#they needed to shift the mood to confusion about Hawkins’ state

[chirpsythismorning]

Just remembered that Will sat on the icebox in the van for the 30 hr ride back to Hawkins

[casualwriters]

Cupid Love Arrow | Steve Harrington. |

Summary - You never thought in ten million years that you are going on a date with fucking Steve Harrington, you were never the type who like the little Miss perfect of Hawkins, but one night out of no we're Steve asked you out and maybe you enjoyed it.

Type - Fluff

MASTERLIST

Paring - S1 Steve Harington X Nonbinary Reader. ( for male or female readers.)

unnecessary Tags - @peakyrogers @princess-kaija @iwannadeletemyself @suchababie @comebackjessica @motherofdicks

A/N - Hope yall enjoy I was in the mood for some cute fluff (:

Walking up to your Locker the fresh start of your new day in

Hawkins, You and your family moved here only a couple months ago, your mom wanted a fresh start away from the City and away from your old life so now you are here, stuck in this small country Highschool. Shutting the locker after you shoved all the books in your locker you closed it turning around to walk around the hall because there was still some free time before the Bell ring. "New kid watch out!" You heard the screaming and when that happens you turned your head to see what all the commotion was going on and before you could even move the football hit your face gulping for a second, not noticing how embarrassed you have gotten you cover your face "What the fuck?" you question turning around to see a couple boys you wiped the blood that was dripping down your noise the football still in hand, one of the guys was cute but they all looked stupid. "Here you damn ball back" You threw it at the main guy with mid force hitting him in the chest making the other boys chuckled and laugh nudging the Alpha male. "Idiots" You whisper under your breath hearing the Main male walk over to you "What your name?" The male asked he was handsome, but his hair was bigger than most of mine and god his cologne. "What do you want?" You moan hearing the bell knowing that be a good way to ignore him but he was still following you like a stalker. "Steve, um Steve Harrington" Turning around now in front of your class "y/n, now I am going take my noise that is still in pain and leave bye Steve" You scoffed entering your class.

The day had gone fast sitting on the side cigarette hanging on the left side of your lip, you were annoyed and had a shitty day getting hit by a football and all the teacher were just dicks, now putting the cherry on all of it missing your bus your mom would not be off work for another hour, she would not be happy. The door open next to you hearing A male and two females talking Oh speak of the Devil. Stomping out the Cigarette standing up to not be stuck with Prisses and Captian jock Pass for sure. Now I just got to figure out if I want to walk the five miles or call mom and wait. "Later You Two, Hey Y/n Wait up!" He yelled across the parking lot. "What Do you want? The bothersome was clearly shown on your face and You think Steve could tell but it was almost an hour after the buses left so Steve wonder why you were here all alone. "Why you all here alone?" He was actually not trying to be Cocky or an ass which was a shock for both of you. "Miss the Bus," You say swinging your bag over your shoulder Steve followed you as you were walking to head home, he was hot on your tracks and stop in front of you. "Steve do you have anything better than harass me?" You questioned ur folding your arms so you do not end up strangling the poor kid. "Why don't I give you a drive home and in return why don't you let me take you on a date" Taken off guard wasn't the only thing you felt the red crept up on your cheeks now your ending up looking at the top of your combat boots. Looking back up " A month of you being my Taxi driver and then I will go on a date with you" You said bluntly hoping he says yes because you do not want to ride that discussing bus again. Steve was a bit taken back about blunt you were but he thought it was kinda cute He smiled "I pick you up tonight It a deal! let's go" he says making you rolled your eyes "I am fucking coming," You yelled at him.

The snap of the seat belt and looking around in the car was a sweet ride but you did not want Steve's head to get too big. Sitting in there in quiet with glances from Steve part could not stop you from smiling but hid it well the day was long watching Steve pass the trees and watching the Fall leaves get crumpled under the wheels you heard Steve say "When did you come to Hawkins?" Steve asked Sitting up from laying your head down "Couple months ago from the City, mom wanted a new start so dragged me halfway across the state to Hawkins" Steve nodded "it gets a bit lonely here when you do not have any friends." He chuckled " It seemed like you are Mister Popular" Steve turned on your road but he looked at you shaking his head and he said nothing, you decided not to push him so you stayed quiet and just talk about yourself. "Don't need to answer" you smiled at him seeing that he had stopped at your house, You Grinned "see you Later Steve?" you say hanging in the window and walked inside to get ready for the date that was weird to say, maybe you don't hate him that much even if Cupid screw up a bit.

"I will be home at Ten sharped okay" You smiled at your younger siblings brush their hair out of their face and kissing them goodbye walking over to your mom with a worried glance, she has been working night shifts since we moved here and she been passing out every time her body hits the couch. "Love you, Mom." Walking out the door shutting it softly to not wake her up waving to Steve in the car but he was already out there with a bouquet of flowers, they were lovely the shock was on your face smiling "Such a romantic" You say plucking the bouquet out of his hand they were red Roses how cute. "I Adore Roses now hop in were losing the night" He teased.

"Steve, why do I have to keep my eyes closed?" You asked Steve had told you to keep your eyes closed since you got in the car and you were curious why " Oh do not ruin the surprise And no it not a party" He says with a small smile you knew Steve seemed to be Mr. Hot guy, at school and fooled all the woman but this was another side of him that you saw even if you guys just met, it not that hard to pick up on things. "You going to be the death of me" Steve poked your side making you squeaked. "Jerk," you mumbled playfully at him.

Hearing the car stop "Okay just hold on okay?" You were quite confused and wondering if this was gonna be how you die, like in one of those horror movies, you really hoped it wasn't "Is this when I die Steve?" You heard the door open Steve chuckled "If your lucky you won't die." Steve help you out of the car feeling his arms wrapped your race goosebumps came across your arms and He smiled "Open them" You were taken back you could see all of Hawkins from you, "Steve it stunning" you say You Lean on the car saying "My worries seem to be gone when I am up here and of course with you" you teased. "Is your mother okay" Steve could tell it was not just the nerves of the date that was bothering them and the drapes were open. "She been working a lot, Me and my siblings have to take the bus to school I am sorry you did not hear to listen to this.'' A shy whisper came from your lips Jumping to sit on the front of the car Steve shakes his head sitting on the car with you, Looking at you seeing that you were wrapping your arms around your shoulder, "Come here you idiot" He teased taking the demi jacket off and t slipping it over your shoulders. "Tell me what up?" He asked knowing that since you got in the car ride you have been deep in your head he just wanted to make sure you were okay. Taking a large sigh "My mother lost our farther only three years, ago but he always treated her like complete shit" You grew angry just thinking by it your fists curled Steve seeing that has he moved closer putting his hand over your red knuckles. "He drinks too much, I always had to take care of my siblings, my mom was working two jobs and my dad was out at multiple bars." Huffing thinking this was the normal laying On the car. Steve just stared at you in Awe you looking at the stars he was content this way and that was okay. "Steve come lay down" you Snicker at the young man tugging at his hand like nothing you just said bother you. " My Folks are never there I know it was nothing like what happens to you but staying in that big house all alone fucking sucks". Nodding keeping your eyes on the stars pointing to one and another. "It, not a completion every story has a their tragic story" Steve saw you leaning your head on his shoulder seeing you relax in his arms. Wrapping his arm around you nodding and enjoying the silence. "Maybe we should do this again," Steve says looking toward you.

Smiling at Steve " Maybe we should Uh".

[peterthepark]

Cold as Ice

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: Billy just doesn’t understand why you’re so cold to him. He becomes desperate to warm you up. But, the killer heat of Hawkins combined with a stupid school project gives him the chance to know what’s truly underneath all that ice.

Warnings: cursing, smut, sExUal tenSion, some angst, some fluff, LOTS OF SIN

A/N: Definitely my filthiest fic at the moment, enjoy!

“You’re my partner.”

You look up from the register, hands on your hips as you stare at Billy Hargrove with a blank, unamused expression. There are a few people behind him, arms crossed against their chests - Tommy, Carol, and some other bimbo.

Funnily, you realize that they all resemble a group of poodles.

Cute.

Billy raises his eyebrows at you, smacking his gum as he impatiently awaits for a response. You glance at the folder that he slaps down onto the counter, knowing exactly what it contains.

“Hm, didn’t think you guys were recruiting for the next douchebag of Hawkins High. Are these the applications?” You finally pick up the folder, skimming through the thick pages of paper with a toothy smirk. “To be honest, I consider myself more of a bitch than a douchebag. Isn’t that right, Harrington?”

You chuckle devilishly as you hand Steve a couple dollars, who snickers at the interaction. Billy seems confused, but by the way he clenches his jaw and barely blinks, you can tell you’ve also hit a spot.

“Looks like I’ve won the bet, Y/N. Fuck, yeah! Robin! I told you I would win!” Steve runs into the back room of Scoops Ahoy, waving the dollar bills at his friend.

You turn back to Billy, re-adjusting the hat on your head. “Now, can I get you something, pool boy?” You lean over, hands splayed onto the cool marble of the counter.

“Did you not pick up on what I just said? I’m asking you to be my partner for the project. No, I’m picking you to be my partner.” Billy tries to keep a steady voice, but you easily catch the deep breath he takes between his words. His ‘friends’ are whispering behind him, exchanging dirty looks.

“Well, I’m actually not allowed to have personal conversations with customers right now,” Billy scoffs, tugging his lip between his teeth. “And so, if you aren’t ordering ice cream, then be my guest, and leave. I’ve got a few angry customers to deal with if you can’t tell.” He follows your pointed gaze, and surely enough, the line behind him is fairly long - filled with crying kids and irritated parents. “Come back later? Or never at all?”

Billy groans, pacing in short steps. He knows you’ll come around. They always come around.

You truly are a bitch.

Yet, somehow, Billy waits till the end of your shift to speak with you - hopefully in a more private spot and in a less aggressive manner.

You roll your eyes when you see him, sitting by the table nearest to the register. He seems to be alone, yet it annoys you even more.

“I don’t wanna be your partner, Hargrove. Is that not clear?” Your eyes follow him as he stands up. He’s much taller than you, so you can only send him an intimidating glare in hopes of scaring him away. “Pick someone else. And let me give you a hint - it’s not me.”

Billy inhales deeply, before a small smile forms on his face. He grabs your arm before you can walk away, hoping that he can win you over with his charm. But he knows he has to put away his pride to do so.

“Sweetheart, I really need help with this project. You’re the smartest girl in our class, and if you can’t tell, I hang around a bunch of dumbasses.”

Oh, so this is why he was alone. So he could talk crap about his shitty friends.

Billy continues, smile never wavering. He still has his hand wrapped around your arm, holding you in place as he speaks by your ear. “And anyways, it’s already set in stone. I asked Mrs. Johnson if I could pair up with you. She thought it was a great idea. Guess we’re in this together now, huh?”

He harshly pushes the folder of papers into your chest, letting go of your arm.

“What? You can’t do that!”

But he certainly did do that. Because when you storm into Mrs. Johnson’s classroom on one Monday morning, she’s rambling over how excited she is to have you and Billy working together.

“But Mrs. Johnson, I never agreed to this. How is this fair?” You whine, waving the folder around with wide eyes.

“Miss Y/N, you’ll be doing Billy a huge favor by helping him. He isn’t failing, but he is struggling. He could most definitely use your help.”

Despite all the complaining, Mrs. Johnson doesn’t allow you to pick anyone else. To her convenience, you and Billy are the only ones who haven’t had a designated partner - and now, you really don’t have a choice.

-

The next week, Billy is back in Scoops Ahoy. He can see your snarl from the other side of the mall. He’s got you trapped in cage, and he knows you’re having a hard time trying to adapt to it.

“I knew that he’d pick you.” Steve says through a mouthful of banana, hitting you in the face with its peel. “I mean, you’re the only girl - besides Robin - who hasn’t given into him. He’s probably just trying to cross off your name on his list.”

“He has a list?” You gag dramatically, protesting as Robin pushes you jokingly.

“Dude, Y/N, he’s literally coming over here.” She points at Billy, who actually is coming over.

“I don’t care. Change spots with me. Steve! Robin!” You shout, pulling at the ends of your hair as they run into the back room, locking the door behind them. “Screw you both!”

You turn around, meeting eyes with the damned Billy Hargrove. You fake a smile. If this was a cartoon, steam would certainly be coming out from your ears.

“Bad day?” Billy pouts mockingly at you. His hands rest inside the pockets of his jeans, eyes looking over your angry state. “Should I come back or....”

“Actually, no. But you know what?” You slide yourself over the counter, brushing away at the lint that has accumulated on your blue shorts. “I’m not doing this stupid project alone. You’re staying here till my shift is over. And when it is, you’re gonna drive your ass to my house, where the both of us can work on it. Together. Happy now, douchebag?”

Your breath is almost minty, and somehow feels cool against Billy’s skin. He steps back with a cocky grin, raising his hands as if he were surrending to you.

But he wasn’t surrendering.

“You just gave Team Hargrove one point. But Team Y/L/N? Zero.” Billy snaps with a flash of his pearly whites. He crouches down to your height, hands resting on his thighs. He knows that he is pissing you off. “I’ll see you when you’re done.” Then, you cross your arms at him, nose pointing up as he stands to full height. His eyes flicker down to your lips. “And honestly? I think I’m more of a dick than a douchebag.”

You want to slap the stupid grin of his face. But you don’t. You don’t know the real reason behind it, but you try to convince yourself as to why.

Because it’s against company policy?

Steve and Robin poke their heads out of the other room, coming out when Billy cockily walks away from you. You’re still standing there, eyes narrowed and face drawn into a look of displeasure.

“Should we not bother her?” Steve whispers, elbowing Robin. “I kinda don’t wanna get yelled at right now.”

“No, no, Steve. She’s hotter when she’s angry. Trust me.”

“Guys!” You scoff at them. She laughs at the sudden smile on your face, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I mean, she’s not wrong, Y/N.” Steve shrugs before taking your place at the register. “You’re pretty hot, I guess.”

“Oh, stop it, Harrington. I’m out of your league.” You wink at him, hopping back over the counter.

You let out an exasperated breath when Robin tells you to sort out the shipments in the back. You push the back door open, groaning audibly when you see the tall stack of cardboard boxes. There’s a clipboard on the table in the middle of the room, and you read over it lazily before you begin to sort through the deliveries.

No one really knows why you despise Billy. Not Steve, not Robin, not anyone. It seems as if you had woke up, saw him, and decided that he was someone you disliked.

That was partly true.

But in detail, you did dislike - or hate, whichever was fitting based on your mood - Billy for a few things.

You never understood his sudden popularity, or the sex appeal he carried along with him. You never understood the hair, the smoking, the people he hung around, or the recklessness and the partying.

You just didn’t get it. You didn’t get why people would waste their time around him, when clearly, he wasn’t grateful for any of it.

Maybe your hatred of him spiraled from insecurity.

He had everything. He was popular and easy on the eyes. He was charming and fun. You’d never admit it out loud, but he truly seemed like a good guy, underneath that whole douchebag act of his.

You were nothing alike. Or so you thought.

-

“Honey! There’s someone here for you!” Your mother calls out from the bottom of the stairs, a slight smirk on her face when she realizes how handsome your guest is. You come barreling down the stairs, feet heavy and frowning deeply when you see who’s sitting on the sofa.

“Billy.”

“Y/N!” He comes to meet you, pulling you into an embrace. Your reaction is one of utter shock, because suddenly, all you can smell is expensive cologne and the faint scent of cigarettes. “Your mother was just asking me if we wanted to join her for lunch.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you, but we have to work on a project, Mom.” You send Billy a look, clearing your throat when you see his lips twitch upwards. “We’ll be upstairs.”

Your mom disappears into the living room, giving you both a second glance and a knowing look as you jog up the stairs.

“How do you know where I live?”

“That little girl from the mall? I think she’s Sinclair’s sister. Bought her some ice cream when I saw it fall, she just returned the favor.”

Erica. Damn it.

“Okay, well, I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” You complain, running your hands through your hair, damp from a shower. Billy follows you into your bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He takes in the sight, something he wouldn’t expect from someone like you. There are various posters plastered onto your soft pink walls - band posters, movie posters, and he huffs at the one of a shirtless man. There’s a record player on top of your bookcase, where you stand, occupied as you flip through your vinyls. “What’s your cup of tea? Queen? The Beatles? Metallica? Foreigner?”

“I really don’t care.” He scoffs, licking his lips as he takes a seat on your bed.

Foreigner it is, then.

“And I really don’t want you on my bed. Get off, Hargrove.” You throw a paper ball at him, hiding the smile on your face when he doesn’t dodge it in time. “Thought you played basketball. What happened to those reflexes?”

With a dramatic eye roll, Billy tosses the ball into the trash, sliding off of the bed and onto the floor instead. You grab the project folder from your study table, sitting down across from him. You’re reading through the directions when Billy starts to light a cigarette.

And you gasp - really loud. “Billy! No! None of that in here.” You take the cigarette from his lips, his coughs fading in the background as you throw it out your window. “Are you crazy?”

“I just wanted a smoke!”

“Yeah?! Then not in here!” You shake your head at him, handing him a sheet of paper as you calm down. “Your turn to read, asshole.”

Your head begins to become fuzzy as Billy’s fingers brush against yours when he grabs the paper.

He reads, voice soft and surprisingly enthusiastic - if he didn’t act like such a dumbass, you’d think he was somewhat intelligent.

(However, you know he is intelligent - somewhere in that douchebag brain of his - though, that’s one of the things you could never admit to anyone).

The room is suddenly blazing hot, uncomfortably warm despite the numerous open windows. The air conditioning isn’t enough, and you’re silently cursing as you feel sweat build up among your skin. You’re fanning yourself, swallowing as you notice the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of Billy’s forehead.

“God damn, it’s hot.” Billy curses, unable to continue reading with how tight his chest feels. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping he could get some sort of air.

“Our air conditioning sucks.” You push your hair back, “Summer’s coming.”

Billy nods in agreement, picking up from where he had left off.

Maybe it’s just the heat, but suddenly, you start to space out.

Your eyes focus on the rise and fall of Billy’s tan chest, how his skin glows with sweat, and how his muscles flex under that shirt of his.

Oh, wow.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” You snap out of your trance. “Hope you haven’t passed out.” He sets the paper down, leaning back against your bed frame.

“Huh? Sorry, I - I was distracted.”

Don’t let your guard down.

“I was asking which part you wanted to do.”

“Uh, whichever one is the hardest. I can take it.”

And Billy stops breathing. Maybe because there’s some sort of - sexual - euphemism in that sentence, but also because he’s noticing how flushed you look: cheeks red, skin glistening, breaths heavy. Your hair sticks to your arms, resting on the tops of your knees. But then, he sees this look in your eyes.

It’s not the normal glare he gets. But your eyes are softer, less intense, more - was that longing?

You’re just staring at him, lips slightly parted as your eyes quickly drop down to the floor.

“Unless, um, you want the harder part then you can have it, I guess.” You pipe up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You’re avoiding his gaze, and Billy isn’t sure that he recognizes this Y/N.

Did he win you over yet? That easily?

“Here, you can look over it with me again.” Billy scoots beside you, his denim-clad thigh pressed up against your bare one. His breaths are even, blowing over your hands as you hold up the paper. “I was thinking I could do the research on the biographical context and symbolism, and...” He glances over to you, eyes trailing over the expanse of your neck. Your jaw is tightly clenched, but you don’t meet his stare. “... and then, maybe you could do the overall analysis. Or we could do it differently, if this way doesn’t meet your standards, princess.” His voice is low, a sultry tone laced subtly in his words. He peeks his tongue out to lick his lips, and you look over at that exact moment.

Aw, shit. You wouldn’t give up that easily, would you?

He’s not the only one that can play this game.

“No, I like your idea. We can do that.” You turn to him, hair slightly hitting him in the face. You pucker your bottom lip slightly, rolling it between your teeth as you pass him the paper back.

“Is it getting hot in here?”

Not this line.

“Nope, just you.” You let out a sharp exhale, reading over more of the project.

“Whew. I gotta take off my shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, causing you to drop your pencil. But it’s too late once Billy is pulling his shirt over his head. “Hey!”

Though, he wears a tank top underneath.

And honestly, you’re kind of disappointed.

Wait, what?

He hurls the shirt towards your bed, running his hands through his messy curls. His arms look even bigger, and you can see the faint outline of his abs through the thin, white material. You catch the tattoo on his upper bicep, and you have to put a hand to your mouth from saying anything - now this was ruining you.

Don’t give in.

“Like what you see, Y/L/N?” He flexes his arms in a subtle manner, biting down harshly on his lip. He grunts as he leans over to pick up your pencil, handing it to you. “Didn’t mean to make you drop this.”

Yeah. Apology accepted. Jerk.

“If this is your way of seducing me, it isn’t working.” You cross your ankles over each other, shaking your head at Billy.

He laughs, running his hand through his hair. “And why would I want to seduce you, Y/N?”

The question does sting, but it doesn’t change the fact that his face is literally inches away from yours.

You aren’t done playing the game.

“Oh, I don’t know, Billy. Maybe because I’m the only girl on that - that list of yours that you haven’t yet crossed out? Or is it because you’ve fucked all the pretty girls at school and you’ve finally come to the realization that you’d rather fuck someone with a bit of brains?”

Billy hums with a slow, antagonistic nod, tongue poking out from the corner of his lips. He abruptly stands up, turning up the volume on your record player. He’s dancing. But the bitter look on his face is all you can focus on. You stand up as well, pouting as you lower the volume of the music. It’s a back and forth between you, Billy, and the music.

“The problem with pretty girls, Y/N...” He starts between breaths, still dancing as you stand ahead of him - not happy. “... is that they can’t tell when a guy is no longer interested in them. They got the looks, but no brain.” He chuckles, parting his lips as he taps the side of his head. “And the girls that do have brains? They also got a problem. They’re smart, sure, but they just don’t know when to quit being a bitch.”

That’s when he turns up the music to full volume, hooting in your face as he dances even more.

This was Billy Hargrove at his finest.

“We’re never gonna get this project done if you keep thinking with your dick instead of your head, asshole.” You almost growl. You’re fuming now.

He really knows how to piss a girl off, huh?

“You ever had a boyfriend, Y/N?”

No. Never.

“Yeah, I have. Why?” You gulp, pushing past Billy. You sit down on your bed, continuing on writing your analysis for the project.

“What was his name?”

“Uh - It was - It’s Steve.”

What are you doing?

“You dated Harrington? King Steve?” He slowly stops dancing, panting loudly as he looks down at you.

“Dating him, actually.”

Oh, God.

“Huh. You ever had sex with him?”

“Hargrove, this is getting a little personal.” You chuckle nervously.

“Is that a... no?” He crouches down in front of you, eyes blinking at you. He’s catching on. Surely, you weren’t this good of a liar. “I’ll take that as a no. Must suck, yeah? Harrington doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Poor Y/N. You just want a little lovin’ from King Steve...”

His thumb hooks itself under your chin.

And his blue eyes are almost hypnotizing.

“Are you really dating Steve Harrington? ‘Cause you seem a lot out of his league. You’re not even in the ballpark, baby.”

His big hand cups your jaw, fingers rubbing against your skin. Somehow, his hands are freezing - despite the hundred degree weather.

“I have a... boyfriend.”

Billy knows you’re lying now.

“Why are you so cold to me, Y/N?” His eyes are fixed on your lips, flickering up to you when you speak.

“I don’t know. Why are you such a douchebag?”

“Sure. I’m a dick, but you - you’re somethin’ else. You are mean. Steve seems a little soft for someone as headstrong as you.” He shrugs animatedly, “Maybe you’re looking for a - a... thrill.”

“What do you want from me?” You scoff at him.

“I think I know why you hate me.” You hold your breath as he continues, “We’re more alike than you think we are.”

“Yeah? I’d like to hear it, then.”

Deathmatch.

“We both crave something more. Most people go after someone with a little... heat to their name, but us? We thrive in the cold.”

“You’re wrong.” You shake your head at him.

“Then why am I still touching you?” He stands, hands leaving your jaw.

No, come back.

“Billy, this - this isn’t-“

“Surely, your boyfriend wouldn’t like the way I was touching you, wouldn’t he? What’s Steve gonna do if he finds out? Fight me?”

“Steve’s not my boyfriend! Fine! You win!” You explode, rising to your feet.

And it all comes rushing back to you.

You both really are alike.

“You see it now, don’t you? All this competing, this - this fighting, we clash because we’re the same. And it scares you. Because who would’ve thought you had something in common with the douchebag from school, huh?”

He takes a step closer to you. And you do the same to him.

“Smart girls need attention, too.” He says softly, leaning in to whisper at your ear. “But you... you’ve been looking for someone who’s as cold as you. And I respect that, Y/N.”

You make the mistake of locking eyes with him when he pulls back.

“I’m way out of Steve’s league.”

You look down at his plump lips, glancing at how his neck bobs when he pushes your hair behind your shoulder.

There’s an unfamiliar feeling that sparks in your chest when Billy’s fingers trail past your collarbone.

“Can I kiss you now? Because all this tension might give me high blood pressure.” He smirks at you.

You don’t reply.

But you do lean forward, on the tips of your toes, mashing your lips against Billy’s. Your hands are cool against his shimmering skin.

The kiss isn’t sweet, but fueled with fire and pent-up anger. Billy is fast enough to show you that he really wants you, but at the same time, he’s slow, wanting to prove to you that you aren’t just another name on his so-called ‘list.’

You don’t give a shit about winning anymore.

Stubble tickles your cheeks as Billy moves to kiss your neck.

“This doesn’t... this doesn’t change the fact that I still hate you...” You breathe raggedly, screwing your eyes shut at how his mouth feels on your neck.

He tugs at the straps of your tank top, pulling it over your head as he hoists you up into his arms. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you can feel the tightness form in his jeans.

“God, you’ve been such a bitch to me for the past week.” He moans into your skin, pressing you up against your bedroom door as he uses one hand to hold you, and the other to unclasp your bra. You let out a choked moan, only for Billy to place his hand over your mouth. “Don’t forget that your mama is downstairs. What would she think if she saw me doing this to her daughter?”

You bite at his hand, smiling as he groans pleasurably at the sensation.

He’s so rough, but you’re enjoying it.

Billy swivels on the heels of his shoes, laying you down onto your bed as he kisses down your torso. His saliva sticks to your skin, and he chuckles when he watches you arch your back into him. Your hand reaches for his, and he doesn’t pull away - despite how intimate the action is for him.

Billy Hargrove doesn’t hold hands with flings.

That’s how he really knows you aren’t one of them.

“B-Billy...” You gasp as his lips pass over your breasts, his hands cupping and kneading them softly.

He reaches up to kiss you again, whispering, “This isn’t your first time, right?”

You shake your head, “No, no.”

“Okay.” He nods with a grin, taking off his top. “But no one is ever gonna make you feel this good.”

He groans as you crawl to the edge of the bed, playing with him through his jeans. You glance up at him innocently, his fingers card through your hair. You leave short kisses on his abs, slowly making your way up to his neck. You suck and lick at it, surely leaving a prominent mark there. He pulls out his belt, flinging it onto the floor as you unbutton his jeans for him.

He licks his lips, pushing you back down onto the bed. You scoot over, making room for him as he takes off your shorts. You chuckle when he moans at the sight of lace.

“Didn’t know you were wearing those.” He says, obviously surprised as he wraps his fingers around the waistband, letting it snap against your skin. You gasp, letting his hands wander over your back.

“Just be glad I’m letting you see them.”

He flips you over so that you’re on your knees, ass in his face as he pulls the lace panties past your ankles.

You bite back a loud moan. His face and his mouth is down there and you swear you’ve entered heaven itself.

Hell was too hot for the both of you, anyways.

He hums against you, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge as he toys with you in places you didn’t even know existed. He pulls away, causing you to whimper.

But as you look back at him, the sight is enough to make you cum. His boxers are nowhere to be seen, and instead, he’s touching himself, grinning as he sees the dumbfounded expression on your face.

“You’re okay with this?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You’re shaking your head. “I need to hear it out loud.” He kisses your lower back, hands caressing your ass.

“Yes. Please.”

“Condom?”

You wink, rubbing yourself against him. “On the pill.”

Billy lets out a moan, chuckling. “Mm, that’s my girl.”

You hold back a breath as he pushes himself into you. He’s huge, and it stings with how much he’s stretching you out. You let out a sob of pleasure, hand coming to touch Billy’s upper thigh.

“Slow?” He asks, voice gruff as he bottoms out. You’re sure that he’s as deep as possible, but part of you longs for him to go even deeper.

“No, fast.”

Billy pulls out, only to slam back in. His movements are quick, hips thrusting at a rapid pace. You’re moaning, falling into the mattress with how good he feels inside you.

“Holy fuck!” He grunts as he leans over you, hand coming to rest by your face. He outstretches his fingers, and you take his hand into yours. “Y/N...”

“We have to - to be quiet...” You moan once more, throwing your head back as his arm wraps around your stomach, pulling you closer to him.

He pounds into you, grunting as silently as possible. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He cries out, taking a fistful of your hair. You yelp out of surprise when he gently pulls you back.

You liked that.

“D-do that again.” You stutter, mumbling incoherent words when he repeats the action.

The record player still plays music.

And you’re so grateful that it’s loud enough to silence the filthy sounds between you and Billy.

Thank God for that.

But this... this was a whole new level of sinful.

Billy brings a hand to touch your throat. And you nod in approval, shutting your eyes when you feel the pads of his fingers tighten around your airway. He’s still soft and cautious, but the way he was fucking you was enough to send you into overdrive.

Your hand comes up from the bed, jaw hanging open in utter bliss as you flex your fingers. “I’m gonna cum. Billy, holy, I-“

“C’mon, baby.” Thrust. “I’m right there...” Thrust. “...With you.”

You’re cumming.

Your legs are shaking and you feel the wave of heat fall over your body like a spell. Billy follows shortly, groaning sinfully as he buried himself inside you. He pulls out, pumping himself as he lets himself go onto your body. You feel the warm drops of his cum drizzle across your back and over your ass, trickling down your thighs and between your legs before you fall onto the bed.

“Oh, my god.” You sigh, curling up. Billy falls beside you, eyes studying your features for any sign of pain or sadness.

“Was that okay?”

“I just had sex with Billy Hargrove. Oh, my-“ Your hand comes up to massage your temples.

He chuckles.

“And I just had sex with you, so I guess we’re pretty even.” He states, kissing your neck one last time.

He’ll give it to you.

You both win.

But who said that the game would be over?

-

“Here’s the project, Mrs. Johnson.” You smile respectfully, exchanging glances with Billy as you hand her the folder. Her eyes bounce from you both, hands sorting through the papers of the project.

“This looks good.” She nods, eyebrows raised when she finds the part that Billy had worked on. “Wow, Y/N must’ve been a great help to you, Billy.”

“Yeah. She helped me a lot.”

Billy links his pinky with yours under the table, where your thigh rests against his. His fingers come to toy with the hem of your skirt, and his touch: cold.

“Well, I might say that this project deserves an A. It looks very well-planned and thought out.” She takes off her reading glasses, placing them carefully on her desk as she re-organizes your papers. “How would you feel about an extra credit project, Billy? Just to boost your grade a little more before the year ends?”

You and Billy share a knowing grin.

It’s wicked.

It’s spiteful.

It’s cold as ice.

But there’s an inextinguishable heat that lingers between the two of you.

“As long as Miss Y/N can be of help to me.” He flashes a charming smile, hands coming up to rest on the wooden desk.

“Of course, Mr. Hargrove.”

You shut the door of the classroom behind you, following Billy into the bustling hallway towards the cafeteria.

He turns to you and winks as he rounds the corner, denim jacket slung over his shoulder.

“See you later, partner.”

“Later, douchebag.”

Oh, how you loved the cold.

[andcontemplation]

The Last Snowball

~or~

Why Joyce Hates Jim Hopper’s Guts (a love story)

--

December, 1964

--

"Skipping class again, huh?"

Jim Hopper thought he’d been busted, until he turned to see his tiny brunette friend cross the hall toward him with a great big smile on her face. He chewed slowly on the last bite of his second sandwich of the day as he watched Joyce flutter up to him like a little bird. 

"Did you run here to state the obvious?" he asked through a smirk and a mouthful of bologna. 

"What? No!" Joyce’s nose scrunched up and she quickly shook her head before the big smile crept back. "You weren't by the steps after fifth, and I was looking for you. I wanna ask you something!"

"Why are your cheeks all red then?" he asked. 

Joyce brought a hand up to her left cheek and stood on her tiptoes to look at her reflection in his locker mirror. Indeed, her cheeks were ten shades of crimson, and the blush only deepened when she saw it with her own eyes. 

Hopper swallowed and raised an eyebrow slowly. 

"What's up?"

Joyce sighed and fidgeted with the lock on his locker door. Then she repositioned the textbooks in her arms, looking anywhere but at him. She tried not to think about how hot her cheeks were getting under his gaze.

"Well -- I don't know if you noticed, but the winter dance on Friday is a Sadie Hawkins," she said holding her breath, before sneaking a peek at him with wide, worried eyes to gauge his reaction. But there was none.

He just kinda shrugged.

"Yeah, I know. Half the junior girls asked me already," he admitted, crumpling the empty paper bag that once held the rest of second-lunch and tossed it in the trash can over her head and behind her. Completely clueless, as usual. 

Joyce deflated.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, keeping the smile plastered to her face, desperately trying to ignore the heaviness in her chest at his words. "Who?"

Hopper shrugged again and turned back to the mess in his locker, getting ready to head out.

"A bunch of chicks. I told 'em 'No.'"

"Oh." The heavy feeling disappeared just as quickly as it came. "A bunch, huh?"

"Why'd you ask?"

"Uh… well, I don't know," Joyce sighed and trailed off. "I just thought, maybe…"

"Yeah?"

 "You and I..?" 

She didn't want to say it -- she couldn't possibly say it. The words caught in the back of her throat, but Hopper was getting impatient. 

"Well? Spit it out!"

Joyce took a deep breath. 

"Well, it's just that... it's the Snowball. And I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to go. With me?" 

She shifted her weight nervously as she waited on his response. It felt like forever as she watched his face change from clueless to amused, confused, and then back again.

"Hmm, no thanks," he said finally, coolly shrugging his hunter green plaid jacket over his broad shoulders. "I got plans." 

Joyce's face fell for real this time, and she leaned back against the lockers, letting his locker door shield her disappointment. Hopper was rummaging around his locker again, banging books around on the shelves and dropping his winter gear at his feet -- hat, mitts, a pair of long johns, and big woolly socks.

"Why don't you ask your new boyfriend?" he asked rather bluntly from behind the locker door.

"Who? Lonnie?” Joyce leaned forward to glare at him. “Lonnie's not my--" She bit her tongue and steered the conversation back on track, knowing the topic of Lonnie Byers was not a welcome one with Hopper lately.

"I wanted to ask you, dummy!" she told Hopper, feeling her mood start to sour. "Since you're like... I don't know? My best friend?"

"Aw," Hopper said, clutching for his heart and rolling his eyes. "Be still my beating heart. You make it sound so special." 

Joyce bounced on her heels in frustration. Sometimes she wished she was taller so she could properly smack him on the back of the head. 

"I just mean-- We went to our first Snowball together. Shouldn't we go to the last one too?"

"Uh, no?" Hopper said and then ducked out of her reach when she aimed for his arm. "What? I'm struggling to see the big deal here. It's just a dance!"

Joyce raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. What a stick in the mud!

"It's the last Snowball, Jim."

"And this is the last week I can bag a doe with my tag, Joyce."

He bent down to gather up the small pile of clothes on the floor and shoved them into his backpack. Joyce set her jaw, grimacing. 

"A deer?"

"A female deer," he grinned up at her.

Joyce clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"You're telling me you'd rather kill some poor, innocent creature than dance with your best friend all night?" Her voice trailed off, hopefully conveying the intentions behind the words --  I like you, you big doofus. 

But Hopper didn't catch on.

"Yes, absolutely."

He said it so abruptly, Joyce struggled not to look too offended. 

"Well, I… I thought you could only hunt 'til Last Light anyway?" 

Hah! She had him there -- according to Indiana fish and game regulations, he wasn't allowed to hunt after the sun went down. Honestly, she didn't know much else about hunting other than that small fact, but Joyce clung to it like a life raft. 

"Why don't you just come to the dance afterwards, then? Meet me there?" Joyce persisted.

"No can do!" He pressed his lips together, unapologetically. "I plan to be elbow deep in blood n’ guts after Last Light."

Her jaw dropped, and it made him smirk again. 

"That's disgusting!" Joyce said, horrified. 

"So's a Sadie Hawkins!" he exclaimed. "Girls asking guys? What's next? Cats chasing dogs? C'mon, Joyce." Hopper snorted at his own joke and stood up. 

Joyce tried to ignore the rude passing comment, even though it made her want to stab him with her women’s lib pin. Why was she asking him again? Oh right. Those pesky feelings... the same ones she'd been fighting for the last four years. Just when she thought she had them beat, making herself believe she only ever wanted to be just his friend, feelings would rear their ugly head again and make her act like a complete fool. Like right now, for example:

"But it's the last Snowball!" She tried with him one more time. “Come on, don’t be such a party pooper.”

Hopper slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the last of his junk shoving it back in the locker, anywhere it would fit. He heaved a sigh.

“So? We had Homecoming last month. Prom's in spring. How many dances do we really need?"

Never mind that Joyce was helping Karen plan each of those dances and leading the Pep Club in decorating the gym for all of them too. Or that this was their last year of school -- ever! He knew perfectly well how much it all meant to Joyce and she couldn't believe he wasn't a being bit more sentimental about all of it. 

"It's our last Snowball." 

That's when Hopper finally got it. And then he rolled his eyes. 

"You realize that none of the guys are going, right?”

"Nuh-uh.” Joyce shook her head. “Not all the guys. Some of the seniors are going with the gals!" 

She didn't know exactly how many, and she left out the part where it was mostly the steadies going together, hoping to convince him.

"Well, none of the single guys are going," Hopper assured her again. "Trust me. We all have plans. Besides, that dance is only for the freshmen and middle-schoolers, now. Last year was so lame."

"Plans?" she echoed.

"Yeah. I told you! My card's punched all week."

"Heya, Hop!" Benny called out, interrupting them from down the hallway, catching their attention over the top of the other student's heads. He raised his .22 in his hand to Hopper like a chalice. "Hunting?"

"Hunting!" Hopper hollered back and turned back to Joyce. "See? Hunting."

Joyce rolled her eyes and let out a grumble -- at least his plan wasn’t Chrissy Carpenter again. 

"How many times can a man go hunting in a week?" she asked pointedly.

"Well, Beatles say there's 8 days…" Hopper started, slamming his locker shut.

"Let me rephrase that," Joyce interrupted. "How many times can a man go hunting in a week and bring home absolutely nothing?"

Hopper narrowed his eyes on Joyce and chewed his bottom lip, biting back what he really wanted to say. She knew full well he hadn't gotten anything yet this year, and he was quickly running out of time to prove his machismo to his pals. Now she was purposely rubbing salt in those wounds. 

"Look at you, being funny," he said flatly, moving her aside to follow Benny out the double doors. "Don't let me spoil your little party, okay? Slow dance with Karen if you have to," he added with a wink. 

"I hate you, Jim Hopper!" Joyce called out after him, meaning every word in that very moment. Just when she thought Hopper might change, here he was, being his same-old callous self. 

"Feeling's mutual," he chuckled over his shoulder. "See ya later!"

"Yeah, whatever, Captain Funwrecker." Joyce grumbled back as she watched him walk away.

Her spirit was crushed. 

Her crush? Crushed. 

Was it too late to bottle all those feelings back up? Swallow what was left of her pride and ask one of the shy, senior guys instead? At least, she thought, Bob Newby’s always a sure thing.

Lonnie was her original back up choice, but she already knew he'd laugh in her face too, just the same as Hopper had done. 

Lonnie wouldn't be hunting, though. Just drinking and partying at the quarry or whatever he and his miscreant friends liked to do for fun -- she still hadn't quite figured that out, though she was beginning to think maybe being a miscreant was more fun than it sounded. More fun than hunting poor innocent creatures anyway. Or playing lone wallflower at the dance again...

As the last bell rang, Joyce wondered why all the boys she liked had to be such jerks.

---

[thirstbxtch]

Kiss and Make Up

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Rated: M for language

For @bumblebet-20 who requested:

“Hi! If you're still taking requests can I request a Billy Hargrove fic where him and the reader get into a fight, so she goes to a party with Nancy to get her mind off the fight. She gets crazy drunk and someone calls Billy who quickly shows up and they make up (maybe she's super angry when he shows up but that quickly ends???) Hopefully this makes sense! Thank you!!!!”

Hope you like! 

“Hey, what’s this?” You ask, thumbing over a nasty bruise just above Billy’s wrist as he shifts gears, whipping out of the school parking lot.

“Its nothing,” he dismisses, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

You draw your hand away with an “Oh.”

“What?” He asks, annoyance edging into voice.

“What?” You return somewhat confused.

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re trying to be a nosy bitch that’s what,” he says sharply.

“I’m sorry, what?” You reply, starting to get heated yourself.

“You heard me, its none of your fucking business, just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean its any of your business.”

“Just because we’re fucking?” You repeat. Like you weren’t expecting flowers from Hawkin’s newest bad boy, but you had thought maybe after that night on the hood of his Camaro under the stars it was at least more than fucking. 

Billy doesn’t answer. Just clenches his jaw; tightens his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Just pull over Billy. I’ll walk home. Don’t want you to feel obligated to drive me home, just because we’re fucking,” you say dryly.

He sighs.

“Come on, don’t get all dramatic, you knew what you were getting yourself into.”

He cuts you a look. You’re looking out the window.

“And now I’m getting out; I said pull the fuck over.”

Another huff. But the Camaro slows to a stop, almost reluctantly, but he doesn’t say anything to change your mind.

You each look each other over before you grab your books and get out, letting the door slam. 

You call Nancy as soon as you get in.

“Hey Nance, you still going to Tommy’s party tonight?”

“Umm, I’m not sure, we got like a ton of chemistry homework today.”

“Oh,” you say lamely. Right. The chemistry homework.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, its just, Billy and I got in a fight. Kind of wanted the distraction,” you explain hopefully, “we can work on the chemistry homework together tomorrow if you go tonight,” you add casually.

“Ugh fine we can go,” she relents, “but also I told you he was no good. I’ll pick you up at 9.”

There’s already a decent crowd when you and Nancy arrive. Nancy drifts off to find one of her other friends and you quickly locate the alcohol. You just want to be numb; the sting of anger still fresh within you. And this really isn’t the best idea because oh god, what if he shows up, which he probably will, so you just decide it’ll be better to be drunk either way. You skip the beers sitting in a cooler, and opt for the open bottle of Jack Daniels, mixing a Jack and Coke that’s mostly Jack. And do a shot first before drinking that, just to, you know, take the edge off.

You find Nancy. She’s watching Tommy and Carol and company play Truth or Dare. Billy is strangely absent. He must really be in a mood then.

“What happened? Do you wanna talk about it?” Nancy offers.

“No, I just want to forget about it,” you reply, taking a healthy sip of your drink.

“Are you guys still--?” She trails off uncertainly.

You bite your lip.

“Umm, I’m not really sure,” you say. You had said you were getting out; you weren’t sure if you meant getting out of the car or getting out of the relationship. Was it a relationship? Everyone knows Billy Hargrove’s got a reputation. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was already thinking about moving on.

“Hey,” Nancy places her hand on your shoulder, “he’s a jerk. You could do so much better.” 

You know she’s just saying that to try to lift your spirits.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you concede, not really sure if you believe her. Billy Hargrove is and will be the hottest thing to ever blow into this nowhere town Indiana. You drink, draining the rest of your glass, hoping the bottom will convince you otherwise.

11PM

Nancy is leaving. She’s not feeling well. She wants to go home early. You’ve had four Jack and Cokes so far. You feel good; got a nice buzz going. The fight with Billy is nagging at the edges. You want to stay. If you just drink a little more, it’ll be fine. You’ll forget.

“Are you going to be okay? How are you going to get home?” She asks, glancing between you and the drink in your hand.

“Yeah, I’m good, I’ll be fine,” you smile easily, too easily, “I’ll figure something out.”

She doesn’t believe you, not entirely.

“Okay well, just try not to have too much more.”

“I’ll be fine,” you shrug.

You join Tommy, Carol, and company, who are now well on their way to be being trashed playing Never Have I Ever. Seems like the perfect place to be.

And then everything starts blurring together, one drink into the next. Finally reached that Billy who? state of mind you’ve been looking for all night.

You stumble to your feet, deciding to get up.

"Where are you going?" Tina asks, giggling.

"The pool."

"The pool? Its too cold, you don't have anything to swim in anyways."

"I'll swim in my clothes," you reason drunkenly.

"You can't get in the pool." She's laughing now.

"Yes, yes I can. Come here, I'll show you," you take her hand, pulling her unsteadily to Tommy's back door.

Its locked. And the lock is all weird, there's like a dead bolt, and one of those twisty, barrel bolt ones.

You reach for the little knob on the barrel, trying to twist it to pull the lock through, but its old and it keeps getting stuck.

"Tina, Tina, I can't do it," you laugh, continuing to struggle with the lock. "I can't, I can't do it," you're borderline hystical now, pressing your back against the door as you sink to the floor, still laughing.

"Oh god, okay, why don't we take you somewhere quiet," Tina muses, helping you up off the floor where you've now decided to lay.

Tommy just can't resist going to the phone because this is just too good really. 

“What?” Billy answers, annoyance evident over the line.

"Need to come get your girl Hargrove, she's real out of line, falling down drunk and everything," Tommy says excitedly into the receiver.

“Can’t be fucking calling my place this time of night Tommy, you’re lucky my parents are out of town this weekend.” 

He hangs up the phone with a sharp click and bites the inside of his cheek.

You’re laying in the empty bedroom Tina left you in, trying to get it together, making a list of people most likely to give you a ride home.

The door opens and clicks shut.

“What the fuck is going on here? Can't handle your liqour?" Billy asks, clearly displeased, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You draw your gaze away from the ceiling to look at him. Tight jeans, white tank, black leather jacket; a scowl to match.

“Fuck off Billy," you reply, feigning disinterest, returning your gaze to the ceiling, "And considering how much I’ve had to drink, I would say I'm handling it rather well." Honestly, you’re surprised you’re not laying on the cool tile of the bathroom floor in between sessions of throwing up into the toilet.

"Come on, sit up, drink this water," he orders, pulling you up easily to rest against the pillows, shoving a glass of water in your direction.

And yeah, you're still in that state of wasted where impulse control is non existent.

You grab the water, only to throw it in his face. 

"I said, fuck off Billy," you repeat harshly, setting the now empty glass on the nightstand with a thud.

He sits there stunned for all of half a second before slowly raising a hand to wipe the water and his now wet bangs away from his face.

You flash him a smile.

"This funny to you?" He asks.

"Hilarious, actually."

"Alright, come here," he lunges toward you, grabbing you tightly by the shoulders, face inches from yours. The adrenaline of uncertainty flushes through you. 

 "If we were just fucking, I wouldn't be here right now," he pauses, gaze flicking anxiously over your face, "do you understand what I'm telling you?"

It takes a few moments for everything to really penetrate your alcohol soaked brain. You look down at your lap. Is this real? Really real? Or? Maybe you’re even more wasted than you  thought. Maybe you passed out.  But the closeness of him, the scent of cigarettes and leather, his fingers gripping your shoulders; all have too much gravity to be otherwise.

You raise your gaze back up to his.

“Yeah.” You let out a breath. “Yeah.” You say again with more finality.

Billy closes the small amount of space between you, capturing your mouth in his. He’s still wet from  the water you threw on him and his lips slide easily against yours. His grip on your shoulders relaxing as he slides a hand up to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair and you pull him close by the leather of his jacket, kissing him back all need and want, but the night is catching up with you and you’re suddenly exhausted. You break away when his tongue swipes sweetly along your bottom lip.

“‘M tired,” you murmur, eyelids growing heavy.

He gives you a knowing grin.

“Bet you are,” he stands, “come on then.” He lifts you off the bed bridal style, and you tug at his jacket.

“No, I can walk,” you plead, suddenly shy, not wanting to face the embarrassment of being carried out, like you haven’t embarrassed yourself enough already tonight.

“Like hell you can.” 

Billy’s right because that’s the last thing you remember; passed out before he even gets to the bottom of the steps, vaguely waking up when he puts you in the passenger seat of the Camaro.

He gently shakes you awake when he gets to your house, and you groan in annoyance as he pulls you out of the car, helping you to the door. 

“Drink some water, okay,” He says, kissing you chastely, and you hum and nod before going inside.

You drink two glasses out of water, and pass the fuck out.

[kariachi]

New commissionwork for @thenixkat, this time a werewolfy, magicky Static Shock fic, with a side of Wonder Woman. Word count ~10k.

Warnings for gore, kidnapping, and technically mind control apply.

Stepping off the bus into the early autumn chill she could feel the state sink into her flesh like a million needles, feel it shifting beneath her feet, and her first instinct was to run. To turn around, climb back aboard, continue on to someplace more, hospitable.

That wasn’t an option.

Nothing had gone to plan thanks to that damn ‘hero’, breaking into her lair, ruining everything. She’d been so close and what did she have left? She’d been forced to burn through Louhi, the spellwork needed and her emergency teleport leaving her a literal husk of her former self, now nestled in her bag. She had no lair, and had only been able to fill one bag with supplies before she ran.

And now she was here, in the last place anyone would think to look for a magic user. The state was unforgiving, and wrong, but she wouldn’t be long, she swore. All she needed was to recreate and finish the ritual.

She might even be kind enough to make Dakota right when she was done.

~~

Two Months Later

~~

~~

There’s a person outside, circling the property line and eyeing up the house. He wants to say something, do something, but the way his mother’s bristled, the way she’s moved between him and the window… Something says to stay quiet.

~~

This is the third time the strange figure that isn’t right has shown up, and his father’s taken his gun with him to confront them. Something in him bristles, says to lay low.

~~

When has he ever been this hungry…

~~

~~

“Really, Virg, thanks for staying the night. Mom doesn’t want me home alone right now.”

“You’re doing me a favor, man. Gravitas saved the owner of one of those foreign groceries the other day and he gave her something called ‘seamu’? So I’m more than happy to hang out here and order a pizza.”

“You sure? Seamu’s actually pretty good.” The incredulous look that crossed Virgil’s face, like Richie’d just suggested he try flea stew, left the other teen shrugging as he plopped down on his bed. “Viking stuff. Grandma sometimes imports it from the old country.”

“Yeaaah.” Virgil shook his head, tossing his bag to a spot next to Richie’s desk and flopping down beside him. While his friend essentially half-lived at his house- the boy had his own shampoo there for fuck’s sake- Virgil was still working on building his own stock at the Foley home. It would never be the same ‘practically dual-custody’ arrangement, but fair was fair. “You guys can keep your weird Norse birds, thanks.” With another rolling shrug Richie fell back so they were laid side by side.

“Sharon’s probably messing it up anyway. It is good though.”

“Richie, I’ve seen you eat, your word means nothing here.” Ignoring the raspberry blown at him, Virgil lifted himself on his elbows and looked down at Richie quizzically. “Why’d you want to stay the night here, anyway?” Turning over onto his side, Richie’s eyes flicked to the window before he ducked his head conspiratorially.

“Someone’s been skulking around the house lately.”

“Wait what?!” Virgil tensed, instinctively tasting for the electricity that ran through the walls as Richie nodded.

“They don’t come onto the property or anything,” he said, “but they like, circle it, like they’re sizing it up.”

“So, what, you think they’re gonna try to break in?”

“I don’t know, things have been weird. Like, the security cameras and what we see don’t match up, and I think Dad might see something different from what me and Mom see.”

“That’s… that’s creepy, man.” Worrying his cheek, Virgil sat up properly. Richie mirrored him. “Can you be more specific?”

“Like, the other night, they went passed the house and Dad made a comment about them trying to pass themselves off as some random person walking their dog, but when I looked, there wasn’t any dog anywhere, and Mom looked as confused as me. He went out to confront them, but apparently they just, vanished.” As he spoke BackPack climbed onto the bed and nestled into his owner’s lap, laying his retractable ‘eye’ across Richie’s shoulder in what was either a comforting or protective manner. It was hard to tell when you weren’t Richie. “Dad’s cop buddies have been coming by the neighborhood periodically, but they haven’t seen anything.”

“I can see why your mom didn’t want you here alone,” Virgil said, absently patting Backpack as Richie stroked the machine.

“Yeah. She wanted me to stay at your place, since Dad’s on the night shift tonight and she’s working late, but…”

“But then she’d be here alone.” Virgil nodded, stomach knotting at the worry that was blossoming on Richie’s face. “A Bang Baby maybe?”

“Maybe.” With a tiny laugh Richie grinned. “That or a ghost.”

“The soul of a seamu,” Virgil added, with a chuckle of his own, “come to punish your family for eating them all these centuries.”

“I’ll ask Gran about dispelling dinner ghosts in my next letter.” A deep sigh. “I haven’t seen my parents this worried ever. Mom’s even been talking about sending me to Cousin Gina’s ‘early’ when they think I’m not listening, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Leaning forward, Virgil put a hand by BackPack’s eye.

“And how are you holding up?” Richie’s next laugh was a little darker.

“After that Brainiac thing? It’s gonna take more than some creep to rattle me.” Virgil nodded, sighing himself.

“You should’ve told me ahead of time,” he said, pulling back. “You’re lucky I brought my Static stuff.” Snorting, Richie smirked and raised a brow at him teasingly.

“Dude, half the time you bring that stuff to the bathroom with you.”

“That, is beside the point.”

~~

It wasn’t the longest wait of their short lives, but it damn well felt like it as they sat there by Richie’s open window. There was no real guarantee that the unknown stranger would even show that night, but they had every night for nearly a week (a week, there were going to be Discussions about not telling teammates things) so the odds were in their favor, right? Right. As it was they were fully decked out, hoping Mrs. Foley didn’t come home before the stranger showed up. BackPack sat between them, recording everything he saw and showing it on Richie’s monitor.

If nothing else, they’d have further evidence of what was happening.

Showtime came somewhere around nine, with a hiss between Gear’s clenched teeth and repeated smacking of Static’s arm.

“Man, cool it-”

“That’s them!” Static followed Gear’s gaze, narrowing his eyes at the sight of a human shape walking through the neighbor’s yard, a mid-sized dog trotting along beside them, eyes straight ahead. His first instinct was to pat his partner on the shoulder, reassure him, joke about him being paranoid, but he bit back the impulse. What you saw wasn’t necessarily what was there, the tale of the other night proved as much. He turned to see what BackPack saw, the most reliable view they had.

No dog. Just a figure with a face like bleached bone walking much more slowly passed the house than they had first seemed, gaze locked solidly on the building until it passed their room and pale pink eyes flicked towards Gear and narrowed-

Before he could even form a thought he was out the open window, Saucer under his feet.

“Hey!” The figure didn’t look up that he could see, not even their ‘dog’ reacting to his presence as he flew straight at them, electricity gathering in one hand before everything went black, breath not even catching in his throat, more like it’d been yanked back down into his lungs.

“Static!” When the world came back into view the hero was hovering only a foot off the ground, greedily sucking in air. Gear’s hand on his arm was welcome, as was his worried checking of him. Behind them, he could hear BackPack pacing the roof, probably standing guard. “Are you okay? You just, dropped!” Slowly Static nodded, reaching out to clap a hand on Gear’s shoulder, eyes on the empty space the mysterious figure had occupied.

“We’re calling the girls.”

~~

“Richard Foley, we understand you’ve got your iffy moral stuff going on, and family crap you can’t talk about, but if you ever keep something like this a secret again I will dig a basement just to lock you in it for your own safety!”

“Yes ma’am.”

The rest of the night had passed without incident. Virgil had been woken up by a truly awful smell at one point, but that was all of note until they’d woken up the next morning and begun calling the rest of the team over a truly massive breakfast.

Turned out there wasn’t much that got everyone moving quite like the words ‘someone might be stalking Richie’. As it was they’d had the whole band together in the Abandoned Gas Station of Solitude by eight, and the past two hours had been spent grilling Richie for every detail ever and watching the security footage highlight reel on repeat.

The figure hadn’t even looked at Static until he was practically on top of them, and had waved their hand before he fell, just as Richie said, straight down out of the sky. After that they’d just, not been there. Nobody could really figure out how to describe it. All they knew was that they’d been there one frame and the next, nothing. Which certainly wasn’t helping the mood of a room that had, en masse, leaned protectively towards their blond when the figure’s eyes had locked on him. And when they’d done whatever it was they did to Static? Sharon had immediately all-but suction cupped herself to her brother in exactly the same manner he’d suctioned cupped himself to Richie.

It would’ve had to be a force of nature that dared try to bypass the sheer force of the Over My Dead Body emanating from that side of the room.

“Do we have any idea who that was?” Frieda asked, collapsing into a chair like she was made of putty. “Any clue at all?”

“I’ve never seen them outside of the whole, ya know, creeping around thing,” Richie said while the Hawkins siblings shook their heads.

“Haven’t found them on any databases yet,” Daisy said from her spot at one of the many, many computers that were- between her and the boys- beginning to take over their hideout. “Not even any maybes.”

“So, we have an unknown person stalking the Foley’s,” Sharon said, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she hovered- literally- behind the boys. “Well, I’m not risking it, who’s taking what guard shift?” For a moment it looked like Richie was going to argue that guard shifts were possibly overkill before Virgil placed a hand over his mouth.

“Rich, you have been kidnapped more than all the rest of us combined. And I’m counting the giant amoeba thing.” A ball of paper wafted across the room to collide with the back of his head.

“We’re not having it happen again when we have forewarning this time,” Frieda added, and BackPack whirred in agreement.

“Whose side are you on,” Richie muttered to the machine, but smiled at the others anyway. “Thanks guys.” Spinning her chair to face him, Daisy grinned reassuringly.

“We’ll figure out who this is and what they want,” she said, “don’t worry.” Her gaze swept the rest of the group. “I can take the ten to one shift.”

~~

Oh, she’d known this would happen eventually, with her targeting one of Dakota’s little ‘heroes’. A part of her that sounded suspiciously like Louhi had said she could still go back, change tack and grab one of those Bang Babies nobody wanted. There were a few that met her needs- Spaulding could’ve been brought to heel, and Stone, even the Hawkins boy from the night before, both would be grand for her purposes. But this one was perfect and soon the veils would part, it was better than she could dream, and she’d had every intention of having control before any of his little friends noticed anything afoot.

Damn Dakota, always making things difficult.

It poked and prodded at her, tendrils of it’s power sliding along the fibers of her magic. Plucking strings that sent a jot of fear down her spine. The longer she stayed the more it went from curious to passive-aggressive, the state miring her down like swamp mud and covering it’s citizens like the first snow. She had been upping and upping her game this past week and to her knowledge there had been no change beyond the boy eating more.

And now, now he had bodyguards.

She was done, this was happening tonight if she had to tear off his skin and force him to wear it.

Kicking over a carved pumpkin on her way passed a neighboring house (another thing this place wouldn’t let her do, her transportation spells flickered and died in her throat, refused to touch Dakota air, and this was as close as she could get in the layer below) she headed for the spot she’d taken last night. It wasn’t as close as those she’d used before, farther away to be harder to spot, but it was near enough and should work with what she had in mind.

No more careful portioning, no rationing, she had scaled the recipe up as far as she possibly could. Her entire supply of onyx powder was in the large container she pulled out of her satchel, already mixed with tomato seed oil and ready to go. Dried licorice and valerian soaking it up. A package of hay to act as kindling. The strike of a match.

Thick black smoke rose from the flames, fading into octarine as it drifted against the wind, settling over the Foley house. The girl on the roof slowly fell over sideways as it drifted in through open windows and cracks in doorframes. This would do it.

It had to.

~~

~~

He wakes up in the dead of night to growing fur and long, long limbs.

It itches. It feels right and weird and it itches, even after he’s brought up a foot to scratch at it. To scratch everywhere, because it is everywhere and seemingly endless. With a grumble he rolls off his back and onto his feet, yawning with a mouth that’s longer and longer and longer. He twists around with a quiet whine and uses it to snap and pull at the fabric covering his hindquarters- it was comfortable once, he remembers, but now is too tight too tight around his rump and he’s happy when it rips enough for his tail come through and continue to grow. So much better. Now he’s free to streeeeeetch as the itching slowly stops, shake free of the tatters left behind, and listen to the call coming along the frigid autumn air.

Come.

Be good.

Ignoring the little machine’s whirs of concern, he licks BackPack affectionately before loping out the open window.

~~

~~

The first thing Frieda was aware of was frantic poking and prodding at her shoulders, arms, face. Prodding that only disappeared after she called up a gust of wind to blow whatever it was away. It wasn’t gone for long though, quickly returning even more frantic than before, finally forcing her to blearily open her eyes.

She was still on the Foley’s roof, right where she was supposed to be, but BackPack was in front of her, all flashing lights and distressed whirring and chirps.

“BackPack. BackPack,” she reached out to push down on the machine, stopping his frantic scurry across the shingles, “what’s wrong?” With a whir that somehow managed to be even more distressed than those that came before, BackPack slipped out from under her hand and bolted for the edge of the roof near Richie’s room. Her gut twisted. Cautiously she called the wind to pick her up and carry her to the open window. She was tense and ready for a fight as she checked inside, but still her stomach dropped out of her and her heartrate skyrocketed.

“Fuck!”

~~

“Don’t tell Virgil, but I lost Richie.”

“You what?!” Frieda cringed as a voice that distinctly wasn’t Sharon’s came over the shockvox. Muffled at first, but clearer following the sounds of a brief scuffle. “What do you mean you lost Richie?!”

“He isn’t here!” She hissed, careful not to raise her voice, not to wake up Mr. and Mrs. Foley still inside. “I don’t know what happened!”

“You don’t know what-” Another scuffle and Sharon’s voice returned.

“Details, Frieda.” She almost stopped in her pacing back and forth on the Foley’s roof, but instead found herself pausing just long enough for a deep breath before falling back in step beside BackPack.

“I was standing guard, and there was this nasty smell, and then suddenly the next thing I know BackPack is shaking me awake and Richie is gone.” She still reeked. Virgil was struggling on the other end, she could hear it and practically see Sharon with a hand clamped over his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Sharon’s voice was pinched, clearly panicking same as she and Virgil are, but age and experience were keeping her together. “It’s not your fault. We’ll find him.”

“We don’t even-”

“We’ll. Find. Him.”

 ~~

They had no leads was the problem. Every other time Richie had been kidnapped the whys and hows had been pretty fucking obvious. It was more a matter of actually tracking him down, which only ever took as long as it did because Dakota had more abandoned buildings than it did people. But this time… They didn’t know who they were dealing with. They didn’t know what they wanted Richie for. How much danger he was in.

At least if it was Ebon again they’d know he was bait, for all they knew right now he was being sold on the black market.

“I really doubt that,” Ultraviolet said somewhere around dawn, several hours into the team’s search for any clue at all. BackPack had recorded none of what happened in Richie’s room, if he’d even been active at the time. They didn’t even know when between two and three the boy had been stolen.

“It does happen,” Gravitas said. Ultraviolet shook her head.

“Not in Dakota though. Have you seen the statistics for that stuff? People’ll be kidnapped for trafficking, but they always escape one way or another. I once read that a few years back some guys were trying to take a girl across state lines and not only did their car break down, but then they were trampled by water buffalo.” The team froze and turned, as one, to stare at her slack-jawed. It was Static that spoke up.

“West end?”

“East, in the mountains.” Silence. Hurricane slowly shook her head and went to sit on a random porch, mindlessly throwing a breeze back and forth to move a jaunty skeleton decoration. Gravitas made a gesture of surrender.

“Only in this state.”

“Okay,” Static said, “so we know that’s not a problem. Doesn’t narrow much down though.”

“No.” Sighing, Ultraviolet worried her lip. No tracks, no signs of struggle, no sign of that mysterious figure. They were hitting a dead end. “We’re just going to have to keep looking. He has to be somewhere.”

~~

~~

The collar around his throat itches but it’s easy to ignore in favor of the smells and sounds of this city that is his. Smoke, oil, sweat, engines, music, yelling, meat meat meat sound and smell all around him and hunger thudding like a heartbeat through his veins-

He hunts. Leisurely, moving at an easy trot through the alleys and backstreets of the city, nose held high to track these many many scents. He’s so hungry, more than he’s ever been in his life, and all he needs, all he wants, is a good target…

There. A barking little beastie, chained to a fence and straining at him, teeth bared. At another time, in another shape, he may have backed away from sharp teeth and aggression he can smell in the air, but here and now all he sees is meat. A leap longer than the pit expected, jaws around its muzzle, a single good whip of his head, and there’s silence.

Breakfast.

~~

~~

Eventually, they’d been forced to split up. Ultraviolet and Gravitas had taken BackPack back to the Gas Station of Solitude with the goal of finding something, anything, to tie back to the mysterious figure they all knew was behind this, while Static and Hurricane continued the search of the city.

It was ten am, at least seven hours following Richie’s disappearance. They’d each of them fielded calls from a frantic Mrs. Foley. The police were getting involved.

There were still no damn leads.

“Well,” Hurricane said as soon as the door opened, “I had to stop Static dropping Kangor from a flagpole, so that was something.”

“Look,” said hero responded, following close behind her, “if he hadn’t tried being coy we wouldn’t have had problems!” It said something about how he was feeling about the whole situation that he immediately plopped down beside his sister, barely an inch between them.

“So,” she said, “ended up just interrogating everybody?”

“It’s not like we had anything else to go with,” Static said, “may as well ask around the Bang Baby scene.”

“We didn’t try everyone,” Hurricane added. “We figured if this person were involved with Ebon’s crew we’d have heard something by now, same with Puff and Onyx.”

“And Madelyn’s not this subtle,” Ultraviolet said. The others nodded.

“Exactly.” Sighing, Hurricane leaned against Ultraviolet’s desk. “But nobody knew anything, at least anything we could get out of them.”

“And we’ve found exactly jack shit,” Gravitas said with a groan, head falling back against the ratty couch she and her brother occupied. “Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“We just need one lead,” Static said, mirroring his sister and reaching up to pat BackPack when he climbed into his lap. “Just one, that’s all we’re asking!”

True to all rules of thematic timing, there came a knock.

The room went quiet as the heroes went tense, eyes darting between each other and the door. There weren’t exactly that many people who knew where to find them, and even fewer who bothered to knock. Under the best of circumstances they would’ve been on guard, and these were certainly not the best of circumstances. Patting Static’s shoulder, Gravitas stood slowly and made her way cautiously towards the door- probably for the best, given she was the oldest and along with Hurricane was the one most capable to turning the tide on a sudden attacker. The door opened with the loudest creak in the history of the world, Gravitas’s eyes blowing wide when she saw what was outside.

“Good morning,” Wonder Woman said, slipping into the doorway, “may I come in?”

~~

Nobody from the League had gotten the kind of welcome Wonder Woman got, which was all on the women. Static certainly hadn’t ever considered offering Batman a soda. But then, that was Batman, who probably didn’t even need to eat, thriving off sheer justice, and this was Wonder Woman, who’d gladly accepted not only his seat on the couch but also a coke and a handful of the fun size candies he and Gravitas kept sneaking from the community center. Because that’s what you did with free bowls of candy, no matter who you were. As it was, she had the full attention of the whole team, including the girls’ hearts from the looks of it- if there were any more stars in Gravitas’s eyes he’d have been calling Adam with a warning- leaving BackPack to do the fifth trawl of the many, many, many files they’d found and gotten into all on his lonesome.

“So,” Ultraviolet said, two fun-size snickers into the visit, “I’m going to guess this isn’t a social call?”

“Unfortunately,” Wonder Woman replied, “though I guess we probably ought to do those more often.” She sighed and scanned the group. “I was hoping to get your help with a, situation.” Yep, they’d known it was coming.

“What kind of situation?”

“There’s a witch somewhere in Dakota-”

“In late-October, yeah-”

“A real witch.” There wasn’t even a hint of humor in her tone or expression, but also no judgement for the comment. She took a sip of her soda before continuing. “Normally it wouldn’t be anything to worry about, the vast majority of magic users aren’t any trouble, even the ones from Dakota, but this one…” She shook her head, a sight that had the team all exchanging concerned looks. They didn’t even have information and this sounded bad. Again, it was Gravitas that stepped forward.

“We’d love to help,” she said, “but I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re down a teammate.” Wonder Woman nodded. “Gear vanished from his bed last night in what we’re sure is a kidnapping.”

“Well,” the older hero set her drink down, making solid eye contact with Gravitas, “I’m more than happy to help you find him. We’ll just have to handle more than one situation, perfectly doable.” Everyone was silent for a moment, up until Hurricane sighed, deep and heavy and blowing candy wrappers around the room, and dropped into the spot beside Wonder Woman.

“Fuck it,” she said, “not like we have any leads anyway. Gives us something to do while we figure this out besides worry.”

Well, it wasn’t like she was wrong.

“You first,” Ultraviolet said, leaning back against a desk with her eyes locked on Wonder Woman, “what are we dealing with, with this witch?” Nodding, Wonder Woman picked up her soda and settled back in her seat.

“She goes by Athame,” she began, “she’s, very ambitious. Too ambitious.” The young team, who had all heard that more than a time or two, raised their eyebrows in unison.

“Too am-”

“She wants to create a new source of magic.” Okay, that sounded, something.

“Alright,” Static said, “we may need some more background here.” Wonder Woman nodded again.

“All magic has a single source. There are plenty of items out there that contain magic, or run off of it, but there’s only one source of magic, and even just having it with you is enough to allow people with no magical talent to use difficult spells without issue.”

“Okay,” Ultraviolet nodded, “I can see where that might be dangerous if a skilled witch got a hold of it.” A hollow chuckle from the older hero.

“I wish she wanted to get a hold of it,” she said, “then it would be someone else’s business. What she wants is to make a second one, and she’s come up with a ritual she thinks will do it.”

“Will it?”

“Who knows.” She shrugged. “But we can’t take that risk. The best-case scenario is that the ritual does nothing, but if it fails violently then there’s too much risk of collateral damage with all the power it would need, and that’s not even taking into account it if works.”

“At which point we have someone running around with pretty much unlimited magical power,” Gravitas said, running a hand down her face. This was just, great.

“If the existence of two sources of magic doesn’t just tear reality apart.”

And that was even better.

A mass groan went around the room.

“What about your friend,” Wonder Woman asked, leaning forward probably as much to make sure they knew she was taking all of this seriously as out of actual interest, “what are the details there?” Static, being the first alerted to the situation, stepped forward.

“Some creep’s been stalking around his house the last week,” he said, “not that he bothered to tell anyone until the other day. Why the hell wouldn’t he tell us?”

“Because,” Hurricane butted in, “he’s the stupidest genius we know.” Beside her, Wonder Woman took on a thoughtful look, head bobbing slightly as she clearly tried to work out whether that actually was the stupidest thing she’d seen a supposed genius do. Gravitas, meanwhile, just looked at Static and wobbled her hand in a ‘that’s iffy’ gesture, earning herself a glare.

“Anyway,” Static continued pointedly, “he finally said something the other day and... They’ve clearly got powers of some sort, but this is Dakota, we had to deal with a dandelion with delusions of grandeur just last week, so that’s not really weird around here. What is weird is that we decided to take shifts to guard his house and he still disappeared right out from under us.”

“I’m still not sure what happened,” Hurricane said. “One minute everything was fine, then the next BackPack was waking me up and Gear was gone.” Eyes narrowed, Wonder Woman nodded.

“That is worrying…” Ultraviolet purposefully shoved away from the desk she was leaned against and half-turned towards where BackPack was working his not-quite-Gear-level magic.

“Come on,” she said, “we have video.”

The group moved as one, crowding in around her as she removed BackPack from the computer he was interfacing with. He found a comfortable spot in her lap as she sat down and went about pulling up the video from the night before last. Nothing was different from any other viewing- same too-pale face and eyes, creepy eyeballing of the house, looking directly at their now-missing friend. Same mysterious attack on Static and subsequent disappearance. But there weren’t many eyes for it this time. Instead everyone was focused on Wonder Woman, stood in pride of place directly behind Ultraviolet, watching her take in the event, her eyes going wide. When the screen cut to black, she reached out and put her hand on Ultraviolet’s shoulder.

“Well,” she said, “good news, we only have one situation.”

~

She ought to be happy, overjoyed with how things are going right now, but really she was kind of annoyed. Richie did whatever she commanded, which was perfect, just what she needed in a familiar, but… Well the problem was twofold. First off, Dakota let him wander around, through the layers of magic that made up the region, with ease. As if he was just walking through parting curtains. Meanwhile she had to struggle for every inch the state would give her, putting more and more power in to move around, to hold off the clash of ethereal jaws she could feel building.

Secondly, the child was a mess. It was bad enough that he’d slipped back into her lair covered in blood and back alley grime, reeking of death, but she couldn’t even wash him. To do so would risk clearing away the smoke that had settled into his fur, that even now filled the lair, and she would have to be mad to risk losing that control, even for an instant. The wool collar on his throat, the sheepskin he laid on, were enough to keep him in his shape, but for now that smoke was all that kept him in line.

Not for long though. With his help, soon everything would be ready. She would have a Source and then she could forgo the wool, forgo the licorice root, and keep him through power alone.

As soon as the veil opened…

~~

~~

He’s smart, and good, and now that he’s finally full his master has a job for him.

(something in his gut is screaming, it whines and hides when he smells her, sees her, hears her, says it isn’t right, she’s not right, but the call is true…)

It’s a big job too, very important. She wants peacocks, as many as he can find, and because the city is his he knows just where to look.

Seemingly out of nowhere he lopes into the center of the Dakota City Zoo, air crisp in his lungs and screams ringing out like the deep gong of church bells. The humans scatter around him, reeking of shock and fear, briefly flicking on his instinct to chase and play. Joyfully he twists, turns, leaps, nipping at heels and sending the guests scurrying with barking laughter. In their displays the animals bellow and shriek in time with the humans.

But eventually fun times have to end, there’s work to be done for his master, and so he shakes his head to clear it of ‘prey’ and ‘play’. Work. He’s here for work. Because he’s good.

Raising up on his hind legs, stretching out as far as he can, allows him to make a quick survey of the area. The humans make it difficult to see, but he doesn’t know the scent he’s looking for and he can just make out a few patches of blue among the greys and yellows that don’t look like clothes, that are moving on their own. With a heading in mind, he gives a howl that makes his heart pang (why call when his pack’s not there to hunt with him?) and drops back to the ground. Long legs make the journey quick, and the humans that come with guns drop them when he snaps at their arms, it’s easy easy easy to find the flock.

He runs forward and they scatter, but these aren’t humans, they don’t have long legs to take them far and can’t gain speed by dropping their tails. The tails that are so easy to grab with hand and tooth, to yank them out of the air so he can snap jaws around their long long necks and shake. The humans aren’t bothering him anymore, in the distance he can hear them fleeing en masse, working to get themselves and each other far far away. Not that he cares. He’s focused on the job, the fun fun job, and the pile of birds forming on the ground as he chases and grabs, snaps and shakes. A mass of blue and grey that only stops growing when he knows his mouth won’t hold any more.

With a carefree air he gathers up the bodies in his jaws, carrying them by their broken necks, and lopes, tail wagging, back the way he came.

His master, good (wrong) master, will be so proud.

~~

~~

When the reports of dead animals started coming in the police and animal control really hadn’t expected a handful of superheroes to show up to investigate, but given what had been going on lately there’d been no chance of them ignoring the cases. After all, it could have been the ‘normal’ tendency for sickos to start slaughtering black animals around Halloween, or it could have been tied into the actual witchcraft going on in the city. The fact it was happening the very day Richie had vanished from his bed only made the whole thing more suspicious.

What nobody had expected was to find all the animals eaten.

It was a gruesome sight, dogs, cats, a few birds all ripped to shreds. Soft, fleshy bits were all gone, as were a few of their heads, bodies held together with bits of remaining ligament and gristle. Bones gnawed, some cracked open to get at their marrow. The group hardly help it together until they’d seen all the damage, barely made it out of the room the corpses had been placed in before several of them where fighting over the nearest trashcan.

In a way, that made the call that there was a monster attacking the zoo a relief, even if the creature was gone by the time they arrived. As it was, the ladies hardly touched ground before an important looking zoo employee was running for them, his eyes wide and shoulders still trembling.

“Wonder Woman,” he called, because with her there the rest of them were chopped liver, “thank god you’re here!” A perfect professional- at least in the eyes of the younger set- she calmly placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“What happened here?” she asked in a gentle tone that soothed some of the frantic panic from the man’s face. “Is anyone hurt?” He shook his head.

“All the guests and workers are fine, shaken but no injuries. We’ve lost all but two of our peacocks though to that, that-” Ultraviolet stepped down off Static’s saucer, the electrokinetic hero following behind.

“Maybe you should sit down,” she said, “and then explain.” Nodding, he lead the group to the nearest bench and all but collapsed upon it, taking deep breaths to try to settle the shake in his limbs.

“Nobody is really sure where it came from,” he said, “just that it, appeared around the Asian Trail. Chased the guests around, snapped at people, then it just, killed our peacocks and disappeared.” The heroes looked at each other with eyes full of concern and fear.

“Are there any bodies we should take a look at?”

“No, just feathers left.”

Oh, thank fuck. Hurricane and Ultraviolet settled into the spots on either side of the man as Static stepped forward.

“What did it look like?” he asked.

“It was-” the man hesitated, beginning again to tremble, “it was just…” Another deep, steadying sigh. “There’s security footage.”

~~

It wasn’t a wolf. It looked like a wolf, kinda. Sorta. Maybe. If you’d never seen a wolf before. Or a dog. The colors were right and there was fur, how about that?

In reality, the creature trotting around in the footage looked more like someone had taken the important bits of a wolf- the eyes, ears, mouth, tail, fur- and stretched them out over a human form. Then they had clearly just, kept stretching from there. It’s back was so long to match up with the almost human limbs, limbs that kept it’s shoulders nearly level with those of the grown men it snapped and barked at. The lips were loose, constantly showing flashes of long, sharp teeth. They could easily make out the flat palms and soles of human hands and feet, stretched long and raised off the ground in favor of clawed fingers and toes too too long and flexible for anyone’s comfort.

There was no way, even in Dakota: Land of the Bang Babies and Weird-Ass Animals, that that was anything but

“There is a fucking werewolf in Dakota.”

Wonder Woman sighed, shutting her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. Dakota’s finest, meanwhile, chewed their lips and exchanged concerned looks. Nobody there was stupid, hell all of them were brilliant, and, well. Bit of a coincidence, a werewolf showing up in Dakota with a witch running around… Static was first to speak.

“Thirty bucks it’s Richie.” Hurricane shook her head.

“Sucker’s bet.”

“What,” Gravitas suddenly spun to face Wonder Woman, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed, “would she want to make him a werewolf for?”

“Cheaper feeding?” Static said on autopilot, immediately shying away from the girls’ glares. “Sorry.” Now it was Wonder Woman’s time to worry her lower lip, looking over the team.

“She probably needed a familiar.”

“For…?” There was, in that moment, the very real chance of a small riot breaking out in that room, and a higher one of Gravitas punching the first person to not give her answers. This was one of her brothers they were talking about. Wonder Woman was smart enough not to risk it.

“The last I saw Athame she was using her familiar as a conduit to use more powerful magic,” she said. “I have to assume a werewolf is the best conduit she can get her hands on right now.” This didn’t help the mood of anyone in the room.

“So,” Hurricane said, “she’s probably going to use him for that ritual then? Would it hurt him?” All eyes stayed on Wonder Woman, who sighed again.

“He’s young, fit, and a werewolf. In theory he should be able to handle most anything that gets thrown at him, but I don’t know exactly what the limits on them are.”

“And if he can’t?” The room went quiet. Muscles tensed all around, even worse than they already had been. Static stepped forward, footfalls heavy and purposeful, sparks arcing between his fingers.

“Wonder Woman, what happens if Richie can’t handle the ritual?” She stayed quiet for a moment more, eyes downcast, visibly struggling for words, before she sighed and sadly met the hero’s gaze.

“Sizzle.”

~~

“Okay, ‘repenting for your sins’ apparently works.”

“Maybe if you’re in human shape, but I don’t think a giant wolf-monster can repent for much.”

“‘Piercing the wolf’s hands with nails’, yeah that’s not happening.”

“No nails, no silver, no beating him upside the head with a pipe.”

“I was just repeating what the book said.” With a grunt Ultraviolet went limp in her seat, staring down at the book in her hands. The library had been raided, the internet was being raided, in their desperate bid to find something, anything, that could bring Richie back to normal. That they could use to save him.

“Swimming across a river in the full moon’s light?” Gravitas suggested, only for Wonder Woman to shake her head.

“I’m not willing to count on us having the two weeks to spare.”

“Agreed.”

“Oh here’s a fun one,” Hurricane said, scoffing, “‘not turning into a wolf’.”

“Handy,” Static commented, “wish we’d known that was all it took before.”

“‘Getting a god to remove the curse’?” Everyone looked at Wonder Woman hopefully, but she shook her head.

“Demi-god. It’s not the same.”

“Damnit.” Everyone groaned as one. Why was everything so… this? Nobody deserved this sort’ve stress.

“So, so far,” Static said, “our options are looking like poison, silver, blunt force trauma, and death. Joy.”

“I really don’t know what to do,” Wonder Woman admitted, staring down at the book in her hands. “Either we kill him, or do something that might kill him, or risk him dying at the hands of Athame.”

No one looked at each other, eyes only on pages and screens. It didn’t look good. It really didn’t look good. They wanted him alive damnit! Alive and unharmed other than maybe a stomach ache which really the way he ate even when he wasn’t a monster he probably deserved anyway!

What the fuck where they supposed to do if they couldn’t save him…?

“Guys,” eyes flicked up, just enough to see Gravitas take a deep breath and release it, “I think this is one time when we should probably forewarn the parents.”

~~

Mr. Foley wasn’t home, not that anyone but Wonder Woman could bring themselves to care. If anything it meant this discussion was going to be easier. Nobody could guess what his response to ‘your son is a werewolf and may not come out of this alive’ would be, and they kind of hoped they never had to learn. Better to just get his mother on her own.

Unfortunately, there was no saving themselves from the look on her face when a group of somber superheroes showed up on her porch.

“Your son is alive,” Wonder Woman clarified before anything else, watching Mrs. Foley heave a massive sigh of relief, “but we have to talk.”

“Of course, come in,” she said, nodding and moving aside. The door was shut behind them. “Have a seat, please, I’ll get you something to drink. Soda, coffee, tea?”

“We’re fine, Mrs. Foley,” Gravitas said, only for the other woman to shake her head.

“Please, I need the distraction right now.” The heroes exchanged glances, knowing full well they weren’t going to argue.

“Tea would be nice.”

“Coming right up.”

Nobody spoke while she worked. She said nothing and there was a silent agreement among the heroes that she should be sat down when she heard the news. For her own sake. So, the house stayed too too quiet, broken only by the whistle of a kettle and the series of quiet ‘thank you’s that came along with getting their individual mugs.

“Alright,” breathing deep, Mrs. Foley settled into a seat and squared her shoulders, “what’s going on? Superheroes don’t show up at your door unless they have to.” As one Dakota’s heroes turned to Wonder Woman. She was oldest, most experienced, and the only one there that didn’t already know the woman, and as such was the unofficial spokesperson of the moment.

“We’re only mostly certain-” Static, Hurricane, and Gravitas all gave her pointed looks. As if they were only ‘mostly’ certain of anything. “We know your son’s been kidnapped by a witch-” Mrs. Foley made a pained noise. “-and we’re mostly certain he is, at the moment, a werewolf.”

Groaning, the redhead let her head fall back against the couch and muttered something under her breath with what was almost a growl.

“Mrs-”

“Maggie, please.”

“Maggie, could you repeat that please?” She looked at Wonder Woman, then around at the others, before straightening with a sigh.

“The witch…” she groan-growled again, “I knew something like this was going to happen, I said we should send him out to Gina’s, but no, Sean had to be a stubborn-” Catching herself, she took a steadying breath. “The werewolf thing is normal. He shouldn’t be turning for at least another few months, but once you get witches involved everything can go to hell in a heartbeat…”

The room went silent. Wind didn’t blow outside. Jaws were slack, eyes were wide. Static gaped like a fish for twelve seconds before he finally found his voice.

“You’re all werewolves?” Maggie shook her head.

“Sean and I aren’t, but it runs in both sides of the family. Richie’s shown signs for ages.”

“Does he know about this?!” Because there were family secrets and then there were things you told your best friend of forever- though this would explain that crush on the Wolfman in middle school, and his refusal to watch Sleepwalkers ever. Maggie gave an empty chuckle.

“I love my son, but we were hoping to hold off on telling him until any random passerby couldn’t get his full pedigree out of him with a double cheeseburger.”

Okay, yeah, that was fair.

“Since you seem to be the one in the know,” Wonder Woman said, leaning forward, “maybe you could help us turn him back? We couldn’t find any methods we had time for that wouldn’t put him in danger.”

“Of course,” Maggie said with a nod, standing, “give me a minute and I’ll get you the recipe for my mother’s wolfsbane brew.”

“Wolfsbane…”

“It’s a family trick, for when the kids get too caught up in being the wolf.” Slipping back into the kitchen, she raised her voice to ensure she was heard as she went through an assortment of drawers. “I don’t have any of the ingredients, since we were counting on having a few more months at least and being able to send him back west, but a good scrub down with sapphire should get him back to normal. Ah.” Her waving hand, a yellowed piece of paper clutched in it, appeared around the corner before she did. “Just make sure to check him over for any wool first. A witch only grabs a wolf for a familiar or for parts and either way they need to secure them in wool. Could be anything from a collar to a piece of string, but as long as it’s there he won’t turn back.” Every other body in the room nodded as she handed the paper off to Gravitas, who raised her hand slightly.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to tell us anything about magic, would you? Such as, I don’t know, what to look for if this witch is going to be doing a ritual?” Maggie looked at her, eyebrow raised, and nodded.

“If they’re going to perform a ritual any time soon it’ll probably be sometime tomorrow. Thematics are very important in magic, and Halloween is a very thematic day. It’d be better if there was a full moon, but a new one is nearly as good.” Gravitas nodded even while Hurricane narrowed her eyes curiously.

“How do you know this stuff?” she asked, and Maggie smiled.

“Witches run in the family too.”

“…of course.”

~~

“Frieda.” Hurricane froze on her way out the door, shiver running up her spine at the use of her real name in costume. When she turned, Maggie was stood behind her, a soft smile on, holding out a glasses case. “He’s going to need these once he’s turned back.” Slowly, reminding herself to breathe, she took the case.

“Thank you, Mrs. Foley.” The smile widened.

“Thank you. Just, you kids try to be safe, please?” It took a lot of effort not to hug her, to just nod and smile back.

“We’ll try.”

~~

“I’m sorry, why am I the one in charge of boiling water of all things?”

“Because you have fucking lasers, if anyone is going to be able to get and keep 80 gallons of water boiling without it taking a year it’ll be you.” Scowling, Ultraviolet huffed and glowered at the cast iron tub Gravitas and Static had found in the junkyard. It was rusty, but she could laser that off as easy as she could boil fucking water.

“Richie owes me a pizza after this is done.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

~~

“The good news is,” Wonder Woman said upon she and Gravitas’s return to base, “we have all the wolfsbane we could ever need. The bad news is I’m going to have to explain to Batman why I bought five pounds of poison on the League’s dime.”

“I'm amazed I didn’t just start screaming,” Gravitas grumbled, dropping a large box one had to assume contained said wolfsbane next to the tub. “A pair of superheroes show up talking about needing wolfsbane for an emergency and you not only charge them, but I swear that man upped the price, there is no way this shit costs that much.”

“Just be glad the League is footing the bill.” Wonder Woman nudged the box with her foot. “Still I think I’ll have Superman go talk to him about taking advantage of those in need. He may die of shame right there.” Ultraviolet chuffed, tearing open the box and beginning the process of dumping dried leaves into the boiling water.

“Fingers crossed.”

~~

Static turned the hunk of stone over in his hand, eyeing it carefully. Mrs. Foley had ended up giving them the address of one of the nearer packs in hopes they would have the stones they needed and it certainly seemed so.

“Ya know,” he said, “I never thought sapphire could look like…”

“Just a big blue rock?” Hurricane smiled and shrugged, holding up the small bag of the gems they’d been given so he could return his own to it. Once he had she tied it shut, tucking it away in the deerskin cloak they’d also been loaned. “They said they were rough stones. Guess they’re only as polished as they are through use.”

“Or because it’d really hurt to get scrubbed down with a pointy rock.” She chuckled.

“Or that, yeah.”

~~

It was late afternoon before the group was all together again, the sky just beginning to go dark, costumed children starting to gather on the sidewalks of Dakota.

“Alright,” Gravitas asked, stood at the head of the room, “everything set? Wolfsbane brew?”

“Ready and waiting,” Ultraviolet replied. “It’s getting cold, but I think he’ll live.”

“Great. Sapphires?”

“Enough for everyone,” Static said as Hurricane dumped the bag out beside the tub, “we can tag team him.”

“Now all we need to do is find them.” Scanning the room Wonder Woman put out her hands compellingly. “Any ideas?”

“We asked the pack Mrs. Foley sent us to,” Hurricane said, “and they said if they were just appearing places then they were probably in a different ‘layer’ of the city? And gave us this.” She held up the deerskin cloak. “Apparently it’ll let us move between the layers ourselves.”

“Our idea was that we could put it on BackPack,” Static added, the robot perking up from his rather despondent spot in a corner at the sound of his name. “He can find them, put a tracker down, then come back. Then we go in.”

“That,” Wonder Woman said, “is a better plan than half of Batman’s. Good work.”

~~

~~

He’s lonely. He wasn’t lonely before, when he’d first followed the call to his master, then he’d just been hungry. After, he’d been enthusiastic. But it’s been over a day, his belly is full again of dogs and cats and one man who ran at the wrong time, and as he lays curled tight on the single sheepskin his master has given him all he can do is watch her paint patterns on the floor in peacock blood and feel so so lonely.

He misses his pack.

His dam. His sisters. Brother. His sire he can do without, but the rest of them he feels the lack of deep in his chest. He can’t hear them call, can’t smell them through the smoke, on the whirling breeze. He whines and the sound makes his master snap at him, which in turn makes the thing in his gut scream and snap back. Lonely and cold(wrong) and yearning(she’s wrong).

His pup had come. Slipped inside with fur of his own, hidden in the shadows, long enough to be nuzzled and cleaned before vanishing again. It hadn’t helped anything, only made the ache worse. His pup he misses most, and he had come and then just left him alone again…

“Richie, come here.” The command is welcome, a distraction from the loneliness and the too-small sheepskin. His tongue lolls from his mouth as he stands, stretches, plods to her side. She shoves it back in and holds his jaw closed as she begins to paint him in the same blood as the floor. It’s been mixed with something, he knows, but he isn’t certain what. Something that feels gritty against his nose. The blood-paint goes in patterns over his face, his neck, his legs, his body, and he behaves, he’s good, as it’s applied. He is good, he is compliant as she leads him by the collar to a spot among the floor patterns. As he watches, she crosses them to take the spot opposite his own, the dried husk of something (a leech, something in his head tells him, a massive leech) sitting in a marked spot between them.

She begins to speak a language he can’t understand and something strange starts to seep into his bones, the patterns going hot along his form as

A bolt of lightning flashes past his master’s shoulder

And Richie stops being good

He knows in his soul what that means, and even though he can’t smell them through the licorice he can’t help but jump to his feet, twisting in midair to face his pack, tail wagging so fast it’s but a blur behind him.

“Oh for the love of,” his master says behind him, “heroes just can’t leave well enough alone.” His brother is stepping forward to meet him, sisters behind him, when he suddenly collapses, gasping for a breath that only comes when a slam sounds back in the lair. Richie whines deep in his throat, turning to see his master dragging herself back to the ground, gaze darting between her and his pack. She’s clearly angered.

“Richie, attack.” He doesn’t want to, of course he doesn’t want to this is his pack and the something in his gut is screaming louder, fighting and howling, but the command sinks into him and despite his own wishes he turns and lunges teeth first at the nearest target. It’s a relief and a horror when instead of his brother’s face his jaws lock around something hard and metallic and burning- searing his lips and tongue as the person attached to it flings him aside. The pain doesn’t stop his body from following orders though, it rises on its own, flings itself forward again.

“Don’t, you’ll hurt him!” The woman he hadn’t noticed through the smoke and excitement of pack has raised her arms again in preparation for his attack, only to be shoved aside by his brother. A whine tears from his throat as his teeth dig into the blue cloth over his arm, as he bowls him over. He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, and Virgil is straining to hold his mouth open enough with one hand, struggling not to lose the arm entirely to his teeth.

“It’s okay, man,” he soothes, kicking at his limbs as he tries to claw at him, “it’s gonna be alright, I promise, it’s okay-” Distantly, he can hear struggling behind them, deeper in the lair. Feel magic flying, see and feel the light and wind off his sisters. His pup reappears, sans fur, whirring and chirping as he helps to pry him off his brother. It’s difficult, even with him fighting his hardest to stop, but eventually Virgil’s able to roll away and a shout brings one of his sister’s gusts of wind under and around him, holding him safely in the air where he can snap and swipe and whine without injuring anybody.

It’s from here he can see the fight with his master end. Not with a bang, or a flash of magic, but with merely a quick turn directly into one of his sisters’ fists. His body doesn’t stop struggling, doesn’t stop fighting, even as he whines in pain and distress, even as his pack tries to soothe him from below. Eventually the woman from before, with the silver gauntlets, simply pulls out a long rope and begins the arduous process of binding his mouth shut, tying his limbs to his body, actions that only make his whining louder, his struggling harder. Even being lowered into the reach of their hands doesn’t help, nor the removal of his collar, or the placing of his pup on his back.

He whines and struggles all the way back out of the lair.

~~

~~

Turns out getting Richie into the goddamn tub is the worst part of the whole affair. You’d think it would be easy to just drop the bound and gagged werewolf into the water, but no, apparently he was a cat in a past life. Somehow, against all odds, his struggling had gotten worse as soon as he’d seen the water and he’d begun thrashing so much they struggled to line him up with the tub in the first place. They’d ended up having to wrestle him in and then have Gravitas use her powers to make him all but unable to move at all.

Still, it meant they could move on to phase two, and all five heroes grabbed a chuck of rough sapphire, picked a region of wolf, and got to scrubbing him down. And, despite all odds, it seemed to work. With each scrub more and more fur fell away, and with it went the monstrous shape of him. A patch there and he had a shorter muzzle. One here gained him a more humanlike arm. Between Gravitas and Wonder Woman his tail may as well have come off in one big clump. They scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, tub filling with grey and brown fur, until their arms were sore and finally the rope binding him fell away from the smaller, bare form.

“Richie? How are you feeling?” His breathing was ragged, exhausted from fighting and transforming. He moved his head only enough to verify that Static, Ultraviolet, and Hurricane were right there before lifting himself up enough to lay his forehead against Static’s shoulder.

“I really need some cocoa,” he said, spitting out some blood from the since healed silver wounds, “and a fucking salad.” A small laugh came out of Gravitas, tired but relieved, and proved to be contagious, growing louder as the rest of the team caught it and crowded in close, clapping hands on shoulders, in his hair, even Backpack nearly climbing into the tub, as if to prove to themselves he was there and safe.

“Figures it’d take turning into a man-eating monster to get you anywhere near one.”

~~

Once it was clear Richie was going to be okay, suffering nothing more than some trauma that he insisted still wasn’t as bad as the Brainiac Incident, Wonder Woman was forced to leave. After all somebody had to head back in and get Athame- if Dakota had left anything of her- make sure she met justice, return all the magic items they’d borrowed, and she felt confident the others could manage things like getting him home alright and finding him something to wear on the way.

(“Of course your mom would think to hand us your glasses, but not a pair of pants.”)

So, the heroes of Dakota found themselves spending the late evening in a massive cuddlepile in the Foley living room, laden with cocoa and testing the weight limits of the couch.

“I just hope I can talk mom out of shipping me off to Cousin Gina’s,” Richie said, by now ignoring the way BackPack had latched onto the back of the couch and refused to stop rubbing against his head affectionately, “don’t wanna leave you guys down one again if I can help it, even if it is just once a month.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Frieda said, strewn across Richie’s legs with Daisy on top of her. “I mean, did anyone else see his face when we showed up?”

“May as well have been coming to get our dog out of the boarding kennel,” Sharon added. “You were like a puppy right up until you started trying to eat Virgil.”

“Which,” said other teen said before Richie could open his mouth, “you have never at any point been blamed for.”

“I’m sure we could keep you in line.” Daisy stretched out a kink and took a sip of her cocoa. “We just need to stay close and stock up on jerky.” Richie suddenly froze, Virgil and Sharon watching him warily from their positions directly at his sides, practically joining the other girls in his lap, as he narrowed his eyes at the half-eaten salad on the coffee table.

“I could be having jerky right now.”