This Is So Fucked Up! You Deserve Better Than This Pos Stealing Your Work Word For Word!

This is so fucked up! You deserve better than this pos stealing your work word for word!

I would prefer to message you one on one @ayadrafts but you have me blocked, so I am posting this publicly to ask that you take this fic down. This is a verbatim ripoff of my fic “Phone a Friend”.

I don’t know how to explain how unbelievably shitty that is of you to do to me. Seeing my work blatantly copied without any credit or acknowledgment is not only disrespectful but downright infuriating. And then you block me to cover your tracks? I pour my heart and soul into every fic that I create, as does every writer. And I think you know that.

Maybe I inspired you, I don’t know. Whatever the case, this is outright theft. You’re demonstrating a complete disregard for intellectual property and artistic integrity. It's unacceptable.

Plagiarism, what you did, undermines the hard work and dedication that goes into crafting a piece of work. It’s brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, making moodboards, bouncing ideas off friends, that all goes into how I create a fic from scratch, something that you’re attempting to benefit from. Your decision to plagiarize my work not only disrespects me as a writer but also diminishes the value of your own work, if you even write anything of your own.

Please take this down. You hurt me and I don’t deserve this.

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Helping A Friend (18+)

Eddie Munson x roommate!fem reader Summary: Eddie is sick of you keeping him up late at night with your hand between your thighs) Warnings

WATCH THAT SCENE!

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [2.3k]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, overall fluff!!!

summary: the kids need help learning how to dance for their formal and you're their last resort, but they should've known not to count your suave boyfriend eddie out.

The sun had begun setting in the small town, the burnt twinge of orange and yellow tumbling over the sky where clouds grew drabber and the bright blue following behind. The air was the perfect kind of crisp that blew smoothly against your legs and face, easing the warmth that had developed from the hours of stretches, flips, kicks, and jumps.

All of the others girl had left the parking lot, only leaving you behind, though Chrissy was kind enough to offer you a ride, but you knew Eddie was going to there any minute. And so you beamed when his van came turning into the school zone, the music slowly being turned down as he saw you standing outside the gym already approaching his car.

“How was practice, baby?” He hailed out towards the open passenger window, smiling widely.

You rolled your eyes playfully, opening the door to toss your things into the backseat before settling into the soft velvet cushion beside him. Eddie was already jutting his chin out towards you when you giggled, holding a hand on his cheek to stabilize yourself and pressing your lips together.

He tasted like mint and cigarettes. A combination that you’d never get sick of because despite how much you hated that he smoked those cancer sticks, he always chewed a piece of gum before ever trying to go in for a kiss with you.

“I can’t wait to shower.” You groaned, combing your fingers through your oily hair when he finally started driving away from the school.

Cheer practice was always muggy and gross. Getting tossed in the air time and time again, then proceeding to touch the sweaty mats that everyone practically laid on and touched made you feel icky. It was always routine for you to get into a shower after practice and scrub the living daylights out of your skin.

Eddie looked over at you, cursing under his breath a little at his forgetfulness.

“Shit! Sorry, babe, but Henderson called—he asked if we could swing my Joyce and Hops.”

You shrugged, shaking your head not bothered by the pit-stop since it was always nice to see the kids especially since you were so busy these days.

The only time you really got to see them was if Eddie had a campaign that ran late or on weekends when Eddie was in charge of dropping them off and picking them up.

“It’s fine, as long as I get a shower in the next few hours. Did he say why?”

He shook his head, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “He sounded panicky and annoyed. A lot of voices and music in the background, though.”

“Well, panicky and annoyed, isn’t unusual?” You quipped, and he cackled, switching lanes to take the route.

“We’ll find out in a little bit.”

The Byers-Hopper living room had now been infiltrated by all the younger teens, including the older ones: Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Steve. The older four had been called to by Dustin, begging them to come over and show them a few dance moves that they could use for the winter formal.

But bless Dustin Henderson’s heart, because while they might have had a few proms and formals as dance experience, none of them were “experts” at dancing — or at least none met his standards.

For god's sake, even Nancy and Jonathan, who were a couple since forever, looked like a pair of stiff bodies moving back and forth when they tried to demonstrate how to dance when a slow song came on.

And you would think that someone as charming as Steve would have some sort of groove when it came to dancing, but Jesus, no, he looked even more rigid and awkward.

Don’t even get them started on Robin, who bursted out in laughter when she tried to dance with Steve but failed within the first three seconds because she had accidentally stomped on his foot thinking she was leading.

It even came to the point where they confided in Hopper and Joyce who had arrived home from work to their living room furniture pushed against the walls to make room for a makeshift dance floor. A cassette played loudly through the radio and everyone seemed to be a jumbling mess.

Well, the mess became even bigger when Hopper and Joyce tried to show them a move or two, which just ended up with everyone laughing and burying their faces in their hands at the scene. El, Will, and Jonathan cringed more so than laughed, but now they knew their parents were probably the worst dancers than themselves at than alone was a core memory.

That’s when Dustin threw in the towel and decided to make a call to his dear friend Eddie. Eddie who was about to leave his trailer to pick you up from practice so you could get home and shower, then finish the movie you two fell asleep to last night.

But nevertheless, Dustin sounded frantic and desperate, begging for him to bring you over and alas Eddie gave in.

The boy finally saw the van pull into the driveway and shot up from the couch where he had been resting, watching through the window.

“Shut the music off, Steve!” He shouted, stumbling up and towards the front door.

Everyone rose their brows, Steve following Dustin’s instruction and pausing the cassette that El had let them borrow for the day’s impromptu dance party. Before you and Eddie could even knock on the door, it was pulled open.

The scene of everyone staring at the metal head and cheerleader, quite shocking actually—more shocking than the stares in the hallways at school, which were pretty dreadful already.

You side-eyed Eddie suspiciously wondering what he had gotten you both into before looking back at Dustin.

“Hi?” you squeaked suspiciously, twiddling your hand in the air to greet everyone who waved.

The boy smirked, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you inside roughly without a second thought.

“Dustin, what the hell!” You shrieked having no choice but to move with him in order to avoid tripping over your own feet.

Eddie rolled his eyes, stepping inside and shutting the door closed.

“Henderson, you’ve got three seconds to tell me why you’re dragging my girlfriend like a rag doll.”

Dustin apologetically bowed towards Eddie, dropping your arm and gesturing to the open floor.

Everyone else was either leaning up against the wall or sitting down on the couch, trying to get some rest after the young boy practically forced them to keep dancing until they had something, but nothing was good enough for the damn twerp.

“You know how to dance, right?” Dustin stared at you, and you bounced on your heels, nodding your head slightly.

“I mean, cheerleading does require some dancing but—“

Dustin shushed you, causing you to furrow your brows, and looked around dumbfounded at the action. Steve and Robin were already shooting you sorry looks as they muttered something about his tone and needing a smack to the head.

“Henderson, just tell us why we’re here?” Eddie rubbed at his temples.

He plopped on the empty seat next to Max who looked rather peeved at being stuck there all afternoon when she could have been at the arcade playing Dig-Dug.

She turned to him, gesturing in the air with annoyed hands. “Dustin wants us to learn how to dance for this weekend’s formal.”

Lucas pipped in, looking at the crowd before settling on you. “No one knows how to dance except you.”

A small smile grew upon your face, looking around the room at the sullen faces that were offended at Lucas’ words — mostly Hopper and Joyce, because back in their day, they were pretty darn good dancers if they said so themselves.

Eddie sat up from his spot on the couch, shooting a deceitful look at Lucas while gesturing fondly to himself.

“What? You don’t think she’s the only good dancer around here do you?”

Mike grunted, mumbling under his breath, “You sure don’t look like you knew how to command a dance floor.”

Everyone seemed to agree with Mike, which was extremely rare, even for Hopper who didn’t like the kid all that much.

You crossed your arms, shaking your head at the little shitheads and more offended that they thought your boyfriend couldn't dance.

“Hey! Did you forget Eddie is in a band? He practically eats, sleeps, and breathes rhythm.” You reasoned with a tilt of your head, trying to sway them.

Everyone tried to stifle their laughter but failed terribly. I mean could you blame them?

Eddie played metal music, not that pop disco shit that would be playing at the formal, but that’s because they thought wrong about him. They all thought they had your boy all figured out as the stereotypical metal head that couldn’t dance to save his life, but you were about to make them eat their words.

Contrary to popular beliefs, Eddie was quite the dancer, and a good one at that. He knew how to keep up the pace and swoop you off your feet so smoothly you’d think he was a professional in his past life.

You shot Eddie that look, lifting your shoulders with the silent offer as he looked almost coy before nodding at you, scooting off the couch and shaking his arms off getting himself warmed up.

You glanced at Steve, pointing at the stereo, “Hit it!”

Eddie moved across the floor to you effortlessly, hands going for your hips while you draped yours over his neck — you were like magnets easily finding each other. Your feet slid back and forth, one after the other, following Eddie’s lead that flowed with the music.

“How did you guys know Eddie and I love to dance to ABBA?” You called towards your friends who watched in astonishment.

“You can dance?!” they screeched, eyes widening as they all straightened up in their seats and off the walls, watching with the utmost surprise and shock.

You began to giggle as your boyfriend spun you around into his chest, swaying you both while he placed a kiss on your cheek before spinning you back out.

“Just like the songs says, you just gotta feel the beat.” Eddie rose his brow at them, moving your hips in his hands before you shook your head at his playfulness.

“C’mon, we’ll show you.” You told them, pushing at his chest so that you could skip on over towards Dustin, pulling him to the center of the living room with you.

Eddie went for Max, tilting his head for her to follow his lead and not be so nervous.

“It’s really all about keeping the pace and the beat.” He instructed, looking down at their shoes and Max did her best to not step on his sneakers that were already pretty beat up.

“And loosen up,” you chided, nudging Dustin a bit, “relax those shoulders and move those hips.” You instructed, showing him to roll his shoulders back and swirl his lower body as if he was hula-hooping.

After a while, they started to get the hang of it, easily moving across the floors without stepping on each other’s feet and not being so tense.

“Great, now you two try!” You nodded, handing off Dustin towards Max.

It was awkward at first, the both of them laughing as they didn’t know where to put their hands, but quickly it became natural with what you and Eddie had taught, the basics of keeping up with the rhythm and singing along.

You huffed with hands on your hips, looking around the room for your next student, while Eddie had already grabbed Joyce who was a giggly mess.

“C’mon Mr. Hips, I know they don’t call you king Steve for nothing.” You teased, tiptoeing towards your friend and pulling him along with you.

Before you knew it, the living room was a lively dance floor. Bodies grooving along to music without even second guessing if they were doing it right and just having fun with each other as they sung and tried not to bump into the pair beside them.

“Maybe we should open up a studio and start teaching some classes?” You suggested with a grin, resting your chin on Eddie’s chest, staring up at him.

He chucked, pecking at your nose sweetly, “Don’t get ahead of yourself babe, you know my dancing services are limited to you. This was just a special occasion.”

“Do you have any other talents you want to reveal?” Dustin nudged him with his elbow, prompting Eddie to smirk toward him before looking back at you.

“I can do a pretty gnarly lift, exactly like that one in Dirty Dancing.” He bragged, still pretty surprised at himself that he was able to pull it off.

The girls in the room gasped, including Steve, “No way!”

“Yes way,” You bit your lip with a giggle, remembering that one afternoon you and Eddie had spent together trying to get it down after you had watched the movie.

Steve dropped Robin’s hand, wandering over to the stereo and pausing the track before picking it up by the handle and walking towards the front door. Everyone stared at him, waiting until he sighed, one hand on his hip as he looked at you and Eddie.

“You guys need more room than this. We’re moving outside and that lift better be top tier.” He warned towards Eddie, walking out the front door as everyone else followed his lead.

You and Eddie laughed at how ridiculous it all was — surely none of the kids were going to attempt to pull off a lift in the middle of their formal dance, but it was sure gonna be funny watching everyone else have their try at it.

Eddie hoisted you up, prompting you to laugh into the crook of neck, “C’mon baby, I’m about to blow their socks off.” He said, kissing your cheek with an obnoxiously loud smooch before carrying you out the door.

So maybe you didn’t get to go home and get that shower or finish that movie as soon as you would have liked to, but you sure did get to dance that afternoon away with the love of your life and that in itself was a win.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: i have been neglecting my beloved eddie for far too long and this has been sitting in my drafts since forever so here ya go!!! yes eddie is a dancer and that is not up for debate -- yeah my man loves his metal music, but the second he hears a good pop tune he's pulling his gf up and they're dancing like no one is watching.

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

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PART I | [PART II] | [more parts coming soon]

I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts.  Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts.  Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying.  ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair.  You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze.  Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other. 

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy.  Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway.  It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught. 

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers.  "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously.  Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night.  Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy.  Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug. 

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures. 

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

DONT TEASE ME WITH PLATONIC BARTY AND BIG BRITHER SIRIUS STOP IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEE 🪩

okay so this accidentally ended up being almost 5.5k words??? whoopsie daisy.

this concept was a collaboration with @unstablereader and also intertwined a few requests for best friend Barty, big brother Sirius, and poly!moonwater hurt comfort!!

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who was bitten over the winter hols

CW: Best Friend Barty (i.e., swearing, chaos, slight insanity), Big Brother Sirius (i.e., coddling, bad cop, certified dumbass), swearing swearing swearing, slight muggle blasphemy, description of wounds/blood/injury, discussion of Sacred 28 Pureblood Families, etc etc etc - hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Barty Crouch Junior was a plethora of dichotomies and contradictions. 

He was a good friend and a bad son. He was a smart boy who made horrible ideas. He was a rational person with unreasonable reactions. He was a menace and very reliable. He was a good lay and a bad boy. 

Barty liked that about himself though; he liked that no one ever knew what to expect when it came to Bartemus Crouch Junior. 

Though, he supposed to those who knew him, it would have been completely predictable for him to have stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. Maybe he should have gone home – really surprised everyone then.

His nightly routine of trying to incendio Daily Prophet articles of his father with nonverbal and wandless magic was interrupted by an awkward thump on his dorm room door. 

“Come in?” Barty called awkwardly, unsure who might be at his door seeing as his friends were all home for the holidays and the staff here tended to avoid him like Dragon Pox.

The doorknob began to rattle but it sounded as if the person on the other side of the door was struggling to turn it.

“Salazar’s saggy balls. WHAT!?” He seethed as he ripped the door open, determined to teach whoever was stupid enough to bother him a lesson when he came face to face with you.

Except...except you were crying, and bloody, and so pale.

“Treasure!?” Barty squawked, awkwardly catching you as you began to slide down the door frame which you were leaning the entirety of your weight on. 

“Barty...I-” you started before a pained sob tore through your teeth. “I need help.”

“What happened?” Barty asked breathlessly, moving you from the door to his bed without your help after your left leg gave out on you.

“Barty...”

“What. Happened. Y/N?” He demanded.

“Barty, you cannot- cannot tell Reg and Remus. Pl- hnggh - please promise me you won’t tell them.”

“Tell them what, Treasure? What’s wrong!?” Barty pressed, beginning to panic when his bedding quickly became saturated with your blood. 

“Promise me!” You shrieked, your voice carrying the most clarity since you had arrived.

“Okay! I promise!” Barty agreed readily. You didn’t seem convinced, however.

You shakily held your pinky out to him and stared intensely at him. “Promise me that y-, that you will not tell Remus or, or Regulus.”

Barty looked between your eyes and your pinky before finally interlocking your pinky with his. “I promise I will not tell Remus or Regulus.”

More tears fell as you began pulling your long winter robes off. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt and long trousers, but Barty could tell most of the bleeding was coming from your leg. Your fingers were shaking too much as you unsuccessfully tried unbuttoning your trousers, so Barty silently asked for your permission before undoing the button and zip for you.

You pulled the pants to your knee to expose a large...werewolf bite on your left thigh.

“Treasure.” Barty breathed out horrified, looking back up at you with tears in his eyes. “What...what happened? No, I ... I can see what happened. How did this happen?”

“I...I just-”

And you passed out.

“No! No no no. Nononononono.” Barty chanted as he tried to rouse you awake.

“Okay Barty, come on, think. You didn’t achieve all twelve O.W.L’s for naught.” He berated himself, lying you down on his bed and pulling your trousers the rest of the way off.

He turned you onto your right side and tried elevating your leg to stop the blood flow after he realized a simple episkey was not going to close the wound.

He realized that the reason you’d been struggling to open the door was that your wrist appeared to be broken, and you’d been leaning onto the doorframe to keep your weight off of your injured leg. That he could fix with an episkey, so at least he wasn’t completely useless. 

His sweet, sweet Treasure. Bitten. By a werewolf!? Your parents...

Oh gods, your parents.

That’s why you were here.

You couldn’t go back home, not as a werewolf; your parents would kill you. The only thing worse to a Sacred 28 Family than a dead daughter would be a werewolf one.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Any why couldn’t he tell Lupin and Regulus!? Lupin was probably the only person who could actually help you right now. Barty hated that – hated that someone else could help you and he couldn’t – but he also loved that you had people who loved you and could help you.

Fucking fuck, he was supposed to be burning moving pictures of his father right now, not trying to bring his best friend back from the brink of death.

“That’s enough Treasure, you need to wake up.” He muttered, shaking you by your shoulders gently. When that still didn’t work, he cast a quick rennervate. 

You groaned in pain and tried rolling onto your back. 

“No, Y/N, you need to stay like this. I need you to tell me what happened.”

You moaned again and turned back towards him; eyes shut tight in pain. 

“I...I needed to leave I, I – ugh.”

“Okay, okay. So you left, that much I can understand. How’d you get bitten?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t know it was there until it was too late, Barty. I swear it. I was following the trail behind my-my house and it just appeared! I fell back- backwards onto my arm when it lunged and I apparated once I realized what was happening, but it was...it was too- too late.”

“Where were you trying to go?”

“The Potter’s.”

“And why can’t you go there now?”

You opened your eyes at that, and Barty felt his heart fall out of his ass at the amount of pain that spilled from your eyes that had nothing to do with any of your various physical injuries.

“Rem... Rem hates himself. He hates The Wolf, he ha- hates his lycanthropy; he thinks he is a m... monster and deserves nothing. Barty, he’ll hate me.” You broke into a sob at the end of your sentence and Barty was very close to joining you.

He didn’t think you were right at all, mind you; he thinks it’d be rather impossible for anyone to hate you, least of all Lupin who seemed completely lovesick for you and Regulus. He didn’t think it was worth your energy to argue with you about it though, seeing as he already pinky promised not to go to the lycanthrope or your other boyfriend about this.

He didn’t know what to do, though. He needed to close this wound and stop the bleeding, he needed to pilfer from the infirmary, he needed to pilfer the potions supply closet, and he needed to figure out how to help a werewolf. And he needed to do all of these things whilst somehow not leaving your side at all. 

“I’m tired, Barty.” You murmured quietly, startling him from his internal panic.

“You can’t sleep, Treasure. Not until we close this wound and stop the bleeding.”

He pulled out his third year DADA textbook to find the chapter on werewolves. 

“Dangerous creature this, loss of moral sense that, right then – powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite wound.” Barty recited as he read off his textbook. He looked over to your wound, still oozing and bleeding, though the new angle and elevation did seem to be helping staunch the blood flow at least a little.

“Right... fresh enough I suppose.” Barty sighed, making you promise to stay awake long enough for him to raid the potions supply closet and the infirmary to get the necessary ingredients.

Barty had been feeling quite confident in his plans.

Except something was very, very wrong.

The dittany and powered silver bubbled slightly where it interacted with your blood and flesh but didn’t seem to be sticking to your wound at all; it seemed that it was just causing you to moan in agony as Barty uselessly tried spreading it over your leg.

“You’re sure it was a werewolf that bit you?” He asked again. Barty was certain that if you were feeling better, you would have kicked at him.

He wished you could have kicked at him.

“Yes, Barty.” You cried.

“Oh, Treasure, I’m sorry.” He lamented, putting down his bowl of useless silver paste and brushing sweaty hairs away from your forehead.

“Salazar, you’re burning up, Y/N.” He commented, cupping your heated and flushed face with his hand. 

“I’m cold.” You argued, awkwardly trying to pull at his bedsheets to cover your arms. Barty hated to add more layers on you when your fever was this high, but he couldn’t really bring himself to deny you, either. 

Unfortunately, it appeared that Barty needed help. 

Unfortunately, Barty made you a promise.

Fortunately, there were ways around that. 

Unfortunately, that meant having to resort to a fate worse than death.

“Oh! Hello there.” Mrs. Potter greeted Barty as she rounded the corner after being alerted by the house elf that there was a student at the floo. “Are you looking for Regulus?”

Barty adorned his most charming (and least maniacal) grin as he bowed politely to Mrs. Potter like the proper Pureblood he'd been beaten raised to be. 

“Euphemia Potter – looking as smashing as ever.” He said before returning to his full height. “Actually, I’m here for the lesser Black brother today.”

Mrs. Potter narrowed her eyes at his comment but pursed her mouth as if fighting back a smile.

“Am I to assume you’re referring to Sirius, Barty?”

Barty sighed in admiration. “Smart and pretty, Euphemia; how do you do it?”

“I’ll be right back, Mr. Crouch.” Mrs. Potter called over her shoulder as she left the floo reception room. Barty quickly pulled out the charmed compact mirror he had connected to a hand mirror which he had set up beside you before he left. You were asleep and shivering violently, but you were alive.

Help is coming, Treasure. 

“Oh.” Barty heard, causing him to close the mirror and look up to see a confused looking Sirius pausing mid-step into the room. “Sorry, I’ll go get Regulus for you.”

Barty scoffed derisively. “Oh, come off it Black – give the woman a little credit, yeah? I asked for you. Now let’s go.” He barked, turning towards the floo flame.

He turned back when he realized Sirius wasn’t following him.

“Hello??” He called sarcastically. “Did you not hear me? I said let’s go.”

Sirius looked Barty up and down and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Why in the hells would I go anywhere with you?” Sirius asked bemusedly. 

“Black!” Barty seethed. “I do not have time for this, we have to go now.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”

Barty sighed and looked down to the hells for patience or possibly extra strong demonic powers to get through this conversation with Sirius. 

“Where is Regulus right now?”

Sirius considered Barty skeptically but answered, nonetheless. 

“Upstairs with Remus.”

Barty looked at Sirius at that. “Is it safe to assume he is helping him recover from last night?”

Sirius’ face fell and he levelled Barty with a hard glare. “What the hell are you on about, Junior?”

“Black, please believe that there is absolutely nothing in this realm that I’d rather be doing than sitting here asking for your help but I’m here doing just that.”

“For what?”

Regulus was here, and Regulus was helping Lupin, which meant that Lupin was also here with his supernatural hearing. Barty made you a promise – he would not tell Regulus or Remus what has happened.

“I need your help, because I’ve found a lost Treasure that seems to be in some Trouble.” Barty explained slowly, praying to every god that Sirius would pick up on his not-so-subtle clues.

Sirius’ eyes stayed narrowed at Barty before they grew comically in understanding. 

“Where is-”

“Not here.” Barty interrupted. “Grab your things and come with me.”

“I have so many fucking questions.” Sirius muttered as he stepped through the floo, somehow ending up standing in the Slytherin common room. 

“Like?” Barty asked in a bored tone.

“How the hell did you manage to connect the floo network to the Slytherin common room?” He started, realizing that it probably wasn’t the most important question, but it seemed to take precedence in his mind.

Barty turned to sneer at Sirius, though his steps never faltered as he sped towards what Sirius could only assume was his dorm.

“Really, Black? I tell you that your future sister-in-law is in dire need of your help, and that’s what you’re- you know what? I’m not surprised. The floo network is easy to manipulate so long as you know how to dismantle ancient wards.” Barty explained dismissively.

 Easy. Dismantle ancient wards. Sure.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” He asked much more seriously. Most (though not all) of the contempt drained from Barty’s face as he stopped in front of a door. 

“She...she was bitten.”

Sirius just stared dumbly at the absolute last person he imagined he'd be spending his morning with as he let that information process.

He wasn't given much time, however, as Barty quickly opened the door and disappeared into the room, clearly unbothered to see if Sirius was following him in or not.

“Treasure? Hey, hey; it’s okay. Look? I brought some help, okay? You’re alright.” He cooed at a curled-up form on his bed – your curled-up form.

“Oh, Trouble.” Sirius breathed out in disbelief, surveying your shaking and battered body before his gaze paused on your exposed thigh – clear as day was a large canine bite, still bleeding. 

“Oh, my girl.” Sirius cooed, feeling like he might be sick at the sight of one of his favourite people in the world in so much pain. It was very different from post moon care with Remus; Remus was seasoned, he was prepared, they were prepared.

You looked like you were dying.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked quickly, shaking himself and trying to force himself into action.

“Other than the very obvious werewolf bite?” Barty sneered. “She has a fever that won’t quit.”

“Take the blankets off.” Sirius ordered, earning him a whimper from your form.

“S’cold, Siri.” You whined.

“I know, Trouble, but you’re burning up.” He replied apologetically, pulling the blankets out of your currently much weaker grasp.

Barty looked like he was just as heartbroken as you were at the loss of the warmth, but clearly agreed with Sirius enough not to argue. 

“Mean.” You pouted; eyes still screwed shut in pain.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He whispered, casting a quick auguamenti and glacius on a rag and placing it on your head, earning him another protesting groan from you.

“Why’s her leg still bleeding?” Sirius asked, eyes still on your face as he used the cloth to wipe away the sweat from your features. He quickly prepared two more rags and placed them on the back of your neck and your chest. 

“I don’t know. I followed the instructions from our DADA textbook on werewolves – three tablespoons of powdered silver mixed with four tablespoons of dittany to create a paste. It did nothing but hurt her and aggravate me.” He admitted, sounding horribly dejected.

“Where’s the silver from?”

“Slughorn’s supply closet.”

Sirius groaned. “That’s why. The school buys the cheapest ingredients they can to keep costs low. That won’t be pure silver.”

“Well, where in the hells are we supposed to find pure silver then?” Barty groaned. 

Of all the times for Sirius to not be at Grimmauld Place anymore – that place was teeming with pure silver.

Pure...

Toujours pur. 

“Regulus.” Sirius whispered no louder than a breath. You didn’t seem to hear him, your lucid moment clearly over; but Barty did.

“I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.” He explained plainly, causing Sirius to groan.

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

Barty turned his face to glare at Sirius. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I heard you, Junior. So, what are we going to do then?”

Barty let out a long-suffering sigh. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed and he cautiously lifted his hand to press the back of it to Barty’s head, checking for fever of his own. Barty aggressively swatted him away.

“Are you quite alright, Junior? Is this a stroke?”

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Black. Okay? Are you listening to my words?”

Sirius nodded at him as Barty grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and stared imposingly into his eyes. “I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – promised that sweet, lovely Treasure you call Trouble over there, that I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – would not tell Remus Lupin or Regulus Black. I promised her.” 

Now, Sirius feels it’s important to note that it was currently maybe seven o’clock in the morning, and he’d only just stepped out of the shower after washing away a night of romping in the woods around Potter Manor with Moony as Padfoot last night to be told there was someone at the floo for him; in other words, he was fucking exhausted. And to add to that, he had one of his least favourite people tell him that one of the worst possible things happened to one of his favourite people. So, sue him for what he said next.

“I don’t understand.” 

“Fucking son of a mother fucking cunt, I swear to that fucking muggle-religion-wizard-guy-that-caused-the-whole-brew-ha-ha-in-that-big-ass-muggle-tome I will shave that fucking head of yours and wear your hair as a wig; I cannot tell Lupin and Regulus.” Barty spat, though somehow managed to keep his voice low enough to not gain your attention.

“Yes, yes, yes. You promised her.” Sirius lamented. “You p- wait... you promised her. You promised her.”

“Thank Merlin and Morgana.” Barty groaned as fell to his knees in exhaustion, clearly more than thankful that Sirius had finally gotten it. 

“I’ll be back.” Sirius announced and started towards the fireplace in the Slytherin common room in order to retrieve his brother. 

Regulus looked up from the pages of his novel to survey Remus’ form again. His boyfriend laid on his back with his head propped up on two pillows and his eyes closed as the soft morning light filtered its way through the sheer curtains and painted his features in its warm glow.

Regulus knew Remus was likely exhausted and sore and perhaps feeling awfully sorry for himself right now, but Regulus wasn’t sure he ever looked more beautiful. 

“You should take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Remus commented dryly, never bothering to open his eyes as a smile danced on his lips.

“Ha ha.” Regulus deadpanned, returning his gaze to his book with a blush taking over his face.

“You worry too much, love. I’m okay.” 

“I know you’re okay.” Regulus argued.

“Yet you still worry?”

“Yet I still worry.” 

Regulus heard Remus’ head turn against his pillow, and he looked back up to see Remus regarding him.

“Have you heard from her by chance?” Remus whispered as if fearing the answer he knew was coming.

Regulus knew it was you who Remus referred to; they’d been waiting quite impatiently for your owl for the past few days.

You had promised to write as often as you could - every day if possible – over the winter holidays. The last correspondence they had with you was four days ago as you told them of some family gathering at your home.

He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he could tell he was caught at the disappointed sigh from Remus.

“No, mon loup. I’m sorry.” Regulus admitted.

Remus let out another sigh and leaned his head back down on the pillows, squishing his eyes shut as if the pain of not knowing how you were was more painful than the current aching in his bones.

“Hey, Reg?” Regulus heard his brother call from the door. 

“He’s awake.” Regulus called back simply.

“How’re you feeling, Moons?” Sirius asked, walking towards the end of the bed with his hands in his pocket.

“Been worse.” Remus answered.

“I...” Sirius started, cutting himself off with a sigh.

“Spit it out, Sirius. We’ve not got all day.” Regulus drawled and put his book down. He couldn’t stop his heart rate from picking up when he noticed Sirius’ discontent, however; sudden flashbacks of Sirius standing in Regulus’ doorway begging him to pack his things and leave with him bombarding his mind.

“What is it, Pads?” Remus asked, seeming to pick up on his friend’s anxiety as well.

“I need your help.” He admitted. “It’s...it’s Y/N.”

Remus sat up all too quickly and winced at the cracking of his back.

“What is it? Where is she? Is she okay?” He asked, trying to free himself from the bedding that Regulus had tucked him into hours earlier.

“No, well, yes...she-”

“Where is she?” Regulus whispered in horror.

“With Junior. At Hogwarts.”

Regulus relaxed slightly to at least know you were safe at Hogwarts and with Barty, though that raised more questions than answers for him.

“How do you know that?” Regulus asked, all the while Remus continued struggling to dress himself despite his various aches and pains. 

“Junior told me.” Sirius admitted, finally taking pity on his friend and helping him dress whilst his boyfriend sat their uselessly. 

“Why did he tell you? When did he tell you?”

“This morning!” Sirius barked, clearly growing agitated, “listen, I just-”

“What happened to her, Sirius?” Remus begged, finally taking a moment to catch his breath and stare at his friend imploringly. “What happened to her that Junior told you and not us?”

Sirius swallowed thickly before he answered.

“She was bitten, Rem.”

All colour drained from Remus’ face and Regulus sat stock still.

“Was it me?!” Remus asked through a choked sob. This seemed to snap Regulus out of his uselessness and he reached for Remus’ shoulder to squeeze it affectionately.

“No, no. Moony, no one was there last night. I swear it.”

“What...why do you need my help? What do you need?” Regulus asked quietly, standing to pull on his own jacket and retrieving his and Remus’ wands from the dresser. 

“We can’t get the wound to close, and she’s got a wicked fever that we can’t bring down. She’s barely lucid, she's lost an insane amount of blood, and the silver at the school didn’t work to close it and-”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Remus agreed breathlessly.

“Why not?”

“Too costly to give pure powdered silver to a bunch of students who make throw away potions – they only use what works in the brew but not in practice.” Remus explained, groaning as he stood and quickly transfigured his suitcase into a cane on account of his hip after the transformation. 

“So, you need pure silver? Like... the ring!” Regulus whispered, hastily ripping the Black Family signet ring from his thumb and passing it to Sirius.

“We need to go now. She can’t afford to lose any more blood, and it should have been closed immediately.” Remus pressed, making his way to the door albeit a little shakily. 

Regulus was sick with worry; for you, your life, your future, your family, for Remus and how upsetting this must be for him as well, but something still wasn’t making any sense.

“Why did Barty tell you?” Regulus asked as they stepped through the floo into the Slytherin common room, making a mental note to ensure that it was closed before the rest of the students returned from winter holidays.

Sirius grimaced slightly and turned to look at his friend who he was supporting as they followed Regulus to the dorm room.

“She...she made him promise not to tell you guys.” Sirius admitted.

Remus’ steps faltered and Regulus turned, ready to help Sirius in catching him, only to notice that he wasn’t falling but rather had stopped walking all together.

“Why wouldn’t she want us to know?” Remus asked mournfully.

“I never did hear why.” Sirius admitted, encouraging Regulus forward with a nod of his head.

The three of them entered the room to find Barty sitting on a low stool beside you with his pinky interlinked with yours. Your eyes were still shut tightly and your breathing was shallow, but Regulus could hear Barty talking lowly to you and your occasional responses. 

“I like that song about the fighter, the writer, and the ruler.” Barty murmured quietly to you.

Your brows twitched as you gritted out “it’s Soldier, Poet, King.”

“Ah, right you are, Treasure.” Barty responded, looking over his shoulder at the new additions to the room. “You always know everything.”

“How is she?” Sirius asked as he dropped the signet ring inside the mortar and pestle and traded seats with Barty who began to grind it into powder, and Regulus and Remus moved to stand near the end of the bed to take in your form.

“Hanging in there, Black.” Barty responded to Sirius, though he looked at Regulus as he said it.

Sirius must have noticed Regulus’ death glare being pointed at Barty and opted to intervene. 

“Hey, Trouble?” Sirius asked you gently, brushing some of your damp hair away from your forehead. You hummed in acknowledgement without opening your eyes.

“Why didn’t you want Remus and Regulus to know, sweets?”

You whimpered as your face morphed into agony, eyes finally opening to look at Sirius through fat tears.

“Remus will hate me.”

Remus actually whimpered at that, clearly itching to move towards you, but not wanting to interrupt you.

“Why would he hate you, sweets?”

“He hates werewolves.”

Remus’ head dropped in shame as Regulus rubbed soothing circle into his back. 

“But he loves you, Trouble.” Sirius pressed, watching Remus all the while.

“Not anymore.” You sighed in resignation, closing your eyes once more.

“Always, dove.” Remus insisted. You squeezed your eyes tightly as if you were trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t there. 

“Do you hear me? I will always love you. There is nothing that could ever happen that would make me hate you, okay?” He carried on, slowly making his way to the other side of the bed in order to curl up behind you and pull your back into his front. 

You whimpered, though Regulus was sure it was less from physical pain and more in distress.

“What about Reggie?” You cried as Sirius continued rubbing his thumb across your forehead. 

“It’s almost ready.” Barty interrupted as he began measuring out the silver and dittany. 

“Reggie thinks the world of you, dove.” Remus murmured into your hair, looking over at Regulus imploringly. 

“You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, Trouble.” Sirius added. “We’re not going to let you do this alone.”

“It’s done, Treasure. We’re gonna fix you up.” Barty said as he made his way over, keeping his eyes trained on Regulus. 

“Dovey, this is going to hurt an awful lot, okay? But you’re so brave, you’re so brave and then you’ll feel all better, okay?” Remus spoke into your hair, keeping you pressed tightly to his form as you began to struggle against his hold. 

“Regulus, you need to be brave for her.” Sirius ordered, looking as severe as Regulus ever remembers his older brother being. 

What could Regulus have ever done to make you think it was at all possible for him to feel anything but love for you?

How could Regulus ensure that you never thought such things again?

“I’m right here, amour. Okay? You’ve got four of us here who love you, we’re not going anywhere.” He pressed, moving to take over Sirius’ place on Barty’s short stool as Sirius positioned himself close to your feet.

“I don’t want to hurt.” You cried, breathing becoming slightly erratic as Remus added more pressure in keeping your arms pinned to your sides.

“I know, amour. It’ll be over soon, okay?” Regulus tried, brushing hair away and pressing his lips to your overly hot forehead.

“You’re so brave, Y/N. We’ve got you, okay? Such a brave girl, come on babylove, you’re okay.” Remus chanted, looking over at Sirius as he pinned your ankles to the bed and Barty transfigured a stirrer in an applicator.

“Please. I don’t want to.” You begged.

“You’re so brave.” Remus repeated, pressing his mouth to the top of your head as his own tears fell into your hair.

“Do it.” Regulus insisted, not wanting to prolong this anymore.

Regulus nearly dropped his wand in his haste to throw up a silencing charm around the dorm room as your screams bounced off the stone walls in time with Barty’s first swipe of the ointment. 

Regulus couldn’t hear the words spilling from Remus’ lips, but he knew that he was whispering sweet encouragements to you as he cried in sympathy. Sirius looked to be using all his strength to keep your legs pinned down as you struggled, and his eyebrows furrowed on your behalf as well.

“You’re okay, amour. You’re okay.” Regulus insisted for both of your benefits, watching as Barty applied the last of the paste to your leg.

“Now what!?” Barty shouted over your agonized cries.  

“Breathe dove, breathe. The pain will fade, just breathe.” Remus coached, rocking the both of you gently back and forth as you sobbed.

“You’ve done so well, amour, so well. Ma courageuse fille; you’re so brave.” Regulus praised, taking both of your hands into his and pulling them from Remus’ grasp to press kisses to your knuckles. “Tu as si bien fait, tu es la personne la plus forte que je connaisse.”

It took some time and many more encouragements before your sobs decreased into pitiful hiccups and whimpers as you looked towards Regulus. 

“You don’t hate me?” You asked pitifully.

Regulus used his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling as Remus caressed your arms.

“It never even crossed my mind, cheri. I could never; non.” Regulus insisted. 

“I’m so sorry, dove.” Remus whispered into your head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

“Remus.” Sirius warned. 

“Not because it makes her any less lovely, Sirius. But because she doesn’t deserve it.” Remus explained. 

“I’m scared.” You admitted timidly.

“I know, dove.”

“Lucky for you, Trouble, you’ve got some seasoned professionals here.” Sirius added, nudging Remus’ foot. 

“Can I start the animagus process now, Rem?” Regulus groaned, looking at Remus pointedly. 

“I guess it wouldn’t be fair to make you sit out on full moons now.” Remus relented – he’d always hated the idea of putting the two of you in any undue danger, but he couldn’t deny Regulus of the two of you, nor you of Regulus; not when you would need him most.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Barty interrupted, moving his skeptical glance between the four of you. “You’re telling me that animagi can romp around with the likes of werewolves?”

Remus nuzzled his face impossibly further into your head as Sirius chuckled. 

“Werewolves don’t care about animals. In fact, it makes them quite happy to have a ‘pack’.” Sirius explained.

Barty laughed conspiratorially. “Well, sign me the fuck up. Regulus, I’ll buy the first mandrake leaf; my treat!” He called as he grabbed his jacket and wand and headed for the door, likely heading to Hogsmeade for supplies in his excitement. 

“Moony is not going to like him.” Sirius proclaimed flippantly, finally falling into a chair in exhaustion after Barty was gone.

“It’s not just about him, anymore.” Remus responded, pressing a kiss to your head. Regulus could tell your fever was reducing, though your cheeks were still flushed.

You had a lot to discuss; what happened, why it happened, and where to go from here. But for now, Regulus was just happy you were alive, currently safe, surrounded by people who loved you, and agreeable to him running you a bath. 

My favorite Steve series ever!!

episode five: dig dug

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.” “Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.” He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

Summary: you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

Rating: general, swearing and slight violence

Warnings: blood, use of y/n, fem!reader, animal cruelty technically, weapons, cursing

Words: 7.5k

Before you swing in: hello ! late chapter update, but here ya go lovelies !! lots has happened recently, i got a sick ass job and im super excited and :))) so updates will definitely slow down again some more, but i promise i will update whenever possible. for now, please enjoy !

–

“Remember how angry I was at you about hiding El from me last year?”

“Yeah?”

“Visualize the anger, multiply it by ten, and then take three steps back from me.”

Dustin trips over his feet to scramble away from you.

You’re currently in your own room, the door locked, with Dustin standing several feet away now as he heeds your warning. Never in your life have you felt such rage before, such blinding fury, and you thought you knew what anger was when your dad left.

But this? This is a new type of anger, one you know that only the older sister to Dustin Henderson could ever feel.

As soon as Dart had lifted its head up at you and screeched, you’d immediately snatched your brother’s hand into yours and ran out the door, door slamming behind you. Now, you’re hiding out in your room with no fucking clue what to do.

“You killed our cat.”

“Technically Dart did.” You glare at Dustin. You had actually liked Mews, she was the sweetest cat in the world and a gift for your fifth birthday. Your brother, sensing he’s only digging a deeper hole for himself, coughs. “I mean… Yeah. I killed our cat.”

Stepping back, you find your desk chair against your legs and fall into the seat. Exhaustion sweeps over you. There’s no time to grieve the loss of your cat. Not when there’s a baby demogorgon in Dustin’s room eating said cat’s corpse still. “What do we even do in this situation?”

“Not tell mom?” Again, you glare at Dustin and he squeaks in fear. “Well I mean, that’s all I can think of right now!”

A headache forms. “I should’ve gone with Jonathan and Nancy.”

Dustin thinks for a moment. “Where did they go, anyways?”

“No. You don’t get to ask any questions right now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You sigh, a vague idea forming in your mind. “Okay, first we need get Mews out of the room. She was mom’s favorite child, we can’t just leave her in there to be diminished to bones.”

Dustin nods. “Obviously. We can do that… right?”

“We have to. Once she’s out of there, we just… leave Dart in there. At least for now. It’s already late in the afternoon and we need so much help from the party.”

“We can’t tell the party–”

“You’re right. We can’t,” Dustin sighs with relief, but you give him an evil smile. “But you can tell the party. You’ll radio everyone tomorrow, clean the house, and make a plan from there.”

Dustin tries to argue, but you hold a hand up. “You brought a baby demogorgon into our house. You lost every arguing privilege there is to lose.”

He groans, knowing you’re right. Next time, he’ll be better at hiding things from you because you’re a total buzzkill whenever you inevitably find out.

Together, the two of you hatch a plan. You’ll walk into Dustin’s room first, knives out and ready just in case, and Dustin will follow once the coast is clear. Then, he’ll lure Dart away from Mews’ body with chocolate (you don’t want to ask why), and once he’s gone you’ll snatch your cat’s body and flee the room immediately afterwards.

It’s a good plan.

That is, if it works.

“Ready?” You’re standing in front of Dustin’s door, your knives flicked open in your hand, ready for possible war with a foot long little demon.

Your brother pats your shoulder. “Don’t die, sis.”

“I’m holding knives as we speak. Touch me again and die.”

“I hope Dart eats your face.”

You smile. “There’s my brother. Okay, as soon as I’m inside the room, close the door. Then, when I knock three times, open it again and enter.”

“Wait for two knocks–”

“Three.”

“Three knocks. Right.”

You steady your breathing. Around the corner, you can hear your mom humming to herself as she makes dinner. She has no clue what’s going on, and you envy her for it. Your hand on Dustin’s door knob twists slowly, then, before you can psych yourself out, you turn the knob and throw yourself inside.

Quickly the door slams behind you, so at least Dustin did something right.

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open slowly. When you don’t see any sign of Dart, you exhale. So far, so good. You walk towards the couch and find the creature still eating away at your dead cat, which you gag at.

Poor Mews.

You rap your knuckles against the door three times, alerting Dustin to come inside.

He opens the door and walks in, his hands fisted against his face as if that would do anything to keep him safe. You roll your eyes and flick his head, which he whines at. “Grab the chocolate and distract Dart, please.”

Dustin runs over to his desk and grabs a Musketeers bar. When you see the candy’s name, you want to slam your head against the wall. You know exactly why the monster’s name is Dart.

“Let me guess,” you say, your tone mocking. “D’Artagnan?”

“Don’t you have a corpse to collect?”

You scoff at him but step aside so that he can dangle the chocolate in Dart’s face. You watch, alert for any signs of danger in case you need to step in, but the monster seems to be pretty friendly with Dustin. You guess they really did create a bond.

Once Dart is far enough away from Mews, you run over and snatch up her body. You try not to think about the possible cat guts now all over your sweater. That will be a later issue. Like a lot of things in your life recently.

“Go, go, go!” You push Dustin towards the door.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, throwing the last piece of the candy bar at Dart’s face and running out the door right behind you. Once you’re both out the room with the door closed, you both lean against the wall and exhale deeply.

“Good job. Now onto phase two.”

Dustin makes a face. “Why do I have to distract mom?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you hold up Mews’ bloody body. “Do you want to be the one to hold our dead cat?”

“Good point, I’ll go distract mom.” Dustin leaves, rounding the corner to go hopefully distract your poor mother in a sane way. With your luck, Dustin will spew some weird bullshit that will only make her more worried than she already is.

Right on cue, you hear Dustin say from the kitchen. “Mom, I think I broke my arm.”

The scream of fear your mom lets out would’ve been comedic had you not been holding her beloved dead cat.

Your mother runs around the kitchen, fretting over your brother, and the second she isn’t looking, you slip out the front door and quickly throw Mews’ body into your bush. You feel a bit bad about that, but there’s nowhere else to hide her body in broad daylight.

When you walk back inside, Dustin is being swaddled by your mother. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, Y/N!” Your mom sighs. “Dusty said he thought he broke his arm, but the silly boy seems to be okay.”

Dustin pats her back. “Ha, right. Silly me!”

Your mom looks up and then squints a bit, eying your sweater. You look down and your heart drops. It’s covered in Mews’ blood.

Fuck.

“Y/N, what’s that all over your sweater?”

“Paint!” You say while Dustin sputters, “Ketchup!”

“We… Were painting with ketchup.” You lie, sending a quick glare your brother’s way. Out of everything red, why ketchup?

“Oh, alright.” Your mom looks uncertain, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “Well, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you go wash up, honey?”

The second you’re dismissed, you run into your room and yank the sweater off. You’ll burn it tomorrow. First chance you get.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on your door before Dustin’s head pokes inside. “Dinner’s done.”

“Great. Holding your dead cat definitely works up an appetite.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Dustin tries to play it off, but you see the genuine upset in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, and you know he loved Mews too.

You sigh and walk over to him and kiss his curls. “It’s okay. Next time, let’s not hide a monster from the Upside Down, yeah?”

“Deal.”

–

Dustin spends the night in your room, which you explain to your mom as needing some “serious bonding time”. She tears up at this, unaware of the fact that you’ll be making your brother sleep on the floor as punishment.

The next morning you and Dustin hatch yet another plan: get mom out of the house. Before you two can do anything else, you both agree that your mom cannot be anywhere near Dart. Plus, she’s already noticed Mews’ absence, so it’s only a matter of time before she finds the body in the bush.

“Alright, you’ll fake the phone call while I start gathering the supplies.” You tell Dustin while your mom calls for Mews outside. She’s at the bottom of the driveway, Mews’ favorite toy in her hand, shaking it around, unaware that the cat’s dead body is in the bush next to her.

“Got it. You remember where my old hockey suit is?” You nod at Dustin’s question, and he’s about to say something else before he sees your mom start walking back towards the house. “Shit! Game time, go!”

Dustin fumbles for the phone and you run to the living room closet. Just as you’ve entered your positions, your mom walks through the front door.

“Mewsy! Dusty, Y/N, sweethearts, you’re sure she’s not in your rooms?”

“No, mom.” You shake your head at her.

Holding up a finger, Dustin presses the phone to his ear and motions for the woman to remain quiet. “Uh-huh. Thank you so much, Mr. McCorkle. Thank you so much, you are a true lifesaver.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. He’s laying it on pretty thick.

“Alright, this was great. Thank you, have a good one. Bye-bye now, all right. You too.” Dustin pretends to hang up the phone and smiles at your mom. “Alright, great news!”

“They found her?” Tears of joy lace your mother’s voice. You have to turn away, you know she’d notice the discomfort on your face. It feels horrible to be lying to your mother like this.

Dustin seems to be thinking the same thing, because he lowers his voice and gently approaches her. “No, but they saw her wandering around Loch Nora.”

More tears flow down your mom’s face. “How did the poor baby get all the way over there?”

“I don’t know, lost I guess. But they’re gonna look for her, and–and Y/N and I will stay here, just in case they call again. Right, Y/N?”

“Right!” You call from the closet, now quickly grabbing everything you can think of. Would a hammer be necessary?

“And you’re gonna go help look. Yeah?” Dustin’s only response is a relieved hug from your crying mother. “Yeah, give me a hug. Go get her!”

Your mom quickly composes herself and grabs her glasses. She presses a kiss to your forehead and seems to be in better spirits. “We’ll find her!”

“Mews will be home soon, mom!” You cheer, and your mom blows you another kiss.

“I love you,” Dustin sends her a thumbs up.

“I love you, kids.” And with that, your mom clutches her purse to her chet and sends one final kiss your way before shutting the door behind her.

As soon as the door shuts, you and Dustin scramble. Dustin heads to the backyard to open your cellar doors and you grab the remaining hockey gear from the closet. While you drag the uniform out to the living room, your brother begins to look through the fridge for any possible bait.

“Think Dart would like bologna?” Dustin calls over his shoulder as he digs around.

You groan, dropping the heavy goalie pads. “Last I checked, he wasn’t my secret Upside Down pet.”

“Touche.”

Dustin grabs the bologna and starts making a trail from his room towards the front door. While he does that, you start sorting through your own pile of gear, soccer to be specific. Dustin liked hockey, you preferred warmer sports. As you’ve finished lacing up your cleats and shin pads, Dustin returns.

“Okay, the bait is all set up. Got my hockey stick?”

You hand him what he needs. “Here, and your helmet is on the couch.”

Dustin gets ready and you retrieve some oven mitts from the kitchen. When you hand them to the boy, he looks at you like you’re insane. “What? Extra protection. Can’t hurt.”

He sighs and swipes them from your hand, putting them on. Once he’s ready, you help him stand up. He looks ridiculous in his old hockey gear, but you suppose you don’t look any better with your shin pads and Dustin’s spare shoulder pads.

“Alright. We all set?”

Dustin pats his helmet. “Ready.”

You walk towards his room, and once you’re there, Dustin pushes past you and bends down a bit so he can speak through his keyhole. “Alright, Dart. Breakfast time.”

“Do we have to mention breakfast right before we set him free?" You mumble, but your brother ignores you.

Slowly, he reaches towards the door handle and then flings it open. As soon as the door has been moved, Dustin practically knocks you to the ground in his haste to escape. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

His mantra reminds you of Steve’s from last year at Jonathan’s. Seems like the two boys have something in common: they’re idiots.

You follow quickly behind Dustin, terrified but at least trying to hide it, while your brother just repeats “oh my god”, and “shit” over and over again as he stumbles over the bait and out towards the front door.

If the situation wasn’t so grave, you’d be giggling at how dumb Dustin looks waddling over bologna on the floor. However, Dart could very well be right behind you, so you run after the kid equally as terrified.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit–”

By this point, you’re nearing the tool shed outside.

“I will push you down these stairs Dustin Henderson.”

Dustin shuts up and, as soon as you’re inside the shed as well, locks it behind him. Once he’s sure you’re all cleared, he lets out a breath of relief. “Okay, now we wait.”

You walk towards the wood panels, squinting as you peek through a gap to see outside. “I don’t see anything.”

Dustin does the same. “Come on, I know you’re hungry…”

Everything remains still outside, and you’re starting to worry that maybe Dart doesn’t like bologna after all, until you see his scaly body walk out the door. He gobbles down the bologna pieces one by one, which you cringe at.

“Yeah. He likes bologna, alright.”

Dustin silently cheers. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Dart makes his way down the trail, eating every piece he finds, and soon he scampers down the steps and hovers over the cellar doors. In an odd way, the little guy is kinda cute if you forget about the fact that he killed your cat.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Dustin continues to chant as you watch Dart. The creature just has one more piece of bologna left, he just needs to take a few more steps inside before you can slam the doors shut.

But, because nothing can ever be easy for you, Dart suddenly turns and looks straight at you and Dustin. “Shit!”

You flinch back, knocking into a bucket of nails that spill everywhere. “Shit again!”

Dustin tries to shush you but you grab him by his shoulders and force him behind you. Your knives are out, their blades gleaming in the sunlight that creeps through the wood panels. You peek through them to find Dart slowly approaching the shed, his mouth almost watering.

“Well, this isn’t good.” You take a breath to lessen your fear. “Stay here, I’ll try to distract him–”

“AHHH!” Dustin shoves you against the opposite wall, your body flinging back with a harsh crash, and breaks through the shed’s door. With one solid wack from his hockey stick, he flings Dart into the cellar.

“What the–Dustin!” By the time you make it out the shed, your brother has flung himself on top of the cellar doors, panting.

“Got him,” he informs you, as if it isn’t obvious enough. Dart begins to screech with anger, and Dustin sighs. “I’m sorry, you ate my cat.”

“You’re an idiot, Dustin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me five seconds to catch my breath, please.”

–

With Dart safely locked away, you and Dustin are able to finally bury your cat.

It doesn’t take long, but the early November heat is just warm enough to make you annoyed as you dig through the soil in your backyard. Dustin has his walkie with him, trying to find the right frequency so he can call the party and inform them of what’s going on.

“Guys, this is Dustin again. Does anyone copy?” You stab at the ground with your shovel and your brother groans when he gets no response. “This is a code red. I repeat, a code red!”

Sweat trickles down your brow and honestly it should be Dustin burying the cat, but you’ve never learned how to radio the party so you just sigh and throw more dirt upon your dead cat. Dustin tries a few more times to contact the party, but no one responds.

“Damn it!” He shouts, frustrated.

“Language,” you huff out, more sweat forming.

It goes on like this for a while, Dustin trying and failing to reach anyone, as you two begin to clean the house of any blood and Mews guts. He tries again while you guys grab the cleaning supplies, then again while you’re on your hands and knees scrubbing his carpet in his room.

“Alright, it’s Dustin again. Seriously, I have a code red.”

“Maybe they don’t know what code red means?” You offer, your nose scrunched up due to the bleach fumes.

Dustin scoffs, “sure, and they also don’t know who Luke Skywalker’s father is–”

Suddenly Erica’s voice comes through the walkie. “Can you please shut up?”

“Erica?” Dustin stops scrubbing and straightens up. “Erica, is Lucas there? Where is he?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Erica has always been such a lovely girl.

“Is he with Mike?”

“Like I said, I don’t know and I don’t care.”

You and Dustin share a look. It worries you that Mike hasn’t been responding all day. From what you’ve heard and seen, he’s spent every day this year camped out in his fort in the basement trying to contact El with the radio frequencies.

It’s not like to Mike to just disappear.

“Listen, Erica.” You speak up, trying to sweet talk to the girl. You’ve babysat her a few times and you’ve even managed to convince her you’re kinda cool, so maybe she’ll respond better to you. “Did Lucas mention anything else? Maybe… Maybe like a girl he went to see?”

Dustin frowns. “A girl? What–” You shush him and wait for a response.

Erica snorts. “A girl? Please, as if. He’s been gone all day. That’s all I can tell you.”

Your brother closes his eyes and sighs. “Please tell him it’s super important. Please tell him that I have a code–”

“Code red?” Erica interrupts.

“Yep, code red. Exactly.” Dustin smiles, then covers his mike to whisper to you, “seems like she likes me more than you–”

“I got a code for you instead. It’s called code shut-your-mouth.” Then, Erica switches off the walkie.

Dustin stares at nothing, dumbfounded. You go back to scrubbing the carpet, a pleased smile on your face. “So, you were saying?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, processing the fact that clearly no one in the party will answer, before letting out an obnoxious groan. “Damn it!”

“Are you gonna help me clean, or–?”

“Can’t you just call Jonathan?” Dustin asks, grasping at straws. “Maybe he can be useful for once and help.”

You shake your head. “No, he’s out of town right now with Nancy.”

“And you’re okay with this because…?”

“Because,” you roll your eyes, “they’re on a secret mission to take down Hawkin’s Lab. They’re at some detective’s house right now, so I have zero way of contacting them.”

Dustin rubs at his eyes tiredly. “How did we get stuck with a cat eating baby demogorgon while Jonathan and Nancy get cool spy work?”

You pinch his leg, causing him to wince and move away from you. “Because you purposefully hid the baby demogorgon. Any other stupid questions?”

“Sure,” Dustin throws his hands up in defeat, obviously joking when he asks, “got any other friend we could call for help?”

A sarcastic laugh escapes your lips and you’re about to tell him that he has more friends than you’ve ever had, but then a thought occurs to you.

Steve.

Technically speaking, you’re friends. Well, sort of. Sure, he had wanted space yesterday in the lunchroom, and yeah he’s still mad at you and things are awkward at best between the two of you, but still…

He’d been at Jonathan’s house last year, he had fought by your side and saved your life and even bought you a vending machine full of snacks. If anyone else could understand the situation you’re in right now, it’s Steve.

You hesitate though. He still seemed really hurt at lunch, but you also saw the way he lingered even after dismissing himself. He doesn’t hate you, at least not really, and without Jonathan or Nancy to call, he’s the only person you have left right now.

It can’t hurt to try, at least.

“Actually, yeah.” You respond after a minute or so. “Be right back.”

Dustin asks questions as you head towards the living room, but you don’t respond. If Steve doesn’t answer, then you can make up some lie about the phone being broken or something to save yourself the embarrassment.

Your fingers press Steve’s long remembered number. He had given it to you his first week of visiting you at Bookstrordinary, assuring you that you could call him whenever. After a while, you took his word on it and started calling the boy every time you were bored and alone at work.

The line rings for a few seconds, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

This is a horrible idea, and yet your heart flutters when Steve answers with a groggy, “hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Y/N?” He sounds surprised.

You can’t blame him, he did quite literally yesterday tell you he’s still upset with you and that he needs space. And yet here you are: calling him early on a Saturday afternoon. “Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I really need your help–”

A sigh. “Normally I’d love to, but I’m kinda in the middle of getting ready to go to Nancy’s.”

“Nancy’s? Steve, she’s not even home–”

“Can we talk later? I… I’d really like to talk, if that’s alright with you.”

This throws you, and for a second you forget about the reason you called. “Of course we can talk, Steve.”

“Great,” you can hear a smile in his voice, which warms you. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Then you remember Dart and the blood on Dustin’s carpet and you frantically try to stop Steve from hanging up. “Wait, no! Steve, Nancy isn’t home and I really need you to–”

The line goes dead, and you slam the phone down. “Damn it!”

Dustin, hearing the commotion, wanders into the kitchen. “Take it the call didn’t go well?”

“No, it did.” Sure, Steve didn’t necessarily offer his help, but he did tell you where he’s going to be in about twenty minutes. You’ll ambush him there and demand he listen to you and help. As a bonding exercise, of course. “We’re going to the Wheeler’s.”

“Why?”

“Steve’s heading there.”

Dustin trips over his shoelaces. “Steve Harrington?”

“Long story,” you sigh, dreading that you’ll have to explain all of this eventually. “C’mon, let's get our bikes.”

–

You and Dustin get to the Wheeler’s before Steve does, which makes no sense to you but whatever. He’ll be here soon enough and you’ll ambush him with all your charm and maybe a bit of groveling. You’re not beneath it, if you’re being honest.

Dustin goes up to the front door while you stay behind, keeping an eye out for Steve. Ted opens the front door and while you can’t hear what he says to Dustin, you know he’s unamused by his presence. The father has never been your favorite parent within the group, honestly.

You watch as they exchange a few more words before you see Dustin sigh and angrily march back towards you. Then, right as he’s grabbed his bike, a familiar red BMW pulls up. Just seeing his car makes your heart skip a beat.

The car parks and a frazzled Steve steps out, carrying flowers and mumbling to himself. You aren’t able to hear everything he’s saying, but you can hear the words “what the hell am I sorry for?” and your stomach twists.

So clearly he’s not in a good mood. Still.

The flowers, which you now can see are roses, hang by Steve’s side as he fixes his hair. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and it takes everything within you to pull your eyes away. He looks good today, too good.

There’s a monster currently locked in your cellar.

“Steve!” You rush over to his side.

He does a double take when he sees you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well–”

“Are those for Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler?” Dustin now joins you two, pointing at the roses in the boy’s hand.

Steve looks between the two of you. “No…? You’re Dustin, right? Y/N’s brother?”

Dustin snatches the roses out of his hand. “Good, and yeah, I am.”

“Hey, what the hell?” Steve looks at you for help, but you know there’s no use trying to reason with your brother. He’s in a mood, similar to Steve, and you just sigh and follow Dustin. “Hey!”

“Nancy isn’t home.” Your brother informs Steve.

“Where is she?” Steve asks, and you hit his shoulder.

“I tried telling you over the phone!”

Dustin claps his hands at you to get your guys’ attention again. “It doesn’t matter where she is or if you tried to warn him, Y/N. We have bigger problems than your love lives.”

He’s at Steve’s car now and opens the passenger side door. “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve whips his head towards you. “Bat? What the hell is he talking about? Y/N, what are you guys doing here–”

“The one with the nails!” Dustin interrupts, exasperated.

Again Steve looks at you. “Why?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” you confess, and this only makes Steve feel worse.

“We’ll explain it on the way.” Dustin goes to sit in the passenger seat but he’s quickly stopped when you grab his hood and yank him out.

“No, absolutely not. I deserve the passenger seat, not you.”

Dustin slaps you away. “I got here first.”

“I was born first–”

“But I was literally about to sit down–”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, effectively shutting you and Dustin up. “It’s my car, and right now I currently only like Y/N, so she gets the passenger seat.”

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.”

“Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”

He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

He says it with annoyance in his voice, but you can see the smile he’s trying hard not to let slip, and you feel giddy. Steve obviously can’t be too mad at you if he wanted to talk later and is willingly letting himself be kidnapped by your brother.

Dustin, on the other hand, can’t believe any of this is happening. As soon as you’re all in the car he asks, “Since when did you two become friends?”

“I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know,” you tell him, but you avoid Steve’s gaze. It’s not like you intentionally hid this aspect of your life from Dustin, but… It also never came up, either.

“Sure ya do, but… Wait,” Dustin remembers something. “Oh my god, you have Steve Harrington’s number memorized?”

Your face heats up and Steve hides a smirk, but you see it anyway. You ignore his smugness and respond to your brother. “Like I said, I have a life outside of you.”

Dustin gapes at you. “I have so many questions–”

“I have an even better one: where am I taking you guys?” Steve asks, and suddenly you remember everything at stake.

“My house,” you tell him as you buckle up. He nods, although with some confusion, and then starts the engine. “You know how I called you earlier?”

“Yeah…?”

“Dustin, why don’t you tell Steve here what you found.”

Your brother sighs from the backseat. “A few days ago I found this… lizard of sorts.”

“A lizard.” Steve says, unimpressed.

“Oh, just wait,” you quip.

Dustin turns his head to glare at you and you give him a thumbs up. He scoffs at you before carrying on, “Yes, a lizard. I named him Dart and he was super cool, okay? I thought I had discovered a new species and that I would be super famous and better than everyone else.”

Steve glances at you next to him, raising his eyebrows and whistling low. “Wow, does humbleness run in your family, Y/N?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Anyways,” Dustin interrupts, ignoring Steve’s laugh at your response. “Turns out, Dart is from the Upside Down.”

“The Upside Down?” Steve asks, extremely confused. He looks at you again in the mirror and it hits you that no one explained to him the events from last year. You assumed that Nancy would’ve, seeing as how they’ve been together for a while now and Steve had been with you guys at the hospital the night you brought Will back.

However, from his disbelief and confusion it’s clear that she hasn’t. If you had to guess, Steve probably went home that night and blocked out everything that had gone down with no questions asked.

You respect his repressing skills, honestly.

Dustin groans, beginning to grow impatient with Steve. “Yes, the Upside Down. If you have the bat still, how could you not know–”

“Do you remember that… thing we killed at Jonathan’s last year?” You cut your brother off before he can get too mean. You love the kid, you do, but he isn’t the kindest person when others aren't understanding him.

A dark look passes over Steve’s face and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. It’s night now, and the atmosphere in the car becomes tense. “I remember.”

You clear your throat, “Well, this creature–”

“Demodog.” Dustin corrects from the backseat.

“Demodog?” You turn in your seat to face him. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Seriously?”

He shrugs. “It’s a baby demogorgon, it looks like a dog, so… Demodog.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Alright. Okay. Whatever, this demodog is from the Upside Down. It’s this parallel universe, basically. Creepy shit happens there, and last year a monster–”

“The Demogorgon.” Dustin once more interrupts.

“Dustin, if you want to catch Steve up then for the love of god, please shut up.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

A smile tugs at Steve’s lips and you take a deep breath to calm yourself before continuing. “Look, I don’t know how much Nancy told you about that night at Jonathan’s, but all that you need to know is that the Demogorgon took Will last year and we had to fight it in order to save him.”

Steve nods slightly as he follows along, “Nancy mentioned something about a monster at the hospital… she told me it’s what killed Barb, but never told me it had a name.”

Another silence falls between you guys in the car. The mention of Barb brings back bad memories for you both. You had liked Barb, she had always been nice to you, you guess. Hawkins is a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and in the end the smallness of the town is what makes the Upside Down so hard. You lose people close to you, one way or another.

And as for Steve… The roses he bought for Nancy lay wilted in his backseat.

Dustin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and your heart pangs in understanding. He misses El, and you do too. The closer it gets to the anniversary of her disappearance, the more you miss the sweet and caring girl; but you know that the boys, Mike especially, haven’t given up hope for her.

“So…” Steve motions for you guys to continue explaining, and Dustin sits up in his seat to begin again.

“So flash forward to now: I didn’t realize Dart was a demodog until he grew like three damn sizes bigger than when I found him. Y/N and I almost died trying to lock him in our cellar.”

“Wait, you guys have a cellar?”

Dustin rubs his face, “That’s what you focus on, Steve?”

“It’s a valid question–”

“Guys!” You lurch yourself forward and wave your hands around wildly to break up their bickering. “We really don’t have time for this. Can we please just focus on the task at hand? Dart has probably grown even more during the course of this stupid conversation.”

Your brother’s hand pushes your shoulder back so that you’re now once again sitting, and you swat him away with annoyance. “Y/N, I’m trying! Blame Steve, he’s the one asking stupid questions–”

Steve speaks up, “What the hell? They aren’t stupid questions–”

“Well…”

Steve shoots you an offended look, “Y/N, I thought you were on my side.”

Dustin scoffs, hurt. “She’s my sister, you idiot!”

“Again, we seriously don’t have time for this because, once more: Dart is getting really big.” Your voice is louder this time, and thankfully it shuts everyone up. Then, just because you can, you add, “and I’m on Steve’s side right now. He’s the one with the car, plus… Well, I owe him.”

Steve fist pumps the air. “Suck it, little Henderson.”

“Do not call me that,” Dustin threatens him, then turns his attention to you. “First Jonathan, now Steve? Can’t you befriend anyone I like?”

The mention of Jonathan gets Steve attention. “Wait a sec, where is the guy? You never actually told me where he and Nancy went, Y/N.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no use keeping anything else from him. He’s already driving you and Dustin home to help with Dart, and you did promise to tell him where they were later, but life seemingly got in the way. “They’re playing detective right now.”

“Detective?”

“Yeah, the guy Barb’s parents hired… They’re currently at his place, exposing Hawkin’s Lab.”

A tense silence follows. Steve stares straight ahead, eyes on the road, as his expressions morph from hurt, to reluctance, to eventual acceptance. “Nance didn’t think to ask me to join?”

His voice wavers, just a bit, but you hear it. Knowing that Dustin is watching from the back, you decide to forget any possible boundaries for once and grab Steve’s hand. He’s hurting. The car smells of roses and there’s no girl to give them to. “She tried, Steve.”

He swallows. There’s hurt in his eyes and you want to reach out and stroke his cheek and tell him that it isn’t his fault. “I know…”

“Ahem,” Dustin coughs, clearly uncomfortable with whatever is going on. “So… Back to Dart.”

You clear your own throat, but your hand remains wrapped around Steve’s, who nods. “Wait a sec, how big are we talking?”

Without meaning to, you close your eyes and brace for Dustin’s witty remarks, but he surprises you by answering with a demonstration and zero mockery. “First it was like that,” he opens his fingers a few inches before using both hands to show about a foot in length. “Now he’s like this.”

Steve still looks doubtful. “And you’re sure it isn’t some weird lizard?”

A headache begins to form and you pinch the bridge of your nose again. “It’s not a lizard, Steve.”

“Well how do you know?”

“Because his face opened up and he ate our cat.” Dustin says bluntly.

This seems to shut Steve up and he nods his head in defeat. It’s silent in the car for the remainder of the drive, and just before Steve parks in your driveway, he looks over at you and sees your eyes closed in pain, and before he knows it he squeezes your hand and says, “sorry about your cat, by the way.”

Despite the pounding in your head and your utter exhaustion, his words make you laugh. “Just park, Steve.”

He smiles, feeling proud for getting you to laugh, and does as he’s told. Before you know it you’re standing at his trunk, staring at the baseball bat that saved your life last year. Dustin has already gone over to the cellar, waiting for you and Steve to follow.

The bat stares back at you, and you shiver as the memories come back. Though you had tried your best to forget that night, that entire week, honestly, it’s been useless. The nightmares still haunt you. You obsessively research trauma in children now to compensate for your own guilt from last year.

“Why’d you keep the bat?” You ask as Steve grabs it, giving it a practice swing. Your own blades are out again and he eyes their gleam.

“It’s kinda sick, don’t ya think?” He swings it again. “I look badass with it.”

He’s dodging, but you sense that he kept the bat for the same reason as why you kept the switchblade. You’ve been waiting in fear for something else to happen. “You don’t look too bad with it.”

Steve blushes a bit, which your stomach flutters seeing. “I, uh… Guess we can’t have that talk tonight?”

“No, not unless we somehow manage to deal with Dart in a timely manner. However, if I recall, nothing ever goes our way.”

“Nope!” He closes the trunk and tosses you a flashlight. Then, he sticks his hand out for you to shake. “But for now… Truce?”

You giggle. “Truce.”

His hand is warm, and even though you had just been holding it in the car moments earlier, his touch still fills you with a gooey warmth that you’ve come to associate with him. As soon as you and him are alone, away from Dustin’s nosy ears, you’ll really apologize to Steve. He may be being nice to you now, but he’s still guarding himself from you.

You hate it. You miss how open he used to be with you.

“Ready to go re-live my nightmares?” Steve asks.

You give him a thumbs up as you start heading towards Dustin. “Always, let’s go.”

“Took you guys long enough.” Your brother mutters when you and Steve arrive at the cellar, weapons in hand. You flash him an apologetic smile while Steve simply ignores him.

Steve approaches the door and listens for a second, “I don’t hear shit.”

You frown and listen as well. He’s right, it’s eerily silent. You shoot Dustin a questioning look and he shrugs as well, “He’s in there.”

“Duh, I know that much, You almost knocked me out when you shoved past me to get Dart in there.” you remark, before softly adding “he’s gotta be in there.”

Your words don’t reassure Steve, who begins to use the tip of his bat to bang against the locked doors. When nothing happens, he bangs harder against them before sighing in annoyance.

“All right, listen kid.” Steve begins, and you start to rub small circles into your scalp in a vain attempt to lessen your headache, because you already know that the next words out of his mouth will start yet another fight. “I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you’re dead.”

“Steve…” He ignores you and stares down your brother, shining the flashlight directly at his face in what you assume is meant to be a threatening manner.

“It's not a prank,” Dustin tiredly replies, squinting his eyes against the light. “Get it out of my face.”

Steve complies, still hesitant about the situation at hand, and turns to face you. “You got a key to this thing?”

You nod and fish the keys from out of your pocket and unlock the cellar doors. Steve bends down to investigate, and without him having to ask, you hand him the flashlight and step forward so that you’re next to him.

He flashes the light down the stairs and all that the three of you can see is darkness. An uneasy feeling creeps over you. Something isn’t right, but you really hope that you’re wrong.

“He has to be further down,” you say, more so to reassure yourself than the others.

Dustin shuffles his feet next to you and says, with an extremely unconvincingly “brave” voice, “I’ll stay up here in case he tries to… escape.”

Both you and Steve look at him in disbelief. Dustin stands his ground, however, and looks at the two of you expectantly. Steve shakes his head while you sigh in defeat. Your brother is such a pain sometimes.

“You do realize that if Dart eats me, you’ll have to deal with mom all by yourself, right?” You ask him.

The boy shrugs at you. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Y/N.”

“Yeah, love you too.” You mumble, before you begin to follow Steve down the steps.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” Dustin calls out, his voice echoing against the cellar walls.

You trail behind Steve, and the flashlight he brought does nothing to illuminate the dark area, so it’s a relief when he reaches above his head to turn the light on. As your eyes adjust to the light change, you scan the room to find the missing demodog. However, all your eyes land on is a long, thin sheet of film on the ground that you can only assume is molted skin.

“Oh, shit…” you breathe out. “This isn’t good.”

Steve picks the skin up with the tip of his bat and examines it and shakes his head. “Please tell me this isn’t Dart.”

“Actually, it’d be easier if it was him.”

Steve doesn’t laugh at your joke; he continues to look around the room before his eyes widen. You turn your head to see what’s caught his attention, and when you spot the problem and your knees weaken.

There’s a giant, Dart-sized hole in your cellar wall.

“Steve? Y/N? What’s going on down there?” Dustin’s voice carries down to you guys, and you and Steve share a nervous glance.

“Dustin…” You call up to him, your voice weaker than you’d prefer. You wish you could be braver for him at the moment, but right now it takes everything within you not to crawl into bed and shut the world out. Why did it always have to be giant monsters?

While you’re reeling, Steve walks over to the bottom of the steps and flashes his light at Dustin, instructing him to come down. Once the boy has joined you guys, Steve guides the light to his bat so that Dustin can see the skin.

“Oh, shit.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what your sister said, too.”

Then Steve shines the light to where the hole in the wall is, and you watch Dustin’s face go from concerned to horrified. “Oh, shit!”

The three of you crouch closer to the hole, and when Steve shines the flashlight through it, your heart stops and you gasp, “It’s a tunnel.”

“No way…” Dustin says in awe.

It’s hard to see exactly how deep the tunnel goes, but something tells you that there’s more to it than meets the eye. This wouldn’t be some simple fix like you had desperately hoped it would be.

Now you really, really wish Jonathan were here. And Nancy. Definitely Nancy.

But they aren’t. This time, you’re on your own with only Steve and Dustin by your side. No one else in the party is available, you don’t even know where they are or if they’re even safe, but right now that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Dart has escaped.

And it’s happening again.

Everything you’ve tried so hard for the last year to ignore, to move on and pretend never happened to you, has come crashing back into your life.

Steve, seeing your apprehension, grabs your hand and pulls you in close. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’ll be here, okay?”

Even though you don’t deserve his kindness, his sincerity, you believe him.

-

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are you awake?

prompt: "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." remus lupin x reader

upcoming content: fluff! pls lmk if u think i missed anything. 1.8k words

masterlist

you had no idea what time it was, your phone abandoned on the night stand atop remus' book. he had come over in a huff, one hand holding his cellphone, keys, and book all at once, the other holding a warm cup of hot chocolate he had picked up along the way.

"rem, is that you?" you called, fumbling with wrapping a towel around your just washed hair while keeping the other towel tucked under your arms. you weren't expecting to see him today at all, he had, in his own words, a fucking shitload of reading to catch up on and planned on spending the entire weekend holed up in his room.

you understood, having just finished your own finals, so you planned on spending the evening watching movies and finally removing the old nail polish that decorated your toes and repainting them. an easy, uneventful night.

“yeah, it’s me dove,” remus said, bending down to untie his laces, “sorry for just barging in on you like thi- did you just take a shower?”

he snapped his head up and drank you in, your body still damp from the hot water and the ends of the towel wrapped around your chest fell apart against your thigh revealing more of your smooth skin. your face was free of makeup or the tendrils of hair that constantly fell between your eyes that remus always brushed away.

“y’don’t have to do that every time, remus,” you said on your fourth date when his fingertips danced against your forehead once more that evening.

“you have to be able to see, darling, i don’t mind,” he replied as if this was something he was doing as a favor to you and not because he was so desperate to touch you in any way.

you looked beautiful, he thought.

“thank you, baby,” you let out, giggling at the sigh of your boyfriend still bent half over himself, looking up at you as if you would disappear if he wasn’t.

“did i say that out loud?”

“you did.”

“well, it’s true,” he had since walked over to you, setting his phone, keys, book and cup on the table and grasped at your shoulders, stamping a kiss to your forehead. in this moment, he felt all his tension wash away and reveled in the feeling of your warm skin under his and the vanilla scent of your shampoo wafting around him. he didn’t even remember why he was in such an annoyed mood earlier until you asked him how come he came over.

“ugh, i have to move out!” he exclaimed. this is something remus said maybe four times a week, seven if it was really bad. when james left his dishes piled up in the sink for too long, “i have to move out!” remus would say while ranting to you over breakfast the next day. when they went on a trip for a few days and sirius forgot to pack any underwear so he took it upon himself to borrow remus’, you woke up to a text from your boyfriend that simply read “i have to move out.” sent at 2:18 a.m. then “good morning” at 2:19 a.m. and “you better not be awake right now, dovey” at 2:20 a.m.

“what happened this time?”

“was trying to study ‘til those idiots had the bright idea of rolling bottles down the stairs, i mean who even thinks of that?”

you had to bite your lip to keep in your laughter. you had seen that trend all down your social media so you knew exactly where they got the idea from. but your sweet remus who had no profiles whatsoever, -unless you count the facebook page he made when james told him he had to have one at least-

“what do you mean it doesn’t count? you can share photos and talk to people.”

“it’s facebook! only mums use it. i’m making you a BeReal.”

“you’re making me be real?”

“oh, nevermind.”

had no idea and believed this was just another stupid activity his roommates shared brain cell came up with.

“i don’t know, remmy, people are weird,”

“right? anyway, i sat through listening to ‘clunk, clunk, clunk, smash! again, again, again!’ for about fifteen minutes before i had to get out of there so i thought to come here.”

a warmth started growing within your chest and spreading throughout your entire body. he thought to come here, to your place. your lanky, fluffy haired, nerdy boyfriend who you loved so so much thought to come to you. the smile that had spread across your face was so wide you knew remus knew exactly how you were feeling.

“don’t go all moony eyed on me now, sweetness,” he began, “i’m here because i still have a lot of work to do.”

“of course”

“with no distractions, at least for the next few hours,” he was looking down at you with a familiar look in his eye and you couldn’t even bother to feign cluelessness. the image of remus bent over a book, concentrated look on his face and glasses slowly slipping down his nose was irresistible to you and when you two studied together, it caused a lot of assignments to go untouched.

“alright, i’ll leave you be. but i expect some form of compensation for my good behavior.”

“hence the hot chocolate, for you dove,” he handed you the tall paper cup he had brought in with him and you smiled as it was still warm enough to drink.

“oh wow, my boyfriend and a hot chocolate? it’s like my birthday!” you laughed as remus rolled his eyes and started setting himself up at your kitchen table.

“you can’t say that whenever i get you something, you need to have higher expectations for your birthday silly girl, or i really will just get you a drink and that’ll be it.” he said and the last thing he heard was you laughing down the hallway.

hours had passed and your hair was dry, toe nails now a light peachy color, and one and a half movies had been watched. you mainly kept to your room, only coming out to get a drink and set some biscuits out for remus who hadn’t even looked up. you were sure a bomb could off in the building across the street and he wouldn’t notice. he was so concentrated that all you wanted to do was press your fingers to his temples and relieve his pretty face of the wrinkles, surely his eyes were sore as well, but you knew better than to bother him.

it wasn’t until it was dark out that remus had finally slumped against your bedroom door and trudged like a zombie to your bed, face planting right into your lap. his calves were hanging over the edge so you grabbed his face and shuffled yourselves closer to the headboard. remus was laughing, the feel of his lips tickling your stomach, and with that information he only began to blow raspberries on your belly button.

“remus stop i’m serious!” you let out and lifted his head up, your hands pushing his cheeks up causing his lips to reach up into a smile. he looked so soft, and happy, but obviously tired.

“‘m finished with all m’reading, dove,” his speech was slurred, surely from exhaustion.

“i’m very proud of you baby, you’re so hard working.”

he wrapped the comforter around both of you, and flipped onto his side, pressing his back to your front. he must have been really out of it because he never let you be the big spoon.

“but don’t you like being held?”

“i like holding you. besides it just makes more sense that way, i’m much taller.”

“there’s no sense to cuddling!”

“there’s sense to everything!”

“i am hard working! and they don’t care, all they care about is smashing things and making lots of noise. i have to move out.” he grumbled.

you ran your fingers through his hair, letting him mumble on, knowing he’ll soon fall asleep.

“well, you’re always welcome here, my love.”

he sighed and pressed a kiss to your wrist, “i know,” he spoke softly, the two words so full of content he could hardly stand it. he thought every day how lucky he was to have you in his life. a love full of soft kisses and hot chocolates and intertwining under moonlight. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, now get some sleep.”

the night had come and gone, remus sleeping away in your arms and the sun was shining through your curtains. you slowly lifted your arm off him and felt around for your phone, careful not to disturb him. the screen flashed 10:15 a.m., meaning remus had been sleeping for close to twelve hours now.

it made sense due to how tired he was yesterday, but you had done nothing but relax, so your body was ready to get up and start the day. you answered a few messages telling marlene you’d had to get back to her about if you and remus could make it to brunch in a few hours and sending a rolling eyes emoji to james who sent you a number of videos of bottles rolling down the stairs.

remus shifted, unconsciously flexing his back, and you froze. it wasn’t until he began cracking his knuckles individually that you knew he was awake, you still asked though.

“are you awake yet.”

“no.”

“oh, okay, sorry.”

“mmm.”

two minutes passed, “are you awake now.”

“are my eyes open?”

“no, but you are speaking to me, and this isn’t what you usually say when you sleep talk.”

“i don’t sleep talk!” he let out, craning his neck to look at you perplexedly.

“got you to open your eyes, didn’t i?” you said with a wry smile. his look of confusion morphed into annoyance that you both knew was fake and he fully turned so you were both facing each other now.

“i haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he said lowly, his voice still rough from sleep.

“finals are over now, rem, you can sleep for as long as you want.”

he smiled and tangled your fingers together, opening his mouth to say something back when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“that wasn’t very sexy, was it?”

you giggled and shook your head, finally throwing the covers off yourself.

“nope, but that’s okay, marlene wants us to meet her for brunch in thirty minutes, so we better get a move on, sleepy head.”

remus groaned and reached for his designated dresser from the bed and pulled out whatever shirt and bottoms were on the top of the piles. the two of you got ready in comfortable silence and while you were sitting on the floor, pulling up the zipper on your boots, remus realized that he really could see himself moving in here. always doing his course work at your kitchen table, picking up a hot drink for you at the coffee shop two streets away, not because it was on his way to you, but because it was on his way home.

“ready, baby?” you asked, now standing at full height, holding your hand out to him.

i’m ready to wake up here every morning. “ready,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours.