#cause I like really want the Barbs content

[earl-grey-love]

Holy crap the gacha GAVE to me today I got him twice in the same summon

[blorbocedes]

“My tongue still remembers the way you taste.” for our favourite kitten friends Norstappen? 🥺❤️

Even though cats only groom each other if they're friends, it can also be a sign of dominance. For this reason, if a cat is offended by the scent of another, he may do some light grooming just to get rid of the smell. (s)

"Lando—"

"No."

"Come on. Nobody will know, and it's none of their business anyway."

"I said last time was the last time, Max."

"But it will make you feel better. And we will both enjoy it. Don't you want to feel good?"

"..."

Lando finds himself curled up against Max in the uncomfortable sofa of his dressing room, back against Max's broad chest.

"I should've asked for mediums, should've known the fucking softs would disintegrate. Fucking threw it away." Lando squirms in Max's grip, body boiling from frustration.

"Mmm. You smell like dog." Max scrunches his nose, making an icked out face, eyes narrowed into slits. "And koala."

We don't all have the privilege of working in a feline only environment, Lando thinks rolling his eyes. Oscar smells fine, just a bit like eucalyptus and mildew sometimes.

Max is the Dutch lion, blonde mane and claws to boot. He never much of a chance to socialise as a kid, being as rare as they come. Lando's cat ears are of the house cat variety, and growing up in a litter of siblings he's all too well grown up under their ministrations. That's why Max took such a liking to him, felines gotta stick together, right?

Except it's embarrassing.

Max has taken to grooming Lando's twitchy ears, post races. Like he's his dad, or older brother. It's horribly condescending, and if anyone knew little Lando Norris gets his fur brushed by a rival no one would ever take him seriously again.

At the same time. It is really nice. They're the only two of their kind on the kind, and others just don't get it or chalk it off as some weird sex thing. It's no weirder than roughhousing or playing video games together.

"You made the right call. You knew. Cause you're great like that." Lando sulks. Max's barbed tongue is rough against his ear in a way that makes him feel fuzzy.

"You could have pitted a lap earlier. You were quite snappy on that turn." Max agrees.

Lando circles in on himself further, feeling small. He's limber like that, stretching and contorting into small spaces to hide. Max seems unaware, lifting Lando's shirt and exposing it to the cool air so he can knead circles into the soft flesh of his tummy. Only the slightest hint of his claws are out, poking Lando. He can feel the deep rumbles from Max's chest purring in contentment.

Getting biscuits made on, after he lost a race. Behind him is an apex predator, one with the jaw strength to break his neck, politely licking his ears while Lando's tail is trapped between their bodies, gridlocked.

Against his better instincts, Lando closes his eyes.

[arvandus]

barbatos headcanons sfw or nsfw? totally fine if not <3 i love anything you write for barbatos <3

Ohhhh man, so many headcanons considering how much space he takes up in my brain. Most of it centers around relationships and, by proxy, NSFW stuff. It ties into what I recall of canon material, but take it with a grain of salt since I haven't finished the OG game yet (I'm on lesson 42 right now). I'm just going to put SOME of them since I have so many. Also, some of these will probably sound more like character analysis than headcanons.

WARNING: MINORS AND AGELSS BLOGS DNI; THIS POST CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT. DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT FOLLOW ME!

My Humble Barbatos Thoughts:

General stuff (SFW):

He smells like warm bread and spices due to all the baking/cooking he does and the tea he grows and brews.

When Asmo painted his and Diavolo's nails to match the brothers (per Diavolo's request), Barbatos let Diavolo choose his nail color for him.

His biggest worry is the mistakes of his past coming back to haunt him by inadvertently impacting Diavolo's reputation by association. If Barbatos's past sins became public knowledge, he would worry about how the Devildom might view him and how that would impact Diavolo.

Because of how incredibly old he is, and the way he seemed to come into Sol's life when he was a teenager (if I recall correctly?), and came into Diavolo's life when he was also young, I see his relationships with them as almost parental/guardian (at least initially).

Which means he probably doesn't really have any truly balanced/equal relationships with those around him, which can cause him to be somewhat isolated. He's there for others, but he's not very willing to let others reciprocate. He believes he needs to handle all of his troubles/worries on his own.

I can see his dynamic with Diavolo evolving into a more equal/balanced friendship over time, the parental/guardian dynamic falling away as he let's go of his protective role. I think this has already happened with Sol, since they seem more friends/equals than father/son (e.g., he allows Sol to have power over him not just in pact, but also with his grimoire); Diavolo is harder because Barbatos still sees the young prince as his responsibility (plus Dia is always trying to sneak out like a teenager 😂).

Barbatos has a LOT of talents and interests; he may be very proper and well-mannered, but he's been around for a LONG time. Canon things we've learned about him so far: he likes heavy metal music, he likes classical music, he is great at ice skating, fangol, and chess; he kills it at cross-dressing and dancing... he's a very diverse individual which tells me he did and tried probably literally everything when he was younger.

He's 10/10 middle-aged adult energy now. He's done everything, experimented with all the things, and now he just wants stability. He's still got some spunk to him and will engage in fun activities (especially for the sake of others), but if he had his way, I think he'd want to relax with his tea, his gardens, and his walks under the stars.

Relationship/Intimacy (including NSFW):

He had plenty of lovers earlier on in his life, but he didn't exactly have a lot of emotional intimacy. He's always been the oldest demon, and when he was younger, that simple fact made him arrogant and he saw himself as always being above others. It drove an invisible wedge between himself and those around him.

He's a greed demon, so I imagine that in the beginning he was more emotionally charged and selfishly motivated.

He has literally tried every kink under the sun moon. Young Barbatos was kinkier, hornier, meaner (due to his arrogance), and likely was not a very healthy individual to engage in relations with. Probably had lots of red flags. Was very free-spirited (our boy was hopping timelines will-nilly);

Young Barb had fuckboi energy, but in a quiet, intelligent sort of way (if that makes sense). He was hard to resist, yet very much untouchable.

As time passed, he mellowed out but also became more reserved. This made emotional intimacy even harder, and sexual escapades grew boring after a while.

Young Barbatos certainly got around, but he only truly fell in love once. But he had to leave that person behind when he made the decision to go back and fix his mistakes. He still thinks about them to this day.

In the past, when he saw the consequences of his recklessness and how it had impacted those he cared about (Dia, Sol) he had a change of heart and devoted himself to fixing his mistakes and to be in service of others before himself.

It may seem endearing and like excellent character growth; which it is, to a point. But it's also reactionary to the harm he caused. Barbatos sees his passions and desires as something toxic, something negative. As such, he sees them as being something that needs to be bottled up and controlled at all times.

Which makes it so much harder to fall in love, and when he does fall in love, it will scare him, because he feels that pull of selfishness, of wanting purely for the sake of wanting it. He has yet to figure out how to find balance within himself (i.e., trust himself), to allow himself to want without letting it consume him, and to give without self-deprivation.

Monogamous or poly? I could see it going either way, although I see him leaning more towards monogamous. It's the greed and also how he isolates himself; letting in one person would be hard, letting in more than one, especially to the same extent, would be nearly impossible. He's a VERY private person.

But poly can also work as long as its established that the relationship is exclusive between him and his partners (no open relationships/flings with outsiders). Poly might also be nice for him in that he can take comfort in knowing that his partners are there for each other when his work keeps him away from them (i.e., he'd hate for his monogamous partner to be alone all the time).

Either way, mono or poly, Barbatos does not like to share. It's the greed in him. They're his, and no one else's.

Barbatos would be very VERY resistant to entering a relationship in the present time mainly because he's dedicated himself to Diavolo. He knows his partner would not be able to be his top priority no matter how much he loves them, and not many people would be okay with that.

Barbatos used to be very sexually promiscuous in his younger years, but now he's completely closed off simply because has a reputation to protect for Diavolo. He doesn't want any jilted lovers/ex-lovers to try to cause trouble for the Prince of the Devildom simply to get back at Barbatos. Also, the man has no time for shenanigans.

If someone does manage to worm their way into his heart, it would be very slowly, over many years without him noticing until he suddenly realizes one day that he'd be lost without them. It'd be jarring for him, to say the least.

Barbatos is canonically VERY romantic. He's a giver, and his love language is acts of service. That includes not only errands/duties/chores/meals/dates, but also physical acts of service (massages, orgasms, etc.).

Loves LOVES to give oral. He loves making his lover(s) putty in his hands (think service dom).

Lots of kissing. So so much kissing. He's gonna worship every inch with his mouth and tongue.

Definitely does have a kinky side, but it only comes out to play with someone he really REALLY trusts.

He'd be down for nearly everything. Bondage, anal, edging, etc. He can even be a mean dom if you ask him really nicely (he needs to believe you REALLY want it before he lets that old side of himself come out to play); however, the only things I can see him having a hard no on would be anything in a public space where there's a chance of being seen/caught (remember he's worried about reputation) and hard degradation via name-calling (sorry, I just can't picture it - he'd respect his partner too much regardless of whatever nasty kinky stuff they do together).

Will most definitely use his tail on himself and his partner(s).

If his lover is human, he'd be constantly keeping himself (and his strength) in check out of fear of hurting them.

He'd be big on consent. He's a master at reading body language; the slightest hint of distress and he's stopping everything immediately. He's not one to lose himself in the moment.

However, this doesn't mean he doesn't have the capacity to be passionate; it's just that his passion can be a bit strong, so he's always worried about overwhelming his partner. But if his partner can handle it, then it'd open up an entirely different side of him.

Despite his capacity for kinky shenanigans, Barbatos's favorite type of intimacy with his partner will be more vanilla and filled with lots of love and affection. So think lazy oral on the bed or couch in the privacy of his room, missionary so he can see your face and feel your legs wrap around him, and you in his lap so he can let you have control and wrap his arms tight around you.

Barbatos is the KING OF AFTERCARE. Baths, tea, cakes, warm blankets, firelight, soft touches, gentle massages, kisses to your cheeks, your temples... and very heartfelt verbal confessions of his love for you.

Will snuggle you tightly after all is said and done.

Loves watching you sleep while he holds you in his arms.

He'd never say it out loud because he doesn't want to burden you, but getting up early each morning and leaving your warmth is the most painful, torturous thing for him.

[msschemmenti]

To Be Near You

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Prompt: Ava decided to do some staff bonding (and content gathering) and forces the teachers to have a sleepover in the school. Melissa and the reader are in a secret established relationship and get caught together.

a/n: this idea came to me before bed yesterday because I was thinking about what barbara howard would wear to sleep

“Maybe I should go get my air mattress out of my storage unit. I don’t really wanna sleep on my rug.” Y/n mumbled as she dropped onto the plastic-covered couch next to Melissa. The TV was playing some game and it currently had all of the older woman’s attention. It was a Thursday and Y/n honestly couldn’t keep up with what sport Melissa watched on Thursdays but she was really only there for the company. 

Melissa shifted as the words Y/n uttered finally broke through her focus. “Barb and Gerald are letting me borrow their spare, you won’t need yours.”

Y/n eyed the woman curiously, trying to figure out if she’d missed something within the past 6 months that would make Melissa’s response a logical solution to her problem. “Mel darling, you do understand what a lock-in is right?”

Ava’s latest fixation has been on team bonding (apparently that’s where the money is this week). And she had the brilliant idea to have the teachers spend a night in Abbott. Obviously, no one wanted to do that, but after a few threats and incentives, the woman rallied enough teachers to participate. Everyone had discussed their sleeping plans earlier over lunch and had established that they’d all be sleeping in their own classrooms, much to Janine’s dismay. Y/n couldn’t help but feel bad for the woman as she tried to convince everyone to set up their sleeping bags in the gym for an actual sleepover. She’d been shot down faster than Y/n’d ever seen before. Between Barb and Melissa, there was no chance in hell either of the women would be participating more than necessary. 

“Of course, I know what a lock-in is. What’s the issue? You haven’t ever complained about sharing a bed before now.” Melissa grumbled turning to face Y/n as the game came to an end. 

“And I’m not complaining now. I just must have missed the part where you told our co-workers you were banging the new fifth grade teacher.” Y/n replied wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

“I think I’m doing more than banging you,” Melissa wiggled her brows back causing Y/n to blush in the truth of the tease. 

“Even if that is true, how do you plan to explain me sleeping in your classroom to anyone without outing us?” 

Melissa shrugged, “I think you’re giving them all too much credit. It’ll be fine. Once everyone retires to their own classrooms, you can just come down to my room. By morning everyone will just be worried about getting out of there so the sneaking out won’t be an issue. Piece of cake.” 

“Says you, you’re not doing any of the sneaking.” Y/n rolled her eyes, she’d do anything for Melissa so her complaints were only for show. “But alright, that crosses at least one thing off of my list of things I need to pack tonight when I leave here.” 

“I’ll just take my stuff we can stay at your place.” Melissa said rising from the couch to go collect her things. “Give me like 20 mins and we can leave.” Y/n went to tell Melissa it wasn’t necessary but she was already gathering all of her things to tag along. As she watched the older woman buzz around the house readying for their own little sleepover she couldn’t help but to smile at how readily Melissa was to come home with her. 

-

“This might’ve been Ava’s best idea yet.” Janine grinned as everyone gathered in the teacher’s lounge to wait for Ava to bring dinner. “I already feel so much closer to you guys. You know I’d actually feel even closer if we all put our sleeping bags in the-” 

“Shut up Janine, dinner is served.” Ava said as she hip-checked Janine out of the doorway carrying a box of takeout orders. She brought the box to the table in front of the couch and quickly grabbed her things, “Back you filthy animals. Everyone’s orders should have their name on it.” 

Y/n rose from her seat at the table by the wall and waded through the throng of teachers to retrieve her meal. Sliding under someone’s arm she was able to get her box but saw both Barb’s and Melissa’s still sitting there. Without much thought, she grabbed them both and ducked back out of the crowd and headed for their table. She slid the boxes to each woman with a smile and turned to head back for her seat at the other table. Before she could get too far, Melissa’s hand reached for her wrist and pulled her back. “Thanks hon, why don’t you eat with us?” 

Y/n eyed Melissa hesitantly, they normally kept their in school interaction to a minimum and Y/n hardly ever sat near Melissa for to long. They’d learned that one of them had a hard time keeping her hands to herself. So the invitation was like playing with fire, especially if Y/n was meant to sneak into Melissa’s classroom to cuddle later that night. She gazed at Barb briefly before letting her eyes fall onto Melissa again and seeing the silent plea behind her eyes. 

“We won’t bite sweetheart.” Barb smiled as she hit Melissa’s shoulder in a sort of scold for still holding onto Y/n’s wrist. Y/n nodded and moved to have a seat and when Barbara returned her attention to her food she shot Melissa a warning glare, nonverbally telling her to behave. The redhead grinned mischieviously and nodded. “How was your day Y/n? I didn’t see you at lunch.” Barbara asked making polite conversation like the Godly woman she is.

“Oh it was okay, I left something at home so I ran back to get it before I had to pick the kids up. How about you?” Y/n replied gazing toward the woman kindly. That morning Melissa had been on her ass about bringing her sleeping bag and she’d planned to slide it in the car without her noticing but they’d practically been joined at the hip since they’d made it to the apartment the night before. After leaving it at home, she went back to grab it and tucked it in her classroom for the day. Of course she wouldn’t be using it, but it would be nice to have some sort of cover if anyone was to look in on her that night. Melissa didn’t see it that way, but it would come in handy this evening.

“Well I woke up this morning, so I can’t complain. But I know I’ll be complaining tomorrow after sleeping on an Air Mattress.” Barbara groaned.

“Oh I know what you mean, I’ll be lucky if I can move my back after sleeping in my sleeping bag. I’m not sure this was the best idea after all.”

“Exactly, forgive me but I do not want to see any of your faces after 3:30-” As Barbara talked Y/n startled at the feeling of a hand inching up her thigh underneath the table. She kept her gaze on Barbara but her nods in agreement became more aggressive as she tried to listen. She didn’t even have to turn to know that Melissa was sporting a proud smirk as she tease her girlfriend. Y/n knew it was around the time they were alone and free to be themselves, but the location was not ideal for this kind of teasing especially if Melissa wanted to keep their secret. “But I’ll be glad when morning comes. I just hope Gerald can make it through the night. He always says he sleeps better when I’m there. He’ll probably be wide awake tonight.” 

Y/n swatted Melissa’s hand away under the table as discreetly as possible before pouting at Barbara’s words, “That’s so romantic. I guess that makes sense though, especially since you’ve been married for so long. I hope someone feels that way about me someday.” 

“I’m sure they will hon.” Melissa said finally adding something to the conversation. Y/n let her eyes fall to the red-head and tried fight the hopeful look that she knew was on her face. Melissa winked quickly and then both women turned back to their dinner. 

-

Mel <3: Coast is clear. Everyone is asleep.

With a pillow under her arm, Y/n made her great escape through the halls of the school. She was only going down one set of stair, but she’d have to tip-toe her way passed Janine’s classroom and that would be the ultimate test of her spy skills. Once she made it down the stairs she could see Melissa peaking out of her door, looking down each side of the hallway. When their eyes met, she threw her head back in a ‘come on’ motion and reached toward Y/n making grabbing motions. 

Once in the safety of the classroom Melissa seemed to pounce on the younger woman. Their lips met languidly, dancing an all too familiar dance, before they finally broke apart when air became a necessity. “God, I’ve been waiting to do that all day. We’re never doing this again.” Melissa groaned before pulling Y/n toward the airmattress in the corner of the room. 

“Can’t argue with that. I’m gonna set an alarm to head back to my room at 7. I figure, no one will be up by then.” 

“Set it for 8. I don’t want to wake up before 8.” 

“Well baby, I’ll just be quiet. You don’t have to get up with me.” Y/n said nestling into the air mattress and Melissa’s side. 

“I know I don’t have to but if you get up, I will. It’s already hard enough falling asleep the first time. If you leave I’ll never get back to sleep, even if it is for just an hour.” Melissa confessed quietly as she pulled Y/n closer.

“Are you saying you have a hard time sleeping without me? Because that would explain a lot, but also be so romantic.” Y/n asked with a slight tease in her voice. 

“I just like being near you. I feel…I don’t know. At peace or something.” Melissa said bashfully.

“Well, I like being near you too. So I guess we both win, hm?”

“I guess you’re right.” 

“I’ll set my alarm for 8. Now let’s get some sort of sleep on this thing.” 

“Alright, goodnight hon.” Melissa said placing a kiss on Y/n’s hair.

“G’night Mel.” Y/n whispered, closing her eyes in bliss.

-

Morning came and Melissa had been right, everyone was really was just trying to get out of the building as quickly as possible. The couple had shifted position a little but were still tangled in each others arms. With Y/n’s alarm vibrating away on the floor of the classroom, the women continued to sleep in ignorant bliss. As the other teachers escaped the school for the weekend, Barbara stood outside of her best friend’s classroom hoping to catch her before she left. She figured she could get the air mattress back now to solve that problem and figured her friend would be awake by now. She opened the door and entered as she normally did, but came to a stop as she saw the two bodies tangled together on the bed. The shock didn’t last long before the smile took over at the sight of the two. Despite being on an air mattress in the middle of a classroom, both women seemed to be as comfortable as comfort could get. Y/n’s mouth wide open, a bit of drool hanging from her chin. Melissa’s arms wrapped tightly around the younger woman, as if to keep her from falling off of the bed. This was a couple that was comfortable with each other and that loved each other deeply and Barbara could see it all now. 

Making her way to the side of the bed, she picked up the vibrating phone and stopped the alarm. With great displeasure she reached down to shake her friend awake gently. As Melissa’s eyes creeked open, her gaze first fell to Y/n. She seemed to mentally and physically check to make sure she was alright before she let her eyes wander the room. They quickly landed on Barb and her cheeks flamed as bright as her hair. 

“Good morning.” Barbara smiled down at the woman. 

“Morning.” Melissa answered sheepishly. She waited for Barbara admonishment or warning, but it never came. The woman smiled softly before nodding down to the mattress. 

“I’m heading home, but you can just give the mattress to me Monday. I’ll tell everyone you’ve already left on my way out.” 

Melissa nodded gratefully before watching the older woman head for the door. Barbara paused before leaving turning back to Melissa, “I’m expecting a call sometime before then to hear about all of this.” 

“I’d expect nothing less. I’ll call you tonight.” Melissa promised, causing Barbara to nod with a grin before heading out of the school.

It wasn’t long before the snoozed alarm went off again and Y/n stirred away, as her eyes adjusted to the sun peaking through the windows she looked up at Melissa with a lazy smile. “What are you doing up? What time is it?” 

“After 8 and Barb knows.” Melissa shrugged snuggling further into the covers now that they had a bit of downtime before they had to get up.

“Well, better her than Janine.” Y/n said following Melissa back to comfort.

“Yes, anyone would be better than Janine.” Melissa agreed with a smile placing a goodmorning kiss to Y/n’s forehead. “Good morning.” 

“A good morning indeed.” Y/n smiled leaning up to plant a kiss of her own on Melissa’s waiting lips.

[lottiette]

Billy Thunderman Relationship/General Head Cannons

Authors note: Hi! This is my first post. I’ve never done headcannons before, so I’m sorry if this is bad. I am taking requests. I will do my best to answer them. Please do not steal content.

- He fiddles with your fingers when nervous or just as a stim

- He gets self conscious about his “slowness”(dumb) so sometimes he needs reassurance

- He would go anywhere to get you anything you want

- He’s a golden retriever boy

- He’s a simp. He’s just happy to be there with you and that you love him

- He really likes hips/hip dips/love handles. He doesn’t care what his partner looks like (but I think he likes chubbier girls) but he loves all body types

- He takes almost everything literally so you have to be patient and ready to explain

- I think he would like to give you piggy back rides and go fast with you. Doesn’t matter how much you weigh he’ll find a way

- He always makes sure you’re comfortable with everything./in a situation. If you’re not he’ll find a way to get you out of there as quick as possible

- You have to help with studies and school and it actually kinda helps bring his grades up(just a little) cause he’s thinking about you and that makes him like remember the moment you were teaching something

- Speaking of, when you’re studying he’ll get bored and start teasing you. He’ll kiss your neck and whisper in your ear. Maybe throw you onto his bed, or pull you into his lap.

- Barb and Hank like you because let’s be honest they worry about him because he’s “dumb” so they’re happy there’s someone to take care of him.

- You and Nora have to be friends, because family means a lot to him and Nora is his best friend, but don’t worry she loves you. You guys do manicures and pedicures and all that jazz together

- He likes when you scratch his head/ laying his head in your lap

- He likes to cuddle with his arms around your waist and his legs tangled in yours.

- He really likes kitties and puppies so one of your dates might consist of just hanging out with furry friends.

- He just loves animals in general.

- I know he’s “dumb” but I feel like he’s really good at coding and like video game glitches and loopholes

- He doesn’t care what y’all do or where you go for dates he’s just happy to be with you.

- He hypes up everything you do no matter what

- I feel like he probably gets bullied for being slow so he appreciates it when you stand up for him(even if he doesn’t realize he’s being bullied)

- He’d definitely stand up for you if you were ever bullied. Like no questions asked.

- He’d also probably do anything you asked him to do.(with in reason)

- I feel like he probably flusters you a lot without even realizing it.

Thats all I have for now if I think of more I will add or make another post. Please requests anything you’d like and I’ll do my best to make it happen but I will be posting my rules and guidelines for requests. If you have any questions, suggestions, or advice please let me know. Bye! 😘

[taifenggg]

can i request some headcanons for barbs, mams and sol with a transmasc reader? specifically when the reader asks if they can give them their t-shots?

Content Warning(s): mentions of needles

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Barbatos, Mammon, Solomon

Authors Notes: i tried my best with this, hope you like it nonnie! get that boy juice POG

Barbatos [⌛🖤]

I like to think that Barbs has cold hands but they're cold in a way thats like pleasantly cool to the touch. His hands have a way of feeling soothing in the sense that it can calm any nervousness or feelings of being jittery, especially if you have a fear of needles.

He helps you be seated and ensures that you're comfortable before he does anything. He doesn't want to cause any feelings of discomfort in you, especially because you've gone so far as to trust him with this process.

As you hand him the vial with the T in it, he takes the needle and inserts it in, and flips the vial over with ease. His movements are swift and concise as he goes through the motions almost as if he's done it a million times, even if it's the first time he's handling it.

He's so gentle as he asks you where you want him to insert the needle with the T in it. When you tell him where you want it, he gently pinches the area that you chose and tells you to take deep breaths if you need to. He's not going to insert the needle without you giving him the go-ahead to proceed.

He's super quick about giving you your t-shot, and it's almost as if he didn't do anything as he puts a band-aid on top of where he injected you with it.

He'll hold your hand if the T burns! He's there to be there for you, especially when you're getting your t-shots.

Mammon [💰💛]

Poor baby is so terrified that he's gonna accidentally hurt you or poke the wrong thing and mess things up. It takes a lot of reassurance from your end to let him know that it's okay and that there's a reason why you're handing him the vial and syringe.

His hands are super shaky and he fumbles a little trying to insert the needle into the vial. You just have to keep reassuring him that what he's doing is right. He confused the two needles that you give him and he accidentally puts on the injection needle on first and struggles to pull out the T because of how thick it is. It takes some help from your end, and switching the needles for him to successfully pull out the amount of T needed for the t-shot.

His hands are warm as he uses an alcohol wipe to clean off your chosen area and it gives you a little reassurance.

As he administers the t-shot, he keeps you distracted by showing you all of the different band-aids that he has, with all sorts of different designs and allows you to choose the designs you want. When he puts the band-aid on, he'll press a kiss to the top of it as gently as he can and looks at you all lovesick.

If you're feeling sore or hurting anywhere after getting your t-shot, he'll cuddle with you and give you as many kisses as you want. He's so, so gentle with you and he handles you almost like if he were to jostle you too much you'll break in your hands. But he knows that you're so strong and brave for going through this and he's there to support you all the way.

Solomon [🪄🤍]

Solomon tries to keep things light as he administers your t-shot. He somehow manages to make you laugh even when you might be scared out of your mind. He somehow has this way of always making you smile.

Like Barbs, he's quick and efficient in getting the T into the syringe and he's really quick about administering it to you. His hands are super soothing and he'll rub the back of your hand after he finishes and puts a band-aid on top of where he injected you.

He'll help ease any pain you might feel, whether this might be pain or soreness, or even to help with the burning sensation of the T in your system.

His voice is also super soothing and nice to listen to as he pulls you close to him, telling you he's so proud of you and how you handled it.

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[alexanderlightweight]

You know what I rarely see? In the show after wooing Alec, Magnus is not shown as overly invested and it always appears as Alec reaching/apologizing/moving the pair along. Which was definitely a writing/directing choice. But what I’d like to prompt if it suits you, is Magnus being the one to apologize or to reassure Alec that he is important and not temporary-I’m team immortal but this convo certainly should happen. I liked the way you had Alec be angry in that prompt fill about his birthday and Magnus had to own up to that. If this isn’t your thing no big deal! Hope the weather is nice where you are and nightshade has enough pets and treats for the day!

i believe in 'no partner is perfect' and while i don't tend to write the angstier couple stuff 'i like my malec happy' i don't mind occasionally dipping my toes into partner angst (with an immortal happy ending)

this particular fic isn't about about immortality but it's about haing two people who have fundamentally different lifestyles having a miscommunication that devolves and while the argument is based on the show scene, it doesn't follow it perfectly. nor is the actual argument written. just the aftermath.

my thoughts are that magnus tries to spoil alec in season two still but it's more intimate and offscreen and he sort of in season 3a but magnus relies heavily n his magic to spoil alec and he kind of is spiraling all of season 3 tbh. they just really were sprinkling angst on malec like it was salt and they realized the show was bland.

all they did was get oversalted content which got salty fans, since they forgot to add actual herbs and spices.

it's a bloody hot day okay. i love the sun as much -nevermind apparently this is a lie-

so i don't hate the sun okay. i enjoy sunshine in specific environments. the sun is not a tyrant devoid of compassion.

anyways i live in a desert because its whats best for the people i love but give me mist and foggy days and give me winters of waist deep snow i can fall in. oceans so cold your lips go blue and rivers so deep and clear and still cold with melting ice.

if people are going to send me 8-10 feet to the bottom of the lake because they lost their electronics. it better be cold and clear. not warm and murky. (this has only happened 3 times but i have a preference).

So I made Say breakfast and nightshade breakfast and then I made @saeths breakfast a few hours later so i made an extra egg for nightshade to tempt him to eat another bowl of kibble.

so i fed nightshade twice and forgot to make any eggs for myself ^_^ so he is plenty spoiled (don't worry his egg was made without cheese and salt).

also the reason i'm awake is because he needed snuggles and after that he wanted to play in the pool and then i was too awake to bother

but that's our wednesday so far and i'm getting my work out of the way so i can focus on writing and house things.

<3 lumine

-

Magnus is ready with another quick retort when Alec’s face goes blank for a moment.

The argument fades from Magnus’ mind in an instant, because while this is the perfect moment to land another barb, the words die and his sentence stops, ending with a snide comment he doesn’t really mean.

“That’s fine Magnus.” Alec says and he’s not angry, which is worse. He sounds tired and yet professional. His manner restrained and placating in the way he does when he no longer has any fight left and he just wants to retreat and lick his wounds.

Wounds that Magnus caused.

“Alexander—” Magnus starts, because he didn’t intend to get so upset but Alexander just shakes his head.

“You’ve said your piece, Magnus. I get it.” Alexander sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he shuffles. “I messed up, again.”

Magnus winces, because he’s begun to feel more like a scolding mentor than a partner.

“I need to get to the Institute—” which makes sense, the argument started as they both got ready for their days. “I’ll—” and Alec hesitates and then shrugs, “I’ll see you tonight.”

—

Magnus waits until it’s dinner time and then portals to the Institute, already preparing words to once again explain that it’s not Alexander, it’s just not time yet.

He opens the door to the office without knocking and steps in.

“Alexander—” Magnus starts and then he hesitates.

Because for once, Alexander’s eyes don’t soften when they meet his. They remain cold, devoid of the warm ardor they normally contain but once again, without anger. Only an empty tiredness that Magnus longs to chase away.

“Do you have an appointment today, Magnus?” Alexander asks, setting down his pen and turning off his tablet with a sigh. Even upset Alexander will still give him his full attention and Magnus steps closer to the desk when Alexander continues, “because I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for a meal, or a conversation if it’s not official. So, if you don’t have an appointment, it needs to wait until I’m off.”

Alexander doesn’t mention coming home like he normally does, and Magnus suddenly misses it, with a deep lonely ache.

It also reminds Magnus that despite how often Alexander drops everything to join him, his boy is being worked to the ground and also driving himself to his limits in his pursuit of building a better Institute. Alexander is struggling to create ties between an Institute and local downworld leaders that would be revolutionary, with a sincerity that is unmatched by anything Magnus has ever seen.

Of course, he’s exhausted, and Magnus feels hollow now, remembering their fight all over again with a new clarity.

“No darling, it’s nothing official. I’ll see you tonight—” Magnus pauses, wanting to offer to summon Alec something to eat or drink, but it feels too much like an emotional bribe with how shuttered his boy is. Alexander nods and gives him the same perfunctory, polite smile he gives his siblings when he’s too exhausted to deal with them and doesn’t know what else to do.

It cuts Magnus to the heart to have that same expression directed at him, when he’s supposed to be safe for Alexander.

Magnus can’t handle the idea of reaching out only to be shied away from, so he runs from the possibility and instead summons a tiny flower to land by Alexander’s pen when the door shuts.

No one in the Institute seems to notice anything is wrong. Magnus gets a few strange looks, but he quickly realizes that it’s because everyone expected Alexander to be leaving with him, like his boy usually does.

Magnus feels cold and it’s with determination that he sends out an emergency message.

—

“I became stagnant in my old, single age.” Magnus bemoans, “I spent so long on my heartbreak that now, with a man I adore over every living being, I keep pushing him away.”

“Truth potion?” Catarina offers but Magnus shakes his head. Alexander deserves Magnus explaining this without the aid of something to help his thoughts form, even if it’s a trick Magnus has used continually and without remorse on himself.

This is different though because Magnus wants to become aware of what is wrong, not rely on a potion to figure it out.

“He wants to move in.” Magnus starts, about to launch into it when Cat laughs, interrupting him.

“What do you mean he wants to, he already has. Or did you just move him in on the sly and forget to ask him if he wanted to?”

“Cat—” Magnus says hesitantly, “he’s never moved in. He’s the one who brought it up. I told him no.”

Catarina pauses and then she sighs, and she summons her favorite, light summer beer and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Start from the beginning, Magnus. I need details.”

Magnus does, realizing things that he missed as he’s explaining so many details that he just assumed and took for granted.

“I did wonder that the Loft hasn’t changed much. It seems more like Alec’s an addition to your things rather than his own person.”

It’s that comment that drives Magnus into a frenzy the moment he’s home.

Magnus doesn’t go overboard; Alexander wouldn’t want him to. Also springing this on his boy after the prior rejection will be too much like whiplash.

So, Magnus starts very small.

He finally creates the foyer he promised himself and Alexander he would make.

Alexander’s never pushed but Magnus remembers the tightening of his shoulders and the way Alexander will be too tired for anything but cuddles — rarely even hungry — after barrages of people through the loft.

The kitchen he only summons when Alexander asks, which is rare, so he makes it a permanent fixture and makes sure to hang an apron with little angel wings up. It’s with a pained smile that he sighs and wonders when he got so old that he forgot to enjoy life, and instead spent all his time focused on the past, just like Ragnor always warned him about.

Magnus doesn’t want to regret any time with Alexander, and he finds that he already does.

Not the time spent with his boy, but the time he could have focused on him more.

Magnus has spent so long protecting himself from losing Alexander, that he hasn’t noticed that he’s pushing him away, stopping him from coming too close.

Except Magnus has also bound him tightly.

Alexander sleeps more often in Magnus’ bed than his own. He’s rerouted his own schedule so he can take the last patrol before shift change, come to Magnus’ loft, write his report there and send it in, and be in bed for Magnus to return to.

Except for work, Alexander spends the majority of his daily life either in the loft, or with Magnus.

There are signs of him, all over the loft, but Magnus can’t look at a single piece and think, “Alexander picked that out.”

It aches in way that is almost visceral, because now that Alexander isn’t here, it’s only more obvious.

Magnus is chest deep in a drawer when he becomes aware of his boy stepping slowly into the bedroom.

“Is this a bad time?” Alexander’s tired voice asks. “I noticed there was a new door and tried to knock but the door just opened.”

Magnus wants to say something except he’s furious with himself and everything and the idea that Alexander saw a new door and knocked instead of walking right in, tears something in him.

They stare at each other for a moment, Magnus with his hands still wrist deep in the dimensional dresser, sure he’ll eventually find more than the sparse offering of Alexander’s clothes that he has.

“Where are all the clothes that you leave here?” Magnus asks instead of answering because he genuinely doesn’t know, “I was cleaning, and I couldn’t find them.”

Alexander sighs and Magnus just knows that he’s gearing himself up to — once again — explain to Magnus that it’s not about the clothes, before his boy visibly gets too tired. Instead, he just shrugs and potions to the paltry pile that Magnus has found.

“You have more than that!” Magnus exclaims, frustrated because he knows Alexander does. “That green shirt I got you that you loved. And those pants, the black ones with the umber stitching. The cream sweater I adore you in! That suit I had tailored for you in Milan and the other one in Hong Kong.”

Alexander sighs and he rubs a hand over his face, the stubble he normally shaves away in Magnus— in their bathroom, shadowing his face.

“Magnus, those don’t exist anymore.” Alexander doesn’t seem upset, if anything his face softens into an almost reluctant fondness, “you tend to vanish all the clothing you get me, some way or another. Mostly before fucking me. I tried to ask you one time where they went and you waved a hand and said, ‘another dimension, nothing to worry about’.”

“Surely that’s not all I said.” Magnus protests weakly.

“Well, you proceeded to fuck me unconscious so no, it wasn’t the last thing you said. But it was the last thing you said abut clothes.”

Magnus gives a flat chuckle and then sighs, snapping his fingers to clean up the mess.

“Have you eaten?”

“I figured I could grab something from the cafeteria when I head back. It’s fine.”

It most certainly is not fine, but Magnus doesn’t think coaxing Alexander into eating is going to work this time, which means that Magnus has accidentally undone weeks of effort.

Magnus doesn’t press, doesn’t remind Alexander that he can here. Or that, if by normal standards Alexander stays until he usually leaves Magnus, it would be the early evening of the next day.

“So, you were cleaning.”

Alexander is looking around, voice faltering but face devoid of actual emotions.

“I realized some things, after this afternoon.” Magnus admits slowly, “you’re the first person I opened my heart to, Alexander. In a very long time, I’ve told you that before.”

Normally, explaining things is easier but all Magnus can think is he’s not explaining it correctly.

“I know. But Magnus, you’re the first person I’ve ever opened my heart to.” Alexander interjects and he sounds raw and broken, like he’s been torn apart. “Doesn’t that get to mean anything too, to you? Because I don’t know what I’m doing, and you told me that there was nothing wrong with that. That I had nothing to feel ashamed about but now, it doesn’t feel like that.

"It feels like I can’t do anything right and I thought, I hoped something was coming together with us but now—” Alexander gives a heavy sigh and shrugs. “Now I don’t even know what I am to you anymore. Where do I belong, in your life Magnus? If you tell me where to fit, I’ll make it work.”

And that breaks Magnus’ heart, because Alexander was never meant to feel like he had to cut off pieces of himself to ensure Magnus loves him, that he has a place in Magnus’ life.

“Oh darling, beloved.” He murmurs and Alexander flinches, like it was a knife to his side. “You belong. The entirety of you. You belong in my bed because it’s no longer just my bed. How can I say it’s my bed when I lay in it without you and can’t sleep? When I reach for you in the night and can’t find you?” Magnus moves across the room with slow, purposeful steps and then reaches out to carefully — only because Alexander allows it — cups his face.

“Alexander, I have no excuses. My heart is old, and it is scarred and it is a wonder that you love me with all the cracks you’ve seen exposed. I don’t fear men or demons or angels, Alexander. I fear my heart being torn from my body and leaving me alive, an empty hollow cavern where it should be in the shape of you.

“I’ve always been too much, Alexander. I put my own fears on you, not that you deserved any of it, sweetheart. You’re right. I am your first relationship, and you grew up and live in a shadowhunter society. The relationships you've witnessed aren't similar to ours at all.

"You trust me to guide our relationship but I’m always encouraging you to ask me for things and you rarely do. I’m sorry, that you finally trusted me enough to ask me for something and that I broke that trust.”

And Alexander breaks, his eyes filling with tears and he coughs, scrubbing over his eyes because he hates being emotional during talks like these. As if Magnus will use the crystal sorrow streaking his face against him.

“I don’t understand.” Alexander murmurs against Magnus’ shoulder, “I thought this was already my home, here with you. I don’t know what I did wrong, I’m sorry Magnus.”

“Oh sayang.” Magnus whispers, eyes stinging because his heart is lanced every time Alexander apologizes. “You did nothing wrong. My heart was too scared to admit that you already were home for us, I pushed you away because I panicked. I’m sorry, my darling.”

Magnus is as tender and sincere as he can be, because he doesn’t want Alexander internalizing anything over this. Especially not when he realized that for Alexander, the loft already was home and he just wanted permission, for it to be official.

It’s endearing and sweet and Magnus presses a kiss to Alexander’s temple, softly and then harder when Alexander pushes into the caress.

"This is already your home. Where ever I am, will be your home." Magnus promises, "that will never change, my love. This is our space, for us to grow together and live together in.

Instead, Alexander tackles him to the bed and just lays there, pinning Magnus to the comforter as he snuggles into Magnus.

"Alexander?"

There is no answer, just a soft, exhausted snuffle and Magnus wonders how upset Alexander's been, thinking he was deprived of the home Magnus gave him.

He uses magic to change their clothing. More conversations and decisions can be made after rest and well, Alexander certainly isn't going anywhere and neither is Magnus.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Eight

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

Heading west, I keep walking through the night, though it's less than ideal. I take my time, wanting to stay quiet and undetected by both infected and people. The silence of the night allows my mind to mull over what I found today and how everything is supposed to fit together.

My mind can't seem to figure anything out that makes sense. The map is the only thing that makes the most sense to me. The notes, the game tallies, they all seem so odd but there has to be some connection. There has to be some reason these people were tasked with killing a specific age range of children in QZ's across the country. There has to be some reason they're connected to the Fireflies. I'm seeing bits and pieces of the picture, but not the full painting.

But what if this is all a bit bigger than I can take on? Am I walking myself right towards a death sentence? Maybe. Could I be making the wrong decision to go to Nebraska? Possibly.

The other alternatives are either to retreat back to the QZ and be stuck wondering for the rest of my life, or try to track down which QZ the others went to, and I could miss them and have wasted time. But if I guess which QZ they're going to next, I could possibly save more lives. I've never been good at gambling, and yet I find myself playing at the highest stakes.

Each step seems to take ten times the effort as normal as I consider my options, trying to see which is the most logical, which would give me the best odds of finding these people. As soon as I think I've made a decision, I second guess myself. It feels like there's no right decision to be made.

I stop walking in the middle of a street and stare straight up at the dark sky, the stars shining brightly down. If only they could give me the answer. The sound of a clicker in a nearby skyscraper gets me moving again, towards the interstate. It seems I've made up my mind, and only time will tell if this was the right decision.

Readjusting my backpack and yawning, I take in my surroundings so that I'm not ambushed by infected. Sometimes it seems like they come out of nowhere. My thoughts seem to run in circles until it starts to drive me mad. I have to think of something else or I'm going to go insane. And after searching for something, the green sign above the road distracts my mind and reminds me of the stranger I met only yesterday.

I wonder how Joel is doing, how his journey is going so far. He seemed seasoned to life outside a QZ, his time away from Boston likely forced him to adapt. Whatever job it was that he took to get out of Boston must have caused him to not want to return. But no matter the reason, I hope that he has a safe journey, I'm sure whoever is waiting for him is worried sick.

My path leads me to a roadblock where an old FEDRA checkpoint used to be, just before the entrance ramp of the highway. Cars are parked bumper to bumper and there's sandbags stacked on top of each other supporting a thick line of barbed wire. Knowing I can't climb overtop of it, I take a right and decide to go around. Sure, this is going to delay my trip slightly, but it's better than trying to go overtop of barbed wire. I don't really feel like nursing open wounds on my way to Nebraska.

As I go to turn left to get back on track I immediately stop moving. Standing in the street are three runners, all hunched over with quiet sobs. A clicker cries out somewhere close, its screeches ricochet off the buildings and echoes into the open air. My heart hammers in my chest and I take careful steps backwards so that I can keep my eyes on them. Thankfully, they don't see me and I'm able to get back to the front of the barricade.

I take a left instead, and hope for a better outcome. Bracing myself, I turn the corner and am in disbelief with what I see. There are four runners standing in the road. My eyes trail down the street and I see that they're all trapped here. The FEDRA barricade extends down the streets so that the infected in the Boston area can't use this ramp to get onto the highway. On one of the barricade sections I see the telltale sign of a door, there's a giant FEDRA sign hanging above it. That door would be a direct path to the road if it weren't for the infected. It seems that there's no unobstructed way for me to get to the highway. I'm up against seven runners and a clicker, at least. Even during the day I don't know if I could take this on.

Ducking back behind the building I try to formulate some sort of plan. How can I get through this barricade without the infected noticing me? I know the door is to the left, but there's no way I can get past all of those infected and open it. Even if I do sneak to the door, I know it's going to make sound when I open it, and that's like ringing the dinner bell for them.

Sound would be like ringing a dinner bell. An idea comes to my mind and I spot an abundance of bricks laying beside one of the cars. If I can get those bricks to all fall at the same time across the street, it should draw them away long enough for me to get to the door. It's still risky, but I think it's my best shot. But how do I get them to fall at the same time?

I don't see a way that I can pull that plan off without considerable time, and I don't have time to be stopped up here, not with all the infected. I stare at the pile of bricks and another idea crosses my mind. What if I use them to get over the barricade? I could lay the bricks in a way that I could get over the barbed wire. It might not be the most sophisticated plan, but it's going to have to work.

Quietly, I walk over to the pile and begin picking them up slowly. The barricade is at least six feet high, so I'm going to have to bring bricks up to the top of the sandbags and lay them there before I can construct something over the wire. I slide my backpack off my shoulders so that it's easier to get the bricks to the top of the barricade. Clutching three bricks under one arm, I climb the sandbags and drop them on top. Thankfully, the sand masks the sound of the bricks landing.

I take another trip up with three more bricks without incident, and feel more confident in my plan. On my last trip up with bricks, I drop them on the sandbags, but one of them hits the corner and falls down to the road with a loud crash. The infected hear it and I can tell they're rushing to investigate. I drop down to the road to pick up my backpack and see them coming towards me on both sides. Shit.

With the speed of lighting, I put my backpack on and start climbing the sandbags. I hear them getting closer as I reach the top, their carnal breaths loud in the night. I'm about two inches away from pulling myself to the top when I feel one of them grab my foot and it yanks me down.

My fingers slip on the sandbags and I fall a few inches before I'm able to grab ahold of something. Wildly, I kick my feet in an attempt to get them off of me, but there are too many. In a last ditch effort, I grab my gun from my thigh holster and shoot the ones who drag me down. The shots ring out in the night and I know it's only going to attract more.

The few runners I've shot collapse to the ground, which gives the clicker more space to reach for me. Clickers are infinitely more terrifying than runners, and they're about ten times stronger too. Runners take one bullet to kill, clickers can take at least two or three. I aim my gun towards the clicker and pull the trigger, but it just clicks. It's empty. Quickly, I shove the gun back in the holster and use both hands to grab onto the sandbags.

Adrenaline pumps in my veins and I fight harder to pull myself away from the feral infected. My pant leg rips at the bottom from their clawing and I feel my fingers beginning to slip. Clenching my eyes shut, I grit my teeth and pull with all my might to get away.

Just as I'm about to accept my fate, a shot rings out and one of the infected crumples to the ground. Four more shots hit the clicker, and it falls as well, body twitching on top of the others. Without thinking I pull myself on top of the barricade and whip my head from side to side to see who shot them. I grab my curved knife from my belt and hold it in front of me.

My chest heaves with each breath I take as the adrenaline begins wearing off and the panic sets in. Whoever shot them could be coming for me next. What if it's the T group?

From the shadows I see a figure approaching, slinging a gun behind them as they quickly jog towards me. Once they get close enough, I recognize who it is immediately. It's Joel.

He runs to the barricade and holds out a hand. I put my knife away and offer him my help up the sandbags. We both start using the bricks to construct a makeshift bridge across the barbed wire, the screeches of a dozen approaching infected rushing our movements. Joel takes bricks from my shaking hands and practically stands me up on his own and pushes me across the bridge, my other pant leg ripping from the barbs.

My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, quickly followed by Joel. His hands push on the back of my backpack and one word is clear over the coming stampede.

"Run." We take off sprinting down the highway's entrance ramp. He's slightly faster than me but I keep up well. Joel points to an abandoned car that crashed into a guard rail and I nod, showing him I understand the plan.

We yank open the doors and climb in. If the infected make it over the barricade, they shouldn't see us here and eventually will disperse. The two of us are out of breath and we sit in silence, trying to regain our bearings.

After a few minutes of steadying my breath, I take my backpack off and sit it in my lap. I rest my head on it and lean forward, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down.

"Thank you." I say, slightly breathless. Raising my head from my backpack, I look over to Joel, who's glancing in the mirrors to see what's behind us. His eyes flicker to mine and he gives me a stern nod, opting to stay quiet.

If it weren't for him I'd be some infected's dinner. That fact sinks in and I feel an immense amount of gratitude. He didn't have to save me. He could've left me for dead. Most people wouldn't stick their neck out for someone they barely know, but he did. Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

My gaze turns to the mirrors as well, the two of us anxiously wait to see if the infected are going to make it over. The runners would have no issue scaling the wall given the proper motivation to do so, but they're less likely to if they can't immediately see something that grabs their attention.

After hours of us hunkering down silently in the car, Joel opens his door and gets out. He slings his bag and rifle on his back, looking behind him one more time. I get out and gear up as well. And just like the first time I met him, the silence is almost overwhelming. The morning sunlight begins rising, and I realize we spent almost the entire night in the car.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I debate whether or not I should say anything. Seeing as how he just saved my life, I decide it's the least I can do. I clear my throat and scratch the back of my neck, looking down at the ground to avoid awkward eye contact.

"I just want to thank you again for saving me back there. You really didn't have to put yourself at risk, but I appreciate it." I find the courage to look up, only to see him staring at me already with a fierce intensity.

"I thought you were headed towards that camp?" He asks, totally disregarding my appreciation.

"I was. I mean, I did. One guy was left but he was infected. I found clues though, about where they might be going." I tell him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. He nods,

"So where're you headed?" He asks again, and it throws me off. This is the most talkative he's ever been.

"Omaha, Nebraska." I say, recalling the city where the large 'T' was located. Joel's eyebrows raise.

"That's quite a ways from here." He points out and I sigh, knowing I'm severely underprepared for the long road ahead.

"Yeah, I know. But I have to do this. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't." I confess to him. I'm well aware my choices defy logic, but, the alternative of letting the guilt eat me alive is worse.

Joel rests his hand on the top of the car and looks down the highway. He shifts his weight around like he's deep in thought for a few minutes. He's probably trying to think of a way to ditch me. Feeling like I'm intruding on his venture home, I speak up again.

"Listen, I appreciate what you did for me back there, all of it. But I know you're trying to get home so I'll get out of your hair, for real this time." I say and extend a hand out to him again, probably for the last time. Like before, he stares at my hand.

"I'm headed west and go right by Omaha." He says, squinting in the sunlight. I drop my hand once I realize he isn't going to take it, meaning we aren't splitting quite yet. My eyebrows draw tightly together in confusion as I try to understand what he's trying to get at. I think I understand, but I need to hear him clarify.

"Meaning what? We tag along 'til Omaha?" I hear the insecurity in my own voice and I hate it. Joel takes his hand back from the top of the car and nods.

"Safer that way, for the both of us." He confirms my thoughts and starts walking down the highway. I follow him, accepting his offer.

We walk side by side down the road, the only sounds being the birds in the sky and our gear rattling around. My mind is buzzing with questions I want to ask him, but I respect that he's a quiet, reserved man.

Every few minutes I check behind us, feeling paranoid that we're being followed. There's never anything there, but I'd rather check and see nothing than not check and be surprised. Joel is less paranoid I think, he walks with a silent confidence that tells me he's no stranger to the outside world. He understands it far better than I do.

The two of us walk for miles without saying a word until we come to an exit ramp. I recognize it as a suburb outside of Boston, but I've never been there before. Joel veers off the highway to the exit and I follow without question.

Off the ramp, there's a small town to the left and a bunch of housing complexes to the right. Seems like the perfect place for infected to be lurking about. But for some reason, I put my blind faith in the man leading me and trail him into the town.

He looks over his shoulder at me and points at a small brick building. I nod and approach it with him, preparing my knife for use. He stands on the opposite side of the entrance doors with his knife in hand, looking to me for confirmation that I'm ready. Silently, I nod and watch as he swings the door open. I wait for the sound of infected, but am pleasantly surprised with silence.

Joel seems to know where he's going though, he heads straight for the back room. I take my time to look around at the front room, seeing if there's anything of use. Most likely there isn't, but every once in a while I get lucky. The sound of whatever Joel is moving is enough to catch my attention, and I stand in the doorway. He's moving a large piece of plywood that's on the floor. There's a hole in the ground, and he drops down into it.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I go over to peek in the hole, seeing a small stash of supplies. Joel rummages around and picks up ammunition, a few cans, and another knife. He turns around and sees me staring above him, and he hands me items he can't carry himself; some cans of food and ammunition, before he pulls himself back out of the hole.

"You stashed that?" I ask quietly. He huffs as he puts away the extra supplies.

"A while ago." He answers and the two of us quickly shove the items in our bags. My bag feels like it gained fifteen extra pounds, but I can't complain. The extra weight means we have better survival odds.

Wordlessly, Joel moves out of the store and heads towards the suburban side of town, only a few miles walk away. The cookie-cutter houses remind me of the neighborhood I used to live in. A small, idyllic place at one point in time, turned to nothing but a ghost town now. Joel approaches the porch of one and opens the door. Luckily, it's empty and I follow him inside.

He blocks the main entrances to the home without a word, and I move to help him. I shove a strong chair underneath the handle of the back door and try to turn the handle to test its durability. After that, I make my rounds on the curtains and close them all. It seems like we're making this our base for the night. Once we've taken all the safety measures that we possibly can, Joel finds his way to the living room and unloads his stuff on the old, worn-down couch.

I place my backpack on the floor next to the couch and lean against the doorframe that connects the living room and kitchen, watching as Joel straightens his back out on the floor. His arms reach above his head to elongate his spine, and I hear the bones pop and crack. Wincing slightly, I turn my attention elsewhere in the house.

My eyes catch the fading family portrait on the wall and I go to look at it. The black frame houses an old photo. There's a man, woman, two kids, and a dog. They're all smiling, even the dog looks happy. My heart tugs at the sight of the happy family, and I can only assume what happened to them, just like so many other families. Sighing, I look at the other photos on the wall, seeing the slow growth of the children through still images. They look like they were probably high school age. My fingers find their way to the necklace that adorns my neck and I squeeze it tight.

A sound from behind me snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn back to see Joel staring at me. I offer him a polite smile and go to take a seat across from him on the floor, resting my back against the old couch. I fiddle with the torn edges of my pants, and can no longer restrain myself from asking questions. There are too many things I want answers to.

"How did you find me at that barricade?" My voice is soft. Joel clears his throat and shrugs.

"I took the long way 'round so I wouldn't interfere with whatever you were doin'. I was plannin' on taking this highway back home anyways. Guess it was just a coincidence." He plainly answers and I nod, accepting his answer.

"What a lucky coincidence." I smile, trying to break through the tension that always seems to hang over us. It's going to be a long trip west if he keeps things this short. He just shrugs in response,

"So what did you find 'bout those people?" He asks. I'm surprised he even cares, but I reach for my bag to show him what I've found. I spread the documents out in front of me and let him look. I explain to him what I know and what my theories are.

"Whoever they are, they need to be eradicated. Those kids, they were-" The tightness in my throat constricts my ability to talk and I take a shaky breath, remembering what it felt like to cradle the dying girl's head. Joel just nods, not needing further elaboration. He holds up the scraps of paper I found in the fire and reads the simple words.

"I'm not sure what those have to do with anything, and I'm not sure there's any sort of connection." I speak up, truthfully not knowing if they're of any value.

He puts the scraps down and picks up another piece of paper, the one with the Firefly insignia on it. As he reads the paper it's like the blood is drained from his face. My eyebrows knit together,

"What is it?" I ask and his startled eyes look deep into mine with fear that he tries to mask. An uneasy feeling settles in me. He looks back down to the paper and re-reads the note before he says anything.

"These bastards aren't going to live much longer." Is all he says before handing everything back over to me. The look on his face is unsettling, so I don't push anything further.

There has to be something he knows about this.

Part Nine

[another-lost-mc]

you are so real with being disappointed on nightbringer cause i feel the same way

Oh, I have complicated feelings about Nightbringer.

(I’ll use a Read More link here because of vague OG S4 discussion.)

I didn’t whale in OG but I was much more willing to spend extra money chasing cards I wanted. I was really motivated to catch up on all the story content too since I didn’t start playing until the later part of the pandemic. I know S3 and S4 aren’t the greatest bits of story-telling ever written but I had hopes for more Celestial Realm content (a visit and maybe Michael appearance) in S5 based on where Simeon’s storyline was heading.

(I usually picture MC traveling to the CR to see Michael in S5, and maybe another visit of new angels to the Devildom in S6 once tensions are resolved.)

Overall I really liked getting involved with the fandom and I started posting fanfics here. I was so happy with my curated little card collection of favs — Lucifer was my original favourite, followed by Simeon, Barbatos, Solomon and Asmo — and exploring the game with my writing.

And then Nightbringer was announced.

After I spent probably too much money collecting all the HDD cards I wanted not long before that.

And the cards weren’t going to be transferable to the new game! ISN’T THAT FUN?! (Solmare logic, probably.)

I mean, I get it. It’s the nature of gacha games and the motivation is to grow the player base and revenue potential.

Sure, whatever.

And some parts of Nightbringer are fine, while other parts leave me desperately wanting more. Detailed lore that ties into the OG game and characters I care about, more in-depth characterization. Another slow burn love interest would be nice too since NB completely changed the direction of Barb’s development compared to OG S4 (side-eyes Mephisto and Raphael as new potentials). Also, as time goes on, I find myself not really caring who Nightbringer is. Does it even matter anymore? Like…whatever, you do you, buddy. lol

My face if they reveal it’s Barbatos/Solomon/Michael all along:

Oh, and more ROMANCE? Hello??? The babysitter role and goofy family dynamics are satisfying to a point but then it gets stale. Some of the Devilgrams are boring too, and don’t get me started on the EVENTS. I enjoyed the vampire one last year that sparked a random writing frenzy of vampire AU fics, but so many of the events fall flat for me. Anyone else just use S or A Rank skips to breeze past the story bits because 90% of it is boring as hell? Yeah, same.

It sounds like a lot of complaints, but there’s still more about the game I love or I wouldn’t be here: my favs, most of the artwork, the music! The new Dateables song is so goofy - what are those lyrics? - but they didn’t autotune Simeon to death and he sounds so much better than he did in Question Love (the only song whose remix I like better than the original).

I love the people I’ve met in this fandom and being able to share story ideas and headcanons. It’s so exciting when new lessons and cards are announced because the player base gets invigorated again (even if things fall a little flat upon arrival). I’ve splurged on some merch (official and fan-made) and I love being self-indulgent and commissioning artwork of my favs and MC together.

Oh, and I love my OCs. 😚 @ them all.

[attic-club-sandwich]

Summary: MC wakes one night to a familiar problem. Someone else is also awake at that hour and he comes to comfort them. A short drabble about MC getting their period for the first time since regaining their human form in the Devildom

Belphegor x afab!MC

CW: MC has a vagina and menstruates. Period content. Blood Mentions.

A/N: Well guys, this is the end of Only Human for the 7 brothers! I appreciate you all reading and following this series!! Let me know if you'd be interested in reading the side characters (Dia, Barb, Solomon, & Simeon) and feel free to request too :) I really hope you enjoy Belphie's! I went all out for his cause it's the last and he's one of my faves. I also headcanon that they each have their own bathrooms. Idk i just feel like that makes sense lol There also had to be one in the attic too right? Cause Belphie was locked up there for quite awhile. So, there's a bathroom in the attic I make the rules here.

Masterlist

Only Human

You had been sleeping soundly when you were awoken by an intense cramping in your lower stomach. The sensation was beginning to mingle into your dreams, causing you to stir awake. You let out a quiet groan as you stretched, bumping the figure that was snoring softly next to you. Oh yeah, you thought. I had a headache earlier so Belphegor convinced me to go lay down with him. The two of you had snuck off to the attic after dinner to get some peace and quiet from the rest of the brothers, and at some point you must have dozed off.

You reached over to feel for your D.D.D, but it was gone. You leaned over the side of the bed to see it had fallen to the floor next to you. Picking it up, you tapped the screen to see that it was around 2:00 a.m. You rubbed your eyes and yawned as you set your phone back down on the bedside table. The attic was dark except for the warm glow of the lanterns that hung above the bed. You sat quietly for a few moments, focusing your gaze on the gentle rising and falling of Belphie’s chest as he slept. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep like this. You smiled, but were cut short at the stabbing pain in your abdomen. Wincing, you hugged your knees to your chest. What the hell do I do? You began to panic, wondering if the small half bath that was in the back of the attic had anything useful to you. Your period had obviously come while you were asleep, and you were in no way prepared. You had just gained back your human form not too long ago, and weren’t expecting to get back to normal bodily functions this soon. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you quietly got to your feet and tiptoed across the attic to the bathroom. Belphie was a heavy sleeper, but you really didn’t want to risk waking him up. As you entered the bathroom, you shut the door as softly as you could. There was a small cabinet under the sink, so you pulled it open to check for anything that could be useful. To your surprise, you saw a bottle of painkillers. Grabbing it, you ripped the cap off and tossed a couple of the pills into your mouth. “Thank God. Belphie must have had these with him when he was locked up here.” you whispered to yourself. Now that one problem was taken care of, you had a pretty obvious other problem that needed your attention. You sat down on the toilet, assessing the severity of your situation. Your stomach dropped as you realized the sleep shorts you changed into earlier were now stained red. Shit, I leaked through! You sniffed as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. What should I do? Call Lucifer? Barbatos? No, you didn’t want to bother them at this hour. Maybe Asmo would be your safest bet, as you felt he would be the most understanding out of all of the brothers.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard footsteps coming towards the door. Hopping up, you pulled up your shorts again and wiped your eyes. Your hand reached towards the door handle when suddenly it was yanked open and you were staring straight into the wide eyed stare of The Avatar of Sloth. His hair was messy, and the sweatpants he wore were untied and hung just low enough on his hips that you could catch a glance of the waistband of his underwear. “B-Belphie?!” you squeaked as he stepped into the bathroom with you. “MC! Theres…there’s blood…a-and I smell it on you…” his hands shook slightly and he brought them up to rest on your shoulders. “Whats going on? I didn’t…I didn’t do…” his voice trailed off as he met your tear filled stare. “Belphie, no! Of course you didn’t do this.” He let out a sigh of relief as he lowered his head to rest gently against your chest. “Thank Diavolo, holy shit…you scared me.” he murmured. He lifted his head back up, his eyebrows knitted together with worry. “Then what the hell is the blood?? Are you hurt?” You shook your head, blushing slightly. “No, I'm not hurt. I started my period and I don’t have anything…I bled through…” you said, quietly. Belphie’s violet eyes widened. “Your…period?” you nodded, unsure if he quite understood or not. “Do you…know what that is?” you asked. He ran his hand through his navy blue hair as he glanced away. “Yeah, kinda. I read about humans a lot back in the Celestial Realm because Lilith was so interested in them. I also read a lot when I was up here.” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I sound like Satan.” You giggled as you shook your head. “Never.” He smiled as he reached out to lace his fingers through yours. “So, what do you need?”

**

As he led you back to the bed, you groaned in embarrassment. The sheets where you had been sleeping had a large spot of blood on them. “I’m so sorry.” you said, covering your face in your hands. Belphie shrugged. “It’s really no big deal. I’m a demon, blood is not out of the ordinary. Let’s take them off and put them in the wash. I think Asmo keeps an extra stash of supplies in the laundry room, too.” He paused as he searched the room for something, “Oh, and take this, It should be long enough to cover you.” You sighed in relief as Belphie found the cardigan he’d been wearing and handed it over to you. “Thank you Belphie, I really appreciate it.” You said gratefully as you pulled the cardigan on. He smiled as you continued to help him remove the sheets from the bed. “It’s fine, I wouldn’t normally do this for anyone but…it’s you so it's okay.” His smile dropped as he glanced down at his feet. “Besides, I owe you a lot of favors.” You finished pulling the last of the sheets off the bed and the two of you quietly made your way downstairs. Thankfully no one was up at this hour, so you didn’t have to explain yourselves. Belphie pushed open the door to the laundry room and you threw the load of soiled sheets into the washer. He slowly added in some detergent and started it up. You could tell he was sleepy, but you were so grateful that he was willing to help you out at this hour. “There. I don’t feel like waiting so let’s just go back to my room to sleep.” You nodded, all of a sudden anxious. “But Beel is there right?” Belphie was reaching into one of the cupboards above the washer. “Yeah, but he’s probably asleep so it’ll be okay.” He opened the cupboard to grab a small box that was hidden towards the back. “Here, this is for you.” He handed the box to you and you saw that it was some pads. You almost cried, how did I manage to get so lucky? “T-Thank you Belphie…seriously, you just saved me.” Belphie yawned, ending it with a small smile. “You’re welcome. If Asmo notices they are gone, I’ll tell him that Mammon found them and sold them. Now come on, let’s head to bed already.” 

Once you had taken care of yourself and changed into a clean pair of shorts, you crawled into Belphie’s bed next to him. You were trying to keep as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Beel who was snoring softly in the bed across the room. You felt arms wrap themselves around your waist and you were surprised that the 7th born hadn’t fallen asleep waiting for you. You yawned as he planted a soft kiss to the side of your head. “Are you feeling better?” he whispered, nuzzling his head into your neck. You nodded. “Yeah, the cramps have mostly gone away.” He hummed, feeling happiness bubble in his chest. “I’m glad I could help.” A few moments of silence passed, and you turned to see Belphie sleeping soundly once more. He really was tired, and yet he did all of that for me, you thought to yourself. You were still smiling when you eventually drifted off to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that peaceful dreams were on their way.

[grandwretch]

only i must wander, pt. 5

[on ao3] [pt 1] [pt 2] [pt 3] [pt 4]

content warning: gun violence, government conspiracies, implied racialized violence against black children, child endangerment, and references to impact play

Sleep did not come for Steve that night, too outweighed by guilt and failure to find him. He rattled around his empty house, waiting for it to come, and instead found only the spiral of his own thoughts. It was stupid to dwell on it, he tried to tell himself, the way it had been stupid to dwell on Barb. There was nothing to be done to change it, no way to go back in time and stop it, so why was he agonizing over it like it was a problem he could actually solve? It was just causing himself unnecessary heartache. He knew that. It didn't make it any easier to stop. 

It was worse doing it alone. Having Nancy around had been a little easier, although Steve didn't know if it was because seeing her tearing herself apart made his own mind a little clearer, or because he simply let her take over all the thinking. Neither was a very flattering reason, he was afraid. Now, he felt even more useless than he had then, when all Steve could do to comfort anyone was make stupid jokes at the dinner table. That, at least, had been well-meaning. What the fuck had he been doing the past few days? 

Really, it had been his own fault for believing he could change things. Realizing he wasn't human had given Steve too much confidence-- He had never been a good person, Steve knew that, but there was almost some hope in him that maybe he could be a good Wesen. Which was ridiculous, of course. He should have left those kids alone. He should have never let Dustin and Robin convince him that he was needed. He should have known that he wasn't meant to be the hero. 

Maybe that was why he had always bucked against the idea. What had he been thinking, letting himself pretend that it was because he didn't want to hurt someone? Everyone knew Steve Harrington didn't have any real morals; He would do anything for a smile or a warm touch. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, Steve had just already known he would fuck being a Grimm up like he had everything else. 

It was hard to think about anything else. 

By the time the sun came up the next morning, Steve had moved past panic and into the quiet acceptance of someone who had realized they had nowhere to run. He made himself a pot of coffee, ignoring how it made his empty stomach twist, and forced himself to stare into a sunrise that stung his tired eyes. Despite the exhaustion that clung to his limbs and heart, Steve didn't have problems finding energy to move. If anything, he felt like his body was pushing him to move faster, always finding a small reserve of energy to burn. 

Not for the first time, his body was at odds with his mind-- Every inch of him wanted to go out there and fix things, while Steve himself knew it would all be useless. He just had to wait for everyone else to show up. Maybe they would have some better ideas. Eddie seemed particularly keen to save the world from Steve. 

So the morning lingered, every hour seeming longer and longer until Steve was certain it might drive him insane. They had agreed to meet up just before lunch, in order not to keep Robin past curfew again should they need more time to regroup. Steve was beginning to regret being so responsible,  letting everyone go home and be normal for a little while, and he honestly wasn't sure his soul could take another regret. 

Even as Steve craved the comfort of his friends, though, he knew he didn't deserve it-- So he sat, quietly, and drank another cup of coffee, ignoring the phone next to him. 

Eventually, when the sun had finally completely risen over the treeline and the sleepy suburb around Steve had cleared itself out, all the fathers at work and the mothers at the club and the children at their camps and practices and programs... Steve heard the sound of a car coming up the street. The fact that he heard it at all was something of a warning; Those who lived in Loch Nora did not, as a general rule, allow themselves to be so gauche-- or practical --as to have their engines introduce their vehicle before the logo could. 

Steve leaned over the counter to peek through his blinds, sighing when he saw a familiar blue and white van in his driveway. He had never expected Eddie Munson, chronic truant, to be so punctual. It would figure that the one time no one wanted Eddie around was when he would actually show up for once, Steve thought, and then immediately scolded himself for being an ass. 

This was Steve's fault; Not Eddie's. 

Besides, if Steve could forget that he was barely keeping it together, at the moment, it might be nice to spend some time with Eddie alone. He could look his fill, at least, without having to worry about Robin or Dustin noticing. Maybe they could talk about something that wasn't death or kidnapping for once. Maybe he could even get Eddie to like him. 

And all for what, a nasty little part of Steve whispered. Which was a good point, really. There was no sense in Steve getting his hopes up just to have Eddie hate him again when he'd realized what Steve had done. Although, maybe it would be nice to have something to remember besides snarky comments and hateful little looks, when Steve was alone again. Because Eddie would be so upset, if Steve told him. Kids like that were probably the only reason Eddie was even still in this town, he had made that extremely clear, so why would he even both pretending to get along with Steve after he'd lost them like that? 

Watching Eddie hop out of the van, Steve sighed, and put the last cup of coffee down on the counter. Whatever happened, it would have to wait until everyone got here. Steve wasn't going to have this conversation twice. 

By the time Eddie knocked, Steve was already in his foyer, hand on the doorknob. Eddie's hand was still raised as Steve opened the door, and he turned the gesture into an odd little wave, smiling crookedly. 

"Hey, Harrington," he said, tongue pressing into the gaps of his teeth when he grinned, smug. "Nice digs." 

Steve blinked. Eddie didn't sound mocking, exactly, but he could tell the compliment wasn't sincere. Maybe he was just trying to teach Steve how to give a real compliment, since he had failed so completely on Friday. Whatever Eddie was trying to imply, Steve's head hurt way too much to figure it out. If he wanted to say something, he could just say it. Until then, Steve was ignoring it. 

"Yeah, uh... Thanks," Steve said, shaking his head. The fog didn't want to budge, but he forced himself to step back and motion Eddie in as he struggled with it. "Come on in. Coffee?" 

"No, thanks." Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets as he shuffled past Steve, peering around the house like he was at a zoo. Which was odd, Steve thought, because Eddie had definitely been here before. Hadn't he? Steve couldn't imagine a Hawkins rager without a Munson peddling his wares, and Eddie was the only one Steve had ever known. 

"Not a big coffee drinker?" Steve asked, politely continuing the conversation as he led Eddie into the living room. He couldn't go back for his coffee if Eddie wasn't going to have any; It would only draw attention to how desperately he needed it, and how his hands still shook around the porcelain. 

"Nah. Wayne loves the stuff, though," Eddie said. "Says it's his only vice." 

The Munson trailer's walls had been tinged yellow with nicotine, and there had been a mountain of Camels on Wayne's sidetable, so Steve wasn't sure how true that was. 

"So all the cigarettes must be yours, then?" Steve shrugged. "Can't say they taste much better." 

"Well, they definitely look cooler than coffee," Eddie said. He plopped onto Steve's mom's favorite love seat, all black and denim against the pale beige upholstery. Eddie grinned up at Steve, who hesitated for a moment, thinking how truly odd it was to see Eddie here, amongst the frippery and chintz of his day to day life. Sure, Eddie looked gorgeous in opulence, like some kind of king who thought his comfortable thrown was far beneath him, but that didn't make it less surreal. 

"That's why I have both," Steve said, eventually, as he sat in the chair furthest from Eddie. He couldn't stand the idea of being touched right now, and he wasn't even sure if he meant from anyone or Eddie specifically. The entire world felt too big, too loud, and someone's skin against Steve's own might be the last straw. 

"From what I've heard, Steve Harrington isn't someone who denies himself any vices." Steve would have thought it was a come on from anyone else. It certainly sounded like one, dripping with innuendo. But Eddie wasn't looking at Steve anymore-- His eyes darted from the open doorway into the kitchen, to the front door, to the stairs, over and over again. 

Steve liked to think if Eddie Munson was making a move on him, he might actually be more interested in Steve than monitoring all points of escape. Call him a romantic. 

Alright, so Eddie was scared of his house. That wasn't actually that big of a shock; Most people were a little uncomfortable or intimidated by the Harrington house. It wasn't even that big, really; Three bedrooms and two and a half baths wasn't exactly a mansion. It was the decor, usually, that threw people off, or the sheer ugliness of the outside. It was the kind of tacky you only got away with by being very, very rich, and Steve's mom ate that shit up with a spoon. Now it was Steve who was stuck with it, a flashing sign pointing to a world he'd been cut off from, and a bunch of friends who were constantly alienated by the very house he lived in. 

So, yeah, Steve was used to it. Still, this felt different. He felt it had to be personal, on some level, because Steve had seen Eddie deal in plenty of big houses before and seem totally fine. Plus, it wasn't like Eddie had said anything besides some weird compliment about the yard-- Most people usually did, when they were freaking out about the weird gold statues in the bathrooms, or the over-large chandelier in the foyer that made Steve claustrophobic. No, Eddie hadn't seemed put off by the house itself. Just Steve. 

Which wasn't a good sign, really, because Steve hadn't even told him about the new missing kids, yet. It was a little early for Eddie to already mark him off as a murderer. 

"Is everything okay, Eddie?" 

"What?" Eddie's gaze snapped back to Steve's, then skittered away again like a frightened cat. 

"You keep looking at our china cupboard like it's going to bite you," Steve said, trying to make a joke of it. When Eddie didn't laugh or smile or even so much as a grimace, Steve dropped his own awkward smile.  "I'm sorry, if I did anything to..." 

"Oh, God, no," Eddie said. He shook his hand, but Steve could see him wiping his sweaty palms off on his pants legs. "Sorry, Steve. It's not you, it's... I just can't get used to the fact that I'm in the Harrington house. I keep expecting your parents to pop out of a door and grill me on why I'm in their lair." 

"I used to feel like that, too, sometimes," Steve said with a shrug. "You get used to it." His parents haunted every inch of this place. There touch was everywhere, in everything, even in places like Steve's bedroom, where he was pretty sure neither of his parents had deigned to be since they'd moved in. They were inescapable. 

"Oh." Eddie looked thrown, and he frowned up at the picture of Steve's parents that hung above the mantle. Steve had meant to take that down-- He did, most nights. Jesus, no wonder he couldn't sleep last night. 

"I'm a little curious, though," Steve said, leaning forward. Now was his chance; A perfect opportunity for someone to finally spill what Steve was desperate to know.  "About what you've heard about them. Wayne seemed to think they were pretty okay, but you..." 

"I..." Eddie sighed. "Did your parents ever tell you about the Bogey Man when you were a kid?"

"No. Is that some kind of Wesen?" Steve asked, tilting his head.

"Ha, no. It's a fake monster, one the humans made up," Eddie explained. "I guess it makes sense your parents wouldn't need a fake one. But, uh, basically human parents use it to make their kids behave, I guess. You know, parent shit. A 'if you don't clean your room, the Bogey Man will get you!' deal." 

"Weird," Steve said. It seemed bizarre to even think about, really. Steve had seen his classmates with their parents before, of course. Tommy and his father fought constantly, even though Mr. Hagan had been one of the most even-tempered men that Steve had ever known, and Carol's parents were a lesson in politics and manipulation. 

He'd seen them both rail against their parents in ways both subtle and direct, but that had been so... them. Of course Tommy and Carol fought back, they fought back against Steve all the time, and teachers, and basically every other person on Planet Earth. But Steve couldn't imagine their parents threatening them with some made up monster to frighten them into behaving. He couldn't imagine his own parents even bothering-- Not when Steve was perfectly capable of being afraid of them already. 

Steve had to wonder which was kinder-- Frightening your children with a lie, or being the monster yourself? 

"Yeah. Yeah, well, when I was kid," Eddie continued, "your parents were the Bogey Man." 

Steve laughed, hollowly. Yeah, he supposed he and Eddie had that in common. "So I guess you're not as big a fan of my parents as Wayne is, huh?" 

"No, not really. Sorry," Eddie said, flatly. 

"Don't apologize. I definitely wasn't expecting him to be so accepting," Steve said, because he had honestly expected every Wesen to hate him on sight for the rest of his life. "I know what Grimms do to Blutbads. You know, historically." 

"No, it's not about that," Eddie said, as if thousands of years of blood feuds and murder didn't bother him at all.  "I run into a Grimm on the street, or something, I don't think I'd have a problem with them. We live in modern times; Someone isn't just going to kill me in broad daylight for minding my business. I'm wieder, I've never killed so much as a squirrel-- It's... Sorry, man, I could explain it but I don't think it's going to make much sense." 

"Try me," Steve said, because he needed to know. He needed to understand what the hell was going on in this town, on at least some level. Eddie's thoughts seemed like the one thing Steve could figure out without dragging the entire town into a disaster, at the very least. 

Eddie huffed, like Steve was being purposefully contrary. "I mean, this deal they've got going on with us, all of us in Hawkins. Would you be okay living like that?" 

Steve shrugged. "I don't know much about the details, really." 

"What, your parents' iron grip on the people around you not interesting enough for you, Your Majesty?" The venom had dripped back into Eddie's voice, and Steve wanted to bite back, but-- Well, it was his own fault that Eddie assume that he was in on things. He'd basically lied to them about his own relationship with his parents, just to look a little more competent. Eddie was allowed to be a bitch about Steve's ignorance. 

"Nah, my parents just aren't big sharers," Steve said, because he really didn't want this to devolve into another stupid fight. Today was going to be hard enough. "They haven't really... been around, since my powers started acting up. Most of what I've learned has been from my grandpa's diaries. No mention of any deal in there." 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, something curling his face into a grimace. Steve wasn't sure how to take the way Eddie was looking at him right now-- He'd never been good at figuring out why someone was mad at him, and Steve was feeling a little of that same cluelessness. Sure, it might have been because Eddie had just put together that Steve had lied to Wayne's face about his parents, but that seemed a little tame for a guy like Eddie. 

And, really, if Eddie had a problem with Steve lying, it was the least of Steve's worries. He would tell Wayne himself the next time he saw him, if it was that big a deal to him, but Steve didn't think it was anybody's business. No one had begged the Harringtons to come home when Steve needed them. Now it was Steve picking up his parents' mess, and trying to cover the fact that this had been happening right under their noses for who knows how long. Steve was the one suffering here. 

He tried really hard not to think about all the missing kids, and raised an eyebrow at Eddie, waiting for the judgement to fade. 

"Well," Eddie said, eventually. His voice slipped into a role with just one syllable, a habit Steve had noticed more and more in Eddie. His posture even adjusted to fit, as if Eddie was pulling the same party trick as Steve, but with concepts more than real people. A teacher's voice came from his mouth, "It's simple really. Your basic, everyday example of laws being nothing but threats the ruling class put in place to keep themselves at the top." 

Steve snorted at the exaggeration. "That's a little--" 

"No, Harrington, you wanted to know, so I'm telling you," Eddie said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. There was a pissy little line between his eyebrows, and Steve could already picture the wrinkles Eddie would have there, one day.  "There are all these stupid fucking laws, right, like who can marry who, and who's allowed to be a person. There are laws that are made to keep poor people poor, and laws to keep stupid people stupid, and then they made laws to keep those people from voting, because god forbid anyone change those laws." 

Resisting the urge to sigh, Steve wondered what Eddie would do if Steve just came out and told him that he didn't have to dance around the subject of gay people with Steve. Mostly because Steve had very explicit fantasies of sucking him off in this very living room sporadically since freshman year. It didn't seem worth it, though, considering Eddie was looking for a fight. With Steve's luck, Eddie would probably decide to be homophobic on the spot. Besides, Steve didn't know if he could call himself gay outloud without puking. 

"I don't know what that has to do with my parents," Steve said, instead, because they were getting pretty off track.

"Yeah, I'm being really unfair about the whole thing. I know that," Eddie said, throwing his hands up in the air like the dramatic asshole he is. "It's just, you know, it's a little funny. America is, like, so fucking focused on keeping the lower classes surpressed they just let people die in front of them everyday, and yet-- And yet they're still fairer than the fucking Harringtons." 

"Eddie--" Steve cut himself off, no longer trying not to sigh. He got the point, he really did, but Eddie was preaching to the choir on this one. He had never been convinced that his parents were great people to be around, and if you had told him as a child that his father was in charge of actual human lives, he probably would have had nightmares for weeks. That didn't mean that he would just stand here and agree with Eddie calling them dictators, either. They were his parents. And if anyone got to be mad at them, it was Steve. Not some gorgeous dickhead who'd never even met them. 

"Because you know, if someone breaks into my house and tries to kill me and I defend myself, the cops will eventually let me go," Eddie said, and he hadn't looked Steve in the eye since this whole thing started, but he seemed even further away now. Like he was mostly talking to himself, working through his thoughts, and Steve was merely an audience to his genius. It reminded Steve a lot of Eddie standing on lunch tables and yelling about how the basketball team was stealing kids' self-expression, and Steve wondered if it was too late to put a table cloth down on the coffee table.  

Eddie continued, "Self defense, right? But Wesen don't get self defense. If I'm wieder, I'm just a dog. Or-- or-- fuck, I could get put away for years for selling drugs, but I'll be safe! Better tell Wayne goodbye, though, if the Harringtons find me with springroot in the backyard." 

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry," Steve said. He felt suddenly like he had to beg Eddie to forgive him for his parents, just so they could move on from this. A little unfair, sure, and Steve was sure that when he'd finally had some sleep and his pride had the opportunity to rebuild itself he would regret it, but Steve just wanted this to be over. He just wanted Eddie to look at him and see Steve, not the product of two people who hadn't bothered to even stick around to raise him. He just didn't know what to say. There was no blueprint to make Eddie like him, no person he could imitate good enough to capture Eddie's goodwill.  "I had-- I was afraid that it would be that bad, but I guess after talking to Wayne, I got my hopes up. I didn't mean to make you-- I know it's hard--" 

"Hold on, Harrington," Eddie said, a hesitant hand raised between them. He looked blindsided, shock on his face as he blinked through the furrowing of his brow. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, okay? I'm not, like, having a breakdown or anything. I was just... talking. You know me, I can't shut up when something pisses me off." And that was true, at least-- Steve had listened to enough of Eddie's lunchroom rants to know that Eddie couldn't really mean half the shit he said, and might very well change his mind on the other half by the next one. 

This seemed a little more important than high school politics, though. Bigger than what Steve thought even real-life politics, with it's scrubbed-up movie stars and glittering galas, could effect anymore, like the kind of shit people who invented politics used to think about. The kind of shit no one really wanted to think about, much less talk about, anymore. The kind of shit that made people turn the channel to something stupid and thoughtless, pretending the uncomfortability of reality had never revealed itself. 

"But they're my parents," Steve said, helplessly. He was a little lost in the swamp of the matter; He wished he had paid more attention in history class to have the words for the conversation, the way Nancy or Jonathan would. 

"Yeah," Eddie said, in that increasingly familiar tone of voice that said Steve was being slow.  "And my mom is still out there somewhere, hunting down Bauerschwein like Blutbader society can't survive with one more pig in the world. What's that got to do with me?" he continued, with all the confidence of a man who didn't lay awake at night sure that it did have something to do with him. 

"That's different," Steve said, though he wasn't sure how it was-- Eddie would know better than him, obviously, but Steve wasn't sure how he had been able to assure himself of anything of that. Steve didn't think he'd ever be able to stop blaming himself, if it had been him. Which was probably Eddie's point. Still, there were a few key differences, the biggest of which-- "Have you even met her?" 

"I mean, I have to believe I was present at my own birth," Eddie said with a shrug, "but other than that, nah. That's not the point, Harrington. What I'm saying is, you've got nothing to be sorry for. You aren't your parents." 

And that was where Eddie was the most wrong, Steve thought. Because while he hadn't seen them for months, Steve had more than enough time with his parents to know just how like them he really was. Every time he looked in the mirror or watched his own hands move as he spoke, he saw Bradley and Sophia Harrington. His parents felt inextricably a part of him, like he could feel their very DNA inside him. It was a curse before he had even known what they were, and an even greater one afterward-- Because there had never been a single moment where Steve had been able to believe that they were ignorant of this dangerous world Steve had found himself in. If anything, it was easier to believe they had created it wholecloth, just as they had created him. 

"You should be afraid of me," Steve said, like reminding someone to bring an umbrella along on a cloudy day.  

"Afraid of you?" Eddie repeated. "Why?" 

Steve shrugged, thinking about the split-second moment of fear on El and Robin's faces. How he couldn't meet his own gaze in the mirror. Of Eddie woging in the dark, eyes flashing. "Everyone else is." 

"Steve, you got your ass kicked by a jumped up racist in the shittiest car in the world," Eddie said with a snort, as if he'd ever won a fight in his five years at Hawkins High. "I think I'll be okay." 

"I-- I wasn't even really a Grimm then!" Steve protested. Lucky for Billy, honestly. While Steve wondered from time to time if his vision and hearing hadn't been just a bit too keen in the junkyard last fall, everything else had still been completely human. Steve hated to think what he might have done to a human, if it had happened all at once. If all that adrenaline and instinct had seen Billy-- and maybe even the kids, honestly --as a threat. If his strength, growing more unnatural every day, would have broken bone as easy as plaster. 

Would Billy have still been alive when they stuffed him in his own trunk? 

"Yes, but you were an asshole," Eddie said, wry tone jerking Steve out of his worst case scenario. "Balances itself out, you see." 

The absurdity made Steve chuckle, the knot in his chest loosening a little bit. Eddie was right-- For all he was a monster now, he had been even worse when he was a human. A reminder of that was as freeing as it would have been upsetting mere months ago. From the pleased grin on Eddie's face, Steve assumed he knew that, too. It must have been written all over his face. 

Steve hated to think what else Eddie could see in his eyes, and tilted his face away, hiding the smile on his lips. 

A welcome distraction came in the form of the familiar growl of Claudia Henderson's car in the driveway. If Steve strained, he could hear Dustin's voice through the closed window, followed by his mother's-- And, Steve realised with a start, Robin's. At least, he hoped that was Robin-- He'd been working on his hearing, lately. Even his improved vision couldn't process things as quickly as his ears could. It was mere seconds, but it was more than enough to keep them alive. 

Although, Steve thought as a familiar tingling began between his eyes, maybe he didn't have to work that hard. His head seemed determined to ache the moment a Wesen got in the vicinity anyway. Althought it usually faded within moments, there was nothing Steve processed faster than pain.

"Kids are here," Steve said, standing. Dustin's heavy boots were loud on the front porch, and he knew the little shit had stolen a key weeks ago. 

"They are?" 

Dustin answered for him, throwing the door open and yelling, "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve!" 

"I am right fucking here, Dustin, holy shit," Steve said, flinching. 

Robin muscled her way past Dustin and into the front hall, waving at Claudia over her shoulder. "Holy shit, Henderson," she hissed through a plastic smile, "don't wake up the whole neighborhood." 

"You got a ride with Mrs. Henderson?" Steve asked. He didn't know if it was more surprising that Robin actually got in the car, or that Claudia had let a Fuchsbau in her backseat. The two most paranoid people he knew, in one car ride? Fuck, throw Hopper in there, too, and they'd be convinced the world was ending in a matter of minutes. 

"We saw her walking and stopped to pick her up," Dustin said, throwing his backpack under a rickety sofa table. "It's a bad week for bike tires."

Rolling her eyes, Robin dropped into Steve's vacated seat, kicking his legs out of the way of her sprawl. "I wish I didn't live in the opposite direction of you, Eddie," she groused, "because that was the worst car ride of my life." 

Steve wasn't sure that Eddie's clunky van would have been much smoother, considering what he'd heard coming up his own driveway, but he kept his mouth shut for once. 

Dustin had much more specific protests. "Hey, my mom is great!" Another statement Steve was smart enough not to address. 

"Your mom has eaten people!" Robin flung her arms up, feet and knees jittering with nervous energy. "How am I supposed to act normal about meeting her when literally the first information you ever told me about her was that she ate people for fun!" 

Eddie's gaze slid sideways to Steve. "What's going on right now?" he asked. 

"Oh, uh." Steve leaned against the back of Robin's seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dustin's mom took human heart in college, apparently." 

"You seem remarkably chill about that," Eddie said. The creases in his face, too deep and practiced for a man his age, jerked into a shaky frown. 

Steve shrugged, unsure of what Eddie had expected him to say. Eddie was the one who sold drugs out of the back of his van, supplying most of Steve's best parties, and Eddie had been the one to say that Steve was too good to be a real threat. It was something of a relief to have found where a boundary might lay, finally, but Steve wasn't sure why this, of all things, was enough to take the shine off. 

"I've seen worse," Steve said, although that was stretching the truth a bit. He'd never actually seen the inside of the Hawkins Lab, just the tunnels underneath, but he'd heard enough from El and Hopper to have a pretty good idea. The shit they were doing in there was worse than any college girl could ever do, even if she was a bit munchy. 

 Sure, if you wanted to get in the philosophical weeds about everything, consuming human flesh  might be a tad more wrong, morally speaking, than human experimentation. It seemed, at first, a much deeper sin. His Sunday school teacher would have said as much, probably. But then again, it always seemed that the sins that didn't make you money were the ones people most cared about. Everything else could be justified, but the idea of doing something out of sheer enjoyment was the real sin. 

"You are such a hypocrite!" Dustin said, ignoring Steve and Eddie's sidebar.  

"It's not a moral judgement," Robin soothed, ruining all effect by rolling her eyes dramatically the whole time. "I just don't know how--" 

Steve watched Dustin puff up in righteous indignation. "No, come on, you've literally been talking about how creepy she is the whole time--" 

"You accused my dad of murder!" Robin said. 

"Why--" Eddie began, before Steve shook his head. He had learned that it was best just to let them tire each other out before he got involved. Until then, they could just sit back and watch the show. 

"He made his whole business out of dead people; What was I supposed to--"

"He sells them! He sells dead humans. He's not the one getting high by snorting it, or whatever." 

"Oh, yeah, right," Dustin drawled, with a level of sarcasm Steve was almost sure had come from him. 

"I don't know, Henderson," Eddie said, leaning forward. He was having entirely too much fun already, his grin sharp and smug in the same way Max often got when she started a fight amongst the boys. "Robin is making a lot of sense. No good drug dealer gets high off his own supply." 

"See! I--" Robin's triumphant shout was interrupted by her own sudden realization. "Oh, fuck, my dad is a drug dealer." 

"You already knew that," Steve said, rubbing his hand against his forehead. His headache was beginning to make a reappearance. 

"Yeah, but I was thinking about it in a moral way, not like..." Robin shrugged. "Him being a fucking loser." 

"Wow, Buckley," Eddie drawled, mock offense all over his face. "That's really nice." 

Despite Eddie's gleeful problem-causing, it opened up an opportunity for Steve to finally step in. Now that Robin's ire was split in two, he might be able to get out of this without getting his head bitten off.  "Alright, all of you, stop it. There's some coffee in the kitchen if you want some, Robin." 

"Thank--" Robin began, but Dustin interrupted her, yelling over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen. 

"Oh, Steve, do you have anymore Smurfberry Crunch?" 

"Uh, yeah?" Steve said. "I think there's a whole box left over in the--" 

"Great, thanks, Steve!" Dustin's voice echoed out of the kitchen. 

"Don't worry, Harrington, I'll make sure the kid doesn't eat you out of house and home," Robin said, which Steve was pretty sure just meant that she was going to try and eat all the snacks before Dustin could get to them. Still, he watched her boost herself out of his seat and skip into the kitchen without saying a word. 

He still wasn't sure that he was used to having people in his house like this. Steve didn't think of himself as a lonely person, really; He had no problem going out to find the company he needed. Someone was always willing to have Steve Harrington hang out on their couch for a couple hours, or to joy ride in some neighbor's old pickup, or to drive to Lafayette and get dinner that wasn't made by someone you'd known your entire life. There was always someone by his side, until recently. Tommy, Carol, and strings of dates and teammates had made sure of that. 

It was the house that was lonely, not Steve. Even Tommy and Carol didn't like staying in it for too long-- They never said much about it, but Steve didn't think it was coincidence that they always hung out by the pool, even on nights when the air was on the wrong side of freezing. When they did spend time outdoors, they overcompensated, inviting everyone whose name they knew. There was no popularity gate for a Harrington party, just because the adoring, unworthy masses were so handy in making the house feel alive for once. 

Even when he'd given all that up, Nancy hadn't stuck around Steve's for very long-- They spent most of their time at her place, which Steve hadn't really minded. He'd wondered if Nancy also felt trapped in the vast expanse of his parents' house, or if she just preferred to not be the one to sneak out at the end of the night, but he'd never asked. Now, he just wondered if that was another reason that Byers had outdone him-- If the cramped but cozy home of a real family was a necessary ingredient in a real future. 

It had certainly been part of what drew Steve to Nancy, but then, he'd never really thought of family being all that important to her. Maybe that was just another thing he'd missed, along with everything else between them. 

With the Wheelers' house no longer a comfortable escape for him, Hopper and El's cabin had been a surpring replacement. And Steve loved it there, he really did-- Loved how small and worn and soft everything was, how clean didn't mean empty and echoing. He loved the fireplace with ash in the hearth, and their smelly, patchy couch, and the way the refridgerator door hung loose. It was a small place, though, and although Steve knew that Hopper and El would never think it, he knew that he didn't always fit. Especially the nights Joyce or Mike came over-- That was a level of family that he just didn't fit into, and Steve didn't know if it was in his head or if everyone was just too kind to say it, but he felt too over-large and clumsy to be welcome, those nights. 

The kids helped, though. All of them. Even Mike was tolerable when he and El weren't trying to climb into each other's pockets, and the kid's attitude had taken a noticeable upturn once Steve and Nancy's break up had proven to be as boring as possible. He was over here the most often, after Dustin, the both of them dragging Will and Lucas along with them-- Max came too, sometimes, usually alone. 

Steve hadn't expected Robin to make herself part of the conquering forces staking her claim on the Harrington house, however. Although he thought they were something approaching friends-- he wasn't sure what other choice they had in the matter, at this point --the last thing he had ever expected to see was Robin Buckley walking into his kitchen like she owned the place. 

He watched her through the archway for a moment, smiling when she went right to her favorite mug, before turning back to Eddie. He stalled when he found Eddie's large, brown eyes on him already. 

"You sure there's nothing I can get for you?" Steve prompted. 

While he hated the idea of watching Eddie make a move on Robin in his own kitchen, he supposed it was at least polite to give him the chance. It's what Steve would have done, if the object of his current obsession had been some nice neighborhood girl, instead of Eddie Munson himself. Sure, he probably would have been a little more subtle about things, but if it had been him and Nancy in some random dude's house, he wouldn't have left her side. 

Maybe Eddie was shy, Steve thought. Maybe he just needed a little nudge towards the kitchen, or confirmation that Steve and Robin weren't ever going to be a thing. Steve's stomach churned with jealousy, but it was the least he could do to give that to them. If that's what would make them happy. It wasn't like Steve would ever deserve Eddie's attention, anyway. 

Eddie did stand at Steve's prompting, though to his surprise, he didn't make a move for the kitchen. In fact, Steve wasn't sure if Eddie had even glanced in Robin's direction as she left. Instead, he just stepped closer to Steve, hands in his pockets in a show of faux nonchalance. Like everything else Eddie had ever done, Steve couldn't be sure if he was supposed to buy into Eddie's dramatics, or if the obvious theatrics were part of the performance. 

"You know," Eddie said, ignoring Steve's polite offer. "I've always wondered what happens when a Grimm takes Wesen drugs. You ever try one?" 

"No." Steve's nose scrunched in disgust. "Why? You don't sell any of that shit, do you?"

"Nah." Luckily, Eddie didn't seem offended by the question. If anything, his smile only got wider. " Couldn't exactly call myself wieder if I was carrying around human remains in my lunch box, could I?" 

A fair point, Steve had to admit. Wayne, at the very least, would probably have knocked some sense into him by this point. It made Steve feel a little better about letting Dustin (and probably the other boys) walk into Eddie's psuedo-cult. And, if he was being honest, his own taste in men. Then again-- 

"But selling cocaine and Special K is super humanitarian, right?" Steve said, rolling his eyes. Selling coke to high school kids wasn't as bad as trafficking human organs, but Steve was still determined to have some standards for himself. A pair of big, brown eyes couldn't dismiss everything. 

"You sound mad, Stevie," Eddie said, his voice curling around the syllables like smoke. "You used to be one of my best customers. What happened?" 

They both knew what had happened-- Steve had never been buying for himself, only reaching out to Eddie because he was the one with the cash, the one who never had parents breathing down his neck, the one whose house the drugs would be the safest in. He wasn't surprised Eddie had noticed, either; The man hadn't been joking when he'd said that Steve was his best customer. 

In the beginning, Steve had spent most of his allowance on supplying the older kids, ones who couldn't be seen dead with twitchy sophomore Eddie Munson, who hadn't yet grown into his hair or nose yet. It was this role that had let him rocket to popularity as a freshman, a rare feat even in small towns.  Although Steve had slowed it down, once his position solidified, it was well known that Steve was generous with his friends in all their vices. When the party invitations dried up, though, so had his wallet-- And Eddie's profits, presumably. 

Steve didn't feel much like dragging out dirty laundry, or defending himself. He knew what he looked like, knew what people thought of him. If Eddie wanted to give him shit for ancient history, Steve could play along. It was becoming something of a theme in his every friendship.  

"Believe it or not, Munson, I've never thought that fighting monsters on a coke high was a super good idea." 

"'s probably for the best. New word on the vine is that it can split your pretty little head wide open if you take too much, and you've already had one bonk too many." And then Eddie leaned close, reaching out. Steve tensed, watching Eddie's hand like a poorly socialized dog, resisting the urge to snarl. He forced himself to stand still, afraid that running would only give away how badly Steve wanted Eddie's hands on him. He could feel his adrenaline flood his veins, the bullet-time of flight or fight kicking through his system, and he watched Eddie's fingers curl into a fist. 

Eddie's knuckles rapped gently against Steve's forehead, and that, Steve understood. That was the only way he and Tommy were allowed to touch each other-- Teasing words followed by the gentle fascimile of violence, pulling back before it could become anything greater. Steve had always assumed that was his fault, that the breadth of his obsession had colored every touch between them, but maybe that was normal? Maybe that was how men were, with each other, when they were normal. When they didn't crave to be touched gently like a drug, maybe a shove was just a shove. Maybe-- 

Everything in Steve had been prepared for Eddie to pull away, for that familiar disappointment to hit low in his gut once an appropriate distance was between them once more. His own hand rose to bat Eddie's away; It was easier to be alone in his skin when he was the first to pull away, the first to scoff and pretend the touch of another man was nothing more than an unavoidable inconvenience. 

To Steve's surprise, though, Eddie didn't let the tease linger long enough for Steve to push him away-- Instead, Eddie's hand unfurled, the loose fist turning into a gentle caress, as he pushed an lock of hair off of Steve's forehead. 

It was a familiar move, one Steve himself had pulled out more than a time or two. He knew it worked, and he knew why. Girls loved it because they thought it meant that they were being taken care of, and because it was a declaration of intent. It they actually liked the guy pulling the move, it made them feel safe but sought after-- And, unfortunately, making a girl feel safe was usually the best way to get what you wanted from them. Steve liked to think himself a little better than that, but he had to admit it was a useful move when a date was just a as little too shy or too oblivious to catch the hint of a kiss. 

As familiar as Steve was with the move, he had never been on this side of it. Had never really thought about how it felt, not the emotions after the dust settled, but the actual brush of skin against skin in the moment-- He had never really cared about the actual touch of it, before, except for the split-second calculation of how long to let the fingers curled against her skin linger. None of that prepared Steve for this, not for the edge of Eddie's callouses tracing a line of heat across Steve's skin, or the way he felt himself quiver down to the very molecules. 

"Must be pretty serious if you're letting your loyal subjects see you so unkempt, Your Majesty," Eddie said, the smile on his face holding such a warmth that Steve was certain he must have imagined it. 

Steve was suddenly aware of the fact that he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. 

"Oh," he said. Somewhere inside him was King Steve, hidden away where Steve could reach for him if he needed a little extra confidence. His own words lost in the thrum of his pulse, Steve tried to pull the old persona back on like a worn cape, but his grasping came up empty. There was nothing in Steve's brain besides the echo of his own absent thoughts and the exact color of Eddie Munson's eyes. "Um..." 

"Okay, so are we doing this in here?" Robin's voice said from the doorway. 

Eddie had stepped back and away before Steve even registered Robin's presence just over Eddie's shoulder. In a single breath, it was like they had never touched-- Eddie had never been subtle, and now his movements were even more obvious, almost leaping back to his side of the couch. 

Robin stared at him for a moment, paused halfway through a sip of Steve's coffee. Eddie stared back, eyes wide, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Her gaze slid over to Steve. 

Swallowing his disappointment, Steve shook the static from his hands. "Doing what?" he said.  

Robin looked at him like she was as worried about the condition of his brain as Eddie had pretended to be mere moments ago. "... The meeting? You were supposed to tell us what your source dug up, right?" 

Eddie brightened, the awkwardness falling away from his face. He threw himself back onto the couch, chains jangling as he bounced on the cushions. "Yeah, Harrington," he said, eagerly. "Tell us what your government boys found out." 

The dread that Steve had carried around with him all morning came flooding back into the pit of his stomach. The guilt was even keener now that he had let Eddie and the others distract him; He didn't deserve to have a soft morning, filled with laughter and flirtation, when he had let such bad things happen. Steve knew that. But he also couldn't pretend that a lot of the nausea didn't come from knowing he was about to lose this. After today, he was going to lose them both, and that... stung in a way Steve didn't really know how to process. 

It wasn't that Steve considered them his best friends, or assumed he was as important to them. Eddie, especially, would never fit into Steve's life the way Steve hoped-- But that was okay. Steve had become used to that, over the years. But there was a potential there, with Eddie and Robin both. If Steve let himself, he knew that he could fall ass over tits in love with the  both of them, in very different ways. And, when he let himself hope, he thought that they might love him a little one day, too. Not after this, though. Not after what he'd done. 

Eddie would drop him first, of course. Steve wasn't even sure if the dude liked him at all, or if they were still in the era of begrudging allies. It was obvious that the guy was only in it for the kids, and Steve didn't blame him for that-- But when it was so obvious that Steve was somehow even worse at protecting the Wesen kids of Indiana than his own parents, there wasn't much reason for the guy to stick around. 

Robin might hold out for a day or two, just because they had started to make progress on their friendship already. Maybe a week, if he were lucky. But then it would be missed calls, and switched shifts at work... It had been about the fun for her, the thrill of solving a mystery. When the fun went away, so would she. Steve just hoped she could work out this thing with her dad on her own. Maybe Dustin could help.

Speaking of Dustin, just him being there helped Steve breathe easier. While the kid would probably be upset, might even ignore Steve for a little while, he knew that what they had been through was too much for the kid to drop him over one fuck up. Steve might have to grovel, and he'd be paying for arcade trips and McDonald's dinners for the rest of his natural life, but he'd always have the kid by his side. That knowledge alone kept Steve from chickening out. Or throwing up. Or moving to Chicago and changing his name to Bryan. 

Which was good, because somewhere beneath all the panic, Steve knew this was his only real choice. It would be hard, but it would make things less complicated and, distressingly, it was the right thing to do. They deserved to know the truth. The kids deserved to have their story told, even if it should come from worthier lips than Steve's. 

"Hey Dustin!" Steve called, a man assembling his own firing squad. "Get in here, man." 

Dustin ambled out of the kitchen, with a large salad bowl overfull of cereal and milk in his hands. "Yeah?" he mumbled through a full mouth, milk dribbling down his chin.

"Fucking seriously, Henderson?" Eddie snorted. 

"What? Its yummy!" 

Steve pinched his nose. All three of them seemed to be determined to be as Looney Tunes as possible today. "Just... put the cereal down, okay?" 

Grumbling under his breath, Dustin complied, sitting his bowl on the coffee table and sitting on the couch next to Eddie. Robin retook her stolen seat, and they all looked up at Steve. 

Struggling not to squirm under their attention, Steve struggled to break the news. "I have... I have something I need to tell you all before we start talking about next options." He hesitated, hand rising to his face once again to rub at his nose. He knew it was an awful tell, the kind of thing he'd been trying to train himself out of forever, but the lack of sleep and overabundance of nerves proved to be too much for Steve's thinning willpower. 

Robin's eyes narrowed, obviously clocking the gesture. "What happened?" 

"So..." Steve began, wincing. "So, over the weekend, while we were working-- It was just two days, really, I don't... Look, I don't know all the details yet so it might have nothing to do with the case, but--" 

All the amusement was gone from Eddie's eyes, leaving him with the same flat, angry expression that he'd had upon finding Steve and the others rooting around in his backyard. "Spit it out, Harrington." 

"Five more kids went missing this weekend."

The words fell out of his mouth like a curse. 

Before he even had time to regret his own lack of tact, Eddie was on his feet again. The woge had torn across him before his feet had even hit the floor, creasing Eddie's brow and elongating his face. His eyes were still the same, though, big and brown and warped with betrayal. Steve had expected it-- even a wieder's iron control couldn't withstand this kind of news --so he didn't flinch away from the sudden movement. 

It took more experience than he had, though, to stop Steve's answering woge. He wasn't sure how he knew his eyes had gone glassy and black once more, but Steve could feel that even though he didn't deserve it, his body was still trying to protect him from Eddie's anger. He looked away, not because of Eddie's woge, but because he couldn't stand the thought of Eddie seeing the worst of himself right now. 

Steve's gaze naturally fell to Dustin, next, though the sight wasn't any less heartbreaking. The kid was pale, his silence so obvious that he wore it like a physical object. Steve had never seen Dustin react to bad news with anything less than pure indignation, and the proof of how much he had failed to protect this kid was almost too much to bear. The only thing he'd succeeded in was giving Dustin another screaming nightmare. 

Desperate for another steadying presence, Steve turned to Robin. She was uncharacteristically quiet as well, but luckily unlike Dustin, or really anyone else in the room, she seemed to be holding it together. Even sorrow hadn't seemed to touch her yet, as if she refused to be sad about something she didn't understand entirely yet. It was the kind of strength that Steve had missed in his life since distancing himself from Nancy, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for Robin's presence. 

With a frown, Robin shook her head, asking, "How could we possibly have missed something that big?" 

"They were all spread out," Steve said. After promising Nancy last night, she had given him all the information she'd been able to dig up. Even in her own grief, Nancy had been remarkably thorough. Though the news out of Indianapolis hadn't quiet picked up the thread, yet, she'd reached out to every contact she had and a few of Jonathan's and Murray's, too. She knew more about these kids than probably any detective in the state, and now Steve did, too. 

 "They were from five different counties, coming straight up from Kentucky," he continued, "I don't know much about what's going on with the media coverage outside of the information I was given. I think they're trying to keep it pretty quiet on the mainstream channels. As far as I know, the cops aren't talking about it like they're connected or anything, but, uh, one of the conspiracy groups that Nancy is plugged into is all over it. I don't know if they've made the connection to the kids from before, but it's only a matter of time." And once the cops figured it out, there would be no way for them to get involved without painting a target on their backs. 

Claws flexing by his side, Eddie choked on a growl "I can't believe you would fucking let this happen," he said, the words gurgling in the back of his throat. It sounded painful, like his anger was squeezing at his windpipe. Steve frowned down at a stain on his mother's rug. 

"That's not fair--" Dustin began, voice weak, but Eddie cut him off. 

"No, fuck that!" Eddie turned on Steve, his lips pulled back into a snarl. "You ride around Hawkins acting like a fucking hero, and five kids die on our watch? And you just fucking missed it? God damn it, Harrington, do you even know their names? Do you even care?" 

Steve wished he didn't. He wished that he had any hope that he could ever forget them. He wished he didn't know their parent's names, or the names of their schools. He wished he didn't hear their addresses and know the roads they lived on, wished that he had any chance of driving them again without thinking of his own mistakes. More than anything, he wished he could be strong enough to remember them without regrets, because that was what they deserved. He wished he could swallow his own guilt and be strong enough to live through his punishments. 

It wouldn't help to tell Eddie any of that, though. It wouldn't make him any less angry and, besides, Steve deserved it. No apology would absolve him of his guilt, and whatever punishment Eddie thought was fit wouldn't even begin to wipe the blood from Steve's hands.  There was nothing he could do but wait for the punishment to come and for the yelling to stop. 

If there was one thing Steve was sure of, it was that the yelling always stopped, eventually, if you just kept your mouth shut and made it to the other side. For a few moments, Eddie held his glare, frown deepening as if he was trying to force the expression into permanence. When Steve made no move to give him the fight he was looking for, however, Eddie deflated, expression falling along with his stance. As he faded back into his human force, claws shrinking back into his skin, the flat planes on his face only made Eddie's eyes seem bigger and shinier. It made the tears beginning to well in the corners all too obvious, and Steve had to look away. Maybe he was a coward for it, but he couldn't watch Eddie cry. 

"Sorry," Eddie choked out. "I'm sorry. Just-- Jesus fucking Christ." 

"I know," Steve said, still staring hard at the floor. "It's okay." 

Robin began to make an awful noise, painful jerks of sound caused by desperately trying not to sob. Steve  crouched down to rub her back, wordless. There was nothing he could say to make this better-- Not for Robin, and not for Eddie or Dustin, either. Steve was honestly surprised this was the first time one of them had burst into tears; The amount of stress they'd put themselves under wasn't something the human brain dealt with easily. Even Dustin and Steve, who had shouldered traumas unacknowledged by science, were only used to small, short-term disasters. This thing with the kids had stretched into weeks, now. The only thing that kept Steve from joining them in their tears was the guilt. 

The fact that Dustin wasn't crying was honestly starting to worry Steve, at this point. He knew how hard this was for Dustin, after everything with Will. El being presumed dead for so long probably hadn't helped, either. This should be effecting him more than anyone. But Dustin's eyes were dry, which could only mean that, at some point, Dustin had gotten used to living in a world where kids just... went missing. They just disappeared one day, or they died, and there was no use in crying because there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

There was nothing that Steve regretted more than not being the person Dustin needed him to be at the beginning of all this. He knew that it was a silly regret, considering he hadn't even really known the kid until a full year after he and Nancy had started dating, but-- A part of him was convinced that if he had just gotten his shit together sooner, he might have been able to protect Dustin from all this. 

"What the hell are we supposed to do now?" Eddie said, voice hollow

"We can't give up," Robin said between sniffles. "We just can't do that to those kids." 

"Yeah, of course. Obviously, we're going to find them," Dustin said. "We still have, like, time, right?" 

Even as he asked the question, Dustin didn't look convinced. Steve couldn't blame him. 

They were all so young, too young for this kind of heartbreak. Were they just going to set themselves up to be crushed again? They had no leads. There was a ticking clock on the cops figuring out at least some of these cases were connected, and at that point things would only get more difficult. Maybe it would be better to let someone else take responsibility. Hell, maybe Steve's parents would hear the news and come home. He wasn't exactly ecstatic at the thought of trusting an adult with this, especially not his parents-- They were historically abysmal at finding justice for dead or missing kids --but he was running out of options. Even if he found the guy, then what? He was just going to drag these kids and who knows how many others into a fight with a serial killer? 

"This is only going to get harder from here on out," Steve said. He struggled to keep his voice level, every syllable wanting to crack with sorrow. "Obviously, they've started going faster. More kids might-- More kids might go missing, and it might be even closer to home. If anyone wants to step away from this now, no one will blame you." 

For a long moment, no one said anything. Dustin's gaze never lifted from the ground. Steve felt Robin shift against him, elbow digging into his ribs from how close she was pressed against him. Eddie was the only one who would look at him, and when Steve met his gaze, Eddie kept them locked. Steve had never been a fan of eye contact, and in the months since he'd discovered his woge, he'd gotten used to the people around him avoiding his gaze. Even Eddie and Wayne, who never seemed to take Steve seriously as a threat, avoided eye contact whenever possible. Now, though, Eddie was looking into Steve's eyes like he would find answers there that Steve's voice wouldn't give him. 

Despite the first jolt of shock, Steve didn't feel the urge to squirm away from the intimacy of it. It filled him with relief, because if Eddie was looking at him, then it meant this wasn't over. Eddie wasn't going to leave; Even if he was angry, that still meant he cared. Steve knew what indifference looked like, and it was nothing like the depth of the emotion swimming in Eddie's eyes. 

But the longer Steve looked back, the longer he allowed it, Steve realised that he couldn't read Eddie. He knew annoyance, he knew indifference, he knew pity, and lust, and mocking, but whatever Eddie was trying to show him felt ancient and sacred in a way that Steve hadn't known emotions could be. Like Eddie had taken whatever primal thing existed inside of Steve, the link he had to the people who had once invented love and fear and hatred, and was trying to cradle it in his palms. 

Steve looked away. 

"Okay. Okay, well, I've been thinking about it," he said, trying to gather the plans that had been scattered by exhaustion, "and there are next steps. First off, we gotta find out what exactly the cops know before the evidence is too old to be any use. Nancy's working on looking into it, but it might have to be slow to not raise eyebrows, so we should--" 

"Sorry, Nancy? Nancy Wheeler?" The shock in Eddie's voice wasn't exactly a surprise, but the disdain was. Steve could feel himself prickling at the tone already, even as he tried to tell himself that Eddie was still just looking for a fight.

 The problem was, Steve had never been good at not fighting over, for, or about Nancy Wheeler. Besides, if he was being honest, Steve wanted a fight almost as badly as Eddie seemed to. Schoolyard fights had never been something that Steve was allowed to indulge in with the other kids, because a Harrington didn't indulge in such vulgarity, but he had craved it. Sought after it. The summer between middle school and high school had been a summer spent hiding busted knuckles and bruised lips. It was the freest Steve had ever felt. 

Billy had been the last real fight that Steve had allowed himself to have, and it would be so much better with Eddie. Because Eddie was gorgeous, and kind, and Steve wouldn't hate himself when he looked at himself and saw Eddie's bruises on his skin-- 

"What about her, Munson?" Steve grit out, teeth clenched tight around the thought of knowing the shape of Eddie's fist. 

"That's your inside source?" Eddie said, a sarcastic laugh warbling the last few syllables. "Your fucking Mathletes ex-girlfriend?" 

Steve huffed. "I know it sounds ridiculous, Eddie, but Nance has done this before. And she's tougher than she looks. You don't have to worry about her." 

Eddie woged once again, and Steve struggled not to smirk in the victory of provoking Eddie into losing control twice in one day. "I don't care if she's a fucking Siegbarste, Harrington, she's a high school girl who weighs 90 pounds soaking wet. What happened to those government guys you kept bragging about, huh?" he continued, taking a threatening step towards Steve. "They in fucking middle school?" 

"These aren't men I can just call up and have it go away," Steve said, glaring up at Eddie. He refused to give him the satisfaction of moving him. "If they come help they are going to be in our shit until they're satisfied. They're not loyal to anyone in Hawkins and, frankly, I can't trust them." 

"So this is about you thinking you're more important than some dead kids, is that it?" 

"What? No--" 

"Steve is right," Dustin said, finally looking up at them. His small, sad voice cut through the argument like a knife. All three older teens turned to him, falling silent until he continued. "It's not us. There are Wesen here that Owens and his men can't know about. If we call them here without being careful, it's not just us and the kids that are in danger. It's all of Hawkins. Maybe everyone clear to Lafayette. Who knows how big they'll make the gas leak next time." 

He had considered this before, Steve realized. Of course, Steve had, too-- Nancy and El had never let him forget how much danger the government was to all of them, now that they knew so much. But he had thought that maybe the kids had been spared that knowledge, that maybe childhood innocence and good ol' fashioned American propoganda had spared them from that fear. The way Dustin spoke, though, made it abundantly clear that he was absolutely aware that one day, the wrong person might decide that Dustin Henderson and everyone he loved needed to die. 

Steve was suddenly on Eddie's side, when it came to the future of America. Or maybe even a little more radical-- Steve could see the logic in wanting to burn the entire thing down, never stopping until everyone who had ever failed his kid was groveling at his feet. 

"Wait, wait, wait. Why does the infant know about these government guys?" Eddie asked, voice filled with the same horror Steve had become all too familiar with in '83. "What the fuck have you been doing, Harrington?"

"Steve didn't do anything, Eddie, please--" 

Robin pulled away from Steve, and when he looked back to her she had turned to face him. Her eyes were colder than he had ever seen them, even when she had hated him, and though she still didn't make eye contact, he could feel the intensity of her glare burning through his skin. Somehow, things were going even worse than Steve had imagined.

"I'd actually like to know the answer to that question, too, Steve," she said. Her voice belied a little of her usual nervousness, but her gaze didn't flinch.

"Rob..." 

"No, Steve. I've tried to stay out of it, because you obviously don't want to talk about it--" 

"I can't!" he said. Of course he wanted to tell her. Of course he did. He had never been the kind for big secrets. They drove him absolutely crazy, and that was why he had to ignore it. He had to, because it wasn't safe. It was bad enough that they had pulled Max into everything, last year. Steve couldn't handle another person with a target on their back because of the Upside Down.

Robin continued, as if he had never spoken. "--but you both keep bringing it up, and I can't just let it go anymore. I want to know what happened." 

"Robin, I signed papers," he sighed. 

"There are kids dying, Steve." 

"That's not... It's not even connected!" 

"How do you know that?" Eddie cut in. "Are you sure? Or are you just praying that it isn't?" 

Steve looked to Dustin, praying for back up, but the kid only shrugged. He knew that Dustin would probably be willing to tell them, because they wanted to know-- Dustin was even worse at secrets than Steve, not out of obsession but out of sheer joy for imparting knowledge. It probably had ocurred to him that Eddie and Robin would be in danger if anyone ever found out what they knew, but Dustin was the kind of person to think it was worth it. 

Steve wasn't that person. He couldn't be. He couldn't let Dustin paint a bigger, more legal target on his back, and he definitely couldn't drag Robin and Eddie into this. They could leave if they wanted to, but he wasn't going to hurt them like that. 

"You have no idea what you're asking me to do to you," Steve said. He stood, stepping back to put distance between him and Robin. 

"What the fuck, Harrington." All the anger was gone from Eddie's voice, leaving only vacant betrayal. Steve wanted to leave, wanted to sit in his bedroom floor and scream for half an hour. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his chest and dug his fingers into his sides until he felt his ribs ache. 

"What's the fucking point then, man?" Eddie continued. "I'd have better luck finding this guy if I walked out the door right now and did it myself." 

Something inside Steve broke. He was so tired of being left behind. He was so tired of watching people walk away. He was so tired of being told, without a trace of doubt, that life was better without Steve Harrington in it. He was so fucking tired of the fight, every fight, even the ones he asked for, being bigger than the love he had to give. He was so fucking tired, and when he was tired and cornered, Steve was known to bite. 

"And what are you gonna do when you find the guy, Eddie?" Steve asked, baring his teeth. "Huh? You gonna wieder him to death? You gonna give him a big, long speech about how life is so unfair and he should feel bad about himself?" 

Eddie pulled back, hurt flashing through his eyes as his woge fell away. "Man, fuck you--" 

Steve wasn't done with him yet. "It doesn't fucking matter, does it? Because if by some miracle you get the balls to actually take the guy out, my parents are going to fucking kill you. In fact, I'm the only person in this room, maybe the only person in this entire fucking state, who has a fucking chance of not having my parents put me down afterwards, so maybe everyone should just shut the fuck up and listen to me!" 

It was only after the words echoed through the room that Steve realised how much he was beginning to sound like Hopper. So much so, in fact, that Steve thought maybe he should have just invited the man along. Maybe this was what they needed, in the end, because Steve knew he was right. He was right, and he needed them to listen, and he needed them to stay. 

Just this fucking once. 

"Are we--" Robin's small, quiet voice tentatively broke the silence. "Are we going to talk about you saying that you only had a chance at your parents not--" 

Steve buried his face in his hands and felt a scream rising in his throat. So fucking much for the 'listening' part, apparently.

"I told you, Robin," he heard Dustin whisper. "Terminal fucking parental issues." 

"That is not the fucking point, guys," Eddie said, sounding awkward and a little scandalized about the whole thing. 

"No, the point is their legion of secrets that they won't tell anyone," Robin said. 

"Lots of people know; Just not you." 

"Dustin..." 

"Look, I don't have a problem with either of you knowing," Dustin said, "but if Steve thinks it's a bad idea, then I trust his judgement." 

That was enough to get Steve to emerge from his tantrum, a little mollified by the loyalty."Thank you, Dustin." 

"But if it effects the case, then we deserve to--" Robin began, but Steve was done. He wasn't just going to stand there and hear it all relitigated. Not when he'd already made his decision, and definitely not when people's lives were on the line. The lack of sleep was beginning to get to him, his head woozy and aching. Steve needed water and a Tylenol, and then probably more water-- He'd spent most of the night anxiety puking, and he was starting to feel like a dead bug. 

Tuning out Robin's protests, Steve walked into the kitchen-- But not before Eddie caught him by the arm, fingers tight at Steve's elbow. Steve leaned away, his body moving on instinct to push Eddie away or yank his arm out of Eddie's grip, but before he could start the fight Eddie had been asking for, the Blutbad threw him for a loop. 

"Are you okay, Steve?" 

It was hard not the scoff at the audacity, honestly. 

Steve tugged his arm out of Eddie's grip, more gently than he had planned, and kept walking. Maybe he was being a little hypocritical about the whole thing, but Steve thought he was allowed. His brain already felt like it was in a pressure cooker, and Eddie's inability to decide whether or not he liked Steve was rapidly becoming least favorite thing.  Being angry was one thing; Steve had expected that, had almost expected Eddie to never speak to him again, but there was really no reason to be so wishy-washy about it. Even before the bad news, Eddie had blown hot and cold, all the way until the end. Eddie couldn't even keep his name consistent-- He was a disdainful Harrington in one breath, and Steve again in the next. 

It was like dating Nancy again, only worse, because now Steve didn't even know what he was supposed to be doing. There was no rules for if a dude was playing hard to get about being your fucking friend, of all things. Of all the things that had happened in the last few months, that was definitely the strangest. 

Did adulthood always make friendship so complicated, Steve thought as he pulled a glass out of the cabinet, or was it the monster shit that had it all screwed up? 

Turning on the faucet, Steve didn't hear the walkie-talkie that he had abandoned, months ago, on its charger on the kitchen counter crackle to life. It was only when the voice repeated itself, annoyance clear in its voice, that Steve could even make it out over the rush of water. 

"Hello? Are any of you losers there?" 

It was a girl's voice, faintly familiar but obviously not Max or El's. It was far too young to be anyone else on their frequency, younger than even the Party, maybe. They also weren't using any of the codes or ettiquette Dustin and Lucas had written out for them, so it couldn't have been one of their school friends-- At least, not one with any real fear of being lectured for hours about it. Sitting his glass down, Steve reached over and grabbed the walkie off the stand. 

"Who is this?" he asked, slowly. He wasn't sure how this could be a trap, but it certainly felt like one. 

"Who am I?" the voice said. "Who is this? Are the nerd herd with you?" 

Ah, that made more sense-- Steve finally recognized the voice, and why he knew it. Erica Sinclair, Lucas's little sister, had been a frequent guest at Scoops Ahoy all summer, although she had an obvious disdain for her brother and all his friends. And that, of course, included Steve. Maybe even especially Steve, since he was the one old enough to know better. Most of her visits were uninterrupted roast sessions, but Steve enjoyed them; She was honestly really funny, and it was nice to spend time with a kid unaffected by the Upside Down. It was the same reason while he still looked after Holly months after he broke up with Nancy. 

"Oh, hello, Erica. It's Steve. Are you looking for your brother?" 

"What other loser would I be talking about?" 

"Um, he's not here," Steve said, glancing over his shoulder at the group waiting for him in the living room. "Maybe he'll pick up on his walkie if you keep trying?" 

Erica huffed. Steve wasn't sure why she needed to broadcast her huff to him, but he was sure it was a carefully calculated attack. "Idiot, I'm on his walkie!" 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Steve said. A beat passed, then, "Wait, he left his walkie at home?" 

That didn't make any sense. Steve frowned. Lucas was always the most responsible of the group, and the only one Steve trusted to make good decisions in an emergency situation. The idea that he would just leave their only dependable lifeline at home? Nonsensical. It hadn't even been a full year since the last Upside Down incident. The kids were smarter than that. And if they weren't, then Steve was going to kick their ass... After he pulled Lucas out of whatever situation he'd gotten himself into. 

"Eyes on the prize, Harrington, because that is so not the point." Erica's voice lost some of it's brovado, although she was still giving a valiant effort. "Lucas said this walkie was for emergencies, and I'm calling one in. Do you know where Lucas is?" 

Dread started building in Steve's stomach. "Uh, no, but I-- Dustin is here, I'll ask him." 

Steve jogged to the living room, adrenaline starting to fizz through his veins. Things were starting to pile up in a way that Steve didn't trust-- Lucas was missing and Erica was calling for him, frightened, while a known serial kidnapper was loose in the area? He knew the chances that the Blutbad would go after his kids were low, but the chances of having a MKUltra victim with super powers as a little sister were also pretty low. He had a feeling that he couldn't shake, one so strong that it was beginning to make him dizzy. 

Luckily, the argument in the living room had mostly died down in Steve's short absence, although Dustin was looking at him like someone had kicked his dog. 

"Dustin, do you know where Lucas is today?" 

Dustin's face creased with thought, a frown appearing on his face. Steve pressed the talk button so Erica could hear his answer, too. "At Mike's, I think? They were all meeting up for a big oneshot to cheer Will up--" 

"Of course he's playing that stupid nerd game when I need him!" Erica interrupted. "I already called the Wheelers, and no one picked up, because they're all in that smelly, stupid basement--" 

Despite all of Erica's bluster, Steve could hear the genuine fear in her voice. And, sure, maybe they were both being paranoid-- There had been a lot of times when Steve had been home alone, scared out of his wits, when there had been nothing wrong but an overactive imagination. If she just kept calling Mike, someone would pick up, eventually. Mike was never more than two steps from his walkie, even though he wasn't as strict with things as Dustin was-- But then, Steve would have said the same about Lucas until today. Besides, who knew how long that would take? 

Steve prayed he was wrong, but he was pretty sure they didn't have time. 

"Erica, what's wrong?" Steve asked, trying to override the panic in her brain with his voice. "Where are your parents?" 

"They went to a church thing?" Erica said, like even in a life or death situation, she really didn't care what her parents did with their time. "They were supposed to be back by now, I don't know where they are." 

Charles and Sue Sinclair were wonderful parents; Steve knew that for a fact. There was no reason to think that they would leave Erica alone if there was a chance she was in danger. The neighbors were probably watching the house, just to give Erica the illusion of the freedom that she so often demanded. They probably just got sidetracked with something on their way home-- Erica and Lucas took care of themselves all the time, always floating from one friends' house to the next with the happy knowledge that their parents would come get them, no matter what. Steve knew that. 

But even if Erica didn't recognize the fear and confusion in her own voice, Steve did. He still heard it come out of his mouth when he ran into his middle school English teacher at the grocery store, or when his Little League coach stopped him at the park. He hated being asked where his parents were, how they were getting on, what they were doing. He hated being reminded of his own blind spot, the giant, bleeding weakness plain as day on his back. 

"Okay, well, keep calm--" Steve tried. 

"What I do know is that mouthbreather brother of mine better show up fast," Erica said, voice jumping in her throat, "because there are people trying to get in my house, and I am not playing with these white people's nonsense today!" 

"What?" Dustin said, although Steve could barely hear him over the sudden roaring in his ears. "Next time start with that!" 

And suddenly it was real. The trickle of adrenaline that had been slowly increasing his heartrate suddenly became a flood, and Steve could feel when it crossed from human into something else. Every cell in his body came alive, and the chill from his veins suddenly consumed the entire world. Everything was cold and clear, like the silence after the first snow of the winter-- Every harried thought, every extraneous emotion, fell away suddenly, and Steve knew exactly what to do. 

There wasn't enough time to consult the rest of the room, and Steve wouldn't have listened if they tried to stop him, anyway. They were smart Wesen, clever friends and allies, and as Steve turned and headed for the front door, he trusted them to follow. He tossed the walkie to Robin as he passed, not bothering to stop long enough to see how her surprised, fumbling catch turned out

"Stay on the line with her," Steve said as he pulled on his boots. They were new, a paranoid purchase he'd made from a catalogue one night after a nightmare about the tunnels. They pulled at his feet as he shoved them on, too new to offer any comfort or real support, but the extra weight behind his foot would be worth the blisters it would give him. 

"Hey, Erica! It's Robin!" 

Eddie scrambled to put his Reeboks on and take his jacket off at the same time, hopping along on one foot. He nearly bowled Dustin over as the kid bent over to put his own shoes on. 

"Is everybody in this house except my brother?" 

"Uh. Yeah, basically." 

"Typical." 

Robin was talking to Erica like nothing was happening, and it was just another day of making fun of Steve at Scoops, but she was never less than a full step behind Steve's heels. Some distant part of Steve's brain that still cared about things like loyalty and free will was so grateful for her-- For her willingness to take this on, and her ability to keep Erica calm. And although Eddie was far clumsier, there was no denying that he was just as eager to have Steve's back. The Blutbad left his leather jacket thrown over the back of Steve's couch, and as Steve and Robin flew down the stairs, Steve could hear the delicate sounds of Eddie's jewlerey landing in the Harrington key bowl. 

Eddie was a weider, preparing to go to war for a little girl he'd never met. Robin was a fuchsbau, a psuedo-predator who worked in the shadows, with her teeth already bared in challenge. These people were so fucking good. 

Dustin lagged behind, panting as he sprinted after them, his shoes still untied. 

"Hey! Hey, will you athletic predator assholes please slow down for the rest of us?" 

Steve's Grimm brain hated that idea. He needed Dustin to stay home, needed to make sure that at least one of his family was safe at home. Even past the fear, there was the cold hard logic of what Steve needed to do. How was he supposed to get Erica out of there alive if half his brain was focused instead on keeping Dustin out of trouble? Being a babysitter was the best thing that had ever happened to him, but it didn't mesh with Grimming. Dustin could boss him around about it all he wanted, but he would do it over the walkie, where he would be safe. 

"You're staying here," Steve said, yanking open the Bimmer door. "Hold the fort down, okay, Henderson?" 

"You're insane if you think I'm going to let you go without me," Dustin said, cheeks puffing as he huffed. "If this is the guy--" 

"If it's the guy then you're in just as much danger as Erica is with him. Stay home!" 

"If something goes wrong, someone needs to be around to call for back up." 

"That's what Eddie and Robin--" Steve began, but Robin's harried voice cut him off. 

"Guys!" She leveled Steve with a wide-eyed look over the car door. "I get it, but we're running out of time." 

Fuck, but she wasn't wrong. Steve gave her a short, tense nod, and then turned back to Dustin. 

"Fine," he said, because there was no telling what Dustin would do once he was left to his own devices. "But you stay behind me, and you keep your mouth shut. Understood?" 

For the first time in his life, Dustin didn't look interested in arguing. He nodded furiously, pushing past Steve to crawl into the Bimmer's backseat with Eddie, who immediately began bitching about Dustin climbing all over him. Steve gave himself one moment of humanity to sigh and briefly close his eyes, preying for a little patience and a lot of luck. When he finally heard the door slam behind Dustin, Steve pulled the Grimm back over him like a cloak, and started the ignition. 

The drive to the Sinclair house was both the fastest and the longest it's ever felt. Steve had been driving Hawkins' streets daily for years now, long before it was legal-- The past few months, especially, had him driving between his house and the Sinclairs' most days of the week, with stops at the Hendersons', the Byers', and the Wheelers' in between. There were no stops today, and Steve used every trick and shortcut he'd ever learned on these roads. He ran every red light, cut every corner possible, and still every inch felt like it was taking a millenium. 

Part of Steve hoped that Hop or one of his lackeys was lying in wait somewhere, ready to stop any joyriding teens or overworked house wife from running rampant. His car wasn't exactly inconspicuous, and they probably knew they wouldn't have to chase him down to ticket him, but ever since he'd been dropping by the station to say hi to Hop, they'd taken great glee in pulling him over. Usually, Steve was a huge bitch about it, but he would welcome it today-- He had no idea what he was about to drive into, and having armed back up was always welcome. 

Unfortunately, the cops seemed to only like Steve when he didn't want them around, because no one even blinked at Steve's driving. Not even his passengers-- Eddie's eyes were glued to the road like he was the one driving, and Robin, who usually slapped Steve on the arm when he took a turn a little too fast, was rambling about something inconsequential to Erica. Dustin's eyes were closed, and he hadn't moved since they'd gotten on the road. Claudia had never mentioned religion to Steve, collapsed or otherwise, and Dustin was a science man through and through, but for a moment Steve had to wonder if Dustin was praying. 

Steve slid into the Sinclair's road sideways, a move he hadn't pulled since he was stupid and picking up girls in the Melvad's parking lot at night. The smell of burnt rubber filled the car, and he could hear the distinct crunch of the neighbor's garden gnomes falling sacrifice to the abused tires. Dustin was the first to throw open the door, sending a trashcan bouncing into the neighbor's yard. 

In front of them, parked on the street, was an unmarked white van. As Steve got out of the car, he motioned towards it with his head-- It was a bit cliched, sure, but it was also an unfamiliar vehicle at the scene of a kidnapping. Robin frowned as she came up next to him, and Eddie, who was trying to shove Dustin back in the car, paused for a moment. 

"No plates?" he said, frowning as he pinned Dustin against the seat with his forearm. "Not exactly a great sign." 

"What the fuck does Hop even have the officers doing?" Steve muttered under his breath. 

Robin was already heading towards the Sinclair's driveway. "We're here, okay, Erica? We're here. Everything's going to be--" Steve yanked the walkie from her grip. He appreciated how well she held it together on the way here, but she wasn't exactly his first choice for a negotiator in a life or death situation. 

"Erica, this is Steve. Listen to me. Whatever you do, keep away from the windows," Steve said, scanning the front of the Sinclair house. He'd like to send her to the second floor, out of the way of any crossfire, but if she needed a fast exit from the back door, it would only make things more difficult. "Put as many walls between you and the front of the house as you possibly can. Okay?" 

"Excuse me--" Erica's voice said, but he tossed the walkie back to Robin.  There wasn't any more time left for negotiations. 

Steve began to slowly approach the van, trying to keep his gait casual, but he doubted anyone would think a roving band of teens was up to anything but mischief. Especially with as hot of an entrance as Steve had made. Eddie finally let Dustin up, hissing at him to stay close, and the kid only threw him a dirty look before rushing to Steve's side. 

The van was clean and well-maintained, just unassuming enough to be obviously from out of town. There wasn't a single Hawkins handyman who put that much thought into their vehicle, and the mechanics advertised their skills through their own rides-- No one else in town would drive a van like this at all; Even the soccer moms had better taste. Hell, the only person who actually lived in Hawkins who drove a van every day was Eddie. 

"There's still a driver inside," Steve muttered. He couldn't make out a face, or any real features, but it was obviously a man. Short, brown hair, white skin, as unassuming as his vehicle. It wasn't possible to tell if he was Wesen or not from here, obviously, but it was stranger than the image Steve had in his head of his culprit-- It was much easier to think of some hulking Blutbad as a villian, some twisted version of Eddie or Wayne snatching kids up in the middle of the night. This was just... some guy.

"There's another one in the bushes next to the window," Eddie said under his breath. Steve followed his gaze back to the front of the Sinclairs' house. 

The man had already turned to face them, and without the shadow of the car, Steve's new vision let him see the man's face. He was handsome, in a bland 1940s sort of way, the kind of man that wouldn't be too out of place in his mother's yearbooks. He, too, was brunette, with his hair closely cropped and slicked back. Everything else about him was equally unremarkable, from the white button down to the pressed but unaffected blue jeans. 

The only thing Steve could focus on was his smile. He had never been really good at reading people's faces, but it wasn't hard to get what the man was trying to say, with the easy grin on his face. There was nothing wrong with him being here, nothing to catch him out on-- This was totally normal, and he was so trustworthy, and didn't you just want to move along? 

Steve knew that move. Steve had practically invented that move. This smarmy asshole using it like this, to hurt kids and get away with it, was fucking infuriating. Was this really what had been going on? Had he really gotten away with this fifty fucking times? Steve had known people were stupid, but this was a new low. He could feel the familiar, inhuman anger growing in him, so sharp by now that it felt like his ribs were growing fangs. His chest panged, but for once Steve was grateful that his powers had given him a way to make his anger useful, for once. 

"Eddie, I need you to watch my back and keep eyes on the driver. Sound good?" 

Eddie nodded. He stayed close, at Steve's right shoulder, but as they turned down the Sinclair's driveway, he kept his upper body angled down the street. Dustin climbed into the front seat of the Bimmer, and waved his walkie at Steve through the open window. 

Good, the little shit was listening to him for once. 

The closer they got, the faker the asshole in front of them seemed. He obviously didn't belong here-- Although he had obviously tried to emulate the relaxed fatherly look of the men in the neighborhood, he was too clean and intentional to fit. His shirt was spotless and his blue jeans were immaculately creased, like he had gone out of his way to iron them this morning. He was dressed like someone Steve's dad used to work with, wearing the costume of a "normal person" on the weekends to seem like something besides a jumped-up office jockey. 

What business man would be hanging outside someone else's house, harassing a little girl, though? As they drew closer, Steve woged, and looked the man directly in the eyes. The hollow, smiling face remained entirely human, and Steve answered it with a grim smile of his own. 

Government, then. Motherfucker. 

The man waved, not a trace of fear or shame in him. "Hey! Hell of an entrance, friend."

"You're not supposed to be here," Steve said, flashing bared teeth around the edges of his consonants. 

"Son," the man said. The fakey small town charm had fallen out of his voice, leaving the kind of bored, assumed authority Steve only heard from onscreen cops or his own father.  "This is an adult's situation, so why don't you and your friends--" 

"No. You're not supposed to be here. Leave or I'm going to call the cops," Steve said, and hoped Hop was close enough to get here before Steve started swinging. 

Despite the threat, the man only smiled, a hint of smugness on his face. He reached into his pocket and Steve tensed, hand nearest to Robin darting out to pull her by the belt loop more firmly behind him. He thought it might be a knife, or a gun or something, but instead the man only pulled out a badge-- From what Steve could tell, it was real, but there was nothing about it that gave away any information. Not that it would have mattered. Steve had met assholes like this last fall, when they had been trying to convince Joyce to let them do more tests on Will, and he, Nancy, and Jonathan had to cajole Mike and El into staying hidden in the other room instead of starting a fight. 

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Special Agent Ritter, and I'm with the American Government. I'm really going to have to ask you all to--" 

Steve felt Robin and Eddie stiffen behind him. He knows they're thinking about the argument and his 'guys'-- He would be, too, if he didn't know any better. Steve knows that he hasn't exactly been the most anti-government member of their little 'Party'. Most days, it doesn't feel like it effects him very much, outside of keeping El safe. Sure, he doesn't trust them any more than the others do, and he's never been the President's biggest fan, but they all share a common enemy in the Mindflayer and the Upside Down. They're a necessary evil. 

But added to everything else he knows, Steve can't stop thinking about those kids. Fifty of them, and who knows how many before Dustin had started looking. And now the government, outside of Erica's house? Erica, of all people? If the government was trying to fuck with Erica and maybe Lucas, then what would stop them from messing with the other kids? He knows they're not above it. He knows they took El and her siblings already. What were the chances of this not being a crazed Blutbad, barely tied to Wesen culture at all, and was just another government plot to turn them into a weapon? 

Steve hoped he was wrong, but if he wasn't-- Well. He's never won a fight before, but he's never tried to kill anyone, either. It'll be interesting to see how that goes for him. 

There is one bright, shining light if it is the government, though: A way to get Ritter away from his fucking kids. 

"Great! That makes this all so much easier," Steve said brightly, clapping his hands together. 

"Steve..." Eddie mumbled, but Steve steamrolled on. 

"The house you're standing in front of belongs to the family of Lucas Sinclair. Do you know that name? I bet your boss does," Steve said, his grin widening. "You can go ask him, if you don't believe me. These kids are protected, sir, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave that little girl alone." 

Ritter blinked, and for a moment, Steve was sure he had him. It was only a moment, though. Just a crack in that perfect mask. The smile was still on his face when he nodded, and then paused. 

"You--" 

The Sinclairs' front door was thrown open, the clatter cutting Ritter off. He and Steve looked up in sync, to the top of the short stairs, where Erica Sinclair stood, glaring down at them. 

"Are y'all done yet?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "Tell him to get his weird ass out of my yard!"  

"Erica!" Dustin threw himself out of the car, yelling the entire time he was picking himself up off the ground. "Erica, go back inside!" 

"What? I'm not afraid of a nerdy ass cop! I know my rights!" 

Dustin and Robin both sprinted towards Erica, who watched them come with a glare. Robin got there first, with a gentle hand on Erica's shoulder, but it was obvious she didn't want to push, and Erica wasn't going without a fight. Dustin was right behind her, huffing and puffing from his sprint across the yard, but Erica wiggled away from him, and pressed into Robin's side. 

"If one more person touches me, I am going to scream." 

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea," Robin muttered under her breathe, but she had never been a great whisperer. 

"Oh, I don't think we need to get the neighbors involved in all this," Ritter said, that same eerie smile still plastered on his face. "There's no telling what would happen to such a little girl in the middle of a big ol' mess." 

That was a threat, plain as day. One that set alarm bells off in Steve's head. As much as Ritter had wanted Erica, enough to risk being seen snatching her up in pure daylight, he didn't care if she made it out of this alive or dead. Steve didn't want to think about what that meant for the other missing kids-- Couldn't spare the brainpower it would take to process the grief. All he knew was that it meant it wasn't enough to just get Erica away from them; She had seen their faces. They all had. They were all in danger, which meant Steve wasn't going to turn his back on these men for a moment. 

His gaze flickered to the van driver for just a moment, before going back to Ritter. 

Eddie leaned into Steve's side, voice low in his ear. "He hasn't moved. He's just watching us." 

Steve took a deep breath, letting himself settle with the knowledge that Eddie had his back, and Robin was still in-between Ritter and the kids. He wasn't expected to do this alone, for once, or chase after answers on his own. 

The warmth of Eddie against him gave Steve the confidence to raise his chin, giving Ritter his smugest, most King-ly glare. "I'm serious, man. You don't know who you're messing with." 

The smile dropped off Ritter's face for the first time. "If that's a threat--" 

"No. I'm just trying to help. You keep messing with Lucas Sinclair's little sister, maybe she disappears in the middle of the night--" Steve shrugged, as if it didn't matter to him either way. "--things are going to be very bad at the office tomorrow. Really, call your boss. Ask him about Dr. Owens. We'll wait." 

Ritter's eyes narrowed, but whatever he found in Steve's face had him sighing, and dropping his gaze. "Alright," he said. "Alright, I suppose it can't hurt to check. I'll be right back." Ritter walked, slowly, keeping his hands in Steve's view, out of the bushes. Steve kept his gaze glued to Ritter's back as he made his way across the bus, not moving a muscle even as the others milled around behind him. 

Steve didn't buy that easy capitulation for a minute. It honestly had less to do with the man being a serial kidnapper and plain just because he was an adult-- Since when did adults ever believe what kids said without a reason? Besides, there was no way in hell that whoever sent him didn't know that Lucas lived here. There was no way that they had just been snatching random children from their home with no one knowing. Not when it was the fucking government. Steve's intention had only been to make it very clear that he knew what was going on, but he hadn't expected Ritter to fold. Or to pretend to, either. 

As Ritter approached the van, Steve strained his hearing, hoping that whatever Reagan's boys knew about Hawkins and Wesen didn't go far enough to make them lower their voices. 

"We have a problem?" The driver's voice was rougher than Ritter's, a low accented growl that Steve would have told you was the stuff of fiction, at least in Indiana. 

Ritter looked back over his shoulder at Steve and the rest, shaking his head. "They're kids from the lab incident last year, apparently." 

The driver hissed through his teeth. "Bad lack." 

"No kidding. "Daddy's boy, there, told me to talk to Dr. Owens." 

"Worse luck for them," the driver said with a laugh. "You think the Doc really would have gone to bat for them?" 

"Probably. You know he always had a soft spot for the kid," Ritter said. Steve saw him shrug. "That's why they had to cut him loose." 

The driver grunted in acknowledgement, and then after a beat of silence, continued. "We still taking the girl?" 

"Yeah," Ritter said, like it had never been in question. "There's another little one, probably one of the freaks. We could take him, too, real easy." 

"And the others?" 

Ritter hummed, considering, and then said, "Too many of 'em, and they're old enough to put up a fight. I don't want a repeat of that bear asshole. It's quieter just to get rid of them now." 

"Five kids is going to be pretty noticeable."                                                                                                

"Eh, it'll be alright. We've always got the city." 

"That's true. We could keep going on runaways for the rest of the decade, if this winter is as cold as last year." 

"And by next summer, no one will remember these kids," Ritter said, relishing every syllable. 

There was another long moment of silence, and the driver asked, "It ever freak you out how fast they forget, in these towns?" 

"Nah," Ritter said, "I get paid too much to think." 

Then there was a sound, a sound that Steve only recognized from the months he had spent with Nancy. It was a sound he couldn't have even told you he was familiar with, a sound he had been fairly hopeful he might never hear again: It was the gentle, metallic click of a gun's safety being slid off. The thought barely even processed before his body reacted, sending him into the same spiral of violence a woged Wesen did-- The racing thoughts, the pulsing muscles, the doubled pulse. 

For once, Steve did not want to hold back. For once, Steve wanted to hurt these men. He wanted to hurt them very badly.

He watched Ritter turn back to them with a smile, and knew what he had to do.

"I need you both to take the kids and run," Steve said. 

All four voices raised in protest, but before they could even get a syllable out, Steve hissed a warning. Literally. Without even thinking about it, Steve hissed through his teeth, a sound more guttural than anything he could have intentionally made. All arguments fell into awkward, unfinished sounds in the air around him. Clumsily, without taking his eyes off Ritter slowly making his way back, Steve pressed the keys to the Bimmer into Eddie's palm. 

For just a moment, Steve let himself indulge in the warm, dry slide of Eddie's fingers against his. It was all he could do. Might be all he ever had the chance to, now. He just wanted to know what it might be like, if Eddie held his hand. 

Steve swallowed his own future and squared his shoulders, letting his hand fall away from Eddie's.

The driver got out of the van and fell into step with Ritter, trailing a little behind. They were both smiling in a way that left Steve unsettled, like baring their teeth at prey. 

"No arguments," Steve said, keeping his voice low and even. His hands folded into fists at his sides.  "There's not a lot of time left, and things are about to go very badly. I need you all to follow my lead." 

There wasn't a peep from the others as Ritter got within hearing distance. Steve knew they wanted to fight back, knew they wanted to tell him where he could shove his plan, but none of them flinched for a second. Pride filled Steve as silence overtook the little yard-- Even Erica, the sole human among them, was silent and unmoving in the face of danger. He only hoped he would make it out of this alive so he could tell her how good she was doing. 

"Steve Harrington, right?" Ritter said. Steve tried not to flinch at the sudden confrontation with his last name. Honestly, it didn't matter one way or another; Steve was either going to die here or he wouldn't, and no amount of anonymity was going to get him out of it. But it unsettled him to know that his name was important enough to someone for this man to remember it. Somewhere, in all those big files about El and Will and who knew what else, was Steve's name. Not just 'Nancy's boyfriend', or 'Dustin's babysitter', but him. 

And that meant that someone had decided he wasn't worth keeping alive. 

"... Right."

Before the confirmation could even leave Steve's mouth properly, his eyes flicked down to the driver's hand, hidden in his jacket. There was a twitch, a movement, something-- Steve would haved liked to say it was like something out of an action movie, time and space shifting liquid around him, but it wasn't anything that controlled. For all his strengths, Steve hadn't become a fighter overnight. Instead, Steve found himself out of control for the second time, his body reacting entirely on its own. 

With Eddie, Steve had held himself back. He hadn't been there to hurt Eddie, and wasn't looking forward to a fight, so he'd locked the instincts down as quickly as he did with El or Robin. This time, though, there was nothing to stop-- For once, Steve and his instincts were in total agreement. 

Before the gun even cleared the jacket's lapel, Steve threw himself at the man. The guy had a few inches and probably a few dozen pounds on him, but he wasn't trying for a full tackle. Steve's only goal at the moment was to put as much of himself in between the gun and the kids.

The man grunted as Steve's weight hit him, stumbling back from the momentum, but his feet dug into the dirt and held firm. Steve's lungs wheezed as he crumpled against the man's chest, like a car running into a brick wall. He could feel the barrel of the gun digging into his side as the driver struggled to push him off-- Steve grabbed at the man's wrist, already feeling the man's tendons beginning to tense under his fingers. 

It was only the fear that gave Steve the strength to push the gunman's hand down before the bullet fired. 

Steve gasped, the sound overwhelming him more than the pain. He felt it hit, sure, like being frogged in the thigh by a particularly enthusiastic upperclassmen, but nothing like he would have thought it would be. Of all the beatings Steve had taken in the last few years, this didn't even clear the top two. Hell, he would rather get shot again then chance a bite with a demodog. 

If only his fucking leg would listen to him. 

He kept trying to push forward, tried to dig his heels in and make this son of a bitch move, get him one step further from his kids, but his leg refused to listen. It just went cold, sluggishly bleeding, mocking him with little thumps of pain that meant absolutely nothing to his frenzied brain. 

It was then that Steve realised he was falling. 

Well, he thought, as his good leg started to collapse-- Might as well make the most of it. 

Holding tight to the man, Steve flung himself onto the Sinclair's driveway. The man came tumbling down after him, dragged down by Steve's sudden dead weight-- And Steve was already rolling before they hit the ground, trying to pin the driver underneath him. It wouldn't last very long, if he could even manage it, but it would be enough to give the kids time to run. 

The driver's neck strained as he glared at Steve, trying desperately to get some leverage by keeping himself off the ground. "Jumped up little shit," the driver muttered. 

The only answer Steve could give was a feral growl in the back of his throat, then reaching up to slam the man's head back into the gravel. Blow after blow was landing on Steve's ribs, enough force behind each punch to give Billy Hargrove a run for his money. His fingernails were beginning to tear and bleed from how hard Steve was hanging on. Neither of them were winning, and neither of them were willing to give up. 

Sometime in the last year, Steve thought as he struggled, he really should have learned how to fight. A real fight, not tips and tricks from his ancestors in a dusty notebook, or the regulated self-defense classes at the YMCA. A real fight, with someone who wanted to kill you. Hopper could have taught him, probably-- If Steve made it out of this, he was absolutely going to dedicate the rest of his life to learning. 

Out of options, Steve latched onto the driver's shoulder. "Ow, you fucking Wesen freaks--" 

From behind him, Ritter said, "Fuck, James, hold on." 

Robin was faster. Steve could make it out from the corner of his vision, although he couldn't afford to watch too closely-- She was woged, all teeth and fangs and glowing eyes. She was clumsier than Steve, but not by much, and she launched herself at Ritter with a rage that even Nancy would have balked at.

Blood spattered next to Steve on the grass, the smell filling the air.

Distantly, Steve could hear Eddie and the children. Erica and Dustin were yelling at the top of their lungs, Eddie was cursing under his breath, and the Bimmer doors were slamming open and shut. When he heard the familiar rumble of his ignition, Steve felt himself go lax with relief. 

He couldn't do this forever. He was cold. So fucking cold, all over his body, and though his leg still didn't hurt, Steve knew enough to know that it wasn't exactly a good sign. Now that the kids and Eddie were safe, the adrenaline wasn't enough to keep him moving. He was tired, and fading fast. Steve wished Robin had gone with Eddie and the kids, wished that she wasn't resigned to the same uncertain future that he was, but he had to stop fighting. 

The driver pushed him off, and Steve fell into the grass limply, his ribs protesting as he rolled. He tried to get to his feet, tried to at least be enough of a distraction to let Robin make a run for it-- The pressure on his left leg was enough to make the pain known, the burn of the wound through his leg sending bile up his throat. He collapsed, vomiting into the Sinclairs' manicured lawn. 

When Steve looked back up, vision blurry with tears, the driver had his gun to Robin's head. 

"Stay down, or I will put her down."

Steve raised his hands, palms open, in supplication. 

Grabbing Robin by her hair, the driver pulled her away from Ritter, her claw pulling out of his shoulder with a sickening spurt of blood. "You gonna behave now?" he asked her. 

Eyes wide, Robin nodded. 

"Good," the driver said. "Then--" 

Ritter backhanded Robin across the face hard, sending her stumbling into the driver's chest. Steve whimpered, trying to peel himself off the grass, but there was no use. The burning in his leg had started to spread, and he could feel his own blood warming the ground beneath him. 

"Lionel!" the driver snapped. 

"The fucking bitch took off half of my shoulder!" Ritter hissed, all former pretense of respectability gone from his voice. Even his accent had changed, from the broad, transatlantic relatability of a government stooge to the rough vocal fry of the West. "Fuck, that hurts." 

Robin tried to sneer, but her animal eyes were blown and shifty, like a hunted rabbit. She wasn't meant for this; Steve had known for years now that this would probably be how he died, even before being a Grimm had all but confirmed it for him, but he hadn't ever meant for anyone to come with him. 

"Just let her go, man," Steve gasped, trying to sound reasonable through clenched teeth. 

Ritter squatted, baring his teeth at Steve in a mockery of a Wesen's posturing. "You're not really in a position to start making demands, Harrington." He wasn't wrong, but Steve wasn't about to let that stop him. If anyone knew how to find leverage in a desperate situation, it was Steve. 

"And you're not really in a position to be wasting any time." Steve forced himself to stop trembling, pushing the shock and his sluggish heartbeat to the back of his mind. He met Ritter's eyes, pushing his woge until he was sure Ritter could the smoky, echoing haze of his eyes as clearly as the Wesen could. It might not scare him without a woge of his own to trigger, but Steve was willing to bet it would unsettle Ritter enough to make him listen. "Gunshots in a town like Hawkins, middle of the day? Our friends are already gone, and it won't be long until they find help. How long do you think it will take the cops to show up?" 

"Not long enough to hide the bodies, that's for sure," Robin jumped in. 

Ritter looked up at the driver, a moment passing as their eyes met in silent conversation. After a beat, the driver nodded. 

"Get him in the van," the driver said, shoving Robin towards the road. 

Steve stared up at Ritter, watching him pull what looked like a large, archaic flashlight out of his back pocket. It took a moment, but Steve had spent enough time dicking around in Hop's office this spring to recognize it for what it was: One of those fancy stun guns, like the cops they used in the big cities. Hopper hated them, said that there was no one in Hawkins who deserved to get electrocuted that didn't also deserve to get shot, but Steve had thought they were pretty nifty. 

He guessed he was about to find out. 

Letting his head fall back into the dirt, Steve sighed. "Make it quick, asshole." 

There was a snap, then a light tug in his side, and the world was on fire until it kindly faded into black. 

[luci-is-a-bitch-x3x]

Barb's Secret Dungeon Drabble

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Welcome! To this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

⚠︎Caution: Dark content⚠︎

CW: torture discussion, blood is mentioned, Barbs is demon like, lemme know if I missed any warnings!

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Okay can we just talk about the rumored secret dungeon in the demon lords castle that they basically act like is Barbatos's secret dungeon. Now it being a sex dungeon is a different conversation for later because I would like to talk about it being a torture dungeon because that's absolutely terrifying. I love barbs but he has some scary powers, especially as a torture weapon. Barbatos can just continue bringing the individual he's torturing back to life after torturing them so much they die. & This cycle would just continue until he got bored or he deems mercy to the individual. It's not really mercy because he most likely just tortures them to death one last time and doesn't bring them back. If they were put in there by Diavolo, then they won't be released until Diavolo says so, Barbs will actually release these ones and not kill them unless Diavolo tells him to. The only way this would be different is if you believe there's a limited amount of alternate realities and time lines instead of infinite, then Barbatos would only be able to bring the individual back until there is no more time lines the individuals alive in.

You know how Barbatos just seems like such a calm and composed demon? A torture dungeon could be why man. Besides tea Barbs doesn't really seem to have a way to get rid of his stress as far as we know. Barbs is constantly working, mans is underappreciated, always helping from the sidelines, he has a lot of stress whether he shows it or not. Torturing an individual would take that stress away for a demon. Think about it, Lucifer is always happier after stringing Mammon from the ceiling upside down. Satan and Belphie are always happier when trying to torment and prank Lucifer. Demons will be demons, they relieve their stress in ways that any real demon would. But hey don't get sent to the secret dungeon and you'll be fine!

I'm going to try and go into more detail of what an individual would experience in Barbs secret torture dungeon. So I feel like human torture methods are mediocre to a demons methods, especially to a demon that's probably lived an incredibly long time. Barbatos probably knows thousands of torture methods, he could put Satan to shame with the amount of torture knowledge he knows. One things for certain, no rats will be involved in any torture ever. Not because Barbs is merciful just because he's too scared to even be around the rodents. The interesting but scary thing is that demons have magic they can use to add to the torture. So they can curse the individual or cast a certain spell that they know will annoy or cause damage to the individual it's cast on. I feel like a lot more psychological torture happens in the Devildom then in the human world in general. The Celestial Realm has their own torture methods too, Angels are ruthless man. They'd do anything for their 'father'. I feel like Barbs is more a psychological torture kind of guy, but it really just depends on his mood and how stressed he is, sometimes physically torturing the poor individual just relieves his stress more. With the advantages of magic Barbs doesn't have to chain the individual up if he doesn't want to, he can just put magic seals places to prevent them from going places. Barbs could even make a fake "escape" route with magic just for the individual to wind up back in the secret dungeon once they think they've escaped. With magic there's all kinds of possibilities, magic can be a blessing or curse, and for any individual in Barbs secret dungeon it's a curse.

For the sake of actually talking about how I think Barb would torture I may refer to a human torture method or horror movie, but I sincerely think demons would have way more intense torture methods. So for physical torture I don't think Barbs would normally want to do a messy torture method, I think he's usually just there to hear the screams and gain from the individuals pain. For days like this Barbs does methods that don't make much of a mess, for example he may do something similar to "The Rack". The rack is the torture method where the individual is laid on something and then ropes tied to the individuals wrists and ankles pull on them until their joints dislocate, but a demon may have a method that could simply rip the individual in two. As long as he's standing far enough away he shouldn't get blood on him. I think on some days when Barbs is really stressed and just mad enough that he doesn't mind a little mess, he gets real messy. On these days Barbs is covered in blood head to toe by the time he's done in the secret dungeon for the night. For these days I can see Barbs doing any vicious torture method that's going to cause a lot of blood to get everywhere, but the main one I think he'd do is something similar to the torture known as Lingchi. Lingchi is a form of torture where the individual is cut precisely until they bleed to death. The cuts are said to start out slow and gradually become more painful. Barbatos is a precise patient man so I think this method suits him. For psychological torture I think Barbs would use magic to make the individual see things, these things can vary drastically from the individual seeing an escape from the secret dungeons to the individuals seeing their loved one murdered gruesomely, with enough magic Barbs could probably make the individual believe they killed the person. Even though it's all just fake and done with magic, the individual doesn't know that so they'd spend the rest of their time in the dungeons tormented with the guilt of "killing" their loved one.

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Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! I apologize for being gone for so long! I promise I still have content to make, I just haven't felt like writing. I hope me posting a couple of things makes up for being gone! Anyways more content will be coming soon so Stay Tuned! Stay Safe! & Stay Groovy Scooby! ♡

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⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

[vixendoesstuff]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ALRIGHT, SO-

World Tour, where (please excuse my language) shit hits the fan, for real. My notes on this saga is hectic and convoluted, so I'll try to make some sense of it for this post. If you have any questions, feel free to ask in the askbox or my DM's, whichever you prefer.

I wanted to do bullet points for this, but maybe most Tumblr users prefer to read long paragraphs than bullet points, since my posts not having bullet points do better? IDK, I've only been on Tumblr for like, a year at best so forgive this soul for her cluelessness lol.

And also, depending on how much I've typed, I might have to split this saga into three parts, 'cause I know y'all don't actually want to read a really long post that took up three scrolls wide lol.

Anyway--let's start this crazy train.

So, the story begins the same way as it is in the movie--opening shot with Cloud Guy giving a quick recap about the first movie, and then the next shot panning towards the Techno Trolls (ay, Branch's tribe, let's go!). Unfortunately, the amount of screentime (or appearance in this case) they got here minimal, since we're focusing on Branch and co.

But anyway, same thing happened, King Trollex hosting the rave, Barb barges in demanding his string and destroyed Techno Reef to get him to comply, same old. Poor guy, honestly, he just wanted to vibe.

Next shot pans to Pop Village, same thing there. Everyone is smiling and singing and dancing (with Techno!Branch joining in, look at that! Since he can't extend his hair like everyone else, he relies on acrobatics and just generally hang onto someone ((mostly Poppy)) whenever they swing on the trees with their hair). Branch tries to confess his love to Poppy, but got friendzoned unintentionally by her (ouch). Then Barb's bat pet thing comes in, and King Peppy's history lesson.

They're not the only ones here in this world. There are other trolls out there; Pop, Hard Rock, Classical, Country, Funk, and Techno.

This is where it gets interesting. At this point in time, Branch has all but accepted that he's possibly the only Troll in the village that looks the way he does. That he's the only one that ever existed in the world. It's why he and Cooper has a sort of closer bond with eachother in this AU : different Troll (tribe, but not that they knew this yet) solidarity. Sure, he was curious once, like how come is egg was in the Troll Tree, why does he look different, ect. But now he's more than content with his current predicament. He has friends now, something to look foward to; he was happy, after so long.

But now with the news that there are other Trolls out there, different from the rest, his past yearning came back to life. And while King Peppy hadn't said it outright, his lack of words all but confirmed Branch's suspicions. That he's not the only one out there. And from what he saw in the scrapbook, he can pinpoint which one of the tribes he supposedly belongs to; Techno.

Then we cut to when Poppy packs up to leave and got caught by Branch. The same argument happens, with the addition of Poppy saying that because there are different Trolls out there, then shouldn't Branch be curious about them? Who knows, maybe there's a tribe that looks exactly like him! Branch refuted by saying that, even if there was a tribe just for him, how would he connect to them? He's been living as a "Pop Troll" his whole life, what connection can he form with these hypothetical Trolls (identity issues go brrr)? What if they found out that he's gone Grey for almost all his life? If the Pop Trolls, who has known him since he was born, didn't react well to his whole Grey-ness; what are the chances his own kind would react badly to the news? Or worse, reject him outright.

Before he could go on, boom! Cooper appears from the shadows and said something like, "That's not how you really think, ain't it Branch?". They were surprised he's there, and then they exchange some more dialouge sort of expressing Branch's concern about not fitting in with his hypothetical tribe out there, and shed some light on Coopers concern as well about wanting to find you who you really, and even if you don't fit in atleast you know the truth now, that sort of stuff. IDK, I'm not great at writing angst, lol.

Anyway, after some convincing from Poppy, Branch relented and decides to accompany her (even if he denies it, he wants to know if his people is out there). Cooper also wants to come along, and while Branch refuses for his own safety, Poppy allows it in the condition that he sticks with them at all times. So, the three sets of to explore the entire Troll Kingdom, to "reunite" all the tribes and make one big party at Queen Barb's World Tour.

Little did they know just what kinds of trouble they'll encounter on their journey.

Woah, plot twist, Cooper actually comes along instead of going on a solo journey this time around! He replaces Biggie in this! What a shocker! Shocked emoji!

Admitedly, while it's funny the first time, Cooper's solo adventure is... I don't wanna be too rude about it, but it's sort of unnecessary in the big run? I mean, not entirely unnecessary, but like, if you remove that and just have him go along with Poppy and co., nothing major would change. He'd still be reunited with his family in Vibe City, except this time he'll have a first time reaction to the history of the Strings and see the truth of it, y'know what I mean?

But anyway, Poppy, Branch and Cooper's gonna explore the world of other genres. I don't think much will change with his inclusion, but the reactions will be far more varied, me thinks. Stay tuned for the next part, 'cause wow did not expect this part of the series to be so convoluted lol.

Also I had wanted to include some scene redraws from the movie with new implemented elements for this AU, but artblock is gripping me tight and college is starting soon, so I won't have much time to draw than I do write. So, yeah, hope y'all don't mind lol. I'll definitely do some artwork for this AU in the future though, believe it!

Until next time!

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 4: THE BODY

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: It's getting real. Nancy and Diana are putting the pieces together.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2037

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III

SINCLAIR RESIDENCE

The drive back home from school was quiet and the tension in the car was uncomfortable to sit in for fifteen minutes. I know Mom is not happy to be called in to my school especially coming from the salon and to speak to police officers. All to find out, I have been lying about not only my whereabouts, but how I got home too. I cower behind Mom, walking inside the house after her. We take off our jacket and shoes in silence and part of me is glad Dad isn’t home because he can sense tension from a mile away and I don’t want him to know about what has been happening other than, Barb is missing and Will’s body was found in the Quarry. Last night saved me from having to talk about what really happened on Tuesday at the Wheelers. Dad was so freaked out by mine and Lucas’s breakdown; he didn’t have time to question Mom about our whereabouts. 

“When I asked you how you got home yesterday morning,” Mom walks to the living room. I shudder behind her knowing what’s about to happen. Mom turns around to face me propping her arm on the back of the couch to lean against it. She puts her other hand on her hip; a stance meaning you’re not getting out of this one. “You told me you walked—” 

“I did walk home.” I mutter. 

“—From Nancy’s house.” she finishes, eyes widening slightly in warning at my interruption. I cross my arms above my chest, looking at the centre table. “At Mrs. Wheeler’s house you told me you walked home from Steve’s house.” I wince at her emphasis on certain words. The lies. “Now, you just told those officers you got driven home.” 

What makes this all worse is that Mom isn’t yelling at me, not like she’s ever had to. I’ve heard her yell and scold Erica and Lucas plenty of times. The yelling isn’t scary, it’s when she’s calm and collected as she is now. That’s scary. 

“I know.” 

“Which is it, Diana? What is the truth?” 

I bite my lip staring at the pillows feeling like crap for lying to Mom, not once, but three times. I’ve never lied to Mom before or even Dad. I had a very healthy and close relationship with them and believed I wouldn’t jeopardize it for anything…and then Steve Harrington came along. I found myself getting caught up in the whirlwind of popularity and it’s done nothing but left me stranded across town and a best friend missing. I sigh running my fingers through my hair. 

“I did start walking home from Steve’s but then Eddie drove me the rest of the way home.” 

Mom looks at me and I feel naked and exposed under her stare. Her look alone tells me she doesn’t fully believe me and that breaks my heart to know I caused that because of my lying. 

“I swear to you, mom.” I plead, eyes burning with tears. “I’m not lying. I left because I didn’t want to be there anymore.” 

“And this Eddie boy.” Mom pressed. 

I’m taken off guard by the question. “What about Eddie?” 

“Do I need to know anything?” 

I understand she’s asking because of the comments Officer Powell and Callahan made about him. Mom defended me in the moment, but deep down I figured she’d ask me about him eventually. Still for her to insinuate anything more than just a kind gesture surprises me. 

“No,” I shake my head. “No. Eddie is wonderful and kind.” I explain. “Nothing happened. He just drove me home.” 

“Diana.” Mom sighs deeply walking to the kitchen. She still thinks I’m lying. Tears fall down my eyes as I scurry behind her. Desperation etched its way into every crevice of my body. 

“I promise nothing happened!” I shout. Mom turns around, eyes wide in shock. I squeeze my eyes shut wincing at my slip up. “God!” I exclaim in frustration, balling my hands into fists in front of my face. Everything is falling apart and I don’t know how to or what to feel. I open my eyes wiping my tears away and take a deep breath. “I didn’t know leaving would cause all of this. I didn’t know it would be the last time—” I can’t finish the sentence. I swallow thickly. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I’m so sorry, mom. I shouldn’t have done it, but I wanted to be a supportive friend to Nancy and now Barb…” Is gone. I hold my head in my hands, sobbing. 

I feel Mom hold me in her arms. I press my body into hers, crying into her shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” She soothes, rubbing my back. “I’m just worried about you, about your brother. Even Erica. There is so much happening and I need you to be honest with me, okay?” I sniff, nodding my head. Mom pulls back removing my hands from my face. She gently wipes my tears from my face and fixes my hair. “I want you to be able to tell me what’s going on.” 

“Okay.” I whimper, sniffing again. 

Mom kisses my forehead. “Go upstairs. I’ll make you some tea.” 

I nod my head feeling exhausted. I’ve only been through half of the day and I am already over it. 

“Mom?” I turn around, halfway up the stairs. Mom already has my favourite tea cup in her hands. The one with my name on it with a princess crown over the “D” and little black girl ballerinas dancing around the cup. 

“Yes?”

I bite my lip. “Are you going to tell, Dad?” 

Mom looks at me for a moment, deep in thought. She sighs shaking her head. “No,” she says and I feel a little bit of weight ease off my shoulders. If Dad found out about anything that has happened over the last few days he would freak out and that would cause more trouble that no one in the house needed right now. I think I’ve suffered enough. “I don’t want him to blow this out of proportion.” 

I nod my head again, gracious yet surprised that Mom isn’t going to tell Dad about what happened. At least not yet. She will have to tell him eventually, maybe after everything with Will dies down. 

“Diana?” Mom calls. 

“Yes, mom.” 

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” 

Beneath her calm exterior I know Mom is still worried about me. A lot of information has been thrown on top of her and so suddenly. Will’s body being found, talking to the police about Barb’s disappearance. I know I can tell Mom anything, she’s never made me feel like I couldn’t, neither has Dad but he’s hard to talk to sometimes. I feel bad for hiding everything from her, but I didn’t know how to say anything because I was still trying to figure everything out myself. I still am. 

I smile, albeit a small one. “I know.”  

“Oh,” Mom says, placing the kettle on the burner. “Since they found Will,” she winces at the revelation. “Classes resume. I know it’s been hard for you these past few days, so I told Madame Petrovna you won’t be at rehearsal for the rest of the week. Will’s funeral is tomorrow and I believe it’s better if we stick together, for Lucas.” 

The peppermint tea is long forgotten on my night table. I stare at the ceiling thinking about what’s transpired over the past few days trying to make sense of it all. I can’t stop thinking about Barb and the animal Nancy and I saw at Steve’s house yesterday. Officer Powell and Callahan said they didn’t find anything. I find that strange because Nancy and I saw something. It was huge and unlike any animal I’ve ever seen. It didn’t have a face. A person will never forget witnessing something without a face, no matter how traumatized. Nancy and I are not crazy. When Officer Powell and Callahan said they didn’t see Barb’s car…that was the most bizarre. I didn’t like the way they were looking at me, especially Callahan, like I was lying or making everything up. Why would I lie about finding my best friend’s car? And to insinuate she would ever leave town? Barb wasn’t like that. She liked living in Hawkins and she wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. But you did say goodbye to Barb. I shake my head. No. Barb is alive. She has to be. 

Then there was Eddie. The judgement behind their eyes when I mentioned him…it reminded me of the way Principal Higgins looked at Eddie in the hallway on Tuesday. I don’t like it and frankly, it is all unwarranted. Eddie was gentle and kind. Regardless of who is father and what he has done, to judge Eddie based on him is horrible and completely unfair. Spasms of irritation go through my body. No one deserves to be treated like that. My ears perk up as I hear my room door open, I quickly sit up feeling woozy with a headrush. I steady myself, running my fingers through my hair, frowning. 

“Diana, are you okay?” 

Nancy closes my room door carefully before rushing to my bedside. I blink, shaking my head. 

“Nancy? What are you doing here?” 

“Your mom let me in.” she responds, sitting on my bed. “I need to show you something.” She urges, reaching inside her bag. Not sure what was going on, I blinked rapidly but cross my legs nonetheless, tucking a curl behind my ear. 

“What is it?” 

“This.” Nancy answers, showing me a photo. It was one of Jonathan’s from yesterday, though not ripped into tiny pieces. It must have been the pieces she gathered on the ground. It was taped back together, jagged edges making the photo look like a montage of time. I take the photo out of her hands eyes darting at all ends of the photo. It was Barb sitting on the edge of the diving board looking down at the water. “What do you see?” 

I graze my finger over her, feeling sad. “Barb.”

“Yes,” Nancy confirms, shuffling closer to me. “But what else?”

I narrow my eyes looking at the photo closer. Then I see it. There’s a shadowy figure behind Barb, but it’s too blurry for me to see. 

“Something’s behind her.” 

“Exactly!” Nancy says eagerly. I bring the photo up to my face. 

“Wait. Is that—” 

“The thing we saw in Steve’s backyard.” Nancy finishes. 

I drop my arms, twisting my lips. “Do you think…” 

“It took Barb? Yes.” 

“What is it?” 

“I don’t know.” Nancy answers, taking the photo from me to look at. 

A knot of uncertainty tightened in my chest, constricting my breath and making it hard to think clearly. “This is freaking me out.” I protest, pushing myself off my bed. “I spoke to the cops this morning and they said they didn’t find anything at Steve’s house.” 

“They told me the same too,” Nancy said, watching me carefully. “Did they tell you about Barb’s car?” 

“Yes, and that doesn’t make any sense because we just saw the car yesterday.” I share, pacing back and forth in my room. I stop and look at Nancy. “You don’t think this…thing took her car too, do you?”

“No, it doesn’t make sense.” Nancy shakes her head, frowning. 

“So where did Barb’s car go?” I ask. “It doesn’t make sense for anyone to steal it.” 

“I don’t know Di. All I know is that thing took her.” 

I huff, plopping myself down on my bed. “Has Steve said anything?” 

Nancy rolls her eyes. “He’s too busy worrying about getting in trouble by his parents.” 

“Wow.” Just when I thought he was getting better. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

I nod my head in understanding and take the photo from her to inspect. “This picture is too blurry to make out what it is. We need to blow this picture up to see this thing clearly.” I look at her feeling determined to get to the bottom of this. “We need to find Jonathan.” 

NEXT -> PART III

[mystic-story-lover]

~ Texas Death ~

Adam Page x Unnamed Female!Reader 

Word Count:  1589

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Blood Content Warning, Public Sex, Fingering, Penetration, Oral (Male Receiving), 

Type: Fluff & Smut 

Summary: Hangman reflects with his girlfriend on his Texas Deathmatch against Swerve 

A/n: Okay, I saw this match and instantly knew this was going to be written 

~~~ 

Sometimes, Hangman really pissed her off. 

Tonight was AEW’s Full Gear, and her boyfriend was to fight in a Texas Deathmatch. She knew the match was going to be brutal, and she knew that Adam would be taking bumps that made her nervous, but she was also pissed. After promising her that he wouldn’t do anything reckless to get himself hurt, she watched him get glass in his back, fuck around with barbed wire, and play with staples. Out of most things in matches, Hangman knew that was one that grossed her out. 

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?” His voice came from behind her. 

“A million? Two million?” She retorted with questions of her own. “I had to watch one of my best friends take staples to the face. Do you know how gross it is to see staples in another person’s body?” 

“It was for the show, and I warned you there would be things you didn’t like in it.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.  

“I thought you meant glass or thumbtacks, not a fucking staple gun.” Her hands flew into the air in exaggeration. 

Hangman sighed, knowing she was right. For effect of the show, nobody warned her about the staple gun coming around, especially knowing how much she hated it. There’d been times that seeing them has caused her to become queasy, and he felt bad for the lack of warning. Jogging to catch up with her, Hangman let out a breath, hoping he could make it up to her. Once he’d caught up with her, the cowboy reached out for her wrist, catching it in his palm. Using the opportunity, he spun her around, giving her a chance to look at him. Hell, he’d drop to his knees in front of her if that’s what it took for her.  

With wide eyes, she sucked in a breath, taking the time to truly look at him everywhere. She noticed the way the dried blood lingered on his body, but any cuts were cleaned up already. Her hand shook as she reached out for him, and he grabbed it with one of his own, bringing it to his chest. 

“You’re still bloody,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t get it, why are you still covered in blood?” 

“Because Darlin’, I didn’t care about cleaning myself up until I checked on you. You were right, I should’ve told you about the staple spots.” He spoke gently, still holding her hand. 

“I don’t know what to say.” She replied, a small smile appearing on her face. 

“You don’t have to say anything, I’m just glad to see you smile.” A smile came on his face as he answered her. 

Her actions were wordless, but they held a tension that the blonde didn’t expect to come from this. As her finger slipped under his chin, he looked at her eyes, and he noticed they were darker than normal. Using the resting finger, she brought Hangman’s face down to her level, and wrapped her arms around his neck. The small smile turned into a cocky smirk when she leaned up to kiss him, which he reciprocated. 

“Darlin’, what are you doing?” He panted out, pulling away from her lips the slightest bit. 

“All I’m doing is kissing you.” Her voice came with an innocent tone, but he knew by the look in her eyes that her thoughts were far from. 

“You really want to do this at work?” Another kiss from her sealed the answer he needed, and he backed her into a wall. 

The two weren’t far from his dressing room, but she knew that he was still sharing it with the rest of The Elite, leaving it useless to them. Thankfully, they were in a dark hallway, one that was barricaded from most sights by wooden crates. There was only one way to see down the hall, and that was to come up right next to the boxes, meaning they’d be hidden with ease. 

“Didn’t think I’d be getting this treatment tonight.” Hangman let out a little chuckle as he moved his feverish kisses to her jaw. She leaned her head back against the wall, welcoming the feeling of his lips on her body. 

“Neither did I,” a moan escaped her when his lips connected with her sweet spot. When his teeth contacted the flesh, a whimper followed his action. “Seeing you the way you are, I changed my mind.” 

“No complaints here.” He whispered below her ear, bringing his lips back up her neck. 

“Hangy, please, I need you.” She moaned out, panting as she leaned her head back in pleasure. 

Following her needs, the cowboy backed away, giving him the ability to turn her around. While her hands collided with the wall, he pressed himself right against her, allowing her to feel his cock through his gear. To not waste any extra time, he quickly tugged her leggings down, her lace underwear coming off at the same time.  

“Touch yourself for me baby.” He grunted, palming her ass in the process.  

She did as he told her, bringing one hand off the wall and letting it fall to her pussy. Small silent whimpers fell from her lips as her fingers met her clit. Adam listened to her gasp as she slipped two fingers into her entrance, and he lowered himself to a squatting position so he could watch her. He’d always admired the sight of her completely at his will, following everything he told her to do, no matter how badly she wanted his hands on her. Tonight, he wouldn’t make her wait long, as he stood upright again, he began to unbuckle his belt. He listened as she continued to pant, his rock-hard cock only becoming painful while restrained. Still reeling from the pleasure between her legs, she listened as the sound of a zipper interrupted the moans she let out. The following sound of fabric falling only increased the slickness at her core, and she released a louder moan as his hand encountered her ass. 

“Take your fingers out Darlin.” He spoke, kissing her left shoulder blade. Again, she did as he told, removing her fingers and bringing the hand back up. “Taste yourself babe.” 

Following instructions again, she took both fingers in her mouth, sucking on them. A muffled moan came from her as she could taste herself. A grunt of approval came from the taller man behind her, and he placed his lips on her middle upper back as he spread her legs a little farther with his foot. Using the extra room, one of his large hands that rested on her ass now found its way to her hip, allowing him to hold her steady as he began to slide inside of her.  

“Fuck, Darlin’, you feel so good taking me in.” Hangman grunted, and she moaned at the feeling. 

Allowing her the time to adjust, he gave a few sloppy and gentle thrusts. When she started moving against him, he knew that he would be able to move faster. With his free hand, Adam reached for her long locks of hair, wrapping them around into a makeshift ponytail, and pulled her back against him. Whilst the point was to stay hidden in the darkness of the hallway, the smack-smack-smack of their bodies connecting could be heard from down the hall.  

“Shit, that feels so good.” Her pants were quicker than they’d been before, the result of him lifting one of her legs, giving him a new angle.  

“Fuck, I know baby. Want to make you feel good.” He grunted, biting her earlobe after his words. 

No longer able to control the volume of her moans, she bit her lip, an attempt that failed. The pleasure that she felt became too much, and she couldn’t keep silent anymore. 

“Adam, oh right there. Please Adam.” She begged, a whining tone following her. 

“Please what Darlin’?” His question was cocky, and they both knew it. 

“Touch me, please, I’m so close.” Another loud moan followed as Adam’s lips met the spot where her shoulder and neck meet. 

“My hands are already on you baby.” He chuckled when he groaned. “Let me hear you scream my name when you come baby.” He whispered in her ear, nose snuggled into the side of her head as his fingers slid down to her clit.  

The feeling of his breath on her ear followed with his skillful fingers playing with her bundle of nerves nearly sent her over the edge, and Hangman felt her clench around him. The thing that sent her over however was when his teeth bit into her earlobe, and his free hand spanked her at the same time. She clenched around him, squirming against him, and he heard her screaming his name. 

“Fuck, baby, I need you on your knees. Want to come in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out of her swiftly. As soon as her knees connected with the cool tile, his hands formed her hair into another pony. Thrusting quickly, he took control of her throat, and she relaxed it to take him farther in. She felt the way his hips stuttered, along with the hot ropes of cum as he finished in her mouth.  

“Shit, that was hot.” He whispered, and she nodded along. 

“Yeah, except for us who heard it down the hall from you two!” Adam Cole called from the Elite’s locker room, and the couple laughed. 

[boabelboo]

ok but now I need azurtiger content you gave me a new otp

OLDER COUSINS SOULMATES FOREVER

THEYRE MY LOVES FOREVER AND ALWAYS OK!!!!! so i have this little au i cooked up where something causes tigris to rebel earlier (maybe like 5-10 years post-tbosas) and coriolanus sends her to twelve to serve as a peacekeeper, since his resentment of the place is somewhat still fresh in his mind.

before you read: tw for suicidal thoughts and mentions of murder (just thg stuff in general)

here's a little scenario that ive been thinking of from said au (which i'll probably turn into a one-shot soon!)

- so tigris is depressed and resents the capitol for what they did to her, and also for what they've been doing to victors and tributes this whole time.

- she ends up wandering off to the meadow at one point, sick of the constant noise of the district and the duties of being a peacekeeper. at this point, she's contemplating suicide. she hates that she's actively aiding the capitol and wants her duties to end, though they can't because she needs to serve for at least twenty years.

- she sits down on the old rock lucy gray used to use when she was writing her songs, and spots an old goat in the distance. his lead is roped to a tree branch, so his owner is definitely around here somewhere.

- suddenly, barb azure comes up behind tigris, startling her.

- barb only spots tigris' clothing, peacekeeper fatigues.

- "you know damn well you ain't supposed to be around here, peacekeeper. get lost."

- tigris turns around, and barb looks at her blankly, not recognising her as one of the peacekeepers that comes around trying to cause trouble with the covey.

- tigris seems to almost be entranced, she isn't sure how to respond.

- barb doesn't budge on her point, though, having dealt with spiteful peacekeepers a hundred times over.

- "can you hear me? i said go!"

- "oh, i'm-, im sorry. i never knew this meadow was out of bounds. ill get out of your hair."

- barb azure pauses, recognising tigris and her accent from somewhere.

- "you're new 'round here, aren't you?"

- "yes, yes i am. i arrived here about a week ago.. from the capitol. look, im-.." she pauses, trying to read the expression on barb's face. "im really sorry for the inconvenience, ill be sure never to cross this field again if its that much of a bother, i had no idea-"

- barb interrupts her, remembering something. she always was good with faces.

- "i know you from somewhere.. from somebody." after a long stare between the two, something clicks for barb, so apparent so that tigris can see it on her face. "you're snow's cousin, ain't you? well, what's a fancy capitol girl like yourself doing all the way out here? thought it'd be fun, did you? to rub it in our faces that she's gone. well it was him that did it! he killed our lucy gray, not the mayor! and he's gonna pay for it, you mark my words! i may not be able to say nothing in the district, but here i can! he killed her!"

- all tigris can manage to get barb to hear over the shouting is "please, please listen to me. i know what he did! he sent me here! he sent me here with no money, no contact with the capitol and twenty years of peacekeeper duty. i know how you feel, i felt it too! that's why i told him he can't go on like this. that's why im here now. i want to help."

- tigris sits back down on the rock, the tears that have been brewing from years of watching her coryo become somebody else now silently streaming down her cheeks. she hates coriolanus. she hates him.

- barb walks over to her, she hates seeing people cry.

- "you really wanna help, huh?"

- tigris tries to stifle her tears to speak, but its no use.

- "i.. i do. it's what i've been trying to do for the past five years. small things. things i can do to help you from inside the capitol. until he noticed, and it was too late. i think it was lucy gray who made me realise that this world needed changing, and im so, so sorry for what he did to her, and the fact that i couldn't stop him from becoming.. a monster."

- barb sits down next to tigris, and wipes a tear from her cheek. she then says in a soft, comforting tone, which is a stark contrast to how she was just a few minutes before:

- "why don't you come in. we'll talk over some tea."

aaand that's all i have so far!! tysm for the ask, im so glad that i could get someone else to ship them!!