#if its real i think the calls probably coming from inside the house

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

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#not to drag up discorse from a few days ago but #when the izzy stans talk about their alleged harassment #theyre alleging a lot of transphobia for intra fandom harassment considering this is a fandom with a non-binary character that is canon #like which ofmd fan is calling you women #is this ofmd fan in the room with us right now? #im not saying theres no transphobia im just saying that the claims your making sure is a lot of blatant mask off transphobia #for fans of the trans pirate show to be engaging in #vico ortiz has blue hair and pronouns #ive come accross one out in out transphobe so far #in a fandom this big #im just pressing x to doubt #if its real i think the calls probably coming from inside the house

[tlou-reid]

Baked Goodies ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

♡ SUMMARY: aaron is smitten for his new graduate student neighbor as soon as he meets her.

♡ WARNINGS: male masturbation, allusions to smut but nothing fully written (part 2?), tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining & slowburn, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of criminal minds-esque violence, age gap (mid 20s/mid 40s)

—♡

Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever blushed before now. The warmth on his cheeks was an unfamiliar feeling, as was the smile that was slowly making its way across his face. “Thank you,” He says with a voice that’s slightly lower than his usual tone. His hand reached out to grab the Tupperware container you were holding in yours. He tried to ignore the gentle shock that reached his fingertips as they made contact with yours. He also tried to ignore how soft the skin of your manicured hand was. It was probably a lotion, one with the same lavender scent radiating off your body.

“No need to thank me!” Your voice was so lively, so excitable. It was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. “If you ever need any more baked goods, I’m right across the street.” As you spoke, you lifted your arm to point at the house across the street from his.

You were his new neighbor. The house had been on sale for a few weeks and Aaron had been keeping his eye on it, seeing who the new family would be. He was hoping it would be a family that had a child similar to Jack’s age. He didn’t have any friends in the neighborhood, they all lived a few blocks over. Having someone Jack could bond with right across the street would make things easier for both him and his son. Especially when Aaron had to leave for days or weeks at a time due to his job.

But, selfishly, he was not disappointed it was you at all. You hadn’t disclosed if it was just you living in the house or not, but Aaron had already formed an imaginary life for you. It was just you and some pet living in the house, and he was going to be the protector. He’d check on you, you’d come to him when you need some manly job done at the house. And he hadn’t known you for more than five minutes yet.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a slight chuckle. “It was nice to meet you, Aaron!” You called to him as you stepped off his porch, heading to the next house to take your fresh-baked goods to. He closed the door, stepping in and taking a look at the container you’d dropped off. It had a mix of different treats, all homemade. There was a little note inside.

“Jack, I got food!” He yelled to his son as he made his way to the kitchen. He quickly sat it down, opened it, and took out the note before Jack could see it. “Hi! I’m Y/N, your new neighbor! I hope you enjoy these! (p.s. there’s no peanuts!) x” is what the note read. He smiled at the fact that you didn’t give off any real personal information, and even more at the fact that you worried about the allergies of the neighborhood. Not even people you knew. You were worried about the allergies of strangers. He felt his blush come back.

“What’s that?” Jack’s voice tore him away from his thoughts. “Someone moved into the house across the street, she baked some stuff and is giving it out,” Aaron explained. “For free?” Jack inquired, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie. Aaron laughed, “Yeah, she was introducing herself.” Jack nodded, biting into his cookie. “Wow!” He exclaimed, surprised at how good it tasted. Aaron laughed again, reaching for one of his own.

It was almost a week before Aaron saw you again. The team had been called in to work on a semi-local case that lasted four days. It wasn’t the worst thing Aaron had been through, but it’s never easy to come face-to-face with a serial killer. Then, he’d just become busy with paperwork and Jack’s after-school activities. Aaron had helped coach one of his soccer games, which wasn’t something he got to do often.

So now, late Sunday morning, he was finally making the walk across the street to your house. He had planned this since the moment you’d dropped the Tupperware container into his hand. He was going to return it just so he could see you again. 

He gently knocked on your door, loud enough you would hear it if you were around, but not loud enough to wake you up if you’d decided to sleep in today. He hadn’t seen enough to observe your routine. Not in a creepy way, just the way you notice when your neighbor’s car is in its driveway or if they do yardwork every Saturday evening. Come to think of it, he didn’t know any of his neighbor’s routines. He was never around enough to notice them.

When you opened the door, his attention left the surrounding houses and landed right on you. He had been looking around upon realizing how little he knew about the people in his neighborhood. You’d be the first one he’d get to know, he decided.

“Aaron!” You were basically beaming at him. He smiled and mumbled out a, “hello”. “How are you today?” You smiled, stepping out onto the porch to stand near him. “I’m good, I was just coming to return the container.” He explained, holding out the Tupperware. You reached out to take it from him, looking at his hands. You couldn’t help but notice the veins that ran along them.

“Oh! You didn’t have to,” You chuckled, moving your eyes up to look at his again. If you were being honest, you’d been surprised when he answered the door. Chatter about the older man from the neighbors you had given your baked goods to prior to arriving at his house had you ready to be nervous and intimidated.

Instead, you were undeniably attracted to him. When he had first opened the door after hearing your timid knocks, you couldn’t help but let your eyes scan his broad form. You didn’t think he had noticed, as he was too busy trying to figure out why someone was unexpectedly knocking at his door.

“Did you like them?” You asked with wide eyes. He could tell you were genuinely curious. “I did,” He smiled as he continued, “With the few that I had at least. My son loved them.”

“Your son?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. Of course, an attractive man like him was married with kids. You weren’t sure why hadn’t assumed that before. “Yeah, Jack. He’s my son.” Aaron was awkward, not really knowing what you were asking. You recovered quickly, “Which ones were his favorite? I can make more!” Aaron smiled with a slight shake of his head, “He loved them all, you don’t have to worry about any of that.” You laughed, “I do! I love baking, it’s a nice way to pass time.” Aaron nodded along to your words, “I guess he liked the brownies the most, they were gone in a day.” You smiled, taking a mental note. 

“And your wife?” There was a hidden motive behind this question, one you hoped Aaron didn’t pick up on. You wanted, no, needed to know the details of this man’s life. You needed to know if you could keep up the fantasy you were creating of him. He let out an awkward laugh, “Uh, no,” he cleared his throat, “No wife. Just me and Jack.” You almost wanted to break out into a smile at his words, but you knew that would be inappropriate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to like, pry, or anything.” The awkward tone of the conversation was beginning to make you uncomfortable. As much as you wanted to know, you didn’t want to blow your chances with him. “It’s okay,” he comforts you when it should definitely be the other way around, “Just a bit of a touchy subject.” You nodded in understanding. You two stood there in silence for a little bit, before Aaron stepped back. “I should get back,” He said, nodding towards his house.

“Yeah, yeah. It was good to see you again.” Aaron took note of the awkward smile and lack of eagerness in your voice. “You too, Y/N. See you around.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked down the steps of your porch

He was just reaching the curb on his side of the street when he heard someone yell your name. You hadn’t retreated back into your house, instead opting to tidy up the furniture on your porch. He didn’t know you were waiting to make sure he had made it into the house safely. Aaron watched as the man who lived two houses down from you began to approach your porch.

“The cookies were delicious!” The man was still shouting as he walked over. Aaron couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He watched as you giggled at his words, yelling back, “Thank you!” When the man approached you, he handed off the same kind of Tupperware container Aaron had given you. Aaron couldn’t help the jealousy that took over him as he realized this man and he had the same idea: returning the container just to see you again.

Once the man reached you and Aaron could no longer hear your conversation, he turned to continue walking back toward his home. He couldn’t help but notice how you giggled at this man’s words. Your conversation with him felt so natural, which was very different from the uncomfortable conversation you two had.

Aaron couldn’t help but feel insecure about this. Of course, you’d want to conversate with the younger, handsome, athletic guy who lived in the neighborhood. Why would you choose an older man who had a child and knees that creaked when he stood from his office chair? You wouldn’t. No one would.

Little did Aaron know, you had been watching him the entire time you were talking to the neighbor. You couldn’t help but check Aaron out as he walked away. His sweatpants hugged his hips deliciously and the athletic fit shirt showed off the muscles in his back. Aaron was hot and you couldn’t deny it.

The next time you saw Aaron was very unexpected. Your friend, Elise, had convinced you to volunteer at the local middle school, working the door for entry to the soccer game they were hosting on a Friday night. Part of her grad school program involved her working at this school, so you guys had signed up together. She was excited to see the students she had been working closely with.

 You, however, had completely forgotten you had a paper due for one of your graduate classes. So, she was up, selling tickets, conversating with parents, and wishing the students good luck, while you had your nose buried in your laptop. Textbooks and articles were spread across the table that was holding the register for the ticket money.

“Jack! You’re gonna do great!” You heard Elise encourage one of the students, not really paying attention anymore. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice that you looked up from your halfway-done paper. “He’s been practicing hard,” Aaron smiled, touselling the hair on the little boy’s head.

Your movement from behind your laptop caught his attention. “Hello, Y/N,” he said, not expecting to see you there. Jack and your friend both turned to face you, surprised that you and Aaron knew each other.

Aaron pushed Jack forward with a gentle hand on his back, “Buddy, do you remember the cookies and stuff our neighbor had dropped off?” Aaron asked him, ready to introduce you two. “You made them?” Jack asked, stepping closer to you. You nodded at him with a smile, “Yes! I live across the street from you!” You smiled at the young boy. You didn’t notice the eyebrow raise your friend gave you, knowing about the crush you had said you were growing on your older neighbor. She was connecting the dots.

“Do you work here?” Aaron asked as Jack ran into the stadium to join his team. You shook your head, pointing to Elise, “She does. She needed volunteers and asked me to work.” Aaron nodded. He let out a light laugh and pointed to your laptop, “Doesn’t seem like you're doing a lot of work.”

Your cheeks started to warm up in embarrassment, “I have a paper due that I completely forgot about.” Aaron was shocked to hear you discussing college. He thought you were older than that. “You’re in college?” He asked. You nodded again, “Grad school. I only have one more semester until I graduate.” You explained, and he relaxed. You were older than an undergraduate. 

He knew you were young, but he didn’t think he was being perverted by forming a small crush on you. Sure, some people may deem it inappropriate, but it is up to you in the end. If, by some miniscule chance, you harbored the same feelings he did, he wouldn’t feel weird about it, he didn’t think.

Aaron questioned what you were studying and you explained your major, your intended career, and how passionate you were about what you were doing. As your face lit up and your hands aided in your expressive explanation, it was as if Aaron could feel fondness growing in his chest. He began to feel warm, as if you were the sun shining on him.

 He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. The only feeling that could mirror what he was feeling now was when Jack got crowned MVP at his last soccer tournament. It’s the kind of pride that you feel when you know someone is going to go far. Aaron wanted to go with you.

Unfortunately, the buzzer interrupted his thoughts. He let out a breath, a small “Shit” escaping from his lips before he continued, “I gotta get to my seat.” He chucked, rushing away, “Good to see you.” He nodded at you and your friend before disappearing into the stadium.

“So that’s him? The hot next-door neighbor?” Elise squealed, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “Elise! Stop!” You whisper-shouted at her, still weary of Aaron’s presence, “I have a paper to finish.” She laughed at the way you made your eyes big, emphasizing that she needed to drop the subject.

“Okay,” Elise breathed out after a while, relaxing in the seat next to you, “we’re done!” You nodded at her words, moving to save the file on your laptop. “What’s next?” You asked as you closed it, deciding to finish the paper later. “You hungry? The concession stand has fantastic pizza!” Even if you weren’t, the way she practically moaned about it had you wanting this pizza. “Sure,” you shrugged. You packed up your things as Elise dropped off the register where it needed to go, and then you guys headed into the stadium.

The line for the concession stand moved quickly. You couldn’t help but scan the stands for Aaron, wondering where he ended up sitting. When Elise proposed staying to see the end of the game, you agreed, solely because it would increase your chances of seeing him again.

And, you did. Not until the very end of the game, after the buzzer had sounded and Jack’s team ran to the sidelines, celebrating the win they had just claimed. The only way you found Aaron was through the cheers. He was the loudest one, the proudest parent sitting amongst the whole school. It brought a smile to your face to know how much he loved his son.

“Congratulations, kid!” Elise cheered for Jack as he approached the entrance to the field, by where you two were standing waiting to congratulate the team. Jack just smiled before turning back to his friends. “You guys did great!” You called from behind her. Aaron smiled at you as he reached where you and Elise were stood.

“So, will you guys be at more games?” He wasn’t going to invite you, as he felt that would be overstepping some invisible boundary he had made up in his head. But, if you were going to be around anyway he could at least offer to sit with you. “I definitely will be!” Elise cheered, turning to you. “I’ll see. You never know with school and work.” You shrugged, trying to mask the disappointment. You were not aware that Aaron was doing the same.

“Dad!” Jack shouts, running over to his father, “Can I sleep at Chris’ house tonight? The whole team is going!” You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked, and the fond look Aaron gave back to him. “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s just run home to get your stuff.” Aaron turned to bid a quick goodbye to you and Elise. To your surprise, he turned back to you. “Did you need a ride home?”

You stuttered at his words, “Uh, no, um, Elise-” “Yes, she does! I was her ride but my boyfriend just asked to meet somewhere!” Elise nudged you as she cut you off. She waved her phone to emphasize her point. “Thanks, Mr. Hotchner, you’re the best! Have fun at your sleepover, Jack!” Elise said as she stepped away from the group. Once you were the only one that could see her, she threw you a big smile and thumbs up, before taking off to your car.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that happened,” You gestured to your friend running off as you apologized. “No need to be sorry, I wouldn’t have offered if it bothered me. It’s not like you live far away.” You nodded and smiled at Aaron’s comforting words, thanking him again. “C’mon, the car’s this way.” You followed him and Jack, watching as Aaron congratulated Jack on the win and questioned him on the different strategies the team uses throughout.

Aaron opened the passenger door as Jack climbed his way into the back. Your jaw almost dropped as you realized he opened it for you. It was so casual. He didn’t even stop his conversation with Jack as he held it open for you. He laughed at something as you buckled your seat belt up.

 When he leaned over to check that you were comfortable in the seat, his eyes met yours. He gave you the softest smile you’d ever seen and you could feel butterflies take flight in your stomach. Your cheeks felt warm and you looked down at your hands, growing nervous under his gaze. You mumbled a soft “thank you” as he closed your door, walking around to the driver’s side.

Aaron noticed your nervousness this time. He could tell you were shocked at his actions. Initially, this made him sad as he realized that no man had ever shown you the care you deserved. However, that sadness quickly turned to excitement as he realized he could be the first. He wanted to show you how you deserved to be loved in so many ways, definitely more than just opening a door for you.

The drive to your homes was filled with laughter as you and Jack tried to sing the pop songs that were steadily playing on the radio. Jack kept stumbling over the words and you could not carry a tune to save your life. Aaron had matching butterflies to yours as you interacted with his son.

His car pulled into the driveway and Jack was inside the house faster than you could even open your door. You both laughed as Aaron made his way around the car to stand with you. “I can walk you across while he gets his things,” Aaron gestured to his house, indicating Jack might be a second inside.

“You don’t have to. Get him to his sleepover, he seems excited.” Aaron laughed, nodding along to your words. “Have a good night, Aaron.” He wished you the same and watched as you made your way to your house. His eyes didn’t leave your figure until you were safely inside.

Jack gathered his things for the sleepover very quickly. Aaron was almost certain he had forgotten something as they made their way back into the car. Once they were buckled and on their way, Jack shifted his body to face his dad.

“Dad?” He asked, getting his father’s attention. Aaron let out a gentle “hmm” of recognition. “Do you have a crush on our neighbor?” Aaron didn’t answer, reaching forward to turn up the radio, but the pink spreading across his dad’s cheeks was the only answer Jack needed.

Aaron was exhausted. Completely and totally exhausted. The case and been long and gut-wrenching. The only victory was the arrest of the unsub, as he had murdered all of his previous victims before the team could save them. Aaron was gone for two and a half weeks, and barely got any sleep while he was away.

“Thanks, JJ,” His voice was weak as he thanked her, reaching into the back of the SUV to get his go-bag. He had been too tired to drive himself. JJ had kindly offered after seeing the dark eye bags he was wearing. “Anytime, Hotch. Get some sleep.” He could only muster up a nod in return.

Aaron was turning the key in his lock when he heard your door. “Shit!” You yelped as the glass outer door slammed. He turned around with a chuckle, never too tired to see you. “Hello, Y/N!” He called as best he could with how tired he was.

He was suddenly wide awake when you faced him. He hoped you couldn’t see his eyes scan the entirety of your body, pausing at your very exposed thighs. You were in a loose, long-sleeved t-shirt that came down the end of your butt. The shorts you were wearing with it were incredibly short, barely covered by the shirt. Even with the distance between your houses, he could tell you weren’t wearing a bra.

He wanted to blame the way his dick was hardening on how tired he was, and definitely not the dirty thoughts he was having about you right now. He could imagine the way his rough hands would trace the skin across your thighs as he pulled you into his lap, preparing to devour you. His fantasies did not slow as you yelled back to him, very excitedly, “Aaron! Where have you been?”

He shook his head, attempting to clear it so he could have a normal conversation with you. His heart fluttered at the fact that you’d noticed his disappearance. “I was away for work,” he informed, “for far too long.” You erupted into a smile, walking off your porch, “Well, the neighborhood missed you!” He knew you were lying. No one in this neighborhood knew him. They didn’t care if he was gone or not.

But, being a profiler had its perks. He knew the hidden meaning in your words. You missed him. His brain was tired and his heart was beating a million times a minute. That must’ve been why his mouth was moving before he could stop it, “I missed you too.” The words rolled off of his tongue, no thought behind them. No thoughts, but definitely feelings.

You hoped Aaron couldn’t see the way your eyes lit up at his words. You could feel the heat growing in your cheeks as you continued to make your way to your little garden. That’s why you were out here, to get your front yard set up for Halloween decorations. “Get some rest, Aaron. Welcome home.

Even with you raising your voice, he could hear the softness behind it. You sounded so fond. This is how he wanted to be welcomed home after every case, with your sweet voice and gentle demeanor. “Have a nice night!” He called to you, before stepping through his front door.

He dropped his stuff by the door and reached up to loosen his tie. He kicked his shoes off and then moved to undo his belt. Leaving both the tie and the belt on the arm of the couch, he made his way right to the master bathroom. He had texted Jessica to let her know he would pick Jack up in the morning during the drive home, too tired to make the drive to her house.

Aaron had forgotten about his half-hard dick, too encompassed by your presence outside. He ignored it, stripping down and climbing into the hot shower. He hadn’t realized how tense his muscles were until the hot water ran down them, relaxing his whole body. As he loosened up, his mind drifted back to you. As he imagined holding onto your thighs as he fucked into you from behind. He could clearly make out the curve of your ass.

He felt as if he wasn’t controlling himself as his hands moved to his now fully hard dick. He didn’t mean to jerk himself off to dirty thoughts of you, his brand new, younger neighbor, but you looked so fucking sexy. His hand wrapped around his cock tighter as he remembered the outline of your tits that he could make out from across the street.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to release as he tried to imagine the noises you would make for him. All the times you said his name replayed in his name and he tried to imagine you moaning it, whining it, grunting it, screaming it. He could’ve sworn he could smell your lavender perfume as he came. He opened his eyes as he finished stroking himself through his orgasm. He watched as the water washed away the cum that had landed on his hand and stomach.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, frustrated with the hold you had on him. Now that he got that out of his system, he couldn’t believe he just came to the thought of you.

 He had been having doubts earlier, wondering how inappropriate, how immoral, how wrong his growing crush was. Being a senior in graduate school, you had to be late 20s, maybe early 30s at the most. Being mid-40s, there was at least a 15-year age gap between the two of you.

He had to shake these thoughts. He quickly lathered himself up, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. He slipped on a pair of boxers and climbed into his bed. He was asleep in less than five minutes.

The next morning, he was woken up by knocks on his door. He had slept for about 11 hours, so he wasn’t mad that his slumber was interrupted. “Coming!” He yelled, shuffling for pants to throw on. Once he got a pair of plaid pajama pants on, he made his way down the hall to the front door.

He didn’t have time to register who it was before he heard your voice, “I’m so sorry to wake you up! I know it’s early but my car won’t start and I have an exam at one and I really need to be on time so I was wondering if maybe you could come look at it?”

Your mouth was moving faster than your brain could keep up with, obviously feeling bad about the whole situation. “Slow down,” Aaron breathed out, trying to get you to relax. His efforts failed as you ran your hand along your hairline and mumbled an “’m sorry”. “I can come, give me just a minute.” He stepped back, opening the door further for you to step inside to wait.

Your eyes widened at his silent invitation. You followed him through the door, awkwardly standing by the front door. You could tell from your spot in the entryway that the layout of his house mirrored yours. He was currently on his way down the hall to the master bedroom. To get a shirt, you presumed.

You definitely noticed the lack of clothing on his part. It was clear you’d disturbed him, and while you felt bad about that, you were ridiculously grateful. His morning voice, low-rise pajama pants, and hairy chest will be pressed into your memory, ready to be used when you needed some help finishing yourself off.

He appeared again quickly, fully clothed with socks and slides on his feet. He opened the front door, gesturing for you to go through. He followed you across the street to your driveway, where your very old sedan sat. “Can I have the key?” You nodded, retrieving the key from your pocket and pressing it into Aaron’s large hand.

As Aaron went to start the car, it was hard for him not to realize that this was the dream life he had conjured up for you when you first showed up on his porch. Here he was, being the manly man, helping you with your car. He tried turning it on and the sound of the engine sputtering made you want to cry. Without words, Aaron walked around to pop the hood, analyzing what was going on. He was quiet as he looked, and you wouldn’t dare interrupt it. “I think it’s the spark plugs. I have the stuff in my garage.” He said after a few minutes.

You nodded along to his words, trying to convince him that you knew exactly what he was talking about. As he began to make his way back across the street, you couldn’t help yourself from apologizing again. “Thank you, Aaron. I’m really sorry.” He was quick to turn back around to face you. With a hefty shake of his head, he spoke, “Please stop apologizing, this is what I’m here for.” He smiled at you, before returning to his journey to the garage.

If you were growing a crush on him before, it was full-fledged now. You needed to do something about this before your heart exploded at his actions and you soaked through your underwear at his words.

He returned after a few minutes, carrying a toolbox. You couldn’t do anything but stare as he worked on the car. He didn’t say much, focused on doing this right for you. Every once in a while he would attempt to explain what he was doing, but you were too distracted by the way the muscles in his arm contorted as he worked.

“That should do it,” He said as he made his way back into the driver’s seat. Sure enough, after a few turns of the key, the car sputtered to life. “Oh my god, thank you!” You spoke as he stepped up from the seat, throwing your arms around his neck. “You’re a lifesaver!” You squealed. Aaron’s hands awkwardly found their way around your waist, surprised at the sudden contact. Surprised, but very intrigued.

When you pulled away, Aaron felt cold. “Not a problem, Y/N.” He said as he wiped the grim off of his hands. “Why don’t you give me your number so next time you don’t have to walk all the way over?” The way he asked was so casual. He was so calm as your heartbeat increased with every word. Your number? Next time?

“Yeah! Sure!” You were afraid your voice sounded too excited, blowing your cover. Aaron picked up on it but didn’t mention it. You two quickly exchanged numbers, and he excused himself, stating he needed to pick up Jack. “Seriously, Aaron. Thank you.” You emphasized, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. You were being bold. You pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. He turned away before you could see the pink blush spread across his cheeks. “Anytime.” He said, starting to walk away.

You spent the next couple of hours cramming for your exam and trying to repress any thoughts of Aaron Hotchner that your brain was attempting to conjure up. It was working, your focus on passing this exam. However, on your drive to campus, your phone dinged. Your car showed you a message from ‘Aaron (neighbor)’. You were giddy the rest of the way, not wanting to open while you were driving.

When you parked, you opened your phone to a simple text: “Good luck on your exam! You got this.” You walked into class with a smile, and you were pretty sure you aced the exam. 

You were surprised at the amount of time you and Aaron spent texting. It was definitely an assumption you had made based solely on his age, but you did not expect him to want to text. However, he appeared to be better than men your age at it. Quick replies, letting you know when he’d be unavailable, and absolutely never leaving on you read. Sometimes you had to explain emojis or slang to him, but you found it adorable.

You had learned that he works for the FBI in a unit that catches things like serial killers, rapists, and kidnappers. He was away on a case right now, somewhere in California. He had learned that you had a very old dog, but other than that, it was just you in the house.

There were times when the conversation felt a bit flirty. Teasing jokes thrown around, compliments to each other. Part of you was starting to think he may reciprocate your feelings, but the other part was starting to think you were delusional. There was no way he could ever like you back.

Until he did.

Elise and a few of your other friends had dragged to a bar downtown. One you had never been to. Like normal, you and Aaron were in the middle of a text conversation while you were sitting at the bar. You had been up and dancing, having fun with your friends, but you couldn’t stay away from your phone long enough to enjoy your time.

Elise was picking up on this. After a few rounds of shots, she was getting aggravated. She couldn’t comprehend how you were managing an intelligent conversation with him, but she knew she had to get you away from it. She kept telling herself it was for your own good, not wanting to feel guilty about the atrocities she was about to commit.

However, it was going to be so much worse than either of you had anticipated.

Elise slithered her way in between you and the person sitting on the barstool next to you. The older lady on your right was definitely agitated with her actions, but Elise did not care. She saw the white screen of your text messages and long contact name and knew who you were texting. Even in her drunken state, she could recall all of the screenshots you had been sending her from your conversations with Aaron.

“Give it here,” Elise slurred, reaching for your phone. It was still unlocked as she held it in her tight grasp. “You’re texting your hot middle-aged neighbor. Come shake some ass with us and find a guy your own age.” Her words were a little bit harsher than she intended. “Elise, stop. I’m enjoying texting my hot middle-aged neighbor and do not want to find a guy my own age” You demanded with your own drunken slur, reaching for the phone. “Uh-uh,” Elise shook her head, locking the phone and tucking into the cup of her bra, out of your reach for the rest of your night.

Only because you were forced to, you eventually did get up and dance with your friends. Just your friends, no men at all.

Elise only returned your phone at the very end of the night, when you needed to order an Uber home. Your head was starting to spin from all the alcohol, so that was all you did. After the order was placed, you gripped your phone as a way to keep the world from twirling underneath. The Uber arrived, too slow for your liking, and you were home. You immediately made your way towards the couch, ready to pass out.

The loud knocks on your door did nothing to help the pounding headache you had woken up with, and you couldn’t imagine who was knocking. The knocks were powerful and authoritarian. “Hello?” You questioned as you threw open the door. There was clearly attitude behind your greeting. “What did that mean?” Aaron’s voice sounded rushed as he pushed himself inside the door. He was dressed in a suit and acting very different than the Aaron you had known before.

“The message, the last one you sent.” He seemed stressed, running his hand through his hair. Something about the way he looked made him look exhausted. Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what he meant. You grabbed your phone from the end table next to your couch and opened your and Aaron’s message thread. Your eyes widened at the voice message marked as “read: 1:32 AM”.

“I-I don’t know,” you stuttered out, afraid to meet his eye, “What did it say?” Aaron took a step away from you. “It was Ms. Landon, uh, your friend from the game,” He sounded nervous as he spoke, “You should just listen to it.” You nodded, checking the volume on your phone and then listening to the message

It was right after Elise had grabbed your phone when she was berating you for being on your phone the whole time. When she mentioned your hot middle-aged neighbor and you replied, also calling him your hot middle-aged neighbor. And saying you did not want to find a guy your age because of him.

“Aaron, I am so sorry-” You started, wanting to apologize for your and your friend’s actions and blame the whole thing on being intoxicated, but he cut you off. “Forgive me for barging in here like this, Y/N, but I need to know why you were ignoring your friends to text me.” He finally locked eyes with you, and the eye bags under his eyes were the first thing you noticed.

There was a beat of silence, until he continued, “Y/N, I have enjoyed the sparse moments we have shared together. And I may be reading this wrong, I may just be incredibly sleep-deprived, but I think you have as well. I understand that I am older than you, but I would like to continue to have these moments with you. I would like to see what else we can do together.” 

Your heart started to beat at his confession. You nodded at his words, rendered speechless for the first time in your life. You couldn’t stop yourself as your legs moved forward, reaching for his face and pulling him into a kiss.

There was very little hesitation as Aaron’s hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. You didn’t know he’d been waiting to do this since you met, but you were going to find out soon. His hands gripped you tighter as he deepened the kiss, moving his tongue into your mouth. He was very skillful in the way he held you and the way he kissed you.

You didn’t separate until you needed air. If it wasn’t for the fact that you needed air to live, you could’ve stayed wrapped up with him forever. Your forehead was pressed to his as you whispered, “Are we gonna talk about this?” He knew that you were talking about where you were supposed to go from here. Is it gonna be a relationship? Are you going to be exclusive? How would it work with him being away so much? What would your role in Jack’s life be?

Aaron decided all of these questions would remain unanswered as he said, “Later, we got things to do right now..” He pulled you tight against him, roughly pressing his lips to yours again.

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds blurb #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner

[har-rison-s]

whatever you need | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: don't mind me, just eating pomelo and writing smut. i daydream about this piece every and all work day i have rn, it's pretty unhinged bcs i'm working as a gift wrapper for the holiday season and just staring ahead thinking of.... things. i'm technically an atheist, but i would need forgiveness for those thoughts. ANYWAY JEEZ. this took me like four days, help. i'm so insecure abt my smut writing, tho so ooohhh god am i actually dreading posting this. i'll just publish and run away from tumblr for a week. happy reading

talk to me about coryo here

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word count: 7.2k (sawrry)

themes: smut

warnings / disclaimers: smut, unprotected p in v, brief mutual masturbation, cum eating (SCREAMING), fingering, crying, ENJOY jsdfjhsadsd

gif credit goes to owner <3

something strange was happening in the arena. something was being done to the camera feeds that were supposed to livestream every second of what was happening in it. only because something seemed to have gone wrong in the games y/n was stuck to the television screen in her living room slash lounge. her parents were called into urgent work in district three a few hours ago, so it was only her and some of the maids in the house. they kept to themselves, though, and were probably asleep in their quarters at the mansion’s far-end wing. except for the main housekeeper, who was adamantly guarding the entrance of the house, in case anyone came by.

her parents were counting on someone coming by - with the way she was recently behaving at school and with the rebel bombs, they were real worried about her well-being. she was always alone at home, because there was no one to bring home. except the dean, but he came by himself and only to serve his usual scolding and threats about y/n’s rebellious nature and behaviour at school. her parents hadn’t felt such worry for their daughter as they felt now since the war days. 

what soothed her mother’s worried heart and mind was the presence of the maids and the housekeeper. y/n appreciated their staying around and liked hearing noises made by someone else in the mansion, even if it was only a far-away creak of floorboards or a door closing. but she didn’t need anything from them, ever, she’d been very independent since her early childhood, and maids seemed like such an excess right now, an even backwards concept for y/n. her family employing them, unable to live without them, made her feel like the rich princess everyone deemed her being. 

y/n had felt fine being home alone until the feed from the arena turned strange. darker, blacker, and the audio seemed warped or otherwise manipulated. she’d caught sight of a familiar figure entering the arena – who was that? how did he get inside? who can tell... – and then the feed changed. there was nothing much she could see, but her eyes had been glued to the screen of her television for the past half hour, anyway. all the while she was straining her eyes to try to see who it was, and at some point that figure was joined by another by Sejanus’ tribute Marcus’ bruised and wounded body, and then the feed darkened nearly completely. 

she sat in her sofa in an embryo pose, blanket over her stressed form, covering her back and the bare feet and legs that the knitted bedtime jumper couldn’t. she realized the gamemakers or the Capitol were trying to hide something, nothing else could explain the feed changing and audio going wobbly and earning static in the process. 

the bell ringing at the front door startled her so bad that y/n gasped and jerked in her position on the sofa. her head whipped in its direction and she watched two figures entering her family’s mansion from the far end of the hallway. she could already tell who the two were, but she remained sat on the sofa, her legs unmoving out of anxiety. she shut off the television and just watched them walk towards her through the unlit hallway, arms wrapping around her knees underneath her beloved blanket.

“ms y/l/n, a mister Snow is here, for you,” the housekeeper announced as she and Coriolanus entered the living room, Coriolanus stumbling into the room more than walking into it. he looked like he was falling to pieces. his breath was heavy, hair and academy uniform in disarray, face just... bewildered. y/n nodded at her housekeeper, extended her arms towards Coryo like a child reaching for its favourite toy and sniffled quietly.

“thank you, Nora,” she told the housekeeper, “please leave us. you can go to bed, i won’t need anything else for the night.” she said in a hushed voice and the housekeeper nodded, knowing to listen to the child of her employers. y/n hated giving anyone orders, much less this spectacular lady, but she did want to be alone with Coryo. and by the look of him, she could tell he couldn’t be around anyone else but her. he was a man of privacy, after all.

as soon as Nora shut the door behind her and left for the maids’ quarters, Coryo accepted the plea in y/n’s extended arms and stumbled over to her on the sofa. “i—i’m sorry,” he said the first words out of breath, in a voice so broken and frail that y/n’s lips twitched downwards and she felt the need to cry, “i didn’t know where else to go, i couldn’t... i couldn’t f-face anyone else...” as he sat down before y/n’s bare feet peeking out from the blanket, she noticed in the poor lighting of the room that his clothes were dirty. there were cuts in his shirt, dirt, gravel, sand... blood. 

“what happened?” her voice wouldn’t go any louder than a whisper, and her lips were turning into a pout as she looked Coryo over, her meek hands reaching out for him but unsure whether she should touch him or not. he could fall apart like the frailest glass, it seemed, if anything touched him right now. his face was bruised. there were small cuts on his cheek, blood on his chin. she noticed how they had already been taken care of.

Coryo still took heavy breaths, but finally he felt like his vision was real and not fooling him, and he took in his surroundings. the dim lighting in the posh room, y/n’s bare feet touching his red academy pant leg, her legs pulled up to her chest under a cute throw-blanket in the pastel colour of chocolate milk, her small hands reaching out to him, unsure, unsteady. he lifted his head to look at her, and the expression on her face made his heart lurch in his chest. her glassy eyes – no doubt matching his –, the pout on her lips, her rosy cheeks, eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion. he could never decline that face. “dr Gaul sent me inside the arena to get Sejanus out,” he finally said, and he spoke in a whisper tone that could only be meant for secrets, “but the tributes heard us... i’m not sure i should even be telling you about this at all,” he admitted.

y/n shook her head. “your secret’s safe with me,” she assured with a gentle nod.

“yes, but dr Gaul—” Coryo began, but she interrupted him in the voice of a faint whisper. 

“i know how terrifying she is,” y/n persisted, “she won’t know that i know.” she said even quieter and looked, really looked, into Coryo’s eyes, and nodded gently again at him. he searched her eyes for a few seconds, weighing the risk of her knowing this, trying to decide if he should tell her more or just cut short here. but really. she’s a loose end and she knows it. it’s not like dr Gaul was in high thoughts of y/n or deemed her more valuable than any other student, and her nature played a big part in that opinion of the young girl. how would she know that y/n found out about this night in the arena? she wouldn’t. it would never come up in conversation. y/n wasn’t part of this.

“the tributes heard us,” Coryo started to say as he sat closer to y/n, his body turned to face her, and almost loomed over her. he’s always been much taller than her, and sometimes that played a part in their dynamic. he took her hands in his above her bent knees and the blanket. he licked his lips and y/n searched his eyes, his... stoic blue eyes. there was a change in them, “they came after us and i...” he shook his head, “i didn’t want to hurt him,” Coryo’s voice broke and his head dropped onto y/n’s covered knees. 

she heard a sob from him, and it shook her entire form, making her gasp quietly. she’d never seen him cry before. the night on the rooftop, in the garden, she knew he was close to it, but she knew he’d never let his pride down so much that he’d let anyone see him cry. and Coryo didn’t feel so good about crying now, about opening himself up to her like this, he felt disgusted with himself. but he also couldn’t stop. and he couldn’t hide everything from her, after all. 

y/n shuffled around until her legs were tucked under herself and she moved closer to Coryo, taking his scarred cheeks between her small hands and lifting his face up so he would see her. she knew she made him nervous usually, but she calculated that that effect flipped around on itself when he was in this state, or one similar to this. breaking apart. feeling vulnerable. beaten down. she looked into his eyes and he back into hers, not really having any other choice. she had this compelling power over him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to hide from her. not really.

his breathing slowed down as he just looked into her wondering beautiful orbs, full of so much determination, courage and kindness. she was almost smiling at him, even though she wanted to cry, too, and her eyes were glassy with produced tears, but she wanted to appear strong for him. because right now he really needed a strong anchor to hold onto, he was the one in need of support. y/n took that role mainly in their friendship-relationship, especially at school, when she got herself in trouble, or at home, when her parents were giving her an earful about her irresponsibility and all the jazz they usually gave her an earful about.

last time Coryo and y/n saw each other, she realized he had the ability to ground her. and now she realized she had the ability to ground him, because by looking into his eyes she could see his emotions and mood changing by the second. and all because she’s holding him, and he’s looking into her eyes. he didn’t need much more than that. 

and yet maybe he did. he didn’t know which part of him had the urge, but all of him acted on it by ducking forward and kissing her on the lips. he could taste the sweat she had made on her lips out of stress, and the blueberry tartlet she must have had as a late snack not too long ago. and his hands couldn’t keep away anymore, either, they were taking hold of her face like hers was holding his cheeks between them. y/n would have gasped at his sudden action if she had any air to breathe, and she sighed heavily when he did give her a split second of air after fiery kisses to her delicious lips. 

he kept his eyes on her as he pulled his academy blazer off and threw it to the ground beside the couch, then came back closer to her, one hand on her cheek and the other pulling the adorable blanket off her legs. y/n placed a palm on that hand of his, which made Coryo furrow his eyebrows and look at her with puzzled eyes. didn’t she want this, too? she gulped, eyes averted from his shyly. “i’d rather we talked about it, Coryo,” she admitted and looked back at him carefully, eyes so un-knowing and yet more clever than most people’s. Coryo tilted his head slightly at her words. 

his hands took the bull by its horns, pulling the blanket fully away and welcoming the night air of the mansion upon y/n’s bare legs, making her gasp again. Coryo used the moment of surprise to his advantage and pushed her down on the sofa, sneaking in between her legs like the slippery mastermind he was, and he slid a hand under her knitted jumper, raising goose-bumps in his wake across her stomach and waist. y/n hated that she felt aroused, meaning she felt exactly how he wanted her to, was right where he wanted her, but she couldn’t exactly pull away. she hated being at someone’s mercy, but.... it was Coryo.

she surprised him when he found she wasn’t wearing a bra under her jumper, nothing was standing between his greedy hands and her naked breasts now, though her not wearing a bra at home wasn’t exactly a surprise. it’s just that his inexperienced self was shocked to find a part of her naked, and right there, at his disposal. watching her face, he placed his palm over one of her breasts and ran his thumb over her nipple, which hardened immediately under his touch. and her face, oh, the expression on it was to die for. eyes softly shut, eyebrows gently spasming as she was feeling something very new to her, her teeth biting her lower lip, cheeks turning more red and no doubt burning up. Coryo placed a kiss on her bare stomach, just above the elastic of her underwear, and watched her still as she whimpered for the first time. her thighs fidgeted around him, feet unsurely digging into the soft cushions of her couch—she really didn’t know what to do with herself and these sensations she was experiencing. 

“i’d rather we didn’t,” he said to her finally, though his actions were more than enough of a response to what she said, but she hardly heard him now. there was a gentle static in her ears, and heat all over her writhing form. her pure, supple, untouched form. all for him to touch, to explore. Coryo took his shirt off in a hurry, as if y/n might disappear if he had his hands off her for a second longer, and returned to her half-naked body a hungrier man. hands raking the insides of her thighs, he kissed her again, hot lips making their conversation just moments ago seem like the far past, making her almost forget it happened. y/n could hardly feel her legs, though she knew this was just the beginning, and she wrapped her arms around Coryo’s frame and held onto him as he moved his slender torso against her chest. she could feel the bones of his hips jutting against her own, his growing crotch pressing against her panty-covered soaking cunt, teasing her, making her pant heavily and whimper like a kitten. 

having her like this satiated the hunger that rose from the deep hole he’d created inside himself, gnawing at him like a big black hole with eager, starving claws. every stroke of his hips against hers beat the monster down but dangled the bait in front of it at the same time, leaving him in quite the paradox. this was more than enough, yet Coryo knew he could go further with y/n, further than enough, and that she’d let him. everything in him wanted to, and he couldn’t stop himself. adrenaline was pumping blood from his heart into his veins, she was available and the only one who could help with the hole growing inside him. 

but y/n couldn’t go further without another word spoken. he was avoiding her question, he was avoiding the whole last hour of this night. “Coryo,” she whispered softly as his lips kissed at her neck, tongue sweeping over a particularly bruised-with-kisses spot on her sculpture-like skin, he was an animal let loose. and his affections almost made her forget what she wanted to ask, and she thought maybe she doesn’t really want to know. but y/n sighed, trying to clear her mind, “tell me what happened,” she plead in a quiet voice and it made Coryo raise his head and look into her eyes again. 

he framed the side of her face with only a hand, his thumb on her chin and the rest of his palm splayed across her burning cheek. he loved seeing the look of lust and confusion on her face, in her eyes most of all. the pads of his fingertips softly pushed into her skin. “no,” he remained stubborn, and y/n would have been surprised to have him do otherwise. she gulped softly, hoping he wouldn’t feel it, but no, he felt every motion any part of her made now. his mind came up with a new idea as he slid a hand of his across her stomach, making a wave across her supple body, and then he reached her underwear. he knew, like everyone else did sort of matter-of-factly, that women were to be touched there. he knew it was the spot in her with which he could get her full attention. and he also knew he’d have to fabricate having experience in this field for y/n. he didn’t want her to think him inexperienced, which he was exactly, or least of all that he’s experimenting with her—which was also what he was doing. so he improvised by cupping her warmest place in the body, and he felt an immediate reaction. her thighs fidgeted around his waist again and her stomach lurched. her eyes shut, but he wanted to see them, “open your eyes,” Coryo urged her, and y/n had to force herself to comply, her beautiful eyes looking into his again. they held eye contact as he ran his middle finger in a straight line between her clothed folds, and he watched as her face contorted, caused by the new strange and pleasant feelings. she felt like warm honey on his fingers, “right now all i need is to feel you,” he told her and did the same motion with his finger again, only this time slower, making it pleasurably agonizing for her, coaxing quiet whimpers from her lips, “and this tells me you need it, too.” 

god, she hated that he was right. at first it was want, she wanted him to stay over, to touch her, to feel her, to do things to her that no one else had ever before. now, she felt so desperate for it that she felt she could explode if she didn’t get what seemed to be promised to her. the want grew to need. she wanted to shake her head, wanted to push him off—that would really be characteristic to her. but instead she brought herself to really look into his eyes and nod in response. Coryo’s lips almost made a smile or a grin, almost, she caught the ghost of it in the corner of his lips before he kissed her again. “alright, Coryo,” she whispered against his lips, “but if you don’t touch me properly right now, i willkick you out of my home.” she said surely, admitting to her desperation without shame and in turn – with pride, and now Coryo grinned. her feistiness was one of the things he liked about her, and it coming out in this setting was more than he could have asked for. in a weird way it got him going. 

y/n placed both of her hands on the sides of his face and kept him close to her as he reached his hand into her underwear, breaching into unexplored territory. she was all the warmer for him, and soaking wet. he hummed, their lips nearly touching, but not completely. it was torture for him. he wanted to devour her lips, her whole face, her whole existence. her lips were like the food of life for him, the sounds she made music to his ears and air in his lungs. “you’re just perfect for me,” he confessed to her in a shudder and y/n smiled lightly. his fingers ran through her naked warm folds, just testing the waters, until they found the opening between them, where the wetness and warmth were seeping from. Coryo would have dropped his head onto her shoulder if her hands weren’t holding it up right, but he just felt like he lost his damn mind at how incredible her walls felt around his fingers, and he could collapse right there on top of her. 

“Coryo,” she sang his nickname in a beautiful moan when two fingers prodded inside her, beating any expectations she had about this beforehand. they were long and thick, touching every inch of her, it felt like, and reaching just far enough. she was barely holding onto him, and her body was reacting to his touches immediately. hips moving, back arching, thighs squeezing his body between them, breaths shuddering. 

“no one’s done this to you before, have they?” Coryo asked, but he hardly needed an answer. by the way she was reacting, he could tell that she’d never felt like this before. y/n shaking her head at his question was merely the last dot on the confirmation, yet it still made him more aroused. knowing he was the first one to do this to her, with her. he grazed her upper wall with his finger pads, being careful not to let his nails scrape her, and it brought a moan from her that he’d never heard anyone make. guttural, coming from the very depths of her lungs, her vocal cords, from her very core. it made him shudder. he repeated the motion, slower one time, then faster the next, all the while watching her reaction. he loved seeing her eyes shut, her cheeks become redder, her lips parting, stretching, pushing breaths and whimpers out from between them. Coryo felt one of her hands sliding up into his hair, and he groaned. her hips bucked and she grabbed onto his perfect curls between her fingers when he reached farther inside her with his two fingers, and it made them both moan into each other’s mouths, y/n letting his lips rest over hers. he’d reached that great point inside her, feeling her hot and spongy against his digits. it’s almost like she was sucking him in. “you’re so good for me,” Coryo told her and y/n whimpered at the praise. 

“more, please,” she begged with no shame and Coryo obliged, picking up the pace of his fingers and massaging over her folds with his thumb all the while. when he accidentally grazed over her clit, y/n made a high-pitched moan of the utmost sensitivity, and he knew he’d done the right thing. and by accident, no less. he was on the winning team, “Coryo,” she cried with her eyes shut and he noticed a tear on her cheek, kissing over it immediately. next his lips were on hers again, lapping at her tongue with his own like the starving man he was, knowing nothing of tomorrow or the next hour, just so engulfed in her that he knew nothing else. she was the perfect getaway.

he could feel her body behaving in a different way, thighs trembling around him, walls squeezing his hand in, hands nearly powerless, chest shuddering. she wasn’t far off her release, he guessed. with another press to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her cry, Coryo once again watched her reaction in amazement. but he didn’t want to feel her release like this, he needed them both different. Coryo pulled his fingers away, once again making y/n cry out, this time in the most desperation she could manage, and she looked up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. he offered her a gentle smile and moved down her body, dragging her underwear with him. down her legs and away, the light pink garment went, and y/n bit her plump lip in anticipation as she watched him. 

Coryo tucked her underwear into the trousers of his academy uniform that he was still wearing and returned to her body, laying kisses across her thighs on his way up to her. y/n squirmed under and around him, mewled, muttering his name in a mewl here and there, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her untouched skin and his hands roaming all over her body, under her jumper, over it, trying to cover every inch of her. she hated that he had stopped touching her right when she was closest to that one sacred edge she wanted so badly to reach, he was teasing her, taunting her, testing her waters. it was clear to her that he had never done this to another girl before. Coryo was just like her, and yet he’d put up a different façade. 

he dug his fingers into the flesh of her naked hips, which made y/n throw her head back into the sofa cushions, baring her delicious-looking neck to Coryo. he used that to his advantage, licking and kissing at the skin of her neck which he had already bruised marked with his lips just moments ago, he was devouring her with a hunger only she could really satiate, and yet he couldn’t get enough of her. his growing crotch pressed against her bare cunt, and y/n gasped at the feeling. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks and lips red and puffy, she looked up at Coryo again, and he returned the gesture. he took one of her hands in his and guided it down to between them, where he was growing harder and in size, it seemed, watching her face all the while and taking notice of her biting down on her lower lip in anticipation. Coryo made her feel him through his trousers, and he couldn’t hide the effect her touch had on him - shuddering throughout his whole body, eyelids fluttering, he was barely able to utter the next words, but he did so in a quiet voice. “feel what you do to me?” 

y/n nodded with lustful eyes, hungry like the wolf for the boy above her. her boldness came back and with it y/n unzipped Coryo’s custom-made trousers and reached into his boxers to really feel him. he had girth and he was solid, she could feel that all with her hand on him. she was making him a panting mess, giving his length a sure stroke, Coryo’s head falling into the crook of her neck and him moaning, though she knew the piece of his pride that died for him to do that. he hardly let anyone see his inner world, his true feelings, so for him to be this vulnerable with her took a great deal of courage. “do i make you... feel like this often?” y/n asked quietly, and Coryo nodded with a whimper as her finger flicked over his tip, pink and sensitive. y/n wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked up and down, slowly, looking at his face all the while, wishing she could see his beautiful eyes now, see the emotions swimming around in the blue of them.

Coryo fisted the pillow right beside her, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips, “yes, yes, yes, god, yes,” he chanted in her ear as the pace of her strokes grew faster, and y/n could feel each breaths in his lungs against her own, his chest rising and hitting against her so intensely. she’d made him crumble beneath her so quickly, it surprised her, “i need you, y/n, i need to feel you,” Coryo confessed and managed the strength to raise his head and look at her again. he was too afraid to utter the phrase i need to be inside you, feeling just too shy all of a sudden to say that. the look on his face was pure desperation, he looked like he could start crying the next moment, and y/n’s heart lurched in her chest at seeing that. seeing and recognising that she could make him as desperate as he’d made her. that she could make him small, “no one’s ever made me feel like this before,” he confessed more, breaking his own façade down, and y/n smiled at him sheepishly. she knew, of course, that what he said was true. she knew everything about him.

“you have me,” she assured him and brought him out of the confine of his boxers, making Coryo breathe in relief. he had felt so restricted in his own clothes, “but god, Coryo, will you fit? you feel too big in my hand,” y/n said shyly and bit down on her lip again, a habit that Coryo had noticed her having for quite a while now, and he looked down between them two. y/n knew her comment went straight to his growing ego, but she just couldn’t resist teasing him a little. and when he caught onto it, he looked at her again, with a smile on his lips this time. she grinned wide and giggled before she took his face in her hands and kissed his lips, as if it was her first time doing so. simple, loving, affectionate. 

suddenly she fully took in the look of his naked torso, his amazingly sculpted shoulders and arms, his pearly chest... the sight of him was so breath-taking and delicious that she nearly forgot all her other surroundings. Coryo, though the look her eyes were giving him flattered him so, took the bull by its horns again and pushed the very tip of his hard length through her folds, where her warm opening welcomed him. y/n felt a strain while Coryo felt the beginning of a true release, but he noticed her awkward expression, felt her hold on his face falter, and he paused his movements to just check in. 

“alright?” he asked quietly, as he couldn’t tell what to do next by her face, “too big for you?” he teased and it made them both smile, then erupt into mad giggles in unison. y/n would never have expected Coryo to have humour in a moment like this, but she was relieved that he did, and god did it make the whole thing easier. she wasn’t worried, wasn’t anxious anymore, wasn’t feeling insecure about any aspect of herself anymore. except the thing she’d heard that happened to most women on their first time – the bleeding, the pain, his reaction to it. those were the few things she wanted to avoid happening. but if Coryo was his sweetheart-self, then she had no bad reaction to worry about. she was glad he was the person she was doing it for the first time with, she’d really lucked out.

“just a little,” she finally answered after their giggle fit while holding each other in their arms, “try going deeper,” she urged in a hushed voice, and Coryo complied, adjusting his hips forward, slowly, not to accidentally hurt her more. he couldn’t deny how incredible this felt, how incredible she felt around him, her walls sucking him right in so tightly, “ohmygodohmygod,” y/n pushed the words out in a quick breath, feeling a burn and stretch inside of her at the size of him. she didn’t have anyone to compare Coryo to, and no one else had been inside her before, but he felt big enough. 

Coryo appreciated her arm on his back, her nails digging half-moons into his pearly skin, and her other hand splayed across his cheek, thumb almost digging a hole in his cheek. “you feel so perfect around me,” Coryo praised against her parted lips, and y/n could only look at him with strain and tears in her eyes as he inched himself further and further inside, her face changing by every inch, it seemed, until he had bottomed out with a groan and she’d only felt a momentary sting of pain. and the worst part was over—what a miracle it was that it had been so quick for her, she’d expected otherwise. Coryo could see the immediate relaxation on her features, and he smiled. 

he kissed away her fallen tears, but more kept falling from her eyes and y/n could only explain them as being happy tears, though she scolded herself for being so emotional in a meaningful moment like this. but maybe it was just right. Coryo smiled at her and she could see his orbs being glossy, too, and she was glad. it was no wonder, really, taking how shaken he was when he came into her home and sat down on her couch beside her. he was still in turmoil, but that didn’t matter now. he had her. 

“can i try... moving? you feel alright?” he asked her in a whisper. this slow thrust inside her had already felt like heaven, he couldn’t wait to repeat it over and over and over. 

y/n nodded, “yeah, go ahead,” she said and Coryo complied. she took in the feeling of him pulling out gently, slowly... teasingly. he was grinning, she saw, and she shook her head in disbelief as a beautiful smile adorned her features. and then he thrust inside her again, stuffing her walls with his great length, making her back arch and moans that she’s never made before escape her lips. he could hardly concentrate, but he didn’t want to miss all the different facial expressions she would make, the look in her eyes, while he made love to her now. he made himself keep his eyes open as he began to move rhythmically now. 

y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist, engulfing him in her more and more, and each of his thrusts earned him a squeak from her from the movements. god, he just adored her beyond measure. she was everything he needed now, and later, and forever. Coryo kissed her neck, licked at it, as he had before, and it only made her moan more, each moan in its own unique high or low pitch, and dig her fingers into whichever part of his skin she was holding. Coryo adored her touches, they turned him on, and he wanted her hands on him always, they were a lifeline. his hands gripped her waist, her sweater bunched just above them, only covering her arms and her breasts, though barely even those from how much Coryo was moving her.

“you're doing so good for me,” he breathed into her ear, and the praise only spurred her on. she clenched around him, and it made Coryo break his focus completely, his head dropping onto y/n’s chest, where he breathed hot air onto her skin, “i’m sorry, i think i’m close,” he confessed, and y/n raised his face with her hands, looking at him with puzzlement across her face. 

“me too, it’s okay,” she assured him and then took one of his hands in hers and lead it down to where their bodies met. she laid his palm over the bulge that had formed in her lower stomach from him. the sight and feel of it made Coryo groan, getting him all the more closer to his release. 

“fuck, that’s amazing,” he said into her neck, and y/n nodded.

“you’re so big, Coryo,” she complimented him again and felt his dick twitch inside her at the words, “made a bump in me,” she put it into words and it made the boy nearly lose his mind. then she guided his hand just a little lower and pressed his hand onto her clit, where he recalled was her most vulnerable point, “come on, touch me. we’ll do it together,” she urged him on in the sweetest of angel voices and Coryo didn’t need to think twice before complying. he loved her ordering him around a little, it was much needed tonight especially. 

he pressed his thumb against her clit as his hips had nearly reached their fastest pace, and watched as her face twisted in pleasure. eyes shutting, lips spasming, closing, opening, teeth biting, voice singing out to him. “oh, Coryo,” she called his name and he felt it go straight to his heart. there wasn’t much more that he needed in order to come now, and he prided in himself for lasting so long at all, all the while feeling a little ashamed about it. he wanted this to last longer. but since he could tell she was coming, too, his thumb drawing harsh circles on her clit to bring it on, he revelled in them both finishing at once. 

“fuuuck, y/n, i love you,” he whimpered into her ear as he spilled himself inside her tightly-squeezing walls while y/n all but chanted his nickname like a mantra. her hands almost drew blood on his back from how tightly she held onto him, and she shuddered around him at the feeling of her own release coating his entire length. her thighs trembled and she panted heavy breaths against his neck. she’d almost missed his quiet confession, she’d actually heard it amidst their joined euphoria, but she had thought it a hallucination. 

but that assumption dissipated as she came to and looked up at Coryo, whose eyes were worriedly, with tears streaming from them, looking down at her. she quickly moved her hands to his cheeks and tried to sit up in their awkward position. best she could do was position herself higher on her pillow against the sofa’s armrest, and she gulped. “you love me?” she echoed in the smallest of voices, searching his eyes. they were worried, fearful. what if he’d said the wrong thing? what if she felt different about him, different than what he felt about her? what if he’d said it too soon? what if he’d just ruined all this with her? 

but he did love her. he was sure of it. so he nodded, his curls bouncing with the confirming movement. y/n ran her hand over them and smiled wide at him. 

“you love me,” she said again, surely this time, in a happy tone of voice. as if she’d discovered the best, most well-wishing secret in the whole world. and perhaps that’s what it was. her favourite secret about Coryo was that she knew he loved her, “i love you, too,” y/n told him before he could assume otherwise, and kissed his trembling lips. Coryo felt on top of the world. he had said the right thing, he’d played his cards right, he’d told her how he felt. of course, his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it in words meant the world to y/n. 

“thank god, you had me worried there for a bit,” Coryo half-joked between their kisses, and it made her laugh. she pulled back from his lips and admired the boy above her. forehead glistening from sweat in the dim lighting, curls messily falling over his beautiful face, his pearly chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. 

“who would i be without a little suspense, huh?” she asked and smiled at him again. she could see complete love and devotion in his eyes, two things she’d seen on his face only partly or half-meant before, and only towards herself. Coryo used the moment of silence to pull out of her and stuff himself back into his trousers. sitting against the sofa cushions to do it, he glanced at her cunt and saw it leaking with his white substance. y/n looked at him with sultry eyes and her teeth biting her lower lip, arms crossed over her chest, and she spread her legs just a little further to tease him with a wider look, “like what you see?” she asked quietly.

he just gave her eyes of total surrender, he was waving the white flag for giving up and he took a deep breath. y/n giggled as Coryo shook his head in disbelief and lowered his face down to her center, once again giving her anticipation. “you look so pretty,” he complimented and ran a finger through her folds, making her shudder as more of the snow-white liquid pooled out and coated her cunt, “pretty with me dripping out of you,” Coryo sneaked a glance up at her and saw the clear-as-day lust in her eyes. feeling that animalistic urge take over him again, he brought out his tongue and lapped up each drop coming out of her. y/n felt sensitive, sore, and Coryo was giving her a mix of both pleasure and pain as he drank at her. she had him right where she wanted him. the question was – would he stay there? 

his tongue prodded at her entrance just a tad, heightening her sensitivity, and he moaned against her folds at her shudder under him, giving her folds a kiss over once he was done. he wanted to leave most of his spill inside her, only having lapped up and gulped down what was excess. sitting up before her, between her legs, Coryo licked his lips and leaned over her form. y/n pulled him in for a kiss, and could taste something salty and something sweet all at once on his lips and tongue. it was both of them. 

“will you please stay?” y/n asked her in her small voice again, looking into Coryo’s eyes. she hoped to not find any resistance or decline, and her hopes were fulfilled. “please,” she plead more as he teased her with his silence. he nodded, and it made her smile wider than ever. he would stay over, like he promised her he would someday. it meant he didn't view her only as a secret anymore. maybe they could even go to Heavensbee hall tomorrow together, maybe hand in hand... “why did you say sorry? about being close?” she reminded him of the few moments before their euphorias. Coryo bent his head low for a moment. 

“just felt embarrassed,” he answered, “about not lasting long. i just... i just wanted this to last longer for you,” he told her and managed to look at her again. y/n made a comforting face and stroked the side of his face. she understood. 

“yeah, but it’s okay,” she assured him, “there will be other times,” she pointed out and laid a kiss to his cheek, “it was your first time, so please don’t worry your beautiful head over it.” Coryo managed a ghost of a smile just for y/n to kiss him and make his smile more life-like. “you did good, Coryo.” those words of praise went straight to his dick again, and he blushed. she had made him blush. y/n giggled. 

“you did great, too,” Coryo told her and kissed her hair, “thank you. i never would have wanted to do this with anyone else but you,” he confessed as they held tight eye contact. y/n’s heart surged at his words. 

“me too. i’m glad it was you,” she said and it made Coryo smile with shut lips, “now, can i get my underwear back?” she’d made a joke again, and Coryo felt like playing along further. 

“no, i’m keeping it,” he said in a hushed voice, shaking his head and y/n made a playful pout. she’d want to make him think he could keep it and that she’d steal it back later, but she couldn’t. Coryo having her underwear in the pocket of his academy trousers made her feel somehow proud. a piece of her with him wherever he goes. and if he went home and stashed them somewhere in his wardrobe cabinet, that would be fine, too. she loved knowing her underwear was a token for him. 

she only said, “alright,” and took his hand in hers, “let’s go shower and then to bed. you’ve exhausted me.” she admitted and Coryo took it as a compliment. he wanted this treacherous-turned-great day to end, too, and she was the cherry on top of it all. he wouldn’t have gone home tonight for anything. 

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#har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s work #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo smut #coryo x reader #snow x reader #thg fic #thg fanfiction #coryo fanfiction #coryo fic #coriolanus fanfic #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction

[the-s1lly-corner]

AAAAA

TDAC X PUPPET!READER

Hear me out

Reader is like puppet from fnaf, their character being very similar to puppet, them having the same voice and powers? Yknow Puppet flies fast as HELL and etc, Reader most of the time stays in the music box, and just gets out when really wanted or needed, for example: when theres an IHA or when someone needs them for something.

TADC x puppet!reader !

ashamed to admit this but i have not touched fnaf outside of security breach, recently at least. the last time i was fully invested in the fnaf lore was when fnaf 4 had just dropped, so im quite literally relying off of your description like its a life line because i know how insane fnaf lore has gotten think imma answer this request then take another short break since my lower back is starting to get sore from sitting all day; gotta go stretch my legs too

CAINE:

you do have your own room, of course, but you tend to usually stay in your music box; of which you came with when you first entered the digital world... which was a little odd, but hey its not the strangest thing that anyone here has seen! i like to think that sometimes caine comes to your box at night and tries to will you out so he can get to know you more. leave it to the ai to fall for the mysterious circus member who rarely leaves their box... i think sometimes he would hum and sing along to the music your box makes

POMNI:

the first time you rush out of your music box it takes her off guard, almost making her fall off her feet when you dash right by her to do... whatever was required of you at that moment in time. if she were being honest, she didnt think you were a real person, she had always assumed that you were an npc; it wasnt unheard of that caine would have npcs stationed about for in house adventures, or to man the carnival..! though i dont think she would interact much with you, considering you rarely interact with the others; what use would it be to pester you?

JAX:

honestly before realizing you literally live and sleep and mostly exist in the music box, he probably puts stuff on top of your box... accidentally trapping you inside it. well, actually trapping wouldnt be accurate because you ended up brute forcing your way out, literally sending everything that was on top of the box flying; scaring just about everyone in the room. imagine trying to find out whos faster; you or jax.. i mean, have you seen how fast jax bolted when they found out koufmo abstracted?

RAGATHA:

always tries to ask you if you want to join in on the in house adventure, she doesnt want you to feel left out or unwelcome; even though most times you willingly back out of the activity. though, she feels relieved and even smiles when you spring out of your box to join in on the action... at least she knows you havent abstracted... brain stimulation is important, you know!

KINGER:

he finds some comfort in the music, slowly but surely as the days pass he moves his pillow fort closer and closer to your box before eventually hes right next to you. sometimes even naps, leaning against it. though he does immediately scamper off when you suddenly lunge out to race towards whoever is calling for you. at least he can count on you to have his back in moments of danger or fear!

ZOOBLE:

usually stays in their own lane, but for one reason or another they need help during an IHA, and their yelps and incoherent speech was enough to catch your attention. be it gloink or otherwise, you obliterate the problem; effectively haunting zooble for the rest of their life by your actions... but hey, it feels... nice, having someone you can rely on

GANGLE:

character who is soft spoken and shy meets character that rarely leaves their box when its not needed or necessary; how could a relationship, romantic or otherwise, be fostered in conditions such as this? oddly enough, the silence between you two brings you together, the music keeping the silence from becoming overwhelming. i like to think that sometimes gangle leaves you little notes, choosing to write rather than verbally speak... best not to ruin that special quiet the two of you have learned to share

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I absolutely adore the (thinly-veiled) story in "Fortnight" because as I said on album release day, it's like "ivy" but in the suburbs.

I love the conceit of some sort of sanitized, suburban wasteland being a veneer for the seedy underbelly of these unhappy couples, acting out their secret fantasies as a cover for how unsatisfying their pristine lives are. It feels so "Desperate Housewives" turned on its head.

The narrator is drinking away her troubles, but nobody notices because everyone else is just as miserable and doing the same thing. (Or don't care.) The love interest moves in to the house behind hers, captivating her across the fence line. His wife upkeeps the perfect suburban duties, tending to her garden, and it drives the narrator crazy because her own home is in shambles on the inside. How dare she make something so beautiful that hides something so ugly? How dare she be happy when she has the one thing the narrator thinks she wants?

The would-be lovers circle each other, make pleasantries like good neighbours always do, sublimating their desires for each other over idle chit chat, which only highlights how that spark has gone out with her husband. And the image of their presumed perfect marriage to their neighbours is also a lie, because while she's feeding these fantasies about the other man in her mind, her husband is openly unfaithful. And the fuck of it all is that she knows and she isn't doing anything about it. The implied reading of "my husband is cheating, I want to kill him," to me is that this is an ongoing affair, but she's just put up with it, letting the resentment build but continuing to play the role of dutiful wife. (After all, good wives always know.)

The story is suburban gothic. The pressures of up keeping the day to day of the British? American dream do nothing but kill the spirit of the people inside them when they can't admit that it's wrong. The call is coming from inside the house: the danger isn't from some monster lurking in the shadows invading their neighbourhood, but quite literally in their own backyards. The only options are to stay stuck in the mundane reality of day to day in this sterile cage, or to break free and escape to Florida, the bastion of evading the law and lovers and time. You can buy the car (or the house or the boat or whatever), but it won't fill the hole inside you if you can't admit what's wrong and follow through.

I could soooooo see this playing out as a movie or TV show and I freaking love it. (I mean, it already has, it's a whole genre lol.) There's the whole ~real life~ situation filtering through these characters, being used as a cautionary tale that would probably veer a shade too far into speculation for another post. But I do love me some storytelling about the dark side of suburbia as a foil to people's darker impulses and psychological breakdowns.

#fortnight #the tortured poets department #i also think the music video plays into this a little!!! #i also have a whole thing in my head bubbling about the recurring theme of small towns/churches/american west in several of the songs #as yet another narrative device to very faintly fictionalize a very real story #because tehre's all sorts of metaphor there #writing letters addressed to the fire

[iluvmissmaximoff]

I don’t understand us

This is part two to “I’m confused about us” tho it can be read alone,

Tags: fem!reader oral(f) receiving, spanking as punishment, crying reader, no real spoilers to the show, mean!billy, no use of y/n (I can’t do it! 😭) also this is kinda short but I’m writing two other stories rn. (Also this is not proofread)hope yall enjoy!

I’m still… confused about us. You thought as the cowboy bellow you ate you out like a starving man. But as good as it felt you couldn’t help thinking about how much your ass hurt since he had just smacked the shit out of it.

Your relationship with Billy made you torn. One second he was absolutely mean to you, pulling you over his knee for doing literally nothing. didn’t fold your panties? that did it. Didn’t do your homework right? That did it. Cussing when you stumped your toe? That fucking did it,

Sometimes it made you mad how he acted “is he not man enough to just ask me to be with him?” You thought, no he’s probably the manliest man I know. Than what is it?

Knock knock knock.

You heard as Billy hit your door, he usually just opens it but yesterday he walked in on you changing, he blushed so hard, you laughed thinking about that moment. Yes? You said as you opened your door. I’ve got to go out tomorrow so I won’t be back till early morning. You sighed internally. Billy was always going out at random times. But I guess that’s better than him having a real job and being gone every day.

The first time he went out he told you

“Don’t even think about sneaking out because I will know about it” he said dominantly. You laughed it off thinking there was no way he could actually find out about it. You didn’t go far. You actually just went down to the edge of the fence like 10ft from the house and pet the horses. Sometimes you wonder why the horses were always coming and going. Never seeing the same one more than twice usually.

But of course, the minute he got home he came up to your room. Hey when did you get back- you tried to ask but were cut off.

As he grabbed your face, not harshly enough to hurt you but it wasn’t pleasant. Why can’t you just listen?! He said with a bite in his tone.

I told you to stay inside. But no. only good girls listen. Your a bad one. ain’t cha? He said, letting go of your face. His words brought tears to your eyes. While your still defiantly a ‘’brat’’ as billy calls it. Sometimes your just not in the mood to have someone upset with you.

You sigh. Looking him in the eyes. Billy I-ugh its not a big deal. I was basically 5 ft from the house.you said sighing. Not a big deal? Little girl.

I decide what’s a big deal or not. He said darkly. And I say you disobeyed me. And since you did that you earned your self a good longgg spanking. He said with a condescending smile on his face.

I- billy your so damn mean, you said slightly pouting. Mean? Oh honey, ill show you mean. He said in a scary dark tone.

And boy did he. He made you sob over his lap by using your hairbrush. When you first started crying you heard him laughing. Above you. Is this his idea of fun? Making me cry? You asked yourself. The thought of it made you mad. So you rebelliously kicked your feet, something you had never done before. This… did not make things better for you. He just started smacking your ass a bit harder.

When it was finally over he gently picked you up and put you on your bed. You were still sobbing because your bottom hurt. And you were still upset billy had laughed at you. The whole spanking thing was embarrassing enough without him laughing at you. (you were also incredibly wet)

You had turned away from him as he sat on your bed. Usually billy tried to console you a little bit. Even though he wasn’t very good at it.

But you shrugged his hand off when he placed it on your shoulder. Stop that honey. He said in a much sweeter tone than before.

No go away. you said ,your voice muffled by the fact that you had your face shoved in your pillow. Sweetheart non of this would happen if you would just obey me. I shouldn’t hav to obey you! You said shooting up from your spot on the bed. You don lemme do nothing. You said with a slight lisp in your voice from crying so hard. I- I can’t even go outside. You said in a whisper. Ugh honey. Everything I do is to protect you. I’m not exactly a loved man around these parts, and I and can’t have anyone thinking they should use you to get to me. Ok? He asked.

You sighed, ok .you agreed. But quickly turned back over into the pillow giving the illusion you were still upset at him.

Now girl. He said in a laughing tone. What is it gon take for you to forgive me?

And that’s how we ended up here. With you grinding your face down on his nose like there’s no tomorrow. He didn’t mind, he defiantly didn’t mind

But you still didn’t understand your relationship. Some nights he had his face buried deep in your cunt, and sometimes he scolded you like a child or yanked you over his knee if you upset him. I don’t understand us. But oh well.

Ok that’s part two! I really like writing for billy but I really want to write for my true love. ✨Finnick✨ I’ve been in love with his character since we first saw him. Tho I write him kinda ooc and like to go a darker route so be prepared for that lol. But comment if y’all want anything else to be added into the next part. Love y’all! #-lanawrites<3

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #tom blyth #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #no y/n #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #save a horse ride a cowboy

[beomgyw]

THE BOY IN THE DARK

you chose to say home

if you're new here, go back to the beginning !!

after saying goodnight to huening kai, who left the room stumbling around in a pretty hilarious state of tipsiness, you do your best to tidy up the mess you both left behind. but let's face it, grandma's got this uncanny ability to sniff out chaos no matter how well you try to hide it. with a shrug, you figure you'd deal with the inevitable scolding when the time came and finally head up to your room.

you're itching for a shower—it's the perfect remedy to shake off that lingering smell of travel and feel fresh and clean before going to sleep. it isn't all that late, and lucky for you, your room had its own bathroom. so, you decide to treat yourself to a late-night shower without worrying about waking anyone else up.

before cranking up the water, you do a quick sound check, making sure your playlist won't blast through the house. thankfully, the coast is clear, and you can shower to your heart's content with some music. as you shower, you don't hear a thing coming from any other part of the house... but the door bell rings without you noticing it. six times.

done with the shower and back in your room, you finally get comfy and snuggle up in bed. but then it hits you – you have those cigarettes tucked away in your bag. you hadn't planned on smoking inside the house, not really sure about which the consequences would be grandma-scolding-wise, but with everyone knocked out and your room leading to a balcony, why not?

so, you grab your smokes and throw on a hoodie, sneaking out onto the balcony for some alone time. you're glad to discover that, unlike in seoul, the stars are perfectly visible here.

however, as you're about to light up your cigarette, something suddenly whizzes past your face, making you jump. you flinch, thinking it could be a bird or some disoriented bat. but then, another object grazes your cheekbone, and when you look down, there's a pebble chilling on the ground. weird.

you're just about to lean over the balcony to see what's going on when you hear a voice, a bit desperate sounding, saying, "huening-ah, come on! i never ask for anything!"

and from the content of the message, it could've been yunjin. but the voice was male.

your curiosity all fired up, you lean in, trying to catch every word as the voice shifts from a whisper-yell to a full-on shout. "huening, i know you're awake! fucking quit ignoring me!" more pebbles come flying, this time with better aim, landing near huening's room, which just happens to be adjacent to yours.

then, a frustrated "screw it" is followed by rustling in the nearby tree branches. your eyes go wide as you see a hand emerge from the foliage, gripping the fence of kai's balcony. slowly, a figure emerges—a boy, his features all shadowed by the night. you squint, trying to see better, but all you can make out is his silhouette against the moonlit sky.

"are you trying to rob us?" you blurt out.

in the darkness, you get to distinguish his eyes going wide in surprise as he meets your gaze. all from the shock, he slips and disappears back into the foliage. you hear the unfortunate thud of his fall and his pained groans from the ground.

you lean over the balcony, trying to get a better look. "shit, are you okay?" you call out. "wait, i'm coming down!"

without wasting a moment, you dash down the stairs and out of the house, where you find the boy, grimacing and clutching at his knee.

"is it bad?" you ask.

he meets your gaze. "agonising."

"let me take a look," you offer, even though you know your medical skills are pretty much non-existent. it's just something people say, right? you breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it's just a bloody wound – painful, yeah, but nothing too serious.

"thank goodness," you mutter, "i'd probably pass out if it was worse, like a bone sticking out or something."

"oh, it was," he says, wincing a bit. "but i managed to shove the bone back in myself. a real man wouldn't shed tears over a scratch on the knee… it was major. like medieval torture kind of pain..."

you chuckle. "well, wanna come inside? i'm definitely no doctor, but I can at least offer some sanitizer or slap a band-aid on that."

"um… y-yeah. sure, yeah," he stammers before following you into the house.

as you step into the room, the warm glow of the lights falls gently across his face, revealing features you hadn't fully appreciated until now. that's when you recognise him. he got hot during our senior year. he's mellowed out since then. and there he stands, his deep brown eyes catching the light, bangs brushing softly over his eyebrows, pretty lips. this is isn't a normal type of hot. it’s manhwa character hot, or promising young actor hot, or disney prince kind of of. definitely not beomgyu, that one shy kid from middle school.

you see him standing there, kinda awkward, like he's not sure what to do or where to go, probably waiting for a cue on where to sit down. It's kinda cute, you think, this boy dressed like he's in the bassist of an indie band, looking all lost. "please, get comfortable," you finally say, breaking the silence. "i bet you've spent more time in this house more than me in the past few years."

"you know who i am?" he asks, sounding surprised. he doesn't seem thrilled about it. like he doesn't enjoy being recognised, specially by you, who knew him only during middle school. you get the feeling.

"yeah, i remember you swingin' by to help grandma with her garden when she got the injury... and we used to be in the same class. plus, yunjin mentioned you... she gave me a brief introduction to huening's friends, really. so I just kinda put two and two together..." you start explaining, but then you spot a trickle of blood on his leg. "oh, hold on, let me grab the first aid kit... i'm sure grandma keeps it in the same spot..."

as you shuffle your way to the kitchen, he remains standing still in the middle of your living room, mentally pinching himself at this reunion that means way more to him than it does to you. but, of course, you're completely clueless. he's some cute boy you met years ago.

"take a seat, take a seat..." you instruct him, pointing at the couch, and he obeys. he settles onto the cushions as you make your way towards him, rummaging through the first aid kit. your fingers skim over all sorts of stuff as you try to figure out what might help with his scrape. getting yourself situated at his feet, you plonk the kit down next to you for easy access to whatever you might need.

with a cotton pad and iodine in one hand and a wet cloth in the other, you pause, momentarily unsure of the proper procedure. "huh. do you have any idea how to tend to a wound like this?" you ask, but get no answer. you decide that the correct step is to clean it with water, selecting the wet cloth as your working tool. "beomgyu? did you hit your head too?" you ask, glancing up at him. but he seems lost in thought, his gaze distant and unfocused.

he breaks away from his trance, his eyes refocusing on you, perhaps by you calling his name, perhaps by the wet cloth touching his skin. "i... sorry," he mumbles softly, "i'm not usually this quiet. seeing you is just like... being the middle school me again."

"is that a good thing?"

"i don't know yet,"

"well, I'm not that fond of my middle school self either," you confess, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you focus on cleaning the blood from his leg.

he watches you work in silence, his thoughts swirling beneath the surface, until he finally speaks up. "you were cool," he says, his voice soft. "i always thought you were cool. i'm sorry nobody else saw that. It sucks, feeling so powerless… and getting picked on all the time. i should've stood up, done something but i was too shy. it sounds kinda shallow, but that's just... how i feel."

you offer him a reassuring smile. "they would've targeted you too. just like what happened to kai," you say, and your words keep coming out, fueled by the soju. "actually, the worst part wasn't even the bullying. it was everything that came after, how it changed me. i spent the rest of my life trying to prove to everyone that i was cool and smart and not the kind of person who should get bullied. but it broke me, all that work... striving for nothing. what good did it do? i stepped in here now as an adult and i felt just as small and helpless, like i was back to being a twelve-year-old girl again... i'm sorry, i kind of overshared...."

"you're good," he said, offering a warm smile. "and you're too hard on yourself. you know, huening and yunjin were always there to lay anyone out if anything happened..." he hesitates, then adds, "but now i am, too." he says, and you mutter a thanks, before he continues, "you probably don't remember me too well..."

"but i do–" you try to say, but he cuts you.

"not as much as i remember you." he says.

you're a bit flustered at this, not really knowing what he means, so you focus back on your medical duties. when you're done cleaning and disinfecting the wound, you tap his knee, "there you go, done. didn't even shed a tear, you're a tough guy… oh, and would you look at this!" you say, holding up a treasure you just found in the aid kit: a box of hello kitty band-aids. you slap two on his knee, forming a cross. "cutified war scars."

"it's a look, honestly," he replies with a smile, and he means it. and he does look pretty adorable, you think to yourself. but you quickly shake the thought away. you're not big on catching feelings. you grew up thinking nobody would ever like you, so you taught yourself not to like anyone. but funny thing is, he grew up with the same mindset. your coping mechanisms might've been different, but the sentiment was shared.

"anyway, i should get going. i've got work tomorrow," he suddenly announces, getting up from his seat.

"yeah, same here."

"oh, you got a job? where at?" he asks with sudden interest.

"just this bookstore near wavecrest beach..." you reply, noticing his face light up for reasons unknown to you.

"cool, that's cool! you gotta grab your coffee at the cuppa corner," he says with a sparkle in his eye. "they make the best one around."

"i will," you respond. "oh, by the way... not trying to pry, just curious... what brought you here in the first place?"

he tilts his head, a grin playing on his lips as he gestures towards his car parked outside. "oh, i was hoping to drag kai along to this... well, let's call it a spontaneous hangout."

you share a knowing chuckle. "well, he's completely knocked out. soju got the best of him."

his laughter fills the hallway, and you stare at him with a fool's smile. you think he's even more handsome when he's laughing. "it’s alright. i'll catch him next time," he says with a shrug, a twinkle in his eye.

"well, it was nice talking to you." you say.

"yeah, likewise. sleep well," he smiles, already making his way towards his car. there's a fleeting moment where he seems like he wants to say more, but he ultimately decides against it.

so that just happened. you're gonna go to bed thinking of beomgyu, but you better fall asleep; first day of work tomorrow !!

#txt fic #txt beomgyu #txt yeonjun #multichoice #txt angst #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu fic #txt #beomgyu angst #tomorrow x together #txt fluff #beomgyu fluff #txt headcanons #txt smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun #blue crush

[marksbear]

hello there! can you do Will Graham x male reader? Just headcanon about what kind of names Will would call his boyfriend🦈🦈 (if you are too tired to do this request, its okay! <33)

Hi! I love everything about Will, so I would love to write this for you my friend! I hope you like it!

WILL GRAHAM X MALE READER

-Likes to keep a picture of you in his wallet. He would give it a quick glance before heading into a case. Your picture is his little good luck charm.

-He wouldn't keep you a secret, but isn't open about it. For example he wouldn't talk about you for hours to someone (only with his dogs he does.) but if someone asked if he had a s/o he would tell them about you straight up.

-Mandatory fishing trips together.

-He most def wouldn't tell Hannibal about you. He wants you to stay the hell away from him.

-Probably tells you about the cases hes working on. Even if he isn't supposed to tell someone he'll tell you without hesitation if you asked.

-You being there when he's sleepwalking every step of the way. Even having to wake him up a few times.

-You and him sleeping together makes him fall asleep faster. To the point he can't sleep without you.

-He would like to vent to you if you let him. He'll just vent to you while cuddling with one of the dogs while you sit next to him and listen. After he's done and realizes what he'd done he'll feel embarrassed, but he trusts you even more.

-Jack coming to Will's house unexpectedly and opening the door and walks inside. "Will! I got-" Jack trails off looking down at you two play wrestler with the dogs. "Never mind." Jack says before leaving the house going back to his car.

-Likes to call you something traditional or something sweet. Like hun/honey, love,sugar, idiot or sometimes even bug. He didn't know where bug came from one day he called you it and never let it go. He means the pretty bugs y'know.

-Walks around his property with the dogs.

-Late night conversations.

-Begins to tell you more about Hannibal as the days go by. Like what him and Hannibal were talking about and etc.

-Long warm hugs after he comes back home from work. Just standing in the middle of the doorway hugging each other in loving silence. Just silently reassuring each other.

-Him letting you play and style his hair. It helps him relax when you do it, so he asks you to do it more often.

-Constantly reassuring him that you love him because he's an insecure mess and overthinks a lot. Like you don't love him or you're just using him.

-Him smiling to himself just at the thought of you or the mention of your name.

-Drinking coffee together at the front porch in early in the morning just enjoying the others company.

-Him waking you up after he has a nightmare. He curls up in your chest holding onto your clothes tightly as you cradle him in your lap kissing the top of his head. "I'm here Will. Don't worry baby i'm right here."

-Him having nightmares about losing you to the point he tells Hannibal about you and his fear of losing you, because he couldn't keep it to himself anymore.

-Will refusing the offer to let you two meet over dinner. Like he shot down the proposal so fast.

-Ms Lounds trying to get you to speak about Will. Like trying to make you spill all the bad things you know about him. And you just give her the bird and walk away.

-You two probably getting married either in the forest or by a dock.

-I think he's fine with the dogs, but if he ever wants to start a real family he'll want like two daughters and one boy.

THE END!

#will graham x male reader #will graham #hannibal x male reader #nbc hannibal #nbc hannibal x male reader #x male reader #male reader #slashers x male reader #slasher x male reader #the bear club

[ancientannoyance]

there’s a post floating around with the girl from the ring next to margo robbie from barbie that says ‘the alecto we thought we were getting vs the alecto we got’. when i sent it to my best friend (i infected her with the tlt brain rot a while ago) she had an epiphany that i haven’t seen any one else talking about yet.

In Harrow, we get multiple descriptions of who Harrow calls The Body, and they sound like the girl from the ring. What if when Harrow went into the tomb, Anastasia, who we now know was also locked inside, was the one who bound herself to Harrow all revenant like and haunted her for all that time?

haven’t done a reread since this started percolating in my brain so it’s more than possible there’s something in the books somewhere that unequivocally disproves this theory, but what do you think? Is Harrows haunting actually Anastasia?

Firstly, the below answer contains spoilers for Nona the Ninth, so please don't read on if you haven't read that yet!

Before I answer this, I should point out that, at a certain point in the fandom (circa early 2021, iirc) this theory by tumblr user ac-ld - which postulates that John switched the bodies of Alecto and Anastasia in the ninth tomb, and that The Body that Harrow sees is actually Anastasia and that Alecto is actually buried in the First House - was the most popular theory in the TLT fandom hands down. I think it still probably holds the crown of most popular TLT theory, despite being disproved as of Nona the Ninth's publication.

If you read the above theory I linked, I think that your friend is thinking along similar, but not exactly the same, lines? Sorry if I'm wrong and misunderstood!

Full disclosure, before Nona the Ninth came out, I really thought this theory - that The Body is actually Anastasia- had a high chance of being correct, but (in my personal opinion!) I think Nona the Ninth has pretty much cemented in my head that the Body was Alecto. My reasons are:

If we look at the descriptions of The Body, Harrow - and Gideon when she sees the Body too - literally describes The Body as perfect ("Each limb was a carved representation of a perfect limb, each bloodless foot the lifeless and high-arched simulacrum of the perfect foot", etc). It thematically makes sense for this to describe Alecto, an unreal being who was literally created to resemble a Barbie doll by John, than for it to describe Anastasia, who was a real human and therefore inherently flawed. Plus, Gideon's description of The Body ("with a face so beautiful it almost went out the other side and became repellent") specifically jives with how Augustine described Alecto looking inhuman, whereas if Anastasia was so unnaturally beautifully as to be repellent, I think Augustine would have mentioned it, since he specifically mentions at one point that Harrow is "Anastasia come again."

Gideon describes The Body as "a woman with my eyes, dimmed dark yellow in death", while Harrow's POV mentions of her hair that "that long hair hanging wetly over her shoulders, that resinous colour that in death might have been brown or might have been gold or might have been anything" and of her eyes "in your youth her eyes had often been black, like yours were, but that ever since you had writhed in Lyctoral agony her eyes had turned a yellow that made you dizzy to behold" and of her voice "the voice—low, husky, musical—or its dry and uncanny echo of other voices you had known: your mother’s, Crux’s". So The Body had a certain unnaturally beautiful look but it's hair colour was not pinned down, and when it came to eye colour and voice it seemed to take on characteristics of other humans whom... Harrow had known? Who had died for Harrow? Thematically, it just makes sense to me that Alecto - the soul of Earth, the font of all the humans that were later reborn in the Ninth House and other houses - would be able to embody all the souls that Harrow ... loved? mourned? Instinctively, it makes sense to me why Alecto can embody all these souls that ultimately once came from her, while Anastasia - who was ultimately just a human - can't. While I'm here, Anastasia was most likely black-eyed and black-haired, as that is described by Harrow to be the overwhelming Ninth House look.

On a meta level, if you read Tamsyn Muir's other works such as the Deepwater Bride and Floralinda, you'll see that there are certain narrative themes she visits over and over again, but also certain aesthetic things, and one of the aesthetic things she visits again and again is of a very unnaturally beautiful golden-haired girl who turns out to actually be a "monster" (neutral). So, after reading her other works, I'm convinced on a meta as well as a narrative/thematic level that The Body and Alecto are the same.

Even if all the above weren't true, I think Nona the Ninth pretty much confirmed beyond doubt that The Body is Alecto. In NTN, Harrow looks upon Alecto and calls her "corse of the Locked Tomb" (corse being an archaic word for corpse). We know that The Body is the same as the corpse in the tomb because that is confirmed in Harrow the Ninth (HTN Act One Ch. 3), so if we put that together with the above quote, then there is no doubt that "the corse of the Locked Tomb" = "The Body" = "Alecto". Harrow also says in Nona the Ninth, looking upon Alecto's face "I have loved thee all my life, with mine whole soul, and with mine whole strength." To me, it wouldn't make sense for Harrow to say this looking upon Alecto's face, if Anastasia was The Body?

Therefore, given all the reasons above, I think Nona the Ninth has pretty much proven that The Body that Harrow is haunted by is Alecto, who somehow takes on the characteristics of other people that Harrow loves/mourns.

That being said, all of the above is just my personal opinion and observation! I'm not saying I'm right, and I fully welcome everything I said above being proved wrong in Alecto the Ninth!

#thank you for such an interesting ask... it was fun revisiting an old theory #asks #replies #blackmelange #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #ntn spoilers #tlt spoilers #alecto the first #harrowhark nonagesimus #htn spoilers

[olivia091108]

For the film

Summary:y/n and Johnny are doing a film together and are fake dating to promote the film

Word count:1.6k

Pairing:Johnny Knoxville x reader

Getting a call from the director is never good so I walk into his office to see what’s wrong. When I see that Johnny is there I’m not as worried it’s probably something about a script change. I take a seat next to Johnny and ask what’s going on

The movies coming out in 4 months and we’re trying to find a way to promote it.

“Cant you just put out billboards like everyone else?” Johnny asks

“That’s what everyone does I want to do something exciting so me and the team came up with you two pretend to date”

“What?! What do you mean”

“Just going out on dates and being seen together then the paparazzi will put out the pictures and in interviews you can say how you fell in love and once the films out your done easy”

“No one’s gonna believe that”

“Your actors just act. Speaking of we’ve wrapped for the day since we’re trying to find locations”

Me and Johnny leave his office and it’s a bit awkward to be honest because I know that we kiss for the movie but this is different it’s actually real

“Wanna come round mine and we can figure this out” Johnny’s voice snaps me out my thoughts and I nod

“I’ll be round in an hour”

“Alright see you then”

Johnny’s house was really nice it was the right size for him and inside is decorated and it’s quite clean for Johnny. He just finished getting us a takeaway from burger king and he comes back in holding two beers and hands one to me.

“Ok so i was thinking if were going to be doing interviews they will obviously ask how it happened so we should figure that out any ideas.”

“We has mind blowing sec and you couldn’t get enough of me” he says it so seriously i could barley tell if he was joking.

“No how about we were flirting on set a lot i like you you like me and we kiss and then go out on a date.”

“Boring we should go out to a club or bar and then we come outside kiss make sure paparazzi get the shot then you come back to mine.”

“What so its like a one night stand then we fall in love. I don’t think so that would only be talked about for 3 weeks tops.”

After 10 minutes the food got here and we still hadn’t decided on anything and with a couple of empty beers next to me i was getting a but tipsy

“Ok ok ok how about we get seen together doing normal co star things but it gets more girlfriend boyfriendy until like a month and a half before the films released where we confess to dating”

“Thats actually a pretty good idea fir someone whos drunk” taking extreme offence to that i start denying profusely.

“Your too drunk to drive stay here tonight”

“Thanks johnny”

“its fine doll”and he shows me to the guest bedroom and i get straight into bed with my clothes on and fall asleep straight away.

When we get to set i have a hangover its not too bad but it will be a long day. I go to the makeup department and then go to wardrobe and get into costume.

After filming a few scenes me and johnny are just hanging out by my trailer sitting on the steps to it when i see Claire trying to hide behind one of the other trailers

“You ok claire?”

“Oh yeah im great you too just keep doing that ill just be back here”shes obviously hiding something

“Claire what are you doing?”

“I got sent here to take photos of you two”

“You could have just said” i chuckle at her and turn to johnny and put hi hand on my thigh and just tell him to keel talking while i smile.we hear a few clicks of claires camrea

“You got it?”johnny asks. “Yeah thanks guys”

It was like that the rest of the week and by Friday we were front page

Johnny Knoxville and co-star y/n y/l/n are seen canoodling on set of new movie

The following week me and Johnny are seen going to eatchothers apartments and seen with eatchothers friends. It’s honestly quite funny because me and and Johnny already do this stuff.

After a month of that sort of things happening we are actually going to Hawaii to film the rest of the movie. It was about 5:45 am when i got to the airport and i was dressed in practically pjs but as soon as i got there my eyes got blinded by paparazzi and Johnny came over to me and held my hand to get me inside.

It didn’t stop there though on the plane even our director was taking photos and telling us how to pose saying things like “put your arm round her johnny” “y/n lean on him” “now pretend to fall asleep on eatchother”

Once we got to Hawaii I immediately wanted to look around ad spend time in the beach but first I had to work. We were shooting a. Scene where the whole cast was going on a tour in the rainforest but Johnnys character gets us lost from the group

It was great there were so many animals and this one monkey kept clinging onto me and during on of the takes he jumps down onto me and starts wrapping itself round me and I wanted to keep it ad once we had finished filming i didnt want to say goodbye

By the time we got back to the hotel the sun was about to set so I wanted to head to the beach and watch the sunset and go for a swim.

The sunset was beautiful and the water wasn’t too cold and I began to float on my back and swim to the bottom picking up one of those shells that you can hear the beach in

Once i resurface I see Johnny watching me and I swim over and get out the water heading over to him.

“Look what I found isnt it gorgeous”i proudly show off the shell but as the wind picks up I shiver and Johnny pulls me into his chest not even caring that I’m drenched. I look up at him and he smiles before looking back at the sunset and I wrap mr arms round his waist and lean in even more to try and warm myself up and we watch the sunset.

“I was thinking we’ve finished the film and soon we will have to show everyone that we’re dating so we should kiss” I tell him

“Now?”

“Why not it’s not like we haven’t before and anyway I see Claire hiding over there.”

I wrap my arms round his neck and lean up to kiss him slow at first and I feel his hands glide down my back to grab at my ass wich makes me smile against the kiss.

My feelings for Johnny changed after that its like every time I saw him i didn’t want to pretend ro date him I wanted to actually date him so now in every situation I foul I would convince him that we need to kiss or ho on a fare fir the paparazzi.

Me and Johnny have a collection of magazines. Every time we were published we would buy the magazine and go round one of our houses and laugh about the things they would say.

“Omg that photo is awful why would they choose that” I would complain

“You look gorgeous doll”I immediately felt butterfly’s swarm my stomach

“Your ass looks better than mine in those jeans” i point at him on the front cover

“Your tits look great” I grab the magazine and stare at the photo of us on the beach. “Omg they look huge”

But now every tine a magazine would say stuff about the two of us I wanted it to be real like him for real taking me to dinner and fur real spending the night at eatchothers houses not just as friends and fir real him kissing me.

Tonight is the premier of our movie and by next week we will break up but im just going to enjoy it while it lasts. Im wearing a black dress with a snake going down my spine and deep cut to show off my cleavage.

While in the taxi I want to confess my feelings to him before we break up so now’s the time

“Johnny I have something I have to say. I like you like more than s friend I have for a while now and I know that we were only pretending to promote the movie but the pat 4 months have been the best of my life snd I know that you probably dont care bu-

He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss and it gets cut off as the driver announces that we are here.

I walk onto the red carpet Johnny with his arm round my waist and we pose together and do some interviews before he kisses me and ive never seen more flashes in my life and I know this will make front page.

I feel like its rushed but it literally took me 4 hours so I hope you like it

-liv

#liv’s writing #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville x reader

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 4

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: Robin doubles down and Steve's having nightmares, imagined and real.

Warnings: Language, Steve is extra sad in this one folks.

Word Count: 3635

Previous Chapter! - Next Chapter!

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Notes: I'm back! Everyone come collect your crumbs!

Summer heat enveloped Steve as he got out of the car into the garage, hot and soft on his skin after having sat in the harsh (though definitely welcomed) blow of the air conditioning during the drive back from the grocery store. He circled to the back of the vehicle, opening the trunk and deftly weaving his forearm through the loops of as many plastic bags as he could in one go; three on his right arm, three on his left, the final bag gripped in his non-dominant hand.

It wasn’t his parents' garage, he wasn’t sure whose it was, but the detail didn’t seem to hold any importance at the moment. 

The door to the house was unlocked, the residents home, so he carefully twisted the knob and inched inside. He winced as the bag containing the dozen eggs he’d bought bumped into the doorframe rather hard. He hoped the sliced cheddar cheese had taken the brunt of the whack.

“I’m home!” he called into the house and put the bags on the kitchen counter. He heard faint commotion coming from upstairs, followed by rapid footsteps.

“Oh, thank Christ,” you responded as you revealed yourself from behind the doorway to his right. It was most certainly you, though you seemed frazzled, and maybe a tad older than he thought you should look, though again, the detail seemed irrelevant. 

“What happened?” Steve questioned, concerned.

“Donny Dino has disappeared,” you explained. Steve seemed to grasp the severity of what you’ve just said, despite how silly it might sound to an outside observer.

“Not Donny Dino,” he proclaimed, a smile on his face despite the shake of his head.

“Do not laugh, this is a life or death situation!” you exclaimed, though you seemed to be suppressing a laugh of your own.

“It is not ‘life or death.’ It’s a stuffed Brachiosaurus.”

“A stuffed Brachiosaurus that our son loves more than both of us combined!” you declared. You moved across the tile floor to the other side of the kitchen, checking underneath the table as you went. “Why can’t these kinds of crises ever happen to you, huh? I go to the store, the kid sits happy as a goddamn clam, but the moment you leave, shit hits the fan!”

“We will find Donny Dino, alright?” Steve assured you. You bent down to look underneath the sofa, probably for the fourth or fifth time. “He’s here somewhere.”

“I know, it’s fine, but he’s panicked, and that always leaves me panicked, and-” you cut yourself off, straitening up and turning to look at Steve, when a small voice called with all its might;

“I found him!”

Another bout of quick, excited footsteps followed, a small boy bounding down the steps and stopping only just before ramming himself into Steve’s knees. Looking at him, with his own big baby deer eyes and the fluffy green dinosaur held tightly in his arms, Steve felt a swell of adoration bloom in his chest

“Where was he, buddy?” you asked as you scooped him up into your arms.

“Under the bed,” the boy explained very matter-of-factly.

“What?” you asked, deflating just a touch. “You told me you already looked there, little dude!”

“I didn’t see him the first time!” 

“Or the second time, or the third time, yeah, yeah,” you said, smiling as you walked into the kitchen with Steve following behind you. 

Steve worked quickly to get the groceries put away as you and the boy sat at the table pushed up against the windows, discussing the harrowing journey poor Donny Dino had to go through before finally being rescued from “the under the bed,” as the boy put it. Steve had just opened one of the cabinets, back turned towards the kitchen table, when a loud crack of thunder sounded, seemingly coming from nowhere. 

“That’s odd. Didn’t think it was supposed to rain today,” Steve said as he turned to look out the windows. The bright, sunny sky he had been under just a few minutes ago had darkened, turning a foreboding gray, filled with fat storm clouds and crackly lightning. A pit formed in his stomach; no, that’s not right, that can’t be right. 

“Steve?” you asked from behind him, voice small and unnaturally even, like you had to think out your words very carefully. 

You were standing now, and the boy in your arms had his face tucked into your neck. Steve was about to ask you what was wrong when big, horrible vines made themselves visible from behind you, wriggling and dripping with muck as they slowly, painfully slowly, began to intertwine around your neck, your ankles, your son.

“No,” Steve breathed out. “No!”

He ran, darted towards the two of you faster than he thought was possible. Not fast enough, though, as the vines ripped you backward into a thick black void behind you, sounds of your and your sons screaming mixing together into a horrible ring as you went flying away from-

Steve flew upright in bed, back stiff as a board. Not real, not real, it wasn’t real. His breathing was coming out strangely, though he couldn’t tell if it was too fast or not fast enough. Either way, he probably wasn’t getting the right amount of oxygen. He shut his eyes again, hard, and ghosted his hand to your side of the sheets to really, finally prove to himself that you’re okay, you’re asleep right next to him, and-

His hand was met by empty sheets.

Oh, god, what if it hadn’t actually been a nightmare? What if it had been real, and he had just forgotten? He threw himself out of the bed and scrambled out into the hall.

You were sitting at the end of the kitchen counter. The linoleum was raised above the rest of the surface there, and you were perched on one of the tall bar stools with a textbook laid out in front of you. 

“Are you alright?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” Steve supplied quickly. “Sorry, yeah. Just, uh, just a bad dream.”

“Your turn this time, huh?” you joked, though Steve was still reeling and could do little more than just nod his head and trudge over to you.

All of you still had upside down nightmares, though for the most part, they had steadily been slowing down, yours and Steve’s included. Unfortunately, however, yours had come back in full force over the last few months. Your doctor said it was fairly common; hormonal changes can result in very vivid and oftentimes upsetting dreams, she had explained. You’d been waking up screaming at odd hours of the night at least once a week for the past month and a half. It made Steve feel wildly guilty.

You greeted Steve with open arms and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage from where you were sitting. His fingertips glided ever so delicately across your bump before his whole hand planted onto it. Still there. He had to double check.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked.

“No,” he answered.

“You sure? Might make you feel better.”

“Yes.” He pulled away from you and hopped up onto the seat next to yours. His eyes caught the time glowing on the face of the microwave. It read 5:02. “What are you doing up, anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said. “Figured I might as well do something useful.”

You gestured down to the textbook on the counter. You had finals next week and, should you do as well as Steve knows you will, you would be graduating a month after that. 

“You want help?” Steve asked you. He picked up a stack of flashcards you had made.

“You should go back to bed,” you said, pulling the stack right out of Steve’s hands. It made him laugh.

“Only if you go with me, and I know you won’t, so let me help,” Steve insisted. You considered for a moment, and when Steve gave you some fantastic puppy dog eyes, you conceded.

“Fine.” You handed the stack back over to Steve, who accepted it with a dramatic flourish.

“Thank you. Okay, first question. I definitely don’t know this one,” he began. “John William Waterhouse is known for painting during which artistic movement?”

Come sunrise, you and Steve had powered through Art History, Women’s Studies, and American Literature. If the flashcards were anything to go by, you were going to pass each and every one of your finals with flying fuckin’ colors. 

Eight a.m. rolled around far too quickly for Steve’s liking, and as much as he would’ve loved to sit with you for the rest of the day, he had an opening shift he had to get to in an hour's time. 

Monday mornings at Family Video were about as dead as any store could get, but the completely full return bin kept him relatively busy once the doors were opened. Actually, if he timed the rest of the opening duties correctly, he could generally get through the day without having to do any real work at all. Usually, he would have been able to fill any extra time by chatting with Robin, but that seemed unlikely for today, if the scowl on her face from the other side of the front door told Steve anything. Keith had a matching disdainful look on his face as the pair came inside, though that wasn’t a surprise to anyone. 

Robin, of course, barrelled right past Steve into the break room without a word. He desperately wanted to follow her but knew he wouldn’t be able to say anything helpful. Keith stopped in front of him.

“I don’t know what the hell you did to her,” he remarked, voice as lifeless as ever, “but you really shat the bed on this one, huh?”

“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Steve muttered.

“Just felt like it was worth reminding you.” 

The rest of the day moved silently, and Steve was sure it would never, ever end. Three p.m. couldn’t get there fast enough. 

Keith, always on Robin’s side of any conflict (even the ones he knew absolutely nothing about), let her spend the majority of her shift doing paperwork in the office. That not only meant that Steve wasn’t able to get in a single word with her, but also that Keith was out front with him. All day long. He didn’t even get to sort through the returns like he wanted to; Keith commandeered that task pretty much immediately, leaving Steve to mindlessly walk circles around the store and pretend to look busy.

Steve spent most of the day weighing whether or not punching him in the face was worth his job.

Just past two o’clock, Robin poked her head out of the office, calling simply, “Keith! Come here for a second?” She retreated just as quickly as she had appeared.

“Watch the door,” he ordered as he rounded the desk. “And don’t touch my returns!”

Steve grumbled but did as he was told anyway. 

The pile of returns taunted him from the counter the whole time Keith was away. His organizational system didn’t even make any sense! Clearly, it wasn’t alphabetical, but it wasn’t by genre either, so-

“Harrington!” Steve jumped out of his skin at the sound of Keith calling his name, charging out of the back like a freight train. “What the hell did you do?”

“What?” Steve questioned.

“You did something!”

“And?”

“And, now I’m losing my best employee over whatever stupid bullshit you pulled!” Keith raved, slamming a piece of paper onto the counter. Steve turned his attention to it, eyes skimming across the words scribbled across the page in Robin’s chicken scratch handwriting. The only words his brain was really able to process were ‘two weeks’ notice’ and ‘last day’. 

“No, that can’t be right, she-”

“Everything was fine, and then you two got into this dumbshit fight, and you are fixing this!” Keith demanded.

“What do you want me to do?” Steve inquired. “She won’t listen to a word I say!”

“I want you to go into the office and make her stay!”

“But-”

“Office! Go!” Keith pointed towards the door.

Reluctantly, Steve left the counter and walked away. Behind him, he heard Keith call “You fucked with my tapes, didn’t you!”

Stalking through the short stockroom between rows of too-tall metal shelves, Steve felt like he was about to burst into tears. He stopped in front of the closed office door and read over Robin’s two weeks’ notice one more time before knocking on the door.

“It’s open,” Robin said through the wood. 

The office, and the stock room too, had no windows; the only light in either space came from the hissing fluorescent lights in the ceiling (it didn’t help that at least half of the bulbs had gone out, and Keith couldn’t ever remember to order more). It was always freezing back there, and the Spring heat mixed with the day’s forecast of pouring rain and dense, dark clouds, making the whole building humid to the point where there was condensation pooling on the cinder block walls. The whole back half of the place felt more like a cave than a building.

“You’re quitting?” Steve asked, holding the letter aloft. 

“The only reason I work here at all is because of you, idiot. And there’s no way you can keep working here now. I’m not gonna keep torturing myself here because of some delusional idea that you’re the same person,” Robin spat.

“What does that mean?” Steve asked. Hurt pooled behind his eyes and in his throat; he was worried he might choke on it. “I’m still me, I promise.”

“You lied to me for months.”

“And I’m sorry!” he lamented. “I should never have lied to you. I should have told you everything that was going on, from the very beginning! I was an idiot, but I was fucking scared, and-”

“I don’t really care, Steve!” Robin said. “You can be as sorry as you want to be, but that doesn’t change how much it hurts to know that you’d rather keep this shit from me than just fucking talk!”

Steve just stood there, mute.

“My last shift is next Monday. I’ll make sure Keith changes the schedule so we don’t have to see each other.” Robin stood up from the rickety old desk chair and quickly gathered up her belongings  from her locker.

“Wait, please don’t leave yet!” Steve pleaded. “Can we just talk about this?”

“Nope,” she spat out.

“Hold on, wait!” Steve chased after Robin as she darted towards the front door. Keith’s eyes followed the both of them. “Your shift doesn’t end ‘til four. Can we please just talk until then, at least?”

“Keith!” she blurted. “Can I leave early?”

“Are you still quitting?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then no,” Keith answered.

“See? Can’t leave yet,” Steve tried, desperate to get her to stay.

“Too bad,” Robin responded. She backed towards the door and called to Steve as she was pushing it open, sarcasm soaking her words, “ sure hope they don’t fire me.” 

Steve watched in silence as Robin unlocked her bike and peddled off, stormy winds whipping her hair and soaking her clothes.

“Great job,” Keith mocked. “I mean, really, that was a five star performance if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Fuck off,” Steve barked, walking passed the counter toward the stockroom door.

“Hey, you can’t talk to me like that!” Steve ignored Keith’s words as he gathered his own things to leave, his boss hot on his heels. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You definitely don’t get to leave, I need you to cover the rest of Robin’s shift!”

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure something out,” Steve huffed, pushing the door open and stomping to his car. He sped out of the parking lot with a squeal.

Steve thought, sometimes, that he felt all of his emotions much stronger than everyone else felt theirs. He must, right? The only other person he knew who cried as much as he did was you, and that was really only because you were pregnant, so in his head, it didn’t count. 

He used to despise it when he was younger; he thought there was something wrong with him, though that line of thinking was most likely his father’s doing; Steve was always too sensitive for his dad. By the time he was in high school, he had gotten very good at pushing it all down, down, down, into the recesses of his brain, where sadness could transform into anger, anger into aggression. 

He’d grown up a lot since then, but he’d naively assumed that becoming an adult would make his feelings easier to handle. Clearly, he had been wrong, and he felt just as powerless and small in the face of his emotions as he had when he was little. It all felt far too big for him to have to face all by himself.

And he really did have to face it by himself. He had you, but it was really more like you had him. It was his job to shoulder the brunt of the weight, and god, he wished more than anything in the world that he hadn’t pushed Robin away like he did. He desperately needed her to untangle everything he was feeling, to revel in the joy and quell his incessant worry about what he (well, really you) was experiencing.

He knew that it was his own damn fault that Robin was angry, and the feeling left a physical ache in his bones. It wasn’t the baby she was mad about (he really hoped it wasn’t, at least) it was Steve’s cowardice. The lying, the sneaking, the fact that he was too much of a pussy to just tell her the fucking truth! And even in the end, she still didn’t end up hearing it from him! Every bit of vile anger that Robin threw his way felt completely deserved.

Steve had lost his mother, and now his closest friend, and if it weren’t for you, he might not have had anyone left at all. 

He had calmed down some by the time he made it back home. The sound of fat raindrops colliding with the roof of the car provided Steve with the perfect white noise to fill up his head and drown out his pathetic self-pity before he could walk through your apartment door and worry you with any of it.

Steve shut the door, turned to face it, and dropped his forehead to the wood with a thud. He shut his eyes and sighed. He could feel the condensation from his breath build up and make the paint feel sticky. So far, he had fixed exactly nothing. 

“That you?” you called through the apartment. 

Steve sucked in a sharp breath and responded, “yeah.”

You appeared in the kitchen. Steve tried his hardest to put on a convincing smile.

“How was your day?” he asked you. The absolute last thing he wanted to talk about was his own. 

“Good. Yeah, good,” you responded. You were fidgeting with the odds and ends on the counter, like you were pretending to dust. You flitted through the room. “My, uhm, my mom called.”

“What?”

“Told me they aren’t going to fly out for my graduation, so I shouldn’t bother saving them any tickets,” you stated very matter-of-factly. 

“Seriously?” Steve asked, dumbfounded.

“Yep,” you chirped. You began wiping down the countertop with a wet rag.

“Did you tell her. . .” he trailed off. He was sure you would know what he meant.

“Yeah. I did.”

“What’d she say?”

“Nothing. She just hung up.”

Steve wanted to kill your mother. He wanted to kill her for the way she treated you, and he wanted to kill your father for the way he did nothing about it. This was by no means a new desire for him, but whatever anger he had felt towards them in the past paled in comparison to how he felt hearing what you had just told him.

Your mother had reached a new level of cruelty that made his blood absolutely boil.

After the “earthquakes,” they wanted to move away, out of state, and you didn’t want to follow them. You had already turned eighteen at that point, you were an adult; they couldn’t force you to go, but your mother took it personally and your father was too much of a pushover to go against her wishes in any way.

Things just never really went back to normal after that.

“Jesus, that’s,” was all he could think to say. “That’s awful.”

“Y’know, honestly,” you began. “I think it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked. The tone of your voice, the way you told him all of this as if it was no different from any other anecdote about your daily goings on, made him think it was very much not fine. 

“I am,” you said. “They don’t get to be half in half out of my life. Either they’re here, or they’re not here. It’s all or nothing, I’m not going to force them to love me if they don’t.”

“They do love you,” Steve insisted, though you only responded with a look that read as ‘are you fucking kidding me?’. 

“All or nothing,” you reiterated. “They have chosen ‘nothing.’ No good reason to pretend like they haven’t.”

Steve made his way over to where you were standing in front of the sink with your back turned to him. His hands met your sides in a wildly delicate touch, your name a whisper on his lips as they met your left temple. You turned around in his arms and he held you tightly as you cried.

Tiny Little Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @hazydespair @damon-loves-pie @pariahsparadise @anislabonis-love @alexa4040 @starsforviolet @luvlexi-darling @palmtreesx3 @prestinalove

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x you #joe keery #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x f!reader

[daftpatience]

heurhgh. thinkin abt the prince and the sea witch AU because i am an ocean boy and and and theres so much to thinkabout with this one!!!! i love aus that tap into classic fairytales becasue theres so much to work with!!! connections to make and parallels to draw

context and thoughts under tha cut cus this au sorta escaped me at first and there's very little stuff about it in english

the original au came from a leaflet that was bundled with volume 8 on toranoana:

rough translation explains that mermaid princess hinaichi rescued prince ronaldo, and sea witch draluc offers to give her legs to meet him again (and if he doesn't like her she'll turn into seafoam) which she declines. (literally what she says is "no need!" and the big words to the side of her say "no regrets" which is hilarious.) thats the end of the story and ronaldo is left alone. also, john is a sea turtle that lives in a clam.

im lifting my own headcanons and such from the original little mermaid story (not so much the didney one) where the prince doesn't see the mermaid and instead falls in love with this woman who comes to help him from a nearby temple (who he doesn't realize is actually the princess he's betrothed to later.) in this au that's draluc who was observing from a distance. (i just drew a half sunken agora and im calling that a temple. watever. its refd from one of the old arts and i think its pretty)

i like the idea that ronaldo exaggerates his own memory of spotting draluc that day due to the distance making details difficult paired with the fact that he was probably a little delirious. the idea that he doesn't immediately put together that draluc is the person he saw is kinda fun 2 me, and of course he'd make up some beautiful girl in his head. of course he would.

im messing with some ideas about draluc deciding to meddle with ronaldo instead - does he offer to turn him into a merman to look for his made up maiden? or does draluc come to land for his own reasons? maybe they visit each other at the temple every day and bring each other little things and talk and stuff. itd be cute if they butted heads but still went to see each other every day anyways.

a popular thing in the au is draluc being captured - maybe ronaldo, desparate to find his love and only knowing she was some sort of fish, does something stupid like setting up nets and traps. hahah. maybe he catches draluc and takes him to his castle to learn about merfolk and such. iunno. whatever the case i hope they fall in love in the process and also bicker a lot like their usual schtick

ive got a little sad idea that borrows from some 30 years later au stuff where draluc is worried about ronaldo's lifespan (this is also in the orig little mermaid where mermaids live longer than humans by hundreds of years) but also can't turn human to match ronaldo because it's too painful for him to walk on legs (since one of the au rules is that he must always be weak and the orig little mermaid made it clear that legs hurted real bad)

also also i very big headcanon draluc the sea witch has a sunken castle that looks a lot like ponyo's dad's house on the inside. fulla potions and stuff. wouldnt that be cute! maybe hes got an interest in human life/a collection of old things kinda like didney little mermaid - since canon draluc is so well adjusted to modern human stuff like games and livestreams and whatnot. in this au i think he'd be a lot more stubborn and reluctant to admit it, though, cus i also like the idea that his grandpa went the route of loving a human and going to land and maybe he doesn't want to end up like that? but it might be fate just cus draluc and ronaldo parallel D and helsing so well.

also i still want hinaichi to be in it but her rejection of the plot is so funny and good, i don't want to shove her in without thinking of a good way for it to make sense. she's good friends with draluc and likes his cooking...can you cook underwater??? maybe magically?? maybe draluc takes up cooking on land and brings hinaichi things he makes??? maybe then she gets interested in humans and wants to come to land to try all the cooking theyve got. iunno.

i usually keep this sort of note taking and doodling to myself but this fandom needs all the stimulation it can get. hiii hellooo :]

#tvdint #the vampire dies in no time #kyuuketsuki sugu shinu #吸血鬼すぐ死ぬ #prince and the sea witch au #that tag has nothing in it related to this atm so uhh yeah #prince and the octopus au #tvdint au #im so embarassed to be posting draluc with tentacles. i m fucked. im so fucked #also sorry for sketching so small. being at like 100% zoom puts me at ease #kyuushi

[jack-pseudonym]

A Love Letter to Herobrine

So, fun fact: that screenshot that I'm using as the thumbnail is not the origin of Herobrine as a piece of Minecraft mythology. This image was first posted on 4chan around August 31st, 2010, and the character had been floating around the Minecraft forum for a while before that.

The earliest description of a character resembling Herobrine was posted around July on a general creepypasta thread. The Minecraft wiki calls this story "White Eyes." It was posted by a user named Flaky and you can read it here. The post doesn't feature the iconic Herobrine design, but it's the origin of a lot of the beats that keep coming up in Minecraft horror stories.

To summarize real quick: a Minecraft Alpha player is so creeped out by the weird noises and phenomena in a cave under their base that they seal it up and move elsewhere. Eventually they discover a dungeon with a single broken music disc inside, which causes the cave noises to return louder than before. To play the disc, they need resources from their old storage room built directly above the cursed cave. When they return to their base, the player has an encounter with a pair of glowing white eyes. Eventually they go creepypasta-insane from listening to the music disc and (I think) die.

The contents of this post are not as important as the fact that the author provides us with a screenshot of the cave, which should be right next to the famous Herobrine image in the history books.

(If you're not seeing it, check the bottom left.)

The next Herobrine sighting is the famous one. It's pretty much a compilation of all the ideas about the character that were floating around the Minecraft forum at the time. The main thing it introduces to the canon is the idea that the "Herobrine" account was owned by the deceased brother of famous Minecraft dev Hatsune Miku. The obvious implication is that Herobrine is his ghost. It also gives us the classic "fog hill" image, of course.

The third "canon" sighting was concocted by an early Minecraft streamer named Copeland. This is the highest effort of the three and probably the first Herobrine Sighting Video ever recorded. The first thing Copeland did was edit Herobrine into a few wide screenshots of his base to create hype for the stream. This resulted in the third member of the triumvirate of famous Herobrine screenshots, and honestly maybe the creepiest.

In order to get Herobrine on video, Copeland changed the texture of a painting. He went live shortly after, playing like normal for a while before “encountering Herobrine” in a dimly-lit room, screaming, running out of the room, and turning the game off. He continued to stream for a bit after that before declaring he would delete the world.

Why is Minecraft scary?

It's important to keep in mind that Minecraft at this point had exactly one full-time developer and no marketing department. The only reason a given thing was added to this version of Minecraft was that the developer thought it sounded interesting. This had two major effects on the state of the game that enhanced its creepypasta factor substantially.

One: the game is very bare-bones. Minecraft Alpha's infinite replayability comes from its core concept rather than a depth of additional features. Even some basic quality-of life fixes like the ability to stack most food items are absent from this version of the game. This resulted in the features that were present being scrutinously analyzed and theorized about by hundreds of people at a time on the forums, because once you had diamond armor and a big house there wasn't much else to do except dig into mechanics.

Two: many of those mechanics and features that did exist in Alpha were bizarre, and several of them seem like the developer was going out of their way to create a creepy atmosphere. Let's take a look at the mechanics I'm talking about and examine how each of them contributed to the Herobrine mythology.

Fog and light

One thing the White Eyes story and the famous Herobrine post have in common is a focus on low view distance. The second post even specifically mentions that they were playing with their render distance set very low since their computer didn’t have the specs to run anything higher, which most people in the 2010 indie gaming community could probably relate to.

This is relevant because Minecraft cuts off your view distance really sharply. If your render distance is set close to you, everything beyond the cutoff disappears into a thick bank of fog. This is probably best illustrated by looking at the same hill from the famous screenshot with a higher render distance.

In the Herobrine screenshot, this entire back half of the hill is completely cut off. Literally anything could be inside the fog and it would be totally invisible until you got within a few dozen blocks.

On top of that, this hard cutoff of visibility happens the same way with darkness. Walking just a few blocks into a cave leaves you completely unable to see anything until you place a torch. And, of course, if that torch were to be somehow removed, you would be instantly plunged into pitch blackness. Just look at the White Eyes screenshot up above.

The simplistic lighting engine of Minecraft Alpha is obviously not intended to make the game scarier. That said, as someone who’s become totally accustomed to modern Minecraft’s smooth lighting mechanics, it’s really remarkable how much more eerie the game is when you’re consistently forced to walk into total darkness and thick fog to get anything done. Without smooth lighting, when night starts to fall it looks like an enormous shadow passing over the whole world.

If you've heard of the classic Internet creepypasta Ted the Caver, there's a bit where Ted is stuck inside a similarly cursed cave with no light. Earlier in the story, the writer points out that darkness in caves is different from darkness above ground - there is straight-up no light to see with. Your eyes never adjust. Something could be literally inches from from his face and he would never see it. These older versions of Minecraft feel like that.

(If you want to experience the horrors yourself in the modern day, turn smooth lighting off, brightness down to Moody, and crank your render distance down. I seriously recommend it.)

Dungeons

Dungeons are the only place in this version of Minecraft where you can find naturally generated cobblestone. The normal way to get cobblestone is to mine stone and place it back down, and it was the go-to strong building block for quite a while. This gives dungeons the distinct feeling of having been built by someone.

But this is contrasted with the monster spawner, which is one of the most alien blocks in the game. It’s not obtainable in survival mode in any way, it’s destroyed if you try to pick it up, and the floating image of a monster inside the cage is still probably the least blocky thing in the game.

Dungeons are also extremely rare for some reason. You could easily spend weeks in the same survival world and never find one, especially if you didn't enjoy caving for the sake of it once you had all the diamonds you needed.

All this is to say that if you were a Minecraft player in 2010 who’d never encountered one, someone on the forum describing finding a dungeon would sound exactly like the intro to any other creepypasta you'd read recently, right up until it happened to you. It's hard to convince your subconscious that an eerie forum story is completely fictional when things like dungeons are real.

Music discs

Okay, I've been writing about the eerie side of Minecraft for like a thousand words, and I somehow haven't brought this up yet. We need to talk about Discs 11 and 13.

The vast majority of music discs in Minecraft are electronic music tracks composed by German musician C418. They’re basically lo-fi beats to relax / play Minecraft to. There are two considerable exceptions to this genre. Let’s talk about 11 first.

The first thing you’ll notice about it is that the colored portion is black and the outside of the disc is cracked and broken, which is one of the most creepypasta things to ever be in a real game. And then, when you pop it into the jukebox and turn it on, instead of lo-fi electronic beats, you get this.

The track opens with heavy breathing and footsteps on stone, as the recorder of the disc runs through what is pretty clearly a cave. They sound terrified of something, but after a few seconds they stop and catch their breath. Soon, though, there’s a sound like faraway music and the recorder breaks into a run, faster this time, terrified again. The speed of the footsteps increases until the sound changes from stone to dirt, a sign that they’re almost at the surface, until there’s something that sounds like a growl and the sound abruptly cuts off. The last few seconds of the recording are static.

This is probably the most overtly horror-themed Minecraft ever gets, and this disc features heavily in a lot of Minecraft creepypasta. It makes sense. In the middle of an album of chill, electronic music, there’s one disc that’s a found footage horror short film, complete with the person holding the recorder meeting with some fate at the end. Imagine you’re going through your friend’s old VHS collection and there’s a copy of The Poughkeepsie Tapes in the middle of it with no explanation.

Also, this is the only time there’s any real physical evidence of another person existing in this world. Villages weren’t added until the release of Beta months later, and even then, this doesn’t sound like a villager. It sounds like us.

Disc 13 is less infamous by comparison, but it’s still jarring compared to the rest of the soundtrack. 13 consists mostly of slow, reverberating ringing sounds, and at this point I’m going to bring in the last weird Minecraft feature, because they sound like cave noises.

Cave noises are maybe even more infamous among the community than disc 11 as “the thing that makes Minecraft scary.” The most common of these noises are either relatively realistic, like wind or something, or eerie but obviously musical, like part of the soundtrack. Every so often, though, you’ll get one that sounds like footsteps, or the sound of a minecart traveling down a distant track. There’s obviously nothing actually there, but it’s another piece of evidence that even if you’re the only person in this world, there are things here that you didn’t make. This is not helped by the fact that the criteria for a cave noise occurring include darkness.

Conclusion 1

If you take all of these things together - the fog, the darkness, the weird signs that you’re not necessarily alone in this world - it’s easy to see where the sheer amount of creepypasta about this game comes from. It would not be unbelievable in 2010 that something like Herobrine could actually be in the game, and even if you were an adult and didn’t buy that he literally existed, Minecraft Alpha is still a nearly perfect game for scaring the shit out of yourself after just having read a bunch of horror stories.

(I know this because I scared the shit out of myself several times while revisiting Minecraft Alpha for this essay.)

Why Herobrine?

Surprise! There's more.

So we know where the Herobrine story comes from: a bunch of people playing an old, weird sandbox game that - intentionally or by accident - also functions surprisingly well as a survival horror game, and scaring themselves because it’s fun.

Now I want to talk about why the Herobrine story specifically resonated so hard with people that it still exists while hundreds of others have been basically forgotten. Keep in mind, the White Eyes story originated on a thread for a completely different creepypasta that no one has ever heard of. So what’s special about Herobrine?

To start with, we need to take a look at the specifics of Herobrine that set it apart from other creepypasta characters. The Minecraft wiki has a definition of “canonical” Herobrine that includes the first forum posts and images, like the famous 4chan post, as well as the Copeland streams. These are, quote, “fundamental to the creation and popularization of the character.” So let’s look at the commonalities between them.

Herobrine apologism

The most interesting thing these stories have in common, especially compared to more modern Herobrine, is a complete lack of aggression from Herobrine in game. The narrator of White Eyes does go crazy and maybe die, but that happens due to influence from Disc 11. The actual entity with the white eyes only appears once, and it never personally acts on the player.

In the original 4chan post, Herobrine is explicitly stated to run away and disappear if the player tries to approach and get a clearer look at him. The Copeland saga begins with Herobrine watching him in the corner of a screenshot, and even during the close encounter Herobrine doesn’t chase him out of the house or even follow him. He just stands there.

Just looking at the original Herobrine canon, there’s almost no reason to even conclude he’s malevolent at all.

So if Herobrine isn’t out to get you in the original canon, what does he do? Aside from watching you from the edge of your vision, there are a few consistent things to watch out for in the oldest videos. The most famous Herobrine signs are pyramids made of sand, trees with the leaves removed, and tunnels to nowhere, almost always lit with redstone torches.

The thing that strikes me about these signs is that they’re almost player-like, except with no internal logic to them. Building structures, cutting down trees, and digging tunnels are core to the gameplay loop of Minecraft, except in the Herobrine versions there’s no productivity. The pyramids are uninhabitable and the tunnels are never deep enough to find ore. It’s like what someone would do if they knew what you were supposed to do in Minecraft, but couldn’t understand why.

By far the most common explanation for the origin of Herobrine is that he’s a ghost. The most famous herobrine story says that he’s the dead brother of Hatsune Miku, and that part of the mythos is considered basically canon now. Even if you don’t like that element (can you tell I don’t?), a lot of posts from this time period describe him as the ghost of a miner. This is probably because the game literally has inexplicable mining sounds programmed into its caves. Either way, it’s hard to avoid the idea that Herobrine used to be a normal guy. Someone who lived in this empty world before you did.

"REAL HEROBRINE SIGHTING 100% PROOF"

There’s a Youtube playlist that I come back to a lot. It’s called “The Oldest Herobrine Sightings Ever (In Order!)” Most of the videos are either clearly faked, made by a 9-year-old, or clearly faked by a 9-year-old, but they still have a vibe to them that totally captivated me when I was younger and half buying into it.

They still give me a similar feeling years later, which is obviously partially due to nostalgia, but I don’t think the feeling is actually the exact same. It’s not quite nostalgia, and it’s not the the fear-slash-fascination I felt in 2012, glued to these videos while ready to run out of the room at any time in case something too scary happened. It’s closer to a good kind of melancholy.

And if you go back to The Oldest Herobrine Sightings Ever with the idea of feeling some empathy for him, it makes them hit a lot harder than if you just assume he's a murder ghost who’s coming to get you. I know I’m pretty far into Death of the Author territory at this point; I’m projecting an amount of emotional complexity onto fake cryptid sightings made by internet babies that almost definitely wasn’t there to begin with, but that doesn’t make this reading of the story any less impactful to me.

In order to make this point of view more believable, I’ve cherrypicked a video from the playlist for us to look at. The video is, naturally, called “REAL HEROBRINE SIGHTING 100% PROOF” by CreeperAssassin87. It's only five minutes long and I recommend watching it so you can determine for yourself if I'm making shit up.

In the video, CreeperAssassin heads out of their (pretty impressive) base only to find themselves face-to-face with the man himself. What happens next is probably the best example of my point in the whole playlist, but if you watch the other videos closely you can notice this pattern.

CreeperAssassin says very confidently that Herobrine started “chasing” them, but look at what he’s actually doing. He’s not running at the player or even really looking at the screen, and he’s not armed with anything more dangerous than a pickaxe. Remember, at this point in history, Herobrine wasn’t believed to have any magic powers to attack you with either. There’s nothing actually threatening going on here.

After that jumpscare, CreeperAssassin naturally spends the rest of the video running away and hiding, with Herobrine following close behind. My favorite part comes after the player has sealed themselves inside the wall of the castle. Herobrine breaks in, and once he has CreeperAssassin completely cornered...

...he doesn’t do anything. He just stands there and stares. The narration claims to have “luckly escaped” [sic], but I genuinely find it hard to see any malice in his behavior here.

One of the last appearances of Herobrine in the video is him watching CreeperAssassin through the window of their base after they block off the door. At this point, the video has firmly established that he's able to break blocks, and CreeperAssassin is completely cornered again. If he wanted to harm the player, he could do it easily. But once he's shut out, he just resigns himself to it.

Again, this video is probably the strongest example, but this observation holds pretty well for the vast majority of Herobrine sightings from this time period. If you shift your perspective a little bit, his behavior is not far off from what a normal person might do if they encountered another player for the first time.

Oh, hello. Who are you? It's nice to finally meet someone else. I thought I was alone out here.

Of course, nearly everyone he meets runs away and shuts him out. Eventually most of them either abandon their haunted worlds or delete them entirely.

Conclusion 2

For a lot of people on the Minecraft forums in 2010, Herobrine may have been an introduction to stories like this. I obviously doubt that a tragedy about a ghost doomed to wander alone forever was what any of the people involved here intended to make. That said, those emotions are still present, and strongly enough that they inspired me to write this entire thing.

I believe this contrast between the fear created by reading a scary story about an eerie game and the inherent sadness of the Herobrine figure is what made this story stand the test of time. Compare Herobrine with his more one-dimensionally hostile imitators, and then compare him with other creepypasta hall-of-famers like Ben Drowned. All the greatest urban legends make you feel something more complex than "afraid."

One last thing that I thought made a really good anecdote to conclude this vibes-based essay.

One of the most successful post-canon additions to the Herobrine lore is the idea of a Herobrine spawner, a structure you can build that will let him in to your world. The materials needed to do this are pretty consistent between stories, involving a base made of gold, redstone torches, sometimes some mossy cobblestone, and a netherrack pillar on top. Lighting the netherrack on fire is what activates the structure.

(There are some pretty obvious parallels here with real-life rituals meant to summon ghosts or spirits, especially the lighting of a fire.)

The origin of this structure, as far as I can tell, dates back to one of the first ever mods meant to add Herobrine to the game, a server plugin released in 2010. This plugin not only introduced the spawner, but Herobrine’s behavior in it is really interesting. He’s much more docile in this plugin than in the substantially more famous Herobrine Mod released the following year, where he directly attacks the player and summons zombies and whatnot.

The keystone here is the name of the plugin, the file you have to download to let him into your world. It’s not called “Him,” or “WakeUp,” or “WhiteEyes.”

It’s called “iLoveYou.”

#pseudoessay #minecraft #minecraft alpha #herobrine #creepypasta #migrated from old website #long post

[almostgenerallyalways]

tgm fic recs

@stcverogers tagged one of my fics in a rec list yesterday and i thought it was such a good idea, i wanted to share some of my own favs

in no particular order:

* * *

hangman 

one time thing // kiss the sun (fight the fire) // love that’s a real long shot  He nods again like that’s exactly what he expected you to say. “I think you’re wrong. Doesn’t matter now though, does it?” i would rec anything by @callsignvalley but this is probably the series that got me most. i also love tailspin and its rooster follow up steady

california coast in your green eyes // i’ll carry my bags just until i can hold you again (2 different series) Bob’s older sister gets the news that his plane went down during a training drill, and shows up at the hospital at the same time as an arrogant pilot. //  Six months after they break up, Jake shows up at Julie’s Family thanksgiving. A second chance holiday romance with fake dating, family drama, and fall festivities. @theharddeck these fics, esp carry my bags, feel so so real and human to me, i love julie and the characterisation of jake feels so on point i also love her series out of the clear, blue sky as well as kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit + its follow ups

i’ve been holdin’ out so long (4 part series) You can’t stand Hangman, but your dreams lately say otherwise. He notices. @steadfastconviction i adore Bluegrass and her sass

do not engage (series) You hate Hangman. Really, you do... Or so you like to think, until it begins to seem like that distaste might not be as strong as you’d prefer to believe. @clints-lucky-arrow the entire f&f universe is great but Duchess especially is a badass

afterburn (series) It had been clear from the moment you got inside a cockpit that you were going to be something special. You certainly weren’t the youngest Naval Aviator to be invited to TOPGUN, but you had been the youngest to graduate at number one in more than thirty years. Which is all the more reason why it was so tragic that you would never, ever, be able to fly again. @top-hhun is a master of setting a scene

the off-season (series) It was supposed to just be one summer. But somehow you found yourself living in your grandparent’s Maine vacation house indefinitely. It was quiet when the summer tourists left, but tolerable. That was, until your brother’s friend from college needed a place to crash and he somehow wound up staying in your guest bedroom. Also indefinitely. @ereardon just started this series but i’m so into this world (au) already

fuck (the universe) (series) You’re a Kazansky–Tom “Iceman” Kazinsky’s youngest daughter–and you’ve taken after your father and become a Naval aviator. You finished at the top of your class at Top Gun and have worked diligently and fruitlessly to get to where you are now: North Island. You don the call-sign Wisteria not only because the beauty of the flower but because of its lethal qualities. i mention @roosterbruiser below bc i read landslide first but holy fuck indeed

* * *

rooster 

landslide (series) It’s been almost three years since the accident that took half of her, and Faye “Clover” Ledger seems fine, really. She loves her old house, she has a perpetually expanding vinyl collection, she’s got a job she likes on base, and she is only a short drive from the beach. She’s grounded--literally. @roosterbruiser landslide is one of those fics i have to read in little bits because it’s just too good. beautiful writing that just transports me (and i love faye, she may be the most developed fanfic oc i’ve ever read - and I love her taste in music)

baby let’s play house // pt 2  you got yourself in trouble. bradley has a bit of a savior complex. together, you come up with what could potentially be the worst idea in the longstanding and illustrious history of bad ideas. @seasonsbloom i just really love this fic, it shows all the quietest best parts of bradley

first impressions  at the induction day for the newest recruits of the Golden Warriors of VFA 87, rooster assumes you’re a civilian, instead of, you know, a member of his team? you see how far you can push it before he figures it out.  @ohcaptains‘s pilot in this fic is the badass bitch i wish i could be. as well as fucking funny.

like i can (series) After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay. @sometimesanalice perfect blend of cute, funny and heartmelting

* * *

bob 

he’s so pretty (when he goes down on me) // pt 2  things between you and Bob are strictly business: he’s your backseater, and that’s all there is. @seasonsbloom‘s writing is so good it made me want to try writing fic myself

* * *

hangman x rooster

we’re fools to make war In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. or: it's a hundred degrees in texas. i can’t find a tumblr link for this but the writer is @baroness-elsa. this is 66k words and i read it in two days which probably says enough. holy shit.

* * *

there are many many more (this fandom is FULL of talented writers, damn) but this already took me an hour so that’ll be part 2 haha

#tgm fic recs #rooster x reader #hangman x reader #bob floyd x reader #hangman x rooster #favs

[inkblot-inc]

Call Me Anything But Human

Summary: There's aways something that lurks in the dark, but often what's scarier is what lies out in the open.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf!Reader

Warning(s): 18+ as per usual, so hey MINORS DNI. there's also smut near the end; we got cnc, strap on use (wanda recieving), and edging (R recieving). Dark Themes; R literally eats someone alive, so like blood and gore + cannibalism(?), pretty sure there's language as well, I dunno about you, but that's probably the least of your concerns reading the previous warnings-

Note(s): What’s more self-indulgent than sharing a new universe earlier than planned? Hahaha someone please humor me here, I have so many goddamn WIPS. It's a lil intro for everything else to come as usual. I hope you enjoy :3

Word Count: floating around 2.2k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

You watched from afar as the frail old lady hobbled her way back into her tiny cabin. The closest house was miles away, let alone a market.

You watched a dim light flicker on from inside with a static noise following soon after; she cut the TV on. You licked your chops in anticipation, creeping out from the tree line to make your way closer to the residence.

Silently coming up to the front window, you peer inside to see the older woman settle into a recliner with a steaming bowl of food ready to watch the tube. You don’t know how senile this lady is, but it’s definitely to your advantage that she’s not more aware. Looking around through the window still, you notice a slightly larger window cracked open over what looks like the kitchen sink.

It’s ballsy. A straight shot view from the main room.

Walking around the side of the cabin, you make your way to the kitchen window and slip your hand under the crack to lift the screen up slowly. There’s an audible *clack* when it goes all the way up.

There’s a cough and some shuffling as you stay stock still…

Nothing else happens.

You hoist yourself through the window, landing with a dull thud, The click of your claws on the rickety wood flooring was hardly noticeable. The TV droning on helped cover up a lot of noise no doubt.

From there, there was no real need to be discreet as you surged forward to maul the drowsy elderly woman. You were on her before she could even think to get up. Her half-eaten bowl of chicken and rice tumbled to the floor in a heap as you tore her neck open. Your other clawed hand ripped open the old lady’s stomach exposing its contents as she choked on her own blood. Her attempts to yell or even call for help were useless out here; her eyes were wide and mortified as she was essentially eaten alive. Bones and all.

The old woman’s head was the last to be devoured and you couldn’t even look at it as you shoved it down your gullet.

It helps that you don't know this lady personally at least.

Crunching on a bony hand that was left, you eyed the spilled food that remained lukewarm with the oily sauce trying to stain the unvarnished floorboards.

It could never compare to the full course meal you just had…

The scene had next to no sign of struggle, with all but a small collecting pool of blood and a smattering of torn and bloody clothes on the pleather lazy boy.

Before you could get to tidying up any evidence you could have left behind, your ears pricked up.

Footsteps and a light jangle of keys.

Your eyes widened as you made your way back to the kitchen sink to clean your newly shifted face and neck of blood, along with your hands. Finding a hallway closet, you tore off your crewneck before balling it up and chucking it inside. You were left in a black t-shirt and jeans as everything in the closet was either too small or too identifiable.

You pulled the flashlight from the top shelf along with your phone as you heard the front door open.

Turning around the corner, you call out to the person that's just entered the cabin, flashing the light in their direction. "Westview county sheriff's department! Keep your hands where I can see them!"

"Whoa wait! What's going on?" The person was revealed to be a brunette woman, probably in her mid to late 20s.

"I was called to check out a new missing person's case we got at the station. One Agnes Black. The trail led me to discover the scene here. I'm going to need to ask for your name and ID, miss."

You made sure to keep the interest on her for a bit as you tried to get yourself together to form a plan. "Oh! Um, Wanda Maximoff. Agnes is a family friend, she's the only one that's still around. Or she was… I tried to stop in every so often to make sure she's doing okay out here on her own."

You bury your nerves at the situation as you watch the young woman go to scramble through her bag to get her identification. She pulls it out to show you clearest day: 'Wanda Maximoff, twenty seven, NJ driver's license'. Designation: human.

Not a threat.

You look back up at her, " Right, well, this was the scene when I got here. No sign of forced entry, but quite a bit of blood."

Wanda raised a brow, " You came out to an unknown residence, in the middle of the woods miles from town, alone?"

You felt your face burn with embarrassment at her tone.

It did sound stupid as hell.

You cleared your throat, " I'm new. I guess I just… wanted a chance to prove myself I guess." In a sense this was true. You had just landed a job in the sheriff's department, but You didn't care to impress any of your peers in the slightest. You'd rather the woman think you an overzealous idiot, than have her build suspicion.

Wanda looked up slightly to squint at your face before a look of recognition took over her features. " You're Bigby, right? I know I've heard that name mentioned around town. The hot new deputy sheriff that came down from New York -"

Wanda's hand came to cover her mouth a bit too late, " or so I've heard, you know,"

You flash a bit of a pointy smile at the brunette before you scratch the back of your neck. " Well, for the record, Bigby is my uncle, my name is Y/n." If only he could see his "Lil Bean" now…

Wanda's answering smile with sheepish, but there was a subtle shift in her green eyes that you couldn't exactly place. " I wonder if he'd be proud or disappointed to see you follow in your family's footsteps."

You gave a brief laugh through your nose, taken a bit of back before Wanda spoke up again. " At least he never shat where he ate though, right?"

"What?-"

All you saw was a red mist passed over your eyes before you were knocked out cold, Wanda standing over your unconscious body.

—-------------

Waking up, you found yourself in what you could only assume was a basement or some other underground room. The cement floor and persistent draft lending to this as well. While trying to move around, you found your hands and feet bound together with chains. Your attempts to break free with your supernatural strength proved to be pointless against whatever this metal was.

The sound of a door creaking open had you halting all movement. " I still have to get things insulated down here, but my guess is that it's not even cold enough for you to feel little more than a breeze right now."

You can only stare straight ahead as you heard the subtle clop of footsteps coming down cobbled stairs from behind you. Wanda came around to stand in front of you with a subtle smirk and a tilt of her head.

Her diffident posture was long gone.

" Well, Natasha wasn't lying. You are pretty cute." Wanda firmly grasped your chin between her thumb and four finger as she moved your head this way and that. " Human meat must work wonders for a mutt's skin."

To be quite frank: you were terrified. All creatures that brought undue terrors or committed crimes onto others, especially if it involved the harm of humans, were promptly and harshly dealt with. The most efficient way being torture for intentions before death. Government authorities often worked hand in hand with the Purifiers in that way.

Wanda briefly rolled her eyes as she sensed your heart rate spike, most likely from fear. " I'm not with the human puritans, if that's your worry, Wolfie. More like an interested third party."

You took a small breath of relief as you could cross the worst case scenario off of your list of possibilities. " Then- what do you want with me? Did you even know that lady?-"

" You mean your dinner? Yes, but Agatha has served her purpose. She owed it to me after all," You turned slightly as Wanda went on. "And I want you, officer, to be my inside person while I conduct my dealings."

Your eyes narrowed at her assured voice, " and I would just agree to that right? Be for real, woman."

Wanda’s smirk simply stayed in place. " Well, I could just drop off all the photographic evidence I have of you scouting and devouring your last four victims, all of whom are on the missing persons listings." Plenty of photos fluttered to the ground, fanned out for you to see yourself at your most vulnerable. Wanda tutted her tongue almost mockingly, " such a sloppy puppy, they'd have a field day with you I'm sure."

Your eyes were frozen on the high-definition pictures of you hastily leaving a woman's penthouse, clothes still bloody; one of the few cases that you've filed after spending the night with them. Gwen-something. Jesus, wasn't this in New York? Her father was still looking for her when you moved away...

You vaguely knew that Wanda was still speaking. " And, if that's not enough, you ingested Agatha's whole body. One of my own reanimated corpses bound with a fealty clause. One could assume it had passed on to you. I'd hate for you to have to find out what happens when that clause is broken firsthand." Your mouth could only open and close like a fish as you thought through the whole thing.

You don't have an option. You really don't.

Wanda sauntered closer to your restrained form as her fingers ran across your shoulders. She leaned over till her lips we next to your ear. "Way to be thorough, huh, Y/n?" Her hands lightly smoothed down your arm.

You tried to keep your face as stoic as you could. "Fine. What do you want me to do?" Wanda patted the your cheek rough enough for it to be considered patronizing instead of soothing. "We'll hash that out in time, don't you worry your fuzzy little head about it."

"But details, details…" Wanda's voice trailed off as she proceeded to straddle your waist, your breath caught. " You must be relieved to finally have some familiarity, huh?" As Wanda continues to shift on top of you to make yourself comfortable, you feel an odd amount of pressure that causes you to gasp.

Wanda's mouth lifts into a sly smirk, " there we are. This will end different then you're used to, I'm certain. There is one other thing you'll have to get acquainted with." One of Wanda's hands runs down your shirt over your stomach before lifting up the hem halfway for you to see.

A new wave of panicked confusion would have had you jolting around again if Wanda wasn't holding you steady.

From your pelvis and spreading outward, we're visible black and dimly glowing veins under your skin. Staring hard enough, you could see them pulse occasionally before the anomaly seemed to fade into your skin.

And it was all connected to the strap on between your legs.

Still struggling to comprehend, you just about lost your ever-loving mind when Wanda gripped it in her hand.

You could feel it.

The new feeling of sensitivity you basically had you like putting in Wanda's hands. "Hah- how…" You catch Wanda's eyes glow again, and it was almost impossible to string two thoughts together with the constant pump of her hand.

" It's more than you probably deserve, but I'm going to enjoy bringing you to your knees this way." You whine involuntarily as Wanda takes her hand off to untie her robe.

Wanda's breasts were now exposed, nipples hard with a rise of goose flesh being out in the cool air. She lifts herself up and lines your cock up at her entrance, and you watch as she fully sinks herself down on it, and she doesn't move. For a good minute. The haziness goes away as you fully connect with Wanda. The pleasure you feel is immediate and you feel a familiar tightening sensation in your stomach.

Wanda leans forward, her mouth latching onto the side of your neck. God, she felt so full. Her hands come to rest over your shoulders before her nails dig in. She feels the muscles there a bunch up a bit before slowly relaxing. The moment Wanda starts moving, she gets a low grunt from you as the toy slides in and out of her pussy. Every stroke, every flutter from inside does something to you, and it's the most tantalizing thing for Wanda to watch and feel.

Your hands keep trying to break through their bonds as you feel your high coming up. You can't help but whimper from under the brunette as she keeps abruptly stopping right at the edge. " Please," Wanda's watched you struggle this whole time, but she all but stops writing you and she's plays coy. "Hmm? What do you want now, baby?" Her rhythm is slower, teasing.

"I'm so fuckin close, can I please just cum?" Your hands clench open and closed behind you in desperation.

Wanda hums before she purses her lips, making her look far more innocent than her actions would dictate. " I don't know, I still feel like you haven't learned your place, honey. You might even use those claws for something you shouldn't…"

"I-" she can see your cheeks bloom with a blush at the situation You found yourself in. You were supposed to be angry, fight back, hold your ground even! But Wanda held all the cards and you knew it. You both knew.

And it didn't take her much to get here.

" Please, Wanda. I just wanna make you feel good, I just wanna cum!- I... I won't try anything. Just please…"

Wanda, continue to look down at you before her smirk returns. " You say please really pretty, puppy…"

You sounded pitiful to yourself. Practically groveling to fuck Wanda properly and cum, but at this point? Pride be damned. The red was all consuming.

But there are worse things to give in to.

#marvel #marvel one shots #call me anything but human #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #succuwitch!wanda #werewolf!reader #succuwitch!wanda x werewolf!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #jc inkworks #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

[grandwretch]

only i must wander, pt. 4

[on ao3] [pt 1] [pt 2] [pt 3]

content warnings: discussions of death, kidnapping, drug use, and cannibalism, internalized homophobia, character considers self-harm

Colors looked different inside the Munson trailer. Steve didn't know if it was the lightbulbs, flickering in the ceiling, or how cramped the living room was, but everything was so warm that it made the world seem yellow. And it was cramped, the furniture pushed out into the middle of the floor to make room for the shelves and shelves of mugs and hats on the walls. It was more cluttered than Steve cared for, haphazard in a way that made his fingers itch-- He kept his room bare of his own volition, needing as much space as possible so he didn't wake up thinking the walls were closing in on him. It would make him claustrophobic to stay here for too long, Steve thought, but it was cozy enough to spend time in. It seemed kinder than his house, for sure. 

And for all its mess, it was obvious that someone worked very hard to keep it clean. Under all the clutter there was no dust or debris. He could see where stains had been before and then scrubbed until they had come clean, the spots dots of lightness amongst the dinge of age. Some parts of the couch and the old, big recliner had been patched up, fresh blocks of fabric and clean, white stitches. 

Steve hesitated in the doorway, taking it all in. It was hard to imagine that they were standing in the lair of two werewolves. He knew they weren't real werewolves, at least not the kind he'd seen in horror movies, with the moons and silver and freaking out once a month. It still seemed weird to imagine one cradling porcelain in his big paws, or curling up on a neat, mended couch. 

Eddie came up behind Steve, shoulder-bumping him out of the way to get into the trailer. Steve moved for him, wordless, but Eddie turned before he had even really cleared the door. 

"Probably not what King Steve is used to, huh?" Eddie said, the kind of nonchalant that echoed so often in highschool hallways, the kind that meant they were itching for a fight. "Sorry about that."

Steve's first impulse was to ask Eddie not to call him that. He'd always hated it, thought it was a pretty stupid nickname for a guy whose life was spiralling out of control, but Billy had made it into something toxic. Billy had wanted it so badly that it warped itself to meet that want. Not a stupid nickname his friends had given him, but a title that meant something-- Something that Steve had never wanted to be. Thankfully, after graduation the name had fallen out of use. Largely, Steve assumed, because outside of school it became extremely apparent that he wasn't the King of much of anything. But here Eddie was, still stuck within those walls, and calling Steve that name that made his skin crawl. 

He couldn't make himself put a stop to it, though-- Mostly because he wasn't sure if Eddie would listen. Eddie had never been a bully, to Steve's knowledge, but he was obviously looking for a fight. Steve hadn't learned much in school, but one of the lessons that had stuck was that an angry man will use any weakness to his advantage; If Eddie knew the name bothered him, it might be his name until the end of time. 

And, if Steve were being honest, Eddie made him a little nervous. Always had. It was something about the eyes, Steve thought, because they were so big and honest and... Well, Steve had always been a little afraid of Eddie seeing too much when he looked at him. Or feeling too much from what he saw there. Maybe both. Maybe Steve couldn't stand the thought of either. It had been enough to make Steve avoid Eddie in high school, and now it left him frozen under Eddie's challenging stare.

"It's, uh-- It's really warm in here," Steve said, wincing at his own words. He honestly had no idea what to say; He'd barely learned to talk to Robin like a normal person, and Eddie seemed like a much harder sell. Just to smooth things over, Steve muttered, "I like it." 

Eddie just looked at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, and when the silence grew too long, Steve looked away and shuffled over to the couch, dropping into the seat between Robin and Dustin. Wayne had taken the over-stuffed recliner across from them, and after a moment, Eddie followed him, propping himself against the large back and staring down at the odd group on his couch. It might have been menacing, if Eddie hadn't look so confused. 

"So, Harrington," Wayne said, so abruptly that Steve sat up straighter on reflex. Wayne Munson wasn't anything like his high school coaches, but he commanded the same level of respect. An air of minor authority surrounded him, his jurisdiction small but his control total. " You gonna tell me what the hell you were thinking, coming to a Blutbad's lair in the middle of the night, poking around? With two kids with you, no less." 

As Steve flushed at the gentle reprimand, Robin protested."I'm only, like, a year younger than Steve, you know." 

Wayne didn't seem too swayed by that knowledge, and Steve knew he was content to simply wait for an answer. He didn't look pissed, just concerned, which made Steve squirm under his gaze. There was nothing worse than someone who was just genuinely worried you might be a complete idiot. It would be so easy to tell him all the truth and blame it all on Dustin, but that wouldn't fix the problem. Steve was trying to present himself as an adult, someone who was grown up and put together enough to be out hunting down a kidnapper. Being bullied into stupid shit by a literal child wasn't exactly the best proof of that. 

Steve had never been a great liar, though. His parents had all but demanded it of him, when they still cared enough to be around. Nothing huge, of course, nothing that could be traced back to them, but enough to present their son as a better version of himself. He'd struggled with it for awhile, and then figured out that while he would never be a good liar, he was pretty good at pretending. 

It was startingly easy to pretend to be his father, for instance. That had been an easy one, to start with-- He'd been cataloguing his father's every gesture for years, after all. Watching the movements of his hands and the way he held his head was the only way Steve had ever been able to predict his father's moods. So when it came time to lie, Steve just did what his father obviously wanted him to, and... became him. The way he put his hands in his pockets when he didn't want to say hello to someone beneath him, the way he pouted, gently disapproving, whenever anyone else spoke. His parents adored it; Thought it was a sign of him growing up. Their friends ate it up. 

That little trick of his had gotten him far in school, too. The boys that terrified him were always nicer when he mirrored their own bodies back at them, and whenever that failed, Steve just copied Tommy. It had kept him alive in middle school, and when his growth spurt hit in the summer before high school, it was enough to catapult him into popularity. 

It worked like a charm until everyone realised he was stupid. Then, at least, they called him well-behaved, teachers and his father's coworkers alike, but there was always a trace of pity to it. Like they were looking at an animal, kicked often but too dumb and well-trained to run. Of course, that offered its own benefits, especially with girls. They liked someone they didn't have to worry about hitting on their friends, and their mothers liked that their daughters might marry someone who wouldn't put their own ambitions above their families. 

Steve had never liked it, not his own behavior or the way people responded to it, but it was necessary. 

He doubted Wayne would appreciate it, though. He didn't seem the type to be impressed by Bradley Harrington, much less a cheap imitation of him. Mirroring Wayne was too much of a risk, of course; The man was miles smarter than the dumbass teens of Steve's youth, and if he fucked it up it would come off mocking. Steve could mirror Eddie, easy, because he knew Eddie's mannerisms and they were large and loud and beautiful, but Eddie didn't exactly strike Steve as an effective negotiator. If he was, Steve doubted he would have signed up for a third senior year. 

Who did that leave? Steve considered Hop, but too much of the man's personality was tied up in being a cop. The last thing Steve needed was to be accusatory after getting caught in the man's yard in the middle of the night. It needed to be an adult, though, Steve knew. He needed to be an adult. 

The only other adult Steve knew was Joyce Byers. 

That... could work, Steve thought to himself, watching Wayne's face shift into annoyance. Joyce was motherly and kind, when she wasn't ripping apart the universe to get to her son. People liked her. People liked her a whole lot more than they liked Steve, that was for sure. Plus, she was the kind of person Wayne would like-- Stubborn and passionate, but down to earth. Relatable. And, the best part was, she almost always got her way, no matter how hard to please she was.

So Steve kept his face open and honest, blinked slower. He relaxed his shoulders but kept his body tight, crossing his legs at the ankles. He settled further into the couch, keeping his elbows by his side and his hands in his lap. Steve felt Robin shift nervously next to him, probably wondering what the hell Steve was doing, and without thought Steve reached out to pat her on the leg. Not the possessive, stroking way a boyfriend would, but... chaste and gentle. Maternal. 

Robin made a small noise of surprise as Steve returned his hand to his own lap, but Steve was focused more on the look of disgust that flashed across Eddie's face. 

"I'm sorry for the trouble," Steve said, polite but not overly refined. Plain. Upfront. That was him, now. "We didn't mean anything by it, I promise. We're just in a tough spot, and we were hoping you knew somebody that could help us." 

Wayne shifted in his chair, looking faintly amused. "I'm listening." 

Steve sighed, reaching for the deeper emotions he'd seen written all over Joyce's face. Frazzled and determined. Tired. Make eye contact, widen the eyes. Lean forward and drop the volume. "Something bad is happening to the kids in Indiana right now, Wayne," Steve said. His hands clenched in his lap. "I don't know if you've heard anything, but Robin and Dustin both came to me with stories of kids who have just gone missing. No sign of them. And I know there's always a runaway or two, but this is a lot of kids. Most of them Wesen. And I've been looking into it, and there's... There's evidence that it might be a Blutbad who's doing it. And I--" 

As he spoke, Wayne's face hadn't changed, but Eddie's had. His expression got darker and stormier with every word, and when Steve brought up Blutbader, he nearly exploded. "If you think you can come in here and accuse us of--" 

"No, Eddie," Steve said, soothing. Thinning his voice out a little, to sound a little more worn. Exhausted. "Of course not. You wouldn't-- You've more than proven you wouldn't do that, okay? We may not have ever been friends, but I was paying attention for the past four years, you know. Besides, Robin wouldn't have let me get this far if I hadn't been." 

"The kid was less convinced," Robin said, and Steve could practically feel her pointed smirk.  

"How was I supposed to know!" Dustin protested from the other end of the couch. Steve looped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing squeezing him just a little. He needed the kid to chill out. "I'm not allowed in the high school yet! I've tried!" 

"And what's the reason you think this is a Blutbad?" Wayne asked, with the air of a man who was very used to speaking over a loud child. 

"The lack of a pattern. I know it's not much to go on, but-- Most of these kids have nothing in common," Steve said, laying the case out as best he could. "There's no school that crops up more than the others. They're all different ages. Even the gender is split right down the middle. Whoever-- or whatever -- is doing this doesn't have a type, and from what I understand that would strange with a human culprit." 

"Most other Wesens have strict seasons and grounds for hunting," Robin added. "Some of them even have preferred species. There's none of that, here. It's all just random, like it's going for whatever Wesen kid crosses it's path." 

"With a few human kids in the mix for good measure," Dustin said, and Steve nodded. 

"Unless someone has lost it so hard they've warped their own prey drive, it's hard to imagine that this could be anything other than a Blutbad whose chosen prey is... well." Steve hesitated, not sure how else to put it. "Kids. Does that sound like anything you've heard of before?" 

Wayne shifted in his chair. To someone else, it might have seemed like an old man settling further into his favorite chair, but Steve clocked the stiffness in Wayne's shoulders and the nervous twitch of his fingers. Something had unsettled him. That either meant he hadn't considered it before, or that he hadn't expected anyone to figure it out-- And either was a pretty good result for Steve. 

"Can't say I've heard of that specific type, no," Wayne eventually said, his drawl elongating further with thought. "But... can't rule it out, either. Lots of Blutbads I knew had weird types. No one really talks about them, of course. Isn't polite. But you know how it is." 

Steve didn't really want to think about the intricacies of Blutbader culture right now. "... Right," he said, shaking his head. "So, you can see why we thought it might have been--" 

"So why come here, then?" Wayne said, interrupting Steve's effort at pushing the conversation along. "If you didn't think it was me or Eddie, why come here at all?"

Joyce's shrug was deeper than Steve was used to, almost an anxious twitch, with both shoulders high around his ears. "To be honest with you, sir," Steve said, "I don't know very much about Blutbader. We were hoping you could fill us in on anything that might help. If there's anything you know about any other Blutbader in Indiana, especially." 

"Uh-huh." Wayne's eyebrow stayed high, and it didn't look like it was going to budge anytime soon. "And what's that got to do with you snooping around in my backyard?" 

Oh, fuck it, Steve thought. He was going to have to throw Dustin under the bus, anyway. 

"... Well, Dustin insisted on coming along," Steve said, with a mother's rueful smile. "I didn't expect him to rush back there, either, but, well... Kids, you know?" 

Before Steve could finish the sentence, Dustin had dug his heel full-force into Steve's shin, and he aimed to hurt. Usually, Steve would have just grabbed the little shit in a loose chokehold and shook him around until he begged for mercy (or, more likely, until Steve got bored) but that wouldn't be very Joyce of him. Instead, Steve smacked Dustin's arm with the back of his hand, lightly, like he had seen Joyce do to Hopper when he made jokes she didn't think was funny. 

Before Dustin could escalate things further (and Steve just knew he was raring up for it, too, the bitchy little gleam in Dustin's eyes brighter than ever), Wayne's laughter broke through their quiet squabble. Steve looked up at the Blutbad, a little shocked, and felt that shock grow when he saw the fond, wistful smile on Wayne's face.

"Y'all remind me too much of my little brother. He never knew how to keep out of trouble, either," Wayne said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. It was a memory, a compliment, and a warning all at once, Steve realized, though it was one he really didn't have context for. He glanced up at Eddie for a clue and all he found was pain, Eddie's face creased with a grimace. 

Steve wanted to help, to smooth out the lines of Eddie's face, but that was a little hard when he knew he was the one causing Eddie to make it in the first place. Looking back at Wayne, Steve forced himself to concentrate, so he could stop ruining the Munson's night and let them live their lives in whatever peace Hawkins could grant them. It was the least he could do. 

Wayne also seemed to sober, though his eyes were still faraway and hazy. He said, "I won't lie to you, son. I heard about the kids. There's been people whispering about it for years now, way back to when that Byers  boy came back. Didn't know it had gotten so bad currently, though. Only thing I've heard recent was... God, must have been gone six months or so, now. There's a man who used'ta work the line with me, most nights. One night he doesn't come in, and everyone's worried because, well, Rick ain't the kind to forget to call in. But then the office girl comes out, near tears, talkin'bout how the cops can't find him, neither. Turns out he'd gone to the store before work to pick up some things for dinner, and when he'd come home she was gone. She was just a little thing, six or seven, I think. Not old enough to run away. Craziest thing was, the doors were still locked. Everything was exactly the way he had left it. The cops couldn't find no trace of anybody in that house but Rick and his wife. The man didn't take it well, apparently. When the cops called us, we knew he didn't do nothing wrong, but... Well, they found him a couple days later, in the woods, still looking for her. Can't say I blame him."

Steve struggled to unstick his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth long enough to ask, "They never found her?" 

"Nah," Wayne said, shaking his head. "I wasn't following the case real close, of course. Felt too weird, knowin' Rick and all. Last I heard, they didn't have much to go on." 

Horror filled Steve's lungs with every heartbeat. Steve was no stranger to his own reaction to the stories of the missing kids, but he had at least hoped that with all he'd read over the past week, he might have built up a tolerance. Apparently, he'd had no such luck. If anything, it was worse now. It wasn't fictional, and it wasn't in the impersonal voice of the crime reporter. It was just a man who'd seen his friend lose the one person he loved most in the world, and Steve's chest ached with it. 

He thought, as always, of Will. And Barb, if he was being honest. Because while he knew what happened to Barb, it never got any easier to imagine what her parents must have felt, not knowing. No matter what Nancy thought, he had never forgotten. He tried, all the time. When the guilt got too big to hold on his own, he tried to limit it to Will, tried to force things back into the size a teenage boy was supposed to handle. But then it only grew, as Steve had to acknowledge he was only abandoning Barb again. 

He tried to reach for Joyce's character, but there's no help there. She would be perfect-- Incredibly compassionate and understanding. She would take Wayne's hand, even, and ask if there was anything she could do. Steve can't do that. Not because he doesn't want to; Wayne looks haunted by something he never even saw, and Steve wishes he could fix that, but he also knows he's not allowed. 

Fixing things was never Steve's role in the story. He never got to be the one who loved or the one who heals for very long. When he was very lucky, he got to be the hero, but most of the time he felt like some impersonal, distant villain. At the very least, some rich asshole who stood at the edge of a grieving community and watched, never really understanding. 

So, instead, Steve froze.

"I... I'm so sorry, Mr. Munson," Robin said, her voice genuine but unsure. "That must have been terrible to go through." 

"You don't gotta apologize to me, girl," Wayne said, gruff. "Wasn't my burden. I'm lucky enough to say that my kid is right here at home, safe as anything." Despite his words, Wayne looked disturbed by his own story, as if he was imagining a world where Robin's apology was a little more apt, and there was no nephew to stand guard behind his chair.

Anticipating his uncle's mood, Eddie said, "I can take care of myself, Wayne." 

Sheer contrariness pulled Wayne out of his melancholy. He shifted back in his chair to stare up at his nephew with a stern frown. "Did I say you couldn't?" 

Steve still wasn't sure what to say, his brain instead latching on to the ease of the dynamic between Eddie and Wayne. Eddie definitely wasn't a kid, but it seemed... sweet, that Wayne still thought of him as one. As his kid. Steve wasn't sure his own parents had thought of him that way in years. Before he could descend too far into self-pity, he felt Dustin tuck himself further in Steve's side. 

Immediately, his attention was on the kid. Although Dustin wouldn't look at him, staring angrily at a burn mark in the carpet, Steve had to assume that it was fear that pushed him into Steve's arms. Fear or grief, one. If it reminded Steve of Barb, then it had to remind Dustin of Will. And Dustin was a child. Just a kid, and none of this was his fault, and if Steve couldn't shake off his own grief and do something about Dustin's, then could he even call himself an adult?

He ran his hand up and down Dustin's back, the way his favorite nanny used to do for him when he got upset, and hoped it helped. There was nothing else he could do right now, besides finding more information about whatever did this. 

"That's exactly why we're here, Mr. Munson. I... I know it's probably a long shot," he confessed, "but I'd like to bring that little girl home, if I can. And if I can't, then... Then I at least want to make sure that no more kids go missing. More than that, we need people to know that their kids are safe again. When parents start to connect the dots, it's going to get bad out there." 

"It's bad enough after what happened to Will and Barb," Dustin said, sullenly, and Steve fought not to flinch at her name said out loud. 

"No more dangerous animal than a scared animal," Wayne said, softly, and Steve couldn't help but tilt his head at the familiarity of the phrase. 

"...My dad says that all the time," Steve said, wondering if it was some Wesen parable that he'd missed. 

Wayne didn't confirm or deny Steve's implication, just smiled wryly and said, "Well, I reckon he would know." 

And then, after a moment where Steve searched for the right words to say, Wayne continued, "You know, you keep poking into this, you're gonna end up facing something a lot more dangerous than some scared parents. Blutbader have been hunting for longer than Grimms have even existed. That's old power, especially for a youngin' like you. You sure you're willing to risk your life for some monsters just because they look like kids?" 

Steve knew he didn't really believe that. Wayne didn't seem the kind to hate himself, no matter what he had done in the past. He seemed level-headed, realistic, in a way that just didn't line up with calling kids monsters. But that didn't mean it didn't piss Steve off. It was Wayne's tone of voice that got Steve more than anything, really. 

There was a voice that adults only used when they were testing you, when they knew the answer and they probably knew what you were going to say, but they wanted you to say it out loud. Steve hated that voice. He hated that every adult in the world thinks he needs to be tested. He hates that they're all so sure that they deserve to test him. He hates that they just can't seem to ask what they're really asking. He hates that they can't believe him when he speaks. 

He hates that everyone on earth seems to think he's either evil or incompetent. 

Steve can feel the woge settle across his face, jerking like a twitching muscle, but he doesn't try to stop it. Adrenaline surges in his blood, but he doesn't feel the usual compulsion to fight and tear and rend. It's easy to keep himself in the chair, and for once Steve doesn't feel out of control. He feels powerful. 

When he speaks, his voice is clear. 

"I know you don't really believe that," Steve said, because it's less confrontational than telling Wayne that he's the reason Steve hates people older than 18, as a general rule. "They're children, not monsters. And even if they were, that doesn't mean they deserve to be hurt." 

Steve's woge forces Wayne's, the same instinctual shift that Steve seems to inspire in Wesen, but unlike with El or Robin, Wayne's Blutbader face was gone just as quickly as it came. And that was... interesting. Steve's eyes narrowed as he took in Wayne's unbothered appearance. It was all odd, wasn't it? They had been looking into each other's eyes the entire time, and Wayne had never so much as flinched away until Steve woged in his face. There was no shock or horror in whatever he found in the shadowy depths of Steve's eyes, and Steve very much doubted that Wayne had less to be guilty about than Robin Buckley. 

Was it all Blutbader who could fight their own instincts so well, or was Wayne Munson special? 

Unable to stop his own curiosity, Steve looked up and deliberately met Eddie's eyes. Eddie didn't woge again, but he met Steve's gaze only for a moment before awkwardly shifting his weight and looking away. Steve supposed that answered his question. It was less of an inherited skill and more of a learned one, though it was obvious that Wayne had taught Eddie a little of it. That was the only reason that Steve could think that the likes of Tommy Hagan and his merry bands of meatheads were still alive after tormenting Eddie and his friends for five years. 

It was impressive, to be sure, but also a little bit worrying, if Steve was honest with himself. The eyes, as far as he understood, were supposed to be a Grimm's last fail-safe. Something to protect himself with, give a raging Wesen pause, when traditional means failed. The fact that some Wesen could just ignore that last line of defense wasn't a great sign for Steve's future odds of survival. 

More than that, if the eyes were supposed to inspire guilt and self-loathing, why were the Munsons so immune to it? The only options Steve could figure were that they were really good at controlling their own feelings, or they just weren't capable of feeling guilt. And Steve would love for the first to be reality, he really would, but the idea of a Wesen in Hawkins with no genuine conscience unsettled him. 

Even as Steve promised himself to keep an eye on these two, he wished he didn't have to. He wished he was allowed to believe the best in people, wished he didn't have to make lists in his head of people most likely to hurt children. Because, when it came down to it, he liked Wayne. A lot. He thought that Wayne would get along with Hopper, probably, if Hopper could accept the way Wayne didn't seem to be moved by much. A dad like him would have been amazing. Steve couldn't imagine Wayne freaking out because of the color of shirt Eddie wanted to wear, or if he wanted to try out for the school play. 

Steve wanted Wayne to be a good person. He really, really did. He just didn't know if he could believe it, yet.

"I have to admit, Mr. Munson," Steve said, settling back into the couch and forcing his muscles to unclench. "You're not what I thought you'd be."

Wayne laughed, though there wasn't much humor to it. "I could say the same thing about you, Harrington. Eddie always told me you were at least gracious enough to keep your teammates from publically humiliating him and his friends, but I figured that would change once you were... aware," he said, and Steve flushed at the idea of Eddie bringing home stories about him. God knew the kind of things Wayne must have heard. "It's a nice surprise to see it hasn't. Guess I should have figured, since you didn't cause problems for Eddie last year." 

"Last year?" Steve asked. Did he even talk to Eddie last year? He didn't think so, but so much of last fall was a blur. He looked up at Eddie, askance. 

"Last autumn, when you-- After you quit basketball, I noticed something was off," Eddie said. He still wouldn't make eye contact, and a light blush was beginning to creep across his face. Steve got it; It was never fun being caught caring more than you should. "Figured it was probably you coming into your Grimm... ness. Sorry if you didn't want anyone to know about it, but I was freaked out and needed to tell Wayne. You never did anything, though. Not even when Billy--" 

"Billy isn't worth it," Steve said, quickly. That was the reason he had given himself, anyway. He meant it, too. Billy was an asshole, and Steve would do anything to keep him away from Lucas, but it wasn't worth living with the guilt of ruining a huma like Steve knew a Grimm could. At least, that was the only explanation he had now for why he couldn't beat one teen boy after taking down several demonic dogs in a junkyard. He hadn't used his bat on Billy, after all, and some part of him hadn't wanted to fight back. 

So maybe Eddie was right. Maybe Steve's powers had started coming in after one too many fights against the demodicks. It certainly made more sense then them coming upon him randomly one spring day. Then again, Eddie didn't know about demogorgons or El or any of it, so to Eddie it must have seemed pretty random, anyway.  

Steve was pretty curious about the logic there. "Wait, why did you think it had to do with my powers?" 

Eddie shrugged, gaze darting all over the room. "You didn't... care about anything. Not, like, in a 'cool' way. You didn't talk to anyone, not even when they were yelling in your face. You quit the basketball team, you were sitting right next to me everytime the principal lectured us about our grades... I mean, fuck, man, I'm pretty sure you didn't even flinch the first time Wheeler and Byers walked into the cafeteria holding hands," Eddie said, and Steve couldn't even remember the day he was talking about. "Whatever happened, it had to be huge, and I figured discovering monsters were real was about as big as it could get. I skipped as much school as possible trying to dodge the oncoming woge." 

It was a surprise to know that Eddie had noticed. Sure, the malaise his life had been consumed by that semester didn't actually have anything to do with being a Grimm-- If he had to guess, Steve would say it was probably the lingering concussion. But Eddie had been looking enough to notice. And that was... That was a lot to think about. Steve was a little dismayed to learn that he'd had Eddie's attention on him all this time and he hadn't had the opportunity to do anything about it. He would have to chalk it up to another thing the Upside Down had taken from him, he supposed.

"So you can see why we were a little suspicious when you showed up tonight," Wayne said. And, yeah, that made sense. They thought he was a full-fledged Grimm, completely in his power for going on a year. That would be enough to scare anyone. 

Clearing things up would make working together in the future, Steve realised, but keeping his own past in mystery would offer him more control. It turned out that adults weren't that different then high schools; They all feared what they didn't know. They worshipped the mysterious, mocked the sincere, and gossiped incessantly. Still, Steve was tired of ruling with fear-- Tired of ruling anything at all. 

"I'll be honest, the whole 'Grimm' thing has been slow going. I only started to woge after graduation," Steve confessed. "I've been getting stronger-- I think you were right, it started last year, but it comes and goes. Everything else is... sporadic, at best." 

"Kinda young for a Grimm," Wayne remarked, which was news to Steve. Not much in the books had been mentioned about other Grimms' awakenings. "Your parents must have been surprised." 

"Yeah, they definitely... Definitely were not expecting it," Steve said, stuttering around the fact that he had no plans to let them know. He can't have them asking too many questions, can't just show the big, blinding weakness in his own chest. "I don't think they planned to tell me until later, I-- I still don't feel very... Grimm. It hasn't really settled in yet, I don't think. My abilities still feel like me, not some magic thing, and I... Sorry, I guess what I'm trying to say is, you have nothing to worry about. I'm barely a Grimm. I've spent the last six months just trying to keep the people I care about safe." 

He doesn't elaborate, hoping they will simply assume he's talking about his parents, or Dustin and Robin beside him. There's not enough time to go into all the details of the things he's had to do in the past two years, and he doesn't trust them enough to mention El, yet. 

It was just a throwaway half-lie, a small justification as to why Steve wasn't trained as a Grimm that didn't go into all the stupid drama his family brought with them, so Steve was surprised to see a frown on Eddie's face. He still wasn't looking at Steve, but to the right of him, his eyes all but boring into Robin's forehead. Steve's mind caught on that, long enough to be embarassing, until he realised what it meant-- What it would always mean, for boys like Steve. 

Because it made sense now, why Eddie had looked so upset when Robin was the one by Steve's side. Why he had immediately tried to start a fight. It was so blindingly obvious, the only kind of signs that Steve had ever been good at reading: Eddie had a crush on Robin. 

The jealousy was swift and unpleasant. Before Steve could even really process the emotion, he could hear himself bemoan how unfair it was, how Steve hadn't even gotten to look at Eddie properly, and how he was already untouchable. And, really, the pettiest part of him complained, what did Robin have that Steve didn't? 

They were ridiculous, unfair thoughts. Steve felt his stomach churn, and he made himself look away from Eddie, his eyes unfocusing in the swirl of colored mugs. It was a bad habit, these little obsessions of his, one that apparently he hadn't kicked as well as he thought. And Steve had thought he'd beaten it. It had been months since he sat up at night, thinking about another man's hands. He'd really thought it was over. 

Part of him wanted to blame Eddie for it, even though his rationality knew it was no one's fault but Steve. There was always a part of Steve that had known Eddie was pretty, always paid a little more attention to him than others, but at the time Steve had been mostly tied up in Tommy. Tommy's hair, Tommy's smile, Tommy's freckles. Whatever Eddie Munson was faded into background noise. Being with Nancy had let him pour all his compuslion into something good, something wholesome, but now he was alone and Eddie was here. Steve couldn't stop the tug in his stomach when he thought about Eddie's eyes. 

The worst part was how selfish it was. People were hurt. Steve had a job to do. It was the worst possible time to be thinking about the plushness of Eddie's mouth, or the way his curls would get frizzy at the temples after gym. The worst possible time to linger over the strength of his hands, or the way his nose wrinkled when he smiled. The worst possible time to focus on trying to see the flash of his tongue when he spoke or-- 

Steve was the most selfish person in the world. It was the only explanation for why he was doing this now, when so much was at stake and he knew Eddie wanted someone else, anyway. It didn't even make sense, really, why he felt so suddenly betrayed. He had been able to put his own emotions to the side when Nancy showed up with Jonathan last fall, because the kids needed all of them focused and ready. So why couldn't he stop thinking of ways to make Eddie look at him when he barely knew the guy?

"So why aren't your parents the ones trying to find these kids, then?" Wayne said, breaking through Steve's panicked thoughts. The pool of guilt in Steve's stomach grew as he flushed, embarassed to have been caught daydreaming about Wayne's nephew in their own living room. 

"Wh-- Like I said, they're out of town," Steve replied, trying to gather the scattered thread of his own lies. "Business trip." 

"Uh-huh. And is that Grimm business?" Wayne asked. A little too curiously, for Steve's taste. Though he supposed he did owe the man whatever information he wanted, at this point. 

"Honestly, sir, my parents aren't really the kind of people who let me in on that sort of thing. They come and they go and business is business," Steve said, trying to sound confident that this was all completely normal and absolutely did not bother him at all. Which, it probably wouldn't if monsters hadn't gotten involved. He was sure there were tons of people who practically raised themselves after age 12. 

"Fair enough," Wayne said, and to his credit he didn't even look disappointed. "If I had to do what your parents do,  I can't say that I'd be letting Eddie get involved." 

It was a sweet sentiment, but Steve doubted that was why his parents kept him in the dark about so much of their lives. He didn't tell Wayne that much, though. It was difficult, though, because Steve was almost sure that Wayne knew more about Steve's parents than Steve himself. It was his best bet towards getting any kind of information, but to get it he'd have to admit that he was going into all this blind. That wasn't exactly a smart play, even if Wayne was completely on the up-and-up. The last thing Steve needed was for people to start talking about how the only Grimm in Hawkins didn't know what the fuck he was doing. 

"Since my parents won't be coming to fix this anytime soon, what can you tell me about Blutbader packs in the area?" Steve asked, trying to steer this mess of an evening back on course. 

"I hate to break it to you, son, but officially there are no Blutbader packs in Indiana," Wayne said with a sigh.  

"I told you!" Robin hissed in Steve's ear. He shoved her away, gently, watching Eddie's face crease with pain. 

Fuck.

"When Eddie and I moved here, I chose Hawkins for a reason," Wayne continued. "Your parents offered me a deal that was hard to refuse, of course, but ultimately it was the lack of a proper pack that made it a good place to raise a wieder cub. Of course, that's probably their doing, too. Most packs don't move through a Grimm's territory without a good reason. Living this close to the city means Eddie can go off with his friends on the weekends without running into something he shouldn't."

"Sorry, I--" Steve paused, unsure where to start in the dozens of questions he suddenly had. "What does wierder mean? And why does it have to be away from packs? Am I allowed to ask that?" 

"Well, let's start simple," Wayne said, and his eyes drifted towards Dustin. "Would you want your little one around a strange Blutbad alone?"  

Steve hesitated, unsure if this was a trick or not. "I... You and Eddie are the only Blutbader I've ever met," he said, every word carefully measured,"so I'm not... I don't want to say for sure, but from what I've read? Not... exactly." 

"And it's the same with me." Wayne shrugged, as if it was a simple fact of life there he was nothing he could do about. "Murderers aren't great with children, even if they are their own." 

"So you left the pack?" Steve confirmed.

"We more than left. We went wieder," Wayne said. Steve frowned when he heard the unfamiliar German.  

When he turned to Robin, she was looking at Wayne as if he had just started babbling like an infant. "I'm guessing that doesn't mean what I think it means," Robin said, as if she was as afraid of upsetting Wayne as Steve was. 

"Nah, wieder is older than that," Wayne said. 

"Older than German?" Robin asked, her voice rising into 'I'm about to freak out' levels of pitch. Her eyes flew to Steve, widening. He shrugged; He didn't know why she thought that he, of all people, would have answers, but he didn't even have context for what they were talking about. God, he really needed to learn German, but the idea of learning a second language when the kids already confused him in English was exhausting.

"Since the creation of monsters, there's been those of us who didn't want to be monsters," Wayne said, as if that explained anything at all. Maybe for Robin, it did, because she began to nod thoughtfully. "For Blutbader, though, leaving is... hard. We're real big on the pack, and stepping away from that goes against everything we are. Can't stay, though, without getting pulled back into the hunt. And even now, every second I'm alive, I can feel myself trying to go back to them." 

"How do you do it?" Dustin asked, voice quiet.

"Don't listen," Wayne said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Steve had to assume that it was a very practiced nonchalance, because he couldn't imagine talking about his own compulsions this way. "There's a lot of things I don't do anymore, because it makes the wolf louder than the man. I don't eat meat, I don't wear red, I don't suffer assholes and, most importantly, I don't keep company with other Blutbader anymore."

And that almost made sense, except that Steve was certain he would have noticed Eddie doing literally any of that. One incident especially came to mind, and Steve was quick to say, "I... have definitely seen Eddie eat meat before. In fact, I'm almost positive I once saw him eat an entire chicken in one sitting." 

"I've never hunted before!" Eddie protested, as if he and Wayne had this argument every day. "Eating a chicken isn't going to make me start craving human."

"It's like an alcoholic having a drink versus someone who's never had a drop a day in their life," Wayne explained, and Steve was grateful for an explanation he had literally any chance of understanding. "Sure, the second guy could become an alcholic, but he can also just have a beer on a Friday night. First guy can't go back." 

"So Eddie could--" Steve didn't want to think about it, about Eddie acting like the Blutbad in Otis' journal. 

"He could," Wayne confirmed gravely. 

"I won't!" Eddie said, with the air of a kid who had been promising his father the same thing for his entire life. 

"You won't, but you could," Wayne said, reasonable in a way that came with practice. 

"Oh, my God, Wayne," Eddie hissed, starting to look strained around the eyes. "For the last time, I am not going into a killing frenzy in the mosh pit." 

"Let's hope not," Wayne said, as if that was an actual possibility, and oh my god, Steve didn't need to think about that. Didn't need to think of Eddie in a club at all, especially not in a pit. He'd never seen one, but he'd read about them, violence in a sea of anonymous bodies, an orgy for those who liked to let loose by collecting bruises-- The kind of fun that made Steve's stomach twist in ways he didn't want to examine too closely. The kind of thing he'd never let himself do. 

He just really should not think about it. 

"So why'd you do it?" Dustin asked. His voice was a welcome and necessary distraction to the spiral of Steve's thoughts; Wherever that path led, he'd never let himself go down it sitting next to the kid. 

"What?" Wayne asked, looking a little surprised. 

"If it's so hard," Dustin clarified. "If you have to live the rest of your life struggling, when why leave?" 

Wayne paused, as if he wasn't sure how to explain it. And while Steve was sure the man had thought the same question to himself, maybe the answers he came up with weren't ones he wanted to tell a 13 year old in his living room. Or maybe, he just wasn't sure that Dustin would understand them. (Steve was sure Dustin would, though. Dustin had seen more than he should. Steve wished Dustin understood less.)

Eventually, Wayne said,"When Eddie was born, my brother Al changed. For the better, I mean. He'd always been an asshole, and I don't think having a kid was ever going to change that, but it was like he had woken up one day and his perspective had changed. Suddenly the only thing my brother wanted was to keep his baby safe, even if it meant giving up everything he had ever known. And I... I had never been good at telling Al no." 

All embarassment was gone from Eddie's face, leaving behind instead an uncomfortable sadness. Steve was all too familiar with that pinched frown. To him, it was always from a grief that he didn't know how to hold, a sorrow that fit just a little too big within the spaces of his chest to have a proper place in his life. It required more than his two hands to hold it, and Steve wished he could be that second pair of hands for Eddie. He wished he knew how to hold someone else's pain like that; He wished he'd ever had someone to teach him. 

"We stayed on the move for a few years," Wayne continued. "Came up the East Coast and then headed West when--  Well, stumbling onto Hawkins was almost an accident. I didn't think we'd get to stay until your parents found me and offered the deal." 

It was easy to imagine what the deal might be. Steve knew his parents, knew the kind of deals they liked to make in a board room, and he didn't imagine they saw their town as any different. Still, he wanted to know the details, the particulars. He needed to know exactly how big the knife his parents were holding over Hawkins was.

"Wait a minute," Dustin said, before Steve could ask further. "If Eddie is wieder and he's never hunted before, then my mom has to let me join Hellfire this year! This is perfect!" 

Steve blinked, stunned by the sudden change in subject, then said, "Dustin, there is absolutely no way you can tell your mom about any of this. She would kill me, and probably Wayne, too." 

"Come on, Steve, if the other all join--" 

"There are others?" Eddie said. He actually sounded excited by the idea of the Party joining his silly little club, damn him. Steve hated that it was almost adorable. 

"Yeah! My friends Mike, Lucas, and Will all play together," Dustin said, babbling with excitement and innocence like Steve hadn't seen him in God knew how long. "And maybe Max and El, if her dad lets her come to school this year--" 

"Dustin!" Steve snapped. The Munsons had pretty much been cleared of any and all suspicion at this point, but that didn't mean he trusted them with El. Even good people talked to the wrong suits, sometimes. 

"I mean, we already have some prey species guys in the club," Eddie said, eager enough to ignore Steve's outburst.  "Maybe I can have their moms talk to your mom, let her know what the vibe is like. We haven't had any problems before. Are your friends--" 

"They're human. Well, except for El, she's--" 

"Henderson, if you say one more fucking word," Steve swore. 

"She's basically Steve's little sister," Dustin continued, as if Steve hadn't said a single word. 

"Jesus fucking Christ." 

They both continued around him, as if Steve wasn't having a very public breakdown at Eddie Munson knowing about El's existence. Neither of them even looked his way as he buried his head in his hands and surpressed the urge to scream. Dustin beamed up at Eddie, asking, "So what campaigns did you guys play last year?" 

"Well, we just finished the latest Dragonlance campaign, and let me tell you, those aerial battles--" 

"These children are ridiculous," Robin said, close enough that it broke over the excited racket of Dustin and Eddie's nerdery.  She wasn't wrong; Steve had long since accepted that the kids would always bring their board game up in the face of extreme danger, but he hadn't expected that Eddie would indulge that particular absurdity. Steve was beginning to think that maybe he just had bad taste.

Steve raised his head to look at Wayne apologetically, but he found the man was instead making the same expression back at him. "He'll talk about this for hours, if we let him." 

"Dustin, too," Steve said with a tired nod, and it was in that moment of kinship that Steve had to acknowledge this entire thing was a waste. Eddie and Wayne obviously hadn't done this, they had already known that before Dustin let his emotions get the best of him, but more and more it was becoming obvious that they didn't know anything. They were just normal people who had to work a little harder to get to 'normal', just like Steve and El and Dustin and every other Wesen living on the fringe of what it meant to be human. Whatever clues existed in greater Wesen society were once again entirely out of Steve's reach, and they were no closer than they had been this afternoon. 

Steve let his shoulders slump in resignation. "Maybe we should just let them talk," Steve said. "I don't know what to do now, honestly." 

"It's a damn shame your parents aren't here for all this, kid," Wayne said, eyes sad. Steve hated being pitied, usually, but just for once he let himself revel in it. This was much bigger than he could handle, and it felt a little soothing to have it acknowledged for once.  "They'll get to the bottom of it,eventually. You just gotta wait it out." 

"You have a lot of faith in them," Steve said, curious. He couldn't imagine what they had done to earn it, when he had so little faith in them himself. 

"I mean, not everyone is under their protection, but whatever's out there would have to be awfully stupid to keep messing around where a Grimm can see it," Wayne said, and that, at least, made sense. "Look, son, I know you're under a lot of pressure right now, but this'll all be over once your parents are home." 

It was a sentiment that Steve had heard many times, over the course of his childhood. When he was younger, it felt like he wasn't even allowed to ask questions without someone telling him to just wait for his parents to come home. He tried to tell them that he was sick of waiting, that he was never sure when they were coming back, but that only made everyone upset. So he would call, and someone's secretary would write a note, and Steve would wait. As he got older, Steve stopped calling. Eventually, people let him ask questions-- It was okay when a sixteen year old asked how to pay a power bill, in a way it hadn't been when he was eleven. 

It helped that Steve was good at pretending. He learned to shave in Tommy's bathroom, pretending he'd been doing it for years. He copied signatures and permission slips. No one ever doubted when Steve said he'd called them, because who else spoke like Bradley Harrington? Who else but the son who survived mimicking his tone of voice? Steve pretended he was still waiting, and he didn't feel bad about moving on. 

Wayne made him wish he was still waiting. Not because he actually wanted them to come home-- In fact, the idea of it made him feel the same way he had felt when Nancy had wanted to go to the cops. His stomach squirmed with unease, palms sweating, because his parents were the only people he had never been able to pretend in front of. And if they knew too much about Barb-- if they knew too much about Dustin and El and Robin --then they would know exactly who Steve was. 

But Wayne made Steve want to be the kind of person who didn't feel like that. Or, at least, the kind of person who could ignore it long enough to call. He already knew he should, already knew all the lives he was putting at risk because he was too afraid to pick up a phone, but until that night Steve was okay with his own cowardice. Wayne made him feel guilt for pretending, for the first time in his life. 

Steve wasn't sure if he liked that. 

"Of course," Steve said, still pretending, with a pit in his stomach. "Of course you're right. I'm sure they'll be home as soon as they're able. But is there, uh, anything else you can think of? Just to keep the fort held down until my parents come home." 

"Nothin' off the top of my head, son," Wayne said. "But I'll tell you what: I'll keep my eyes open and my ears peeled, and I'll let you know if anything comes up." 

"Thank you, sir." Steve stood, yanking Dustin out of his conversation. The kid scrambled to follow his lead, still Steve's shadow when he had found a cooler friend, and he felt Robin match his every movement just a moment behind. Steve hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was necessary to leave his number or address with a man who so obviously knew his father. Or even if he would be home when Wayne needed him. He was shit at this leadership stuff. "If-- if there's an emergency, and you can't get in touch with me, you can always call Chief Hopper down at the police station. He knows where to find me in a pinch." 

"Wait wait wait." Eddie sounded harried, and he looked at Steve with wide eyes. "Does Chief Hopper know about this shit?"

"I mean... he knows kids are missing," Steve said, because... well, he had to assume that someone had told the Chief of Police that kids were going missing more often than quarters, "but I haven't told him about the Wesen connection, no."

"But he knows about Wesen?" Eddie asked, and Steve noted that he certainly wasn't afraid to make eye contact now. His eyes all but bored into Steve, big and scared and wholly prey. If he hadn't known better, there was no way Steve would have pegged this man for any kind of predator. Even human seemed a designation too cruel for those eyes.  "He knows there are people in this town who aren't human? Does he-- does he know about me?" 

"No, no, it's not like that," Steve said, because he remembered how scared he was to tell Hopper about being a Grimm, before he even had words for it. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Eddie, with all this... expectation at his back. "Hopper knows that Wesen exist, but that's... recent. And I doubt he knows anything about either of you; I don't think he's even heard of a Blutbad before. Hop knows the basics, and I don't think he plans on learning much more than that." 

Wayne hummed, considering. He seemed much calmer about the idea of a cop in Wesen business. Although, considering all the weed Steve and his friends had bought from Eddie in school, Wayne probably spent less time in general thinking about cops. "Seems like he'd be a good ally, Chief of Police. You don't want to bring him in on the missing kids?" 

Oh, and wasn't that a doozy? Because Wayne was right, from a certain point of view. It would be so much easier to let Hopper take over. But there were so many reasons he couldn't, and so many of them he couldn't tell Wayne. There was just... too much. Too much about Hopper, too much about Steve, and while he fully believed Wayne was a good person... Well, there were a lot of good people Steve didn't trust. 

"Look, Hop is a good man," Steve said, slowly. "But he's a cop first, and that comes with rules and laws and a bunch of other stuff that I don't really understand. Now, Hop isn't always... the best at following those rules, but that's not a position I want to put him in. If there's every anything in this that we can prove to a court of law, then I would love to call the police and step out of the way. But that's just... not the life we're living." 

Besides, pulling Hop in on any Wesen business would be a terrible idea. Once he had one foot in, he was bound to take a mile, and the more he got involved, the bigger chance he had getting tied up in something that Steve's parents would notice. And them noticing Hopper was just a step away from them noticing El, and that was... Steve couldn't have that. 

Wayne was right, though. Steve needed someone to work the human side of things if he wanted any chance of finding this guy. Hopper couldn't get involved, and Steve didn't trust Dr. Owens or the numbers he'd left behind last fall, but... Well, Steve knew a guy. The local paper might not have as many resources as the police department, but people also didn't close the doors on a pretty smile like they did a badge. 

Luckily, Wayne didn't ask him to elaborate. He just sat for a moment, as if he was really considering what Steve had said-- And wasn't that a trip? --and eventually, he nodded and sighed. "... Jim Hopper is a good man," Wayne said, in the voice of a man who was making a choice he hoped he wouldn't regret. "I don't mind calling him first if there's anything I don't think I can handle without someone getting hurt." 

That was certainly a choice of words. 

"I- I'll be right behind him, if you need me," Steve said, trying not to let his voice shake under the sudden image of mild-mannered Wayne Munson wrecking someone's shit. 

"I don't doubt that, son," Wayne said with a smile. 

Steve, unaccustomed to approval this easily, fidgeted under the light of Wayne's grin. "... Right. Right, well, I-- I guess we better get out of your way. It's past Robin's curfew." 

"Oh." Robin practically inflated with shock like a cartoon character, rising up on her tiptoes as she looked at her watch. "Oh, shit. Yeah. Thanks for all the help, Mr. Munson. Bye Eddie!" 

"Yeah, bye Eddie!" Dustin chimed in. "Make sure you talk to your friends about my mom! Her name is Claudia Henderson, we live on--" 

Steve cut him off with a gentle shove towards the door. They didn't have time. Eddie would figure it out, or he wouldn't. Steve needed to get out of here before a Munson decided to make him rethink another aspect of his life. "Dustin, get in the car. Thank you for everything, Mr. Munson." He at least tried to make that sound genuine. 

"No problem, kid," was Wayne's gentle response. "Good luck." 

They left the trailer in a flurry of noise, Dustin and Robin both bursting into their frenzied monologues as soon as the door closed behind them. Stumbling down the steps, Steve almost tripped over both of them as they stuck close to his sides, and he rolled his eyes when Robin came tripping over his heels. 

She grabbed his sweater to steady herself, still complaing over Dustin's excited ramblings. "I can't believe we stayed out this late, Steve. Do you remember how early we have to get up to open, now? In the summer! This is ridiculous, I'm too young for this kind of--" 

Their voices made such a confusing cacophany that Steve almost didn't hear the creak of a screen door behind them, so by the time he turned to check, Eddie was already halfway down the steps. 

"Harrington! Hey, Harrington, wait up!" Eddie called, as if Steve hadn't already stopped in his tracks at the sight of him. Backlit by the faded porch light, Eddie looked otherworldly, a kind of magic that Steve hadn't believed in since his parents decided he was old enough to stop believing in God. Steve felt his mouth going dry already, just looking at golden swirls of errant curls around his head. 

"Oh, uh... Can you guys wait for me in the car? It'll just be a few minutes." 

Dustin would have argued if it weren't so late-- The kid liked to pretend that he was just as ready to pull an all-nighter hunting monsters as he had been two years ago, but Steve recognized the deep-seated teenage urge to sleep for twelve hours a day, and it was hitting Dustin hard. He only looked upset for two seconds before turning away, a yawn already curling his mouth. He didn't even bother to speak, waving at Eddie over his shoulder as he continued trudging to the car. 

Robin shrugged and followed. "Don't make me late for curfew, Harrington, or I'll make you meet my dad." 

Steve shuddered. He hated meeting dads, especially ones whose daughter he wasn't dating-- Mostly because they were always so sure he was. "No chance of that, Buckley." 

He heard Eddie mumble under his breath, a little, "gross," that had Steve frowning off into the swiftly darkening weeds. 

It was such a bad idea for him to talk to Eddie alone; Steve was more than aware that his obsessions got worse the more time he dwelt on them. He knew he would be replaying whatever Eddie said to him over and over again as he tried to sleep, reading into every word deeply enough to give a little rationale to the delusion. It wasn't something Steve could afford to do, especially not when he also had to deal with Eddie's obvious distaste for him, but the alternative seemed even worse.

 Whatever Eddie wanted to talk about, it was obviously i mportant-- And private enough that he hadn't wanted to talk about it in front of Wayne. Dustin would be too nosy, trying to take over the conversation, and Steve honestly didn't have the brainpower to corral him right now. Plus, Steve doubted that Eddie wanted his crush to hear whatever he was about to say. More than that, Steve needed to not actively be resenting Robin over some stupid boy she probably didn't even like. 

God, he hated even thinking that. 

"What's up, Munson?" Steve said. If he talked to Eddie like one of his old teammates, he could pull off sounding normal. Maybe. Probably. 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together as if he was gearing up for something big. "If you're going to be out there looking for those kids, then I want to be there with you. Join you, I mean. On your mission." 

"Um, no. Absolutely not." Steve didn't even have to think about it. 

"Listen, I know we aren't exactly friends, but--" 

"What? No, that's not--" Steve rubbed at his nose, trying to find the right words. He had always been awful at explaining himself. For a long time, it had been hard for him to understand that not everyone thought in the same pathways as him. Even now, when he finally understood the weird looks that people gave him when he spoke, he never seemed to pick the right words to make people understand. That was why Nancy had always been mad at him-- He could never make her understand what he was actually trying to say. It seemed important, now, to make sure Eddie didn't walk away from this with the same irritation. 

"Look, Eddie," Steve said, starting over. "I need to keep this hunt lowkey, alright? As little people as involved as possible, for my own sanity if not for your own safety. I already have to look after Robin and Dustin because they refuse to let this go at all, and I really don't think that I can manage looking after a third Wesen kid while hunting for someone who is actively trying to capture Wesen children. If you go out there with me, there's no guarantee you're coming back, and I'm not repaying Wayne for his kindness by getting his nephew killed." 

All of Steve's efforts had apparently failed, because the apprehension on Eddie's face had already melted into a pissy little frown. "I'm older than you, Harrington, and I can take care of myself," Eddie said, and Steve had to hold himself back from laughing. As if age had ever had anything to do with it. As if Steve hadn't seen the tiniest twelve year old girl throw men like Eddie to their deaths. 

Luckily, Steve didn't have to reach that deeply to push back. He had four years of memories that were more than enough to keep Eddie Munson far away from any battle field. "Oh yeah? The bloodless, wieder Blutbad is going to fight the monster off himself?" Steve asked. "Eddie, I had to physically drag Tommy Hagan away from kicking your ass multiple times, and that kid was made of pipe cleaners and marshmallow fluff. I don't think you can handle a real fight. ... No offense." Even he didn't believe his own weak appeal at civility. 

"Oh, what, and you can? You got your ass beat by Jonathan Byers, man. We all heard the rumors," Eddie hissed, and Steve could have recognized the wounded masculinity a mile away. 

He rolled his eyes, a hand on his hip. "I do just fine when my opponent isn't a teenage boy with a mother waiting for him to come home, turns out," Steve said, thinking about the way bone collapsed so easily under the weight of his bat. Yeah, he did okay. 

Eddie looked away, flushing. It wasn't the first time that night, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Steve couldn't blame him; While Eddie had obviously learned a lot about self control from his uncle, whatever he saw in Steve's woged eyes must have been enough to seriously throw him off. Even El and Robin, who'd had the most violent reactions, had mostly gotten over it. Eddie, though, looked at Steve like he might start foaming at the mouth and biting at any moment. 

Which was a little ironic, considering, but Steve wasn't about to point that out. 

Making Eddie uncomfortable had never been on Steve's to-do list, so he decided to simply avoid eye contact from here on out. Honestly, it was a little relieving, because Steve hated eye contact with strangers he wasn't trying to flirt something out of. But it was a little upsetting that Eddie didn't want to look at him. And now he didn't have an excuse to look at Eddie's eyes. 

Whatever, this would probably be good for him. They could just stop making eye contact, and Steve could finally put this stupid crush to bed. 

Fuck, no, Harrington. Don't call it a crush. 

Still looking away, Eddie deflated, and Steve noticed he was just a hair shorter than Steve himself. "Alright, fine," Eddie said,  "I'm not going to be any help in a fight. But I know way more about Wesen society than either of those kids you've got with you--" 

"Oh, come on," Steve said, a little irritated by Eddie playing dumb, "you literally know Robin--" 

"And you need the help, Harrington. Don't pretend you don't." In that, at least, Eddie's voice was firm. Confident. Too bad for him that Steve had always been better at faking it. 

"No, I don't need another tag-along nerd," Steve said, pulling for a little of that tried and true Hagan disdain. He just needed Eddie to give this up, go back inside, and pretend none of this ever ended up on his doorstep. "I have books and shit for that, okay? My parents didn't leave me totally unarmed; We'll be fine--" 

"If you didn't need the help, then why did you show up here asking questions then, huh?" Eddie asked, and, well-- It was a good question. One that Steve knew he wouldn't exactly be able to explain his way out of, considering he was lost in the woods on most of this. 

Steve decided to stop arguing he didn't need help, and just start arguing that he didn't need help from Eddie. Something in him smarted at actively trying to hurt the man's feelings, but it would be better for them both, in the long run. "Because the 14 year old would have shown up alone, if I hadn't, and while I know you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag, I wasn't so sure about Wayne," Steve said.

"Look, Harrington, just-- I have actual connections in Wesen society. Not one or two friends, but a whole network of people in Indiana who know more about themselves than any Grimm that ever lived," Eddie said, and Steve had to wonder how many families on the list Eddie could find a friend of a friend to talk to. How deep these connections really went. Would a Jagerbar family be more willing to talk to a Blutbad who showed up on their doorstep? "If you're going to be actually investigating this, you're going to need someone who can get you answers from people like that. Not the books your parents left you." 

"Why? Why can't you just stay safe?" And Steve was talking to Eddie, sure, but meant everyone. No one in Hawkins was willing to get themselves to a safe place and just stay there. They all had to be heroes, and it was driving Steve insane trying to keep them all alive. Why did Eddie have to be stricken with the same affliction? Why did it have to be every fucking time? 

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened," Eddie said, an answer that Steve had already known. It was the same reason he had even agreed to come here, the same reason he had stepped between monsters and the people he cared about every time. It was the same reason that Nancy had walked away from him to find answers, and the same reason Dustin put his stupid neck on the line every single day-- Because they had to. They didn't have any other choice. Steve just wished it could be someone else, for once. 

 "I know I wasn't always the best at it," Eddie continued, his big, sad eyes shining in the moonlight, "but I have done everything I can to try and clean up the messes you couldn't. If there was a bully stupid enough to piss you off, I made sure they came after me, not after the other guys. Because... Because I couldn't handle it happening to someone who couldn't take it, and I knew I could. And I can take whatever this monster's got to throw at me. But those kids...." 

If there was one thing Steve could not stand, it was to see himself in someone else. He could barely stand to look at Dustin, sometimes, especially when he was angry and lecturing his friends. More and more the kid was picking up Steve's sarcasm. But in Eddie it was worse, because it was the only part of himself that Steve even liked. It pissed him off, on Eddie, made him want to take the guy by the shoulders and shake some self-preservation into him. But Steve's hands were tied. He knew it would make him the worst kind of asshole if he brushed Eddie off, and the worst of it was he couldn't even pretend that he wasn't here for the exact same reasons. There was no talking Eddie out of this, and if he was anything like Steve, he'd probably just show up if Steve told him no. 

 "Fine. Fine! I'll keep you in the loop," Steve said, as angry about capitulating as he had been with Dustin earlier. He knew he needed to get better at saying no, but he would rather people do stupid shit with him around to pull them out of it, and he was beginning to suspect that everyone knew it. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to plan a way to keep Eddie safe and far enough away from Steve that he wouldn't be too distracting. Or, worse, actually helpful. The last thing Steve needed was another competent monster hunter to embarass himself in front of. "I-- Ugh. I need to make some calls, get some info on the human side of things so we can start trying to figure out how this guy is finding these kids. Me and Robin have Monday off, so we can meet up that afternoon and go over what I found. Fair warning, the answer might be 'absolutely nothing'." 

Eddie brightened, a grin spreading across his face so quickly that Steve was beginning to suspect he had been played. "Sounds good. Who are you calling, though? Is Hop feeding you information? Is that why we knows?" 

"Uh, no." Steve really did not want to tell Eddie that his big, important source was his ex-girlfriend. For a multitude of reasons, most of which Steve didn't want to think about for too long. "I actually-- Well. I know some guys in the government." Because true lies were the best kind of all. 

"Wait, what?"

And, yeah, there was no way Steve was going to give more detail after all the hints Dustin had dropped in the trailer. Look, I'll see you Monday, Eddie, but I really have to go before Robin kills me. Bye," he said, turning on his heel quickly before Eddie could get a word in. 

He heard a confused goodbye mumbled behind him, but Steve kept his head down as he marched to the car. Thoughts swam in Steve's brain at a pace that had his pulse pounding in his temples. Everything, from what little Wayne had told them, to Eddie's crush on Robin, to the reemergence of Steve's worst habits, to Dustin's new obsession with getting into Eddie's club, was a jumbled mess in the front of his mind. And he knew it was stupid and selfish, the way everything suddenly seemed equally important, but Steve had never been very good at compartmentalizing. He dealt with what was in front of him; Always had. 

The problem with that was everything had turned up on his plate at once, and Steve only had so many hands. And mouths. And brains. 

It didn't help that he could already hear Robin and Dustin's voices before he even made it to the Forest Hills sign, much less to the Bimmer. He had no idea what they were arguing about, their voices muffled just enough that Steve couldn't make out any distinct words, but they were obviously arguing about something-- No matter how good Steve's hearing had gotten, it hadn't turned him into Superman yet. There was no overhearing quiet conversations in buildings down the street. They were yelling, and loudly. 

Steve snatched open the driver's side door, already glaring and bitching before he even got a foot in the vehicle. "Literally what is wrong with the two of you?" 

Dustin had put up with Steve's scoldings for too long to take them seriously, and he tried to continue the arguement, not even looking Steve's way. "Would it kill you to admit that I'm right for once--" 

Robin, however, had centered all her attention on Steve the moment the door opened. She watched him with narrowed eyes, now, ignoring Dustin's shrill voice behind her. There was a moment of silence as Steve settled into his seat, but the moment he shut the door, Robin asked, "What happened?" 

Resisting the urge to bash his head against the steering wheel for the next half hour or so, Steve stared down at his hands for a moment. He wasn't even sure what she was asking him, as he doubted that Robin would care that Steve and Eddie had just stood outside and had a little bitch fit about who got to be the bigger hero. He thought she'd probably just roll her eyes and call them both stupid boys, honestly. Or maybe not. Maybe Robin did like Eddie back. Maybe Steve was already in the way again, and it would be better just to let them handle it, let Eddie take the spot that Robin and Dustin had dragged Steve into anyway-- 

"Nothing," Steve said, shaking the threads of anxiety from his head and starting the engine. "Eddie just wanted to ask if he could come the next time we do research. I told him it was cool." 

"Oh, good," Robin said. She didn't look too excited about the news, which was a great sign for him vis a vis getting his heart broken mid-monster hunt again. "It'll be nice to have an extra pair of eyes looking for clues. We need all the help we can get." 

"Yeah," Steve said. The car idled underneath them as Steve fiddled with the air conditioner. He knew he should start driving now if they wanted Robin to make it home on time, but his brain was still spinning. He just needed to breathe for a second. Just a fucking second. "I'm not used to being on the mystery side of things. I usually just show up and swing at whatever seems like the thing most likely to kill someone." 

"And he didn't know what a Grimm was," Robin muttered under her breath. 

"Hey, you have me!" Dustin protested. "I know I'm not as good as Nancy, and I don't have any weird old guys with government documents in his basement or anything, but I figure stuff out all the time!" 

"I know, and I'm gonna call Nance--" Steve paused, then twisted around in his seat to face Dustin in the back. "... Do you think we should be looping Murray in on this Wesen thing?" 

"Who's Murray?" Robin asked. 

"Are you crazy, Steve?" Dustin's voice rose an entire octave. "That racist asshole? Fuck no. He'd probably try to put El in a cage or something. And then we'd have to kill him, and Nancy would be, like, so mad at us. "

That was fair. Steve had never liked Murray, anyway. Despite the fact that he was apparently 'instrumental' to getting justice for Barb, Murray hadn't really seemed to care either way. While Nancy had been in it for the truth, and helping innocent victims, Murray had been mostly focused on being right. In the maybe thirty minutes he'd spoken to the man last Christmas, Murray had spent the entire time forcing uncomfortable eye contact and telling Steve all about his incredibly troubling theories. The more upsetting they were, the more excited he seemed about the whole thing. Steve really didn't want to see how excited he got about more missing kids.

Besides, while Steve trusted that Murray knew better than to cross Hopper by coming for El, Steve absolutely did not believe for a second that Murray wouldn't out every single Wesen involved if it could be used as 'proof'. He was addicted to being right. God, Steve really hoped he could get that impulse out of Dustin before it got too late. 

 "You're probably right," Steve said, and turned back around, putting the car into reverse. 

"Who the fuck is Murray!?" 

They did not make it home in time for Robin's curfew. 

Luckily, Robin's mother had been delighted to meet him, and though Robin complained under her breath the entire time about her mom getting the wrong idea, Steve had been happy to play along if it meant Robin didn't get grounded. Mrs. Buckley had all but begged Steve to stay and have dessert, and Steve was oddly touched-- The woman was obviously terrified of a Grimm in her kitchen, never looking him in the eyes for longer than a moment or two, but her offer sounded genuine and warm. He would have said yes, if Dustin hadn't been in the car. It would have been nice to know another Wesen family. 

It was only after he'd dropped Dustin off that Steve remembered why he really shouldn't accept food from the Buckleys. 

The next day before work, Steve called Nancy Wheeler for the first time in months. They'd talked since they'd broken up; Of course they had. With Dustin and Mike as close as they were, it was practically impossible for them not to run into each other now and again, and it wasn't like they hated each other, now. Phone calls were more intimate than a casual conversation, though. It spoke of more intent, to just call someone up and chat for hours, and while Steve was all for trying to be friends, eventually, he hadn't wanted Nancy to fill pressured by him calling her out of nowhere-- He hadn't wanted to put Jonathan in that position, either, though he figured his own feelings had never crossed Jonathan's mind. 

He owed it to the guy, he figured, for being such a dick. 

He figured neither of them would mind in an emergency, though-- They were all nearly adults now, and experienced monster hunters. They could have this conversation without bringing their history into it. Even as he justified it to himself, Steve hoped that it wasn't Ted or Karen who would answer the phone. Ted hated him and Karen had always liked him a little too much; The last thing Steve needed was another set of parents assuming that Steve was chasing after their daughter. 

He could just see Mrs. Buckley and Karen Wheeler glaring at each other during a PTA meeting, fighting over a boy that both their daughters felt nothing but disgust for. It would be funny for about two seconds, until it absolutely tanked Steve's barely recovered reputation.

In Steve's ear, the ringing stopped, and Steve straightened from his slump over his kitchen counter just enough to brace himself. 

"Wheeler Residence, Nancy speaking."

Steve sighed in relief. "Uh, hey, Nance. It's me. ... Steve," he said awkwardly. He hated talking to people on the phone. Without facial cues, he was basically lost in conversations; Most girls were easy because they only wanted to flirt, but for everything else, Steve could barely understand what people were trying to say, much less what they were thinking. He decided to barge through the stilted small talk and get right to the point. It wasn't like Nancy's opinion of him could get any lower. "Look, do you have time to help me with a problem?" 

There was silence on the other side of the phone, leaving Steve squirming for a few moments before Nancy said, "Is this about the shirt you lost? The red one?" There was something tense in Nancy's voice, something that Steve couldn't place, but had to assume was anger or  suspicion or both. 

"What?" Steve said, before he could even think about it. For a moment, Steve had thought she was actually asking about a shirt, and it tripped him up. It was only after he registered the tension in her voice that he realized this was probably some kind of code or implication he just didn't understand. He had no idea what a red shirt meant, or why Steve would have been the one to lose it, but it didn't take a genius to figure out it probably had something to do with the Upside Down. "Oh! No, no, but it is about a mutual friend of ours. The one we met at Chief Hopper's?" 

There was another pause, and when Nancy's voice returned, it was unsure. "But it's... not about the red shirt?" 

"No, it's--" Steve sighed. He hated talking in code, hated that he couldn't just say what he meant and ask Nancy to stop talking to him like she was afraid he might actually explode from stupidity. It was so stupid; She was the one who had wanted to go to the cops to begin with, and now she and everyone else was so afraid to even breathe the wrong way. And Steve got it; He really did. Keeping El safe was the first priority, but what was the point of never talking about anything else? They all knew about the Upside Down and the labs. The government knew they knew.  And it wasn't like the American government didn't know that Wesen existed; They'd had little Wesen girls in labs to do experiments on. They should have fucking guessed one of them would figure it out, eventually. They should have been the ones to stop the kids from going missing, the ones to stop monsters so his parents didn't have to. If they wanted to get involved now, good for them. Steve would happily hand it over. For now, though, he was sick of pretending like he cared. If they were even listening. "Look, Nancy, do you honestly think you've been bugged?" 

"Steve!" Nancy hissed, sharp and angry. Months ago, when they had been together, it would have immediately made him step back and apologize. Now, though, it just made the foreign strength that Steve had begun to think of as his rage prickle across the back of his neck. 

"I'm serious, Nance. This is serious," he repeated, because she didn't often believe he knew the importance of things. Steve didn't take it personally; She did that to most people. He just didn't have the patience for the conversation it would take to convince her. "There's no time to be playing spy games or whatever." 

"The government is serious, Steve," Nancy said, as if Steve hadn't been there. "I don't know why--" 

"The government can go fuck itself, starting with Reagan. And if anyone is listening, they can tell him I said that, too. Whatever, they probably know about all this shit anyway-- And if they don't, oh fucking well," Steve said.

Nancy made a little noise of shock, one that reminded Steve of his mother. All suburban sensibilities. It was a practiced sound, one that Nancy had obviously donned out of some kind of camoflague or simply habit, but it made Steve roll his eyes all the same. 

"Steve, what has--" she began, but Steve wasn't interested in playing their assigned roles right now. 

"El wasn't the only one of her kind," he interrupted. Immediately, Nancy's voice failed. Good, he thought. He could practically feel her investigative instincts firing up through the phone line. Hopefully now they could dispense with the masquerade of normalcy. 

"We knew that, already," she said, eventually. "Her siblings--" 

"No, I mean... El would have had powers even if she'd never been taken to the lab," Steve huffed. He wasn't explaining this very well. It would be easier, he thought, if he could just tell her about himself. That would be proof enough for anyone, especially with his Woge backing it up. However, he wasn't sure if he wanted Nancy to know-- It was hard enough to admit his own lack of humanity to people who understood, like Robin or Eddie. It was entirely another to admit to a human. Hopper had been a necessary evil, because he needed someone to put him down if something went wrong, but what good would telling Nancy do? It would only confirm what she already knew; Steve had never been a real person in the first place. 

"There's whole races of them, Nancy," he continued, trying to keep it all as vague as possible. "They're called Wesen, and they-- They're not as powerful as El, usually, but they're not human. They're more than that. And that's why the lab wanted El so badly. That's why the lab wanted all those kids so badly. Because there's not that many of them, but there's-- There's more than we thought, Nancy. So much more."

Nancy's voice was faint. "... What?"

"I know it doesn't make sense," Steve admitted. He had already known it was going to be hard to sell Nancy on a fairy tale without proof, but without outing himself or Dustin, his hands were tied. "I know that, Nance, but I've met them. Kids and adults both, I've met them and I've seen them 'change' like she does. Ask Hopper, if you don't believe me. It's real. It's all real. And-- and they're in trouble."

"Steve, how do you know this?" Nancy asked, and this time Steve had no problem identifying the emotion in her words. It was doubt, plain and simple, and Steve tried not to think of all the hurtful reasons it was there. 

"They--" Steve paused. He really should have come up with a lie before this, but he had honestly thought having Hopper on his side would have been enough to sway her. Maybe he should have known better. "They came to me because they saw me hanging around with El. She's been trying to find more out about her parents, so..."

"Really? That's it? They just saw you hanging out with El and thought, oh, he looks like the person to talk to about this?" If Steve wasn't mistaken, there was a thread of laughter in Nancy's voice. As if it was so laughable that anyone would choose Steve to be their hero. And that was fair, maybe, because Steve hadn't been chosen by anything other than genetics, but it didn't change that he was the only one that could fix things. And Steve needed her with him on that, whether she believed in him or not. 

"Look, it doesn't matter why they chose me," Steve said, already sick of trying to justify himself.  "The point is, kids are going missing. Tons of them. Like, dozens per year. Not just little kids, either, but people your age. And I think I might be able to stop the guy doing this, but I need your help."

"And you're sure it's not..." Nancy's voice trailed off, unwilling to say it out loud. Steve wasn't sure if she was worried about the bugs again, or if she thought that saying it out loud would bring it back into their lives. Either way, the unsaid name hung between them like a physical wall until Steve swallowed his guilt down. This was different, and it was something he could still stop. They didn't have the time. 

"Yes, Nance. This is just... plain human evil," Steve said. "Well, not human. But you get what I mean." 

"I still don't understand how you got caught up in this," Nancy said.  

"It doesn't matter at this point, Nance. I don't--" Steve huffed, rolling his eyes. "Look, if this is going to be a problem, I can go to someone else." 

"No!" Nancy's protest was quick, the idea of being taken completely off the case apparently much more terrifying than a few unanswered questions. "No, I want to help. What do you need?" 

"So, I've got the Wesen-- that's what they're called, Wesen, it means--" 

"People in German, yes," Nancy, as if that was common knowledge. Steve had no idea when everyone in Hawkins learned German, or why he had been missing from class that day, but whatever. That made this whole thing easier. 

"... Yes, so, I've got that angle covered. I've got some-- some connections in the community, I guess," Steve said. He felt much less protective over Eddie and Robin's status than he did Dustin's, especially considering that they weren't so involved in Nancy's life already. Still, he didn't like the idea of her knowing. Sure, she wasn't as involved in their lives, but they were all going to the same school, and from the sound of it, they were already having a rough enough time there. He hoped she didn't dig. "But I'm having a little trouble getting information on the human side of things. You know, where this guy might be finding the kids, if they hang out in any of the same places, you know? So I was wondering if you had any sources at the paper that might--" 

"I don't work at the paper anymore, Steve," Nancy said, voice clear as Steve's ramblings tumbled to a hault around it.  

"What?" 

"I said I don't--" 

"No, I heard you, just..." Steve stopped, taking in a breath. She had been so excited for that internship. It had been all she talked about, in the few times they had spoken recently. She and Jonathan both had been so thrilled to start the first steps of a life they could build together. Steve had been ruthlessly jealous, but hearing the flat, monotone cadence of her voice now only filled him with sudden alarm. "God, Nance, are you okay?" 

"It's fine," Nancy said, and they had dated long enough for Steve to know that those words were almost always a lie. It might have been a little hypocritical for him to think, but Steve had long since accepted that a Wheeler would always complain when they were happy and smile when they were miserable. Even little Holly whined about being uncomfortable when she fell asleep against Steve's shoulder. 

"No, come on, you can talk to me. Did something happen?" Maybe it was the months of feeling like the entire world was on his shoulders, but Steve felt the unfamiliar urge to fix everything. He was aware enough of his own behavior to know that in the past he had ignored every problem in Nancy's life and hoped for the best, but that obviously hadn't worked. There had to be something he could do, to fix this for her and Jonathan. "If-- If something happened, I can help. I can call my mom, you know, my parents donate a lot to the paper, and if I call her--" 

"Steve, I can take care of myself!" Steve thought, absurdly, of Eddie. How he so badly needed to be cared for, how Wayne wanted desperately to do it for him, and how Eddie chafed and squirmed under the gentle hand of his uncle's worry. The same protestations had fallen from his lips just the night before, but when Wayne had pushed, Eddie had seemed exasperated but... fond? Maybe he and Nancy would get there, one day, maybe she would let him be her friend--

"No, I know you can," Steve said, trying to sound as responsible as possible. "I just--" 

"You're not my boyfriend anymore!" 

The explosion of Nancy's anger, now so obvious, drew Steve up short. He had never forgotten that Nancy had dumped him. He thought of it every time he saw her, how badly she had hurt him. Was he acting like he had forgotten? He hadn't meant to. If anything, Steve had gone out of his way to give Nancy and Jonathan space, to make sure they both knew that he had accepted his loss. Steve couldn't tell how he had overstepped, but it was obvious he had. Nancy wasn't someone who would just bring it up out of nowhere. Steve had messed up, somewhere. 

But all he had done was care about her. Was that it? Was that what he had done wrong? Steve hadn't thought so; He'd cared the same way about Carol and Nicole and his former female friends, and their boyfriends had never seemed threatened outside of some light teasing about the unstoppable charisma of Steve Harrington. So maybe it was just Nancy. Maybe it was just with her that he wasn't allowed to care. Or maybe it was a Steve problem. Maybe it was only him who wasn't allowed to be her friend. 

"Okay?" Steve said. He rubbed at his nose as he coughed, trying to rid the quaver from his throat. "Okay, I, uh... I'm sorry, Nancy. I didn't mean to overstep. I'm... I'm sorry I bothered you, too. I'll find somebody else." 

"No, Steve, I--" Nancy sighed, and Steve recognized the emotion behind that one all too well. He had fucked up again, somehow. She was sighing like his mother did when Steve didn't pick something up quickly enough, like teachers did when he asked stupid questions. Steve flinched away from the phone, even as Nancy said, "I can help without the paper. I want to help." 

"Great! That's-- That's great," Steve said, hoping it was true. "Um, hold on, I have a list of names. Do you have a pen and paper?" 

Slowly, Steve read off the list of names and towns, occassionally stopping to fill Nancy in on small details like parents' names or schools. Because the victims were kids, there was a depressingly small amount of information they had found. In fact, most of what they had was a list of everyone who had a drug addict as a parent, which was interesting, but he wasn't sure how to explain everything to Nancy without her freaking out. Besides, if they were connected through the Buckleys, there was no way Robin and Steve wouldn't find the connection eventually. He just needed Nancy to check out the small, human things. Things Steve had never been good at. 

"Anything you can find would be... I mean, I've already checked, you know?" Steve said, nervously. "But I'm not half the researcher you are, and it would make me feel better to have you checking my work. There's no telling what I missed." 

"Right. Well, I'll start working on this immediately. It's not like I've got anything else to do," Nancy said, bitterly. 

Steve made a small noise of agreement that he hoped wasn't too offensive. Usually, he would have stayed on the phone for just a hair too long, taking advantage of the situation to find out how Nancy was doing, what she and Jon were up too. Sometimes, he asked about the kids, and Nancy would explain whatever game they had been playing in a way that actually made sense for Steve. He liked those conversations; They made him feel like he was finally making progress on the 'friends' thing. After Nancy's outburst, though, Steve had to wonder if Nancy had ever enjoyed them at all, or if she just assumed it was Steve's last, desperate attempt to win her back. 

He tried to think of the politest way to hang up, so he could go to work and try to forget any of this ever happened. Robin would be a great distraction for his brain, her rambling going to a good cause for once, and maybe one of the kids would come in. Maybe he could pick up dinner on the way to Hopper's, maybe Max would be there, too, and Steve could spend some time talking to people who actually wanted him around. Maybe-- 

"Steve, can I..." Nancy hesitated. She sounded almost shy, in a way she hadn't around Steve since they first started dating. "Why didn't you go to Hopper with this?" 

When Wayne had asked Steve that question, he had to bite his tongue somewhat. Steve had been raised in a family with a lot of secrets, although he had no idea how many at the time. And family secrets stayed inside the family at all costs. There were a lot of things Steve wouldn't say to someone on the outside, and even more he simply wouldn't. Things that Wayne wouldn't understand. 

Nancy was different. Nancy had been here for all of it, every second, and she was deeper into the inner circle than Steve himself. More than that, Nancy was keenly aware just how badly adults had kept failing children in Hawkins. She would understand why Steve couldn't just hand it all over and pretend it wasn't happening. He almost wanted to point out that, at one point, she hadn't either, but-- Well. Although Steve still stung with betrayal, at the moment Nancy sounded more curious than accusatory. There was no point in picking a fight. 

"I love Hop, you know that. Mostly, I just want to keep him completely out of this. I wouldn't be able to take it if this put him or El in harm's way. But also, I..." Steve sighed. "It's hard to agree with the way Hop does things sometimes. You know what I mean. You've seen the way he can get with El." 

"He's been through a lot, Steve," Nancy said, softly. 

"Believe me, I get that," Steve said, because Hopper had told him a little after a few too many beers. About Sarah and the way El had torn that hole in his chest right back open. Steve honestly understood; That didn't mean he had to like it. Especially not when, bizarrely, it was pointed in his direction. "And he's been trying to be better about it all. But I can't have him trying to Papa Bear me right now, and if we find those kids, I really can't predict what he's going to do. I need... I need someone I can trust to do things the right way, even if that person isn't me. But Hop's a complete mystery, and I can never tell if he's going to be a hardass or a loose canon. I can't afford that right now." 

"But you trust me?" Nancy said,

"Of course I do. Nance, come on." Steve's voice dropped into softness, almost a whisper. He felt terrible, talking about how much he liked her after everything. Felt guilty and ashamed and sneaky and gross. But he couldn't have Nancy thinking that he didn't still think she was the best person he'd ever met. "You're the smartest person I've ever met, and you've never steered me wrong. Even when... Even when we've fought about stuff, it's just because you were doing what you thought was right. I trust you not to let your emotions put people in danger, which is more than I can say for... Well, Hopper, but me, too. Joyce. Most people, I think. You, though... You're good." 

There was another long, uncomfortable silence between them. Steve kept his breathing as shallow as possible, trying not to make too much noise. Eventually, though, it had simply gone on too long for Steve to spend leaned against his counter and doing nothing-- He did still have a job. "Nance, I--" 

"I hope you have a good day at work," Nancy blurted, and then Steve heard nothing but the buzzing of the dial tone. 

"What the hell just..." Steve muttered, pulling the phone receiver away from his ear and staring at it as if it had more information on what the hell had just happened. The receiver didn't talk, just stayed inanimate in his hand, plastic and useless. "I would love to have even one day not be completely fucking weird." 

Maybe it was nothing, he told himself as he put the phone back on the hook. Maybe she was just busy, or maybe she had realized that she didn't actually want to be talking to him. Maybe she had just gotten freaked out by the way he still thought of her. 

He hoped it wasn't anything more complicated than that. Steve wasn't sure that his brain could take it. 

Luckily, Robin was more than enough distraction when he got to work. A nervous tension had taken over her body, including her brain, apparently. It was like working with a sugar-fiend elementary schooler. Everything Robin said all Saturday was twice as many words with half the substance, and she never stopped moving. She reminded Steve of a spooked squirrel, darting from station to station, hands always toying with something not meant to be toyed with. At first, Steve had tried to be sympathetic. Robin had been through a lot, learned a lot about herself and her family, this weekend. Of course she was a little shaken up. 

Still, eight hours was a long, long time. By Sunday morning, Steve almost missed the Robin who critiqued his every move and word. At least she had a personality that he could stand to be in the room with. Crisis mode had been cute at first, and then deeply annoying, but Steve had realized that this wasn't just anxiety or nerves. Robin was quickly heading into a full scale breakdown, and he wasn't sure how easily he was going to be able to clean up after that. 

After hours of talking about the weather on a loop during their Sunday shift, Steve finally gave up and broke into the heart of the matter.

"So how's it going with your parents?" 

Robin's reaction was swift, her whole body filling with anger at once until she was standing straight, her shoulders squared, and staring at him like he would attack at any moment. If she was Woged, Steve was sure her fur would actually be bristling. 

"I'm only asking because I know how it can feel," Steve said, doing his best to keep his voice soft and comforting. He made sure not to make eye contact; An accidental woge would just set her off. "I mean, you already know all about my parents, but... I had Dustin and El and Hopper to talk about it with. It's a lot to process, and I didn't want you to have to do it yourself." 

For a moment, Robin only stood stock-still, her muscles twitching with tightly held energy. Eventually, though, her stance softened, face going slack with what Steve thought might have been exhaustion. She groaned, turning away from him and leaning against the service counter. He gave her a moment, letting her work through her embarassment before she said, "I thought I was going to hate him. I really did. But then I looked him in the eyes and it... It was hard. Not because I didn't love him anymore. I do. But I know I'm not supposed to, and now when I look at him I want to throw up because I know what he's done, but he's still my dad, and I can't hate him." 

Steve hummed, considering. "Alright, that's less relatable then I thought it was going to be, can't lie." 

"But also I'm... really pissed off?" Robin ignored him, sounding unsure if she was even describing the right emotion. 

"There it is." 

"I just don't know why he would risk all our lives like this," Robin said, words in a rush and tempo gaining as she continued. "Even if your parents don't come back, ever, even if no one ever finds out... This is the exact stuff that got us kicked out of the last place. And I thought it was just rumors. I thought it was just Wesen gossip bullshit! But, no, it was his fault. And if he's not careful, then we're going to have to pack up and move again. It wasn't so bad, last time, 'cause I was so small, but... I don't have it in me to start over again. I don't! Why the hell did he think this was okay?" 

"Honestly, Rob?" Steve winced. He hated that he had to be the one to say this, because generally he was all for being as anti-parent as possible, but Robin seemed actually distressed. She deserved answers, and Steve certainly didn't have them for her. "This is going to sound insane coming from me, but I think that might be something you have to talk to your dad about." 

"And freak him out? No," Robin said, shaking her head as if she could banish the very thought, "that would just make everything worse. He'd probably move us to California on pure adrenaline alone." 

"At least you don't have to worry about my parents. You're right, I'm not sure they're ever coming home. And even if they did..." Steve shrugged. "They're not exactly keen in meeting my friends. I'm pretty sure they think I'm still hanging out with Tommy and Carol everyday. Unless your dad does something ridiculously stupid, I doubt they'd even notice." 

"This whole thing is ridiculously stupid," Robin hissed, and, yeah, she wasn't wrong, but that wasn't exactly the point Steve had been trying to make. He decided to change tactics.  

"If it helps, Hop and I have already talked about what to do if my parents come home and start causing problems," he confessed, even though he knew she would probably tease him about trying to be a super-hero again later. As long as she didn't let Dustin hear it, he was willing to sacrifice his dignity to keep her from freaking out.

"Is that the plan Dustin was talking about?" Robin asked, too in her own head to start the mocking campaign. 

"Yeah. Neither of us really felt... comfortable, letting my parents run the town the way they have until now. I don't like the idea of them holding things over people's heads. Like, I have no idea what their deal with the Wesen in Hawkins is, but I don't like it," Steve said. He wished he had talked to Wayne about it more, but he knew that revealing just how little his parents had told him would only worry the old man. "I know that, like, laws aren't that much different, but. Well. Hop isn't exactly great at those, either. I doubt he's going to change his mind just because people agreed to it when they got here." Steve wasn't great at remembering all the words for politics and wars and such, but he was pretty sure he knew right from wrong, now. Nancy had often talked about making people agree to things they actually had no choice in, just to make it look like you weren't a terrible person forcing people into things. His parents loved that trick; There was never a rule in the Harrington household they couldn't make him feel like shit for hating. He had no doubts they'd pull the same crap on some poor, scared stranger.

"That's great. No, seriously, it is. I'm sure for people like the Munsons, it'll be... It'll be great, to not have to worry. But my dad is doing something bad, Steve. Like, genuinely morally wrong," Robin said, and Steve had to admit that was a fair point. "Hopper would have a problem with that. And he would be right to." 

"Why does Hopper have to know about it?" Steve asked, confused.

"... You would keep it from him? I thought he was, like, your 'psuedo-dad' or whatever," Robin said, air quotes and all. 

"I keep things from Hop literally all the time," Steve said with a scoff. He wasn't sure when he had suddenly changed into such a good boy in Robin's eyes, but lying to parents had always been part of the Steve Harrington brand. When that parent was a cop, all the practice came in handy. "It's the only way El gets to see sunlight or hold hands with her boyfriend. I'm, like, a fucking professional at keeping things from Hopper. The criminals of Hawkins should be asking me for tips, at this point." 

"Classy," Robin said, grinning. Likely at the image of a hardened criminal having an actual conversation with Steve. He knew it was ridiculous; That's why he said it.  

"Besides, it's not like your dad is the one killing people or grinding them up. If I had to guess, he's sourcing them out of state. Maybe from a morgue or something?" Steve said, unable to stop himself from pulling a disgusted face. "Like, if this is a big operation, they're probably trying to keep it as clean as possible, to not get attention. I doubt anyone is dying because of him. People would notice!  Someone just thought it was a good opportunity for a quick buck." 

"You almost sound like you think he should keep doing it," Robin grumbled.

"No, it's still gross," Steve said. He'd always thought drugs were kind of stupid, honestly. Sure, some weed from time to time was fine, it was basically no different than drinking a lot, but otherwise it all seemed like a really expensive way to lose your teeth and die early. The idea of adding that to cannibalism was even wilder. He couldn't imagine ever needing a high that badly. "If you came in loaded on human heart one day, I'd probably stop talking to you. I definitely don't think I can look Mrs. Henderson in the eye again. But, uh, I don't think anyone deserves to die for it. Especially when the problem seems so..." Steve wasn't sure he had the words for it.

"So?" Robin prompted.

"I mean, he's not the only person doing it, you know?" Steve asked, hands spreading parallel as if he was making a globe. "The problem is bigger than him. Your dad being punished isn't actually going to do all that much, when you think about it. Like, have you thought about how weird it is that half the missing kids had parents in his black book? That's fucked. And the thing is, if something happened to your dad, they would just get it somewhere else. I think if we wanna stop this drug organ thing, it's gonna take a lot more time and patience than any Harrington has, including me."

Robin nodded to herself, silently, brow creased with thought. Steve, a little surprised that had actually made sense to her, turned back to scraping dried ice cream off the freezer. He didn't get very far before Robin said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, Steve, but I have to ask." 

"Yeah?" 

"Why do you go so far to save people like my dad when I know you're terrified of pissing yours off?" When Steve turned to look at her, Robin's face was solemn and her blue eyes were intense. Predator eyes. "You know what's gonna happen. I know you know. So why are you doing it anyway?" 

Steve looked down at the scraper in his hands, picking at the residue on the edge with his thumb nail. He didn't like thinking about the inevitable end, hated even more knowing that he was only speeding it up. But Steve had told himself, two years ago, that he had to stop letting fear keep him from doing the right thing. And to his own surprise, he actually had. Steve wasn't about to break that streak now. 

"... Your dad is a good dad?" he asked. 

Robin sighed. "He doesn't always do it the right way, but I can't imagine a dad who would love me more than him." 

Steve smiled sadly, and shrugged. "That's good enough for me." 

After work that day, Steve came home to find his parents' answering machine blinking red at him. The kids hardly used the thing when they were calling Steve, mostly because they knew if he didn't answer they were more likely to find him somewhere else. The only people who really left messages were his parents' coworkers, which Steve had always thought was rather rich. They, of all people, should know his parents were off on business trips-- It made a lot more sense now that he knew. As Steve got older, the messages grew more and more sparing. Still, the answering machine blinked. 

Steve rewound the recording and hit play. 

"Steve, it's Nancy," the recording said. Nancy's voice wavered on her own name. "Can you call me ba--" 

Nancy's voice cracked, and that was all it took for Steve stop the recording and pick up the phone. 

"Wheeler residence, this is N--" 

"Nancy, it's me." Steve frowned. He could hear her sniffling over the line, breathing deeply like she only did when she didn't want someone to notice that she was losing it. They had always been alike that way, never wanting the other one to see them cry. Steve had always just let her pretend, not wanting to push her out of her comfort zone. Well, he was sick of pretending. 

"Oh, Steve. Good," Nancy said, voice uncharacteristically flat. "I was worried. I didn't--" 

Steve cut through the bullshit. "Nancy, what's wrong?" 

Nancy breathed deep. "Have you watched the news in the past two days?" she asked, voice soft. Like she was trying to gentle a blow. Like she was making bad news easier to bear.

"No," Steve said, blood running cold. He couldn't stop it. He knew he couldn't stop it now, when it was too late, but he tried bargaining with the universe anyway. Nancy was smarter than him; she could stop it, right? She could make it all go away. "Nancy, it was two days. I took two days to stop and do research," he begged. It was a poor excuse, but he was so tired.

"There's been five more," Nancy said, voice weak. 

"No. Are you--" Steve's stomach lurched, and he stopped talking for fear he would vomit if he tried. He felt his body lean against the wall next to the phone, and closed his eyes, accepting the weakness that overtook him.

"I've checked the list a hundred times, Steve." Nancy took a deep breath, the air rattling in her lungs. "They're not here." 

"No." Steve couldn't even regret the sob in his voice. It was as gentle as he could make it, when he wanted to scream. 

"Steve, they're... they were close," Nancy whispered. "Close enough that the news anchors keep talking about Will and Barb." 

Steve flinched like she had punched him in the chest. He had brought her into this. He had failed Nancy as much as he had failed those kids. Everytime Steve tried to breathe, it got caught in his throat-- He could feel the sorrow and the panic making a fist around his throat and squeezing tight."I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Nance." 

"They're not wrong," Nancy continued, and she didn't sound like herself. She sounded distant, faraway, like it couldn't reach her anymore. Like something outside of herself was compelling her to keep talking, when the girl herself just wanted to be done with it. "Everything the cops are saying... It's her, Steve. Parents and friends in the same house, and they're still just gone. Not a sound, no sign of a struggle. No witnesses. It's her. It's what happened to her." 

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry." What else was he supposed to say?

A long moment passed, Steve just listening to Nancy breathe on the line while he tried not to cry loud enough to disturb her. Eventually, she said, voice the youngest Steve had ever heard it, "Steve, can you-- Can you find them? You said you knew who was taking these kids; Can you find them?" 

"I don't... Nancy, I don't think they're alive," he admitted. Steve had never said it out loud before, fearing that it would make things too real. He hadn't wanted to scare Dustin, hadn't wanted to tempt fate-- Steve had kept telling himself that it didn't matter, that as long as he could stop it before it hunted again, then it would be okay. But he was wrong. He had been so, so wrong. And now it was time for him to admit it. "The thing that's taking them is a hunter. The things they can do... It's bad. I can't bring them home. I'm sorry." 

Nancy's breath hitched on the end of the line, and Steve realized she was crying. A year of dating, and it was only eight months after their breakup that they cried together. For Barb, for every kid growing up in a place that wanted them dead, for themselves. 

"I'm sorry." Steve's fingernails bit into his skin. He could feel himself woge, and wished that he had claws like Robin or Eddie, something sharp enough to make him bleed like he deserved. 

Even though he could still hear the rhythmic wheeze of her sobs, Nancy's voice was cold when she spoke again. "We don't have time for sorry, Steve. You find him. You find him, and then you make him pay. Do you understand?" 

Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. Maybe he couldn't bleed, but he would make sure someone did. 

"I promise. I promise, Nance." 

#oimw #steddie #stobin #platonic stancy #grimm au #i hope you guys like wayne and also platonic stancy bc it's the wayne and platonic stancy chapter