#and it turned into steve being a bitchy big brother

[formosusiniquis]

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be. 

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

-

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

-

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though." 

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

-

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

-

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic. 

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

#steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #and in 1996 when steve and eddie are expecting their first kid - a daughter #erica gifts them the barbie camper so steve has something while he waits for the real thing #listen you know that oh like barbie post with the steve speaking image below it #i saw that and this happened #i just wanted to try out a little steve and erica bonding #and it turned into steve being a bitchy big brother #steve and eddies love language is being dicks #but their secondary love language is not letting the bit die and i do believe that #so eddie had to take it up when steve set it down

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Family ✨

Summary; You're the nanny to Eddie's adorable little boy Kit, Feelings have grown between Eddie and you despite him being your employer.

Throw in ex-wife drama, nights spent in Eddie's arms and your love for him growing stronger every day and it's all a big mess.

Eddie is 40, the reader is in her 20's

Warnings; Older Eddie, Nanny reader, fluff, a little bit of Smut, 18+ Minors dni, bitchy ex-wife, feelings of not being good enough. More fluff.

Part 2 is in the making if my readers want it, featuring a heavily pregnant reader waiting to give birth, anxious, overprotective Eddie and Kit excited to be a big brother to his baby sister ❤️

I don't give anyone permission to copy, reuse or repost my work.

If you enjoyed this pls consider liking, reblogging, etc. ❤️✨

❤️

Eddie Munson was the sexiest man you had ever met.

He was also the most unattainable, your little crush on him was kept under wraps for most part.

You were the nanny to the sweet boy he had adopted three years ago called Kit and for the first year of your employment Eddie was married.

The marriage was... It was unhappy and hanging on by a thread, it was like Eddie and Ivy barely knew much about each other at all.

Turns out that a three-month relationship and a drunk elopement in Vegas summed up the length of the two of them being together.

When you heard the two of them argue, Eddie trying his best to hide it but Ivy wanting everyone to hear their fights) you would distract Kit, a trip to the park, the zoo or painting in the garden.

You didn't like Ivy one bit, she was rude and demeaning to you if Eddie wasn't around, and threatened to fire you if you talked back or told Eddie.

She called you names and treated Kit like he was an afterthought, knew all about your crush on Eddie and told you he would never date you in a million years. You hated the woman.

Fortunately, Eddie's friend Nancy and her husband Steve had no qualms about informing Eddie what a bitch Ivy was.

For the most part you were strictly professional with Eddie but it was getting harder to maintain that professionalism.

Especially when he started giving signs that he was enamoured with you too.

His divorce from his wife was raging on in the background but it was hard to notice when Eddie gave you long lingering stares, touches that went on for longer than usual.

Even before the divorce, he was gentle and sweet with you, always making sure you were okay, his big brown eyes full of concern.

He was protective of you, when Ivy's barbs had gotten to you badly one time you had decided to date to try and forget Eddie.

For some reason, Eddie disliked your date Tom from the minute they met. His overprotectiveness went into overdrive and he was always super tense when Tom was around.

He wasn't jealous, that was wishful thinking you told yourself, however, you were starting to rethink that.

There was tension in the air that grew stronger and stronger every day and over three weeks ago, it had exploded into a night of mind-blowing sex.

Eddie made the first move and it was the incredible.

Since then the two of you would steal time together, moments in the shower, Eddie sneaking you into his bedroom at night, long hours together if Kit was with Wayne or Steve and Nancy.

Sometimes you would spend hours talking and you found yourself falling even deeper for him, he was soft with you, tender at times and it made you wonder if he felt the same.

He opened up to you about his relationship with Ivy, how it was fine at first but like most of his relationships there was little emotional connections or feelings and it made him feel empty.

The marriage was a drunken mistake but Ivy would blackmail her way into Eddie staying with her.

The divorce finally happening was cathartic for him.

Even though the nights you spent with Eddie were amazing it was little moments, talking all night, learning about each other more, hanging out together with Kit in tow that you enjoyed so much.

It's those nights when you fell even deeper for Eddie.

❤️

Kit was excited, he was happily telling you all about him and Uncle Wayne's big plans for their weekend together.

"Uncle Wayne, says we can have popcorn, hot chocolate and a movie night" He's delighted at this.

When Wayne comes to pick him up he's excitedly talking about which movies they can watch.

Wayne gives you a big smile as Kit rushes over to hug you goodbye and then hurries over to Eddie.

"Daddy, can I take my guitar?" the guitar was a little thing and pride and joy of Kit, he was like his daddy with how much he loved his guitar.

Watching them play together, Eddie patiently teaching his boy how to play was the sweetest thing you had ever seen.

When Kit and Wayne leave it's just you and Eddie and he wastes no time pulling you into his arms and kissing you.

"Fuck, I've been waiting all day to do this" he moans and trails his lips over to your neck.

The worries that you've been feeling fade away as you unbutton his shirt, hands trailing over his lean, muscular arms, his tattoos.

With one more kiss, he takes your hand and leads you upstairs.

❤️

The divorce had been finalised and Ivy had let her self over to the house to pick up the rest of her things.

Seeing her wasn't exactly the highlight of your day but you just wanted to get this over with.

Eddie was at work and you were busy writing for the paper you worked for in your downtime, so you hoped this was over quickly.

The pinched look on her face and sneer was enough to cause the bits of self esteem you built to plummet to the ground.

"Where's the brat?" she snaps and you glare at her, god you despised this woman.

"Kit isn't a brat. He's a wonderful little boy and I pity you that you can't see that. He's napping just now, so keep your voice down"

Ivy smirks. "Aww is the hired help giving orders now? You think you're some big shot because Eddie is fucking you?" she points to the hickey on your neck that your concealer didn't quite cover up.

"Why don't you get your stuff and get out of here" you suggest annoyed.

"Don't worry, I don't want to spend one more second in here. Just telling you a few home truths since your too naive to see it. You're just a convenient fuck to Eddie darling, I mean fucking the nanny? Cliche much?"

The words hurt but you try not to let it show, Ivy is like a shark when it senses blood and she goes in for the kill.

"You're a stupid girl, you think you mean anything more to Eddie? That he won't want to do better? Does he show you off to everyone? Does anyone know about you? No. Because he's embarrassed sweetie. You're a dirty little secret"

Ivy picks up her bag with a smirk on her face.

"Can't tell you how glad I am to get out of this mess" she says as she leaves and you shut the door fuming but with a sinking feeling that she's right.

❤️

You're quiet, too quiet over dinner and Eddie notices this. He also notices when you retire to bed early and barely look his way.

Hiding the fact that you're heartbroken is hard, hiding the fact that you cried yourself to sleep over Ivy's mostly accurate description of you and Eddie is even harder.

You felt like an idiot for hoping Eddie might fall in love with you too and you knew you deserved better than being a dirty little secret.

It's hard to avoid Eddie though because once he's home from work and Kit is in bed avoiding him is impossible.

Hearing him read to Kit, doing different voices and acting out scenes makes you smile. The two of them completely own your heart, you love watching them together.

The ache in your heart grows and you startle out of your thoughts as Eddie comes out of Kit's room.

"You've been avoiding me, sweetheart?" Eddie murmurs and it actually sounds like he's pained by this.

"Why does it bother you? We're just sex, aren't we? You're embarrassed by us and that's why we hide this because it doesn't mean anything to you" you murmur.

Eddie's eyes widen. "Where the hell is this coming from?" you shrug.

"Doesn't matter. It's true isn't it?" Before he can say anything else, Kit asks for some water and you rush downstairs to get him some.

Avoiding the inevitable of Eddie telling you he doesn't feel the same.

❤️❤️

Turns out though that Eddie doesn't want to leave it like that and once you've got Kit water and wished him goodnight, Eddie asks you speak to you.

"Hey, what's going on princess? You've been distant. Just tell me what's wrong please?" your lip wobbles as you remember Ivy's words.

"Ivy came around yesterday to collect her stuff. She was her usual wonderful self, said some things"

Eddie strokes your cheek tenderly, his eyes flashing.

"What things baby?" you rattle off the list of what she said and Eddie grows more and more irate.

"I'm so in love with you sweetheart. How do you not see that? I love you so much, I want my life to be with you" tears roll down your cheeks.

"Ivy said... what she said made me upset, put all those ideas in my head" Eddie swears.

"Bitch, fucking good riddance to her" he growls and gently kisses your forehead.

"She doesn't know anything, I love you, I adore you and in no way am I embarrassed by you. You're warm, funny, sweet, and beautiful. I'm so lucky, Kit and I are so lucky to have you in our life"

The anxiety eases and he sighs contentedly as you kiss.

"And really? You think no one knows? Why do you think Nancy, Steve and Uncle Wayne offer to babysit so much? They adore you. Let's go out to dinner tomorrow yeah? Me, you and Kit, as a family"

A family you beam and he kisses you again.

❤️

#eddie munson x reader #older eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader

[grandwretch]

only i must wander, pt. 3

[on ao3] [pt. 1] [pt.2]

content warnings: conversations about and references to genocide, murder, cannibalism, kidnapping, drug use, human trafficking, racism, war, and bullying.

Steve and Robin weren't exactly best friends.

They tried. Or, well, Robin did. Steve kinda did what he had always done at work, which was keep out of everyone's way and try not to fuck up too hard. Robin, though, was putting in the effort. Not an hour went by without Robin popping out of nowhere to try and start a conversation. Usually about some gossip she'd heard about their classmates or one of the few movies they'd both seen. Steve usually did his best to keep up with her, never being the first to stop talking and walk away, but it felt–

It felt a lot like high school did. Robin's smile never reached her eyes, and it only put more pressure on Steve to follow suit. Be normal, the weight on his shoulders whispered, and everything will be okay. So when she spoke, Steve answered, a smile on his face.

No matter how plastic and saccharine it tasted.

The kids didn't exactly make it easier. Dustin was even more desperate for them to be best friends than Robin was. It was hard to begrudge the kid the connection, though, when he had spent the longest in isolation. He'd been alone amongst humans before El and Steve even had any words for what was wrong with them. What was Steve supposed to do, tell him to stop showing up and asking questions?

Max was worse. She forgave a lot less than Steve and Dustin, and still showed up at least once a week. She enjoyed her shift of threatening glares. Steve had tried to warn her off of it, and Max had snorted.

"If I can take down my brother, I'm not worried about a bitchy fox demon, or whatever." Max was unimpressed by monsters as only a pre-teen could be. Steve wasn't even sure when El had told her about the Wesen thing. He couldn't exactly pretend to be surprised; They'd never been very subtle around her.

So, yeah, they were both under a lot of pressure to be besties. Enough pressure to guarantee they would never be anything even approaching 'close'. Which Steve was fine with. He was finally getting used to all his friends being nerdy middle schoolers. What would he even talk to a friend about? … Basketball? Steve hadn't watched a game in months. March had flown by without Steve even catching a single game. Not that Robin would even be interested in basketball, and–

Steve shook his head, and focused on wiping bits of ice cream off the glass counter.

He did not want to be friends with Robin.

Dustin didn't care, though, as he came in and slammed his backpack down in an empty booth. "Steve!" he greeted, if that could even be called a hello. "Where's Robin?"

"I don't know," Steve said, even though he knew Robin was in the back room. She was socially allergic to the food court downstairs. That wasn't the point, though. "Why do you care?"

"I've got news!" Dustin crowed, "Big news!"

"What's he talking about now?" Robin asked from the door, arms folded.

Steve rolled his eyes. One day, the universe would teach Dustin that his antics wouldn't always get him what he wanted. One day. Steve hoped he was there to see it. "I've got no idea," Steve said, throwing his towel down on the counter in resignation. "He came in and started screaming."

"So El was telling me and Max about your big plan," Dustin said. Steve watched Robin's eyebrows shoot way up behind her bangs.

"Jesus Christ," Steve muttered. "You guys gossip more than every cheerleader in our school put together."

"What 'big plan'?" Robin said, an appropriate amount of sarcasm behind Dustin's emphasis of the phrase.

"There's no big plan. There's a–" Steve turned to Dustin, trying to get the words through his thick little skull. "There's an agreed upon procedure between me and Hop, should there ever be a threat large enough–"

"What the fuck do you think procedure means?" Dustin asked, every inch as bitchy as Steve had trained him to be.

"Yeah, well it sounds a lot less fucking ominous. I can't have a thirteen year old going around talking about my big plans with the police chief." Steve hissed. He knocked his knuckles on Dustin's shoulder, following him as Dustin tried to squirm away. "Did you even think about trying to explain why Hop would be working on a plan with me?"

"Can someone please explain this plan to me?" Robin said, volume increasing to be heard over Dustin's squawks of protest.

"Steve's going to be a good Grimm!" Dustin said, cheerily, dodging Steve's swiping hand.

"Jesus," Steve cursed again as Robin turned a disbelieving stare onto him. "It's not like that! I was talking to Hop about what happens if my parents show back up. We decided we should have a plan in place if they or any other Grimms start sniffing around Hawkins. That's all."

Robin looked at Steve for a long moment. "You said that Hexenbiest friend of yours was Chief Hopper's daughter, right?"

Steve winced. "Kinda. She was part of a case a couple years ago, and she hasn't been allowed outside much, but–"

Robin shook her head. "Believe me, I don't want to know. Hexenbiest blood can be used in all kinds of potions and shit. The last thing I need, as a Fuchsbau, is to get involved with whatever all that's about."

Steve didn't even know what to say to that, so he turned to Dustin. "Why are you here, Henderson?"

"I'm calling the plan into action!" Dustin said, his limbs flailing as if he'd been saying that this entire time, Steve, you idiot. "I would have called in a Code Red, but it's not…" His eyes darted to Robin, then back to Steve. "You know."

"There's a Grimm in Hawkins?" Steve asked, his voice flat with disbelief.

"... No?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Henderson…"

"No, come on! There's– Look," Dustin said, holding one finger up as he reached for his backpack. He pulled out one of last semester's folders, green with 'English' crossed out on the front. Underneath, he'd written 'Wesen stuff'.

"Subtle," Steve said.

Dustin ignored him, pulling a stack of newspaper clippings out of the folder. They were rather large, not at all like the small sports write-ups that Steve's mom used to clip out for him. No, these were big, front-page articles, with big black-and-white pictures accompanying them. Dustin's handwriting was in the margins, tiny scrawled notes and circles and arrows and–

Steve shook his head, trying not to let the sudden wealth of information overwhelm him. He felt like this should be the kind of thing Nancy had done in the past few years. Definitely not the job for him, who had trouble pulling together a decent book report.

"So I was spying on my mom's phone call," Dustin began, which inspired a new round of cursing from Steve. "Shut up, Steve, this is important."

"Your mom not killing us is important," Steve hissed.

"My mom is a middle-aged beaver woman. You're a nineteen year old killing machine," Dustin said, ignoring Steve's flinch. "You'll be okay."

Robin came around the counter to stand on Dustin's other side, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the collection of wrinkled newspapers. "Focus, boys," she said, her hands smoothing out the topmost clipping, which featured a large black and white photo of a kid. He was about the age Dustin had been when Steve first met him, grinning wide in front of Fort Worth Elementary. "What is all this?"

"This is what my mom was talking about," Dustin said, his gaze snapping back to his research. "He went missing last week."

Nausea roiled in Steve's stomach, and he forced himself to look away from the bright grin as he struggled with his own gag reflex. It was a little silly, since he hadn't even known Will when it happened– had been a fucking shit about it, even. He hadn't been able to stomach missing kids since '83. Not even in movies. That was one of the reasons O'Donnell hated him so much– She'd tried to make him read some awful book about a missing little girl, and he'd refused. Hired some nerd to write the report. She knew it, and he knew she knew it, but he couldn't read it. Couldn't think about some mom, sick to death with worry, and a bunch of men who thought she was crazy. It made him want to crawl out of his skin. Made him want to launch the book through the police station window with Lucas's slingshot. Made him want to make every teacher who'd whispered behind the Byers' backs eat the pages the words were printed on.

It made him want to pay for the words he couldn't take back with blood.

"Dustin, not every… Kids go missing all the time, buddy." Steve tried to be calm, the reasonable older brother, as his own hands started to shake. "Will was a special circumstance, you know that, right?"

"Oh, shit," Robin mumbled.

"This isn't about Will," Dustin said, although Steve could tell from the way that Dustin's eyes were big and round that it had been very much about Will. "My mom called her friend in Fort Worth, and they were talking about the investigation, and they– He's a klaustreich."

Steve had no idea what that meant, but the German was enough of a giveaway to get the gist. "This kid is a Wesen?"

Even as Dustin nodded, Robin was snorting and shaking her head. "If he's a klaustreich, it was the dad. It's always the dad."

"Hey," Steve said, voice weak. It was hard to fight Wesen prejudice when he had no idea what the stereotypes were supposed to be. It certainly didn't sound flattering, though.

"It's almost always the dad for humans, too," Robin said, a flush of embarrassment across her face.

Steve and Dustin exchanged a look. "Dads aside," Steve said , because talking parents never went well for him. Especially with any of the kids present. "It doesn't matter who did it, because this isn't any of our business. The police will handle this, Dustin, I don't know why–"

"Because he wasn't the only one!" Dustin moved the newspaper to the side, revealing another black and white photo of a smiling child. And then another. And another. More and more pictures were revealed, until the children devolved into a blur of gray and sepia. "In the past four years, more than 38 kids have gone missing in adjacent counties alone."

"That's impossible," Robin said, immediately. "Someone would have done something. They would have caught the guy. There would be– There would be fucking dogs and search parties–"

"Oh, like there was for Will Byers?" Steve said, his tongue numb. He almost didn't mean it, didn't want to be saying it, but all he could think about was that fake body of Will's. His own voice, asking if Jonathan had killed him. "Kids go missing all the time," he repeated.

Robin was quiet for a moment. "So the guy who took Will…"

"No," Steve and Dustin said at the same time.

"That was completely different," Dustin said, "and it's handled."

"One of us would have noticed if there were that many kids involved," Steve said, trying to make himself believe it. "And they wouldn't still be going missing."

"I thought they never caught the guy who did it?" Robin asked.

Another glance. "I made sure of it," Steve said, his voice firm enough to broadcast that he would not respond well to pushing. Not exactly stellar for his new serial killer reputation, but there was no way in hell he was telling Robin about the Upside Down. She wouldn't believe it, anyway, in spite of all the Wesen and magic and shit. Whatever created the Upside Down, it wasn't a furry little guy. It was something sinister, and the last thing he needed was it to get its claws into Wesen society.

Robin's eyes narrowed, her gaze analyzing Steve's face, before she nodded and looked away. "Alright, so what's your theory, beaver boy?"

Dustin sighed. "After I left the library, the trail went kinda cold. It's not like a thirteen year old can call grieving families and expect answers, you know?"

"That's why you should bring this to Hopper," Steve said, tapping the folder. "You know, an actual adult? And a cop, by the way. The people who would actually have a good chance of–"

"A Wesen family would never talk to a human cop," Robin said, then shrugged at Steve's sharp look. "Sorry, man, it's true. We have a thing about handling our own disputes."

"Alright, well…" Steve huffed. It wasn't that he couldn't appreciate the sentiment. He was pretty sure that when Robin said 'handling it', she was using a definition like his own-- Beating the shit out of it with a bat and then setting it on fire. "That's one family that won't talk, but that leaves almost two dozen–"

"More are Wesen," Robin said, and then leaned over to tap at a picture on the table. The kid was older than Dustin, around Robin's age. He beamed out of the gray, wearing his letterman's jacket, a football tucked under his arm. "That's Carter Ridley. Goes to school in Jackson. His mom comes into my dad's shop sometimes. They're jagerbars."

"Hunter bears?" Dustin translated, his nose wrinkling.

"They used to be berserkers, in the old country. Now they're mostly yuppies," Robin said, shrugging. "Still built like a fucking mountain, though."

"Huh," Dustin said, looking thoughtful.

"Alright, so two families…" Steve tried, but Robin shot him a look that left him feeling small.

"If someone is hunting Wesen kids, two is enough."

"Hunting any kid is bad enough," Dustin corrected, but his face was still unfocused in deep thought. "It does take a special kind of person to capture two predator kids, though…"

"What?" Steve frowned down at the picture. "He's, like, fifteen, sixteen? He's big, but he's not going to take out a full grown man."

"He's a sixteen year old jagerbars," Robin repeated. "They used to hunt humans for sport at that age. No dad with a beer gut is going to be able to take a jagerbar raging on teenage hormones."

"So what?"

"So it's a Wesen that's doing this," Dustin said, determined. "Something powerful. Something evil."

"That's your job, right?" Robin said, turning to Steve.

"I'm not a fucking–" Steve paused, frazzled. "I mean, I am. But, like… ethnically. I'm not going to start hunting criminal Wesen and killing them! That's insane!"

"So we're supposed to let them keep doing it?" Dustin said, whirling around.

"No! Or… maybe? I don't fucking know, Dustin. Why didn't you take this shit to Hop? He knows about this Wesen shit, now. I'm sure if he knew about this, he would do something about it." Not as much or as fast as Dustin wanted, but Steve had never known Hopper to sit around and let a kid hurt like that. He would stop this. He would.

"You want to send your father figure after a monster that'll tear him apart?" Robin asked. She didn't even sound upset about it, just… curious. Which Steve thought was rather rich, considering she'd never even met Hopper in the context of Steve. Rich and cruel.

"Steve," Dustin said, before Steve could even gather his thoughts enough to tear into Robin like he wanted to. The kid's voice was solemn, deep in the way he only got when he was on the edge of tears. "I know. But when has bringing an adult into this ever fucking solved anything?"

Steve wanted to protest. They'd helped– Hopper and Joyce and even those stupid science guys, they had all helped. Been instrumental, really. But Steve couldn't deny that sometimes it made things harder. They didn't understand, sometimes, why things had to be done a certain way. Whatever help they would give had to be wheedled out of them, piece by piece, usually at a cost greater than anyone guessed. And that was only if they didn't die. Steve hadn't known Bob, but he had watched Joyce cry into Hopper's chest about it, which was more than enough to solidify the danger in his mind.

He loved Joyce and Hopper. He did. But they weren't the reason they were all still alive. Nancy was. El was. And, sometimes, when someone needed to take the hit, Steve was.

"Okay," Steve said, his shoulders going lax in resignation. "Alright. But if we're going to look into this, we're going to do it right. Now…" What would Nancy do? he asked himself. "We need to know how many of these kids are actually Wesen. Any ideas?"

"You could show up to their house and see if their parents woge?" Dustin said.

"No."

"I have an idea," Robin said, "but you both have to promise not to fucking touch anything."

"There is no way you can make me promise that without telling me what it is I'm not touching," Dustin said, seriously. "That's entrapment."

Robin sighed, chewing off all the lipstick on her bottom lip. "Okay," she said, finally, "my dad's shop is the only Wesen apothecary outside of Indianapolis. If any of their families have ever needed anything a human shop wouldn't handle, they'll be on his ledger."

"Alright, so…. " Steve shrugged. "Would he let us see it?"

Snorting, Robin replied, "Absolutely not. But if his darling daughter were to leave the back door unlocked the next time it's her turn to clean…"

"Oh, good, another crime," Steve said, rolling his eyes. A quick glance at Dustin proved he would be no help in finding an alternative. Glee was written across the kid's face so patently that even Steve didn't have to puzzle it out. It's for the kids, Steve reminded himself.

"Since when do you care about what's legal, Harrington?" Robin said. "You've been drinking since the cradle."

"Like you said," Steve said dismissive. "Police chief. Father figure."

"Steve has, like, chronic parental issues," Dustin informed Robin, sotto voice.

"Dustin…"

"They're fucking terminal," Dustin continued, ignoring Steve's sighs of complaint.

"When are we fucking doing this?" Steve cut in, voice harsh with frustration.

Robin's face went blank in thought for a moment, running through the days in her head. "I'm supposed to clean up after inventory on Thursday," she said, shrugging. "That's the earliest I'll be able to get you in."

Six days. That was more than enough time for the more rational parts of Steve's brain to take back over, more than enough time to talk Dustin out of this heroism kick. He found himself nodding, more than willing to put this off for another week.

"It'll have to wait, then," Steve said, and tried not to sound too pleased about it.

Despite Steve's efforts, the next six days didn't lessen Robin and Dustin's insistence on playing the hero. In fact, Steve found himself on tenterhooks every night. He watched the evening news with an intensity he had given very little since graduation.

The six o'clock news, then the ten– The morning news on the weekend, anchors and time slots that Steve usually slept through. He watched them all with his heart in his throat, every cell of him focused on the prayer that he wouldn't see another sunny, ignorant smile on the screen. Every night passed without a new addition to their list, but that did nothing to soothe the mounting frenzy in Steve's chest. Instead, he could only wonder what they were missing, if there were kids slipping through their fingers unnoticed.

Saturday morning when the anchors said goodbye, the local channel started reruns of old episodes of Batman. Steve, numb with anxiety, stayed curled in his father's pristine armchair and let them play. Primary colors and musical stings blurred together in his bleary mind.

He'd never been a huge superhero kid, not like Dustin and Mike, but there had been no one in his elementary school who didn't sometimes watch Batman. There wasn't much that he remembered. The characters were all unfamiliar and cartoonish, but the apathy made Adam West's booming voice softer. It soothed the shake of Steve's hands.

In one scene, Batman rushed onto the docks, a bomb in his hands. There was nowhere to go, no way to save the unbothered masses around him. It was supposed to be funny; Steve recognized the slapstick body language, the sigh in West's voice. There were baby ducks in the water, for fuck's sake. He had thought it was hilarious, once, in the way sheltered little kids always did.

Steve pulled his legs a little tighter against his body, watching the fuse burn down. The exaggerated resignation had grown too familiar to be laughable. He sat and he watched Batman accept that this bomb was going to go off in his hands, so it wouldn't go off on anyone else's, and it didn't make Steve upset. It didn't make him uncomfortable.

It made him nod, approving. Because Steve knew that if he found himself with a bomb in his hands, he would keep holding it. Would curve himself around it, letting it go off.

"Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb," Batman told him, and Steve clicked the television off. It was time to go back to bed.

The rest of the week wasn't easier. Work helped, the distraction as good for Steve as it had ever been, but Robin didn't. Her obsession had gotten its teeth into Dustin's little mystery, and there was very little else she was willing to talk about. Even when Steve managed to change the subject, he could see the missing smiles in the shadows behind her eyes. In time, she would lapse back into theories and ramblings about some story she had heard, once-upon-a-time. Steve was never sure how many of these stories were facts and how many were legends. The both seemed equally real to Robin, and by Thursday night, he had heard every word the Buckley clan had to offer.

He wished he could blame her. That terrible feeling got its claws into him every time, the paranoia and the guilt and the shame, and it would feel so much better if he could take it out on her. Steve knew it would. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He could feel the frustration bubbling up in his chest, taste the bitter words on his tongue. It didn't matter how long she rambled, though, every time he turned to face her, his voice refused to cooperate. It was too easy, he thought as she rambled through another legend too horrific to listen to. Even as Robin spoke, she broadcasted her fear louder than her voice. Every curiosity revealed another nightmare she'd never beaten. It wouldn't feel as good now, when he knew she was so fragile.

Or maybe he didn't want to be an asshole anymore.

So listened to every awful theory she had, and then drove home to find Henderson on his doorstep with his own set of ideas. Dustin's were at least a little less gory, but he had even less to work with than Robin did. Most of his 'theories', if they could even be called that, were cribbed from cop shows and nursery rhymes. The kind of thing his mother filled his head with so he wouldn't talk to strangers. They had never worked, because Dustin had never met a problem he didn't want to interrogate to death, but they left their mark all the same. So Steve soothed his fears, did his best to not sound too sarcastic when he assured Dustin that the bogeyman didn't exist, and then shooed Dustin off to bed.

Every night was the same, a shift of horror movie plots followed by a thirteen year old's best attempt at paranormal theory.

When the sun finally set on Thursday, Steve expected to feel relieved. After a week of fending off the worst of Robin and Dustin's impulses, he would finally be able to prove this wasn't their problem. All it would take was a quick look at Mr. Buckley's ledgers, and all three of them could finally move on.

Steve tried to remind himself of that, blocking Dustin's chattering voice out as he turned the thoughts over in his mind again and again. They did little to help the rising anxiety, though, the edges worn smooth with handling like well-eroded stones. Steve's fingers flexed against the steering wheel. The closer it got to go-time, the worse Steve felt. The air felt heavy around him, so thick he could imagine it darkening like in one of Dustin's movies.

"You are, like, the worst criminal in the world," Dustin said, halfway through shoving a Twizzler into his mouth.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"You look like you're about to throw up," Dustin said, poking at Steve's cheek with his licorice.

Being able to grab the candy out of Dustin's hand without looking was the only thing Steve's Grimm abilities had ever been good for. He tossed it through his open window, his other hand covering Dustin's mouth– Well, the kid's entire face. Steve wasn't trying to shut him up as much as annoy him into submission.

"You know, you could stand to take this a little more seriously," Steve said, frowning. "Jesus, where is Robin? She said eight, right?"

"It's only 8:15, man," Dustin said, leaning his seat back. "Chill."

"How is it that I'm the only one who believes there isn't a fucking serial killer on the loose and I'm still the only person taking this shit seriously?" he muttered to himself. He needed a fucking cigarette, but he knew Robin would bitch incessantly if she smelled smoke on him. Steve had no idea how he'd picked up another nerd to tell him what to do, or why he even cared about what she said–

"Steve, fucking breathe."

Steve heaved, realizing his lungs had stopped working a thousand thoughts ago. "Thanks," he wheezed.

"No problem."

They lapsed into silence. The moment stretched out between them like the infinite increments between one and two, until Robin's head popped out of her back door. She already looked mad, the too-familiar furrow between her eyes, and Steve sighed under his breath.

This hadn't been his idea, but he was pretty sure that it was going to end up being his fault when they all got caught.

"Come on, before she has a fucking heart attack," Steve said to Dustin as he opened the door. They sprinted across the road, looking twice as suspicious as if they had walked. Steve looked over his shoulder as their feet finally hit the sidewalk on the other side. Though the street was empty save for the Bimmer, he couldn't shake the feeling of something at his back. The feeling had been lurking for weeks, though, even in his own house, so he forced himself to shake it off and slip into the door behind Dustin.

"Took you long enough," Robin hissed.

Steve barely held back an offended squeak, turning it into a grunt in the back of his throat that left him feeling nauseous. "Did you want me to fly here, Buckley? We were waiting for you."

"Yeah, well, we don't have all night." Robin rolled her eyes, but her hands fluttered in front of her chest, as if she wasn't sure how she was expected to hold her arms during a B&E. Steve deflated. It was hardly worth the fight if Robin was picking it to hide how scared she was. It occured to him, for a moment, that it was odd for Robin to be so scared of being caught in her own home. But then Steve thought about getting caught in his dad's office, and winced when his stomach lurched.

Maybe that was the life of a predator kid, Steve thought. Maybe the fear he'd kept just under the skin for most of his life was... normal. Robin had it, El had it. Maybe that was the price you paid for sharing a roof with a monster.

Dustin didn't let Steve mull over that one for long, turning and glaring at Robin in the dim light. "So where are the records, then?"

"The ledger is in the back office," Robin said, casting a glance over her shoulder in the blackness of the rest of the store. "We move it there so Dad can balance the books--" Without listening to another word, Dustin pushed past them both to stalk into the shadows. Robin hissed, the most animalistic sound Steve had ever heard her make, and chased after him.

Steve tried to follow, but the heightened senses he had come into recently did not extend to his vision. He was as lost in the dark as he had been the rest of his entire life. He stumbled into the Buckleys' storeroom using only what little lamplight shone through the windows.

Squinting at the shelves on either side of him, Steve struggled to make sense of what little he could see. The closest Steve had to reference was a librar. The shelves were too cramped and close together to resemble any kind of store he'd ever been in, especially the familiar aisles of the Big Buy. Rather than books, though, every inch of available shelf space was taken up by jars and boxes. Some held dried herb leaves or pills, like Steve had seen in pictures of old pharmacies. Others looked like they would be more at home in his chemistry classroom, right next to the preserved pig fetus. Glad the shapes in the jars were shadowy and dark, Steve shut his eyes and followed the sound of Dustin and Robin's bickering voices.

Who needed to confront the vision of that jar of suspiciously eyeball-shaped soup when you had enhanced hearing? Not Steve, that was for sure.

Luckily, the storeroom wasn't as big as the looming shadows made it seem, and he only took a few steps before he felt the familiar prickle of Dustin and Robin's presence against his skin-- Wait, was that familiar? When had he started noticing that? Why did he not notice himself noticing that--

"Thanks for joining us, dingus," Robin said, muffled around the thumb she currently had shoved in her mouth as she chewed at her cuticules.

"You are going to get scars," Steve said, frowning down at her free hand. It was already ragged around her nails, as if she'd chewed through one hand and kept on going. "And a yeast infection. In your hands. Just so you know."

"Can we please focus?" Dustin huffed as he flipped towards the back page of an enormous, cotton-bound book. It was filled with all kinds of words and numbers that made Steve's head swim, so he was more than happy to look away when Robin snorted at him.

"I hope you get fired for your weird diseased fingers," he whispered, and didn't even grunt when Dustin punched him in the side.

"I get that you two have some weird sexual tension to work out," Dustin said, and Steve and Robin flinched, making twin noises of disgust. "--but I don't actually have any idea what I'm looking for, here, so I could use some help."

"I have the list of the missing kids," Steve said, pulling it out of his chest pocket. He'd kept it there all week, moving them from shirt to jacket and back. It had felt wrong to leave them behind. "We're looking for their last names in here, right?"

Dustin frowned at the book, index finger tracing a line down the page. "No, this is by date, not name. If we use this, we'll be here all night."

"The last few months will--" Robin started, but Dustin wasn't having it.

"I'm not going to leave someone behind just because they didn't need heart powder for exam season this year," Dustin huffed, slamming the book shut. "Your dad has to have, like, a client list or something, right?"

Robin shrugged. "I mean, we have the address book we use for deliveries, but if they come into the shop--"

"Sorry, heart powder? Like, human heart powder? Like, from humans?" Steve interrupted.

"Not always. It's an Eisbiber thing," Dustin replied. "My mom says it got her through college."

"Your mom microdosed?" Robin said, her voice rising an octave.

"Mrs. Henderson might have eaten people?" Steve took a moment. "And I'm the bad influence?"

"That is, like, so not what we're talking about," Dustin said, pushing away from the desk. "Show me this address book."

Huffing, Steve stepped back as Dustin and Robin pushed past them towards an ancient filing cabinet in the corner of the office. Robin was nattering about her father's extensive record-keeping system, and it reminded Steve so strongly of his own father's boring dinner sermons that he tuned it out almost on instinct. Their voices faded until they were swallowed up by the fuzz in the back of Steve's brain, like someone turning the volume of a static-y television all the way up.

Why was he even here? As desperate as Steve had been to get in here and get it over with moments ago, he could feel the frustration starting to build in his chest. This was getting them nowhere, and even if Mr. Buckley did have some computer-level organizations going on here, how the hell was Steve supposed to help? The last time he'd checked, Grimm powers hadn't healed his stupidity yet. He should be home in bed, pretending it wasn't absolutely pathetic he was already under the covers.

"This is it!" Robin hissed as she yanked some monstrous, stained book from underneath a sheath of papers. So much for Mr. Buckley's filing system, Steve thought. "All the addresses should be in here. The ledgers get replaced every year, but this should be everything since we opened."

"Excellent," Dustin said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon character.

"Okay, so--" Impatient, Robin laid the book on top of the cabinet with a thwap, opening the book straight down the middle. "Alright, so, what's the first... Oh. Huh."

Dustin peered over her shoulder, legs straining as his tip toed feet wobbled. "Huh," he agreed.

"What?" Steve asked. The double act was starting to wear on him.

"It's not just names and addresses. There's, like, dates and stuff? These must be sale and payment logs?" Robin didn't sound confident, and that, at least, made Steve look at the moldy book twice. "It's not a ledger, though. There's not a single dollar marked anywhere in here."

"Right, and we care about that because..."

"Because it might be a clue!" Dustin said, and began to scramble to open the list of names once again.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Sorry, are we putting Robin's dad at the top of the suspect list because he keeps records?"

"The first name on the list is Altheide," Dustin said, ignoring Steve. "Are they in there?"

"Cool," Steve muttered, starting to pace behind them. "Let's waste time trying to figure out if the most German last name we've ever heard is part of the German monster conspiracy in our town. Great use of our time, team."

Robin glanced his way, but turned back to the book without a word. With a little grunt of effort-- Steve was beginning to think the book got bigger every time somone looked away from it --she turned to the first few pages. After a moment of skimming the pages, Robin nodded. "Alright, here's one. We've got a G. Altheide from Lafayette."

Dustin grinned, his body barely containing his triumphant glee. He was practically vibrating out of his shoes. "That matches our missing kid-- What else does it say? If we can find some kind of connection between them, it might help us find out why they've been targeted."

"Assuming they were targeted at all," Steve reminded him.

Both of the excited detectives ignored him. "Altheide isn't exactly a regular," Robin said, her fingers following the rows of entries down the page. "He hasn't bought anything since 1982, but in '79 there was a rash of purchases for..." She paused, biting her lip.

"For?" Dustin and Steve prompted in unision.

"Milz," Robin said, looking a little grossed out. "It means 'spleen'. He bought 350g of it over the course of six months."

"Is that a lot? That feels like a lot," Steve said, looking between Dustin and Robin's blank faces.

"That's at least three full organs," Dustin said, shrugging. "Not exactly common, but..."

"No," Robin said, her voice sharp. "It's not common. And I'm sorry, Dustin, I know we were joking about your mom, but--"

"I wasn't joking," Steve muttered to himself. "It's weird."

"--It's exactly the kind of thing we aren't supposed to do. It's exactly the kind of thing that gets you run out of town again. Exactly what people expect us to be selling, and exactly the thing my dad always told me he would never..." Robin's voice trailed off. She flipped through the pages of the book, shaking her head. Steve and Dustin watched her in silence, the horrific humor of the situation completely gone.

They had gotten used to death, gotten used to staring it in the eye and making jokes. But it was different, when it was your dad. They both knew that.

"It's all like that. Every single purchase in this book is... Milz. Gehirn. Gallenblase. Herz. Not a single fucking herb or poultice in sight, just..." Robin shook her head. "How is he even sourcing this?"

Steve and Dustin traded a look.

"Let's solve one mystery at a time, okay?" Steve suggested, , when the question had hung over them for too long.

Robin shook herself, and Steve watched her pull focus over her face like a mask. He had no idea how she did it; Every time he even thought about his father with a Grimm's rage in his veins, it made him vaguely ill. He couldn't imagine holding proof of it in his hands. The mere thought had panic clenching around his throat like a fist.

"Give me the next name," Robin said, solidifying herself as one of the strongest people Steve had ever met.

"Barrett," Dustin said, and Robin was off.

They went through every name like that, one after the other. Some of the names were in there, followed by sales and dates the same as the first. Some of them weren't, although there was no way to know if the kids were human, or their parents were good people. They found more than Steve would have liked. Two dozen cozy little cannibal families in Indiana, most of them a twenty minute drive where Steve's kids went to school.

He didn't say anything, though. Didn't bitch and moan and protest as he had before. He didn't have to. Dustin no longer smiled when they found a name, all the victory of a lead paying off sucked out of it. Now, every confirmation deepened the frown on Dustin's face, made the lines between his brows go tight with worry. Every name was no longer proof that his theory was right, just another danger to Hawkins.

"I'm starting to think Mrs. Henderson is right about, like, everything," Steve mumbled to himself once they'd made it to the end of the list. It wasn't even much of a joke as a dawning horror. More and more, it was beginning to seem like Robin, Dustin, and El were actual outliers, not just proof that stereotypes were wrong.

"Don't say that," Dustin said, despairing. "You don't have to live with her when she's right."

Robin was still staring down at the book, shaking her head. "Out of the 40 missing kids, almost half had parents willing to eat human flesh for a cheap high." She slammed the book shut, and glared up at Steve. "I fucking told you it was the parents!"

"Okay, let's not leap to any--" Steve began, but Dustin cut him off with a rough snort.

"More like your parents," the kid said with a sneer.

Robin woged for a half second, fur rippling across her face and then away again. The gold in her eyes stayed, though, glowing eerily in the dim light. "Excuse me?"

Dustin pointed at the book, his eyebrows almost flying off his face with emphasis. "Your dad is peddling human body parts, and he just so happened to be selling to half the families whose kids are missing?"

"Yeah," Robin said, "Wesen families, not human ones. Why would that--"

"I don't know, the fact that he was collecting blackmail on them?" Dustin rolled his eyes when Robin growled. "There's no reason for him to keep evidence of illegal activity if it's not for blackmail or spying, and I think--"

"No one cares what you think," Steve said, stepping between the two of them. When a smug smile began to spread across Robin's face, he shot her a glare. "Either of you. You're both being stupid."

"Oh, good, the keg stand king of Hawkins High is going to preach to us about being stupid," Robin muttered under her breath but her gaze finally filtered back into its hazy blue, the sharpness of her teeth dulling as she spoke. Steve resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

"No offense, Steve, but you're not exactly--"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Henderson." Steve drew himself up to his full height, a display that would have been more intimidating if his hands hadn't instinctually found his hips. "Because what I am is a Grimm, and that's as close as we're gonna get to an official on this thing, so what I say goes. More importantly--"

Robin tried to break in, a protesting whine to her voice as she said, "I don't think being born--"

"More importantly," Steve repeated, a little too loud for someone who was trying not to get arrested by his own father figure, "I'm the son of a business man. Do you know how many lectures I've had to sit through?"

"What does that have to do with any--"

"Getting rid of your own clientele is bad business. Especially if you can still get something out of them. And given that Mr. Buckley has blackmail on nearly every single wesen family in the state, I'd say that he has a lot to gain from keeping them around and no motive to speak of."

"Thank you," Robin said, relief evident in her voice.

"You weren't right either," Steve sighed. "Look, I-- I think it's as weird and gross as you both do, okay? I have no idea what we're going to do about this, but.. One mystery at a time, alright? These kids have to come first, and I don't think this--" Steve gestured to the book, so unassuming with it's tattered cover "--actually has anything to do with it. It was a good lead. It was. But this isn't a game."

"But all the names--"

"Less than half of the names, Dustin," Steve interrupted. He paused to put a gentle hand on the kid's shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's enough to prove that wesen are getting targeted. But we can't force everything into connecting because it's convenient. That's how people get hurt."

"Then what does it mean?" Robin's voice was muted, her gaze still stuck to the floor. "If it's not a part of it, then why--"

And Steve got it, he did. It would be so much easier to swallow if this was part of some grand conspiracy. So much easier to accept that her father was a terrible person if there was a fantastical story to back it up. If Robin could pursue this thing and claim that the anger in her chest was for the kids, not for her own frightened heart. If there were a bigger evil out there, something she could focus it on that wasn't someone she loved. Steve understood it better than Robin could probably ever imagine, but there was nothing he could do to fix it for her.

"It means that there's a lot of stuff for us to fix," Steve said, "and it's going to take more to fix it than we thought. That's all."

Dustin sighed, slumping forward. He faceplanted into Steve's abdomen, hat tumbling off his head with the sudden jolt. Steve caught his weight, keeping him steady with one hand flat on his back. Dustin was getting taller, Steve realised with a pang. Next year Steve wouldn't be able to hold him up so easily.

There were no thoughts of his own impending adulthood in Dustin's head, yet. "What do we do now?" Dustin said, every inch the child he had been two years before. Steve looked over his head at Robin who shrugged, still looking lost.

It rankled that Steve didn't know how to help her. He couldn't pull her into his side to offer the support that the kids so eagerly took. The things he did with Hopper were no help, either; Steve didn't know much about her interests but beer and a game on the television didn't help much with forgetting that your dad was the most fucked up version of a drug dealer.

"We should go home, get some rest." Steve ruffled Dustin's hair. "We can try to figure out our next steps tomorrow, okay?"

"We're running out of time," Robin said, motioning at the list. "There's no way they're keeping those kids ali--"

"Stop it," Steve said, pulling Dustin further into his chest. "It's late, and we're all on edge. There's nothing we can do right now that's of help to anyone, alright? We need to get some sleep and come at this when we aren't freaking out."

"I'm staying with you tonight," Dustin said, muffled by the fabric of Steve's shirt.

"Dustin," Steve began, sighing, but Dustin wasn't willing to be swayed. He tilted his head up, frowning as he made eye contact with Steve.

"There's no way I can see my mom tonight, man," he whined. "She's going to know something's up, like, immediately. Call her and tell her I'm staying over because I ate too much lasagna and fell asleep on your couch again."

Fair enough. Claudia Henderson had an almost supernatural nose for danger, one that would be on high-alert when Dustin started asking too many questions about the illicit substances she may or may not have taken in the 60s. There was nothing that gave a scheme away like questions with too much specificty, and Dustin had never understood the meaning of the word 'casual'.

Steve looked toward Robin, resigned to not actually getting any sleep tonight. "What about you, Buckley?"

Robin's face creased with disgust. "Oh, ew, Harrington. Tell me you are not using this as an opportunity to pull."

"As if you would be so lucky," Steve said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Come on, you're telling me you want to make eye contact with dear old dad over the breakfast table tomorrow morning?"

Robin apparently hadn't thought of that. He watched it settle over her, the fact that this was her life now. That nothing, not Friday mornings or family games or birthday parties would ever be free of the knowledge of what her father had done. He watched her truly understand it, watched the nausea cause her jaw to work, watched her hands flex at her side.

Steve had spent the last two months dreading the day his parents came back home. Not even because he was worried about how they would treat Dustin and El-- That, Steve could handle. He had gotten very good at keeping secrets over the last two years. No, the worst of it was that it was very different, it turned out, knowing that your dad was an asshole who hurt people and having to acknowledge it.

Being a Grimm didn't make Bradley Harrington a monster; Steve had always been very aware of who his father was. Not that it had ever been much of a secret. Every dinner Steve had ever been forced to have with the man had turned into a lecture on how to screw the most people over, how to use it to control the narrative around you. It was framed as a lesson, but it was bragging-- A list of people whose lives he had ruined to buy Steve a shiny new toy he hadn't asked for, to keep him clothed in fabrics that made him itch and feed him expensive dinners that made his stomach churn.

Robin's father was closer, and kinder. He didn't want to think about how much harder this would be for her.

"That's... nice of you, Steve," Robin said. "But I should go home so no one suspects anything."

Steve nodded. "Then we can meet up at my house tomorrow afternoon," he said. "We'll go over our options then. Until then, we keep our heads down and try to forget everything we learned tonight, okay?" Robin and Dustin both nodded, and Steve felt something in his core finally unclench.

It was a long, hard night. Long after he'd gotten Dustin home and tucked into a guest room, Steve was wide awake. He found himself walking up and down the halls of the second floor. He kept his footsteps as quiet as possible, but he couldn't make himself stop. He wished he could blame it on the nerves that had made him so jumpy earlier, or even fear-- That, at least, would be familiar. Sleeping for months after the demodogs and Billy had been rough; Every time he closed his eyes, his heart would lurch with adrenaline.

That night, Steve felt calm. His brain turned every shadow and creak into an enemy, but with a confidence that shook him. He was in his own home, lancing at windmills, confident that whatever beast crept out of the corner wouldn't last long in front of him. They wouldn't touch Dustin. Every other Wesen kid in Indiana might be in danger, but not his.

Steve had never had a lack of self-assurance, exactly, but the complete belief in his own victory was new. And, if he was completely honest, unnerving.

That didn't stop his feet from moving.

He drove Dustin to the Wheeler's the next morning, the both of them silent and sleepy-eyed. Dustin hugged him for a little too long before he got out of the car, uncaring about embarassment or teasing in a way Steve could never fathom, but he returned every ounce of affection as long as the kid would let him. The drive home was lonely.

At least with Dustin out of the house, Steve could sleep. He didn't even bother going up to his room, just sprawled himself out on the couch and let the rising heat of the morning lull him into unconsciousness. By the time he woke, it was almost time to pick Dustin up.

Apparently, a single day with his friends was enough to shake Dustin from his fear. "So it's got to be another Wesen, right?" he said before he'd even closed the Bimmer door behind him.

"We're not talking about it without Robin," Steve said, absently adding, "and put on your seatbelt."

"Come on," Dustin whined. "We don't need a stupid girl to figure this out for us!"

"I'm going to tell El you said that the next time a monster crawls out of the ground to kill us all." Steve didn't even bother looking over at Dustin as they spoke, his eyes fixed solely on the after-school traffic milling around them. "See if she helps your ungrateful ass after that."

Dustin huffed and threw himself back against his seat, arms folded. "Sorry, it's-- Why does everyone have to be so stupid about girls all the time? They're just... they're just girls!"

Steve winced. He still kinda regretted the advice he had given Dustin about girls the year before. Sure, it had been true, but Steve had only recently learned that because things got you the results you wanted, didn't mean you could do them. Even if girls liked it. Even if it kept you safe. Hopper had laughed his ass off when Steve had confessed that he wasn't sure how to take it back without embarassing himself. In the end he had told Steve to keep an eye on it and help when Dustin ran into trouble, same as he would anything else. The problem was, of course, that Steve himself hadn't figured out a different way to talk to girls.

He could talk to them, yeah. Ring them up and ask them about their day, then send them off and never see them again. But dating? Steve couldn't exactly claim to be an expert anymore, especially since he hadn't given it a single thought in months.

"Oh, man," Steve said. He could feel his face twisting with discomfort. "I mean... it's kinda just what... boys do?"

"It's not what I do," Dustin grumbled, kicking at the floor in front of him. Usually, Steve would have snapped at him to not wreck the Bimmer, but it had been a rough week, and it was shaping up to be an even rougher day. Steve didn't have the energy.

"That's funny, because I remember a kid who wanted to talk to Max even when his weird pet was terrorizing the town," Steve joked.

Dustin didn't laugh, just looked up at Steve with big, sad eyes. "I don't know," he said, a little fear starting to creep into his voice. "I just don't care anymore. I feel like it's all Mike and Lucas even think about, anymore, and even Will... all Will ever talks about anymore is Mike and Lucas talking about girls! And it's stupid, 'cause there's so much other stuff to think about, you know?"

"Well, for one, Mike and Lucas and Will don't have to deal with the same things you do," Steve said, trying to talk around Wesen issues and medical scares as gently as possible. "Plus, well. It was pretty much the same way when I was your age, right? Everyone, even all the adults, expect you to talk about girls and sports at your age. And some people, you know, are more interested in others, and then some people just... pretend, because they like to fit in. Does that make sense?"

Dustin made a small noise of confusion. "Should I start pretending, too? Is it, like-- Is it important?"

"No, you--" Steve sighed, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. "It's good, that you don't pretend. Seriously, man, sometimes I wish you'd pretend to care about, like, volume control, but I like that you don't pretend. Your friends like that you don't pretend. Just, you know, you have to understand that not everyone is able to be that cool about it. Give it a few years, and people will stop caring about it so much."

"So were you pretending? Is that why you haven't been on a date in a while?" Steve squirmed at Dustin's question, feeling thoroughly grilled by the thirteen year old in his passenger seat, but it was better than the fear he'd had earlier.

"Not, um--" Steve cleared his throat. "Not exactly. I mean, sure, for a long time, yeah. I was... I was expected to behave a certain way, and when everyone else started going on about girls then, like, yeah. I put on a show for a little while. But, you know, then I met Nancy, and I liked her more than I've ever liked another girl. More than I had ever liked anyone, at that point. I haven't really... I mean, people kinda expect it from me, because I was a little too good at pretending, but it hasn't really felt like that again. It's not realistic to expect yourself to be crazy over every cute girl you meet. Even the really, reall cute ones. So, you know, don't be so down about it. Maybe you'll meet your own Nancy one day."

"I think Nancy was already my Nancy," Dustin said, frankly, and Steve snorted. Yeah, the kid's childhood crush had never been super subtle. "I don't know, man. There was this girl, you know, at camp? Her name was Suzie. And she said she liked me and I... I liked her, too, but there was just so much going on at home, and there's so much going on now-- How am I supposed to care? It just doesn't seem worth it."

"This is going to sound like shitty advice," Steve said, continuing over Dustin's eyerolling. "But you're young. You're probably not going to meet the love of your life in middle school. You're allowed to not care about it for a few more years, if that's what you want."

"What if I never care about it again?" Dustin asked in a small voice.

"Then you're luckier than the rest of us," Steve said as he pulled into the driveway. "Because, you're absolutely right: it's not worth it."

"Wow, you're such a romantic," Dustin said, hand already on the door handle. "I have no idea why you're still single."

"Mystery of the century," Steve said to his own black eyes in the mirror. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, where they usually spent most of their time snacking. Steve hadn't had the stomach for food in days, really, but he made Dustin a sandwich while nibbling on a package of stale Keebler crackers. 

Robin finally showed up thirty minutes after they'd agreed to meet up. She stomped into the house with the heavy gait of the thoroughly exhausted, and Steve eyed her sweat-damp hair and mussed clothes with a little frown.

"You know, I could have picked you up." He was well-aware that his house was a fair piece to bike to, even to people who technically lived close. Being in the woods didn't help, with less people to find you if you fell off your bike. Steve never let the kids cycle to his house, forever worried about finding one of them in a ditch the next morning, and it didn't sit right that Robin had made the trek clear across town on her own. 

"If my mom had seen me being picked up by Steve Harrington, she'd have a heart attack and then spend the next five years trying to 'cool mom' her way into finding out if we had sex," Robin said with a huff as she readjusted the plaid shirt tied around her waist. 

Steve could feel a grimace crease his face, both at the second-hand embarassment and what that said about his own reputation. Had the exaggerations of his sexual conquests really spread so far as to make it to the middle-aged population of Hawkins? Did people talk about his sex life with Hopper or the Sinclairs, or worst of all, Karen Wheeler? 

He hoped not. He really hoped that Mrs. Buckley was either just paranoid or extremely invested in Robin's love life, because the alternative was too stomach churning to bare. 

"Okay, ew. I didn't need to hear that," Dustin said, his face pulling into a mirror of Steve's.

"Sorry," Robin said with a shrug that didn't seem that sorry at all, actually. 

Rolling his eyes, Dustin said, "Since Steve promised me there would be no weird teenage romance energy tonight, can we please get to the point of this meeting?" 

"Which is?" Steve asked, leaning against the breakfast nook. 

Dustin picked up his folder of 'research' and slammed it down on the island in the middle of the kitchen dramatically, both hands splayed onto the paper. He leaned forward, making eye contact strong enough with Steve that he was almost sure the kid was trying to trigger a woge for dramatic effect. "We are going to find out the culprit of these kidnappings tonight or die trying." 

"Dustin, could you please stop predicting our deaths?" Steve groaned. "You're a total jinx. If I die because you said that, I'm going to invent ghosts just to haunt you." 

"Do you honestly believe in that stuff?" Robin scoffed. "Like, ghosts? Magic universe manifestation or whatever?" 

Which was rich coming from someone who had spent four days telling Steve about every fairy tale creature she could think of. 

Steve didn't even look her way as he shrugged. "Robin, I am literally friends with a wizard. I watch you turn into a giant fox creature daily. Of course I fucking do."

"Guys, can we please focus?" 

Under Dustin's militant reign, Steve and Robin dutifully helped him re-read all the newspaper clippings. There were a few commonalities that Dustin had missed-- All of them found by Robin, who had a better geographic memory than Dustin and Steve put together. However, there was nothing that would establish a functioning territory for a Wesen, or even a motive or means. Just a few common street names, a lingering presence for a month or two before it jumped across the county line to lurk somewhere else. 

It would be helpful, Steve thought as he listened to Robin and Dustin debate about jurisdiction laws, if he had access to any files Hopper might have in the station. He knew all it would take was a quick call and an explanation, but the last thing he wanted was to get Hopper and El involved in anything that involved missing Wesen kids. Anyone who knew the truth of what El was knew that she was the cream of the crop, and Steve wouldn't be able to think past the sheer worry. It was going to be hard enough to keep Dustin safe, and there would be no convincing Dustin to keep himself safe if El kept rushing into danger. And she always did, no matter what anyone told her.

Even worse would be dealing with Hopper, who had the tendency to be even more overprotective than Steve himself.

Eventually, Robin threw the newspaper down on the table. "I give up. There's literally nothing in here that we haven't considered, like, a million times before." Steve was only halfway through his own stack, but he had to agree. 

"There has to be something," Dustin said. "There's always a clue, we just have to find it!" 

Robin pushed a hand through her hand, her bangs sticking out from the top of her head at an angle. After a moment of silence, she said, "I think we're looking at this the wrong way. I was reading this book last year, about how the cops find big serial killers. You know, like last year, when Larry Eyler--" 

"Let's not talk about that." The last thing Steve wanted to talk about with Dustin was Larry Eyler. Even if he was comfortable telling his teen friend about a rampant serial killer, he wasn't exactly keen to find out what Dustin's opinions on gay people were. Or, even worse, have to explain what a leather community was. He shot Robin a look. 

"... Okay, fair," Robin said, giving the thirteen year old in the room a glance before moving on. "Anyway, when they look for these guys, the first thing they do isn't to try and figure out exactly who did it. They try and figure out what kind of person would do it, and go from there. You know, to narrow it down." 

Steve frowned. "We already know what kind of person did it. It was a Wesen; We already decided that." 

"No, not like that. Like-- What kind of personality traits do they have? Are they bold or are they skittish? Are they charming? Creepy? Stuff like that." The explanation didn't exactly make sense to Steve, but he supposed the general concept was reasonable enough. There had to be some way to find out who commited a crime when there were no witnesses, and the cops certainly put enough people behind bars without them. It might as well be psychology, Steve supposed, although to him that was about as meaningful as witchcraft. 

Dustin sounded more convinced. "How do we even find out something like that?" 

"Ugh. A psychology degree, I guess," Robin said, as if she had never thought about it before. 

"It's not a terrible idea, though." Dustin said. His eyes had gone hazy and unfocused, staring through the newspaper on the counter instead of at it.  "If we stop focusing on exactly who the kidnapper is, and maybe focus on what kind of Wesen they might be, that would definitely narrow it down..."

"Can we?" Steve asked. His frown grew deeper. "I mean, it's kinda messed up to just decide that one kind of Wesen is more likely to kidnap kids than another kind, isn't it?" 

"Steve, you're new to this, so I get it," Robin said. She had that tone in her voice that Steve hated, the one that said he was being a new level of stupid previously undiscovered by man. The kind that said they couldn't even blame him for being so unable to compute reality, because who would ever expect Steve Harrington to be capable of thought?  "You're still thinking about people as humans. We're all the same, we all bleed red, yadda yadda. But Wesen aren't like that. Some of us literally bleed different colors." 

He wasn't sure what that had to do with anything. "That doesn't seem like a good enough reason to--" 

"It's like zoology," Robin interrupted. "Cats and dogs aren't inherently good or bad, right? There's a mix, made up of enviromental and social influences. But they have specific instincts, and specific responses to certain stimuli. There's no changing that." 

"Yeah, but-- Cats and dogs aren't people, Robin," Steve said. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsettled as always by the Wesen impulse to dehumanize each other. Maybe it made sense to them-- After all, they literally weren't human --but as someone raised completely in the human world, no amount of woge could  make Steve look at someone with two legs and a smile and think 'animal'. Even remembering the way demogorgon flesh collapsed under the weight of his bat still made Steve vaguely ill. 

"They're not human, you mean. Neither are Wesen. Look, I get it," Robin sighed. "But when a Maushertz dies, the first person you look at is the Klausreich. That's all I'm saying." 

Dustin jumped in, patience worn thin by their impromptu ethical debate. "So, what? You think we need to look through every species of Wesen and find out exactly who would be compelled to hunt the species of Wesen that are missing?" 

"It's better than our other idea," Robin reminded them, "which is literally absolutely nothing." 

"I still think this is a terrible idea," Steve said. This sounded like a good way to get their asses kicked. Or an even better way to end up like his parents. 

"When we start looking to you to be the ideas guy, Harrington, that's how I know we're really fucked," Robin said, rolling her eyes. 

"Great." 

"Do your parents have any books on wesen species?" Dustin asked, ignoring Steve's glare. 

"No." Robin shook her head.  "Maybe one about anatomy or something, but nothing general like this." 

Dustin looked thoughtful for a moment, and then began, slowly, "Is it possible that it's..." 

Steve stopped him before he could complete the thought, completely uninterested in revisiting last night's near meltdown. "Dustin, if Robin's parents were using the kids in a weird drug scheme, there would be bodies literally all over Indiana. Let it go." 

"Fine! Fine..." Dustin said, throwing his hands up in the air. "What then? We can't exactly go the library for this kinda shit. What else do we do? Call Owens? My mom?"

"Who's Owens?" Robin asked, turning to Steve. He almost wanted to rub it in her face, that he knew something she didn't, but Dustin looked all too willing to answer her question. 

"Someone we literally can't talk about without getting our asses kicked by Reagan," Steve said quickly. "Shut up, Dustin." 

The kid didn't look all too upset about Steve's intervention. If anything, he looked excited, as if Steve had reminded him of something great. "Hey, wait, what about your parents, Steve?" 

"My parents haven't been in town in months," Steve said, although Dustin already knew. Robin had probably already guessed, by the way Dustin talked about them like they were strangers, and for once Steve was glad to confirm his parents had all but abandoned him to Hawkins.  "There's literally no way this could be them." 

"No, I know that. But they probably have research or something, right?" 

Robin visibly brightened, straightening from her previously defeated slouch. "Oh my god, Dustin, you're a genius!" 

"Isn't his ego big enough already?" Steve sighed. Dustin was already giving him the smugest eyes imaginable, as if Robin's praise proved what Dustin had been telling Steve all along. He was starting to wish these two had never met.

"No, seriously, there's literally no way that professional monster hunters wouldn't have information on which monsters are more likely to commit which crimes," Robin said. "That's like if cops didn't keep info on gangs. And that's exactly what we're looking for! If we're gonna play the Grimm game, then we need to start thinking like a Grimm." 

"And that starts with getting a Grimm's information," Dustin finished, a gleam in his eye. 

Steve thought this was all rather rich, coming from the boy who hadn't known what a Grimm was mere weeks ago and a girl who had been ready to write him off forever for being one. Not to mention, Steve had absolutely no interest in actually being a Grimm. He might have been born with a Grimm's powers, but that didn't mean that he had to go around acting like one. If anything, trying to protect these kids was his first step in making sure he never followed that path. 

"This is insane," he told them, his voice brokering no room for negotiation. "What do you want me to do, call them up and tell them a bunch of Wesen kids have gone missing? Because that's going to either end up with them here, which we definitely don't want, or they're going to hang up the phone because, again, it's Wesen kids." And the guy they were trying to find probably wasn't doing much worse than whatever his parents had been doing in Prague for the last six weeks. 

"Doesn't your dad have a study upstairs? I mean, have you even looking in there since you found out?" Dustin said. 

Steve's stomach sank. His father did have a study, yes, on the far end of the hallway from Steve's room. He hadn't been in there since he was very little, not yet old enough to understand why rules existed. The bubbling rage on his father's face had been clear, made even keener by the fact it had nowhere to go. Steve's father hadn't laid a finger on him, but Steve never forgot the rule again. While the rest of his memories of that age had been washed away by time, that one had remained, far clearer than Steve was technically comfortable with. 

He wondered, now, if his father had woged at him, his child's mind unawakened to what he was truly seeing but keen enough to know he was in danger. 

 "I'm not allowed in there," Steve said, quickly. Without another word, Robin stood and walked out of the kitchen, Dustin scrambling after her. Steve leapt to his feet and overtook them with a few large strides, using his body to block the way up the stairs. "No, Robin, seriously. My dad will lose his fucking mind if he finds out anyone's been in there." The anger hadn't had anywhere to go when Steve was a kid, but who knew what he would do if he came home to find his 19 year old had been rummaging around in there? Even worse, what about kids that weren't even his? 

"Steve, I literally helped you break into my dad's store and look through his secret blackmail book," Robin said, her mouth curling into a snarl.  "Forgive me if I don't really care that your daddy might be mad at you when he gets home." 

"Sorry, am I the only one remembering that my dad might be an actual murderer?" Steve asked, looking from Robin and Dustin and back. Neither of them looked very impressed, and once again, Steve felt like the only sane person in the universe.  "Hello? Are you even-- Seriously, guys, this isn't cool." 

"Steve, chill out," Dustin said. "We don't even know when your dad will be back. You told me literally a few months ago that they said they probably wouldn't be back until Thanksgiving! We have, like, so much time. They're literally never going to find out." 

That was true. It would be months, probably, before his parents found their way back home. The dust would have more than enough time to settle, and Steve could spend as much time as he wanted trying to clean everything up. That didn't rid him of the queasy feeling in his stomach, or the panic tightening around his throat, but it was enough to make him quaver under Robin's glare. He stepped out of the way, rubbing at his nose while Robin pushed past him. 

"... Fine. Fucking fine," Steve muttered under his breath. "This is so fucking stupid." 

He followed Dustin up the stairs, eyes glued to the familiar carpet under Dustin's sneakers. It was getting harder and harder to swallow down the panic that always sprung up when he thought about his parents, a sign that did not bode well for Steve's career as an anti-Grimm. It was odd, he knew, but until all of this, Steve's feelings had been pretty neutral to his family. He hated it when they were around, of course, but didn't every teenager? That was why they all complained, right, because their parents made them feel like a rat in a cage, and they didn't have Steve's good luck of months and months alone? Even after dinners with the Wheelers and the Henderson, after he had learned that most kids loved their parents, he didn't examine his own feelings too closely. There was no reason for it, after all; They were gone, and had never hurt him. What would be the point of thinking about it now, when everything else in the world was out to get him? 

It wasn't until he realized what being a Grimm meant to his parents, meant for his relationship with them, that he realized how truly fucked he was, being afraid of his parents. Because how was he supposed to stand up to them if he couldn't even make himself walk into an empty study? All Steve could really do was hope it got better as he got a little older, and that his parents would stay out of his business until then. For now, his palms sweat as he thought about what they were about to do. Wiping his hands on the leg of his pants, Steve tried to ignore the panic. 

Robin didn't wait for permission to throw open the study door, immediately heading for the large bookshelves that lined the room. Steve looked around before stepping over the threshold, his heart in his throat. The room seemed normal enough, like the home offices on television shows. The walls were a boring beige, unmarred by his mother's personal touch, and the only furniture besides the shelves was a large antique desk, a high-back chair, and an over-large ottoman to the side. It was all brown and white and boring, covered in a thin layer of dust. 

Steve felt sweat pool on his back as he took two shaky steps in. 

"It's all business junk," Robin said, her fingers skimming over leather-bound spines. "And encyclopedias. Honestly, I don't think most of this stuff has ever been touched before."

"My dad's not exactly a huge reader," Steve said. For the first time in years, Steve felt the urge to chew on his bottom lip. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that his mother hated it even more than his father hated a broken rule. She hated the chewing and the fidgeting and the sounds, all things that Steve had driven her crazy with for the first ten years of his life, and she wouldn't put up with it for a second more. 

She couldn't hear or see him now, but Steve didn't dare break the habit. 

"Help me check the desk," Dustin said, and Robin darted across the room to join him. 

For a moment, Steve thought about stopping them, the intrustion feeling even riskier than opening the door had been, but what was the point? No one kept anything important in a desk they never used. Steve couldn't remember the last time his dad had spent more than a few minutes in his study. It wasn't a place meant to contain any semblance of real life. Steve had to imagine that even the dust mites suffered. 

He watched them rifle uselessly through marked pens and blank papers, every drawer unlocked and useless. 

"I don't get it," Robin muttered to herself as she stood, hands on her hips. She didn't even seem to be talking to either of them, too absorbed in her own thoughts. "There should be something. Why isn't there something?" 

"Because my parents aren't a movie. They're real people," Steve hissed, a little fed up. "They are also, unfortunately, my problem, so if we could get the fuck out of my dad's study--" 

"Hold on," Dustin said, breaking through the brewing spat. "I think I found something." He was standing over the too-large ottoman his dad kept in the corner, the matching upholstered top torn off the base and set to the side. Steve felt the air rush into his lungs, ready to lose his fucking shit, and then he noticed that the base was hollow. Well, it had been hollow, once. It was full, now, crammed to the brim with books older than Steve had ever seen before in his life. 

"Holy shit," Robin said, rushing to Dustin's side. Steve, despite himself, followed. 

They surrounded the disguised trunk by unspoken accord, all of them kneeling to get a closer look. Most of the books were trashed, the cloth covers water-stained and the pages wrinkled. Other than that, there was nothing common amongst them. Every book was a different size, a different shape, the pages cut differently or just a tad more yellow than the others. Some were worn white by time, while others had gone grey with dirt. Despite all that, they looked recently well-taken care of, and they were free of dust. The holes in some of the bindings had been neatly stitched with clean, white thread. 

"God, some of these look ancient," Robin said, reaching for one of the oldest. Steve and Dustin leaned to peek into the pages as she opened it slowly. Steve could smell decaying paper and stale ink as the pages flipped through the air, and he squinted as the stench made his eyes water. The letters swam in front of his face, but even as he blinked them away, the spindly handwriting on the yellowed page refused to make sense.

"Is that even in English?" Dustin asked, and Steve silently sighed in relief. 

"This is an old German dialect," Robin answered. She set the book to the side, perched on the plush ottoman top. The next few were in English, and Steve could tell she was disappointed, but then she reached for another. It was so old that the pages crumbled at the corners when Robin picked it up, and the words inside reminded Steve of the one time a teacher had given them their assignments in some old version of English as a joke.  "This one is even older than Modern German--" She reached for a another, her eyebrow furrowed in thought. "And I think this one's in Yiddish?" 

"Can you read that?" Steve asked, shocked. 

Robin shrugged. "It might take a little time, and the dialects might throw me off a word or two, but most of them, I can. I think." 

"Okay, great!" Dustin said, "So you can focus on those, and me and Steve can split anything in English between us." 

Steve picked up the nearest book carefully, holding his breath as he opened the front cover. He had never been a huge book person, and he had certainly never cared about the condition of a book when he finished reading it, but something about these books felt important. Not just because he was sure his father would kill him if he ended up ruining it. 

To his surprise, there was no title inside the book, just a name and a series of dates. "I think the ones in English might be diaries. This one is, at least." 

"They must be your ancestors, or something," Dustin said, grinning at Steve over the the trunk. He looked thrilled, like they had found actual treasure instead of a stack of dusty old books. "It's kinda cool, when you think about it. Having all this history in your blood." 

Steve could understand why Dustin, who had been cut off from the Wesen world completely, might think that. But Steve could already feel a pit forming in his stomach, "Something tells me I'm not going to like finding out what 'my blood' has been up to. But, uh, I think I should be the one to read these. Just in case." 

Dustin looked a little disappointed, but nodded. "Sure, man. They're your books."

Luckily, there were only a few proper diaries in the pile. At least, ones in English, anyway. The rest were almost like dictionaries-- "Bestiaries," Dustin corrected -- little more than impersonal lists and facts about the different kinds of Wesen. Steve listened to Dustin read a particularly sarcastic passage about Eisbibers, and then turned back to the books in his hands. 

If he had to be honest, Steve was a little thrown off by the fact that he now had physical proof that his parents were Grimms. He'd been preparing himself for the truth for months now. At least, he'd thought he had. Now, with the proof in his hands, Steve didn't feel very prepared at all. At least none of the books had been his parents' diaries. He wasn't sure if he could handle reading their thoughts, when they hadn't bothered to call in months. He wasn't sure if he could handle facing that they even had thoughts, when they'd mostly amounted to ominous shadows in the corners of his life.

He certainly couldn't handle thinking of these books in his father's hands, what his dad must have been thinking as he read them for the first time. Steve could feel his brain slip into fuzziness as he begins to flip through the first few diaries. The entries were short, and he found himself skimming over them, lingering on the ones with small pictures and diagrams scrawled in the margins. 

In one, he found a perfectly drawn and unfamiliar heart, every valve and aorta clearly labeled. Underneath, his great-grandfather said it was the heart of Siegbarste. Steve flipped the page, not wanting to find out whose heart he was looking at, but the entry only continues. The handwriting has changed, the ink a little fresher-- And Steve would be surprised, because it's not exactly how diaries are meant to be used, but apparently that wasn't how Grimms worked. Every single one he's looked through so far has had a note or two written by someone else. It would almost be heart-warming, the generations of collaboration, if it weren't a legacy of murdering people that now rested on Steve's shoulders. 

So, no, the presence of a second author wasn't what shook Steve. It was the familiarity of the handwriting that turned his stomach. Most of the contact he'd had with his parents had been in writing. Not in letters, of course; Steve didn't expect his parents had that much time for anyone, least of all him. But through the years, they'd talked to him mostly through notes. Simple lines explaining they would be back home in a few months, impersonal birthday wishes, a few kind lies of affection. Always written by his mother, of course, when she missed the easily polished child that Steve used to be. 

And that same writing was here, her looping 't's and slanted 'r's, only now instead of soothing the loneliness in Steve's chest, it told the tale of a particularly stubborn Siegbarste, who had been so unwilling to die that she had to take a crowbar to his ribs and-- 

Steve closed the book. 

Suddenly, he was nostalgic for the days when Nancy and Jonathan were the ones who did all the research. Sure, Steve had resented it a little at the time-- He'd meant it when he'd said that all he really wanted was for Nancy to be happy with the person she loved, but it had also stung, that Nancy had picked someone smarter than him, someone who could keep up with her. If this was what it was always like, though, he was grateful that he and Nancy hadn't worked out. He wasn't sure he could stomach this every single year. It was so much easier to just pick up a blunt object and keep some kids alive, even if he was the one who always ended up in the hospital afterwards. 

If this was what being 'smart' meant, Steve genuinely thought he preferred being stupid. 

Robin and Dustin had settled in with their books, though, and there was no way that Steve was leaving them up here alone. There was no telling what they'd get up to, and he wasn't exactly about to let them dig through his family's secrets. He looked from diary to diary nervously, with no real idea of where to start. Eventually, though, he looked to the cleanest diary, almost pristine except for what looked like a singe in the corner. On the outside, embossed in gold, was the name 'Otis'. 

Steve had known, intellectually, that if his dad was a Grimm then so, of course, was Grandpa Otis. Something in his brain, however, had rebelled against the thought. Because while his parents had triggered every prey instinct Steve had ever had, Grandpa Otis had never made Steve ever feel anything but safe and loved. Even though Steve had literally heard his grandfather's stories about the war, about the terrible things Otis had done and seen, he couldn't imagine him hunting someone. He had gone to war because he hadn't had any choice, and he had fought with honor and righteousness. At least, that's what Steve had always been told. That's what he wanted to believe, more than anything in the world. 

At least if he was wrong, though, he wouldn't have to look his grandfather in the eye again. There were some advantages to losing the one family member who cared about you, he guessed. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Steve opened the diary to the first page and began to read. 

Otis' diary entries started in his first days of boot camp, desperate to keep some kind of record since the family's grimoire-- Steve had to assume that was some kind of fancy word for book --was no longer available to him. At first, there was almost no mention of Wesen at all. He wrote about Steve's Grandma Mary, mostly, and how much he regretted marrying her only to make her wait for him. A few weeks later, though, things changed. 

The longer Otis served, the more Wesen he met. His fellow soldiers, his commanding officers.... It seemed that Otis couldn't go more than a few days without forcing someone into a woge on accident. To Steve's surprise, Otis didn't seem upset or disgusted by being surrounded by Wesen. If anything, he seemed guilty to be causing them problems, and worried that his presence might keep his unit from performing at their best when he was shipped out. 

Then, the entries became more and more sparing, only appearing when Otis had met a new Wesen. Sometimes, they would be French or English allies. Usually, they weren't. Steve wasn't the greatest history student, the dates mixing themselves up in his head at every opportunity, but he had thought that the Second World War was mostly fought with bombs and guns. Apparently, Otis' unit hadn't been informed of that. It seemed every entry was now about Otis having to wrestle some Wesen enemy into the mud, feeling their hearts stop underneath his hands. 

He never talked about the humans he had to kill. Only the Wesen. 

Steve didn't know how he did it. He didn't know how Grandpa Otis could drink with a Wesen one night, and the next pretend it didn't matter when one died by his hand. But he couldn't hate him for it, either, because if he hadn't... If he hadn't been able to pretend like that, then the faraway look that he used to get in his eyes might have been so much worse. It wasn't what Steve would have done, but it meant he lived long enough to meet his grandson, and how was Steve supposed to judge that? 

After a few years of entries, they became vague and wistful. At one point, there was a long, rambling entry about a beach that Steve didn't really understand, and the next day, there was only a list of names. After that, there was scrawled poetry in German and English, followed by sketches of men long dead. Steve was almost tempted to put the book to the side, a little ashamed of snooping through his grandfather's worst memories. He hadn't been able to put it down when Otis was in the thick of it; That felt too much like abandoning him. But Steve's own search still loomed, and it seemed obvious that nothing he needed was in these pages. 

Steve flipped through the next few pages, eyes skimming over awkward verse and floral doodles, until his gaze caught on one entry in a heavy, unfamiliar hand. He sat straight up as he read, eyebrows raising so far in shock that it hurt a little to blink.

"I think I found it," Steve said, breaking the long silence that had settled in the room. "Blutbader! We're looking for Blutbader." 

"What? No, I already--" Dustin looked down at the book in his hands with a frown. "There's literally nothing in any of these books about Blutbader hunting other Wesen except for very specific blood feuds with the Bauerschwein." 

Robin didn't look convinced, either. "Yeah, I've never heard of a Blutbad pack picking fights with other predator species like this." 

"I don't think they usually do," Steve said, and flipped back to the beginning of the entry. "But I found a journal in here from Grandpa Otis. I don't remember him ever talking about it much, but I guess he spent some time in Europe after the war? One of his friends wrote some information down for him while he was in the hospital.  Turns out they were tracking some French soldier who gave them a bad feeling, and it turned out to be a Blutbad. Luther-- His friend's name was Luther -- said that the guy didn't hunt humans, which was weird because it should have been super easy in all the chaos. Like, he specifically says that literally almost every other predator species in France was on the hunt, but instead this Blutbad guy focused entirely on this species called... Waages?" Steve's tongue tripped over the pronunciation, and he looked to Robin for help.

"'Scale'," Robin translated, and then said: "I've never heard of them." 

"Good reason for that," Steve said, grim.  "Luther says that before Grandpa Otis could take him out, this Blutbad had killed nearly every Waage in Europe." 

"That's..." Robin looked sick.

Dustin had no such compunction, focused entirely on finding answers. "So, what? Sometimes a Blutbad just comes out the wrong way and goes after Wesen instead of humans?" 

Steve shrugged. "Luther doesn't go into a lot of detail, and said that he mostly avoids Blutbader, but he does kinda hint that maybe humans are just an easy target. And, yeah, some of them go after Bauerschwein because they're loyal. But a brave Blutbad, or an angry one--" 

"Or a crazy one," Dustin interrupted.

"Yeah, or that," Steve said. "They might go after literally anyone." 

"If there was a Blutbad pack in Indiana, I feel like I'd know about it," Robin said. She crossed her arms and sat back on her heels, frowning. 

"There is," Dustin said. 

"What?" Robin frowned. "No there isn't. I mean, there are the Munsons, but--" 

"What, Eddie Munson?" Steve interrupted. That was the last person he'd expected to be dragged into all this nonsense. Or maybe the first person, and he'd just dismissed it as being far too obvious. Steve would have pegged him more for 'vampire' than 'magical German animal monster', though. 

It was Dustin that answered. "Yeah, he's the reason Mom won't let me join the D&D club. He and his uncle are Blutbader." 

"Sorry, Eddie Munson is a werewolf?" Steve clarified. He just couldn't accept it. What kind of werewolf wore that much silver? "Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?" 

"Don't call him that," Robin snapped. 

"Sorry!" Steve said, his hands flying up in supplication. "It's just... He's not exactly subtle about it, is he? I'm pretty sure he wore fangs to school for like half of my freshman year. Not how I would pretend not to be a monster." 

"I think we're all very aware of how you pretend not to be a monster, Harrington," Robin said pointedly. Steve rolled his eyes. "And that's super not the point. Eddie and his uncle don't count as a pack. They're barely even really Blutbader." 

"How do you--" Dustin began, but Robin didn't entertain the thought of letting Dustin loose on a new theory. 

"Eddie and I have been in band together for the past three years. I've never even seen him squish a bug, much less hunt anything," Robin said, making stern eye contact with Dustin that honestly reminded Steve way too much of his own mother. "And like Steve said, he's not a subtle dude. I'm pretty sure if he had an aggressive bone in his body, he would be hunting jocks in the hallways." 

Alright, that was a much more believable reason, Steve thought. 

Dustin looked at Robin, donning that 'mysterious' expression he practiced in the mirror, the one that Steve had told him multiple times only made him look constipated. "Maybe he's more clever than you give him credit for." 

"Absolutely no way. No Blutbad would be able to deal with Hargrove for more than 15 minutes without throwing a punch back," Robin said, and Steve found himself nodding along. Dealing with Billy was hard enough without supernatural rage behind it. Even at his most human, Steve hadn't been able to keep his cool. There was no way that a roided up killing machine was going toe to toe with Hargrove and simply walking away. Robin continued, "There's a reason Eddie hates the basketball team, and it goes to the tune of daily swirlies until he hit his growth spurt." 

Steve winced at the reminder of his old friends' idea of fun, but he had to admit that Robin was right. Eddie had always been loud and in everyone's faces, all leather and smoke and pounding bass, but the moment any actual conflict started, he was the first to disappear. Eddie was always just... gone. Never apologized, never took anything back, but just disappeared, as if he had never been there to begin with. The rest of the team had always accepted it, content in knowing that their authority was no longer being challenged, but Steve had watched him as he walked away, always wondering what was happening in the freak's brain that made this cycle so unending. 

Then again, if Eddie was really a Wesen, was it really so surprising that he didn't want to fight a group of teenage assholes that included a baby Grimm? Steve wasn't sure how obvious it was to people, before he'd started wogeing. Sure, El and Dustin hadn't noticed until his eyes came in, but they were hardly experts on the subject. And Robin hadn't known, either, but she and Steve had hardly spent much time together before Scoops. 

Suddenly, Steve wanted very badly to know what Eddie Munson thought when he looked at him. 

He said none of that outloud, instead turning to Dustin and saying simply, "She's right. He and Tommy H. always had it out for each other, and Eddie was always the first to run. Not exactly the sign of a cold-blooded kidnapper." 

"Okay, fine," Dustin said. He scrambled up from the floor to put his hands on his hips in what Steve was surprised to find was a mimicry of himself. "What about his uncle, then?"

Steve and Robin exchanged a tense look. This kid and his theories were going to get them all killed if they didn't play their cards right. 

"Look, Dustin, you're right," Robin began, slowly. Her voice was the kind of gentle that Steve associated with kindergarten teachers and small children who were about to turn into the elementary equivalent of an emotional atom bomb. "Just because there's no pack in Indiana doesn't mean there are no Blutbader at all. But there's also absolutely no proof that the Blutbad we're looking for is from Hawkins, or even that it was actually a Blutbad-- This is all just supposition, remember?" 

"What was that quote you were telling me last winter?" Steve reminded him. "Something about forcing the proof to fit your idea instead of the other way around? Let's not have a repeat of last night, buddy." 

"So what are we supposed to do, just sit around with absolutely no idea of who it might be?" Dustin asked, his face flushing red with anger. "Wait for another kid to disappear? Just because we don't have any evidence? Jesus, Steve, you're not the fucking cops! You're a Grimm. Do something Grimm-like for once!" 

Steve blanched, his grandpa's words flashing through his head. "No thanks." 

Dustin shook his head. "I think maybe we should--" 

"No, this is stupid," Robin said, frustration leaking into her voice. The mom act had been abandoned just as quickly as she'd picked it up.  "Just because you think it isn't the Munsons doesn't make that true." 

"Ever heard of something called 'innocent until proven guilty', dickhead?" Steve said, immediately following Robin into the new plan of shaming Dustin into submission. 

To Dustin's credit, he at least gave it a few moment's thought. For a second there, Steve was almost relieved by the look of doubt in his face. Of course, he shattered Steve's dreams for a peaceful evening pretty much immediately. "Even if it's not them, we can at least talk to them, can't we? They've gotta no more about other Blutbader in Indiana than we do." 

"No," Robin said, immediately. "No way. Just because Eddie doesn't fight in school doesn't mean that his uncle is the same and, uh, they would make mincemeat out of an Eisbiber, and there wouldn't be anything Steve or I could do about it." 

"If anything, me being there would make things worse," Steve said, grimacing as he imagined a fully grown Wesen with the same rage El and Robin had shown when Steve forced a woge out of them. "A Grimm poking around and asking questions is going to make a lot of people mad, especially when you accuse them of a crime."

"We have to be smart about this," Robin agreed. 

Dustin huffed. "I'm sick of being smart about things and watching other people get hurt because of it." 

Guilt curled in Steve's chest. Maybe they weren't being the most sensitive about Dustin's clear trauma, here. Steve honestly wished he could make it all better for him. Wished it was as simple as Dustin wanted it to be, a bad guy for Steve to fight and make everything okay again. He wanted that, too; Wanted to be able to kill the monster that made Dustin afraid. 

But it wouldn't change anything for Steve to go fight a werewolf, even if he won. Most of those kids would still be dead. And Dustin would still be afraid. 

There was nothing Steve could do about that. His only job was keeping Dustin alive.

"Dustin--" He started, but Dustin could hear the weakness in his voice, and immediately leapt on the opportunity. 

"Can we at least drive down to the trailer park tonight, and look around?" he said, looking at Steve with shining, hopeful eyes.

"The trailer--" Steve repeated, stopping halfway through to look at Robin in disbelief. "The werewolf lives in the trailer park? Jesus Christ, what kind of weird ass horror movie bullshit plot--" 

"Not the time." 

"Fine, whatever." Steve turned back to Dustin. "Even if we do go down there, what exactly are you expecting to find? What do two grown men in a single-wide trailer even have room to hide? Not fifteen kids, I'll tell you that much." 

Dustin's face was flat and serious, but Steve could see the desperation bubbling in his eyes. "I don't know what we're going to find, Steve. I don't. But I'm so sick of having to know something for sure to be taken seriously." 

"That's not--" Steve tried to explain, but Dustin was already turning to Robin with a different tactic. 

"Do you think we knew what we would find when we went to look for Will?" he said, as if Robin had literally any point of reference for everything that had gone down in 1983. She knew what every other person in town knew, and Dustin knew that, and was using it against him. Steve's guilt about Will warred with the new rage against being played. Dustin continued, "No! We went out to find him, by ourselves, because all the adults were too busy sitting around and talking about proof and profiles instead of looking for him." 

"From what I've heard," Robin began slowly, shooting Steve wide-eyed glances to gauge his reaction to every word, "you and your friends got really lucky finding Will. And I'm not saying that it was a wrong decision, or that you shouldn't have done it, because you found your friend, and that's-- That's great, Dustin. It really is. But we can't rely on luck again, especially with so many kids missing." 

Steve jumped back in, a new level of anger in his voice. "What happens if you get hurt, Dustin?" he asked, trying to remind Dustin of the reality of what happened to Will. He didn't just go missing; He was attacked. This wasn't just going out and looking for someone. This could end up leading to war. "Whoever took those kids is actively going after Wesen, and you want to just knock on the door of the guy you think did it? I'm supposed to be the adult, and I'm not letting you be that stupid. Sorry." 

Dustin drew himself up to full height, and Steve was struck for a moment with the realization that Dustin had grown while he was away. He was still nowhere near catching up to Steve, but he wasn't the little kid who couldn't see over Steve's shoulder, either. He was going to be fourteen soon, Steve remembered, and the thought made his stomach churn with anxiety. The bigger they got, the harder they were to protect. There was no more scooping Dustin up to keep him safe. There was no more holding him back with one hand and a weapon in the other. In two short years he would be as old as Steve had been when all of this had started.  

The way Dustin held himself, chin high and feet planted, said he knew all that and more. "I'm going to Forest Hills whether you like it or not, Steve," he said. There was no more anger in his words, just simple fact. That, more than anything, told Steve just how grown up Dustin was becoming.  "The next time you leave me alone, I will get on my bike, and I will find my answers. It doesn't matter if it takes days, or months, or if I have to skip school or jump out of my window to do it. So you can give up and let me go now, or you can come with me." 

Steve knew he would do it, too. Wouldn't even think twice before he did it. Even worse, he would probably drag El and Mike and who knows else into it. And though Steve knew that, more assuredly than he knew anything else these days, he also knew that Dustin knew he knew that. As dizzying as that logic was, it all came down to Steve being manipulated by this punk kid, and part of him wanted to fight back out of sheer spite. 

But that would leave Dustin on his own, facing off against who knows what. 

Steve sighed.

"This is so fucking stupid," Steve said, throwing his hands up in defeat.  "Jesus. Okay, fine. Sure. Let's go talk to the fucking goth werewolf. Sure. I hate this plan. I hate you." 

Steve stood, pointedly ignoring Dustin's cries of triumph. One of these days, when the stakes were a little less high, he was going to have to figure out how to take that kid down a peg. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to rid himself of the sudden exhaustion that had descended over him, and when he opened his eyes he saw Robin, still on the ground, glaring up at him.

"I can't believe you gave up so easily, Harrington," she said. "That was pathetic." 

It had already been a long day of having his every opinion and boundary walked all over, and Steve had been itching for a good reason to put his foot down. The kids were always his best reason, so it was with a certain amount of glee that Steve snapped at Robin. "You have no idea what I've been through with these kids, and to be honest, I'm not all that interested in telling you. The only thing you have to understand is that it's my job to make sure Dustin isn't hurt, and if I have to drive down to Forest Hills to get my ass kicked to do it, then that's what I'm going to do."

"Or you can lock his ass in his bedroom until he turns 40 like the rest of the helicopter parents," she said with a fake smile. 

Steve huffed. "No one's making you come with us," he pointed out. Honestly, he would feel better about Robin staying behind. It was one less person for him to look after, and Dustin would stop trying to go over his head if there were less people involved. "You can stay here for the night, if you're nervous, or I can drop you off at home on the way." 

She stared at him, blankly, for just a moment before rolling her eyes and pushing herself to her feet. "You're just as crazy as the kid is if you think I'm letting you both run off and die without a braincell to share between you," she said. "Of course I'm going with you." 

"Of course you are," Steve repeated, and resigned himself to a repeat of the night before. 

Steve's only victory of the day was that they, at the very least, listened when he demanded they all eat something before heading out. It seemed that even Wesen with no self-preservation instincts didn't want to die on an empty stomach. Usually, Steve would cook something, but it seemed like a bad decision to leave dirty dishes behind when he wasn't sure if he was coming back to clean them. Despite his misgivings, Dustin dug up a frozen lasagna from the bottom of Steve's freezer, where it had been laying in wait for what might have been months. 

Usually, ricotta cheese made Steve's stomach tie itself in knots, but he couldn't even feel the oily, grainy texture on his tongue as he chewed. Every cell in him was focused on trying to think of anything other than what they were about to do and failing. None of them ate well, but Steve was determined to keep trying until he realized that Robin had disassembled her lasagna layer by layer and was restacking them in new, weirder patterns. 

It was a short drive to Forest Hills. Loch Nora was a richer part of town, sure, but it wasn't exactly a well-inhabited one. It was largely sought after for the privacy it afforded, surrounded by the woods on the edge of town. Turns out the edge of town was also a pretty great place to put all the people no one wanted in town, too. Steve tried not to think about that too much as he pulled into the lot, parking his car behind the diapalated sign. 

"You know which trailer is his?" Steve asked Robin, looking from home to home as if Eddie's would be as big and obvious as he was. 

"I don't know if I like us being parked so far away," Robin said instead of answering. "I mean, what if something happens and we need to make a getaway?" 

"Then you run," Steve said, dryly. "The Bimmer isn't exactly inconspicuous, Buckley. If I park this shit at Eddie's front door, he's either going to run or come through the windshield." 

"There's got to be a reaction somewhere in between, there," Dustin piped up from the back seat. 

"Shut up, Henderson," Steve said, glaring through his rearview mirror. "This is a conversation for adults who aren't actively trying to get everyone killed." 

As Dustin grumbled, Robin looked at Steve with wide eyes. "You really think Eddie would attack you out of nowhere like that?" 

"No," Steve admitted. "At least, not without seeing my eyes, first." 

Robin grimaced. Steve could still remember the way her forced woge had made her bare her fangs. If he hadn't seen her like that, he would have never believed that Robin was capable of violence, either. But he had seen proof of it-- In fact, the only Wesen who had ever not reacted with violence to his woge was Dustin. 

And, let's be honest, Dustin could hardly be counted when it came to Steve. Or having his guard up. Or really... anything. He was a weird kid. 

"Alright, fair enough," Robin said. After taking a deep breath, she looked toward the back of the park, where the older, dingier models stood. "I've only been over for like five minutes one time, but I think I remember he was in the very back. Big and white, wheels still on." 

"Right. Right, okay, come on." 

All three climbed out of the car silently-- Well, as silently as Robin and Dustin were capable of --and began to walk down the dirt path that cut through the center of the trailer park. There was no use in being sneaky, Steve thought, even as his hind brain scrambled to find a way to camouflage himself here. It was barely night, the last of the sun still painting the horizon a dusky purple. They were in plain sight of nearly every window in the damn place. There was no play that could give them any kind of advantage, outside of just... walking. 

It was what they were going to do when they got there that was the hard part. 

Maybe he could get Robin and Dustin to step back a little, Steve thought, and then he could just... knock. Sure, whoever opened the door would still freak the fuck out, but Steve had enough of a handle on his own powers that he could talk them down from attacking.... probably. 

He squared his shoulders, bracing himself to mount the rickety stairs to the trailer, but Dustin stopped him with a hand on his elbow.

"Wait, wait," Dustin said, voice hushed, "we should look around outside first. You know, do a perimeter check?" 

Robin sucked her teeth in disbelief and muttered, "Where do you think we are?" 

"Yeah, man," Steve had to agree,  "this isn't Fort Wayne. It's a trailer park." 

"I just want to be thorough!" Dustin insisted. "Come on, it'll be really quick."

Looking back at Robin, Steve lifted his eyebrows, receiving only a shrug in return. Fine. It was Dustin's stupid recon mission, anyway. They could play it Dustin's way. At least it was just looking around in some overgrown grass and not something dangerous, like plunging the depths of underground tunnels infested with demonic dogs. 

Sure, it wasn't likely that he would make the same mistake twice, but Steve couldn't be too careful around his little shits.

Dustin darted in front of Steve, leading the way to the back of the Munson's trailer. There wasn't much to be seen, especially in the dark. Even Steve, whose vision had been getting better with every day, couldn't see much besides a few pieces of plastic and rusted metal. Whatever they had been before, their forms were now almost entirely covered by the wild growth of the Munson's 'backyard'. Dustin tried his best, poking at any suspicious lumps, but there was nothing to be found. No weird smells, no unexplainable prints. There weren't even any out of place sounds, which was usually Steve's first clue that things had gone terribly. Even when he strained, Steve couldn't hear more than a few muffled conversations and a Reds game. 

Dustin crept towards the edge of the lot, where the foliage went from unkempt to wild, overgrown with ryegrass so tall it almost rivaled Dustin himself. Steve almost called him back, unnerved by the shadows in the weeds, but bit his tongue. It was fine, he told himself, heart pounding. Everything was fine. It was just plants and the summer wind. Everything would be okay. 

Robin sidled up to him, muttering under her breath. "This is a waste of time." 

"I know," Steve said, turning to her. "Just let him--" 

In the future, Steve will say that the Blutbad jumped out at them. It's a simpler story, and one easy to believe. Sometimes Steve believes it himself. Most times, though, Steve knows the truth. In one heartbeat, he was certain that they were alone, and in the next he knew they weren't. 

They moved at once, him and the shadow-- Steve was pushing Dustin behind him before he could even see what he was racing against. At first, it was just a shadowy form at the edge of the weeds, a blur in the corner of Steve's vision,  but as the figure leapt at them, it shifted into focus. He saw the eyes first, burning red in the monochrome night, and a flash of fangs in a snarling mouth. Claws extended from thick, swollen hands. Long, curling hair that covered a little too much face to be human. 

And then he saw the glint of silver jewelry, the moonlight reflected off a familiar leather jacket. 

Blutbad, Steve thought, and then: Eddie.

It was nothing like when he had first met Robin. That had been a standoff, nothing but time for his mind to think of a thousand ways to fend her off. This was nothing but a moment, nothing but a split second for Steve to figure out what to do next, and all Steve could think was how he didn't want to hurt anyone. 

He didn't want to hurt Eddie. Didn't want to have to, but he couldn't let him touch Dustin or Robin, either. Couldn't just sit back and do nothing, couldn't let them watch him be torn apart-- He remembered, vaguely, something Grandpa Otis had said about Blutbader having weak backs, but he couldn't remember enough to make use of it. 

Even if he had, would he even be able to make use of stomaching it? 

For the first time since he'd come into his Grimmhood, Steve was paralyzed with indecision.

Which was why it was somewhat of a relief when the moment passed, and Eddie rushed past all three of them without sparing them a second glance. 

"Um," Robin said. Steve could feel her fur brushing against his arm, just for a moment, before it melted back into skin. 

"Follow him!" Dustin barked. He tried to sprint off after Eddie himself, but Steve had never let go of Dustin's sweater. He pulled ineffectually at Steve's grip, but Steve only tightened his fist and hauled him back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  

Dustin sputtered, gesturing after Eddie. "He ran! That's a sure sign of guilt!" 

"Or a sure sign of a Grimm being in the vicinity?" Robin said, voice dry. 

Steve took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. While he really, really hadn't wanted to hurt Eddie, now that the initial shock had passed, the instinctive adrenaline was a little harder to deal with. His hands shook against the fabric of Dustin's shirt. "Look, I agree we should talk to the guy--" If only to apologize for scaring the shit out of him in his own backyard "--but if we're going to do it then we're going to do it slowly. And you're both going to stay behind me." 

The only thing more dangerous than a feral animal was a cornered feral animal.

Reluctantly, Dustin nodded, and he and Robin fell into step just behind Steve. Even before they approached the corner of the trailer, Steve could already hear Eddie's voice, hushed and hurried.

"I'm serious, Wayne, we have to get out of here," Eddie said. Whoever he was talking to only hummed thoughtfully, and there was an upset little huff that reminded Steve so much of Mike Wheeler he rolled his eyes on reflex. "There's a Grimm on our ass, and he's got Wesen with him. I have no idea what's going on, but if it's Mom's shit, then I don't wanna be here when they figure out we don't have anything for them." 

That sounded exactly like the kind of thing Steve wasn't supposed to be hearing. Chest stinging with guilt, Steve walked a little faster. As he stepped into the dimmest circle of light from the Munson's front porch, the other man spoke up. 

"I don't think that's what they're here for, Ed." An older man stood next to Eddie on the front porch. He was everything Eddie wasn't, bald and solemn and plainly dressed, but there was something in their faces that seemed to match. Eddie's uncle, Steve realized, the Blutbader they were really here to talk to.  He already seemed to know they were here for him, because he was looking over the railing, meeting Steve's eyes before Eddie even had a chance to turn around. "Is it, son?" he asked Steve. 

"Uh, no, sir," Steve said, as Eddie turned around with what could only be called a squawk of surprise. "It isn't." 

"Oh, good," Eddie said, his cadence still familiar from the countless rants that Steve had been helpless to avoid for the past four years. "It's one of the Harringtons. Great, this is exactly what I needed. To get fucking thrown out of town--" 

Eddie knew his parents were Grimm, Steve realized with a start. That almost made sense, except that there was no way Eddie or Wayne had ever met his parents. Not in a normal, human way, anyway. They didn't exactly spend their days taking leisurely strolls down the streets of Hawkins. Hell, Steve was pretty sure even he wouldn't have been able to meet his parents if he didn't live in the place where they stored their birth certificates. 

But Eddie knew they were Grimm. More than that, he was scared of them, but not that they would kill him. 

For the first time in months, a hope sparked in Steve's chest. 

"Hush, boy," Eddie's uncle said.  "Let him speak." 

"We're not here to cause any trouble, sir," Steve said, trying to put on the voice that had once charmed so many respectable Hawkins parents. It was a rusty skill, but it was one he had spent years refining. He tried to smile. "Really, we're not. But there's been something weird going on lately, and I don't think I can ignore it anymore." 

Mr. Munson didn't look impressed. His bushy eyebrows drew together, and Steve resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze. Eddie, apparently, had no resistance at all. It was hard to focus on the elder Munson, and not Eddie, who was chewing nervously on a lock of hair. "And that brought you to our door?" 

"Well, Mr. Munson," Steve said, hesitating as he tried to figure out how to sound like a competent Grimm, "my... my parents aren't really home to take care of it, and it's not like the cops know half of what's going on in this town." Sorry, Hop. "I wasn't really sure where else to start. We just need some information and then we'll be on our way." 

It didn't take years of obsessively puzzling out peoples' attitudes to know that Mr. Munson wasn't entirely on board, no matter what he'd said to Eddie. "And who's 'we'?" he asked.  

Robin stepped forward. Steve could practically feel the vibration of her nerves, and he swayed into her space slightly, bumping their shoulders together. "That would be us, sir." 

On his other side, Dustin was much more enthusiastic. "My name is Dustin Henderson, sir. I go to Hawkins Middle. I'm really excited to meet you and your nephew, sir, because I'm pretty sure you can help us, even if I'm not allowed to join the D&D club next year, which is total bullshit, by the way, and--" 

"Dustin," Steve said, voice tense. "Now is really not the time." 

Ignoring them both, Robin waved up at the porch. "Hi, Eddie." 

Eddie dropped the hair he'd pulled into his mouth and stepped closer to the railing, eyes flashing red as he squinted down at the trio. "Buckley? The fuck are you doing running around with Steve Harrington?" 

Steve tried to ignore the flash of hurt. It didn't matter that Eddie obviously thought he wasn't good enough to hang out with. It didn't matter at all. Steve had absolutely no interest in hanging out with Eddie Munson, or even Robin, except in emergencies like dozens of missing kids-- 

"Well, uh. We work together," Robin said, and Steve stared into the Munson's porch light, frowning. "You know, at the ice cream shop in the mall?" 

There was a beat, and Eddie turned to his uncle, pleading. "Wayne, come on. There is no way you're actually buying this bullshit. None of this even makes any sense. What the hell is a Grimm doing running around with a Fuchsbau and whatever flavor of rodent this kid is?" 

"Hey!" Dustin protested, and Steve hated the way he felt a little relieved that Eddie had briefly killed Dustin's enthusiasm. 

"If anything, son, I think they speak very well to our ability to make it out of this night alive," Wayne said. He finally looked away from Steve, his gaze darting over Robin and Dustin before finally meeting Eddie's. "I don't think anyone coming here to cause trouble would bring these two along with them. No offense, of course." 

"Isn't that a good thing?" Robin whispered in Steve's ear. He shrugged, waiting for Eddie to argue. To agree. To do something, anything.

Whatever Steve was waiting for, however, it never came. He just stood there, glaring at his uncle and refusing to give the rest of them a second glance. It made Steve want to scream, just to see if he could get Eddie to flinch. Just to see if he could get Eddie to look.

"I'll tell you what, Mr. Harrington," Wayne said, after the silence had dragged just past the point of comfortable. Steve tried not to flinch at the address, hands clenching by his side as he thought of his father. "You sound like you're in a right pickle, and you at least had the good sense to come here unarmed. Why don't you come sit down a spell, and we can talk about what's got you climbing around in my weeds so late at night?" 

And didn't that sound like a recipe for disaster? Steve didn't think of himself as a very suspicious person, and he was all for giving the Munsons the benefit of the doubt, but he'd read a few fairy tales in his time. He didn't remember most of them, but taking invitations from wolves had stuck with him as a pretty stupid thing to do. 

Of course, there was no need to be impolite.  As Steve considered how he could suggest a more neutral territory without offending anyone, Dustin stepped forward. 

"That sounds great!" he chirped, and before Steve could stop him, he was rushing for the stairs. 

Steve met Robin's wide, nervous gaze. Into the wolves' den they went. 

tag list: @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch @suddenlyinlove @plasticcrotches @adizzycollegekid

#oimw #my fic #grimm au #steddie #stobin #eddie finally shows up woohoo #im so tired its like 3 am and it was 1 am twice but i was so close so i stayed up late to finish

[manyfandomocs]

You know, I feel like we definitely need to talk crossovers at some point… Glee, Descendants, Wizarding World, whatever you want, I feel like our OCs would go so good together. 🤭

Okay in a strange turn of events considering what I asked you, I ended up overwhelmed by all the options I first immediately thought of?? But here is the big List pls tell me anything else you can think of I love anything and everything

And I left most of these vague on whether it’s platonic or even romantic so?? Lmk!!

Glee

Audrey + Beatrice (Bea would absolutely adore her, she’d love Audrey so much and think she’s so great)

Audrey + Carrie (Honestly this is mostly fc bias cause of Dumplin’ but I do think they’d be fun. Carrie is a bitch tbh but she can be a nice bitch, she’d question Audrey’s taste in Finn a little though)

Audrey + Felicity (Felicity is so kind and sweet to everyone she would welcome Audrey so fast)

Audrey + Giselle (Giselle is always welcoming she is usually the clubs mom friend she would love her)

Audrey + Saoirse (You know how Rory got attached to Sam a bit for American life, I think that’d be Saoirse and Audrey)

Audrey + Scott (I think this is one that would have a little buildup cause Scott isn’t a dick but he isn’t offering a bunch of friendliness right away either. But he does get really close to Coach Beiste and I see that being their in)

Audrey + Xavier (He’s a menace and annoying and he’ll flirt with her way too much but he means well)

Audrey + Zeke (Cousins! Zeke would love her! He’d also wanna fight anyone being mean he is a chill skater boy but also that’s his favorite person)

Leo + Ashton (As a baseline Ashton hates jocks except he doesn’t he thinks they’re hot. I think they’d have such an interesting dynamic tbh with Ashton’s attitude and them both being closeted)

Leo + CJ (CJ would think he’s so cool. He’d probably wanna talk his ear off tbh but I think he’d like Leo a lot)

Leo + Giselle (I love me some MLM/WLW solidarity these two can be that that’s the thought process. Plus he likes her brother so she’s supporting that)

Leo + Leonard (They’re both Leo’s I don’t have too much thinking here tbh. Leonard will make him pastries and probably have a crush on him tbh)

Leo + Scott (Hockey teammates hockey teammates. Scott would at least be more likely to talk to him quicker than some other crossovers because of hockey but he’s also like so singularly focused on hockey until the New Directions makes him open up so, it’d be rough but I’m so here for them)

Leo + Xavier (Also hockey teammates! Xavier would be chill with him for sure. Both from different states and having to deal with Lima weirdness, though Xavier would definitely seem more like the other assholes on the team but he’s chill really)

Parker + Ashton (Ashton would be so chill with them. He’s got his little skank bad boy rep so Parker is definitely up his alley to hang)

Parker + Carrie (Unexpected duo. Carrie is popular and ambitious and bitchy but?? I feel like she’d like Parker. Maybe cause they don’t give a fuck I feel like she’d respect that)

Parker + CJ (CJ thinks they’re the coolest person ever he will be wanting to copy their look and everything else. The ideal person to him)

Parker + Jasper (Idk i think Jasper would like Parker a lot he would be down for their whole vibe)

Parker + Steve (I don’t have too many thoughts I just think Steve could be into them and their whole thing)

Parker + Xavier (Honestly their storyline with Puck would just also work with Xavier though he’s more accepting)

Bruno + Ashton (I just like giving Ashton crossovers. I think it’d take a little bit but Ashton would definitely be into hanging out)

Bruno + Carrie (I think Carrie would end up liking Bruno a lot, she’s here to have one favorite New Directions member and it’d be him)

Bruno + Christina (I truly have no basis for this I just think they’d be so fun together)

Bruno + Isadora (I feel like they could hatch a plan together, be a little mischievous to get Mike and Tina to date them instead)

Ivy + Ashton (Honestly anyone that goes against the grain is cool with Ashton. He’d be down for her)

Ivy + Beatrice (She would think she’s so cool oh my god, number one fan she’s so impressed by her existence)

Ivy + Isadora (They are so similar I love it. Isadora would be so okay hanging out with Ivy and tbh after she stopped being friends with Santana and Brittany I see her being like “Ivy is my best friend now bye”)

Ivy + Sophia (Sophia would respect her sm. She is constantly arguing with people cause of Kurt so she would love Ivy standing up to people)

Ivy + Steve (Steve loves Broadway and would be amused by how outspoken she is so I think they’d end up being pretty chill

Bailey + Ashton (Honestly the idea of a little southern belle type befriending an asshole like Ashton is just really good to me)

Bailey + CJ (He has a crush on her. I have no doubt he has a crush on her. A very big embarrassing crush he would think she’s so great)

Bailey + Isadora (Their looks and aesthetic are so opposite and I love it I think they’d be great. Isadora would like her)

Bailey + Leonard (He’d love her, he’d love how nice he is because he’s ridiculously nice so it would be a great pair)

Bailey + Saoirse (Bailey has a southern accent, Saoirse has an Irish accent, I think they’d have conversations people wouldn’t understand and I love it)

Bailey + Scott (I just like Scott with a lot your people I’m sorry. I think she’d melt his little “Ice King” exterior pretty quickly)

Mara + Giselle (Giselle would love everything about her. The jewelry, being an out lesbian, all of it she is a big fan)

Mara + Jasper (Jasper shows up in Lima and he instantly decides he likes Mara that’s the rules)

Mara + Jupiter (Jupiter would find her weird I won’t deny that but she also is not against that at all she’d be charmed by it)

Mara + Saoirse (Saoirse would also love her. She would be so interested in everything about her)

Descendants

Greta + Cadence (I had to try to not give every VK I have but anyways. Cadence is not supposed to be in Auradon but she is here anyways which I think would already get Greta’s attention)

Greta + Emmeline (Emmeline is too friendly always so if Greta wanted one person in Auradon it would be her)

Greta + Gabriel (Besides the fact of Gabriel being my crossover boy I think he’d vibe with her a lot. He doesn’t wanna be here but she would be easy to befriend)

Greta + Hallie (Hallie would originally wanna befriend Greta to gain Auradon trust but once Greta’s friends with the VKs I think I can see them becoming friends)

Greta + Jackie (These two I see vibing a lot. Very cool together, Jackie would show up with the VKs unannounced and be very chill with Greta)

Greta + Ruby (Ruby would honestly be jealous of how open and herself she is so I think Ruby would definitely seem like one of the people that doesn’t like her but they’d grow close!!)

Sebastian + Evelyn (Evelyn wants to befriend him so badly. The Sea Three are her people she’d love him around)

Sebastian + Ginevra (Idk idk I just see a good friendship between these two. She usually hates people but Sebastian might get through)

Sebastian + Jackie (I also see these two vibing a lot, she’s been different places and would be happy to tell him about it)

Sebastian + Polly (Tbh a lot of this idea just stemmed from Sebastian’s intro saying that his parents said he belongs in Neverland so, my Neverland girl would be happy to talk)

Sebastian + Stephen (Brothers that end up dating villain kids they got a type)

Sebastian + Wrenley (They both are very dreamy and want more things I think they’d get along well)

Wizarding World

Rosaline + Cadmus (Two pureblood raised people that don’t really believe in the prejudices but aren’t going against their parents right now that date Weasley’s? They have lots in common I love it and also perfect with the fcs)

Rosaline + Catherine (Mmmm more fc bias but their both Slytherin’s and though Catherine doesn’t follow any pureblood crap I think they could be so fun)

Rosaline + Elio (More two pureblood raised people but Elio doesn’t date Ron they’re just besties. I think they’d get along I love it)

Rosaline + Zara (Rosaline takes time to get over her issues but I see them being really cute and good together)

Cat + Kieran (Cat really doesn’t need two pretty boy menaces in her left and yet, don’t they? Kieran will hit on them and be so annoying but also so charming)

Cat + Matilda (Tilly would love Cat? So much? She’s annoyed by James, Cat’s annoyed by Sirius, they can bond over it together)

Tbh I really should get some Fantastic Beasts and Riddle Era ocs too

#answered #faerieroyal #crossover list #dolly tag

[floosies]

If The Avengers Were Teens Today:

Tony Stark

The smart ass that always talked back to the teachers. The amount of videos of him going off? He’s insta famous for it and being this mad scientist type of kid. The whole school will find out who told off that day before the school day even ends, know that.

Steve Rogers

That kid that should be an athlete but just does really well in Phys. Ed instead. He’s nice to everyone in that class, and bleachers? He owns that shit, it’s kinda annoying most of the time though. Lowkey he’s in AP Art??? It don’t add up but he’s cool.

Natasha Romanoff

The school baddie. The rumor is she has a boyfriend in juvie or a gang??? Only wears the most stylin outfits. It’s 7:30 and she looks straight off that instagram niche picture with bag to match. No one fucks with her, they’re all too in love with her or scared of her.

Wanda Maximoff

She’s that girl in your class who just kinda blends in with everyone else but in a chill way. Her brother is in the cross country team, so that’s probably how must people know her. She took all AP classes and passed the exams??? Always wears grunge inspired looks. 

Pietro Maximoff

Athlete fuckboy. You know the one with that cocky ass attitude but damn he is cute though. Every girl has been hit on by him at least once since freshman year. He has a new girlfriend every track season. The teachers love him because he always leads the school team to victory.

Clint Barton

He’s that one guy who is asleep in every other class. Will ask if you’re gonna eat that when he sees you have food. No one has any idea why he’s never been held back. He brought his dog to school one day, the dog followed him all the way to school because he had a pizza box in his backpack.

Bruce Banner

The guy who is always in the books. AP what??? He’s in all of them and somehow passing. He already has his dream school waiting for him to graduate. He was offered early graduation but he turned it down to get more prerequisites done. Tony Stark and him are actually really close, Bruce is super quiet so Stark calls out bullshit when his grades don’t add up or someone tries to give him shit about his style or whatever.

Bucky Barnes

The kid who is always in fights. He beat up a guy so bad but so funny that it ended up on WorldStar. He’s friends with Steve Rogers, the story is Steve got his ass beat bad once, Bucky saw and beat the shit out of the bully. They’ve been friends ever since. Oddly enough Bucky is also in AP Lit??? Again one of the guys that no one messes with, and all the teachers know because he has a temper. On the down low though he’s pretty chill and very nice.

Thor Odinson

The nicest guy ever but he’s big and scary looking. He’s a transfer kid, who exclusively only hangs out with his brother. Literally will help anyone with whatever. He stays for tutoring because he really needs to graduate.

Loki Odinson

E-boy bruh. Like the emotions, style, and face. He has a really popular tiktok and falls in love easily. He got trust issues though, did he mention RIP xxxtentacion. He’s only ever with his brother, because he doesn’t really like talking to anyone from school.

Scott Lang

That naive kid who is too nice to everyone. People feel bad because he gets roasted on too much. Lowkey most people got his back and hype him up. His girlfriend is the class president and he always hands out cookies on campaign season.

Hope Van Dyne

Grades over everything. She is in every fancy sounding club and organization in school. Attends every school district meeting. You can try to call her bitchy but she got the school better lunches that included real food. She really wants to be a world leader some day.

Sam Wilson

Athlete but everyone loves him. He’s the guy who reads the announcements with an funny voice and then requests the best songs at the dances. Always leading everyone in the school chant before the games, at the rallies, and randomly in the halls. He’s been single since forever, and most girls wanna get at him.

Part 2

#sam wilson #bucky barnes #steve rogers #tony stark #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #pietro maximoff #clint barton #loki #thor #hope van dyne #scott lang #bruce banner #mark ruffalo #Robert Downey Jr #chris evans #sebastian stan #anthony mackie #Scarlett Johansson #Elizabeth Olsen #aaron taylor-johnson #Paul Rudd #jeremy renner #tom hiddleston #chris hemsworth #Evangeline Lilly #high school au #mcuedit

[carol-effing-danvers]

knock me the fuck out (i dare ya, babe) part two

More Teacher Steve and Soft Billy!

Part One 

Prefer Ao3 Format? Click here!

Angie is left to wail with around the living room with increasingly frustrated hunger, because Steve needs to spend the first thirty minutes after he comes home screaming into a pillow.

Had Billy seen him staring?

He was so sweet with Lauren, so gentle to her that Steve couldn’t help his smiling, but he’d seen the annoyed expression on Billy’s face from the corner of his eye when he’d turned away. Could he tell that Steve had been checking him out earlier? Maybe he just didn’t want to call him out in front of Lauren and the other children? Maybe he loathed Steve just as much as ever did?

Steve hugs a pillow to his stomach and rests his cheek atop it, feeling glum. Figures. Figures that the first boy he’d ever been attracted to would roll back into town ten years later (looking finer than any person has a right to!), while Steve spends his days with children and his nights alone.

He can’t even get a girlfriend anymore – after the big bisexual breakdown, no girl in Hawkins will date him, but he wished he had a boyfriend or at least a hookup he could call.

Robin gets dates, but he concedes that it’s probably easier when the entire town doesn’t know you’re a queer.

He can’t date any woman within ten miles of the town – even if she somehow doesn’t already know the whole stupid story yet, someone will happily and gleefully open their mouth to enlighten her. And no man will date him either, because agreeing to that is basically agreeing to let the whole town know who you are. There’d be no hiding it.

Flopping his face back down into the pillow, Steve screams some more, before jumping off the couch with a sudden burst of motion. No, no. He promised himself, he promised Robin, he promised Dustin, that he wasn’t going to make himself feel bad about this anymore. The past was the past, and he couldn’t change it.

So what if his dad never spoke to him and his mom only called twice a year? That was about the amount of contact they used to have! So what if the parents tried to stop him from being hired? They hadn’t been able to succeed and Steve got the job of his dreams anyway! So what if he still had a crush on Billy Hargrove? He’d survived it the first time and he’d survive it again.

God knows he’s survived worse.

“Uh, Steve-o?” Robin asks, looking around the kitchen. “Wanna tell me what happened to you today?”

“What do you mean?” Steve responds absently, without looking up from the pan of mushrooms on the stove.

“Steve, you’re making beef wellington, honey,” she says carefully, as though making Steve aware of this might make him explode or something. “I mean, please don’t stop, because your beef wellington is fucking amazing – but you also only make it when you feel like shit. So. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He stares down at the pan. “Did you know that Billy Hargrove was back in town?”

“Billy – Max’s brother, Billy?” Robin asks. Steve could almost feel her bristling. “He didn’t start threatening you again, did he?”

“No, Max was right,” he says, in the soft stilted tone that tells her he’s actually very upset. “He’s much calmer now.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “Then you need to tell me why you look like someone killed Angie in front of you.”

Woodenly, he replies “Remember how I said I had a crush on a straight boy, back in ’86, when all the shit was going down?”

“Oh my god, Steve-”

“But he wouldn’t give me the time of day, unless it involved his fist and my face? Billy was that boy. Is that boy. Man. Whatever.”

“Steve,” Robin says seriously, grabbing onto his forearms and holding her eyes open wide as she tries not to laugh. “Billy isn’t any straighter than I am.”

---

After leaving Lulu with Steve fucking Harrington, holy shit, Billy feels the urgent need for a cigarette as soon as he leaves the school parking lot. He fishes for a lighter before whispering “Fuck” because of course he can’t smoke in the fucking car anymore, Lulu rides in this car with him now.

Cursing, Billy pounds on the steering wheel and pulls over to furiously smoke a cigarette outside, standing on the side of the road because Steve was there, and how the fuck has he gotten even prettier in the last ten years?, and Billy wanted to fuck him on that desk so bad something was wrong with him, and Steve’s smile for the person Billy loved most in the world was absolutely devastating.

Easy as that blinding smile, Billy could feel the old ghosts of his yearning – if not laid to rest, then at least peaceful in their haunting – live and howl again.

Getting back into the driver’s seat involves a whole new chorus of swearing, but he needs to get into work, mental breakdown or not. The bell over the shop jingles as he steps inside, accompanied by the intoxicating smell of sugar, flour, and vanilla.

The woman standing behind the counter of the bakery display finally manages to break his bad mood and he cracks a smile for her. “Hey, Trouble.”

Eleven leans over the counter, palms flat on the glass, her curls pinned to the back of her head. There’s flour smudged across her face and raspberry jam on her apron. “Who, me?”

He hugs her over the counter and kisses her flour-dusted cheek. “Yeah, you topple any major government conspiracies lately?”

Loftily, El says “I like to take the winters off.”

“Is that right?” he drawls, turning the hand-washing station onto hot after hanging up his jacket. “Then I’m just in time.”

She stares at him from her spot leaning against the pastries display, chin resting on her small fist. “Yes, you are,” she says in that eerie tone that means she isn’t talking about herself anymore. “Welcome home, Billy.”

Drying off his hands, Billy says “How come you ain’t tell me how bad things had gotten with her, huh?”

El stands straight, arms protectively folded over herself. “She was already mad at me for…the whole…”

She waves her hand around ambiguously, but Billy correctly interprets that as ‘spilling the beans on that asshole she married’. “She ain’t mad at you,” he soothes. “She’s mad at herself.”

When Eleven still looks unconvinced, he adds, “Don’t tell her I said so, but I know she misses you. Misses all of the nerd herd.”

“We may not be together anymore, but we miss her too,” she says sadly.

Billy’s gaze sharpened upon her. “You tellin’ me Wheeler just left you out here in this backwoods town all by yourself?”

She shrugs. “We grew up. He wanted to go to MIT and I didn’t want to follow him.”

He wants to tell her that Mike Wheeler was insane to leave her, but honestly, staying in Indiana for a teenage girl and giving up MIT was way more insane.

El nods. “Yeah, that’s what I told him.”

He glares at her. “No peaking, Ellie.”

She lifts her hands in surrender. “Stop thinking at me so loud, then.”

Steve, Steve, Steve – has she seen about Steve? El’s eyes widen. Shit. SHIT. SHIT.

“Uh..” She chews at her bottom lip.

“We are not talking about this,” he informs her flatly, pushing the door to the back room open. “You’re gonna pretend you didn’t…hear…see…whatever.”

“Billy…” she says hesitantly.

“What I literally just say?” he demands.

“Yes, okay, but…” Her eyes search his expression intently. “Um…Max didn’t tell you what happened during Spring Break in ’86, did she?”

He swore he was ‘bout to get whiplash from this girl. “Noooo,” he says, drawn out. “Why? What happened back in ’86?”

“Um…” El’s face turns red and she scratches nervously at the nape of her neck. “Steve, um…oh, never mind! Ask Max if you want to know.”

---

“What do you mean, Billy’s not straight?!” Steve demands, practically standing on the kitchen counter as he yells the question at her.

Robin is still trying very hard not to laugh. “Uh, okay…how do I put this…I want you to look back on your memory of Billy Hargrove when we were in high school, Steve. Think really, really hard. Did you ever actually see him kissing a girl? Dating any girls, back in school? Can you name a single girl he dated?”

“Everybody knew he was a total horndog,” Steve scoffs, feeling that old belated jealousy rear its ugly head.

“No, I don’t care about what everyone knew. What did you see, Steve? Remember the way Billy dressed?”

He rolls his eyes. “He was from California, Rob.”

“I visited Disneyland when I was sixteen. I did not see anyone in California dressed like that. He wore eyeliner and curled his hair, Steve. And if I’m remembering this correctly, that boy flashed his tits like he was starring in his own fucking porn video.” She smirks at his steadily reddening cheeks. “Your boy? Is gay, Steve-o.”

Robin pauses and squints a moment, as though staring at something in the distance. “Wait, Billy was a lifeguard that summer, right? Red shorts, came into Scoops and ordered…”

“Double strawberry,” Steve mutters, feeling bitchy and depressed.

“Oh my god.” This time, Robin couldn’t hold the laughter in.

“What?” he asks, annoyed. “I mean, I know the mustache wasn’t really working for him back then, but you should see-”

“No-no-no,” she cackles, holding her sides. “Oh my god, boys are so dumb. Steve-Steve, back then? Billy wanted to choke on your dick real bad.”

He stares at her blankly.

“Real bad, Steve.”

“What are you even talking ab-no! No!” Steve snaps. “Billy hated me! He beat my face in and tormented me from the moment he stepped into town, Rob!”

It’s Robin’s turn to scoff. “You’ve never heard about that trite old adage about boys who pull on little girls’ pigtails, Steve? Except that his little girl was another boy – a boy who already had a girlfriend when he got into town.”

“No way,” Steve snaps.

“And he wants this boy’s attention really, really bad, Steve. But this boy had just got his heart broken and didn’t know he also liked boys, yet. Billy’s boy won’t give him the attention he wants and he’s got a lot of anger management and self-control issues. We see that in the classroom every day, Steve. What do you think Billy would do?”

“That’s a pretty picture you’re painting,” Steve says flatly, rolling their wellington into its blanket of puff pastry. “I have a much simpler explanation – Billy was an egomaniac who thought I was at the head of the Hawkins food chain and decided that he was going to be the new apex predator and humiliated me to accomplish that. Him being gay or not doesn’t factor into it.”

Robin pours them both a glass of red – she’ll have to drink a lot of water if she doesn’t want a headache, but she needs it tonight. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” she says airily. “I bet you a full year of grading tests that Billy Hargrove would totally suck face with you.”

“Okay, hold on a fucking minute!” he sputters. “Even assuming this bullshit your on about him having the hots for me ten years ago is true, that has nothing to do with right now!”

“Steve, you look like a nerd,” she says gently. “And nerd really works for you, dingus. If he doesn’t want to at least make out with you a little, the man has no taste and you need to move on.”

“How about I skip the whole question and move on regardless,” Steve says dryly.

“Then you forfeit the bet and you’re marking all of my quizzes for the entire school year next year.”

“Goddamn it, Robin.”

---

“Uncle Billy, what are those silver thingies on your tummy?” Lulu asks, poking at the scars covering his torso where her uncle is in the middle of washing the dishes.

Very seriously, Billy says “That’s where I got bitten by the werewolf.”

He hears Max mutter “Oh my god, Billy”, but she doesn’t attempt to dissuade him from telling the story the way he pleased – after all, what would she tell her? That Uncle Billy was possessed by an interdimensional alien being that had come to Hawkins through a hole in the world beneath their feet and fought a monster made of pulverized corpses with his bare hands? Werewolf it is, then!

“Nooo, Uncle Billy, you’re not a werewolf!” she protests with a little giggle.

“Yes I am. Uh-oh, Lulu,” he says somberly. “Oh, no – it’s-it’s the full moon!”

She vibrates with anticipation, giving a loud shriek when Billy lets out a wolf-like howl and lunges for her. “RAAAAAAAAAH!”

“NOOOOOO!!!”

He wears her out good, chasing her around the house for nearly an hour before he convinces her it’s time to go to bed now. He lets Max relax and talks Lulu through bedtime himself. Feeling like a dickhead as he plops down onto the sofa, where Max is watching a rerun of Friends, Billy just sucks it up and says “So, what’s up with Harrington and Spring Break of ’86?”

To his complete surprise, Max’s jaw gets tight and her eyes flash. “Jesus fucking Christ, the people in this town really can’t keep their mouths shut, can they?” she says angrily. “So who told you, huh?”

“Uh…what?” he says blankly, feeling really far away all of a sudden. “Ellie-Eleven told me I need to ask you about Harrington and what happened in ’86, she never said why I need to ask.”

Yeah, he was still very unclear about why this was a story he had to hear.

Max gives him an owlish stare. “She…she wanted you to know?”

“…’s what she said, man.” He shrugs.

“Wow. Okay. Uh…so during Spring Break, one of your old classmates came home from college and threw this really big party,” Max begins, puffing her cheeks out with a sigh. “Steve and his friend Robin – you remember Robin? Blonde, used to work with him at Scoops? They were at this party, and the longer the night went on, the more that shit got out of hand. Like people were passed out on the front lawn. Someone broke into the neighbor’s house because they were too drunk to realize they knocked on the wrong door. Todd Grace took the riding lawn mower from the garage and crashed it somewhere on the golf course down the road. So, naturally the cops showed up.”

“Naturally,” Billy says neutrally, still wondering exactly where in the hell this story was going.

“Everybody freaked when they came in and Robin couldn’t find Steve, so she assumed that he’d hooked up with someone and forgot to tell her that he was leaving. She didn’t realize that he was still there, and he had no idea that the cops had come and were already in the house.”

She stops and stares at the ceiling. “If anybody in this town could keep their mouths closed, that would be the end of the story, but some of the officers blabbed, and now the whole fucking town knows that they found Steve Harrington in a closet on his knees, sucking off two high school seniors.”

Billy’s brain starts floating on ‘Steve Harrington on his knees’ and launches itself into outer space at ‘sucking off’. Immediately it becomes critical that he try not to picture that – young Steve, still doe-eyed and pretty, but brattier, the stuck up ice princess, with his soft sweet mouth wrapped around-

Max’s jaw tightens up with rage again. “I find it really interesting that whenever someone tells that story, they never mention Mike Tentiss or Zach Cooper, but they were the ones standing there with their pants around their ankles.”

Billy stares at the television without really seeing another on the screen. “Why you never tell me that story, Maxine?”

She’s known he was gay since just before she got married. She kept making jokes about getting him a nice girlfriend or hooking up with one of her bridesmaids, until Billy had just snarled over the phone “Maxine, I am a FUCKING queer!”

Softly, Max says “Cause it started this whole town-wide drama and it almost ruined Steve’s life, Billy. Darlene Cooper tried to have him arrested for molesting her son, but obviously Zach was only a year younger than him. She went around to our house and the Wheeler’s and the Sinclair’s and Mrs. Henderson and Mrs. Byers and tried to get one of us to say Steve had…done something to us.”

“Jesus Christ.” That sounds like something out of Billy’s worst nightmares.

She dips her head into a nod. “Uh-huh. It didn’t work, obviously, and Mrs. Byers – I never saw her that mad, Billy. She screamed at Darlene something awful. Some of the parents threw a fit when the school hired him, said he didn’t have any business being around kids, but I think his mom pulled some strings. She and his dad have basically disowned him. He thought none of us would want to speak to him ever again – I mean, the boys got a little weird for a bit, but Erica was…Erica, and they came around. It’s really sad, though. He’s one of the nicest men I know, but no girl in town will go out with him.”

Confused, Billy says “Uh, ain’t he…?”

She shrugs. “Robin says he likes both, I guess. Anyway, no woman in this town will go on a date with him, and no man will so much as be alone in a room with him. Like if Steve sneezes on them, they’ll suddenly want to suck a dick or something.”

Oh, I’d do a helluva lot more than be alone in a room with Steve Harrington. And there wouldn’t be any ‘suddenly’ about it.

Billy realizes that Max is looking very suspicious right now and narrows his eyes. “Max. Maxie. Maxine. Maxine Roberta, please tell me that you and Eleven aren’t trying to set me up on a date with Steve Harrington.”

His baby sister looks even guiltier. She picks at her fingernails, staring down at her lap. “You don’t-you’ve never talk about any guys that you’re going out with, you’ve never even told me that you were interested in a guy,” she mumbles. “I just…don’t want you to be lonely. Dustin thinks Steve is – lonely, I mean. You’re the same age and you can both…y’know. Handle all the weird shit around here.”

“Mad Max,” he sighs, and tucked the wisps of red hair behind her ears the way he had for Lulu this morning. “I was not nice to Harrington. I was never nice to Harrington – and I don’t just mean the night I nearly killed him. There was a whole bunch of shit you guys weren’t around to see. The fact that we’re both willing to suck a dick doesn’t change anything, Max.”

“But you apologized for that ten years ago!” She pleads with her big blue eyes. “Please? I’m not asking you to go on a date with him, just be nice to him when you see him, okay?”

Gruffly, he says “That why ya didn’t wanna tell me who Lulu’s teacher was?”

---

Saturday morning means going to the 11th Hour, because Robin has a hangover and going to the 11th means that they don’t really have to get dressed because El has seen them both covered in mud, blood (their own), blood (others), blood (alien), and puke – all at the same time.

Also, Steve is a grown ass man who can’t be bothered to put on real adult clothes unless he has to teach and today he’s just fucking given up on his hair because the only people who are gonna see him are Robin, who still calls him dingus after ten years of knowing him, and El, who still seems to think he’s Prince Charming after ten years of knowing him (god help her).

Steve and Robin both think it’s very cute that Eleven the Eggo Queen decided she wanted to open a bakery when she grew up. And she’s really good at it, too. She makes this spiced tart thingy with pears and cherries that he would hold someone at gunpoint for. He loves it so much that she makes a big one on his birthday every single year.

Her eyes light up when they walk through the door, looking so pleased that Steve has a guilty thought that they may’ve been neglecting her a little. “Good morning!” she greets, wriggling with excitement as she leans over the counter. “Christmas galette for Steve and for Robbie…?”

“Tart au citron,” Robin says decisively after a moment’s thought. “And coffee.”

“Lots of coffee,” Steve adds with a grimace. The half a bottle of wine was a mistake and he’d known it was gonna be a mistake even as he was pouring their glasses. “El, can you pretty please with chocolate chip Eggos on top make your hangover sandwiches for me? I’ll watch the counter for you! Please?”

Even more pleased, El says “Oh that’s okay, I can make them. Hang on.”

The swinging robin’s egg blue of the backroom door opens, a voice behind it murmuring, “Lulu, skip to my lou. Lulu, skip to my lou.” A distracted Billy walks in carrying Lauren one-handed, half sleeping across her uncle’s shoulder, and a Styrofoam cup in the other. “Lulu, skip to my lou, my darlin’…”

His cheek rests on her head and the forearm supporting Lauren’s weight bulges with muscle beneath the skin and Steve’s fucking knees feel like water.

“Can you watch the front for a few minutes?” El asks pleasantly, ignoring the shell-shocked look on Steve’s face and the intense scrutiny Robin is giving her employee.

“Sure…boss…” Billy says slowly, eyeing his former classmates suspiciously. He wants this boy’s attention really, really bad, Steve.

He suppresses a snort. In Nancy’s very succinct words – it’s all just bullshit.

---

Who let this man walk out of the house that way? Was it Buckley? Was she trying to cause a goddamn riot? Wasn’t there a law against being such a fucking tease? Malicious seduction or something?

Still mostly dressed in pajamas with his glasses hastily shoved on and his hair looking like he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket, Steve looked tired and fresh from bed, even softer and sleepier than the cardigan and khaki look at school yesterday. Billy wanted to push him down on a bed, straddle his waist and kiss him for ages. Kiss him until those heavy eyelids went from surprised to dark and glazed with lust.

“Hello, Mister H,” Lulu, his sweet saving angel, mumbles into his shoulder.

That sunny-warm smile brightens up his face again, and Billy’s heart gives a painful squeeze. “Good morning, Lauren. Are you helping Billy at work.”

“Uh-huh,” she grunts, eyes closing again. “Woke me up.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he says, all sympathy and sad eyes.

God, this is fucking torture. And Maxine had to go and like…give him fucking hope and shit. Jesus.

“You wanna go back and lay down in Miss Hopper’s officer, Lulu?”

“Uh-huh,” she repeats, still clinging to his shirt.

He makes his very hasty retreat, not looking at El as he passes her in the kitchen. Unfortunately, when he returns to the front counter, Steve is still there, but Buckley seems to have disappeared and he’s blushing now, maybe because the whole universe fucking hates him and then Steve is right up in his face and says “I’m just gonna get this over with, please don’t hit me-”

And then-

-his mouth, still tinged with the minty clean taste of toothpaste, so fucking soft against Billy’s lips, his long fingers lightly touching Billy’s jawline. Steve’s cheeks are cool where Billy touches them, but his mouth is burning hot. The erection he was just managing to get under control before surges to painful, insistent life in his jeans when Steve sighs and moans, large curling around the back of his neck.

Billy answers with a low groan, fingers twisting through the silky strands of his hair to hold him there – not that Steve seems keen to escape.

Breathing is a tragic necessity, though.

“Oh,” Steve exhales as Billy pulls away reluctantly, and his eyes are just as dark, just as sloe and heavy as Billy always dreamed they’d be. He’s still clinging to the front of his shirt and his mouth looks wine-red from kissing, which only makes Billy wanna kiss him more. “I’m gonna grade quizzes for a year.”

#harringrove #knock me out babe #teacher steve #soft billy #my writing

[bananarama-fantana]

Trouble in Paradise

Steve Harrington story  (updated re-post) 

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven

Chapter One - ‘Homecoming’

Word count: 3465

Warnings: smoking, drinking, pretty much just a bunch of teen angst (I didn’t sleep for three days writing this so the only real warning is to always stay hydrated and sleep)

Masterlist    

I wasn’t bitter.

I kept telling myself that. I wasn’t bitter and I certainly wasn’t a bitch, even if Carol wanted to say otherwise. I just had that icky feeling I got.

It all seemed far too reminiscent of the Homecoming dance my junior year, when he’d asked out Holly Peterson and the pair had stood up on stage shamelessly sucking face with cheap plastic crowns on their heads for everyone to see, all the other cheerleaders swooning, the American high-school dream. I remembered the first half of the night, with Carol and the vodka she’d stolen from her mom’s (not so secret) hiding place. We were sitting on the ledge next to the sinks in the girls bathrooms while she did her mascara and her hair, listening to her bitch about Tommy and the cheer-team and practically every other person in our school. I’d had my dress pulled up to my knees, ruining all the creases, drinking as much as I could stomach to try and cover up that same icky feeling.

Carol was a friend out of convenience more than anything, a bitchy older sister who I let drag me around to parties to get drunk with. I had only really seen her have actual emotions a couple times that I could remember, once when Tommy cheated on her the first time and she’d cried all the way through 5th period, and the next after her brother told her he was joining the army. Other than that she was just Carol all the time. She was never really someone I wanted to spend time with but despite being one of the most popular girls in school she really didn’t have that many other friends. Ever since Kathy Gates caught her giving a blowjob to Kathy’s long-time boyfriend Pete, the whole crowd turned on her like an angry mob. On some level I kind of felt sorry for her, she was still a person after all and the whole thing had been him, not her, but at the end of the day Pete and Kathy exchanged their promise rings and Carol spent her time with me instead. Before I knew it, I was dragged into the whole charade right next to her, like the Wicked Witch of the East and the Wicked Witch of the West: the twisted sisters of Hawkins high.

“And like she’s got this smile like she thinks she’s fucking better than me all because she’s vegetarian!” she was saying, adding about the millionth coat of mascara to her eyelid.

“That’s total horseshit, I saw her eating a cheeseburger like last week,” I replied, jumping down from the ledge next to her and straightening out my dress.

The dizzying air full of hairspray and perfume was nauseating in itself. Music was already playing in the sports hall, the drums from Venus by Bananarama echoing along the corridors, reminding me painfully of the whole bullshit scene that awaited me back at the dance. It took a couple seconds to realise just how drunk I was after standing up, almost going over on my ankle, trying to walk in my borrowed pair of sequined high-heels. Carol was cackling as she watched me.

“Way to be a light-weight, Y/n!”

“I’m fine,” I protested, pushing fingers over my scalp to try and give my hair a little more volume. I had looked better in the car but this would have to do.

“You look like shit,” She said, continuing to laugh. I gave her a dark look as she took the vodka from me with a face like the Cheshire Cat. “I don’t know what the fuck your being a bitch about though, Clark obviously wants to screw you,” She said before taking a drink.

Clark was my date that night, a senior and a douche. He wasn’t the type of douche Carol would hang around with though, he was a kind of pretentious douche, he went to college parties, smoked Marlboros, he’d read Bukowski’s ‘love is a dog from hell’ and now he thought he was the shit, I had talked to him once at a pool party in the suburbs and figured just as much. Carol liked him because he had friends who were in college, I only really liked him because he had good weed. To be honest there was really only one reason why he was my date though.

Steve fucking hated him.

Even the memory of that way of thinking still made me feel ill. It had always felt pathetic. Every girl in the whole school was looking at Steve the same way I was and that made me sick to my stomach. There was a big part of me that wanted to scream that he wasn’t even that great. Sure, he had the hair and the looks and the charm, but the guy was a dufus, a total airhead, he was barely making it through high school and he wasn’t even smart enough to care.

I had known him longer than I could remember, guessing that we must have first met in kindergarten some time, growing up in that same small town world right beside each other our whole lives. Somehow always reflecting the other, like parallel lines that only really crossed during games of tag or dress up, or when he used to pretend to be a wizard or a knight, wielding a twig as if it were a sword to fight off all kinds of mythical beasts: a childish fantasy, foreshadowing a nightmare that would come to life just a decade later. In elementary school I would let him use my pencil sharpener and borrow my sacred coloured pens even though we weren’t that close. In middle school I had helped him with his English assignment when he never even bothered to finish reading the book, he called me a genius that day and it made me blush. He tried out for the basketball team and kissed Macy Johnson behind the bleachers the same day I got my first period and choked on my first cigarette, one that I had been given by one of the older girls as right of passage. In Freshman year I stood in the halls and listened to the story of how the newly appointed ‘king Steve’ had lost his virginity to a sophomore, while he ate rice pudding out of a little plastic cup in the cafeteria and read a poem I had written anonymously in the school paper, arguing with Tommy that he thought it was actually ‘pretty good’.

It wasn’t until I had been raked into the whole Carol business that we really started hanging out though, with her and Tommy playing tonsil tennis every minute they were within reach of one another, leaving me and Steve to sit and talk about ‘whatever’ to fill the time.

It was those nights at his house, sitting at the edge of his pool or in his car talking about just life or getting high or drunk or just sitting that made me realise how much I really liked him. Not just some school girl crush like in the 8th grade but actually knowing him and seeing him and thinking he was magic.

I liked to think he was different with me, as sad as that sounded, that I'd gotten to meet the ‘real’ Steve not just the douchebag facade, but that kind of thinking only breaks hearts faster. Carol didn’t know about any of it at that point, at least I hadn’t told her about it, but that night at homecoming was sort of the end of our sisterhood, at least as it was back then.

“Clark would screw a fucking lamppost if it laughed at his jokes,” I replied, giving her a look.

“Yeah but he’s cute though so why not?” Carol said easily.

“I’m not in the mood”.

“You’re never in the goddamn mood! I mean Jesus, I’ve got Tommy, Steve’s got Holly, if you’re planning to ditch Clark you’re just gonna’ look dumb!” That was the thing with Carol, she always had a picture in her head. What she wanted people to see. What she wanted all the other cheerleaders looking over at her to see and be jealous. I was her ‘best friend’ but I was more like an accessory.

The mention of Holly brought bile up in my throat again, making me wince, the icky feeling coming back, “I need another drink”.

Carol had pulled me back to the sports hall not long after that, happy with how she looked now. The sight that awaited was not a happy one, however, someone having clearly succeeded in spiking the punch. The whole room descending into a chaotic mess of filth; sweat, saliva, and showering glitter, with every other couple seemingly attached at the mouth.

It took no time before Carol and Tommy were all over each other already and something about that made me feel even more sick than before. Clark had been waiting around at the door talking to some girl, he was saying something about how he’d not been to a school dance in years, he thought he was too good for them. It took me a while to spot Steve in the crowd, whispering something in Holly’s ear while he handed her a drink and she played with his hair. He looked great. The whole thing was a disaster.

“You guys wanna go outside for a smoke or something?”

“Sure, baby,” Carol had replied to Tommy sweetly, at whatever point during the dance, leading the group outside into the night.

We were a motley crew, hiding behind the bike sheds round the corner of school to smoke. Avoiding the teachers, making us feel like adults for once, high on teen rebellion. Tommy and Carol just continued to feel each other up, holding cigarettes between their fingers now as well. Clark looked pretty put out, I almost wanted to just tell him to go talk to that girl again but Carol had told him to come and now all he was doing was standing around awkwardly trying to look cool while I gritted my teeth and bit down harshly, ignoring him and smoked my cigarette.

Holly was still giggling at all of Steve’s stupid fucking jokes, fluttering her eyelashes in her nauseating powder-pink cardigan. I had heard them all before too many times to count, each time somehow worse than the last.

“Hey, are you okay?” Clark’s voice broke me out of my enraged trance.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He pointed at his lip, indicating mine. I'd been biting it again, so hard it had started bleeding. I swore to myself, trying to wipe it away.

“I’m fine, it’s just a habit.” He looked sceptical.

“Again?” Steve laughed, coming closer to hand me a tissue with a goofy grin and a cigarette between his teeth. A few nights prior I had bust my lip on the side of Steve’s pool after falling flat on my face. I had been pissed off with him that night but he was used to it, he probably just thought Carol was driving me nuts again. He hadn’t even laughed when I had fallen, just scrambled quickly over to me in a string of swears and curses, asking if I was alright and helping me to my feet.

The rest of the school week had been spent with him nagging me every two seconds that I needed to “quit biting at it, Y/n. It’s never gonna heal if you keep biting it like that” all while Holly stood next to him, fawning over him, hand on the back of his head running fingers through his hair.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing,” I reassured, dabbing at the blood. I couldn't even feel the pain through the buzz, the blood was the only problem.

Holly gasped, hands coming up to her face, “oh no! She’s got blood on her dress!”

“Shit!” The dress wasn’t mine, it was a rental, and they were never going to accept it back looking like that.

“Hey, it’s fine you can get that shit out with like baking soda, right?” Clark said.

Steve scoffed. “What are you, man, a serial killer?”

Steve had never liked Clark so when he had rocked up to the dance with me hanging on his arm Steve hadn’t been impressed, whispering to me under his breath that I “could do better than that douchebag” not because he liked me or anything but just because I was his friend. He had said before that I was the only friend he had who he could have a real conversation with. We were just kind of like that. I didn’t like Holly either and I had told him just as much, he had just put it down to me having a thing against cheerleaders, I always said I thought they were all too uptight.

“What the fuck is your problem, asshole?” Clark bit back, Steve loving finally getting a raise out of him, he’d finally hit the gold he’d been digging for all night.

“Look, just drop it, Clark,” I cut in before Steve could say anything more and cause a scene.

“No, I’m not gonna just drop it, Y/n. I came out here with you for a good time and all I get is this moron riding my ass the whole night!” He said, gesturing to Steve.

“Leave then, man, go talk to Sadie fucking Lawson, that’s what you really wanna do,” steve sang back.

It was then that Carol broke her silence.

“Holy fucking shit!” her eyes were wide as she wiped her mouth, stepping forwards and looking right back at me, “I just figured it out!”

She looked at Steve and then back again. I let in a sharp breath.

“What the fuck are you talking about Carol?” Steve said exasperatedly. She was just laughing now. I closed my eyes, I knew what was coming.

“You don’t wanna fuck Clark, because you wanna fuck Steve!”

“What?” Tommy cut in, holding her arm and turning to look between us, he started to laugh too, “Oh my god. You’re right!”

I sighed, they were drunk, they were just drunk.

“Look, shut up, man. That’s obviously not true!” Steve was saying awkwardly, looking over at me cautiously, “Right, Y/n?”

When I didn’t immediately reply Carol and Tommy burst into more laughter, making my guts churn. It was like someone was suffocating me from the inside and stabbing me all at once, and all I could do was stand there and look into Steve’s painfully oblivious eyes.

“‘Course not, they’re just drunk,” I finally breathed out, running a hand through my hair and avoiding his eyes again.

“Bull-shit!” Carol yelled.

“Shut the fuck up, Carol,” I had snapped, feeling tears stinging at my eyes, the vodka pushing my emotions right to the surface, with a vengeance. She stopped laughing after that.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said, shut up.” It was a simple answer, that was silently begging her to just ‘stop’. But she didn't, taking a step towards me.

“Hey woah- woah, calm down, okay?” Steve brought his hands up between the two of us. Carol and I had fought before and it was never pretty. People at the dance had started to wonder over now too, after hearing all the ruckus. A crowd of spectators forming around the spot, drawing more attention.

It felt like the whole of Hawkins high was watching my life fall apart.

Over a year later I had still never quite managed to live it down, the whole school somehow burying my friendship with Carol in a night. We hadn't spoken again after the fight, which had somehow escalated so far that she had tried to rip out a chunk of my hair. I had stopped hanging out with her altogether the next day.

At one point she had called me late at night saying she missed me, but I knew that if I brought it up in person she would pretend it had never happened. But over the course of our high school lives we still went to the same parties and now, in senior year, the whole thing felt just like dé jà vu.

“You still like him, don’t you?” She was yelling over the music, drunk out of her mind.

Steve was dancing with Nancy Wheeler this time, dressed as Joel and Lana from Risky Business. The perfect couple to all appearances. The perfect couple, perfectly happy.

“You’re such a bitch, Y/n,” she slurred when I ignored her, repeating herself for about the fifth time that night. “Has anyone seen Tommy?”

“God! Carol, he’s an ass!” One of her new friends, Nicole, was groaning beside me. I guessed they had broken up again but I didn’t really care.

“Yeah, but I miss him,” she pouted, steadying herself on the sink and sliding herself across the tiled floor of Tina’s kitchen.

"I miss Steve,” I thought aloud, taking another sip of that weird drink and wincing. I really was that drunk, huh?

“Steve’s an ass!” The friend stated confidently.

I thought back to the Byers house last year, the demogorgon ripping through the wall and Steve hurling himself at it with no hesitation.

“He’s not so bad.” I shrugged.

Carol laughed. “He’s totally an ass!”

I liked to think I had changed a lot in a year, but Carol hadn’t. It was almost comforting. At least some things hadn’t changed. Despite Hawkins lab and inter-dimensional beings trying to eat everyone's face off, Carol was still the same-old Carol.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend anyway? Weren’t you dating some college guy, uhh... Pete something?” Nicole asked, leaning closer. She certainly seemed to know a lot more about me than I knew about her.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I answered with a grimace. In truth Pete was barely even a friend, sure I had slept with him but that had mostly just been because I had been drunk and he had been there, even if he was total dogshit in the sack. He sort of reminded me of Jonathan Byers when I first met him, he had a similar demeanour, granted a bit more put together, but mostly just watched a lot of Japanese horror movies. He didn’t keep to himself as much as Byers did though.

I had been surprised when Jonathan showed up at the Halloween party, when he told me Nance had invited him I was even more surprised. I hadn’t spoken to either of them at all since last year, I had seen him at the record store on Main Street a couple times, or in the halls at school and smiled, but that was it. The year before had left us all pretty broken, all starting when Jonathan’s brother had gone missing. A couple weeks later I cut my hand, heard a noise and thought nothing of it only to be woken up by something coming through the wall above my bed. I hit it with my bedside lamp at first, screaming at the top of my lungs, but it had done nothing, not even a scratch, so I ran out, still screaming like hell. The neighbours hadn’t heard me, they were in florida.

There was a quilted blanket my nana had given us lying out in the living room that night and when I hit the bottom of the stairs I had somehow kicked it into the fireplace on accident, the whole room going up in seconds. Whatever that thing had been, it had crawled back to where it came from, cowering away from the flames.

When the police and the firefighters showed up they thought I was insane, told me I must have been hallucinating from all of the smoke. Nobody believed me, not one, not until I spoke to Jonathan.

A year later here we all were, all four of us who had been there, signed the NDA's and everything, bound to secrecy. All in the same room but never further apart. Jonathan met my eyes across the room, he had been watching Steve and Nancy with just as much jealousy and disdain as I had, cradling a red solo-cup and a growing ball of hatred in my gut.

I hated to admit any of it, hated myself for still liking Steve, hated him for becoming less of an asshole, but most of all I hated that this time it was different.

This time he was in love.

#Steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington imagine #Steve harrington x oc #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things #dailystrangerthings #steve #Steve x reader #Steve harrington oneshot #Steve harrington headcanon #Steve harrington au #stranger things headcanon #Steve harrington hc

[nastybuckybarnes]

A Broken Fairytale  -  Four

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Reader AU

Summary: Sold by your mother, you work as a servant for the King and Queen of Acadia. The Prince, much to his initial dismay, takes a liking to you. When a wicked woman intervenes, your life is nothing more than a prison sentence. With a war on the horizon and a betrothal to a missing Princess that he can’t escape, Bucky is forced to be the Prince -and King- that his father wants. A pawn in a bigger game than the two of you realize.

Warnings: Angst, Language (Maybe), Fluff (Squint for it)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Now we’re getting somewhere. Plz enjoy dis

SERIES MASTERLIST MASTERLIST UNEDITED CAUSE IM A SILLY GOOSE

~*~

“Rumour has it you’re going to the ball tomorrow night in a new fancy dress, as Prince Steve’s personal guest.” You find yourself smiling as you polish the marble floors. May stands a few feet away, cleaning the large stained-glass windows.

“He insisted. Taught me to dance too.” She laughs softly. “Mary showed me the gown. It's beautiful. I can hardly wait to see what it looks like on you.” You giggle, “she hasn’t let me allowed me near it. I can only imagine what it looks like. I’ve been dreaming about it for days.” You sigh wistfully. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Prince Steve has gotten you some jewelry and lip rouge as well. Oh, you’ll so beautiful. I just hope you and Wanda don’t get too comfortable out there with all those dukes and duchesses and princesses and princes.”

You turn to her with a soft smile, “never.”

~

“Goodness, Steven. Your skills are... incredible. Truly. This is really just... utterly exquisite,” Queen Winifred whispers. Steve chuckles nervously and scratches the nape of his neck. “Well... I’ve recently found some inspiration.” He flips to the first sketch of you and his aunt and mother both gasp.

“That’s... (Y/n). The new one. Such a beauty,” Sara whispers while admiring the detailed sketch. Steve’s managed to catch every perfection. “She’ll be my guest tomorrow night. After all the hardships she’s been forced to endure in her life, a night of the finer things is the least I can offer her. She deserves it.”

Sara smiles at her son, “do you fancy her?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “No mother. Although she’s beautiful and smart with a kind heart and a good spirit, I fancy a different dame.”

Queen Winifred laughs gently while Sara ponders something.

“What is it, mother?” She looks up then sighs. “It’s foolish, but... the princess of Corona was taken as a baby nearly nineteen years ago. (Y/n), who is quite possibly from Corona, is almost nineteen. She was adopted as an infant by a wicked and cruel woman who might even be the type to kidnap a child in order to get her way. Perhaps?” Steve’s eyes widen at his mother’s suggestion.

“You think... you think (Y/n) is the lost Princess of Corona?” Queen Winifred thinks about this for a moment. “It is a possibility, but why then would Lady Griffon willingly give her to us? That seems counter-productive. If her goal is to stop the marriage.”

“Well, she sold (Y/n) as a servant girl, giving the impression that she isn’t who she truly is?” Sara purses her lips at her son's suggestion then nods. “I don’t think we should rule out her being the lost princess. Her locket is made out of silver which is quite common amongst the wealthy and royal in Corona. And it seems to be enchanted, which isn’t uncommon in our neighbouring kingdom,” Steve says.

“I want you to find out every little thing you can about her. And this shall stay between the three of us. No one else is to hear a breath about our theories. If (Y/n) is indeed the Princess, then I fear she may be in danger even here,” the Queen says sternly.

As the other two are nodding the door to Steve’s study gets pushed open.

“There you are, Steve. Mother, Aunt Sara.” Bucky bows quickly to the two women.

“My, what have we here?” The young prince looks at the sketch, his eyebrows raising. “This is (Y/n), correct?” Steve nods. “Your skills have certainly improved, punk,” Bucky teases while looking at the other drawings of you. “You fancy her, don’t you?” Steve simply rolls his eyes. “She provided inspiration. Innocence and beauty all encompassed in one.” Bucky nods, deep in thought.8

“Well, I suppose we’ll take our leave now,” Winifred says before walking out of the room with Sara right behind her.

“These are actually magnificent, Steve. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Would... can...” He groans as his cousin laughs at his flustered state.

“What? Would you like one? Or two perhaps? Maybe the entire sketchbook? I thought appreciating her beauty would do no one any good or whatever stupid excuse you spewed.” Bucky punches his shoulder.

“Quit being a punk. I just want one.” Steve smirks but carefully pulls out one of the finer sketches of you and hands it to his cousin. “It’s all yours. Do with it what you’d like, just don’t tell me what you’re doing.” Bucky punches him again and Steve snickers to himself.

The brunet holds the paper with a gentle hand, admiring the way you look in the picture. Beauty and innocence, just as Steve said.

~

“Okay... almost finished... just one last finishing flower...” Mary trails off and you twiddle your thumbs nervously as Wanda continues covering your eyes while Mary pulls on the gown clinging to your figure. “Okay, I’m gonna put your mask on and a tad bit of lip rouge. Then you’ll be ready.” You fight a smile as Wanda lifts her hands, only for a smooth cool fabric to take their place.

“Oh, you look like an Angel right out of heaven! Now, a teeny tiny bit of lip rouge, not too much because we don’t want to take away from the entire ensemble. Pucker your lips a tad, darling.” You do as she asks and jump slightly as you feel something waxy on your lips.

“Alright dear. You can look now.” You snap your eyes open and spin around in your new flats.

Your jaw drops as you see yourself in the mirror.

The gown is incredible. With a dark blue-grey chest, a navy blue bow cinching your waist and making you look curvier. The skirt is made of a lovely pink fabric, covered in a navy chiffon-type fabric. It has small fabric flowers and gems decorating it, but not too many. The mask is the same pink as the gown, however, it has gold trim and some embellishments in the same colour, as well as a little bow and some lace.

You look... stunning. Like royalty.

“Wow. You look beautiful.” You look to the voice and smile. “Thank you, Pietro. You look quite handsome.” He chuckles then walks to his sister, who looks absolutely gorgeous in a floor-length, figure-hugging red velvet dress. Her mask matches her dress and her hair is flowing down her back.

“Steve asked me to escort you to the ball. He’ll meet you there for a dance.” You smile lightly. “So you’ll be escorting not one beautiful woman but two to the Queen's masquerade ball? Will you dance with us both?” Wanda teases. Her outfit matches her brothers and you can’t help but smile at that.

“I do plan on dancing with both of you at some point tonight, however, I think Steve craves the first dance with you, (Y/n).” You smile timidly and Wanda giggles, “does he fancy her, do you think?” You shake your head furiously, “Steve and I are just friends. Nothing more.” Wanda smirks deviously at you.

“You don’t fancy Steve... what about Prince James? Do you fancy him? You have been looking at him quite often ever since he ran into in the library. When the two of you talked for quite some time.” You shake your head again, “I hardly know him, Wanda. How could I possibly fancy someone I know nothing about?” She shrugs, a sly smile still plastered on her face.

“Then why are you fiddling so much? And why do you always fiddle when he comes up in conversation?” She motions to where your fingers are playing with a bead on your dress. “You like his royal stiffness? Pain-in-the-ass Prince James? Bitchy Bucky?” You glare at the twins. “No. I don’t. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be your concern and it wouldn’t matter anyway. He's royalty, and I’m not.” Pietro gingerly links his arm through yours.

“You could be a Princess. There’s something... regal and royal about you. You should be wearing a crown, not scrubbing the floors.” You smile gently up at him. “I should be here with Wanda and May. If I were born royal then I might not have met you or any of my friends. I like who I am.” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Now, we should be going. I can hear music and laughter already,” Wanda says while taking her brother’s other arm. Pietro escorts the two of you to the ball, smiling as he meets up with Sam, Nat, and Clint.

“I see you’ve already taken (Y/n) for yourself,” Sam says, looking you up and down. “You look like royalty. You’ll make visiting Princesses jealous.” You laugh softly, “thank you, Sam.” He smiles and offers you his arm.

After a glance to Pietro, an eye roll and a nod given, you let go of his arm and take Sam’s.

“Steve’ll be arriving shortly, along with Bucky, the King, the Queen, and Lady Sara,” Sam informs as you reach the ballroom doors. You nod, your jaw almost dropping as you enter the ballroom.

It’s filled with people -men and women- dressed to the nines in clothes that cost more than you’ll make in your entire lifetime.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Nat asks while coming up beside you in a light green dress with a mask to match. “It’s... intimidating if I’m being honest.” Natasha rests a hand on your shoulder.

“You look like you belong here. Even if you feel like you don’t, you look like you do, so act like it. No one will know anything that’s true or not.” You smile at her words and take a big breath in. Squaring your shoulders you raise your head and walk with Sam into the room.

The people you pass stop their conversations and stare at you as Sam leads you to the centre of the room right across from a large staircase.

Conversations hardly have time to grow before a horn sounds loudly, gathering everyone’s attention.

“May I present Lady Sara, Her Majesty Queen Winifred, and his Majesty King George.” The royal family walks down the stairs as graceful as swans with their chins held up high and smiles on their faces.

“Wow. (Y/n) you look... incredible.” You smile shyly up at the man speaking, having recognized his voice. “Thank you, your highness.” Sam snickers while Steve rolls his eyes.

“Now, I must steal you from Sam. May I?” Sam places your hand in Steves and you find yourself giggling as Steve walks you deeper into the room.

“Mary absolutely outdid herself,” Steve says while admiring your gown and mask. “She did. You look rather dashing yourself.” His cheeks flush and he looks down while chuckling.

He’s wearing a well-tailored grey suit and a matching mask. The suit hugs his body perfectly and the mask brings out the vibrant blue in his eyes. And of course, there’s a lovely silver crown sitting atop his blond hair.

He smiles at you then takes a small half-step away from you as the band starts playing again.

“(Y/n), may I be the first of many men to ask tonight, if I may have the honour of this dance?” You beam up at him.”Of course, Steve.” He takes your hand in his and places his other hand on your waist. You bring your free hand up to his shoulder and start dancing with him.

People around you mumble and whisper. as Steve dances you around the floor.

“They’re wondering who you are. They know who I am, but no one knows the Princess I’m dancing with,” he whispers, the cool fabric of his mask brushing against your cheek. You look down, away from the curious and envious eyes of the upper-class men and women.

“They’re making me quite nervous,” you reply softly, grinning as he chuckles.

“Well, I doubt any of them know who you are. So what they think doesn’t matter anyway.” You nod, trying to let his words ease your nerves.

The song comes to a close and Steve sighs.

“Excuse me,” a smooth voice says, “but may I?”

You look up at the man and smile awkwardly as he takes Steve’s place. A new song starts and you dance with him, feeling exceptionally nervous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met you,” he says after a moment, his brown eyes warm and filled with wonder. “You haven’t. This is the first ball I’ve ever attended.”  He spins you then nods. “You’re stunning. Have you any suitors? Husbands?” You shake your head no. “None at all.” He smiles, “what a shame for them. I’d like-” a hand is on his shoulder, stopping him from dancing with you.

“May I cut in?” That voice makes butterflies swarm in your stomach. “Of course, your highness.” The man disappears and Prince James takes his place, one of his hands fitting perfectly in yours while the other rests comfortably on the curve of your waist.

He starts leading you in a dance, keeping your body close to his.

“You look ravishing,” he whispers, his thumb rubbing on your hip. “Why thank you, your majesty.” He smiles, his hand slowly moving around your waist.

“Do you have a name?” You grin as you realize he doesn’t know who you are, a wave of confidence washing over you.

“I do have a name.” He chuckles and pulls you closer to his warm body. “May I be so bold as to ask what it is?” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying - and failing- to contain your smile. “Maybe. But do you deserve to know?” You’re honestly not sure where this much confidence comes from, but you’re liking it more than you want to admit.

“I think I do. But let’s say, for argument's sake, that I don’t deserve to know. What could I do to change that?” You slowly look up, your eyes lingering on his pink lips before moving up to his stormy orbs.

“I suppose I’ll have to think about that,” you whisper. His eyes flash down to your lips and you can’t help but lick them/ His fingers flex on your waist and you smile, watching as his eyes meet yours again. “Please do.”

The two of you dance in silence for a few minutes before he chuckles. “What?” You ask, smiling slightly, “do I amuse you?” He shakes his head and sighs heavily.

“You’ve bewitched me. Your voice... your beauty... like nothing I’ve ever experienced in all of my years. Have you and suitors?”

You swear your jaw drops.

“Forgive me, Prince James, but are you not betrothed? To the Princess of Corona?” He shakes his head and looks deep into your eyes. “I do not wish to marry someone who I know nothing about.” You find yourself giggling softly.

“And what do you know about me?” He looks down, seemingly shy. “I know that you’re like no woman I’ve ever met before. I know that I know nothing about you when I’d really just like to know everything. I know that not a day will pass where I don’t think of you. You’ll be in my every dream ‘till the day I die.”

You can’t seem to find any words.

“I’ll ask my father and yours if I can court you. If you’d give me the opportunity, of course.” You’re shocked, to put it lightly. “I-I can’t. You’re betrothed. I couldn’t interfere with that. I’m sorry, Prince James, but I cannot.”

You break away from him and hurry out of the ballroom, desperate to breathe. You remove your mask and lean against the wall, trying desperately to catch your breath.

“You weren’t sold to go to balls and celebrations as a guest,” an all-too-familiar voice says. You straighten up and look at the woman.

“Step-mother,” you begin, “I was invited. By Prince Steve-” a slap to the face cuts you off and you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. “You won’t speak of the Princes! You are filth!” She raises her hand to strike you again and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

When it never comes, you open your eyes.

Steve’s holding your step-mothers wrist and another woman is rushing over to your side, giving little thought to her expensive gown as she slides down to the floor beside you.

“Guards!” Steve calls, “escort Lady Griffon and her daughters out of here. Don’t make a scene about it either.” You watch as the woman who raised you gets escorted out of the palace that has recently become your home.

“Are you alright, child?” The woman beside you asks, her voice gentle and soft. “Yes, I-I believe I am. Thank you.” She smiles and lightly places her hand on your shoulder. “(Y/n) I’m so sorry,” Steve says. You wave off his apology and take a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Queen Valerie, thank you for letting me know. (Y/n), this is Queen Valerie of Corona. Queen Valerie, this is (Y/n). A very close friend of mine.” You look at the woman beside you and scramble to your feet, only to bow before her. “Y-your Highness.” She shakes her head and stands up, “no need for that. You’re sure you’re alright?” You nod your head yes then clear your throat.

“I... I’m going to retire to my chambers. Thank you for inviting me, Steve. Queen Valerie, I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” They nod and watch as you hurry up a flight of stairs.

“Where’s she from?” Queen Valerie asks while Steve’s escorting her back to the ballroom.

“We’re not sure. She was adopted by Lady Griffon as a baby. She has a locket that seems to be enchanted from Corona so we do believe she may be from there. How she ended up here, I know not. Perhaps you have an idea?” The Queen on his arm clutches her necklace tightly.

“I mustn’t let myself hope,” she whispers softly, letting go of Steve’s arm and heading back to find her husband, leaving the young prince confused out of his wits.

~

“Mother, Father, I need your help!” Bucky exclaims, walking to where his parents are seated. “What is it, my son?” Winifred asks concern lacing her voice.

“A dame, beautiful as a sunrise. I want to court her. She’s...” He trails off while looking around, trying to find you.

“My son, you know you are to be marred. There’s no way you could court her. What is her name?” Bucky stares at the door where he saw you last.

“I don’t know. But mother, her voice was that of an angel. Her eyes sparkled brighter than diamonds. Her smile... I have no words to describe her beauty.”

Winifred sighs and takes her sons hand. “If everything fails with Corona, then you may court the girl. Is she a Duchess? Or perhaps a Princess?” Bucky sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

“She was dancing with the Duke of Winchester,” King George chimes in, looking around the room.

“I’ll ask him!” Bucky practically runs through the crowd.

“You shouldn't give him hope, George. He’s betrothed. You know he’s meant to marry the Princess of Corona,” Winifred scolds. “Let the boy have his fun. He knows his responsibilities. And if we go to war with Corona, he’ll have this Duchess or Princess or whoever she is. You’ll get a grandchild or two and James will get a strong heir to the throne.” The Queen sighs at her husband and watches as her son talks to the Duke.

“I found her dancing with Prince Steve. A beautiful one, she is. I plan to court her, as soon as I figure out who her father is.” Bucky clenches his hands into fists and smiles tightly at the Duke before setting off to find his cousin.

“Steve! Who were you dancing with?” The blond looks up, slightly startled. “Who?” Bucky groans at his cousin’s response. “She was wearing pink. Her eyes, they’re beautiful and (e/c). She was... a dream.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “You mean (Y/n)?” Bucky freezes, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “(Y/)? Like... servant girl (Y/n)?” Steve nods slowly and Bucky curses. “Why? Is something wrong?” Bucky pulls Steve into the hallway and looks around to make sure they’re alone, then he rips his mask off and tosses it aside.

“She’s. stunning. Beautiful and witty. I asked if I could court her. But she’s not of noble blood. Fuck. What do I do?” Steve pats his cousin's shoulder.

“Talk to her. You don’t need to formally court her. Does your mother know that you fancy her?” He asks. “Yes, but she reminded me of my betrothal when I spoke of her.” Steve snickers despite his cousin’s glare.

“Winifred knew that was (Y/n). I had her help me design the dress.” Bucky chuckles at this, his anger momentarily forgotten. “Of course she did. She enjoys seeing me in pain.” Steve sighs and looks towards the staircase where you disappeared to. “Lady Griffon was here. She got mad and struck (Y/n). I had the vile woman escorted out and (Y/n) went to her chambers. You should go check on her.” Bucky looks at his cousin as if he’d grown a second head.

“Lady Griffon Struck (Y/n)?” Steve nods, “go see if she’s alright.” I’ll cover for you.” Bucky nods before he can think too hard about it. His feet bring him through the Palace and up the stairs until he’s outside of your room.

He knocks twice then slowly pushes the door open, looking around the room for you. Humming from the bathroom gets his attention and he realizes you must be bathing.

Just as he’s about to turn and leave, you walk out of the bathroom. Bucky’s frozen, staring at you and you’re frozen, staring at him.

You're wrapped in a thin towel, water dripping down your skin and pooling at your feet.

“Your Highness. W-what are you doing in here?” He doesn’t answer, too busy staring at your body. You shift nervously and his eyes snap up to yours. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

You swallow hard and hold the towel tighter around your body.

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.”

He walks towards you and you back up, gasping as your back hits the wall.

“You’re a fantasy? A dream? No, you’re much more than that.” He cages you against the wall between his strong arms and stares in your eyes.

“W-what do you mean? What do you want from me?” He closes his eyes for a moment before cracking a half-smile. “I told you,” he whispers, “I want to court you.” You cast your eyes down, shaking your head at him.

“I met Queen Valerie. You’re betrothed to her daughter. I don’t want to interfere,” you breathe.

He carefully lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me you don’t want me the way I want you. Tell me that honestly and I’ll leave you be.” You shake your head and close your eyes tightly.

“I’d be lying.”

Those three words are all it takes for his control to shatter.

His hands grip your waist through the towel, holding you tightly as he presses his chest against yours. You pull in a shaky breath, your palms hesitantly resting on his shoulders.

“May I touch you?” You nod breathlessly, gasping as he tugs the towel down a tad. His right-hand cups your cheek while his left ventures beneath the towel, finding your damp skin.

“Someone could come in,” you whisper, head tilting back and eyes staying closed as his lips ghost over your neck.

“Let them,” he murmurs, gently nipping your neck as his left-hand curls around your back under your towel.

You shiver, arching up into him at the foreign feeling of his warm skin on your own. “James.” Your voice is a soft whisper and the Prince grins, his right hand leaving your cheek to pull your towel down a bit more.

“I want you, (Y/n).” You whimper softly, your fingers raking through his soft brown hair. “You’re all I want. Screw my betrothal.” The mention of his betrothal brings you back to reality and you push him off of you.

“This… this isn’t right,” you whisper while pulling the towel tighter around your body.

“Yes. This is right. This is so so right.” He leans down and kisses your lips almost roughly.

“James. James stop,” you mumble against his lips.

He doesn’t stop.

“Stop! Get off of me!” You exclaim, shoving him off of you as hard as you can.

“(Y/n) I-“ “Get out. Get out!”

He looks shocked and reaches out for you.

“Get out now.”

You move under his arm and across the room, eyes staying focused on the Prince.

“(Y/n) please. Just let me-“ “No! You’re to be married and I’m of poor blood! Please, just leave.” Your hands start to tremble as anxiety floods your body.

The Prince turns and leaves without another word, his heart aching and his stomach churning.

~

TAGS:

FOREVER:

@smolbeanbucky  @wildefire @inumorph  @impalatobakerstreet  @nanna022  @mummy-woves-you  @m-a-t-91  @wtfholland  @bookgirlunicorn  @beautifulwisdom2001  @deep-sea-glitter  @mrhiddles-81  @iamwarrenspeace  @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles  @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67

MARVEL:

@fallenangelfangirl @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @cliffordasparagus @april-14-blog @potteritis @momc95 @shakzer00

BUCKY:

@chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight @dragonrosegardens

A BROKEN FAIRYTALE:

@starkxpotts @barnesandnoble13 @paranoiadestroyah @theonelittleone @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @derekxsammy @nerd-without-a-cause @coal000 @lilypalmer1987 @consumedbyfanfics @tanelle83 @fultimefangirl @apollolikescello @buckysthing @emilysallysmith @krystallynx @unscriptedtimetraveler @buckyinantarctica @the-surviving-revolutionist @seafrost-fangirl @londonalozzy @roxytheimmortal @strawberryblogg @rosariia25 @godsofimmortality @bookgirlunicorn @ign-is @afterglowamsy @doublephoeenix @littledeadrottinghood @jsmith509 @alexaduke @m00nlightdelights @denimandcabernet @crystalchrysalis19

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #prince bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader au #reader inserts #buck reader inserts #marvel fanfic

[raeynbowboi]

The Symbolism of the Hormone Monsters in Big Mouth

Maury Andrew & Matthew

The primary focal Hormone Monster of the series, Maury seems to mostly embody lust. He appears to primarily focus on testosterone driven puberty, often encouraging sexual and violent behavior, as well as showboating and other things which on an evolutionary level are meant to be displays of dominance or proof of virility. However, he doesn’t seem to have the same amount of sway or power over Matthew. This could simply be a matter of maturity or Matthew may simply be better at controlling himself and his hormones. Maury’s constant abuse of drugs and his omnisexual willingness to screw everything in sight points to Maury representing a more primal male, with a primary focus on sex, aggression, and asserting dominance. However, unlike Gavin who goes overboard, Maury seems to know when enough is enough and is even capable of being the voice of reason trying to rein in kids when they get out of control. While emotional intimacy is not lost on him, he seems far more driven towards physical displays and gestures, indicating that he is primarily focused on copulation and reproduction, as at first, Maury mostly appears whenever Andrew becomes aroused, tying him to sexuality and carnal release.

Connie Jessi & Missy

The deuteragonist among the Hormone Monsters, where Maury is more focused on physical and sexual development, Connie seems to primarily be an emotional component. While the male Hormone Monsters often make suggestions, they largely seem to be ignored by the boys, whereas Connie holds a lot more sway over Jessi’s actions. She’s the driving force behind a lot of Jessi’s self-destructive actions. She even applauds Jessi for emotional outbursts that have little logical backing, such as throwing yogurt at her mother because she said a color looked nice on her. Connie seems to primarily drive compulsion and reactions, often encouraging mood swings, gossipy and bitchy behavior, breaking rules, and even seems to like the idea of being dominated by a male. Where Maury mostly seemed to show up whenever Andrew was aroused in season 1, Connie just sort of seemed to always be around. Whether this is because Jessi was menstruating during all of those scenes, or if the emotional hormones were just always present, Connie’s appearances don’t seem to be triggered within the show itself, so it can be hard to say when or why she shows up.

Rick Coach Steve, Nick

Between the two males guided by Rick, the common denomination between them seems to be late development. Granted, we have not yet seen Coach Steve when he was younger, and thus we can’t be certain if he went through puberty at a later age, but Rick seems to work primarily with late bloomers, as he is old and can’t really see what he’s doing. Rick’s old age may also be a reflection of Nick’s inability to become aroused despite now having a hormone monster, as older men have a harder time being sexually active. As such, Rick could represent stunted sexual growth, difficulties maintaining arousal, or the inability to get there in the first place.

Tyler Nick

Tyler very much seems to reflect young, inexperienced sexuality. He hasn’t learned yet what is and is not appropriate, he has no idea how to conduct sexual or romantic encounters, and he still seems to think and act very much like a child. He seems to suffer from an over-eagerness that causes him to make rookie mistakes. Nick’s transition from Rick to Tyler is likely a reflection that whatever developmental problems Nick was having have cleared up, and with a new budding sense of sexuality, Nick’s hormones made him a little too eager to please. In the grand scheme of the series, I think Tyler was meant to represent a phase in Nick’s life when, upon entering puberty, he came in too hot too fast, and screwed things up. He only managed to move past Tyler once he was able to mature past this stage.

Gavin Unknown

Although we haven’t seen Gavin with anyone, it’s a pretty safe bet that he’s likely the hormone monster of both of Jay’s older brothers. Gavin is the toxic bullying hypermasculine scumbag that girls fear will approach them. If we look beyond pure appearances, Gavin may represent the masculine ideal, as well as the ideal in male beauty. Although we don’t know any of his clients, he seems to be one of the top Hormone Monsters around. Thus, he seems to turn men into the most conventionally attractive, strongest, and/or the most macho dudebro types of guys around. Beyond toxic masculinity, he may also represent dudebro or frat culture, bullies, or meatheads. Where Maury seems mostly focused on sex, Gavin seems far for invested in appearance, muscle, power, dominance, and elitism. Guys with Gavin for a Hormone Monster would probably be confident, quick to assert dominance, and focused on social and/or physical appearances.

Connie Nick

With Nick being Connie’s first boy, Nick is being set up as the “sensitive boy”, likely meaning that while Andrew and Matthew will be driven by sex and aggression, Nick will probably end up with a lot of female friends and being much gentler and kinder. I would not be surprised if Nick’s father, Elliot, also had a female Hormone Monster due to his rather emotionally open and gentle nature. Like with Jessi, Connie seems to be very protective of Nick as well, quick to beg Maury to pull Andrew and Jay off of Nick when they begin to harass him for his sensitive chest. Nick’s outbursts also seem rather reminiscent of Jessi’s, meaning that like Jessi and the other female characters, Connie will probably give Nick mood swings and fuel his emotions. This also likely means that while guys like Andrew desire physical intimacy in relationships, Nick will value emotional intimacy more, which will help him be far more successful at getting close with women.

#big mouth #hormone monster #maury #connie #rick

[melypeira]

“Cold Zone Lovers”

An illustrated fanfic by lilacmel

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Summary:

"Friends will take your silence and your hurts, Sharing and trading passions and joys, Even naughty pranks and flirts, But careful of green eyed beasts it annoys. Specially when dealing with oblivious blondies."

An illustrated fanfic, for an idea I had in my mind for a while. End game was disappointing and not enough gay, so this is my contribution for pride month ;3

Fic also on AO3 (easier to read, but I needed an place to image host).

archiveofourown.org/works/19376977/

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“This human called Jim is a simpleton.”  Says one.

“You just don’t appreciate his effort trying to win over a lady.”  Speaks two.

“Surely, that woman is arrogant and vain.” Replies back the haughty one.

“Like you, you mean.” Sassed in return the mellow other.

A serious man walks quietly thinking to himself, while searching for someone. Said man has a strong silhouette, one so popular in North America that couldn’t possibly be unrecognizable. Well, except maybe with a hat and glasses. Our dear Captain America, with dark blond hair and the shapes Kim Kardashian would be jealous of, according to Tony/IronMan, AKA also known as Steve Rogers, could not believe what he was hearing, much less seeing. Walking over to the ‘Big ol’ Popcorn Mess Hall’, name courtesy of the host, he saw the most unimaginable view he could possibly think of in his long but short years of life.

Two branded criminals, the notorious Winter Soldier, Hydra’s soldier with a mechanical arm - very sought after by certain woodland creatures - and notorious frost giant, norse god of mischief and all around “pain-in-the-ass” for the avengers. Together, in a sofa, eating popcorn, sat Bucky and Loki, talking and watching – the shock- a comedy movie. Stunned still by this in the hallway, our American hero retires, forgetting entirely what he wanted with his traumatized friend.

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“Thor, we need to take action, I don’t mind Loki returning anymore, but I don't care where they're from, I don't enjoy bullies” Steve Rogers declares out loud. His mighty friend is sometimes an excellent judge and leader, but he can be overprotective, thinks the golden haired norse god. Master of lightning, ale and, now, of a slightly round belly - blame the later - Thor Odinson doesn’t see the point the captain is making against his brother’s associations. He is generally is just glad to have gotten Loki back, with all his little mischievous acts and fake-deaths, after all.

“Loki is free to do what he wants, meaning all things which will not hurt the midgardians or the sanity of the avengers, such is the trust my brother and I have made” claims the Asgardian king, stroking his fashionable braided beard while whetting his axe. Maybe the other blonde should spend his time caring for the borrowed Mjölnir instead of spying on his frost friend, muses Thor.

“You don’t understand, Loki manipulates minds, with or without the stones. Bucky has been far too much brainwashed by those blasted octopus loving bastards” May those days never come again for his dear friend; the young aged soul contemplates. He doesn’t want the other going back to such harsh settings as freezing, to heal in Wakanda, away from him.

“My brother has a powerful silver-tongue, indeed, but comrade Bucky is a fierce warrior, he can fend for himself in such matters”. Thor says while putting his axe in its weapon stand, leaving his comfy armchair.

“Then let’s prove that conviction. Come with me”. Rogers declares, turning and opening the door. He finds Tony outside, who clearly had listened in through his cameras and came to “gossip the juicy bits, Steve”.  Both the Son of Odin and the soldier ignore him. “I don’t see why the worries, I am kinda shipping this WinterFrost happening in my sofa” they can still hear nearing the end of the hallway near the elevator.

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“Hell, they are on the sequel today!” “How would you…nevermind, must be that little leatherless book of yours” Both blondes whisper to each other in the hallway, not very hidden as they think they are. Thor knew what Steve was saying, but watching was another thing altogether. It hit him hard how much he missed his comraderies with his brother, laughing and being “bitchy” as he heard Hawkeye saying. Seeing happening with the arm-armored brunette was jealousy-inducing.

Worse times were still to come, because this friendship became evident to other avengers, even the Wakandan people heard about it. The only ones not amused by the situation were still America's Golden Boy and now the Thunder God.

The interactions were everywhere, joking and pranks and even once in a while you could see Falcon/Sam joining with beers on the TV and Wanda sharing some wine and conversations on the bar with the two. That was only the eye of the storm, trouble was arriving at the horizon.

Then, flirting began. It was inevitable, Bucky has always been charming, Steve somewhat suspected gender didn’t matter to his friend - likewise for him - but why Loki of all of them was a mistery, even Wanda made more sense, seeing his usual type in the day. Thor meanwhile knew his brother enjoyed both the attention and the actual chasing game, often seducing and changing appearances for the sake of ‘a bit of fun’. He wondered what exactly in the scenario was bothering him, was it he missed his friends? Maybe Jane? The Snake-like sibling’s full attention. Or was it vanity, the feeling of being undesirable as he now is, missing his toned body looking at the brunette soldier.

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“Bucky, I know nobody is perfect, but the ‘safest hands are still our own’. So why are you playing right into Loki’s hands?" Calmly Rogers says, thought noticing his little slip, maybe Bucky didn’t even notice.

“Whadya mean pal? I wasn’t aware I was playing into something Steve, except maybe my games with Birdie Man” Bucky replies, somewhat confused but amused by his friend.

"I’m glad you’re back at the headquarters, and as much as I don’t like the idea of you isolating from others because of the past, I don’t think that bonding with Loki will help you at all. We all need family, I get it, but the Avengers could be yours, maybe more so than mine. They won’t judge you for your past” More fiercely, Steve declares.

“Wait a minute, hell Steve! Are you actually coming to me after all this mess, with we haven’t talked much about by the way, we are busy, I get it, to ‘order’ my friendships?? ‘Cause I might be unstable and lonely?” Finally understanding and somewhat angry, Bucky replies with a slightly raised voice.

“I never said that, but it’s for your own good. Loki is Thor’s brother but also a horrible being; in his mind we are all ‘dumb magic-less midgardians’ for him to play with” Harshly states the America Man.

“Are you sure? Have you asked or interacted with him? Besides the past? I was horrible to Tony’s parents too, wasn’t I?” Bucky unveils. “It’s different!!!” Struck back God's Righteous Man “Is it?”. With a somber look reminding of his Ghost days, whispers deadly the Winter Wolf, ready to pounce for flesh.

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Meanwhile, in a similar situation is the light blonde bearded god, with his frost sibling, on the rarely used garden.

“Mother would be disappointed in such an orchard” articulates the dark haired one, seeing his approaching sibling.

“Indeed” Concurs the peace invader. Silence reigns for a short while, the kind that is rare in this turbulent world. Still, even stillness needs to be broken eventually.

“Brother…I don’t know what scheme you…” “I don’t know what you are talking about Thor” “…but you need to stop it.” Urges strongly the slightly older one.

“May I remind you I am not a mind reader, much less know your mental monologue” Spats the younger adopted sibling.

“This obsession with the midgardian frozen warrior, I have seen it before. With Jane and many others” Claims the Asgard Golden child.  “Obsession? Please! Why so worried, do you fancy him? Should I go tell Jane?” Scoffs the slick haired one.

“I don’t, but you are playing with him” The raging thunder is burning inside Thor’s veins now, with the theatrical antics of his fraternal old playmate. “I honestly thought it was quite mutual. Shame, woe is me.  Tell me…do you enjoy spying on us Thor? Stealthy, you certainly are not.” The obsidian hair male talked as if in a play, long periods and sudden words, ending in a short haughty statement.

Giving no time for replies, he ignores the other’s angry sputtering and continues “Am I not allowed to have friends? Acquaintances? Relationships? You came here to stay with yours, to fight your silly battles with them, instead of staying with our kin-” Thor is momentarily happy to hear that part, but quickly gets angry again ”- and ruling, as you were supposed to be, as I am meant to be with you! Even leaving the invisible throne for Valkyrie to sit!!”

“I saw you smiling and I know…!” the axe-wielder loses his conviction midway, enough for Loki to take possession again of the discussion. The curly braided male should have known that in a battle of the tongues, the serpent hisses fast and non-stop. ‘Silence is golden’ indeed, ironically.

“OH, only mighty Thor can be happy!  With his little annoying friends! OH NO, not his brother, that one should stay miserable and, in the shadows and shackles, were he belongs" Loki pacing around the room, with a flourish in his limbs, mocking and hissing. “‘Brother everything's gonna work out fine in Earth’ ’Brother, we will fight side by side forever’ indeed, how fickle you are” Loki rants, each time louder with more articulation and acerbic words.

“ENOUGH! It’s because I wish it was with me!!!” Already regretting what came out his mouth, Thor closes it suddenly and contains his mortification.

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Muahahaha cliffhanger.

If you enjoyed please give a like here or there or share this around. I may keep doing this depending on feedback.

#thorki #stucky #fanfic #artists on tumblr #fanart #digitalart #thor #thor odinson #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #Steve Rogers #Steve Grant Rogers #art #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Buchanan Barnes #mine #lilacmel #from:adecentartist to:worstwriter #lilacmel writes

[fanwarriorfictions]

One-

A Stranger Things Fanfic

Chapter One- Part Two

   Phina tapped her foot anxiously throughout the last class of her day. Her classmates glared at her but didn't say anything.

"And that's how..... Phina are you all right," the teacher stopped by her desk as he asked.

"Nope," she replied popping the p in the word.

The teacher frowned at her but continued on with the class. Everyone turned their eyes back to the front of the class, except Steve Harrington. Steve stared at her, and she felt his gaze on her.

The two had the unfortunate luck of sitting next to each other in the three classes they shared, every, single, one. Phina didn't know if fate was against them, or if the teachers just wanted them to suffer. Being that close to him was enough to make her angry, and for him to be staring at her, added to the fire.

"I'd suggest you turn that pretty head of yours forward Harrington," she snapped quietly.

He did exactly that, but continued to keep glancing at her through the corner of his eye.

Each time his eyes would land on her, she wanted to snap at him, but restrained herself, tapping her foot even more each time. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and Phina prepared to sarcastically reply.

The bell wrung and Phina stood as fast as lightening, knocking her chair over in the process. Saved by the bell, Phina thought to herself. Steve shook his head and slowly packed his things up, watching her from the corner of her eye.

Phina glared sharply at him and grabbed her things, rushing out of the room, not caring that she ran into to people on the way out. Getting away from Harrington as fast as possible was worth the bitchy comments she got.

All day, she'd felt this terrible coldness in her stomach, the utter wrongness of it scared her, and mixing Steve Harrington with that, how she made it through the day was a miracle.

She hurried to her locker, shoving away the things she didn't need and grabbing what she did. She needed to get out of the school, it was suffocating her.

"What's got your panties in a twist," she heard Tommy's voice from behind her.

She slammed her locker shut, louder than what was probably necessary, and turned to walk away. Phina was not up for his bullshit today.

"Nuh-uh, answer me weirdo," Tommy said as he grabbed her shoulder and turned her around.

"The thought of having to see your ugly face for one more second is making me a little queasy," she snapped.

"Ouch, that hurt," Tommy poured playfully.

"Good," Phina bit out, spinning on her heel, "hopefully I'll deflate your big head a little."

Carol stood behind her, blocking Phina's path. A small crowd formed around them, almost as if they sensed the fight brewing. It's wouldn't be the first time Phina had fought one of them, just never when the other was near.

"Where do you think your going," Carol smirked.

Phina glared at her, "home."

"What home. The Wheeler's? Ha! That ain't your home. Your home is probably in some hole out in the forest, just like the one they found you in," Carol laughed.

A low growl escaped Phina's throat. That had always been Carol's go to insult, and no matter how many times Phina heard it, it still stung.

"Hey hey hey, leave her alone alright?"

Phina turned to look at who said it, Steve.

"I don't need you to defend me Harrington," she spat.

"Don't flatter yourself Wheeler, I'm trying to keep my friends out of trouble," he shot back.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Carol. Carol smiled sourly at Phina, and Phina smiled back, like a vicious snake, before walking forward, her shoulder roughly hitting Carol's.

Phina sat at the dinner table of her house, the rest of her family too. She stared blankly into her plate, upset about Will, he was officially missing. When her mom had told her when she got home, all she wanted to do was cry. The feeling she had all day, even the night before, it was about Will.

Mike, who sits to Phina's left, starts talking, "We should be out there right now. We should be helping look for him."

Karen looks at him, "we've been over this, the Chief said..."

"I don't care what the Chief said" Mike snaps.

"Michael," Karen says, aghast.

"He's right you know. Will could be in danger right now," Phina jumps in, aiding her brother.

"All the more reason to stay put," Karen states.

Mike starts to argue, "mom..."

"We could join the search party," Phina adds in.

"End of discussion," she snaps.

Everyone goes silent, Phina grabs Mike's hand under the table to comfort him. He smiles sadly at her.

Nancy then looks at her mom, "so. Me and Barb we're gonna study for the chemistry test at her house tonight. That's cool, right?"

"No. Not cool," Karen answers.

"What? Why not," Nancy whines.

"What do you think? Am I speaking Chinese in this house? Until we know Will is safe, no one leaves."

She doesn't leave any room for argument. Karen lookes over at Phina pointedly, daring her to ask to leave tonight like her siblings. Phina held up her hands in surrender, she didn't want to go anywhere, the only place she would want to go to would be the Byers' house, and she knew they needed time to be together.

"So we're under house arrest," Nancy asks.

"Don't be dramatic Nancy," Karen sighs.

Phina can practically see the anger radiating off of her younger sister, and she had no idea how to diffuse the situation, before it got bad.

"This is such bullshit," Nancy yells.

Ted finally speaks up, "language!"

"Barb lives two minutes away. Just because Mike's friend got lost on his way home," Phina cuts Nancy off.

"Don't you dare blame this on Will."

"Nancy take that back," Karen snaps.

Nancy looks at her angered, "no!"

Phina glares at her about to snap, but Mike beats her to it, "you're just pissed because you want to hang out with Steve!"

"Steve?" Ted asks.

"Who's Steve?" Karen asks.

"Her new boyfriend," Mike says smugly.

"You're such a douchebag Mike!" Nancy yells.

"Language," Ted yells.

Phina rubs her temples, an ache had started forming in her head.

Nancy stands up and storms up to her room.

"Nancy! Come back! Nancy!"

"Leave her alone," Phina says calmly, "she'snot thinking rationally, try to talk to her now and you'll both say things you don't mean."

Karen looks at her daughter and sighs deeply, nodding, she knew Phina was right. Holly starts to get a little upset so Karen starts to sush her, trying to ease her daughter's, and her own stress.

"See Michael, this is what happens," Ted says disappointedly at Mike, like he was entirely at fault here.

"What happens when what! We're the only one acting normal here," Mike yells and gestures towards Phina, "Phina and I are the only ones who care about Will!"

"That's not fair, Micheal. We care," Ted says after taking a bite of his chicken, almost sarcastic in his reply.

Phina glares at Ted, with the glare that could make anyone uncomfortable, and it certainly worked on him, "that's bull and you know it."

Phina stands up and pulling Mike along with her, they storm off together. Phina glances at Mike as soon as they leave the dining room, and she can practically see a plan forming in his head. She stops them at the bottom of the stairs, turning to place her hands on his shoulders.

"Mike, whatever your planning, please be safe. I'll cover for you only until midnight," she tells him, "ok?"

"Ok," Mike nods and hugs Phina around her waist.

Phina goes up to her room and she grabs her sketchbook from her bag. The whole night, and day, had made her stressed beyond belief. Drawing was one of the few things that calmed her down.

Phina grabs a blanket and a sweater, before climbing out of her window and onto the roof of the lower part of her house. She did this regularly, sitting outside for hours on end, drawing, reading, or just staring at the stars. She set up the blanket and went back inside to grab a few pillows from her bed. When she came back out of the window, she heard a noise coming from her sisters window.

"What are you doing? I told you I had to stay in tonight," she hears Nancy say.

"I know, so we'll study here," Steve answers.

Phina almost groaned out loud at that, knowing what his studying meant. She was sick of Steve Harrington being around her sister, especially today. For some reason, Steve and Nancy's relationship bothered her deeply, and she wanted to say it was because she hated him and his group of friends viciously, but even with how good she was at lying, she couldn't lie to herself.

Phina crawled out of her window as soon as she heard Nancy's window close, setting up her pillows and sitting down. She pulled her sketchbook into her lap and opened it to a new page. Phina didn't know what she wanted to draw, but as soon as her pencil touched the page, her hand took over and her mind let it.

She let her mind go blank, not quite focused on anything around her. Minutes, maybe even hours passed by, before her drawing was finished, and her hand was cramping. When she came back too, and looked down at her page, she almost shrieked.

A gruesome monster was on the page, standing over a small figure, that almost looked like Will. The monster was almost human like, but it's tall, lanky, figure was definitely not. The most horrific part of it, was the grotesque face, which was opened up in the shape of a strange flower, but it definitely wasn't pretty. It had more teeth than she could count, long and sharp, lining it's entire mouth.

An electric feeling danced across Phina's skin, the sign of a storm. That feeling, added to the monster she drew, had her looking all around her, like she might be attacked.

Phina felt a few rain drops hit her head, and she scrambled to hide her sketchbook. She bundles everything up into a large blanket, rushing to keep everything dry. She throws her bundle throw the window and practically dived through her window, with much more success than she had heard Steve do earlier.

Almost as soon as she closes her window behind her, the rain starts pouring down. Phina grabs her sketchbook from underneath her shirt, where she had hid it, and opens the book to the monster drawing, sitting down on her bed.

There was now way she was going to get any sleep tonight. She knew that everyone she closed her eyes, she'd see that thing, and there would be no saving her from the nightmares she would have. Phina let her body fall backwards onto her bed, staring at the ceiling for a solid ten minutes.

She sighs, shuts her book, and prepared for the night ahead with a quiet, "fuck me."

-1887 words-

#stranger things fanfic #strangerthingsfanfic #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington #stranger things #one #slow burn #romance

[superninjaviolinist]

The Girl With the Black Dragon Tattoo, Chapter One

Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by other people that aren’t me.

SPOILER WARNING : This fic begins at the beginning of Season Five and will contain spoilers for all subsequent seasons.

CAUTION: The following is rated DSLV. It will contain strong language, sexual situations, and violence. Eyeball to device discretion is advised.

My name is Evangeline Chung, thirty-five years old. Long black hair, 5’6”, athletic (but not bulky)…

Currently collared and chained to the Throne of Hell like some kind of dog.

The situation sounds terrible, I know, but it could be worse. I mean, the deposed King is on the other side, similarly bound, being treated as if he were a dog, right down to the “Heel! Sit! Lick the floor!” commands. All I’ve gotten so far are gentle strokes to my hair and face, reminders from Lucifer of why I’d submitted to being bound. See, contrary to popular belief the Devil isn’t a demon; he’s an archangel. It means whatever body he inhabits on Earth must belong to a willing participant; those are the rules for heavenly denizens (by contrast, demons can swoop down the throat of whomever, or whatever, they want). They call them their vessels or, more crudely, their meatsuits.

His current vessel is the man, no, the angel who fell in love with me, and I fell in love with in return.

Castiel owed me a big fucking explanation for why this had gone down. There had to have been other options, something that would have prevented this scenario where Lucifer was keeping his little brother’s vessel hostage against my and the Winchesters’ good behavior.

Ah, Sam and Dean Winchester. If it weren’t for them I would have never been anywhere close to this mess. I mean, sure, I would have probably ended up a drained corpse in the middle of a vampire nest, but that’s neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is this: the warm, oh so familiar hand of Castiel is resting on my cheek, and if I don’t submit to Lucifer’s every demand I get to watch my lover and my friends die slow.

This is so fucked up. And it all started with a chance encounter six years ago in Garber, Oklahoma.

I made it into Garber at the same time as the men I had so lovingly dubbed the Douchebag Trio: Steve Bose, Reggie Hull, and Tim Janklow. We had history. At that point in my life I was unabashedly promiscuous. I know now that it was a product of the trauma I’d experienced, but at the time I’d convinced myself that it was my body and I was going to do whatever the fuck I wanted with it.

The four of us used to have a pleasant working relationship, but after I’d begun sleeping with Reggie I discovered that the man wanted more than just sex. When I blew him off the other two turned Mean Girls on me and suddenly we were no longer friends. I swear to God, men can give teenage girls a run for their money in the bitchiness category.

If I’d known Bobby had called these guys I’d’ve shrugged off the request. Well, maybe not. I might have loathed these assholes, but a) no one deserves the kind of brutal end demons were apt to give, and b) I owed Bobby Singer my life. Kind of made me obligated to fulfill any and all of his requests.

The four of us ended up squaring off in front of one of the local dives, Hoyt’s Bar, where Bobby had said the informant was working. “Run along, girly,” came Tim’s opening salvo. “Don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

“Go to hell.”

He and his cronies exchanged amused smirks. “Aw, she wants to play with the big boys.”

“Maybe we should let her play,” Steve suggested. “And when we’re done, she can kiss all our boo-boos better.”

Tim and Steve guffawed while Reggie and I got busy glaring at each other. “C’mon,” he said finally, “leave the slut alone and let’s go.” As I followed them in, I considered how funny they’d look headless.

Hoyt’s Bar was almost cliche in appearance. Wooden tables and walls, sports on the television, darts, pool, and alcohol. The Douchebag Trio was settling down at a table where a tall, well-built, shaggy-haired young man was joining them. I sat nearby and flagged the blonde waitress for a beer.

“Bobby called,” Tim said.

“And?” asked the stranger.

“You were right. Major demon block party going on.”

That was the first time I laid eyes on brooding, empathic, guilt-ridden Sam Winchester. Bobby had outlined the man’s fucked up situation. Sort of. Something about Sam and his brother separating. Made me wonder about what happened. I mean Josie, my sister, and I didn’t talk because… well, there were plenty of reasons, first and foremost being that she spent most of her time either drunk or high. Her normal state of mind didn’t make for very stimulating conversation.

I was too busy brooding over my family and finishing my beer to notice that the other table was looking at me. Reggie cleared his throat. “What?” I snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “I said: you coming with us?”

“Who’s this?” Sam asked.

“Eva Chung,” Tim answered for me. “Thinks she’s a hunter.”

“Yeah?” I threw back. “I bet you think you don’t have a micro-peen. We all have our delusions.”

The three I knew bristled, but I saw Sam lift his hand up to hide a smile. It made me warm up to him. A little. “I’ll come,” I told Reggie.

We all stood. “Good luck,” Sam said quietly.

“Beers are on you when we get back,” Tim said amiably.

“Yeah, you bet,” Sam replied halfheartedly. “And it was nice to meet you,” he said to me. I gave him an appraising look from head to toe before smiling in acknowledgment. Nice body. Handsome. Maybe when all this was done… Unfortunately, there were demons to check on first.

We headed outside and towards the Douche-mobile. Steve was Tim’s best friend, but I sincerely thought that Tim kept him nearby because the man had the sweetest setup in his camper. It had all the bells and whistles: stove, fridge, shower, bunkbeds, even WiFi and charging stations.

I grabbed my sword and its sheathe, a samjeongdo that was given to my grandfather after World War II, out of the saddlebags of my Yamaha before joining the others. Best place to sit was Steve’s dinner table where Reggie was already perched. We ignored each other.

“Got your ching-chong weapon from your ching-chong ride?” Tim asked from the passenger’s seat. I gave him the finger.

Why don’t I have a gun like the rest of these mouth breathers? Frankly, it’s a matter of finances. Bullets cost money. Well, okay. Not a lot of money, but enough. It also involves flashing ID’s and possibly credit cards; both dangerous things to do when your job involves killing creatures that wear human faces. I’ve heard some hunters carry around a bullet forge and use scrap to make their own. I went my own way and sprang for a collapsible bow. Arrows are retrievable, bullets are not.

Okay, I think I’m painting myself as some kind of cartoon heroine, with my Asian weapons and all. Trust me, it’s all either practical or a product of my upbringing. Growing up in a Korean household in San Francisco sort of slates you for certain stereotypes: you eat kimchi, you play the piano, and you learn to be frugal. I did ballet and gymnastics, and after I started hunting I discovered that the flexibility and athleticism translated well to sword fighting. It was a natural progression to my current state.

Reggie checked the clip of his gun while Steve and Tim argued about the destination. I peered out of the blinds. Usual nighttime small town streets. Woods in the background, no people. Peaceful and pleasant if you didn’t know what creeped about in the shadows.

Eventually Steve pulled into the parking lot for the Hawley Five and Dime, one of those twenty-four hour knockoffs of 7–11s. I looked curiously at Reggie. “Cashier is a demon,” he explained.

“And?”

“Trap him,” Steve called as he pulled his shotgun from under his seat. “Make him tell us what’s going on.”

“Here,” Tim said as he tossed me a spray can.

“Where?” I asked.

“Doorway. We’ll drive him out.”

I nodded and the three boys headed inside. I got out of the van a few minutes afterwards, ducking low so that the demon couldn’t see me, and did my job. Star, circle, scribbly runes.

While I was painting I smelled sulfur. The yellow powder had been liberally dusted onto the doormat. At least Larry, Curly, and Moe had gotten the location right, but something struck me as wrong. I got down on my hands and knees to peer a little closer. Was it me or was that too much sulfur for just one demon…? My hackles rose. I stood up and cast my eyes about. Nothing. Yet.

I drew my sword from its scabbard. This didn’t feel good, not one bit. A shotgun blast echoed inside the store and killed the opportunity to do a quick recon. Moments later, a scraggly young man bearing black eyes came pelting out of the glass doors. He smacked into an invisible wall and went down. It was almost comical. “Bitch!” he yelled at me.

Nobody likes name calling. I stabbed the thing in the shoulder. Demons can be hurt, despite rumors to the contrary, and I’d had my sword blessed by Pastor Jim (rest in peace). I had the demon shrieking by the time the others made it outside. I twisted the blade just for the hell of it before jerking it out of his flesh.

The trio just grinned approvingly. Sadists. “Now you got yourself some options,” Tim said down to the demon. “You tell us what we wanna know and we don’t let the young lady here stab you no more.”

“Fuck you,” it spat.

Tim nodded at me. I was loathe to take orders from him, but for this I’d make an exception. Into the other shoulder went my steel. A good, long howl erupted from the demon, but when I pulled my blade out again it started laughing.

We all glanced at each other uneasily. “What’s so funny?” Steve demanded.

“You came here because Sam Winchester told you about us, didn’t you?” The voice came out high and thready: this guy was riding a teenager. “I figured by now no one would be listening to him.”

“Why not?” asked Tim.

“Say please.”

I jabbed the thing in the eye. “Why, please and thank you,” Tim said over the wet sound of its eyeball popping from the socket.

“Why do you think he’s here?” the demon screamed as I whipped the orb off my blade. “Because he and his brother are having marital issues? He’s probably trying to get another fix of demon blood. Got himself addicted to the stuff. Made him feel good and strong. Strong enough to pop Lucifer’s box for us.”

The others were looking flabbergasted by the revelation. I merely frowned before uttering, “Demon’s lie.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned at me, “not all the time. In fact, I’ll even give you another truth, just because you’re so pretty.” It stood up, blood seeping from both shoulders and the empty hole in his face. “I’m not alone.”

There was a wet thump and squelch. We all looked at Steve. His eyes slowly drifted down to his stomach… where a woman’s lacquered nails were now protruding. Their owner yanked them out and spun Steve around before plunging her fingers back in.

And then she pulled.

Whenever I’d been told about a body being “torn apart” I’d always imagined the sort of bloody explosion on a video game. Random pieces of meat flying every which way, no recognizable pieces, red spattering randomly everywhere. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all.

Steve folded over, his guts literally spilling onto the concrete with a splat. Blood emptied out of his body in a steady stream, saturating his organs with a thick, crimson liquid. God, the smell. Piss and shit and copper all at once in a horrible concoction that caused bile to rise up in my throat. And he was still alive. We watched, horrified, as he tried to put his intestines back, desperately scraping and scooping at the mess and gurgling for help.

We all stepped away. The female demon licked blood from her arm, her eyes black from iris to sclera. In another moment there were eight more of them.

Ten demons against three human hunters. We were fucked.

Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode “Free to Be You and Me” (SPN 5.03).

#Supernatural #ofc #fanfiction #fanfic #Crowley #Castiel #Dean #Sam Winchester

[grandwretch]

ok pudding pops. i figured we were all jonesing for some fanfic really bad rn so here's what i actually have written for 'only i must wander' ch 3. i'll be deleting once ao3 is back up, and i'll try to have the rest of the chapter up soon. kisses.

Steve and Robin weren't exactly best friends. 

They tried. Or, well, Robin did. Steve kinda did what he had always done at work, which was keep out of everyone's way and try not to fuck up too hard. Robin, though, was putting in the effort. Not an hour went by without Robin popping out of nowhere to try and start a conversation. Usually about some gossip she'd heard about their classmates or one of the few movies they'd both seen. Steve usually did his best to keep up with her, never being the first to stop talking and walk away, but it felt– 

It felt a lot like high school did. Robin's smile never reached her eyes, and it only put more pressure on Steve to follow suit. Be normal, the weight on his shoulders whispered, and everything will be okay. So when she spoke, Steve answered, a smile on his face. 

No matter how plastic and saccharine it tasted.

The kids didn't exactly make it easier. Dustin was even more desperate for them to be best friends than Robin was. It was hard to begrudge the kid the connection, though, when he had spent the longest in isolation. He'd been alone amongst humans before El and Steve even had any words for what was wrong with them. What was Steve supposed to do, tell him to stop showing up and asking questions? 

Max was worse. She forgave a lot less than Steve and Dustin, and still showed up at least once a week for her shift of threatening glares. Steve had tried to warn her off of it, and Max had snorted. 

"If I can take down my brother, I'm not worried about a bitchy fox demon, or whatever," Max said, as unimpressed by monsters as only a pre-teen could be. Steve wasn't even sure when El had told her about the Wesen thing, although he couldn't exactly pretend to be surprised. They'd never been very subtle around her. 

So, yeah, they were both under a lot of pressure to be besties. Enough pressure to guarantee they would never be anything even approaching 'close'. Which Steve was fine with. He was finally getting used to all his friends being nerdy middle schoolers. What would he even talk to a friend about? … Basketball? Steve hadn't watched a game in months. March had flown by without Steve even catching a single game. Not that Robin would even be interested in basketball, and– 

Steve shook his head, and focused on wiping bits of ice cream off the glass counter.

He did not want to be friends with Robin. 

Dustin didn't care, though, as he came in and slammed his backpack down in an empty booth. "Steve!" he greeted, if that could even be called a hello. "Where's Robin?" 

"I don't know," Steve said, even though Robin was in the back room, where she'd spent every other break since they'd started working together. That wasn't the point, though. "Why do you care?" 

"I've got news!" Dustin crowed, "Big news!" 

"What's he talking about now?" Robin asked from the door, arms folded. 

Steve rolled his eyes. One day, the universe would teach Dustin that his antics wouldn't always get him everything he wanted. One day. Steve hoped he was there to see it. "I've got no idea," Steve said, throwing his towel down on the counter in resignation. "He came in and started screaming." 

"So El was telling me and Max about your big plan," Dustin said to Steve, and Steve watched Robin's eyebrows shoot way up behind her bangs. 

"Jesus Christ," Steve muttered. "You guys gossip more than every cheerleader in our school put together." 

"What 'big plan'?" Robin said, an appropriate amount of sarcasm behind Dustin's emphasis of the phrase. 

"There's no big plan. There's a–" Steve turned to Dustin, trying to get the words through his thick little skull. "There's an agreed upon procedure between me and Hop, should there ever be a threat large enough–" 

"What the fuck do you think procedure means?" Dustin asked, every inch as bitchy as Steve had trained him to be.

"Yeah, well it sounds a lot less fucking ominous than a thirteen year old going around talking about my big plans with the police chief, doesn't it?" Steve hissed. He knocked his knuckles on Dustin's shoulder, following him as Dustin tried to squirm away from the rapping. "Did you even think about trying to explain why Hop would be working on a plan with a professional ice-cream scooper?" 

"Can someone please explain this plan to me?" Robin said, volume increasing to be heard over Dustin's squawks of protest. 

"Steve's going to be a good Grimm!" Dustin said, cheerily, dodging Steve's swiping hand. 

"Jesus," Steve cursed again as Robin turned a disbelieving stare onto him. "It's not like that! I was talking to Hop about what happens if my parents show back up. We decided we should have a plan in place if they or any other Grimms start sniffing around Hawkins. That's all." 

Robin looked at Steve for a long moment. "You said that Hexenbiest friend of yours was Chief Hopper's daughter, right?" 

Steve winced. "Kinda. She was part of a case a couple years ago, and she hasn't been allowed outside much, but–" 

Robin shook her head. "Believe me, I don't want to know. Hexenbiest blood can be used in all kinds of potions and shit. The last thing I need, as a Fuchsbau, is to get involved with whatever all that's about." 

Steve didn't even know what to say to that, so he turned to Dustin. "Why are you here, Henderson?" 

"I'm calling the plan into action!" Dustin said, his limbs flailing as if he'd been saying that this entire time, Steve, you idiot.  "I would have called in a Code Red, but it's not…" His eyes darted to Robin, then back to Steve. "You know." 

"There's a Grimm in Hawkins?" Steve asked, his voice flat with disbelief. 

"I don't think so?" 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Henderson…" 

"No, come on! There's– Look," Dustin said, holding one finger up as he reached for his backpack. He pulled out one of last semester's folders, green with 'English' crossed out on the front. Underneath, he'd written 'Wesen stuff'. 

"Really subtle," Steve said. 

Dustin ignored him, pulling a stack of newspaper clippings out of the folder. They were rather large, for clippings, not at all like the small sports write-ups that Steve's mom used to clip out for him. No, these were big, front-page articles, with big black-and-white pictures accompanying them. Dustin's handwriting was in the margins, tiny scrawled notes and circles and arrows and– 

Steve shook his head, trying not to let the sudden wealth of information overwhelm him. He felt like this should be the kind of thing Nancy would work on, probably was the kind of thing she had done in the past few years. Definitely not the job for him, who had trouble pulling together a decent book report. 

"So I was spying on my mom's phone call," Dustin began, which inspired a new round of cursing from Steve. "Shut up, Steve, this is important." 

"Your mom not killing us is important," Steve hissed. 

"My mom is a middle-aged beaver woman, and you're a nineteen year old killing machine," Dustin said, ignoring Steve's flinch. "I think you'll be okay."

Robin came around the counter to stand on Dustin's other side, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the collection of wrinkled newspapers. "Focus, boys," she said, her hands smoothing out the topmost clipping, which featured a large black and white photo of a kid. He was about the age Dustin had been when Steve first met him, grinning wide in front of Fort Worth Elementary. "What is all this?" 

"This is what my mom was talking about," Dustin said, his gaze snapping back to his research. "He went missing last week." 

Nausea roiled in Steve's stomach, and he forced himself to look away from the bright grin as he struggled with his own gag reflex. It was a little silly, since he hadn't even known Will when it happened– had been a fucking shit about it, even –but he hadn't been able to stomach missing kids since '83. Not even in movies. That was one of the reasons O'Donnell hated him so much– She'd tried to make him read some awful book about a missing little girl, and he'd refused. Hired some nerd to write the report. She knew it, and he knew she knew it, but he couldn't read it. Couldn't think about some mom, sick to death with worry, and a bunch of men who thought she was crazy. It made him want to crawl out of his skin, made him want to launch the book through the police station window with Lucas's slingshot, made him want to make every teacher who'd whispered behind the Byers' backs eat the pages the words were printed on. 

It made him want to pay for the words he couldn't take back with blood. 

"Dustin, not every… Kids go missing all the time, buddy." Steve tried to be calm, the reasonable older brother, as his own hands started to shake. "Will was a special circumstance, you know that, right?"

"Oh, shit," Robin mumbled. 

"This isn't about Will," Dustin said, although Steve could tell from the way that Dustin's eyes were suddenly big and round with grief that it had, at one point, been very much about Will. "My mom called her friend in Fort Worth, and they were talking about the investigation, and they– He's a klaustreich."

Steve had no idea what that meant, but the German was enough of a giveaway to get the gist. "This kid is a Wesen?"

Even as Dustin nodded, Robin was snorting and shaking her head. "If he's a klaustreich, it was the dad. It's always the dad." 

"Hey," Steve said, weakly. It was hard to fight Wesen prejudice when he had absolutely no idea what the stereotypes were supposed to be. It certainly didn't sound flattering, though. 

"It's almost always the dad for humans, too," Robin said, a flush of embarrassment across her face. 

Steve and Dustin exchanged a look. "Dads aside," Steve said quickly, because talking parents never went well for him, especially with any of the kids present, "it doesn't matter who did it, because this isn't any of our business.The police will handle this, Dustin, I don't know why–" 

"Because he wasn't the only one!" Dustin moved the newspaper to the side, revealing another black and white photo of a smiling child. And then another. And another. More and more pictures were revealed, until the children devolved into a blur of grey and sepia. "In the past four years, more than 38 kids have gone missing in adjacent counties alone." 

"That's impossible," Robin said, immediately. "Someone would have done something, eventually. They would have caught the guy. There would be– There would be fucking dogs and search parties–" 

"Oh, like there was for Will Byers?" Steve said, his tongue numb. He almost didn't mean it, didn't want to be saying it, but all he could think about was that fake body of Will's. His own voice, asking if Jonathan had killed him. "Kids go missing all the time," he repeated. 

Robin was quiet for a moment. "So the guy who took Will…" 

"No," Steve and Dustin said at the same time. 

"That was completely different," Dustin said, "and it's handled." 

"One of us would have noticed if there were that many kids involved," Steve said, trying to make himself believe it. "And they wouldn't still be going missing." 

"I thought they never caught the guy who did it?" Robin asked. 

Another glance. "I made sure of it," Steve said, his voice firm enough to broadcast that he would not respond well to pushing. Not exactly stellar for his new serial killer reputation, but there was no way in hell he was telling Robin about the Upside Down. She wouldn't believe it, anyway, Wesen and magic and shit notwithstanding. Whatever created the Upside Down, it wasn't a furry little guy. It was something sinister, and the last thing he needed was it to get its claws into Wesen society. 

Robin's eyes narrowed, her gaze analyzing Steve's face, before she nodded and looked away. "Alright, so what's your theory, beaver boy?" 

Dustin sighed. "After I left the library, the trail went kinda cold. It's not like a thirteen year old can call grieving families and expect answers, you know?" 

"That's why you should bring this to Hopper," Steve said, tapping the folder. "You know, an actual adult? And a cop, by the way. The people who would actually have a good chance of–" 

"A wesen family would never talk to a human cop," Robin said, then shrugged at Steve's sharp look. "Sorry, man, it's true. We have a thing about handling our own disputes." 

"Alright, well…" Steve huffed. It wasn't that he couldn't appreciate the sentiment, but he was pretty sure that when Robin said 'handling it', she was using a definition like his own: Beating the shit out of it with a bat and then setting it on fire. "That's one family that won't talk, but that leaves almost two dozen–" 

"More are Wesen," Robin said, and then leaned over to tap at a picture on the table. The kid was older than Dustin, probably around Robin's age. He beamed out of the grey, proudly wearing his letterman's jacket, a football tucked under his arm. "That's Carter Ridley. Goes to school in Jackson. His dad comes into my mom's shop sometimes. They're jagerbars." 

"Hunter bears?" Dustin translated, his nose wrinkling. 

"They used to be beserkers, in the old country. Now they're mostly yuppies," Robin said, shrugging. "Still built like a fucking mountain, though." 

"Huh," Dustin said, looking thoughtful. 

"Alright, so two families…" Steve tried, but Robin shot him a look that left him feeling small. 

"If someone is hunting Wesen kids, two is enough." 

"Hunting any kid is bad enough," Dustin corrected, but his face was still unfocused in deep thought. "It does take a special kind of person to capture two predator kids, though…"

"What?" Steve frowned doubtfully down at the picture. "He's, like, fifteen, sixteen? He's big, but he's not going to take out a full grown man." 

"He's a sixteen year old jaegerbar," Robin repeated. "They used to hunt humans for sport at that age. No dad with a beer gut is going to be able to take a jagerbar raging on teenage hormones." 

"So what?" 

"So it's a Wesen that's doing this," Dustin said, determined. "Something powerful. Something evil." 

"That's your job, right?" Robin said, turning to Steve. 

"I'm not a fucking–" Steve paused, frazzled. "I mean, I am. But, like… ethnically. I'm not going to start hunting criminal Wesen and killing them! That's insane!" 

"So we're just supposed to let them keep doing it?" Dustin said, whirling around. 

"No! Or… maybe? I don't fucking know, Dustin. Why didn't you take this shit to Hop? He knows about this Wesen shit, now. I'm sure if he knew about this, he would do something about it." Probably not as much or as fast as Dustin wanted, but Steve had never known Hopper to just sit around and let a kid hurt like that. He would stop this. He would. 

"You really want to send your father figure after a monster that'll tear him apart?" Robin asked. She didn't even sound upset about it, just… curious. Which Steve thought was rather rich, considering she'd never even met Hopper in the context of Steve. Rich and cruel. 

"Steve," Dustin said, before Steve could even gather his thoughts enough to tear into Robin like he wanted to. The kid's voice was solemn, deep in the way he only got when he was on the edge of tears. "I know. But when has bringing an adult into this ever fucking solved anything?"

Steve wanted to protest. They'd helped– Hopper and Joyce and even those stupid science guys, they had all helped. Been instrumental, really. But Steve couldn't deny that sometimes it made things harder. They just didn't understand, sometimes, why things had to be done a certain way. Whatever help they would give had to be wheedled out of them, piece by piece, usually at a cost greater than originally revealed. And that was only if they didn't die; Steve hadn't known Bob, but he had watched Joyce cry into Hopper's chest about it, which was more than enough to solidify the danger in his mind. 

He loved Joyce and Hopper. He did. But they weren't the reason they were all still alive. Nancy was. El was. And, sometimes, when someone needed to take the hit, Steve was. 

"Okay," Steve said, his shoulders going lax in resignation. "Alright. But if we're going to look into this, we're going to do it right. Now…" What would Nancy do? he asked himself. "We need to know how many of these kids are actually Wesen. Any ideas?" 

"You could show up to their house and see if their parents woge?" Dustin said. 

"No." 

"I might have an idea," Robin said, "but you both have to promise not to fucking touch anything."  

"There is no way you can make me promise that without telling me what it is I'm not touching," Dustin said, extremely seriously. "That's entrapment." 

Robin sighed, chewing off all the lipstick on her bottom lip. "Okay," she said, finally, "my dad's shop is the only Wesen apothecary outside of Indianapolis. If any of their families have ever needed anything a human shop wouldn't handle, they'll be on his ledger." 

"Alright, so…. " Steve shrugged. "Would he let us see it?" 

Snorting, Robin replied, "Absolutely not. But if his darling daughter were to accidentally leave the back door unlocked the next time it's her turn to clean…" 

"Oh, good, another crime," Steve said, rolling his eyes. A quick glance at Dustin proved he would be no help in finding an alternative. Glee was written across the kid's face so patently that even Steve didn't have to puzzle it out. It's for the kids, Steve reminded himself. 

"Since when do you care about what's legal, Harrington?" Robin said. "You've been drinking since the cradle." 

"Like you said," Steve said dismissively. "Police chief. Father figure." 

"Steve has, like, chronic parental issues," Dustin informed Robin, sotto voice. 

"Dustin…" 

"They're fucking terminal," Dustin continued, ignoring Steve's sighs of complaint. 

"When are we fucking doing this?" Steve cut in, voice harsh with frustration. 

Robin's face went blank in thought for a moment, running through the days in her head. "I'm supposed to clean up after inventory on Thursday," she said, shrugging. "That's the earliest I'll be able to get you in." 

Six days. That was more than enough time for the more rational parts of Steve's brain to take back over, more than enough time to talk Dustin out of this heroism kick. He found himself nodding, more than willing to put this off for another week. 

"It'll just have to wait, then," Steve said, and tried not to sound too pleased about it. 

Despite Steve's efforts, the next six days didn't lessen Robin and Dustin's insistence on playing the hero. In fact, Steve found himself on tenterhooks every night. He watched the evening news with an intensity he had given very little since graduation. 

The six o'clock news, then the ten– The morning news on the weekend, anchors and time slots that Steve usually slept through. He watched them all with his heart in his throat, every cell of him focused on the prayer that he wouldn't see another sunny, ignorant smile on the screen. Every night passed without a new addition to their list, but that did nothing to soothe the mounting frenzy in Steve's chest. Instead, he could only wonder what they were missing, if there were kids slipping through their fingers unnoticed. 

Saturday morning when the anchors said goodbye, the local channel started reruns of old episodes of Batman. Steve, numb with anxiety, stayed curled in his father's pristine armchair and let them play. Primary colors and musical stings blurred together in his bleary mind. 

He'd never been a huge superhero kid, not like Dustin and Mike, but there had been no one in his elementary school who didn't sometimes watch Batman. There wasn't much that he remembered. The characters were all unfamiliar and cartoonish, but the apathy made Adam West's booming voice softer. It soothed the shake of Steve's hands. 

In one scene, Batman rushed onto the docks, a bomb in his hands. There was nowhere to go, no way to save the unbothered masses around him. It was supposed to be funny; Steve recognized the slapstick body language, the sigh in West's voice. There were baby ducks in the water, for fuck's sake. He had thought it was hilarious, once, in the way sheltered little kids always did. 

Steve pulled his legs a little tighter against his body, watching the fuse burn down. The exaggerated resignation had grown too familiar to be laughable. He sat and he watched Batman accept that this bomb was going to go off in his hands, so it wouldn't go off on anyone else's, and it didn't make Steve upset. It didn't make him uncomfortable. 

It made him nod, approving. Because Steve knew that if he found himself with a bomb in his hands, he would keep holding it. Would curve himself around it, letting it go off. 

"Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb," Batman told him, and Steve clicked the television off. Maybe it was time to go back to bed.

The rest of the week wasn't easier. Work helped, the distraction as good for Steve as it had ever been, but Robin didn't. Her obsession had gotten its teeth into Dustin's little mystery, and there was very little else she was willing to talk about. Even when Steve managed to change the subject, he could see the missing smiles in the shadows behind her eyes. In time, she would lapse back into theories and ramblings about some story she had heard, once-upon-a-time. Steve was never sure how many of these stories were facts and how many were legends. The both seemed equally real to Robin, and by Thursday night, he had heard every word the Buckley clan had to offer.

He wished he could blame her. That terrible feeling got its claws into him every time, the paranoia and the guilt and the shame, and it would feel so much better if he could take it out on her. Steve knew it would. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He could feel the frustration bubbling up in his chest, taste the bitter words on his tongue. It didn't matter how long she rambled, though, every time he turned to face her, his voice refused to cooperate. Maybe it was too easy, he thought as she rambled through another legend too horrific to listen to. Even as Robin spoke, she broadcasted her fear louder than her voice. Every curiosity revealed another nightmare she'd never beaten. It wouldn't feel as good now, when he knew she was so fragile. 

Or maybe he didn't want to be an asshole anymore. 

So listened to every awful theory she had, and then drove home to find Henderson on his doorstep with his own set of ideas. Dustin's were at least a little less gory, but he had even less to work with than Robin did. Most of his 'theories', if they could even be called that, were cribbed from cop shows and nursery rhymes. The kind of thing his mother filled his head with so he wouldn't talk to strangers. They had never worked, because Dustin had never met a problem he didn't want to interrogate to death, but they left their mark all the same. So Steve soothed his fears, did his best to not sound too  sarcastic when he assured Dustin that the bogeyman didn't exist, and then shooed Dustin off to bed. 

Every night was the same, a shift of horror movie plots followed by a thirteen year old's best attempt at paranormal theory.

When the sun finally set on Thursday, Steve expected to feel relieved. After a week of fending off the worst of Robin and Dustin's impulses, he would finally be able to prove this wasn't their problem. All it would take was a quick look at Mr. Buckley's ledgers, and all three of them could finally move on.

Steve tried to remind himself of that, blocking Dustin's chattering voice out as he turned the thoughts over in his mind again and again. They did little to help the rising anxiety, though, the edges worn smooth with handling like well-eroded stones. Steve's fingers flexed against the steering wheel. The closer it got to go-time, the worse Steve felt. The air felt heavy around him, so thick he could imagine it darkening like in one of Dustin's movies. 

"You are, like, the worst criminal in the world," Dustin said, halfway through shoving a Twizzler into his mouth. 

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" 

"You literally look like you're about to throw up," Dustin said, poking at Steve's cheek with his licorice. 

Being able to grab the candy out of Dustin's hand without looking was probably the only thing Steve's Grimm abilities had ever been good for. He tossed it through his open window, his other hand covering Dustin's mouth– Well, the kid's entire face, really. Steve wasn't trying to shut him up as much as annoy him into submission. 

"You know, you could stand to take this a little more seriously," Steve said, frowning. "Jesus, where is Robin? She said eight, right?" 

"It's only 8:15, man," Dustin said, leaning his seat back. "Chill." 

"How is it that I'm the only one who believes there isn't a fucking serial killer on the loose and I'm still the only person taking this shit seriously?" he muttered to himself. He needed a fucking cigarette, but he knew Robin would bitch incessantly if she smelled smoke on him. Steve had no idea how he'd picked up another nerd to tell him what to do, or why he even cared about what she said– 

"Steve, seriously, fucking breathe." 

Steve heaved, realizing his lungs had stopped working a thousand thoughts ago. "Thanks," he wheezed. 

"No problem."

#my fic #oimw #tbd #grimm au

[themattress]

7, 8, 9, 11, 17, 21, 22, 23, 25

Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?

It’s actually incredibly rare for me to like something and then just…not like it anymore. Or at the very least, there will be things about it that I will always like even if the rest of the product goes to shit. With that said, if there’s one thing I used to really enjoy that I just don’t anymore, it would have to be the Nostalgia Critic web series. While there have been some enjoyable episodes here and there, for the most part it’s felt like a big step down in quality ever since it was un-cancelled in 2013. Doug Walker himself has gotten more obnoxious and unlikable on a personal level. And that’s to say nothing of the absolute shitshow that was the abuse going on at Channel Awesome that Doug and his brother are culpable in (#ChangeTheChannel). The Nostalgia Critic used to be a really fun thing that I looked forward to. And now it’s not.

Have you received anon hate? What about?

Yes, about perceived “wrong opinions”. I usually just delete it and move on.

Most disliked character(s)? Why?

When you get down to it, there are two types of characters I hate: characters who do terrible things in canon and you are thus supposed to hate, and characters who the writers constantly and hamfistedly push for you to like and sympathize with regardless of whether or not they deserve it. I usually enjoy hating the former type, but am just frustrated with the latter type.

Examples of Type I: Peter Pan from OUAT, Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Ghetsis from Pokemon, Gendo from Evangelion, Bill Cipher from Gravity Falls, Ragyo from Kill La Kill, Junko from Dangan Ronpa, The Joker from any given incarnation of Batman, etc.

Examples of Type II: Regina Mills from OUAT, Lana Lang from Smallville, Mon-El from Supergirl, Lea and even kind of Riku from Kingdom Hearts, pre-Book 3 Mako from Legend of Korra, Paul from Pokemon, Meiko from Digimon, (Insert name) Uchiha from Naruto, etc.

Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

Several, but the one who immediately springs to mind is Iris from the Pokemon anime. The fandom hates her because they’re by and large misogynistic pissants who can’t stand that she routinely emasculates their beloved surrogate Ash, but since I’m not one of them I can actually enjoy how cute, cool and amusing she is, and how well-written her character development is - especially in comparison to her successor, the fandom’s darling Serena. 

Instead of XYZ happening, I would have made ABC happen…

Right off the top of my head, I think of the exercise in shark-jumping that was Euphemia’s brainwashing and death in Code Geass, some of the worst writng in anything ever. Instead of that contrived bullshit happening, I would have made Schniezel hijack the SAZ plan for his own benefit, turning it into just another form of oppression for the Japanese people but wrapped in a benevolent appearance. The Black Rebellion could still happen, and Euphie could remain alive to receive more character development and become a smarter political player ala Lacus from Gundam SEED whom she already greatly resembles.  

What are your thoughts on crack ships?

They’re fine, I love plenty of crack ships! Just don’t take them too seriously.

Popular character you hate?

I recently talked about Steve from Stranger Things, and that called to mind a character who, while I don’t hate per se, I don’t particularly like as much as most people seem to: Chief Jim Hopper. I’m sorry, but this guy is a fucking asshole! He usually treats people like shit, he solves most problems by punching people in the face, he pursued the Will Byers case mostly for his own personal reasons rather than for the sake of the boy or even his mother, he sold the kids at the school out to Brenner in the Season 1 finale, and he entered nigh-unforgivably abusive territory with Eleven in Season 2. Also, I’m salty that it looks like Bob, a better guy in every way, got killed off partly in order to set up a Jim/Joyce ship. So yeah, not a fan.    

Unpopular character you love?

Kirsten Dunst’s Mary Jane Watson from the Sam Raimi Spider-Man trilogy is hated by most hardcore comic purists for not being faithful enough to the 616 version of MJ, and by other viewers who hate her being a damsel in distress all the time, for being “bitchy” and messing with the feelings of male characters around her, or for not being beautiful enough. I, however, understand that adaptations need to cut corners and do what works best for them and the medium they’re in, and think that they did just fine with Mary Jane and that Kirsten Dunst plays her wonderfully. I’m also not a misogynist in any way, so I understand that people without superpowers are usually vulnerable and I don’t victim-blame MJ for being kidnapped and commend her for handling herself better with each passing incident, I don’t begrudge her as a woman for having faults while excusing the male characters for the same, and I know that comic book beauty is an idealized, unreachable standard and that it’s asinine to hold real-life women to it. Kirsten Dunst’s Mary Jane Watson is a great character, period.

How would you end XXX/Would you change the ending of XXX?

You’re kidding me, right? There’s way too much examples here! How can I choose just one? Ugh, whatever, here’s this for Once Upon a Time.

#Meme

[strangest-things-lover]

Stop (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

A/n: Sup peeps! I’m literally crying rn bc I made a fanfic and accidentally pressed delete and I worked on it for more than two hours! It’s okay tho bc I wrote another one! Hope y'all enjoy it! Btw REQUEST ARE OPEN!

Summary: You and Billy have been dating for quite a long time now and he’s been avoiding you. You see him wandering the halls and took advantage. What seemed to start good, turned out bad.

You were waiting for Max at her locker for god knows how long. It was class time so there wasn’t anyone around. You heard footsteps coming from your right and turned to see Max. She looked confused but still kept walking.

“What brings you here?” She asked as she opened her locker.

“I need to see your brother right now! Do you know where he is?” You asked curiously, making Max laugh. She put her hand on your shoulder and spoke.

“You need to calm down! He’s probably walking around like an idiot.” You nodded your head.

“I’ll pay you back I swear!” You said before running off. You ran to your locker and decided to put all your things into it. You slammed the door and saw someone from the corner of your eyes. Billy. You made eye contact with him, before slowly walking to him.

“Hey sexy!” He said grabbing onto your hips, only to be rejected when you pulled away. You grabbed his arm and led him into the girls washroom.

“I need to talk to you.” You spoke softly. He smiled and moved forward, pushing you against one of the walls.

“Why don’t we keep that for later huh?” He snaked his hands to your butt and groped it harshly, pulling you closer to him. You wanted to get out of his grip but he was too strong.

“Billy, seriously! Stop!” He looked at you, before bringing his lips against your neck.

“You look hot today baby! I can’t help myself.” He kissed your neck to your jaw, he moved to your lips, but you turned your head. He pulled his body away from you and waited.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked, sounding annoyed.

“What’s wrong with me? WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” You lost your patience, your soft gentle voice now a harsh growl. He looked a little taken back and he didn’t like the fact you’re raising your voice.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” He asked in a low, intimidating voice. He slowly moved closer to you, blocking you between him and the stall door. 

“You, asshole.” He raised his hands to slap you, but stopped midway when he heard a teacher. He looked at you, covering your face in fear.

“This isn’t over.” He said before moving away towards the door. As soon as you heard the door close, you slid down and hugged yourself. What have you gotten yourself into? After about half an hour, you saw Max walk in.

“Y/N!”She yelled before running to your side. You looked at her with puffy eyes and she didn’t know what to do other than hugging you.

“That monster! Wait till I tell dad.” You held her wrist tightly, signalling her not too. You brought your hands to your face and wiped the tears away. You stood up and faced Max.

“I-I need to b-break up with him.” Even though you were stuttering, Max knew you meant it. She looked scared, for you, for what’s going to happen.

“You can’t do that, not with him. Make him break up with you Y/N.” She was panicking for some reason and you were confused.

“Why?” You asked, barely getting the question to leave your lips.

“Let’s just say that his ex moved to another school cause of him…” You needed to know more but you didn’t have the energy too. You hugged her tightly since she would be the only one who would understand.

“I love you so much Maxine! Thanks for the help!” You pulled away and she smiled.

“You too! Just, please try to avoid him for a while.” You nodded your head. She was about to leave but you pulled her back.

“Wait, are you guys going to hunt down the demogorgons? Cause I’ll come with you.” Her face lit up with excitement which answered your question.

“Meet us at Will’s house! I’ll see you then and hope you feel better!” She gave you one last hug before she left. You looked at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath.

7 o'clock at the Byer’s House

You stepped out of your car and moved towards the door. You stood at the front, debating if you should go or turn back. Before you can choose, Steve opened the door and smiled!

“Y/n! Come in!” It was funny because now that Mrs.Byers is gone, Steve has been acting like a mom. You laughed and entered the house to see everyone’s face in shock. You turned behind you to see nothing.

“Hello?” You questioned and they all looked at each other. They all shook their heads and waved at you. You walked towards Lucas, plopping down beside him.

“What are you dipshits up to?” You asked as you turned to face “the squad”.

“We’re actually trying to plan how we are suppose to attack or lure the demogorgans into the centre. We have to go to the farm and go down the hole, light it on fire then come back up.” Steve and you looked at each other in confusion.

“And who’s driving?” Steve asked only for all of them to point at him. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the towel he had over his shoulders.

“This is not happening! Do you understand that? I never agreed to this! I promised to keep you guys safe and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. If you go out there by yourself, don’t expect me or Y/n to save your ass’.” They looked at you and you nodded your head. The phone started ringing and no one bothered to notice because they were too busy fighting. You got up and went to answer the phone.

“Hello?” You asked to hear a female voice on the other side. You looked down at the number and it was coming from your house.

“Yeah! Y/n! Honey! A handsome young man came looking for you and his sister Ma-”

“WHAT?” You yelled through the phone and everyone around you turned their attention to you. Your body was heating up from what your mom just told you.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/n! I told him you both should be at the Byer’s house and he’s probably on his way. Make sure to not scare him!”

“DID YOU GIVE ALL OF OUR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBERS TOO?” You asked as anger was boiling through your entire body.

“Y/n im so-”

“SAVE IT!” You yelled and slammed the receiver down, cutting her off. You looked towards the others in worry, especially Max.

“Max, you need to come with me right now.” Max didn’t even ask you anything and followed you. Steve moved in between you and the door, curious to know what’s so serious.

“What happened?” He focused mainly on you, analyzing the way your body was stiff and trembling.

“B-billly is c-coming.” You said through your stutters. Max gasped and moved away from the door.

“NO! HE CAN’T FIND ME! DO SOMETHING!” She yelled as she ran towards Lucas, who wrapped his arms around her. 

“Why are you guys scared of that guy?” Your head shot back to Steve and he moved back a bit.

“You don’t understand. He’s one son of a bitch Steve, you even know that. He’ll hurt Max and kill me!” Steve pushed you back, far away from the door. You started pacing around the living room. Sitting on the couch, getting up, pacing for a bit, and doing it all over again.

“Steve. I need to get her home before he com-”

You were cut off when you heard an engine roaring from outside.  “Billy.” Both you and Max said in unison.

“Okay, stay here with them Y/n! If he gets in, you need to defend them.” He said before opening the door. As soon as the door closed, all of you ran to the couch that was below the window and looked out. You being the tallest, had to get up and look from the top. You noticed how Billy was constantly looking at the window then turned to look at the kids. You looked again and noticed Steve swing his head back to the window.

(Ignore the subtitles)

“SHIT! Did he see us?” Dustin asked as he slid down the couch like the others. You went near the door and slightly opened it to see Steve on the ground and Billy walking towards the door.

“NO!” You immediately pushed your body weight against the door, but Billy was pushing on it real hard. You looked at the ceiling to see cracks starting to appear. You knew you had to let go before the entire door breaks.

“GO AWAY BILLY! MAX IS NOT HERE!” You shouted as loud as you can and heard a chuckle.

“PRINCESS! YOUR HERE TOO? WELL ISN’T THIS A LUCKY DAY!” You regretted even speaking. He shoved the door a little harder and you landed right on your ass. He slammed the door open and looked down at you.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here? Is that Lucas Sinclair?” He moved dangerously close to Max and Lucas and eyed them. You pushed yourself up and shoved yourself in between Billy and the kids.

“The doors behind you. Leave!” He laughed before wrapping his hands around your throat. You can hear the kids yelling and trying to pull him back but he was determined to get what he wants. You tried to pry his hands away, but it only got tighter.

“Watch yourself, Y/l/n! You might be signing up to see the bitchy side of me.” His face was probably a few centimetres away from yours. You snickered before saying,

“Aren’t I already?” His face slowly started turning red and before you can process, he threw you to the ground. You landed on your back and laid there for a few seconds, trying not to pass out. You could tell he was moving forward and just as he bent down, Steve opened the door, standing above you. You smiled and looked back at Billy before punching his face, nice and hard. He grunted as he fell back and Steve took the chance to bend down and punch him multiple times. You pulled Steve up and told him to get out of the house with the kids.

“Steve! Take them and start your plan.” Steve was hesitating, but he knew you would be fine. You straddled Billy’s hips and held him down, giving the others a chance to escape. Steve gave you one last glance.

“Are you sure?” You huffed.

“I’m positive Steve! Now get the fuck out!” He closed the door and you heard the car come to life and drive off. Billy took this chance to push you off of him and picked you up. He brought you to the couch and dropped you, setting himself on top of you.

“Get off of me!” You squirmed beneath him as he laughed evilly. He pulled your hands above your head and held it there.

“Give me one good reason to.” He seemed serious. You teared up and almost began to cry.

“You don’t love me.” The words left your lips as it made its way through his mind. As it hit him, he let go of your hands and stood up.

“What are you talking about? Of course I love you!” You stood up, maintaining the same eye level.

“Lies.” You shoved past him to the door, ready to leave this place but he pulled you back.

“You’re not leaving this place without explaining yourself!” He backed you up against the wall like he did earlier, but there was no sexual tension, only anger and sadness.

“Y-You haven’t been talking to me! You don’t even bother to checkup on me! You have been ignoring my texts. You have been partying with our school sluts when you told me you’re tired!” You didn’t even take a breath in between and just looked at Billy for an answer.

“I don’t understand so clarify this, you’re the one who took an interest for me first right?” You waited for an answer but he just looked at you blankly, lost.

“ANSWER ME BILLY!” He nodded his head and you can tell, he knew this was going somewhere bad and because it was all his fault.

“You’re the one who asked me out, am I right?” He nodded his head and looked down at his hands, looking at the promise rings you swapped with each other.

“You’re the one who gave me the promise ring and said we should always keep each other as a first priority!” He looked at you in shame, hating himself. You both didn’t even notice the fact that Billy, is now backed up against the wall.

“I didn’t know you felt that way… I’m sorry.” For the first time, you actually heard something from Billy that he meant. You sarcastically laughed.

“Wow! That’s the first thing you’ve actually meant!” He looked at you with tears in his eyes.

“I wasn’t doing anything with those girls anyway, even ask Max! I called them cows! I promise I’ll make it better.” You raised your left hand in between both of your faces and slowly took the ring off. You shoved the ring to his chest and gave a weak smile.

“You already broke it.” With that said, you kissed his cheek one last time and moved towards the door. You saw a single tear run down his cheek and you wanted to hug him, hold him, but both of you knew it’s not possible.

#dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery imagines #billy hargrove x reader #steve and billy #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove #billy hargrove gifs #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove angst #dacre montgomery smut #dacre montgomery angst #stranger things imagines #stranger things season 2 #stranger things 2 #stranger things #max mayfield imagines #lucas sinclair imagines #dustin henderson imagines #byers #the wheelers #billy hargrove gif imagines

[nailriddenbat]

Mayfield | Series - Pt. IV

Summary: Max Mayfield and Billy Hargrove aren’t the only new kids to step foot into Hawkins. Meet Y/N Mayfield, Max’s big sister, who’s here to make sure no one messes with her sister.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Mayfield!Reader (SLOW BURN)

Characters: Y/N Mayfield, Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Max Mayfield

Warnings: Language, bit of violence, and a panic attack.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: TAGS HAVE BEEN MOVED TO THE END OF THE POST!

A/N: This chapter gets a little heavy as it’s getting a little deeper into what sort of emotional baggage Y/N is carrying. Don’t worry. The relationship will pick up soon, I promise! 

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X (FINALE) 

“Give me the keys.”

“I’m fine, babe.”

“You’re not okay. I can drive you home.”

“I can drive!”

“Please do not get in that car.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do not get in that fucking car!”

You heard a crash echo and you jumped, turning your head sharply just to see that it had been two football jockeys messing around. You exhaled and dropped your head, your hand resting over your heart as you could feel it race.

You had barely gotten any sleep the night and couldn’t pay any attention in any of your classes. You just moved from one place to another, trying hard to make it through. Your mom had set you up with some bullshit interview for a part time job at the local grocery store to help you “build up a resume so colleges could see that you are a hard working individual” but you knew it was to make sure you wouldn’t lock yourself up in the house. She had even driven you to school this morning, since the store was close to the school, insisting that she would pick you up after the interview was done. It was also arranged that she would pick Max up from school, so you felt comfortable in saying yes.

You closed your locker after grabbing your jacket and slid your sunglasses on. You kept your head down as you tried to make your way to the exit.

When you stepped outside you started to head for the parking lot but you stopped when you heard your name being called out.

“Hey Mayfield!”

You turned your head and looked back towards the school. Blazer Boy was jogging over to you and you stopped walking, having no idea what he could possibly want.

He gestured to your glasses before he pulled out a pair of his own, the pairs identical.

“You ran all the way over here to tell me we have matching sunglasses?” you questioned him as your eyebrow arched. 

He stuttered a bit, “No, yeah, I just... I mean, I,” he stopped to clear his throat and put his sunglasses away. “I wanted to say hi.”

“Why?” you were abrupt, but you had no tolerance for anything or anyone.

“Jeez,” he chuckled a bit, scratching his head nervously. 

Before he could say anything else you sighed and pushed your glasses up on your head holding your hair back from your face. “I’m sorry,” you apologized. “When I’m tired, I tend to be more bitchy than usual.”

“No big deal,” he shrugged his shoulders, brushing it off. “You looked way out of it today and I wanted to make sure you were good. I mean, that’s what you did for me the other night so I wanted to return the kind act.”

“Thanks, Blazer Boy,” you said his nickname, not even realizing you had said it so casually.

He laughed out loud, his head tilting back a bit before he looked over at her. “Blazer Boy?”

Your cheeks started to turn pink from embarrassment. “I may or may not remember your actual name.”

He continued to laugh and his face seemed so bright, as if this were the first time he had really laughed in a while. “It’s Steve Harrington,” he grinned. “I remembered your name, Mayfield, the least you could have done was remember mine.”

“Shut up,” you laughed a little with him, feeling like his laugh were contagious.

“Seriously though,” his laughter died down as he looked over at her. “You okay?”

That was such a loaded question. You weren’t okay, but you weren’t about to spill your guts to a complete stranger. “I am as good as I can be. I have trouble sleeping, but that’s it,” you explained and kept it brief.

Steve blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing up slightly, “I’ve been there.”

“You’ve gotta be the most stressed out teenager then,” you teased him a little. “Relationship problems, trouble with sleeping, what else Harrington? Mortgage? Debt?”

“Haha, very funny,” he chuckled. 

“I’m kidding. We all have our troubles. My brother, for example. I saw that he was giving you a hard time in basketball,” you chuckled. 

“Full or half brother?” 

“Stepbrother. My mom married his dad. If I shared any DNA with him, I’d hide myself from the world,” you said with a serious expression.

He pushed his hair back as he started to say he agreed with you, but you caught his watch and caught the time. You were going to be late for the interview.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry but I really have to run.”

You turned your back and walked a few feet but stopped when your eyes caught sight of Max climbing into Billy’s car across the way. She had her head down and you glanced at Billy, watching him as he stared down one of Max’s friends, Lucas, while he walked away.

“Everything okay?” Steve stepped up behind you and followed your gaze. 

You observed Billy as he lit up a cigarette and took a drag, leaving his hand hanging out of the open window. Max looked nervous and uncomfortable and you were wondering what the hell had changed in the plans your Mom arranged to leave Max with this asshole.

“Mayfield?” Steve reached out to touch your arm gently.

Your body heated up with rage as Billy reached across the car and snatched Max’s wrist up, tugging on it violently.

You charged towards the car, moving as fast as you could and as you got closer, you could hear Billy give Max some sort of warning. You reached out and ripped the cigarette from his hand, spinning it around and pressing the burning end against his skin.

“Son of a bitch!” he yanked his hand back and stared up at you with wide eyes that were filling with anger quickly.

You stepped back as he stumbled to get out of the car and you held your ground as he stared you down. The both of you were breathing heavily and you muttered dangerously, “I thought I told you to stay away from her.”

“It was my responsibility to pick her up from school today because your mother bailed,” he glared over at you, his nostrils flaring.

“So you think that gives you the right to put your hand on her?” you asked him.

“I was teaching her a lesson, big brother to little sister,” he hissed the word and you pushed him back into his car violently, the small crowd around you gasping as they watched.

“I dare you to try and do something to me in front of all of these people, Billy,” you taunted him as you looked up at him.

He took a step forward but you were shocked when an arm shot between the two of you. You followed that arm and saw that it was attached to Steve. Billy looked over at him slowly.

“Why don’t you just back off, Hargrove?” Steve spoke calmly.

“Really? You want me to back off?” Billy asked him, his voice filled with sarcasm.

“Yeah. Back off,” Steve repeated himself before he dropped his arm.

As you kept your eyes on Billy to make sure he didn’t make any sudden movements, you called out to your sister, “Max, get out of the car.”

“How the hell do you two expect to get home?” Billy smirked at you, as if he had the upper hand.

You went to respond but Steve cut you off, offering up a ride. “I’ll take care of it. No sweat off your back, Billy.”

This caused Billy to laugh and you stepped away from him to pull Max into your side. 

Billy rubbed at his nose before he opened his car door again. “Hey Y/N?” he called out to you, and the three of you looked over at him. “He’s not as fun as Georgie boy was. I’d consider that before crawling into bed with him.”

Steve jumped to grab him but Billy had slid into his car and you had to reach forward to pull Steve back by his jacket so he wouldn’t get hit.

You turned your head away from Steve and tried to hold the tears back as you looked Max over. She was shaking a little and you picked her wrist up carefully.

“I’m fine,” she tried to pull it away, feeling embarrassed that so many people had stood around and watched. She looked up at you and whispered, “Are you okay?”

You nodded your head quickly and took a deep breath, trying to speak in a steady voice, “Let’s go home.”

“Let me drive you,” Steve turned back around to look at you and you quickly slid your glasses back over your eyes so he couldn’t see them grow red.

“It’s not necessary,” you shook your head, trying to decline the offer.

“C’mon Mayfield, it’s a far walk and it’s gonna get cold out,” he sighed. “My car is right over there.”

“Let’s take the ride,” Max spoke up. “She’s stubborn and won’t take it, so I will, which means she will too. Which one is your car?”

You shook your head and looked away as Steve pointed to the BMW. Max walked forward and you moved to follow, pulling your arm away from Steve’s as he reached out to you.

“I’m not talking about it,” you snapped at him.

He dropped his hand and walked ahead of you so he could unlock the car. Max climbed into the back as you sat in the front, turning your body to the window. The car ride was silent and Max ended up being the one to give him directions. You could have cared less. 

It seemed to take forever to get home and as each minute passed, you could feel the panic rising in your chest. You closed your eyes behind the lenses of your sunglasses. 

“Do not get in that fucking car!”

“George!”

Metal crunching. Horns blaring. Screams. The tires of your car screeching as you come to a stop in the middle of a busy street. 

“Y/N we’re home.”

You inhaled sharply as you were pulled out of the memory just as Max touched your shoulder. You pushed at the door, stumbling out of Steve’s car.

“Shit, are you okay?” he jumped out to help you but you pushed your way up the lawn and to the front door, shouting out to him that you were fine even though you felt as if your chest was on fire. You could barely hear Max talking to Steve as you could only hear the rush of blood in your ears. Your vision was growing blurry as your eyes continued to fill with tears.

You slammed the door shut just in time for you to completely break. You swung your sunglasses in a random direction as you worked to tug your jacket off, struggling to get the sleeves off. You slammed it down to to the floor and kicked it to the side before you dropped to your bed, crying into your hands. No matter what you did, no matter how many days passed, you were still living in that very moment. The pain was suffocating you and your hands shook as you failed to gain control of the situation. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do it.

You could barely register your bedroom door opening but you tried to pick yourself up when you realized Max had come into the room. You wiped at your face quickly and your voice trembled, “Hey why don’t you go get your homework done? I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Max ignored you and sat on your bed next to you. She leaned her head against your shoulder and reached forward to touch your hand as she whispered, “You should talk about it, Y/N. I’m young, yeah, but you’re my sister and I want to help.”

You shut your eyes tight as another tear rolled down your face. “Kid, I’m the big sister. I’m supposed to help you,” you tried to laugh a little but it was hopeless.

“We can take turns,” Max squeezed your hand tightly.

“That could work,” you whispered quietly.

Your sister nodded her head in agreement. The two of you sat propped up against the headboard quietly. You were both lost in your own thoughts but held onto each other. You were grateful for the fact that despite all of the shit in your life, you two at least had one another to lean on and to depend on, and that little bit made all the difference in this shitty world.

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