#Night Howler Panic

[crookedliz]

Characters as Viruses/Infections

TW: Blood, rotting flesh, and disturbing imagery

Others from some peeps

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley knows he won't get this feeling with anyone else. Birthday celebrations, sexy sleepovers, and taking your son to the park have become his routine. But when you share an idea with Bradley about the future, he shoots you down, and you start to wonder why.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley sent you a text letting you know that he'd pick you and Everett up for the Padres game. He was excited to give Everett all of the birthday presents that were rolling around in the back of the Bronco every time he turned a corner. Two new bats, some baseballs, a glove, and a jersey that said "Grand Slam" on the back of it with Bradley's college number "22".

Now that summer break had begun, you promised Bradley he could start taking Everett out to the park to practice playing real baseball. This way he would have time to break in all of his gear before the fall season started in September. 

When he pulled up behind your car, you were already waiting on the porch. "Where's Ev?" he called out as he walked around the front of the Bronco to meet you.

You smiled up at him as you hugged him around his waist. "He went to the zoo with Molly. They're going to pick up Bob and meet us there. And have I ever mentioned how sexy I find it when you ask about my son?"

Bradley kissed your cheek and murmured, "I'm just excited to give him his birthday presents. But if we're alone..." He let his lips drift down to the soft skin below your ear, sucking on you gently. You moaned softly as his big hands cupped the swell of your ass through your shorts. 

"I do have neighbors, Coach," you whined, and he released your neck. 

"Then let's go inside," he suggested, squeezing you a little tighter.

You bit your lip but shook your head. "We'll be late, and Ev will be annoyed, because he's been so excited about today."

Bradley kissed your nose. "You're right, Kitten. Gotta make sure he has the best birthday ever."

"I think he will," you replied when Bradley opened the passenger door for you.

-------------------------

You were having so much fun, it felt like it was your birthday, too. Molly bought seats along the third baseline, and it was the perfect night to be at the ballpark under the stadium lights. You were sharing a soft pretzel with Bradley, who had his arm draped casually around your shoulders, and Everett was on the other side of him. 

Your son was wearing the new baseball jersey that Bradley had given to him in the parking lot. Everett hugged him about twenty times after he pulled it out of the gift bag and put it on. He was still so excited to have his own pretend call sign. And now Bradley was holding a napkin so Everett wouldn't drip nacho cheese on it.

"Aunt Molly," Ev said, chewing on a chip. "Have you ever visited the airplanes and got your own call sign?"

"Not yet," she replied, leaning across Bob to mess with Everett's hair. "But I'm going to try to visit Bob at work next week."

"You can get a call sign if you do," Everett said, shoving another chip in his mouth while you fed Bradley a bite of the pretzel.

"Bob already gave me one," she said with a smirk, and you watched Bob's serene expression turn to panic as he shook his head. 

"What is it?" Everett asked.

With the most unbelievably innocent look, Molly said, "He calls me Howler," while Bob tried to cover her mouth with his hand.

"Mo!" Bob whispered, turning beet red.

Bradley choked on the bite of pretzel as you said, "Seriously, Molly?" But you couldn't help but laugh at your sister as she leaned in to kiss Bob's cheek as he slid down lower in his seat and tried to cover his face.

"Look!" Everett shouted as the birthday announcements started to scroll across the big screen. "It's our names!" 

He and Bradley sat up a little straighter as the screen said Happy birthday Everett and Bradley! as the birthday song played.

"Did you do this?" Bradley asked you with a grin.

"Maybe," you told him, shoving more pretzel into his mouth. Everett was dancing around the seats with Molly as Bradley leaned in close to your ear.

"Thank you, Kitten. I haven't really celebrated my birthday in years. You make me feel special."

You adjusted his backwards hat and kissed his cheek. "You don't celebrate your birthday?"

He just shrugged. "Nobody to celebrate it with, really."

You hugged him around the neck as the inning started. "You can celebrate with me and Ev now," you told him. "He loves that your birthday is only a week after his. Just wait until you see the stupid gift we got you."

Bradley turned to look at you as the catcher for the Pirates hit a single. "You got me a birthday present?"

You just rolled your eyes and laughed. "It's nothing, really. Just-"

But you were silenced with his lips on yours and his hand at the back of your neck. "Thank you. I don't even know what it is, but it's perfect."

You wanted to take him home and give him the stupid pair of Phillies socks right now. You wanted him to sleep over. You wanted to ask him to move in with you. 

In fact, you almost did but then you heard Bob say to Everett, "You excited to watch Bradley and I try out for the rec league?"

Bradley groaned and sank back into his seat. "Bob, that was supposed to be a surprise. We didn't even make the team yet."

"Sorry," Bob muttered, but you, Molly and Ev were looking at them with excitement. 

"What position are you going to play?" Ev asked, climbing up onto Bradley's lap to see the game better.

Bradley sighed. "I'm trying out as a pitcher. Not my natural position, but I've always wanted to try it. Thought I might be good enough for a casual league."

"You're so good!" you gushed, thinking about him showing Everett different pitches in the park while you tried to catch for them. "Even the guy on the tour of the ballpark asked if you used to be a pitcher!"

Bradley chuckled, but Bob agreed with you. "You're going to make the team at any position you want, Rooster."

"So are we allowed to come watch tryouts?" Molly asked, raking her fingers through Bob's hair and giving him puppy eyes. He was immediately so lost to her, you didn't know how that poor man would function when your sister actually moved in with him in a few days.

"Yeah, Coach," you asked Bradley. "Can we come watch you?"

Bradley studied your face for a moment. "You can do anything you want, Kitten. If you want to come, I'd love that."

--------------------------

It was so late, and tomorrow was a work day. But you were sitting on the edge of your kitchen counter, and Bradley was fucking you so nice and slow, you wanted it to last all night. 

He drove you and Everett home after the Padres lost to the Pirates; the booster seat seemed to be a permanent fixture in his backseat now. And even though it was a few days early, you and Ev let him open his birthday present. The striped Phillies socks and the baseball card Everett made of Bradley were on the counter next to you.

"I love you so much," he whispered, lips grazing your neck and chin as he worked you up. It was amazing that you could get him like this, groaning your name and squeezing your hips like he absolutely needed you. "Fuck, Kitten."

You pulled his lips up to yours to taste him as he got you so close. The perfectly paced thrust of his hips. The pressure of his thumb when he moved his hand to your clit. The way he tasted like the salt from the soft pretzel you shared. The brush of his mustache against your lip.

"Bradley!" You came so hard, it surprised you. The only thing holding you up was his hand firmly placed on your lower back as he fucked you through your orgasm. "Oh my god," you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're so good."

Then his thrusting became jerky and irregular, and you kissed along the prominent veins in his neck as he grunted. You knew he was close as you whispered encouragement, your lips meeting his ear.

"You can do it, Coach. Cum inside me."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, head tipped back as he filled you up. When his eyes met yours again, you were grinning at him. "Baby," he groaned, looking at where you and he were connected most intimately before he withdrew himself from inside you. He ran his fingers through the mess he made and rubbed you from your opening to your clit, making you gasp. "You're very good at spoiling me."

You laughed. "With kitchen sex?"

"Yeah," he whispered, running his nose along yours. "And the birthday presents. And letting me take Everett to the park this weekend. Good luck getting rid of me now."

You kissed him softly before you glanced at the time on the microwave. "Are you sleeping over?"

"Of course," he replied. "Ev asked me to drop him off at summer camp in the morning, remember?"

You smiled against his lips. "Take me upstairs, and I'll spoil you with more kisses and a backrub."

"I love you."

----------------------------

On Saturday morning, Bradley was at your house early, and Everett was already done eating breakfast and ready to go to the park. He picked up his gear bag and ran for the door, but Bradley laughed.

"Is it okay if I say hi to your mom first?"

"I guess," Everett said impatiently from next to the front door.

You were still in your pajamas, sipping a mug of coffee in the kitchen. Bradley smiled at the spot on the counter where he'd made you cum after the Padres game. "Morning," he whispered, kissing your cheek and stealing a sip of your coffee. 

You scrunched your nose up just the way he liked and he kissed you there, too. "Go have fun without me while I clean my house," you told him. "That kid has been up for over an hour already, just waiting for you."

Bradley thought once again about how convenient things would be if he just lived here. "I'll bring him back for lunch."

"Sounds good," you muttered, and then Bradley was taking Everett out to the Bronco.

"Can we practice running the bases?" Everett asked as Bradley pulled out of your driveway. "And catching the ball?"

"We're going to practice everything, Kiddo. It's gonna take all summer."

Instead of being intimidated, Everett clapped his hands and cheered. 

"Kid after my own heart," Bradley muttered, driving the short distance to the park. He unloaded all of his equipment and hauled it to the empty baseball diamond while Everett carried his own gear.

"Should we warm up like we did for tee ball?"

"Always a good idea," Bradley said, and they ran the bases a few times together. Then he threw some pitches to Everett, thoroughly impressed by how well he could hit the ball. Then he let Everett throw some pitches to him while he squatted down in the catcher's position. 

"Damn," Bradley mumbled. He threw the ball straight every time, and even though he didn't have enough strength to get the ball to go the distance, Everett was really good at pitching. "Are you sure you're only seven?"

Everett laughed. "Yep! You were there for my birthday!"

Bradley really wanted to make the Navy rec team as a pitcher so Everett could see him in action. The idea of you and Ev watching him play baseball excited him so much. Plus there would be more ice cream outings and pizza nights if he and Bob both made the team. The five of you could hang out, and maybe Nat could come too.

After another hour of playing and practicing, Bradley pulled two bottles of Gatorade from his bag and called Everett over into the shade to take a break. They sat side by side in the grass and chugged their drinks. Bradley leaned back against the tree trunk while Everett finished his drink.

"Thanks for teaching me about stuff," Everett said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of dirt on his face.

Bradley sat quietly for a moment before he said, "Thanks for letting me."

"Hey, did you ever ask my mom about moving into the extra bedroom?"

Everett's innocent gaze had Bradley silent once again. But he figured this was as good a time as any to ask your son for his opinion.

"Ev, remember when I asked you to keep a secret from your mom? When I wanted to know if she used to wear a wedding ring?"

"Yeah," Everett said, nodding up at Bradley. 

"Well," Bradley began, suddenly unsure about what he should say. He ran his hands over his face and took off his sweaty cap. "I've been thinking about buying a ring for your mom."

"She'd like that," Everett told him. "She doesn't have any."

Bradley smiled and added, "If I get her a ring, I'm going to ask her if she wants to get married to me. If that's okay with you."

Everett's face lit up. "You should definitely do that! She would let you move in then! You could be there all the time!" 

"Yeah, I think so, too," Bradley agreed. "We could spend more time together. But it's a secret. You can't say anything yet."

"I won't!" Everett promised, but now he looked even happier than he did earlier as Bradley took him back out in the sun to practice throwing the ball in the outfield. 

-----------------------------

You watched the drama unfold before you.

"I don't think the two of you need four couches," Bradley complained as he and Bob carried Molly's sleeper sofa into Bob's condo. "This thing is heavy as fuck."

"Language," you whispered, smacking his butt. He gave you a guilty look over his shoulder as Everett sat at the kitchen counter coloring. 

"Sorry, Kitten," he grunted. "I mean, this thing is heavy as heck."

Bob was struggling at the other end of the couch. "Molly wants to keep all of her furniture," he said, trying to push it through the door. 

"Let's just tell her it broke on the way here," Bradley said, following Bob's lead and setting it down for a break.

"Molly is right here," came Molly's annoyed voice from the hallway. "And Molly can see that it isn't broken."

"You know, there are times when I really don't see how the two of you are related," Bradley said, looking from you to your sister who was in a complete huff. 

"We look the same," Molly said, rolling her eyes.

Bradley rolled his as well. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Let's just get this thing inside?" Bob called from out in the hallway. 

"Fine," Bradley growled, and you watched them somehow figure out how to twist the couch around as they guided it through the doorway. And then all four couches were in the living room.

"Hmm," Molly hummed as she rubbed Bob's back. "I see what you mean about too many couches."

"I'm not taking it back down to the U-Haul," Bradley promised, sprawling out on the couch in question. "It's so comfortable. I love it. It needs to stay here forever."

"Can we eat lunch yet?" Everett called. 

"Yep," Bradley agreed, jumping up. "I'll order pizza. And don't even think about moving this couch." He pointed at Molly, and then Bob, and then you. He kissed you before he sat down with Ev to color while he ordered food. 

After some pizza and several more hours of carrying boxes inside, you were exhausted. Everett had fallen asleep on the sleeper sofa, out cold after a dinner of leftover pizza. Bradley was standing behind you with his arms around you and his chin resting on your shoulder. 

"Thanks for helping today," Bob said, and you patted his cheek, making him blush. 

"It was our pleasure," you told him. 

"Speak for yourself," Bradley grumbled, but you could tell he was smiling. 

Bob glanced to where Molly was unpacking some of her things in the kitchen. "I'm already happier than I ever thought possible."

You sighed, so pleased your sister was dating such a sweet man. "If she becomes unruly, let me know. I'll give you all the insider tips."

Bob smiled and nodded as Bradley scooped Everett gently up from the couch. "See you at work," he told Bob, heading for the door. 

You kissed your sister goodbye, and then you were out in the hallway waiting for the elevator with Bradley and a still snoozing Ev. "I really hate that couch," Bradley mumbled when the elevator arrived.

"You know they're going to ask you to remove at least one of those couches, right?" you asked quietly, trying not to laugh as Bradley muttered some curse words. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "I know."

You opened the door of Bob and Molly's building and then watched Bradley expertly maneuver Everett into his booster seat without waking him up. Then he opened his door and helped you in, smiling as you scooted across the bench seat, and climbed in after you.

As Bradley started the engine and leaned over to kiss your cheek, you decided to just say what was on your mind. 

"You know, maybe the two of them are onto something."

"What's that, Kitten?" he asked, checking his side mirror and pulling out onto the street. 

"Well, they moved in together," you said nervously. "We could do that, too. If you want. I've got room."

Bradley was completely silent while he drove. You eyed his profile cautiously, but he was frowning. He rolled to a stop at a red light, still quiet, and you swallowed hard, wishing you hadn't said anything at all. 

"Forget about it," you whispered with a little laugh that sounded pitiful to your own ears. "It was stupid idea."

"I don't want to forget about it," he said, tapping the gas pedal when the light changed. "But I think we should push it to the back burner for now, Kitten. Maybe talk about it again soon? But not yet."

"Okay," you whispered, turning to look out the window, trying to hide the tears that stung your eyes. But your mind drifted back to Danny, and you realized you couldn't seem to escape the unsettled feeling that was taking over your life now. 

------------------------------

I can't wait for the rec league tryouts and a ring! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 24

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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[bvtbxtch]

Jealous Guy | Eddie Munson

Day Nine of Kinktober

Summary: Steve Harrington is persistent with his advances towards you during the Hideout's Halloween party. Your co-bartender, Eddie, doesn't like the fact that you don't shoot him down right away.

wc: ~2.7k

Pairings: Bartender!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Fem!Reader, A Steve Harrington Cameo

Warnings: some more porn with a plot y'all so 18+ MDNI!!! Public sex, choking, slapping, oral (f receiving), fingering, hickeys, hate fucking (if you squint), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), cum eating (very briefly), Jealous meanie Eddie, PDA

In collaboration with my darling @darknesseddiem. Please make sure to tune in to their half of Kinktober later in October!!

a/n: hey y'all I have finally caught up to all of my work that I did in advance so this baby was written in the span of two hours and has not been proof read so if there are any mistakes, no they're isn't!

Eddie Munson wasn’t the jealous type. Far from it. His jaw wasn’t clenched because Steve Harrington was flirting with you. And it definitely wasn’t because you weren’t turning him down like most regulars. Maybe you needed the tips? Fuck, Eddie thought he would give you a hundred dollars to stop talking to the retired King of Hawkins high, especially because the Hair’s eyes were like magnets, drawn to your cleavage in your black lace corset. He hated to admit, but the madonna costume you sported for the Hideout’s Halloween Howler suited you. Your tits were pushed up to the gods, your hair big and curly with a bow on the side, and your tulle skirt barely covered your ass. Your legs were lengthened by fishnets and slouchy boots. Your signature smoked out liner and plum lipstick matched your costume perfectly. Steve was dressed up like a werewolf. Eddie rolled his eyes when he saw the jock walking in with Robin and Nancy behind him. But, maybe you were into guys that did costumes. He looked down at his sliced up Hideout shirt and he scoffed thinking about his own pale face. You had laughed at him when Eddie chastised you for not knowing he was a vampire, but now he felt self conscious. He continued to pour tequila for the group of screaming girls in front of his section of the bar while you chatted up the werewolf on your side. Eddie heard you purr “this one’s on the house” and touch Steve’s arm, and the metalhead just about short circuited. Eddie could admit that you were attractive, and that he was thankful that the two of you had gotten closer over the past few weeks. He eyed the blondes in front of him that had been eyeing him the whole night. He hastily poured shots, three for the girls in front of him and one for himself. He pushed the shots in front of them and downed the tequila down his throat. He screwed his eyes shut and the only thing he could see in the darkness was the interaction that the two of you had when closing the bar last week. 

-

Your face was screwed into a frown as you wiped up the last inch of your side of the bar. You leaned against the bar with a sigh. The night had been long and busy, but Eddie’s eyes always found you, whether you were clearing and wiping tables throughout the bar, fixing broken pool tables with a hip check, or serving your regulars at the bar. He also noticed how your eyes raked over him when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

“Rough night?” Eddie asked.

“Ah, well, if you consider getting your ass grabbed by that fucking Creel guy over there” you gestured your thumb behind you “then yeah, pretty rough. The prick hasn’t left me alone since. Sincerely thinking he’s gonna be waiting at my car when I leave.” You laughed and shook your head. You didn’t notice Eddie’s face hardened and his cheeks flush red while you recapped your night. He breezed past you, eyes glued on the offender, your eyes followed him and panic made your chest heave when Eddie slipped past you and out from behind the bar.

“Where are you going?” you questioned. Eddie’s eyes met yours but they didn’t soften. 

“I’m going to take care of it.” Eddie didn’t give you a chance to stop him. He grabbed the older man by the collars and pulled him out the front door. Within minutes, the mop headed man walked back in the bar shaking his fists which were bruised and covered in blood. You yelled out to Eddie and ran to him, cupping his hands.

“What did you do?” you gulped.

“I fixed the problem.”

You spent the last half an hour of the now empty bar being open with Eddie sitting on a stool with you in between his legs. You smelt like floral perfume and Jack Daniels. Eddie felt his heart fall to his knees as you made purchase in his space. You couldn’t help but steal glances at the boy in front of you. You had always thought he was cute and mysterious, but now that it was just the two of you, he looked soft, almost innocent (which was ironic seeing the situation you were in). His pearly complexion was littered with soft brown freckles. His hair frizzed around his head like a halo. As you cleaned up his hands you noticed the subtle muscle the boy had. His biceps flexed slightly under his black tee and his tattoos flexed as he pulled away in pain. You would squeeze out small apologies.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone touching you again, as long as I’m here.” Eddie murmured, too shy to say anything too loud and scare you away.

“Thank you, Eddie. You didn’t have to do that.” Your eyes flickered to his lips and you pulled yourself in closer to him. He tilted his head down to meet your lips. As they dusted against yours, you pulled away, unfortunately remembering where you were. Eddie cleared his throat and hopped up from the stool and thus ended your encounter and conversation for the end of the night. He didn’t even walk with you through the parking lot like normal - he hopped in his van as soon as the clock struck 3am and screeched onto the highway.  Did you do something wrong? Were you making up signals that he was sending you? He wanted to kiss you and you wanted to kiss him - but after work where you could tell him how you felt. 

-

Eddie’s eyes flickered open and he shook his head, erasing the thought from his mind and the alcohol from his tongue. He turned to see you eyeing him. When your eyes met, you rolled yours and turned back to the customers in front of you, Steve not too far down the bar. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, or maybe it was the fact that Eddie was jealous, but he strutted up right beside you and puffed his chest out at Steve, who was, very obviously, making heart eyes at you. 

“Hey man, are you finished ordering? Because we got a crowd and you’re taking up bar space.” Eddie grumbled at the perfectly manicured quaff of hair standing before him. He wasn’t lying per se, there were quite a few patrons that night, but they weren’t all waiting for their drinks. 

Steve scoffed at him and made eyes at you; you scoffed and rolled your eyes at Eddie and turned back to the older woman dressed up like a devil. You couldn’t stand being close to Eddie since your interaction last week, you thought you might not be able to handle the rejection, or any advancements that he would make towards you. It didn’t however stop you from shutting him out completely and trying to move on. You spoke to Eddie without turning to face him.

“Steve is my guest, he’s allowed to sit at the bar if he wants, Eddie. Take the stick out of your ass.” You chuckled as you heard the man behind you gasp. Eddie looked to Rick, working tables and signaled him to take over the bar. You suddenly felt a bruising grip on your arm as you were dragged towards the back entrance of the bar and to the break room and out the back door. 

“What the fuck Eddie!” you spat. 

“Tell him to fucking leave.” Eddie demanded. His voice was low and calm, but there was a fire in his eyes. 

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed in his face. “Don’t tell me Eddie Munson is Jeal-” Your words were lost in your throat as Eddie slammed his hands against the wall beside your head and caged you within his arms. 

“Did I stutter?” Eddie's eyes were dark and you couldn’t read his expression. You searched and waited for him to leave, or to say something to you, but he stilled; his face mere inches away from your face. You had to resist the urge to pull him into a kiss, but your heart thumped and you felt like you were going to suffocate. You needed him to move, to do something. Without warning his lips were on yours. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t longing like your other kiss was supposed to be. This was primal - territorial. He was letting you know who you belonged to. 

It was a gnashing of teeth and tongues, but you couldn’t help but moan into him. The release that you had been longing for, that thread between the two of you had gotten so tense, you were happy it finally snapped. Eddie’s mouth trailed down your neck. You whined while he sucked a hard hickey by your pulse point. You hoped Eddie would soothe the pain radiating from the spot, but there was none. This was not about being sweet or gentle. He wasn’t trying to win you over. He knew he had won - he was just taking what was his and making sure you and everyone else knew it. 

“E-Eddie” you moaned. “We can’t do this now…” Eddie detached his mouth from your throat and replaced it with his hand. He added light pressure to stop your words in their tracks.

“You don’t tell me what to do. Now you’re going to be quiet and you’re going to listen. Or you’re going to push me off and never fucking talk to me again.” He bored into your eyes, waiting for you to move against him and trot back through the door to the blaring music on the other side. But to his surprise, you grabbed his wrist that was choking you and pushed down harder. Eddie’s expression flickered from domination to surprise to complete arousal. He pressed into your neck, eliciting a moan from your lips as you felt dizzy.

Eddie trailed his hands down your body as he sank to his knees. He hastily pulled your thigh up on his shoulder and pulled your fishnets apart by your core. To his amusement, he could tell there was a wet patch on your panties, even in the dim light. He slapped his ring finger across your clothed pussy, sending shocks up your body and leaving you yelping in pleasure. 

“Did I get you all worked up, doll?” Eddie slapped again, making your legs heave. “Or did Harrington get you all hot and bothered?” Eddie’s eyes looked up at you expectantly. “Answer me!” He barked. 

“It’s for you, Eddie… All for you” you moaned. 

“Good answer,” he smirked. Without hesitation, your panties were pulled to the side and his mouth was on you - and he sucked down hard. You cried out and the man looked back up at you pointedly. You bit your lip as you watched him probe your pussy with his tongue. You looked around hastily, desperate for more contact, but petrified someone was going to drive around to the back of the parking lot and see you - or worse, your boss would come out for his smoke break.

“Eddie” you gasped. “We’re gonna get caught!” Your body language didn’t match the panic in your voice. You bucked against Eddie’s face, making the boy moan. He took one of his big hands and pressed against your abdomen, pinning you to the wall.

“Then be a good girl and cum for me,” Your world went fuzzy when you felt Eddie’s tongue press into your throbbing hole. Your mouth formed a wide o as you gasped for air. Eddie felt like he was going to bust in his pants at the way you clenched around his muscle. He needed to see you fall apart for him and then he needed to mark you as his. He replaced his tongue with his fingers and migrated his mouth up to your sensitive clit. You bit down on your lip as your orgasm barrelled towards you. Eddie reached up and put his free hand in your mouth. You moaned into his dextrous fingers and sucked down hard. Eddie’s pornographic moan sent vibrations through you and threw you over the edge. Eddie lapped at you like you were the last thing he was ever going to taste. He stared up at you, watching how you came undone. When he felt the shaking of your thighs subside, he dropped your leg and flipped you over so your cheek was pressed against the cool brick wall. Eddie’s large hands pressed into your hips, assuring you would have fingerprints to remember him by in the morning. 

With a couple of pumps at his angry cock, and he pressed into your spent pussy, giving you minimal time to adjust to his stretch. You didn’t see it, but you could feel that Eddie was exceptionally well endowed. His cock filled you deliciously and your breath hitched against the wall. Eddie gave you a brief pause to breathe when he was fully sheathed inside you. You both paused with heaving chests as headlights passed the side of the building, but turned away from the two of you. Eddie pulled out completely, making you whine at the emptiness; but you didn’t have to wait for long to be filled again, because Eddie slammed fully into you, eliciting a yelp. His veiny hand snaked around to your neck and pressed down again. 

“I told you to be quiet,” Eddie chided. “Let me fill you up and you can go back to your fucking boyfriend” Eddie’s words felt like venom in your ear. You felt like you could barely speak, Eddie didn’t let up his pace.

“Hmph… not my… boyfriend” you managed to rasp out. Eddie let out a dark chuckle. 

“No, huh? Would you let Steve touch you like this? Would you let Steve taste you? Would you let him choke you, doll? Do you think he could make you cum like I can?” Eddie pounded into you harder and tears threatened to spill out of your screwed shut eyes.

“No, Eddie. Fuck!” You cried.

“You gonna cry over him, doll?” Eddie sneered. He wanted you to feel bad, but more importantly, he needed to know that you chose him - and that this isn’t a one time thing, you will continue to choose him.

“Eddie!” He could feel you fluttering around him again, you were close. He could feel the knot in his own abdomen tightening. He thrusted into you harder, hitting your g-spot and making your hands fly to the wall in a weak attempt to ground yourself.

Eddie thrust with every word he spoke: “You’re. Not. His. You’re. Mine.” You nodded and Eddie put more pressure on your neck. You both groaned as your climaxes hit. Eddie’s hot ropes of cum painted your insides - his dick twitching sending you past pleasure into overstimulation. The hand that was still on your hip helped hold your shaky legs up.

You felt Eddie’s soft hair rest on your exposed back. You both were too fucked out for words. Begrudgingly, Eddie pulled out and flipped you over to face him. You were flushed and your eye makeup looked more smudged than it did before. Eddie traced his thumb over your cheek to wipe a dark blot of watered down mascara off your cheek. You shifted underneath his gaze, his cum spilling out of your spent pussy.

“You’re gonna go inside and finish the night and I’m gonna drive you home so we can talk, okay?” You shook your head quietly at him. He peered down to your lower half. He pressed his fingers back into you to push both of your essences back into you then pushed your underwear back into place. He looked at you once he removed his fingers and popped them into his mouth. You stared aghast, with your jaw slacked. 

“And I’m going to serve Harrington for the rest of the night. Got it?”

“Got it” You peeped. You straightened your skirt and rolled your shoulders back as you swung the door to the bar open. The Time Warp bled out into the October air. You turned back to Eddie and flashed him a small smile, then you were gone. 

Eddie smirked as he pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear. Yeah… Harrington was going to have a pretty shit rest of his night.

taglist: @sadbitchfangirl @filth-fiction-archive @joantje @brinleighsstuff @dark-angel-is-back @emxxblog @sluggzillaa @vintagehellfire @anxiousobserver @hideoutside @mmunson86 @aol19 @eddies-acousticguitar @kirstinjayjay @catcrown21 @keikoraven @poofyloofy @adrenalineeerevolver @ali-r3n If you would like to join my taglist, please fill out this form and follow me!

[simsim54]

RARRY ONE-SHOT

Ron woke up with a proper thumper of a headache, his eyelids feeling like lead and his brain all fogged up. First thing he clocked? The dull pounding in his temples, but that didn't last long. There was something else that hit him like a Bludger - he was not in his own bed.

Next up, the warmth beside him. His eyes flicked open to find himself all wrapped up in a tight hug, an arm slung around him. Panic started to do somersaults in his groggy mind until he saw who it was. Harry. His best mate. The one he secretly fancied rotten. They were all tangled up, feeling familiar yet entirely odd.

Then, memories from last night came roaring back, kind of like how a Hippogriff charges at you—fragmented and confusing. There were scenes from the pub, drinks flowing, and… Ron spilling his guts to a complete stranger about his feelings for Harry. It felt like a crazy dream, getting mixed up with waking up all tangled with Harry, their faces almost touching.

Harry's eyes were all soft, almost gooey, fixed on Ron's face. Before Ron could even wrap his head around it, soft lips met his own. His mind spun; Harry's lips were soft, like a forgotten childhood comfort. It was a rush of warmth and confusion, leaving Ron feeling like he’d swallowed a whole Golden Snitch.

The kiss was sweet and unsure, something Ron had thought about a thousand times but never had the nerve to try. It was Harry who pulled back first, leaving Ron feeling thrown.

"I've got an awful morning breath," Ron blurted out, trying to lighten the mood, wishing he could stuff those words back in.

But something changed in Harry's eyes—a mix of affection and amusement twinkled within them. Without missing a beat, Harry gently cupped Ron's face, his touch familiar and caring.

"Next time, mate, maybe keep those love confessions under wraps, especially the ones about specific body parts. The bartender was giving us some seriously dodgy looks," Harry chuckled, a wry grin playing on his lips.

Ron felt like he could've sunk into the ground with embarrassment. "Blimey, sorry about that. Didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Don't worry, Ron. We’ll just call this a… memory we'll laugh about later," Harry replied with a knowing grin.

The memory might have felt like a rough Howler now, but Ron couldn’t help the warmth bubbling in his chest. He silently vowed to himself that the next time he had a "moment," he’d make sure it was just between him, Harry, and a Butterbeer.

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑆𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 2

Warnings: Mentions of panic attack, shitty family life, mentions of Sirius' Survivor'a guilt, horny teens being horny, perhaps my shitty writing

Part1

These past 2 months after making an escape plan with Regulus and going with it, had been hectic, emotional and probably a little bit problematic.

As soon as the morning came after your heartfelt night with your boyfriend, you both went to the Owlery to send your letter to your parents, asking for help. All the while, Regulus never stopped holding your hand and kissed you whenever he wanted.

Which meant all the time.

Your cheeks, your forehead, your hand, your knuckles, your lips...

Mostly your cheeks and lips, so much that those kisses soon turned into a make-out session which resulted with messy hairs, plump and red lips, wrinkled shirts and flustered two youngsters.

Then came the letter and a Howler from your parents, which sent Regulus into a heart attack since he thought your parents were angry at him and you, mostly him, for bringing you into this mess and didn’t want to take in a stray... He already convinced himself that your parents wouldn’t help him, would throw him insults which, in his opinion, he deserved for making you the target of his family. You often reassured him, scolded him for not thinking so lowly of himself when he did nothing wrong and threatening to kiss every corner on his body until he saw himself just a tiny bit like you did.

To which he would always answer with a it wouldn’t be such a bad punishment love, cheekily with a coy smile which also earned himself a slap on his chest and an adorable, flustered sight of your face as you tried to hide it from him to save yourself from further teasing.

But all his worries couldn’t be further from the truth, when you opened the Howler and your mother’s angry voice was heard. I knew it was a good idea to be alone when we opened it...

“That little bitch is being an arse to my dear boy?! HOW DARE SHE?! FIRST SIRIUS AND NOW REGULUS?! MY DEAR SON?! NOW, THAT’S UNACCEPTABLE! AND I FEEL SHAMED FOR YOU TO ASK BRINGING REGULUS HOME, SWEET GIRL! Regulus will always have a home here, so, please gather his things and come here in the holiday! I already prepared our guest room and your dad is excitedly waiting for Regulus to come so that they could talk about- what was that love? Eh, whatever... LOVE YOU MY SWEET GIRL AND SON! TAKE CARE, AND DON’T WORRY!”

Now, Regulus always knew that your parents and you were more of that chaotic yet funny side. Your relationship with them was so loving, though you got irritated whenever they asked about him first, you wouldn’t trade them for anything. Out of all the pureblood families, you and Weasleys could be the only ones who didn’t care about such things and was actually approachable.

But unlike them, your family was still held at the highest respect since you were all the direct descendanta of Merlin and had immaculate power over the Wizarding World.

Before he met you, he thought of them and your family to be “blood traitors”. Courtesy of his family, especially his mother who held an obvious disgust to the Weasleys but even then, as the cruel woman she was, Regulus always saw her with somehow a sad and longing frown while looking down at what he assumed was a picture in her room.

Ever since he was a little kid, a literal toddler, Regulus was always able to sneak in and out of places a normal kid couldn’t and often watched either the sky or his brother. He wouldn’t dare sneak in his mother’s room only to be caught and punished later, so he often stayed away from that room with her and his dad’s name on it.

The only reason he witnessed his mother’s vulnerable sight was because she left it slightly open and small whimpers were heard as little him peeked at her.

But even then, Regulus couldn’t help but look at the Howler and then at your proud stance as you were standing up with your arms crossed in front of your chest, nodding your head at what your mum said with a wide grin, amazed yet also a tad bit scared.

“Love, are you not supposed to be... Scared? Disturbed?” he awkwardly asked while holding up the Howler towards you as confusion overtook your face, pout forming on your lips before a soft smile appeared and you sat down behind him with your arms across his chest, rubbing comforting circles as he relaxed back to your chest.

“Why would I? My family loves you, you love them, and I love both of you... This is all I could ask for!”

Love is stupid in the way it reduces your smartness, Regulus remembers his mother always mumble to herself when she was in a good mood and Regulus dared to question her about those feelings.

He was aware that she was repulsed by the idea, but young him wouldn’t know that it was because his mother never experienced love and therefore, as she was starved of it, she would always spit insults whenever that four lettered word would be heard from anyone as if it scorched her ears.

But as he now gazed at you rambling about the recent trend of music of the Muggles and the recent cafe you found which you two had to try out soon, he understood that this warm feeling in his chest was not something to be repulsed, nor was it something to fear or hate.

It was the beautiful feeling of being coddled, loved unconditionally and only ever being expected to be himself...

But he was still Regulus Black, and he could never erase that fact... And as any Blacks, he had a shit luck which showed its ugliness in the most absurt times.

Such as now, when everything was going nice and steady between you two before he "ruined" everything.

“Regulus, you're bleeding!” You exclaimed in distress as you tried to get him away from the broken shards while his leg and feet were bleeding from stepping on them. The boy who was just trying to pick all of them one by one while crying his heart out, choking on his sobs, was now just looking idly at the sight of you tugging him away to sit him on a chair away from the pieces of the mug and plate, with no emotion except silently crying.

This was definetly not what you planned when you asked him if he could bring the pastries for a movie night. Maybe some making out and some other activities, as many of your peers did in the heat of the moment, and lay together in your shared bed in the little cottage you two had with the money saved.

You weren't expecting to find him with his hands covered in his blood with absolutely no emotion being shown in his usually expressive eyes after he started dating you except the heavy flow of tears...

You were more than worried as unvisible thorns grew in your heart and stung you hard with each beg of forgiveness and sob that left hım, as you could only stand there without being able to help him.

How can you help him escape from his own mind that tortured hım?

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..!” He continued to mumble as his hands held onto the arm of the chair thightly, knuckles turning white in fear and because of how he was gripping it thightly, he lowered his head in shame as the flashes of his mother and how... she punished him for ruining everything came to his mind.

He always messed up in some way, huh?

“Didn’t mean to, i-it just slipped! Please, don’t be mad..!” he let out a shuddering breath as his heart rate picked up and suddenly, breathing was harder then usual. His body felt unusually hot as he sweated buckets but at the same time, he was having the chills as if he was in the North Pole which resulted in a bodily shock that made him tremble slightly and now, he couldn’t feel his own hands by how much it started to tingle.

He knew these signs, of course this wasn’t the first time he had an attack, the feeling of as if he ran a marathon and now was desperately trying to suck air into his lungs.

But this was the first time he had one right in front of you, his girlfriend he tried to shield from pretty much anything moderately dangerous that had something to do with him.

Including himself.

And by that simple reaction, as you were picking everything up so that he wouldn’t hurt himself more, you realized how his life back with his parents hurted him deeply... And how it would be a long adventure for him to heal from those scars as they were still persistent to remain.

They were not like these pieces so that you can just take them away from him and throw away.

Your heart broke for your boyfriend, eyes turning glassy as you stood up and without a care around you and the mess, hugged him thightly to yourself. He clinged onto you like a baby as soon as he realized that you were there and not his mother, as soon as he smelled your natural scent, that he was far away from them and she couldn’t hurt him anymore. That he was safe and in the loving embrace of his lover...

That he was out of that shithole of a home.

“Please, don’t leave me...” he begged silently to the crook of your neck as he buried his nose in your neck, laying butterfly kisses along the column of your neck as you hummed to him. With each vibration of your chest, each kiss you laid on his soft and milky skin...

He felt the numbing pain in his chest heal a bit more.

“I’m not going anywhere. You will not get rid of me easily, Reg...”

Regulus could only thighten his shaky arms around your middle as you stood tall in front of him, his face buried on your chest as his breaths slowly evened out and only little huffs left his lips.

He always was aware of your warmth being comforting, the weight of your whole body or even your arms around his neck and rubbing circles on his nape was grounding and comforting enough. But before meeting you, the only comfort he would ever have was his pillow that witnessed his many meltdowns, which wasn’t much of a comfort at that time but the best one he could have.

Of course, a person never knows what they are missing until they have that same thing so, he never knew he needed someone alive, breathing with him. Someone whose warm embrace would desolve the nasty ice rooted deep in his heart after years of abuse.

Someone he could never afford loosing ever again.

Someone to be with him for as long as the remaining time of his life allowed.

Regulus had always known that he wanted to get married and have children with the person he loved, contrary to what people thought at first glance and unlike what his family had been doing for years. His brother would often tease him for being such an hopeless romantic, but he viewed the marriage as an eternal promise of being devoted to each other...

And he loved that idea, the idea of sharing his life, his days, his problems, his dreams with a special someone...

He always dreamt of how it would be like, and even wrote some ideas down. How he would propose, or how the ring would be like... It wasn’t like money was an issue. Before he ran away, he took a huge amount of money from them as a final blow as an...insurance.

If they destroyed him with the family name and their power, he might as well use it against them, right?

But looking at you under the dim light of the kitchen as you fixed everything and prepared his favourite drink to lift his mood, he realized that he could no longer wait for the day to come.

He realized that he wanted to be your husband, and you his wife.

Probably as soon as possible.

You two already lived together, in some sense, and he knew that even if it was early... That you two were still young, he knew that you two belongt to each other, that he found his soulmate, someone that would understand him, someone that was only for him. He thought about the idea of you saying no in many occassions, because why wouldn’t you?

He was broken, hurt in every possible way, he was cold and ruthless at times and he could hurt you, not that he would ever want that but because of who his parents were and with whom they worked with. You could even live in solidarity, hiding from everyone and everything. You had dreams, dreams that he always supported you with...

And he didn’t want to be an obstacle in your way.

So yeah, why would you ever want him as your husband?

But unknown to him, there were many times that you imagined to wake up to Regulus’ face, calling him your husband and he calling you his wife. Many daydreams you had where you both would wear matching golden bands as you strolled in the streets or just cooked food for your little family together before being huddled together under a blanket in front of the fire place...

But... It was still too early to think about these things, right?

So, for now... You two both would wait. Until Regulus was fine and everything was nice to think about such future...

Until you both graduated, which was only a few months away...

Until everything that could be a danger would be gone.

Bonus Part!

“ In people’s lives, I want to be that who doesn’t hurt.”

Regulus Black

Sirius smiled through his tears as he sat down outside where only a handful students were out, hastily wiping his tears so that they didn't soak the paper and his reputation of being a bad-boy wasn't ruined.

Sirius was worried about his brother, just as any older brother would be, contrary to what others and even Regulus himself believed, when he first left his old home where he only associated with bad memories. He had plans to take Regulus with himself but the boy was justifyably scared of their mother and what she could do.

In the end, Sirius had to be quick because he knew he would not have another chance had he lost this one after his mother knew what he had been doing in the school.

And therefore, he made the biggest mistake of his life: Leaving Regulus alone.

He stupidly believed that his mother, now that she had a "good" heir after Sirius left the home, wouldn't do anything harsh to him. Regulus was her only shot at protecting the "honor of the House of Black" after all.

But Walburga Black was an angry woman, for her own sons did the one thing she never was able to do or dared to do even if she wanted it more than anything: Escape.

And as Sirius gazed at the sullen and dead eyes of his brother after a week of not seeing him, glaring at his across the Hall...

He knew what he had done couldn't be taken back.

"Is there another life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be, we cannot be created for this sort of suffering..."

Regulus Black

Sirius though that there was nothing he could do to save Regulus from her clutches, to wipe those dark circles under his eyes and that vengeful frown that decorated the once smiling and happy face.

Besides, Regulus never allowed him to get closer to himself while he avoided even hearing his older brother's name...

Sirius Black, for the first time, felt helpless with his hands tied as dread filled him at the scene of him loosing Regulus slowly played before his eyes...

But then... Something changed.

Regulus, who had been feared by almost everyone in the school and known for his frown that could freeze anyone in horror and stare hard and powerful enough to wish for Avada Kedavra... Started smiling.

And no, it wasn't the usual mocking one... A genuine one.

Almost like... He was in love.

How did Sirius know? Well, James has been telling him that he too had the same eyes whenever he looked at Moony but that was another story.

It didn't take long for him, and practically whole school, to learn about the mysterious person behind this sudden change on Regulus.

It was you, the shy yet most powerful transfigutater who had a great knack for magic that came from a strong but loving family...

His only best friend out of his friend group, an unofficial member of the Marauders.

And he had to thank you for taking care of his little brother and save him from the ugly and thight grip of his family( he was actually quite impressed but yet again, he saw your parents... If you were even %1 like them he could understand how you did this), and even fix their relationship, when you absolutely had no obligation to do so... But still did it for Regulus.

I know he doesn't act like it, but he thinks of the world of you, Sirius...

This was what you said before you dropped some letters adressed to him and only after you went up to Regulus happily and Sirius started to read them that he realized they were all from Regulus to him.

Not Sirius Orion Black.

Not just Sirius.

But Siri, as he often called him affectionately.

And now, as Sirius looked at how lovesick his brother was while he watched from a distance how you both danced under the falling trees, thinking that no one was there, he chuckled to himself, amused.

You were the one he thought of the world for.

And he hoped nothing would ever change that, that the wide smile over your faces would forever be there without anything tainting it.

And that his brother would finally have the balls to actually confess because holy shit, this was making him insane and he was already questioning whether he should act like a protective brother for you or Regulus-

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Season Four Master Post

Season four is one of the most beloved seasons of The X-Files, and we had a lot of fun exploring the background characters that helped make it so special!

Check out this thread to see all the characters we got to meet this season!

Herrenvolk (4x01) | X

No one would remember him, and if they did, they would struggle to remember a name they were never told. The memory of his existence would remain occluded by the shadows he lived in.

Home (4x02) | Sheriff Andy Taylor

For protection, his father had said, as he pressed the unfamiliar cold metal into Taylor’s warm hand. To keep your family safe.

To keep your home safe.

He shuts the drawer. He isn’t ready for this reality, not now. Not yet.

Teliko (4x03) | Special Agent Sean Pendrell

With them, it was never something simple. It was a computer chip so fragile he could barely study it. It was a complex string of numbers and letters tracking a smallpox vaccination program for reasons he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

This was what he went to school for.

Unruhe (4x04) | Gerry Schnauz

Gerry knew she needed his help the moment they met. There was a howler inside of her head — a black mass invading her body and mind.

The Field Where I Died (4x05) | Melissa Rydell Ephesian

Melissa struggled with the idea of reincarnation, but dared not show it. And as it turned out, a broken link in the chain of her faith led to more broken links.

When she first saw Vernon hurt a child, the chain shattered.

Sanguinarium (4x06) | Dr. Theresa Shannon

The face on the computer had looked just like Jack, but that had to be impossible. The science of surgery hadn’t come that far. To spread the eyes further apart, change features completely… and besides, she knows him. Knows the person he is…

Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man (4x07) | Albert M. Godwinkle

All Albert M. Godwinkle wants today is to read a halfway decent manuscript that puts a smile on his disgruntled face. Today is not that day.

Tunguska (4x08) | Alex Krycek

If looks could kill, Alex would be a dead man. But he thrives off this, off making Mulder squirm. It’s just so fucking easy.

Terma (4x09) | Senator Albert Sorenson

He was a staunch proponent of holding insubordinate witnesses in contempt when the court was not being respected, and no one, not even a government employee, was immune to that.

Paper Hearts (4x10) | Addie Sparks

The little girl he loves is gone, and she is never coming back.

Just like me.

El Mundo Gira (4x11) | Migrant Worker

At the simple mention of El Chupacabra, the shack erupted in a cacophony of worry, as if merely saying the name might summon the beast.

Leonard Betts (4x12) | Michele Wilkes

Even through the panic she felt screaming through her that nothing about this was okay, she felt a moment of relief wash over her. Maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe her partner hadn’t died while she was at the wheel.

Never Again (4x13) | Ed Jerse

Deadbeat. Loser. Failure.

He’s heard it all, and he has had enough. No one humiliates Ed Jerse anymore. No, not now. Never again.

Memento Mori (4x14) | Kurt Crawford

What is destined for a creature borne of fluid and test tubes, guided by the hands of cruel men?

Kaddish (4x15) | Ariel Luria

Someone else’s hatred had taken her true love away. Just like that, in an instant, like it was nothing. But it was not hatred that led her to the gravesite that stormy night.

Unrequited (4x16) | Special Agent Kent Hill

Hill slides in his earpiece, watching as their eyes lock. His wife would call it eavesdropping, but as he steps closer, tilting his head just right to better hear their hushed voices, Hill simply calls it satisfying a long-standing curiosity.

Tempus Fugit (4x17) | Bartender

The man tried to fluff the pink ball back into shape after presumably squashing it in his pocket. “The woman I came in with— it’s her birthday, and she loves these things. I was wondering if there was any way you could ask someone in the back to put it on a plate and bring it out to her?”

Max (4x18) | Sharon Graffia

Sharon Graffia isn’t a liar. She’d only done what she needed to in order for people to believe her. All she’s ever wanted was someone to believe her.

Synchrony (4x19) | Jason Nichols

Naïveté and a complete lack of understanding of the consequences of their work had been their downfall. But how could they have known?

Small Potatoes (4x20) | Eddie Van Blundht

It didn’t take him long to realize he’d initially misread the situation when he saw them at the clinic. Based on the look Dana Scully shot him when he tried to hold her hand at the airport, he knew he was navigating territory Fox Mulder had yet to conquer.

Zero Sum (4x21) | Billy

He slowly twisted his neck to the right, and was horrified by the sight before him. In the next bed over was David from his class, his face covered in gross red bumps. He looked dead.

Billy didn’t know what else to do. He started crying.

Elegy (4x22) | Lauren Heller

She had an exam in the morning. Her mother’s birthday was the following weekend. She had plans.

Demons (4x23) | Amy Cassandra

As she speaks, the deep wound in her skull throbs, reminding her that that was true, until weeks ago when she’d traded the nightmare of one penetrating drill with the reality of another.

Gesthemane (4x24) | Father McCue

Her faith had come from God, yes… but it had also come from another, less expected source. Perhaps it still did.

Stay tuned for more perspectives coming in Season Five!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

We spend so much time deliberating and chatting about who to use in a given episode or where certain characters would be best utilized in the series, and we'd love to hear any opinions or predictions you might have! Do you have a favorite minor character? What episodes do you think would be best for our favorite recurring characters? Your feedback is one of the most enjoyable parts of this project (and sometimes hearing other perspectives can help inform the decisions we have to make). - @admiralty-xfd, @fridaysat9, @monikafilefan, and @gaycrouton

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 17

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

4.4k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​​

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, angst with a happy ending, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: We've hit S4! Yay?

17

The school’s basketball team had been gunning for a state championship, and no one would shut up about it. Banners exclaiming Go Hawkins! hung in the hallways. Go Tigers Go had been written on the main office’s windows in orange and green chalk markers.

During lunch, jocks whooped like howler monkeys. Their chirping sneakers and laughter pierced the hush of the library. Despite teachers issuing lukewarm warnings, a few even dared to dribble a basketball in the hallway.

On Wednesday, Eddie shared an exasperated look with you while O’Donnell assured two jocks the next test wouldn’t be until after spring break. The jocks high-fived each other.

At that point, you’d wanted them to lose just so they would pipe down.

However, they didn’t.

The radio DJ announced the Tigers had won against Christian Academy last night. You groaned as you turned the car onto the ramp leading to the school’s parking lot. Students swarmed from buses and cars. Teachers directed them to the gym.

That meant another pep rally — which no. Hell no. You’d been dragged to one last week during Western Lit — and that had been enough pep for the school year.

You claimed a parking spot at the side of the building. That afforded you options, whether that was smoking a couple of Djarums at Eddie’s picnic table or hiding in the bathroom. You checked your purse to find you’d forgotten the cigarettes, your lighter, and your watch.

“Fuck.”

Hiding in the bathroom, it was.

Grabbing your purse and backpack, you locked your car before heading inside. Fortunately, the halls on this side of the building were deserted — and your locker wasn’t far. The marching band’s bright music echoed through the building as you unloaded the backpack’s contents in your locker.

Male voices laughed from a nearby junction. You glanced their way, seeing first the Hellfire t-shirt, then Jeff’s familiar face. You turned to your locker with the hope its door would hide enough of you. With another peek around the door, your gaze snagged on Eddie. He hung back from the group, watching you. Swaying above him was a banner that said ALL THE WAY — TIGERS 86.

Yeah, all the way. You’d gone all the way, alright.

Your hands trembled as you grabbed what you’d need for your first two classes and closed the locker. Dammit, you shouldn’t be so shaken. It was only Eddie, who distracted you and made you laugh and nearly broke your heart. Your stomach swooped when you noticed the way the t-shirt clung to his torso. You’d held onto those shoulders, clawed at that back, and kissed down that chest. His jeans hugged his thighs, too. You’d been between those thighs—

You wanted him too much. You needed to retreat.

Fuckity fuck—

No, you couldn’t think about that: the act or his cock.

He said your name as you scurried in the opposite direction. Your long skirt flapped around your ankles. You almost hiked it to get away faster. His rapid footsteps gained on you by the second.

A short connector-hallway was on your left. You darted into it, heart in your throat. There was a ladies’ bathroom on the right. If you moved quick enough, you’d disappear, and he’d never be the wiser.

You rushed to the bathroom door, swung inside, and shoved the heavy door to the jamb.

You could lock it, just in case, but the noise. He’d hear the click and know you were inside. You backed from the door and around the tiled barrier.

You rested against the other side of the barrier, clutching your books to your chest and straining to hear his footsteps pass. Your pulse thudded high in your neck.

A moment ticked by with nothing. Maybe he hadn’t seen you turn into the hallway. No, that was impossible. He’d been close behind when you had. Maybe you’d been successful in evading him…

A tinge of disappointment surfaced at the thought.

The bathroom door creaked open.

You held your breath as your gaze shot to the dull floor.

“You know, I can see your reflection,” said Eddie.

You looked at the mirror above the nearest sink, seeing him in it. You sighed; your shoulders slumped. At the same time, a trickle of silvery, twisting warmth grew in your gut.

You hadn’t evaded him after all.

“Why aren’t you at the pep rally?” you asked, and headed for the row of sinks to balance your books on a sink ledge.

“Why aren’t you?”

The door clanked shut behind him, then its lock schnicked into place. You met the eyes of Eddie’s reflection. You recognized his dark-eyed, steady expression, had seen it after Halloween. He wanted you. He thought of sliding deep inside you. Your cunt gave a single throb as you remembered him bending you over and eating you out. He could do that here: direct you over the sink, flick your skirt over your hips, pull your underwear to mid-thigh, and bury his gorgeous face between your legs.

He approached you, somehow predatory yet cautious. It made you want to give in. You couldn’t give in, though. There was still a month until the Battle of the Bands. He’d said he wanted space until then. However, he’d already brushed aside that space at New Year’s. It’d been a weakness on your part to have given in.

You said, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Because you were weak for him. You were crumbling. You’d missed him so much.

“Maybe not,” he said, while drawing closer. “But I am. So, what’re you going to do about it?”

“I should turn you in.” You pivoted to face him, hands braced on the sink edge. “Tell the principal.”

“He hates me.”

“I know. He’ll ruin this senior year, too.”

Eddie looked coy as he asked, “You wouldn’t do that to me, though, would you?”

You wet your bottom lip and glanced at his mouth.

“No.”

Instead of replying, he captured your lips in a greedy kiss. Though inappropriate, you welcomed it. Kissing was better than distance and certainly better than a stupid pep rally. He kissed your mouth open with a soft groan. His tongue, faintly tasting of toothpaste, met yours.

Then your hands were in his hair; his were on your hips. He sucked at your bottom lip, making you whimper and your knees go weak. Heat poured down your body to concentrate below your navel. It intensified when he pressed closer.

He smelled of leather and cigarettes and soap. You wanted to eat him alive.

You nibbled on his lip and soothed it with kisses. His face was a mask of pure hedonistic delight with his full lips parted and eyes closed. You could see that expression every day and never tire of it. He deserved to feel good — and you wanted to make him feel good.

He hitched one of your thighs over his hip. His touch went from muffled by your skirt to downright electric with skin on skin. You gasped, meeting his intense gaze, yet didn’t fight. He straddled your other thigh and ground against your belly. His callused hand slid to your ass, fingertips sneaking under the leg of your underwear.

Despite the thickness of denim, little was left to the imagination. His hot erection pulsed as you hooked your leg around him. You angled your pelvis onto his leg. Your pussy dragged against his firm thigh. The friction of your underwear on your clit was almost too much to bear.

Then he pulled you tight until the pressure ground your clit on your pubic bone.

You arched with a groan when he rocked.

“God, you have no idea how bad I wanna pull your panties to the side and fuck you.”

You dug your nails into the shoulders of his vest.

Breath caught in your throat, you said, “Don’t say things like that.”

However, it was tempting. Damn the consequences. You wanted him raw. You wanted to feel every silky, veined inch of him stretching you open.

“If we weren’t in school, would you let me?”

He trailed delicate kisses up your neck. You tilted your head.

He whispered in your ear, “Would you?”

You couldn’t answer. If you did, you wouldn’t stop imagining it: the salt of his sweat, the slap of his skin against yours, the feel of his strong hands digging into your flesh as he pounded inside you. You’d give in, tear open his jeans, and fuck yourself on his cock.

You grabbed his hair and maneuvered him for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. He moaned into it as he thrust his hips. His velvety tongue slipped over yours, encouraging you to move with him. You held his shoulder and his smooth jaw. It seemed impossible to put into words how much you’d missed him, so you said it with your body.

You held him close, pulled him in with your thigh, and kissed him harder.

He responded in kind, making you feel like you were the only person in the world for him. The antiseptic smell of the bathroom, and the reason you were locked in there with him, dissolved to nothing. It was only you and him, sharing breath and warmth and pleasure.

The bathroom door rattled. You both started and broke the kiss to look at the door, his cheek on yours.

Softly, he said, “It’s okay. It’s locked.”

“I know, but we have to get to class.”

“Or we could skip.” He leaned away to study your face. “Your parents home?”

They weren’t, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t come home for lunch.

“No, but…” You lowered your leg from around his hip, skirt going with it. “We can’t.”

He smirked with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Worth a shot.”

You grinned and shook your head.

“Incorrigible.”

“That’s my middle name.”

“Edward Incorrigible Munson, huh?”

“Yep.”

“I like it,” you said before moving in to kiss him a last time.

He hummed against your lips in approval. His arms wrapped around your back, holding you securely. He straightened and took you with him. You clutched at his shoulders as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss.

The bell rang, making you jolt. You didn’t know if that was for the beginning of first period or the five-minute break before.

“Crap, we’re going to be late.”

He hid his face under your jaw.

“Don’t care.”

“I can’t be late to Trig.” You prodded his shoulders. “Eddie, I mean it.”

He grumbled, placing a kiss on your neck. It melted your resolve a little. A few minutes either way wouldn’t matter. Everyone would be too excited by the pep rally to care.

He released you with a playful sigh. You turned to the mirror and attempted to make yourself presentable. Your lips were swollen, lip balm gone, and clothes askew. Over your shoulder, Eddie fluffed his hair and righted his jacket and vest. His lips were swollen as well, high color painted his cheeks.

“I got Hellfire tonight. Last session for the campaign,” he said, adjusting the crotch of his jeans. “But I could stop by your place after…”

“I don’t think I can sneak you in.”

Before the attack, you would’ve been able to with no problem. Now, not so much. Studying your magic books was on your to-do list for break — along with a few minor household improvements Mom wanted to tackle.

“Okay, well…” He worried at his bottom lip. “How about lunch or something tomorrow?”

“I’d like lunch or something tomorrow.”

A smile lit his face, making his make-out glow even more radiant.

“I’ll call you,” said Eddie as he bounced backwards to the door.

You gathered your books and followed him.

“Wait,” you said, remembering: “I’m running errands with my mom after breakfast, so how about I call you when I’m done?”

“Sounds good. You ever been to Mac’s Drive-in?”

With a shake of your head, you replied, “No.” You’d never heard of it and assumed it was outside of town.

“They have the best chili cheese fries.”

“Sounds good.”

He took hold of the door handle and flipped the lock.

“Be careful.” You inched behind him. “We don’t want anyone seeing us.”

He stepped aside and cracked the door, saying you should check.

You peeked in either direction. A few people hustled through the main hallways. The coast was clear, so you stepped out of the bathroom. You lingered across the hall by the drama club’s eye-searing bulletin board, which advertised Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat coming in April.

Eddie sauntered beside you to study the board.

“Would it be ironic to attend?” he asked with a nod.

“It would’ve been more ironic to be cast.”

“Well, there’s still time.”

You snorted and nudged him with an elbow. His eyes sparkled with something. He put a hand to his chest as he backed away.

Then he sang in a terrible French accent, “Those Canaan days! We used to know! Where have they gone?”

You moved closer, eyes wide, while trying to keep the smile from your face.

“This is how we get caught.”

He spun to the side, throwing out his arms.

“Where did they go?”

You laughed, “Eddie, shut up!”

“Eh bien, raise your berets!”

He shooed you towards the opposite end of the hallway. You walked backwards as you mouthed ‘tomorrow.’

He nodded and continued, “To those Canaan days!”

You reached the corner as he sang, “Do you remember those wonderful parties?”

From Eddie’s side of the building, someone called, “Oh la la!”

.

Your head hurt beyond a normal headache. Your temples and face throbbed. The muscles at the back of your skull wouldn’t loosen. Nothing from the medicine cabinet had dulled the pain, nor had turning off the lights and music.

You’d tried an ice pack on your nape and stuck your head in the freezer. When that had no effect, you wet a washcloth with warm water for your forehead. That hadn’t helped, either.

Something about the headache made you want to flee into the woods. Like an injured animal looking for shelter. You wanted to hide, but you knew whatever this was would pursue. There was no escape. You were locked in here with it.

You lay on the cool floor of your bedroom. Pressing your fingers over your eyes, you commanded the headache to go away.

Go away.

It didn’t. It persisted until it overtook everything. It buzzed in your ears like insects. You couldn’t feel the floor, couldn’t feel your limbs. It nipped at your mental heels, hounding you to some unforeseen destination.

You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to die — because surely that was where it steered you.

With a snarl, you pushed back. You shook off the maggots and flies that wished to bury themselves in your flesh. You wouldn’t die like this. You weren’t fodder for whatever this headache was.

It fought you, clawing at your brain. Talons hooked in the seams of your skull. It wrenched your head to expose your vulnerable neck.

You turned onto your side, but that made everything worse. The meat of your body twisted while your bones remained still. You heaved and twitched as it forced you supine.

A scream not your own pierced the night.

Your mouth opened as caustic ruptures eclipsed the pain: one, two, three, four, five.

They bled and bled and bruised and drained. Bitter energy coursed through your veins. It burned like road flares, burned like death itself.

You choked as you went beyond the pain. Your eyes opened to darkness. It knit around you like a tenacious spider’s web. You scratched at it, nails snapping, until the darkness tore apart.

You hit the floor, head bouncing on the hardwood. Your lungs pumped as though you’d been running a marathon. As you caught your breath, you patted yourself down. Everything was normal. Your bones and nails remained intact and whole.

And the pain was gone.

.

You’d awoken this morning and reached for the telephone. You’d wanted to call Eddie last night, too, but then you’d remembered Hellfire. He probably wouldn’t have been home. If Wayne had picked up, you wouldn't have known how to explain to him why you sounded upset.

Something involving magic had happened last night, no doubt. Eddie knew magic was real, but that didn’t mean he’d told Wayne. Actually, you were sure Eddie had told no one.

You now sat diagonally from Mom at the kitchen table as you ate breakfast. Your father cycled between eating his buttered bagel, browsing the Saturday paper, and watching the Bloomberg channel on TV. On a garden-center flier, Mom circled shrubs and flowers she might want to plant around the property. You’d suggested rosemary by the deck stairs, miniature roses on either side of the garage door, and planters of lavender by the front door.

Mom wasn’t convinced on the planters by the front door, but you thought she’d change her mind if she saw ones she liked.

You took another bite of your bagel. The crust was all wrong, too smooth and not crackly enough. You missed New York bagels and the golden-toasty-yeasty scent of a decent bakery. The bakeries in Hawkins were okay, but they catered to… well, people who didn’t know good bagels.

Once you and Mom finished breakfast, you went to the garage to fold the tarps into the trunk of her car. She kissed your father goodbye. He looked content for once and wished you happy shopping.

Mom cracked the car windows and turned up Fleetwood Mac for the drive. The fresh air ruffled your hair and had you remembering sharing Djarums with Eddie. You wished you could smoke one now, but Mom wouldn’t approve of your dirty little habit. Though she might not have such a problem with Eddie. He was cute and charming and talented.

Perhaps you could introduce him to her before going to lunch. It could be quick. Just a ‘this is the guy who saved me when I sleepwalked’ kind of introduction. You’d run the idea by Eddie when you called today.

At the garden center, the atmosphere was weirdly tense. You picked out two hardy rose bushes and placed them on the platform cart. Mom was examining a baby rosemary. A few older ladies talked amongst themselves on the other side of the display table. Nevertheless, it was impossible not to overhear their conversation.

“—such a trashy place. It’s not surprising.”

“No, it isn’t! They should’ve bulldozed that trailer park years ago,” said another one before leaning in. “I can only imagine what led to this latest episode.”

You met Mom’s gaze as you attempted to keep a neutral expression. There was only one trailer park in Hawkins. Eddie must be freaking out if something happened in his neighborhood.

“Oh, probably some drug deal gone awry. Young people these days are always stoned,” the first one said with a flap of her hand.

To hide your agitation, you crouched to inspect the roses. There could be more than one drug dealer in Forest Hills, you assured yourself as you rubbed a glossy leaf between your fingers. This gossip might not be true and didn’t have to involve Eddie. He’d been at school last night playing D&D, anyway.

A third said, “I wonder who the victim is.”

“I think by Sunday night we’ll all know — and who the guilty party is.”

Victim? Guilty party? Had someone been attacked?

You straightened, stepped closer to Mom, and asked, “Did you see anything about this in the paper?”

“I didn’t bother with it today.”

You nodded and plucked a random rosemary from the array. It looked healthy enough.

“You okay?” Mom asked.

You nodded again. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t solve anything or make you feel better. You’d call Eddie when you returned home. He’d tell you what he knew.

As you both headed up the aisle, Mom asked, “Do you think there’s been a shooting?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“That seems so unthinkable in a town like this.”

You hummed in agreement, though you didn’t share her opinion. Hawkins was fucked up. That fucked-up-ness was sure to manifest in mundane ways.

At home, you helped unload the car, shake the soil from the tarps and store them. Your father had disappeared into his office, yet had left the newspaper folded on the kitchen table. Mom said she’d peruse the front page to see if anything unusual had been reported. You went to call Eddie in the privacy of your room.

Without bothering to remove your jacket or shoes, you went straight to your phone and dialed his number. The line rang and rang until you gave up.

He should be expecting your call. He never missed your calls.

Of course, if something had happened near his place, he might be giving a statement to the police. That took a long time — especially if the police wanted to speak with most of Forest Hills. Besides, it was only half past noon.

You got comfortable and sat at your desk to take notes from a book on magic. Your eyes kept darting to the phone. Something wasn’t right. Eddie wouldn’t want to give a statement. Wayne probably would, just to get the cops to leave. At least, that was the impression you’d gotten from your brief interaction with him.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you were ready to vibrate out of your chair. Your notes were disjointed and would have to be redone. You went downstairs for something else to do and turned on the living room TV. It was tuned to Channel 9. The top news story was the discovery of a dead Hawkins High student in Forest Hills, where a correspondent was reporting.

You recognized the white trailer behind the correspondent. It was the Munson’s. Policemen went in and out of the open main door. The broadcast cut to the studio, where the newscaster clarified the report had been recorded earlier in the day.

You couldn’t think of one person Eddie, or Wayne, would kill. Eddie could be a dickhead sometimes, but he wasn’t a murderer. He could’ve been defending himself. Maybe a deal had gone wrong. Or maybe he’d had nothing to do with it and someone had killed a person in front of him.

In that case, he would’ve been kidnapped and murdered in the woods somewhere. You couldn’t recall if his van had been parked by the trailer…

No, you would’ve felt his death. You weren’t that mundane to not feel something like that.

As commercials played, you wondered if you were strong enough to cast a tracking spell. That typically took a personal item from the person being tracked. You still had his ring on a necklace, of course, but you’d been wearing it since Christmas. It might not have a trace of his energy anymore.

Mom interrupted your train of thought by announcing dinner was almost ready. You turned off the TV and went to the powder-room to wash your hands. When you came out, your parents were talking about the dead student. Your father wasn’t concerned, because people die every day. Mom agreed to a point, but everyone was talking like this was a homicide.

“Know any rotten apples at school?” your father asked you when you sat at the kitchen table.

By your father’s definition, Eddie would be a rotten apple. There were plenty at Hawkins High, but Eddie wasn’t one of them.

“Not personally.”

He harrumphed before leveling Mom a look.

You remained quiet as spaghetti with a hearty meat sauce was served. It smelled of oregano and pepper, but you weren’t interested and took half of what you normally would. Your parents continued talking about the myriad of circumstances around the death: lovers’ quarrel, argument taken too far, overdose, drug deal gone wrong, ritual sacrifice.

“Ah, yes,” your father said in jest. “Satan in the suburbs.”

Mom tittered at such a ridiculous idea.

You grinned to disguise the thread of panic at the idea. Witches had been associated with Satan for centuries, but you’d never evoked him. You wouldn’t rely on any entity for your power. Because they all had agendas, and you didn’t want to be a pawn. However, no one — not even your parents — would appreciate your stance if they found out what you were.

You opened your mouth to say you thought the situation must be a misunderstanding, but stopped short. Your father would make you defend your idea, like this was a case in court. He’d appoint himself lawyer for the other side, jury, and judge.

Instead, you twirled spaghetti on your fork and let your parents talk.

After the sun set and you’d retreated to your room, pain sliced into your head. Your heavy stomach churned so abruptly, you wondered if you should make a dash from your desk to the bathroom. Covering your mouth with a hand, you breathed deep through your nose.

It was similar to last night. Death had you by the throat. You smelled the cloying, steaming rot of it. Your fingers went numb as if you’d been pummeling at something for hours. The desk light dimmed until you could no longer read the book before you.

Everything became heavy. You couldn’t lift your head. Your muscles weren’t strong enough to lift you from the chair. You ordered your body to move, yet it wouldn’t. Even the hand at your mouth wouldn’t obey.

Icy pressure squeezed at your chest. Instinct compelled you to drive it back. You wouldn’t be suffocated in your own bedroom by nothing.

For the first time, you prayed. You didn’t know to whom. All you asked for was strength. You needed strength to conquer this thing. Because if it was going to happen every night, it would kill you. And you couldn’t die yet. Your attacker was still out there. Eddie was missing. You were so close to graduation.

The book you’d been reading clattered across your desk. Its pages stirred, then rippled. You silently requested a solution. Light returned to the desk lamp. The book came to rest, a short spell on the right page: The Veil of Undeath

[shadowbunnydragon]

A question about Emmitt and Mrs. Otterton: Emmitt, how are you? After the Night Howler incident? Does it still have side effects? And what kind of voice do you have, Emmitt? Can you send me a voice memo or something? And how are you Mrs. Otterton? What are your children's names and how old are they? Is Emmitt still checking? Meanwhile, how did Emmitt feel when he was shot? Does he still remember that day? Thanks. I love YOU EMMITT!😊 and your wife! Bye!👋🏻



Emmitt: "My goodness, that's a lot to unpack. Well, first of all, I should say thank you. Also, I am just fine."

Olivia, taking his paw in hers: "The cure worked perfectly. After an extended stay in the hospital for observation, my dear Emmitt was cleared as being completely Night Howler Toxin free!"

Emmitt: "I suppose that you could say that the trauma caused by my exposure to the toxin is itself a side-effect. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I still wake up in a panic."

Olivia: "But he's been making great strides in therapy!"

Emmitt: "As for how I sound? ... I'm not sure how to answer that? I suppose that my voice is a bit deep? Not much deeper than that nice fox officer we met. Officer Wilde, though? But I'm afraid that I can't send out any voice memos. I'm afraid that I'm just not comfortable doing so. As for how I felt when I was shot? I was more confused than anything, before my mind went completely hazy. I was just sitting there in the limo with Mr. Manchas driving when I felt a sudden sting on my neck. Aside from that, however, everything after that is all foggy."

Olivia: "I'm doing just fine as well, as are our boys, Elias and Eric, who are 9 and 7 respectively."

Emmitt, chuckling: "We often get odd looks considering how the boys, while older than their new baby sister, Sarah; are naturally much smaller than her, seeing as how she's a little human girl."

Olivia: "Moving past the incident has been a little challenging for our family, but we are moving forward together. And I have to say, of all the twists and turns our lives have taken, I don't think either of us would ever end up adopting outside of our species, let alone a little girl from a newly discovered species. But, here we are."

[anipul]

Had a dream about Howler last night. He tried to kill P single handedly but underestimated him greatly. To the point where P was hunting him down and Howler started to panic. He tried to reason with him but P wasn't interested at all. P got him in the end.

[waeirfaahl]

Q&A with Byron Howard, Zootopia creator

Here is interview with Zootopia author, published in Animation Source in 2016. MightyBalto1925: Besides Gazelle, the rest of the mammals in Zootopia are never seen wearing any shoes. Was there a reason for not adding shoes to the characters? Byron's answer:  "Animal feet from species to species are so different, and are such a big part of what makes animals beautiful and interesting, that it felt weird to hide them with human shoes. Honestly, Gazelle was the only character in Zootopia that didn't look weird wearing them. Since her character was designed to be decked out in glamorous, elaborate stage costumes, the shoes felt appropriate." WildWolf: Hello, I'm making this question because I already happened to receive an answer to the one I originally asked about. But now I'm just wondering, what is the securite guard wolf, Gary's last name? If he even has one? Byron's answer: "I don't think he has a last name! But I bet if he did it would be funny... You can't go wrong with DeWolfe... It's like "Smith" in the wolf world." WildWolf: So, I have also been wondering what has been debated over the internet for a while now. Are Gary and the white wolf we see in the beginning of the movie the same character? Byron's answer: "If you mean any of the wolf cops, then nope, they're different wolves. The wolves around Cliffside are mercenaries hired by Mayor Lionheart. The mayor wouldn't take the risk of involving the cops in something like this." MokiHunter: So my question is more geared toward the original concept of Zootopia... I wanted to ask if the directors had a chance to, would they ever consider maybe creating an alternate Zootopia with their original concepts (like the tame collars,etc)? Or did they just end up liking the finished product much better than the original? (This is more looking for their opinions versus the test screening audiences') Byron's answer: "You may see elements of what we had in early versions of the film show up in other places if there are future chapters in the Zootopia story, but I think the version that we wound up with really is the best version that speaks most clearly to the problem of bias in the modern world." Jake Razor: Did Bellwether start the kidnapping of darted animals to set the stage for a conspiracy (as opposed to just immediate panic), then trick Lionheart into taking it over so when someone found out he'd take the blame? Byron's answer: "Tired of being marginalized and ignored, Bellwether organized the darting of predators to incite fear and mistrust of predators in the city. Lionheart recognized that predators were going savage but didn't know the cause, so to protect himself he hired teams of wolves to capture and imprison the savage predators until Dr. Honeybadger could discover what was going on. This was causing problems for Bellwether, so Bellwether actually benefited from Judy tracking down the missing mammals and arresting Lionheart." Jake Razor: I get the impression that in real police cases, a case is not considered closed until the loose ends have been suitably tied up, and may be reopened if new evidence emerges. So with that in mind, is it likely that subsequent material might detail the latter events of the Nighthowler Case (tracking down suppliers and uncaptured accomplices, Judy possibly being partnered with another cop while Nick was getting instated, etc.)? Byron's answer: "Never say never! Crime's a complex business." MightyBalto1925: When Nick and Judy were talking to Manchas, Manchas tells them Emmitt kept talking about the night howlers after (I assume) he was hit. Since Emmit is a florist, did he perhaps know that the flowers were toxic and attempted to warn Manchas about them? Byron's answer: "Emmit was being threatened into supplying the Night Howler bulbs to the sheep, and when he discovered what they were being used for, he went to his family friend, Mr. Big to help him out of this terrible situation. The sheep suspected that Otterton might be a risk so they decided to send out Doug to dart him and send him savage." Jake Razor: It seems to be implied that Nick's mom was raising Nick by herself in the movie (whereas Nick's dad played a significant part in the original plans), and a lot of people seem to think Nick's dad just up and left one day prior to the Muzzle Incident. From what I've been able to gather, though, foxes in the real world tend to be among the most faithful mates of all mammals, which I assume the filmmakers know as well. So I'd like to hear it from the source: is tehre any idea of what happened to him? Byron's answer: "It's not clear what happened to Nick's dad but you do get the feeling that his mom was raising Nick by herself. Maybe we will find out in the future!" MokiHunter: I was curious as to what exactly the predators eat, as we see them eating blueberries and ice cream. Did they evolve to eat the same things as the prey animals or did they just learn to stifle their urges over time? I'm just curious because if their diet has changed it makes me wonder why the prey animals would still be so afraid of them. Byron's answer:  "Predators in Zootopia need protein to survive, so that issue has been mostly solved with vegetable protein products like 'Not Dogs' and 'Fpork' (fake pork) etc. But some predators who survive almost exclusively on protein (wolves for example), need more than that so there's also a widely successful fast food chain called 'BUGBURGA' that specializes in tasty treats made from insects. Stop in and enjoy a BugBurga Deluxe with a Grasshopper Shake and a side of Cricket Chips. In earlier versions of the film, fish were also thought of as food in the Zootopian world. Nick and Hopps were chained up in a fish freezer and were nearly made into fillets. Even though predatory behavior and hunting went away long ago, it didn't take much for Bellwether to wake up those old fears in the prey population." Dogsport: During development, was there ever any discussion on how the prey animals eventually convinced the predators to switch to bug burgers (and possibly fish?) instead of eating prey?  In our world, that would be the equivilent of every vegan finally convicing meat eaters to give up the red stuff, and would be quite an accomplishment.  Maybe prey are better negotiators? Byron's answer: "There is a painting in the Natural History Museum that shows primitive predator and prey tribes shaking hands and starting a new relationship. Agrarian (farming) cultures tend to survive more easily than hunter-gatherer cultures, and our scientist consultants suggested that the prey would've figured out farming first (because they were focused on vegetables and crops). Maybe the predators thought that an alliance that provided a safer life for their tribes outweighed the deliciousness of a fresh zebra." Carbinefox: There is a flag displayed on a pole in the mayor's office, but not much can be seen since it is hanging down and not unfurled. Is there an image of the flag open? Byron's answer: "Yes there is an image of the city flag somewhere! I can't find it though." Cyclone Blaze: What's the key for creating beliavable interactions among characters that end up being friends at some point of a story? I'm asking this because I'm writing a story, but I feel that the interactions among the characters are pretty convincent. Byron's answer: "We always look to put as much contrast and distance between our protagonists at the beginning of each of these stories. If they're too similar to each other at the start, then you have nowhere to go story-wise. Conflict is story gold. Conflict between characters can be dramatic but it can also be fun, and seeing conflict change the characters is one of the most rewarding things audiences experience in movies. Also writing dialogue that feels smart and real is important. Jared Bush and Phil Johnston wrote a remarkable script for Zootopia that felt witty and poignant, yet was always believable." Cyclone Blaze: The scene related to Nick's childhood was amazing, because you portrayed how the bullying victims could be affected in real life. From the moment they muzzled Nick, I was speechless as the scene progressed. So far, in many cartoons the bullying is displayed in a comedic way, but this was a whole different experience. What made you take the realistic approach to this scene? Byron's answer: "Both Rich and I had experiences with bullying when we were kids, and Phil Johnston had suggested that we needed to add something into the beginning of the film to show clearly where Judy's bias and fear of predators came from. It was important that those scenes were both believable and pretty visceral. Also the idea of empathy and forgiveness was important with Gideon, as we knew that would be a great sense of closure for Judy that would help her decide not to give up." Karlamon: Would you say there is any other animal civilisations (cities, countries, etc.) beyond the city of Zootpia and the town of Bunnyburrow, or is Zootopia pretty much the movie's entire universe? Byron's answer: "There's definitely WAY more to the Zootopian world than we were able to show in the movie. Early on we decided that even though you may only see mammals in Zootopia city, there are many other animal cities (and countries) in this world. Likely full of reptiles, birds, etc..." Est22: When adapting animals in a human environment, what was the most difficilt in the conception of the Zootopian society? Byron's answer: "Early on we chose to make a rule for ourselves: animal scale in Zootopia would be as close to true-life animal scale as possible. That rule was hugely challenging for us to stick with throughout the film, and created no end of headaches for our cinematographers and layout artists. It forced our designers and modelers to think very deeply about access to buildings, transportation, and everything else we take for granted as humans because we are more or less all the same size. We spoke at length with the ADA (American Disabilities Association) about how they make sure differently-abled humans are given equal access to buildings and businesses in the human world and we followed their example. Good thing we did, that multi-scale train with the three doors gets a huge laugh every time." StringerNuka: Why Morris, Koslov's supposed-to-be son, was not in the final release ?" (And also : the whole Bear-Mafia idea around Koslov) Byron's answer: "Morris was part of the old plot where predators were forced to wear tame collars. He was part of a very touching scene where his dad, Koslov, had to place this awful device on his son knowing that it would be with him for the rest of his life. When the plot changed and we went away from the collars, that scene went away and Morris with it. He's the cutest little bear though! Koslov was originally the Mob boss character before we changed it to be Mr. Big Koslov and Nick had a long and checkered history and Nick at one point went to Koslov for money because he couldn't get it through the banks." Robalto: Would they consider a Nick and Judy couple in future series since many fanarts show them together as a couple? Did you ever considered them as such ?" Byron's answer: "We always wanted there to be chemistry between them, and it's nice that the audience recognizes that. Though half the audience wants them to get together and the other half likes them as friends. Who knows what the future holds, but for now we like to think of them as kindred spirits." Louve Rousse: Why did the idea of the collars for predator didn't get through ?" Byron's answer: "Ultimately we realized that the bias in our modern world is much more subtle than we were portraying with the collars. It felt much more contemporary to have a character who thinks that bias is a thing of the past (Hopps) learn that it's still very much out there, and sometimes, it's within yourself where you least expect it." Nakou: Are you thinking about a possible second movie or series with the same characters in order to explore the rest of the universe you've built ? If so, why not use some lost ideas like the collars ?" Byron's answer:  "I'm sure old ideas would be explored if there are future films, though I think the collars were so much a part of the bias throughline that I'm not sure where they would come back in."

[secondratefiction]

Unfinished Harry Potter fic - set in 3rd year

(t.w. - child abuse and mentions of blood)

Harry groaned quietly as he collapsed into his seat on the train. It was still early; there were people milling about the platform, but they were all porters and other people getting ready for the students who would be arriving soon. Everything hurt, and the couple of hours of sleep - if it could really be called that - last night at the Leaky Cauldron hadn't done much to help with the incessant aching and throbbing.

Of course, at this point Harry was just grateful to be out of Number Four Private Drive. Hedwig cooed above him in her cage and Harry sighed quietly, finally letting himself relax enough to rest his head against the cool glass of the window.

Honestly, it was a miracle Harry was even going back to Hogwarts at all this year. The Dursleys had him locked down tighter than he even thought possible as soon as he came back at the beginning of the summer. No letters, no news, no hint at all of the outside world, he hadn't even been sent to Mrs. Figgs house. He was immediately locked in his room with threats to 'keep that ruddy bird quiet', and hadn't been allowed outside those four walls unless Aunt Petunia was putting him to work. Under close, strict, and constant supervision only. Of course.

But Harry was smart enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. There was something about Uncle Vernon this summer that set his teeth on edge… so, for his own sake, Harry'd bit his tongue, kept his head down and tried to steer away from being the subject of his relatives ire.

And it had worked for the most part… more or less… 

He did make the mistake of asking about his school supplies when the unavoidable Hogwarts letter came. Harry'd earned a nice bruise across his cheekbone for that one, so he'd smartly let the subject drop.

Hopefully he could convince Professor McGonagall to let him order his supplies once he got to school… his Aunt and Uncle were muggles… that should be a plausible enough excuse as to why he wasn't able to attain them over the summer… right?

Harry's luck had completely run out yesterday though. He had one night to go, all he had to do was make it through dinner with Vernon's sister Marge, and the Dursleys had agreed to drop him at King's Cross in the morning… But Marge was as insufferable as her bother, and there was something about the woman that seemed to sense weakness. It had been a long two months, and Harry was at his wits end; barely holding it together with the thought of 'One more day. Just one more day, that's it.'

Marge of course had just kept picking and digging like the miserable woman she was with nothing better to do, and… something in Harry had snapped. The next thing he'd known Marge was blowing up like some strange parade balloon and floating off out through the open doors to the back garden. Everyone was stunned, Uncle Vernon running after her to try and grab her, only to grasp uselessly at the air as she rose out of his reach. And then, in the next second, everything flipped like a switch.

An owl came zooming in, a howler from the ministry telling Harry he was expelled. Harry's heart sank… what was he supposed to do now? And then Uncle Vernon rounded on him and Harry had a brief moment of panic before he ran…

He never made it to the stairs though, and he'd never regretted anything more.

It was severally hours later, the Dursleys already in bed when Harry'd managed to stop most of the bleeding from where he'd bitten into his cheek though he hadn't been able to wash the taste from his mouth. He figured he was already expelled so using his want to set Hedwig loose couldn't make anything worse. Harry also let himself out of his room, levitating his trunk down the stairs and out the front door of Number Four before taking off at a dead run.

The rest of it was a bit of a blur… Harry only vaguely remembered the Knight Bus, and Fudge excusing his accidental (and not so accidental) magic before sweeping Harry off in to a room for the rest of the night. He was pretty sure he heard the name 'Sirius Black' tossed around a couple of times, but there was no way he could tell you the significance of the person. Or anything about the two ministry officials who showed up far too early to usher Harry and his owl - when exactly did she come back again? - into a car before also rather unceremoniously depositing Harry on the train and rushing off back to whatever important business they'd been pulled from to deal with him.

Harry's head was spinning, and he felt more than a little nauseous, but the idea of sleep was honestly so appealing he found he just couldn't fight it any more and just gave in. He figured he could allow himself that much at least.

-

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Harry gasped, flailing as he looked around wildly. Someone was holding him tightly to keep him still and a bolt of sheer panic shot through him in an instant.

"Harry, you're alright," He didn't recognize the man speaking, but there was something about his voice and his face that just seemed… familiar in some way, "Just relax"

 Whatever it was about the man, Harry compiled without much though, the tension starting to ebb out of his shoulders as his breathing became less ragged.

"There you go, that's it." The man smiled, and Harry was even more confused at the warm, comforting feeling in his chest it causes. The man looked him over again before nodding to himself and looking back up to meet Harry's eye, "I'm going to help you back on the bench now Harry, is that all right with you?"

"Y-yeah…" His voice sounded weak and scratchy, even to his own ears, and his throat burned even more than it had earlier with the effort to speak… had he been screaming?

The man lifted him with far too little effort, and frowned again as he sat Harry back in his seat, looking him over again more closely this time. Harry tried to curl into himself to avoid the staring.

"Right, well I should probably go and speak with the conductor…" The man righted himself before rummaging around in his pockets before producing a rather large chocolate bar and snapping several pieces off and passing them out to the other people in the cabin. It was the first time Harry even noticed there were other people around.

Ron and Hermione were watching him cautiously along with Ginny and Neville as well. When had they come in? Harry glanced out the window and stopped… they were at least half way to school by now. Not that the empty terrain offered much to go by, but it was late, and they clearly weren't in London any more. When did they even leave the station?

He must have slept longer than he thought then…

"Harry, here." The man sounded like he'd been trying to get his attention for a few moments now and Harry nodded sheepishly, ducking his head as he turned back to him, "Eat this it'll help."

The man pressed a fairly large piece of chocolate, certainly larger than any Harry'd been offered before, into his head before leaving. Harry nibbled on a corner of his chocolate for a moment before looking back at his friends, "What happened?"

Hermione explained, though Harry's mind and body were still to tired to process all of it. He caught 'Dementor' and 'Sirius Black' - there was that name again - and from what he'd gathered he had been screaming, and almost having a fit too.

"We're not that far from the school…" Hermione said quietly, already nudging Neville and Ginny out of the room, "We'll let you get changed."

Ron had started to follow them as well, but caught the way Harry seemed to sway on his feet as he stood and stopped. He shut the door behind the others, turning and almost having to catch Harry when the train started moving right as he went to try to step up on the bench to get to his trunk.

Ron didn't miss the way his friend seemed to sag into him for a moment before righting himself again, "Here, let me get it…"

Harry wanted to protest, but the taller boy had already pushed him down into the seat again and climbed on the seat to be able to rummage through his trunk for a uniform. If Ron noticed that his friend's cloths seemed especially rumpled, he kept that to himself and set about making sure Harry didn't bust his arse as he tried to dress himself.

It was something else Harry would have rather done on his own, but the third time he almost toppled over trying to get his trousers on, he finally just resigned himself to needing Ron's help. The quiet gasp when his shirt came off next was exactly why Harry had wanted to do this under his own power.

"Harry…"

"Ron, I… I really don't want to talk about it…"

It wasn't hard to read that Ron was less than pleased about that… but, in some small blessing, he'd let it go; not wanting to push Harry right now when he clearly wasn't up to it.

-

“Easy Harry…” Fred muttered as he reached out to steady the younger boy when he wavered rather precariously as they all made their way up the front steps of the castle, “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Really.”

Ron frowned slightly at his friend out of the corner of his eye and bit down hard on the side of his tongue. Harry most certainly was not ‘fine’, and it was taking everything Ron had not to give in to the urge to  say ‘sod the feast’ and take Harry straight to the Hospital wing.

The only thing stopping him was the fact Harry clearly didn’t want to draw attention to his condition… Ron was still undecided if he was going to steer the other boy that way after dinner.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur… Neville tripped on the steps - some people say he was tripped; Malfoy, of course, denies doing any such thing - knocking into Ron from behind, sending him sideways into Harry… who immediately crumbled.

There was a loud commotion after that, Hermione and Ron being the first ones over him while other people tried to press though to see what happened. Fred and George doing their best to keep most of the crowd back.

“He’s hurt…” Hermione gasped when the hand she’d touched the back of Harry’s head with came away bloodied.

“Oh Merlin…”

“Move.” A voice cut through the rest of the chatter, Severus Snape of all moving students aside to get through the crowd, “Get out of the way.”

“Professor, he’s bleeding.” Hermione looked up to Snape as he finally got clear enough to crouch down beside them.

“What happened?” Snape asked, pulling out his wand.

“I think he hit his head on the railing.” Ron said, nodding to the stone pillar at the top of the stairs.

Snape shook his head, muttering a quiet spell under his breath, frowning slightly when Potter didn’t come around. Shaking his head, Snape stood and muttered another spell to levitate the boy up off the ground, “Everyone inside. I’ll take him to the hospital wing.”

“Professor-”

“I said inside Weasley.”

Hermione shook her head, tugging Ron along with her and promising they’d check on him after dinner. Ron looked thoroughly unimpressed and would have continued to argue if he wasn’t sure Snape would absolutely have let Harry just lay there in order to dock points and give Ron a detention.

[thisuseraiskindadead]

TRAUMA RESPONSES! cause my boys have been abused and they should have trauma responses:

Regulus: he was beaten almost every day. It got worse after Sirius escaped. He got out in the summer of fifth year.

Reg has panic attacks if he thinks his mom discovers something about him.

He get nightmares so he goes out to fly most nights because he is scared of going back to sleep.

Reg has too many scars to be counted. He knows how to fight a crucio because he had to learn at age 13.

Don't move too fast, too suden or raise your voice or Reg starts dissociating.

Was punished if he showed emotions so he can't get himself to cry or talks about emotions, just shuts up and pick his fingers until blood is running from them. He started painting just to have something on his hands.

Evan: he wasn't much physically abused, but more verbally and neglected.

Evan whole existence is based in keeping the name Rosier alive so his parents never really saw him as a child.

He get REALLY uncomfortable without timetables or rules (even if they're broken later) cause his life is based on a plan.

SO MUCH INTERNALISED HOMOPHOBIA.

Evan threw up the first time he THOUGHT of a boy in a romantic way. Regulus took him to Remus and Lily and it took him almost a month not curse himself everytime he had gay thoughts. i

It was really difficult for him to accept his homosexuality even though all his friends are gay.

The first time he kisses Barty, he punches a brick wall just to punish himself. he doesn't listen when Madam Pomfrey scolds him for breaking three fingers.

Doesn't know how to act with physical touch. It took him two years to hug anyone. Pandora made her personal mission to discover him all the little things. Evan discover he loves his hair touched.

Barty: REALLY neglected. His father never hit him cause he didn't want scars but he got really creative with the punishments.

Barty has been starved so many times he doesn't know what a normal diet is. He either eats too much too fast (never knows when his last meal is going to be) and ends up throwing up or doesn't eat for days because he no longer feels hunger.

All the problem with the food gave him body dysmorphia.

Barty can't stay still because he was kept in his room for days when he acted out. He loves quidditch because he gets to stay out until late and is the first time he has known freedom.

The worst punishment was the time his father made him mute for a whole summer when he was 12. Barty has nightmares about it and tends to put a hand around his throat to feel his vocal cords vibrate. He becomes really loud as a way to compensate. He only whispers around his friends because he feels safe.

A punishment his father loved was to keep him standing with heavy books on his hands. Barty develops a tremble in his hands after being punished a hundred times.

Barty doesn't know what is caring for his well being, doesn't know what appreciating life is. Doesn't have problem getting into fights he can't win because he has a suicidal mentality. (He once asked a guy two years older and a like seis inches taller to hit him until he passed out because his dad tried to set him up for a government summer job. He spent two week in the infirmary and lost his interview for the job. He didn't understand why Regulus was so worried about him).

Barty has a lot of anxiety and starts smoking when he is 14 to ease it. When it stops working, he starts smoking weed. He even tries cocaine once, but his head pounded for hours and his nose bled so he never tried it again. He always gets high or a little drunk to cope with his dad's howlers and letters.

[the-night-writer1]

we can know about howler's birth (I love your work).

Alright here you go)

It was a Friday night and Macaque had been rudely awoken by what he thought was just a kick. At least for a moment, it would have been the first time he'd woken up by this cub kicking him to hard.

He took a moment to try and let the brat calm down. The baby wasn't calming down though. Something also wasn't right.

He slowly sat up and rubbed his bump trying to pinpoint what his hazy mind was trying to tell him. This pregnancy hadn't been easy since the second trimester started so he had a mental checklist to go through. Yet he could barely think.

"geeze kid you shook me awake so bad I can't think" Macaque said as he got out of bed and took a breath. Maybe if he went to the bathroom things better? Cub calmed down when he was taking bath or sitting in the shower.

However when he started towards the bathroom the pain got worse. Those weren't kicks, oh Fuck those weren't kicks! He leaned against the wall as he started to panic.

His frazzled brain glanced around, Mac needed his phone. Where was his phone? He wasn't do for another 10 weeks! Why was this happening now!? He was alone and he could barely pay attention!

He tried to keep himself steady as he finally spotted his phone. He grabbed it from the dresser and called Syntax. It was all the monkey could think to do.

"Macaque what are you doing up this late? You're supposed to be resting" Syntax said somewhat annoyed, he assumed the monkey probably had a late night craving that Mac wanted him to grab on the way home," is it a craving?"

"baby"" Macaque said as he took a deep breath in and out to try and get his vision straight," something's wrong"

"what is wrong? Why are you breathing like that?" Syntax asked as he went to grab his jacket," speak to me, what's wrong?"

"I'm in labor" Macaque all but choked out, his throat was locking up as he heard stuff crash behind Syntax on the other side of the phone. His distressed coos helped nothing but he couldn't get words to come out.

"stay off your feet I'll be there soon and we'll head straight to the ER okay? I'm leaving now just lay down and I'll be there in five to ten minutes okay?" Syntax said before hanging up. Macaque didn't even get back in bed he just laid on the floor. He took a moment to get a few deep breaths as he tried to ignore his animal instincts.

They were telling him to hide, to hide somewhere with this early baby because if he didn't they'd die. He had to remind himself this wasn't the jungle. Syntax was on his way and everything was going to be okay.

Cub was moving, no no no. Macaque pushed himself up as he felt wet, they weren't even near a hospital yet. Couldn't they wait just a little longer?

"what are you doing on floor?" Syntax asked as he came in and rushed over to Mac. He swatted down as Mac grabbed him.

"their moving!" Macaque said as he gripped Syntax's forearms.Thank god those extra spider legs. Syntax had Mac hold on to those as he checked see if they had any time what so ever.

They did not. In fact Syntax almost missed the birth of their cub if he hadn't left when he did. Macaque passed out a few seconds later.

----

"Why weren't you with him?!" The monkey king hissed as he pinned Syntax against," you knew how hard this entire pregnancy has been on him!"

"how was I supposed to know he'd go into labor early?!" Syntax said as he tried to pry Wukong's hands off his throat while macaque was coming to. His confused coo caused Wukong to drop the man and rush over. Syntax had to get off the floor but he also rushed over.

"hey how do you feel Buddy" Wukong said as he rubbed the other monkey's cheek.

"where's the cub? Are they okay where are they?" Macaque asked as Syntax shoved Wukong aside.

"they are in stable condition. Their incubator will be moved here in a hour or so. The doctor wanted to make sure you were both stable first." Syntax said as he held Macaque's hand and kissed it softly," you'll love them I assure you. They are a little monkey just like their Baba. Though they have four tails."

"four tails?"Macaque asked softly as he gripped Syntax's hand.

"yes four fully functional tails" Syntax said as Wukong tried to push him aside.

"just because they can move doesn't mean they're functional!" The monkey king protested as him and Syntax we're shoving each other and get no where. It was stupid and funny.

Of course Macaque quickly took to his small precious son as soon as he was allowed to hold the babe.

[xanthippe74]

Drarry microfic: Metamorphosis

With thanks to @the-sinking-ship for the beta. [tw: blood]

(i)

Harry slams the door, wrapping himself in a cocoon of darkness that smells of dust and old wood and himself.

The clench of near-panic loosens in his chest. Three owls before he finished his bloody breakfast. God, hasn’t he done enough?

The cupboard walls are thick and strong—a refuge.

(ii)

Fuck.

Draco opens his eyes the barest amount. He regrets it immediately. Dark crimson smears the sheets and pillows.

Has he been cursed? Mother left weeks ago, and now Draco will bleed out alone, staining his ancestral home with his sins.

Another flare of pain sears his upper back.

Fuck.

(iii)

The first dreams have no images, only a presence, protective and kind. As weeks pass, Harry gets glimpses of golden hair and the curve of a pale bicep. Sometimes a low voice murmurs incomprehensible words in his ear.

Harry wakes with regret and wonders if he has a guardian angel.

(iv)

Draco’s cross-legged on the ballroom floor, naked. His hair is lank and dull, his throat dry as parchment.

It must be a nightmare, yet the sunlight slides across the parquet and Draco doesn’t wake.

The gilded mirrors don’t lie. Sprouting from his back are a pair of enormous white wings.

(v)

If he could, Harry would sleep and sleep. Grimmauld Place is as empty as a dried husk, but he can’t leave. He’s terribly alone, but he won’t let anyone see what he’s become.

In sleep, he’s wrapped in gentle wings, sheltered from fear and nightmares.

There, Harry’s called my beloved.

(vi)

Veela heritage we believed lost. Draco crumples his mother’s letter in his fist. She won’t return to England, even for him.

The books in the Manor library reveal a bigger problem than wings: finding his one true mate to keep the two beings within him balanced.

Which means Draco’s fucked.

(vii)

Hermione pounds on Grimmauld’s door, but Harry refuses to open the wards. Ron sends Howlers, Molly tear-stained letters.

Harry wakes, drenched with sweat and aroused by his dreams of feathers and another man’s bare skin against his.

One night, the dream-haze clears, and his once-faceless angel is revealed:

Draco Malfoy.

(viii)

A shaking Harry Potter shows up at the Manor gates, demanding to know why Draco’s in his dreams.

A bolt of recognition strikes Draco’s mind: his mate, his salvation.

Draco sends him away without an explanation. He’d just as soon pin a butterfly under glass as bind Potter to him.

(ix)

Harry returns to the Manor every day. Malfoy looks frail, haunted. Tell me, Harry coaxes. Let me help you.

And there they are, the wings from his dreams, luminous and irresistible.

I can’t ask this of you.

Maybe I need you as much as you need me.

My beloved.

Yes.

(x)

Harry’s friends don’t understand his transformation, his newfound courage. He doesn’t tell them who sleeps beside him, or why he carries a feather in his pocket like a talisman.

Veela are endlessly devoted to their mates. Even so, Draco never imagined loving anyone this deeply, this selflessly.

Two metamorphoses, intertwined.

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, “metamorphosis.”

[spring-heeledjack]

prosper redding headcanons

Prosper's parents were both 34 when they had him and Prue

I know Prosper's dad is named Percy, but I don't think his mom is given a name? If she is, I don't remember it. Unless I learn that she does have a name, I'm calling her Dorothy

Dorothy was from a middle-class family before she married Percy, which is the main reason why Catherine never really approved of her

Catherine wanted Percy and Dorothy (mostly Percy) to live in the Cottage soon after the twins were born, but Dorothy insisted that the twins were raised in town with kids their own age

Prosper has a tv in his room and when he can't sleep at night, he'll watch true crime (which doesn't help him sleep at all), looney tunes, or my little pony. He genuinely likes true crime, looney tunes and mlp is mostly used for background noise or something simple to watch

Both Prosper and Prue have pretty vivid nightmares post-canon. Occasionally, one twin will peek into the other's room at night, just to make sure they're still there

Now that Alastor's in his own body, it almost seems to Prosper that he's always cold. Since Alastor's presence made him so warm, he became unused to coldness. Prosper has about five blankets on his bed because of this

Speaking of Alastor, Prosper became so accustomed to him reading his thoughts and talking to him that he was almost lonely when Alastor was in his own body. He was happy that he got some privacy, and that Alastor had a body again, but the first few days without him in his mind seemed eerily silent

When Nell was a baby, Toad took his catbat form. When she was a bit older, he took the form of a big black dog, similar to a howler. Soon after Tabitha passed away, Toad turned back into a catbat because he thought that was something Nell would remember and might've cheered her up. Unfortunately, Nell was too young to remember

Nell can sew and makes patches to sew onto jeans and jean jackets

Pre-canon, Prue straight up ignored Prosper's bullying problem. It's not that she didn't care, it was just that many of the people bullying him were her friends and she was afraid of rocking the boat. She stopped hanging out with her friends post-canon, the same ones that were bullying Prosper. She also became more hostile towards his bullies and teachers who were mean to him instead of being passive/feigning ignorance about it. Prosper himself also started sticking up for himself. It didn't fully stop the bullying, but it certainly convinced a couple people to stop picking on him as harshly

If you were to ask him, Alastor would tell you his standards are incredibly high. Only the best for the first prince, right? No. He is a liar. Alastor falls head over heels for every pretty fiend he sees in the street. He'll think about them for a couple days before getting over them, and then he'll meet a new pretty person and the cycle repeats.

Pyra has claustrophobia (fear of confined spaces) and nyctophobia (fear of the dark) due to being Rapunzelled up in The Tower of No Return her whole life.

Alastor has pyrophobia due to the whole being burned at the stake thing. Lanterns and candles are okay, he's cautious of torches, but fireplaces are a big no-no, especially if they grow too fast. Bune once used magic to light a fireplace while Alastor was near and he almost had a panic attack. Pyra sent Bune to sleep in a cell in Skullcrush for not heeding the magic rationing rule, and Alastor poisoned his food and made him sick for a week, so they got even

[alvhiedeir]

Little Red Elf

Thor X Reader

3174 words

This is longer than intended and quite different than requested and I have no excuse than my lack of discipline but I hope this is good enough

You are seriously thinking about investing on a security camera.

No, it wasn't that you were worried about being robbed. It's was being, 'gifted'.

In an almost daily basis, different items would make it's way to your doorstep. Black roots, hyacinth, hellebores, poppies and other herbs that would usually not grow around the area. It was nice, that was the first thought you had. You were no Circe, the great witch of Aiaia, but such ingredients could and did help greatly with your draughts. So as much as this occurrence should startle you, you brushed it off as the doing of one of your friends working for Lord Osanyin who would usually send you samples of anything new. You figured business was just doing better than usual for her to give you this much.

Two weeks, it continued on. When you rise for the day, there would be a neatly placed bundle of herbs or plant on your front steps. Always perfectly centered. And for two weeks, you accepted each and everything in such giddiness.

That is until you until today.

"I haven't been given you anything, (y/n)," She turned away from the selves she was organizing and continued, "it's been pretty busy lately for the last month with the arrival of new supply from Asia."

Her answer gave you a sudden feeling of uneasiness.

"Then who," your voice trailed, dragging the weariness and alert in the air. Your friend was quick to catch the shift of your mood.

"But think about it," she placed the bottle she was holding and walked towards you, "those herbs are rare and what are the chances of a random miscreant obtaining it?"

It eased your nerves a bit to hear her words.

"Or maybe, you finally have an admirer even if your always holed up in your home!"

She laughed at the jesting glare you sent.

"Like you're any better, cat lady."

"Hey! Having four cats does not count as being a cat lady!"

"Sure, whatever you say."

You shared a laugh, the tension thinning out. After saying a few words, she went back to the counter to pack the herbs that you bought, the reason why you were there in the first place.

"You bought quite a lot. What is it for anyway?"

"Loki wanted some draughts to "bring entertainment around this damn boring halls", his words not mine."

She laughed, commenting how it sounded just like him. She handed you the carefully packed products, with a small purple ribbon tied on the basket as she always did for you.

Just as you're about to leave she called out.

"If you're still disturb about the whole mysterious gifts, why don't you try staying up to see who it is?" You thanked her for her suggestion and concern and with a wave, headed back home.

To say the least, her suggestion was not very successful.

After you went home, you got started on the ordered draughts and by the time the moon greeted the sky, your eyes were already heavy. Being stubborn, you stayed sitting in your kitchen, chair facing the window to see if anyone or anything would past by.

The minutes were slow and before you knew it, the sun has reclaimed its place. And there was yet another gift. A freshly uprooted crab apple tree that barely passes as an adult. How in the world did they get this one?

Another week fast approached and the gifts arrived just as fast. Cornel bark, elecampane, silver fir, the list goes on. Each night, you attempt to desperately stay awake to catch but a glimpse would always end up with you succumbing to sleep. It didn't matter if it was for hours or a mere minute, by the moment your eyelids flutter open, it was already there. Perfectly centered as always, in an almost mocking way.

"You missed us again", you could hear the ridicule from it.

As days flutter, the gifts and your frustrations would only intensify. One time it was antlers from a dear Australia. The other day it was the tusk of a bore. Yesterday it was the blood of steed. The last one made you panic a bit, but thankfully in came only in a small vial. It eased your nerves, albeit slightly that the animal was minimally harmed.

You tried sleeping in the morning so that so that you could roam at night. But when you rise from your chair for a drink or to go the toilet, the sneaky bastard have already placed another gift. You went as far as sitting on your doorstep for the whole night, but even that didn't help. The gift was on your window.

You were at your wits end with this "Persistent Santa" shenanigans (it was your friend who called them that. It was that or creepy-pile-of-dung-that-had-to-much-time). Whoever they were, they are good.

You sighed tiredly again, the dark bags proving Your fruitless efforts.

"Wow, you look miserable!" You silently snapped at the voice, too sleepy to argue but to proud to ignore it. His laugh was laugh, always happy to see others demise.

"Just give me the money, Loki." You impatiently thrust the basket full of draughts to him, eager to leave and maybe sleep for a few days.

"Aren't you greedy." The more he teases you, the more punching him right in the face became an increasingly good option. As if reading your voice, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

" I would pay you, but," he dragged his voice as floated closer to you, "I dont have my money right now. And the old man is calling me so can you wait a few minutes for me?" He smiled, oh-so-mockingly sweet at you.

A tomato would have been jealous of the tint of your check. The itching call for violence is now an unignorable howler. But before you can give in, the god of mischief is already pushing you into one of the rooms, claiming your silence as agreement. In a blink, you were in a well decorated room. The walls were cream in color and golden leaves decorated the corners. Threre were shelves of book against one side of the wall and-

"Wait a minute." Snapping out of your trance, you shouted, voice filled with vile, "Loki!"

But sadly, it came too late and the door have already been shut and only his feint mocking voice telling "enjoy!" Was heard from the other side.

You could sighed, pity for your own predicament. Moving towards one of the shelves with a colorful string of curse words following, you might sa well entertain yourself with something. The books were more old, and probably cost more than your soul. Each one was placed neat and organized, neither a speck or spot of dust could be seen. But one particular book caught your eye.

With a gentle finger, you traced the gold imprints on its spine.

Herbs, Medicine and Witchcraft

Unlike everything else, this one book was placed different. It was pulled slightly forward, as if recently placed back but someone else other than the organizer. When you pull it out, you also noticed the small, almost miniscule dirt on its cover. But other than that, it was nothing special.

"I didn't think they'll have this kind of book."

You sat down and flipped on a random page. It was filled with information about different plants that can be used for both medicine and, surprisingly witchcraft. It included their typical use, characteristics, side effects and their locations. And it was very specific too.

"I wonder if I can borrow this."

Page upon page was flipped, despite the fascination dwelling in you, drowsiness became unbearable. It was just so quiet and peaceful here. Maybe a few minutes won't hurt, right?

"Loki will be there for a while anyway. Might as well." Your reasoning seemed to make sense with your tired eyes and you rest your head. Not even bothered by the fact that you used the book as your pillow.

It'll just be few minutes anyway.

It wasn't a few minutes.

Slowly, your eyelids fluttered as consciousness begin to come back. You sighed contently, that nap certainly helped with your mood. You buried your nose deeper into the soft cloth you leaned on and inhaled. It smelled like fresh lilacs and the sun.

Wait, cloth?

You lifted your head and saw, indeed there was a neatly folded cloth on the place of the book. It was pale apricot, almost faded white and now that you are looking properly, it was a short robe?

"I starting to think you were not going to wake up."

Do you know the sound of a startled walrus with a respiratory disease? Imagine that, but worse. That how you sounded as you whipped your head in surprise to the voice. Right beside you was the god of thunder himself, Thor. The difference in size between him and the chair he was resting on was almost comical. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact you want to live a longer.

"He-hello Thor-sama." Damnit, what did you stutter?

He casted his eyes sideways to acknowledge your greeting, glacing right back into reading afterwards.

Looking yourself, it was then you noticed the book he was reading was the one you were previously sleeping on.

"It didn't seem like you were using it," his voice was monotone as for usual, "aside as a pillow, that is."

Ahh, the sheer pleasure of being swallowed by the ground right now would be nice.

"Ah! That- I! Yes..." You simply stared at your lap instead, fist clenched tightly on top. Better to stay quiet that to embarrass yourself further.

Thor was in between being an acquaintance and  a work friend. Neither of you talked much, aside from greetings and small talk but was more than used to his presence with the number of times you had to deliver things to Loki, enough so that you don't have to tremble everytime you meet.

But sitting this close, in a close space, alone, this was definitely the first time.

And it'll be the last if you're not careful.

The silence was suffocating, for you at least. You have almost jumped in your sit when he flipped a page in the book.

A minute passed and you are so closed to jumping out of the window. The room was too quiet. Making small talk won't be bad at times like this right?

"It's a nice book."

Wow. If you could, you would have hit yourself in the back of your head. Great thinking, really.

He merely nodded and the silence dragged once again.

"There's a lot of useful information in it."

Stop, just stop. Please stop digging your own grave.

"That's why it's a shame to be drooled on."

"I do not drool!"

In the distant, the sound of funeral bells rang clear in your head. The life you lived was good. Your friend will remember what flower you wanted to be placed on your coffin, and she can have your house, maybe even your-

Before you could complete your will, you heard a smallest of chuckle from the other god.

Huh?

You stared at Thor and sure enough, there's the tiniest arch in his lips. His eyes remains on the pages but - shit - has he always been this pretty?

Between the brief greetings and quick glances, it was hard to appreciate his beauty. Though mostly blank, his face was clear and smooth. Not a single blemish as one might expect from a god who knew battlefield as his home. He was no Aphrodite nor comparable to Paris, but he himself held a beauty of his own. You couldn't quite decide on if it was the light from the window or it was simply him that was glowing?

His neck flexed in the smallest notion as he read. The muscles of his shoulders were relaxed against the table.

Heavens. Those muscles.

You blushed on your thoughts. You tear your eyes away from his physique, the wooden table suddenly very interesting.

"It is rare to see you without Mjolnir, Thor-sama."

"I don't bring him when I read."

"Him?" The question lingered on your head. Was Thor one of 'those' people?

"Do you read often?"

"No."

"Are you interested in herbal medicine?"

"No."

"Is that so?" Your answer was awkward just as the air around you. But to the very least, the tension have eased out knowing that he didn't  obliterate you so far.

"Um, Thor-sama?"

Curse you and your need to fill in the silence.

"May I ask why you are reading a book about witchcraft? You do not seem the type to be interested in it." Realizing what you said was potentially insulting, you quickly apologized, eyes wide as you tried to explain. "Not that you don't look like it! What I mean is, um, - that." You stumbled over your own words with nervousness but he simply kept his eyes in the book, barely even glancing at you.

"... give you." His voice made you stop with your gibberish. Catching only the tail-end of his words, you looked at him questioningly. Only then did you realize that it has almost been a minute since he flipped a page, almost as if your question startled him as well.

"Ma-may you repeat that?"

There was a short pause before his answer came.

"So that I know what to give you."

Furrowed brows and confused eyes marked your features.

"So that I know what to give you."

His words repeated in your head, like an stubborn echo inside a cavern.

"I know what to give you."

"Give you."

"Give."

Oh shit.

"You're the Persistent Santa?!" The chair you previously sat on collided with the floor with a loud "thud". Hands planted heavily against the table, you casted accusing eyes to him.

Before any other words were uttered, your senses made its way back to your head like a harsh slap of water. You just yelled at the strongest Norse god. You might as well have dug your own hole and painted your tombstone.

But all fear and confusion left you as you stare at the fore mentioned god. He was not glancing down anymore but instead his eyes found its place opposite of your direction. And if one would look close, really intently stared, the faintest of red could be seen blooming in his cheeks.

"He-he's blushing."

Thor is blushing.

"You shouldn't be shouting here." His voice did not have the same air of threat and authority it usually holds. If your ears were right, it almost sounded like he was embarrassed.

Silently picking up the fallen chair, you sat down with your eyes burning holes the robe infront of you. Which you have almost forgotten was there.

Thinking back to the times you interacted with him, one word would usually come to mind. Quiet. He would acknowledge your presence or sometimes even greet you during the times you bump into one another but has never to made a conversation. Compared to Loki, you have always figured that maybe he was just more refined.

It wasn't until you heard his tale from your friend that you have gathered a sort of fear towards him. You knew how gods are, how vile and wrathful they are. And a god of his caliber could wipe you with a single flicker of his finger.

You would now bow and act more politely to him. Going as far as trying to avoid any contact with him.

But now sitting a mere foot apart, you felt no threat. No danger. And only then did you realize that you have never really felt any danger to begin with. When he speaks, he did not have the murderous aura that they claim to choke anyone.  He had never given you any reason to fear him, it was only you who decided to believed other's opinion.

"I'm sorry."

As if a trigger, his head turned to you upon hearing your timid voice but you dare not look at his eyes.

"You don't-"

"Not just for yelling."

Where did you get the courage to cut him off? You do not know. But, still with the false bravery, you continued.

"I mean, I have been very rude to you for a long time,"

"You have never been mean to me and I only returned the gesture by fearing you without any basis of."

With every fiber of yours screaming otherwise, you turned to look at him in the eye.

"I'm really sorry."

The longer you look into those golden eyes the more the heat on your neck spreads to your cheeks.

Guess his hair isn't the only thing red now.

"It's nothing," surprisingly it was Thor who turned away first. This time though, you eyes remained on him with a small smile. Youu have been missing out on so many things. But now, you have the eternity to catch up. And you're sure as hell you will.

"Thor-sama."

"Just Thor."

You laughed a bit, a sound that you did not notice brought a smile on his own lips.

"Why did you give me those gift anyway."

He turned his head to the other direction, but your keen eyes could see his tainted red ears.

"Loki said gifts were a good way to get close to someone." You grinned.

"I should have known better than listen to him."

His words dragged a loud laugh from you. The thought of him asking Loki, of all people for an advice was something you thought you'll never hear. And the small pout in his voice upon the next statement both brought you giddiness and butterflies.

Your hands instinctively covered your mouth, but still the sounds slipped through. And if you would have opened your eyes that moment, you would have seen the adoration in Thor's as he watches you.

Yes, it was embarrassing to ask his cousin for advice and finding those herbs was a hard task. But if seeing you like this, with lips arch into the most beautiful smile he have seen filled with happiness he once thought he couldn't bring you, then he would do it a thousand more.

Bonus:

Outside the closed doors, Loki grinned at himself. Trying to get you two was a pain with how standoffish Thor was by this was the most entertainment he had for a long time.

"What the hell are you doing?" It was one of Odin's crow that screeched from beging, as they watch the god smiling, and by experience it never means well.

"Oh nothing," he sing-songed. He floated pass his uncle but never before saying,

"Hope you're ready for grandkids!"

"Huh?"

But they did not receive an answer, only a chorus of laughter from the god of mischief as he drift away.

If you don't know who's Circe is, she's a witch in the Greek mythology that turned sailors into pigs. Odysseus met her during his travel home from the Trojan war. She turned his men into pig too. And it's a book of Madeline Miller too! You should really read her books.

This was requested by @tenshi-san and I apologize that I might have strayed too far from your prompt. I really hope I did your husbando some justice. He was so hard to write because that only thing I can see him as is bored😂. But I hope you still like it!