#which has been . nearly 10 years. throws up a little

[arcenergy]

speaking of which the only way i can really swim underwater is by humming underwater as opposed to slowly exhaling thru your nose because i guess ive just always had a hard time exhaling slowly underwater and a counselor + longtime friend recommended i try humming so as a kid when i was swimming the other kids would surface and ask who was singing underwater lmao. they thought it was weird but didnt really care

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Summary: A trip to the thrift store becomes overwhelming for Harris, and you and Eddie have to work as a team. But the real test of your relationship's strength is the crisis that unfolds days later.

Warnings: financial insecurity, school lock-in, missing child, police presence, mention of kidnapping, mention of drug addiction, blood (no gore)

WC: 8.5k

Chapter 19/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie has already been awake for two hours when the phone rings. One part of parenthood that he hadn’t anticipated is that children do not understand the concept of weekends. Harris had flung himself out of his racecar bed promptly at 6:30 in the morning, crawling under Eddie’s sheets and poking his nose until he woke up.

“Har, go back to sleep,” Eddie had grumbled, the last word extended in a whine. One cheek was smushed against his pillow, muffling his complaint. “It’s Saturday; you don’t have school.”

In response, Harris pursed his lips into a perfect pout and used his thumb to peel Eddie’s eyelid open, getting as close to his face as possible. His morning breath was tinged with the scent of chocolate; Eddie groggily made a mental note to better supervise his nighttime teeth brushing routine. 

“‘M hungry.”

That’s how Eddie finds himself pouring his third cup of coffee while his son keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen, watching Doug stutter and stammer in front of Patti. Eddie smiles, a blush creeping into his cheeks when he realizes that that’s probably what he looks like around you.

“‘Lo?” He cradles the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, wincing as he clumsily clinks the carafe into place. There isn’t enough coffee left to slosh over the side, a small miracle in and of itself, although he’ll have to brew some more if the caffeine doesn’t kick in soon.

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is sleepy yet sweet, smoothing all the creases of the morning. “Did I wake you up?”

Eddie laughs and takes a sip from his favorite mug, the one that proudly declares #1 Dad. It’s stained and chipped, but he’ll never throw it out. Wayne had bought it for him on his very first Father’s Day; ironically, Eddie had bought him a #1 Grandpa mug that year, probably from the same kiosk at the mall.

“Not even close,” he says, tongue flicking to the corner of his lip to catch the drip of coffee that’s pooled in the crevice. “Someone was up bright and early this morning.” His gaze flits over to the bowl of Cheerios snug between Harris’s criss-crossed legs, mostly uneaten despite his earlier protests that would make an outsider believe he was starving. “How was your sleep?” he asks, swinging back to your conversation.

You switch the phone from one ear to the other. “It was good. Would’ve been better if you were next to me, though,” you add, twirling the cord around your forefinger. If you could, you would capture the safety of his embrace and bottle it, releasing a bit each time you craved his gentle touch. “I might’ve even let you be the little spoon.”

He balks at this with a playful scoff, nearly spilling his coffee with the sudden movement. “Yeah, right,” he chuckles, licking the side of the mug before the bitter liquid can slide off and hit the ground. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Admittedly, his skepticism is rooted in truth; whenever you do get the chance to cuddle in bed, he’s always the one wrapping his arm around your waist, often taking the opportunity to snake a hand up your shirt and let the pads of his fingers brush over your breasts. It isn’t always a display of sexuality or desire–though you can’t say you mind that–but a connection, a way of ensuring that you stay close. 

“Just a few more weeks until we get to find out for ourselves,” you tease, though he needs no reminding. Only sixteen days remain until you officially move in together, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s counting down. “Speaking of which,” you continue, glancing at the clock, “I was wondering if you and Harris wanted to do some furniture shopping for his new room.” You knew that he would be keeping his racecar bed; it’s unlikely he’ll part with it until he’s outgrown it completely. “Y’know, a new dresser or nightstand or something.”

There’s an extended pause on Eddie’s side of the line. You think the call dropped and are about to hang up and redial when you hear him say,  “I, um…I don’t get paid until next week…” He nervously scratches the countertop with one fingernail. 

“Oh.” You grapple with a response, trying to strike a balance of empathy without condescension. “Well, I was going to surprise you, but I sold some of Grandma’s old—”

“No way,” Eddie interjects, firmly but not harshly. “I’m not having you spend your money on me. We can just wait until payday.”

“I want to buy this for Harris. I…I probably should have cleared out Grandma’s room months ago, but I couldn’t. I mean, I could, but it felt wrong because I had nothing to put in its place.” You don’t care that you’re babbling on, forging ahead with your impromptu monologue. “It would’ve been too empty, but with you and Harris here, it won’t be empty anymore.”

Eddie tucks his thumbnail between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he prods, not wanting to sound ungrateful. 

“Positive.” You’re much more assured in your reply. “If she knew Harris before she got sick, she would’ve spoiled the hell out of him, anyway.” The moment she saw him happily digging into the Oreos, she would have ensured that the cupboard remained stocked with Double Stuf. “In a way, s’like she gets to spoil him now.”

You can sense Eddie’s resistance tempering with an audible exhale. “He’s an easy kid to love, that’s for sure,” he muses, buying time to process the influx of emotions flooding his body. There’s the obvious gratitude that you’re so eager to take care of his son, but it’s cut with the insecurity of him not being able to do so. If you’re going to buy Harris furniture, it should be because you want to, not because he can’t. What if you hold this against him? What if, in the future, there’s an argument and you fire back with a retort about his shortcomings as a father?

Except…you have never done that. Ever. Not that night in the emergency room, or when you’d found out about the CPS report filed that evening. Not even when Eddie had made it his personal mission to tear you down, pulling insults from the depths and hurling them at you with reckless abandon. 

You hadn’t brought up the way he’d helplessly panicked when confronted with the possibility of Harris’s learning disability, or how he’d let anxiety overtake him when he officially received a classification. With everything the two of you had endured, you’d never once echoed his anxieties about his parenting abilities; it was quite the opposite. With you by his side, he feels as though he can take on whatever challenge life chucks at him. 

“Eds? Is everything okay?” Your tone is thick with concern; Eddie realizes that you probably think you’ve upset him. “We don’t have to go—we can do something else, or—”

“Sweet girl,” he says in one exhale, both to reassure you and to remind himself that you’re his, and he’s yours. Love surges through the phone lines when he speaks. “We can pick you up in an hour, if that works? I should be able to wrangle Harris by then.”

“Y’sure?” And, Christ, how his heart sinks when you shrink inward, reflexively making yourself smaller when you’re worried that you’ve offended someone.

Eddie doesn’t answer you directly, instead, calls out his son’s name. “Hey, Harris?” He frowns when Harris completely ignores him in favor of watching the cartoon. Using his free hand, he cups his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, amplifying his voice. “Harris Wayne Munson!”

The sudden sound jolts him out of his TV-induced stupor. “Huh?” 

“Go get dressed and brush your teeth; we’re gonna go shopping with Ms. Sweetheart!” Eddie grins as Harris turns to him with a wide smile of his own. “C’mon, let’s go!” 

Harris jumps up without further hesitation, inadvertently tossing his bowl from the makeshift table of his legs. Milk splatters, instantly soaking into the carpet, and the Cheerios topple out and land in a soggy pile. “Nooo, my bref-ist!” His big eyes well up with tears. “Daddy, you made me drop my bref-ist!”

“You, uh, wanna deal with that?” You can’t hide your amusement at the usual Munson chaos. 

“Probably should, huh?” Eddie jokes back, stretching the phone cord as far as he can and reaching for the paper towel roll. “I love you, babe. See you in a bit.”

“I love you, Eds,” you tell him. “And Harris, too, of course.”

Some more static and shuffling; then, an energetic voice greets you. “Hi Ms. Sweetheart! Daddy made me drop my bref-ist,” the little boy reports. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Har.” You’ve perfected the art of mustering up sympathy for children’s not-soearth-shattering issues, a skill that every preschool teacher must possess. “Why don’t you help him clean up? That way, I can see you even faster.”

Harris pauses, mulling over his options. “Yeah, okay! Gotta go! Bye!”

You hear the clunk of him struggling to replace the phone on the hook, followed by Eddie saying, “Let me say good-bye before you hang—” click. 

Pulling your own receiver from your ear, you stare at it with mild amusement. Never a dull moment with my boys. 

Your boys drive up to your building just over an hour later. You stand up from the bench outside the entrance and smooth down your shorts where they’ve creased. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Eddie lets the pet name roll off of his tongue. He wants to kiss you as you slide into the passenger seat, but he withholds his affection for Harris’s sake. It seems silly, considering you’ll all be living together, but he doesn’t know how his son will react to the romance aspect of it. Will he be happy? Excited? Disgusted by any display of affection?

You give his hand a subtle squeeze, turning around to greet Harris. “Ready to shop till we drop?”

“Till we drop?” Harris wrinkles his nose, glancing between you and his dad. “Why would we drop?”

“It’s just an expression,” you explain, catching a glimpse of the smile tugging at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. “Just means that we’re going to shop until we’re too tired to shop anymore.”

“I never get tired,” Harris declares, sticking his legs straight out so his flexed feet push up against the back of the driver’s seat, nudging Eddie slightly forward. “Grampa Wayne calls me an ‘Energizer Bunny.’” He bounces up and down in his booster seat to prove his point.

Eddie reaches his right arm around, keeping his left firmly gripping the wheel, as he moves Harris’s feet from where they’re planted into his lower back. “So, Har,” he starts, easing his weight onto the brake as he approaches a red light, “we’re gonna look for a new dresser for you, and maybe a nightstand.” He takes a deep breath as he delivers the news: “That means we’re not making any pit stops for toys. Got it?”

You want to interject, to let Eddie know that you don’t mind splurging on a small treat for Harris, but you bite it back. Whether or not you have the spare funds is irrelevant: this is the boundary he’s set for his son, and you have to respect it, regardless of your desire to spoil him.

Harris, however, does not accept the announcement as readily. “Not even, like, a little one?” he presses, holding his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “Even if I’m really, really good?” He gives a hopeful smile, eyes blinking expectantly.

Eddie looks at you, serving as your cue to provide your input. You nod your approval, trying to hide your delight in being asked to make a parenting decision, regardless of how menial it may seem. He peers up through the rearview mirror at his son’s waiting face. “If you’re really, really good,” he acquiesces, features pinching into a grimace when Harris’s exuberant squeal echoes through the sedan. “You have to use your inside voice and stay next to us the whole time. Deal?”

“Deal,” Harris confirms. “Deal, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Deal.” Laughter bubbles up inside you and you let it spill out uninhibited. You know that telling a child he can get a toy is an easy part of parenthood, but you silently swear to never take for granted being included in that choice. Harris joins you, though he’s not quite sure why he’s laughing, but your joy is contagious. 

You lean your head against the car window, listening to the buzz of the radio filling the silence. Harris hums along, more on-key than the average five-year-old, which you can safely attribute to him having a musician for a dad.

“I’m not getting a new bed, right?” Harris says with sudden urgency. “Because I wanna keep my racecar bed.”

“Mhm,” you affirm, smiling when Harris relaxes back against the headrest. “Your racecar bed will be in your new room, don’t you worry.”

“Okay.” That response satisfies him until he thinks up another question. “An’ you’re bringing your bed, Daddy?”

Eddie chuckles as he pulls into the Goodwill parking lot. He picks a spot close to the store, right next to a green Ford with a faded “Clinton ‘96” bumper sticker. “Um, no. I’m not bringing my bed.” 

“So are you getting a new bed?” His eyes dart from side to side as he assesses the size of the car. “Where’s it gonna fit?”

“I’m, uh, not buying a new bed, either.” Eddie kills the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, swiveling to face Harris, who is more confused than ever. “Ms. Sweetheart and I are going to share her bed.”

Harris kicks his feet, processing this new information. “But you didn’t get married yet,” he points out, “so how can you share a bed?”

You rest your palm on Eddie’s forearm in quiet reassurance. “Some people share a bed before they get married,” you explain simply, knowing that less is often more when talking to young children.

“When are you gonna get married?” he asks, more curious than meddling. “Because it’s taking forever. My friends’ mommies and daddies are already married.”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Harris essentially referred to you as his mommy; instead, he slowly exhales. “I’d like to marry Ms. Sweetheart someday, and I think she’d like to marry me, too.” He looks over at you with a sheepish grin, and you give his hand an agreeing squeeze. “But, for now, we’re just going to try out living together. How does that sound?”

“I guess that’s okay.” Harris isn’t completely thrilled with his dad’s response, but he relents anyway.

“While, we’re, uh, on the subject,” Eddie continues, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he carefully considers his words. He chews on the inside of his lower lip. Is he really doing this? Is he opening his son up to this relationship? “You know that Ms. Sweetheart and I love each other very much, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Sometimes,” Eddie continues with only some trepidation, “sometimes, when grown-ups love each other a lot, they hold hands o-or kiss. Would that be weird for you? If Ms. Sweetheart and I held hands, or kissed?”

You avert your gaze, partly from bashfulness but mostly so Harris doesn’t feel any pressure from either of you. 

The little boy looks at the car’s ceiling, centering his focus on the overhead lighting. Finally, with utmost certainty, he declares, “just no tongue-kissing.”

You snort out a laugh while Eddie goes bright red and sputters, “where did you learn about that?”

“Young and Restless,” Harris reports nonchalantly. 

Eddie rubs his eyes, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his lids until his vision blurs. “Remind me to tell Wayne to stop letting him watch the soaps,” he grumbles to you, turning back to his son. “Yeah, no tongue-kissing.”

You easily lace your fingers with Eddie’s as you walk through the front doors of the Goodwill. Harris starts making a beeline for the toys, but Eddie uses his free hand to pivot him in the direction of the furniture department. Harris huffs but complies, trudging alongside you. 

There’s a bright blue nightstand on display that immediately catches his eye. “Look!” he points, smiling so wide that all of his baby teeth are on display, “can I get it? Please?”

Eddie smiles warily, flipping over the white tag hanging from one silver drawer handle. He breathes a small sigh of relief when he sees the price is within the range of what he’d like to spend; rather, what he’d be comfortable asking you to spend. 

“Looks like we’ve got a winner,” he says, posture straightening with the announcement. He runs his fingertips over the surface, checking for any chipping paint or splintering wood, but the finish appears to be intact. “I’ll go tell someone to set it aside for us.”

He sets off in search of an employee, leaving you alone with Harris. You swallow the nervousness building in your throat. You spend nearly every day taking care of children, but you’re suddenly inundated with the memory of losing him at the flea market. Those few minutes when you couldn’t locate him were some of the scariest of your life. 

And yet, it hadn’t prevented Eddie from giving you another chance.

“Are you excited to move in with me, Har?” you ask, reaching out to ruffle his curls.

He nods, then looks straight up at you so that you’re staring at his nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart?” The position of his neck changes his voice’s pitch so it’s froggy. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Can you marry my daddy?” His eyes shine with potential. “And then you can be my mommy for real?”

You crouch down to his height, heart melting at his request. “Harris, I love your daddy very, very much. And I love you very, very much, too.” You poke his nose gently, and he giggles. “Being married is a big responsibility—”

“‘Sponsibility?”

“Mhm. Responsibility. It means a really important job.” You slide your heart pendant across the chain on your neck anxiously. “And your daddy and I want to make sure that we’re ready for that kind of responsibility before we do anything, okay?”

Harris nods, but you can tell from his crinkled nose and furrowed brows that he doesn’t fully understand. You can’t blame him; it’s an abstract concept, one that even you often have trouble comprehending. “But I can tell you one thing: whenever your daddy wants to propose, I’ll say ‘yes.’” You smile at the thought of Eddie asking you to be his wife. 

“Is that where he gets down on one knee and asks ‘Will you marry me?’” You’re about to respond when he adds, “and then someone runs in and yells about being their long-lost ‘dentical twin?”

Yeah, no more soap operas for Harris. 

Finding a dresser proves to be a much more difficult task than picking out the nightstand. Everything that Harris likes is out of budget, and everything within budget is too worn down or small. There’s one that’s in good condition and isn’t too pricey, but it’s covered in hand-painted unicorns. 

“That’s for girls!” Harris groans, stomping his feet. The last word is stretched in a whine. “I can’t have girl stuff!”

“We can paint over it. Whatever color you want,” you quickly jump in, trying to avoid a meltdown, but your efforts are fruitless. Fat tears stream down his cheeks; he’s already determined that the dresser is tainted. 

“No! No, no, no!” he howls, throwing himself on the floor. He smacks down on his tailbone, fanning his tantrum’s flames. He quiets for a moment, too shocked to cry, but then he’s screaming louder than before. 

It’s as though he’s lost control of his body, arms and legs knocking into the lower shelves without care. You can’t block him in time before he knocks over a lamp—a Nickelodeon-themed one that would have been perfect in his new room, ironically—and it shatters on the ground. Ceramic splinters, scattering across the linoleum like roaches in the light. 

People start to stare, some with sympathetic looks, and some glare angrily at the child daring to interrupt their shopping. Eddie’s face blazes, vision swimming as he wracks his brain for a solution. 

You’re faster, slapping a few bills into Eddie’s palm and jolting him from his thoughts. He watches you scoop Harris off of the floor, trying to avoid his flailing limbs. 

“Go get the nightstand and pay for the lamp,” you tell him, straightforward and precise. “I’ll get him to the car and calm him down. Keys?”

Eddie blinks, the information swirling around him but not quite penetrating the surface. It’s when you hoist Harris onto one hip and balance his weight in one hand, using the other to make a ‘gimme’ motion that it registers. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” Eddie fumbles for the car keys and tosses them to you, the two of you working in tandem. A well-oiled machine. You nod gratefully, wincing as Harris’s foot makes contact with your thigh. “I’ll be right out.”

You’re able to bring him to the car, struggling to unlock it and hold on to Harris. After a few failed attempts, you manage to open the passenger door and sit him on the seat. 

“Harris, hey, Harris?” you start, keeping your voice soft and even while trying to pull his attention. His sobs are slowing down but he’s definitely breathing too rapidly for your comfort. “Hey, bud. You’re okay, all right?” You extend your hand and he tentatively places his own palm on top of it. “You wanna give my hand a squeeze?”

He does it, the motion grounding him enough that he can focus on your body in front of him. You don’t want to touch him, knowing that his senses are already overstimulated from the tantrum. Instead, you relax as his squeezing grows stronger and his breaths gradually even out. 

“There ya go, Har. Just like that.” You smile warmly. “That was a really big feeling, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” His voice shakes and hiccups. He swipes at the tears on his cheeks, smudging them into his skin. 

You reach into the center console and grab a tissue, wiping the mucus from his nose and lips. “Good as new.” With no trashcan nearby, you shove the used Kleenex into your pants pocket. “Can you tell me what made you so mad in there?”

“D-Don’t want girl…girl st-stuff,” he stutters through ragged breaths. 

There’s a time and place to discuss the optics of categorizing interests into ‘boy’ and ‘girl,’ but you know better than to have that conversation now. “Oof, that’s why you were angry! That’s a lot to handle.” You gingerly tuck a curl behind his ear. “But, Harris, did you see what happened when you started hitting and kicking?” He shakes his head. “Well, you knocked over a lamp and it broke. You could have gotten hurt, or someone else could have gotten hurt.” 

Harris’s face falls as you speak, absorbing what you’re explaining. “I-I didn’t mean to,” he sniffles. “‘M sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you sigh, “sometimes, when we have big feelings like getting angry, we do things we shouldn’t without even realizing.” You pause for a moment, biting your lip as you consider your words. “Do you want to hear what helps me when I have really big feelings and I can’t scream and cry?”

“Mhm.” He nods again, little tongue peeking out to swipe up the tears above his mouth. 

“I take a deep breath and close my eyes,” you start, demonstrating both actions. Inhale for three, exhale for three, and repeat. “And then I picture myself being in my favorite place in the world.” You smile at him, blinking back the sadness that comes with memories of holidays at Grandma’s. “Wanna try it together?”

Harris responds by closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. “Good job, Har,” you softly praise him. “Now breathe out; make sure you’re thinking of your favorite place, okay?”

“Thinkin’ about the zoo,” he whispers, voice raspy from shrieking for so long. “Daddy taked me there and we saw so much animals.”

“Zoos are a lot of fun,” you agree with a laugh. “I’ve never been to the one in Hawkins. Maybe we can go over the summer?”

“Yeah! I wanna show you the flamingos!” His grin stretches across his cheeks “Do you like flamingos?”

Like most people, you don’t have a strong opinion on flamingos, but you respond with an enthusiastic, “I love them!”

“Love who?” Eddie’s voice breaks into the conversation. He’s rolling out the nightstand in a cart, keeping one hand on top of it to hold it steady. “Me?”

You laugh, opening up the back door so he can wedge the furniture next to Harris’s booster seat. “Yes, Eddie. I love you very much, don’t worry,” you tease, seizing the opportunity to inconspicuously check him out. His biceps flex as he maneuvers the nightstand, and you have to tear your gaze from his denim-clad ass when he stands up and triumphantly wipes his hands on his pants. 

“C’mere.” He pulls you in, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout and planting a smacking kiss on you. 

While you giggle, Harris is not as amused. He claps his hands over his eyes and groans. 

“No tongue-kissing!”

You’re wrapping up storytime, your students fidgeting with their shoelaces—some fidgeting with their friend’s shoelaces—eager to move onto the corresponding art activity Will has planned. 

“Okay, we’re going to use our walking—” Your announcement is cut short by Principal Sinclair’s voice coming over the loudspeaker. Her tone is typically warm and excited, but the way she speaks so sternly sends chills through your entire body. 

“This is a lock-in. All staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified. I repeat, all staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified.”

You breathe out, though you’re still concerned about the cause of the lock-in. It’s usually some kind of medical issue that requires emergency services to have unblocked access through the halls. You hope that whatever it is isn’t life-threatening. 

Will locks the door wordlessly, and you repeat your directions to the class. The kids walk to their seats, asking non-stop about what a lock-in means. 

“We just have to stay in the classroom,” you find yourself repeating, losing patience with each iteration. You’re thankful for small miracles; your class has already gone out for recess, which means you don’t have to break that news to them. 

Will is helping the kids glue multicolored strands of crepe paper in the shape of a rainbow, complete with cotton ball clouds. You’re unclogging a bottle of Elmer’s when the classroom phone rings, startling you. You place the glue bottle on the table, promising Joshua that you’ll be right back, and answer it. 

“Hello?”

“We need you to come to the office immediately,” the secretary’s clipped voice informs you. “Bring your personal items. We’ll send someone to assist Will.”

Stupidly, you nod before remembering she can’t see you. “Y-Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” You hang up, tell Will the plan, and bolt out the door. 

What the hell is going on? Why are they having me break the lock-in to go to the office? You hike your purse higher up your shoulder, trying to ignore the dread pooling in your stomach and creeping up your throat. 

Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong. 

Your feet can’t carry you fast enough. You nearly stop breathing when you see Eddie pacing in the lobby, Marion and Paula standing off to the side and speaking with Chief Hopper. The two teachers wear matching worried expressions. 

As soon as Eddie spots you, he’s charging over. “Oh, thank God,” he murmurs, throwing his arms around you and hugging you tight. You can feel the tears falling from his eyes, wetting the crook of your neck. His hands squeeze against your back and your shoulder blades as his body is wracked with sobs. 

You weave your fingers through his hair, holding him as close as you can. You’re desperate to know what’s going on, but you doubt he could explain if he tried. Instead, you continue comforting him while Principal Sinclair walks over. 

Her strides are long and purposeful, and she meets your own terrified gaze with her own. “Harris went missing during recess,” she says quietly, “and Mr. Munson let us know that you might be an asset in locating him.”

Harris went missing. Bile inches up your esophagus and you swallow it, wincing at its burn. “Why would he—” You stop mid-sentence; his motive is not important right now. All of your focus needs to be on finding him. 

Chief Hopper approaches you and Eddie, tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder with two fingers. Eddie looks up, wipes his face with the heel of his palm, and clears his throat, but a fresh batch of tears threatens to spill over anyway. 

“We’ve just collected statements from his teachers,” Hopper reports, looking down at his notepad. “They said that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, that Harris was just playing with his friends one moment and then gone the next.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, something had to have happened.” Harris had wandered off plenty of times, like at the flea market. The difference was that he was easily found. “If you haven’t found him, then he’s either hiding, or someone…” The thought is too painful to finish. 

Hopper looks over at the principal. “You’re certain that the playground is secure?” He asks her, not accusing, but waiting for confirmation. 

“Yes, absolutely secure,” she affirms, nodding her head. “The gate can only be opened from the inside, so no one can access it off of the street.”

You know this, of course, but it doesn't bring you closer to finding Harris. 

“We’ve taped off the playground,” Hopper continues, “and we’ve got a search squad going now. Considering that Harris has been diagnosed with a disability, we’re beginning this investigation right away.”

“Mr. Munson,” a second officer chimes in, “is there anyone who would be inclined to take your son? Perhaps a non-custodial parent or an estranged relative?”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “His mom, um, isn’t in the picture. Never has been.”

Hopper cocks one brow. “Never?” he asks disbelievingly. “How soon after he was born did she relinquish her rights?”

“She, um,” Eddie swallows, rubbing his nose in embarrassment, “she never did. Never relinquished her rights, I mean. She just kinda split.”

“So there was no formal agreement that she could no longer be involved in Harris’s life?”

“N-No,” he stammers, shame seeping from every pore. He’d always meant to start the legal proceedings, but that takes time and money…and maybe a small part of him had always hoped she’d come around and do the right thing. 

He looks over at you now, the way you’ve stepped into a mothering role like a puzzle piece. Like any parent, you’d made some mistakes, but you’re also the most compassionate person Eddie has ever known. 

He thinks of the times he’d tried to make his ex get clean, to want to get clean, and to be there for Harris. The weight of disappointment caused his chest to ache every time she’d mumble, “I’m gonna, but not right now” or “I don’t need help.”

Perhaps it’s unfair to compare the two of you; after all, you hadn’t struggled with addiction. But Eddie can’t help himself. You’d loved Harris before you’d even loved him, he realizes. And he’d never had to ask you to. 

“Do you have any contact information for her?” Hopper taps his pen against his notepad. “Nine out of ten times in these situations, the child is with someone they know.”

What about the ‘one’ time? What happens then? Heat pulses in Eddie’s cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t need Hopper to answer the question; he already knows what that means. 

“It’s from five years ago, so I don’t know if it’s still accurate.” He stumbles over his words, thinking about the last time he’d called her; it was the invitation to Harris’s birthday. “I don’t know it by heart, but I have it in my address book at home.”

Hopper gives a brusque nod to his colleague and to your boss. “We’ll give you a lift. And, uh, it’ll be good to set up your place as a home base.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Eddie mumbles, simply going through the motions without processing them. He’s on autopilot, a robotic version of himself. If he was able to fully absorb his surroundings, he would note the irony of him sitting in the back of the cop car because they’re helping him instead of escorting him to the county jail. 

You don’t let go of his hand the entire ride there, your thumb rubbing the soft hairs on his knuckles. “We’re gonna find him,” you whisper reassuringly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

But Eddie is too embroiled in his own thoughts, imagining every possible tragedy that could have befallen his son. As soon as Hopper pulls up to the apartment complex, Eddie is flying up the stairs, two at a time, unlocking the door as fast as he can. You run in behind him, watching as he flings loose papers and pens from a kitchen drawer. He’s kicked over the boxes he’s already packed; clothes and some of Harris’s toys are scattered across the floor like a poorly-designed booby-trap. 

He holds up the tattered black book, flipping through it until he lands on the right page. “Here. Right here.” He frantically points to an entry at the top, fingertip jabbing into it over and over. 

Hopper takes the book from him, careful not to rip the already weathered materials. He dials the digits and frowns when he’s greeted by the automated we’re sorry, this number is no longer in service, far too chipper for the circumstances. He tries once more in case he dialed incorrectly, but he gets the same message. 

“Disconnected,” he says gruffly, hanging the receiver with a clank. “Is there anyone else?”

Eddie can only shake his head somberly. If Wayne got Harris from school early, he would have told him. He wasn’t even sure how much of Harris’s maternal family knew of his existence, let alone his location. If someone took his son, it was more than likely a complete stranger. 

Hopper’s walkie crackles with static; you and Eddie stiffen with anticipation. “Hey, Chief?” comes from the garbled voice on the other end. 

“I’m here.”

“We’ve got a kid here at the school who says he spoke with Harris Munson right before he went missing today.”

Eddie stands up, walking closer to Hopper. Part of you expects him to grab the walkie and try talking straight to the other officer, but he doesn’t. 

Hopper presses the small black button and speaks. “Copy. Does he know where we might locate him?”

There’s a deafening silence for a few moments; no more than ten seconds pass, but it feels like a lifetime. Finally, there’s some information: “No known location; just says that Harris told him he was having ‘big feelings’ and needed to go to his favorite place.’”

“The zoo,” you murmur aloud, drawing confused looks from both men in the room. “When he got upset on Saturday—at Goodwill—I taught him to do some deep breathing and picture being in his favorite place, and he told me it was the zoo. But I…” you swallow, furrowing your brows, “I told him to picture it, not actually go there.”

“Zoo’s too far for him to walk, and no bus driver is going to let a kid that young ride by himself,” the chief points out. 

You nod, biting your lower lip. “He might not be at the zoo, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to get there.”

Hopper thanks the other officer and turns to you and Eddie. My guys are deploying the search party as we speak.” He takes a deep breath and makes direct eye contact with you and Eddie. “We’ll do everything we can to bring your son back safely.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands, collapsing back against the living room wall and sliding down to the floor. 

You look over at the police chief. “Can we help? Join the search…or something?” Anything besides sitting around and waiting for answers. 

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an officer stationed here in case Harris comes home.” 

You nudge your foot against Eddie’s. “C’mon, babe.” You try to keep strength behind your words, to be what Eddie needs right now, but it gets harder with each passing second. “We’re gonna go look for him.” He looks up and notices that you’ve extended your hand, and he takes it, pulling himself up. 

He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you and Hopper out the door. He’s gnawing on his lips so violently that some skin peels off between his teeth; flecks of blood dotting his usually perfect mouth. 

“We’ve got some time before sunset, so that’s on our side,” Hopper says as he drives back the way he came. “We’ll start in the woods near the school, and we’ll move from there.” He peers back at the two of you through the rearview mirror with a determined gaze.

“My uncle,” Eddie says suddenly, no certain expression on his face. He’s practically catatonic when he talks. “I want Wayne to wait at the apartment. I need to tell him…” If Harris does return home first and sees police officers surrounding the place, he might get scared and run off again.

Hopper scratches at his beard. “We’ll let him know, all right? Don’t worry about that.” He radios the instructions to a colleague, who confirms them and signs off, before pulling into a grassy area and killing the engine. “Let’s go. If Harris is going to come out for anyone, it’ll be you two.” He slams his door and then helps you and Eddie out of the backseat. 

Before you can even begin, you hear a group of people shouting Eddie’s name. You look over to see Jeff, Jess, and Robin waving and walking towards you. 

“We came as soon as we heard,” Robin says, giving you and Eddie a hug. “We’re gonna help you, and we’re not leaving until we find him.”

Jeff offers a tight smile, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’re here for you man,” he promises, sincerity in its purest form. “Viv is gonna stop by later and I’ll take care of Ettie.”

It’s a kind gesture, but Eddie’s stomach sours at the thought of still searching later. He needs to know that his son is safe now. 

Harris’s name is echoed over and over, bouncing off of trees and shaking the leaves as you and your friends call out for him. 

“Harris!” you cry out, throat raw from your constant shouting. “Harris, it’s Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Harris!” Eddie’s voice is even louder than yours; the power behind it is palpable. “Harris, it’s Daddy! Please come out! You’re not in trouble!” he adds, cognizant of the little boy’s fear of making people mad. 

Every squirrel that darts across the forest floor has you whipping your head around, heart leaping at the prospect of Harris emerging from where he’s hiding. 

He has to be hiding; your mind won’t let you imagine what could happen if the wrong person saw him walking by himself, determined to get to the zoo…

“Harris, Aunt Robin and I will buy you any toy you want!” Jess yells. “And all the ice cream you can eat!”

The five of you take turns making promises to nobody; they’re secrets shared with the wind. Each unanswered call leaves you feeling more defeated, especially with the sun hanging lower in the sky. It will be dark soon, leaving Harris even more vulnerable than he already is.

Will joins the group a few moments later, bringing granola bars, water, and flashlights. You can only stomach about a quarter of your snack, having completely lost your appetite. Eddie doesn’t even bother to eat, fueled by adrenaline rather than food.

“Principal Sinclair is also looking,” Will tells you and Eddie. “She’s with Lucas and Erica over at Merrill Wright’s farm. It’s closer than the zoo, but he’s got some animals, so they wanted to check there.” He pauses, casting his eyes down for a second before looking at Eddie. “Everyone’s helping out with this. They all want to find Harris.”

Tears well up along Eddie’s lash line; he blinks them away to keep his vision clear. “Thanks, man.” He coughs to clear his throat, emotions forcing their way through. “That means a lot.” For a moment, he sees Will as he was when they first met: an overwhelmed little freshman, unsure of his place in high school, let alone in the world.

What if Harris never gets the chance to find himself? What if he doesn’t get to grow up and learn new things, make his own mistakes, figure out who he is?

You put an arm around Eddie, unknowingly pulling him from his intrusive thoughts. “Can you try to drink some water? Please?” You know better than to nag him about eating right now, but the last thing he needs is to get dehydrated.

He cracks open the bottle and takes a few sips, not realizing how thirsty he was until the liquid covers his tongue. He downs it all without taking a breath, the plastic crinkling as he siphons out every last drop of water.

“Take mine,” you tell him, offering it with the best smile you can possibly muster, but he shakes his head.

“You need it, too.” He’s not wrong, but you have no issue letting him drink from your bottle if he’s still thirsty.

You take a sip and pass it to him. “We’ll share.”

Another hour passes, the pink and orange hues becoming deeper purples and reds as the sky darkens with night. Some people start to call it quits, returning home to their own children, breathing secret sighs of relief that they have children to return home to. Your group remains intact; no one is even considering leaving until they physically cannot move any longer.

With just overworked flashlight bulbs illuminating your path, you continue trudging through the woods. Hopper’s shift was over hours ago, but he’s steadfast in his pursuit to find Harris.

Eddie’s exhausted physically and emotionally, feeling like every part of him has been drained and can never be replenished. His son is missing; he might have been kidnapped, and he doesn’t know if or when he’ll see him again. All he wants is to hold him again, to hear his little laugh as he tells a cheesy joke he learned at school, to watch him sound out new words or draw a picture or just fall asleep in his own bed.

Hopper’s walkie crackles; he clutches it tight and holds it so he can hear it clearly.

“Chief, we may have a sighting.”

A light flickers behind Eddie’s eyes; he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he can’t help himself. He listens intently as the other officer relays the information.

“Doris Driscoll just went outside to let her cats in for the night, and when they didn’t go inside, she went looking. Found them behind a bush, eating crackers out of a little boy’s hands. He told her his name is Harris. Matches the descriptions the father provided.”

Eddie grabs your hand, gripping it with whatever strength he has left. You feel a surge course through your veins as Hopper motions for you to follow him to his car. He turns on his siren and guns it down the road, swerving in and out of traffic to get to the old woman’s house as fast as he can.

Please, please let him be here, you silently pray, subconsciously screwing your eyes shut and holding your breath. The only thing worse than not knowing where he is might just be a false alarm that he’s been found. 

Hopper slams on the brakes behind an ambulance parked in front of the Driscoll residence, their open doors allowing the fluorescent lights to stream through. Eddie watches, wide-eyed, as an EMT wheels a stretcher over to it. 

A stretcher carrying Harris. 

“Harris!” Eddie cries in simultaneous relief, exuberance, and fear. He instinctively reaches for a door handle, quickly remembering that he’s in a cop car and had to wait for Hopper to let him out from the outside. 

You’re already crying; everything you’d been holding back to maintain a solid resolve for Eddie is crumbling as soon as you’d seen his son. You scramble out of the car, right behind him, and run to where the emergency technicians are treating Harris. 

He’s awake and alert, and he spots the two of you right away. “Daddy! Ms. Sweetheart!” He tries sitting up, but a technician gently guides him to lay down again. “No, that’s my daddy and my almost-mommy!” he protests. “I gotta see them!”

You and Eddie reach him at the same time. He’s covered in dirt; it’s smudge along his cheeks, his arms, and his legs. He’s even managed to get some on the tip of his nose. Some blood is smeared on his right knee where he’s seemed to have scraped it, and the EMTs spray some antiseptic on it and apply a bandage before he can even feel the sting.

“Oh, thank God.” The words rush out of Eddie’s mouth, and he puts his palms on his son’s cheeks and presses kisses all over his face. “You’re okay, you’re okay…” He turns to the technicians, worry pinching his brows together. “He’s okay, right? There’s nothing wrong?” He pushes some of Harris’s damp curls from his forehead. There aren’t any visible bumps or bruises on his face, which eases a bit of his nerves.

One technician nods. “Right now, it seems like he’s just got some minor lacerations, but we’ll run the gamut of tests to rule out more severe injuries.” She looks over at the police chief, who stands a few yards behind you. “We’ll take it from here.”

Hopper gives a small, sad smile; it’s then that you remember that his own child had passed away nearly twenty years ago. She was only a little older than Harris is now. 

Eddie follows your gaze with red-rimmed eyes, the realization setting in for him, too. “Thanks, Chief,” he says, just loud enough so Hopper can hear him. Hopper nods, placing his hat atop his head before walking away.

The EMTs check for any broken or sprained bones, shine lights into Harris’s pupils, and ask him a few simple questions to assess for a concussion. “We’ll have to take him to the hospital, just to be sure,” they say to you and Eddie, “but barring any extenuating circumstances, you should be able to bring him back home tonight.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie breathes, crouching down a bit so he’s eye-level with his son. “Har, can you tell us why you ran away from school? You’re not in trouble; I promise.”

Harris looks down at the blanket draped across his lap. “I had really big feelings, and I tried thinking about the zoo like you told me,” he glances at you, “but then the feelings didn’t go away, so I decided to go there.”

You take his small hand in yours. “What were the big feelings?” you ask gently, free of judgment and filled with concern.

He thinks for a second, then states matter-of-factly, “Mad and sad.”

“Mad and sad?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with his free hand. “‘Cause of Ms. Marion and Ms. Paula.”

You freeze, trying to regain your composure before Harris can pick up on your uncertainty. “What happened with your teachers, Har?”

“They were saying mean things about you and Daddy, and it made me mad and sad.”

At the sound of his title, Eddie speaks up. “Mean things about us?”

“Yeah, like, that Ms. Sweetheart is probably teaching you how to read, too,” Harris explains, “and I said that they’re lying, that you’re really smart and read to me all the time. And that Ms. Sweetheart isn’t your teacher; she’s my almost-mommy.”

Eddie clenches his fists, veins prominent as his body goes stiff. His anger isn’t at the insult, but at the way they could speak so brazenly about a child’s family, disregarding the hurt it causes. He doesn’t care what those women think of him, but he’s furious that they upset Harris.

“They keeped laughing and telled me to go play,” Harris continues, getting choked up at the memory. “I tried to do my breathing and my favorite place remembering with Charlie, but it didn’t work. And I got lost going to the zoo–the real zoo, not the one in my imagination–so I hided with the cats until the nice lady found me.”

You and Eddie share heartbroken looks, pushing aside your respective emotions as you tend to the little boy laying in front of you. “Get some rest, Har Bear,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head. “You had a long day.”

He falls asleep after a few minutes, constantly checking to make sure that the two of you are still by his side. As soon as his breathing steadies and his eyes remain closed, Eddie turns to you, exhausted and running on fumes. Wet brown doe eyes pleadingly gaze at you, lids heavy with sleep. You wrap your arms around him, unable to get close enough. He moves slowly, every action a delayed reaction, but he gradually embraces you, too.

“Stay. Please.” The words are muffled by the way his mouth is mashed into your scalp, but you hear them perfectly fine. “And if we get to go home tonight, come back with us. I need you both close to me.”

“Of course.” Your own lips press against his perspiration-soaked shirt collar. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” You pull back ever-so-slightly, brushing tears from his cheeks. “He’s safe. He’s safe, and he’s here, and we get to keep spoiling and loving him.”

Eddie absorbs this as best as he can, mind still spinning as the adrenaline crash hits. There’s so much he wants to say, but for right now, he just carves out space in his body for yours. Your light whisper keeps him grounded, pulling hi away from the spiraling that usually overtakes him in times of crisis.

“I’ve got you.”

--

[silentglassbreak]

This is about to be SO self indulgent but 🤫

Name: Kelly. Nickname: Kells. Pet names: sweetheart, baby. Female. Brown hair, hazel eyes. Always rosy cheeks.

Scenario: You’re best friends with Ruffilo, you call him to pick you up. It’s your birthday, and you’re at a bar with your girlfriends. Noah, who you’re also close with via Nick, answers Nick’s phone instead, comes to pick you up. You’re not drunk, at most you’re a little tipsy, but somehow you start rambling about how you’ve always wanted to try the birthday tradition of an orgasm for every year you’ve been alive. (You’re lucky if you go more than 10.) “Is that what you want? Because I didn’t get you a present.” Cue filthy sex and yes, Noah being a munch. More of a friends with benefits type vibe, no confessed feelings. Still affectionate though, he obviously cares about you and wants to make you feel good. Aftercare and cuddles!!!! Lots of praise!!!! But also he has such a filthy mouth akdkksjd

This is filthy I KNOW forgive me 😭 hank you!!!!!!

Let's switch it up, shall we? This one's from Noah's perspective.

After Writing Notes: No plot. No development. Just...orgasms. I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Oral (fem rec), dirty talk, PnV, a word that makes me cringe to say, let alone write....

Anything More Than Human

If these motherfuckers didn't shut up soon, I was going to lose my entire fucking mind. All I wanted, our first day back from tour, was to sit in my room, relax, and play fucking Overwatch. That was unbearably difficult to do when all of my dickhead brothers decided today was the best day to throw a God damn party, celebrating the end of the tour. You would think that, given I was the owner of the house, that they’d respect my want for space.

It didn’t help at all that I hadn’t told them they couldn’t, but that was just my overwhelming need to please – which Jolly gave me shit for constantly. So what the fuck?!

I had tried to focus, keeping music blasting through my headset, and focusing on my computer screen. However, the music they played downstairs was shaking the walls of the house, making it nearly impossible to ignore. After the sixth game that I had fucked off from lack of concentration, I finally got so agitated that I threw my headset at my keyboard, cursing out of frustration. It was maddening, and truly, giving me a migraine.

Giving up hope of any type of relief, I stood up, pulling a shirt over my head, and took a deep breath before exiting my room. I didn’t want to take my irritation out on the guys, or any of the many guests they had invited over. It wasn’t their faults. They just needed to blow off some steam. We just all had different ways of doing that.

Heading downstairs, eyes scanning the living room, I took note of the thick cloud of smoke hanging in the air. I could smell the pot before I saw it, but it still made my jaw tick. I just had that couch cleaned.

Straying directly into the kitchen, I huffed while pulling the fridge open, ignoring the lingering bodies around the countertop with drinks in their hands. I was certain they had noticed me, but I couldn’t even begin to care less. Pulling a water from the shelf, I heard the back door sliding open.

“Hey! I didn’t expect you to come down all night!” Folio’s voice was thick with alcohol, words slurring together slightly.

I turned around to face him. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t focus on my game.”

He nodded, bumping my shoulder with his own. “Sorry man. You should come outside. Jolly got the fire pit going, and there’s at least six girls hanging around asking about you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nah man, I’m going to watch a movie or something.”

“Ah c’mon, Noah. We just got home! We should be having fun!”

I swallowed a large gulp of water, wiping my lips off with the back of my hand. “That is fun to me, man.”

He shook his head. “How long has it been?”

I knew what he was asking, but playing dumb was too easy. “Since…?”

The shrill sound of a phone ringing pulled my attention from him momentarily, and I noticed an iPhone on the other side of the counter lit up.

“Since you got laid?”

I snorted. “Not that long. Like, three months?”

It was Folio’s turn to let his eyes roll back. “You talking about that thing with Moriah? Dude, that doesn’t fucking count.”

Before the ringing could have stopped for a full thirty seconds, it started again. “Sure it did!”

“Oh please, you didn’t even fuck her!”

Chuckling, I shoved him. “Head counts, dude.”

“Not unless you’re the one getting it, it doesn’t.” Folio pointed at me as if he had made the most valid point.

I scoffed. “Says you, fetus.”

He cracked up at this. Before he could say more, both of us were distracted by the phone ringing again.

“Whose fucking phone is ringing?” I scanned around the room, searching for the owner of the cell that was nearly exploding.

“Uh, I think that’s Nick’s?”

I snatched it off the counter, seeing the name flashing.

It was Kelly. That was odd. She should be here, I would think?

Making my way out the back door where Nick was, I took note of the girl in his lap, currently pressing her breasts so far in his face, he was practically inside of her bra. I walked up behind him, bumping his shoulder with my hand.

“Hey, bro. Kelly’s blowing you up.”

Nick just cocked his head up to look at me. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here?”

I just smacked him harder. “Dude, she’s calling back to back, it’s probably important.” I looked at the screen as it darkened, and looked back to Nick. “Why isn’t she here?”

He was back to his business between the unnamed girls’ tits when he answered. “She went out with Savannah and Erica for her birthday.”

His phone lit up again, her name flashing on the screen. “Are you going to answer it?”

He dismissed me. “I’ll call her back.”

Sighing hard, I stepped away, further into the backyard where the music wasn’t blaring so loudly. I swiped the call open, and put it up to my left ear, plugging my right with a finger.

“Hello?”

“Nick?!” Her voice was borderline frantic.

“It’s Noah. Nick’s, uh,” I chanced a glance back at him, seeing he was lip-locked with the blonde. “he’s busy. What’s up, dude?”

“I need a ride. Bad.” She sounded wrecked.

“What’s wrong, Kells? Where are you?”

“I’m at Shaughnessy’s on 22nd. I need to go home.”

My legs began carrying me toward the house. “Okay, stay there. I’ll be there in ten minutes, alright?”

“Thank you, Noah. I’ll be outside.”

-

The bar was overflowing with patrons. Men and clearly drunk girls were littering the sidewalk around the building. My eyes scanned for Kelly, but couldn’t see her. It wasn’t until I rounded the corner that I could see her deep brown hair from behind a bulky guy, towering over her. Kelly wasn’t the shortest girl around, but this guy was easily as tall as I was. The look on her face told me she was not happy to be there.

Finding a space on the street, I pulled in, ignoring the meter, and stepped out of my car.

“I’m telling you, honey, my place is like a five-minute walk. We can go there, have something to eat. I’ll take you home later.”

Her eyes held something strongly resembling fear, and her body language was closed off and uncomfortable.

That is, until she saw me. Her hazel stare met mine, and she knew she was finally getting out of this.

“Hey!” The guy turned around, red-rimmed eyes staring directly at me. “Time to go.” I addressed Kelly directly, and she slipped quickly from behind the dickhead, who looked bewildered. I held a hand out, which she took graciously.

“What the fuck?” He stared at us as I began pulling her back toward the street. “You never said you had a boyfriend!”

“Yeah, well, live and learn, asshole!” I hollered back, not giving him a second look. My fingers interlaced with hers, leading her to the passenger door of my Mazda 3, and tucked her into the car safely. Before I closed the door, I bent down, looking right at her.

“You good, sweetheart?”

She only nodded in response.

I rounded the vehicle and took my seat quickly, wasting no time pulling away from the curb. Kelly lived a good thirty minutes away, and by the look on her face, I could tell I needed to cut that back in any way I could.

Shifting into first gear, I pulled forward and we were gone, leaving the bar and it's problems behind us.

"What happened to your friends, Kells?" It occurred to me that I may have just left two more girls stranded at a crowded bar in downtown Los Angeles...

"They fucking left me!" Her words exploded out of her, which took me back. Kelly was typically calm, cool, and controlled. She rarely had outbursts of any kind.

She had definitely been drinking, however.

"Those fucking bitches! They met up with some of their guys friends that I didn't even know would be there! Ended up ditching me because I didn't want to go with them to a club." Her arms folded over her chest, a visible pout on her lips.

Kelly was adorable when she was angry, and I couldn't help but feel my chest swell.

We had known each other for six - no, seven years now, and had what one might call a semi-close relationship? Nick introduced me to her after our first headlining tour, when we passed through West Virginia, as his best friend. Their Moms were best friends growing up, so, naturally, they grew up together from near birth.

Kelly's a warm human being, and brings a serious sense of perspective and calm to the group of absolute imbeciles the guys and I tend to be. Nick and Kelly's relationship was reminiscent of siblings, and we had all grown to view her as a member of our little family. She joined us on most of our tours these days, and we moved her to Los Angeles two years ago. It was easier for her to help out with managing schedules, merch drops, and the other random things she handled for us when we were overly stressed out.

Due to her integral part of our family, she was off-limits at all times. Folio took that one the hardest, given they were the same age, and something about her drew him in. We all had the hard rules - no dating Kelly. No fucking Kelly. No making passes at Kelly. Mild flirting was as far as it ever got between her and I, and even then, it was usually in our rare moments of privacy, like now.

Did I find her attractive? Sure. Everyone did. How could you not? She was fit, and happy to show it - nearly always wearing shorts or crop tops that made it clear she worked out for a good time. Her brown hair was always hung loose, wisping around her face and messy; natural. She wore very little makeup, so her eyes were always free to shine, as they should.

My favorite thing about her, though? She had this constant natural blush over her. Her cheeks always had a tinge of pink to them, making her just look like a glow in a darkened room. A bright, fae-like creature.

It was hard to describe, but it was so fucking cute.

Typically, that's all I usually thought of Kelly; cute. Sweet. Adorable. Funny. Laid-back. Easy to talk to.

But today, on her birthday?

She was clearly aiming to turn some heads, as she was wearing short black jean shorts, a black tank top that was ripped in the center, showing just enough cleavage to make a man stare. Her hair was tightly curled, giving it volume that it normally didn't possess. Her eyes were made-up more than normal, sharp black eyeliner giving her eyes a cat-like effect. Her lipstick was black as well, making her teeth shine brightly behind it.

She looked...fucking hot.

Thinking of her outfit brought me back to the current conversation.

"How much have you had to drink?"

She shrugged then, her eyes taking on a guilty look. "Only like...two long island iced teas?"

This made me crack a smile. "That's usually the limit on those, you know."

She sheepishly grinned, her blush spreading. "Yeah, that's what the bartender told me when I tried to order another."

"Are you drunk?"

She shook her head. "I was, but fucking Josh...or Jared? I don't remember his name. He fucking killed my buzz mostly, so now I just feel kind of tired."

We were turning through the hills of the valley, the streets pitch black around us. "I'm sorry to hear that." I pursed my lips. "I'm also sorry that I forgot today was your birthday."

She waved a hand at me, dismissing my apology. "You're the worst with dates, Noah. I don't mind."

I scoffed, feigning offense. "I am not!"

This made her all-out laugh. "Noah, if your birthday wasn't on Halloween, you'd forget it every year."

Opening my mouth to speak, I stopped. Because...where was the lie?

"Well, still." I cleared my throat. "I feel bad, because I didn't get you a gift."

Her face was turned to the window. "No worries, hon. It's really no biggie."

Kelly's voice was sad and small, then. "I'll still get you something!" This made her turn her face, smiling somberly at me. "What do you want? Anything you want."

Her face scrunched up, then. The corner of her lip was turned up in a small smirk, and she shook her head.

"Nothin'. Don't worry about getting me anything."

I caught this out of the corner of my eye. "Nope, I saw that. What is it? What do you want?"

I wasn't letting this go.

"Noah, you can't get me what I want, so I will just count this ride home as my gift. Trust me, it means a lot."

Shaking my head fervently, I turned my car onto the freeway. "Nuh-uh, not happening. I'm sure I can get it somewhere, whatever it is."

This made her cackle. "It's not a thing."

Pursing my lips, I looked at her from under a raised brow. "Is it a puppy?"

Still bursting with laughter, she waved a hand at me. "No. I don't need a puppy."

"Kitty?"

"No."

"Then what is it?" I was getting frustrated. What could she possibly want? An island?!

She dropped her face in her hands. "Ugh, maybe I am still buzzed."

"Spit it out, Kells!"

"I want to get laid, okay?!" Her voice was shrill, clearly laced with embarrassment. Some kind of flood gate had unleashed, and I was too stunned to do anything about it.

"I wanted to meet someone, someone decent, and have stupid, gross, un-fucking-believable sex! I wanted to try that thing where you have an orgasm for every year? Twenty-seven is crazy, but fuck, I never ask for fucking anything! I just wanted to be fucked so hard I slept like a rock afterward and could get some of this pent-up stress out!"

The car was silent for a solid minute and a half after she finished speaking. The longer the air lingered without sound, I could see her slowly sinking further down into her seat - obviously mortified at her omission.

I finally decided to take a deep breath, letting out a small cough to disrupt the tension.

"Well," I exited the highway, now only minutes from her apartment. "then I guess it's going to be a long night, eh?"

I watched the shock strike over her features. "What?!"

Finally building the confidence I needed, I chanced a glance over at her while we sat at a red light. "I mean, I said anything you wanted, didn't I?"

She began waving her hands between us. "Oh no. No, no, no. We are not doing that."

"No? I thought you said a decent guy? Am I not?"

Her face was absolutely flabbergasted, and I felt my pants getting tighter just thinking about it.

"Of course you are, Noah. Probably the most decent guy I know. But, there's rules in place for a reason..."

"How do you know about the rules?"

She smirked then, rolling her eyes. "Folio told me."

Sucking my teeth, my vehicle started moving again, my hand gripping the shifter. "Well, rules are meant to be broken, right?"

"Noah..." Her eyes were bulging. "You can't just sleep with me because I'm desperate. That's just sad."

"Excuse me?" We were pulled into her complex now, my car idling in the parking space facing her building. "What did you say?"

Her head hung, then. She was still embarrassed, but now she looked depressed as well.

"I know you and I aren't like that. I don't want you suffering through something like that with me, just because I'm hard up."

Scoffing loudly, I turned my body to look at her, a finger lifting to pull her chin up so she could look at me. "Baby," Her eyes finally met mine. "make no mistake at all, I would've fucked you years ago, had I been allowed."

There's that blush again. I let my finger fall, tracing down her chest as it did, catching the rips in her shirt.

"Maybe you are hard up." I let my lids fall half-closed, admiring that her breasts bounced slowly when her breathing was erratic like this. "Maybe I am too." I looked back up at her, letting my teeth pull at the skin of my bottom lip. "Maybe it was for the best that I picked up the phone, and not Nick?"

Her lips were parted, and I could tell she was entranced.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

-

Not to sound self-absorbed, but I can be very persuasive. One of my best, and most redeeming qualities is definitely the art of charm. In all fairness, it didn't take very long to convince Kelly that her needs were due to be met, but I had melted her like butter in seconds after we entered her apartment. Clothes flew quickly, hands grabbing everywhere, and nervous giggles escaping the both of us when the harsh reality would sink in of exactly what we were doing.

I, of course, checked to ensure she was sober enough to enjoy our fun responsibly, and asked her to drink some water before we got started. I wanted her to remember this birthday. I also planned to dehydrate the hell out of her.

That is how I found myself buried between her bare thighs, her ass perched comfortably on her dining room table, tits jumping as her hips bucked against my face. My tongue was drawing some of the most lovely sounds out of her. Her head had fallen back, curls cascading down her back, eyes closed in absolute pleasure.

My index and middle finger worked inside of her, walls clenching around me as her first orgasm hit her, making her curse my name multiple times.

After her legs had calmed their shaking, I stood in front of her, my shirt discarded on the floor, and assessed her state. She looked absolutely blissed out, her eyes half-masked, and a lazy grin painting her face.

"Wow." Was all she managed. Her black lipstick had smeared slightly, and tears were pulling her eyeliner down her cheeks.

"One down." I breathed out, wiping my chin with the back of my hand.

Her back fell back on the table, legs dangling off of the edge. "Noah," She chuckled. "we don't have to do what I had said. That was me being insane."

She wasn't looking at me anymore, so she completely missed me slipping my wallet from my pocket, pulling out the condom, and sheathing it over my erection, stroking it over.

"No?" My hands grabbed her hips, snatching her forward so she was halfway off of the table. Her head snapped up to look at me, startled. "Cause I was planning to see how far we'd get."

Nudging her entrance, I saw her eyes blow wide, mouth hanging open.

"Unless you don't want to?" I stilled, checking her face for protest.

She said nothing, teeth catching her bottom lip. I dared to press in, and her eyes fluttered closed again, head falling back with a thud on the table.

"Holy fuck." It came out as a prayer off of her lips, and I smiled, satisfied at the tight squeeze of her around me. I pressed all the way in to the hilt, my own body spasming from the sensation.

"Jesus Christ, baby. I had no idea you could take cock this fucking good."

I watched her chest rise and fall, nipples perk and begging for attention. I reached a hand up, rolling one between my fingers.

"So fucking beautiful, sweetheart."

Her pussy clenched down around me as I spoke to her, and I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" She glanced at me, looking sheepish again. "You like that, baby? Like hearing how much of a good little slut you are?"

Kelly let out the softest moan I had ever heard, her body flooding at the same time. My hips started snapping rhythmically, keeping an even pace.

I leaned down, letting my mouth close around her nipple, tongue circling it and teeth nipping it.

"You pictured this before, haven't you?" I let my lips trail up to her neck, breathing into her skin. "Me pounding into you? Fucking you until there's nothing left?"

She was almost catatonic at the pleasure she was experiencing, and I couldn't deny how close I was getting, sliding in and out of her wet lips. I felt myself beginning to tighten, and the coil in my belly threatening to snap. She had to come again, that was the entire goal.

Standing straight, my hand reached for her clit, thumb circling it expertly. That's when the real screaming began.

"That's it, baby. Show me how much you love it. Let everyone hear it."

Her hips shook, trying desperately to meet my thrusts while I touched her.

She tightened again, and I knew she had finished. Fortunately, my own orgasm came rolling over me at the same time.

I fucked her through the waves of euphoria, sliding her back on the table so she wouldn't fall.

It took me a moment to gather my breathing before I was able to slide the condom off and dispose of it in the garbage. I noticed she had lifted herself off of the table, standing in front of it and gathering her melted thoughts, working on her breathing.

Coming up behind her, I circled her waist, moving hair off of her neck, and leaned into her. "Hey," My voice was a whisper. She hummed at me in return. "you okay?"

She nodded, leaning her had back on my chest. "More than okay."

Grinning, I nuzzled my nose into her neck behind her ear. "Let's get you in a shower."

I led her to the bathroom, starting the water and waiting for it to warm up. She stood, scrutinizing her face in the mirror.

"I look like hell, dude." Was all she managed to say. This made me snicker.

"You look like you just got fucking railed."

This made her burst in laughter, holding onto the counter for support. "I mean...you're not wrong." She pointed a finger at me.

Opening the curtain, I motioned for her to get into the water, and I followed suit. She let her head sit under the spray, saturating her dark hair. I leaned against the tile wall, giving her space. Kelly went to work washing her face, scrubbing the makeup off, leaving only a trace of a shadow underneath from her mascara.

She then washed her hair, conditioning, and ran her loofah over her body. I took note of how she tenderly cleaned herself between her legs, likely due to sensitivity. Was I proud? One-hundred percent.

I waited until she was all rinsed and relaxed, before I stepped behind her, running my palm down her back, tracing the scattered tattoos she had. Her body leaned into my touch, and I used the opportunity to pull her into me, leaning her against me. I found this to be most comfortable for her, given the height difference between us.

I brought myself close to her ear, my voice low. "So, I've gotten two out of you, right?"

I caught her smile from the corner of my eye. "Three."

"Ah," I licked the side of her neck softly. "well, I've still got a lot of ground to cover."

She didn't respond, so I let my hand trail down her stomach, reaching her swollen lips, spreading them with my fingers.

"Also," I didn't stop my work, slipping a finger in as gently as possible to not overstimulate her. "I didn't know you had a praise kink."

Letting out a breathless laugh, she pressed her weight into me, allowing me full access. "There's a lot I don't tell you."

"That's so sexy, baby." My finger massaged her sweet spot, pulling pants out of her with each stroke. "Knowing you like to hear how good you are. How beautiful," I quickened the pace. "how amazing," I pressed in further, making her groan. "and fucking tight."

"Ugh, Noah. That feels so amazing." She had a hand gripping the back of my neck, fingernails digging into the skin.

"You going to come for me, just like this, sweetheart? Make it this easy for me?" My hand sped up, her voice high-pitched and desperate for more.

"Noah, don't stop. Please. That's so fucking good."

"Going to come all over me, baby? Come on, girl. You can do it. I've got you." My arm pulled her waist closer to me, taking on her body weight so she could focus.

"Fuck, I'm coming, fuck..."

I felt the spray of her release on my hand, and I slipped my fingers out, pressing on her clit, forcing a scream from somewhere deep in her chest.

"God damn, baby. Did you just squirt for me? Didn't know you could do that." Amazed, I palmed her pussy, massaging it through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Ha, me neither." She seemed just as surprised as me.

"Mm," I left a soft slap over her clit, making her jump. "well, let's see if we can do it again."

Without warning, I pulled her down, bringing us down into the tub, the spray of the shower still hitting us, turning colder as the seconds passed. She laid on my body, my re-hardened cock pressing up into her back. Her hands braced on my knees, and I used a hand to open her legs, running the tips of my fingers through her slick folds. Soft whimpering noises were falling out of her; her body completely turning over to me for whatever I had planned for her.

Mercilessly, I penetrated her with two fingers, my other hand gripping her hair at the base of her skull so I could wrench her neck to the side, biting down on the soft skin.

"You've got this, baby girl. Give me another, you can do it."

Kelly's fingertips were bruising my legs where she gripped, eyes rolling back violently while her back arched. She was hitting an edge, so I pulled my hand out suddenly, and circled the hood of her clit, eliciting a sickening, guttural sound out of her.

"N-Noah..." Fighting for breath, she writhed under me. "I...need to..."

"You don't need anything, baby. Nothing but me." I whispered directly in her ear.

Her hips bucked up, climax hitting her, and I could feel her pulse through my fingers, still pressing on her pussy.

"Noah, I can't take anymore. I really can't." She was begging for reprieve, and was lucky I was feeling generous.

Peppering her shoulder and arm with soft kisses, I ran my hands up her sides. "No problem, baby. Let's go get comfortable."

After we both redressed, me back into my original clothes, her into her pajamas, we found a comfortable spot on her couch. I sat, legs apart, pulled her down between them, tucking her comfortably against my chest. She curled into me, exhausted and buzzing from our evening together. The effects of the alcohol had long worn off.

"You doing okay, Kells?"

She mumbled into my chest, already sounding half-gone. "Mhm." She yawned, a small sound. "Sleepy."

"Why don't we get you in bed?" I smirked, rubbing circles into her back. "Unless you want more?"

I felt her shiver underneath me. "I can't. I might have a stroke if I have another orgasm."

This made me snicker, pulling her head back into me.

"This is a secret?"

She didn't audibly respond, just pulled back and looked at me, a pleading look on her face.

I wasn't bothered by that, per se. Would I like to brag to my boys a little about it? Sure. Did I get the slightest heaviness at the idea of her not wanting anyone to know what we did? Maybe.

But, at the end of the day, I respected her enough to know that keeping this friendship meant much more to her than five orgasms.

Turning my mouth upward, I ran a thumb over her cheek, meeting her lips that I managed to keep away from the entire night.

Kissing felt like...too much?

"My lips are sealed, sweetheart."

Satisfied with that, she cuddled back into me, and it took no time at all before I heard the soft snores of her slumber. Once I was sure she was down deep enough, I lifted her from the couch, careful to keep her head steady against me, and trekked into her bedroom.

Setting her gently down, I pulled the covers over her, and took one last look. Her face was so peaceful. So comfortable.

Some kind of something sparked inside me, but it didn't matter. It was time to go.

Locking her doorknob on the way out, I took the steps two at a time on the way down, yawning while I climbed into my car.

My phone buzzed in the console, and that was when I realized I had left it there in my haste. Nick's face flashed on the screen, and I swiped the call open.

"Hey dude, what's up?"

"Did you pick up Kelly?"

I couldn't stop the grin that spread, but he couldn't see that. "I did."

A hard sigh of relief came through the receiver. "Thank fuck, dude. I saw her texts just now. You good, man? It's been hours."

Starting my car, I let the call switch to my Bluetooth as I backed out of the space. "Yep, all good here."

Nick's voice was skeptical. "Where are you?"

"Headed home. Just wanted to make sure she got to bed okay. She had been drinking."

"Ah, okay. She's okay?"

My teeth shined, and my eyes stared back at me with a dark, beaming gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Oh, yeah. She's just fine."

[skzimagines]

Characters: Lee know x Female reader.

Genre: Boxer!Leeknow

Warning: fighting, slight angst, smut, mentions of blood.

Summary: Having a boxer as a boyfriend has its advantages, but the disadvantages are higher.

—————————————————————————————

“Minho.. you can’t fight, again!” I say, following him down the hallway to his changing room. “Y/n, I’ll be fine. Last night wasn’t even that bad.” He says, wrapping his hands with tape, making his way to the fighting ring. “Are you kidding me? You blacked out after the last hit Minho. He nearly put you in the hospital.” Minho chuckles. He turns around a engulfs me in a hug. I fall into his arms, wrapping my arms around him. I take in his musky, cologne smell one last time before he pulls away. “Everything will be alright sweetheart.” He says, kissing my forehead.

Minho makes his way out of the hallway, entering the stadium. People’s cheers grow louder as he makes his presence known. My heart rate increases the closer he gets to the ring. He’s been doing this for years, he knows what he’s doing. But this guy he’s about to fight, is way bigger than him and has won many more matches. I wait for Minho to reach the ring before I walk out with his team to take our seats at the front of the ring.

We all sit down and our seats. My leg nervously bouncing up and down. I’ve been with Minho since the start of his career, but when it comes to his matches, the anxiety of it all never goes away. I worry about him, to be honest… it scared me most times. I tell him it does, but it doesn’t faze him. “It’s our source of income, we need the money.” He always tells me. Of course I tell him there’s other ways of bringing in income, but he doesn’t budge. He lives for the thrill of all of this.

He takes off his shirt, throwing it to the side of the stage, he turns around and gives me a reassuring smile. He mouthes the words “I love you.” Before he climbs over the ledge, squeezing through the ropes. His coach helps put his gloves on, making sure they’re tight enough for the match. He slaps his fists together, the sound of his gloves smacking together rings through my ears.

The bell dings, sounding off the match to begin. Minho moves closer to the other guy, holding his arms in front of his face. The first guy throws a punch, missing Minho as he quickly dodges it. As soon as the guy misses, Minho takes his change to throw a punch, hitting the guy square in the nose. The guy stumbles back a little bit, but quickly catches himself and throws another punch at Minho. He hits him this time, in the forehead. The plastic from his glove causes a cut to form on Minhos temple, blood leaking out of it.

About 10 minutes passes, more than a few hits later. Minho finally kicks the guys leg, sending him to his knees and Minho lands a punch to the guys face. The guy lands on to the stage with a big thud and the referee stands beside them. “One.. two.. three..” he starts counting. The counting sounds out as Minho turns around to look at his coach. I finally see his face clearly, his lip is busted, his temple is swollen, a black bruise is forming under his eye and his nose is bleeding.

“Ten!” The referee yells. Everyone starts cheering again. Minho won. A second referee hands Minho his belt, to which he holds up in the air, causing everyone to cheer louder. Minho rips off his gloves and hands them to his team once he makes his way off of the ring. I look back to the ring, seeing the other guy being put onto a stretcher by the one duty paramedics. I swallow a lump in my throat, thinking about how that could have been Minho if things went south. How I have nightmares about that day happening.

“We’ll meet him back stage y/n.” One of his team members says into my ear. We all make our way to the back of the building, meeting Minho in his dressing room. He’s sat in a chair while a paramedic team tries their best to examine his face. I quickly walk over to him, not caring that I push the paramedics out of the way. “Hey baby.” He smiles. I freeze, noticing the bruise under his eye has doubled in the last three minutes. The blood is still leaking through the dried blood on his forehead and his lip is going to definitely need a stitch.

“Hey.. I’m going to be okay.” He says, giving me that famous ‘it’s going to be okay’ smile. I shake my head, ignoring his statement. I grab the gauze laying next to him on the table and dip it in the alcohol sitting next to them, bringing it up to his face and start to wipe away the blood under and around his lip. He winces when I touch it, causing me to jump the tiniest bit. “You always say you’re going to be okay Minho, but this keeps getting worse.” I whisper. I throw the bloody gauze into the trash and grab the ice pack also laying on the table and gently press it against the lump on his temple.

“Y/n I’m not quitting.” He says sternly. “I can’t. So just give it up.” I let out a huff and throw the ice pack onto the table. “Fine Minho, I give up.” I stand up and grab my purse. Leaving the room, making sure to slam the door on my way out. I make my way to the lobby, calling myself a cab. It arrives not long after.

I make it home, unlocking the door and settling in. I throw my purse and keys onto the entryway table, sliding my shoes off and heading to Minho and i’s bedroom. I strip out of my clothes, feeling dirty from being in that grimy sweat filled place, and start the shower. I get in and try my best to wash everything away. After rinsing my hair the rest of the way, I turn the water off and head to our closet. I find the baggiest shirt Minho owns and slide in over my head, taking in his scent, my body relaxes at the smell.

Having no idea when he’ll be home, I tuck myself into bed. He’ll probably go out for a few drinks with the team, to celebrate his win. ‘Good job Minho, for fucking up your perfect beautiful face.’ I think to myself. Not that it’s actually fucked up. He would always be beautiful, he was just born that way. I quickly feel my eyes growing heavy, and before I know it I drift to sleep.

It’s 3:14am when I hear the front door slam shut. I sit up and turn the bed side lamp on. Minho walks in to the room, he walks into our on sweet bathroom and turns on the shower, stripping himself of all his clothes. Throwing them into a pile in the corner. He leans against the door frame of the bathroom and looks at me. “What?” I ask. He smiles, and starts walking toward me. “You’re so feisty sometimes, you know that?” He asks with a chuckle. He grabs my chin with his thumb and index finger, making me look up at him. “Well, I kind of have to be when my boyfriend is one of the best boxers in the world.” I answer him.

He smiles down at me, before leaning down for a kiss. “Do you want to join me?” He asks, tilting his head towards the shower. “I already showered.” I say. He lets out a dramatic gasp, holding his hand to his chest. “Without me!” He says. I laugh at his dramatic outburst. “Well maybe if you weren’t out celebrating getting your face reconstructed, you would have been here to join me instead.” I say, laying back down and covering up again.

“Excuse me, but my face didn’t get reconstructed, okay? My face is still as perfect as it was before.” He sarcastically says. “Aahhh… I see, well I am so lucky to have you as my boyfriend.” I say with a laugh. “You better be.” He smiles, before heading into the shower.

After about thirty minutes, he returns back into the room. His face looks better cleaned up. The bruises are still bad though. He has a towel wrapped around his waist. Which he drops to the floor once he makes his way into our closet. I watch him as he slides boxers on. His perfectly toned abs contort as he moves, his biceps flex unintentionally as he moves around. He is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I am the luckiest woman in the world to be able to call him mine. Staying mad at him was never an option for me. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to put a smile on my face, even when I’m mad at him.

He crawls into bed, making himself comfortable under the covers. “Come here.” He says, holding out his arms. I roll over and climb into them, laying my head against his chest. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” He chuckles. I lift my head, pressing a long kiss against his lips. He brings his hand up, setting it on the back of my head. He deepens the kiss by tapping his tongue against my bottom lip until I let him slide it in against my own. The kiss quickly turns head. He rolls me over so I’m on my back and he climbs on top of me. He slowly starts kissing down my neck, before sliding his shirt I’m wearing, up and over my head, throwing it on to the floor. “You are so beautiful sweetheart.” He whispers, running his hands from my neck all the way to my stomach. Causing goosebumps to form on my entire body. He starts kissing down my stomach, heading straight to where I want him the most. He kisses the inside of both my thighs before sliding my panties to the side. He kisses the top of my heat before looking up at me one more time. “Oh and by the way, I wasn’t out celebrating. I was busy talking to my team…. I quit.” He says. “You wha-” I start to say, but he cuts me off by wrapping his lips around my sensitive clit. Sucking as hard as he can while sliding his middle finger inside of me. “Min-Minho.” I moan. He hums against my pussy, sending a vibration throughout it. I throw my head back letting out moan after moan. Feeling my high reach closer each time he sucks and thrusts his finger back in.

He suddenly stop sucking, sitting up and laying on top of me. Lining his tip up to my heat, sliding it through my soaked folds. “Mmm baby, you feel so good.” He groans, before sliding his member all of the way in to me. I let out a loud moan when he fills me up all of the way. “Feels s-so good Minho!” I moan. He kisses my jawline, before wrapping his dainty, long and beautiful fingers around my throat. “Cum for me baby.” He demands.

His words send me over the edge, I hit my high. My head shooting back and my hands grasp the sheets as I cum around him. His name leaves my mouth more times than I can count. His thrust become sloppy once I cum, I know he’s close. My wet heat tightening around him, as he shoots his load in to me. He lets out a low grunt as he thrusts into me for the last time, collapsing on top of me.

We lay here like this for a while as I run my hand through his long hair. “Did you really quit?” I hesitate to ask, but eventually doing so anyway. “Yes I did.” He says, looking up at me. “You mean more to me than getting money from something my girlfriend hates.” He whispers. “You’ll always be my number one priority y/n.” He says with a soft smile. He kisses the top of my head, before we both drift to sleep.

[fairykazu]

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE: GETTING YOU UNDER THE MISTLETOE FT. XIAO contents // pining, friends to lovers, siblings! hutao & qiqi, requited love notes // this is mainly xiao's pov and he thinks you don't like him back. also, if it's not implied enough, you're aware that xiao likes you but you want him to make the first move. i kind of gave up at the end when i was building this up. baba - dad, gege - older brother & jiejie - older sister masterlist

it was nearly time for the christmas party xiao's family is throwing and of course, his best friend who he is not at all in love with, name is invited. name always have been coming to his family's celebrations but why does it feel different now?

maybe because his sisters are trying to insist him to finally confess the feelings, he has had harboring for 17 years. "xiao, you can't keep stumbling around and acting stupid around them because you like them. it's kind of hard to watch, right, qiqi?" hu tao said, turning to the 10 years old on the couch. she was about to answer until,

xiao rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, "don't answer that, qiqi."

qiqi closed her mouth as hu tao kept saying, "qiqi, you know i'm right. isn't it hard to see xiao kicking his legs and giggling after name leaves."

xiao's neutral bitch face morphed in fear, wallowing in self conciousness. is it really that bad?

the little lavender haired girl paused to think about it and sadly, to xiao's demise, "hmm... jiejie, i do think it's weird to see gege with cooties. i think uncle baizhu has medicine for it."

oh god, it really is that bad.

letting whatever qiqi said sink into xiao's shoulders, hu tao walked away to the closet, pulling out a white board stand. it squeaked, hu tao said, "exactly, which is why i made a plan." on the whiteboard, it said in bolded letters, "mission impossible: xianame christmas edition".

if you looked closely, you could see the faint words of previous "mission impossible"'s that xiao rejected and hu tao had to wipe off. xiao was nearly go along with the plan but skeptical of hu tao because usually, she's a trickster, there's always something up her sleeve.

"another plan?" xiao replied, furrowing a brow. hu tao skipped around, chirping,

"yep! this time it would work, i swear." hu tao's hand resting on the board's shelf.

"you swear? you said this last time on halloween last year and scared name nearly to death."

"i didn't scare them to death..." hu tao trailed off. "they only fainted."

"isn't it the same?" xiao asked. hu tao could tell that he was growing even more skeptical of the plan. as his sister, she knew that she needed to swerve away from that and push him into confessing. it's really embarrassing to see him try to make a move only to get rejected or mid-way change the plan.

"no! anyway, my new and foolproof plan is that since it's christmas," hu tao flipped the board with her other hand. "we can use the mistletoe as our advantage and use it for a romantic moment where you confess your feelings to name. i even asked dad about this and he agreed to it."

mistletoe? isn't that kissing?

"really, you got dad to agree to this."

"yes, and sure you might catch cooties." behind them, qiqi winced out of ickiness. "but better than nothing right?"

xiao stood there for a moment, rethinking about this. "are you sure it would happen perfectly? we don't even know if name likes me back."

"ummm, maybe the christmas spirit would enchant them." hu tao shrugged as xiao's eyes narrowed.

"i don't want a spirit to enchant them. that's not ethinical."

"xiao, don't shame on the spirits. they're very kind, y'know. anyway, the offer still stands but for a priceeeeee." hu tao replied, smiling. smiling like the devil, xiao knew something was up.

"what is it?"

"invite your second bestest friend ever over." hu tao chirped, hands together in a ball across her chest. she patted her eyes, coming closer to xiao, as xiao extended his hand out, creating a distance between himself and his sister.

"who?"

"yanfei!"

xiao tilted his head, hands still crossed. "yanfei? im not friends with yanfei."

"but if you want this plan to really work..." hu tao trailed off, hoping the bait she laid would catch her older brother. until qiqi said, "gege, i think jiejie has caught cooties too."

hu tao nervously laughed, "qiqi, i don't think-"

"ok, ill invite yanfei to the party but if this little christmas plan doesn't work, you're not allowed to make any more, got it?"

"oh my god, thank you sooo much, gege!! you're the bestest older brother anyone could ever have."

---

it was almost time for the party, the house was decked out with decorations. although the usual red and green theme is what christmas is, xiao's family preferred the gold and red theme. in the kitchen, gingerbread houses were prepped to be put together. as dad helped hu tao place mistletoes around the house, giggling each time. "dad, isn't this bow kind of off centered?"

"hm, i do think it is off centered. do you want me to fix it?" he asked, holding onto the ladder. hu tao replied with a no.

if you looked around you would see the each archway of a room would have a mistletoe, although, none of them are upstairs in their rooms. qiqi asked if she wouldn't be kissed because she didn't want to go to uncle baizhu's home for the vaccine for cooties. xiao made a mental note to tell baizhu to stop telling her that cooties exist when in reality, they are not.

xiao was pacing around the living room again, qiqi was following him like a little duckling. "gege, are you worried about the plan? i think i have vaccines for the cooties. i think though."

"no, it's fine, qiqi." he picked her up, holding her. "do you think it would go wrong?"

qiqi huffed, "no. i see name and they like you. i think i saw them-"

xiao tilted his head, "saw them what?"

"ah, i forgot."

xiao wilted a little.

---

as the house is fully decorated and hu tao busted her ass off to make it as romantic and christmasy as possible. the door rang, alerting everyone in the family to turn around. is it who xiao thinks it would be? name isn't late but they're not always super early. just before xiao reached for the door, hu tao squealed in delight, racing towards the door.

"hii name!!! and yanfei??? woah, did xiao invite you?" hu tao said, acting all coy as if she didn't try to puppeteer the whole situation. xiao noticed that yanfei's face was flustered. as he thought, huh, it is requited.

"ah, yes, i think so. i mean! yes, he did." yanfei yelped, clearly nervous but hu tao most likely saw her as perfect. xiao averted his eyes to you and god, he thinks you just killed him. from your sparking eyes to your bright smile, your little wave and he can't compute.

xiao.chr ran into an unexpected error 404

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

you walked towards xiao, confused as to why he's just dazing off into nothingness. hu tao's conversation with yanfei blurring to the sound of christmas music. you poked his cheek, "xiaoo...?" seeing him go from reality from dreamland, which is strange, it's more like the opposite for the two of you. "are you there?"

"ah!" xiao yelped, blinking. huh, you never noticed how long his lashes were. "sorry, i was thinking about something."

"i could tell. what were you thinking about so hard?"

"gege has cooo-" xiao covered qiqi's mouth, "i was thinking of my grades after finals." as qiqi kept trying to talk, he made qiqi walk to hu tao and yanfei. "qiqi has a weird phase of saying cooties. sorry about that."

"no, it's kind of endearing." you replied, walking into the kitchen. xiao saw the little mistletoe above the kitchen's archway, afraid of kissing you in the moment, he redirected you to his room. "my dad's preparing something to snack on and he doesn't like being disturbed. um, lets go to my room instead."

"huh? but your dad loves when people watch him cook so he's not lonely in there." oblivious to the fact that the mistletoes were hung everywhere, xiao knew that hu tao had forgotten his own room. "he changed his rules."

you quirked a brow, "don't lie?"

"i promise i'm not lying." xiao said, trying to make himself sound not lying at all. until qiqi's voice replied, "gege, why are you a liar? i can see from jiejie's room that your pants are on fire. baba loves when people watch him cook."

"see, xiao, i can see what you're trying to pull here." you said. ypu're getting too close. very much to xiao's liking but to make a move? nah, he's good. seeing and loving you from a distance is good for him too.

"what are you talking about?" xiao said, pretending to be oblivious to what you're saying. you sighed and pulled him closer to you. he could feel the warmth from your face. he knows he's flustered by now. "you know what you're doing."

what?? i dont understand.

"what??"

"aw man, i thought this would bait you into telling me." xiao laughed mostly out of fear and anxiety. "you're just as mischievous as hu tao."

why did he compare you to his sister. it's over.

"ha! if i really was, you would've died by now."

he exhaled, "you're right."

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

xiao was too caught up in the conversation he's having with you, he didn't know that he was right under a trap, the infamous mistletoe. you began to whisper, "look up."

when he did, his face paled as if he didn't agree with hu tao's plan to begin with. but unbeknownst to xiao, you set up this plan with hu tao. you always had even though you had every other chance to make a move on him, he always took it as platonic.

"oh." you pulled him closer,

"ready?" even though he was about to answer, you interrupted him with a kiss. wow you could've saved yourself 17 years of this but you liked to play the long game. xiao just stood there for a moment just before he returned the kiss.

the kiss moment was broken up by a loud flash sound and qiqi crying about how you two would catch cooties. "we need this for memories, can you kiss again for the family album?" hu tao asked as xiao pulled away from your embrace to yell at her. you laughed, winking at hu tao, pulling her brother away from her.

bonus:

zhongli started to console qiqi, cradling her into his arms, "cooties don't exist, qiqi."

"but, baba, uncle baizhu said, 'cooties are very contagious. to cure it i have to get the vaccine from his house.'" qiqi began to cry as zhongli wiped a tear from her face.

"baizhu likes to tease you since you are little-"

"baba! i am not little. i have two digits, i am older now."

"of course, you are a big girl now." zhongli comforting his daughter again, grabbing a gingerbread cookie from the counter. she takes it and cries,

"yes, baba! im a big girl and uncle wouldn't lie to me wouldn't he?" zhongli placed her on his lap, sitting on the couch. "well, no, of course he wouldn't. this is like how jiejie treats gege."

"ohhh."

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 5

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

Clearly I’m in my angst era 🖤

Three days had passed since George had lost his ear in the mission to get Harry back to the Burrow safely and each day George's wound seemed to improve dramatically; it was almost completely healed now, no longer leaking or swollen and only a little sore. His overall mood however, seemed to be deteriorating with each passing day as the reality sunk in, the insecurities and sensitivities bubbling up inside of him, despite your honest and repeated confirmation that he was still your George and still gorgeous. With each day he'd withdrawn a little more, showing less affection and had even taken to sleeping on his own in the single bed. Around the others, he laughed and joked just like normal but in private he was cold and distant with you. Fred had noticed and had pulled him up on it once or twice, delicately questioning what was going off with him, what you'd done wrong, but each time George would deflect the question and find a way to avoid answering entirely. You'd hardly interacted at all the previous day, finding it too hard to be rejected and denied by the man you loved and he had even gone as far as to get Molly to change his bandage so that he wouldn't have to be alone with you. You understood, to a point. You knew he'd be feeling insecure about it and he had a lot to process in terms of adjusting to his new normal, mourning his lost ear and no doubt processing the trauma from the attack, but you still couldn't help but feel devastated that he was outwardly rejecting you, pushing you away, especially after you'd tried everything to help him.

You'd thrown yourself into research, hiding away in Charlie's old, vacant bedroom which you were using as a makeshift work space for potion brewing and research. You'd brewed a myriad of helpful, healing potions, ensuring the order would always have a full supply of whatever they should need, as far as your abilities stretched at least. Text books and old potion books were littered around you as you frantically searched for any hope that you could regenerate or replace George's ear but so far there was nothing. Cursed limbs could not be replaced. You'd been taught that over and over by both Lupin and Snape in your school years but you couldn't stop yourself from trying anyway.

You were scribbling down notes from an old copy of Moste Potente Potions, having found an interesting article about Linfred of Stitchcombe and his medicinal advancements when a knock at the door shocked you. Before you'd even had the chance to call out, the door opened and Fred stuck his head in, his eyes flicking over the mess all around you.

"Mum says tea's nearly ready," he says, casting a sideways glance at you and then returning his gaze to the mess of books and parchment that seemed to consume you.

"Thanks but I need to finish this, can't step away from it yet," you said, gesturing towards the cauldron in the back of the room that was currently brewing calming draught, in the hopes that you could use it on George to rid his shock and trauma, at least temporarily. To accentuate your point, you lifted a finger and with a quick flick, the ladle inside the cauldron stirred the blue-hued liquid, the peppermint scent filling the room even more as it stirred and mixed together.

You heard Fred let out a sigh and you caught sight of him just in time to see his shoulders droop just a little in defeat.

"He'll come around you know," Fred says quietly after a few moments of silence which you'd worked through, flicking through pages of a book you'd searched over and over. You knew he was right, but you were a ball of frustration and pain, desperately trying to keep yourself together and keep yourself from hurting anyone else around you.

"I know," you replied, your tone even. You didn't want to think about it anymore, or keep talking about it and so you gestured for the cauldron to stir once again and went back to thumbing through the book you'd pulled.

When you heard the door shut, you immediately sank into yourself and cast the book aside aggressively, tears falling from your eyes before you could stop them. Only days ago you'd woken up in your bed beside the two men you loved most in the world, completely unaware of what would happen, though of course you knew it was dangerous. Even after, you'd woken up in George's arms and everything seemed manageable, like you could navigate through it together and be there for him, only he didn't want you to. He pulled away and you felt lost, robbed and guilty for pulling away from Fred to give George some space from you, hoping he'd come around soon.

You never made it to dinner that night, nor breakfast the next morning as you agonised over your notes, feeling like there was something missing. Neither George nor Fred had been up since then and you'd worked through the night, stopping only briefly for a few hours sleep as you crawled into the bed out of sheer exhaustion, your eyes not able to comprehensively read anything anymore.

You aggressively sighed when a knock at the door stopped your obsessive reading but when Hermione's voice called out from beyond the door, you put down your book and frowned, curious as to why she would need you. You called out for her to enter and tried to smooth back your hair, particularly the strands you'd pulled out of your haphazard braid in sheer frustration.

She stepped through the door holding a glass of pumpkin juice and a plate of toast, seemingly unfazed by your crazed lair of books.

"Molly sent this," she said, placing down the crockery on the table beside you before moving to sit down on the floor in front of you, crossing her legs.

"Thanks," you said in reply, looking at her with questioning eyes, waiting for the mini lecture to come.

"Have you had much luck?" She asks, gazing at your notes briefly, "Fred said you had been brewing non-stop. Calming Brew is notoriously difficult, I've never been able to."

"Hermione," you said firmly but gently, stopping her kind but unappreciated small talk. "Why are you really here?" You walked the line between firm and rude, hoping that you were falling somewhere on the lighter side but in your exhaustion and overstimulated state, it was hard to tell. Her hands fall to her lap as she plays with them, taking a deep breath as if she's gathering courage.

"Dumbledore gave Harry a task before he died, something which we're sure is crucial to defeating you-know-who, but it's hard to know where to even start, where we need to go and what we might need," she says, not making eye contact. Even in your sleep deprived state, you can tell she's holding back information but right now you were loathe to care. "I'm trying to be prepared for every eventuality, I've been gathering things for months, knowing we might need to leave at any time but there's so much more we might need."

"And you want me to brew some potions for you?" You said, filling in the blanks. Only then does she look up at you with a slight frown, considering her next words carefully.

"Actually, we want you to join us."

You instinctively frown at her in reply, all words falling flat on your tongue as you consider her words.

"Me, why? You finally manage to ask, astounded by her request.

"Y/n," she says, a small, polite smile tugging at her lips, "you're a brilliant witch, a master of potions and the magic you produced to heal George was something I've only ever read about in history books. We hadn't asked you before because we knew you'd never leave Fred and George but it seems the three of us won't be able to do it alone, we had to ask."

You sat in silence as you processed her words, conflict building inside you as you considered your options. Truthfully, your current emotions and circumstances were guiding your decisions but you couldn't deny it was an intriguing proposal. You knew Hermione was serious from the crease in her brow that had only seemed to get more prominent with each passing day.

"I assume there's no time frame?" You ask, feeling your frantic mindset fading from you, a calmness overtaking you instead. She shook her head and averted her eyes down to the book which was laid out in front of her.

"And I can't tell anyone?" You assumed.

"I wiped my parents memory, they don't know I exist anymore," she said in a small voice, wringing her hands harder now, the skin of her palms turning pure white, "it was safer for them, and for me. The order don't know but Ron is telling Molly tonight. You can tell F-"

"Better not to, at least right now," you interject quickly, shooting down that line of thought. She nods in understanding and you let out a deep breathe you'd not realised you'd been holding, breathing restricted by the tension within you.

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course," she says with a smile, moving to stand as she wipes off her hands on the front of her jeans. She gives you a little smile and walks out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You begin to clear up the books and notes, placing them in a mostly neat pile in the corner, focusing your attention on the batch of muffling draught, that had been requested by Madeye before he died for Order use.

You left it barely simmering and took a seat on the unmade bed you'd been sleeping in and let out a long and drawn out sigh. Thoughts were swirling in your brain of every possible option and path. Could you leave Fred and George? What if something happened whilst you were away? What if you never came back? Being away from them when they were transporting Harry was sheer torture, could you go through that again? Or rather, could you put them through that?

The possibility of helping bring down Voldemort was incredibly appealing, knowing that the cause and the Order was more important than personal lives now, the imminent threat of an outright war seeming more and more likely with each passing day. Harry was the best chance we had of defeating Voldemort and your role in the Order was to accomplish this by any means necessary, even if it meant great personal sacrifice.

You sat stewing on your thoughts for a while, making a virtual pros and cons list in your mind, trying to plan ahead but without knowing what needed to be done, it was impossible.

A movement from outside the house caught your eye and you moved over to the window to look out into the garden and surrounding fields, seeing the Weasley men outside erecting the large white marquee for the wedding tomorrow. Fred and George were off to one side whilst Ron and Arthur stood on the other, all of them brandishing their wands in an effort to raise and set up the large tent. Your gaze lingered on Fred before moving to George, who looked in good spirits as they joked between themselves. A flash of pain ran through you as you considered walking out and helping but realising that George would probably ignore you or make excuses to leave, rejecting you once again.

You were about to look away when you noticed a figure in the distance suddenly appear as if out of nowhere, walking stiffly with a large briefcase in his hand as he strode determinedly towards the Burrow. As he walked closer to the house, his facial features and appearance began to get clearer to you, his somewhat familiar, droopy face that seemed to be fixed into a neat permanent frown and shoulder length brown hair.

Rufus Scrimgeour. The new Minister for Magic.

You hurriedly ran down the staircase and rushed into Fred and George's room, quickly throwing a fresh shirt on and began walking out into the kitchen when you saw the minister walk into the house, guided by Arthur.

"I'll need Mr Potter, Mr Ronald Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger and Miss y/n y/l/n," he says after shooting down any small talk formalities. Almost immediately, you feel two sets of eyes land on you, both from the 6ft 3 redheads who were hovering around the door. "We'll need somewhere private," he says, looking around at the multiple sets of eyes who are all looking between themselves in suspicion.

"And to Miss y/n y/l/n, I leave my lebetum, in the fond hope that you will never need this.”

The minister then handed the black object to you, a curious looking thing, something you’d never seen nor heard of before. It was similar to the deluminator in ways, looking like the first of its kind. It was long and cylindrical, ornate in design with a fragment of misted glass embedded onto the front. You turned it over in your hand and frowned, looking down at the curious object.

When the Minister left, you, Ron, Hermione and Harry sat in silence for a few moments, all of you processing what had just happened with Albus Dumbledore's will and the bequeathments. Why had Dumbledore chosen you? The golden trio made sense and you'd been close to Dumbledore of course but it was a big surprise to be included.

"It seems Dumbledore wants you onboard too," Harry says after a moment, taking your eyes flicker to his, the glare from his light reflecting glasses shielding his eyes from you.

"Yeah, have you thought about it?" Ron asks, his hand running along the seams of his corduroy trousers, a pair that you recognised Fred abs George to have worn a few years ago, a tiny splatter of ink still visible on the right knee.

You sighed, unsure.

"Still deciding, I want to but," you said, trailing off. You pulled the sleeves down over your hands, trying to give yourself a little regulatory comfort.

"You can't leave them behind," Hermione says softly, anticipating your answer. You nod gently, not meeting anyone's eyes as flashes of Fred and George play in your mind. The thought of leaving them makes your stomach turn uncomfortably, makes you want to sob at the very thought but there was a greater good that needed to be accomplished and you couldn't let fear nor personal feelings be the reason you rejected their proposal.

"But I can't be selfish, not now, if you need me then I'm with you," you say, looking up at Harry, "this task, will it work?"

"It's the best chance we have to defeat Voldemort."

"Then I'm in."

The minute Ron told Molly about their plans, you disappeared back upstairs, away from the conflict and back up to Charlie's old bedroom. Fleur's parents would be arriving this afternoon and you needed to clear away all your stuff from the bedroom to make room for more guests. You checked on your potion and were pleased with the result, bottling it up and cleaning the cauldron with a flourish of your wand. The books, quills and parchment you'd put to one side were all cleared up and collected off the floor as you cast a quick tidying spell, cleaning the sheets and resetting the room back to it's usual setting. You carried the huge and heavy pile of books down the staircase until you stood in front of Fred and George's closed bedroom door, feeling incredibly awkward as you considered knocking, feeling unwelcome for the first time in your relationship.

You didn't knock but instead grabbed the handle and stepped in, struggling under the weight of the books as you set out to find the bag your enchanted with an extension charm.

George was lay on the bed reading when you walked in and for a brief moment you thought that everything could be normal again as he looked up at you, thinking he would open his arms for you to cuddle into, just as you always had. But that was not the case today. Instead, he shifted slightly on the bed so that his body was almost facing away from you whilst still being able to read and a fresh pang of sadness washed over you all over again. You willed yourself not to cry, at least not until you'd left the room and located your bag, placing the notes and books into the bag before moving to your other belongings.

You rummaged through your things, trying to stay quiet as to not antagonise George further before stopping and cursing, not finding the cardigan that you were looking for. You sighed and stood, walking to the set of drawers near the window and pulled out the second drawer, seeing an array of matching wool jumpers. You pulled a burgundy one out from the pile and unfolded it, seeing that it was emblazoned with the letter 'G'. In a move that upset you greatly, you folded the jumper back up and placed it back into the drawer, reaching instead for it's matching counterpart with the 'F' pattern. You closed the drawer and threw on the jumper, wanting to get out of the room immediately as the tension was much too strong and uncomfortable.

You cast a glance to George as you walk out, seeing him sprawled on the bed reading had always been one of your favourite sights, but though he of course looked handsome in the moment, you just felt empty and sad. His eyes slowly drag up to your exiting form but he says nothing and looks back to his book only moments later, apparently not feeling the need to address you at all. Anger began to simmer in you at his outward dismissal and without thought you began speaking.

"Your bandage needs changing," you say in a shockingly cold tone which sounds odd even to your own ears.

"Mum'll do it," he mumbles, barely even sparing you any attention. His words and tone only infuriate you more and you have to bite your tongue, and physically bite the inside of your cheek, to keep your composure, wanting nothing more in that moment than to scream at him. You'd seen him laughing and joking with Fred earlier, why was it just you he was so cold with? Irritation and resentment bubbled up inside of you and you had to be incredibly selective of your next words.

"I'll have to apply some potion to it tomorrow morning, help the scars," you say blankly, leaving no room for his comments as you walked out of the door, the harsh exterior falling from you the second you shut the door behind you, perhaps a little too aggressively in hindsight.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, Molly immediately recruited you to help out with wedding preparation, having you fluctuate between helping in the kitchen with her and setting up the table for the meal which would be eaten outside on account of the numerous guests staying.

After your chores were finished, you checked to see Fred and George still de-gnoming the garden with Harry and Ron, supposedly taking extra precautions to rid all of the pests from the lawn and surrounding area. Seeing that they were occupied, you took the opportunity to slip back upstairs and entered their room determinedly as you locked the door with a flick of your wand, sat at the desk and pulled out som parchment and ink.

You weren't sure what to write, not knowing the full extent of Dumbledore's task, but you knew it would be dangerous and potentially life threatening, meaning that this letter would be the last thing they had of you if you didn't make it back.

You began with Fred's letter, finding it much easier at present to tell him all the things you needed him to know. Tears slipped from your eyes a few times with the more emotional passages as you tried to explain why you'd gone and how much you loved him. You folded up the letter once you were happy with it and slipped it into a spare envelope that the twins kept in the desk drawer for their owl post orders.

You sat looking at the blank page for what seemed like hours, trying to think of what to say to George. It was hard because you were so hurt but you chose to push that aside, knowing that this might be the last time you'd ever write to him, plus you didn't know when you would be leaving and this may had all blown over by the time he reads this letter.

You placed George's into an envelope too and considered where you were going to store them until you needed them. You thought your bag at first or maybe under their pillows but both were too risky. Instead, you walked to the shelf in the nook of the room and pulled out a potions book that was left over from your teenage years in the room. In front of that was a pinned, magical photo of the three of you, no older than 15, making a snowman outside in the Hogwarts Courtyard, all with your arms around each other with goofy grins on your face. You slipped the letters into the book, not concealing them entirely but just enough, preparing your last clue that would lead them there if you left.

"Princess?" You heard from the other side of the door as someone, who you now knew to be Fred, jingled the door handle. You unlocked the door with your wand and Fred walked in with a concerned look on his face, moving to walk over to you.

"Why was the door locked? You okay?" He asks and you smile up at him, moving to stand in front of him before wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms immediately surround you as he pulls you in to his chest, cuddling you tightly.

"Better now," you mumble into his chest, feeling instantly comforted by his touch.

"Thought I'd lost you to your work," he says playfully and you pull away just a little to crane your neck upwards to look at him.

"Still here, still yours," you smile, reaching up onto your tiptoes for a kiss which he gives you without hesitation. It's short and sweet but meaningful as his left hand clutches your waist, seemingly needing this just as much as you. You smile at each other as you pull away, only to frown a moment later when George walks into the room calling out to Fred, stopping mid conversation as he realises you are there.

Your face drops and the happiness you felt only a few seconds before slips away from you as George makes no move to join you, no joke or tease and certainly no move to steal you away from his brother as they so often did.

"I'll just... see if your mum needs any help," you mumble awkwardly, stepping out of Fred's hold and walking over to the door in defeat.

"You stupid git," you hear Fred say harshly to George just as you close the door. You desperately want to stay and listen to what they are going to say but you decide not to, knowing that it will only upset you further. You can hear the muffled sound of raised voices and a telltale humming noise that alerts you to the fact that they had used a specific silencing charm and your gut twists once again, feeling like the root of the problem. You'd only reached the fourth step down when Fred bursts through the door, shaking his head until he spots you and all the anger falls from his face. He takes your hand as soon as you'd both stepped off the stairs and he leads you to the empty lounge, sitting down first before pulling you down onto the sofa so that you fall into his lap. His arms lock tightly around you and for the first time in days you feel familiarity and comfort. So much so, that you don't even realise your eyes closing as sleep overtakes you, wrapped securely in Fred's arms.

You wake up comfy, cozy and a little confused, still cuddled into Fred though you are no longer alone. George is sat beside you both on the sofa, in touching distance and you fight against your tired eyes as they threaten to close.

"Hey sleeping beauty," Fred smirks down at you, clearly having felt you shift in his lap. You shush him and cuddle into his shoulder a little more, hesitantly flicking your eyes over to George who is, rather surprisingly, looking at you.

"Nice sleep?" He asks, his tone lighter than you'd heard in days when he'd been addressing you. You simply nod in reply, suddenly sheepish at the concept of chatting with him, expecting him to say something hurtful or pull away again if you opened your mouth. His lips turn up at the edges to give you a soft smile but you don't focus on it for long, turning instead to look around you, checking of anyone else was there. You were all alone and under regular circumstances you'd relish in the time together, knowing how rare it was when you were at the Burrow but right now it just felt awkward and weird.

"I'm gonna get a drink," you say quietly as you attempt to climb off of Fred, feeling painfully thirsty after your nap.

"I'll join you," George says as you walk away and you don't even reply, just continue walking around the corner into the kitchen. Any hope that George was going to explain himself fell flat the second you walked into the kitchen and saw Molly whizzing about like her head was on fire, a couple of her children following behind her as she prepares for Fleur's family to arrive. Dinner than night was hosted outside with gorgeous twinkling lights in the trees and a lavish spread that had taken Molly all day to prepare. You sat beside the twins and though George was a little more cordial than before, you still felt distanced from him and wished more than ever that things would just go back to normal.

Later that night you lay in bed with Fred's arm protectively draped across your waist, your body pressed tightly to his front as he spooned you from behind whilst George lay on the other side, not even remotely touching you. You'd had to push the beds together to make room for the extra cot in the room, where Ron lay sleeping just for tonight, having been evicted from his own room as Bill and Charlie took his, Arthur and Molly took Charlie's and Monsieur and Madame Delacour took Molly and Arthur's room. 

Having George this close to you only seemed to make him feel further away and you cried yourself to sleep that night, tears silently streaming down your face and soaking your pillow until you eventually fell into a restless sleep.

Next

[ducktracy]

are you anti "sour-puss" daffy? that characterization of him is the primary one in my head. like duck amuck is epitome of daffy in my mind.

CRACKS KNUCKLES SO LOUDLY THEY EXPLODE. i’m giving my “HEADS UP THIS WILL LIKELY BE EXHAUSTIVE” warning now because i love love love love love love love love any chance to talk and analyze and pontificate about the duck. TLDR: YES AND NO

SO. i don’t consider myself “anti sour-puss” so much as i would consider my stance “if Daffy has to be more egocentric and miserly than he usually is then i prefer a very specific set of circumstances for this to be the case”. i have warmed up to the Jones and Freleng duck of the ‘50s onward CONSIDERABLY in recent years—there was a point where i just refused to touch any Daffy short made after a certain point because i knew it would make me frustrated and sad and mad and that’s, respectfully, ridiculous!

it took me watching the Speedy and Daffy cartoons to realize that Daffy in THOSE shorts is what i thought Daffy was in the Jones and Freleng shorts. it dwindles a bit over time (compare how he behaves in The Hunting Trilogy to something like Ali-Baba Bunny, which is a short i still have yet to come around to for that reason—i don’t like the “MINE MINE MINE GO GO GO DOWN DOWN DOWN” duck very much and my issue was that i thought he behaved that way in every single cartoon after a certain point which is thankfully incorrect!), but there’s still some nuance. by the time we’re getting to shorts where Daffy is saying “HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO STARVE ON MY PROPERTY” is when i fully throw in the towel lol

another thing that’s helped me warm up is the realization that Daffy’s personality change is not nearly as objective as it’s made out to be. he has always had an ego, he’s always been reckless, impulsive, and yes, this absolutely includes the ‘30s shorts! Chuck’s Duck is Chuck’s Duck from day one with the line “not bad for a guy that never took a lesson in his life!”.

Scalp Trouble has Daffy on an ego trip fancying himself as an army general (and there is a legitimate, honest to god small dick metaphor joke in that short because he has this huge giant sword sheath that is indiscreetly phallic in design, only to reveal a tiny little dagger), ordering people around and essentially LARPing in this role we immediately know is way too big for him. and when it comes time to battle, what does he do but spend the majority of his time cowering in a corner.

he’s always had these traits! maybe they’re a bit more primitive earlier on, some other traits are a greater priority. but Drip-Along Daffy is one of my favorite Chuck Jones shorts because it’s basically a sequel to The Great Piggy Bank Robbery. and you could argue the same with Duck Dodgers! all shorts have him fantasizing about a hero role that is clearly too big for him to fill, and he is absolutely getting the biggest kick out of assuming this role. Drip-Along is still early enough to also have this sort of innocence and unflappability (that may more accurately be described as delusion or ignorance): when Daffy gets no reception whatsoever in the bar, instead of screaming at everyone to look at him, he just marches to the next order of business and indulges in his next part of his fantasy. this NEVER would have happened had the short come out 5-10 years after when it did.

likewise, the Daffy of the ‘50s and ‘60s is still insane, it’s just a different manifestation of how that’s the case. earlier on, he’s a bit more visibly unhinged. his HOOHOOHOOing fits are a catharsis that you can just FEEL crawling up his throat and dying to get out, and in the really early shorts you can see this sort of half and half battle between cognizance and succumbing to insanity (The Daffy Doc and Porky’s Last Stand especially come to mind). it’s an insanity that relieves itself through sheer manic catharsis. as time goes on, he matures a bit, he knows how to keep better wraps on it; the manners in which he gratifies his impulses just shifts.

and also, Daffy can still very much be a sourpuss early on! Bob McKimson’s Daffy, whose interpretation is very integral in my sort of mental default of who Daffy is, can be very bitter and cynical in particular! or, again, early shorts like The Daffy Doc or Scalp Trouble where he’s more argumentative and his ego is clearly much more tender.

the seeds of what Daffy would become have all been planted, and so that’s allowed me to bristle a bit less and lower my haunches. and i am making more progress in coming around to the later shorts! i’ve been on a Chuck Jones kick recently and been watching lots of Chuck Jones Daffy shorts and enjoying them. i love Drip-Along, Duck Dodgers, Duck Amuck, Deduce You Say, Robin Hood Daffy—i’ve even come around to Rabbit Seasoning which is kind of NUTS to me because there was awhile where i was acting like Bugs and Daffy shorts killed my firstborn. “pronoun trouble” is an inside joke with my friend and dear lord i laugh every time at Daffy’s reactions to Elmer falling for Bugs’ drag act, and the ENDING!!!! omg. i love it. i’ve come around to Beanstalk Bunny as well! it’s a great short!! in getting to know the duck better and understanding how nuanced his development is, i’ve gone a bit softer which is good.

i was just chatting about this recently—i think most of the thorns in my side come from the Daffy and Bugs pair-ups. what i like best and get most out of each character, i get none of when they’re together. i’d rather see Bugs behaving and doing something else, and the same for Daffy. i’m not opposed to a sourpuss Daffy so much as i really don’t like seeing him suffer. i feel like the Bugs and Daffy shorts “punch down” a bit more on him, and i still haven’t found a way to really properly articulate this… i’ll just copy and paste what i was saying the other day here:

Daffy earlier on has all the traits above we talked about, but the difference is that he isn’t really shamed for them outright? of course we’re meant to laugh at his cowardice as he says “go… back… in again….” to the giant towering rat gangster he screamed at to confront him, we’re of course supposed to laugh at the asininity and selfishness of him dodging the draft and taking the Little Man From the Draft Board down with him by locking him in a safe and suffocating him. Daffy isn’t exactly meant to be a role model (but that still doesn’t stop me from finding his bombasm and exuberance and zest for life extremely empowering!), but there’s less narrative pushback against it. seeing Daffy be Daffy and have every action be interrupted by another character rolling their eyes going “oh brother” is where i have a problem, it just sucks the air out of the room for me. especially when Daffy is made to feel ashamed or beaten down for this as well. that’s why i enjoy shorts like Beanstalk Bunny or Drip-Along so much, ending with stuff like “it’s a living!” or being contented in his new position that is often very degrading and a direct consequence of his impulsiveness. a huge part of Daffy’s charm for me is his resilience (even if that equates to ignorance at times), if he wants something he will go to absolutely asinine lengths to get it! and i love that! his drive is so admirable! and i just feel like after awhile that resilience is lost. the issue isn’t that Daffy is a loser, as he’s lost quite a bit before that—moreso, he doesn’t have that good humor about being a loser anymore

I’M ALMOST DONE I PROMISE. but my tags in that video post, as i said in them, i watched The Million Hare the other day which is a short i very much dislike. and it’s not really out of anger or “UUUURGH NOT MY DAFFY”, but moreso it just makes me SO. DAMN. DEPRESSED.

this is the most soul sucking image i’ve ever seen. i get genuinely sad that the cartoons have devolved to starting with “characters watching TV because they’re too bored to do anything, and Bugs just joins him”. no part of this is the resilient, impulsive, manic, pleasure seeking duck that carried us through the past few decades. and this certainly doesn’t represent the wily, impish, inciting rabbit of the past few decades either! Bugs has a greater excuse since i know there’s the pattern of his domestication and Jones’ rule of Bugs minding his own business before being provoked, etc. but man. this image just represents all of my problems with the later shorts and dynamics. the characters are hollow and so are the stories and the directors are checked out or moving onto greater things, and i think all of that just coagulates and manifests in the characters.

I HAVE SO MUCH MORE I CAN SAY but i’m finally realizing i’ve gone on way way way too long and don’t even know if i answered the question all that well LOL. don’t even get me started on “modern”interpretations of Daffy… [starts ranting about how TLTS killed my family for the 80th time as i’m gently lured into the nursing home].

BUT! to answer your question! i’m not really opposed to a more cynical and conceited duck because those traits have always been there, just in varying degrees of intensity. my ideal duck is definitely one locked in the ‘40s—Frank Tashlin and Bob Clampett’s Daffy have always been my favorite, but i’ve sort of adopted a coagulation of Art Davis, Bob McKimson, Norm McCabe and Friz Freleng’s duck as my mental default. i am extremely protective and loving and fanatical of Daffy, i love him more than any cartoon character and i resonate with him more than any cartoon character! i bet he too would also spend an hour typing up a diatribe on his character evolution and how he’s been sorely misrepresented. maybe. Daffy is one of the most varied characters of all time, and it’s really hard to pin him down for this reason. i like a duck that best has a bit of a balance between his traits, and i get more chafed when he’s made more narrow and transparent and just “flanderized” (for lack of a better word) to one or two tropes that then speak louder than his character. i prefer shorts that are more sympathetic and celebratory of Daffy rather than admiring how funny he is as a loser. which, he is funny! but IUNNO. i like a more upbeat and resilient and charming duck, and he can be all of these things later on, but it unfortunately does get fleeting

[onlyangellucifer]

The Poisonous Fangs | Part 1

Summary: A vampire cradles their dying human friend in their arms. They have a limited time to convince them to let them turn them into a vampire Pairing: Vamp!Harry x Y/N (reader)

Warnings: Vampire stuff (blood, drinking blood, etc.), violence (not till part 4 or 5), smut (will be indicated with a *)

Authors note: Hello all! Sorry for the delay! Here's part 1 of this 10 part series. I've been creating some custom photos, let me know if you like them please and thank you!! I hope you enjoy reading. Again, rusty on the writing! Please be kind, but constructive criticism is welcome and feedback as well!

Word Count: 2300

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[Y/N] hates parties and has never been a partier. However, she loves her boyfriend of 4 years Drew, so she allowed him to drag her to the club. It was October and thus all the bars and clubs had themed party nights, in hopes of throwing their sales through the roof. Tonight's theme was Dracula, so she stood in her cropped white shirt matched with her cherry-printed shirt and a cream-colored cardigan to cover her arms, but a few small tattoos were peeking through the material. Harry clocked [Y/N] the moment she stepped in the door, sensing her discomfort and her awkwardness. Her boyfriend had ditched her a few hours ago now, running off with some brunette to the bathrooms and then slipping out when [Y/N] was at the bar. Harry didn’t take his eyes off the pretty girl as he watched her get slightly sloshed, stumbling around the bar looking for her partner. His disgust for a man he’d never met grew as it dawned on her that she had been left alone, he could sense her discomfort as she approached the bar again. He decided this was his chance, if he had one at all, to introduce himself to the pretty girl and hopefully get her home safely because he had this feeling that he just couldn’t shake. He was sure she probably wasn't in danger, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. He felt this magnetic pull towards the other, which was a big deal considering he’d rather be caught dead than hang around with another girl after what happened with the other one. She looked scared and fragile. He had to swoop in before some creep did. 

“Can I get another whiskey neat, and whatever this beauty is having?” Harry called out to the bartender. He noticed that [Y/N] stood there for nearly five minutes, not even bothering to call out to the busy bartender, probably hoping he’d come over on his own accord. Harry’s assumption was correct, she was waiting for the bartender to recognize that she was there and that her drink was empty. She noticed around an hour ago that she had been ditched, making a mental note to break up with Drew the next day. This wasn't the first time she had been ditched, nor the first time she witnessed him leave the bar with another woman, she was just non-confrontational and rather soft-spoken, so she often walked all over. She smelled him before she could even hear the British-laced voice call out and instantly grabbed the bartender's attention, who came rushing over with a scared look on his face. The smell of vanilla and lavender invaded her senses, and she could feel his warmth radiating off him. “Uh.. Vodka Redbull with Cherry Grenadine please.” She spoke loud enough to be heard, but not outside her little bubble of, the bartender and the mystery man who seemed to pique her interest right away. Still, she was wrestling in her head on whether she should break it off. Drew was always a safe option to her, her parents loved him, and honestly? He kept the weirdos at bay. She looked over at the mystery man next to her, taking in the way his messy curls were perfectly swept and styled, the tattoos littering his skin and how his jawline was sharp honestly could probably cut something with how intense it looked. Her eyes trailed up and was met with his piercing green eyes and a small smirk plastered on his face. He let her ogle, not wanting to disturb her as she eye fucked him in the bar, hearing her breath hitch at the tattoos and hearing her heartbeat pick up while she took him in. He felt the need to protect her while she felt safe and intimidated but with that look on his face, how could you not? Harry didn’t want to overwhelm her, letting her do her own thing until he watched her as she watched her boyfriend leave the club with someone else. He was upset with him as he realized that this pretty thing was left alone in a dingy club, where people wore their best vampire outfits and preyed on naive people. It disgusted him really, and he was only there because his friend Niall insisted he get back out there and that he couldn’t mourn Mia forever. Harry disagreed, he had nothing but time and could mourn Mia forever. Yet, here he was, Mia long forgotten in his mind as his eyes swept over [Y/N]’s features. “My name’s Harry, what's yours?” He spoke first, wanting the awkward tension to disappear as quickly as possible. 

“[Y/N]..” She replied softly. 

She wasn’t sure if he could hear her and was surprised when Harry responded, he must’ve had really good hearing because the music was blasting and she was never able to be heard, which is why she stayed silent during these nights. Harry kept the conversation flowing, which [Y/N] was thankful for. She wasn’t great at small talk and often avoided it. He learned a lot about her, they talked for an hour and [Y/N] forgot how Drew left with someone else. Her mind was just focused on Harry and the way his tattooed hand curled around his whiskey neat. She was starting to wonder what it’d look like wrapped around her throat. Though, she’d keep those thoughts to herself. She was still a taken woman. Harry offered to pay and did pay, as she was fumbling through her bag for her wallet and she couldn’t. She offered to pay him back via Venmo or Cashapp but Harry declined, not caring about the money aspect. She had mentioned taking an Uber home, and Harry thought this was his opportunity. “Uh, I can always take you home. I’ve only had a few drinks and it’s worn off now.” Harry wanted her to get home safely because he had this feeling creeping up on him that something was watching them and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t harmed. She did stop drinking around 30 minutes ago, only drinking water because Uber’s always freaked her out and she wanted to be somewhat aware of her surroundings, yet here was this handsome man offering her a ride. She accepted the ride and that’s how she ended up in his blacked-out SUV, light music playing in the background at a tolerable volume. Her strawberry-scented perfume filled the car and was soaked into his seats, he could hear her blood pumping through her veins and every bone in his body wanted to take her back to his place and worship her. He had been so filled with rage still that Drew left her alone. Thankfully, she had given him her number shortly into the conversation. Which was a shock to both of them, because she didn’t seem like the type to do that. However, [Y/N], was just taken by this fascinating human being and how his attention was solely on her. She felt this guy wasn’t a weirdo, giving her address and number over with ease and Harry felt honored that [Y/N] seemed to trust him. 

He walked her to her door, kissing her cheek, slightly terrified that it was too much but a blush rose to her lips and he knew deep down it was okay. 

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The next morning, [Y/N] woke with a pounding in her head and her memory wasn’t all there, but it was still there. She checked her phone, disappointed that Drew hadn’t even bothered to text or call her, which she half expected. She wanted to end it, but she didn’t want to be a bother. She’d wait until he texted her, her mind was drifting to Harry and she didn’t feel guilty one bit. 

After breakfast, a massive bottle of water, and some painkillers, the dull ache in her head had slowed to a halt, and she felt oddly confident. The kiss on her cheek still lingered and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t touch herself last night and wished it was him instead. She was thankful he didn’t come on too strong and genuinely seemed interested in her. If you could gather that from a couple-hour conversation in a dingy nightclub over a few drinks. Over her being ditched which was embarrassing, to say the least. Her phone pinged and she hoped it was Harry, only to be met with Drew asking to meet and talk, she declined and instead texted Harry. She didn’t want to hear any more excuses from Drew, she knew he cheated and that was enough to make up her mind. Sure, there had been rumors but she never believed something without seeing it with her own eyes first. To: Harry 

Hey! Thank you again for the drink and for driving me home. I appreciate it, you’re right Ubers are weird. Are you busy later today?”

She wasn’t sure what took over her, never would she be the one to ask someone else out, yet here she is. Asking a random stranger out over text, while deciding how to break up with her boyfriend of four years. From: Harry Hey, I made it home thank you. I hope you dumped that loser, by the way, I hope your hangover isn’t too bad. I’m actually at the shop today, I own a mechanic shop. Did you want to stop by? He was surprised by her boldness but rather excited at the same time. She wanted to see him, on her own accord. To: Harry Getting ready to break up with him now, and then I can swing by if you have an address. She couldn’t help but smile as she texted Drew back, asking him to meet up at their favorite cafe. She didn’t tell Drew that she was going to be breaking it off, because what he had done and had been doing was unacceptable. 

Breaking it off with Drew took an hour too long. She listened as he pleaded with her and swore they didn’t do anything, but she knew better. After Drew failed to convince [Y/N], he quickly left the cafe, with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Which she knew he would use to make her the villain, despite the fact that he was the one who cheated. She checked her phone, a smile spreading on her cheeks when she noticed Harry sent over the address. When she stood, she went to get herself a Matcha for the go, remembering that Harry said he loved Matcha too. She noticed his chocolate brown curls standing in line, raising a brow she approached him and softly called out to him, “Harry?” She didn’t know where the confidence she had this morning went, but she envied him when he turned and looked revived, with a matcha in hand and cherry-stained lips. He looked like he had never even taken a sip of alcohol the day before. 

“[Y/N]! Hey, fancy seeing you here. This cafe is just down the road from the shop. Come here often?” Harry took this opportunity to look over her. She was wearing a sage green cardigan, a black crop-top, and adorable cherry-printed jeans.

“Yeah.. I actually just got done uh breaking it off. I come here to study with friends and just relax.” Harry remembered that she was a college senior, already accepted into a master’s program. She was smart and he was enamored by her. He wanted to know all there was to know about this girl whom he only met a mere 13 hours before.

“Oh.. how did that go? The breakup?” He noticed her searching through her bag again for her card, noticing she ordered a matcha as well. He slipped his card into the machine instead, wanting to do something nice for her. “I’ll pay you back for that if you ever send me your Venmo.” She mumbled. Instead, he declined and offered to walk her back to her apartment. The shop wasn’t busy, and he was on lunch, so he could spare a few hours to spend with her. He had that gut feeling that she wasn’t safe again and he noticed the shift in the air when someone who looked familiar walked in, but he couldn’t place him.

It was a short walk, maybe 5 minutes, and the whole 5 minutes Y/N opened up about how the break up went. Before she knew it they were at her door and she was saying inviting him in. They talked for around an hour before Harry got a text from one of the mechanics saying he needed help. Harry didn’t want to leave and [Y/N] didn’t want him to. Reluctantly, he stood and walked to the door. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, wanting to give Harry something for what she deemed his troubles, despite Harry being more than willing to listen to her ramble all day if she gave him the chance. Harry promised to text her when he made it home, as she watched him walk back down the stairs and seemingly disappear from view. That’s when Harry’s phone pinged, his eyebrows stitching together in confusion. He just left Y/N, it couldn’t be her. He didn’t really give his number out to others. Only his close friends, all 3 of them, and his family. His face went stone cold as the hair on the back of his neck stood up, reading the sentence on the screen,

“This will end in blood, Styles. You better watch out for who you fuck around with. Would hate for something to happen.”

Harry looked around, he didn’t notice anything out of place. He didn’t recognize the number, but he got that gut feeling again, one he didn’t want to ignore.

[one-strugling-bean]

So.

I finished the 4th season (MAG #160)

......I'm unwell

(part 3 of my Magnus Archives experience)

Ahhhhh where do i even start???? Ok, ok I think I'll start with the lesser things

First off, right off the bat, RIP Tim. More than ever, now I know he didn't have to die and I am so so sad he did..... Flirty boi deserved so much better u^u

Martin collected many moments of badassery throughout the 3rd and 4th seasons. Im so proud of his growth. Not him burning statements and snipping back at Elias - ahhhhhh he was so coooool, I wish someone else was there so that they could tell him! And when he made Fairchild sit back down to finish answering Martin's questions, I swear I got chills!!

Anyway. I continue being a fierce Martin fan, nothing new there

What is new is my newfound adoration for Daisy. Seriously. She's my baby now. Idc what happens or who dies, she needs to end this story okay :'))))

No, im 200% serious, if Daisy doesn't survive to the end, im def going to cry. Because i can totally see her being the "sacrifice herself so that everyone else will have a chance" type.

I swear she was the only one holding the brain cell power this season –  and FINALLY, someone who's not Martin is not being a bitch to Jon!!!

I wasn’t even expecting Jon to be able to bring her back. Much less for them to become supportive avatar besties! I’m so glad the writer decided to take that turn with her. It’s really satisfying from a narrative standpoint to have Daisy of all people do a whole 180 on her standpoint with Jon.

Idk, i just really liked her this season. She deserves all the hugs. So she gets a meme :)

Basira, on the other hand, fell a bit for me, but i think that was kind of the point. She was fierce and stony and nearly zero compassionate, – very Gertrude-ish of her –  but after everything that’s happened, i can't really blame her :/

Im just here praying to everything that the cop ladies can get a modicum of a happy ending

And just so I round up the gang, im scared for Melanie... She is now blind and also has (had?) a monster as a therapist. And Georgie doesn't feel fear which makes them even less likely to sense danger if it comes for them. I hope they're able to push through whatever season 5 throws at them

Okay. So only Jon is lef now. What can i say about him tho?? I mean, i can say he's been going through it.

Like, I spent my whole time hearing this podcast lowkey making fun of him for collecting beatdowns from pretty much every character - AND IT TURNS OUT IT WASN’T EXACTLY JOKING MATTER AND WAS ACTUALLY PLOT RELEVANT??

WHAT IS THIS SORCERY AND WHY IS IT MAKING ME FEEL BAD FOR VOICES ON MY PHONE??

I just feel so bad for Jon. The guy did not deserve all of this. He really was a lamb to the slaughter—a poor wet cat, an eternal damsel in distress, the Antichrist…?

That last statement from Elias/Jonah is so good tho. Like, objectively. I love it. Not only does it take the listener in a nice little trip down memory lane - nostalgia is always fun - but its also just. So evil.

They really gave us such a sweet start – Martin and Jon bunking together in a cabin in Scotland(?) seemingly happy and it's all "uwu, they sho cute, yada yada- and then BAM!! APOCALYPSE HAS BEGUN!"

(i could literally be here for hours coming up with titles for Jon. he makes it too easy.)

Elias though...... I was spoiled that he was Jonah Magnus halfway through season 2 or so, so the reveal wasn't a big deal for me. I wonder how shattering it was for listeners when it first dropped though... At least he upped his villainy cred this season. Suits him better than the "unbothered neutral/evil stand-by" vibe he gave before.

And one last character thing, I fell in love with Peter so quickly. His lines were all gold and his delivery even more so. He just had that unflappable vibe to him. Like he didnt have a care in the world.

Oh, and him and Elias totally had ex-wives who spent the last 10 years fighting about who gets what in the divorce energy.

No, i will not elaborate.

Uhhhhh yeah. I grew to appreciate Helen more and more every time they showed up. Simon Fairchild was surprisingly fun for an old man, Gerry deserved the freaking world (thank you so much Jon for burning that page) and i think that’s kinda it on my favorite “creatures and associates”

Im super excited for this last stretch. i wonder if TMA will stick the landing. I sure hope it does, and honestly trust it will.

Anywayyyyyy, off i go for those last 40 episodes. Wish me luck!

Finish testimony, or whatever

[physalian]

Content Warnings for Original Books

Can we please encourage content warnings for smut and other triggering topics in published literature? This needs to be a thing. Everyone bashes fanfiction for being fanfiction, but I’ve never seen a fanfic where the smut or trigger warnings weren’t tagged to high heaven somewhere in the description or in the opening author’s note.

AO3, compared to FFN, even has a specific “mature” rating just for sex—”E”—that FFN didn’t have. FFN had nervous authors throwing objectively mild content into the “M” rating (e.g. "rated M to be safe"), which meant that if you wanted to read a story that was a little bit violent, you had to turn off your filters as a kid and sift through all the smut just to find that one smut-less, but violent, fic.

When I was a kid in my early FFN days, I was probably exposed to way more stuff I shouldn’t have been reading because I had to disable the mature filter, just so I could read so-called “graphic violence” from pearl-clutching authors. I’d be looking for that one action-adventure fic that happens to have a little murder in it, and sift through fifty pure-smut summaries that ranged from vanilla to straight BDSM—of which had a high chance of being incredibly unhealthy, but you wouldn’t know that at 10, 11, 12 years old.

Fanfic authors, especially when the fanfic platform gives them the freedom to tag, are very clear to let you know just what you’re getting into.

—

I doubt I need to explain what a content warning is on Tumblr, but I will anyway. A content or trigger warning is a heads up at the beginning of a work of media that there are some elements not meant for younger audiences, or for sensitive audiences, or for people who have experienced situations depicted in traumatic ways, or for people who just don’t want to consume media with such content.

In film, this is obvious. If it’s rated R, you generally know what to expect. Generally. Because an R rated film could be R because of anything from profanity to graphic sex/assault and torture scenes. The MPAA rating system is garbage and ‘harsh language’ is not nearly on the same tier as sex in terms of what we should expose our children to.

Before streaming like Amazon as a platform to get around cable censorship rules, you had premium networks like HBO for all your adult content, and then some shows greenlit on smaller networks like AMC—never on ABC, CBS, TNT, etc. HBO wasn’t only for adult stuff, I used to watch Crashbox all the time.

That was the place you went for media that circumvented foul language, violence, and nudity rules in America. It kind of came with its own built-in content warning by virtue of being on those networks, and even then they still give warnings for shows on HBO, Showtime, Starz, etc.

At the start of every episode, you either get a full screen from Starz with the little icons for profanity, nudity, violence, etc, or it would be up at the top around the episode's title. You'd know exactly what you were getting into.

—

In a fanfiction, because I’ve never seen one in an original book, much less for generic vanilla sex scenes, this is what we’re all familiar with:

A/N: Trigger warning! This story contains mentions of rape/non-con. Turn back now, don’t like don’t read.

They also tend to appear at the top of the chapter that contains said scene to double down on the warning, or will, upon completion, include which chapter or chapter section to skip in the work’s summary or opening author’s note. In the old FFN days, there might even be a 4th wall break mid-chapter. Though the terminology we use over the years shifts, we still manage to get the point across.

Like, if I turn off all the filters on AO3 trying to browse for tags and underloved characters that may be lumped in with stuff I’d rather not read, I’ll see tags like “DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,” which was not a thing in FFN days, even if FFN had allowed things like tags.

While it’s easier to tell in movies due to that shitty-but-functional rating system, that’s not really the case with fiction books. With books, I know the genre, and I know the intended audience age group. If I pick up a book in the children’s sci-fi section, I know it’s going to be something about robots or space or the future and our characters are going to be about twelve years old.

If I pick up a YA thriller, I know I’m going to have a cast of sixteen-to-twenty-somethings and there’s going to be some violence, very vanilla cussing or the author’s own slang, and probably some murder.

Adult or new adult romance—Sex. At least one scene guaranteed.

The problem is that unlike films and TV shows, we don’t get a breakdown for books on what to expect and the nature of those scenes. There’s no little ‘R’ sticker on the back cover and there’s certainly no little insert between chapters to let you know what’s coming next. There's no "trailer" I can read to get a sense of your tone.

So if I’m in the mood for a new adult supernatural romance novel and I have to sit through a vanilla sex scene, that’s fine, that’s what I’m reading it for. But if Mr. Badboy is incredibly aggressive and dominating and being an asshole with very dubious consent, that’s different (although, objectively determining what is and isn't 'dubious' is mighty difficult).

Should I still expect that I take my fluffy or angsty romance with a fat grain of salt just in case?

What happens if it’s not a romance novel, but I get a surprise rape scene as my character’s Tragic Backstory? What if it’s an adventure novel? Spy thriller? High fantasy or historical fiction or murder mystery? If there’s no indication in the genre, summary, or by the style of the cover that I’ll have to read about two characters getting it on?

Some people don’t want to read your characters in all the nitty gritty details. They really like everything else about your book, they just don’t want to read a sex scene, and they really don’t want to be super invested, hundreds of pages and even years of series dedication in, and be massively turned off by smut.

It doesn't need to be this big to-do or hyperdetailed like fanfic. In my upcoming book, I had beta readers with personal and moral objections to some of my themes. From then on, I made sure to ask up front so I didn't trigger my betas.

ENNS is about vampires. I haven't settled on what my content warning page might look like or how exactly I want to phrase it, but it might read something like this:

Dear readers, this is a content warning for graphic violence and adult themes. This book contains mentions of assault, self-harm, and suicide. Please be warned that these themes are present and prevalent in this story and readers should take the utmost care for yourselves when approaching this book. Thank you.

Something like this, just a quick, lighthearted heads up for your novel would suffice:

Dear readers, this book ain’t for kiddies! Be prepared for some adult themes and suggestive romance between characters.

I'm definitely not in the camp of pearl-clutching suburban conservatives, but if I'm browsing for a new novel for my tweenage bookworm and I opened up a book with an intriguing summary, and saw that warning? I'd be much happier with the author for their consideration, instead of buying it blind for my kid. You have no idea why someone wouldn't want to read a sex scene. They might be prude, or they might be a survivor just trying to enjoy a new book.

Because romance and sex is taken for granted, most people are at least going to be open to the possibility of sex, but not everyone will be expecting it or wanting it or think it warranted. It’s not spoilery, it’s not revealing some surprise plot twist, it’s a kind and considerate gesture for those members of your audience who just don’t like sex scenes. And heck, maybe they don't want to read it right now, but they'll remember you and pick your book back up later because you tried.

—

TL;DR: I don’t mind smut. When done well.

There’s a reason romance such a compelling story and why it dominates fanfiction and original works leagues ahead of all other plotlines.

But it still needs a content warning, even if you think it’s obvious, or spoilery, or patronizing. Because if I’m not in the mood for it, it just drags and I want to put the book down instead of reading all your hard work to completion.

[candycorncremator]

Unfortunately lower visual quality than I wanted be because Tumblr only allows 10 images so I smushed them into three canvases instead of two post. Anyway beta trolls Headcanon and some thoughts below the cut.

Aradia

Aradia is the design I probably have the most experience drawing of the beta trolls purely because of how many zines I’ve drawn her in the last year. I like thinking of her hair similar to Pinkie Pies’ in g4 of mlp, where it’s very curly bouncy in her alive and godtiered forms but straightens out more when she’s ghosting up the place and in Aradia-bot form. I didn’t realize until a recent zine I had been drawing her horns ways too low for comic accuracy but I am a creature of habit so I keep drawing them like that.

Tavros

I’ve grown to love this kid because of my recent reread but I do not like drawing them. Between the Mohawk and the long, straight horns, I don’t care to draw their most important traits so he unfortunately only gets drawn in these group drawings. As for the one ear being pierced, it’s kinda a reference to cow tags but also I think it just fits them.

Sollux

Sollux a pretty easy character to design. I just have to imagine a greasy nerd kid growing up too fast for him to put on weight, add his troll bits and voila. The snake bites are definitely a hold over from the humanstuck I made for him last year but I think it just kinda add to his whole vibe. The undershirt comes from someone who also sits in a hot-ass room most of my days and will wears a second layer so leaving the room won’t feel like stepping out into a frozen wasteland.

Karkat

Karkat for me has always been short and stout guy. Other than that most of his facial features are taken from me, being someone who also over exaggerates their faces and nearly always is squinting a little.

Nepeta

Between all my designs of Nepeta the only thing that ever changes with any consistency is her hair. Like giving her cleft lip scar because I gave it to my fan-descendent of her and it’s cute.

Kanaya

Like two months ago I saw a post on here saying give that girl a nose (in reference to Kanaya) and it was the single most true HC I have ever seen. I also like completely throw out any references I have of her when I draw her hair because I think she should have 1930’s waves and curls. I typically only have to draw the super simple eyes so the only thing I had to change was giving her actual eyes.

Terezi

Got pretty comic accurate but probably would erase some of the chin to imply she’s fat a little better if I wasn’t doing this more rigid style.

Vriska

Also pretty comic accurate with the exception of the snake bites which is probably because I don’t draw her a lot and I don’t think about her much enough looks wise to have any specific head canons.

Equius

Goodness his hair gave me a struggle, kept on looking like a balding metal head until I added the pushed back stuff. Also returned back to drawing pseudo animal ears by giving him horse ears only angle to better fit a humanoid head.

Gamzee

I hate their make-up but every thing else about drawing them is a dream; goat ears, not straight hair, simple horns, silly little guy. What more could I ask for.

Eridan

And I’m almost done but unfortunately this doofus is next and requires the most detailed bust even in canon. Due to drawing them in this year’s 413 countdown I know how I like styling their hair and fins so I basically just chop the hair up since this is suppose to be during comic hcs and then follow their canon and Pesterquest designs with a few added features and boom. I was drawing everyone with the dark grey lips but I forgot for Eridan so I’ll just say they use concealer on their lips.

Feferi

Yippee! Back to ignoring canon and just giving her the biggest eyes on account of her glasses and cute piercings. I originally based her fins off of lion fish fins but they’re definitely more based off of betta ventral fin now.

[sugurusdiscordmoderator]

Captain Levi One Shot

A/N : Takes place like 10 years before the AOT universe, please don’t fact check my shit I know some of it doesn’t line up with cannon lmao. In this Petra is not yet a part of squad Levi.

I’m thinking about doing a series of one shots for this version of Levi x reader but would love some feedback!

26f reader x 29m captain Levi

content warning: alcohol , hangover vomiting (so sorry), blood, minor injuries, masturbation (both f and m)

—

You had worked so damn hard. You had worked so hard for almost 10 years to get where you are.

Graduating as a part of the 95th corps of cadets, (#3 in your class none the less), you took on the challenge joining the scouts. You took on the challenge of knowing your best friends, your adopted family, would die. You could’ve had a cushy life as an MP and never lay an eye on a titan but no, you just had to be brave.

10 years is a long time to last as a scout. Only a few have lasted longer and you’re wondering when it’ll be your turn. You’re nearly 26 at this point, are you going to have to slow down?

Your superiors decided to throw you a party for hitting the 10 year mark. A get together at a pub in town that closed for an evening to be private for all scouts and military that wanted to come. The ones left of your cadet class came, plus most of the scouts since you were a friendly face and a great mentor.

Hange and Petra were two of your closest friends, they made you a cake! Everyone else was buying you drinks and having a great time. You made your rounds to thank everyone for coming and say hi.

You go up to the table in the corner last, being the most intimidating of the group. Captain Erwin, and a few from his troop were seated including Miche, Gunther, Tomas, Eld, and Dieter. Oh, and the dark storm cloud in the corner, Levi. Captain Levi.

Something about that man, you can’t tell if it pissed you off or if you were attracted to his stormy look. He has only been in the scouts for a few years but, he has far surpassed everyone to earn the title of Captain and earn the special operations squad. He didn’t have a ton of respect as a leader, considering his past which always came about in hushed whispers and stolen glances.

“Ah Miss L/N!” Erwin booms as he watches you approach the table “the celebrity of the evening has graced us with her presence!” Yeah, he’s definitely had a few drinks. You give most of the table a hug before Erwin booms “Excuse me,,, Excuse Me! Yeah I’d like to make a toast to celebrate one amazing scout, y/n l/n”

He turns you around to face everyone in the pub and you catch Levi’s eye for a second, letting a soft smile show. Your drinks and shots everyone had been buying you are catching up and you catch yourself blushing at Levi’s lingering eyes on you. If only you knew why.

As Erwin goes on a great toast speech about how much you’ve grown in 10 years, how great you are, etc. you can’t help but feel immense pride, something you’re not used to as a rather insecure person. Then your attention gets roped back in as Erwin places his hands on your shoulders give you a little shake like a proud dad.

“So to finish my toast, I want to congratulate miss l/n on becoming the newest member of the special operations squad under captain Levi.”

Your jaw drops as the pub errupts in loud cheers turning around to give Erwin a huge hug, since he is the highest rank here commander shadis must have trusted him with this information.

The raven haired stoic man stands up from his seat and comes closer to you and gives you a crisp salute which you mirror back. Probably not as crisp with the way you feel a little wavy. He then sticks his hand out for a handshake as you grab ahold he speaks, “welcome to the team kid.”

You smile at him “Thank you sir! The pleasure is mine!” He’s going to teach you to be less formal with him eventually but appreciates your response for the time being.

You are both surprised at your impulsive decision of deciding to wrap your arms around his neck, giving him an enthusiastic hug. You swear you feel his chest let out a chuckle but hear him grunt, “tch, get off”. You pull away ready to apologize but see a little smirk on his face as he sits back down. All of Erwin’s table saw the encounter and chose to avoid eye contact. As you giddy-ly ran over to Hange and Petra to celebrate.

The rest of the night consisted of singing, dancing, drink-offs with some of the men, and if you weren’t crazy you could’ve sworn Levi was keeping a close eye on you.

Once closing time hits you and some of the scouts you were close with stumbled back to your base. Levi, Erwin, and Miche suspiciously decided to leave just as you were. Following not too closely behind you.

—

As you get back to your room and ready for bed you stumble a little as you put on your pajamas of a tshirt, no bra, and booty shorts. You’re humming to yourself as you put the uniform from today aside to wash and about to crawl in your bed that looks soooo comfy when

*knock knock knock* gently taps on your door

Assuming it is Petra or Hange drunk you giggle walking up to the door. You swing open the old wood, creaking to your surprise is your new captain.

“Soldier. Sorry for stopping uh unannounced. I wanted to give you this since you looked like you had fun tonight. Integration starts tomorrow at 8 AM.”

You form a salute, right hand over your breast as your dainty nipples show through your white tshirt. He pretends not to notice, suppressing the urge to look at your body he has never seen outside of uniform.

“Thank you captain. I hope you sleep well. Goodnight,” your voice sounds like silk although raspy from singing and yelling all night. Nobody has ever wished him a good nights sleep and he is a little dumbfounded. “Goodnight l/n” he whispers as you gently shut the door on him.

He brought you fruit and some water in a nice basket, surely that will help with your hangover that you’ll have to figure out by 8 am. You think of all the things people whisper about Captain Levi, how he’s a heartless monster, incapable of feelings, barely human. You can’t believe them and decide to put your utmost respect into your captain, wondering how he put together something special like this in such a short notice.

—

The next morning you are awake at the break of daylight, about 7 am. This gives you an hour to get cleaned up eat and get to the training grounds, but god do you feel like shit. As you’re about to get in the shower you feel your stomach bubbling and make it just in time to the bucket to throw up. Well throwing up sucks, but at least you feel a tiny bit better. You get a rather quick shower and throw your hair into a low bun with some pieces sticking out and put on your uniform. Eating an apple and drinking water that Levi brought you in the early hours of the morning. You decide ultimately that this is your fault for drinking too much, and hope since it is the first day of integration Levi would take it easy on you.

Oh, how you were so wrong.

“L/n, you look like shit.” Your captain spits harshly.

“My apologies captain.” You say not looking him directly in the eyes with your hand over chest in salute.

“10 laps around the field to get started.” Oh god you have to run while hungover, but you can’t tell him no. Maybe this is some type of test to him? He knows how much you drank last night because he was keeping a watchful eye on his new team member. You begin running as Miche and Levi chat, quietly enough you can’t hear them over the pounding in your head.

Just as you hit the sixth lap you feel a bubbling in your tummy again. Oh no, not in front of him. Before you can even try to hide it, you’re doubled over throwing up the rest of the contents in your stomach.

And then, silence. No Miche and Levi chatting, no background noise from the base, just silence. This has to be a test. He wants to see if you’ll keep going or give up on the very first exercise. You use the backside of your jacket sleeve to wipe your face and begin the 6th lap. You’re half done, just push through.

As someone who typically doesn’t struggle too much with running you are shocked at your inability to hold yourself to a high standard this morning. You nearly collapsed as you finished the 10th lap. Bent over with your hands on your knees you wait for Captain Levi to address you.

“Next you’ll be timed on your ODM gear maneuvering through the dummies.” Your face goes pale at the thought of flying through the air right now, but you don’t have a choice. “Yes sir” you respond breathlessly standing up fully again.

You don’t notice the goosebumps that appear on Levi’s skin when you call him Sir or Captain, and he tries to ignore them. Watching as you strap on your ODM gear as you struggle with a particular thigh strap, he sulks over, looking down at your gear. Your big eyes look back up at him, still fumbling your fingers at the same time.

“Here,” he takes over where your hands were, grasping the leather straps tightly and fastening it together so that it squeezes your nice thighs just enough.

“You look like shit,” he says lowly, finally making eye contact with you.

“I’m so sorry sir, is there something wrong with my uniform? How can I fix it?” You ask like a good subordinate.

“Don’t drink the night before training.” He says turning around not looking at you anymore.

You scoff in disbelief at his words, and he waits for your next move.

“My apologies again Captain, but I was not aware of my promotion until last night and not aware of this training until I was already home from the pub. I think it’s rather unfair to-” you’re cut off by the lightning quick movements of the captain who is now gripping your collar of your uniform jacket, almost lifting you off your seat.

“Rule number one - don’t talk back to me” he growls inches from your face.

“Rule number two - always be prepared as a part of squad Levi. We are the special operations squad for a reason, we could leave at a moments notice.”

“Rule number three - you must always look and act your best for training.”

All the while he spoke down to you staring into your eyes. You didn’t dare looking away from the steel gray eyes boring into yours. “Yes sir” you squeak out. He drops your shirt collar, brushing off the wrinkles he just created. And your ass collided back down with the bench you were sitting on. He begins to walk away with a “I’ll be waiting” as he heads towards the wooded area of the training grounds.

You’re trying to wrap your head around what just happened and how your superior talked to you like that when most of this was out of your control completely.

It was then you realized this morning was all one big test. To see how much you needed to be broken down in order for him to build you back up and form you into one of his soldiers.

But you didn’t ask for this promotion, you didn’t receive a warning, you didn’t even get to say bye to your old squad leader.

You try your best to hold your head high, cleaning your blades as you walk in the directly Levi walked a minute ago. Trying to push down all of the demons punishing you for your actions from last night. Mentally you need to get with it if you’re going to prove yourself to Levi this morning that you’re fit to be a part of his squad. You don’t think he’s ever watched you before, at least not in battle, per your knowledge. The last thing you need is him thinking you are a weak link in his group.

You finally approach him at the beginning of the course, trying to maintain cool headedness and confidence. After all you’ve done this course thousands of times over 10 years in the scouts. I mean, they change it sometimes but not by a whole lot.

Not even looking over at you Captain Levi says “I’ll start the stopwatch when you start going. Miche is on the other side to signal a flare once you make it to the end.”

You nod to your self, stretching your back and neck a little before you go. You bound off the ground propelling with as much speed as you can. Your technique is a little different from most, whereas you don’t necessarily have as much speed as you do strength. Your cuts are so deep and clean on the nape of the titan that you are sure fire a kill if you can just get there. You move easily from side to side due to your core strength and kind of look like a mix of a ballerina and a ninja on your good days. Your technique is just weird enough they don’t let you help teach the new recruits.

Flying, adjusting to the new dummies that pop up, it actually feels pretty nice and comforting to help your hangover. You finish the course with ease but your ODM gear fails to hook on one side as you hit the last row of trees. You’re thrown off balance and end up hitting the tree Miche was leaning on with a thud. Luckily, as soon as you made contact Miche shot the flare so you would get a better time, but you lay on the ground groaning. A little blood dripping out of your eyebrow and nose, and cuts on the arms of your uniform.

Levi had already begun swinging to where the ending point was but began speeding up after he ended the timer. He landed on his feet so elegantly and precise, making Miche laugh. Neither of the men helped you up for a minute as you laid there with your hand over your face, red from embarrassment but reminding you that you may throw up again or pass out at any moment.

“3 minutes 9 seconds. Not bad for…your current condition” he says leaning down to look at your face. “You’ll be doing this again when you’re through with your hangover, and I expect it to be spotless. With a much better landing.”

“Yes captain,” you groan. Not being able to hold yourself together much at this point. He grabs a cloth out of his pocket and hands it to you. You do your best to clean the eyebrow and whatever nose wound you have, it may very well be broken.

“Up next is hand to hand combat. Since you are already torn up, I’ll let you chose who you fight against rather than myself, but it has to be someone from the squad.”

The rest of the team was finishing up breakfast walking out to the grounds that hand to hand combat training usually takes place. You were supposed to meet the team and then get your ass handed to you by Levi, but I guess he’s feeling nice watching you try to twist your nose back to its original place. As you finally stand up off the hard ground you stumble a few steps before bending over to throw up one last time. Levi happened to catch you off balance and patted your back while you dry heaved a little.

Levi, the clean freak, comforting you? After you just fucked up your integration training? You brush it off and size up your potential opponents as you want over. You then realize, you’re the first woman to be a part of squad Levi . Is that why the captain is making you do all this? A sexist power move to make you feel inferior to the rest?

The squad is chatting as the three of you walk up to them and fall silent, all eyes on you. Levi brushes past you “everyone this is y/n l/n, she will be joining the special operations squad effective immediately. Right now she is sizing all of you up to see who she can handle in hand to hand combat.” You do your best to remain confident and not shy away as all the well accomplished men look over to you.

“Captain Levi” you pipe up with less courage than you thought you had.

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“I want to go against you, Captain.”

The whole crowd of men goes silent, they think you have a death wish or maybe you already hit your head too hard given the dried blood already on your face.

“Fair enough l/n, I’ll give you a few minutes to get ready.” He takes off his uniform cape and jacket and set it neatly down next to where all the men are standing. You are busy unstrapping your ODM gear, moving to the side so you can set it down gently. You sign when you take all of it off, feeling 15 pounds lighter. You following Levi’s suit, you take off your uniform jacket as well.

This leaves both of you in your white button up shirts. You size Levi up and down, trying to determine when his weak spots are. You see the way his biceps move under the tight shirt as he undoes his cravat. The men of squad Levi are still just men, most of them looking at the way some of the buttons on the chest of your shirt are a little too snug so to your growing tits. You note to yourself to get the next size up shirt when you feel this happen.

You and Levi both walk to the center of the training grounds with most of squad Levi surrounding and a few others that happened to be walking around on this crisp Saturday morning. Levi gets settled in a fighting stance and you follow as he does. “Begin” he says in his low emotionless voice. You step closer to him to begin throwing attacks towards his upper body, most getting blocked but an attempt to elbow his side proved efficient. He throws a series of hits towards you and you manage to dodge a few of them, but are struggling to breathe after a solid punch to the stomach. You think this is a pretty fair match up until he says “tch is that all you have? I’m getting bored.” He speeds up his hit combos, giving you less time in between to recover as you do your best to land a kick on him. His reaction time is way better than yours, grabbing your right ankle and flipping you through the air to have you fall onto your back. You see stars as your head collides with the ground. He has not rendered you out yet, grabbing your arm and twisting it go go behind your back, using the fake little dagger they use for training and press it to your neck. Luckily, you both were facing away from the crowd of people.

“You really thought you could take me? I even gave you the option to fight someone else and you were so cocky you thought you could beat me? Tch, your form and performance today disgusts me. Dismissed.”

Levi stands up and walks back towards the barracks by himself, not talking with anyone and rather pissy it seems. The men left there disperse as you lay on your back trying to fight back tears, your hands covering your face. As soon as the coast is clear Hange and Petra run to your side. “We were watching from the building to see what would happen… I’m so sorry y/n”

So embarrassed, the only reaction you have is to grunt as they help you stand and help you back over to where your room is.

You collapse as they help you get into your room, exhausted and defeated.

“Y/n… do you wanna talk about it?” Petra asks softly playing with your dirt filled hair, head hanging in your hands as your slouched up against your desk.

“Please, I love you guys just I need to be alone,” you say back to them, and without looking up you hear them shuffle out and close the door.

You sit there with your head racing, trying to figure out where you went wrong. Yes, you were drunk last night but you didn’t even do that on purpose! And he could’ve told you earlier in the night so you could’ve stopped drinking and went to bed earlier yes, but he didn’t? This had to be a sick test.

What if Levi didn’t know you were joining his squad and this was some plan from the higher ups? What if Captain Levi didn’t want you on his squad at all and was trying to punish you today?

What if this is some type of hazing to get into the squad? And if you show up the next day or last a week you pass?

Why did your ODM gear fail? It had never done that to you before.

And yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to dislike the stoic man.

You gather the strength and your belongings and head to the showers. Not lifting your head, you walk blindly the hallways to the showers, having walked the same way for 5 years since your 5 year anniversary when you were given your upgraded room. As part of your promotion, you were given access to the superior showers, dedicated to veterans and officers. As you’re about to knock on the door to see if it is occupied, the door swings open.

Of course Captain Levi had just showered, because he had come inside earlier than you and didn’t have to sulk about his performance. You do your best to muster up a smile and move out of the way for him to leave. You can’t help but look over his sculpted shoulders and biceps, down to his chiseled abs, and the v-line with a happy trail up the middle connecting to the pristine white towel covering the rest.

“L/n,” he says with no emotion, “showers all yours.” He remains looking at your face, noting the eye bags and bloodshot eyes. You must have been crying after your performance today, he thinks to himself. Combined with the dried blood around your eyebrow and nose, he thinks you’ll need a long while in there to recupe.

You nod to him, he walks away and you can’t help but notice his little back dimples as well. You proceed with getting undressed and warming the shower up, ready to sit on the shower floor and cry more. Peeling off the dirty white shirt that will need scrubbed and feeling the cold air against your skin was like stripping off the fuck ups of this morning. You relax under the hot water, watching all the dirt and blood wash down the drain.

Your exhaustion and embarrassment from the morning take over and you begin to sob, crying like you never have before. Not even holding it back, if someone was walking past they surely could hear it. You’re not even sure what you’re technically upset about the most, but right now crying is just what helps. At this point you’re leaning on the tile, out of breath, hiccuping like a child that just finished screaming for their lost mother. You work up the strength to begin washing your long hair foaming shampoo into it and scrubbing. After conditioning and washing your body you are officially exhausted. Wrapping in your two towels and begin the walk back to your room which luckily wasn’t too far. Maybe that’s why Captain Levi also wore his towel leaving the shower.

As you return to your room you look at the fruit Levi brought you last night and sigh. Why would he do that just to kick your ass? You throw on some comfy clothes and crawl back in bed with wet hair, drifting off for a nap.

—

Waking in the early afternoon, you stretch and yawn as you climb out of bed. You begin getting dressed to go to dinner in some of your casual clothes, luckily you don’t have to wear your uniform on weekends. You opt for a button up baby blue flowy dress with a navy sweater over top and your non-work boots.

Assessing the damage of your face in the mirror, you notice the bruises forming around your eyebrow and your nose. You have some scrapes up and down your arms which is why you chose to wear the sweater over. Your body aches. After all the years you’ve spent as a scout you’ve hardly ever had injuries this bad. Never from training though.

As you’re about to head out the door you notice a letter slipped under your door. You assume it is a silly note from Hange trying to lighten your mood. Your grin fades as you see who has signed at the bottom.

“L/n,

Please come to my office after dinner to discuss your performance today.

Captain Levi”

Your stomach sinks. In all these years you’ve never been called to your superiors office. You slip the letter in your bra under your dress and begin to walk to go to dinner.

Luckily Hange and Petra are already seated and you try to slip in without anyone acknowledging you. Given the ass beating you received this morning with a lot of the scouts watching, they can’t help but grimace at your bruised face. You opt for some soup, bread, and vegetables and sit down avoiding eye contact of your peers. Hange and Petra go silent as they watch you take your first few bites.

“Y/n,” hange says gently, “you look awful.”

You do your best to fake a smile to her, pretending like nothing is wrong. “Y/n, please don’t pretend like you’re fine…we’re here to talk,” Petra adds.

“I am fine. I had a bad day of training and I was hungover. I am perfectly fine and will be better by Monday.” You snap back at the both of them. With that they decide to change the topic, and talk about events that are happening in the town square tomorrow. Something about a show and food vendors and lanterns, it’s supposed to be a pretty big deal.

“Do you want to go y/n?” Hange perks up, crossing her fingers that you’ll say yes.

“Maybe, hopefully tomorrow will be better than today.” You try regaining your positivity and friendliness everyone knows you for.

“Someone put a letter under my door while I was napping.” You suddenly change the topic. Petra and Hange look at you with eyebrows raised.

“Captain Levi wants to see me in his office after dinner,” you whisper so nobody around you can hear. “What if I’m getting kicked off for my performance today?”

“I’m sure that’s the last thing it is.” hange says rolling her eyes and taking a huge bite of her bread. Petra sighs, “y/n, don’t look but him and Erwin have been staring at you and whispering this whole dinner.”

Of course you look up to meet steel gray eyes looking back into your own. Instead of shying away you hold eye contact, letting him be the one to break first and turning to Miche on the other side of Erwin.

“I’m not some sad puppy. I’m not going to let one bad day in 10 years determine my future. If Captain Levi wants me to put up a fight, then so be it. Just because I’m the first girl on his squad doesn’t mean I’m going to sit back and take their shit.” You are gaining your confidence back and are not going to falter and beg Levi to let you stay.

“We got the old y/n back,” Hange taunts to Petra, nudging you in the arm. You smile and ask them, “so what are your plans for tonight?”

—

After dinner you head back to your room to put a little makeup on. If this meeting goes well maybe you’ll go into town with Hange and Petra for a girls night. You find yourself wanting to look pretty, just in case, although you never cared about that before.

Levi is more than likely in his office now, as you watched him get up to leave shortly after you had the eye contact stand off. His office and sleeping quarters are just down the hall from you. You push down the butterflies growing within your stomach and sweaty palms as you grow closer to the door. You decide to stand there for a few seconds to control how fast your heart is beating and regain your composure.

However, in the time you stand there you hear noises from inside his office.

Typically if Captain Levi is in, he leaves the door opened a crack so people can welcome themselves in, but this time his door is completely shut. You decide to lean your ear up to the door to see if you actually heard something inside his room. Groaning and a slick noise can be heard, and you immediately blush backing away as quietly as possible.

Before you decide to turn around and go back to your room, your curiosity gets the better of you. You return your ear up to the door. Does Captain Levi have a girl over? Is it someone in the scouts? Your mind wanders as you listen to his beautiful groans and…wait… he’s by himself. Oh my god he’s jacking himself off. You hear him sliding his hand over his cock repeatedly.

You know this is wrong, you know you should walk away and pretend this never happened. But yet, you find a different type of butterflies growing in your stomach now. Not the nervous ones, but the horny ones. You’ve never thought about the captain like this and you know you shouldn’t but his voice is so damn sexy.. and the way you saw the water drop off his body after his shower today… you can’t help but imagine what he looks like right now.

“….y/n…” you hear the faintest moan come through the door and all the color drains from your cheeks. Does he know you’re standing there? No there’s no way he could. He’s getting off thinking about you. But isn’t that kind of fucked up considering everything he put you through today? Maybe he’s attracted to you and that’s how you got on squad Levi and it wasn’t your skills at all.

Your brain grows foggy, not being able to focus on all the ‘what if’s’ anymore but only able to focus on the heat growing between your legs. The speed of his strokes and the frequency of his heavy breathing indicates he is getting close. You feel yourself clench around nothing and right when you’re about to leave you hear it again.

“Fuck, y/n…” so faintly yet you couldn’t have imagined it, not twice. You hear a deep groan as you assume is him spilling his seed. Your mind can’t help wonder where he came, and what his cock looks like, and what he tastes like.

With that you are walking away from his door as quietly as possible and hurriedly walking back to your own. As soon as you’ve made it to your room, your cheeks flushed and so horny you can’t think about anything else. You lock the door and throw yourself onto the bed, pulling up your dress around your waist and lowering your panties. You haven’t relieved yourself in so long and you haven’t been touched by someone else in a few weeks. You run your delicate fingers up and down your slit gathering your wetness to spread it around your clit. Rubbing in small circles you let out a meek moan. The only thing taking up space in your horny brain right now is Captain Levi and the past 10 minutes that took place. You start pushing two fingers in and out of your tight hole thinking if it was him fingering you how it would feel. Would he talk down to you like he did when you were training this morning? The thought of that turns you on to a whole new level. You continue to get yourself off when you hear a distant pair of footsteps in the hallway. You can’t be bothered by how foggy your brain is to care if someone hears you. The cute squelching noises your pussy is making would be enough to send any man over the edge. Your climax is building up so fast you don’t notice how the footsteps come to a stop outside of your door. After another minute of keeping up your movements your orgasm washes over you and you can’t help but let out a throaty “Leeviii” as you feel your back arch off the bed.

You put your panties back on, wiping your hands off on a towel in your room and are finally catching your breath when there is a soft knock on the door.

Good god, the footsteps in the hallway, did someone just hear all that? You look in the mirror to check yourself before opening the door. It looks like you just ran a mile with the way your chest is moving and the blush that creeps across your chest up to your cheeks.

You unlock and open the door to find Captain Levi standing there arms crossed. Trying to hide the mortified expression on your face as the reality sinks in of the past 30 minutes you stutter as you go to greet him, “Captain Levi! How can I help you?” Smiling at him with a glow on your face post orgasm.

“I believe you received the note to see me in my office after dinner,” he sternly responds not an emotion in his eyes. Surely if he had heard you he would’ve at least blushed or something?

“Oh y-yes Captain. I’m so sorry, I stopped by but you were-” you cut yourself off realizing what you were about to say. “Um your door was closed so I was going to stop by again in a few minutes,” you hurriedly finish your thoughts, not being able to maintain eye contact with your superior.

“Ah well, I’m free now so if you wouldn’t mind joining me.” If you’re not mistaken he just smirked at you? Is he playing mind games with you? No there’s no way he knew you were outside of his door, but maybe he did hear you moaning.

“Yes sir,” you follow behind him as he begins the walk to his office.

Either Captain Levi is the cockiest motherfucker in the scouts or he is absolutely oblivious. Or is he a master manipulator? All of your thoughts race as you approach his door again. All the meanwhile you think about how you still can’t hate him.

As you enter into his quaint office you take in the scent of tea spices, a well organized desk and bookshelf, and a small table. You notice a garbage can under the desk with tissues in it and can’t help but wonder…

“Can I offer you some tea?” He asks, walking over to a door on the other side of the room with a tea kettle. “Yes please,” you respond and he goes through the door, which must lead to his sleeping quarters and some type of stove to heat water.

“Please have a seat,” he motions to the small table that has some scouts paperwork on it as he enters back into the room. “It’ll take a few minutes for the water to heat.” You nod, sitting as you try to keep your nerves under control. He is walking around the near space tidying belongings and disappears in the next room again. He comes back with a blanket and some firewood. Lighting a fire in the small fireplace. He hands you the blanket, “‘m sorry it gets cold in here when the sun goes down.” You nod to him placing it on your lap as you hear the tea kettle boiling in the next room over. Does he do this when he meets with all his subordinates? Surely not…. Unless he is as nice as you suspected he was?

Captain Levi returns with a tray with two tea cups the boiling water and a variety of tea bags. “Would you like to pick?” He holds the selection out to you. “Whatever you recommend, I don’t know a lot about tea,” you try to lighten the room with a little giggle but his face remains stoic as he picks two of the same tea bags, setting them aside before placing the tea cups on the table, filling them with the hot water and placing the tea bags in the cups. He sits down at the seat next diagonal from you at the square table, so you both are facing the fire. He then grabs the blanket off your lap, spreading it out so it covers both of you. Everything he does is so calculated, and you are at the edge of your seat to find out more about him and what this meeting is about.

Captain Levi sips his tea first.

He sighs and states without looking at you, “I’m sorry about this morning.”

“Please sir, don’t apologize, I understand it was my fault and I will do better.” You do your best to keep a positive smile on your face even though he isn’t looking at you.

“Another thing about being on my team, don’t fucking lie to me. I’d rather you tell me you’re miserable and hate my guts than be fake to me.”

You are taken aback by his words, you have never heard a captain or high rank want to be addressed less formally. “I-I’m sorry?” You stutter out. He ignores your apology. “Our squad eats every meal together. We all have our rooms around the same area which won’t be a problem since you’re not too far from here anyways. We train 6 days a week unless there is a mission or some sort of order from the higher ups. I highly advise no more drinking and no more romantic involvement with any men..er women I guess.” Still not speaking directly at you he is just holding his tea cup to his lips, not by the handle but holding his hand over top the rim.

“Yes, Captain.” You nod, and he finally looks over to you, studying your face. You grow self conscious until he says, “How is your face feeling? That looked like quite the tumble.” You chuckle, touching your eyebrow. “I think it looks worse than it is. I think I was more embarrassed than anything,” you shrug taking a sip of your tea.

“I know you probably think I’m out to get you, given your experience this morning.” He says still looking in your eyes. Before he finishes his thought you cut him off, “oh not at all sir!”

Levi ignores your objection, continuing, “We have to be the best. I treat my team like brothers. We’ll I guess..erm..sister now too.” He looks away with what looks like a slight pinkness on his cheeks.

“You’ve been in the Scouts for longer than most of our team. You have a good head on your shoulders, I just need to make sure you can keep up with us physically. That’s why I wanted to see how your injuries were holding up this evening.”

You nod, as this feels like a mental game of chess. Captain Levi survived in the underground for years, he is calculated, sharp, even scary smart.

“I’d like for you to choose someone to practice your hand to hand combat skills with over the next few integration trainings. You were pretty good but you have to get great.”

“Yes Captain… would you mind helping me with it? I’d like to learn from the best.” You grin and blush up at him.

“Are you trying to kiss my ass L/n? It’s going to take a lot more than flattery to get on my good side.” He looks over at you with a slight smirk on his face and a playful tone, one of the first times you’ve ever seen him like this.

“Then what else would it take? To get on your good side?” You dare start flirting with your captain, feeling awfully bold and somewhat unhinged after all the events that have taken place today.

“You’ll have to figure that out yourself,” he says in a low, sultry tone as his eyes look from yours down to your lips and back. He reaches his hand over and you freeze, but he wipes off some tea from the corner of your lip and retreats his hand back.

“So I have to ask… since you said you stopped by earlier. I heard some footsteps approach my door while I was attending to some … personal matters.. and it seems they stopped and listened for a few minutes. You didn’t happen to see who it was did you?” Levi smirks staring at the fireplace, knowing he has caught you red handed as your face blushes hard.

“Next time, just knock. I could have used some assistance. It sounded like you needed some to,” he has a shit eating cocky grin, being the master manipulator he is looking over to you with your jaw dropped.

Link to part 2

[sterekmpreg]

big brother eli headcanons?

1.) Eli, being newly 16 years old by the time he gets a little sister and brother, was terrified by the thought of a baby being around the house, let alone two. He kind of treats his mom like a fragile piece of glass while Stiles is pregnant. Avoiding hugging Stiles and he and his father both watching after the human like he was going to break at any moment, even if it drives Stiles’ crazy and makes him snap at his his husband and son to fuck off multiple times a day.

2.) Eli helps Derek set up the nursery in one of the spare bedrooms when Stiles is taking a nap one day and it's the first time Derek sees Eli being actually excited about the babies instead of off-put and nervous. Eli had even chosen the nursery theme as Winnie The Pooh because, “that's was mom’s when he was a baby.” Derek couldn't have been more excited to finally have a nursery that wasn't over-packed with wolf-themed onesies, blankets, and toys like Eli’s had been. That had driven him nuts... And Derek was pretty sure that's why Stiles had done it.

3.) When Stiles goes into labor in the middle of the night Derek calls Peter and Chris over to watch Eli. Eli wakes up and is nervous and skittish all day until Uncle Peter’s phone rings. It was his dad. “Stiles did great! It’s another boy and a girl!” Derek says while Chris puts the call on speakerphone. Eli can hear the screaming babies in the background and hear his mother crying but he just smiles brightly at his uncles.

4.) When Derek and Stiles return home with the twins, Eli can't keep his hands off them. They were “so cute and tiny,” as he puts it. Stiles is quick to remind him he was smaller which gets a laugh out of Derek who is handing the fussy baby boy to Eli carefully, reminding him to sit down and be careful.

5.) Eli always volunteers to babysit, which shocks his parents, but they are happy nonetheless that Eli has taken to brotherhood so easily and confidently. He's usually always by their side, as if he's scared they were just going to evaporate one night. Derek and Stiles have even caught him sleeping on the carpeted nursery floor on more than one occasion. “They were fussy and you guys needed sleep,” was always the excuse.

6.) When the twins get a bit older, Eli is always playing with them and letting the little toddlers chase him around the house. They've even nearly taken Stiles and Derek down numerous times with how fast they've run after each other.

7.) Eli chose a college closest to home so he wouldn't miss out on his sibling growing up and he's more than happy to live at home during it too. “I'm saving money,” Eli says but both Stiles and Derek knew it was because their children had formed such a strong bond that Eli would never be too far away from them for a long period of time.

8.) When his little sister's eye glows a bright yellow back him while he was playing peek a boo he nearly loses it and is excited to brag that he saw it before even his parents and Derek can't help but see Luara a little bit inside Eli with how he acted around the two toddlers.

9.) The pack tries to get his little brother to show any sign of being a werewolf for years and all but gives up until one day Eli is playing hide and seek with him and he all but disappears in front of everyone only for them to hear giggling and clapping from upstairs. “Oh! That little fucker isn’t like dad, he's like mom!” Eli shouts excitedly as he runs up the stairs behind his absolutely frantic and worried parents. And he was right, Deaton confirming what Eli had said. The little boy not only looked just like his mom, but had inherited Stiles magic as well.

10.) Eli’s camera roll might(absolutely) has more pictures of the twins than anything else.

11.) The twins sometimes throw fits when they don’t get their way like having candy before dinner and Eli sneaks them some to calm them down.

12.) When he comes home for the pack cook out and finds his sister/brother crying because their boyfriend/girlfriend cheated on them he claws ‘I have an STD’ into the side of the fuckers car and tells his grandpa, “the dude is a serious douche,” with a defensive tone and face as an excuse when he gets caught leaving the parking lot.

13.) Eli absolutely goes Feral whenever he finds out his siblings are getting picked on. Bashing in car windows and popping tires in the school parking lot of the assholes who dared fuck with his family and acts surprised when they tell him about what had happened to the bullies cars. Derek and Stiles share a look and then shrug. “Good job,” Derek whispers as he pats Eli on the shoulder and Stiles just smirks knowingly at him.

[a-libra-writes]

Do you have any more headcanons for our darling Rocky? Romantic, general or whatever. I think that whenever he sees his s/o he has stars in his eyes and that he loves boasting about them to all of Lackadaisy (much to their annoyance; Victor is that close from throwing him out the window).

Who is your favourite character btw?

This is kind of a part 3 to my previous Rocky Romantic HCs, with these focusing more on domestic living together and family stuff! Femme and masc options included.

When Rocky starts living with you, it's an adjustment. He hasn't had a permanent home-home in nearly 10 years. There's so many things he forgot about, and things he missed dearly but tried very hard not to dwell on. And he gets to see so many new things about you - you'll catch him staring more than once as you go about your routines, from shuffling through the morning to winding down in the evening. All the things you keep on your shelves, everything smelling like you, noting all your interesting habits! It's your private world he's been invited into and he's a little obsessed. The place wouldn't need to be anything fancy, either - even in an apartment, he takes in everything like it's s gift.

(You'll find all sorts of cute notes scattered about where you'll surely find them, even if it's weeks later. Drawings, poems, love notes, song lyrics - all sorts of sweet, sappy things like that. Then there's the BIG obvious ones he leaves right on your nightstand or mirror.)

Rocky wants to be useful, of course, he always does, but his domestic skills are ...well. There's room for improvement. Cleaning and keeping up with himself is one of those things he needs to pay more attention to, and while he wants to help with the cooking, uh. Maybe hold off on that until you're sure he won't get distracted in the middle of boiling water. Also, when he does cook breakfast, there's usually a huge mess left behind ... But it's the thought that counts! He'll figure out pretty much any chore you assign him, anyway. And at this point you know how much Rocky wants to please you.

When he first moved in, there was an initial period where you two slept separately. It was only proper, especially if you're femme, buuut that went out the window within a week or two. Rocky wouldn't be the one to bring it up, but he wouldn't complain a bit if you just let him stay in your bed instead of going back to the couch or guest room. (And I mean, he looks so comfy and he loves snuggling ... are you really gonna kick him out?)

Even if you both fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed, eventually the grey tabby will migrate over to you. The clinginess doesn't stop just because he's asleep! And he either sleeps like the dead, or bolts up at the slightest noise. Most mornings Rocky is up at the near crack of dawn, antsy and ready to get on with whatever idea is rattling around in his head. Snuggling might incline him to sleep in just a little longer - or maybe he'll just soak up the comfy bed, sunny morning and loved one next to him. It's a very quiet and still peace that takes some getting used to.

If you're femme - happy as he is to go on about how wonderful you are to others, he doesn't breathe a word of it to his aunt. He might actually be skinned alive if Nina catches a whiff of him "living in sin".

If you're masc, y'alls domestic life is probably closer to a "bachelor pad" than some suburban bliss, but it's still homey in it's own way. It's far more likely you're both sharing an apartment or row house close to the Little Daisy. Your laundry tends to get mixed up (which Rocky doesn't mind at all, even if you're much bigger than him), there's lots of late-night attempte to cook on the terrifyingly worn out gas stove and opening the window at night to let in a cool breeze and the sounds of the city. Other tenants don't may you two any mind, assuming you're family or two workers trying to save money by boarding together.

(Bonus points if y'all live in the same apartment block as Zib and his band, as if he doesn't have to deal with the nauseating lovebirds enough)

Being in a safe, stable place with a loved one can stir up some buried memories. You've probably seen Rocky despair dramatically already, but the actual crying is new. He's a noisy cryer, it's difficult for him to hide it. He'd even apologize if it woke you up, but Rocky is surprisingly comfortable with crying on you and being held, though there been a few times where he's initially resisted, feeling like he ought to hide these emotions instead. It's been so long since he had this kind of comfort, but there's still shame when he feels the tears came from out of "nowhere". Oh, there's a lot repressed there ...

And there's the whole ... getting a concussion and nearly dying bit. Initially Rocky is unaware of long-term effects of the concussion, and later willfully ignores them as long as he can. Sudden bright lights and loud noise cause twinges of pain that can snowball into a full blown migraine, something he's never had to deal with. And the first time he banged his head on a doorframe? Bam, flat on his ass. Rocky woke up resting on your lap, your frantic face hovering above him. He was only out for a few seconds but uh, still scary. Something he should be aware of and more careful about because he's sooo good at being careful...

(Small silver lining is you fuss and take care of him during the migraines but Rocky haaaates having to be still in bed. Good luck keeping him there!)

Regardless of gender, there's some potential friction with your family. You adore Rocky and are perfectly happy with him, but well, to your family ... If they're middle or upper class, associating with a destitute musician with bizarre behaviors was not in the plan for you (god forbid anyone finds out about the bootlegging and arson). No matter how well he cleans up, or is on his "best behavior", you could risk getting cut out from the family entirely. Note if you're masc, your relationship could simply be brushed aside as that "friend" of your's they don't approve of. A woman will be judged far more harshly, especially if you and Rocky are living together without being married. You can kiss any inheirtance or family support goodbye.

(Of course, being from a poorer family or not having one at all mitigates much of this drama.)

The fact you're willing to defy your family for him and defend him gets Rocky emotional all over again. It's probably not possible for him to be any more devoted to you, but now feelings of guilt will bubble up. On darker days he'll worry he's ruining someone's family relationships (again) and it'd be best if he just left.

Actually getting married to Rocky would amp that family drama even further, no matter how happy you are about it. It'd probably end up being one of those thrown-together elopements where you're both giddy and a little anxious and driving out to who-knows-where to find a priest who won't ask questions. There's no ring, but - hey, maybe a family heirloom was found. Maybe a friend lends a dress that's almost white, and you repurposed a fancy tablecloth for a veil, and Rocky is wearing a borrowed suit of Freckle's, and the bouquet is flowers you two found alongside the road.

It's slapped together and messy but also exciting and y'all are so happy in spite of everything. Rocky's grinning so much you think his face might get stuck; this isn't something he ever imagined for himself, but now that you're here, he just wants to love and be with you forever. Expect a few years. Maybe a lot. There could even be a little 'reception' at the Lackadaisy, with lots of dancing and music and everyone having to witness how blindlingly sappy you two are (as if they weren't painfully aware).

(Baby & family stuff here!)

So. If you're AFAB, the reality is you and Rocky will have one ... or several ... scares, unless you're very diligent. Look, his pull-out game is shit because he just gets so caught up in the affection and being with you. Hell, that may be what led to the elopement in the first place, spurred on by a healthy dose of Catholic guilt and maaaaybe a family member's shotgun.

Just like the whole 'Finding the Most Wonderful Love of His Life' thing, Rocky didn't think children were anywhere in his future. If any thoughts were given to it, he might assume he'd been a poor parent, because isn't he a screw-up with anything else? What example did Rocky have, anyway - a dad who basically abandoned his family when they needed him most? He does his worrying and anxiety spiralling in private, but it'd be easy for anyone to pick up on it. Of course he thinks you'll do wonderfully, but the chaotic tabby has little hope for himself.

(If you also have no idea what you're doing, congrats! It's utter chaos. And you think anyone at Lackadaisy knows what to do? Also nope! Godspeed!!)

But the thing is, Rocky is quite good with the kitten once they start crawling and exploring. He has the energy level to keep up with them, and he naturally encourages the kiddo to explore and play more. The tot being noisy or fussy or agitated doesn't faze him much; Rocky quickly picks up when they just want attention and playtime or if something is actually upsetting them. I think he'd also sing and play music to soothe them, like his mom used to do when he was restless.

(Also the three of you going out for a picnic or playing in the park and he's just! So happy!! He really had his own tiny family that loves him. He doesn't care if the kitten claws up his back when they're startled or eat grass and immediately vomit or drop their toy into the park fountain. That's his baby!)

Also, at least one (but realistically most) of his kiddos would also have ADHD. Obviously in this time period there's no recognition or diagnosis, but it's easy to notice if his kid has similar 'odd' behaviors and mannerisms. Anywhere from the hyperactivity, to fidgeting and chattering, to sudden focus on things that interest them. I think anytime his child seems to act like him, even if it's considered "misbehavior", he just melts and can't find it in himself to scold them. Rocky would generally be the forgiving, fun and permissive parent, much as his own mother was. He'd also worry about being too absent; normally no one cared when he was gone for days (or weeks ...), but now there's a little one who can't even handle him being gone for an evening. No Rocky you can't strap the kitten to your back and take them everywhere....

Notably if the kitten was neuroatypical in a different way, or disabled - either deaf, or they struggle to walk, etc, Rocky picks up on this quickly. He'd be good about thinking up accommodations or ways for them to get about the world easier, and patient, so very patient. Making up hand signs? Jury rigging a mobility aid? Recognizing when a place might be too overwhelming for the kid? Figuring out exactly which textures are upsetting for them? It may shock people how observant he is about these things - and, given the time period, he could be seen as too "indulgent". Okay he's definitely an overly indulgent parent in other ways, but in this case, Rocky is quite fixated. He's very familiar what it's like being on the outside and disregarded.

He absolutely wants to teach his kiddo music, and likes singing to them and rattling off poetry when it comes to him. The household is full of music and art in general, especially if you're artistically inclined yourself. He'll gather all sorts of unusual books to read to them (even if they're too young for it, his voice is nice to listen to). He's the parent who keeps literally anything his kid makes him and gets happy and emotional all over again when he sees it. He's also the parent who can't deny his kiddo when they've had a bad dream or are afraid of the dark ... so either he falls asleep on the couch with them, or he carries them back to y'all's bedroom.

It goes without saying that Rocky's going to continue his criminal activities. If anything, he's been spurred on even more in order to support you and the kitten, especially if this is after 1929; the kids would be growing up during the worst of the Great Depression. This could either be a point of contention between you and Rocky, if you aren't doubling down on the crime yourself.

(Personally I HC that, if he had a family to provide for, he'd 100% stay involved with crime even after Prohibition and/or the Lackadaisy is gone. What other choices are there?)

Note if you're masc and had a kiddo from a previous relationship, a lot of these HCs still apply! Rocky would still find himself bonding with them and being delighted by how much they seem to care for him. He likes noticing the mannerisms that are just like your's, and how their faces mimic your own expressions. They'd refer to him as "uncle Rocky" but sometimes they'll slip and say "papa". Which totally doesn't make him want to cry or anything.

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Marked for Carnage - Chapter 1 (Juice Ortiz x OC Fic)

Marked for Carnage Masterlist

A/N: This is chapter 1 of my Juice Ortiz x OC multi chapter fanfic. I am hoping to mesh this story line with all 7 seasons of SOA. This is an 18+ fic so if you are under 18 please do not interact or read. The themes may not hit 18+ for a few chapters but I intend them to as the story progresses. I apologize that there isn't much Juice x OC in this chapter, I was really wanting to set a foundation for my OC and how she is tied into this world. My asks are open if anyone has any questions about my OC. Also I aplogise if there are any errors, I have a toddler and a baby so I'm doing this on the fly. I hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 2390 words

If there was one thing that Veronica Winston wished for it was that she had taken the job offer from Mercy General rather than St Thomas. Sacramento was close enough to Charming without being too close, but - being the push over that she was - she had let her father talk her into moving home. "Nothing's more important than family," he had stated, using her brother's recent release from prison to really drive the point home. Now here she was, stalking the hallways of St Thomas Hospital, the scent of antiseptic flooding her nose, as she followed the directions given to her by the admin staff to the nearest elevator. She had just about ran from the desk when the lady behind it asked if she was related to "those Winston's."

She pulled her long, dark hair out from the ponytail she'd put it in, hoping it would provide some kind of barrier between her and anyone who may recognize her. It had been nearly 10 years since she had last stepped foot in Charming. Her stomach had been lead weight since she had driven past the welcome sign at the edge of town. She jabbed the elevator button as she stopped in front of the closed doors, tapping her foot impatiently. She quickly scanned the area behind her, regretting the action as soon as her eyes met his. Jax Teller. Quickly she looked away and hoped that he hadn’t seen her.

"Ronnie?" She sighed when he called her name. Shoving her phone into the pocket of her scrubs she turned and smiled at him. "Hey Jax," she sent a silent prayer to the elevator gods that the stupid thing would hurry up and arrive. "Jesus, how long has it been?" he asked, pulling her into a quick one armed hug. "Nearly 10 years," she shrugged, kicking the toe of her shoe on the linoleum. "Yeah I guess so… your Pops didn’t say anything about you being back in town?" he asked, adjusting his cut. Her eyes found the Vice President patch sewn there. She raised her eyebrows. "I ah… asked him not to tell anyone. Ope too." Jax cocked an eyebrow and angled his head in question. "Alright…" he murmured. "I'll keep this under wraps then." Ronnie smiled appreciatively.

 "You visiting someone?" she asked. His face dropped and suddenly she regretted asking him. "My kid is up in the NICU. He had surgery last night." Ronnie sighed and shook her head. "Shit Jax, I hope everything's ok." He shrugged and glanced down the hallway. "He's looking ok. Strong little guy. Shit with Wendy ya know…" he shrugged. "Damn, she still not got her shit together?" she asked. Jax shook his head. "Well he is a Teller. I'm sure he will pull through." Jax grinned proudly and nodded. "Well, you should come by Gemma's place sometime. She's still in the same house. I'm sure she would love to see you," Jax began to make his way down the hallway, throwing a wave behind him as he left. "Yeah, sure," Ronnie mumbled half heartedly. The elevator doors finally opened and Ronnie got in, pressing the button for the bottom floor. She found the doors she was looking for, the sign above indicating that she had reached the morgue. Of course, it would be strange to admit that she felt at home in a morgue. Which is why she never said it out loud. But it was true. Pulling her hair back into it's ponytail she walked through the doors, ready for a fresh start.

10 hours later Ronnie stood in the parking lot, stretching her back as the balmy early evening air settled around her. It appeared that being an assistant medical examiner in Charming wasn't going to be as fast paced as her previous location. She had spent part of her morning reviewing the one case they currently had open - a hit and run that had happened in the Charming jurisdiction although only by literal centimetres - and then the rest of her time she archived historical paperwork and counted down the minutes until her scheduled breaks. Ronnie groaned at the pain in her back, cursing herself for sitting with shitty posture for her whole shift, when suddenly someone cleared their throat. She turned and spotted the row of Harley's parked against the curb.

A guy around her age, with golden brown skin and a mohawk with two tattoos inked either side of it, sat on the bike at the very end. He was sporting one of the most gorgeous smiles she had ever seen and he was directing it at her. Ronnie's stomach buzzed, but she told it to pipe down when she spotted the cut she was wearing - one with a patch identical to her brother and fathers. She looked around in case he was looking at someone else, but they were the only two souls in the lot. "Nice ink," he said, jutting his chin in her direction. She looked down at her right arm, as if noticing the various designs tattooed there for the first time. Feeling her face warming, she met his stare. "Thanks, you too," she murmured, before walking to her car and hastily getting behind the wheel. Putting the key in the ignition she started it up, cursing and looking back at the man on the bike in her mirror as the engine coughed and sputtered before starting up. Pulling out of the lot, Ronnie began her journey home.

Juice smirked as he watched the black Toyota SUV pull out of the hospital parking lot. He had never seen the woman who had driven it away before, but the fullness of her hips and the soft curving of her waist had him wanting to see more of her. Juice would admit that it didn't take much to rev his engine but the way she had raised her eyebrow at him in indifference, how her tattoos covered the soft looking skin of her arm and the groan she let out as she stretched her back… almost had him adjusting himself in his pants. "Hey idiot," Tig smacked him up the back of the head. "What's got you so goddam happy?" Juice only grinned and shook his head. "Just thinkin' about Sack and that deer." Tig laughed and pointed straight at him. "Bet you're glad you're not the bottom of the food chain no more, huh?" Juice nodded as he watched the rest of his brothers exit the hospital, strapping his helmet on and starting up his dyna.

Ronnie sat on the small sofa in her loungeroom, an open beer on the coffee table and a microwaved dinner on her lap. She aimlessly flicked through channels, stopping briefly on the local news channel when she saw the headlines "San Leandro Warehouse Fire, Multiple Deaths." "Jesus Christ," she mumbled, taking a sip of beer. Suddenly, her phone ringing pulled her attention from the tv. Flicking it open, she saw her father's landline number and answered. "Hey Pop," she smiled. "Hey sweetheart," her father's rough timber came through the receiver. "How was your first day?" Ronnie smiled. She had missed this. Her father only really called once every couple of months when she had been gone from Charming, and she was certainly guilty of avoiding calling him. But since being back he seemed to really be interested in what was happening in her life.

"It was good dad, same shit different state really." Piney laughed. "Well that's good to hear, Ron, good to hear." She rolled her eyes at the nickname. "Listen, I was going to head over to Opie and Donna's place for dinner. Why don’t you come too? See the kids and say hello," Piney trailed off, leaving the buzz of the phone line ringing in Ronnie's ears. "I don’t know dad, I mean… I've already had dinner and," she paused, blowing out a sigh. "I don’t think Ope would want me there." Her father grunted on the other end, no doubt rolling his eyes identically to the way she had moments beforehand. "He's your brother. Of course he wants you there," he said. Ronnie closed her eyes. "Alright, I'll come see them. Do you need a ride?"

Ronnie pulled up out the front of her brothers house, parking her car next to Piney's trike. She made her way up the path to the front door, wringing her hands together in anxiety. She tersely rapped her knuckles against the door, her stomach in knots. Donna pulled the door open, her eyes widening at the site of her sister-in-law. "Veronica!" she exclaimed, glancing back into the house. "I didn’t know you were coming," Donna said, awkwardly smiling. "Oh, shit sorry, I thought dad might have said something. He kind of… invited me I guess," Ronnie said. Trust Piney to not say shit. "It's fine," Donna stepped aside, motioning for Ronnie to enter. "Come in. I've just served dinner, are you hungry?" Ronnie shook her head as she entered the house. "Nah I already ate. Thanks though." She continued to blindly follow the hallway, hoping she was going the right way.

The hall opened up into the dining room and Veronica stopped short as she saw Piney, Opie and her niece and nephew, Ellie and Kenny, sitting at the table with plates in front of them. "Hey," Ronnie cleared her throat. "Hey Ope. Hi Ellie, Kenny." She waved at the kids. They awkwardly waved back, glancing at their dad. Opie dropped his fork, making Ronnie and the kids jump as it clattered against his plate. "Ope?!" Donna started from behind Ronnie. "Not hungry," he grunted out before he made his way out the back door into the backyard, slamming the door behind him. The silence in the room was deafening as Ronnie internally fought with what she should do next. She smiled at the kids again before she followed her brother through the door. Opie sat on a porch swing that was in the back corner of the backyard, a lit cigarette between his lips.

Ronnie made her way over to him, her black boots scuffing along the short patched of turf and dirt. "Those things will kill ya, you know," she motioned to his cigarette. Opie ignored her, taking a long drag. "Look, Ope…" she began, pushing her hands into her pockets. "I know you’re not my biggest fan right n-" "You really think you can just come back like you didn’t just drop off the face of the earth for 10 years?" he cut her off. Ronnie sighed, running her hand over her hair, gathering it over one shoulder. "Dropping off the face of the earth is slightly dramatic, don’t ya think?" Opie met her eyes, his mouth a hard line. "Dad was already sick before you left and you just disappearing only made him worse. You missed my wedding!" he took a another draw of his cigarette. "My kids hardly even know their Aunt…" he laughed without humour and shook his head. "And you just walk in and say hi? You really think that would be it?"

Ronnie sighed and sat next to her brother on the porch swing. "I'm… I'm sorry Ope. I couldn't stay," she cracked her knuckles, habit her mother always scolded her for when she was little. "I honestly didn’t realise I'd hurt you this bad." Opie shook his head, knocking his knee against Ronnie's. "You're my baby sister," he mumbled. "We already had so much time apart after mom and dad divorced. It felt like I had gotten you back for a little while and then you just took off." Ronnie's heart sank. She never gave her brother much credit for just how much he loved his family - although he didn’t always show it. "Shit Ope. You know I didn't do it to hurt you. I had to get away. Away from," she swallowed thickly, her skin crawling. "Him." Opie scoffed. "You know we wouldn’t have let him put his hands on you. Me, Pops. Shit even Jax would put a bullet in his head before he let you get hurt."

Ronnie shook her head. "But he did put his hands on me Ope. Distance," she sighed. "Distance felt like the best option. And this place. This town," she motioned with her hand. "Everywhere I went it felt like him. Felt like he had tainted it somehow. Even being back now," she shivered, running her hands up and down her arms. "I'm sick to my stomach Ope. He could pop up anywhere." Opie turned to his sister, his stare cutting her off. "You see one glimpse of him, you tell me. I won't let that shit stain near you." Ronnie smiled flatly, patting Opie's back and standing. "Yeah yeah, I'll put you on speed dial," she smiled. Opie huffed a laugh and stood.  Ronnie smiled and pulled him into a brief hug. "Still not okay with you going ghost," he said. She nodded, pulling away. "I know. But I'm here now. And I'm gonna make up for these last 10 years."

Ronnie walked arm in arm with her father to where their vehicles were parked. "Well after your brothers tantrum, that all seemed to go okay," Piney said, leaning over to kiss his daughter on the head. "Yeah Pops, you know Ope. He's soft at heart. Won’t be long and I'll be back in his good books," she smiled, watching Piney climb aboard his trike. "You working tomorrow sweetheart?" he asked, buckling his helmet on. She nodded, unlocking her SUV. "Yeah I'm always working." Piney smiled, his old heart warming knowing there was no longer distance between him and his two kids. "Alright, I'll follow you home. Make sure you get there safe." Ronnie began to protest and then remembered her conversation with her brother. "That would be great, thanks Pop." She slid into the drivers seat of her car and tried to start the engine. The car coughed and chugged once before it conked out completely. "Piece of shit," she slammed her hands against the wheel. Piney lifted his arms in a questioning manner. She jumped out. "Car won’t start." Piney motioned back to Opie's house. "Get your brother to drive you home, I'll get someone from TM to come tow your car to the garage tomorrow." Ronnie sighed and bid her father farewell before she made her way back up the path towards Opie's house.

[recurring-polynya]

Idk if you’ve answered this question (sorry if you have) before, but how do you think Renji & Rukia first met ? What do you think their life was like originally before Soul Society ?

Pardon me if I'm reading this wrong, but...Rukia and Renji's first meeting is enshrined pretty thoroughly in canon? She rescued him from a water heist that was about to turn disastrous.

This is from Chapter 98/Episode 32: A Star and a Stray Dog, which is the first place you should be looking if you're interested in pre-canon Renruki lore.

As to the second part of your question...you mean before they died? What sort of lives did they have in the World of the Living?

I'm gonna pontificate, so I'll throw that under a cut

First off, I am fascinated with the fact that Kubo gives us nothing about what anyone's living life was like. On one hand, I would like to know everyone's pre-history, but on the other, I'm glad he didn't, like as a literary choice. The slate is supposed to be wiped clean. It doesn't matter. It's maddening, but also correct.

It's also one of those places that is just ✨fanfic free real estate✨ in terms of I think everyone should make up their own version for their blorbos, so of course I have them for Renji and Rukia. I have absolutely nothing to support these, they are just what I felt in my heart.

I have actually talked about Renji's beforedeath quite a bit, here and there in various fanfics, usual under the conceit that, particularly in their Inuzuri days, he would sometimes blurt out some half-remembered thing and then promptly forget it again. Here an excerpt from Chapter 3 of go places:

It’s an Alive Memory, Rukia is nearly certain. Most souls get them. All the boys did, from time to time. To Renji, it’s just brain dust. Whatever it is in Soul Society that makes people forget their lives also makes this memory detritus slippery to hold onto. Renji won’t think of this later, or attach any importance to this conversation. The funny thing is, after ten years of watching him stumble through these moments, Rukia probably has a better idea of what Renji’s life was like than he does. He lived on a farm of some sort. A small one, or at least his family grew a lot of their own food. He died of a fever. Nearly all of his Alive Memories involve his mother. Rukia is almost positive that Renji’s mother is the one who taught him to write. The sewing scissors were likely hers. In Rukia’s imagination, Renji’s mother is very tall and beautiful and kind. Rukia doesn’t need to use her imagination to know that Renji loved his mother very much.

Just to offer a little more detail--doing the math out, where Bleach starts in the early 00s, Rukia and Renji have been separated for 40 years and knew each other for 10 years before that, it would make a lot of sense for both of them to have died in WWII. However, I like to think that time is very wobbly, especially in the outer Rukon, so I like to make their deaths a little earlier-- specifically, I think that Renji died in the 1918 flu pandemic, which may have contributed to getting a plague spirit for a zanpakutou. That being said, my general vibe for his childhood is based on Kanta, the neighbor kid from My Neighbor Totoro, which takes place in the 50s. In any case, he had a pretty small and unremarkable life in rural Japan, aside from the fact that he was loved very much, which will never be unremarkable, no matter how common it may be.

I have written less about Rukia's beforedeath, mostly because she was too young when she died to have any phantom memories. [Note: I know there are some theories out there, based on some arcane clues that Kubo has dropped that Rukia may not actually be a normal soul and may be related to Hell. That's...fine. While I'm never going to say no to a storyline that centers Rukia, I really do hope that it comes to naught. Ichigo has enough Crazy Origin going on and I like the Rukia's backstory the way it is, so I'm just going to ignore all of that for the sake of this post]. Ahem! So, infant death is not anything surprising, or even really interesting, but what makes Rukia's kind of compelling is the fact that her much-older sister died at the same time. To me, this indicates either a natural disaster or a death-by-violence.

As I said above, there are infinity ways you can go with this, but to me, there were two important things I wanted to capture 1) given Renji's descriptions of Rukia having an inherent grace and nobility, and the idea that something about Hisana caught Byakuya's eye, I thought that maybe they should have been noble, and 2) I wanted them to live by the sea. I do not actually remember how I landed on this, but in the 1850s, a bunch of sea fortresses were constructed to protect Japan by attack from sea (see here for more detail). This was the tail end of the Edo period and I liked the idea that maybe Rukia came from an old samurai family, and her father was sent to oversee one of these coastal forts. Did they die in a bombardment? A bad storm? The Kanto earthquake? I never got that far. I'm not even sure if this is a realistic scenario, if they had civilians living there, etc, this was just a half-thought-out thing I came up with for a bonus chapter of a fanfic that someone requested once. The one other detail from that that I came up with and stand by is that I think there were more siblings in their family between Hisana and Rukia. I also like that this idea that makes Rukia somewhat older than Renji, even though the math is impossible and the points are made up anyway.