to your waist, grabbing you roughly and pulling you forward into a searing kiss. You went willingly, pressing one hand against his chest to hide your gun and keep it ready to fire while the other twisted in his hair.

He grunted into your mouth, dropping a hand to your thigh and yanking it up, prompting you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. He slid his hand under you skirt, keeping the gun he still held hidden in the folds of your dress as he pressed you against the wall. After leaving you suitably breathless, he moved his lips down to your neck to nip at the sensitive skin there. You gasped, bucking your hips against him involuntarily, eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the eye of one of Pierce’s men further down the hall.

They were clearing the hall, looking for any suspects, but they were all trying very hard to keep their eyes off of the two of you. Your friend and fellow agent Natasha was right—public displays of affection made people uncomfortable. Well usually, with the man staring at you in open disgust apparently being an exception.

“Get a room,” he sneered, shaking his head and whispering something to his men that prompted them to head back to the stairwell.

“We’re working on it,” you giggled breathlessly while Bucky held up his left hand to wave your key at the Hydra agent, not lifting his head up from where it was still buried in your neck.

The man snorted, rolling his eyes but not saying another word as he followed his men back to the stairwell, apparently not finding anything suspicious about a young married couple getting it on in the hallway.

“He’s gone,” you whispered in Bucky’s ear once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind them, and he dropped you gently back to the ground, hands still on your waist.

“You good?” he asked, smoothing your mused hair back and looking you over with searching eyes.

“Do I look good?” you teased, biting your lip and smiling at him before snatching the keycard out of his hand and moving the last few feet down the hall to your door.

“You always look good, (Y/N),” he breathed in your ear, making you jump. You hadn’t realized he had followed so closely behind you, his steps always so silent. “But yeah, you look reallygood right now.”

You turned to face him as you stepped back in the room. His eyes were heated as he drank the sight of you in, and you told yourself that it was the adrenaline or the thrill of finally getting enough evidence to put Pierce away for good. But you really hoped it wasn’t.

“We need to report this,” you finally said after a long moment, clearing your throat. “Before any of those goons find us.”

Bucky hesitated, but nodded and moved further into the room to grab his phone. “I’ll call Hill. You pack up. We’re out of here the second we get a clear exit.”

“Yes sir.” You smirked at him as you passed by on your way to take down your surveillance equipment, ignoring the thrill that shot through you at his words.

You had a job to do right now, which involved you staying out of Hydra’s way and alive while they tore the hotel apart looking for you. You would have time to consider you feelings for Bucky and the fact that by the end of the day your pretend life as a married couple would be over later. Hopefully one that involved ice cream and sad music that made you feel less shitty about your life.

---

“Excellent job, agents,” Hill congratulated you much later that day, actually smiling for once. “You’re done for the day. We’ll call you when we have your next assignment.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you and Bucky chorused, turning to leave the room and the final nail in Pierce’s coffin behind.

You were back at SHIELD headquarters in D.C., almost twelve hours after you got out of Pierce’s penthouse alive. Mr. and Mrs. Jones had officially moved out of their home on Crestwood Drive and Agents Barnes and (Y/L/N) were back to their normal lives. Well, as normal as your lives could be.

“Last night was fun, huh?” Bucky asked, shadowing you as you made your way to the elevator that would take you one step closer to your bed.

“You mean the part where we almost but didn’t quite die? Or the long hours of listening to Pierce talk about shit I don’t care about?” you asked, sarcasm coloring your tone almost as much as your exhaustion did.

“Nah,” Bucky said, catching the elevator door, keeping it open as people streamed out of it past you. “I was talking about the part where Mr. and Mrs. Jones ruined some Hydra agent’s virgin eyes in a public hallway.”

You grinned, looking at him over your shoulder as you stepped onto the elevator. “It was. I was beginning to worry that Mr. and Mrs. Jones were never going to come to their senses, but it’s nice to see that a high stress situation can always be trusted to bring a loveless marriage back together.”

Bucky returned your smile but didn’t say anything for a long moment as the doors slid closed behind you and you made the long descent down.

“You know, I was kind of getting used to it.”

“To what?” you asked, rolling your head to the side to gaze up at Bucky from where he was leaning against the wall next to you.

“The married life,” Bucky answered nonchalantly, arms crossed as he stared straight ahead. “At least, with you. And I meant that before I stuck my tongue down your throat, but now I reallymean it.”

You laughed, shaking your head and fighting the blush that rose to your cheeks. “The picket-fence life isn’t for us Bucky. It’s not our normal, you know that.”

“Yeah, but I think it could be. We choose our normal, right? I think that if I had a choice, I’d want my normal to be you.”

He finally glanced up and caught your gaze, and you could do nothing but stare at him in shock for a long moment. Your throat was dry, and you could feel pressure building behind your eyes, and you wanted to blame your emotional reaction on your lack of sleep, but you had a feeling that this was the only possible reaction to Bucky fucking Barnes telling you that he wanted you to be his normal. Which was kind of lame but incredibly sweet at the same time, in the way only he could be.

“So, what?” you say, unsure of how you should react to him saying everything you wanted and everything you feared in the same breath. “You’re saying that you want that? To leave SHIELD behind and pick up where we left off in suburbia?”

Bucky shrugged, holding your gaze as his lips quirked up in a small smile, the most genuine you had ever seen on him. “I don’t know. Probably not. But I do think that we could find something that works. We can have the picket-fence andthe late-night stakeouts. As long as you’re with me—that’s what I want.”

You laughed lightly in disbelief, shaking your head. “When did you decide this? We’ve been ‘married’ for almost nine months and this is the first I’m hearing about it.”

“I used to think there was nothing I would choose over taking out Pierce after what he did to me. But last night I found out I was wrong.” Bucky shrugged, looking as casual as ever. As though he wasn’t shattering your reality with a few words and the hope they planted in your chest. “Nothing else seems important after that, y’know?”

You nodded, because you did know. You knew a long time ago that you had been falling in love with Bucky Barnes, that it wasn’t just an act and it wasn’t just the mission. You had made a decision too last night—to stand by Bucky and face death rather than leave him to face it alone. He was right. Why waste any more time pretending?

Love was vulnerability, but it wasn’t one you could choose. Bucky Barnes made you vulnerable the second he stepped in your life. It might end with one or both of you dead or heartbroken, but you may as well enjoy the ride while it lasted.

“Okay,” you sighed, leaning your head back against the wall and smiling. “But first, sleep.”

“Seriously?” Bucky asked, a surprised chuckle leaving him in a huff. “I just confess my undying love to you and all you can think about is sleep?”

You crack your eyes open just enough to look at him. “You can join me.”

“Deal,” Bucky said, grabbing your arm and hauling you off the wall as the elevator door opened. “Sleep, and then can figure our shit out.”

“Sounds good,” you mumbled against his shoulder as he lead you out of the SHIELD facility. And it did. Figuring out the rest of your life with Bucky by your side sounded better than good. It sounded like your new normal.

Tagslist: @everythingbooknerd, @desir-ae

[themysteriouslou]

To the deep ends

I wrote this as part of an angst war between @elusetta @foofygoldfish and me. Another good motivation was noticing that there are few bunker ending fics where the deputy explores their grief following the death of their friends. So, my deputy is going to be the guinea pig of this little experiment of mine, hope you enjoy it!

The days in the bunker went on smoothly.

Or at least, she perceived them that way.

It was difficult to guess how much time had passed since the bunker's doors had closed to the outside world. Joseph had removed Dutch's body one day after she had woken up from her blackout, muttering about giving him eternal rest once and for all. The hours following it, though? They felt the same to her, without any change that would point out something anew.

One thing she could be sure of was that, if she was careless enough, she could lose the perception of time in that dark box that kept her safe from "God's wrath". She had to keep herself constantly alert to the sounds of the radio, to some errant paper that had flown from the desk where Dutch had kept his things, to the calendar that was too far away from her eyes to see. Leslie knew she could ask Joseph, and she could almost picture the scene in her mind's eye; him going and coming through the door, the rosary around his wrist tinkling with his footsteps, approaching her to give her to drink (or eat, or just to watch her without uttering a word). If she concentrated long enough, she could see herself looking at him and asking what day it was (how long have we been here?) But it wouldn't work.

She had already tried, step by step, but the words refused to come out of her mouth. Her lips were glued together, and the air in her lungs (wasted, of course it was) did nothing but remind her that she was no more than a doll whose strings had been torn apart: soundless, motionless, and useless.

What remained of those efforts was him leaving the room and her making a futile attempt to extend her hands, a plea on the tip of her tongue: stay. Because if Joseph stayed, her memory would give up the chance to torment her. Please, don't leave me. Don't go.

But he never saw her doing that gesture, and Leslie hadn't the strength to repeat it when she was in his presence. Both were tired and preferred, somehow, to coexist without really interacting with each other. A kind of symbiotic relationship, one that ensured their survival but prevented them from interacting with the person who had caused the most damage in their lives.

Isn't that right, Joseph? She thought, hearing his restless gait in the continuous room. I complied with everything you predicted, and even so, it's difficult for you to see day after day the sinner you swore to convert to the cost of your family.

The sinner that took everything from you, just as you took everything from her.

And she understood, she really did, and she didn't blame him for it.

After all, every time she made the slightest attempt to blame him, something inside immediately reared its head at her, compelling her to close her eyes, to hold her breath and wait. Wait for the surrounding sounds to die out, for the lights to flick down like a candle's flame—and then, stillness.

She had enough self-awareness to understand that her psyche’s silence wouldn’t last long. It never did. It creeped on the edges of her consciousness, reminding her of the words branded in her memory since she woke up in Dutch’s bunker.

The world is on fire and it’s your fault.

"Breathe," she whispered, the sound echoing through the empty room. Her throat felt hoarse when she took in a deep breath—when was the last time she swallowed?—and held it, allowing the lungs to expand and fill with the smell of ashes and humidity the bunker carried. It cleared her mind for a brief second, made it easy for her to listen to the pounding of her heart. She was alive, breathing and well. However, at what cost?

Joseph claimed that God was purging the earth for them, that He was making sure they received a new and blank start. A pure one, where they would replace the bad with the good. Where they could forget.

But how to start again if everything reminded her of what she had loved and lost?

She didn't even have to access her own mental space to remember it—the images assaulted her daily, regardless of whether she was awake or trying to sleep. She saw towers of fire rising from the forests. Saw the white church where everything had begun die out in a pile of dust before her eyes. Saw their faces, both known and not, frozen in time with the same widen-eyed, mouth-opened expression.

And yet, nothing could beat out the dreams.

...

Sharky was sitting next to her, roaring with laughter as they drove alongside the Henbane River, Johnny Cash blaring out of the speakers and a host of peggies following them closely from behind.

"C'mon, Les, you can't tell me you've never tried it!" She couldn't take her eyes off the road; hands firmly curled on the steering wheel, yet responded to his playful tone without missing a beat.

"Driving with music at full volume as I go through a horde of cultists? No, Sharky, I haven't had time to attempt it."

He laughed; the sound muffled by the wind as he leaned out the window and pulled his flamethrower with him. Looking through the rear-view mirror, Leslie saw the cultists trying to keep themselves out of the fire's range. It can't be helped, she mused, returning her vision to the road. I would've rather lost them the old way but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The outlaw patted her hands affectionately, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You are in good hands; Dep. Uncle Shark will teach you everything he knows."

“Only if you don’t call yourself uncle ever again.”

...

"Les, isn't it a little... too much?"

Leslie looked away from the landscape below them, raising her eyebrows in brief confusion. Looking at her through the rear-view mirror, Nick sighed deeply, releasing Carmina's controls to make a gesture with one of his hands.

"I mean that monstrosity of a bag you're carryin' in your hands."

"Pregnant women need protein, Nick," she beamed lightly, squeezing his shoulder to remind him to look forward, "I'd rather stuff your fridge to the brim than having Kim and the baby missing some delicacies to eat. That ain't to do, don't you think?"

He grinned, “You don’t have to go to all this trouble for us.”

"I want to. Now, keep your eyes on the front view—if we crash into a tree and die Kim's gonna revive us just for the sake of killing us again with her own bare hands and that's somehow an even more terrifying thought than the cultists doing it themselves."

...

It was in that moment she opened her eyes.

It wasn't the typical movie scene where someone jerks awake from a nightmare. She wasn't screaming her lungs out because of something her mind made her see. She wasn't sweating profusely, nor was she wondering if whether it was a dream or an actual incident.

She knew it was real. She knew it with the same certainty she felt when she saw those faces, mirages of a previous life where she didn't feel alone. (Where the world outside was bright and hope was just around the corner. Where she could do things right...)

It wasn't a nightmare, too. The images were too vivid, too precious to have been one. That much she did know.

Trembling, Leslie tested impulsively the shackles that had her bound to the bedpost, only to find her wrists free of the metallic cuffs. Joseph must have been sure she wasn't going to attack him as soon as he took the chains off. He must have known that she…

You’re weak, a voice uttered in her ear, a soft and deep cadence that made her think of red (the color of his hair, of his burns, of the lights in the trial rooms, of the blood dripping down on Eli's forehead). And you know what happens to the weak.

“I do.” Curled up in the bed, hands tightly drawn to her body in an attempt to stop her shallow breathing from taking ahold of her being, she darted her sight from the radio to the ceiling in quick succession until everything blurred out. “Believe me, I do.”

Morpheus didn’t look for her again, nor did he do it the following nights.

It was for the best.

Joseph was bound to notice it sooner or later.

And, in all honesty, Leslie was right to assume it would be the former option.

"You haven't been eating well," he said, as she put her meal's leftovers in a tupperware.

Her fingers twitched lightly, holding onto the food container as carefully as she could. His gaze burned the back of her head, making her want to face him. It's all on the eyes, she thought, they're called the windows of the soul for a reason.

And that was the exact reason for which she turned away every time he was near her. He would notice the slight frown in her mouth, the dark bags under her eye sockets, the tiredness of her features—she didn't doubt Joseph was a perceptive man, one who knows exactly what a person is going through just looking at them.

He would know.

And she couldn't let that happen. Not yet.

"It's just your imagination," Leslie assured him, looking at him over her shoulder. Yup, he's effectively burning holes through my skull. "I'm okay."

You've always been a terrible liar, but at least you can look like you've got yourself together.

"Now, if you excuse me..."

She didn't see the tight-lipped expression that settled on Joseph's face once she left the room, but it didn't matter.

She would get acquainted with it soon.

...

"No!"

"As you hear it! It's only a matter of time, Ladybug. The Monkey God has not forgotten me, we just have to wait." Hurk clapped his hands, visibly satisfied at his audience's stunned countenance.

The two were enjoying a pair of beers in the backyard of the Fort Drubman, taking a break from the fighting as soon as Drubman Senior’s truck Nancy —Leslie gripped the mouth of her bottle strongly, almost sneering at the thought of the traitor that sold her and her colleagues to a conflict neither of them wanted to happen. Fuckin' Nancy— was safely back in her owner’s hands. It was just her and Hurk chilling in the sun, listening to the chirps of the birds and the sound of wind through the leaves of the trees…. until Hurk deemed the silence to be boring and dreary, and started telling her stories about his exploits around the world, about being part of a Resistance group in the past and crucially helping the hero when they needed him.

She suspected Hurk embellished some parts of his story, but it truly didn't bother her. The places he went were exotic but dangerous and she wondered, in awe, how Hurk was still alive following that. Dumb luck or an actual Monkey God protecting him? No one will ever know.

"Are you still in contact with Ajay after what happened in Kyrat?"

"Sometimes, though I haven't heard of him since the county closed off to the outside world," Hurk opened his mouth, but then closed it and looked at her, furrowing his brows in contemplation. "Now that I think about it, you two are very similar. You're both bull-headed and fight like mad dogs when you see people getting threatened by others." He nodded to himself, in agreement with his own train of thought, "Yeah, you two would totally be each other's best friends, after me, of course."

Leslie shook her head slightly at his words, amusement still openly evident in her mien. "Should I take that as an insult or a compliment?”

"Whatever you wanna make of it, Ladybug." Hurk stood up, stretching up and sighing at the feel of his joints popping into place. "Now, what d'you think about going to blow some peggie stuff up?"

…

"Adjust the angle two inches to the right." Grace advised, watching her from the shadow of a tree.

Leslie nodded, closing her left eye and rotating her body slightly to the right, until she was aiming where she wanted it to be. Focus. She breathed in and pulled the trigger.

The thunderous noise of the shot made her grit her teeth and left a buzzing in her ears, but when she looked at the target, her hands tightened around her weapon’s handle in glee. Straight at the bullseye.

A calloused hand touched her shoulder. Grace was smiling at her, a proud smirk lighting her usual stoic face. “That was good, Les.”

Her lips quirked upwards, sighing deeply as she strapped her rifle to her back once more. “You’re a good teacher, Grace.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Opa used to take me to his and Dad’s hunting trips.” A wistful expression flickered in her mien. It’s a shame he’s not here anymore, her eyes wandered up to the sky, almost picturing in the clouds the solemn weathered face of a man who had been dutiful until the end, but then again, had he been alive Eden’s Gate would be shitting bricks and running to the next hill in fear, no doubt about that. “We had – have – a sniper rifle back at our house, but it was my Gramps’s and there were few occasions were we took it with us. Most of the time we used standard rifles with suppressors.”

“I see.” And Grace understood, she truly did.

The former Olympic champion gazed at her companion and observed her posture attentively. Having been in the Army made her knowledgeable of certain aspects of body language—how the behavior of her colleagues or targets changed at the drop of a hat in the face of adversity and weariness. The deputy could fool anyone else with her composed semblance, but she couldn’t fool Grace. She wouldn't let her.

“Come with me.”

Leslie looked at her, confusion briefly flashing across her face, but she followed Grace without a second thought. “Where are we going?”

“We are not far from Fall’s End. You need to eat and rest if you wanna take the cult down,” after a quick scrutiny, she nodded to herself, walking to the motorcycle stationed at the side of the road, “and perhaps a bit more practice at target shooting with that sniper rifle. I know a place for that—my Pop and I used to go there to practice our aim when we felt stressed. A change of air will do you good.”

“… Thank you”.

“Don’t mention it.”

...

Fool, you absolute fool!

Hands gripped onto the mattress underneath her body until her knuckles turned white, a way to keep herself from slipping away, to reminds herself she couldn't go back. She could still feel the wind playing with her hair as she and Grace rode through the highway, her hands placed firmly on the motorcycle's handlebar and the sight of Holland Valley's gorgeous landscape in front of her. The colors, the sounds, the warmth of the sunlight on her skin... Everything felt so utterly vivid that one might think it was reachable.

Oh, she wished it was. Please, let me return, she begged, shutting her eyes so tightly it almost hurt. Please, please, please... Tremors shook her body with the force of ocean waves, making her gasp and loosen her strong hold on the smooth textile to grasp at her neck. Count!

Uno, Due, Tre... She inhaled quickly, oxygen making its way to her lungs and brain. Quattro, Cinque, Sei... She sat up, holding her own head between her hands, giving into the structure she made to cope with the dreams. All she had to do was to breathe.

Had someone decided to seek her out, they would've found her in the darkness of Dutch Roosevelt's former bedroom, her face giving nothing away while she looked at the ground with a focused but blank stare.

She was there, but at the same time... she wasn't.

You will not hide any longer.

"I know," she muttered, digging her fingers through her hair. Flashes of people and places played like a movie inside her head.

Mary May's gleeful expression when she saw that she managed to get the Widowmaker back.

Pastor Jerome sitting next to her in his church's steps and giving her gentle encouragement to never doubt herself.

Boomer nearly barreling into her the second she returned to the town from the mountains.

Kim smiling at her from a wheelchair and putting her daughter in her hands, asking if she wanted to be the godmother.

Believe me, I know.

…

"Come on, dear, you can't tell me you haven't had any experience when it comes to hunting meat, if you know what I mean."

She sighed, pulling leisurely the line of her fishing rod back to her. "Addie..."

"Don't "Addie" me, young lady.” Adelaide chided her, and then quieted down. Perhaps she forgot what she was going to say? The hopeful tone of her thoughts was, nonetheless, swiftly stifled as the Chopper Queen looked at her once more and waggled her eyebrows, a lewd smile blooming in her face. “I worry about you, when was the last time you had a bit of the old in-out, in-out?"

That absolutely prompted the reaction she was looking for: the deputy turned to face her so quickly she nearly fell into the river. It’s a shame I don’t have a camera with me right now Adelaide thought gleefully, watching her companion making an effort to stare anywhere but at her. Of all the things that could’ve encouraged a response, this one’s the quickest yet.  

"Addie!” she spluttered, morphing into the true portrait of mortification. “Th—That’s private!”

The older woman threw her head back and guffawed, slapping her thighs as if she had heard the greatest joke ever told. “That’s a good one, honey! You can tell aunt Addie everything, y’know. And for your information, it’s a small county, no one is private here about their matters, so you don’t have to feel ashamed of it.”

"For your information, trying to fight a cult seriously lowers my opportunities to "hunt meat", as you say,” Leslie huffed, raising a hand up to her neck to rub it absently. It was warm and she didn’t doubt for a second it went red the moment she was caught off guard the way she had been.

"You're doing a lot for us, Lessie.” Adelaide touched her shoulder and squeezed, “and we’re grateful for it. I just want you to have some fun. It mustn’t be easy to be the figurehead of the Resistance and you’re so young—you shouldn’t be going through this,” her voice lowered in volume, gaze wandering to the rippling waters below them in contemplation, “any of this, if you ask me.”

They fell silent as they observed the sun melt into the horizon, both of them lost in thought—mulling over the war, their comrades and the people they had to fight to liberate their home from the cult.

“Addie?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I stay at the marina?” she cleared her throat. “Just for the night, if you…”

“Of course, sweetie,” Adelaide stood up and extended a hand to her, helping her get to her feet. “You don’t even have to ask.”

...

She should’ve known it was a bad idea from the start.

"Damn moose,” Jess cursed, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I swear they're everywhere.”

Finding a spot in the Whitetail Mountains where they could hunt wasn’t the hardest part of the day, the region being overflowing with wild animals of all kinds all the time of the year as it was. In fact, she guessed they should count themselves as fortunate: in one of the bags they had brought from the small market at the Baron Lumber Mill laid the skins of two deers and a coyote, in the other, their meat. A productive and calm day, indeed.

Or so they thought, until they heard the gunshots.

“Shit,” Les crouched down behind a bush, rummaging through her backpack till she found what she was searching: her binoculars. She felt Jess duck out by her side, waiting patiently for a report of their surroundings. “What do you see?”

“Cultists on their quads,” she pressed slightly to zoom in, furrowing her brow in concentration. “They… They’re leaving.”

“A shame, really,” Jess flexed her fingers around her arrows, as if conjuring up pulling them out and making of these peggies her own shooting targets. “Hopefully they’ll remember they forgot something and come back here.”

Leslie chuckled, standing up lest her legs went numb, and extended her hands to Jess, who accepted them right away. They were ready to part back to the mill to gather the rewards of their work.

That was the moment they noticed the mooses.

Two big, strong and shaggy mooses that looked pissed off and were looking right at them.

Fuck!

The deputy pulled her sniper rifle from her back as one of the mooses charged at her. Body tense and mind working at an alarmingly fast pace, she surrounded the hostile mammal, looking through the sight of the rifle and pulling the trigger.

The moose fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“Are they usually this aggressive?”

“Only when they’re startled by something." The huntress adjusted the angle of her arrow, squinting until her eyes became thin lines, cold blue peeking from behind her lashes.

She shot. And the beast was dead in an instant.

Leslie approached the dead carcasses, slowly and carefully.  God forbid they were still alive and decided to kick her in the face as their last act of revenge. Her hands were placed at the inside of the mooses’ elbows and waited.

Nothing. She sighed in relief, and then examined the carcasses intently: the bodies wouldn’t fit inside their bags. They were too heavy and huge for it, which meant they would have to call someone to help them carry it back at the mill. We have to skin them immediately, too. For one, it would cool the meat and prevent the sourness of the bone. For other, it’d be a lot easier to remove the hide while it was still warm. It had been years since she watched her father, uncles and Opa do it, but she would manage. She always did.

She was about to call Jess, to look over her shoulder and ask for rope, when her eyes fixed on the antlers. A little smile spread across her face, visible enough for Jess to notice it.

The younger woman tilted her head and squatted down beside her, furrowing her eyebrows in slight confusion. “Why are you smiling?”

"It's nothing; it's just that it reminds me of a joke my Opa used to tell me." Leslie smiled nervously, clearing her throat and trying to keep her face as straight as could. "Do you know why moose have such large antlers?"

Jess kept looking at her, waiting for the punchline that'd follow.

"To have better radio reception!"

Silence followed her awkward attempt to light up the mood. Way to go, Grünewald, way to go.

But then, she saw Jess’ lips quirking upwards and turning her gaze away from her, eyes crinkling in contained laughter.

Maybe the joke wasn’t as bad as she thought.

...

You were weak. The memory of a giggle ringed in her ears, a distant sound from world consumed by the flames, rising from the grave to taunt her. And you were selfish.

The dream morphed. Instead of a remote forest in the Whitetail Mountains by Jess’ side, she was standing in front of the closed doors of a church—a church she knew all too well. Eyes adjusting to the light the moon provided her with; she saw the Marshal and Sheriff Whitehorse prepared to enter the church, from where chants could be heard beyond the building’s walls. Amazing grace, how sweet a sound…

The night of the arrest. A shiver went down her spine, fear holding a tight grip on her heart.

Leslie looked at the marshal and the sheriff and the urge to grab them and pull them away from those doors was overpowering. She felt the words building inside her chest: the request to go back to the chopper, where Staci was waiting for her. You’re not going to come alive from this if you go through that door.

But her body refused to cooperate with her. She was a prisoner of her mind’s set-ups, reminders of the possible what-ifs that could have happened had she walked away. She gripped the cuffs in her hands tightly, hands trembling by the sheer force of her grasp, and went forward.

Except that, just before she entered the church, a hand touched her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. Joey Hudson gave her an encouraging smile and muttered, low enough for her to hear:

‘You’ll be fine.’

She wasn’t the Joey she remembered, the one who was filled by so much rage and pain against those who broke her.

No, she was the Joey who gave her advice about how to survive in the station without going crazy in the first try, the one who snarked at hers and Staci’s antics, the one who became her first female friend in the county.

The Joey from before.

No…

Another hurricane of colors surrounded her; the church’s doors slowly moving away as a new image replaced it.

She was running through a bunker, looking for… someone. Someone important to her. She had to find them before Jacob’s men noticed the trail of dead bodies left in her wake. She promised him she would come back for him. 

And she did.

A sheen of sweat covered her body, soaking darkly into her clothes along with the grime and blood from battling the Soldier on that mountain. Hurry! She walked into a room quickly, almost barreling into the figure strapped at the lone chair in the center of the room.

Staci Pratt opened his eyes with difficulty, the wounds in his face still leaking blood. When he looked at her, it was as if he was seeing a miracle, as if her presence were but just as dream.

‘Rook, are you real?’

Her throat tightened, swallowing down a sob as she inspected him. Oh, Staci… Sweet Staci Pratt, the first one after Whitehorse who welcomed her to the station. He had always been kind to her, even when he was teasing her at all times of the day, leaving a mug of coffee at her desk every single morning without fail. They broke him. He broke him. Oh God…

As she reached for her fellow deputy’s bonds, she was pulled away from the bunker, Staci’s hopeful face fading into black before her frantic eyes.

No, no, no!

As soon as the scene changed, Leslie found herself in the pilot seat of a truck. She saw the walls encircling the Hope County Jail coming into view, people pouring out of the structure to take care of their injured and dead.

Sound gradually started reaching her ears. She blinked once, twice, thrice—and turned on her seat to listen to the person speaking to her, hands leaving the steering wheel to rest on her lap.

Earl Whitehorse was sitting on the copilot seat of the truck, exhausted but alive, face reflecting the fondness and pride he felt for his junior deputy. His eyes wrinkled around the edges when he smiled at her, patting her hands as a proud father would to his daughter.

‘A lot of good people died, but everyone here, all of us, we’re alive because of you… and I’m damn proud of you.’

Tears gathered in her eyes at his words. She struggled with the invisible bindings that didn’t let her reach for the sheriff. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. So many, and the dream gave her the opportunity to do it. She just needed to try harder….

Just as she managed to raise her hands to him, everything dimmed out.

Until all she could see were a succession of images. Images she thought she forgot, except she hadn’t.

Cameron Burke was staring at her, a finger on the trigger of his gun. His hands were extended to his sides and his posture displayed an alarmingly openness that chilled her to the bone. ‘I told you I didn’t want to leave’; he spoke, voice carrying a dejected touch to it. She dared to glance to her right side, horror striking her chest at the sight of Virgil Minkler’s lifeless body beside the table where he and the marshal had been playing cards before.

Stop.

Tammy Barnes was giving her speech at Eli’s funeral, her voice trembling as she recalled how her dear friend helped her when she needed someone the most, the one who gave her a second chance to be useful. Once she finished, she looked straight at her and walked up until they were standing face-to-face, her eyes shining from unshed tears. ‘It wasn’t you. Eli knows that.’

I killed him, and he knew.

Tracey was looking at her through the window of the truck, a soft expression that she wasn’t used to see exposed in her mien. She didn’t think there was a more capable person to fight against the cult as Rook, not after everything she had done for them. ‘You saved a lot of people here today, Rook. Don’t forget that.’

In the shadow of a tree, in a meadow somewhere in the Holland Valley, Cheeseburger laid his head on her lap, purring happily when she scratched him behind his tiny ears. Leslie grinned down at him, placing a gentle kiss on his brow. ‘I know you’re tired, but I promise that soon all you’ll have to worry is how many salmons I’m going to bring you. You like that, don’t you?’

Peaches was running alongside her, sprinting past one of the forest trails she had accidentally found in her hunting trips. There hadn’t been calls over the radio for her, no one was in need of a rescue, and the cult had retreated briefly to rethink their strategy. Enjoying the warm rays of the sun as the autumn breeze played with her hair, the deputy halted her steps, closing her eyes and just breathing in the fresh air of the mountains. Life’s good.

You’ll be the one who decides what happens. You were the start, and you’ll be the end.

Hands reached out to her body from the dark, shaking it at a persistent rhythm. Deputy…

You did everything he said you would do. And you didn’t even know it. You had no fucking clue.

The movements intensified, trying to rouse her from her slumber.

May God have mercy on your soul.

…

She stirred awake and sat up, blinking to chase away the blurriness of her sight. Where was she?

Her hands flexed tentatively from one place to another, feeling the soft textile of the couch under the pads of her fingers. She didn’t remember falling asleep on it, but then again, neither she remembered walking away from her room to the bunker’s living room/kitchen mix.

So much for swearing sleep off.

“My child…”

Her muscles stiffened.

Oh, fuck.

“Deputy…” His voice was a whisper, but she heard him well. It was difficult to not do so, when he was at her side and blocked the bluish light of the aquarium, giving the shadow her sensible orbs needed to see. “Was it a nightmare?”

He saw her hesitate, close her hands strongly over her trousers and give out a shaky sigh.

The deputy had always tried to stay composed in his presence, to hide her emotion behind a strong and inscrutable mask she had created to give others the security they needed. The security she needed. He saw it in his church, that fateful night when the county’s sheriff department came to arrest him and pull him away from his faithful, and he saw it the night she refused to accept his peace offer.

But the grief had been consuming her for days—once he went through his own time to grieve for his siblings and his faithful, he noticed it, in every movement she did. He didn’t have to look at her face to know what was happening to her. He already did.

Joseph breathed in, and drew her in close, holding her against his heart so she could listen to the beating of his heart. Constant, even. He looked at her face and was almost startled to see her eyes welling up, figure slightly shaking in his arms. She was holding back.

He wouldn’t let her.                                                                                                 

“You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

The silence in the room was deafening for a second.

Then, brick by brick, her walls came tumbling down, leaving behind a rawness borne of an open wound that hadn’t been given the chance to heal.

As much as she tried to let it out little by little, as much as she tried to control it, the pain came out from her throat in the form of a silent howl, sobs wracking against her chest with such intensity that she clung to Joseph in an attempt to steady herself. She pressed her forehead against his skin and wept bitterly, her sight turning the world into a blur of color until all she could see was gray.

“I want to go back” she choked on through the tears. “Please, let me go back. They’re dead. They’re dead and I see them everywhere. I want to correct this, please, let me go back.”

Joseph’s arms tightened around her middle, before whispering in her ear.

“You can’t.” He stroked her hair, pulling it away from her face carefully, kindly. “They’re dead, but they aren’t suffering anymore. They’re with the Lord now, in a place where there’s no pain, where they will not lack anything. And one day,” his voice took on a fierce tone, “one day, we will meet them again. I promise you that.”

She nodded, blinking away the tears to look at the newspaper clippings and photos she had collected from Dutch’s former war room. Boomer, Sharky, Grace, Nick, Hurk, Jess and Adelaide stared at her over Joseph’s shoulder, smiling contentedly at her.

Someday, we’ll find each other for a second time. But until then… wait for me, guys.

I love you.

[drawacharge]

insecurities.

a little dose of jealous!steve because there’s not enough jealous!steve and i feel like season one has proven that steve has jealousy issues. this is dedicated to my boo @benalras who had a bad day and i love her and wanted to give her something that maybe makes her smile. enjoy! also read on ao3.

Steve never had jealousy issues until Nancy. Until he actually had something he cared about losing. His parents barely gave him the time of day, and any girl before her had only been good for a couple fun romps in the sack, nothing more. Hell, he didn’t even experience platonic jealousy, never giving a shit what Tommy did or who he did it with.

But then Nancy showed up and she was beautiful and sweet and so fucking good, too good for Steve. Maybe he was insecure about it more than he thought. Maybe that’s what made him see red when he saw her and Byers sitting on her bed. Byers who took pictures of her while she was undressing. Byers who had creepy eyes, always kept to himself, and walked around like he thought he was better than everyone in this town. God, Steve had hated him, and he’d hated the idea that maybe Nancy wanted him more than she wanted Steve.

He didn’t hate him anymore, but it hadn’t done shit for Steve’s insecurities when Nancy ended up leaving him for the guy. He could hear that nasty voice in his head going i told you i told you i told you, over and over again. But.

He got over it.

He got over it because he cared about Nancy, and he ( eventually ) cared about Jonathan, and he wanted them to be happy and he was trying so fucking hard to be a better person than he used to be.

Then he became friends with Billy Hargrove. 

Then he became more than friends with Billy Hargrove.

Billy didn’t give a shit that he had jealousy issues, or insecurities. Billy wasn’t perfect, and that was good because Steve wasn’t either and he was so tired trying to pretend like he was. He had to be good for everyone. His parents. Nancy. The kids. But with Billy he didn’t have to be all that. He could be an asshole, or he could just be tired. Either way, the blonde held on tight and took it all in stride. 

Of course, it helps that, for a while, there’s nothing around to make Steve jealous. 

The girls who made eyes at Billy, or touched his arm, or giggled when he said something that wasn’t all that funny, didn’t bother Steve. They weren’t threats. Billy was as gay as he was blonde, and as far as they both knew, Steve was the only other resident queer in Hawkins that was their age. That made him feel safe. That made his insecurities sit comfortably in the back of his mind, sated. 

And then Billy turned eighteen.

He turned eighteen and Steve was staying over because Neil was out of town and Susan didn’t give a shit; far too trusting and too oblivious to ever think her womanizing step-son liked dick. 

It was ten am and they were on the couch eating breakfast, Max sandwiched between them and looking toward the window every five minutes impatiently. Steve thought nothing of it. He figured maybe Lucas or one of the others was coming over since Neil wasn’t around.

Then there’s the sudden sound of a van pulling into Billy’s driveway and Max is launching off the couch. Billy stops too, mutes the TV and cocks his head like the sound is familiar to him before he’s getting up. He gets to the window just as Max gets to the door and goes, “Holy shit.”

Max grins, opens the door, and Steve can make out five varying faces as Max goes, “Happy Birthday, Billy!”

Turns out, it’s his friends. His best friends from California. Max had stolen their numbers from the little box under Billy’s bed and called them up. They took a road trip all the way here just for his birthday.

Billy looks like how a kid is supposed to look when their parents tell them that they’re going to Disneyland. He’s grinning from ear to ear, and once he’s over his shock, each of them are pulling him in for separate hugs, laughing and greeting him.

Steve stands there and just feels... stupid. Like he doesn’t belong.

They look like Billy too. Or, at least, the kinds of people Billy would hang out with if he had the option. They look like they fit him.

Billy introduces them to him. He calls Steve his friend, and Steve has to remind himself that it’s because Susan is only two rooms away and not because he doesn’t want his super cool and amazing California friends to know he’s dating some small town asshole.

The first hand he shakes belongs to a blonde dream boat. He’s not as beautiful as Billy, but he’s a close second. He’s got green eyes, freckles, and a smile that makes you immediately want to be his friend. It almost looks wrong on the leather jacket, ripped jeans, and combat boots wearing body his head is attached to. He also has one earring dangling from a lobe. A feather.

His name is Cal, he’s the oldest of the five, the owner of the van, and-- as Steve finds out later-- the guy who pierced Billy’s ear for him when he was sixteen.

The second hand belongs to a girl, and maybe the most intimidating girl Steve’s ever laid eyes on, including the telekinetic thirteen year old he babysits sometimes. She has long, straight black hair that’d probably go passed her ass if she didn’t have it tied up in a high pony-tail. She’s wearing big earrings, dark lipstick, an army jacket, and when she greets him she pops a bubble in his face and grins when Steve jumps.

Billy tells her don’t be a bitch and she cusses him out in what Steve is pretty sure is Spanish. 

Later, when they’re eating at the diner with the kids, Billy says, “Camilla here is what we call a dyke--” and, without missing a beat, Camilla tosses a ketchup covered fry at him, cackles when it stains his shirt, and goes, “S’cuse you, mamahuevo. We prefer the term carpet muncher,” and everyone laughs except for Dustin who goes, “Uh, Steve, what’s a carpet muncher?” which only makes everyone laugh harder.

Third person to shake his hand is another chick. This one’s head is totally shaved and she’s got some sort of tattoo sticking out from the neck of her cut up shirt that says FUCK OFF across the front. She’s got an unlit cigarette between her lips and holds Steve’s hand for a little too long, looking him in the eye like she can read his fucking soul.

Billy rolls his eyes, shoves her off and goes, “Quit it with your weird pagan shit, Hannah.” Which makes her grin and step back. 

The next guy is called Ant, ( “it’s short for Anthony and a joke 'cuz he’s so fucking huge, Steve, get it?” ) and even though he’s about the size of Hopper he seems friendly enough, but Steve isn’t giving him much attention because he’s finally realized why the last guy looks so fucking familiar.

It’s Daniel. The Daniel. The one Billy would hook up with, the one he lost his virginity to, the one his fucking father caught him with. 

They’d hugged the longest, Steve remembers, and he hates himself for it.

His eyes are just as pretty as Billy once said, his hair is cut down into a Mohawk, and there’s a jagged white scar standing out against brown skin under his jaw. Steve knows that has to be Neil’s handiwork after he caught them together. 

His smile is warm ( it puts Cal’s to shame ) and he smells good. “You’re a pretty one,” he remarks and Steve hates himself for blushing. To his side Billy-- only half-serious-- goes, “Watch it, D, he’s spoken for,” and even thought it’s not a blatant he’s mine, it still makes Steve feel all warm and keeps his insecurities at bay.

At least for a while. 

They hang around at the house for a while. Ant gives Max noogies and Camilla teases her about becoming a lady and laughs when Max wrinkles her nose and tells her to fuck off. Susan comes out at some point, looks surprised but greets them all anyway, and then they head out because the California Five are starving and Steve and Billy had just smoked a joint before they got there so they’re pretty starving too. 

Max asks if she can call the guys to meet them there and Billy shrugs, so when they get there there’s a bunch of loud brats waiting for them, the loudest-- Dustin-- going, “We saved the good booths!”

Jane seems fucking enamored with Hannah and her lack of hair which is real cute. She goes, “My hair was gone once too,” and Hannah replies with, “Yeah? I bet you looked real bitchin’,” and Jane looks damn near ready to shave her head again right there.   

Daniel compliments Will’s jacket with the rainbow across it and Will blushes red and thanks him with a soft smile and his eyes in his lap. Lucas gets into a very heated discussion with Camilla about some sort of science mambo jumbo Steve doesn’t understand, and even Mike-- who hates just about everyone-- seems to enjoy himself.

The kids approve of Billy’s friends faster than they ever approved of Billy ( and even that still ranges from day to day ). They spend far too long in the diner, talking too loud and eating too much. Steve feels a bit bad so he figures he’ll leave Keith a nice tip for putting up with them.

Steve and Dustin are returning to the table with another round of milkshakes when they pass Billy and Daniel. He pauses, goes, “What’s up?” and Billy shrugs while fishing his pack of smokes from his pocket.

“Nothin’, we’re goin’ out for a smoke.”

Without thinking, Steve says, “Oh, gimme a second and I’ll join you,” and he knows it’s a mistake before the last couple words leave his lips. Billy and Daniel exchange looks, there’s a pause and then Billy licks his lips.

Daniel says, “I’ll head on out,” then keeps walking.

“We uh... kinda’ wanted to talk alone.” His boyfriend says, and he glances at his feet for a second before looking back at Steve. “There’s a lot of shit left unsaid between us and after what Neil did I--” Steve feels like a fucking idiot. He wants the floor to fucking open up and swallow him whole, “No, yeah--” he shakes his head, offers a smile that’s completely forced and hopes Billy doesn’t notice. “-- that makes sense--” thing is, it really does, he’s just being an insecure baby. “--I’ll... see you in a minute?” Billy nods, they look at each other. Steve wants to kiss him. Steve can’t kiss him. The pause passes and he steps away, but fingers catch his wrist before he can completely turn. He looks back at the blonde and notes the crease between his eyebrows, “You good?” Billy asks, because Steve can’t be subtle worth shit and he feels like a fucking ass because here it’s Billy birthday and his best friends are here and Steve is feeling bad for himself.

God, he’s selfish. 

So he smiles again, tries to make this one seem a little more sincere, and turns his hand over to brush his fingertips over the pulse of Billy’s wrist. “I’m good,” he lies and wishes for probably the hundredth time that he could kiss his boyfriend. “But I’m drinking your milkshake.”

It seems to work, because Billy chuckles a little, goes, “Go ahead,” and then walks outside.

Steve takes his seat back at one of the booths and tries not to steal glances out the window to see if he can spot Billy and Daniel. He can, which he realizes is worse because that means he can see how close they stand to each other. He can see them share space as Billy helps Daniel light his cigarette. He can see Billy laugh at something Daniel says. He can see Daniel touch his arm like the girls at school do. He can see, and he loses his appetite, feels like he might throw up, and just wants to get out of there. 

His fingers flex under the table and he thinks about Nancy and Jonathan in her bedroom. He thinks about her telling him nothing happened and you got it wrong. He thinks about her calling him bullshit a year later and running out of town with that same person. He thinks about them having sex. He thinks about Jonathan holding her close and kissing her nape after their done. He thinks about her smiling all soft and happy and just for him. 

Then Nancy is suddenly Billy, and Jonathan is Daniel and Steve wonders if Billy and Daniel would be together now if Billy was still in California. He wonders if Daniel would be his boyfriend instead of himself. He wonders if Billy’s ever smiled at Daniel in the mornings like he smiles at Steve, or if Daniel’s ever woken up to Billy making him coffee and breakfast. He wonders and wonders and wonders. 

He wonders until he realizes someone’s saying his name and finally comes back to earth, blinking in the direction of the noise. It’s Dustin, staring at him like he’s grown a second head, and then Steve realizes everyone’s kind of looking at him like that. Then he finally notices the cold, like he shoved his hand into the freezer, and looks down. The cheap plastic cup that says Coca-Cola across the front is pretty much crushed in his grip and there’s vanilla milkshake pouring over the edges like lava out of a volcano, covering his hand and wrist, dripping onto the table. He’s pretty sure there’s plastic cutting into his palm, too.

“Uh, “ he says, then adds, “sorry,” then finishes with, “my bad.” 

Dustin goes, “Dude,” and Steve suddenly gets up, excuses himself, and heads for the bathroom, cradling his soaked fist in his hand to try and catch what milkshake he can so Keith doesn’t give him the stink eye. 

He wishes he can lock the door, can’t, then goes straight for the sink, flipping the tap on cold before shoving his hand under it. He slowly opens his palm and winces when a piece of plastic pulls off skin. Eventually the vanilla shake and water combo turns into just pink water, and there’s a couple pieces of Coca-Cola cup in his hand, but nothing bad enough to warrant, like, stitches. A bandage or two would be nice though.

He focuses on cleaning off, feeling stupid and cursing himself out under his breath. He can’t believe he did that in front of Billy’s friends, in front of the kids. Losing his cool like some kind of neanderthal that can’t control himself. 

He’s pulling a particular small sliver of plastic out when the bathroom door opens and Steve lifts his head, meeting Billy’s gaze in the mirror. For a second they just look at each other, and then Billy’s stalking across the room and taking the wrist of Steve’s injured hand. Billy brings it up and under the shitty lighting and goes, “Christ, Harrington.”

Steve frowns, looks away, and jerks his hand out of Billy’s grasp, pushing it back under the water. It stings, he winces. “I know-- sorry. I’m handling it. Can you tell Keith I’ll pay for the cup?” “Harrington.”

“Because if you don’t he’s going to throw a fit, as if the cup didn’t cost him like the fraction of a cent to buy.”

“Steve.” “I mean, my dad owns a company for God’s sake, I know how cheap you can buy something when you buy it in bulk. The whole set probably cost--”

“Steve.” Billy drawls low and close, baritone voice in his ear. Suddenly, he’s looking at Billy in the mirror again, and Steve can’t remember when Billy had grabbed his wrist again, but there it is, sitting firmly but harmlessly in his grasp. They stare a little longer, then Billy’s face softens and he goes, “Hey,” and pulls Steve until he’s facing him.

 “Sorry,” he says and Billy frowns more.

“You gonna’ tell me why you Hulk’d out on a shitty plastic cup, baby? Or do I need to tell Henderson to test you for gamma radition?” Steve thinks about making fun of Billy for being a secret geek.

Instead he goes, “I... got distracted.”

An eyebrow quirks, “Distracted, huh? With what?”

“With... thinking.”

Billy snorts in a bemused kind of way and takes Steve’s other wrist. He brings them in close and rubs his thumbs over the pulse points underneath his skin. “If you keep answering like this I’ll be turning nineteen before you get it all out.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves at him a little, but it’s halfhearted. “Nothing, man, don’t worry-- I was just being stupid. You know how I get.”

Blue eyes watch him for a moment and then Billy nods, “I do know how you get.” Steve frowns, feels a lump in his throat, and thinks this is when Billy’s going to tell him how insecure and annoying he’s being. Instead he goes, “Like how I get when you’re around Wheeler.”

Steve blinks, “Mike?” He barks out a laugh, “No. Nancy, you fuckin’ idiot. The way you look at her sometimes, or smile at her.” Billy licks his lips, glances away, then back. “Makes me wanna barf half the time and crawl in a hole the other half.”

Oh, Steve thinks. He’d never even considered the notion, even when they hung out with Nancy and Billy had a sour attitude after. He always figured it was because Billy didn’t like Nancy, not because--

“Oh my god,” he looks at the other boy then goes, “Wait, please don’t tell me that’s why you hate Nancy--” 

Billy shoots him a glare, “No, asshole. I don’t like her because she’s a snobby little princess who broke your heart. The fact that she’s also your ex is just an evil little bonus.” He’s jealous too. Of Nancy. It was laughable really. Since the first moment Steve ever got close to Billy, Nancy had been a far away memory. His relationship with her was only ever connected to his insecurities now, nothing else. He loved her, but not in the way he once had. She’d always be important to him, but he didn’t love her. Not like he loved Billy. Not even close. 

“She doesn’t even compare to you,” he says, a little too awestruck at the idea that Billy was jealous of Nancy to consider how disgustingly romantic the words are. Billy does, though, and his eyes widen a fraction before the tips of his ears get pink like they do when Steve gets sweet and soft and all the things Billy isn’t used to. 

“Yeah,” he finally lands on and leans in until their foreheads are touching. Until they’re sharing breath. “And Daniel ain’t even comparable.” God, Steve really loves him. 

“Outside--”

It’s vague, and Billy reads him like they’ve been together for years anyway. “You wanna’ know what we did outside? We smoked and I apologized about my dad almost killing him since I never got the chance to before. Then he asked me when you and me started dating, ‘cuz apparently that shit was obvious from the get-go. Somethin’ ‘bout the way I look at you.”

The way Billy looks at him? He’s never noticed--

“So I was tellin’ him the whole story.” Oh god, Steve thinks. The whole story is embarrassing and not really romantic at all, just super duper awkward. “‘Cuz Daniel’s a sap for that shit. Then know what else I told him?” Steve shakes his head, “I told him that I love you,” Oh. Oh oh oh. “You big, jealous, idiot.” Thing is, there isn’t anger in Billy’s voice, or judgment. He sounds exasperated, maybe, and amused. But he also sounds understanding; like this doesn’t lessen his opinion of Steve. Like this doesn’t change the way he sees him.

“I... love you too,” because, honestly? What else do you say to that? “And I’m an idiot,” Steve agrees,”I’m sorry, I was being so stupid--”

“Ain’t a thing, pretty boy.” Billy interrupts, “If you’re stupid ‘bout this, so am I.” And then he leans in and kisses him soundly, fingers slipping into Steve’s hair as Billy first slots their lips together then claims his mouth, teasing him open so he can taste him.  When they pull back, Billy takes a deep breath and takes Steve’s injured hand, grabbing some paper towels to wrap around it. “Let’s go. They probably think you fell in.” And tugs Steve out of the bathroom.

They get back to the table-- which someone was kind enough to clean up for him--  and sit across from each other. Everyone’s quiet for a moment, and then Dustin says something dumb and Max throws a french fry and him and Jane laughs and everything goes back to normal. 

Except that, sometime during all that, Steve realizes Billy’s staring at him, meets his gaze, smiles, and then stares in sudden surprise as the blonde leans over and kisses him. Kisses him. Like in public. Like where people can see. It’s short, nothing big, but everyone at the table notices it. The diner is mostly empty, filled with half-passed out drunks trying to get sober off coffee, and Keith went to the back, so-- it’s just the table.

It’s not the first time the kids caught them kissing, and after a beat, Mike screws up his nose and goes, “Ugh, guys, can you not--” and Camilla hits Ant on the bicep a little hard and says, “Hah, told you! You owe me fifteen bucks, fucker!” 

Billy and Steve are still staring at each other as Billy goes, “Did you two bet on my love life?” His voices sounds exasperated and vaguely annoyed, but his gaze never wavers.

“Hey, I voted for it. Ant’s the one that didn’t agree with me.”

“Only ‘cause he seems too good for you,” the big guy answers and offers a shit eating grin that almost rivals Billy’s. The blonde looks away long enough to land a solid punch in Ant’s arm that barely seems to affect him. Everyone who’s listening laughs, Billy included.

Then he meets Steve’s gaze again, and Steve wonders if these are the looks Daniel meant because Billy’s kind of looking at him like a wolf stares at the moon. It makes Steve’s insides feel warmth in too many different ways, and Billy goes, “You ain’t wrong though,” before tossing Steve a wink and slumping down in his seat, slotting their legs together under the table.

Steve smiles, knocks his heel against Billy’s and goes, “Shut up, stupid,” in the kind of way that sounds like I love you.

Billy grins wide and a little feral, licks his lips, and replies, “Make me,” in the kind of way that sounds like I love you, too. 

[marchpisces]

So recently I just got into the Stonathan fandom and am absolute in love with these two.

I’m also watching a Chinese show called “歌手” (The Singer) and while listening to Jessie J’s Killing me softly with his song cover, and a story just hit me.

This is an AU where nothing in Stranger Things ever happened to Hawkins, and of course Mike still had a chance to meet Eleven, and Eleven is actually Jane Hopper - our dearest chief’s daughter.

Let’s talk about Stonathan though

Without all the events in Stranger Things, Steve would still be dating Nancy.

Nancy was smart, her thought was way ahead of their time, she figured nothing would make her happier than being one of the most influential journalists and so after she graduated high school, she broke up with Steve and finally moved to New York with her bestie Barb to follow her dream

Steve himself got a job at his dad company, Tommy H and Carol would have all gone to college, leaving him alone. They did not lose contact but Steve just did not feel like talking to them anymore because they were not really the kind of friend Steve would want to keep

Steve was lonely, he had no friend, no lover, he barely made progress in his job, so to make himself feel better, one night, he decided to stop by the only bar in town for a drink and listen to people singing

He did not know for sure what urged him to do such thing but he glad he did because Jonathan Byers, who worked there, would perform a song each night and listening to Jonathan singing somehow made Steve feel so relaxed.

He went there for a month or so before he made up his mind to talk to Jonathan

There was nothing much for the two to talk about at first, they would just talk about work and occasionally mentioned how great Nancy’s life in New York was because yes, she was the only string and topic pulling them together. For most of the time, Steve would be the only one to talk, Jonathan preferred listening to him anyway

One day Steve got really drunk and Jonathan didn’t know why, drunk Steve didn’t talk as much as the usually Steve, he acted like a really nice kid and did whatever Jonathan told him to

Though he got sleepy after his eighth drink and poor Jonathan had to carry him home, Jonathan couldn’t find it in him to leave Steve sleep on the sofa so he let Steve sleep on his bed

Jonathan woke up really early although he always worked the afternoon/evening shift (from 1PM to 9PM) and so today he woke up with Steve face in his chest and his arms and legs all over him.

Steve did wake up half an hour after that because Will was knocking really loud on the door, he felt totally embarrassed and apologized for being so damn clingy, Jonathan laughed and said it was nothing

Jonathan then made breakfast, and had Steve sat down because “It’s Sunday” Jonathan said “Take it easy on yourself and just enjoy the meal I’ve prepared for you, will you”

Joyce would be a little surprised because Jonathan never brought a friend home, let alone letting them stay for the night but Steve was really polite and what the hell, Joyce would not care even if Steve was actually Jonathan’s boyfriend as long as he can make her baby boy happy

They had small talks every few minutes before Will went out with his friends, Bob also stopped by to pick Joyce up for their date, leaving the whole house to Jonathan and Steve

At a time like this, Jonathan figured it is a good time to ask Steve about whatever was troubling him. He squeezed Steve shoulder, hoping to that Steve understand that no matter what problem he was facing, Jonathan was willing to help.

Steve blushed, his face was so red Jonathan wondered if he suddenly caught a fever. 

He did not tell Jonathan his feeling because he was too afraid, afraid that Jonathan would find him crazy.

He managed to keep calm and tell Jonathan about how lonely he felt having no friends, making zero progress at work and how his dad expectation exhausted him, Jonathan did not say a word, but the next day they met Jonathan did offer Steve some sweets because Steve loved sweets

Their friendship had gone to a new level, Jonathan opened up more and since they both have issues with their dad, they had a really special bond

Steve thought he was ok with being Jonathan friend until Jonathan told him some girl confessed to him. I know, this is so cliché. Steve got really sad but he acted like he’s fine with it and tell Jonathan to try dating the girl.

Jonathan didn’t say anything but then he did ask the girl for a date, he even asked Steve to help to set up for a romantic date or something for them.

I mean at this point, it was too much for Steve so Steve turned him down, saying he had lots of work lately so he could not help. The next few days, he spent his evening in his house, avoiding Jonathan and for once, Steve was actually grateful that his parents were almost never home.

He hadn’t met up with Jonathan for five nights and it felt like a century had passed by. The door bell rang, Steve paused the movie on VCR and went to open the door just to find a very lonely looking Jonathan standing there.

Steve did not say anything, he moved aside to let Jonathan in.

They both sat down in the living room, not saying a word.

Then Jonathan cleared his voiced and asked Steve why he did not show up at the bar these nights, Steve simply replied that he was busy with work

Jonathan was quiet for a few seconds before he laughed making Steve felt so confused. Jonathan finally said “And here I thought you were jealous of that girl, you didn’t want to see me go on a date with her.”

Steve got shocked but his expression remained calm, Jonathan continued, “For a while back, I was getting this feeling that you had a crush on me. It wasn’t something I feel happy for, but I certainly don’t hate it.”

“I like to spend time with you, and feel like there’s a special connection between us.” Jonathan smiled “That was when I realized I like you”

“No one confessed to me, I just wanted to see how you would react if there really was someone. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about your feelings. I guess I just want to make sure you really like me before confessing so I won’t get punch in the face”

“That’s what I have to say, so sorry for bothering you. I’m going to leave now.”

Jonathan stood up and started walking, Steve pulled him back for a kiss, it was sloppy at first but then got really passionate.

Fast forward to the sex scene, I mean I’m not good with words so sorry for not being able to describe how passionate their kiss was.

When Jonathan entered him, it hurts so much Steve started to regret being the bottom but when he saw Jonathan worried expression and how small and precious Jonathan was (though Jonathan is only a bit shorter than him), he couldn’t bring himself to let Jonathan bear this pain. But the longer they do it, the pain just went away, replaced by waves of pleasant feeling.

So they were officially dating, Steve did not want anyone to know yet but Jonathan did tell Nancy, she was so surprised at first because she did not think they would even be friend at first let alone dating, but she did congratulate them and she meant it.

Joyce was the first one to noticed that they were dating, then Will and his gang, then Bob, yes Bob was the last to even noticed, although he was really smart, he just was not that good at reading the atmosphere, but every one was happy for them.

Hawkins was a small town, eventually every one in town will know, Steve got beaten by his dad for the first time, his mom was crying and saying how disappointed she was, Jonathan wanted to help but Steve decided it was his time to stand up for himself and do what he felt like was best for him.

He quit the job at his dad company and start getting a job at the police station, though people still gave him eyes and talked about him behind his back, he knew that he did not have to care about it as long as he could make a living. Chief Hopper was a great boss anyway, he treated Steve the same as before.

Steve’s parents pretended like they did not have a son like him, it would be a huge lie to say Steve was not sad, but the Byers were like his family now, Joyce liked talking to him and showing him pictures’ of Jonathan when he was young; Will trusted him when asking for some love advice; and most important was Jonathan cherished him.

Hawkins was a small town, nothing much happened, Jonathan and Steve watched as Will got married, Mike and Jane got their first baby girl, Nancy finally return home with a three-year-old son and was a proud single mother and also a very influential journalist at the age of thirty five and so on

Jonathan and Steve watched as things changed, as the elders parted with Hawkins and as the younger generation were born

Nothing much happened in Hawkins, Jonathan and Steve did not achieve anything big in their lives, but Steve was so grateful for all of these years

He remembered when he was in his sickbed that Jonathan, now an old man but still as charming as he was the first time they met, asked Steve: “Did yo ever regret about all of this?”

Steve smiled gently and patted Jonathan’s hand: “Idiot, if I ever feel regret, would I stay with you until you turn into an ugly old man?”

Jonathan also smiled and put a kiss on Steve fore head.

The day Steve was gone was a rainy day, that night Jonathan dreamed about the first time they met.

Steve was sitting there with a cup of whiskey on his hand, totally in awe when Jonathan sang. There was something about Steve, maybe it was his hair, maybe it was his eyes, or maybe it was because of the lights in the bar, but Jonathan could not keep his eyes from Steve as he sang.

“Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly, with his words”

God, I know, this is so goddamn cliché, it might have made you feel bored or cringe so hard.

But goddamnit, what the hell, the story just hit me and I thought I should really write it down

[the-connection]

close

Video

Rep. McCarthy: Terrifying to think of Pelosi becoming loudspeaker

Nancy Pelosi pledges to run for House speaker again if the Democrats win back the majority of members; current House Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy weighs in on 'Sunday Morning Futures.SSSS

** Want FOX News Halftime Report in your inbox every day? Sign up here .**

On the roster of experts: The GOP battle for the speakership heightens - I’ll Tell You What: This podcast is confidential - Obama returns to campaign trail with fiery discussion - Kavanaugh eschews Dem bunkers, evidence referendum tower - Seeing quintuple THE GOP BATTLE FOR THE SPEAKERSHIP INTENSIFIES Politico : “To listen to them tell it, Kevin McCarthy and Steve Scalise are buddy-buddy again. Forget about a possible showdown to lead the House Republican Conference: The only stuff the No. 2 and 3 House Republican care about is saving their majority, they insist. But behind the scenes, the struggle between the two men is as intense as ever, as the moment of supposing to ascertain who will supersede Paul Ryan gleans closer -- and the prospect of losing the House in the midterms changes. Scalise has been hectic raising his national sketch in ways that some McCarthy allies feel threatens the California Republican’s bid to lead the conference. In recent months, Scalise, the majority of members whip, has staked out several hard-line situations favored by reactionaries. His moves have put McCarthy in the embarrassing standing of having to follow Scalise or feelings the far-right, whose substantiate McCarthy needs to become speaker. Like McCarthy, Scalise has been barnstorming the two countries fostering money for lawmakers, chits that could be quite irreplaceable if there is an opening to lead the conference. Its term of office regularly brags his fundraising , noting that his totals have overshadowed any previous GOP whip. Scalise’s team doesn’t spell out that McCarthy previously held the number of jobs, but the sense is clear whom they’re likening him to. Scalise, who has backed McCarthy for orator this spring but is considering a offer if McCarthy precipitates short, recently hired a onetime political agent for ex-Speaker John Boehner to coordinate his safarus exertions. The Louisiana Republican will reputation Grant Saunders , Boehner's onetime deputy executive director, as his political conductor this week.” Is the duel even worth it? - Vanity Fair : “Ironically, if Scalise does manage to beat out McCarthy for the number of jobs, he was able to wind up in a worse place: the speakership is a notoriously abominable job--one that burned out both Ryan and his precede. The place has actually degraded under Donald Trump, whose stewardship has permanently polarized Congress, and who seems incapable of working in tandem with anyone in his own locker, much less anyone in Republican leadership. And of course, there’s the very real possible that Democrat will regain control of the House, eliminating Scalise’s dream job wholly. With that possibility looming in the distance, Scalise’s political machinations--which were allegedly disheartened McCarthy supporters--seem potentially mindless to G.O.P. agents, who would have preferred a brand-new Speaker sooner rather than subsequently.' Members won’t follow a lame duck, he’ll have no leveraging to trimmed treats, ’ a Republican groused to Axios back in April,' and the last stuff they need in this environment is six months of palace plot and everyone stabbing everyone else in the back.’ Regrettably for Republicans, it seems that’s exactly what they’ll get.” THE RULEBOOK: STILL TRUE TODAY “There is, perhaps , nothing most likely to disrupt the coolnes of nations than their being bound to reciprocal contributions for any common objective that does not furnish an equal and coincident benefit. For it is an observation, as genuine as it is trite, that there is nothing people differ so quickly about as the payment of money.”- Alexander Hamilton , Federalist No. 7 TIME OUT : b> THE MORE YOU KNOW New Yorker : “Katharine Briggs and Isabel Myers [ developed] the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, or MBTI,[ which] is the most popular personality test in the world. ... Merve Emre ’s' The Personality Brokers’( Doubleday) is the story of how the MBTI precipitated to dirt. It was a long descent. ... Emre’s book follows closely the report of the development of the MBTI given in Annie Murphy Paul ’s' The Cult of Personality Testing, ’ published in 2004( a direct that Emre surprisingly does not declare ). Both records describe Briggs and Myers as intellectually driven women in an era when occupation the possibility for intellectually driven women were slim. Neither one had any training in psychology or in psychiatry--or, for that are important, in testing--and neither ever wielded in a laboratory or an academic institute. A third wife, Mary McCaulley , who came upon the test in 1968, its first year Katharine vanished, was a prof of psychology at the University of Florida. She teamed up with Isabel, and was crucial in turning the MBTI into a professional functioning. But, essentially, the MBTI was home-cooked.” Flag on the play? - Email us at HALFTIMEREPORT @FOXNEWS. COM with your gratuities, commentaries or questions. I’LL TELL YOU WHAT: THIS PODCAST IS CONFIDENTIAL This week Dana Perino and Chris Stirewalt discuss Senator Cory Booker ’s struggled violation of Senate settles, the latest House upset in Massachusetts and find out what prediction Chris nailed this week. Plus, Dana accommodates the mailbag and Chris faces judicial trivia. LISTEN AND SUBSCRIBE HERE SCOREBOARD Trump job performance Average endorsement : b> 39.6 percent Average dissatisfaction : b> 55 percent Net Score: -1 5.4 points Change from one week ago: down 2 points [ Median includes: Grinnell College/ Selzer: 43% approve - 50% disapprove; Gallup: 41% approve - 53% veto; IBD: 36% approve - 56% veto; ABC News/ WaPo: 38% approve - 60% disapprove; USA Today/ Suffolk: 40% approve - 56% disapprove . i >] Control of House Republican average: 40.2 percent Democratic median: 49.4 percent Advantage: Democrat plus 9.2 points Change from one week ago: Democratic advantage up 0.4 points [ Average includes: Grinnell College/ Selzer: 45% Dems - 43% GOP; IBD: 50% Dems - 39% GOP; ABC/ WaPo: 52% Dems - 38% GOP; USA Today/ Suffolk: 50% Dems - 39% GOP; NBC/ WSJ: 50% Dems - 42% GOP .] OBAMA RETURNS TO CAMPAIGN TRAIL WITH FIERY SPEECH Fox News : “Former President Barack Obama propelled his return to the campaign trail Friday with a fiery speech alleging President Trump and the GOP of fueling' split and resentment’ -- but the convening chairman responded with a rhetorical yawn.' I'm sorry, I watched but I fell asleep, ’ Trump taunted, speaking at a political mobilize minutes later for GOP Senate candidate Kevin Cramer in North Dakota . ... The back-and-forth between the sitting and onetime chairmen placeds the stage for a battle of the mega-surrogates honcho into the November midterms. Trump has promised to ramp up his expedition illusions for GOP nominees and, with Obama flexing his political muscle once again, he will have a worthwhile opponent. Obama's campaign season debut launches his midterm effort to revival Democrat to the ballots and dissolve Republicans' grip on power in Congress. The former chairman advised Friday that the stakes are high and the consequences of climate remaining on the sidelines' dire.’ Delivering some of his toughest broadsides against the GOP since leaving office- and referring to Trump by mention, something he used to avoid- Obama said there are certain' strong and privileged’ people who want to' keep us angry.’” Pence goes on defense in three Senate hastens - Politico : “Vice President Mike Pence is going on the breeze in three Senate scoots -- not so much to pump up Republican nominees but to tear down Democratic incumbents. Pence rends Sens. Jon Tester of Montana, Heidi Heitkamp of North Dakota and Joe Donnelly of Indiana over a range of highly charged partisan issues, from opposition to the GOP tax bill and Obamacare repeal to support for sanctuary cities and Contrived Parenthood funding. With Republican facing headwinds going into the November midterms, the party is waging an intensive slash-and-burn expedition aimed at disqualifying Democratic candidates. The TV blots paint Tester, Heitkamp and Donnelly -- all of whom face the burden of flowing for reelection in states that President Donald Trump prevailed by doubled toes -- as greatly out of step with their constituencies.” California Dems Newsom, Feinstein drop to single-digit heads in latest referendum - Fox News : “Two of California's best-known Democrat are stealing in the tallies as the schedule boosts closer to Election Day. In detail, both Lt. Gov. Gavin Newsom and U.S. Sen. Dianne Feinstein have just been single-digit causes over their opposings, research results evidence. In the hasten for bos, a Probolsky Research poll, conducted between Aug. 29 -Sept. 2, registers Newsom producing Republican businessman John Cox by a mere 5 points, with 17 percent of respondents undecided, the San Francisco Chronicle reported. Feinstein faces same troubles, with the tally indicating her with simply an 8-point advantage over progressive challenger Kevin de Leon . A one-quarter of the respondents told the pollsters they remain undetermined. Both Cox and de Leon have chipped their opponents' produces since the primaries in June. Newsom made 34 percent of the vote while Cox received 25 percent. In California's' jungle primary’ organisation, the two top finishers face off in the general elections held, regardless of party.” Sen. Carper defeats progressive challenger - CBS News : “A combat between Delaware's elderly senator and an upstart challenger journeying an antiestablishment waving within the Democratic Party spotlit the state's primary elections Thursday. Democratic Sen. Tom Carper , 71, hasn't lost a scoot in more than four decades in politics, including on Thursday. He successfully protected his tush against a primary objection from political stranger and society activist Kerri Evelyn Harris , 38. Carper won with 64 percent of the vote. Carper, who famously says he always campaigns as if he's 20 details behind, made no chances against Harris, an Air Force veteran trying to stage one of the most appalling disturbances in modern Delaware political history.” Poll evidences confined scoot for Georgia minister - AJC : “The hasten for Georgia governor couldn’t be closer simply two months before the election, as an Atlanta Journal-Constitution/ Channel 2 Action News poll demo Democrat Stacey Abrams and Republican Brian Kemp deadlocked at 45 percentage. The referendum of likely November voters registered the two competitives are fighting to win over a flake of the electorate: Simply 8 percent of survey respondents were undecided, and an additional 2 percent support Libertarian Ted Metz. The close mood of the race could be an indicator of the rage attaching behind Democrats trying to flip-flop the state’s top office for the first time since 2002, propelled by Abrams’ adopt of progressive issues such as her entreat to grows the nation’s first pitch-black dame elected governor.” Illinois Rep. Mike Quigley considers run for Chicago mayor - Roll Call : “Democratic Rep. Mike Quigley said he is considering a run for mayor of Chicago after Mayor Rahm Emanuel announced he would not run for re-election.' Who wouldn’t are keen to being mayor of Chicago? ’ he told the Chicago Sun-Times. Quigley said he is considering it despite the fact he' loves’ his hassle in Congress where he baby-sit on the Grant and Intelligence committees. The Democrat baby-sit on the Cook County Board before his elected to Congress and said any candidate for mayor should' focused on one issue or really being anti-Rahm Emanuel.’ ... Quigley said he is not in a rush to make a decision. ... Quigley is expected to easily win re-election in November in a territory that Inside Elections with Nathan L. Gonzales proportions Solid Democratic.” KAVANAUGH AVOIDS DEM TRAPS, CONFIRMATION VOTE LOOMS Fox News : “Democrats have invested the week trying to catch Judge Brett Kavanaugh in a lie and implement age-old emails to give him as a revolutionary republican. But as Kavanaugh’s chaotic approval hearing winds down Friday, Republicans say they conclude Democrat failed to estate the kind of lethal gale who are able to thwart the nomination. The department of Sen. Chuck Grassley , R-Iowa, the chairman of the Judiciary Committee, said in a statement that Democrat fought' to make a legitimate case’ against Kavanaugh after 2 day of questioning . ... After grilling Kavanaugh for 2 day, senators on Friday are sounding to areas outside witnesses both supporting and opposing the campaigner. This will distinguish the conclusion of its hearing process. Among those invited by the Democrats on the committee on conferences is John Dean , the onetime Nixon White House counsel who turned against the administration during Watergate. The committee, in the coming daylights and weeks, is expected to vote on Kavanaugh’s confirmation before the nomination heads to the full Senate for a final vote.” PLAY-BY-PLAY Senators reach consider on bipartisan opioid crisis packet, referendum next week - Politico AUDIBLE: AND OTHER SYMPTOMS INCLUDE ...? b> “It did not start with Donald Trump. He is a symptom , not a cause.”- Former President Barack Obama discussing political tribalism during a speech at the University of Illinois on Friday . i> ANY GIVEN SUNDAY This given Sunday, Chris Wallace will sit down with Vice President Mike Pence and Sen. Chris Coons , D-Del. Watch “Fox News Sunday with Chris Wallace.” Check regional indices for broadcast seasons in your neighbourhood. #mediabuzz - Host Howard Kurtz has the latest take on the week’s media coverage. Watch # mediabuzz Sundays at 11 a.m. ET. Share your hue commentary : b> Email us at HALFTIMEREPORT @FOXNEWS. COM and delight make sure to include your identify and hometown. SEEING QUINTUPLE WDAF : “The curriculum at Rockhurst High School[ in Kansas City, Mo .] isn't what's paying students and staff headaches. The headache comes as they try to tell each primed of the 5 an organization of twinned friends apart.' We leave it up to the imagination to person it out, so we like to give everybody a challenge, ’ said Connor Green , a freshman at Rockhurst. The freshmen class has five provides of twinned brothers: the Greens, the Garretts, the Tootles, the Warns and the Joyces. It's a unique situation that each of the sons said they feel lucky to be part of . ... Nonetheless,[ their] inconsistencies don't keep these twinneds from having fun at the expense of others.' In baseball, for pitching, I’ll pitch a few innings, and they’ll take me out. He’ll go in, and they’ll think it’s the same guy. They don’t look at the numbers so beings will bicker with us about that, so it’s pretty funny to watch, ’ Trevor Warn said.” AND NOW, A WORD FROM CHARLES ... b> “[ The bureaucratization of prescription] is the inevitable and inexorable reaction of the industrialization of everything from cloth clearing to nutrient busines , now extended to health care. ... My argument is simple. If electronic records are such a great boon -- as I believe they eventually will be -- they will be adopted over go as the benefits begin to transcend payments. Cause the market wreak. Tell doctors breathe.”- Charles Krauthammer ( 1950 -2 018) writing in the Washington Post on June 4, 2015.

Chris Stirewalt is the politics editor for Fox News. Brianna McClelland contributed to this report. Miss FOX News Halftime Report in your inbox every day? Sign up here . i>

This article was written by Fox News staff.

Trending in Politics

Obama returns to campaign trail with fiery lecture, Trump bars 'I fell asleep'

Read more: http :// www.foxnews.com /~ ATAGEND

[jenmedsbookreviews]

Today I am delighted to open up the #booklove once more to celebrate the launch of Sandra Imrie’s new book, Connectedness. Happy publication dat Sandra and thanks for visiting my blog. Here’s a little more about Sandra and her books.

About Sandra

Sandra Danby is a proud Yorkshire woman, tennis nut and tea drinker. She believes a walk on the beach will cure most ills. Unlike Rose Haldane, the identity detective in her two novels, Ignoring Gravity and Connectedness, Sandra is not adopted.

Author links

Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads ~ Pinterest

…

Connectedness

TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD, ARTIST JUSTINE TREE HAS IT ALL… BUT SHE ALWAYS HAS A SECRET THAT THREATENS TO DESTROY EVERYTHING

Justine’s art sells around the world, but does anyone truly know her? When her mother dies, she returns to her childhood home in Yorkshire where she decides to confront her past. She asks journalist Rose Haldane to find the baby she gave away when she was an art student, but only when Rose starts to ask difficult questions does Justine truly understand what she must face.

Is Justine strong enough to admit the secrets and lies of her past? To speak aloud the deeds she has hidden for 27 years, the real inspiration for her work that sells for millions of pounds. Could the truth trash her artistic reputation? Does Justine care more about her daughter, or her art? And what will she do if her daughter hates her?

This tale of art, adoption, romance and loss moves between now and the Eighties, from London’s art world to the bleak isolated cliffs of East Yorkshire and the hot orange blossom streets of Málaga, Spain.

A family mystery for fans of Maggie O’Farrell, Lucinda Riley, Tracy Rees and Rachel Hore.

About the ‘Identity Detective’ series

Rose Haldane reunites the people lost through adoption. The stories you don’t see on television shows. The difficult cases. The people who cannot be found, who are thought lost forever. Each book in the ‘Identity Detective’ series considers the viewpoint of one person trapped in this horrible dilemma. In the first book of the series, Ignoring Gravity, it is Rose’s experience we follow as an adult discovering she was adopted as a baby. Connectedness is the story of a birth mother and her longing to see her baby again. Sweet Joy, the third novel, will tell the story of a baby abandoned during The Blitz.

Amazon UK ~ Amazon US

Childhood Sweetheart Favourite book from childhood

Little Women by Louisa M Alcott. I guess, like so many women writers, I was motivated by Jo March’s determination to write, despite difficulties and opposition. I was quite sweet on Laurie and couldn’t believe he preferred Amy who I thought vain, superficial and spoiled. I still have my old Collins hardback, the sort with fragile thin paper; I love these books which make reading seem so special. Despite all the remakes, I still prefer the 1949 film – with Peter Lawford as Laurie, June Allyson as Jo and Elizabeth Taylor as Amy – I guess because it’s the one I watched as a child.

First love The first book you fell in love with

Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome. I still love the series and have all the audio books on my iPod. Actually the first book of the series which I read was Pigeon Post, a present from my parents, and of course after that I collected them all. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read them, always wanting to be a more imaginative John or less flaky Titty. I love their independence, their adventurous spirits, their bravery, their ability to make friends with whoever they meet.

Biggest book crush The book character you’re totally in love with

Adam Dalgliesh. Long before television detectives had to be emotionally challenged alcoholics or depressives, with more problems than their victims, PD James created this wonderful, sensible, poetry-writing, literature-quoting detective with a vulnerable side. One of the last gentleman detectives, Dalgliesh features in fourteen novels written over a period of 46 years. He seems unsurprisingly ageless, a mentor to his crime team, watching, observing, analysing. His inscrutability has a lot in common with Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot though Dalgliesh lacks the grand flourish, that would simply be too out-going for him.

Weirdest book crush Well… duh

Researching art and artists for Connectedness, I found myself drawn to Tracey Emin. I had enjoyed reading her weekly column in The Independent newspaper between 2005 and 2009, so was pleased to find these articles collected in My Life in a Column [Rizzoli]. Her anecdotal tales of her working week, her inspirations and frustrations, her victories and mistakes, gave me an insight into the practical world of a modern artist like no formally-written memoir did.

Hardest break up The book you didn’t want to end

It’s a series, rather than one book. I wish Elizabeth Jane Howard’s ‘Cazalet Chronicles’ would never end. What a master she is of unassuming quiet stories, making you care so much about the three generations of this wealthy family living through the Second World War. The lives of everyone are changed forever but particularly the women in the family; matriarch the Duchy; daughter Rachel and daughters-in-law Sybil, Villy and Zoe; and granddaughters Polly, Louise, Lydia and Clary.

The one that got away The book in your TBR or wish list that you regret not having started yet.

I could be predictable and say War and Peace, which is still on my bookshelf and on my Kindle. But instead I’m nominating Haruki Murakami’s IQ84. I’ve been a huge Murakami fan since first reading Norwegian Wood but the hardback edition of the trilogy is sitting on my to-read shelf. I’m not sure why I don’t pick it up: its length, perhaps [the trilogy is 1300 pages], or the reviews ranging from 1* to 5*.

Secret love Guilty Reading pleasure

Harry Potter. All of them. I listen to the amazing Stephen Fry read the audio books and tend to start with The Philosopher’s Stone and listen to them back-to-back. Why? JK Rowling has created a magical world that feels fingertips away from my own, which I could possibly join if I were Muggle-born. It has everything; good v evil, great fight scenes, wonderful characters to love and hate, and Rowling is so good at the detail and the planning. No fact is included in the early books that does not have relevance in the later books. Stay alert and spot them all!

Love one, love them all Favourite series or genre

Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy and now The Book of Dust. Ostensibly for children but which, like an iceberg, both disguise hidden depths of philosophy, thought and backstory enough to satisfy any adult reader. Pullman is excellent at plotting and character. We root for his people in a world not unlike ours, shaped slightly differently and running in parallel, so it is easy to imagine ourselves there. Like Rowling, Pullman is a master storyteller; many adult novelists would do well to read and study him.

Your latest squeeze Favourite read of the last 12 months

The best novel I’ve read in 2018 to date is The Heart’s Invisible Furies by Irish writer John Boyne. It is rare for me to give a book a 5* rating [my usual rating is 3] but I knew quite quickly when reading it that this would be a 5. Honest, sad, laugh-out-loud funny, touching, with paragraphs I just had to read out aloud to my husband. It is about being true to yourself, the need for honesty in relationships, and the power of love. It is the life story of one man, Cyril Avery, but also of a country and its attitudes to sexuality. The story starts in Goleen, Ireland, in 1945; a country riven by loyalty to, and hatred of, the British, at the same time in thrall to its Catholic priests whose rules were hypocritical, illogical and cruel. Cyril narrates his story, starting with how his 16-year old mother was denounced in church by the family priest for being single and pregnant.

Blind date for a friend If you were to set a friend up with a blind date (book) which one would it be?

The two novels I give most often to friends are The Light Years, the first of Elizabeth Jane Howard’s ‘Cazalet Chronicles’ and The Penguin Complete Novels of Nancy Mitford. Both are wonderful books to take you to another world, away from the stress of contemporary life and into the lives of a group of people who you come to care for.

Greatest love of all Favourite book of all time.

An impossible question to answer so I am going to nominate two [if that is allowed]. Both by Jane Austen. A predictable answer, I know, but I cannot lie and choose something else just because other people have chosen Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. I love the wit, the observation, the sumptuous descriptions. And then I remember Austen’s circumstances, moving from place to place, dependant on others, watching, writing quietly, and I wonder even more at her achievement. None of the Bronte experience of group supportive writing around a large table. Jane was on her own, without feedback.. Could you do it?

Thanks Sandra. Some great choices in there. I really just get on a read some more of the classics. I’m a very naughty reader. Hope all goes well with your book launch. Don’t forget folks – order links are at the top of the page.

Have a fab day everyone and keep spreading the #booklove.

Jen

  Book Love: Sandra Danby @SandraDanby Today I am delighted to open up the #booklove once more to celebrate the launch of Sandra Imrie's new book,