#even i’m like yeah but am i a punk??? and at that point i KNOW ohhhhhh being kind is punk letting sunshine flow out of your ass is punk

[anthonycrowley]

‘well punk is rooted in socialist beliefsssssss’ okay cool. call yourself a socialist and get out of my music subgenre

[reiderwriter]

Hii~ First of all I love your writing!

Now about the request... I really wanted one where Spencer is dating a painter who has the personality of a black cat (we all know that our Reid is a total golden retriever type) and everyone thinks that she is the dominant one of the couple since she has this more punk/alternative style, but the team couldn't be more wrong! A soft!Dom Spencer makes her obey and yield every time! ~thank u

A/N: Thanks so much for the request! I can definitely see myself making a part two for this if enough people are interested!! For now though, enjoy! ~✨

Warnings: mentions of public sex, BDSM roles, mentions of using dog collars in a sexual way, mentions of creampie.

Here's my masterlist and requests are open!~

“I can’t believe we’re finally meeting your mystery girl tonight, Reid. You’ve been so quiet about her, we’d have never even known if Penelope hadn’t hacked your phone on a hunch.” Emily laughed at the man from her perch at the bar, raising her glass in a cheers with her fellow agents. 

“I’m not too sure she really exists, you know. I know what my baby girl said but the kid graduated from MIT, and we know texts can be doctored,” Morgan teased from the other side of the younger man. 

In response, he simply rolled his eyes and let them continue their fun and games. He’d known the two agents for long enough to know that their teasing was loving, if not entirely warranted. He’d only kept you a secret because you’d asked him to, having wanted to make a good first impression on them. He’d have gladly shouted your name from the rooftops, but you were on the shy side sometimes. 

“Oh you’re just jealous. You want me to help you take a little honey home tonight, Derek?” Emily turned on the other man this time and Reid breathed a sigh of relief that the attention was finally off of him.

“I am perfectly capable of collecting all by myself, thank you very much.” He turned an amused eye out to the rest of the bar, surveying the women in the bar like a predator looking or it’s next victim. 

“What about that one? She good enough for the Derek Morgan?” Spencer glanced up at where she was pointing at the same time as the aforementioned male did and did his best to repress his smile. Emily had glanced to the door, where you stood, outfitted in a tight black dress, chunky thigh high boots and a stoic expression. You’d carefully washed all the paint that usually adorned your hair and face away, armouring yourself in red lipstick and dog collar choker, letting the look speak for itself. 

“Now that is a nice piece of work, but not exactly what I’m into, sweet cheeks. I prefer my ladies a little bit less wild. A little more compliant if you pick up what I’m putting down.” 

“Coward. Dominant women are more fun, right Reid?” Emily smiled back at the other man, but he was looking past the two of them waving to you. 

“Oh great, you’re here. Emily, Derek I want you to meet my girlfriend, Y/N.” He grabs your hand and leads you the rest of the way to where they were standing, the grin on his face widening exponentially as the two splutter, praying to god that you didn’t just hear the tail end of their conversation about you. 

“Hi, great to meet you. And yes, Emily, I agree. Dominant women do seem to have a lot of fun,” you winked at the woman a little bit and let your boyfriend excitedly drag you over to the bar to buy you a drink. 

Recovering first, Emily pulled herself back into the barstool she’d recently vacated, and started asking you questions. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” 

“At the library actually. I was there installing a mural, and I saw him and decided I had to have him.” You smiled fondly up at your boyfriend, as he rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink. You’d perched yourself between his legs, leaning your entire bodyweight back into his chest possessively, as he trailed a light hand over your waist. 

“You’re a painter? Wow, that’s so wonderful.” 

“Yeah, that’s the dream anyway. I also work part time at an art gallery downtown to help pay the bills. It’s where he tracked me down, so it worked out pretty well, I guess.” 

“Tracked you down?” Morgan asked. 

“Yeah, after our first… run in, I forgot to give him my number.” 

“Run in? You said you met at the library, what else did you do if you forgot to swap numbers?” Emily laughed, half-heartedly, then stopped as soon as she saw the smug grin on your face paired with the awkward panicked expression on Reid’s. 

“Shut up. No way, wait I don’t even want to hear this.” 

You smiled up at the man, knowing that the way his two coworkers were imagining that first meeting was probably the exact opposite of how it had gone. Sure, you’d told the truth about approaching him first, but that was the extent of your control of the situation. You’d gone over to ask for his number, find out his name and ask if he was single. You’d returned to work an hour later with sore knees, no panties and a load of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

He hadn’t even allowed you to give him his number, just promised that he’d find you again, and vanished from the library bathroom stalls you’d christened in sin with a lingering kiss on your lips and a whisper of “good girl.” You’d fallen for him hard, and you never wanted to get back up. 

“Wow. And he was so desperate to find you again that he followed you to work. We taught you better than that, Reid, come on. You’re going to freak out the ladies if you come on that strong.” Morgan began teasing the man, ruffling his hair, and you bit your tongue to stop the laughter from exploding from your mouth. 

You knew from your appearances that people often came to the wrong conclusions about how you and Reid were as a couple. Your style was more alternative, though not as intense as you’d been in high school, and his was more preppy nerd, but you balanced each other out well. You knew that it irked him sometimes though. And whenever he was pissed, he took it out on you in the best way. 

After a few hours in the bar getting to know Morgan and Prentiss, and the two other lovely ladies who had arrived later, JJ and Penelope, Reid’s grip on your waist tightening made it clear that it was time for you to go home together. 

“I think we’re going to head out now, guys. I’ll see you in the office on monday.” He said and moved off, but you wanted to see how far you could push it tonight, wanting to see the lengths he would take to not show his teammates that they had vastly misunderstood your relationship. 

“But Spence, I just met them. I wanna talk some more,” you smirked up at him now, and saw his jaw clench. You were thankful you’d work the dog collar choker tonight, the thought of him grabbing it to yank you away making you squeeze your thighs together for some much needed friction. 

“We’re going now, baby. Come here.” You ignored the order for another second, and you could feel the heat in his gaze, and the curiosity in his friends as they watched this struggle between you. 

“Sweetie, did you hear me, I said we’re going now?” This time, you knew he wasn’t playing anymore, so with a quick “yes, sir,” you pushed yourself out of your seat and practically skipped over to him, a delighted grin on your face. He cupped you neck, wanting desperately to pull you in by the neck but choosing restraint instead, and brushed his lips to yours. Whenever he kissed you like that, it meant you’d caused trouble, and you knew you were going to spend the night paying for it. 

“Bye-bye, everyone, it was so nice to meet you,” you called as he led you out of the doors and into the carpark. 

“What the hell was that?” Penelope was the first one to crack, the others jaws still dropped to the floor. 

“Did she just call him sir?” JJ laughed in incredulity. 

“But-but I could’ve sworn they were…” Emily blubbered and the four of them sat there staring at the door, realising that they had underestimated their resident genius a little bit too much. 

[reysdriver]

One Call | E.M.

Eddie calls you to pick him up from the police station — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff

warnings: eddie gets taken to the police station for peeing in the lake lol

words: 0.8k

“Alright, you know the drill. Someone’s gotta pick you up; you get one call.” Your dad told Eddie, even though they had been through this routine before. “Your uncle again?”

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, Wayne’s out of town. Fishing trip with his buddies. He told me not to bother him unless it’s an emergency.”

“This doesn’t qualify as important enough to call?” One of the officers piped up. 

Eddie turned his neck to look at the cop. “Nope. This is just a normal Tuesday for me.”

Your dad held the phone out for your boyfriend. “Well, you got anyone else you can call?”

Eddie held back a mischievous grin, taking the phone. “I have one person I can call, but I don’t think you’re gonna be happy about it.”

✦✧✦✧✦

You rushed down to the station as quickly as possible, only making one stop along the way to grab a peace offering from Benny’s. Before going inside, you looked through the window to scan the tone of the building, making sure it was okay to go inside. 

You opened the door and saw Eddie in handcuffs at one of the officers’ desks, twirling a pen with his fingers. Before he got the chance to look up at you, your dad came out from his office looking surprised to see you. 

“Hey, kiddo, what are you doing here?” He asked. 

You held out the take-out bag for him. “I, uh, I brought you lunch.”

“She’s got ulterior motives, Hopper!” Eddie piped up from across the room. You turned and shot him a glare, along with a whispered 'shut up'. 

Your dad looked confused, now starting to understand the food you brought. "What's he talking about?"

There was an awkward silence as you tried to figure out how to word the reason you were really here. 

"Well, Dad, I'm also here to pick Eddie up." 

He dropped the takeout bag on the nearest desk and pointed an accusatory finger at Eddie, who sported a smirk. 

“This punk?” Your dad asked, raising his voice. “You’re friends with this punk?”

Much to your dismay, Eddie spoke up again. “Dating, actually. But I can’t believe it either, Hopper, honestly.”

Even in the tensest of moments, your Eddie still finds a way to flatter you. You wanted to smile and thank him, but then you remembered he was just brought into the police station and hadn’t told you why, so you stopped yourself. 

“Yeah, Dad, I am. And I know that you can’t stop me from bailing him out, so give me the form to sign.”

The officer whose desk Eddie was sitting at handed you a clipboard and a pen so you could sign and say that you would bail him out and keep him out of trouble for the time being. You flashed a cocky smile to your dad and started filling out the blanks. 

Your dad rubbed his forehead like he was tired of everyone around him—which he was. “Don’t give her the clipboard until I’m done scolding her.” He mumbled. 

“You know I brought him in for pissing in Lover’s Lake with his punk friends, right?”

You did not know that. But you weren’t going to let him win this round. 

“Oh, like Lover’s Lake isn’t already full of piss!” You countered.

“Is that really the hill you want to die on?” 

You forcefully handed the completed clipboard to the officer while rolling your eyes. 

“I don’t want to die on any hill, I just want to pick up my boyfriend!”

Eddie gasped happily as the man took off his handcuffs. “She called me her boyfriend.”

You had to admit, it made you happy too. Even though you were mad at everyone in the room, your angry expression morphed into a smile. “I know, it felt good to say.” You then turned back to your dad. “I’m going now. If you have more to say to me, we can talk tonight.”

With that, you and your boyfriend started walking towards the door. He opened it for you and motioned for you to go first. You started to walk out, but shot a glare at Eddie as you walked by. He messed up and he knew it. 

Before Eddie closed the door behind you, your dad shouted one last thing at you. “You know, kid, just ‘cause he’s out of trouble, doesn’t mean you are!”

You looked back at him through the doorway. “Oh, believe me, Dad, he’s not out of trouble yet!”

[babyitsgayoutside]

I went viral on instagram for being a Pro-shipper

Before I even knew what a pro-shipper was.

Around this time last year I had just gotten back to the states from being in Japan for 3-ish months. I posted a reel jokingly showing off some of the BL Manga that I had bought during my stay.

In the video I showed Volume one of Yarachin Slut club and volume one of Hitorijime, my hero.

If you don’t know these series. Yarachin is about a group of boys who run a high school sex club it also has various degrees of dubcon and gang rape. The other deposits an age gap relationship teacher/student.

The reel where I showed these manga went viral on the wrong side of the internet and In 2 months my instagram received over 80,000,000 views across all my reels and I’m averaging at this current moment 10-20,000,000 views a month.

the comments I was receiving and have been receiving since are beyond words.

Some examples of what the more tame comments

And if you think the comments are bad (not shown are the hundreds of comments telling me I’m not trans or gay, that I’m a cis woman pretending to be queer to garner support from the queer community, misgendering and deadnaming me, threading to dox me/send my address/personal info to people via DMs. Not to mention the newest group of people who found out I have a dead sibling and are using that as a way to attack me now as well. My DMs are also terrible.

These people are mad about two volumes of manga. Manga I bought in a brick and mortar store in Japan. Manga that have official anime adaptations.

They are calling a manga you can currently buy at Barnes and Nobel child p*rn and calling me a p*dip hole becuase i own it.

I don’t know what the point of this post is really, I’ve come back to tumblr and realize the entire internet does not in fact hate me, and people on here actually can logically think about things like this not in black and white.

Am I a pro shipper?

I’ve heard if the term, I’ve seen it around and always thought It was for extreme niche interests in fanfic, fictional media and general fictional content that I don’t particularly find myself reading or interacting with ever.

But then I looked into it after being called it 1000000 times a day on my social media and I relaxed it’s not about normalizing incestfics or spreading niche fan art around tags like antis would have you believe. At the end of the day it’s a group of people online with a very punk aligned mentality that censorship is wrong. Fiction is a place for self expression and understand that fiction is fiction. It’s not about individual tags on a03 or black butler ships. It’s about the freedom to express yourself thought fucking fiction. Weather it be to cope with trauma, or to just get some fucking weird feelings you are having out on paper through fanfciton, through projecting into a character from media you like.

I’m not big with labels, so I’m not a “proshipper” but I’m on their side, because it’s the right side.

You can argue all you want it’s not, that they are “horrible people” for the fictional media they consume. But the opposite side is literally telling me to “slit vertically” on a daily basis. You are no better than the people you hate.

Anywho, yeah. Going viral sucks.

[quinloki]

Elevator Music

Fem Reader x Eustass Kid

One Shot - 2,956 words

CW: Language, sexual themes and situations, semi-public sex, elevator sex, rough sex, consensual, modern au, Kid has both arms. 18+ only

-:- Table of Consent -:-

Inspired by this tumblr post about being trapped in an elevator with the person on your lockscreen.

“Floor?” You ask as the tall, broad shouldered young man stepped into the elevator. He looked like he could be the poster boy for punk rock. Wild red hair, golden brown eyes, scars that did nothing to detract from his looks, and a confidence in his step you had to appreciate.

“Eleven.” He answers. His voice is a little like gravel but not unpleasant.

You press the button and return to your phone, stealing a few sideways glances as politely as you could. Shame you didn’t have business with him, but the elevator ride was improved at least.

Around the 8th floor there was a jolt, not a hard one, but it was unnerving in the otherwise smooth ride. You both flinched a little and exchanged glances, and you nearly said something when another harder jolt shook the elevator carriage. You can’t help the surprised squeak that escapes you, and you grab onto the bar.

The elevator doesn’t move. Smooth, jerkily, or otherwise.

You and the punk exchange glances before looking around the compartment. There’s an emergency box he pulls open and an old style phone with no buttons. He picks it up and you can hear it ringing even after he puts it by his ear. You’re still looking around for the little red button, or anything that might be useful if no one picks up the phone.

But after a few rings there’s a voice. It’s too muffled to make out, but you can hear your fellow trapped passenger.

“Yeah, the elevator’s stuck.” There’s muffled talking and he looks around and looks at you. “See anything that says what car this is?”

“Six?” You prompt, pointing to a number just under the floor button.

“Probably. Yeah, we think it’s car 6… yeah, ‘we’, there’s a lady in here too.” There’s a long silence, and he rolls his eyes. “Am I staying on the line for this, or can you call us?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sure, sure. Here.”

He hands you the phone and you make a face before taking it. “Yell-o?” You say, unsure what was going on.

“Ma’am, we need to know if you feel threatened.” The voice on the other end of the line says.

“Huh?”

“If you feel unsafe we can probably get authorization to break the doors open and getting you out before the fire department arrives.”

“Hang on.” You put the phone to your chest and look at the big guy with you. “If I tell them you’re making me feel scared they’re willing to break the rules and get us out of here faster.”

“… You’re not afraid of me?”

You tilt your head. “No, why would I be?”

He grunts. “It’s fine then, you can lie, it won’t bother me.”

You speak back into the phone. “Hello? Yes, uh, yes, I am so if you could-.”

“For insurance reasons you’ll have to officially press charges ma’am.” The man on the other end of the line explains. “My supervisor just informed me.”

“Oh. Well, no then. Just get us out of here as fast as you can. I was on my way to an interview.” You reply. “I’d rather not miss it. Did you need to speak to him again?”

“No ma’am. We’ll call once we have an ETA for you. You can hang up for now.”

“Alright, thank you!” You say cheerfully and hang the phone up. “Sorry, we’ll probably be here for a while. They wanted me to file actual charges.” You grouse, clicking your tongue. “How useless.”

He shrugs and sits down in the corner by the phone. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Anything but that,” you say with a smile, sitting down across from him, being mindful of your interview outfit. “(Y/N). What’s yours, red?”

He grunts. “Anything but that.” He echoes. “Eustass Kid.”

“Well, Mr. Eustass, my apologies for not pressing charges on you.” You say with a grin.

He grunts a laugh, and leans his head back. “Hope you make your interview.”

“Ha! Thanks.” You sigh. “I’m kind of glad to be missing it, but it won’t matter. I’ll just have to try again tomorrow.” You admit with a sigh.

“Oh?”

“Yeeeeeah, it’s my dad’s company. I could give two shits less about it, quite frankly, but I’ve been black listed.”

“Huh?” Eustass looked at you with actual interest for the first time since he got into the elevator. “Are you saying your old man kept other companies from hiring you?”

You nod. “Dad doesn’t have a son. Someone’s gotta take over, and if I don’t then I don’t get to work at all. I spent the last two years job hunting, and he pulled the plug on everything. I can’t even get a job as a newspaper boy, and I don’t have enough personal funds to get out of the range of his reach.

“Ahhh, sorry, a bunch of rich kid drama, isn’t it? I have it so hard.” You try to laugh, but frustration makes it hard to be flippant. “If I play along for a couple years I can bounce. That wouldn’t be so bad.”

“… You don’t have to have it hard for something to suck ass.” He says after a moment. “Your dad’s a real bastard.”

You grin. “Thanks.”

A few more minutes pass and the elevator phone rings. Eustas picks it up and listens for a few moments before replying. “Sure, we’ll be fine. If anything changes we’ll call.”

He hangs up the phone and settles against the wall more. “Get comfortable, it’s gonna be an hour at least. Says the fire fighters are busy, and once the emergency calls are cleared they’ll send someone over.”

You lean back with a bit of a sigh. You weren’t sad to be missing the interview, but you also weren’t thrilled to spend an hour or more in a box, eight floors off the ground.

You take out your phone and putz around on it for a while. After a few minutes you find yourself stealing glances at Eustass Kid. Punk rock r-shirt, work boots, dusty jeans. He smells of grease and oil and metal and chocolate. In the enclosed space it doesn’t take much to notice it all.

He’s thick and muscular. Probably could do all manner of unspeakable things to you without breaking a sweat, but something about him left you feeling safe around him. Safe enough to fantasize a little, even if you felt a bit guilty. You two barely knew each other’s names, but it was easy to imagine what was under that well-fitted shirt.

It was easy to imagine the things you’d let him do to you, too, and not just because you were wholeheartedly rebelling against dear old dad, but also because he was just hot.  From the sound of his voice, to how he was relaxing right now, to - what you were sure - was a fiery personality he’d been suppressing for your benefit.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He asks, not even looking up from his phone.

“Yes.” You reply with a smile, watching a grin cross his face before he looks up at you.

“Not what I expected.”

“I get in trouble for that a lot,” you admit, letting your eyes shift down before looking back at him. “I’m reminded repeatedly that my behavior is terribly unladylike. Honestly though, who should care?”

“You sound like you’re looking to get into trouble.” He says, sitting up a little and giving you more of his attention.

“Are you offering to help, Eustass Kid?”

His grin turns toothy, you’d almost call it a smile except it was just so wolfish. “Planning on setting a date, or are you going to walk into the trap right now, mouse?” He asks, opening his arms and motioning you over.

You glance around the elevator again, checking to be sure there weren’t any cameras in the car with the two of you, and then stand up. He adjusts a little more, legs closed, slouched just a little, hands out on either side of his waist, at the perfect height to help you steady yourself as you step over him, foot on either side of his hips.

You pull your skirt up a little as you sit in his lap, a small approving hum from him as the tops of your thigh-high stockings come into view for a moment. Settling into position in his lap you shift and let out and involuntary gasp. The bulge in his pants is already pushing the zipper of his jeans into you.

“You really want this, huh?” He muses, shifting his hips into you and nearly pulling another sound out of you. Your face is hot and red, and you’re not having second thoughts or anything, but you’re surprised at your own arousal.

“Seems so,” you admit. “I’d blame you, but I’m worried your ego would fill to bursting.” You rock your hips against him and feel his straining under the denim. “Though it seems to be mutual.”

“Whatcha looking to get out of this?” He asks, hands gripping your ass and squeezing it.

“An orgasm comparable to that cocky look on your face.” You muse, causing his grin to twist perfectly.

“Ha! Alright,” he grabs your hair and pulls you close, but not quite enough to kiss. “I meant past those doors opening, but I can work with that.”

“Ask me something like that after those doors open,” you answer, biting your lower lip and pulling against his grip on your hair. You shift against the erection straining in his pants and rut your clit against the coarse fabric more than you meant to.

The sweet mewling gasp that escapes you is devoured by Eustass as he pulls you into a deep kiss. There’s no tenderness in the passionate kiss, no ode of love or promise of tomorrow, but it’s as greedy and needy as you are and you sink into it.

Your fingers fumble with his belt as heat builds between you, a pleased hum is all the consent you need as you begin to undo his jeans.

“Normally I’d say something about dinner and a movie first,” Kid teases, lifting his hips and helping to put the waistband of the jeans down a little. “I ain’t got any condoms on me though.”

“Honor system then,” you practically pant the words. “You clean?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too, and I’ve had IUDs since I was sixteen, so no worries.” Your fingers run along the length of his cock, still under the fabric of his boxer, and you’re already impressed. Licking your lips involuntarily you reach in through the front opening of the boxers and wrap your fingers around the hard, thick flesh and pull if free.

Eustass’ hips buck and he hissed against the sensation of it, but he doesn’t move to stop you. Your eyes go wide at the sight of the beast at this man’s disposal, and you wonder if it’s going to fit. It’s thick and long and a little intimidating, just like the punk it’s attached to.

“Jesus.” You mutter.

“Having second thoughts?” He seems pleased instead of concerned.

“Minor logistical concerns.” You say, but your voice isn’t nearly as confident as your words. You pull your skirt up and hear him swear under his breath. “Ha, thing for thigh highs, Mr. Eustass?”

“Fuck yeah,” he answers, hands sliding up your thighs, snapping the garter straps playfully. “Goddamn. What were you interviewing for with this on?” He asks, his fingers hooking around the front of the thong and tugging it up a little.

You gasp and arch your back a bit at the sensation, chuckling in a mix of pleasure and nerves. “Just rebelling where I can.” You admit as he tugs the thong aside and you push your soaking slit against his rock hard erection.

You’re so wet you slide against him easily. You both take a moment to enjoy the pleasure from the contact and you can feel him twitching against you.

“Hells you are soaked.” He licks his lips and leans you back a little, lining himself up with your entrance. “You can go at your own pace, but I want to see this.”

Your whole body twitches and your face heats up. Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, and those golden brown eyes seem to look into your soul. You steady yourself with your hands on his thighs, slowly lowering your hips onto him. If you weren’t practically dripping with desire you don’t think you could take him without a lot more prep, but you slowly work him in and out, stretching yourself against his thick cock and reveling in how full you feel.

You don’t hold back the airy moans and needy whimpers that escape you as you work him in deeper and deeper. The elevator phone rings, and the only look you give him is one filled with lust. You shift your hips and moan as he reaches for the phone.

His right hand goes over your mouth as he picks up the phone with his left. “Yeah?” He prompts, voice steady. His eyes are still on you, and a slight shift of his hips is all the motivation you need to continue taking him in.

He smirks as your tongue slips along his middle finger. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the update.” He replies to the voice on the other end of the phone. His middle finger is slipping against the tip of your tongue as he hangs up the phone.

You lean forward, pushing his finger into your open mouth as you take the rest of his cock into your pussy. You kiss the base of his finger lightly, before leaning back, running your tongue along his finger playfully. You put your hands on his shoulders, struggling a little to get the leverage you need to move. He’s so broad your knees don’t reach the elevator floor, so instead you hook your feet over his legs and begin to ride him.

“Got about twenty minutes.” He says, hands on your hips, helping you move once you set your pace.

“Ah, damn,” you gasp, grinning at him salaciously. “A quickie then, eh?”

He nearly barks a laugh, before giving you an amused grin. “If twenty minutes is quick in your book, I’m curious what a proper amount of time is?”

“Mm,” you grind into him a little. “An hour at least.” You muse, riding him as you talk. “Foreplay, teasing, as many toe-curling, throat-shattering orgasms you can rip from one another, aftercare. A good proper fuck in the morning should wreck your whole day.”

You can hear him growl in approval, hands tightening against your hips, dick twitching inside of you. His hips move to meet yours as you come down, pushing him into you deeper and faster. You moan for him to do as he pleases and the restraints he’d put on himself snap.

You went from being on top of him, to being under him, to being up against the elevator wall in just a few minutes. Every time you got close he’d shift to a different position. The grin on his face let you know he knew exactly what he was doing, the bratty bastard.

Pushed up against the elevator wall, legs hooked over his arms as he brings you close again. Something in his demeanor promises release at the end of this, and you’re holding onto him in need and desperation. Moans and grunts mixing with the shiver and creak of the elevator car.

The elevator phone begins to ring.

“Ah-aan-answer that – hnggh! – and I w-will kill you!” You gasp as you can feel yourself nearly there.

“Cum for me little mouse,” he growls, tongue teasing your neck.

Pleasure rushes into you, tensing your body and causing your fingers to dig into him through his shirt. He speeds up a little and the pleasurable mewling sounds coming from you turn into gasping pleas as you clench against him sending you both over the edge.

There’s a quiet moment, a couple rings from the phone the only thing marking the passage of time, shared between you both before he pulls out and sets you onto shaky legs. He’s reaching for the phone before he’s even tucked himself back into pants, practically snarling.

“What?”

There’s a moment of silence before you can hear the voice on the other side start talking. You’re adjusting your clothes, and trying to tidy yourself up a little when you feel something leaking down your thighs. Your hands go between your legs as your face turns red.

“Yeah yeah, thanks. Look just get us out of here, it’s getting hot in this box.” He grumbles into the phone before hanging it up. Zipping up his jeans he pulls a rag from his back pocket. “It’s clean.”

You take it and clean up the leak. “Thanks.” Your attention is turned away as you clean yourself up. “Want me to dry clean it before I return it?”

Eustass laughs. “Nah, keep it.”

“A memento then?” You muse with a chuckle. “Oh, hey, I never did ask - what’re you here for today?”

“Finalizing the paperwork on the shop.” He says. “Starting my own business.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh? Congratulations.” You offer a smile. “I’m sure it’ll succeed.”

“Mm, thanks.” He replies absently.

There’s a moment of silence between you and you hear people outside the doors working on getting you out. You and Eustass take turns tidying one another up, since there’s no mirror to use, and make yourselves as presentable as possible.

As the doors open, Eustass turns to you with a grin. “So, I hear you’re looking for a job?”

[konigenblobbity]

i had this idea stuck in my mind, all i can think about is the trio that Hobie, Pavitr and reader (platonic) would make.

And i listen to pop AND I WOULD TOTALLY ARGUE WITH HOBIE TO SEE WHICH ONE IS BETTER BETWEEN PUNK AND POP LOL

And like reader would tease Pavtir that their are more taller even if just an inch (than there is hobie who is more taller than both of them💀)

And yeah just a platonic trio with them :D

Headcannons or anything is good I JUST NEED THIS

Request: Triple Threat

Hobie x Spidey!F!Reader x Pavitr

A/n: Made it more headcannony but yes I love this idea! I can just imagine them as a totally chaotic but amazing trio. I managed to answer this request so quickly because I was just able to put my thoughts on here and not worry too much about structure or spelling

General Headcannon

A chaotic and just overall silly trio

Always up for a spontaneous bit of fun

Often the culprits for pranks played on Miguel

Affection shown through playful insults and jabs but also physical touch

The tightest hugs from Pavitr while ofc Hobie throws his arms over your shoulders when you’re walking

Somehow never get on each others nerves

Countless sleepovers! Just all in pajamas making s’mores and watching horror movies together!

Constantly cracking jokes behind Miguel’s back during meetings

“Man’s hands are glued to his hips” Hobie jokes

“Wonder if you can crush a watermelon from how tight his ass is” you say

“Shhh! Don’t make me laugh” Pavitr pleads, almost losing his composure

Miguel would turn around to the three of you fighting back laughter, turning red in the face to the point he can see it through the mask

You and Pavitr have gotten caught - multiple times - trying on Hobie’s clothes when at his place, doing your best impressions of him

“Oi Bruv! That’s messed, not at all my cuppa tea innit! I hate the PM and all that shite, inconsistency blah blah blah that’s me!”

You and Hobie saying ‘Chai Tea’ whenever someone asks about a drink, just knowing it’ll infuriate Pavitr for a good laugh

You three make fun of each other endlessly, but if anyone else dares to insult one of you, the other two get immediately protective and ready to fuck shit up

“What’d you just say?” You’d say

“You watch your mouth.” Hobie would warn

“I dare you to say it again” Pavitr immediately remarks

When it came down to it, no one could complain. You three made a great team and on missions worked like a goddamn masterpiece

Height related Headcannon

“You’re not!” Pavitr’s voice got higher, which only made you smirk and tease him more

“I totally am! You just won’t admit I’m right” you bring a hand up, placing it on the top of your head and then moving it forward to float above Pavitr’s “you’re totally shorter than me!”

“Only because you wear those insane platform boots!” Pavitr retorts back and points at the three inches of platform attached to the sole of your boot

You shrug and put your hands in your pockets “still taller than you” you go to walk off but Pavitr uses a web to pull you back, you look at him with feigned shock

“This conversation isn’t over” Pavitr said, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed at you. You then send a web to hit him directly in his face, making him let out a soft yelp “don’t. web me” you say with a smirk watching as he struggles to pull it over his mask

“Why you!” He mumbles and finally gets off the web, his eyes glaring at you. You narrow your eyes back at him and wait for him to attack again

It then that Hobie’s voice draws both your attentions “What are you pipsqueaks fighting about?” Once he reaches you he rests his arm on your head making you scowl

“She thinks she’s taller than me!” Pavitr says pointing a finger at you and you let out a soft scoff “snitch” Hobie just chuckles

“You’re both short. There. Argument settled” as he walks over to Pavitr patting his head with a hand and you can hear how Pavitr mumbles under his breath

As Hobie walks further into HQ, past both of you, you and Pavitr make eye contact. Giving each other a small nod. Both of you sending a web at Hobie’s feet causing him to trip and fall

You and Pavitr break out into hysterical laughter, grabbing your stomach as you watch Hobie try to unwrap the web around his ankles

“My god! Watch your step next time ‘pipsqueak’” your words only make Pavitr laugh harder, you smile as you watch how he takes off his mask to wipe away his tears from his laughter

As you laugh your eyes no longer focus on Hobie, the next thing you know Pavitr is pointing behind you, trying to say something but still laughing too hard to speak

You suddenly feel Hobie place his hand on your shoulder “Did you have a good laugh? My turn” and you feel yourself be pulled up into the air by your feet, hanging upside down from the ceiling by a web around your ankles

Before you can undo it Hobie uses another web to wrap you up as if in a cocoon, leaving your face showing but the rest of your body is wrapped up “Hey! Let me out! It wasn’t my idea!” You say

Hobie just laughs and shrugs “well, sucks for you I guess” and then steps back, putting his hands in his pockets. He takes his mask off and you see the wide smirk on his lips, he then peels yours off looking at your unamused expression as you hung from the ceiling

For the next few minutes Hobie and Pavitr just take photos of the whole thing, doing obnoxious poses as one of them takes a selfie

Everyone else at HQ just sighed, knowing this was an everyday thing.

Miles leans towards Peter “so they’re friends?” He asks and Peter nods “Sure are. The closest friends too.” Miles just nods his head once “huh. Alright”

Pop vs Punk Headcannon

Even though the three of you were friends, you had your differences.

Even though you could swing where ever the hell you wanted, the three of you loved car trips together, usually asking one of the adults to drive you places seeing as you’re all not able to drive

The car rides are fun, even if every time you and Hobie fight for who gets the aux

“Not fair Hobie! You got it last time!” You say as you watch him plug in his phone “Too bad! We’re not listening to any of your basic studio plant pop music!” And you just groan out

“Well I’m sick and tired of your punk, I need some more light in my life!” You complain but Hobie just turns on the music, sitting in the passengers seat rocking his head to the music

“PAVI! You agree with me don’t you?! Help me tell him to turn it off!” You try to speak over the music to Pavitr who was sitting next to you

“Sorry! I cant focus on that right now. You’re both mature enough to figure it out!” He looks down at his phone, too busy texting Gayatri

But he glances your way and shrugs as he spots your unimpressed grimace

You sit back in your seat crossing your arms “and he gets shotgun again?! So much for ‘I don’t believe in consistency’” You murmur to yourself

“I heard that!” Hobie says and looks over the chair at you, and you look at him with a snarky expression

“Good! I wanted you to!” You say and lean forward, glaring into Hobie’s eyes, his squinting as he does the same

There’s silence as you both engage in an unspoken eye staring contest

Pavitr let’s out a sigh, leaning forward and turning down the blaring music before sitting down again “finally. Some silence”

Neither you or Hobie say anything in fear of losing the contest. Neither of you aware of the stakes… but yet you knew you couldn’t lose

Finally he blinks and you cheer in victory, he just groans in annoyance “Cheater.” He says and you scoff, punching his shoulder jokingly

“Prick. Now hand me the aux” you demand and he begrudgingly abides, unplugging his phone and letting you plug yours in

As much as Hobie pretended to despised your pop, whenever you played your playlist in the car all three of you would be singing

Much to the dismay of the driver of the car… usually Miguel or Jess

If it was Peter he couldn’t help but sing along, and those were the best car rides

After the first time Miguel or Jess drove you, they always ask Peter to do it, haunted by the absolute chaos the three of you managed to make in just an hour

[bumbleklee]

something happens and im head over heels (diluc x reader)

hi hello hi! havent posted in a while so please be gentle with me (i am fragile). feel free to leave a comment, would love to chat with you guys about this little piece

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

characters: diluc, baby!klee, reader, unnamed neighbor

synopsis: diluc is stuck babysitting his neighbor’s baby–the only problem? he isn’t really the babysitting type. good thing you are!

key tags: minor cursing, babyfic, first kiss, clueless diluc, modern!au (technically college era but no mention of college), lowkey punk!diluc

word count: 4109

“I tried calling Jean but she isn’t around and then I phoned Eula but I think I sent her into overdrive at just the thought of babysitting.” You hear Diluc shushing the baby in between words. “What if I just drop her off at the fire station and her mom can pick her up after her shift?” 

“Okay–don’t do that.” You shake your head in bewilderment, imagining the absolute shit-show that would be. “You just need to calm down. She’s probably freaking out because you’re freaking out.” 

There’s shuffling in the background and Diluc curses when he knocks something over. “She gave me a bag, right?” He continues, his voice laced with pure disconcertment, “And I don’t even know what half of this stuff is. There’s like a bunch of plastic thingies and a bag of powder that kind of looks like meth–” 

“Not meth.” You interrupt him. “I mean, probably not meth.” 

“That’s not the point,” Diluc emphasizes, “The point is that I’m a fucking loss and really need your help.” 

(full story underneath cut)

Diluc Ragnvindr doesn’t know much about his neighbor. He knows that she’s young, probably in her late 20s or early 30s, and that she’s a single mom to a little baby girl (who has a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night and cry so loudly that it nearly wakes up everybody in their apartment building). He also knows that she works at the local hospital–specifically in the emergency room–and that her mom usually comes around every evening to watch the baby. But other than a simple wave to each other when they simultaneously take the trash out, Diluc doesn’t really know her. 

So when she shows up on his doorstep at eight thirty at night with a bundle of pink blankets in her arms and a panicked look across her face, Diluc was, to say the least, surprised. 

“Um, you’re Diluc, right?” She stammers nervously, bouncing the baby in her arms. “Crepus’ son?” 

Diluc blinks once. Then twice. “Yeah,” He says, “That’s me.” 

The woman stares at Diluc for a moment, like she was contemplating everything in her life that had led up to this point, before heaving a desolate sigh. “Is your dad home by any chance?” Her tone suggests she already knows the answers and Diluc catches her anxious eyes darting from him to the vague view of his living room.

“He’s away this weekend. Sorry.” 

“Dammit.” His neighbor thinks for a while longer, clicking her tongue against the inside of her mouth a few times before asking, “Have you ever babysat before?” 

Diluc holds back a laugh. Babysit? Him? This must have been a life-or-death situation if his sweet neighbor was asking him to watch her daughter. Because, sure, they didn’t know each other but Diluc doesn’t doubt for a moment that she has some assumptions based on his appearance alone. 

“Err…isn’t there anyone else you can ask?” Diluc asks awkwardly, his eyes drifting down the apartment hallway as if someone much more suitable for the role is going to pop out. 

“Believe me, you’re the last person I would have thought about asking.” His neighbor says nonchalantly and Diluc tries not to take offense. “But there was a bad accident on Route 46 and I was called in to the hospital. My mom is out of town too, otherwise I would have asked her. And–” She gestures to the closed doors lining the long hallway, “–I don’t even think anyone lives in those apartments. At least I know your place is habitable.” She pauses again and her eyes shift down, gazing sadly at the quiet baby in her arms. "It's so hard being a single parent...I barely have any help and just..."

Her voice wavers more and more with each word and it looks like she’s about to start crying. But before she could crack, Diluc huffs quietly and crosses his arms across his chest. 

“Okay, okay,” He says exasperatedly. “I’ll watch her. Go save lives. Or whatever.” 

His neighbor’s face lights up at his agreement and before Diluc can fully comprehend what's happening, the baby is being shoved in his arms and a black bag full of many things is dropped at his feet. She whirls around, straightening her scrubs, and looks over her shoulder one last time. 

“Call the front desk if you need anything!” She calls, blowing a kiss to her daughter. 

“Wait!” Diluc yells, a sudden wave of dread washing over him. “Does she need to eat? How do you change a diaper? Does she have a name?” 

Ignoring his more-important questions, his neighbor yells back, “Her name is Klee! Thanks again!” 

Diluc watches as his neighbor races towards the elevator at the end of the hall, presses a button, and disappears from view. He stares at the empty hallway for a second before the baby in his arms makes a noise–reminding him that, oh yeah, he’s in charge of a baby now. 

He turns to look at the baby, his arms tightening around his tiny frame, and mumbles to no one in particular. “What did I get myself into?” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Your phone rings four times before you manage to grab it. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” You say to the ringtone before grabbing your cell phone off your bedside table and swiping across the screen without bothering to look at who was calling you. “Hello?”

“Hey. I need your help.” 

“Diluc?” You zone in on his voice and immediately pick out exhaustion, agitation, and even a little fear. And the more you listen, the more you notice…a crying baby? “I swear to God, Ragnvindr, if you kidnapped a baby and want me to be your getaway–” 

“I didn’t kidnap anything!” Diluc abruptly snaps. “Shit, shit, it’s okay, Klee…” You rub your forehead in confusion as Diluc explains that he’s babysitting for his neighbor. “Fuck–everything was fine for, like, twenty minutes and then she started crying and she hasn’t stopped since! I don’t know what to do!” 

You hold back a giggle. Of course notorious ‘bad boy’ Diluc Ragnvindr doesn't know what to do with a crying baby. You aren’t surprised–in fact, you’d be more surprised if he did know what to do. 

“I tried calling Jean but she isn’t around and then I phoned Eula but I think I sent her into overdrive at just the thought of babysitting.” You hear Diluc shushing the baby in between words. “What if I just drop her off at the fire station and her mom can pick her up after her shift?” 

“Okay–don’t do that.” You shake your head in bewilderment, imagining the absolute shit-show that would be. “You just need to calm down. She’s probably freaking out because you’re freaking out.” 

There’s shuffling in the background and Diluc curses when he knocks something over. “She gave me a bag, right?” He continues, his voice laced with pure disconcertment, “And I don’t even know what half of this stuff is. There’s like a bunch of plastic thingies and a bag of powder that kind of looks like meth–” 

“Not meth.” You interrupt him. “I mean, probably not meth.” 

“That’s not the point,” Diluc emphasizes, “The point is that I’m a fucking loss and really need your help.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

When you finally get to Diluc’s apartment, his front door is unlocked so you let yourself inside. You assume your friend has his hands full with the baby anyways. 

“Luc?” You ask, wandering into the disaster-zone Diluc calls his living room. Dish rags and bathroom towels are thrown everywhere, there were random baby items all over the floor, and the yellow powder that Diluc thought was meth was spilled on a couch cushion (and upon closer investigation, you realize it’s just baby formula). You snake down the apartment halls until you spot Diluc in the kitchen. 

He already looks so spent. His hair is loose from its usual ponytail, locks frizzy and tangled, and his eyes are tired and pleading. He leans against the fridge, bouncing a wailing baby in his arms robotically. 

“Hey.” You greet with a teasing smirk. “Nice baby. Where’d you get it?” 

“Shut up.” Diluc murmurs, a frown etched deep into his face. Your smirk morphs into a sympathetic smile and you hold your arms expectedly. Diluc doesn’t hesitate to transfer Klee into your embrace and while her cries don't cease entirely, they quiet to a whiny whimper as she tries to process who you are. 

“What’s the matter?” You coo sweetly, rubbing Klee’s back with a gentle hand. “Is Diluc being mean and scary?” 

“Hey!” 

“I'm just kidding.” You laugh briefly and turn your attention back to the baby in your arms, looking for any physical signs of distress–not that you thought Diluc would have ignored them, but he was so frazzled that maybe he missed something. When you adjust Klee against your hip, her face scrunches up in discomfort and she pushes against your chest. You hum in recognition and move her onesie aside to see if there’s a blue stripe on her diaper. And sure enough, there is. “She just needs her diaper changed.” 

Diluc pales visibly. “How do I do that?” He fumbles with the hem of his Pearl Jam t-shirt. “Are there instructions on the diaper or something?” 

You laugh again and roll your eyes playfully, “I’ll show you.” 

Diluc takes Klee from you so you can rummage through the black bag on the floor and pull out a package of wipes and a clean diaper. Diluc watches you in amazement and wonders how someone could be so calm and collected about something that made him want to crawl up the wall. You grab a nearby towel–the cleanest one, to be honest–and lay it on the ground before taking Klee back from Diluc and setting her down on top of it. Your quick fingers unsnap the metal buttons on her onesie and discard the dirty diaper, cleaning Klee up and sliding a fresh diaper underneath her wiggling body. 

“See?” You beam, pressing down the sticky sides of the diaper. “Super easy!” 

“For you,” Diluc mumbles. He sits on the edge of the couch and watches you interact with Klee like you’ve known her forever. You tap her belly occasionally, enticing a giggle, and the baby kicks her legs excitedly. She was attentive, reaching out towards you and babbling incoherent sentences loudly. She was loud, and a little annoying, but if Diluc was being honest, he was just glad that she wasn’t crying anymore. “When’d you become a baby whisperer?” 

You clean up and drag Klee into your lap, letting her play with your sweatshirt strings. “My mom used to watch my cousins,” You explain, “And I guess I picked up on a thing or two.” 

Diluc hums in response. Watching you play with Klee made him feel warm. Not a bad warm, but a good warm that filled his stomach with butterflies and made his chest feel weightless. Part of him was totally impressed by you and your ability to swoon over everyone and anyone–including little babies like Klee–unlike himself, who became a quivering mess during the unknown. You kept your cool no matter what. You owned every situation life threw at you so yeah, Diluc was totally impressed. 

But even more than that, Diluc is glad that you gave him the time of day. You could have brushed him off, could have told him to figure it out, but you went out of your way to drive across town and hold a baby–a stranger’s baby, even–just because he asked. 

“You know…” You voice grabs Diluc’s attention again and he gazes down at the floor where you’re sitting. “I was supposed to go out with Itto Arataki tonight. But I canceled our date to come here.” 

Diluc holds back the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah?” He says instead. 

He knows Itto Arataki back from high school–though they were never particularly friends. He was captain of the football team and had a 2.3 GPA and drove the most obnoxious and ugly muscle car in town. Diluc didn’t care for him then, doesn’t care for him now, and the more he thinks about your potential date with him, the more a feeling of irritation grows in the pit of his stomach. 

“Yeah,” You say casually. You face Diluc and silently mimic packing and rolling a joint in the air. “He was going to give me a free eighth.” 

Diluc stifles a laugh, “What a steal.” He doesn’t particularly care to hear about how you were going to smoke with Itto (because–you could smoke with him instead). “You could have gone if you wanted to.”

You shrug, “And miss out on hanging with my best friend, Klee?” You tickle her feet and blow on the top of her head before looking at Diluc again. “This is ten times more fun than hanging out with Itto Arataki, anyways.” 

Diluc raises an eyebrow, “You’re kidding.” 

You shake your head adamantly. “Nope. I’d much rather spend time with you than the idiot who only graduated because his daddy threatened to press legal action against every single teacher at that school.” For a moment, Diluc wonders if you even know what you’re saying, wonders if you realize that you just prioritized Diluc Ragnvindr–the same Diluc Ragnvindr who pierced his own ears at fourteen and sells his extra Adderall to college freshman–over Itto Arataki–the hero of your hometown. He’s about to ask if you have your head screwed on right but before he could open his mouth, Klee starts fussing again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

As the night progresses, you and Diluc come to four conclusions about one another: 

Diluc is absolutely terrible with children. 

You are absolutely amazing with children. 

Diluc can’t stop imagining you with a different baby, maybe one with fiery red hair that kind of resembles you, and keeps shaking his head violently to disperse the invasive thought. 

And you think Diluc is acting really weird because he won’t stop shaking his head. You just hope he doesn’t have lice or something. Ew.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

“She cries a lot.” Diluc comments when Klee curls her head into the crook of your neck, angry whines leaving her mouth. You frown slightly, swaying back and forth. “Do you think she’s hungry?”

“Maybe,” You shrug, moving over to the black bag and sorting through it with one hand. “Does she just take a bottle? Or does she eat solids? Do you even know how old she is?” Diluc blinks at you, not having an answer to any of your questions. “Right. Okay. One night off her routine won’t hurt.” 

You carry the bag of formula–at least whatever was left in the bag–and an empty carafe to the kitchen and somehow manage to put together a bottle for Klee with one hand, all while Diluc stands back and watches. He wants to help, really, but feels like he’ll just be in the way more than anything. Klee cries more until you push the rubber tip into her mouth, but she only bothers to drink half of the bottle before she lets it slip from her mouth and pushes it away with her little hands. 

Sighing, you pass Diluc the half-empty bottle. You bounce Klee in your arms for a few minutes, pat her on the back, and try to make her laugh, but to no avail–she won’t stop crying. “Maybe…she’ll calm down with some music?” 

“How would I know?” 

“I don’t know! Just put something on.” 

Diluc grumbles something and heads into the living room, connecting his phone to the speaker. He scrolls through his Spotify playlists and clicks on a random one and hits shuffle. Heavy rock music fills the apartment and the opening chords to Enter Sandman start. You’re about to yell at Diluc for putting on such rowdy music for a baby but Klee only hiccups and turns towards the living room, her eyes wide and curious. 

“No way.” You laugh breathlessly, carrying Klee to the living room. Diluc’s eyes glimmer with elation and he jumps up, grabbing Klee’s tiny hands in his big ones and singing the words to her, finally eliciting a smile from the baby. 

Enter Sandman fades into Shout It Out Loud. “Well, the night’s begun and you want some fun.” Diluc taps Klee’s nose. “Did you think you’re gonna find it?” He taps her cheeks. “You gotta treat yourself like number one.” He taps her forehead. And next thing you know, Diluc has Klee in his arms and is bouncing around the living room, whirling her around in circles and dipping her up and down. “Shout it, shout it, shout it out loud!” 

It was your turn to sit back and watch–as warmth spread throughout your chest.  

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

After an hour of dancing around the living room, Klee yawns. 

It’s then that Diluc realizes his apartment isn’t really set-up for a baby. Fortunately, Klee isn’t walking yet but she is crawling, which means you and Diluc are constantly pulling chargers or wires out of her mouth. It also means that Diluc doesn’t have a crib, or anything remotely close to a crib.  Maybe you could just hold her all night. Or maybe Diluc could put a blanket down in the kitchen sink and lay Klee in there or maybe…

“How many pillows do you have?” 

Diluc cocks his head to the side. “What?” 

“I said,” You repeat, drawing out the vowels, “How many pillows do you have? On second thought, just grab all of them and meet me in your room.” 

Diluc cocks his head again, to the other side this time, and watches as you saunter down the hallway and kick open the door to his bedroom, carrying Klee inside. If it was any other night, Diluc might even throw a fit about you barging into his sacred space–but he was too exhausted to put up a fight tonight. Instead, he gathers all of the pillows from the living room, hall closet, and bedrooms. 

By the time Diluc gets to you, you’re already busy doing whatever you had planned. You fluff the pillows on Diluc’s bed and lay them on either side of Klee, making sure they’re tight and secure. You take the other pillows from Diluc and finish up your makeshift barricade around the baby. 

“There!” You beam proudly. “She won’t be able to roll over with all the pillows.” 

Shit. You were really good at this. And here Diluc was, ready to put her in the sink. 

Diluc stands stiffly in the middle of his bedroom as you run around like a headless chicken. You shut the blinds so the moonlight won’t seep through the window and turn off the floor lamp in the corner. The bedroom is veiled in darkness until you turn on a nightlight (which, in all fairness, Diluc totally forgot he owned) and a warm glow embraces the space. 

Klee is fighting sleep. She wants to sleep, desperately, but her body doesn’t, and she whines uncomfortably. You sit on the edge of the bed and pat the empty spot next to you, urging Diluc to fill it. “What’s wrong?” Diluc asks–the question directed at Klee and you. 

You smile softly, “She just needs some help falling asleep.” 

“Um…” Diluc says, his awkwardness coming back. “Like a blanket or something?” 

Without much thought, you say, “Why don’t you sing to her again?” 

This catches Diluc off guard. Sure, he took choir in high school and never turned down a drunken karaoke session but singing underneath a loud metal song was very different from singing a lullaby in a silent bedroom. He didn’t want to traumatize the poor child.

“Come on,” You plead sweetly. “She loved your voice so much before…I’m sure it would lull her right to sleep.” Diluc feels his face grow warm and he looks away, not sure how to handle the compliment. He’s extremely thankful for the darkness of the bedroom that conceals his cherry-red cheeks from you. 

Diluc composes himself enough to look back at you. He’s about to protest again but his voice jams in his throat when he realizes how close he is to you. Your faces are only inches apart and all Diluc had to do was lean forward and–

Klee cries out again, this time louder, and Diluc clears his throat. “Yeah, um, fine,” He manages, “But you can’t tell anyone. Especially my brother.” You make a ‘zipped and locked’ motion and Diluc twists his body so he’s facing Klee. She kicks her legs angrily, her tiny fists hands curl into fists and before Diluc really knows what’s doing, his voice leaves his mouth delicately. “I wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather…but traditions I can trace against the child in your face.”

You can’t hide the smile that grows across your face. Diluc hates Tears for Fears, thought they were sellouts who made music for teenage girls who wanted to be different, yet here he was–singing their most popular song to an innocent little baby. 

“Something happens and I’m head over heels. I never find out ‘till I'm head over heels.” 

You sit back and listen. Klee is quiet now, an occasional coo leaves her lips, and you’re positive that she’s going to fall asleep any minute. So Diluc keeps singing, perfecting the song word-for-word until there’s no more lyrics to say and a sleeping baby. And secretly you’re a little bummed out–you could listen to Diluc sing forever. 

But, alas, the bedroom is filled with a gentle silence and you reach across the bed to make sure the pillows are still secure before standing up and stretching your arms. And when the realization finally hits Diluc that he had just sung a baby to sleep, he wants to jump up and fistbump the air as hard as he could. He wasn’t as bad with babies as he thought and this was living proof. 

“I did that!” Diluc exclaims in a hushed-whisper. He grins at you, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and wrinkles his nose. “I got that baby to fucking sleep all by myself! God, I feel like I can do anything right now–” 

Diluc doesn’t get to finish his sentence. In fact, he doesn’t even get to finish his thought. Because, in a matter of mere seconds, you’re dipping down towards Diluc on the bed and holding his face oh-so gently and crashing your lips together. And as cliche as it sounds, Diluc swears time stops. 

You pull away first, your eyes big and wide. “Oh my god,” You whispered. “Luc, I just–” 

“Oh.” Diluc says in a breath of air. He sits back on his hands and stares at you. He feels like his entire body is on fire. 

“I’m sorry,” You continue. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

“It’s fine,” Diluc nods. “Just…” 

He reaches a slender finger up and runs it across his bottom lip. You keep staring at him with utter shock written across your face and Diluc partially wants to remind you that you’re the one that kissed him. But his mouth refuses to move, refuses to speak, so he sits there in silence.  

“Did you hate it? 

Diluc hesitates before shaking his head, “No.” 

“Good,” You say quietly. “Good.” 

Diluc feels the bed dip again and you sit next to him. Your knees knock against his and when he doesn’t pull away, you take that as an invitation to lean in again. Diluc’s hand cups your jaw and everything feels fuzzy. You kiss like a champion, as expected, and Diluc kisses like each one is his last. Your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces and it’s enough to course electricity through your veins. 

When he needs air, Diluc pulls back enough to press his forehead against yours. “What are you doing?” He asks solemnly. 

“Kissing you,” You say–like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

Obviously it goes deeper than that. Because you kissed Ayato and you kissed Thoma and Childe and Itto Arataki and, well, not Diluc. Except you were. You were kissing Diluc in his dark bedroom while his neighbor’s baby slept on his bed surrounded by pillows. And it was fucking mental. 

And confusing. And overwhelming. And Diluc doesn’t really know how to have a single coherent thought about it. 

“Hey,” You urged, “What’s the matter?”

Diluc closes his eyes so he doesn't have to look at yours staring into his soul. “I don’t know,” He admits. “Everything and nothing.” And this was true. His mind feels like a jumbled mess of broken records and no matter how hard he tries to put them together, nothing would play. He eventually equates it to getting hooked on a book he thought he would hate, and how surprised he is that he’s really into the book, but it’s too late to put it down and really needs to see how it ends. “Kiss me again.” 

You do. 

“Again.” 

You keep kissing Diluc experimentally, like you’re trying to work your way up towards something. You kiss him until your lips are swollen and your jaws hurt and then some. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” You finally tell him. 

“Really?” Diluc asks and you nod. 

In the darkness of his bedroom, Diluc smiles. Kissing you doesn't necessarily mean anything. But it doesn’t not mean anything, either. Though he hopes it evolves past the darkness. At least one day. 

And, knowing you, Diluc has a good feeling that it would. And hopefully without a baby in the room. 

a/n: no promises i won't delete this but for now--enjoy <3

[zoro-chwaan]

So this was something I started last year, but never finished (cause I forgor) buy here ya go.

Ooc Hobie probably, but boo hoo, I don’t care

» [ Hobie (Spider-Punk) x trans!reader ] «

─── ☾

You and Hobie always had a weird friendship. Where whenever one of you saw the other, you would scream at each other about how great the other is. The other spider-folks would either find it adorable or annoying. Miguel thought of it as annoying since the both of you are ‘too loud’ for his taste. But why does it matter to him? Maybe he’s still sour due to the fact that he lost his daughter, personal issue if you ask me.

Though Hobie and you are close friends. You still neglected to mention to him some things about you, but you didn’t have the need to tell him anything any time soon. You’d know he’d be fine with the fact of who you are.

Oddly enough, today you decided to install Pokémon Go. Just for the heck of it (and because you really wanted a specific Pokémon). You spent roughly a couple minutes on it, starting to question if it was the right choice. You opened the portal to where all the spider-folks are at and walked in. You looked around to see if you can spot a certain punk.

“You looking for someone?”

Startled and turned to see it was just Lyla with a smirk on her face. You chuckled and nodded, “Do you know if Hobie is in here or if he’s in his dimension?” Lyla just laughed and told you that he was here. “He’s on top of one of the buildings” She said as she disappeared. You smiled and went on your way. After a while you found him where Lyla said he would be. He seemed to just be relaxing, you smiled and looked at him for a bit before you decided to ruin his day. “HOBIE!!” Hobie turned around and saw you and smiled. “Yeah Y/N, it’s me. What’s up?”

“I THINK I MADE A MISTAKE!”

He looked at you with a confused expression “WHAT kind of mistake?!” You paused for a moment and muttered, “So I decided to reinstall Pokémon Go..”

“Y/N, DON’T PLAY THAT GAME FOR YOUR OWN SAKE!!”

“BUT I NEED (Favorite Pokémon)!!”

“THEY ARE FICTIONAL CREATURES! YOU DON’T NEED THEM!” You gasped at his statement and gave him a look of betrayal. “YES I DO!!” You responded. “WHY ON EARTH DO YOU NEED THEM?!”

“BECAUSE I RELATE TO (Favorite Pokémon)!!” You yelled back.

“WHY DO YOU RELATE TO (Favorite Pokémon)?!”

“NO COMMENT”

“DON’T YOU HAVE FRIENDS?!” He blurted out. You paused once again giving him a look that said ‘Ayo chill’ He saw that and chuckled awkwardly, “I was just asking..” He scratched the back of his neck.

“This is why I need (Favorite Pokémon)”

“YOU DON’T NEED (Favorite Pokémon)!!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHATS GOOD FOR ME!!”

“I ACTUALLY DO KNOW WHATS GOOD FOR YOU!!”

“NUH UH!!”

“YUH HUH!!” He retorted

“SAYS WHO??” You fought back

“SAYS ME” He countered

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I KNOW YOU BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE DOES” He stood up and walked towards you. He’s not wrong, he really does know you better than anyone else in here does. You two were close, and it shows. “I KNOW” you screamed.

“YOU DON’T KNOW!! IF YOU KNEW, YOU WOULDN’T BE PLAYING POKÉMON GO!!” Damnit he’s got a point.

“BUT I NEED IT”

“YOU DON’T NEED IT!!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE ITS BAD FOR YOU!” (NUH uh)

“Damn..” you said, acting a bit dramatic for the affect. He sighed and shook his head, “What am I going to do with you?” He questioned, mostly to himself while smiling. “Honestly, I don’t even know myself” you replied. You both stayed silent for a bit, till he thought of something. “Hey Y/N… I think I know why you relate to (Favorite Pokémon) now..” You gave him a puzzled look and quirked up an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“You just need a friend”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Okay we’re done with this conversation” you said as you facepalmed. No need to call you out like that.. geez..

“BUT I WANNA HELP!”

“NO!!”

“I’M GONNA HELP YOU WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!!!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I’M YOUR FRIEND AND YOU NEED ME TO HELP!!”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT I NEED??”

“A FRIEND??!” “Damn I get it… no need to remind me that I’m lonely..” You mentally said to yourself

“NO!! A CHEST BINDER” You replied without thinking. Shit.. did you just really put yourself?

“A CHEST BINDER??!!” Now it was his turn to look puzzled.. Fuck

“YEAH!”

“WHY???!!!” “Well it’s now or never..”

“CAUSE I’M TRANS!!”

“YOUR TRANS?!”

“YEAH!! WHAT OF IT?!!” You would be lying to yourself if you said that your kinda scared shitless

“I’M JUST SURPRISED!!”

“REALLY?” “Dumb reply”

“YEAH, I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE TRANS!!!” Even if you never told him, he still would’ve called you a guy since you passed really well. You were happy.

“WELL SURPRISE!!” You were scared shitless, yet you knew he would still be supportive of you. That’s just how he is, but it was your turn to be surprised by what came out his mouth.

“I HAVE TO GET YOU A CHEST BINDER NOW!!”

“THAT’S SO SWEET OF YOU!!” Your heart beat a happy tune.. man he made you feel such love and happiness

“ANYTHING FOR YOU!!” Yeah.. he really made your heart skip a beat

“WHY ARE WE STILL YELLING?!”

“BECAUSE WE’RE LOUD PEOPLE!!” You paused once again and nodded. “Fair enough”, again silence came over you two again.

“…So, about the chest binder..” Hobie started up. You turned to him, “What about it?”

“I REALLY NEED TO GET YOU ONE!!” Man, he really is sweet. But sometimes, you just want to buy something’s for yourself. As a reward.

“I CAN GET IT MYSELF, BUCKO”

“NO YOU CAN’T!! IT’S MY JOB TO GET YOU ONE!!” He’s more than aware that you are more than capable of getting yourself one, but he really cares about you and wants to give you one as a gift. How sweet

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE YOU NEED IT!!”

“YEAH I DO!! I CAN GET ONE MYSELF!!”

“I’LL BUY YOU ONE!!!!” And when you thought he couldn’t get any sweeter..

“YOU DON’T NEED TO”

“I’LL BUY IT AND NO ONE CAN STOP ME!!” Times like these, you’re really thankful that you’re on top of a building. Sure, if some folks are close enough, they would hear your guy’s scream fight. But would they understand what the two do you are talking about.. probably not.

“LET ME BUY IT FOR MYSELF!!”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ————

Will I finish this? Probably not, but hey, you just gotta do what you gotta do

[ofdarkestdesires]

Alright! So, now that we have the full line-up of the Level 10 Bell’s Hells artwork, I think it’s about time I sat down and gave my personal opinions that nobody asked for about everyone’s styles.

Chetney Pock'o'pea

While I appreciate the more active pose and visible armor as opposed to his more unassuming original design, I am very off-put that he completely abandoned his original color scheme and all shreds of his original aesthetic. I also think the tracksuit is a bit much—listen, I’m a fan of toeing the line of what fashion belongs in a fantasy setting, but I’m pretty sure this fully vaulted over the it and did a full backflip and three-point landing into ridiculous. 3/10

And unfortunately, the same must be said for his Lycan form. This artwork feels like a serious downgrade from the original Chetwolf, which honestly filled me with a shock of horror each time he popped up. The only reason it is higher than base-Chet is that Chetwolf is still a werewolf, and werewolves are badass. 4/10

Laudna

Laudna, on the otherhand, is a total glow-up from her original design. Everything about her design ties together and brings in perfectly her aesthetic and backstory, from the haunting tree embroidery on her dress (akin to the Sun Tree she was hung from) to the little Pate birdhouse backpack (an homage to the Baba Yaga forest witch imagery she picked up), all the while looking so much like the elegant and imposing Delilah Briarwood. Easy 10/10 for me.

Fresh Cut Grass (F.C.G.)

F.C.G.'s new art...isn't bad, but I'm not as wowed by it as some others on this list. Something has clearly changed here in the choice to include his new blue jacket, and I approve! I'm also a fan of the wires having more definition and appearing more purposefully stylized, as if he's taking better care of himself...but the pose and the style just feel a bit lacking to me. 5/10

Fearne Calloway

Honestly, my only gripe with this outfit is the upper-half of her bustier. It feels very cluttered and like there is a lot of fine detail that just ends up being all meshed together. That would be my other only other gripe, too—there's a lot of small, fine details here that makes her feel cluttered. Which, honestly, fits her as the sneaky little hoarder that she is! But yeah, I would've done something else, something cleaner, with the upper half of her bodice. Also, while I know she is a Druid, I don't think she needs the plant growth on her legs... 8/10

Imogen Temult

I would just like to point out that this outfit was unveiled to us as Imogen's choice for winter-wear while traveling through the Crystal Sands Tundra. Is it sexy? Definitely. Is it my personal taste? Mm, not really, but I can see the appeal. Am I upset that even after the semi-canonization of her needing glasses, this bitch is still not a sexy glasses-wearing nerd? Absolutely—but the biggest sin this outfit does is fail to be climate-accurate. -1/10 for improper environment protection, and 7/10 for the outfit itself.

Orym, Savior Blade of the Tempest

I am incredibly torn here. Because, when it comes down to the armor itself, this is a clear winner. Orym's new uniform is a perfect upgrade from his original more humble and simple apparel, becoming much more about function and protection, while still retaining his svelte and limber appearance. The noted upgrade to Seedling is also nice, though I wish it was a bit more pronounced. What pulls me back from really loving this design, though, is his proportions—I feel like his head is way too big, or his limbs are way too skinny. Over all, I have to give this an 8/10.

Ashton Greymoore

Remember at the start how I said I'm all for toeing the line of what fashion belongs in fantasy settings? Yeah, this fucks! From the first episode, we knew that Ashton was a punk, and this just picks that up and runs with it in such a cool, fun way. I legitimately want this entire outfit—fuck cosplay, I'd just wear this irl! It leans enough on his old design to be recognizable, but pops out as truly his own. And the hammer looks wild—I can't wait to see that thing really pop off like crazy in the next fight. Definitely a 10/10 from me!

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

Trent Lane x Reader

Okay, I've been meaning to out this out, but it's never been 100% to my liking. So I decided screw it, and I'm gonna put it out and maybe go back and fix it later. Edited, and edited, and edited.

My family had just moved to Lawndale, and I came down to spend time with them. I had just finished my Associates in Parapsychology, and got a job at a local newspaper. After finishing the associates, I decided to take a break from school, a little worn out. I am currently moving all of my stuff into my new room, and while everyone was unpacking their things, I headed out to explore our new town. In all of my wandering I made my way into a dingy basement full of punk- alt bands and people. The current band playing is called Mystik Spiral. They weren’t awful, but they weren’t necessarily good either. My eyes scanned the members of the band and I lingered on the lead singer. His hair was messy and he had tattoos dancing across his arms. He caught my eye and winked at me. The heat flushed up my body, before dancing brightly across my cheeks. I bit my lip and smiled, not being able to look away. Eventually the embarrassment won out and I looked away. Their set finished soon after, but my eyes stayed glued to my shoes.

“Hey.” A raspy voice pulled my attention from my shoes.

“Hey.” I responded rubbing my arm awkwardly.

“What did you think of our set?”

“It was good. A nice change from what I’m used to.” I smiled at the end, throwing him a wink. He chuckled.

“Trent.”

“Charlie.”

“Wanna get a bite to eat?” He asked, pointing behind him to the door.

“Sure.” I shrugged my shoulders. He smiled and I followed him out of the basement and out to where his bandmates were waiting. We made introductions on our way to a pizza place. Trent and I stayed out later than his bandmates, talking for hours. Eventually he drove me home and it was so late I had to sneak in. This is how the next few weeks went, us going out one or two nights a week, staying out late, and sneaking back in. Some nights I even just watch them practise while eating the food they ordered. Tonight though we found ourselves in his room just hanging out.

“So tell me about your family.” Trent prodded. I snorted, falling back onto his bed. He turned his head to look at me.

“Okay, so my parents are tightly wound, and somewhat distant. I'm the oldest of three. My next sister is a few years younger than me. She’s sarcastic, bleak, and sometimes a little too pessimistic. She’s honest though so…” I shrugged my shoulders, as I trailed off. “Then, I have my youngest sister. She is something else entirely. She’s popular, self-absorbed, but she’s also caring and pretty. Her priorities are just different from me and my other sister.” I sighed running my hand through my hair. “So really when it comes down to it, I’m the middle ground between the two of them.”

“Wow.” He drew out.

“Yeah.” I let out a sigh and sat up so I was closer to him. We just sat there in silence, before there was a knock on his door.

“Yeah?” he called.

“Hey, there’s this party my friend and I are invited to, and I was wondering if you would give us a ride?” A girl peeked her head in and asked.

“I don’t know Janey. I might be busy that night.” He turned from her to me. “Janey, this is Charlie. We met a little while ago, and we’ve been hanging out a lot.” I gave an awkward wave.

“Hi. Now what about the ride? Do you think you can do it?” Jane asked.

“Yeah. You’ll have to wake me up though.” She simply hummed and walked away.

I turned to Trent a wide smile stretching across my face. “That was nice of you.” I put my hand on his arm, trying to get him to look at me.

“Eh, it’s whatever. I’m gonna have to push our night back a bit though.” I lifted my hand and waved it dismissively.

I giggled a little, “It’s fine. Look at you being all..brotherly.” He groaned and pushed me away from him. But I saw a blush creep up his cheeks, when I started to laugh harder. The rest of the night we spend on his bed eating bad food, and talking about random things. By the time I checked the clock, it was one in the morning. We decided to call it a night because Trent’s eyes were starting to droop. He dropped me off outside my house. Before I climbed out of the car I turned to him, “Thanks for dropping me off.” I whispered, feeling a loud voice would shatter the atmosphere.

“No problem.” He smiled and I turned to open the door. “Charlie?” He whispered, placing his hand on my arm.

“Trent?” I turned back towards him holding my breath to see what he would do. He looked between me and my lips, before leaning closer. I froze in place, anticipating what was going to happen next.

“Your door is still locked.” He reached over me, and unlocked the door. “There.”

I let out a huff. “Thanks Trent.” My voice was monotone, and I climbed out of the car. “Bye.” I closed the door and waved as he drove off. When I got into the house, I went straight to my room only wanting to be there. I closed the door and almost punched the wall. I fell face first onto my bed, and screamed into my pillow. “AHHHHHHHHH! WHY????” I rolled over and stared at the ceiling until I found the energy to change into my pajamas. I replayed the moment over and over until I finally fell asleep. The next few days dragged on with no surprises, and lots of distractions for me.

Friday finally rolled around and because of the party I didn’t have to rush to get ready for my night with Trent. Daria said that she was hanging out with her friend tonight so I was left alone with Mom and Dad for a bit. It wasn’t too bad spending time with them, but Mom was trying to pry into my life, without outright asking the questions she wanted answers to. Finally there was a HONK from out front. I smiled and got up.

“That’s my ride. I’ll see you later.” I called out over my shoulder as I headed out the door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He responded as I climbed into the car.

“How was the ride?” I asked, waiting to see if he would bring up what happened the other day.

“It was fine. They seemed excited about the party. I thought it looked lame.” He laughed at the end, but ended up coughing.

“Well that was very nice of you. Almost…” I brought my hand up to my chin thoughtfully stroking my fake beard, “...like a protective brother.” I smiled and turned towards him, he turned and smiled back at me. “Hey, eyes on the road.” I pointed out the windshield, and he turned his head. We just spent the night driving around town, and just talking about nothing. We ended up playing and singing our favourite songs terribly. It was nice to just let go. When he dropped me off, I sat there waiting to see what he would do tonight. As predicted, he did nothing. “Well this was a fun night. Thanks.” I leaned into the car, to say bye.

He smiled at me. “Me too.”

[aldeanotes]

the art of cooking

aemond / modern!reader, 16+, fluff / comedy / mild angst in later plot points. inspiration taken from kdrama mr. queen. reader is very bi and loves girls so much.  

summary: in which you are a famous young chef whose soul was transported into the body of some way too pretty and privilege noble woman. oh, and you’re supposed to marry a prince or whatever. anyway, can you test this to see if it's ready ? 

warnings: reader is batshit wild and doesn't have time for westerosi norms : )

preview

  So there you were, sitting slumped in a chair in “your” chambers, having been so effortlessly stopped in your attempted escape through the gardens by a man with silver hair and an eyepatch. With dirt caked on your dress, flower petals scattered around your unruly hair, and gods know how many scratches on your exposed arms from your clumsy maneuvering through the greenery trying to escape. The man in question sits across from you, his finger tapping on the wood of his chair, waiting and looking at the fire. You don’t even give the flames a glance as you keep glaring at him. What a punk – is all you can think. 

  For stopping you from running away from the servants who were dead set on dragging you back into these chambers, for handing you off to them without even thinking about your pleas. How dare he? And all things considered, after being told you’re engaged to a prince of all people, you’d think he’d have more consideration of that fact too. Maybe he doesn’t know who “you” are. Yeah, that’s probably it. 

  Even if you hated the new life you’d woken up to, you could flex some of your status a bit, right? Just this once. 

  “You’ve really got a lot of nerve,” you say, and the man finally gives you the time of day. 

  Even the way his single eye stares at you pisses you off. He looks at you like you’ve just exhausted all his energy for the day, and it spurns you oon to throw your weight around a bit more. 

  “I had somewhere to be –” Which was not here. “And you just handed me off like I was a sack of trash. Do you have any idea who I–”

  “I know who you are,” he cuts you off with a quick response. His voice has a certain coldness to it, but it doesn’t deter you. 

  “Oh, yeah? Then you must know I’m betrothed -” You emphasize the last word. “To a prince.” 

  You see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he found that funny. Like it was a joke to him. He cocks his head to the side slightly like he’s observing you. Alicent did that during the first initial visit to “you” after “you” woke up. 

  “It seems the Maesters were telling the truth, you are out of sorts,” he says before standing up and taking a small step closer to you. 

  Now, you were intimidated by him as he towers above you. You’re suddenly very aware of his stature – taller than you, much more muscular than you. The purple iris that peers down at you through his lashes is an eerily beautiful sight, even you must admit to it. Your fingers dig into the wooden arm chairs. You take a deep breath and your chest sticks out involuntarily. It’s a pathetic display of bravery (foolishness, more like it), and the man pays it no special attention. 

  “My lady–” You hate the way anyone calls you that. “I am your betrothed.”

  Silence settles between you two. Your eyes stare up at him, widened to their fullest. You take a slow, obnoxious, audible breath in and then–

  You proceed to laugh in his face.

[cecilysass]

Tonight We're Gonna Party Like It's 1999

An epilogue to The Boy on the Beach. Read The Boy on the Beach on AO3 or on Tumblr. Read this epilogue on AO3. Tagging @today-in-fic

In the other multiverse.

Baltimore, Maryland February 23, 1983

“Sweetie.” Her mother’s face appeared in the crack of the door. “Do you think you’re almost ready? You’ve made Marcus sit down there with your father and Charlie for twenty minutes now. And our reservation is at seven, so we really can’t be too much longer.”

“Yes,” Dana said. “Almost finished.” In the mirror she peered into her own eyes, which were smudged with black. Her eyeliner was as heavy as she dared for dinner with her family, which truthfully wasn’t very heavy at all.

In Dana’s imagination her entire wardrobe was going to have been transformed in college. She would have been edgier, harder, swathed in black, jagged corners. A semester and a month in, and that hadn’t really happened. Her forays into rebellion had been modest and disappointing. A few band T-shirts, leather bracelets, scarcely noticeable.

Tonight she wore a new dress. Dark detailed lace, a dramatic ruffled neckline. She purchased it at a shop near campus because she thought it had a drastic, punk rock feel. She’d expected a few raised eyebrows when she arrived at her parents’ house tonight. Instead, her mother had smiled and told her she looked lovely. Looking at herself now in the mirror, pale face, dark dress, gold cross at her neck, she realized why. She looked like she could be taking holy vows.

“You know, you’re just sitting there,” her sister observed with amusement. She was lounging on Dana’s bed, already dressed. She had a torn denim jacket, feathery hair, makeup as dark as night. Missy’s forays into rebellion had always been fearless. “You’re not getting ready. You are ready.”

“I’m checking over my make-up.”

“No, you’re stalling. You’re making us late to your own birthday dinner on purpose.”

“What are you talking about?” Dana sighed wearily, examining the jawline of her uninteresting baby face again.

Missy sprung to her feet and leaned over Dana’s shoulder, looking at her reflection in the mirror, whispering playfully in her ear. “You’re waiting for something.”

“Oh yeah? What am I waiting for?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, with Marcus down there making conversation with Dad,” Missy said. “Boring little Marcus.”

“Marcus isn’t boring.”

“Oh, Dana,” Missy laughed. “You’re such a faker. I see right through you.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Dana said, rolling her eyes.

“You want to wait around here just in case you get your birthday phone call.”

Dana moved to blot her red lipstick without betraying any real expression.

“From your childhood soulmate,” Missy added knowingly. “Your personal Kennedy.”

“He’s not my childhood soulmate,” Dana said primly. “He’s not a Kennedy.”

“Your dark prince of Massachusetts.”

“He’s not in Massachusetts,” Dana said in a contrary tone. “He’s in college in England.”

Missy folded her arms. “I suppose you haven’t thought about his call at all today.”

Dana sighed again. “Fox does normally call on my birthday, but I’m not exactly sitting around waiting for that.”

“No?”

“Actually, I doubt he will call now—it’s late there. I’m honestly just trying to finish getting ready.”

“Okay.” Missy seemed to be biting back a smile.

Dana pursed her lips and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, but met her sister’s amused eyes in the mirror.

“You make everything so over dramatic, Missy.”

Missy just raised an eyebrow.

“Fox and I shared a strange childhood experience,” Dana said. “We’re friends. Pen pals. He’s an interesting person.”

“Very interesting,” nodded Missy.

“His sister writes to me, too, you know,” Dana pointed out. “And I haven’t seen them in ages. Not even since we moved back to the East Coast.”

Missy reached over Dana’s shoulder and over the vanity table, fishing out the snapshot of Fox on a beach that Dana had discreetly slid underneath her jewelry box. She held it up in front of Dana’s face like it was damning evidence.

Dana kept her expression disinterested. “What? He sent a photo from college.”

“Mmmm, I see that,” Missy said, looking it over. “You’re keeping it pretty close at hand.”

“What’s your point?”

“Look, Dana,” Missy said, sounding exasperated, “he saves you as a kid, he tells you you and he are bound together by fate, he writes you letters, he calls you every year. It’s romantic. You’d have to be made of stone not to see that. I don’t blame you. Nobody in the world would blame you. You don’t have to hide it.”

Dana didn’t say anything, her eyes on the photo in Missy’s fingers. He actually didn’t save her from anything, at least not according to him. According to him, the hero of the story was someone else.

Her. Her, but not her. An unrecognizable version of Dana Scully. Some superhuman, unattainable adult version.

Dana herself doesn’t remember what happened that week in 1973. She only remembers finding herself on a fairy tale beach with two fairy tale children who insisted she had a special destiny and gave her a letter from herself that seemed to confirm it.

The story has always been convoluted, and she’s always been partially sworn to secrecy.

“And holy fucking fuck.” Missy was looking hard at the photo, shaking her head. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed your little soulmate turned out smoking hot. That’s a nice favor for fate to do for you.”

Dana had noticed, actually. She still hated Missy’s characterization of her relationship with Fox, hated it for so many reasons.

“Enough, Missy.” She reached behind her and snatched the photo out of her sister’s fingers. “Let’s go downstairs now.”

“I could stall them downstairs for a few more minutes,” offered Missy, her tone softer. “I could say I feel sick?”

“Really,” Dana said. “You’re misreading the situation.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” Dana set her lips in a line.

“Okay,” Missy shrugged.

“Okay.”

“Then let’s go put our game faces on,” Missy said. “Prepare to eat large steaks and avoid talking politics with Bill.” She put her hands on Dana’s shoulders. “You look amazing, by the way. I like your dress.”

“Thank you,” Dana said, her face warming into a small smile in the mirror. “I don’t look like a nun?”

“Maybe a little. Like a hot nun,” Melissa assured her. Dana slapped her hand in jest.

On the way downstairs, the phone didn’t ring. But that was okay. That was fine. She wasn’t waiting for it. Not really.

*** Later, after they arrived back from dinner, after Dana had opened her presents, after they had eaten angel food cake topped with chocolate whipped cream icing and nineteen candles, after she had kissed Marcus a sweet but surprisingly chaste good-bye outside at his car, promising to call him soon (once she was back in her dorm, maybe on the weekend), the phone did ring.

She was standing at the bathroom mirror brushing her teeth, wearing an oversized tee of Bill’s from high school. Everyone else had already gone to bed, although she suspected Charlie was still awake because she could hear the Clash playing faintly from his room.

The phone rang and she froze, her toothbrush in her mouth. Then she flung it down and raced down the stairs as fast as she could, trying to get there before it woke up her parents.

She made it in two and a half rings. “Hello,” she said breathlessly as she picked up the kitchen phone.

“Hello?” It’s funny how familiar his voice was, considering how relatively few times she had actually spoken to him. “Dana…?”

“Yeah,” she said, still breathing hard from her little sprint. “It’s me. Sorry. I just ran from upstairs.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” she smiled, biting her lip. “No, I’m awake.”

“I almost missed it. I’m too late.”

“You’re not late,” she assured him quickly. “It’s still my birthday. But isn’t it the middle of the night there? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He laughed a little, and she noticed for the first time he was keeping his voice down. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I probably should be.”

Dana pressed her back against the kitchen wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor. She brought her knees in towards her, hugging them, winding the phone cord around a finger.

“So,” he said. “Dana Scully. Nineteen years old. How does it feel?”

“Much the same.”

“How’s college?”

“It’s…” Dana selected her words carefully, always too aware of what he thought about her. “It’s amazing. I love it. The work is so much more interesting than high school. The conversation is at a higher level.”

“So you just study, all day and night, and that’s Dana Scully’s whole life at University of Maryland?”

“I do take my work seriously,” she said, stiffening. “I know it’s not Oxford, but I take challenging classes.”

“Of course you do,” he said, his tone gentle. “I just meant to ask what you did outside of class.”

“Right,” she said. She knew she was too sensitive. He had never given her any reason to feel so, but she felt self-conscious, her modest, budget-minded state university education versus his elite international schooling. “Well, I have a job working at the library. I, uh, play intramural volleyball.” She swallowed. “I was going to try for a job in a lab for next year.”

“You’re studying science?”

“Yes.” She pressed her eyes closed, anticipating the next line of questioning.

“Do you know your major yet? Is it… do you know what you want to do?”

She knew what he was thinking—because this is what he did, Fox. He asked her a question, and he seemed deeply and intensely interested in her, but he actually was thinking about someone else. This woman, this stranger he and Samantha called Scully: a woman she had never met.

“Not really,” she said.

There was a little pause. “It’s probably too soon to worry about your major. That’s what’s good about American universities—you can explore different fields of study.”

Dana decided to change the subject. “Your sister sent me something for my birthday.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Really. It was wrapped and everything.”

“I’m offended. She didn’t send me anything for my birthday.”

“It arrived in my school mailbox the day before yesterday.” Dana was smiling, wrapping the phone cord around her wrist.

“What was it?”

“A record,” Dana said coyly. “A single. No card or note—besides her name, obviously.”

“A record? You’re kidding me. What record?”

“Prince.”

“Prince?” He paused. “Why would she—” He stopped. “1999, right?”

“Bingo.”

She could hear him laughing on the other end, trying to keep his sound muffled. “Shit. She’s … such a weirdo,” he breathed. “But that’s funny. I wish I had thought of that.”

“As it happens, I like the song.”

“Sam has great taste and a subversive sense of humor, but she’s really baffling my parents,” Fox said. “I think it’s not all sunshine and roses in the Mulder household since I left. We can’t all be well-behaved first children. But only one more semester until she’s off to college, too.”

“Does she want to go to Oxford?”

“She wants to go to Berkeley,” Fox said. “In California.” He hesitated. “According to her, there was something 99 Me and 99 You said about a scientist there who studies neurology, which somehow mysteriously leads to time travel. I hadn’t quite heard all of the details of that before, but Samantha is adamant.”

Dana took that in.

Unlike Fox, Samantha had always been slower to talk about the events of that week in November 1973. Her story had always come out in fragments, little tantalizing mentions that emerge unexpectedly, sometimes years later.

In some ways this was frustrating, as Samantha had the most information. She was the person who met both 99 Dana and 99 Fox, who actually saw them interact with one another. She spent the night in a beach house with both of them. Fox had only met 99 Dana, and Dana met neither of them, unless you counted the letter.

“So what did you do for your birthday?” he asked.

“I went to dinner with my family,” Dana said. She hesitated a half second. “And with my boyfriend, Marcus.”

“This is the same boyfriend? From high school?”

“Yes,” Dana said. “He’s—yes.”

“He goes to your college?”

“No,” she said. “He goes to UVA, but he drove over for dinner.”

“Oh,” Fox said. “That’s nice of him.” He didn’t sound insincere, but he didn’t exactly sound warm either.

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“It was nice. But I think I’m going to break up with him.”

He paused. “Why?”

“I don’t—“ She didn’t know why she was telling him this. “I don’t think about him when I’m not with him.”

“Ah,” he said.

“Does that make sense to you? As a reason to break up with someone?”

“It makes perfect sense to me.”

“It seems like you should think about someone you’re with. Even if you’re not with them at that precise moment. If the relationship is important.”

“I’m not exactly an expert, but I think that’s probably right,” he said.

There was a pause.

“Are you dating someone?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Not any more. I was, until fairly recently.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was amicable.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She was smart, funny. Her name was Aine. She was—she’s really involved in the anti-nuclear movement here, protesting against Margaret Thatcher.”

“Were you involved with that, too?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Especially while I was dating Aine. She’s very … persuasive. Dedicated.”

“What does she look like?”

There was a pause.

“She’s beautiful.”

Dana found herself fairly certain Aine had red hair.

It was overwhelming, really. She didn’t know what to make of him and his early-minted taste for heroic redheads. She wished Samantha had never mentioned it.

“It feels weird to talk about it with you, Dana,” he said softly. “Even though I know it shouldn’t.”

“Why would it feel weird?”

“You know why.”

Because sixteen years from now she would supposedly be the love of his life. Sixteen years from now she supposedly would love him so much that she would go to some dire lengths to save him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I always seem to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, you don’t,” she replied. “I just sometimes worry … “

“What?”

“That I’m not the person you want me to be.”

“I want you to be yourself.”

“I think you want me to be someone you met when you were a kid.”

“You are Scully,” he said. “You can’t help but be her.”

Another little pause. She cleared her throat.

“I’ve been doing a little research on the camera,” she said. “Do you want a report?”

“Of course I want a report.”

When they left, 99 Dana and 99 Fox had left behind an intriguing artifact from the future: some kind of headset that 99 Dana told Fox and Samantha was a camera, although it no longer seemed to work. Fox and Samantha had spent years tinkering with it, but had sent it to Dana last year at her request.

“I’ve been going to some local technology clubs. Personal computing. Like at Radio Shack.”

“Oh yeah?” He sounded amused. “What’s that like?”

“Well, I’ve had many offers of help,” she said diplomatically. She didn’t want to affect his view of her, but really it was amazing what you could manifest as a college girl walking into a Radio Shack with pigtails, Jordache jeans, and your younger brother’s too-small Atari T-shirt. Offers of help from every direction, really.

“And?”

“You can learn quite a bit there, and I’m getting pretty good at it. I’m thinking of taking a programming class next semester, actually.”

“Computer programming? Wow.” He sounded perplexed.

“The camera is a type of computer, or it has computers in it,” she explained. “It’s beyond what anyone has seen now though. I’ve had a lot of help—some experts willing to look at the camera with me, analyze it closely. Right now it’s probably not working because it’s out of batteries, but its power source is totally different than what we have.”

“Huh,” Fox said. “What if you could get it to work again?”

“I think it’s possible,” she said. “Someone helping me—this man Melvin—he says he knows people in California, in Silicon Valley, who would know more. I was wondering if somehow I could take it out to show them this spring or summer, on one of my breaks.”

“That would be great!” Fox exclaimed. “If it worked, we could take pictures of our own. Messages, maybe.”

“Not right away. Maybe eventually.”

“I wonder where the pictures would go.”

“Back to 99 Dana and 99 Fox’s universe, I suppose,” Dana said. “That’s where her pictures were going, right?”

“Yeah. But it’s been ten years,” Fox said. “It must be 2009 there now, if time moves forward in the same way. I wonder if they even have a way to receive the pictures any more.”

“It could be more time until I can make the camera work,” Dana reminded him. “There’s still a lot to figure out. The power source on this camera, it’s tiny. And the part of the camera that is actually a computer? Fox, it is so impossibly small, like a whole Apple computer shrunk down. It’s fascinating.”

“Do you enjoy it?” he asked. “Trying to figure it out? Solve the puzzle? It sounds like you do.”

The question surprised her, in part because she hadn’t thought of it quite like that. She enjoyed trying to help Fox and Samantha, and she found the computers part much more interesting than she thought she would. But the answer to his question was unexpectedly clear to her.

“Yeah,” she said. “I do. I really like the challenge of it.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “That’s really good.” There was something in his tone that made her worry, like he was comparing her to Scully again, but the conversation took a different turn.

“Dana,” he began, sounding hesitant. “I, uh, got a call. From someone from the F.B.I., asking me if I would be willing to talk to someone in their recruitment office about a possible career in profiling after I graduate, or while I do graduate work in psychology.”

“Oh.” She breathed in. “That’s—“

“It seems like that’s the beginning of … how it’s supposed to happen.”

Dana let that sink in. “Profiling. As in dangerous criminals? Is that what we did in 1999?”

“I never heard the exact area of the F.B.I. we worked in. I know you were a doctor. For me, profiling does make sense, based on what I have been working on in school.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. She had weighed the idea of medical school eventually, but it wasn’t the only thing she considered. Lately, she had thought more seriously about computer science. “Do you think all of this happens no matter what we do? That it’s fated, somehow? That our choices don’t matter?”

“Do you think you wouldn’t choose the F.B.I.?”

“I don’t know,” she said sincerely. “I just think I would like to be able to make the choice.”

A pause on the line. “I guess that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

“About which part?”

“About whether it has to be set in stone.”

She was faintly surprised. She assumed Fox always wanted to chase after a future that he thought got him as close to what Scully described as he could.

“The call from the F.B.I. isn’t the only call I got,” he explained. She heard him rustling around, like he was shifting position. “I got another offer. Something badly paid and probably not very smart. My friend Miles is an old classmate who’s already graduated and has been working as a counselor in a clinic. He’s in San Francisco, doing grief work and end-of-life counseling with men dying from this new disease, this epidemic. You probably know about it.”

“AIDS,” supplied Dana. “Probably viral. No one knows for sure.”

“Yeah. Whatever it is, it’s a lot of young people dying too fast, often alone, and there’s a huge need for counselors and therapists to help them. Miles says he works sometimes 20 hours a day, but the work is really worthwhile. I was thinking that might be something I could be good at. I’m sometimes good at helping people think through bigger questions.”

“So you’re wondering if you should do that instead.”

“I guess I am,” he said. “I could do it for a while and think about whether I wanted to continue graduate studies in psychology, or go straight into the F.B.I. … or something else. Plus, if Sam is at Berkeley, it’s right there in the Bay Area. I could keep an eye on her.”

Dana was silent for a moment. “It sounds like you already know what choice you want to make.”

He made a stifled half laugh. “Of course I don’t.”

“You sound more excited about the counseling in San Francisco than about the F.B.I.,” she commented.

“That’s true,” he said really softly, like this was a realization. “I am, I guess.”

“But you’re still…?”

“Scared,” he said. “Because if I choose something different, I worry that I…” He stopped. “Well, I worry.”

She didn’t speak either.

“The relationship 99 Dana had with 99 Me—that wasn’t the kind of possibility you could see in your future … and just ignore,” he said. “I can’t see just tossing that away, Dana.”

“Can you explain to me why?” she asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know if I can, except that … here I was, this lonely kid, and the way she talked about us being partners...” He laughed quietly. “I’ll never, ever stop thinking about being her partner.”

“Yeah,” Dana whispered, feeling tears spring in her eyes.

“But I get it,” he said. “I know it might not ever work here, the way it did there. Too many variables have changed.”

“It doesn’t mean you couldn’t be happy in other futures,” Dana pointed out. She twirled the phone cord around her finger idly. “With other people.”

“I guess,” he said. He seemed to let out a long sigh. “You know, right before the holidays, I was in London with Aine.” Dana slumped against the wall a little, closing her eyes, trying to picture what he was saying. “We went out to this club with her friends. They got me all dressed up—that whole New Wave look, you know? Eyeliner and ruffly shirt and all the shit in your hair to make it poufy. It’s not my normal thing, but it was fun. People seemed to like it.”

Dana thought about the photo on her dressing table and imagined it. She thought she could guess why people might have liked it.

“So we’re in this place, and it’s crowded, and there are all these colored lights, strobes, and they’re playing that Duran Duran song, the really popular one. Hungry Like the Wolf. And Aine was talking to me about her Christmas plans, and my eyes just sort of drifted away from her, losing focus into the crowd. All these bodies, dancing. Trying to just connect with one another. Scent and a sound. Juices like wine. Hungry like the wolf. And I thought… why am I here? Why am I doing all of this? Why am I pretending to be looking for someone else, trying to make these futile, fleeting connections, when I already know my perfect other exists?”

There was a pause on the line.

“But…” Dana blinked, stunned. “I’m not your perfect other, Fox.” Her body was rigid; she gripped the phone with white knuckles. “I’m not your perfect anything. I’m just some … girl from Maryland. Some girl who likes to spend most of her time studying and has never even been to a club like you’re talking about.”

“That’s not all you are,” he replied.

“I don’t even know if I really am Scully.”

“You are. I told you. It’s not something you can—”

“No.” She was surprised at how fiercely she spoke. “No, please hear me on this. I need it to be okay with you … if I’m not. I need to be free not to be.”

A tense beat.

“Oh,” he said. “Right, yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No,” he answered, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry.”

In the hollow silence that followed, Dana’s mind raced. She could practically feel the weight of his disappointment through the phone.

Would this be the end of his interest in her? Would the calls end? What possible appeal could she hold without the promise of a secret agent future? Maybe it would be better to say goodbye, she considered. Maybe this childhood fantasy had gone on long enough. Didn’t it only ever make her feel like she was a lesser Dana? Why did she need that? She could live her own life and never feel that way again.

If it weren’t for Scully’s letter, she might have heeded that impulse.

Instead, she reconsidered. And found herself taking hold of a wild idea, something she could hardly believe she was going to propose.

“Fox,” she said, “maybe you should go to San Francisco and see the clinic for yourself. Before you decide what you want to do.”

“Maybe,” he said, sounding glum.

“Maybe you should come with me when I take the camera to the Bay Area. We could go together.”

It took a moment to sink in. “Together?”

“We must have some overlapping school breaks at some point. We could fly out, investigate the camera together, visit your clinic. You could ask all the questions you need to.”

She again could hear the rustling sounds indicating his squirming. “That’s… an interesting idea.”

“I think it would be a good opportunity for you… to gather information for yourself. Firsthand.”

“Firsthand,” he repeated. “Yeah.”

“You’d probably think of other questions to ask about the camera, too. Things I wouldn’t think of.”

“I’ve never been to San Francisco,” he said. “Maybe we could … walk across the Golden Gate Bridge while we’re there.”

“Okay,” she said. “If there’s time.”

“Or go see a giant redwood.”

“The to-do list grows longer,” she said wryly.

“Or ride a streetcar. Or eat seafood. Or go see that one really crooked street. I always wanted to do that.”

Dana smiled, stretching her legs out in front of her. She couldn’t tell if he was responding entirely seriously or not, but she felt a little giddy that she had summoned enough courage to invite him, to shift the conversation in this direction.

“You know,” he said suddenly and earnestly, “it’d be fun to drive, not fly. I’ve always wanted to drive across the continent. I have this amazing old station wagon that could probably make it. I could pick you up in Maryland.”

“That’s a much longer trip,” she commented, but her face was warming with pleasure. He seemed very serious. “It would be fun though.” She imagined Bill and Maggie’s expressions, watching their daughter climb into a car for a cross country road trip all alone with the strange boy they had met ten years ago on Martha’s Vineyard.

“If we could make it work, matching up the school breaks, would you really consider it? Going with me, I mean? You’re not just saying that?”

And she was struck by the vulnerability in his voice.

“Yes,” she said crisply. “Of course.”

“I’m not as strange as I come across in these phone calls,” he promised. “If we went, you could get to know me better.” A little intake of breath. “Just me. Nothing else. No expectations of anyone being anyone else, like you said.”

She was so used to thinking of him as her mysterious fairy tale boy, someone who dropped into her life simply to check to see if she had grown into someone she was not. It surprised her to realize he was anxious for her approval, too. That he was worried about how she viewed him.

“Sure,” she managed. “And you know, I’ve always wanted to tour Stanford, too.”

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “Let’s make it happen.”

“Do you have a calendar of your school schedule?”

“I’ll go get one,” he said.

She listened as the phone dropped and he made thumping noises to run off, presumably to his room. He sounded so… eager. Dana smiled to herself, wondering what it would be like to drive in a car with him across the country. If he would drive her crazy with his peculiar energy. If he would insist on driving off the interstate on little side trips. If he would make them camp or stay at cheap motels. She found herself insatiably curious.

*** They stayed up too late hammering out a rough plan before finally saying good-bye, and Dana padded speedily back up the stairs to her bedroom, her heart still thumping, her mind still buzzing.

She flew straight into her closet and yanked the drawstring to turn on the overhead bulb. Her eyes ran over the shelves, looking for what she wanted, until she spotted it: the old cracked leather box. She lifted it from the shelf and took it to her bed to examine.

Inside the leather box were letters, filed carefully in reverse date order starting from 1982, last year, going back to 1973. Fox and Samantha’s handwriting alternated, the penmanship getting increasingly rounder and younger as she flipped farther back in time.

She found what she was looking for. The very first letter, which wasn’t from Fox or Samantha. It was preserved in its original envelope.

Dana. said the lettering on the front.

The handwriting was adult and female. She now could see what was not apparent to her as a nine-year old—that it was, in fact, her own handwriting. Or at least that it looked enough like her handwriting at age nineteen to be recognizable.

Dana sat cross-legged on her bed and read the letter for the thousandth time: the letter that had changed her life, the letter that continued to change it.

Dear Dana,

I have never been in a situation like yours, but I imagine you’re very scared. As strange as this may sound, the person writing this is you, Dana Scully, age 35. I traveled from the year 1999 back to your year. When I arrived, you vanished. Now that I have left again, you’ve returned, and you are ready to begin to live your life again. I’m truly sorry that I had to disrupt your life in this way.

I will try to limit this letter only to what is most important. First, it’s not a good idea to believe anything a stranger tells you, so I’ll try to give you some proof we are the same person, and tell you something only you know: In Mass sometimes, you daydream that Father Joplin will one day leave the priesthood and marry you instead. I hope that is enough to convince you. I’ve never told that to anyone. He never will, I’m afraid.

Second, your family has missed you very much, and they have been very worried. Be kind to them once you see them again. Especially Melissa. Always be close to Melissa.

Third, the two children you are with—Fox and Samantha—will act like they know you because they know me, but you won’t know them. Listen to them. They can explain the full story of what happened to you. They will be able to give you most of the answers you want. I imagine they may seem like strange children. But you can trust them, always, especially the boy.

Finally, about the boy, Fox Mulder. I know him as a man very well, but I don’t know what it would be like to know him as young or for as long as you will. If I had to predict, he will be persistent in keeping in touch with you.

His friendship can be difficult at times, but it’s also been something powerful and hard to explain, something big and overwhelming and wonderful. I suppose my advice about Fox Mulder comes down to this: when it comes to him, don’t ever lose sight of yourself. But in the end, he is worth it. He is always worth it.

Yours, Dana Scully

[rubyreduji]

he was a skater boy — hvc

summary: your skater boy best friend asks for your help to get with the head of the dance team

tags: slice of life, slight angst, skater boy!vernon, best friend!vernon, high school!au, gn!reader wc: 3.6k an: reader is in their avril lavigne era, we love debut vernon

“CHWE!” At the sound of his name being called, Vernon turns around to see you riding up to him on your skateboard. When you get closer to him you stop your board and walk the rest of the way to meet him. “What did you need from me?”

Earlier today your best friend told you he needed to talk to you later and to meet him at The Place. The Place being the parking lot of the abandoned shopping strip that went out when the new pier was built.

“So as you know you’re my best friend,” he starts.

“Yes…? Oh my god, are you breaking up with me?” You ask deadpanned. Vernon sighs in fake frustration which makes you crack a grin, which makes him crack a grin.

“But seriously dude, you’re my best friend which means I should come to you with shit like this. So like, I kinda…have a crush on someone,” he admits. You try not to laugh at him. You fail. “Hey!”

“Sorry man, that’s just…not what I was expecting. You’re being all dramatic like you’re dying or some shit. So what? You have the hots for someone, why are you telling me? Unless you’re in love with me Nonie~” You tease him and he glares at you before shoving at your shoulder.

“C’mon be serious. I’m telling you because I need help.” 

“Oh? Little Chwe doesn’t have game so he needs Y/N’s superior help?” You smirk at him. He shoves you again.

“I just need some pointers. You date people all the time! Plus you’re friends with this person, so just wingman me,” Vernon says.

“May I remind you that the people I date don’t exactly work out. Besides, you’re a catch man, what do you need me for? Everyone I’m friends with are total losers. Including you.” You punch him in the arm.

“Yeah, yeah, but that’s why I need your help. I mean, how else am I going to get Vanessa to like me.” The name makes your smile drop. You stare at Vernon a little incredulously.

“There’s no fucking way you have a crush on Vanessa Jeffries.”

“I know, okay! But you gotta help me out here man.”

“Hansol.” You give him a pointed look.

“Gross, don’t call me that.” Vernon makes a scrunched up face to display his disgust. “I will literally do anything Y/N.”

“Ness and I aren’t friends anymore, you know this,” you huff annoyed.

Vanessa Jefferies. She lives in the house two doors down from yours and you guys grew up together. Before Vernon was your best friend, it was Vanesssa. That was until you started to get into skateboarding and pop punk music and she started to get into dance and student council.

Once high school hit it was easy for you guys to split apart, especially since her older sister drove her to school and you still had to take the bus (two months into freshman year you just started skateboarding to school). Not that you didn’t try to stay friends, but she was always too busy with new friends or clubs or whatever and at some point you just stopped trying as well. By the end of first semester of freshman year she had a whole new group of friends and a whole new style and even attitude. You on the other hand didn’t change much but that meant that you were still on the outskirts of the school hierarchy.

Then halfway through second semester Vernon moved to California from New York and you guys became fast friends over your shared love of skateboarding and cringey emo phases and it didn’t matter that Vanessa didn’t even look at you in the halls anymore because you had Vernon.

Now in senior year Vanessa is head of the dance squad, student body president, the founder of the conservation club, and on track to be class valedictorian. And you’re still riding to school on your skateboard listening to the same music you have been for four years. You can’t even remember the last time you talked to her, let alone had a conversation.

It’s a whole cliche, you know, and it annoys you to no end, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Vanessa isn’t going to suddenly show up at your doorstep begging to be friends again and you’re not going to change your personality just to fit in with her group of friends. You honestly were planning on spending the rest of high school ignoring her and her band of asshole followers without a second thought.

But here’s your best friend asking you to help him score a date with the most popular girl in school and it’s Vernon so as much as you tease him you still have the biggest soft spot for him and can’t say no.

“Please Y/N?” He begs, eyes round and pleading.

You groan out loud and drag a hand down your face. “Fine. But you owe me so badly Chwe.” 

“He wants you to what?”

You groan. “He wants me to help him get with Ness.”

“Ha, good luck with that.” 

You’re laying on Josh’s bed as he sits at his desk working on his homework. Joshua Hong is the only other person you would consider a good friend outside of Vernon. He lives in the house diagonal from yours and he grew up with you and Vanessa. He was never as close to Vanessa as you were though, always being more of your friend than hers. Unlike either of you Joshua keeps a middle of the road popularity with most of his friends being kids from the theatre department.

As much as you love Vernon he’s a “out to have a good time” friend, whereas Joshua is a “talk until three am about your issues” friend.

“You aren’t really thinking about helping him are you? You’ve had the biggest crush on him since he moved to California, there’s no way you can help him get with your ex-best friend.”

“What else can I do Josh? He’s my best friend. I can't just not do anything.”

“I know, I know. Just…don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

“Aww is Joshie worried about me?”

“Nevermind break your own heart bitch.”

You’re about to retort back to Josh when the doorbell rings. His parents aren’t home so you and Joshua both make your way down the stairs. When he opens the door you swear the universe is playing tricks on you.

“Hey Joshua! Oh, hey Y/N.” The girl you were just discussing is standing there on Joshua’s front porch with a smile on her face. “Wow this is actually so fortunate you’re both here! As you know since we’re all seniors this year we have senior projects to do and I was wondering if you guys wanted to do ours together! I’m head of the conversation club and I was thinking of doing a neighborhood clean up and since you guys live here too we could all work on it together.”

Joshua is about to respond but you cut him off by shoving him to the side and taking his place in front of Vanessa. “Hey Ness, it’s been so long! As great as that sounds, Josh and I are already working on our senior projects together. But you know who still needs an idea and loves the planet? My friend Vernon. You should ask him.”

“Vernon,” Vanessa mutters like she’s trying to figure out who he is. “The brunet skater guy right?”

“Yep, that’s him! Chwe’s his last name, you can find him in the phone book. Thanks, bye!” With that you close the front door of the Hong residence and drop your fake smile.

“Y/N! Why did you do that?” Joshua hisses, rubbing his arm where you shoved him.

“Because I’m helping Vernon out! I wouldn’t have said yes anyways. Working with Vanessa to clean up the neighborhood? I’ll pass.”

“You don’t even want him to date Vanessa!” Joshua shouts.

“You’re right! Are you happy?” You snap back, then let out a deep sigh. “He wouldn't like me back anyways Shua, so I’m not going to risk our friendship over a stupid crush. If he wants Vanessa then Vanessa is what he’s going to get. I just want him happy, I’ll be okay.”

At your tone of voice and the use of the nickname Joshua doesn’t say anything more and you’re grateful for that, but you still see the way he can’t wipe the concerned look off his face.

“The skater guy? He’s weird Vanessa.” The grating shrill voice of Polly Brunham fills your ears as you walk past the girl’s bathroom during study hall. “You were already pushing it by asking Y/N L/N to help with your senior project.”

You roll your eyes at this. Of course Vanessa and her friends are gossiping about you and Vernon. This is the exact reason you were hesitant on helping Vernon out in the first place.

“Hey don’t talk about Y/N like that. As for Vernon, I talked to him earlier. He seems nice and really willing to help. He’s kinda cute too,” Vanessa giggles. You frown at this. Vanessa thinks Vernon is cute. Your dorky best friend who is in need of a haircut and only got his braces off a few months ago. 

“You’re joking with me, you have to be!” Another shrill voice. You then hear Vanessa laughing as well. Of course she’s joking.

“I’m just being nice okay. I’m student body president, I can’t just turn people down when they offer their help like that. Y/N seemed really insistent when I asked too, so let's just call it a favor to an old friend.” You roll your eyes before continuing to walk back to study hall.

The next time you see Vernon is at lunch and you’re about to tell him what you overheard in the bathroom but he barely stops at your table to talk to you.

“Y/N! You’re literally the best! Vanessa wants to eat lunch with me and talk about the senior project!”

“Listen Vern, Vanessa isn’t the type of person to-”

“Hey I have to go, but I’ll see you after school okay!” With that he rushes off. You watch him walk up to Vanessa’s table and the two walk into the courtyard. Your eyes land on Vanessa’s friends and the way they start to whisper the second Vernon leaves. 

You’ll tell him later.

You don’t tell him later.

You barely have five seconds alone with him anymore and he always looks so happy when you do talk to him that you don’t want to crush that. Not to mention that Vanessa always looks happy to be around Vernon, and not in the fake way, in the genuine way. 

Before you know it a whole month has passed and it seems that Vernon and Vanessa have become friends. They’re together most of the time which leads you to spending more time with Joshua who keeps sending you pitying looks every time you hang out.

“You have to tell him,” Joshua insists.

“No I don’t.”

“At least tell him to balance his time better! You guys went from seeing each other everyday to barely even speaking. It’s sad.”

“Stay out of it Joshua,” you growl.

“No! You’re killing yourself over here Y/N. Everyday since you told Vanessa to ask Vernon for help on the senior project you’ve been wallowing in this cloud of miserableness and I’m tired of it! Your happiness shouldn’t be sacrificed for Vernon’s,” Joshua tells you. This is what you love and hate about him. He’s also honest with you and tells you the exact thing you need to hear. He’s great at giving advice, it’s just you who’s bad at taking it.

“It’s fine. Things will go back to normal after they finish the senior project. They should be done soon anyways, have you not seen the posters Vanessa has been putting around the neighborhood?”

The neighborhood clean up she and Vernon are planning is set for the Saturday in two weeks. Your mom keeps talking about it and every time she does you either leave the room or put your earbuds in.

“Fine, but if things don’t get better after the clean up then you better do something.”

Vernon has asked you to hang out together today. The text takes you by surprise because you haven't heard for him in a while because he's "been busying planning the clean up". You don't think there can be that much planning going on. He's probably just trailing around Vanessa like the pathetic shadow he's been for the past five weeks.

He asks to meet up at your guys' favorite skate park which makes you forgive him a little bit. Deep down he's still Vernon, your stupid skater best friend who spends too much time trying to stick skills that just ends up with his hands being scraped up.

When you get there he's about to drop into the bowl. The park is fairly empty, but even if it wasn't Vernon is easy to spot with his colorful outfits and his tall figure.

You stop walking so you can stand and watch him do his trick. You can tell what trick he's trying to the second he drops in. It's the same one he's been trying to stick for months now. He picks up speed around the bowl before flying out, catching air, only to fly right back in, speeding up even more. He goes around the bowl before he catches his tail on the lip, riding around the rim.

You stare, anticipating the normal fall he always does when he gets to the final skill, but you watch at he grabs the lip of the bowl and kicks his feet up into the air for a few seconds before bringing them back down, sticking in the landing and riding out of the bowl.

Holy shit.

This is the first time he's ever been able to stick all three skills back to back. You can tell he's hyped off of adrenaline and you make haste to go congratulate him, just as stoked as he is.

That is until Vernon doesn't turn to you. He turns to the girl who's sitting on the bench excitedly clapping.

"Holy shit did you see that!" Vernon calls excited to her.

She giggles. "You're so cool. I would have fell the second I stepped foot on the skateboard."

Of course. Of fucking course.

You laugh to yourself a bit incredulously. Of course he brings Vanesssa here. Why did you expect that you would be able to get just one moment alone with your best friend? Why did you expect him to keep your guys' favorite hobby to just you and him?

You have half the mind to turn around and leave but Vernon finally catches sight of you.

"Y/N! Hey! You would never believe what I just did!"

"I uh saw," you say.

"Oh. Hey Y/N." Vanessa smiles at you.

"...Hey Ness...What are you doing here?"

"I invited her!" Vernon says happily. "She asked me to sat in on one of her dance rehearsals and I said it was only fair if she came with me to the skate park, so here we are."

Vernon...your Vernon...sat in on a dance team rehearsal.

You love Vernon, you want him to be happy, but not if it means this. Not if it means he's dropping his friends and doing things he doesn't enjoy just to be around Vanessa Jeffries.

Honestly if this is what he wants, you're not going to stop him. He can be happy, but you don't have to jeoprodize your happiness as well.

"Yeah, hey uh, I think Josh needed me for something so I have to go. I'll catch you later." You know its a lie but you don't really care. You don't even bother to listen to Vernon's response before you mount your board and skate away.

“Are you and Joshua dating?” You don’t even have a chance to take your earbuds out before Vernon is interrogating you.

“Excuse me?” He hasn’t talked to you properly in weeks (you are not counting the skate park incident) and now he’s demanding you to answer his question like nothing has happened.

“Are you and Joshua Hong dating?”

“That’s fucking disgusting Vernon. Why would I be dating Josh?”

“I don’t know. You’re around him all the time now and you guys look really comfortable.”

“Yeah that’s called fifteen years of friendship. Plus you’re around Vanessa all the time, even when you ask to hang out with me, so I don’t know what you want from me anymore. To sit around alone everyday waiting for you to finally text me back? Yeah right Hansol, you’re out of your mind.” His first name slips out, something that happens when you’re particularly upset with him. “I don’t care whatever crush you have on her, but don’t think I’m stupid enough to just sit around and wait for you. Just leave me be.” With that you grab your things and walk away from him and he’s too stunned to follow.

Your mom forces you to go to the neighborhood clean up. You’re in jeans and a t-shirt as you stand off to the side with Joshua. You glare over at where Vernon and Vanessa are standing, talking to some of the neighbors.

“He’s being an ass,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try and fix things,” Joshua sighs.

“Why should I try when he isn’t?”

“Because things won’t get better if neither of you try!”

The rest of the day sucks. It’s hot as you go around trying to clean up trash and pull weeds. You stick close to Josh the whole time and barely even look at Vernon. You’re considering just leaving at one point but Joshua stops you because his conscience is too nice to leave but he doesn’t want to be left alone.

Finally after too many hours of working everything is done. You’re itching to go home and take a shower but you stop when you see Vernon and Vanessa standing and talking.

“Vanessa, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes Hansol?” You cringe. Vernon hates being called Hansol. It’s even worse since you guys became friends because now he associated it with you being mad at him.

“I like you. I have for a while and doing this project with you really solidified everything. I love being around you and I hope you feel the same way. Will you go on a date with me?”

“Oh Hansol,” you hate the pity in Vanessa’s voice, “I don’t like you like that. You’re a great kid and this project was really fun but you’re just not my type.”

“Oh…”

“I’m really sorry.” With that Vanessa turns her back and walks away from Vernon.

You hate the dejected look on Vernon’s face. You hate the way you can see the pain in his eyes as he watches Vanessa leave. When she’s fully out of sight Vernon finally looks away and just happens to meet your eyes.

And just like that weeks of pain and distance don’t exist anymore. You’re walking to Vernon and wrapping him in your arms as he silently cries into your shoulder.

“Hey Vern?”

“What’s up?”

“How would you feel if I wrote a song about Vanessa Jeffries?”

Your boyfriend looks up from his desk top to stare at you. “What?”

You laugh a bit. “You remember senior year?” He nods. “What if I write a song about it? Something like, he was a skater boy, she said see you later boy.”

“That’s awful.”

“No it’s not!” You smack his shoulder. 

Senior year was a distant memory at this point. You and Vernon are now happily dating (even though it didn’t happen until sophomore year of college) and now you guys are both singer-songwriters while Vernon produces music as well.

“And what if Vanessa hears it?”

“Then she’ll know what a fat L she took when she turned you down,” you answer. “But it’s a good thing because now you are dating the coolest person on the planet.”

“I didn’t know I was dating Woozi from Seventeen. How lucky is that.”

“Haha,” you deadpan at your boyfriend’s K-Pop obsession. He just cracks a grin at you. “I’m going to write the best damn song ever and you’re going to see how it blows up. Just wait.”

“Sorry, girl, but you missed out. Well, tough luck that boy's mine now. We are more than just good friends. This is how the story ends. Too bad that you couldn't see, see the man that boy could be. There is more that meets the eye, I see the soul that is inside.” You sing out. You can feel the sweat running down your forehead as the hot stadium lights shine down on you. “We are in love, haven't you heard, how we rock each other's world~”

Your fingers fly over the strings of your guitar skillfully as you smirk. Of course you proved your boyfriend wrong. You always write bangers. Your eyes flit over to the side of the stage where he’s standing there watching you, a smile playing at his own lips.

You look down into the audience and you swear you catch a familiar face, an almost knowing look plastered on said face.

“I'll be at a studio, singing the song we wrote, about a girl you used to know~” You finish. The audience erupts into applause and you smile and thank them before heading off stage.

“Phenomenal as always,” Vernon tells you the second you meet him.

“I know,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes playfully. “Did you see she was here tonight?”

“Who?”

“Vanessa Jeffries.”

“Holy shit.”

“Tell her hey when you go out,” you tell him. “I mean, she’s the whole reason this song is such a hit.”

“God you’re awful,” Vernon says.

“But you love me.” You lean forward to kiss Vernon. “And my awful song.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

taglist: @pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @enhacolor @brxzilianbaby @baldi-2 @moshiyuron @chaimi-yuta @embrace-themagic @kayleeshinee

join my taglist: here!

[turtle-bun]

Actual things said between me and my brothers as TMNT quotes Pt2: TMNT bois see Across the Spiderverse!

((SPOILERS AHEAD AFTER THE LINE BREAK!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!))

Part 1

Rise!Mikey: *excited stimming and screaming* I WANT THIS MOVIE INJECTED INTO MY VEINS! THE ART WAS SO FUCKING COOL!

Rise!Donnie: *excited stimming but in a monotone voice* I apologize for the person I’m going to become now because this sound track is now my entire personality.

---

12!Mikey: See Across the Spiderverse is so good and is also a huge middle finger to Marvel comics for all the shit they’re putting my boi Spidey through!

12!Leo: Oh yeah, one hundred percent! This movie feels more like how Spiderman is then the actual comics as of late!

12!Mikey: See Marvel! Spiderman can be fucking happy for once!

12!Leo: *chuckling* You got beef with Marvel?

12!Mikey: *riled up* Oh I got so much fucking beef with Marvel! Talking bout how “either Peter Parker’s happy or Spiderman is happy. One always has to be fucked over.” Like get out of here with that bullshit! You saw how happy Peter B. Parker was with Mayday and he’s still Spiderman? FUCK YOU MARVEL IT CAN WORK! PUT ME IN THE GODDAMN WRITTERS ROOM!

12!Leo: *laughing* You think you can write better?

12!Mikey: My 10k word Spiderman fanfic on ao3 with over six thousands kudos begs to differ! SQUARE THE FUCK UP MARVEL!

---

03!Raph: I am so fucking glad they didn’t have a love triangle in this movie. Honest to god I was like lowkey worried about that.

03!Mikey: Oh yeah, for sure. Thank god Hobie was actually cool.

03!Raph: He was so FUCKING cool! Oh my god! Like I know everyone and their mother was fawning over Miguel but honestly I could give less of a shit about him cuz FUCKING SPIDER PUNK! HOLY SHIT!

03!Mikey: *laughing* Is this a “I don’t know if I wanna date him or be him” kind of situation?

03!Raph: It’s a: “I don’t know if I want to slow dance with him at prom or steal his entire gender” type of situation!

---

Bay!Mikey: You guys been hearing this bull shit some people are saying about Spiderverse?

Bay!Donnie: *groaning* Don’t fucking remind me. People are stupid and it’s all over my fucking TikTok and Twitter!

Bay!Leo: Which one? The pissy conservatives complaining about “forced diversity” and “woke” culture? The extreme leftists making it about racism when that literally was NOT the point of the fucking movie? Or is it the transphobes bitching at the mere INSINUATION that Gwen Stacy could actually be trans? LIKE AND IF SHE FUCKING IS?! WHAT THEN CUNT?!

Bay!Raph: You know what? Fuck it! Piss them off even more and in the next movie just full on fucking say it! They can’t handle subtlety so might as well throw it in their faces since they’re complaining about it so much!

Bay!Mikey: Shit, I mean Miles is bi in the comics, he can come out as well!

Bay!Donnie: *super serious voice* Hello Miles Morales, who is bisexual and my love interest, I, Gwen Stacey, am a transgender woman!

Bay!Mikey: *T posing* Omg, Gwen Stacey, who is a transgender woman and my love interest, I, Miles Morales, who is bisexual, appreciate your willingness to trust me enough to share these private conversations with me even though you have absolutely no obligation to do so!

Bay!Leo: *absolutely losing his shit* Oh god it’s like it’s being written by a fucking AI!

Bay!Raph: The first 10 minutes of the movie are them fixing up the dimensional bull shit, then the rest of it is group therapy and coming out stories!

---

87!Leo: *crying, sobbing, screaming*

87!Mikey: How did you NOT know it was a two parter? It said it at the beginning of the movie!

87!Leo: EXCUSE ME FOR GETTING ENGROSSED IN THE SPECTICAL OF EVERYTHING!!!

[rosethreeart]

Arthur gets some Flashbacks to His Youth™️

Based off of this little convo with apersonwholikeslotus :>

I...Started writing cause this thought consumed my brain for a moment so here have a little snippet of the School of Punk AU of how this scene actually plays out :}

Arthur could hear the sound of his daughter’s pounding feet against the wood of the floor before he even saw her.

“Dad!” Abigail exclaimed, the flooring  beneath rapidly squeaked as eagerly shuffled in place.

Not wanting to lose his place in his book, he halfheartedly paid attention to her as he searched for his bookmark, “Yes, poppet?”

A few more footsteps later, this time muffled by the carpet she had just stepped onto, Arthur could see the silhouette of his daughter in his peripheral. 

Ah, there it was. Cheeky little thing slipped between the couch cushions. 

“Daaaaaad!” His daughter whined.

Sighing as he finished placing the bookmark in its designated slot, he looked up at her.

There she was, standing in the living room in his old punk jacket. It was a red so dark it was almost black, just like his daughter’s long and wildly curly hair. The patches he had sown on it when he was but a teen were still there, although some were fraying at the seams. The leather seemed to be fine, no leather rot in sight, much to his subconscious relief. It fit poorly on her as it was a few sizes too big, almost completely enveloping her arms and hands. 

“What do you think? Pretty cool, innit?” Abigail said as she gave a little twirl, showing it off.

“Yeah…” He said, not fully present in the moment. 

Abigail immediately stopped her little modeling gig, “Something wrong?” she asked.

Arthur blinked a few times in order to force himself to focus,”No. No, nothing is wrong.”

His daughter began to play with one of the small little pieces on the jacket,”Are you sure? I know I’m not really supposed to go up to the attic by myself, and—”

“It’s alright,” He said, cutting her off gently as he stood up. Were his knees always this achy? 

A bittersweet smile graced his lips as he approached his daughter who was staring curiously at him with bright hazel eyes. 

“That was my jacket you know,” He began to say as he adjusted said clothing to better fit the girl, “ Actually, I got it when I was about your age; maybe a little bit older.”

“Am I getting some dad lore?” Abigail said in that blunt manner of hers.

Arthur did a slight double-take, “Pardon?”

“Y’know? Dad lore? Where your dad never really talks about anything from their past until really random moments and it’s always the most bizarre thing you’ve ever heard?” Abigail stated as if she was asking him if he knew what a bird was. 

“No need to get cheeky,” he chided, “but I see your point.”

His eyes’ softened as he watched her nose crinkle and her braces-filled smile widened as she giggled. 

“Do you want it?” He asked her, “I…suppose I have no use for it anymore.”

“Does that make you sad?” Abigail said, tilting her head slightly.

Arthur chuckled, “I suppose the ever creeping march of time can be a bit disheartening, but it can be a wonderful thing too.”

“Are you getting sappy on me?” 

“Oh, very much so,” He said as he pulled his little one into a hug, which she gleefully returned. 

“Are you sure I can have it,” She asked, voice muffled by his sweater.

He caressed her leather coated arm with his thumb. It was odd to feel the leather of it on his skin again. It had been so many years since he had last seen, let alone felt it…

“Of course, darling.” He planted a quick kiss on her head, “Would much rather have you wear it than let it keep collecting dust up there.”

“Be careful with it,” He said a little more sternly than he intended, “it’s old…and important…and valuable…and—”

“I get it,” Abigail groaned, “it’s a frail old man whose seen stuff, just like you.” a smirk appeared on her face in that silly little way it did when she was joking.

“Oi!” He feigned hurt feelings, ”I’m not that old.”

“You’re getting there!”

“Don’t make me take that bloody jacket back.” He replied dryly.

“Nooo!” She laughed.

Arthur watched as Abigail eventually flitted away to show off her jacket to her step-brother. That thing had been there for him in his darkest of times, the weight it carried will always be there with him, even if the jacket no longer was. It was still hard to let that era of his life go, it seemed, however he was very glad that it found a new home with someone that he knew would love it just as dearly as he did. 

[nerd-chocolate]

Sole Crusher Redesign and Why her original design doesn’t Work:

Okay, first I just want to say this has nothing against Zoé or her character, I think she deserves better akuma than she got in the canon. Also, I know I have criticized her in the past but that doesn’t change how much I love this character and am glad she was made. So happy late anniversary Zoé, you truly are my canon sapphic punk baby and I love you for that, keep it up!

The problems I have with her:

Anyway, I never gave my honest opinion about Sole Crusher, so here it is…. I hate it. Not because it looks bad, it's because it doesn’t feel like Zoé at all. Akumas should reflect the person that getting an akumatized like Reserver, Horrificator, Dark Cupid, Gamer, Refleka, Evilustrator, Stoneheart, I can go on and on with the many akuma designs we had that can look like and feel the civilian but not Sole Crusher. She doesn’t feel like Zoé or even look like her, she feels like Chloé’s many Akuma forms, and the fact she gets a design that is just sole crusher but better is pretty sad. And another thing, Sole Crusher doesn’t have that much personality to be honest like Akumas does. Like looking at the wiki picture, her paragraph about her personality is so short compared to Reserver’s. So yeah, she doesn’t have any similarities that would have made someone think that truly is Zoé but also she is pretty boring in terms of personality as well.

… so why not fix that.

The changes to her design:

First, let’s start with the design if you could tell already. I would use her concept design just not the weird thing on her forehead since that looks off to me, the ponytail, and her not having Chloé’s face of course. Also, she would have Zoé’s face because it is a very important thing, but have a mask that looks like Chloé like one that Obsidian from Steven Universe has and it can connect to her backstory since people didn’t like her because she was a liar to them. It's like she is two-faced in a way. Also, she would have two horns to reference her canon design. Also, she would have sharp teeth and clawed hands because they’re cool. And here are some pictures to get a better understanding of what she could look like:

So yeah that is for her design, let’s go to her personality.

Her personality and motivations:

I would imagine her to be a lot more aggressive and angry at her family and I mean all of them. Yeah, including André since he is the one to give her the advice of hiding your true self for your family that doesn’t like your true self at all which makes her feel ashamed. Yeah, there's no way I’m dropping that any time soon. But anyway, like I say she is emotionally unstable since Zoé had to bottle up her emotions and not express them at all around others, especially Audrey for so long. So sole crusher is all that pit up of emotions she has that are now exploded and is coming for everyone she is angry with including her sister. I know Chloé was just probably being nice in her own way but she still lowkey tried to change Zoé into being another version of her. So yeah, whenever Chloé escapes from her, the more she gets pissed. But being emotional doesn’t just connect to anger, it also connects to others including happiness and sadness as well. So she is an unstable ball of emotions that we should be scared of especially when she is mad. Also, she acts very cocky and wants everyone to see that since she didn’t have any confidence in herself as Zoé. Also, her motive at first is to become a better Chloé since she doesn’t believe she can’t be anything else but when Cosette told her she doesn’t have to be a better Chloé and just be her person from her life, she took that to heart a bit too much to the point where her new motive was to get all things that the Bougerios had so she can distance herself from it and people wouldn’t think her just like them. So yeah, she is very impulsive.

Here are some notes I wanted to add before I do some quotes:

The more people she absorbed into her shoes, not only she gets stronger and bigger but also the more invulnerable she gets as well. The things that are always vulnerable are her heeled boots and her mask. Her mask is just a cover-up of her true self and can crack by her becoming more open about her feelings or by someone breaking it.

Her clawed hands can cut through anything and get stronger every time she absorbs someone.

She is also very overprotective of things she cares about (like Cosette for example)

The first people she absorbs are André and Audrey.

And finally, her eyes can glow when she like super mad.

Now here are some quotes! Also using here @artzychic27 ‘s ocs:

Chloé: *Looks at herself in the mirror with the golden short dress, making a bunch of poses* Mom will surely be more impressed by this than anything that my half-sister is going to wear! Hehehe! *Picks up a very expensive perfume and starts spraying herself with it*

Sole Crusher: Wow and I thought Mom’s perfume was worse.

Chloé: WHAT THE?! *Drops the perfume and turns to see a giant sole crusher, whose arms are resting on the balcony*

Sole Crusher: Heeeeey Chloé, you know earlier you say I need to sit dominant and fear my enemies?

Chloé: *shaking her head forward* 😰

Sole Crusher: Well I thought about it and you were right. *in a menacing tone* So is it working, little sister?

Chloé: So what are you going to do to me?

Sole Crusher: Easy, crush you and become the better you since people just expect me to.

Chloé: Oh please, you become a better me is something that can’t ever happen since I’m already so beautiful! *sole crusher rolls her eyes* You’re ridiculous! Utterly-

Sole Crusher: SHUT UP CHLOÉ!!!

Chloé: *immediately shutting up in fear*

Sole Crusher: Ugh whatever, now say goodbye little sister. *Goes to grab her but Chloé runs out of her room before she got the chance and ends up grabbing the dresser instead*

Sole Crusher: What the fuck?! *pulls out the dresser and stares at it with an annoyed expression before crushing it in her bare hands* …Grrrrrrr…GET BACK HERE CHLOÉ!! *sees Chloé running out of the hotel*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cosette: *getting some decorations ready for the concert happening on the houseboat* I think that's all we need for the concert, right Sonic?

Sonic CottonBalls: *looks up and then grunts* ‘No your good and all ready to go’

Cosette: Well I’ll better get ready to go to the-

Chloé: *suddenly opens Cosette’s door then shuts it and puts Cosette’s stuff in front of it* Whew….. What do you want?!?

Cosette: What do I want?! You came in here!! In my house! By the way, how did you know where I live exactly?

Chloé: It doesn’t matter!! I’m trying to hide from half-of-sister of mine anyway!!

Cosette: Zoé?.. What did you do this time?

Chloé: I didn't do anything, she was just stupidly oversensitive that's all!! Besides, I don’t get why people get sad or mad over the stupidest things any way I don't do anything wrong ever!

Cosette: *both it and Sonic look at each other with disbelief look on their face then look back to Chloé in a sarcastic tone* Oh sure, you don't do anything wrong at all ever! You're just misunderstood and people just don’t get that at all!

Chloé: Finally you get it!

Cosette: … You know what, forget.

Sole Crusher: *Opens the roof with an angry look on her face* CHLOOOÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ!!!

Cosette: *with a startled and worried expression* ‘Okay, either made her outraged or the Akuma must be amplifying those feelings. Either way, Chloé fucking screw.’

Chloé: Eeeeee! *as Sole Crusher goes to grab her, Chloé grabs Cosette and pulls it in front of her, and runs out of the room*

Cosette: CHLOÉ YOU MAJOR… JERK!

Sonic CottonBalls: *Hisses* ‘MOTHER NOOOOOOOO!!!’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sole Crusher: *holding Cosette like a little doll and seeing Chloé running away* Grrrrrr, when I find her, I’m going to destroy her!!! I hate her so much!!

Cosette: Agree, we’ll hating her part at least. But Zoé, what happened?

Sole Crusher: …

Cosette: Zoé?

Sole Crusher: *brings Cosette up to her face* Sorry the girl, named Zoé isn’t here anymore but you called me, Sole Crusher from now on. That doesn't matter right now, what matters is that I crush Chloé now, and then I’ll tell you. But for now, you're coming with me, don’t want someone as adorable as you to miss all the fun, now do we? *closes the roof and gets up* Now let’s go find that bossy bitch.

Cosette: … *blushes like crazy* ‘What just happened?!’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ismael: *sees Chloé running from an Akuma* Meh, what else is new? *Sees the Akuma kidnapping Cosette* …The things I get myself into… I'M COMING COSETTE! *rides his bike right after them and texts Reshma what happening*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cosette: *with big puppy dog eyes* Pretty please, can you not destroy the city just for some brat?

Sole Crusher: *with surprise blush face* ‘DANG IT, THEY'RE SO CUTE!’ *clears throat* No and stop staring at me with those big ol’ eyes!

Cosette: …. *stops doing the puppy dog eyes*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ladybug: Can you at least put the civilian down?

Sole Crusher: *holding Cosette like squeaky toy* No.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chloé: If you really want to better me then crush everyone here! Then you’ll prove to everyone that you are me completely!!

Cosette: Okay first of all, Chloé shut up. And second, Zoé you don’t have to do this!

Sole Crusher: ..What?

Cosette: You don’t have to be like Chloé so you can be safe from being bullied or ridiculed for just being yourself, but trust me, these people won’t judge you if you give them the chance to get to know the real you.

Sole Crusher: And how do you know?!?

Cosette: Because I know how it feels to be yourself will never get you anywhere and how you need to change yourself just so you can fit it. But I was proven wrong by meeting these people here! *points to the science kids*

Aurore: Awww thank you!

Cosette: Point is, no one here is going to judge you and make fun of you for being yourself. We’ll accept you for who you are, even if you made mistakes and errors along the way, but no one wouldn’t get mad at you for it and we’ll be here to help you and pick you right back up again if you want. I’ll be there to help you, no matter what! Because you’re very important to me!

Sole Crusher: *her mask starts to crack and she starts tearing up* You promise?

Cosette: *gives a gentle smile* I promise.

Chloé: Oh please, the freak just wants to stop a monster like you from destroying everything in her path. You’ll never truly be able to change, you'll always be Bougerios no matter what!

Sole Crusher: *goes back to being angry again* … ‘I’m going to kill her.’

Cosette: *with an annoyed face* ‘Dammit Chloé.’

Lacey: Now you see why, I wanted to get rid of her?

Marc: Yeah, I was wrong to spare her.

Reshma: She is the stupidest person alive.

Simon: Which isn’t surprising since both of her parents are really stupid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chat Noir: *Hits her with his staff hard enough to destroy a part of her mask* I got her milady!

Ladybug: *with a scared expression* Um, chat?

Chat Noir: Hm? *Turns to see Sole Crusher with glowing blue eyes and pissed off expression* … Oh shit.