#it's not perfect but I hope I could at least somewhat do her justice!

[redroom-rainbowguts]

"Shh, no more worries, no need to think, just rest here in my arms"

The lovely Lilli belongs to @braindeadcorpse

[masterwords]

blue christmas

Summary: Spencer finds the perfect opportunity to show Luke that he'd like to kick their relationship up a notch.

Pairing: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: references to Spencer's time in prison, PTSD mention, reference to Spencer's mother's illness, loneliness and Christmas...that being said, this is a happy love filled romantic comfort story.

Read on AO3: blue christmas

Author's Notes: This is my discord Secret Santa gift for @merpancake! It took me out of my comfort zone and I hope I did them justice. You asked for Spencer being the one to make a gesture and boy did he ever! Thank you for challenging me, and thank you for being you. I know you've had a rough year and I hope that this brings at least a small smile to your face. Much love to you my friend! <3 Merry Happy Winter Holidays!

**

It was Penelope’s idea. He kept telling himself that as he stood surveying his apartment, the vintage garland strung up over his prized bookshelves and a small, somewhat bare tree lit up in the corner where his favorite chair should have been. Spencer didn’t like change, and the tree had caused some considerable change but it was the only place he could put it. A lit tree needed to be near a window, on display, and he had to admit that it did look very pretty from the street. Inviting. Warm. Festive. Things that didn’t usually describe his apartment this time of year.

“You don’t have to decorate,” Penelope had said with a smile. “It’s just...you have room, your place is bigger than mine. And we always do this stuff at Rossi’s.”

“Because he has a mansion,” Spencer pointed out with a smirk. She nodded.

“Sure, and that’s fun...but sometimes it’s nice to be a little more cozy.”

What she really meant, he realized, was that his apartment was quiet and sad and more of a place for him to close himself off than anything else. It had always been that way, perhaps, but it was definitely worse since he’d been in prison. She wasn’t wrong.

So, it was Penelope’s idea, and she planned the food and drinks and the Secret Santa exchange...all he had to do was open his door and let everyone in. The decorations came from a box he’d had stashed in his coat closet, way up high, gathering dust. Decorations from when he was a child, things he thought might be lauded as containing poison nowadays but brought back good memories. His mother would put them up even after his father left, she would deck their halls to make him feel something good for the season. And she managed it during the good times and the bad times, it was always something she insisted on. Even if she had never been a fan of the holiday herself, and even if it was the wrong time of year when she did it. More than once he’d woken to Christmas garlands and a full stocking in the middle of July, that was just how it was. And it was okay by him, he’d learned to accept that time didn’t move the same for his mother as it did for everyone else.

And now he was following in her footsteps, throwing decorations over his belongings for the benefit of other people. The garland was shedding all over his floor, scraps of silvery tinsel on hard wood.

Surprisingly, once the apartment was full of twinkling lights and silver garland, it made him smile too. Even the mess was festive.

“Oh, Boy Wonder, you did so good!” Penelope gushed when she walked in, her arms full of bags.

That was how it started, with her oohing and aahing over all of his vintage decorations, over how much space he had, over how many books he had. She’d only been here once or twice before and every time she managed to forget how lovely his place was. Not that she was surprised in the least. It suited him in every single way. “People will be here soon! Are you excited?”

“I uh…” he started, eyes darting over all of the once empty surfaces she’d covered with punch bowls and food trays almost instantly. His apartment looked like a party now. “Yes. Actually. I am.” He was a little surprised to admit that, a little surprised that it wasn’t a lie.

By the time his apartment was full of people, he was regretting it. Just a little. After spending nearly a year locked up, he didn’t do crowds well. They set his nerves on fire and he found himself looking over his shoulder anxiously whether it was warranted or not. In this case, it wasn’t, not even a little...these people were his family...but every movement out of his periphery made his heart jump. He was wishing the party was over and it had barely even begun.

“Secret Santa time!” Penelope exclaimed, waving her arms in the air to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone go find your gift on the table and open them.”

Spencer watched the crush of bodies headed for the little table and waited patiently until it cleared before going and grabbing his, the only one left. He held it close to his chest , unopened, while watching everyone else tear into theirs. Luke in particular.

He’d manipulated his way into being Luke’s Secret Santa, and while that wasn’t strictly against any rules Penelope had laid out he had felt at least a little guilty for ruining the sanctity of random. It was just...they’d been seeing each other casually for a few months, and he’d found himself more than a little bored by it. Not in a way that meant he wanted to stop, but in a way he hadn’t ever really felt before...he was ready to kick it up a notch. Luke looked into the box full of dog toys, little stuffed elves and reindeer and coffee cups and smiled that bright, intoxicating smile that said Spencer had done well. Very well. When their eyes met he mouthed thank you and Spencer could feel the butterflies in his stomach, a warmth that spread from his chest down into his pants. If they were alone right now that smile would be enough to make him drag Luke into the bedroom, it held that much power over him. Instead, Spencer inclined his head briefly, nodding for Luke to meet him in the kitchen.

There, he presented Luke with another gift, one not intended to be opened in front of a crowd. Just a small box he’d been holding in his pocket. An unmarked little white thing with a bright red bow wrapped around it, simple and elegant. “You proposing to me, Agent Reid?” Luke asked with a smirk and a wink. Spencer flushed. That didn’t help that growing warmth in his belly.

“Just open it before I regret it.”

“You never asked my ring size…”

“You know what? I’m taking it back.” Spencer reached out for the box and Luke playfully batted him away.

“Mine,” Luke huffed, delicately untying the bow and popping the lid open. Inside, nestled in a cloudy bed of cotton, was a gleaming silver key. Brand new, freshly cut. Luke grinned. “I’ve always wanted a key,” he said, always the jokester. Spencer reached into his pocket and procured his own keychain, holding up one that matched the key in the box. A little worse for the wear, a little worn down, but a perfect match.

“I’m not sure we’re ready to move in together,” Spencer started, the flush rising from his neck into his cheeks. His skin prickled beneath his wool sweater. “But I thought maybe you’d like to have a key to my place. It’s closer to work, so if you leave late and need a place to crash...or you know...you can just come in. Anytime.”

“Spencer Reid…” Luke said, stepping closer. “Are you sure?” He knew how Spencer felt about his privacy, and how he’d struggled against the PTSD prison left him with. Sharing his apartment in this way felt...well...huge. Unbelievably huge. Luke almost couldn’t believe it.

“I um, yeah. I’m sure. Come here…” he said, grabbing Luke by the hand and dragging him out into the hallway and toward his bedroom. Everyone was so occupied by their gifts and the music that they didn’t seem to notice the two of them had gone missing. “I got you a toothbrush to keep here...and…” he opened a drawer on his dresser, empty where it hadn’t been the day before. “And your own drawer. If you want it.”

“If I want it?” Luke asked, cocking his head to the side. “Spencer…” But he didn’t know the words to adequately sum up how he felt, so he just reached up and hooked Spencer by the back of the neck before pulling him in for a kiss. Spencer tasted like candy canes, his lips sticky from the candy he’d been nervously eating since the party started. Luke had been watching him with the candy cane in his mouth since he’d come in, it was driving him absolutely insane with want. “I love it.”

“You do?” Spencer asked cautiously. “Really?”

“I do. Merry Christmas Spencer,” Luke whispered into another peppermint sugar kiss, this time deeper, hungrier. He was craving candy canes now too.

“Merry Christmas Luke.”

[riddle-me-ri]

Hiiii!

I seen that you liked Ghibli, and i simply got so happy! (i simply adore everything that has to do with Miyazaki's work, and feel so exited for his next movie!)

Well, here's my request: the Mad Hatters with a s/o who's EXACTLY like Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle!

I really like the idea of the s/o being a Hatter, so Jervis could either fall in love due to her work, or feel evious but end's loving her due to her calm, kind and honest nature!

That would be it! Have a great day!

a/n: awww omg I love this idea so very much!! It’s such a cute and neat concept! Thanks so much for requesting it! I hope I did it justice, I definitely think most Hatters would be floored with only a couple being jealous lol. I'm not gonna lie working on this has inspired me to wanna do some fics/drabbles with BTAS Jervis and his s/o owning a shop and him reforming properly as he wanted to do in The Worry Men 🥺

The Mad Hatters with a Milliner/Hatter S/O

Arkhamverse Mad Hatter:

- At first he is unsure...

- Who ever heard of there being ANOTHER Hatter??

- But you were a different kind of Hatter.

- Not only were you extremely gifted in making various hats but…you were also incredibly kind…

- Even to someone like him. 

- He soon grows to be absolutely enamored by you. 

- Jervis may use your own unsuspecting hats for his plans 

- And the recipient better be appreciative to get to wear his beloved's hats. 

BTAS Mad Hatter:

- Jervis absolutely adores you. 

- He loves to see how creative and spontaneous you get when coming up with designs. 

- Hat making is one of your favorite pastimes for the two of you. 

- You two have definitely collaborated on numerous hats from concept to execution. 

- You often use this as a time to ramble off to each other about everything and anything. 

- Jervis never felt more comfortable in his own skin than when he's in your shop. 

- He can't help but smile to himself that maybe, his little bonnet shop with his sweet hatter can become a reality.  

TNBA Mad Hatter: 

- Jervis is delighted to have you by his side. 

- While he works and tinkers with his inventions. 

- You would be working away at some new headwear. 

- He'd always prefer your charming top hats you made. 

- But then again, everything you made was as beautiful as you. 

- He admires your skill and your big heart. 

- He's always happy to try on one of your hats; in fact he considers it an honor.

Gotham Mad Hatter:

- Jervis finds it almost too perfect. 

- He constantly finds himself in urgent and reckless situations.

- Which puts his beloved hat in dire straits 

- And who is he if he doesn't have his hat? 

- He also doesn't mind if you patch him up as well along with his hat. 

- Even though you tend to bend his ear in the process…

- Jervis is just delighted to have someone so endearing in his corner.

- He truly thinks it was destiny that you two found each other.

Harley Quinn: TAS Mad Hatter:

- How would you feel about working for him?

- He needs enough cowboy hats to take over the city–

- oh…not up your alley huh?

- Well, at least he made you laugh

- It's awkward at first, it seems so fitting but yet there's some slight contrast in motivations.

- You do seem to put him at ease somehow. 

- He enjoys watching you work.

- You're a better distraction than playing spin the tea pot and drink either cyanide or tea.

Joker’s Asylum Mad Hatter:

- At first he's somewhat uneasy…

- He's trying to avoid tea and hats…to be with a Hatter would be counterintuitive. 

- Not that he isn't amazed by some of your creations. 

- Jervis can think of a plethora of characters who would don all the various hat wear. 

- He feels simultaneously overwhelmed but also right at home. 

- Your sweet, attentive, and honest nature helps him feel at ease.

- Yet maybe, just maybe, with someone as caring and mindful, perhaps he can finally have both love and hats.

Secret Six Mad Hatter: 

- Jervis is definitely likely to be competitive at first.

- Can you make a hat that would fit your pinky? Could you make a hat that would properly fit an apple? 

- He can't help but be impressed when you do just that and then some. 

- Soon envy turns into admiration for detail…

- You know he likes his food with hats and you make your own hats for all his meals. 

- Hats alone definitely becomes something of a love language between you two. 

- You'll make one's for him and he makes them for you. 

- You're the only one he trusts to take care of his hat if it gets damaged. 

- It's hard for Jervis to imagine being with anyone else but another Hatter. 

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #651

Top Ten DCEU Performances

There's no rhyme or reason to this list; no particular milestone to celebrate or new release to tie into. Nope; it’s just something I wanted to do, and having finally seen Blue Beetle, I feel sufficiently equipped to deal with it at last.

So. The DCEU, eh? Remember that? The incredibly variable and ill-starred shared universe featuring DC Comics characters? It started with a bang, and that bang was tens of thousands of people dying as Metropolis was levelled by a bunch of evil Kryptonians, and then a snap when Superman discovered that killing is bad by killing someone.

This teenage boy-level of supposed “complexity” (cough) defined the universe for a long time, as did the particular sensibilities of one Z. Snyder Esq. I’m going to try to avoid outlining the many ways I disagree with his view of these characters, and how so many of these films are therefore hamstrung by hewing to that view; but I can’t promise a little bit of snark won’t creep in somewhere along the line. Because I have to admit, one thing he did well right from the off was casting; almost from the off, these are films where cool people play cool superheroes and it just feels right.

The quality of the casting across these films is remarkable because a lot of it feels slightly against-type, or at least not the person who feels most comics-accurate. And yet, almost universally, as soon as they were announced I felt like they were going to be excellent in the role. A fresh take for a fresh universe, a universe that had to represent the comic – obviously, as an adaptation – but be its own thing; and also its own thing when set against the pre-existing juggernaut that was the MCU (and this was before Juggernaut was part of the MCU! Oh, I kill me). There was a sense of it being a little bit more representative, a little bit more inclusive, a little bit more rooted in the real world. This continued through the castings of films such as Suicide Squad and Birds of Prey – films of widely varying quality, but equally great casts.

As the whole kit and kaboodle has now ground to a halt – or, rather, fizzled and farted away to nothingness like a punctured balloon – we’re left looking at what’s left and wondering if we’ll ever see it reinflated (why am I wedded to this metaphor?). There’s a new Superman in town next year; certainly a new Batman too, and I’d be somewhat surprised if any of the old Justice League return. But some of the old guard are sticking around in James Gunn’s new DCU; and who can blame him for wanting to hold onto some of these casting choices?

Marvel may very well be the best there is at what they do, to paraphrase a moderately-successful character of theirs. But if one of the things you’re supposed to do as the overseer of a shared universe of superheroes is cast those heroes well, well… even when the films sucked, their Distinguished Competition still gave them a run for their money in that department at least. Imagine what they could do if the films were, y’know… good.

Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn (Suicide Squad, 2016): I don’t know for certain, but it feels like maybe the producers of Suicide Squad watched The Wolf of Wall Street and went, “hey, that blond Australian can do a good Noo Yoik accent”. Anyway, the very basic elements she nails, naturally; she does the Arleen Sorkin voice pretty well, she filters the manic and crazy, she has the physicality. But – and this is evident from the off but really comes to the fore later films – she also has heart and pathos, elements of Harley that have been embellished and reinforced throughout the years. Plus she just has that massive movie star charisma going for her; like Jackman’s Logan or Downey’s Stark, you root for her constantly and remain fixed to the screen. She’s utterly perfect casting and I really, really hope she carries on.

Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman (Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, 2016): a relative unknown at the time of her casting, she very much blew everyone away when we got to see her in action. Carrying herself like a movie star, she exuded a sense of wisdom and confidence above her two male co-stars; and, crucially in a film as relentlessly dour as this, was the only one who seemed to have any fun. This was reinforced in her solo film, which gave her a cool origin story and terrific love interest, as well as a couple of badass action scenes. Sadly other films haven’t been able to harness her joie de vivre or make good on her action chops, and I doubt we’ll see her again.

Viola Davis as Amanda Waller (Suicide Squad, 2016): is it cheating if you cast one of the greatest actors of their generation? Davis has an EGOT! So obviously she’s going to be good. But she’s absolutely terrific, and in another life her Davis could have been the dark counterpart to Nick Fury, meddling behind the scenes, building teams, but from a more nefarious place. Across several films she’s exuded quiet menace and utter confidence, going up against phenomenally powerful beings but always feeling like the most powerful. And she’s brought shade, nuance, and pathos to the role, especially as her character developed in the likes of Peacemaker.

Jason Momoa as Aquaman (Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, 2016): totally, utterly going against the conventional comic book casting, Momoa brought his own, well, Momoa-ness to the role. His Arthur Curry is more of a laid-back surfer type, big-hearted and righteous but also a wild force unto himself. He gives off charm in waves and is an immensely fun screen presence. It’ll be interesting, given all the rumours, to see if he sticks around at all, even if it’s a different role.

John Cena as Peacemaker (The Suicide Squad, 2021): I’m probably not alone in not having heard of Peacemaker before this film, but this interpretation is both hilarious, tragic, and – ultimately – weirdly heroic. As a parody of far-right patriotism he works as an antagonist, but Cena brings charm and pathos to the role, and this is deepened and expanded incredibly in the fantastic Peacemaker series, which really shows Cena’s talents and makes the character utterly adorable, even if he’s still a bit of a dopey cock-up.

Will Smith as Deadshot (Suicide Squad, 2016): Smith brings a lot of Smith-i-ness to Deadshot, making him perhaps a chattier and wittier character than the comics – but he also channels a good deal of grit and badassery. He’s believable as a mercenary, as a leader, and also as a father, bringing empathy and warmth to the character, as well a lot of humour. His chemsitry with Robbie is strong and it would have been good to see more of him.

Jurnee Smollett as Black Canary (Birds of Prey, 2020): Smollett was perhaps the strongest of the Birds of Prey to feature in this film (although they were all good; Mary Elizabeth Winstead a droll and deadpan Huntress, Rosie Perez a suitably grumpy Montoya). She handled the tough, damaged part of Dinah very well, but also showed the more joyous, more heroic side; and she looked the part when beating up dudes. Should have been a star-making turn, but then this film should have been a much bigger hit than it was. It was the best superhero film of the year!

Amy Adams as Lois Lane (Man of Steel, 2014): a sort of double-whammy casting-against-type, in the sense that Lois herself was reconfigured to be more of a grungy war reporter (“I don’t feel comfortable unless I’m in a flak jacket”) and also because Adams wasn’t necessarily the first person you’d think of to play a grungy war reporter. But she’s great, incredibly smart, totally empathetic; a very down-to-earth performance in a movie full of histrionics and melodrama.

David Dastmalchian as Polka Dot Man (The Suicide Squad, 2021): it’s hard to know where Dastmalchian sits in terms of Polka Dot Man portrayals, as the character is largely unknown, forgotten, or ridiculed. But reimagining his power as a terrible alien curse – giving it a whole heap of body-horror – is a masterstroke, and Dastmalchian makes him a supremely tragic yet heroic figure, representing in microcosm the themes of the movie overall (there’s a parallel to be drawn between him and Starro, arguably). Between this and his two roles in the MCU, he’s becoming a superhero MVP.

Xolo Maridueña as Blue Beetle (Blue Beetle, 2023): there's an infectious, youthful energy to Maridueña in this film; it evokes Tom Holland’s Spider-Man and Iman Vellani’s Ms. Marvel, especially with the focus on the immigrant experience and tightness of the central family. Maridueña brings not only heart and exuberance, but also a righteous anger and sense of justice, which suggests he can handle bigger things. It's good to know he’s going to get to continue in the role.

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle 

chapter six - this is what they pay me for

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of death, canon typical violence, puking, mentions of mental illness/panic attacks, sad chapter guys sorry but only up from here! the ice is melting!!!

a/n: i really hope i did karen justice with this one (you will know what i mean when you read it) ENJOY!!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank’s phone buzzes in the pocket of his jeans, still discarded somewhere on the floor behind him. He groans, his head still pounding, but at least he could see straight today.

He checks the time on the small digital clock on the table, and he knows only one person who would call him right now. Only one person who would call him, period. He leans over and digs his hand around, finally finding the burner phone and sitting up on the bed.

“Tell me you have something for me.”

“Mornin’ to you too, Agent.” He can almost see the face Madani makes on the other side of the phone.

“You better hope your ass is long gone, because if I find you anywhere near that school, I won’t stop anyone from arresting you, lead or no.” Frank turns is head, losing his attention as he sees you, rolling over, buried in a pile of blankets.

“I’m not there.” She sighs, like she’s secretly relieved. “It was the girl. Some kind of cuff on her wrist. We got it off before it exploded.”

“They had a bomb strapped to her?” Frank huffs in confirmation. “Fuck. Okay, where is she now?” You haven’t woken up yet, and you look somewhat calm laying there, dead asleep. He considers for a second, weighing his options. He knows he can trust Madani, and she’s the only one who can tell either of you what you need to know. She’s his only connection to any information funnelling in about The Colonel and the Gnucci’s, and she’s your only connection to your brother. He should tell her. Lead with honesty.

It would be the smart thing to do.

“She bolted. I’ll find her. You got anything new for me?” He lies seamlessly, and talks a bit quieter.

“Figured. Look, maybe just - honestly, there are too many things to sort through right now, and she’s clearly not motivated by loyalty to either of them. As long as she isn’t ripping a hole through New York, we should probably focus on the Colonel.” Again, a door closes through the receiver, and you cover your face with the blankets. Frank stares at the wall in front of him. “The Gnucci’s have been laying low since Washington, but I don’t trust their completely disconnected from all this. I’ve been looking into the Colonel, and he had a dishonourable discharge from basic training for trying to strangle one of his bunkmates.”

“Perfect.” Frank groans.

“Yeah, well after that, he just disappears. He hardly spent more than six months in training, yet every report says he’s highly trained, and these online forums tell me he’s seen a lot more violence than six months in base camp. Where would he learn stuff like that, as well as the ability to draw in vulnerable, uneducated kids looking for a fight?” It’s got Gnucci written all over it. It was a classic system, used by all the gangs in America.

They find someone who’s down, angry and alone, pull them into a family, make them feel like they belong, then inch by inch, they drag them into their world. By the time the kid realises it, they’re too far gone, and then it’s their turn to bring in kids just like them. Who was more vulnerable and angry than a kid who just got kicked out of the army for attacking his mates?

“So the Colonel’s working for the Gnucci’s?”

“It makes sense, right? How else would he get past us, and get past the security they still had stationed out back when you got there. You said they snuck her out just as you arrived?”

“Yeah.” He remembers seeing you, how much smaller you looked. It made him feel a little sick, the way those guys were dragging you out, your legs so limp you couldn’t even hold yourself up. “They went out the back door.”

“My agent said they were wheeling the boy out that way, too. Impossible they wouldn’t of seen each other, unless their playing for the same team.”

“That’s smart.”

“Well, that’s not what they pay you for.” Frank breaths a ghost of a laugh. “I know you’ve been following them for a while, just tell me what it’s going to take for you not to dive head first into this.”

“You know waiting ain’t exactly my style, Madani.” She sighs and says goodbye before hanging up the phone, and Frank hadn’t let himself look over at you until he hung the phone up. So when he finally did, he saw you sitting up, face screwed in something between anger and hurt.

“Selling me out already, huh? Not FBI my fucking ass.” You swing the blankets out from underneath you, and he knows your pissed with him. 

“I’m not selling you-”

“Just had to wait until I was asleep? That whole sewing me up thing last night? That was to get me to trust you, huh?” Frank can feel his headache coming back, but he gets up, putting himself between you and the door as you rifle through the bag, finding some pants. He knows if you run he won’t be fast enough to catch you, and he needs you to- “You think you can keep me here till your friend shows up?”

“Christ! I’m not fuckin’ selling you out!” You tug the pants on and step up to him, preparing for a fight. 

“That’s bullshit. I know she wants me to help her, you said it yourself.”

“Trust me, I’d love nothin’ more than to leave your ass behind. Make my life a whole lot easier.” He steps back but you don’t give him the room, nearly shoving him into the door. 

“Why don’t you!?” He doesn’t answer, just angles himself against the wall so he isn’t right underneath you. He stands up straight, and tucks his chin so he can still look you in the eye. Your arm starts to drop off his chest when he squares his shoulders. “You can’t. Because you’re on orders, aren’t you marine?” You say the title as an insult, spitting it out like dirt in your mouth. 

“You better stop acting like you know everything, or you’ll get yourself killed.” He uses his forearm and shoves you backwards. With the force, you should have flew off him, but he hardly breaks your stance. 

“Is that a threat?” You were both breathing hard, sucking up all the oxygen in the room. He stays silent, half sure you were about to swing at him, the other half too consumed in how you were looking at him. Like you wanted him to prove you right.

“I’m on no one’s orders.” 

“Sure you are. Secret Service or some shit? This is what they pay you for, isn’t that right?” It hits him. That you have been locked up for three years.

You have no idea who he is.

What he’s done the past few years, and why he might be understanding of a killer who is just fighting for their family. 

“Because you know me so well, yeah? Got me all figured out?” You laugh harshly, the light in your eyes darkening in spite of the sunlight starting to stream in from the window. 

“I’ve known people like you my entire life, and every single one has sold me out the second they get the chance.”

“Not everything is about you. You’re making a mistake, and it’s gonna cost you when you get out in the real world.”

“My only mistake was not ripping your head off when I had the fucking chance.” You seethe through your teeth, and he waits for you to storm out. 

Maybe he should let you go - hell, it wasn’t Madani who had to deal with you for the past 48 hours. She already thinks you weren’t here. No use getting himself killed trying to keep you.

If you decided to walk out - he would goddamn let you. Even if he needed you to stay.

He stands to the side, sliding out from your hold easily and stepping back. You may be strong, but you had no technique. He takes a leap of faith, and calls your bluff.

“Go, then. See how far you get without me.” Your fists clench tight at your sides. “You got no idea where you are. No idea where the Colonel is.”

“You are a fucking asshole-“

“Yeah. But I’m the asshole with the shit you need.” He turns around, heading towards the bathroom. “I don’t work for anyone. You search the name ‘Frank Castle’ in any goddamn computer in the world and you’ll figure it out. If you’re not here in half an hour, I’ll leave. And I won’t look for you again.”

With that he slams the door to the bathroom, and it takes you a whole five seconds to make your decision. He hears the front door close, and he knows he’s alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

God - you wanted to fucking scream he made you so angry.

Where did he get the balls? You heard him on the phone, talking to that Agent Madani like they were best friends. It was only a matter of time, anyways. Everyone sold you out, everyone needed a piece of you. He should of been smart and kept you in handcuffs this time.

You had no idea where you were, you hated that he was right about that. You hadn’t seen the world without someone tugging on your leash since you were twelve, and even then you were from Massachusetts. New York was foreign to you.

You stormed out anyways, still seething as you turned right and walked down the road. You could see a few people, but it was still early, so most of the places weren’t open except a cafe and the shop where Frank clearly bought these stupid pants from.

Looking over your shoulder, you could see a few business men talking to each other over coffee, and one of them was getting up to smoke a cigarette out the front. You knew you were going to go back eventually - at the very least, you needed a ride out of this shithole. With the way he reacted, you were 99% sure he wasn’t a FED, but you had time to waste. Your eyes were locked on the laptop left open on the table, brain flooding with Franks last words.

‘You search the name Frank Castle. You’ll figure it out.’

You couldn’t get his fucking voice out of your head. Mostly, it was anger. Anger that you had trusted him, that you had really been that naive to think the first guy who didn’t shoot you on sight would be your saving grace, and anger that you wanted him to be.

There was just something about him that drew you in. Made you want to believe what he was saying. You had a good twenty minutes before he said he was leaving, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you shouldn’t go too far, because you knew you would go back to him.

There was a small part of you that was curious. With all this free will you have discovered, you let your mind wander to why this guy could possibly be trying to help you out, if he really wasn’t working to bring you in. He said he was in the Marines, or used to be.

You watch the men walk out past the entrance of the cafe, one of the laptops still logged in, almost daring you to use it. The waitress is busy making coffee, and no one else is around. Stealth definitely wasn’t your strong suit, but hey. Free will and all.

With one last look at the men, you make your move, sliding into the booth and opening up a new tab on the first unlocked computer.

You have no idea where to start, so you do exactly what he said. You type in ‘frank castle’ and hit search. What comes up nearly makes you vomit.

The first article, the one with the most hits, is written by a ‘Karen Page’. It takes a second to register that the man in the cover photo is Frank. He’s wearing orange, a prison jumpsuit or something. He looks clean, but there’s all kinds of cuts over his face, and he has a huge black eye.

His face is hard. A little intimidating, almost. You scroll past the photo, getting into the article.

‘Frank Castle, or as most of New York would know him as, The Punisher, has been arrested in relation to dozens of murders across the state. The marine-turned-vigilante is being charged with the string of deaths, all linked to various gang members and crime rings. Many of the states police hail him as a hero, single handedly tearing down the intricate web of the New York underbelly, but many civilians look at him as a threat. Whatever you think about The Punisher, the most important thing is to see the man behind the name. He is not The Punisher. He is Frank Castle. A husband, a father, and a man wronged by the very establishments he dedicated his life to.’

You look up, making sure you still have time to read. You almost forgot where you were, the words sucking you in so deep you felt like you couldn’t look anywhere else. As soon as you know you’re safe, you scroll further.

‘Frank gave everything to protecting his country. Even when the lines were blurred, he fought to protect our freedom, and it was this very drive to protect that lead him down a dark path, one that was paved with violence, destruction and death. When Frank got back home to his family in April of 2015, he did everything he could to be the best father to his two young kids, Lisa Castle, aged 12 and Frank Castle Jr. aged 8, and the best husband to his wife, Maria Castle, whom he had married straight out of high school. One sunny day in Central Park, he took his wife and children for a picnic, something that would be considered a safe activity for most American families, and he was betrayed. His family was murdered in front of him. Both Lisa and Frank died at the scene, while Maria was rushed to hospital in critical condition. She died just two hours later.’

You nearly lurched forward in your seat. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted into the cafe, and you were positive you were going to puke. God - his kids. Murdered in front of him. Lisa was 12, the same age as your brother. You couldn’t imagine-

You tried to blink away the tears that welled in your eyes, because there was still more article to read.

‘Frank was also gravely injured during the brutal attack, being rendered unconscious as multiple men beat him from behind, only after shooting him twice in the leg. Anyone, even one not as trained as Frank Castle, would rightly break at being forced to watch your entire family die, right in front of you. Imagine returning from the most violent places in the planet, having just watched some of your closest friends give their life for their country, only to come home to your loving family, and have them torn apart while you watched.’

Something about the wording of that sentence made you feel even sicker, but you forced yourself to keep reading.

‘Frank was a marine. He was trained to track down the very worst people in the world, and ensure they would never harm the people of America. Which brings us to today, as we now watch him on trial for the very same things he was trained for, the very things our own system taught him to do. He tracked down every single person responsible for the death of his family, and he murdered them. An act he would of done daily in his duty as a soldier of the US Army. I am not justifying his actions, however, writing this article, I can’t help but find myself thinking what I would do, were I in the same situation. I ask you the same question. Would you, had you been handed the same cards, had you watched the people you love shot in front of you, their faces hardly recognisable, would you not want revenge? When you watch this trial, and you hear the things he has done, I don’t ask that you forgive him, but I do ask that you understand the whole story. Frank Castle is not a monster. He is a man, who was thrown away by the American people, and took matters into his own hands. He is just like the rest of us, had we been dealt the same hand. He just had the training to do it.’

The men started to walk back into the cafe, and you quickly shut the tab before sliding out of the booth. You could hardly see where you were going through the tears running down your face, and when you were finally out of the cafe you found a wall and backed up into it, letting your body slide down and crumple to the floor.

In for seven.

Out for eleven.

You tried to focus on something - anything in the distance. A parked car. Bright yellow, right in front of you. You were outside, away. Free.

In for seven.

Out for eleven.

His fucking kids. You stood up, using your hands to push yourself to stand. Immediately, you puked into the pot plant, heaving the remnants of whatever you ate last. The hot sun beating onto your back only made you want to puke again, but you couldn’t figure out what felt worse. The sickness in your stomach at what you had read, or the realisation of exactly why Frank had softened when he figured out your motive.

This thing - this hesitation that you felt around him. The way he was so easily able to get you to trust him, although it wasn’t very sturdy, maybe it was the knowledge that he understood you. God, even when he managed to rip you off him that first time the Colonel sent you to kill him, you remember how he spoke. He didn’t talk to you like you were an animal, didn’t look at you with disgust or confusion.

He understood it.

It made your skin crawl, reading that article. You wished you could get more time, just a little more information. You wanted to know what he did, why they called him The Punisher. More than that, you wanted to know how he made them pay. How he scared them so bad, they didn’t even have the balls to take him on themselves. They put him on trial.

Pushing yourself off the wall, you try to remember what the time was when you left. You remember looking at the clock, because you were considering using it to knock him out with. 7.33. Frank said 30 minutes, and if he had left by the time you got back, you knew he wasn’t coming for you. He was doing charity work - staying with you this long. Now, he was offering you a way out, and as much as he pissed you off back there, you were wrong. You were probably the asshole. Probably.

You still felt sick, and that feeling wouldn’t shake easily. You were sick constantly, flashes of time with the Colonel bring back most of those memories. When you were underground, at least they didn’t feed you enough to throw up.

Walking faster, you tried to remember what room number you were in, but numbers were never really your thing, and you were too focused on the time to jam another one in your head. It seemed, the longer you were in the real world, the more you realised how much of it you never trained for.

Instead, you look for the beat up car you hot wired, and when the shit yellow colour of the hood comes into view, you see Frank loading the car. You catch a glimpse of his face, still beat up and bruised, but cleaner.

You stop, hiding behind the wall just out of eyesight. Watching him - waiting for him to prove you right. He hovers at the front door, a hand running over his face, closing the door to the room you shared last night. Then, he just stands there. Goes up to the car, and stands there.

Was he waiting for you? Maybe he just didn’t know how to hot wire the car. Considering what you just read, though, grand theft auto seemed to be a pretty small crime in comparison to who he is. He looks down in the direction you were hiding and you sneak back. You don’t hear the cat start yet, but he opens the door and gets in the drivers side.

You were running out of time and options. He wasn’t FBI, and as far as you could tell, he wasn’t going to sell you out, at least not in the next 24 hours. You both seemed to want the same things, or at least for now your interests somewhat aligned. Knowing what you know now, it was almost making you more inclined to get in the car with him.

This was someone who might get it. You’d never tell him, but reading that stuff about him, about his family - to anyone else it would seem insane and cruel, but to you? You got it. You felt what he felt, and you understood it.

You step out from behind the wall, and before the logical part of your brain can stop you, you are walking straight for the car, and sliding into the passenger seat.

Shutting the door with a slam, he looks at you. You catch a glimpse of your face in the mirror, puffy and red from puking your guts out just minutes ago. Frank says nothing, just leans down underneath the steering wheel and fidgets with the wires. When the uncomfortable silence finally breaks with the engine kicking over, the hotel slowly fades into the background, and he pulls out, turning in the opposite direction you were driving last night.

The radio static is the only sound, and your hand tentatively reaches forward, scanning the stations for a song. You land on a voice you recognise, and stare out the window after you turn the sound up.

“Didn’t pick you for a Johnny Cash fan.” Franks voice surprises you, eyes still focused on the passing cars outside.

“I’m not.” The song continues to play, and you think the name of it was ‘Hurt’. “My dad loved this song.”

You catch a nod of his head, and he turns it up a little more, letting his head lean back against the headrest.

You drift into your own head, reciting the words of that article you read in the cafe. ‘Would you not want revenge?’ the writer had asked. You let the song work it’s way into your head, remembering the times your father strummed it on the guitar.

You do want revenge, and with The Punisher sitting next to you, you know you will have it.

[next chapter]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Mother's Day

Thank you for the adorable idea! I hope I could do it justice, at least in the slightest. I'm so sorry that I can't tag you! Tumblr keeps eating the post whenever I tag you. Warnings: none, pure fluff

Ekko bit his lip excitedly and looked at the room around him. It had been Powder's idea to use the old arcade. At first Mylo had been against it, but seeing as he didn’t have a better idea he had agreed reluctantly.

Now his eyes were sparkling just as much as Powders. It was perfect. Who would have known how nice the room could look.

They had painted flowers all over the walls under Powders instructions and they glowed beautifully in the dark. They seemed to sprout from the floor and grew up the walls towards the ceiling some petals seemingly floating towards the ground.

Powder herself had scribbled your little family onto one of the walls. Vander, Claggor, Mylo, Vi, Ekko, you and herself. It was crude, the drawing of a child but they all knew you would love it.

They had never seen Powder happier, more herself than during the time it had taken to prepare your surprise. They had needed all her creativity to change the room into something magical. Who would have known that it would also change Powder magically into a much more contend and outgoing version of herself.

She had practically hummed nonstop, helping everyone with their paintings. She had even gotten along with Mylo, after he had gotten over his ego and admitted, that he needed her to show him how to paint the flowers. They had excitedly shared a high-five when Mylo’s flower turned out much more beautiful than they had anticipated.

Vander had helped push all the defective gaming-machines into one corner and swept the floor not only once but three times. Sure, it still was a dirty Arcade in the Lanes but one could immediately tell how much time and work had went into turning the room into something more beautiful. Something worthy of being called a surprise.

The further along the preparations came the more abuzz the overall atmosphere grew and they easily shared laughs and jokes, speculating just how overjoyed you would be.

Powder filled her newest inventions with snippets of paper. She had spent hours cutting the old papers into the small pieces that could be interpreted as confetti.

Vi and Claggor spread an old blanket in between the working machines and carefully placed down the plates and food. It was nothing fancy, just the usual but they still took extra care with arranging it. They placed the cake right in the middle of it. They had been close to tears while making it and nearly strangled each other but it looked somewhat nice and you would appreciate the effort. Hopefully.

Ekko, who had been on the lookout hopped towards them. “Everybody into position!!! Vander’s bringing her!”

Suddenly everyone was in a mad rush, putting the tools away and making sure everything looked nice. They all scrambled to stand around the little picnic and Powder placed the two little metal figures she had been working on directly before the door, turning the heads clockwise. “C’mon Whizzle, please Buzz. I really need you to work.”

Squeezing her eyes and whispering her silent pleas she sat them down and rushed to join the others.

Her place was next to Vi both holding their breaths anxiously and Powder fidgeted with her fingers.

They could hear two sets of footsteps approaching. The air was practically vibrating with their excitement the closer you got.

You had to take two steps to keep up with Vander and your brows were knit together. He had told you your kids had gotten into trouble again. Hopefully they hadn’t gotten hurt. He had refused to tell you more though, saying it was for the best if you saw it yourself. Well, that hadn’t exactly soothed your worries but you would soon enough know what had happened.

As you approached the old Arcade your breath grew shallow. Oh god, surely a part of the building had finally collapsed and hurt your kids. You hastened your steps even further and anxiously looked at Vander. He smiled down at you.

As you reached the door his big hand found the handle and opened it for you. It was dark inside and you rushed in, confused when you saw the lilac and pink floweres all over the walls.

Vander stepped in after you and the light flickered to life.

“SURPRISE!!!” Your kids shouted at you their eyes set on you and your reaction.

Your mouth dropped open. There they stood, healthy and not hurt and…

“HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!”

Their excited grins were contagious and you laughed. “Oh my!”

You noticed Powders inventions when they started making hissing and clanking sounds. You practically held your breath as you waited for whatever they were supposed to do.

They came to a halt and the noise stopped. Nothing happened. Powder defleated in disappointment.

Without giving you time to react, they all rushed towards you and suddenly you found yourself in between five jittery children all hugging you so tightly you struggled to breathe.

You wrapped your arms around whoever you could reach and laughed. Once they let go you finally looked around more.

It was beyond your control when your lip began to tremble and your eyes filled with tears. The preparations of the room must have taken hours upon hours.

Ekko and Pow each took one of your hands and dragged you towards the blanket where food was spread out.

“Look mom! We prepared a picnic!” Powders voice was high-pitched in delight.

“I can see that sweetie.”

Vander chuckled to himself as he watched you being dragged along by the kids who giggled and all spoke over each other.

You sat down on the blanket and they all joined you in a circle, Vander joining you and watching your awestruck expression.

“Thank you so much! I love you all so so so much!” Your smile was the brightest he had ever seen and Vi beside you briefly leant her head against your shoulder.

Claggor cleared his throat awkwardly. “We wanted to show you how grateful we are to have you in our lives. And, well what day would have been more fitting than Mother's Day?”

Your chest was heavy with the affection you held for them and you hugged Vi, who was closest to you, tightly to you, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

“Thank you for doing this. I am so proud of you.”

Then you turned towards the other side where Ekko had sat down and kissed his cheek. “Thank you Ekko. I love being your mom.” He beamed up at you.

Next in line for a shower of affection was Mylo. You waddled towards him on your knees and tugged him into a hug. “C’mere son. I am so happy I’ve got you in my life.” You felt the boy melt in your arms and your heart swelled with affection when you realized he had let down his cool façade for you.

Claggor nervously scratched his neck and opened his arms. Once you had him in a tight hug you stroked his hair. “Thank you Claggor. This must have taken so much work. You mean very much to me.” His eyes stuck to the floor afterwards but his cheeks glowed in happiness.

When you let go of him Powder had already tackled you in a hug. Your hands found her back and held her as tightly as possible. “Thank you Pow. You will always and forever be my precious daughter.”

Her arms squeezed your neck. "Even though my inventions never work?" You could make out the slight shaking in her voice and you tightened your hold.

Suddenly white fluttered all around you. Endless pieces of confetti rained down on you and Powder, some catching in her hair like snowflakes.

You let go of each other and looked up. Vi and Ekko stood over you and had opened the two metal bins, pouring the white paper pieces over you two.

You grinned at Powder. "Yes Pow. Nothing could change how much I love you. And one day they will work. You have to explain to me how you built those, maybe I can help you."

You winked at her and she hugged you again while Ekko and Vi shared a smile and sat down again.

When you had finished thanking each one they looked around awkwardly and Powder immediately spoke again. “Dad helped us! Without him it wouldn’t have worked?”

You gaze settled on Vander and you flushed under the affection you found in his eyes.

“Just wanted to show my appreciation sweet’art. Thank ya for takin’ care of us all.”

You couldn’t help but stand up and walk over to him. Even while sitting he was still enormous and it made it so much easier for you to bend down and press a kiss to his temple.

“Thank you Van. You have no idea how happy you make me.”

His hand found your cheek. “Ya welcome darlin’.”

The kiss he pressed to your lips was a peck at best. Still, both of you burst into laughter when your kids immediately broke into a chorus of “EEEEW” and “Mom! WHY?”.

Your cheeks were hurting from laughter when you sat down again. In between your family, between your kids.

Maybe it was just a dirty old arcade but it might as well have been a palace. It made no difference to you, as you shared food with your family, your laughter audible even on the street outside.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

[justauthoring]

An Open Book

Prompt: Helloooo So I just read, that you're writing for Laxus from Fairytail and well here I am! Would it be possible to have an imagine where the reader is an absolute sunshine (laughing a lot, making others smile, likes giving gifts) and Laxus just being so confused by them and their seemingly endless happiness? If you don't want to write this it's fine! I hope you're doing well! Thanks! Requested by: @curious-trickster​

A/N: This is my first time writing for Laxus so I hope I do him justice... I also don’t know if I did you request justice, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Pairing: Laxus Dreyar x F!Reader

“You’re watching her again.”

Laxus quickly adverts his gaze, trying to appear at least somewhat dignified. “I was not,” he grumbles into his hand, shifting in his seat so he’s no longer turned towards you. 

Evergreen lets out a hearty laugh; “more like staring,” she quips in response, her laughter only growing louder at the particularly nasty glare Laxus sends her way in response. Almost like instinct.

“Why don’t you just say something?” Freed questions, an innocent brow quirked in response, and Laxus turns to his friend almost in disbelief. At least, that’s how he feels -- but he’s nothing if not a perfectionist, and long ago he’s learned to perfectly school his expressions enough that even those he trusts can’t really guess what he’s thinking.

Unless, he’s staring at you. With you, he’s an open book.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The Thunder God tribe all consecutively glances at each other, the same exasperated, dumbfounded expressions on their faces as they sigh. This has been going on for months now, possibly longer given that Laxus was pretty good at hiding how he felt, and they were honestly just so tired of Laxus’ insistent need to deny it.

“Laxus,” Freed starts slowly, placentally, in the hopes of coaxing Laxus. “don’t you think--”

“Laxus!” 

Your bubbly, echoing voice sharply cuts off whatever Freed had been about to say. The Thunder God tribe all glance in your direction with a blink of surprise, watching as you made your way over to the table with a bright smile plastered on your lips, all laughter and smiles as usual.

And, of course, they also notice the way Laxus instantly straightens out at the sound of your voice.

Open book.

You come to a stop right in front of Laxus, slightly out of breath, and send a small wave in greeting towards the rest of them before you focus completely back on Laxus. “Look!” You exclaim brightly, holding a sheet of paper before his eyes. “I finally found it.”

The Thunder God tribe glance at each other, confused.

“Took you long enough,” Laxus snorts, moving to stand up. You shuffle back as he does, and the height difference has you craning your head up at him with that everlasting bright smile. You say nothing as Laxus, gently, takes the paper from your hands, eyeing it briefly before nodding to himself. “Seems perfect,” he nods down at you, and his team finds themselves even more baffled when he sends a smile down at you. “Good pay too.”

“I know,” you nod, eyes shining. “Which means I won’t get kicked out of my dorm.”

“I already told you,” Laxus sighs, “I’d never let Gramps do that.”

You wave him off, taking the paper back. “Yes, yes, but still, it’s only right of me.”

“You don’t have to pay,” he shrugs, furrowing his brows down at you. “Plus, I already told you you could stay with me.”

Your cheeks redden almost instantly, shooting a small glance at his team who have failed to look away, thoroughly intrigued, before slapping Laxus lightly on the arm. “Laxus!”

“What?”

“We promised to keep it... quiet,” you mumble, obviously embarrassed as you glance down at your feet. “Remember?”

“Oh,” Laxus glances at his team, “well I think they already knew.”

The Thunder God tribe simply blink at the two of you.

“At least, I thought they did...” Laxus mumbles, catching his friends gaze before shrugging. “Nonetheless, let’s tell Mira about the job. We can head out now.”

Your eyes instantly brighten, “really? You don’t mind?”

And then this sort of soft look comes upon Laxus, an expression his team is sure they’ve never seen, and Laxus nods, patting you softly on the head. “Of course,” and as you rush past him, a skip in your step, Freed swears he hears Laxus mumble to himself; “anything for you...”

Before dutifully following after you.

“Well, I’ll be damned...”

“Laxus has more game then I thought he did.”

“Psh, it was plain as day.”

Freed rolls his eyes, “you had no idea, Ever.”

Cheeks red, Evergreen shakes her head, “n-neither did you guys!”

[rambling-addict]

Raelle m’fuckin Collar is back, bwitches! I almost screamed in excitement as soon as she was on screen!

And who would she be “sharing” her first scene back? Of course, it could only be her wifey—in death cap form, lol.

…

…

Sexy weird connection is still intact, oh yeah! Lol. I swear, this is literal soulmate shit—Scylla being able to reach Raelle into the unknown depths of the mycelium and Raelle hibernating for who knows how long and easily waking up because her wifey called. Look how happy they both are, just hearing each other’s voices.

And can I just say… Raelle is a smokeshow in this short scene!

…

…

I am in love again… *dead*

What a great comeback scene. Hopefully, now that she’s back, the pace will pick up now. Seriously, we’re at episode 6 now. I am so ready for some action scenes that’ll keep me at the edge of my seat.

Warning: SPOILERS ahead. Scroll away if you don’t want it. Otherwise, read my usual mad ramblings.

Now, we’ve established that Willa is still somewhat Willa, but she’s some sort of mycelium pawn getting rid of the Camarilla men in charge poisoning the mycelium.

…

…

It’s so fitting, choosing Willa to do this. Who else would do a better job than a mother who died protecting her child? Maybe the mycelium really was just protecting her chosen one, no matter how dodgy she went about it. But I’m glad all the drilling sites are found now.

Raelle is coming back.

This episode is somehow all about reuniting and finding hope.

Abigail reunited with her mother. Anacostia is back in the fold, too.

…

…

I’m always glad to see Abigail and Petra being affectionate. It’s such a massive difference from season 1. And now, Adil is part of the family, too.

Then, Tally made amends with her mother—which is just so beautiful.

…

…

They both found out that they’re not so different after all. They’re so alike in being firm in their beliefs. Who knew Tally’s mother was such a badass, too? You’d think the matrifocal compound would be the first ones to bend over to the Camarilla, but they’ve definitely got their backbones intact.

Tally needed this from her mother. Maybe now, she could believe in herself more.

And then we have Scylla with Raelle’s father. I just love their easy but going stronger bond.

…

…

Collars do have a way with pulling a genuine smile from Scylla. They’ve accepted her with open arms, despite her morally-gray past. Even Quinn, I bet. Our little necro bean has come a long way.

Raelle had changed her for the better. And that’s love.

And that scene where she begged Willa to bring Raelle back or take Scylla to Raelle—whichever the option, it doesn’t matter.

…

…

Scylla was willing to go to the unknown, if only to be with Raelle. And when Willa said sorry, you can see the devastation on her face—her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Kudos to Amalia for being so brilliant as always. I felt that so much. And Edwin’s cries, too. Damn, my heart.

Raylla’s reunion scene better be soooo epic. Then again, it’s Taylor and Amalia—I know they’ll do justice to this much awaited scene. Also, on a side note, how many reunion scene of Raylla do we have?? It’s too many, I swear!! Why keep them apart?? Never again, okay! Haha.

Anyway, if there’s any pro to Raelle being kidnapped by a mushroom, it’s that Scylla has finally earned a place in the unit.

I mean, look at this.

…

…

This. Is. Beautiful.

I’m sure Raelle would be happy that they’re somehow all getting along now. Now, if Abigail would just stop the Spree comments, it wold be even more perfect. Seriously, I know Abigail always refers to Nicte when commenting about it, but it still hurts Scylla when she hears those, too.

Then, last but not the least… Alder.

…

…

What an inspiring scene. Again, hope is definitely the theme here. She knew everyone at Fort Salem was losing faith and hope. They’ve lost so much—so many of their sisters dead, their freedom gone, their safety and future compromised. And so her appearance showed that a higher power was at work. There was hope.

I’m holding on to hope that this show gets taken by Netflix or Hulu. This show, as I’ve said again and again, is vastly intricate and well-versed. There could be more to this story. And the cast and creators—all brilliant. They cater to fans, they take care of their own. They deserve more seasons.

Let’s keep our fingers crossed.

[kamos-fic-corner]

A cup of coffee (Eren x Reader)

Summary : A simple cup of coffee can change your life, in many ways. (aka : Connie loves to be a wingman and we stan him in this house) 

Trope : College AU, blind date (or is it)

Wordcount : 4962 words

A/N : I have no idea how I managed to create this monstruosity of a fic when I have I don’t even know how much wips in my google drive. Also, English isn’t my first language. Have a nice read !

Also, thanks @smfics / @princess-jaeger for encouraging me to post this, I hope it was worth the wait !

The library was almost silent, except for some whispers and sounds of the occasional student wandering between the bookshelves in search of a specific book. It was, by far, much more  enjoyable than the usual  lunch rush - in truth, it was the perfect moment for you to do your own homework, even if a lot of other students wouldn’t have called that “homework” with, perhaps, a hint of disdain. At least you were silent, mostly, except for the sound of your pencil - that people would usually mistake for someone taking notes.

“Don’t move, Historia”, you reminded, lowering your gaze from her cute, doll-like face, to your sheet of paper, trying to make her features justice. From her delicately parted blonde hair, to her beautiful big blue eyes, to her mouth and chin, currently upturned in a smile - everything was perfect. But that perfection was frustrating. It felt like no matter how much you tried, no matter how much you erased and redrew your lines, it would never be good enough.

You didn’t like that. At this moment you felt like you were a good-for-nothing artist wannabe, tanking your sometimes fragile ego.  You already felt self-conscious whenever you went anywhere with her, even if you tried to push the thought away ; you too were pretty and smart, and you could pride yourself in being a good friend.And you were somewhat decent at art. Maybe. On a good day when stars aligned. Eventually.

Ymir sighed, as she fidgeted beside you. She had proclaimed wanting to see you drawing her girlfriend in real time, but she sounded more exasperated than anything. Everything was annoying, for her, and honestly you wondered if she even felt you were her friend.

“Stop redoing her nose.” The brunette sighed. “The more you’re redrawing it, the less accurate it’s going to become.”

You looked at her. She was surprisingly helpful. Did she feel only concerned because you were drawing her darling, or did she feel worried about you and your ego ?

“Seriously, take a break. You look like you’re about to burst.”

So much for your previous thinking, then. Perhaps she was right, you concluded. You needed, probably, to take a step back. It was also a problem you had with homework, even non-art related - you usually got so engaged in it that you ended up hyperfocusing on small details because you wanted it to be perfect, missing the whole perspective, and you always needed someone to snap you out of it and correct your mistakes.

So you put your notebook down for a second, and to your surprise you already had a nice outline of your friend’s face. Ymir was right - you felt like you had gotten Historia’s nose pretty well this time. Could you do better than that ? You weren’t sure. Did you want to erase it and do something worse ? Absolutely not. Of that you were sure.

Historia visibly relaxed. Posing for a portrait like this could be exhausting, actually. 

“Sorry for bothering you with this.” You said, feeling vaguely guilty. She could do another million things, and yet you were hogging her. “It’s not even a mandatory homework, just practice and...”

“Don’t worry.” She said, sweetly. “It makes me happy to help you.”

You felt like crying, relieved. Maybe the lack of sleep did make you emotional.

“And it’s just natural to help you, you’re always helping me study for my quizzes, so if I can help you back..” It was a habit you had since high school, actually. She always said you were a nice tester, telling things as they were and not sugarcoating it when she was wrong because you were friends. “It is fun to see you draw..”

“Oh, er..”

“Because you’re super expressive when you draw.” Ymir completed, cutting off the (un)intelligent response you were trying to make. “You’re like, frowning, not frowning, sticking out your tongue, and stuff. I find that pretty weird, personally.”

“..Excuse me?” You could only say, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Did you truly look that weird when you were drawing ? You probably looked absolutely ridiculous ! “Well, er, anyway. Let’s go back to drawing.” You felt like your break had been long enough, and you hated drawing portraits in multiple settings, because the energy and vibe weren’t the same.  Historia put herself into position, again. She had that beautiful, mysterious smile - a Mona Lisa smile, in a way. Not that you had the gall to compare yourself to Da vinci, of course.  You were pretty confident, except concerning your art, feeling very much like a baby walking in the footsteps of artists better and bigger than you would ever be.

You followed Ymir’s advice, though, trying this time to get Historia’s mouth and smile right, and finally leaving her nose alone. Maybe you were a perfectionist, after all. But you felt like this perfectionism was your way of justifying your existence as an art student. And that was why people said you were intense about your art, never stopping until you were satisfied. But strangely, capturing Historia’s smile was easy. Perhaps you were getting better, or your brain was relieved to not have anything to do with her nose.

Her hair now, delicately framing her face. You had always liked drawing hair, somehow.

“Shit !” You exclaimed as your criterium lead broke. Of course, you thought angrily to yourself as you changed it swiftly. It just had to happen. This shit always let you down in the most important moments. At least this time it hadn’t pierced your paper sheet ; it had happened once during a class, and you had been mortified for days.

The universe was against you today, you decided. You didn’t want to know how much bad luck you had in store for the rest of the day, and you didn't even want to imagine it. Enough was enough. You needed a nice, simple day, and a  cup of tea on your couch, wrapped up in a plaid. Nothing less, nothing more. Was it too much ?

Eventually though, you managed to finish Historia’s portrait, and even if the blonde seemed elated and drowned you in compliments, you felt the usual tendrils of self-doubts gnawing at you. You could have done better here, there too - here, the line was too rough.

“Gotta go, I’ve got a class in twenty minutes and I’d like to have a drink.” You announced after a brief discussion about some fair outside of town that Historia wanted to see. You were feeling exhausted - and mostly, you hated having a free hour like that in the middle of the morning. It wasn’t worth going anywhere but the library or, eventually, the cafeteria..hoping that neither of the two buildings were too crowded. At least during this free hour, you always were able to meet with your two friends. You gathered up your belongings, carefully detaching the sheet of paper and putting it in your big portfolio, and went your way after saying goodbye.

However fate had its own plans for you, apparently.

You were walking at a peaceful pace, a cup of chocolate in one hand, your portfolio safely tucked under your arm.  The roads of the campus were beginning to get crowded by what seemed like tons of students going to their classes, some beginning to get rowdy. Nothing unusual, by the way.

What was unusual however, was the chain reaction that ensued. As you were beginning to get close to the Arts building, someone passed through you in a hurry, bumping into your shoulder and making you lose your balance and trip, and, of course as you struggled to get a semblance of dignity (and spat a “watch out where you’re walking, asshat !” that fell on deaf ears), your portfolio literally made a cup of coffee fly, crash on the ground and spill its content on the concrete.

You felt blood retreating from your face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry !” You exclaimed to the owner of the late cup of coffee, absolutely mortified. You didn’t know how to react - or rather, a million ideas were running through your mind, and you were almost freezing in response.  Sorry wasn’t the beginning of how you wanted to handle this whole thing. “Someone bumped into me and...” You began to explain, desperate, somehow, to make him understand that you hadn’t wanted to be malicious. It was just a string of bad luck.

“I figured it out.” The guy said, after picking up his empty cup - you felt oddly relieved that he wouldn’t leave it on the ground, even if there wasn’t much he could do about the spilled coffee.  And when he straightened himself, you took advantage of the moment to take a good look at him. He was tall, at least six feet - and  he had one of the prettiest faces you had ever seen. A long yet a little rounded face, with a sharp jaw and a plump bottom lip. Green, expressive eyes, under thick eyebrows. And, finally, loose brown hair that fell around his broad shoulders.  I kinda want to draw him..you thought, and that was what you would have wanted to say, if you didn’t feel like your brain had stopped. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not - did you get burned or..?” You asked.

“Nah, don’t worry. Everything’s fine. ”However, he frowned. “Are you hurt ?”

“N-no, I’m okay, more scared than hurt. Maybe I’ll get a bruise, but overall - I’m fine.”

Shooked by you, but fine, you thought.

“Good.” And with that, he turned around.

“Wait !” He stopped his motion, confusion written all over his (rather handsome,you had to admit) face. You began to search your pockets after putting your portfolio on the ground, at a good distance from the stream of what had been coffee. “Take this.” You said, handing him some pocket change. “Huh?” He said.

“For your lost coffee. It’s my fault it ended up on the ground, so paying you back for another is the least I can do.”

“It’s not your fault, you don’t have to -” He protested.

“Yes I do. I should be more careful when I’m carrying my stuff” You interrupted. “I would feel terrible for the rest of the day if I didn’t give you money, otherwise.”

He smiled, gently, and that completely changed his face, softening his features. You felt yourself blushing a little, something tugging in your heart. This guy was gorgeous, you thought. He looked like he could be a model in a fashion magazine. A piece of art.

“Alright then.” He conceded. “That’s very kind of you.”

No, that was called ethics, you wanted to correct but for some reason you felt like you were unable to speak, as if your tongue had been numbed or stuck to the top of your palate. You felt simultaneous dumb and somehow hopeful this guy would find you pretty. You were confused.

“My name’s Eren.” He introduced himself. Pretty name. 

Ah, when you thought about it,  it felt like you had seen him on campus before (it could be a small world after all), but never this close.  You would have remembered it otherwise !

“(Y/n), you managed to reply, feeling like an absolute dumbass. “I’m an Art major..”

“That explains the portfolio.” He noted with a nervous smile, and you nodded. 

“Sorry again about that..” You probably had ruined his day with that little stunt, now that you thought about it. At least he hadn’t spilled some coffee on his shoes. That would have been terrible.

Then, he looked at his watch and had a reaction of surprise.

“Oh shit I’m gonna be late - see you around !”

“See you around.” You repeated in a low voice, almost dreamy- not realising that you were gonna be late too, until someone else snapped you out of your trance by bumping you. And by then, you were pissed at yourself.

   That guy would have made a gorgeous model, and you had missed the opportunity to ask him if he’d roll with it. You could draw him from memory, you supposed, but it wasn’t the same.  Oh, to take a picture of him. That would have been nice, too. But you had been too shaken to be able to speak. That wasn’t very usual. It wasn’t your type to have an artistic (or that was what you tried to tell yourself) crush on anyone. Even Mr Smith, the history teacher - perhaps he was too much like a statue, larger than life and twice as impressive. But Eren..he was what, around your age ? He was someone accessible.

Though, when you talked about him to the two girls later, Ymir teased you by reminding you of your latest what-would-should-have-been-a-hook-up-but no (and adding that the guy seemed a lot more decent than Handspinner Hair Guy), whereas Historia was super supportive. And gleeful that you had sent her her portrait after finishing it with your black pen and scanning it. You , however, groaned. Your  two friends sure seemed invested in your love life, and you knew that you weren’t gonna to see the end of it so soon. Not until you managed to see the guy again. Perhaps next week on the same day ? Who knew. Except that you tried to be around the same building around the same hour, but to no avail. Same for the week after, and you finally admitted to yourself that Eren was a one-time apparition, a nice little break from what you were used to seeing on campus.

Worse, you had no idea what his major could be. You had told him yours, but he hadn’t told you his - even if he was nice, he looked overall a little reserved and aloof, almost on the defensive. It was his right, of course, but you felt a bit bummed, and your other friends picked up on that. Especially on that day when with Sasha, Connie and Jean (with whom, as you liked to say, you shared one brain cell) you were on a movie night at your studio.

“C’mon, (Y/n), what’s going on now ? “Jean asked. You could feel the worry in his voice.

“-Nothing,” you replied in a sharp voice. Maybe you shouldn’t have chosen to watch the dumbest romcom. It made you wistful, melancholic and full of regret that life wasn’t as easy.

“-Stop lying, what’s wrong ?” 

You sighed. You knew that even if you didn’t know the trio for a very long time, having met around spring of the previous year, they cared about you and would nag you until you caved in. So at least, you could save yourself the hassle of being interrogated.

“-Don’t laugh okay ? Something like two weeks ago, I met a super cute guy, alright. Except that I didn’t have time to get his number, it was just before my 11am class.”

“-Ok wow, what happened exactly ?”

“-Spill the tea, Y/n ! “Sasha encouraged. 

“-I kinda sent his coffee cup flying with my portfolio because some idiot didn’t look where he was going and bumped into me.” You groaned, head between your hands. “So I gave him some change to buy another cup later.”

“-What did he look like ?”

“- Rather tall, brown hair, green eyes,”you recalled. “Looked like he could have been a great model.  His name was Eren.”

You missed Connie, Jean and Sasha exchanging glances, and they motioned to exchange dms very quickly.

“ I kinda tried to see him again around the building, around the same hour on the same day of the week, but it didn’t work out. Guess it was nice meeting this guy, but I probably won’t see him again.” You sighed. “It’s a shame, it’s all.”

You didn’t even know why you got attached like that, to be honest. Eren was cute and he was nice, and he looked like he would make a wonderful model to draw, but...Guess you were a bit lonely, after all. That wasn’t healthy.

“Well, that’s too bad,”Connie said, shrugging. “The campus’s too big, I guess. But you know what ? You should try to see other people.  You spend too much time with your brushes..”

“-Yup, it’s worrying to see you like that.”Sasha doubled.

“-Yeah, I know. I guess it’s the little “what could have been”, but…”You shrugged. “Other fishes in the sea, I guess.” “-Actually, I’ve got this friend..He’s not good at meeting people as he’s a little shy, but since you’re more extraverted, I think you could be a good match.”

“-Ok wow Connie, is this a real friend or the “cousin of the friend of the grandfather of the friend of one of your acquaintances ?”’ Historia had tried that in high school, and the guy was super self-centred and probably a pervert, given how he looked at your boobs. Historia had been mortified, when you told her.

“-Noooo no don’t worry !”He gestured. “ He’s actually a high school friend of mine. He’s really caring and loyal, but awkward. I feel like you could really get along.

“-If this is who I think it is,”Jean said, “ I can vouch for him too.”

“-It’s not you at least, Jean ?” You snorted.

“-Ouch, that hurts.”

“-Man, I don’t cheat.”He protested.

“-I know, just kidding.”You laughed. Jean and you had always the most platonic relationship, but it was too fun to tease him gently like that. “Well, if this guy’s so great, I’m fine for one date. Not for dinner though, people always get ideas.”

It had happened once last year, actually. The guy you had seen seemed to understand that one dinner date meant he could pull the “oh no it’s late, can I sleep in your room”. Needless to say, you had told him hell no, and cut contact after. You had sworn off dating apps after that.

I hope this blind date is a good idea, you thought nervously for the nth time. Connie was by your side, almost dragging you. He sure was impatient for you to meet this  friend of his. At least he had told you it was a guy, but given the number of guys he had as mutuals on his social media (not that that you had checked in details, being busy this week with homework), that didn’t help you in the slightest. 

You just hoped that the guy would be as great as he was telling you, and that if you  weren’t interested, that wouldn’t sour the relationship between him and his friend. You didn’t think the mystery guy would be a total incel from what you were told but..you know. Some people thought that they were the centre of the universe.

“I’m kinda on the fence with this date thingy - last time I went on a blind date like that, it didn’t end well -” You tried to say. You had still your doubts, somehow. You weren’t used to that, clearly. “Connie, not so fucking fast, I’m wearing a dress for fucks’s sake.”

And Historia had helped you getting a little dolled up, while still respecting your  personality and style. You felt actually pretty.

“What happened?” He asked, vaguely nervous all of a sudden.

“Super self-centred.” You shot back. “ He was always “me me me, listen how great I am” and didn’t even try to get to know me. Though he kinda implied he wanted to screw me.”

“Ew.”He had the decency to reply, before smiling. “Don’t worry, my friend’s not like that. He doesn’t do the one-night-stand thingy.  True romantic at heart, I tell you.”

You cocked your eyebrow.

“But I was gonna introduce you to each other eventually, you’re both my friends !”

Well, you guessed it was a positive thing that he thought that the mystery guy and you could work as friends, even without the blind date deal. 

“Anyway, here we aaare !” He said after a while.

He had chosen a nice Italian restaurant that you had been to once, last year. But there already was a guy standing in front of the restaurant door, looking at his phone. Rather tall, it seemed.

“Here he is ! Hey man !” Connie exclaimed as you quickened your pace. “Over there !”

The guy turned in your direction, and you almost froze again.

“Eren?” You weren’t sure, he had tied up his hair in a half-bun. But well, that allowed you to have a better look at his face,and you  felt yourself blushing.

“G-glad to see you again, (Y/n.)” He managed to say, clearly a little distraught too.

“Connie, what’s the meaning of this ?” You managed to say. Connie was absolutely beaming -while Eren looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, averting his eyes.

“C’mon don’t be shy Eren ! You told us all about the cute artist girl you met , and you told us about the tall cute guy with brown hair you had met. It was easy to know you spoke of each other ! So Sasha, Jean and I thought it’d be more fun to set you up together for a blind date, you know, for a bigger surprise and...here we are !”

You looked at him. You didn’t know if you had to laugh or to cry.  

“You, hum, thought I was cute ?” You asked Eren, wanting to change the subject. 

“And nice.” He replied, barely audible, still looking away. 

“So, so ! Eren, I trust you with Y/n, she’s a close friend of Sash’ and me, so take good care of her alright ?”

“Connie !” Eren protested. And, looking at me, he finally whispered. “You look very pretty, (Y/n)”

You were wearing your favourite dress, the one that made you feel confident and cute as hell, plus you had styled your hair a little, and had put on some light make-up. Looks like he appreciated the effort, you thought, giddy.

“Thank you...” He looked good too, you had to admit. 

“Alright guys, have a nice lunch ! Gonna quizz you for details later !” And with that, Connie was gone.

“I’m glad I saw you again.” You admitted, a little shy. “You’ve kinda been on my mind since the other day. I was angry at myself for not asking for your number. You seemed kinda interesting., and, er, when I saw you I thought you’d be a great model !”

“So was I.” He said, gently, pink tinting his cheeks once more. “I- I wanted to know you better. But I was a little intimidated. I was nervous, somehow.”

Well, that, uh, put things into perspective.

“Guess we’ll have to thank Connie for putting us in contact then, eh?” you said. Or strangling him, you still didn’t know. The worst thing was, you were pretty sure you had heard Connie mention his name, now that you thought about it. How did you not make the connection when you met him ?

You had been distracted.

“Yes..”

“World’s small,  isn’t it  ?”

He smiled at you. “Let’s go inside, alright ? Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Y-yes.” Your turn to be so nervous now, touched by his pure kindness as you followed him into the restaurant. But still - you managed to catch Eren’s gaze once you were seated and handed menus by your waitress, and smiled. He smiled in return.

This blind date was sure turning better than you thought, and - finally having made up your mind-, you’d be sure to remember to thank Connie for the lovely attention.

“So, hum..” He began. You could feel his nervosity from your chair - he was fidgeting. “Have you been doing art for a long time ?”

“I was one of these kiddos who spent all their free time drawing.” You almost laughed, so happy that he took  initiative and wanted to get to know you. “In class too, when I was bored.” 

Eren smiled.  

“And growing up, I just got interested  in other forms of art. Clay, painting, photography…That kinda was how I met Connie actually.” Encouraged by his quiet attention and nodding, you kept on talking. “Last year during spring, I wanted to take pictures of the big park downtown, and I kept on bumping into Connie, so we ended up talking a lot, and we became good friends. I already knew Sasha from one meeting at the cafeteria, and they introduced me to Jean once at uni. And you ?”

“Pretty sure he had mentioned it to us once.” He frowned. “But,er, we all met at the beginning of high school, since we were in the same class. You know how it is. I sat next to him, and he initiated a conversation, so... “ It was a simple but very cute meeting,  you decided. Connie was one of these people that could get along with mostly anyone, because he was so honest and open.

 Feeling like a complete idiot because of the stupidness of what you were going to say, you asked him about his field of study, since you didn’t get to ask him last time. Architecture, he responded, and you listened to him speaking of his passion, hanging on his words. He liked the idea of being able to create homes for people. That was interesting, and honestly a bit endearing - he really cared about people, apparently.  At one point, though, your eyes met after he finished speaking, and you realised you kinda wanted to kiss him, and leaned in. However,you were shaken off your trance by the sound of a close chair rattling on the ground.

“Anyway,” you said, feeling a little...disappointed. At what or whom, you didn’t know.  “Let’s take a look at these menus.”

  The lunch was more than satisfying, even if, to be honest, you barely paid attention to your meal. Eren was much, much more interesting than whatever you had on your plate. You liked his quiet resolve,  the passionate way he talked, the way his face and eyes  were lighting up when he spoke about something he liked.

   Bad news for you : you were smitten. And little did you know that Eren was growing fond of you too. Because from architecture, you ended up speaking about a famous museum in town that you had both visited, and that you both liked. Encouraged by him, you talked about a few paintings inside that you particularly liked, and their respective artists. He was such a good audience, you thought as you blabbered, feeling your cheeks get warm each time you looked at those eyes. But on his side, he was finding you increasingly cute. Especially that you could relate to never being satisfied with your drawings. That was the true icebreaker, and you had a good laugh together while speaking how you could get frustrated with the one detail that you felt was so vital.

 “Thank you for the date, Eren.” You said at the end of the meal, feeling on cloud nine. “I had a really good time with you.”

“So had I.” Eren said, softly. You smiled at each other, and you realised you kinda didn’t want the date to end. You wanted to spend more time with him.  “Hum, (Y/n), d-do you want to go somewhere else perhaps ?”

You felt your heart burst, and you said “Yes ! Of course !” with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. But you didn’t care. You were spontaneous, you liked to go with the flow. So when Eren proposed to go to the park, you gladly accepted. But honestly you didn’t care where you were going, simply content to be with him, talking with him. As you strolled the park’s alleys, you learned about his passion for sports and video games, and you told him about your own hobbies. You joked about your classes, spoke about your friends - and at one point, in a spur of boldness, you took his hand that seemed so large compared to yours, and he gladly took yours. He radiated such warmth, you never wanted to let his hand go, feeling oddly safe with him. 

“I had a wonderful time with you, Eren.” You finally said when you were in front of your building, cheeks pink and eyes shining. It was, truly, the best first date you ever had. Eren was caring, respectful, super interesting, you liked to talk to him - what else could you ask for ? “I’d really like to see you again.”

“So do I.” He murmured. “Let’s exchange numbers.”

And you did, elated. You promised yourself to text him as soon as possible. You didn’t want to miss any opportunity with that guy, because you felt like you had the potential to create something great together.

 “Can you text me when you’re home ?” You asked. “ I’d really like to know that you’re safe.”

“I will.” And when you looked him right in the eyes, you felt again that urge to kiss him . You tilted your head, lips parted, hoping that he’d get the message.

“I hope I’m not coming too strong,” Eren said, eyes on you, his breath a little ragged, “But I’d really like to kiss you right now. If that’s okay with you.”

“Then go for it.” You replied. He smiled, his face lighting again, and he softly leaned into you, his soft hands cupping your cheeks. Forehead against forehead, you smiled.

Finally, finally ! His lips went meeting yours. Eren kissed you in a slow, shy way, almost like he was afraid you would pull out at any moment. Except that you had no intention to, and you showed him clearly, wrapping your arms around his neck and losing your fingers into his thick, yet soft hair. You wanted him closer. And thus he moved his arm around your waist, pulling you toward him, with an appreciative groan. It felt like time had stopped - that nothing else existed except the two of you, and the feeling of his mouth against yours.

When you finally parted, you were panting, but so happy, smiling at each other. You felt like the happiest person in the world. You wanted to shout, you wanted to sing, you wanted the whole universe to know that for once, you were happy. For once, you felt like someone was interested in you - for you. And when you looked at Eren, you went for another kiss, giggling, eyes closed and just relishing this moment together.

All thanks to a spilled cup of coffee.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

I find myself travelling back to you // Simon Basset

Request: Could you possibly write a Simon Basset fic where maybe the reader is like a childhood friend and he bumps into them and they talk and catch up with maybe some romance or something - anon

A/N: My first Simon fic! I am a little uncertain of this as I am not sure whether I have Simon’s character down yet. I hope you all like! Thank you for requesting, I hope I have done it justice.

Pairing: Simon Basset x Fem!Reader

Warnings: childhood friends, pining, mutual pining, fluff, some angst, she/her pronouns, female reader.

Word count: 3.8k

There was not a cloud in the sky as you made your way through Mayfair after having turned down a carriage. Instead, you chose to walk away the morning, happy to feel the warmth of the sun through the layers of your dress.

The streets had started out as quiet; a few souls here and there, but they soon grew busier and busier as routines were started. Dodging bodies here and there, you found it hard to be annoyed at the crowds – the weather too perfect for your mood to be sullied.

A flash of deep red amongst the crowd has your eyes and body on alert; the sound of a deep voice has your ears pricking. “Simon?” You call out, eyebrows furrowing as you spy a familiar head of hair making their way through the crowds.

“(Y/N)?” The man in question answers, eyes wide as he takes in your form.

“It’s been so long,” You whisper, staring into his brown eyes. “I suppose I should call you ‘Your Grace’ now. I was sorry to hear of the passing of your father,” You comment softly, not overly sorry for the death of the man who had mistreated his son so poorly but offering your condolences as a form of social etiquette.

Nodding his head, Simon smiles at you. “Thank you,” He gestures to the elderly lady on his arm, “I am sure you remember Lady Danbury.”

You smile widely at the elderly lady as she grins back at you. “Of course I do,” You laugh, “We meet at least once a week to have tea.”

If possible, Simon’s eyes grow wider to the point where Lady Danbury snorts. “Really now, Simon. Did you expect us ladies to go our separate ways when you left the country?”

“Of course not,” Simon drawls, amused by the elder. “I just didn’t realise you had a close relationship.”

“Well we do. That reminds me,” Lady Danbury pipes up, “I will not be able to make our tea appointment this week, dear (Y/N). My grandson, Gareth, is visiting.”

“Of course, Lady Danbury. We can always rearrange to the following week.”

“Nonsense,” She declares, slamming her cane onto the ground, “Simon will meet with you.”

Casting your gaze to the tall gentleman, it is not hard to miss to the surprise in his eyes. Shaking your head, you state, “I am sure the Duke has more pressing issues than tea with an old friend.”

Lady Danbury opens her mouth to protest your point but is beaten by the Duke. “I have nothing so pressing that cannot be rearranged. I shall meet you tomorrow, I assume Lady Danbury knows the spot.”

With a nod of your head, Simon smiles. He reaches out, grabbing your gloved hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “Until tomorrow then,” He promises, stepping away from you with Lady Danbury in tow.

“Until tomorrow,” You whisper, watching the strong figure of your childhood friend walk away from you.

Glancing up at the still cloudless sky, you wonder how it is possible that the world keeps spinning when your own has changed so much. Simon left the country years ago, and even then, contact with the man was few and far between. He had left for school and seemingly left you behind. The very fact that he was happy to have tea with you sent shockwaves through your body; not a word for so many years and then this out of the blue.

Now glaring at the sky, you wonder whether there wasn’t a larger game afoot. One that had you reuniting with the childhood love that had left you a bereft teenager; it had you hoping you would not be left a heartbroken adult.

------

The pleasant weather was to continue, you thought to yourself as you sat down in the drawing room. Despite the calmness of the room; the sweet sound birdsong outside of your window, your stomach would not calm. Instead, it was threatening to make a mockery of your breakfast. A missive had arrived late yesterday evening from Lady Danbury explaining that Simon would indeed be calling on you for the promised tea.

Smoothing out your pale blue skirts, you wish desperately that you had brought something to keep you occupied as you wait for his imminent arrival. You curse the fact that you left your latest cross-stitch upstairs in your room, having worked on it late into the night. You could have used it to the pass the time to keep your mind busy.

“The Duke of Hastings,” The butler announces, startling you slightly, stepping aside for Simon to stride into the room.

Simon smiles widely as he spots you standing by the table; he rushes over to you, reaching for your hand, placing a lingering kiss to the back of it before straightening. “(Y/N),” He greets, breathless as if he had rushed all the way over here.

“Simon,” You answer, smiling just as widely.

Following his lead, you take a seat at the table, waiting for the tea service to be brought up.

“How is Lady Danbury?” You question, trying to fill the time for the service to arrive.

Simon laughs. “It seems she is on the warpath. Her grandson, Gareth, arrived this morning still out of sorts from the previous night.”

“No!” You gasp, “He’s barely of age!”

“That is what dear Lady Danbury was reminding poor Gareth as she swung her cane at him. I thought I better leave before her attention and her cane turned to me.”

“A good decision to have made.”

“Definitely,” Simon agrees, “As I was leaving, Gareth was promising his grandmother not to touch another drop of alcohol again though I doubt that promise will stick.”

“Poor Gareth,” You lament, thinking of the times you had been on receiving end of a lecture from Lady Danbury. “She does love him so though.”

“She does,” Simon states, “I remember his birth. It feels so long ago.”

You hum in agreement; wondering how quick time had flown by. Gareth was to be part of the next generation of society; he was to bring it into its future, especially if his grandmother had anything to say about it.

“How long have you been home?” You ask, pouring the both of you some tea now that it had arrived.

“I travelled to Clyvedon to settle things there before journeying down to London. I’ve been back in England just short of a month.”

“Oh,” You murmur, trying your best not to feel hurt that he hadn’t actively sought you out. After all, it had been years since you had last spoken. No correspondence had been exchanged throughout the duration of his travels; Lady Danbury had been the one to update you on where Simon was in the world. He hadn’t written you a single letter despite the long friendship that you still held dear. Instead, it had been an utter coincidence, a meeting in the streets that had proved to you he was still alive and breathing.

“I wanted to come see you,” Simon states, feeling bad about the broken sound that had left your mouth just now. He wasn’t one to talk so openly about his feelings, but he found himself needing to explain to you that he hadn’t stopped thinking of you since he stepped foot on English soil.

“Did you?” You question, sounding very much as if you did not believe a word leaving his mouth. By the unimpressed expression on your face, Simon knew you did not believe him.

“I did, but I got so busy. There were estates to manage, ledgers to balance and announcements to be made. By the time I landed in London, I was so thoroughly exhausted that I simply wandered to Lady Danbury’s home and fell asleep on her chaise-lounge. She wasn’t impressed.”

You snort before realising the impropriety, “I can imagine.”

Simon laughs entertained by the thought of Lady Danbury’s face when she found him snoring away on her chair. “As punishment, she made me accompany her on a walk… where we ran into you.”

“What a punishment,” You drawl.

Simon rolls his eyes at your tone. “I like to think of it as a happy coincidence.”

“Then I shall look at it in the same manner.”

There was something different about the man sitting across from you. Was it how he held his spoon? How he stirred his tea? Had the years abroad moulded him into a new person, one you could barely recognise?

Simon held himself entirely different to how he would when he was younger. His posture, perfect. His stance, brimming with confidence. It takes you aback somewhat as you take in the changes the years away at school and abroad have placed on his body.

Would your friendship still stand after so long apart? Is Simon simply placating Lady Danbury by having him meet you for tea? He talks such pretty words; can form sentences that leaves your mind in a spin, but this is the same man that had left the country without so much as a goodbye in your direction.

Reaching for your tea, you distract yourself from such intrusive thoughts. The tea clears your mind; letting you form a blank slate in your mind. “Enough talk of the past, no matter how recent,” You declare, “You left so long ago and came back a new person. It seems I need to get to know the new one.”

Simon smiles at you from his place across the table. “The same could be said for you too.”

You smile though it doesn’t reach your eyes. You don’t mention how you had spent the last few years turning down every marriage proposal offered to you due to your heart belonging to another even in its broken state. “Time is a marvellous thing,” You offer instead, grabbing a small cake from the stand.

“Indeed,” Simon murmurs, eyes following the cake from the plate to your mouth. Despite the time that had passed, his feelings had not changed. They had grown stronger instead. By now, Simon truly understood the meaning of absence making the heart grow fonder. All through his travels, he had cursed himself for not asking you to join him. Through every country, principality and dominion, Simon wondered how it would be for you to be there with him, experiencing the wonders of it all.

“Where was your favourite place to travel?” You ask, leaning forward slightly, “I’ve never travelled further than France.”

Simon nods, remembering your trip abroad with the same pang of sadness he felt back then. He knew logically that you were sat across from him, yet the longing in his body did nothing to help repress the urge to reach out for your hand across the table – to touch you so he would know that you were there, and this wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“I think my favourite place to visit was Greece. I stayed on the mainland for a while before eventually making my way around the islands. Each island had its own charms, but there was one that had me questioning whether I could live there for the rest of my life. It was so calm, so quiet. Not even the thoughts in my head could distract me from its serenity.”

“Do you miss it?”

“The island?”

“The travelling.”

Simon sighs, staring out of the window as he thinks of over his answer. Eventually, he says, “I miss the sights and the people. I miss the smells and the food. However, I do not miss the time zones. There were moments where I didn’t know what time it was, let alone what day it was.”

“It sounds as if you had a magical time,” You sigh, trying your best not to think of Simon in the desperate heat of the Mediterranean.

“It had its moments,” Simon admits, thinking of the hours he had spent in markets, trying local delicacies and drinking traditionally made coffee. He had adored every second of his travels; he hadn’t minded the odd illness that came along with a new environment when there was so much to learn and so much to experience.

“Will you be travelling again soon?”

“It depends,” Simon answers.

“On?”

“On whether I find anything to keep me here.”

Silence falls over you both as you take in his words, trying to find the meaning of them. Taking a sip of your tea, you wonder whether your friendship with the Duke would be enough to keep him grounded at home for longer than a few weeks at a time. Your heart skips a beat at thought that you might not be enough; your feelings for the Duke had never surprised you. They had not surprised Lady Danbury when you showed up on her doorstep in floods of tears after Simon had left for the continent; she had simply welcomed you into her home with words of comfort and reassurances.

“Will you be attending Lady Danbury’s ball later this week?” You ask, needing to take your mind off that terrible evening.

Simon chuckles, placing his teacup on its saucer. “I shall be in attendance. I find it hard to turn down Lady Danbury. Will you be there?”

You nod, thinking of the dress you had made special. “I will. I’m quite excited if I’m to be honest.”

“Why is that?”

You shrug, “The theme, the music, the company. Lady Danbury never fails with her balls.”

“She does not,” Simon agrees, remembering the grandiosity of such events before he left to travel.

“So I shall see you there?” You ask, your voice hopeful as if daring to wonder whether Simon would attend before no doubt leaving the country once more.

“You shall. Would you save me a dance perhaps?” Simon asks, his usual mischief alight in his eyes.

You smile widely, “Always.”

--------

The rest of the week is spent in anticipation; desperate for the hours to quicken so you could walk through the home of Lady Danbury to find Simon already waiting for you. A hopeless dream, but a dream, nonetheless.

The Duke of Hastings remains on your mind for the rest of the week. One chance meeting and one organised tea and it seems that the man had made his home in your mind and brought to life the feelings you were certain were dormant.

With those feelings in mind, you prepare for Lady Danbury’s ball knowing full well you were about to spend the evening in the presence of Simon, but also watching the mothers of London’s available fawn over him as if he was a prize to be won. It was enough to make your blood boil.

Ridding yourself of such anger, you enter the home of Lady Danbury.

Lady Danbury never spared any expense when it came her to time to host the event of the season. She knew that it would be reported on, that it would be spoken about. She also knew that there was a chance that many matches could be made that night; so no expense could be spared in the battle for love matches among the ton.

The sight of the ballroom takes your breath away as you enter. Lady Danbury had chosen the theme of the moon, stars and sun – asking her guests to dress in colours relating to either. Your navy blue skirts swish together the further you walk into the room, distracted by the moon and star decorations hanging from the high vaulted ceilings.

You’re so enraptured by the scenery that you do not hear the footsteps approaching or the whispers of the women beside you. It isn’t until you hear him call your name that you turn your gaze from the silver decorations.

“Simon,” You greet with a smile, “How have you been?”

“Very well,” He replies, “And yourself?”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“You look wonderful,” Simon compliments; eyes raking up and down your body.

Your skin heats at his rapt attention; flashes of heat soaring through you as your mind begins to think of all sorts of scenarios where you could keep his eyes on you for much longer. “Thank you,” You answer, voice breathy, “You look very handsome too.”

“Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?” Simon asks, voice quiet in the loud room.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand and allow him to lead you onto the dancefloor where many other couples are gathering.

Simon’s hand is soft on the small of your back; soft but insistent as it brings you closer to his own body. Wrapped up entirely in him, you find it hard to concentrate on the steps of the dance, easily being led around the dancefloor by the man who had captured your heart before you had even known the meaning of the word.

A large smile spreads over his face as he spins you out and brings you back. A surprised laugh leaves your lips as Simon spins you once more; the delight settling deep within your bones, melding to become a memory that would always be with you. Simon’s own laughter soons join yours and before long, neither of you are paying much attention and custom – the both of you having far too much fun in each other’s arms to be aware of the looks and glances being sent your way.

As the music fades into silence, Simon’s grip on you loosens reluctantly. He doesn’t want to let go of you; doesn’t know when the next time he can hold you this close will be. If he could, he would steal you away right now, but etiquette and his title demands he be a gentleman.

With a strained smile, Simon bows at you once before turning away without a word. So deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t see you escape to the gardens before it is too late.

------

The gardens at Lady Danbury’s home had always been spectacular, but in the night, they were even more magnificent. Despite the shadows of night, you were not scared as you walked down the paths, fingers absently brushing over the flowers of delicately blooming flora.

Rather, your mind was occupied by the one man who had returned into your life after such a sizeable absence. Simon had danced with you tonight, and every aspect felt so perfect. The way his hand covered yours; the way his palm felt pressed against the small of your back. Bringing your hand to your mouth, you hide the smile on your face as you think of the way he had laughed with you as he spun you across the floor. He had looked so young; so carefree, as if he hadn’t the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I wondered where you had wandered off to,” A voice sounds from behind you, startling you.

“Simon!” You gasp, clutching your chest, “You scared me!”

He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender as he steps closer to you. “That was not my intention,” He promises, his smile wide.

“What was your intention then?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“I wanted to ask you a question should you allow it.”

“We are alone,” You remind him, “We should move inside.”

“Please,” Simon pleads, “It won’t take long.”

You pause your steps. The cool night air settles around you as you wait for Simon to ask his question.

“Why did you never marry?” Simon demands; his eyes blazing with the need to know. “I know you had proposals; Lady Danbury even told me so.”

“There was never anyone good enough,” You confess, fisting your hands in the skirts of your dress to keep yourself from reaching out for him. “I tried. I really tried, but I always found myself thinking of you or wondering about you. Even though you never wrote, I still fell in love with you.”

Simon inhales sharply; not expecting your confession. You hadn’t expected to be so honest, but your heart was in control of your mouth; your mind taking a backseat on this one. Your heart had yearned after this man since you had learned the very definition of the word ‘love’.

“Why did you never write?” You ask, finally verbalising the question that had plagued your mind since the moment he had left.

He remains silent, so you repeat your question with a firmer voice. “Why did you never write, Simon?”

“If I had written to you, I would have come home.”

“Would that have been so bad?”

“I needed to get away, I had to leave. To do that, I had to cut strings with you, or I never would have become the man I am today. I never would have become worthy of you.”

“It is for me to decide whether you are worthy of me, Simon Basset. I have found you worthy of my love since you were ten years old and getting caught hiding a fish in the footmen’s bed if you must know.”

“For that long?” He asks; his voice a mere hoarse gasp as he battles with this new information.

“For that long,” You affirm.

“I always found myself travelling back to you,” Simon admits, “I would be in the furthest corner of the world and my mind would question why you were never by my side. On my last trip, I found myself packing my belongings with you on my mind before I had even made the decision to return home. My father was part of it, I’ll admit. But you… you were the whole reason why I returned to London.”

“What does this mean?” You ask, confused and emotional over the night’s confessions.

“It means I no longer want to travel the world if you are not by my side. It means I want to court you and follow the traditions of society. I have two loves in my life: travel and you.”

“You love me?”

He nods, “I have since I was a teenager.”

“I love you too,” You respond honestly, seeing no reason to lie in a moment like this.

“So,” Simon sighs as your words settle over him like a balm over an open wound, “Shall we do this properly? Courting and the like.”

“I think I would. I think we could start right now,” You whisper, stepping closer to the man who you felt certain was the love of your life.

“Right now?”

You nod you head, smiling widely as you reach for the lapels of his jacket. “I think we could start this very moment with a kiss. What do you think?”

Simon glances from side to side, checking for witnesses, “Only if you promise not to kiss another.”

“I don’t think that would be an issue,” You admit happily, “Kiss me, Simon.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

*******

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley

[hamliet]

Twisted Skeletons of the Past, Masks of Justice, and Dreams of the Future: the Burden of Legacy

This arc has been heavily hitting us with the idea of legacy, and this chapter in particular shows Compress musing about Dabi and Shigaraki’s heroic legacies and Dabi exposing Hawks’ villainous one. So, let’s examine the foiling between Dabi and Shouto, and to an extent Deku, Shigaraki, and Hawks. 

Hawks having to hide his identity to be a hero parallels Dabi hiding his identity as a villain, and hero society as a whole (cough Gran Torino cough) hiding Shigaraki’s true identity. Gran Torino claimed that he did this because no matter what Shigaraki’s heritage is, he’s still a villain:

Except now we know hero society is just fine with covering up a villain’s heritage to allow him to be a hero; they know heroes and villains aren’t just born. . It’s good that they allowed Hawks to be a hero (though questionable how much Hawks chose to be on his own since he’s more than once implied to be at the mercy of the commission). Still, they won’t let Hawks be himself as a hero because of his legacy, and thereby objectify him by grooming him into a tool. Now because the hero commission forced Hawks into a double-agent role that he did not want, now they’ve only hurt their own reputations when he killed Twice (this isn’t to absolve Hawks).

Hero society focuses on the present at the expense of the past and of the future. While putting on a face of only caring about the present, the hero commission is very concerned about maintaining present appearances, even if it means allowing skeletons to rot in their closets. They prefer to deal with villains heroes and everyday folk as they are, but pay no mind to what made them what they are, nor what they could become in the future. Only what you are at the moment matters. It’s a well-known platitude that is more often than not cheap and overly simplistic, and doesn’t have a place in determining fate. 

Shouto, for one, has always been grappling with legacy as part of his arc, defining himself in opposition to his father rather than as an extension of his father (as Endeavor defined him for a lot of his life). Or so he claims. 

I say “or so he claims,” because Shouto’s actions show that he is well aware he cannot just do away with his heritage, and seems to walk back this claim slightly when he takes an internship with his father not just once, but twice.  On the one hand, he might be trying to learn from his past and that’s good, but on the other, he still clearly struggles with seeing his fire quirk as part of Endeavor, rather than his own. It’s fine if he wants to reconcile with Endeavor (and the series is clearly setting him up to do so eventually), but it’s hard to say this isn’t also symbolic of Shouto regressing after his fight with Midoriya.

After all, we have seldom seen Shouto use his fire quirk after that fight with Midoriya. He lost to Bakugou because he would not use his flames (and Bakugou was pisssssed because of it, thus attracting the attention of the villains who would then kidnap him). Shouto’s inability to use his flames thus helps bring Touya back into his life--and part of the reason Shouto then loses Bakugou to Dabi during the kidnapping is because, well, Shouto does not once use his flames. 

So as much as Shouto says he believes this:

He needs to show it and live it himself, because he hasn’t done this yet. Yeah, there’s probably going to be an eventual “agni kai” between brothers, but I don’t think winning is the purpose. Touya is not just Endeavor and hero society’s shadow; he’s also Shouto’s, much as Shigaraki is Deku’s and Himiko Ochaco’s, and you don’t burn your shadow. You reconcile with it. 

So regarding Touya as a shadow for all of these... as @linkspooky said in her brilliant meta last week, Touya believes his flames are Endeavor’s.

Through challenging Dabi that he can be his own person, that he doesn’t have to be defined by his abuse or even by his villainy, Shouto will likely himself reconcile with his own shadow side. Touya has always assumed his purpose is to be an extension of Enji, because that’s what Enji believed as well:

Touya still views himself that way, attempting a murder-suicide with Endeavor this chapter. Like, his comment about DNA testing likely refers to “test from my dead body” given his suicidal plunge this chapter. 

Touya needs to learn he exists as a person, and because of this he can decide his own purpose, he can take responsibility for his actions (like how Endeavor will probably eventually by sacrificing himself to save Touya): 

The irony is also that Endeavor’s legacy is still, indeed, likely to be defined at least in a major way by Touya. The paneling is brilliant this chapter: Touya is on the back of a mountainous giant monster that is very symbolic of what Endeavor is facing. Endeavor’s words about what he hoped Touya would become are likely foreshadowing: his legacy will be decided by what he does with Touya. Saving Touya might just crush all the frustration/envy/ugliness in Endeavor’s heart to dust. Well, not really. It won’t likely be crushed into nonexistence, because that’s not how the past is portrayed here and not how shadows work in stories. But it might well reconcile Endeavor with his family (this isn’t me commenting on whether I want this or not, just predicting based on what I see in the story). 

Returning to the idea of existing as a person outside of legacy... let’s talk Shigaraki, who is literally being somewhat possessed by legacy right now. AFO is trying to control him, and Shigaraki refuses, keeping his agency... or is he? 

Shigaraki is still driven by his own trauma, trauma that was used by AFO to groom him from Shimura Tenko into Shigaraki Tomura. Even before AFO tried to literally possess him, Shigaraki has not been allowed to exist as a person and discover his own purpose; he’s been groomed as a weapon by AFO since AFO saved him. (It’s also not a coincidence AFO is a long-past-his-time monstrosity: the embodiment of the worst of the past.)

Shigaraki struggling to wake up this chapter is symbolic on a few levels. 

Being controlled by the past, even past trauma, leads to broken bodies and pain. It destroys you as well as the world around you. However, narratively it’s not time for Shigaraki to wake up to this reality just yet, though I believe Deku will get through to him eventually. Shigraki is yes, literally a symbol of the world in that the more he destroys the world the more he hurts himself, which means to save the world is to save Shigaraki.

Deku himself will have a decision to make. He literally carries the past One for All holders around with him. How does Deku want to define not just his legacy, but theirs? Because they certainly have not been perfect; despite good intentions, Nana hurt Koutarou who passed on that pain to Shigaraki. The past continues. The past is the present. Unless those twisted skeletons are exhumed, the future will be poisoned by them. OFA’s legacy is supposed one of saving, but because of Nana’s mistakes (even if instigated by All for One!) is also one of abandonment. If Deku really wants to carry on OFA’s glorious legacy, doesn’t he have to take responsibility for the pain this quirk has caused as well? If he really wants OFA to be used to save everybody, should that not include even the scariest of villains? Shouldn’t Deku confront the burden of having a quirk and being a hero in addition to the opportunity? 

It’s your power, Deku. You get to choose what to do with OFA regardless of the hero commission’s wishes.

The thing about legacy is that it's complex. It will provide links that will likely help Shouto and Deku want to save Touya and Shigaraki, respectively. But it also objectifies, makes it difficult to see someone as a person rather than as a cog in a machine, a tool in a system. Because that is how the hero society views the kids, as we saw with Hawks. Legacy isn’t good or bad: like heroism, it can be used for good or bad, to empathize or to condemn (cough, all the takes good victim/bad victiming Shouto/Touya and Eri/Shigaraki). It’s up to you what to do with it. 

Likewise, the characters can’t bury the past. But they cannot let it claim them, either. They need to decide what they want to do with it: to declare it doesn’t matter at all, the perspective Gran Torino, who was symbolically taken out during this fight, advocates? Or to reconcile with it in order to heal what it left broken and behind, and move forward? 

It’s likely both Deku (with Bakugou) and Shouto (with Endeavor) will save Shigaraki and Dabi respectively by giving them the empathy they are both crying out for (and Ochaco giving Himiko empathy too). 

[whump-a-la-mode]

Would it be possible to get the aftermath of a heroic whumpee who went up against someone incredibly far out of their league? Kind of along the lines of that one time Dazzler went up against the Juggernaut on her own (A heroine with light projection powers vs a villain with the power of unstoppable force) and ended up being beaten to the point where she was too weak to move. The other heroes become her caretakers for a little while. I loved that arc and could really use something similar.

I can hardly describe how much I love this prompt. I absolutely adore it, and I can only hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I think I’m somewhat familiar with Dazzler, though when I looked through the wiki, I couldn’t find anything about this story? The wiki may just be incomplete, though. It reminds me of a story arc of the original ms. marvel, too!

This is absolutely one of my favorite kinds of whump, and I really hope that I did it justice. Thank you so much for the ask!

CW//Medical settings, poison, therapy, paralysis, inability to speak, self-hatred, low self-esteem, hair-pulling

The metal doors at the entrance to the Metropolis General Emergency Room swung upon with the force of a thunder clap. And, just as thunder, they too heralded lightning.

Or, at the very least, light.

A pair of lab-coats pushed forth a gurney on ratta-tatta-tattling caster wheels, footsteps crashing on the floor in even rhythm. Close behind, an entourage of two sprinted in close pursuit: A pair of heroes in civilian clothes.

“Lux!”

To the person laid upon the gurney, the voice felt to be emanating from a thousand miles away. Or more. Maybe a couple thousand, or a million... It was hard to think about numbers when their mind was stuffed with cotton, and their vision was dominated by blurry white ceiling tiles.

“What in the world happened to them?” The doctor that spoke had had all sense of clinical professionalism drained from their tongue.

“We don’t know.” A hero, outfitted in jeans and sweater, replied in a single, slurred sound. “We just found them, and-”

It was too loud. Far, far too loud-- Lux felt as though the full force of the ocean had made the sudden decision to crash into their eardrums. And, beneath at all, the caster wheels refused to stop their clitter-clatter. Spikes piercing their temples, they let out the tiniest of cries.

A tiny sound, and all eyes were on them.

“Lux!”

“Lux, what in the world happened to you?”

“What the hell did you do?”

“Talk to us!”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up.”

“Lux. Lux, what did you do?”

Lux, what did you do?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

The support beam shook against the force of the body, hurled at it. Shudders rocked from the base to the top, threatening for the thousandth time the structural stability of the building.

And the structural stability of Lux’s ribs.

With several hoarse coughs, the hero struggled to hands and knees, joints wobbling as though the ground they were braced against were the epicenter of an earthquake.

They could taste it.

They could taste what they had been inflicted with, more than they could feel it. The wound upon their side had long since gone numb-- at the very least, the poison had that benefit to it. Now, the sensation had migrated to Lux’s tongue. A bitter flavor of burnt coffee.

Even if they had the chance, they had no desire at all to examine the gash that had been torn across their side. They’d heard the stories, seen the headlines.

Lux knew what happened to Mercury’s victims.

That was why they were here, after all.

“Had enough yet, kid?”

The voice was booming, sounding from the other side of the half-toppled warehouse. In their weakened state, Lux could barely raise their head high enough to meet the eyes of their foe.

Mercury’s height was unimportant, as was their general stature. After all, it was hard to focus on his body. It was hard to focus on anything but the claws-- terrible, wicked things curling outwards from his knuckles.

A single slash from them, and flesh would begin to curl away, to rot. To necrose.

The wound they had been inflicted with was already a death sentence. But, not an immediate one-- Lux had a bit of time left on death row.

A bit of time to make this right.

Shivering, the hero stood to their feet, facing their opponent from a hundred foot’s distance. It was the most ridiculous of match-ups. A chihuahua against a pit bull. A garden snake against a cobra.

That didn’t mean that Lux couldn’t try.

“Firefly wants another round, then?” The villain’s voice curled, almost as venomous as their blades. “Try me, kid.”

And try they did.

Hands balled to fists at their side, Lux took one, single step forth, stomping onto the warehouse’s concrete floor with a decisive strike.

It was as though a bomb had gone off.

The world was swallowed, all at once, by white. Light engulfed each shadow, each color, until the universe was as blank as unexposed photo paper.

It was merely a distraction, a smokescreen. But they needed time to recover. Time to catch their breath.

Time to remember why they were doing this.

In the world of heroes, Mercury had a particular nickname-- “The Untouchable.” He was the lion in the zoo. No one dared get near him, much less touch him. It was a death sentence, to be slashed by his claws. The heroes were terrified of him, and that gave him a free license to tear the world to shreds.

It was from one of their villainous informants that Lux had heard of the plan initially. The water supply. Mercury had found a way to distill the poison held within their claws, and they intended to release it into the city water supply.

To kill every last citizen of Metropolis.

But the others turned merely a blind eye. No one would touch the villain. They had resigned themselves to dealing with the aftermath.

That would mean deaths. That would mean ‘acceptable causalities.’

To Lux, there was no such thing as an acceptable causality. Only a problem that needed to be solved.

Their teammates had insisted, begged, nearly, that they not be so careless. But, when had Lux even been known as the careful one?

Not once in their life.

“Stop this, Mercury!” The hero snapped into the expanse of white. “Just-”

Lux did not so much as see the fist before it connected. Did not so much as feel the claws, raking their neck.

Not before the world went from black to white.

Lux, what did you do?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You did it.”

Those were the first words that Lux heard clearly, after escaping from their haze. Consciousness teased them as the world above turned from colors to shapes to vision.

White tiles, spotless and all in a row. Their perfect nature was threatened only by an out-of-place beeping that nearly forced the hero to once more fall to sleep.

But, they managed to cling to consciousness as they turned their head to the side, revealing a figure, interrupting their view of the tiles overhead.

A figure. A person. A-

“You did it, Lux.”

Nora. Nora, their friend, their teammate, their comrade. Not Mercury. Not a villain. If Nora was here, then they were safe. The hero had an almost supernaturally calming way about herself, located somewhere between her wispy tangle of black hair and the way her movements imitated the performance of a dancer.

But, wait- Why wasn’t she in uniform? No, now she bore only the clothes of a civilian.

No. No, of course she wasn’t wearing a uniform. Lux had gone on a mission, yes. But it hadn’t been with their team.

They’d tried to stop Mercury, and-

“The water’s safe.” Nora’s voice was only just as smooth as her movements. “Mercury’s been contained. You did it.”

“And by god, what were you thinking?!”

The shout sent a stabbing agony through the side of Lux’s skull. That was more so the reaction they had expected.

Nickel. The most paranoid superhero on planet Earth.

Lux struggled to open their lips, to bring forth an explanation. To state that they had been doing what was right. That they had been doing what a hero should have done.

And yet...

And yet, their lips refused to so much as twitch. Too, their tongue sat dead in their mouth, numb and useless.

The only muscle in their body that functioned was their heart, which in that moment began to race.

“You could’ve died!” Nickel’s tirade continued, despite the fact that the target was showing not a single reaction. “Or worse! You could’ve died, or worse, or both! That was so stupid.

Don’t give me the silent treatment, dammit. Explain yourself!”

Lux wanted so desperately to do so. Their heartbeat turned, now, to a pounding tattoo within their skull, the pedal of a bass drum, slamming against the inside of their cranium.

They couldn’t move.

A twitch of the head. A blink, maybe. That was all. That was all they had left.

Lux had saved the world.

Their vision began to swirl.

Lux had saved the world, but what had they given up in exchange?

Telling when the hero fell unconscious was nearly impossible. Yet, when their eyes at last drifted closed, it became clear that whatever wakefulness they had had was now extinguished.

That left two heroes, one proud and one paranoid, leaning over a hospital bed. Shivering both in their own rights, Nickel and Nora stood. It was with great care that the room’s entrance was pushed open. The doctor that did so walked backwards-- their hands were quite thoroughly occupied by a clipboard.

Nickel and Nora said not a word, as speechless as their teammate. They both knew that this was the bringing of news.

This doctor was the bearer of their friends fate.

“They’re going to live.”

That was what they started with. 

“With medical care, Lux will survive this ordeal. However, they will need to stay under intensive care until their immediate symptoms subside.”

Nora stared blankly for a long moment, before whispering:

“They aren’t moving. They aren’t talking.”

The doctor could manage only the more sympathetic of nods. Again, they repeated themself, but, this time, with an addition:

“Lux is going to live. But, most likely, they will never be the same. The poison has taken its toll on their system. There’s no cure. No antidote.

One day, they may be able to move, or speak. But, they have a very, very long road ahead of them.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Very, very long was an understatement.

No, the doctor would have been better have describing Lux’s journey as a highway from Moscow to Las Vegas.

“The rains in Spain fall mainly on the plain.”

“Da ra’zz spa- ff mm a pla.”

“The rains in Spain fall mainly on the plain.”

“Za ree z’pa fa ma- play.”

“One more try. The rains in Spain-”

“Nnn- oh! No!”

The lab-coated doctor sitting before Lux set down their clipboard with a heavy sigh, sending only another bubble of rage rising in the hero’s chest. They balled their hands into fists, shaking them furiously before placing their open palms upon their temples.

Lux hated this. Lux hated every last minute, every last instant of this. They hated the doctor. They hated the doctor’s office they had to sit in, walls covered from floor to ceiling with charts of vowels and consonants. More than anything, they hated their exercises.

It should have been simple! Eight words. Eight simple words. If they could repeat them properly, then they would never have to go to one of these stupid appointments ever again.

But, they couldn’t. They couldn’t say eight simple words. In fact, they couldn’t even say one.

A month in the hospital, and Lux could not so much as speak. It made them want to tear their hair out! In fact, they would do that, had they had the motor control for it.

But, they didn’t. They didn’t have anything.

The last month had been the longest of the hero’s existence. Hell, those thirty days had felt to be longer than the rest of their entire life, put together! Thirty days and thirty nights of utter hell.

When they had gone off to face Mercury on their own, Lux had been very well prepared to die. They had not been prepared for this.

From the outside, the progress that the hero was making was undeniable. They had begun in a state of complete and utter paralysis, able to move their head, their eyes, and not a thing else. It was only with thrice-a-day physical therapy that they had begun to move. First, it was only moving their head. Then, their arms. Their legs. By the end, they could even sit up, with the help of a helping hand.

Every day, Lux’s teammates visited. And, every day, they congratulated their friend on their progress.

But, as far as Lux was concerned, it had been a month, and they hadn’t made an inch of progress. As hard as they tried, they were still laid up in a hospital. Still broken. Still useless.

They knew that their friends were trying. They knew-- it was evident on their expressions. Those constant, stupid looks of pity. They would never speak about their own lives, about their missions. The villainous plots they’d stopped, the battles they’d won. No. They focused only on the mundane: Where they’d gone for lunch, how they’d spent their evening.

It was out of pity. Lux knew that. It was all pity. But, in all truth, those were the only moments during which they ever felt, truly, like themself. Like Lux.

Like a hero.

So they’d heard, the media had praised them, lauded them for their victory. But they never spoke of the sacrifice it had taken.

Their friends’ visits were the only parts of the day that Lux had to get forward to. The rest of their life was filled with... this.

“Lux.” The doctor coaxed. “You need to do your exercises. You’re already getting so much better! But you won’t make any progress if you don’t try.”

“Don’ thwaa ex- thwaa ta.”

“Don’t want exercises, want talk?”

Lux narrowed their eyes. But, that had been what they were trying to say. The fact that it needed to be repeated, interpreted, however, made them feel sick.

“You need your exercises, Lux. How about we just try one more time? I know you can do it. You’re already doing so well!”

Eight simple words. Eight simple words, and Lux could be a hero again. Eight words, and they could be a person again.

“Okay, Lux. Repeat after me: The rains in Spain fall mainly on the plain.”

“Tha ran-”

Yet, that was all they could make out. Lux’s throat ran dry of words, void of syllables. They couldn’t speak before, and now, they couldn’t so much as make a sound.

They never cried in front of others. Never. Yet, that rule had been broken in the hospital already a dozen times. And, so it seems, this would make thirteen.

Lux’s chest was wracked with heavy sobs as they buried their face in their hands. Soon, tears leaked from beneath their shaking fingers.

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“I’m right here for you, Lux. Lean on me all you need.”

Nora’s voice carried the same cadence as water, meandering through a stream. Too, of course, did her gestures. A gentle, yet firm hand took Lux by the wrist, wrapping their arm around their comrade’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be hard, okay? It’s going to be hard. It’s okay to get tired. And you don’t have to get it on your first try. Or your fifth. Or your hundredth.”

Lux stopped listening on the last part.

This was it. The final gauntlet. Nearly an entire season spent within hospital walls-- now came their test. Everything counted on it. As far as they were concerned, it was a matter of life or death.

If they succeeded, they were home free. They could be brought home by their teammates-- of course, while still attending outpatient physical therapy, but still! They would be home.

And, yet, if they failed? They would be placed back in their hospital room. They would continue to be useless, a burden on both doctor and friend alike.

Everything was riding on this. Lux took a deep breath, and opened their eyes to face their challenge:

A hallway.

They had studied it extensively. Seven feet in width, and perhaps twenty in length. A tiny little thing, used only to get between two particular rooms. It was in the very depths of the hospital; that was why they were using it. There was no chance of distraction, of interruption.

“Are you ready, Lux?”

“Yesthh.”

“Okay.”

Their weight was leaned, nearly entirely, upon Nora. But, that didn’t matter. It wasn’t a test of standing on their own. If that was the test, they’d never get out of this hellish place. All they had to do was make it to the end of the hallway, with help. They could go slowly. They could lean. They could rest.

They only had to make it to the end.

Nora placed one foot forward, waiting for Lux to do the same, which they did, slowly and shakily. It was in this manner that they moved. One foot, one foot, staying always in the slowest of locksteps.

For Nora, it was simple.

For Lux, it was agony. Their knees felt mere milliseconds away from buckling, legs straining under the weight of the rest of them, even as the vast majority of it was leaned onto their friend.

Five feet. Five tiny, minuscule steps. That was how far Lux made it.

And then they were falling.

They did not remember the fall, not really. One moment, their knees had given out. And, the next, they were on their side, on the carpet.

Shaking.

This had been it. This had been their chance. All they had to do was walk down a hallway, that was it! Then, they could have gone home. Then, they could have been with their friends.

Then, they could have finally been a hero again.

And they’d failed. They’d failed the simplest of tasks.

In that moment, a certainty struck Lux like a dagger to the chest: They were never going to get better. Never. It didn’t matter how many exercises they did, how many doctors they saw. This whole thing was pointless! They were going to be worthless until the end of time.

On the floor, Lux screamed. It was a babbling, incoherent thing, as most sounds they made were. Too, they began to thrash, slamming their fists into the floor as they howled in anguish.

Then, they weren’t thrashing anymore. They couldn’t.

Lux had no need to open their eyes to tell what was happening. They knew Nora’s footsteps, knew the sound of her racing over. The feeling of her, hauling them into her arms. Holding them close.

They knew, also, the sounds of doors opening. Of more footsteps, familiar footsteps. Of chattering voices. Their friends’ voices.

Their whole-

Lux’s breath caught in their throat.

In order to avoid distraction, it had only been them and Nora in the room. They had assumed that it was only Nora who had visited that day. And, yet, they knew these voices.

Their whole...

Their whole team. Their whole team had come to watch. They counted every voice, every pair of footsteps. Every last one of their friends had come to watch them succeed.

But, they’d only watched them fail. Lux expected heckling, expected to be berated.

They did not expect the half-dozen pairs of arms, wrapped around them. They didn’t expect to be the center of a group hug.

“You’re doing so well.”

“You got so far!”

“Just a little more practice, and you’ll be back out there fighting crime in no time.”

“You’re almost there!”

“That’s the furthest you’ve been able to walk yet!”

“We’re proud of you.”

Lux’s tears did not stop.

And, yet, they realized something:

They were no longer tears of sorrow.

[bibbawrites]

Don’t Get Caught - Owen Joyner x Reader (16+)

Request: mischievous/playful/giggly sneaking around with Owen on set or evading Charlie in their apartment

Word Count: 3142 words

Summary: You are a makeup artist on set for Julie and The Phantoms and quickly began messing around with Owen, but the fear of potentially losing your job if anyone finds out has the two of you sneaking around and trying your best to not be caught aka 4 times you and Owen were almost caught messing around and one time you were 

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, implied oral sex, reference to m*sturbation

A/N: hi all! so this is my first attempt at a jatp related fic so hopefully i do okay, sorry for any mistakes, most of this was written and edited from 2am-6am because those are my motivation hours  i also don’t usually write reader insert so fingers crossed i dont mess this up lol. i have a ton of requests to work through so keep an eye out for things coming soon (hopefully)  also, to the person who requested this, sorry it took so long (my dumb ass deleted 90% of it and had to start again) i really hope i did your idea justice :)

1. Makeup Trailer 

The first time you met Owen was on your first day on set. Kenny had dragged the cast in to meet you, and something about Owen drew you in and you just knew you had to get to know the beautiful blonde boy. 

Luckily your chance came sooner than expected when you were working alone in the makeup trailer a few days later. The door opened and Owen came in, smiling brightly when he saw you.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” He asked. You nodded.

“I am.” You replied and he grinned.

“I’m Owen. Nice to meet you, again.” He said awkwardly.

You giggled at his awkwardness. 

“Nice to meet you again too. Sit down.” You gestured to the chair in front of you and he sat down. You got to work quickly, working in silence for a few minutes before Owen spoke up.

“So how long have you been doing makeup for? You look young.” He asked.

“I’ve been doing it professionally for 5 years now. I started working in my mum’s salon when I was 15, and when I graduated I did a course to get me this job.” You told him. He paused.

“So you’re 20?” He questioned, and you nodded.

“I am.” 

“Cool, I’m 19.”  He said, and you hummed in response, concentrating on making sure his face didn’t looked cakey.

“So are you from around here?” You shook your head.

“Nah I moved here from Quebec.” You said.

“Alone? Or with your family or... boyfriend?” Owen asked, the last part sounding slightly bitter.

“Yeah I came alone, my mum is too busy with her salon, and my siblings are still in school. And I don’t have a boyfriend.” You told him and he grinned slightly.

“Good to know.” He muttered quietly. You raised an eyebrow, not quite hearing him properly.

“Sorry?” You asked. He shook his head.

“Nothing.” 

“Okay...” You trailed off, not believing him. “Well you’re all done.”

“Already?” He frowned slightly. 

“Yep.” You smiled.

“Oh. Thanks.” He stood up, pausing slightly. 

“Can I get your number?” He asked, somewhat hesitantly. Realisation dawned on you.

“So that’s why you asked about a boyfriend.” You said, eyebrow raised. 

“Guilty.” He grinned cheekily.

“Give me your phone.” You held out your hand and he placed his phone in it, and you quickly added a new contact, typing in your number and texting yourself from his phone.

“There. I’ll text you pretty boy.” You said, handing him his phone back. He grinned.

“I’ll see you around Y/N.” He said, turning to leave for the hair trailer. You watched him leave with a smile on your face.

A week of texting and flirting later and you found yourself alone with Owen in the makeup trailer again.

“So what scenes are you filming today pretty boy?” You questioned as you began to apply his makeup.

“Why do you always call me pretty boy?” He asked, ignoring your question.

“Because you’re pretty? And a boy?” You said, pulling a face.

“Are you flirting with me?” He grinned, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” You said. He bit his lip.

“So if I tried to kiss you you’d say?” He asked, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Eh why not?” You said it like it was nothing but inside you were freaking out.

“Y/N.” He groaned and you giggled.

“Just kidding.” You teased.

“So?” He asked again after a moment of silence. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh my god just kiss me you dork.” Owen didn’t even take a second to think about it, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, connecting your lips in a less than innocent kiss. Your lips fitted together perfectly, and he tasted faintly of blueberry and spearmint. After what felt like a lifetime he pulled away from you, leaving you panting and wanting more.

“Wow that was...” He was the first to speak, his voice breathy. You nodded.

“Yep.” You said simply. “I should probably...”

You stood up from his lap, and had barely stepped away when the door opened.

“Hey Y/N, one of my lashes came off and... oh...” Savannah’s voice came, the young actress pausing when she saw how close the two of you were.

“Hey Savannah.” You said with a smile. She returned your smile before glancing back at Owen.

“Sorry, did I interrupt something?” She asked. The two of you shook your heads.

“No, not at all.” You said.

“I was just leaving.” Owen added, standing up from his chair. Savannah raised an eyebrow.

“If you say so.” She replied as Owen left the trailer quickly. The door shut behind him and Savannah grinned at you.

“You like him.” She said, her tone teasing.

“No...” You denied. Savannah rolled her eyes.

“You so do Y/N. And I know Owen, he definitely likes you too.” She told you.

“If you say so.” You said, grabbing a new fake lash to fix the missing one.

Savannah grinned. 

“Oh I know so. You’ll see.”

2. Julie’s Bedroom Set

“Come on Y/N, what’s the worst that could happen?” Owen had said as he dragged you through the filming lot towards the set of Julie’s bedroom. You had been heading off to grab some lunch when he had intercepted you and asked if you wanted to “hang”, which by this point you knew was code for hide somewhere and make out for a while. You had originally said no, but those darn puppy eyes had made you say yes before you even realised you were saying it. 

“What if someone catches us?” You had questioned, but Owen silenced your worries with a blistering kiss that left you breathless. 

“We’ll be fine.” He muttered as he pulled away. “Don’t stress.” 

“Famous last words.” You muttered, allowing him to pull you back in and kiss you again. You ran your fingers through his hair, knowing that he would have to have it fixed up before his next scene anyways. 

It had been a few weeks since that first kiss in the makeup trailer, and since then you had learnt the taste and feeling of Owen’s lips on yours, a feeling that was now so familiar to you that it felt like second nature. 

You mindlessly kissed him back, thanking your past self for deciding to use your favourite chapstick flavour, choc mint, on him earlier that morning when you did his makeup for the day. 

You pulled away to take a breath and he grinned at you. 

“I’m glad we met.” He said. You blushed slightly.

“Me too.” You agreed.

He pulled you back in and kissed you again, this kiss more passionate than the last, and you shuffled closer to him, your lips never leaving his for a second. You could feel his hands resting on your waist, his tongue in your mouth, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils.

Suddenly you heard a noise and you pulled away quickly, the fear of being caught overpowering your feelings for Owen.

“Someone’s coming.” You said quickly. Owen frowned.

“What?” He questioned.

“There’s someone coming.” You repeated and his expression changed to fear.

“Fuck, what do we do? Run?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes.” 

He grabbed your hands and pulled you up off the bed, linking your fingers together before dragging you off the set, the both of you giggling the whole way back to his trailer.

“It’s kinda fun, almost but not quite getting caught.” You admitted once the two of you were curled up on the couch in his trailer.

“It is.” He agreed. “But do you know what’s even more fun?”

“What?” You questioned.

“Making out with you.”

And if Owen went back to set with the taste of your orgasm on his tongue that was for only the two of you to know. 

3. Owen and Charlie’s Living Room 

You had just finished some finishing touches on Savannah’s makeup when Owen burst into the makeup trailer. 

“You’re all done.” You told Savannah and she grinned. 

“Thanks Y/N.” She stood up from the chair. “See you later. Bye Owen.” 

She glanced between the two of you, before turning and giving you a quick wink as she left, leaving you and Owen alone in the trailer. 

“So?” You spoke, beginning to pack up your brushes. “Why are you here?” 

“Well you see, I’m finished for the day and I checked your schedule and you are too, and I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place to watch a movie and chill or something.” Owen spoke, plopping himself into one of the chairs and spinning around. 

"What about Charlie?” You asked, placing your brush bag into the large drawer of your makeup supplies. 

“He’s filming the Perfect Harmony scene with Madi. We’d have the place to ourselves for at least a few hours.” You paused, considering his offer. 

“Okay.” You replied simply. He cheered. 

“Are you ready to go now?” He asked, standing up, and you nodded. He grinned slightly, pulling you in and kissing you softly. 

“Hi, by the way.” He whispered once he pulled away. You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Let’s just go.” 

You somehow managed to make it off set and back to the building where most of the cast and crew were living without anyone noticing the two of you together.

“What floor?” You asked as you hopped into the elevator.

“6.” He replied, and you pressed the button, riding in silence to his floor. He took your hand, pulling you towards the apartment he shared with Charlie, unlocking the front door and dragging you towards the couch.

“So you mentioned a movie?” You said once the two of you were settled. Owen nodded. 

“I did, what do you wanna watch?” He asked. 

“I actually have a better idea.” You grinned, climbing on top of him, straddling his waist.

“Oh I see.” He replied, grabbing your top and pulling you down to kiss you roughly.

It felt like no time had passed at all when suddenly the front door unlocked.

“Fuck.” You said, jumping off him quickly and settling onto the couch next to Owen, pretending as if you’d been there the whole time. Charlie entered the room, frowning slightly when he saw you sat on the couch.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Charlie questioned, throwing his bag onto the chair. 

“I.. Um...” You stumbled. “I was just leaving.” 

You stood up quickly, thankful that the shoes you wore were slip on’s. 

Charlie eyed Owen carefully as the door shut and Owen shrugged.

“Should I ask?” Charlie questioned. Owen shook his head.

“Nope.”

4. Owen’s Bedroom 

After a couple of close calls on set and in the living room, the next time you came over you and Owen went straight to his room.

He laid down on his bed and you climbed on top of him, kissing him instantly.

“God you’re perfect.” He muttered, lips and tongues combining in a mess of passion and lust. Owen pulled at your shirt, tugging it over your head, and you did the same for him. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking gently to leave a mark.

The front door opened and Owen groaned.

“Shit, is that Charlie?” You asked. He nodded. “What do we do?”

“Uh... get in the closet.” He suggested and you giggled, grabbing onto your shirt so Charlie wouldn’t see it if he came in.

“Owen? You here?” Charlie called, and Owen dragged you into the closet, pulling the door shut behind you.

“Shh.” Owen whispered. You tried to hide your smile.

“I didn’t say anything.” You told him, and he rolled his eyes playfully. The door to Owen’s room opened and the two of you froze, bodies pressed together.

“God I hope that’s your phone pressed against my leg.” You whispered after a moment. Owen pulled a face in the darkness. 

“Uh... no.” He replied, and you giggled awkwardly. 

“Don’t laugh, this isn’t funny.” He whined.

“It is funny. We’re trapped in your closet waiting for Charlie to leave and you still manage to be turned on?” You questioned with a giggle

“I can’t help it when someone as attractive as you is pressed up against me. Plus you don’t have a shirt on so...” He trailed off.

“Oh yeah?” You pressed yourself against his body more forcefully. Owen groaned quietly. 

“Fuck, stop it.” He muttered. You smirked. 

“No.” You whispered, and Owen placed his hands on your waist. 

“Y/N...” His voice was low, and just the sound of it sent flutters through your stomach. 

“Owen...” You replied just as quietly. “Before you ask, I’m not gonna fuck you in a closet.” 

“Why not?” He whined. You rolled your eyes. 

“You shouldn’t even have to ask that question.” 

The front door slammed shut and Owen let out a sigh of relief, pushing open the closet door. You stepped past him and made your way over to the bed, Pulling your shirt back on before sitting down to pull your shoes on. 

“Wait where are you going?” He questioned, pouting. 

“Back to set, I have a job to do, remember?” You reminded him, tying your laces on your left shoe before reaching for the right. 

“Can’t you call in sick?” He tried. You raised an eyebrow. 

“From my lunch break?” He shrugged. 

“Food poisoning?” 

“Owen.” You gave him a look and he groaned, flopping onto the bed. 

“Fine. But what am I supposed to do about this?” He motioned towards his crotch. You stood up, grabbing your phone, and walked towards the door, pausing before you exited the room. 

“You have a hand. Use it.” And with that, you left. 

+1. Owen and Charlie’s Kitchen 

It was a day off from filming so you decided to have a lazy day. It was almost lunch time when you woke up, and you would have slept longer if it wasn’t for your phone ringing obnoxiously from its spot on your nightstand. 

You rolled over, grabbing the phone and answered without even checking the caller ID. 

“Hello?” You spoke, voice full of sleep. 

“Good morning, Charlie has gone for a hike, wanna come over?” Owen’s voice came through the phone. 

“Sure, why not. Give me half an hour to have a shower and get changed.” You replied, already climbing out of bed. Owen cheered causing you to smile slightly. 

“Awesome, I’ll see you in half an hour.” He said. “And don’t eat anything.” 

“Okay.” You replied, and before you could even say goodbye he had hung up. You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone back onto the bed and grabbing a simple outfit of a crop t-shirt and shorts out of your wardrobe, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. 

25 minutes later you were knocking on the door of Owen and Charlie’s apartment. The door opened, revealing a shirtless Owen, and you had to stop yourself from checking him out as he let you in. 

“Any reason why I wasn’t allowed to eat?” You questioned, following him down the hall into the kitchen. 

“Because, I thought we could make pancakes together.” He gestured to the pile of ingredients sitting on the counter. 

“How domestic. Didn’t realise we had become a married couple.” You teased, and he blushed slightly. 

“I just thought it would be fun.” He defended, and you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It will be. And delicious.” You agreed.

He grinned, grabbing the ingredients. 

“Let’s get started then.” 

Somehow you found yourself sitting on the counter, eating the batter while Owen cooked the pancakes. 

“There!” Owen exclaimed, flipping the last pancake onto the plate he had gotten out. “All done.” 

He turned to face you, his smile turning into a look of concentration. 

“You have a little something...” He said, positioning himself between your legs. You paused, waiting for him to move. Slowly he lifted his hand, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Much better.” He muttered. The two of you were still, a stand off to see who would make the first move. You leaned in slowly, connecting your lips in a soft kiss.

It was as if the first brush of your lips opened the floodgates. Owen grabbed onto your thighs, dragging you forward, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, the pancakes long forgotten.

You tangled your hands through his hair, moaning slightly when you felt his hands on your ass, and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You were so caught up in each other that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

“Hey Owen, I forgot my-” Charlie’s voice came, stopping abruptly as he took in the scene in front of him.

Owen stepped away from you quickly, but even if Charlie hadn’t seen you kissing, it was obvious what the two of you had been up to.

No one blinked. Finally, Owen broke the silence.

“You were meant to be hiking all day.” He said, somewhat defensively.

“I forgot my phone, so I came back for it. I figured you’d be on the couch where I left you. I didn’t realise you’d be...” He stopped, focusing his attention on you. “Hi Y/N.”

You waved awkwardly.

“So...” Charlie looked between you and Owen. “Am I pretending I didn’t see this, or...” He trailed off. 

You and Owen shared a look before nodding.

“Just for now, at least.” You said, and Charlie nodded.

“Got it. Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Oh, and if you have sex on the kitchen counter please clean it afterwards. I eat off that thing.” He winked at Owen and before either of you could respond he had left the room.

“Sorry about him.” Owen sighed slightly.

“You didn’t know he’d leave his phone. Besides, now we can hang out here together and not have to worry about Charlie walking in on something he doesn’t know about.” You replied, and Owen grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You had just started to find a rhythm in kissing again when a cleared throat broke you apart.

“Dude!” Owen exclaimed, glaring at Charlie who was leaning against the wall, grinning cheekily.

“Just wanted to say goodbye. And warn you that I’ll be back at 3, so make sure any... activities-” He winked suggestively. “Are done by then.”

“Get out.” Owen glared at him. Charlie grinned, turning to leave quickly.

“Bye Y/N!” He called back as he left.

“Bye.” You called, giggling slightly.

Owen rolled his eyes as the front door shut behind Charlie. Focusing his attention back on you he smiled slightly.

“Now where were we?” He questioned, pulling you back in and connecting your lips again.

And if you did end up having sex on the kitchen counter, Charlie would never have to know.

[abnormallynice]

The World Evolves With You

The long-awaited personal take on a TWEWY-Digimon crossover is complete T3T/

Keep reading if you like headcanons and text! (TWEWY spoilers inbound):

The wolrd/AU follows alongside the TWEWY story with minor changes: - Players are partnered with a Digimon, not other players. Though, groups sticking and working together helps (as Shiki says in W1) - If the human or Digimon in a team is erased, they other will also cease to exist in several minutes. No Digimon nursery/rebirth or data downloading. - As a Player has personal growth, their Digimon will show equal in growth and digivolve into higher stages. - Digimon are In-training on Day 1 and outside of battles but automatically digivolve to at least Rookie when the battle initiates. In rare instances, some humans have Digimon higher than Rookie stage. - Where player’s prize for winning the Game is a second chance at life, Digimon have a chance at reincarnation into the human world, in a form of their choice. - Noise are mindless Digimon with tribal markings and appendages.

Neku and Monodramon: Evo line: Monodramon > Strikedramon > Cyberdramon > Justimon - Since Neku is our lovely protagonist, he gets the coveted dino/dragon Digimon. This was an amazingly hard choice to make (At first I wanted to go with Impmon, but ultimately I decided it suits Beat better). I did like the idea of Neku having rough, violent looking digis up until Mega, then showcasing a change of heart via the look of the final evo. - During the last day of W3, Justimon appears, a stark contrast in look and personality compared to prior forms. Justimon represents Neku’s final growth as a person, with a less aggressive shell but strong sense of justice for the friends he’s made, people he’s helped and a world he promised to get back to. - Notably, Neku’s Digimon is the only one that doesn’t have a set of wings in Mega. Let’s say It represents his stubbornness to not accept death, even when he was forced into the UG over and over. - It’s not surprising that Neku does NOT like this little, chubby purple creature that keeps following him around at the start of W1. It’s Shiki that helps convince Neku they have to work together (they still meet on D1W1. She and BlackGatomon saved Neku and Monodramon’s collective butts). Sloooowly, Neku and his digimon’s relationship betters and by the end they are 100% in sync.

Shiki and BlackGatomon (Mr.Mew) Evo line: Salamon > BlackGatomon > LadyDevimon/Angewomon > Mastemon - In contrast to Neku, Shiki’s Digimon was a painfully easy choice, lol. She always refers to her Digi as Mr. Mew as well, as they surprisingly resemble a stuffed animal she had when she was alive. In reality, her digimon IS her stuffed animal (thanks to data collection on the digimon’s part, it knows and understands Shiki). It’s one of the reasons that Mr.Mew is a champion level when they first meet. Mr.Mew only ever devolves to Salamon after Shiki’s first encounter with Higashizawa in W1. - Mr.Mew’s evo line is the only one that doesn’t follow ‘traditional’ evolution. The first time they go to Ultimate, the evolve to LadyDevimon; representative of Shiki’s still inner turmoil. When facing Higashizawa on D7, they slide evolve to Angewomon; representing her accepting herself (This is one of the reasons she is the winner of the Game in W1). In the final battle, the two evolutions combine to make Mastemon (I recommend looking at a pic of this digi because wow <3 ).

Joshua and Lopmon Evo line: Lopmon/Lopmon X > Cherubimon (Good) X - I knew knew knew Josh had to get Cherubimon as his Mega. Where most of the other’s Digimon Megas have somewhat seemingly human forms, Churubimon looks out of place as this massive pink bunny with winged ears, indicative that Joshua isn’t human like other players. Cherubimon X looks even more alien and ethereal (seriously, google it. The floating notes/digicode is perfect imo). - As part of Joshua’s deal with Kitaniji, he took a handicap and his powers were lessened, which made Cherubimon X a Lopmon. His Digimon appears as a regular Lopmon when meeting Neku for the first time, which helped mask his identity and assume his role as a regular player. However, Neku will soon notice that Lopmon never digivolves higher than Rookie (whereas his own Digimon was steadily evolving to Champion level). - When Joshua reveals his innate power in W2D5, his seemingly regular Lopmon transforms to Lopmon X. X-antibody Digimon are unheard of, and much stronger than their base-level counterparts (I tease at this in the image by giving Johua’s Lopmon a fluffy tail, which regular Lopmon don’t have. If anyone questions it, Joshua would explain how its a clip-on and looks much cuter than the stubby tail, lol). - Cherubimon X is only ever revealed right at the end of the final battle, when Neku and Joshua face each other. Joshua dares Neku into killing him, but Neku can’t bring himself to command Justimon to do it. Cherubimon X then attacks both Neku and his Partner.

Beat and Impmon Evo line: Impmon > Meramon > SkullMeramon > Beelzemon - Pairing Impmon and Beat just felt natural. They both share an innate need to be badass but are also unwittingly dense and easily embarrassed. They constantly bicker with each other but when it’s time to fight, they can’t wait to get in there and show what they’re made of. - On W1D3, Rhyme still sacrifices herself to save Beat (he knew Rhyme was his sister from the start so he and Impmon stuck around her and her partner). Although Beat didnt get erased, he still made the choice to become a Reaper. - When Rhyme gets erased, it sees a shift in Beat’s motivations and personality, which naturally affects Impmon. Impmon permanently evolves to SkullMeramon and is mindless fighting machine during W2, just operating off Beat’s whim. When Neku gives him Rhyme’s pendant, both Beat and his Digimon soften up. - As a reaper, Impmon could evolve and stay at Ultimate level without issue. When Beat rejoins Neku in W3, he loses that ability and his Digi has to start from square one; In-training level. Impmon (or Yaamon, in this case) wasn’t too happy. Eventually, Impmon gets back to comfortably sitting at Rookie during W3. - W3D7, at the dead god’s pad, (when facing Kitaniji and Shiki) with Beat’s resolve and growth, Impmon evolves right into Beelzemon (indicative of how Beat wants to become more capable and help people he cares about while looking awesome), saving Neku. Beelzemon also helps Neku, his Partner and the other Player’s Digimon to take on Kitaniji’s final form.

Rhyme and Kudamon Evo line: Kudamon > [ERROR] - Kudamon have cool, collected personalities and can conduct precise assessments, even during battle. For this reason I really liked it for Rhyme’s partner. It’s the most pleasing choice close to squirrel-shaped! I liked this version of Kudamon in particular as well (vs the 2006 anime version), since the markings on it were very Noise-like! - When Rhyme sacrifices herself for Beat in W1D3, Kudamon is at risk of being deleted. As a counter, Mr.H binds Rhyme’s soul to the Digimon, keeping it alive (although Rhyme couldn’t speak through Kudamon, the Digimon could feel her emotions and hear her thoughts). - During Beat’s Reaper stint, Kudamon was with him, but no matter what they said, Beat wouldn’t break away his focus. He loosens up eventually and can take Kudamon’s words to heart. - Kudamon accompanies Neku, Beat and their partners through W3, and does get captured by Konishi on D1. - Although Kudamon never evolves (or devolves) beyond Rookie, they do help immensely during the battle with Konishi on W3D7. They are at the final battle as well.

And that’s all for now. Thank you for reading all of that >v<’‘‘\ Hope you enjoyed!! Give me you headcanons and ponders if you like! Maybe someday I’ll get to the Reapers..... ‘‘‘OTL 

[aminiatureworld]

Elevated

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,153

Warning: None

Premise: In which the reader’s noble status causes Xiao grief

Author’s Note: I think I made Xiao a little dense, but I actually really like this prompt. I hope I did it justice!

Xiao

Xiao had no idea who you were, the day of your fateful meeting at the Wangshu Inn.

You were a simple traveler, albeit an obviously notable one. Normal travelers usually didn’t pay to have their luggage carried up to their room. Nor did they walk with a sword at their hips that was clearly ceremonial, not practical. Though a Vision also shone on your shoulder, your weapon was hidden beneath vast swaths of heavily embroidered fabric.

The adeptus thought he might very well hate you, for he found that the more intricate a human’s clothes the more likely they were to be completely self-centered. Still he found himself watching you, as he watched most of the rare pompous travelers that came and went before his eyes. They always carried themselves with more energy than the regular intrepid traveler, though Xiao could never exactly pin down what it was that separated them from the other mortals around them. To the adeptus Mora was as distant a concept as a nebula might be to a human. He might be aware of its existence, but not of its significance in the contradicting network that was Liyue society.

Though Xiao certainly could say that you were similar in that manner, he had to at least give it to you that you didn’t seem to be yelling at anyone. Instead you seemed content with looking out at the Inn’s surroundings, easing a small smile onto Verr Goldet’s face with your string of compliments. You assured her that everything was perfect, and that there was no reason to make a fuss, before sitting yourself out on the balcony, your attire enough to drag ordinary people, it seemed, away.

Xiao watched you that evening with fascination, something only amplified by the way that everyone treated you. It seemed that you were more revered than the merchants that sometimes stayed, the people whose pockets were lined with the gifts of Rex Lapis. It made Xiao’s head spin a bit, and he found himself careless in his confusion. He ran into you once in the kitchen, as you had come to ask something of Smiley Yanxiao. Though your conversation was very short and consisted mostly of singular words on his part Xiao had somehow become enraptured. The minute you turned to go upstairs he went to find Verr Goldet, wanting some questions answered.

If Mora was a foreign concept to Xiao then nobility might as well have been as far away as the moon. Though Goldet did her best in trying to explain the long and sordid history of Liyue aristocracy, most of it was lost in a haze of confusion. By the end of the day however Xiao had come to one conclusion, that you were comparable to a lower deity.

 Looking back on it you were always careful not to tease Xiao, knowing that he disconnected himself from human society on purpose. Still, the fact that he genuinely thought you were comparable in any way to the gods that you yourself worshipped was so baffling as to be hilarious. Not that you weren’t somewhat aware of this in the way that he suddenly acted towards you. The already reticent stranger was now positively mute, and whenever he was around you he stared at the ground or somewhere just behind you. It was almost unnerving at first, for you felt as if you’d committed some accidental slight.

Despite this rocky start however your relationship grew, as you coaxed feelings, then words, then confessions out of Xiao. You loved him so very deeply, and though he rarely admitted it, once Xiao gave you his first “I love you” you never once doubted him. Of course you were aware of his status as an adeptus, aware that even your wealth and aristocratic station couldn’t begin to compare to that of his. So despite it all, you found  yourself somewhat in awe.

“You know, it’s funny, I sometimes wonder what my family, what those around me would think of the fact that I fell in love with you. Maybe they’d think I’m insane, really pushing my station.”

You leaned against Xiao’s shoulder, the soft up and down of his breathing comforting. You hadn’t meant to admit it, but the words somehow just came out. There was no taking them back though, for they were indeed true.

“What do you mean?” Xiao’s voice was rough in the way that signaled he couldn’t believe you.

“Well, I mean, you’re an adeptus,” you ventured, unsure of where the disconnect was. “I think even my parents would think that I was being brazen. I mean, I’m just a human, how could I be good enough.”

“But, aren’t you a god to humans?”

You felt laughter bubbling up inside you, utter disbelief. “No, no I’m not,” you managed to make out.

“But Goldet said you were.”

“Then she must’ve been drunk,” you let out a huff of laughter. “No, I’m just a member of minor nobility.”

“Aren’t the nobility like gods on earth?”

“Maybe thousands of years ago but not anymore. Nobility has gone out of style, as one might put it. My ancestors might’ve been worshipped, but not anymore. Liyue has no need for an aristocracy, maybe it never did. Trade has always been more important. So no Xiao, I’m not a god, I’m just lucky.”

“I see.”

You could tell that Xiao was embarrassed, that he still didn’t quite understand, but you let it pass. There was no point in pushing the topic. Right now you just wanted to enjoy this moment, this moment cut off both from your love’s status as an immortal and your status as minor nobility.

After that things changed slightly, in ways that someone outside your newfound relationship probably wouldn’t notice. Xiao stopped staring at the ground when he talked to you, began to walk a few steps closer to you. These changes made you absolutely delighted, and you reveled in the new sense of intimacy.

Sometimes Xiao would retreat back into those old mannerisms. Usually if you were visited by someone at the Inn – which had become your permanent residence – or if you went off to see someone else of importance. You could sense the questions in your partner’s head. Am I good enough? How could they want when they already have it all? They were the exact same questions that you asked of yourself sometimes, marveling that someone like Xiao should fall in love with you. Now those insecurities became a string to guide your way, as you gently coaxed as much surety as you could out of the adeptus.

Perhaps you came from a good family name, perhaps Mora was never a matter of strain for you. Perhaps you did have all that a human might want. However all of it paled in comparison to the one you loved.

And you hoped that Xiao would see that too.