#It really just struck a chord in hearing that HE helped to inspire this

[astrxlfinale]

“Now, spin-offs and inspired animations can do surprisingly well when handled with tact and well—when I was designing this I had made sure to keep you in mind.” He’s awfully proud of the effort, flipping over the sketchbook to show off the sketch of the Clockie and friends inspired mech complete with notes.

“See, this takes from a genre on my planet called super sentai. The pilot for each piece of the Clockie mech would be specifically chosen because of how they embody the specific traits and beliefs of the characters themselves. Their hardships may mirror as well, but together they truly show what they can all overcome.”

When it comes to learning about the imaginary realm of creations, whether fashioned by the pen, discussed through word or simply express in each artist's language, it felt as if there was a ravine of treasures awaiting him. Terminology such as spin-offs he's seen met with mixed reception on the internet, while the initial thought in his mind was Isn't it better if there's more? His journey within Penacony has broadened his horizon on a few matters.

Keeping a spirited sense of the base concept's authenticity felt like a important pre-requisite.

So color him surprised when Welt invited him for a momentary sit down. His own reading material being contently pushed to the side for the time. "Me in mind? Gotta ask Mr.Yang, just how so?" Believe it or not, this man was one of the few who could stir that genuine sense of respect out of the Trailblazer. That innate curiosity to simply explore remains as a guiding torch within his eyes as he studiedd the sketches introduced below.

Somehow, it feels like he almost gets how it'd feel to be in workshop similar to the sort Mikhail grew in. Except the comparison are these imagined mechs vs the gear imbued industry of pocket watches. A sense of wonder courses through Caelus as he scoots closer, hands placed upon the table, a ways away from the parchment of his work as he surveys again, again and again. Simply admiring how the work of pen, pencil and the golden note of practice managed to draw this concept to the living world.

"Goddamn I.. Look at this! You've been in the art lab puttin' life into these?"

Somehow, there's a sentimental note that rings as Welt explains the motivations. A prideful flame blooms within the Trailblazer's chest, coursing freely, extending to each and every member of the Astral Express in question. It felt impossible to keep such a jubilant expression at bay when the pieces just click. "Just like us, just like the Express." The words found themselves freed without second thought.

When it comes down to it, their beliefs may differ, they each hold a pillar of resolve that serves as shining stars amidst the deep cosmos of space, nonetheless they come together happily with courage in their hearts. He couldn't deny the emotional stir as a certain hat blooms into being, pressed close to Caelus's chest as he turns to Welt.

It was... Hard to put exactly how he feel into words. How do you articulate appreciation like this exactly?

Welt's art has reached him.

"Thick or thin, from the hottest planes to the coldest ends of space. Mr.Yang, I want you to know that I'll always have your back. That I'm a pretty selfish guy when it comes to looking out for those I care for, our Express."

Super Sentai, huh? He'll have to genuinely check out some reccomendations.

@dasniichts

[languajix]

So I watched "Reality Check" (s3e19) yesterday, and the beginning with Leo training and Mikey talking his ear off about superheroes had me cracking up because it brought to mind the scene from "All The Colors In Between" where Donny infodumps to Leo about gender roles in animals. I specifically thought of this line:

"That was the curse of being Leo, that he had to politely listen to whoever decided to ramble at him when they caught him doing katas like this."

And you're right! He really can't help it! Mikey's so excited to tell him about stuff he probably already knows, and Splinter is like, please focus, but Leo just goes, nah, I can multi-task, and even lets Mikey draw him into the conversation. They're so adorable.

Yeah, this isn't really a question I just wanted to say, again, I really love this fic and how you write this family 🧡💙

You are SO close to SAINW and I can't wait!! Oh man this is going to be awesome. Painful for you, of course, but exciting for me.

And you found the scene that inspired that bit! Absolutely, 100%. Despite Splinter being literally right there, and the two of them in the middle of serious ninja stuff, Leo plays along with Mikey so politely. I was pleasantly shocked that he kept talking back! It's such a great moment between the two of them!

2k3 is so full of affectionate, soft, meaningful character interactions between all the brothers and it's wonderful. I love scifi romps, and the gritty, intense dramas of the 2k3 New York City, but what pulls me into 2k3 and keeps me there is the dynamics of all of the brothers and Splinter, April and Casey. The writers and the VAs did such an incredible job.

I love writing this family. My memory for canon details sucks a lot and I just hope all the time that I'm doing them even a little bit of justice, trying to capture character voice is really important to me, so hearing that is always a big relief. And this fic was scary to put out there, so hearing that it struck a chord with a few people was validating. It made all the stress worth it.

Just, thank you. So much. I hope you have a great evening!

[nohoperadio]

Oh, hello. That's right, I'm in Bristol, thanks for noticing. I had some business to conduct with some goats, which has just lately concluded. It went very well.

Definitely the best time I've ever had seeing them. It helps a lot that Mr Jon Wurster was present, the last several times I saw them goats it was the drumless version, which is still good but having him makes a huge difference. I hope the fandom at large understands just how special Jon Wurster is, I feel like we have a proportion of people who really do Only Listen To the Mountain Goats or close to it, which is fine as long as you appreciate how lucky we are, the man is a fuckin... like I wanna say he's a fuckin beast but I need to convey that his drumming has tremendous power but also great intelligence and artistry. He's like a fuckin, a beast who's a wizard as well. You know?

Great set list tonight, and although I was rude about the newer albums on here a week or two ago, I have to report that every song they played from the past ten years (there were about 6?) was one I was actively excited to hear. Not that these were new revelations to me, I already knew they were bangers, but it's good to be reminded that they are still putting out some bangers and I'm glad to see the band agrees with me about which ones those are. Or I just got lucky tonight, but fine I can be glad about that too.

It's an open question in my worthless opinion whether Matt Douglas and his contributions have been a net positive on tMG's recorded output, but there's no possible doubt he's been a huge positive to their live presence. There were several moments during the show that made me audibly gasp, or put my hand to my heart, or say out loud "oh fuck", or make some other melodramatic gesture, and a good many of those moments were directly Matt's doing. Also, what a great face he's got? Absolutely iconic face, inspires a combination of enthusiasm and trust otherwise elicited by only the very best dogs.

I love Stabbed to Death but would never have expected it to be a highlight of the gig like it was, I can't describe the mad shit they did with it but I can tell you it was gripping.

I only contributed my voice to I think three songs towards the end, most prominently the best No Children I've ever experienced, but managed to give myself a sore throat anyway. Don't worry, it was mild enough merely to contribute to the atmosphere. I must admit that despite being an annoying hipster who thinks This Year is just a pretty good B+ song, I did get swept up by the spirit of it this time.

It's been a firm and settled matter in my mind for years now that Beat the Champ is the third best album (Tallahassee second, WSABH first), but the last song of the encore was Heel Turn 2 and as the first chords sounded I was instantly and forcefully struck with the thought: "wait, is Beat the Champ actually the best Mountain Goats album??" I feel quite perturbed. I am going to have to think.

There was some kind of throuple directly in front of me who were all dancing with indefatigable abandon and frankly excessive horniness throughout the show, and it's a testament to the excellent general atmosphere, to my good mood, and I suppose also to their winsome spiritedness that I was for the most part simply charmed by this. Normally any stranger being conspicuously happy and in love is enough to fill my shrivelled lonely heart with black bilious resentment, but tonight, quite the opposite. That's part of the magic of them goats, you know.

[birdybirdnerd]

new girl just dropped for rawts! my message talking about her under the cut, copied from what i said in the discord

This Stanley started as a Stanley, and stayed a Stanley for a long time. His Narrator was similar to Narraford in that, he was of the mind that the story needed to stay one way. There were branches yes, but they all had their set paths too, and Stanley should stick to them.

But this Stanley wanted to put on a show. He wanted to dance and sing and overact, to put his whole heart into every route and every ending. Unfortunately, this Narrator very much did Not want that. He's only supposed to be a vessel for the Player, of course. If you distract too much from the story, then it ruins the whole thing for them. And so he pushed this Stanley's creativity down again and again. (Very similar to SP, in a way)

This Stanley also, as time and resets went on, discovered some things about himself. About... herself. And while this Narrator isn't transphobic, exactly, there is still an element of 'But I made you a certain way, you're supposed to be a certain way, and if you gain too much Character, again, you'll distract from the Story.' So time would pass, Stanley would change and they would fight, and- May, this is where I took inspiration from the basis of what made you make this concept. Because this Narrator would always get tired of the additions, the changes, and decide that the only way to fix it all would be to wipe the slate clean and start fresh.

And so the cycle continued.

Your Narrator showed up towards the start of one such cycle, so Stanley's gender Thing had yet to fully kick in. Idk how their interactions went, but by this point, a feeling of Something Wrong had dug a rut in Stanley's mind that persisted beyond the resets. I think maybe this was one where they tried to convince this Narrator to change? But it became obvious he wouldn't, so they left.

Out in the real world, Stanley discovered community theater. He was one who could talk, and while he could hear, he also had a sort of. Bad audio processing (just like me fr) that ended up in being. I don't want to say functionally deaf, but sort of? Learned bsl to help with communication when the words jumble up in his ears. He LOVES to sing, and ended up taking part in local musicals, cabaret nights, the like.

Then he discovered the local drag nights.

I read a Disco Elysium fic recently where Harry did exactly this and found a part of himself in drag, and it struck a chord in me that i think was this gal first forming. Something about the performance of it, the glitz and glamour and community, really appealed to this egg. He did it for awhile, falling more and more in love, and eventually realized that it was more deeply a part of him - of her - than simple shows.

She waffled over names for awhile. Dahlia was a strong contender for awhile, and she tried it out for a few weeks, but it never fully clicked. But one night, with a new costume laden down with glittering, soft feathers, grand wings that draped over her shoulders and swished as she twirled, someone suggested a stage name for this performance:

Raphaella.

At first, she was scared. It sounded so close to a name she'd heard before, and while it hadn't been her name, she still heard it in the Narrator’s voice. But it tugged at her, so she decided fiercely that no, she would not let him ruin something else for her, and so she became Raphaella- Raph, for short.

I think shes an older one too, maybe also around Spencer's age, so early to mid forties. Ended up in England somewhere maybe, too. Not sure when in the timeline she was saved, but. Yeah.

Her and Spencer definitely go to gay clubs together and people watch full of Gay Judgment.

[strike-another-match]

i watched wish again ytd and i actually really like it... it's just a nice little fairytale idk i don't see anything actively wrong with it. visually i found it very beautiful, the matte CGI worked well with the setting and helped the magic effects stand out. i definitely hear the "first draft" and "underbaked" criticisms but even with that i found it a really enjoyable little movie with some really strong themes. i liked asha's grandfather and king magnifico in particular, as well as asha's friend who had just turned 18 and given away his wish and lost a piece of his heart as a result. asha's grandfather and her friend showed how even after giving away their wishes, those wishes still echoed within them in the vacuum they left behind as asha's grandfather's tragic story was still the thing that inspired asha to fight for change and asha's friend ended up helping the king. there is a lot i could say on the king, i found his story pretty compelling?? i guess i'm never beating the easy audience allegations after this post but i liked the whole thing about him getting so wrapped up in his trauma that he isolated himself from people who genuinely loved him and who wanted to help him work through his issues and become a better version of himself. he couldn't see that and felt completely alone and frigthened even when surrounded by genuine and honest love from all directions idk that really struck a chord with me for some reason. ok enough disney dickriding for today but it was a nice movie and one that i really enjoyed rewatching

[ticketstomydaydreams]

HOME

(All We Have: Part One)

Part Two

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson are close friends and he invites you to move in to his house while you work on his record together

Word count: 1,580

Feels: Friendship Fluff for now

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of feeling depressed

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - Home

Sia - Dressed in Black 

The Beatles - With a Little Help from My Friends

A/N: Throughout the series there will be changes to the timing of real life events like the pandemic, the release of certain songs etc. There's certain things I want to incorporate into the series, like particular events in MGKs life and lyrics from songs, so some stuff will get moved around to fit in to the story ✌️

______

It had been a long evening working in Colson’s home studio, The Boulevard, with him and the gang on the upcoming Tickets to my Downfall album. To say your schedule was busy was an understatement, but Colson had insisted you get involved with the new material after the success of your work together on Hotel Diablo.

Composing music was your main gig, you had an ear for melody and your passion for writing meant you always had lyrics swirling around your head. You had a penchant for dark and melancholy lyrics, finding music to be a source of therapy for you. It was something you and Colson had instantly bonded over. He'd bugged you to list some of the stuff you'd written that he'd know and you had gained his professional respect immediately.

He always kept a close eye on your work, ever the supportive friend and had laid claim to your piece ‘Glass House’ as soon as he'd heard it.

______

2019

You were sitting crossed legged on the sofa in your lounge, gently strumming your guitar and gazing off into space and mumbling to yourself, as you worked out some lyrics in your head. Colson was lying on the floor by your feet, scrolling through his phone with earphones in, a blunt in his hand that he occasionally passed up to you. This was a common set up, you found it easier to write in the peace and quiet and Colson has gradually started hanging out at your place more when he needed to focus on his own writing.

"All alone in the glass house, lie awake til the sun's out, pink sky when you come down…"

"Throw me in the damn flames, Bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames…"

You'd started singing out loud, occasionally stopping to scribble down lyrics and make adjustments, not noticing that Colson had removed his earbuds to listen to you

" Dude, that's hard, like, beautiful… " His comment made you jump slightly, you hadn't seen him propping himself up on his elbows, watching you intently "Sing that last bit again"

You blushed slightly, his opinion was always important to you, and started singing. He muttered to himself as you did, then pointed at you "Again!"

Letting out a little laugh and rolling your eyes, you sang again

"Throw me in the damn flames, bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames"

Colson's voice met yours at the end of the line, rapping softly "I'm waiting on the rain to come and wash it all away"

You locked eyes, smiling and he sat upright. "Dude, Im'a need that hook! That spoke to me right there, I've think got something for it that I've been stuck on"

He looked so excited, your heart did a little flip. You'd seen that writing this album had taken it out of him, he'd been digging deep and really going through it emotionally. You could tell it was going to be raw and special from what you'd heard already.

He sat forward and moved the guitar from your lap so he could lean his arms on your knees and looked up at you shooting you puppy dog eyes with those baby blues "Pretty please Y/N"

You laughed and ruffled his hair, "Anything for you Col" Honestly, it'd be an honour to be part of such a personal project, you thought

He wrapped his arms round you and squeezed,

"You're a legend, kid. Get a sample recorded and send it to me!" He grabbed your guitar off the sofa and whipped back around, strumming a few chords as he carried on talking with his back to you, leaning against the sofa "This is gonna be fire, you always just hit the nail on the head, I swear it's like you're in my head sometimes"

You smiled, seeing the wave of motivation that had struck your friend. You felt so lucky to have a friend who was not only so inspiring, but one who 'got it', who understood that music was a form of release. Someone who recognised that it was important to feel these things, rather than encourage you to push dark thoughts away with toxic positivity.

He’d pushed to use your original samples on his record, but as much as you loved writing and singing, you were a behind the scenes kind of gal which had always suited you just fine. Naomi, a mutual friend of you both, came onboard to record them with him. A decision that turned out to be golden… 'Death in my Pocket' would be born not long after, with Naomi doing your lyrics such beautiful justice yet again, perfectly pairing with Colson's emotional rapping.

______

From then on Colson had kept you close to his recording. You'd been helping here and there with composition and notation, but your production skills were what was taking centre stage during the most recent sessions. You had a long list of projects you were working through, leaving you chained to your equipment most days and nights anyway so throwing more music into your workload didn't seem like much of a big deal. In all honesty, the chaos of Colson’s studio and the revolving door of personalities that were in and out constantly, made it one of the most fun places to be. You loved what you did for a living and it never really felt like work Even though the guys were a real handful at times, you kind of enjoyed being the studio 'Mami' as they often affectionately referred to you

Everything had wrapped up for the evening and the guys had migrated back into the house. You could hear from the raucous that the drinks must have started flowing freely. You were saving your work and packing up your stuff when Colson bursts back into the studio and throws himself in a chair, spinning it around with his arms in the air.

"You staying for drinks Y/N?" he grins at you, clearly hyper and in party mode

You let out a big sigh "Urgh, I'd love to but I have an early start tomorrow. I finally managed to get an apartment viewing. I swear I've looked at a hundred places now, they get snapped up so quickly.. I've only got a few weeks left on my lease as well"

“Ah, that sucks kid” Colson empathises, spinning his chair again before an idea strikes him “Wait! Why don’t you move in here for a bit until you find a place? The guest room is pretty much your room anyway, the amount you crash here”

You laugh “This is true, that mattress is so much better than mine! Aw Col, that would honestly be so helpful, the stress of finding a place when I’m this busy is killing me. I don't know… You sure the guys won’t mind?”

Colson scoffs “Why would they mind? You practically live here anyway” he teases “I’m sure they’ll be just as stoked as I am at the thought of you joining the madhouse for a while”

Before you have a chance to respond, he stands up and throws his arms around you, squashing you into him tightly “That’s it decided Roomie. Another song in the bag and a new housemate, plenty to celebrate tonight!”

Wriggling out of his tight grasp, you laugh and in a deep voice shout “let’s goooooo” mocking his signature catchphrase. He flips you his middle finger and says “Kitchen, now”

Once you’re in the kitchen, Colson heads to get you a drink and grabs one himself. Appearing back at your side, he passes you your beer and then shouts out to the rest of the group,

“YO, meet our latest housemate, Y/N is moving in. LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO”

Everyone in the kitchen lets out a big cheer, clearly pleased as he said they would be. Colson bends down and picks you up, swinging you around in a circle, spilling your drinks all over the both of you as you shout his name in mock annoyance, between giggles.

“I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for” Rook laughs, clinking his drink against your now empty beer bottle once your feet are back on the floor

“It’ll be good to have another pair of hands around here, looking after you lot” Ashleigh chimes in, laughing and slapping Slim away as he pulls her hood up over her head, covering her eyes

It had been 5 years since you'd made the decision to move to LA, barely knowing a soul. You'd worked several jobs, jumped from place to place, worked your ass off to catch your break in the music business, sometimes feeling like the grind would never get you anywhere.

There had been times where you felt like you couldn't carry on, aching from trying to keep pace. The dream had felt like it was turning into a nightmare, as you tried to make ends meet, feeling so lonely in this enormous city.. but eventually you'd made these amazing friends who made you feel so safe and loved.

Now, there were times you had to pinch yourself just to make sure it was all real.

As you shake off some of the beer that's dripping from your hands, you look around the kitchen. Taking in the crazy, loveable bunch before you, your new housemates, you are filled with gratitude. You finally felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be…

Home.

______

❌❌ Lace up!

[infernal-fire]

Love, At First Sight

Warnings: some extreme fluff, strong language/ swearing

Pairing(s): Ransom x you

Summary: Love, at first sight, doesn’t exist. And Ransom has never been proven otherwise.

Word Count: 1600

I was inspired to write this after reading “It Was Only A Kiss” by the Queen of fluff, smut, angst and everything in between: @navybrat817  :)

(This GIF does not belong to me)

Love at first sight. 

That is the most ridiculous thing Ransom had ever heard. And he has heard some bullshit. 

The only thing he could tell from looking at someone for the first time was whether they were of any use to him or not. So when Meg was rambling on about love, that too, at first sight, Ransom scoffed at the idea. He bit into his overpriced biscuit with a roll of his eyes, pausing the conversation that he was unwilling to entertain any longer. 

“You know what Ransom, I’m not surprised you’re dismissing the idea without even hearing it,�� Meg challenged.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” he retorted, a bit amused by her slight outburst.

“If your parents bothered with you, maybe you would understand what it’s like to be loved by someone.”

Although he didn’t show it, it struck a chord in him. It wasn’t something he dared to complain about anymore, but there was a time he would have done anything for their affection. 

“Okay then, let’s hear this horseshit you’re spewing,” he replied, not breaking the façade of smugness.

“When you meet someone, your subconscious and unconscious mind pick up patterns in their behaviour, little mannerisms and anything it can get its hands on. Your conscious mind interprets that as vibes. So you get a bad vibe from someone, it’s ‘cause your mind recognizes it from somewhere else, someone you don’t like.” 

“And what does this have to do with love at first sight?” Ransom impatiently tapped his foot. 

“I have a theory that love, at first sight, is possible if you’re in tune with your intuition. You feel good vibes from someone, you ride with it. And there’s a possibility you’ll override the rational part of your brain that tells you that you can’t love someone right after meeting them,” she concluded. “But then again, this only works if you’re capable of loving someone. Otherwise, your brain has no one to reference,” she added. 

Ransom’s jaw clenched before he took in a breath.

“Like I said. Just a bunch of horseshit,” he said, getting up to leave. 

He called it horseshit but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It irked him that no matter how many girls he pulled, not one of them could make him feel the love had Meg described. He concluded that he was incapable of love because, of course,  that was the only plausible explanation.

It was a friend’s birthday. To say the least, he was not looking forward to it. He was in a rare mood to stay home and call it a night instead of getting his dick wet. Unfortunately, his presence was promised - he would rather not hear about this later so he did his future self a favour and got ready. 

His black pants were paired with a maroon sweater that cost a little less than his king-sized bed. A rose-gold watch adorned his wrist and he threw on his signature tan coloured coat. He didn’t want to go but he that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity to advertise his status. 

Walking into the party, he regretted his decision to come at all. The corners were brimming with drunk people, though it had been only 1 hour since the party started. Shrill and irritating voices rung through the air. As usual, girls of no substance clung to every word of the fabricated tales boys told. Despite this, the unsavoury circumstances invited him, called his name even. After all, this was the lifestyle he lived for. 

Taking in the scene before him, he strode down the room. His presence alone demanded respect and attention, both which he got a surplus of at these events.

His stride was abruptly halted when a figure crashed into him, spilling wine down his chest. Sure, it blended in with the sweater, but he was still pissed. Someone didn’t notice him, which caused them to bump into him and that rubbed him the wrong way. 

“Won’t you look where your going, for god fucking sake this is worth more than you,” he snapped at the unsuspecting girl. 

You had a mess of your own to take care of. Wine slipped down your dress, between your cleavage and onto your stomach. You were going to apologize but you heard his comment, paused your sentence to look up at him. 

Laughter echoed in the background and people called Ransom’s name but it was long forgotten when he saw you. 

Love, at first sight.

It didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore. 

The mere sight of you was a harsh contrast to the cruel world he has dealt with his entire life. It was like the universe wrapped and presented you as the embodiment of a second chance for his life. To think that love, at first sight, was ridiculous. 

Your beauty wasn’t something he understood. It wasn’t like the beauty he sought during the lonely hours of night, when he simply required a bedwarmer to ease the ache. It was memorable, almost like a blend of warm vibrancy; a feeling resembling that of the summer’s sun, kissed his skin ever so delicately. 

He thought he was dying for a second. His hands were tingly and would not ease up no matter how much he clenched and unclenched them. His heart dove straight to his stomach, refusing to come up for air as long as he continued to look at you.

You on the other hand, you were conflicted. You were going to give him a piece of your mind for talking to you like that but one look at him and you wanted to run away. It was too intense for you. 

His piercing stare mirrored the moon, melted and poured into the mould that he called eyes. His aura radiated coldness. Yet, you just knew that his hands would be as warm as a bonfire during a snowstorm. Being around him would be like the slight sting that you felt when winter’s breeze grazed your skin. That sting, no matter how painful, is rewarding when you consider his arms that would envelope you as a blanket. 

Momentarily looking into each others eyes, both of you knew. You just knew. You were both thinking the same thing. It felt like eons had passed since the wine spill but logically, you knew it had only been seconds.

“Don’t talk to me like that” you finally blurted. No matter how enamored you were with him, you needed to knock him down a few pegs. 

“I-I… I’m” 

“You’re?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he stuttered. He felt like he would never recover from this embarrassment. 

“I-uhm. It’s okay. I just…” you trailed off, realizing you weren’t even sure what to say. 

“Can we get out of here?” he piped up. 

It took you by surprise because you were thinking the same thing. You considered it too bold a thing to say but here he was. 

You held his wrist and led him out. As soon as you marched out the door, he pulled his arm up, and you assumed he was going to take it out of your grasp. He surprised you though, instead, holding your hand. 

The dress and the sweater became irrelevant; all either of you could focus on was the warm grip you both had on each other’s hands as you strolled through the overly extravagant neighbourhood. 

Part of your mind was screaming at yourself, as was his. He could kill you, you thought. Or do worse. And here you are, walking with a complete stranger through a neighbourhood you don’t even know.

“I thought you felt it too,” he confessed. “That’s why I... really, I don’t ever do this.” 

The old Ransom would have said ‘I know you felt it too.’ It hadn’t been ten minutes since you met him and you were already changing him. 

“I've never done this either. I mean frankly, you could be a murderer and here I am, holding you hand,” you joked. 

“I’m not a murderer,” he chuckled, “But I can’t help but feel a little weird about this.” You looked up at the moon-less night, convinced that it wasn’t a coincidence.

“I know… I-... I don’t even know your name,” you giggled and his heart fluttered around his chest. He couldn’t compare the feeling to butterflies - it was more like hummingbirds, refusing to settle.

“I felt something and it’s weird ‘cause I was so scared. I was scared and overwhelmed by this sort of dread. Dread that was like, what if you didn’t feel the same way?” you rambled, only slightly cautiously. You knew nothing of this man, and you were laying out how you felt in the open?

“My name is Ransom,” he stopped the stroll and faced you, picking up your other arm. 

“Y/N” you meekly responded, having difficulty meeting his eyes. You had never felt such a burn in your cheeks, yet right now, you felt like your face was on fire. 

“Hey, hey” he softly tilted you chin up. “Can we run with this? Whatever this is?” He would get on his knees and plead if he had to. Because you were right; he felt like he would die if you didn’t feel the same way. 

“Please. Let’s run with this. Whatever this is, let’s just run with it,” you agreed and nodded lightly, not breaking out of the stare.

“What is this?” he uttered under his breath and rested his forehead onto yours. 

You closed your eyes and breathed in the same air as him. His warmth and scent reminded you of sugar cookies and pine trees. 

He took in a breath and felt the aroma of vanilla and fresh roses evade his senses.

“I don’t know. But I like it,” you breathed. 

He cupped your face and pulled away to look at your face again. He planted a delicate but firm kiss to your forehead as you encased his waist with your arms, naturally gravitating towards him. He tenderly held your face as he pulled away. One look and you were a goner, but now, you’re utterly floored by the mere thought of him. 

Love, that too, at first sight.

Wasn’t horseshit after all.

Masterlist

Tag list: @partiesandblurrypolaroids​

Other: @mculibrary​​

Shoot me a message or fill out the form in my bio to be added to my tag list!

[britishboystm]

The Reunion | The Day We Met: A Fred Weasley Mini Series

Inspired by:

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ (minor dni!) oral f & m receiving, handjob, fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration (please be safe please, for the love of god!) swearing, fighting, arguments, angst, fluff, mentions of possible depression

WC: 7k+

Chapter Summary: A year after that infamous night, will flames be rekindled?

Series Masterlist

***

As promised, George and Y/N wrote to one another.

Fred had excluded himself from the letter exchanges as he felt that it would be too painful to put words to paper. He was also worried that the process would bring up deep unsurfaced feelings of regret and remorse.

George would often ask Fred if there was anything he would want him to add to his letters to Y/N. Fred would always say to write; Fred misses you a lot. But that was it.

It had now been a bit over a year since Y/N last saw the boys fly away into the dark sky that cold April night. Keeping her promise, Y/N continued her studies at Hogwarts and immediately began training to become a healer once she graduated. She was lucky enough to be granted a mentorship with the ever so helpful Madam Pomfrey during her last couple months of classes.

Now, on one hot May afternoon, Y/N found herself with Alicia, Katie and Angelina, walking aimlessly around Diagon Alley. All four girls had been so wrapped up in studies and work that it had been months since they last saw one another.

It was nice to finally catch up with her old schoolmates but Y/N did have an ulterior motive to her visit however. As they strides the cobblestone walkways, sitting at the bottom of Y/N’s tote bag was George’s last letter.

And in that letter, contained what seemed to be a plea for help.

Dear Y/N,

I hope training is going well and you are putting everyone in their place like always. We are so proud of everything you’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time. I’ve got to admit though, things aren’t going that well over here. The store is doing fine, brilliant actually! That isn’t the problem. It’s Fred. He hasn’t been getting any better. I know in our past letters you have said that it would take time for him to adjust and get over everything, but I’m not so sure now. It’s been over a year and nothing has really changed. He smiles and jokes around the shop like he always does and I know he loves what he is doing but it’s the nights that are the worst. He turns into a completely different person. I think it's the quietness. He doesn’t like his brain being the only thing he can hear. In the shop everything is so loud and energetic that he can distract him from his thoughts. But once that closed sign is put up and we head up to our flat for the evening he shuts down, almost like all of that energy has been drained out of him. He doesn’t even come out for dinner anymore. I usually just leave things on the table for him and he hobbles out to grab it when he feels like it, only to go back to his bedroom right away. I haven’t been in his room for months by the way and quite honestly, I’m scared to even try. Who knows what type of monster has formed in there. I’m also finding it hard to sleep. The walls aren’t thin in this place so I can usually hear him cry at night. I’ve been constantly casting silencing spells to drown him out but nothing’s working. I guess what I’m trying to say is, could you come visit? Only for a bit, you have no obligation to stay long but I think he really needs it. He misses you and I know you miss him too. So for my sake and both of yours, could you please find the time to come down here? You won’t regret it. I’ll bribe you if I have to, just name it!

Consider it Y/N,

Love George

After reading that letter she couldn't sleep for an entire week. Tossing and turning, Y/N contemplated on whether it was a good idea to go see them... to go see him and what would happen if they reconnected and all of those old feelings resurfaced? It would just make it that much more painful when she would have to leave. There was no sense in showing up only to give him false hope... right?

Then came the call from Angelina asking if she wanted to join her and the girls for a day on the town in Diagon Alley that weekend. Y/N wanted to say no, but something inside her forced her to say yes.

She instantly regretted it, but didn’t have the heart to cancel. She thought that maybe this was her subconscious telling her to finally bite the bullet and walk through those shop doors.

So here she was, avoiding that part of Diagon Alley. The four girls walked around in the heat, stopping along the way to window shop for what felt like hours. They even took a nice long lunch break at the Leaky Cauldron which provided a nice cool down for awhile. Things had been going fairly smooth sailing up to that point. Then they left the Leaky Cauldron and began walking around again. Y/N’s worries of having to face Fred Weasley started to re-emerge. But even though her brain was setting off red alerts for her to stop and turn around, something kept her feet moving along the path to where she remembered George saying they were located.

“You alright Y/N?” Katie asked as she linked arms with her old roommate. Y/N nodded slightly and let out a shaky breath.

“Hey, we don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to.” Katie said with care as she gently grabbed Y/N’s arm to stop her in their tracks. All of her friends knew how Fred and her left things the year before and that it was a sensitive subject for her.

“I’m fine Katie, really. Thank you for checking though.” Katie gave her a sad smile in response. Y/N didn’t know if she was fine to be honest.

The group continued to walk a little longer before they came to a sudden stop. Looking up from her feet for what felt like the first time in a while, Y/N came face to face to one of the most ridiculous looking shops she had ever seen. The huge robotic head tipping it’s top hat that resembled the boys almost perfectly was the first thing that caught her eye. Then she noticed the etched golden letters that spelled out Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes just above the door. It would also be fair to say that the bright orange and purple paint coating made it the most colourful building in all of Diagon Alley.

Of course this was their shop.

“Fancy a visit with the boys?” Angelina asked cautiously. Y/N could feel all of the girl’s eyes on her, waiting to see if she would agree or not. It was now or never.

“Yeah, sure.” She said hesitantly. Katie gave her a reassuring rub on the back before they all walked up to the loud building, dodging hyperactive children rushing past them in both directions.

The second they stepped through the door, a gust of warmth and the smell of gunpowder hit Y/N in the face. The inside of the shop was even louder then the outside. Kids and parents ran around different displays and shelves of magical toys, trinkets and miscellaneous items.

It was incredible and Y/N couldn’t help but gasp at what the twins had created. Everything started to make a bit more sense as to why they were so adamant about leaving before graduation.

The girls began to walk further into the shop, clearly familiar with the space, unlike Y/N. They had formed themselves in a way that Katie and Y/N trailed behind, hidden from anyone’s view.

“Ladies, welcome!”

Y/N froze in place upon hearing that oh so familiar voice. He did sound a tad older though, almost as if his vocal chords had grown accustomed to constantly yelling over the many ecstatic customers they have gained in the past year.

But it was him.

Her Fred.

She began to turn around before Katie grabbed her, keeping her planted in place.

“Hey Freddie, George!” Angelina chirped before sauntering over and engulfing them into a hug.

From where Y/N was standing, Fred seemed nothing like how George mentioned in his letters. His face was bright and radiated a youthful energy.

She shouldn't be here, she thought. And yet something told her to stay. Something more than Katie’s tight grip on her shoulders.

“Guess who came to visit?” Angelina suddenly said with a cheeky grin. Fred frowned down at her, traces of a smile still evident his face.

“Who?” Once he asked, the girls all moved away from where they were standing, leaving Y/N completely exposed. There was no turning back. She had been spotted and struck. No escape in sight.

The second he laid eyes on her, his smile dropped. Everything was happening in slow motion.

Even though it had only been a year, she looked so different. She looked like a woman. Not that her face had aged at all but just from the way she held herself. Like an adult witch who was making her way in the world. She was no longer the young naive Hogwarts student that he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

That love never disappeared though. He could still feel it dancing within his chest and gut as she shifted awkwardly in place, clutching her canvas tote bag in an attempt to grounding herself.

Fred also looked older to Y/N. He had grown taller since the last time she saw him, if that were even possible. He looked more strongly built, most likely from lugging around all of those boxes of inventory day after day. His face had filled in a bit and the waistcoat he had on hugged his sides nicely underneath his colourful dress jacket. He looked great, amazing actually.

“Y/N.” He gasped out as he dropped the small box of fever fudge he was holding.

“Hi Freddie.” Her face was flushed and the pounding in her chest held a strong presence within her. She wasn’t given any more time to speak as he ran up to her and pulled her in for a bone crushing hug.

“I’ve missed you so much. What are you doing here?” He muffled into her hair. It smelled of the lavender and sage shampoo she used throughout their school days.

Such good memories.

“Girls day I guess.” She awkwardly giggled, pulling away from him and looking down at the floor.

He couldn't help but stare at her intently, happy she had finally decided to come see him.

It didn’t take long for Fred to take Y/N’s small hand in his. He gently tugged her away from the group and pulled her through the chaotic space, showing her everything that him and George had worked so hard to obtain. It was as if he had completely forgotten about the last year.

With every minute, Y/N became more and more relaxed. She watched him intently as he explained things with so much animation while his hands flailed around rapidly. It was really nice to see the childish excitement behind his eyes again, the childish excitement that made her fall in love with him in the first place.

Shit.

“You’re staying for dinner right?” He asked out of the blue while the other girls bid their adieu to the younger of the two twins.

“Freddie I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I have a lot of work to catch up on an-”

“Please.” His big brown puppy dog eyes were exactly why she shouldn’t have come in the first place, but it was too late. She had already been caught in his web.

“Alright. Only dinner though, and then I need to head home.” His face lit up and his eyes formed those same old endearing crinkles in the corners that she adored so much. Not thinking clearly he began to lean in for a kiss before he stopped himself, suddenly remembering where they were in their relationship.

“Sorry.” He whispered bashfully as Y/N shifted away from him, looking everywhere else but his baby browns. She had to set boundaries.

“You coming Y/N?” Alicia asked as the girls started to exit the shop.

“Umm,” Y/N looked between Fred and the girls, finding it difficult to decide on what she should do. Fred’s hand then found itself placed on her lower back, sending a nice tingle down her spine. Her final decision was finally made.

“You lot go ahead. I think I will stay back for a bit.” The girls nodded, grins sitting on all of their faces. This was clearly planned and Y/N had fallen for it.

“Thank you ladies for your help.” George muttered under his breath while he led them out and placed the closed sign on the door. Y/N thankfully didn’t hear him say a single word.

Once the shop had fully settled and filled with quiet, George began to subtly examine his brother's behaviour, already noticing a difference. His shoulders weren’t slumped over and his eyes weren’t hooded with pessimism and exhaustion.

“I’m really glad you came Y/N.” George explained as he finally walked over and went in for a welcoming hug. It had been sort of difficult to do so earlier, since Fred had kept her glued to his side the second she got there.

“Nice to see you to Georgie.” She replied with a small laugh. Once they finally detangled from one another, the twins led the third member of their long lost trio up the stairs and into their shared flat .

It was a good thing that she was there really. The twins couldn’t cook to save their lives, so the minute they began preparing dinner, Y/N shooed them out of the kitchen, only allowing them to approach if she needed help with something small or uncomplicated. It was like the good old days when their mum made meals for them. The scents of cumin and cooking oil as well as the sounds of long lost laughs wafted through the space. Things were going swimmingly, and if anything, solidified the fact that Y/N had missed Fred and George dearly.

“Godric, Y/N. It really is great to see you again.” George beamed as he sat back in his chair, easing into the fullness he was feeling from Y/N’s amazing grilled chicken dish.

“It took me a while but yeah, I’m glad too.” She stated, blushing slightly as she looked over to Fred. With the three of them together, everything was fine. It reminded her of when they would run and hide within the halls and walls of Hogwarts at the peak of their pranking careers.

Y/N being alone with Fred however, was a completely different story. Wounds had yet to be fully mended and deep scars still very much remained.

George took a moment to dart his eyes back and forth between Y/N and Fred as an obvious awkward aura danced around the cozy flat. George knew exactly what to do to remedy the tension.

“Well, I’m stuffed. Should probably be heading off to bed. I’m so glad you agreed to dinner Y/N. I hope we do this more often.” She abruptly looked up at the younger twin with a pleading look in her eyes that screamed; please don’t leave me with him!

He read it perfectly, but chose to simply give the begging girl a sly grin and an obnoxious “good night.” before patting his brother on the shoulder and retreating down the hall to his room.

Damn George Wealsey. Damn him to hell.

The awkward silence remained but it was now so much louder. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Fred shift around in his seat, trying to calm the uneasiness that they were both clearly experiencing,

Someone had to say something before one of them spontaneously combusted from all of these pent up emotions.

“I’m sorry.” They said collectively. There was a moment of shock that they had spoken the same words at the same time, then small smiles that led to shy blushes.

“I meant everything I said that night you know. About me waiting for you.” He said while staring down at the table, folding his napkins over and over again to busy himself and ease his anxiety.

“Fred I-“

“I’m serious.”

“Then why didn’t you write to me?” Her words were laced with hurt. It was quiet for a moment. He then bowed his head slightly in shame before bringing his hands up and through his red strands of hair, letting out a sigh.

“It would have hurt. Trying to keep something alive that you didn’t want anymore. But the minute I saw you walk through that door this afternoon, I felt like hope was restored.”

She relaxed slightly at his answer, but only slightly. She never wanted it to end, so for him to think she wanted to let go of what they had killed her. This conversation was happening though, and that was all that mattered

“It’s been a weird year. I found myself at times picking up the phone or running to grab parchment to tell you about crazy events that had happened. Then I would remember, remember that you weren’t there.” He frowned, being slightly offended by this.

“I never really left. If you wanted to, you could have. Called and written that is.”

“You’re one to talk.” She scoffed, folding her arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He retorted in a state of defensive confusion.

“It means you aren’t allowed to be mad at me when you didn’t contact me once all year!”

“You hurt me Y/N! I had everything planned out for us and you ruined it!” Voices were beginning to rise.

“I’m sorry?” She was this close at screaming at him. The first time they fought, she had been scared. This time was different. She was stronger, maturer and quite honestly, sick of his shit.

“Last time I checked, you were the one that left school to open a fucking joke shop! What? You just thought I would up and leave an actual future so I could be your little housewife? Fuck you Fred Weasley!” They were both standing at this point, moving in closer and closer to the point of them almost touching. He towered over her and she couldn’t help but notice that feeling.

“Oh get off it L/N.” He spat down at her. The image they took resembled a Chihuahua trying to gain dominance over a Great Dane.

“You, are a man child Fred Weasley. When the fuck are you going to grow up and face the real world?” She shoved a finger into his chest, which didn’t even him an inch.

“A man child?” He chortled mockingly with a raised eyebrow and obnoxious smirk.

“Yeah.” She retorted, grounding her feet to make herself feel bigger and stronger. Her Gryffindor was shining through like no tomorrow.

“Say it again.”

“What?” She asked confused.

“Say it, again.” His tone was low and direct. He exerted an intense sense of power and strength that she secretly loved.

“You are a man child Fred Weas-“ Before she could finish her sentence, he grabbed her cheeks into his palms and slammed his lips against hers. Her eyes widened in pure shock but she quickly closed them and grabbed his wrists in her hands, giving into the sensation. It was a sensation that she had been craving for so long. They moaned and groaned into each other’s mouths before he pushed her back and hoisted her up onto the kitchen counter by her arse. His hands then squeezed into her sides, causing her to squeak and squirm.

“Fuck.” She whispered as their mouths seperated for a moment of breath since she had gripped the base of his neck hair and pulled him away from her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She continued as he moved his lips down her neck. She was slightly mad at herself for giving in to him so easily. Deep down though she knew it was going to happen eventually. She had just been too proud to admit it.

“Why?” He whispered as he sucked on her jugular, making sure to reach every single beauty mark that painted her neck.

“B-because I-. Fuck Freddie I can’t speak.” Her words were getting lost with each lick and smooch he planted on her jawline.

“Then don’t.” He muttered into her flesh. She dropped the subject and chose to grip on to his hair once again. His hands slowly moved from her hips down to her thighs, stroking them softly. The feeling triggered Y/N’s memories of the night he left. She wanted to yell at the top of her lungs; Don’t leave again! But all she could do was whimper at the touch of his warm and inviting fingers circling against her quads.

The whimpers she was releasing made Fred stop and look into her eyes which he had been dreaming about for over a year now.

“You are so beautiful.” He stated as tears began to form in his lower waterlines. He hated himself for being such a prick and for not fighting hard enough for her. Instead he chose to put his tail between his legs and accept defeat. That wasn’t the Fred Weasley he knew.

But this girl, this stunning girl with her chest heaving and legs open had changed him. She had changed him for the better.

Just from the mere sight of him crying made her tear up herself. Unable to watch him suffer any longer, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into her chest as he continued to silently sob.

One of her hands crept up his back in hopes of soothing him. She began to rub gentle circles between his shoulder blades. Her other hand came up to caress his hair as she shushed him gently.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out through weak whimpers.

“I let you down.” Her heart broke at this statement.

“You didn’t let me down. I’m sorry too Freddie. I didn’t mean what I said about the shop. I am so proud of you and all the hard work you have done.” She leaned down to kiss the top of his head. This made him tighten the grip he had on her.

She let him hold her for as long as he needed. Merlin knew just how much they both needed it.

When he finally started to feel the emptiness within him fill slightly, he pulled himself away from her grasp to look into her red puffy eyes.

“Stay? Please?” He was desperate for her. Desperate for her touch, her body, her laugh, her voice, her smell and everything in between.

“Freddie, you know I can’t.” She spoke softly while she closed her eyes, forcing out a tear.

“Just for tonight, please.” She sighed as she laid her forehead against his shoulder in frustration, wrapping her calves around his waist to pull him in closer.

Neither one of them spoke for a while, instead choosing to listen to each other’s laboured breathing, finding that missing comfort in the inhalation and exhalation.

“Just for tonight.” She spoke quietly. He closed his eyes in relief, smiling to himself before pushing her off of his shoulder and gently taking her face in his hands.

“Thank you.” He spoke, lightly pecking her on the lips. She smiled back and removed her hands from his neck.

“I’ve missed you.” She said in a whisper as her right hand grazed down his torso, stopping at his crotch. She began to palm him, making sure not to break eye contact. He sputtered out and buckled at her touch.

“Fuck.” He softly groaned, his face tucking into the curvature of her jaw and neck.

“What do you want, baby?” She asked, speeding up her movements.

“You.” Was all he was able to vocalize. This sent a sensation right down to her underwear.

“Stand up straight love.” He followed her instructions immediately, pulling all of his weight off of her and struggling to find a solid stance. She then hopped off of the counter and found her way down onto her knees, preparing herself for what was to come.

He tried so hard to not go absolutely feral as he watched her look up at him with these soft doe eyes. Her hands then came up to tug at his belt, making it so his hips dipped forward from the force of her pull. Never in his wildest imagination did he think that the sound of a clanking belt would be so heavenly.

“Need you.” He said through a gasp, gently stroking her hair. He could feel her fingers dance along the elastic band of his boxers before tugging them down to above his knees along with his work trousers. The cool air hit his member once it sprung free and lightly tapped his lower stomach. The feeling sent shivers down his spine and caused his leg hairs to stand on end.

His tears had now become dry against his cheeks as he strangled out a new cry. This time from pleasure as Y/N thumbed the tip of his member gently.

Noticing how desperate he was, Y/N continued to stroke him until his cock was covered in any kind of wetness he could offer.

Once she felt it appropriate she leaned forward and took a deep breath, taking him into her mouth and as far down her throat that she could. Everything she couldn’t swallow was dealt with by her hand.

Fred groaned profusely through his bitten lip, trying hard not to be too loud. His brother was just down the hall after all.

“Fuck love.” He encouraged, holding the back of her head lightly in a make shift ponytail as he gently thrusted forward, causing her to gag and slobber slightly. The strangled chokes she let out around his member made him subconsciously quicken his pace. No longer in control, she gave up on taking care of him with her hands and chose to lay them flat agaisnt his tense thighs for support instead.

Her breathing began to shorten and the choking was becoming a tad bit unbearable, so she lightly tapped one of his thighs, making him pull her off of him and up to her feet. She wobbled slightly at the feeling of coming up to fast and from the lack of oxygen as she fell into his arms.

“You alright love?” He asked with concern through erratic pants. She could feel his still rock hard member cuddled up against her hip as she leaned against him.

“Yeah, just thought we should take this into the bedroom.” He nodded in agreement and let go of her for a moment to pull up his trousers and boxers. He hissed at the fabric grazing against his sensitive area but paid it little attention. He couldn’t worry about himself since he wanted to be fully invested in Y/N and her wants and needs. He would be dealt with soon enough, that was for certain.

Once he was fully clothed again, he decided to pick Y/N up, catching her off guard by throwing her over his shoulder and making her squeal out in excitement.

“Shhh, don’t want to wake up George do we?” He whispered through a sly smile.

“Depends.” She spoke seductively.

“You cheeky little mink.” He growled jokingly while placing a palm down on to her arse with a firm smack, making her squeal out once more, this time in pleasure.

He carried her down the hall and into the room right across from the one George disappeared into. Once they were fully inside, Fred threw Y/N down onto his unmade bed.

She took a moment to take in her surrounding, mentally referring back to the letters George had sent her. She thought about how worried he was about the depressive hole Fred had found himself in and that his room would be a good indication of it, even if he himself hadn’t been in there in months.

It wasn’t terrible. Laundry scattered the floor, clearly making it difficult to differentiate dirty from clean. A few bottles of fire whiskey sat in a dark corner by his work desk, almost as though they were being shunned from the rest of the room. Used tissues were placed on his bedside table in the formation of a small hill, making it unclear which ones were used from his nights of tears and which ones were used for his nights of self pleasure to calm the tears, both actions having her in mind.

She observed all of this as he laid on top of her and licked up her neck.

“Freddie.” She moaned out, finally coming back to reality from her thoughts.

“Yes baby?” His lips attached to her upper chest.

“Off.” She said, brain too fried from the pleasure to speak in fully formed sentences.

“ ‘f course.” He mumbled before detaching himself from her collarbone and sitting up to straddle her waist. His fingers traced up and down the buttons on her light summer dress before he started to unbutton it, allowing her bra to be exposed to him. It wasn’t a fancy lace or an elegant silk, but rather a sweet light yellow cotton that drove him absolutely mad.

Because it was her. It was always her.

He took a moment to admire the canvas that was laying below him that he couldn’t wait to paint before tugging the bra down, revealing her breasts to him. She let out a small whine as the cold air struck her bare skin, making her nipples perk up in the process. He shifted his gaze between her face and her chest. She nodded slightly, giving him the go ahead. With her approval, he leaned down and latched his tongue and lips around her delicate areolas.

She hummed with ease and shimmied her hips underneath him. He took a good minute to praise her supple mounds before bringing his hand down and underneath her dress, tapping her hip. She caught the hint and lifted herself up, allowing him to pull the floral patterned fabric from underneath her and toss it amongst one of his numerous piles. She then arched her back, making it so he could remove the constricting bra fully. He let out a small groan before shifting his body, specifically his lips, down her stomach to her navel. His lips littered her skin with kisses but he could tell she was craving a different kind of touch.

“So good f’ me, love. Have always been so good f’ me.” She smiled at this and shut her eyes as he started to tug her underwear down her bent legs. Almost automatically her knees fell open, giving Fred admission to his own personal holy grail. His gaping mouth emitted a hot breath that hit her centre, causing her to squirm.

“Freddie, please, right there, ‘m ready for you.”

God she was so perfect.

“I know baby. I can see it, can see all of it.” His index finger stroked down her wet folds, making her shudder.

“So sensitive.” He tutted softly as he grabbed both of her ankles and tugged her further forward, placing the back of her knees over his shoulders.

“Need it now,” Her whining made it abundantly clear that she was unable to handle much more of his teasing.

He couldn’t torture her any longer, so he leaned in and let a small amount of spit to drop from his lips and on to her sensitive clit. Then he brought his tongue down to swirl the liquid he released around her entrance, making her moan out loud to indicate to him that he was doing his job really well.

All he could think about was the sounds she was making and how she tasted just like he remembered.

So sweet.

“Taste so good love.” She gripped the sheets at the vibrations of his words of encouragement.

“Whenever you’re ready, come f’ me.” He spoke as he stopped his movements against her clit and dropped her legs, allowing her to be laid out for him. He then laid himself on his stomach between her legs and I nserted a couple of digits into her hole, hoping to speed up the process of bringing her to a fully euphoric state.

“Okay.” She whined, along with a submissive nod that was so innocent, he couldn’t help but rut his hips into the sheets beneath him to try and calm his own ache. His fingers sped up and he attached his lips to her once more. She dug her heels into his upper back, pushing him further against her heat.

“Right there, right there, fuck I’m go-going t-” She couldn’t even finish her sentence as she released onto his face. They both wheezed out in exhaustion and once he felt like he could finally move, he sat up, kissing her roughly, making it so her wetness transferred from his lips to hers.

“Too many clothes Freddie.” She sighed out as she weakly tugged at his waistcoat button, while she slowly came down from her orgasm.

He was utterly bewildered by her and what she had just done that he had no choice but to scramble to sit up more and almost rip off his clothing in anticipation.

He moved off of the bed and tried to keep eye contact with her as she leaned back on her elbows, naked and open for him. He could see their mixture of slick fluids covering her thighs reflect in the moonlight.

Once he was fully nude, Y/N stopped him from moving towards her like a dog in heat by pressing her foot against his chest.

“Stay there. Wanna get a good look at you.” He tilted his head slightly in confusion, but obeyed his queen nonetheless.

She just wanted to see how he had changed over the past year. A year since they first made love. His arms were more toned and his abs carried a deeper definition. His thick thighs made her practically salivate.

“Okay.” She breathed out shakily.

“Get over here.” She continued, giving him the come hither motion with her finger. He smirked and quickly crawled over to her, hopping on top of her, pinning her down underneath him and smothering her with kisses.

She laughed out, trying to pry him off of her small frame.

‘Okay, okay enough! You’re crushing me!” She giggled.

He finally stopped, not expecting her to then lunge at him and roll them over so she was on top.

Her naked figure straddled his hips and he couldn’t help but to stare up at her in awe as he stroked her figure gently.

“I’ve missed you.” She said out of the blue. He smiled sadly in return.

“I’ve missed you too.” They both went in for a kiss.

“Want you inside me baby.” She mumbled against his lips. He nodded and shifted so she was hovering right above his erect shaft.

She let out a shaky breath of release from her sweaty, heaving chest as she eased down onto him, making him groan out loudly and grip her hips harder than before.

It had been a whole year since he had felt the touch of a woman but it had been totally worth it in the end. Because it was with her and that’s all that mattered.

“Oh Freddie.” She moaned, placing her hands against his chest as she began to rock back and forth. He could feel his toes curl just from the mere sight of her getting off on his cock. Her lashes sat gently against her soft cheeks and her plush lower lip was stuck between her teeth.

Unable to bear it, Fred began to thrust up into her with a rapid and rough pace, trying to catch up in the chase. The sounds admitting from both of them and their collective wetness grew. He knew neither of them would be able to last much longer. Especially after being away from one another for so long.

“Come ‘ere.” He panted, sweat forming in his hairline and on his upper lip. She nodded and leaned down so he could wrap his arms around her in a hug. They stayed like this for a while as he continued to slam up into her again and again. He made sure to have her ear close to his lips, so she could hear just how good she was making him feel.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He winced as his orgasm began to rise to the surface.

“It’s okay, let go.” She struggled to whisper. He nodded in response and squeezed her arse, pressing her further down on to him with every rough slam of his hips.

He then let out a shuddering sigh as he finished inside of her, all of his muscles relaxing that had been clenching during their heated escapade.

Y/N continued to whine and rut herself against him, making it clear that she hadn’t reached her climax yet.

Fred laid his head back on to his pillow in exhaustion, taking her with down him. He wasn’t done though. This was all about her and Fred be damned if he didn’t make her come at least twice.

His hand crept between their sweaty, connected bodies and pressed his fingers to her sensitive clit. Small ministrations were made to her bundle of nerves and she couldn’t help but kiss up his neck and grind down on him in return, a lot like when she would use her pillow after they broke up, always thinking of him of course.

“Freddie, baaaby!” She cried out, making his body tense up again as well as his cock.

“Yes baby?” He asked while stroking her arse with his other hand.

“Almost there.” She answered through heavy breaths.

“You look so good for me, love. Using me as your personal sex toy. Fuck I love you so much.” His words encouraged her to quicken the pace of her hips which made her clench her thighs against his sides.

“Oh god.” She groaned out as her eyes rolled back slightly before shaking and then relaxing, dropping all of her body weight on top of him.

Hot air deflated from her lungs, hitting his sweaty chest.

“Fuck I’ve missed you.” He quietly chuckled while rubbing her moist back with one hand and combing through his now wet hair with the other. She giggled in return and dragged her lips over the skin of his chest tiredly before reaching up to kiss him.

“I love you.��� She hummed.

“I love you.” He responded candidly.

It didn’t take long for sleep to take over the young couple as they held on to each other for dear life.

May 8th, 1997

The next morning Y/N woke up with a jolt. Remembering it was a Sunday she relaxed again.

Her eyes roamed around the space for a moment, recalling that she never made it back home the day before.

Looking to her left, she saw Fred laying naked on his stomach with a leg draped over her torso and his arms tucked underneath his pillow. His face was sunken into the feathery fabric as he emitted soft peaceful snores. The poor bloke probably hadn’t had this good of a sleep in over a year.

She didn’t want to wake him right away. Instead she allowed herself to watch him and enjoy his beautiful features that she adored so much. Almost as if he were a spectacle.

She shifted over so she was laying on her side. Fred’s leg slipped off of her frame in the process. Her hand then came up to his face to caress his cheek.

“Mm, hello there.” He spoke through a dopey smile and deep morning voice, sending her into a tizzy. She chuckled lightly and began rubbing his exposed bicep in a soothing manner.

His eyes stayed closed as he let out a deep sigh, pulling Y/N further into his chest.

“Freddie?” She asked quietly. He hummed in response, pressing her even closer to him.

“I should be going soon.” She hated to break up the lovely moment but she couldn’t stay for much longer.

What would happen after this moment, no one knew. But what was most important was that the year of silence was now finally over.

“No, don’t.” He whined and pouted as he shifted down a bit to nuzzle his face in between her breasts. His favourite place to be.

She let out a sigh and gently played with the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Freddie, you promised.” She warned. He groaned out in a huff and finally let go of her, followed by getting out of bed begrudgingly.

She watched him as he walked around the bedroom, picking out an outfit for the day from the numerous piles of clothes.

“Fred talk to me.” She hated the silence.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He was unable to look her in the eye as he paced around his room, continuing to get himself dressed.

“I don’t know where we go from here.” He gripped his dark oak drawer at her words, frustrated that she was still being so stubborn, even after the events from the night prior.

“Look, I want you here, always. I want to wake up in the morning and have your face be the first thing I see, then have it be the last thing I see before I go to sleep. Is that enough of a forward for you?”

She groaned in aggravation and threw herself back down on to the bed. It seemed as though no compromise was ever going to be made.

“Look Fred.” She stared up at his ceiling.

“We can take it slow. I can make more of an effort to come see you on the weekends and you can make more of an effort to write to me. We will see where things take us, you know… slowly.” He turned at this with a sigh and walked back over to the bed, crawling over to her and placing a loving kiss to her lips.

“If it means the possibility of us being us again, then yes, I’ll do whatever it takes.” She smiled and grabbed his face, kissing him once more.

“Deal.” She sat up enthusiastically and stuck her hand out for him to take. He looked down at it as if she had an extra thumb. She waited patiently and he rolled his eyes, finally grabbing her hand in his and shaking it, almost as if they had just closed a business deal.

He then tugged her towards him by the hand which made her land on top of him. He began to tickle her and she immediately squirmed in his grasp.

“Stop, I need to get dressed!” She squealed.

“Who’s the best shag of your life?” He asked teasingingly.

“You!” She laughed through her struggle.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you love.” He further pushed through a cheeky grin.

“Fred Weasley is the best shag of my life!” She knew this was the only way that he would let up.

“Right answer.” She scoffed at his smug response as he let go of her.

“Only shag is more like it.” She muttered jokingly, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And don’t you forget it.” He winked before smacking her bare arse and rolling off the bed. She yelped and gave him a look of light hearted warning.

She soon got up herself and began to change, noticing out of the corner of her eye, Fred watching her from the doorway.

“What?” She asked in false annoyance.

“Nothing, just looking at you is all.” He was beaming from ear to ear. She rolled her eyes playfully in return.

Once she was done getting dressed, he reached his hand out for her to take. She walked over and grabbed it, allowing him to lead her out of the room and down the hall.

When they reached the kitchen, they didn’t initially notice George sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a bowl of cereal.

The couple were to busy poking and prodding each other as they looked through the fridge for breakfast.

“Mooorning.” They quickly shot up and shut the fridge, turning to see George smirking at them, who was as it seemed, clearly aware of what had occurred the night prior.

He gave them a wink and a knowing look before going back to his bowl.

[mikaze-discord]

Quartet Night: Love letters

Annnnnd these are the love letters written for Quartet Night!!!

Please enjoy under the cut~

REIJI KOTOBUKI

From Anon:

I've always been drawn to characters with complex (and fairly dark) personalities, so liking Rei-chan was honestly inevitable for me.

He looks like a very bright and cheerful character at first, which he is, but sometimes that part of him is a little misleading because, in actuality, he's a character that holds a lot of negative feelings about himself due to a past that he can't seem to move on from. He holds a lot of those feelings to himself because he doesn't want to burden anyone else with them. He's a reliable, cunning, and ultimately selfless character that chooses to shoulder a lot on his own out of his infinite care for others, and perhaps a secret sense of atonement, all hidden behind his bright demeanor and goofy smile, and it's endlessly interesting to me.

Besides the duality of his personality, he has a lot of other endearing quirks to love about him. He loves his mom a lot and is a mama's boy. His old-man jargon and catchphrases never fail to amuse (I still can't get over the way he says "my girl"). His obsession with anything even remotely British is something my APH England phase can relate to. His style of music brings a lot of pleasant feelings of nostalgia for me, and his pretty voice suits them a lot. And most of all he's just a very good boy overall. I rate 99999 out of 10 would love and support him and also maybe pay for his therapy because god knows he needs it. Happy anniversary!!

From another anon: 

Would you like to hear a story? You do? Very well then, may this story be one you enjoy.

What do I like about Reiji kotobuki? A Lot of things actually!

Well, I've always really liked Reiji as a character as he seemed to be one of the more interesting characters to me, due to how complex he is with his backstory and general just personality.

I have always really enjoyed how Reiji just solves problems too? Like he is just such an outgoing person who deserves all the support!!!

Like the best word I can use for Reiji is just, unique. Everything about him is just so Reiji. From the way he talks, to his nicknames or even his texting style. Like have you seen how many people use emoticons when texting as Reiji? It's just so him.

I like his way of thinking too! I feel like some of the interactions in the games are just so interesting, just seeing Reiji’s point of view. How he deals with a sort of survivor’s guilt and all of that.

Personally, some of my most memorable roleplaying moments were watching a Reiji rper in action, like just seeing them interact and flow so seamlessly with the other characters was just so fascinating to wee baby rper me. Such a large part of playing Reiji is just how you flow with the people around you and comedic timing. I have so many funny moments where Reiji was just interacting with people and it was just so inspirational (?) like I couldn't stop the smile on my face. I had learnt alot from them. I still consider them my roleplaying senpai almost! I don't talk to them anymore but I really had an amazing time just seeing their spin on the character.

I don't find him to be a romantic partner towards me nor do I see any of the characters in that light, but I've always found Reiji as such a personal character. Not even just towards me, like even with other utapri stans. The most relatable character always seems to be Reiji.

I've always been pretty similar in many aspects to him and I often find myself relating to him in numerous ways like his vibe is just relatable! I have often found myself trying to make other people laugh and have fun that many times I'm spreading myself thin and feel unappreciated...Reiji really helped with that.

This is where i start getting into the really personal stuff LOL feel free to skip if you dont wanna hear the angsty backstory.

I had really come to love Reiji when I had just...hit a low. I had a group of friends who I enjoyed hanging out with and just talking to, but they weren't very good friends per say. I often had to schedule every activity we did and I spent days and nights trying to think of concepts that might be fun. They took it for granted.. I had spent 4 months trying to make a game for them, and they had constantly pushed back times that we would play it. Using excuses to not play it, without telling me out right what they did not like or even why. The site I used was later taken down without notice and thus I had lost all my progress. Later, they had mentioned how they would like to play it except that later ended up being two years later. I really wish I could've solved things with that friend group like Quartet Night did but that didn't happen. That is when I started seeing things Reiji’s way? Not to say that it was the same or similar scenario to Reiji but I had just associated it with him.

RANMARU KUROSAKI

From Anon:

Ran is such a fun character! He sounds like a "rough outside, soft inside" kind of character, but his roughness is more like an integral part of him and it's through it that he shows he cares rather than setting it aside. That's what made me want to rp him. I also like how he is such a strong guy who's always determined to do his best in everything he does despite so much having gone wrong in his past. And it's very satisfying to see him form bonds and start to trust people.

From @mikaze-san:

Originally, my favourite Utapri boy was Ai, and it had been the robot boy for several years upon entering the fandom. In fact, it only switched to Ranmaru sometime late last year but regardless, I would still die for this man. Part of the reason why I switched is because I’ve always been a fan of Suzuki Tatsuhisa and I have a huge bias towards any man who wears nail polish without fearing being “feminine” because fuck gender roles.

As someone who studies fashion, I think Ranmaru is very coordinated and confident when it comes to portraying himself that way. He knows he’s not very good at expressing his emotions and utilises his passion for rock and playing the bass to portray those feelings through his songs. It’s also incredibly inspiring to know that he bounces back from pretty much anything considering his backstory and the stuff he deals with in the game/anime.

But my main reason for loving Ranmaru so much stems from the fact that I admire him a lot and want to be more like him. For a long time last year, I got to roleplay as Ranmaru in a few Utapri groups and through those experiences, I gained a better understanding and appreciation of the characters that I wrote for. In some weird way, by highlighting his flaws, character progression and how he dealt with different emotions, I ended up providing insight into how I dealt with similar issues by looking at them from a 3rd person perspective.

I used to be very shy and was very shut off from friends and family, and due to this I’ve always admired people in my life or fictional characters that are so confident in being who they are. Ranmaru particularly struck that chord in me because his bluntness knows no end. He’s very opinionated and doesn’t fear confrontation, in most cases being the one to provoke it. He speaks his mind openly without being overly anxious of the consequences. This is something that I feel is especially relevant today with being your authentic/unapologetic self is such a trend.

It’s something I’ve also noticed with having met people in or outside of this fandom, the notion of idolising a fictional character containing traits that we want to see in ourselves. Which made me think about a lot of my favourite kinds of characters which at the end of the day all boil down to sharing one similar trait: Being a bitch.

And in Utapri, Ranmaru embodies that. So naturally it’s very easy for me to idolise him.

(Tldr: I like his bitchy attitude.)

AI MIKAZE 

From Arashi:

It's hard to put into words why I love Ai Mikaze, perhaps it's because I'm subconsciously drawn to him, maybe it's because his hair and eyes are my favorite color, maybe it's because his voice is that of an angels, there are many reasons why I love him. I couldn't tell you a definite, "These one or two reasons are the entire reason I love him", but I'll try to sum it up.

I grew to love him by admiring his personality, his smile, his determination to reach his goals, everything about him made me happy. He's strict and a little scary at times, but when he sees people caring for him, he becomes happy and in a way, sentimental. He's not sure how to explain the way he feels, but he tries. I think I admire how he holds all the little things precious to his heart as he learns about them, and he wants to understand how to care for others and how they care for them in return. Even after six years, he still remains the most dear to me. I think that he now has a sentimental value to me, because even if I 'loved' another character more for a while, I will always come back to Ai. Ai deserves the world, and I'd give it to him if I could. He'll always be special to me, and I think that he very much deserves that.

From Maronda: 

My love for Ai started after I found Shining Live by chance and started to play. At first I wasn't particularly attached to any of the characters and decided to go back and watch the anime to maybe remember some context other than who Starish was. When I got to the episode focused on Ai and his "secret" I was absolutely thrown off by it all. I ended up feeling like I had so many questions and I knew that the anime would give me little to no answers, so I frequently turned to rambling on the internet about it. Eventually, this fixation on weird things about him seemed to turn into a clear fondness for him, and friends made me realize just how much I liked him. Knowing the cold and often strange aspects of his personality was due to something out of his control was something I resonated with as someone on the autism spectrum. He reminded me of some of the ways I used to think and behave.

I also began to notice other things I loved about him. Things like how soothing I found his voice, the pleasant shade of light blue in his hair and eyes, how ridiculously pretty he is... but the best things are the endearing parts of his personality. Though he's somewhat harsh, he's still entirely genuine. His curiosity is absolutely precious and his occasional awkwardness in expressing emotion or understanding the emotions of others made me empathize with him. And if you look at the Ai in Shining Live and compare it to the Ai in the anime and games... he really has changed a lot and grown as a person. He now seems so much gentler and understanding, and he clearly values the friendships he has now too! I think he's a wonderful character and ever since friends of mine encouraged me to selfship I've essentially been in love with him, but it also makes me happy to see other people appreciate him for other reasons as well. He's just so lovable!

CAMUS

From @uta-no-fakku-sama:

At the very beginning of my UtaPri interest, Camus never really caught my attention. That is until he became my first My Only Prince UR. I’ve come to appreciate him a lot more ever since, and now he’s become my favorite QUARTET NIGHT member! Along the way, I learned more about him and realized he’s one of the more complicated characters to understand. Nonetheless, I absolutely adore him. I tend to tease and make fun of him a lot, but deep down I truly do like him a whole bunch!

From @/waddamaloooon on twt: 

A little Camus appreciation post

(alternatively known as; how this guy managed to harshly take my heart and step on it like the gumin I am.)

Hello, this is Suikamaru, here to share a tiny story of why I, and eventually you, love Camus Rondo Cryzard.

At first glance, his looks appealed to me, but not his behavior (and ironically enough, his voice) so I didn't bat an eye on him. I've always been on a neutral leaning to dislike opinion on Camus, which is quite understandable because have you SEEN the way he acts. Unfathomable.

…..To a Young Suikamaru, that is.

I've grown, so naturally I've changed preferences regarding characters, ikemen, and who to stan and who to avoid like the plague. I will lie if I said that I expected to like that blonde confectionery devouring machine at any point of my life.

But it did happen so who are we fooling here.

It dawned on me that Camus is the type of character that you cannot appreciate unless you go in depth into his lore, backstory, and see him for who he really is. Because then everything else will make sense. And that never happened in my case until I started roleplaying as him.

I realized that he's not just a two faced, sweet toothed mean man. He's a perfectionist, someone who's always been raised since his childhood days to be nothing less than complete, who has locked on his heart and emotions to devote himself completely to the purpose given to him. He has the looks and brains for what though? He should be a little stupid honestly.

But his intelligence gave him the complexity that he just needed for his characteristics. Because as aforementioned, he's not someone to easily like or fall in love with. And I think that's quite rare in characters, and very much appreciated due to the fact it gives the fans a chance to not actually stay on a flat level of knowledge regarding their favorite characters.

I've slowly started to see myself in some aspects of him, which was the number one factor of liking him. Then came the Maeno magic when I realized Camus shares the same VA as another character that I love as well. (Hamelin, from SinoAlice.) From then, everything went downhill.

In a good way. I think..

Well, that is all from me, please read about this handsome man and appreciate his hard work both as an individual and as an idol. There is SO much to him that's p much overlooked and I'm getting broke from spending my money on his living expenses rent free in my head. Take him off my head.

[vanillann]

the 1994 battle of the performers (luke patterson x f.reader)

i might make this a series if yall are interested!! i would write the rest in the readers p.o.v. this would just be a prologue, lmk!!

word count: 2.9k

the 1994 battle of the performers masterlist

Prologue

“Look what I found on the bulletin board!”

Alex looked around his locker, Luke's smiling face next to a piece of paper held tightly in his grip. He closed his locker and pulled the paper out of Luke’s hands, reading over the word.

Battle of the Performers

December 12th, 1994

The Charles Theatre

“What’s this?”

“This, my friend, is our first live gig,” Luke tapped the top of the page.

“A gig?”

Alex and Luke looked up once they heard Reggie’s voice sound from beside them.

“Yep, it's local but it’s something.”

Luke was over the moon about the plan, I mean come on a gig, that’s all that matters, to say the least.

“Perfect timing, my vintage leather jacket just came in,” Reggie nodded his head, just as happy about the news of the gig.

“Hey,” Bobby came up behind Alex, giving him a small pat on the shoulder and waving at the other guys. He looked over Alex's shoulder, reading over the words just as Alex did seconds ago.

“Are we gonna enter?”

“Yes,” Luke was fast to answer, bouncing on his toes at the idea of finally sharing their music with the world. Alex was about to open his mouth to say something about the paper but the sound of the hall going quite caught his attention.

(Y/N) (L/N) held her bag close to her shoulder, smiling at a few people that passed. The once confident girl seemed out of her element as she made her way to her locker.

“I didn’t know she was out of physical therapy yet?” Bobby muttered quietly to the rest of the group. Their eyes trained on the girl as she smiled when others did and accept the sad apologies.

“Did you hear they kicked her from the dance team?” Reggie spoke, overhearing the conversation from his history class yesterday.

Each boy in Sunset Curve felt horrible for the dancer, after the incident with her ACL and her long recovery. They all had just as much of a dream as she did and they’d be wrecked if they lost it all.

As the girl made it closer to the group Luke adjusted himself in front of her, giving a sympathetic smile.

“Hey (Y/N),” his voice was soft, looking around the halls at all the people that watched the two. A quick glare and half the heads in the hall were back to their original conversation.

“Patterson?”

“Just wanted to apologize, you know-”

“It’s fine, wasn’t anyone's fault,” his heart was ripping out as the girl passed him and moved around him. Her head hung low and broken and she opened her locker and rummaged through it. Luke said nothing, moving back with his little group as his eyes watched her a little longer before turning back.

“So the gig?”

“We can’t enter,” Alex closed his own locker, moving the paper for Luke’s eyes. He pointed to the requirements that were printed at the bottom of the page.

MUST HAVE A DANCE NUMBER WITH LIVE PERFORMANCE

“What,” Luke ripped the paper, holding it between his fingers as he read over the words while Bobby helped guide him throughout the halls.

“They can’t do this!”

“They can, it’s their battle,” Alex commented, giving his friend a sympathetic smile. He could tell how excited he was about the idea of a gig, just for it to be ruined by their underprepared band.

Luke sighed, waving Reggie and Bobby bye and they made their way to English and Luke and Alex had Gym.

“This is trash,” Luke pouted as he made his way into the locker room, Alex luckily paying attention to the both of them and held Luke’s gym bag in his hand.

“We’ll find a different gig,” Alex clapped his friends on the shoulder, finding a stall and quickly dipping in before someone else found it. Luke didn’t care enough in the moment to find his own, easily taking off his “school approved” shirt his mother made him wear into his muscle tee.

“Yeah, but this one would’ve shown all of our parents, mine and yours, maybe even Reggie’s,” Luke’s shoulders dropped at that fact. He just wanted Reggie's parents to stop fighting all the time, Alex’s parents get over their old age ways, and his own parents to just understand it’s going to work.

Alex frowned at the thought, knowing everyone had their own reason past the love for music and why they needed a gig.

“She’ll never make it back on the dance team, they’ll have to have try-outs,” a group of “shit-heads” as Bobby would call them came into the locker room. Alex and Luke knew they were talking about (Y/N), which pissed them off and how funny they found the poor girl's pain.

But something else was rattling in Luke’s brain.

Try-outs.

“Alex,” Luke’s infectious smile was back as he grabbed the top of the stall Alex was in, pushing himself up and holding himself there as he watched his friend with a goofy laugh.Alex fell backwards, looking up at Luke with his gym shorts barely on all the way.

“We hold try-outs for the dancers, get our own dance team.”

Alex shook his head, standing back up and pulling the pants up all the way while looking up at his friend.

“We don’t know anything about dance, plus who would try-out for our band,” Alex opened the door of the stall, Luke still keeping his grip and the door swung back.

“The dance team is super picky, anyone not on it will take any opportunity they can get,” Luke jumped down, finally moving to his bag to change into his own gym shorts.

“I don’t know Luke.”

It wasn’t the wrose plan, Alex could agree on that but realistically it would be hard and while they did have time with it being September and all it wasn’t going to be easy to make the whole thing come to life.

Sunset Curve’s music at the moment was good for head bumping but a serious dance routine would take some work from everyone.

“Let’s ask Reggie and Bobby before we decide?”

Alex watched Luke bite his lip and give his best puppy dog eyes.

“I can work with that.”

“I dig it,” Reggie gave a goofy smile and bit into the apple that he was just attempting to juggle seconds ago. Luke jumped in his seat, smiling widely as 1/2 of the group had said they liked the idea.

“What inspired this idea?” Bobby asked, shrugging as he stole a chip from Alex bag, which caused Alex to roll his eyes.

Luke simply turned around, doing his best to hide the fact he was watching (Y/N) as she looked to be in a heated discussion with the dance team captain, Megan Ray, who looked broken about the discussion but standing her ground.

“Someone mentioned they’d have to replace her with try-outs in the locker room,” Luke muttered, watching as the girl jabbed her finger into the table. most likely trying to make her way back on the team.

“I feel so bad for her,” Bobby muttered, trying to imagine a world where he couldn’t rock out with his friends because of a freak accident.

“Me too, she’s really smart too. Basically saved me in Chemistry last year,” Reggie looked away from the girl, someone he’d considered a good person hurting so bad for something no one could fix.

Once the girl stood up from the chair, trying her best not to draw too many eyes, was when Luke went back to the plan.

“It’ll work like a dream,” Luke muttered, already pulling a piece of paper out with his chick scratch and a sad worked out calendar.

“How do you read that?”

Luke stood up and smacked Alex with the paper, easily going back to the plan.

“I talked to Coach Edison and he said the Gym is free this Friday, plenty of time to get the word out,” Luke smiled at the easily done, but still done, the research he had done.

“What will we make them dance to?”

“Now or Never,” Luke spoke with a shrug.

“Sounds well thought out,” Reggie spoke absentmindedly, trying to remember a thought he just had but lost.

“Come on, we gotta show everyone who doubts us we mean something.”

Luke didn’t know if it was that sentence that struck a chord with them but they all seemed to slowly feed into Luke’s words more after that.

“Peter?”

Reggie turned at the call of his last name, smiling once he saw (Y/N) standing behind him at the table.

“(Y/N)!”

Reggie's smile was contagious as he smiled up at the girl, doing his best to avoid talking about the leg injury, he knew if something happened to his finger and he couldn’t play bass again he wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“Do you have the notes of Henderson’s class? He’s making me take all the quizzes I missed this Friday after school,” she muttered, nodding her head to the other boys as they watched her.

“That sucks, I can give them to you last period.” She gave a quick smile as a thank you, smiling to the other boys before heading back to the table she sat at before with a few other girls they had seen her around the halls with.

“Can’t believe Henderson would be that harsh,” Bobby shivered as if scared at the thought of taking that many quizzes in one sitting.

“He hates anyone who doesn’t do classic field, probably blames her for the fall,” Reggie muttered, finally making it to the core of his apple.

“What! It wasn’t her fault,” Luke jumped in, trying his best to keep his voice down.

“We don’t think that, now chill,” Alex waved at the few girls that had looked their way at the outburst.

Once everything died down, Alex and Bobby both nodded to one another, then looking at Luke.

“This Friday it is.”

“This is going horrible,” Reggie whispered to Luke at the girl before they tried to dramatically do a split but ending up awkwardly crawling on the floor.

“Thank you Sara, we’ll get back with you,” Luke spoke as soon as the music stopped, reaching over to press stop on the crappy camera they found deep in Bobby’s studios yesterday.

Luke’s finger slipped and he was too worked up to try and find the button so he simply left the camera one, waving as Sara skipped out from the gym.

“We’ll at least she didn’t puke,” Bobby muttered, still in shock and how easily the one boy had his entire lunch on the gym floor.

“That was a nice touch.”

Luke stood up, slowly walking around the table to stand in front of his other friends.

“This is going horribly! Where are the dancers in this place?”

“Probably on the dance team,” Alex spoke up, smiling sarcastically at Luke.

“How about we go to the vending machine,” Reggie jumped up, easily diffusing the tension from the room as the rest agreed a snack would be nice.

They all made their way from the room, all talking about the different dancers and who they thought might be best.

“Maddie was good, but she couldn’t choreograph an entire team,” Bobby waited as Reggie looked over the different options in the machine.

“I didn’t even think about that,” Luke sighed, slowly becoming more and more annoyed with this whole idea.

“Look-”

Alex was cut off when he heard the faint sound of guitar and drums echoing the halls of the old sad school.

“Does anyone else hear that?”

“What? Reggie’s head turning as he chose between M&M or Hershey's,” Luke felt back, laying on one of the tables in the cafeteria.

“Hey!”

Alex rolled his eyes, following the sound of the music, hearing his own beat and Luke’s voice sing from the gymnasium. He walked slowly, stopping at the double door, looking through the tempered glass at the figure in the room. He heard his friends run from the gym, meeting his side as they all looked in the gym at the same sight.

(Y/N) glided across the floor, her hands held on both sides of her head as she easily slid across the floor in her sweat pants. She moved from that to a split, easily jumping up from that and doing small little kicks to the beat of the music.

“Wow,” Luke watched as the girl threw her head back, eyes closed as she took in the music that the boys knew by heart at this point.

She clapped along with the music, looking as alive with the music as the boys did when they played. Once the beat dropped the girl attempted to spin out, catching her leg the wrong way sending her to the floor.

“Oh no,” Reggie and Alex didn’t waste any time before pushing the double doors open and running to the groaning girls side. Luke and Bobby were hot on their trail, sliding as they all huddled around her.

“Are- are you okay?”

She sat up slightly, holding her knee to her chest with her face showing obviously pain.

“I’m fine- Uhm, does anyone have water?”

Luke didn’t waste time reaching to the “judge” table and taking his own water from the table. He turned back and handed it to her, looking at her with panic in his eye.

“Thank you,” she let out a shaky breath, letting herself calm down while twisting the cap open.

“You really are an amazing dancer,” Bobby commented, thinking now the panic was gone would be a nice time to mention it.

“I was,” she spoke as she looked to her feet, watching her beat up tennis shoes with a clenched jaw.

“Uhm actually he means present tense,” Luke laughed, like the situation was funny. I mean he just watched her glide and smile all with her eyes closed.

She wasn’t even scared of being bad, she knew she was that good.

“Did you miss the fall?”

He knew the attitude wasn’t at him, he knew she had a right to be angry about her whole world changing.

“You were great before the fall,” Reggie spoke in a soft voice, hurt about watching her without permission.

“No, I was better before.” She looked up, taking in the room when her eyes stopped on the video camera that was flashing red light.

“Is that recording?”

Luke looked at the camera, jumping up and stopping the recording. He un- screwed in from the tripod and made his way over to her.

“Watch it,” he held out the video to her but she simply pushed it away.

“No thanks, just delete it,” Luke was shocked, to say the least. She could still dance, like really dance, and she was throwing it away.

“You’re just scared,” he challenged the girl, earning a harsh “Luke” from Alex, warning him not to touch that topic with a ten-foot pole.

“You’d be scared if you went through what I went through,” she spoke hurtfully, righting to say.

Luke thought everything over, he didn’t know much about the injury but that it was a torn muscle in the knee and that was the end of it. But something that tears can technically heal, he just didn’t know how that worked exactly, he hated science class.

“She has a point,” Bobby smiled at the girl, doing his best not to say the wrong thing.

“Well, face your fear!”

“Look what happened when I did,” she motioned for someone to help her up, Reggie giving his shoulder and helping her stand slightly. Her body was obviously still in shock and she was slowly taking his arm.

“We can help you! Join us on the Battle of the Performers,” Luke knew it might come off selfish, but he really wanted to help her fight her fears face first. It must suck not doing what you love, but she had a chance so why not take it?

“Do you know how hard that is to win?” She thought it was funny to say the least. The band was good, she wouldn’t be shocked if she heard them on the radio in a few years with some famous award, but people just as new and good to the scene would come from far and wide for a chance at this competition.

Plus, if they really wanted to win they’d find a dancer who wasn’t broken.

“You’ll find someone better,” she nodded to Reggie and let her leg finally work properly again, thankful she would add.

“Nobody we’ve seen is like you!” He was so close to her face, giving his puppy dog eyes like he would with the others, always getting what he wanted then.

“I’m sorry, but no. Have fun with the scouting.”

She nodded at each boy, slowly making herself excused from the now tender room as Luke felt his dreams walk away.

“She has a right to be scared,” Alex spoke, trying his best to see both sides.

“Yeah, but she needed to punch fear like she wanted to punch the dance team captain,” Luke pouted, looking at the girl who left without another look. He was hoping she’d come back like in those horrible 80′s rom-coms Alex watched so much, but she never came back.

He held the camera in his hand, looking at the tape that sat paused. Her face looked almost scared as she stepped in the gym.

“We’ll find someone Luke,” Bobby set a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder.

“Yeah, but we could have had her.”

so, should i make this a series??

[rayshippouuchiha]

I can not sleep due to weather related pain and I'm slightly delirious because this is the third day and the front has just now past us. So this is more a stream of consciousness then anything else. So I'm releasing this out into the world hoping someone will be inspired since I really don't know enough about this Fandom to be comfortable writing it myself.

I've been struck with an interesting bnha headcanon AU prompt idea thing for Technically Quirkless Izuku.

So since there are different categories of quirks. Mutation, emitter, etc. I wondered about the mutation quirks that aren't actually considered quirks that develops in the womb instead of the onset that happens when they get older.

Like what if you were to go through a family tree on both sides and animalistic traits are very prominent. They are passed down along the descendents with an actual quirk that can range from something that enhances/complements the physical aspects, that is vastly different or anything in between.

They could be considered A Legacy.

They wouldn't read like the genetic markers for quirks would. They'd read just like any other inherited marker that shows up for dominant and double dominate genes such as eye/hair color would.

Now think of someone born from that ancestry that only has the traits they have had since birth (if we continue with the animalistic traits as an example). They would be considered quirkless even if technically they have physical identifiers like:

Fangs, claws, tail(s), ears, pupil shape, etc.

Agility, flexibility, strength, scent marking, predator-prey drive, etc.

Sight is clearer and can see much farther and in more types like ultraviolet, Infrared, and having eyeshine in low light

hearing far more sensitive to sounds beyond what humans can hear in decimal/distance with or without the shape being flexible enough to swivel the ears

scent/taste with the added mental capacity to parse out emotions/illness and memorization for finding/avoiding/recognization geared towards people/poisons/etc.

Adjusted or dual vocal chords that allow things like sub-vocal growling, deep warning growls, involuntarily whimpering or purring, etc.

Now when kids go to a doctor to test for quirks a lot of them will just consider the Legacy as their quirk since the negative statistics for quirkless discrimination, assault, death, etc have steadily continued to rise with each new generation.

Izuku was not fortunate enough to see a compassionate doctor that would use the surprisingly strong Legacy due to the extra joints he has. The rest of the appointment is filled with the doctor dismissively going over the percentages of the likelihood of everything that happens to quirkless people with Inko since as soon as the doctor saw the x-rays he started treating Izuku as if he ceased to exist.

That she needs to prepare for the reality of her son most likely not reaching adulthood. That even if he does that the quirkless are "known" to be fragile both physically and mentally and most employers won't hire them since they have to make special allowances for their unfortunate quirkless handicap. That even now there are a number of establishments that prohibit quirkless completely due to insurance and to keep from tarnishing it's reputation.

Izuku is devastated and Inko is both horrified and livid. That is her son. She will not allow her baby boy to be a victim. She gets up, grabs Izuku and walks out while the doctor continues to ramble on.

Inko does her own research, her own analysis and takes pages and pages of notes. Showing and teaching Izuku as goes until they have a plan.

Her son wants to be a Hero and Inko will do everything she can to help him achieve his dream.

Then it just goes on from there with really self indulgent story arcs full of baby Izuku that is heavy on the animalistic traits and behavior carrying all through to grown up Izuku being a Badass.

[kuroopaisen]

fireflies. (kuroo tetsurou)

➵  there are people who fall between the cracks, finding themselves stuck in a world halfway between this one and beyond. kuroo doesn’t want you to face it alone. 

wc: 4.7k

warnings: gn!reader, yokai!au, soft angst? 

a/n: somewhat inspired by neverwhere by neil gaiman, and after dark by haruki murukami. somewhat. also, big thank you to ren once again for her support and her beta’ing. and moo, i can’t write a kuroo fic for a celebration week without dedicating it to you :’) thank you for your constant and motivating support!

The city is ageless. It’s a visual cacophony of neon and ramshackle, a collection of buildings tightly packed along skinny alleyways. A wide asphalt road runs through it all like a great river, often glittering under streetlights on rainy evenings. Human beings don’t walk this in-between world that exists between the cracks. But the otherworldly do.

Kuroo used to be afraid of the dark. These days, the night brings him comfort. The night means he gets to exist, slipping through alleyways and hopping across rooftops. The moonlight touches his skin in a way the sun no longer can, whispering him into life on the asphalt. 

It’s not the life he wants, but he makes do. He’s not sure how long he’s been here. He knows next to nothing of his life before this endless night. Just whispers.  

But he’s certain he couldn’t produce these little fires back then. They gather around him like the loose clouds that blot out the stars. 

He enjoys his little cloud, specks of light so small and inconsistent they look like fireflies, hovering around him like he’s the centre of their world. 

These little fireflies dance around him as he watches you across the street.

It’s not the first time Kuroo sees you. He has no grasp on time — not truly — but he remembers your face. He remembers how sad you looked, pacing around the street of an evening, hood pulled over your head. He remembers the apathy hiding underneath. 

It’s an apathy onset by exhaustion, more than anything else. An apathy that’s the result of caring too much for too long, from losing yourself to the dread.

It is only his second time seeing you, but your expression struck him so deeply that he couldn’t help but remember your face. It has been a long time since he’s seen such raw, human emotion. A long time since he’s seen anything sincere. That evident misery of yours carries more significance than you could possibly know. 

Kuroo sees himself in you. The numbness lying beneath your melancholy is as familiar to him as the streets and alleys of this city. What is the purpose of being so numb? He wonders that often. The answer is always something about survival; to be numb is the only way you can live with yourself in the face of unending insignificance. If this truly is purgatory, then it would be wise not to feel anything at all.

Maybe you’re like him. Or, maybe you’re more human. 

Perhaps he’s reading too much into it. It could be the boredom getting to him. There’s not much to entertain himself with out here, as much as he makes his own fun. Maybe it’s best to leave you alone.

But ah, the curiosity is too much.

He waves a hand through his cloud, catching some fireflies in his palm. He blows them your way as a little greeting. Only a handful, a little embassy of light reflecting on the barren asphalt. He can’t control them very well — they always seem to go the opposite direction of where he wants them to go, always sink a little too close to the ground — but with the sheer force of his will they float towards your chest. 

It’s hard to see from the other side of the street, but he swears your eyes follow them. 

But he wonders. He hopes. He follows. 

Not too obviously; he knows he’s a tall guy, and that makes him scarier than most. And truth be told, he’s not sure how human he looks these days. There were no mirrors in the city; only reflections found in windows, half-whispers of the truth. 

“Stop following me.” Your voice is low, as if you’re not sure your words would reach him. 

Kuroo raises his eyebrows, perfect, delighted surprise on his face. 

You can see him. 

“Are you okay?”

“Go away,” you say, your voice slightly louder this time. 

You can hear him. 

“Please,” he murmurs, reaching a hand for your shoulder. “Tell me—”

You turn, slapping his hand away. The feeling echoes through his arm. 

You can touch him. 

“I said, go away.” 

Kuroo stares at you for a moment, trying to take in as much of you as he could. You look young. Maybe just younger than he had once been. Your skin is dull, your eyes distant, your hair lifeless. You look like someone who hasn’t slept in a very long time. You’re clad in a hoodie about three times your size, paired with jeans and ragged trainers. You look like the sort of person one would expect to find wandering the city at night, inoffensive to the point of being forgettable. Kuroo almost believes he’s made a mistake and that you’re not like him at all. 

It’s your scent that gives you away. You smell like burnt toast. It’s not the most pleasant smell, but he won’t knock you for it. He smells much the same, after all. 

“When was the last time you went home?” He asks, looking you straight in the eye. It’s not the best conversation starter, but he hopes it’ll strike some chord. 

You frown. “Fuck off.” You turn around and begin to skulk off. 

“Please,” he swallows, catching up to you with a few long strides, “it’s important.” 

Scowling, you pull your hood over your eyes, hands digging into your pockets as you pick up your pace. 

Kuroo curses, speeding up as well. “I can help you.”

Your step falters. 

He gulps, slowing to a stop. “I know that you can’t find your way home.”

You take another step down the street. 

He doesn’t know what to say. But he wants to get through to you. To offer a hand. 

“You’re probably scared, and, and… overwhelmed, and…” 

A deep breath. And then, words he wishes someone had said to him. 

“You don’t have to do this alone.”  

✧ ✧ ✧

“I can’t sleep at night,” you say softly, “but as soon as the sun rises, it’s like I fall into some sort of coma.” You shiver as you speak, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Nothing can wake me up.” 

Kuroo resists the urge to put an arm around you. 

“That happened to me, too,” he nods, biting his lip. “Eventually I got evicted, but it didn’t really matter at that point. I couldn’t remember sleeping, let alone paying my rent.”

Kuroo realises how silly that statement sounds, but the look you give him tells him you understand. 

The only memories of his life before are braided with the city, with the feeling of losing himself. There are no names, no details, no dreams. There are some faces, but they’re transparent as ghosts. 

“I just…” You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. It’s hard. He can tell. “I just don’t know what to do.” 

He looks at you, tired and sick as you are. You’re afraid. Lonely. Directionless. 

He knows. He’s been there. In many ways, he’s still there. If there is comfort to be found in this strange underworld, he has not yet found it. But, perhaps he can offer it. 

“Just stick with me,” he smiles at you as best he could, hoping the warmth reached his eyes. 

You gaze at him for a long moment, your eyebrows slightly pinched. He understands if you don’t trust him; it’s smart not to, given the circumstances. You were alone, somewhere you didn’t understand. He wouldn’t begrudge you for that. 

“Where am I?” You ask. The words are frail, the question one you’re afraid of. 

Kuroo swallows, unable to meet your gaze. “I don’t know, actually. I just know it’s… strange. And that the people here aren’t human.” 

“Are you human?” You’re quick to ask that question. 

He grins at you. “As far as I know.” 

You bite your lip, looking up at the sky. It’s paler than it was when the two of you first sat down in this little alleyway. He knows there isn’t much time left this evening. 

“That’s enough for me, I guess,” you sigh, closing your eyes. 

He hopes that, at least, brings you some comfort. 

✧ ✧ ✧

“Those cats are walking on their hind legs.” 

“Uh huh,” Kuroo nods, a smile playing at his lips. “Because they’re not cats.”

You turn to him, frowning. 

“I know,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t know what they are, to be honest. I just know they’re not cats.” 

You sit on the roof of a convenience store, elevated just high enough to see a little clearer. A few nights ago, you wouldn’t have been so bold. 

The not-cats move across the powerline like it's a tightrope, one paw in front of the other as they skitter along with perfect balance. They are too far away and the night is too dark for you to see them clearly, those vaguely feline shadows against the purple sky. The flashes of red that you guess to be their eyes don’t frighten you. Not while Kuroo sits next to you. 

You still don’t know if you trust him. That’s half a lie; you do trust him. You just don’t know if it’s wise to. But it didn’t take you long to realise that this is the world you live in now. 

You had once believed that nobody else existed here in this strange half-awake place. You’d thought it was just you and him. But others flit by now, both frightened and frightening. Even if it’s against your better judgement, you feel safe with him. 

One of the not-cats pauses on a pole, its tail straight as an arrow. It holds an upturned paw in front of its little snout and blows air across it. 

A ghostly little fireball swirls in the air, illuminating the not-cat’s face for the first time. 

You straighten up, tilting your head at this new peculiarity. 

“Look!” You gasp, patting Kuroo’s arm. “They’re like you.” 

He grins. He’s glad for the curiosity in your eyes. “Not quite.” 

He waves his hand and a scatter of fireflies burst into life. They envelop the two of you, a gentle swathe of light falling across your bodies. They’re only little, like white candle flames floating through the air. 

“Yours look like the stars,” you murmur, reaching out to touch them. Your fingertip brushes against one, its warmth spreading through your finger as it disperses. 

“Mhm,” Kuroo nods. Sometimes, if he is lucky, he gets a glimpse of the real thing in the blackest of nights. Most of the time, the sky plays host to nothing but the moon; a pallid, hollow-cheeked watcher, who never waxes nor wanes. 

No, those little ghostly fireballs look something like the moon. Or perhaps the sun. 

You can’t quite recall what the sun feels like. 

✧ ✧ ✧

“Shouldn’t we help him?” 

A small, scrawny child stands in the middle of the road, a straw hat drawn low over their eyes. You and Kuroo stand in an alleyway across the street, huddled together for warmth. 

Kuroo grins. He should’ve expected you’d react like this, your eyes all wide and full of compassion as you watch the child. “Just watch.”

You look up at him, eyes betraying both concern and confusion. He nods at the child, reaching to ruffle your hair. 

You blush, looking away from him quickly. 

The child approaches the bottle shop, each step taken with great deliberation. It glances over its shoulder, and you catch a flash of its eyes. Bright, clever, sharp. A bit like Kuroo’s. 

The child slips through the glass doors, tottering up to the attendant at the front desk. 

You watch through the glass, poking your head out of the alley. 

The child holds its hand out, standing on its tiptoes to be more level with the attendant. The man in question looks deeply unamused; an exhausted replica of a scowl lines his face, and he crosses his arms over his broad chest. 

The man peers at the child, eyes narrowing. He says something. 

Poof!

Where there once stood a child in a straw hat now stands an otter in a straw hat that is far too big for its head. 

It turns on its tail and flees, the man shouting after it. But, he does not pursue it, letting it skitter off into the night. 

The otter scampers down the asphalt road, the sound of its claws scratching against the rough surface.

Kuroo whistles. The otter skids to an abrupt stop, whipping its head around as its whiskers twitch. 

Kuroo grins, holding out a flask you didn’t even realise he had. The otter scuttles forward on all fours. You realise, perhaps with more surprise than is warranted, that it’s rather cute. 

“Where were you keeping that?” You frown, tilting your head at him. 

Kuroo grins, ruffling your hair. You blush. You’re still growing used to this close proximity between the two of you. 

“Why give it to an otter?” You scoff. 

“Not an otter,” Kuroo smiles. “But, think of it as payment. For the entertainment.” 

You smile, shaking your head. 

He’s relieved. It’s the first time he’s seen your face soften like that. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The streets are full of ghosts. 

And yet, it’s the first time the city has felt truly alive. 

You watch them pass with wonder. 

There is a woman, donning only a blood-stained skirt and an expression of anguish. Another boasts the same look of despair, only this one has no feet, drifting above the ground with arms held out and wrists limp, long blcack hair trailing behind her. Men stalk the streets in golden Heian robes with nothing but pure vengeance in their eyes.  

There are others too. Red trolls roam the street, clad only in tiger skin loincloths and weidling iron clubs. A group of the otters from before totters down the street, straw hats balancing precariously on their heads. Those bipedal cats bolt across rooftops and hop along power lines. 

All these spirits mill about, some mingling, others avoiding everyone else with a certain perseverance. A few slip through doorways and windows, and you wonder if they’re visiting their descendants. You hope that’s all they’re doing. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, dodging a demon as it barrels down the street. 

Kuroo shrugs. “Not entirely sure. But I think it’s some kind of festival.”

“A festival?” You look up at him, your hands dug deep in your pockets. You can’t imagine just how scared you’d be if he wasn’t with you. Honestly, you’re not sure what would’ve happened to you. If you’d even be standing here. 

Kuroo nods. “I think so.” 

He looks up and down the street, a bemused smirk on his face. “Although, they could’ve organised some stalls.”

“I don’t think ghosts have much use for street food,” you hum.

He chuckles, ruffling your hair. “I guess we have to make our own fun, huh?”

You huff as you raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m not giving any more whisky to those otters.”

“Oh, come on.” He nods back at the street with a grin. “What else are we gonna do? Tie that guy’s robe up?”

You look at the man in question. It was one of those men, the ones who look as if they’re devoured by vengeance.

“I don’t think that’s the greatest idea,” you shake your head, shuddering at the thought. Could ghosts hurt you now, in this in-between world?

“What about that guy?” He says, pointing at one of the red trolls. “We could steal his club.”

“I do not want to get on that guy’s bad side,” you say, looking up at Kuroo with a hint of fear in your eyes.

“Live a little!” He grins, poking your cheek.

You pout at him. That only makes his grin grow wider. 

He turns his attention to the procession in front of you, his grin turning devilish. “Do you think ghosts have money?”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I’m just saying,” he groans, stepping into the procession without warning. You dash to keep up with him.

“What would you even buy with it?” You ask, falling into step with him – which is easier said than done, considering the length of his legs.

He shrugs. “I dunno. Might be nice to give the guy at the bottle shop real money for once.”

“But it’d be ghost money,” you consider. “Wouldn’t that be cursed?”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Like you don’t know for sure that it’s safe.”

He laughs at that, shaking his head. “How have I managed to stay on my own two feet without you, huh?”

You blush, your face suddenly feeling very hot. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed.”

“I’ve still got time.”

“Don’t joke about that!” You hiss, elbowing in the side. “That’s a bit insensitive given our companions, isn’t it?”

He laughs again. It might not be the prettiest sound, but it’s one you’re rather fond of. “Glad to know you’re that concerned about me.”

There are things you want to say, sitting at the back of your throat. Things like, ‘I’d be so lonely if it weren’t for you,’ and ‘I don’t know if I would’ve been able to find my way if it weren’t you,’ or ‘I don’t know if I would’ve ever smiled again if it weren’t for you.’

But you say none of that. You keep those close to your chest. Maybe you’ll tell him, but not tonight. 

You merely gaze at him. 

He looks different. Sharper, maybe. Or perhaps, you just haven't paid enough attention to him before. 

“What?” He grins, catching your eye. 

You look away quickly, heat rising in your cheeks. 

“Nothing.” 

He grins, leaning down so his face is level with yours. “You sure?” 

You glare at him, hoping your cheeks won’t betray how flustered you really are. 

“Just teasing,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. 

Your instinct is to roll your eyes, even if that’s not what you really want to do. But you won’t think about that. Not right now. 

Kuroo’s already heading down the street, looking over his shoulder at you with a wild grin. “You coming?”

You tilt your head at him. He nods at the sky, a familiar glint in his eye. You scamper after him with your hands dug in your pockets. The two of you thread through the alleyways, finding your way towards your typical route to the rooftops. It’s almost second-nature now, but you could swear that Kuroo has a more natural talent for it. Perhaps it is just because his legs are so damn long. 

As always, he hops onto the rooftop of the convenience store before you, grinning down at the street below. You pout at him, trying your best to tug on his heartstrings; just like you always do. 

He offers you a hand. You take it, and he pulls you up. The two of you clamper across the rooftop, sitting yourselves down on the edge. Your legs dangle off the side as you look down at the informal procession thin out below you. 

You sit in comfortable silence, letting the world pass the two of you by. You can feel it, in this rare moment; peace. That sense of relief in knowing you’re not alone. In knowing there are still things to smile about. 

You know it’s because of the boy sitting next to you. Of the warmth he brings you in this city of ghosts. 

There is so much you want to say to him. So much you can’t put into words. But as you look up at the pale sky, you know that now is not the time. 

The moon is setting. You think you’ll always dread this moment. 

“Kuroo?” You murmur, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“Hm?” 

“Can you make some fireflies, please?” Your voice is so gentle, carried away by the light that bleeds across the horizon. 

He nods, holding a hand out. These days, he can’t say no to you. 

✧ ✧ ✧

You hadn’t expected to build half a life. 

And yet here you are, sitting in an abandoned apartment, next to something of an apartment. 

It’s a life half-lived, harbouring in abandoned places, rifling through the trash for scraps of this and that. People throw out perfectly good furniture, you discovered. Perfectly good food, too. 

At the end of the day, you’re just grateful for the shelter. Grateful for the comfort he brings you in this strange underworld. 

Kuroo is grateful for the fantasy. He’s grateful for the fact that sometimes, he can let his mind wander, take him on a journey through the life you could have shared together, should things have been different. A life spent in the sun, full of people and laughter and purpose. 

He wonders, most of all, about what you would look like, under the sun’s gentle warmth. How breathtaking you would be. 

He tells you none of this. He harbours those feelings for himself, for the most part. But he suspects that you feel the same. 

You hold hands, now. He can’t remember when it started, but he’s glad it did. 

The two of you sit at the window, rain pelting against fractured glass as the sky bellows. 

Light splits the sky, and for a second Kuroo almost believes it's daytime. 

A creature springs to life on a rooftop. It’s wolf-like, its pale blue fur crackling with white light. There’s something majestic about it, gleaming amongst rundown rooftops and dodgy power lines. 

Another crack of light, and a second creature joins the first. They glance at each other for a moment, bowing their heads low. And then, they sprint off. 

He chances a look at you. You’re enamoured, eyes bright and full of curiosity as you watch the wolves bound across the rooftops. 

He smiles as he watches you, unable to hold back his fondness. You’ve brought him such joy, such comfort, without even knowing it. No matter how frightened he is, how matter how much he feels like things are slipping away from him, you bring him solace. 

You look at him, tilting your head to the side. There’s such tenderness in your face, such sincere affection. Maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way he does. 

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours. You freeze, but you’re not afraid. It’s soft, and its warmth spreads through you much like his fireflies do. 

He pulls away, eyes unbearably fond as he looks at you. 

You laugh, a new, welcome feeling beating in your chest. “Why did you do that?”

“It felt right,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You laugh again, shifting to face him properly. 

He thinks it’s a beautiful sound. One he wishes he could hear more often. One he wishes he could hear for a long time coming. Longer than he would, at least. 

You kiss him, hands coming up to cup his face. He relaxes into it, much like any human would. 

He wants to lose himself in this. In you. In this little moment of human intimacy. 

But he’s changing. He can feel it. He’s been dreaming. How, he’s not sure. But in each and every one, he’s a fox. 

He doesn’t know what the dreams mean. But he feels, deep in the part of him that will always be human, that these dreams are a warning. An echo of what’s to come. 

He’s only just found you, only just begun to love you. 

He doesn’t notice the little fireflies popping into existence around you, punctuating the dark with each beat of his heart. They’re bigger than before. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The stars are out. 

It’s a rare sight in this city, which is so bright and vibrant that it tends to blot out the night sky. But tonight, you can see it in all its glory. 

The two of you sit at the window of your apartment, faces turned to the sky. 

“Do you know any of the constellations?” You ask, turning to him with bright eyes. 

Kuroo smiles and shakes his head. “None of the official ones. But it’s fun making them up.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head at him. 

He looks tired. He’s been acting it, too. Quiet. Reticent. Distant. There’s something unreachable about him that’s never been there before. 

“Point some out to me,” you ask, desperate for anything to fill the silence. 

Kuroo leans closer to the window, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well, that’s a cat,” he says, pointing to one cluster of stars.

If you squint, you can almost see it. 

“And that’s a dick,” he chuckles, pointing to something on the other side of the sky. 

“Very mature of you.”

He ignores you, dragging his finger across the sky to point at the brightest star of all.

“And that’s you,” he grins, turning to look at you. 

“Shut up,” you huff, knocking him with your elbow. 

“Aw, are you all embarrassed?” He snickers, reaching over and ruffling your hair. 

“You’re so cheesy.” 

“I thought you liked it when I was cheesy.”

“When have I ever given you any indication of that?” 

He answers your question with a kiss. His lips smile against yours, and you believe, for a moment, that everything will be okay. 

He pulls away from you too soon, an unreadable look in his eyes. 

“Hey, Tetsu?” You murmur as you bring a hand to his cheek. 

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” You ask, smoothing your thumb over his cheekbone. 

“I’m fine,” he smiles at you as best he can. But even he knows it’s not enough. 

“I’m worried about you.” 

A horrible silence thickens between the two of you, and the fear rooting itself in your chest is starting to blossom. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” You know there isn’t much you can do in this place between the cracks. But whatever you can do, you will. He’s done so much for you after all. 

His gaze is distant, as if he’s looking at something just beyond you. 

You want to say something — anything. But you don’t know what. You don’t know how to reach him. 

He spreads his legs, patting the floor between them. 

You frown, but you sit on it nonetheless. You turn your back to him for comfort’s sake, wondering what on earth he is getting at. 

He wraps his arms around you, propping his chin on the top of your head as you fall back into his chest. 

“Can we just… stay here a while?” He asks, something very strange, very unfamiliar in his voice. It sounds a bit like regret. 

“Okay.” You comply. 

He’s warm, his arms firm as he holds you close to him. He holds you like he never wants to let go; like if he did, that would be the end. 

That, more than anything else, frightens you.

This wonderful boy, this man who has done all he can to bring you light and joy, is scared of something. Something he doesn’t want to admit to you. You try to glance up at him, but you can’t see his face. 

You bite your lip, casting your eyes to the window once more. 

The moon is setting, and daylight is bleeding through the sky. 

There is no way to know what the next evening will bring. 

✧ ✧ ✧

You’re alone. 

All that’s left are the fireflies, stronger and brighter than before. 

You can’t find the tears. 

But you cry anyway. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The city is ageless. It has changed much, and yet it hasn’t changed at all. It writhes with something deeper, something darker than what meets the eye.   

Someone new is here. A girl, afraid, alone, frightened. 

But she is not alone. 

On the other side of the street, a figure is bent over, hand held flat with an inarizushi sitting in it. A fox eats it eagerly, its fur glistening with something otherworldly. 

The girl wonders if she should approach, if she should ask something, anything. 

You don’t notice the girl on the other side of the street. You are far too focused on the kitsune in front of you, your mind cycling through the same few thoughts. 

You wonder how long it will be until you see the fireflies again. 

You wonder if you’ll still remember him.

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 3)

This is the third chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform. Please hit me up to talk about Plance!

Summary: Lance finds a better friend in Pidge than he could have antecipated.

Also, Pidge pining hour.

17 and 15 years old

“I can’t believe we have a cow.” Lance stared in awe at the animal. It looked completely out-of-place in the middle of the highly technological castle-ship. “Where did that dude even get her from?” he exclaimed, waving an arm at it. Lance gasped, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Do you think she’s… a clone?”

Kaltenecker kept on chewing, indifferent to Lance’s fussy behavior.

“Most likely,” Pidge responded. She was looking down at a tablet that contained results from the scan they’d conducted on Kaltenecker. “She is carbon-based, which isn’t such a rarity out here, but is always good to know. The anatomy also checks out with normal cow biology. The only change I could find is that her diet is more adapted to what’s available in this quadrant.”

Lance scratched the top of his head. “Does that mean she can’t eat Earth food?”

“She probably can…” Pidge tapped the edge of the tablet in a considering manner. “We eat alien food and nothing has happened yet.”

“So we’re winging it? That doesn’t sound very scientific.” He didn’t like the idea of putting their cow in danger. “Can’t you figure something out for her to eat?”

“I’m not a biochemist, Lance.” Pidge took her eyes off Kaltenecker to glare at him. “Nor a geneticist. That’s more Coran’s area of expertise.”

“Easy!” Lance held up his hands. “We can talk to him, then. I was just asking a question…”

Pidge huffed out a breath, then let her shoulders drop. “I don’t know how you’re not annoyed right now. We spent the entire afternoon in a fountain to get a freaking video game, only to realize we have no way to turn it on!”

“I actually had fun.” Lance shrugged. He didn’t really see what bothered her so much. Sure, he wanted to play Killbot Phantasm, but even the fact that they’d found the game out in the universe was enough for him. “It felt like the sort of crazy I used to get to back home.”

She fidgeted with the tablet in her hands. “Going to the mall and causing a scene?”

Lance eyed Pidge curiously. Her brow was furrowed, but she looked more lost than irritated. “Sure,” he acquiesced. “This was hardly my first time fishing out coins from a fountain.”

“It was for me,” Pidge interrupted brusquely. “I had never done that before.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really? You’re one of the biggest troublemakers I’ve met. I’m pretty sure you’re at least guilty of fraud after lying about your identity to get into the Garrison.”

For some reason, this seemed to startle her. It was almost ludicrous to think that Pidge had gone undercover without realizing the legal implications of her actions. It would be just like her, too, to get so caught up in the big picture that she simply bulldozed through every other detail.

“That was different, though.” She was pouting now, her cheeks comedically puffed out. “I was more of a homebody when younger.” Her gaze was lowered to her hands, distant. “I don’t have as many stories to tell as you and Hunk.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Lance scoffed. “Aren’t you always talking about the crazy experiments you and Matt did? I bet he will have a bunch of embarrassing shit about you that you never tell us. I can’t wait to get my hands on all that sweet, sweet blackmail!”

Lance wrung his hands menacingly, but when he looked down at Pidge the expression on her face caught him off guard. He expected her to be exasperated or at least displeased, so the tenderness in her eyes was unforeseen.

He’d been talking about her brother as if they would meet soon, Lance realized. Pidge mentioned him often, but not in detail, not in any capacity that didn’t serve to remind everyone of her mission to find her family. He guessed it felt too much like an open wound, like when Lance tried to talk about Marco or Rachel.

But maybe it did them some good, too.

“Besides, even if we never get to play Killbot Phantasm, we still did plenty today.” Lance began to count on his hand. “We stole money from a fountain so we could buy a vintage video game. We got a cow from a space mall. We were chased by an alien security guard who thought we were pirates! I couldn’t make this up if I tried!”

When he laughed, Pidge joined in. She tried to suppress it, but the air escaped through her nose and her lips quirked up in undeniable amusement. It always felt like a victory to make her laugh. Pidge didn’t let herself get distracted often.

“I don’t know,” she quipped, looking more relaxed. “You have the most convoluted stories of anyone I know.”

Although Pidge said it as if it was a bad thing, Lance could see the playfulness in the twist of her mouth. This was nice, too, because a year earlier he would have seen only the harshness in his teammate. On an impulse, he leaned down to hug her.

“W – What?!” Pidge thrashed against his arms. “Lance, let me go!”

“No can do, Pidgey.” He held on. Lance had crossed his arms behind her head, keeping her tight against his chest. “You can’t escape this friendship.”

“Yes, I can, you nitwit!” Pidge’s voice was muffled by his shirt and Lance simply pretended not to hear her. “You’re suffocating me!”

“We have Kaltenecker now, we’re her parents!” he stated happily, despite the sting of Pidge pinching his sides. “Stop, you don’t want her to see us fighting.”

Pidge let her arms fall, looking up at Lance. Her face was red and her hair stuck out from where he’d accidentally run his hands through it. “You’re ridiculous.”

There was a well-placed moo from Kaltenecker, as if the cow agreed.

Lance grinned and finally gave up his grip on her, taking a step back. Pidge immediately punched him in the stomach in retaliation.

“Ow!” he complained, though it was clear she hadn’t put any real force behind it. “We were having a moment!”

Pidge turned up her nose, but her complexion only grew more flustered. “Then you can forget all about it, like you did with Keith.”

“Fine, you win.” Lance crossed his arms, looking smugly down at her. “I did make you blush, though. I might be rusty, but old Lance still has an effect on the ladies!”

“Ugh!” Pidge moved so quickly that Lance had to hide behind Kaltenecker in order to evade her hits. When they stopped running, she kept her tablet at hand, brandishing it as if it was her bayard. “Never say that to me again!”

He stuck his tongue out at her, then had to duck when Pidge aimed the tablet at his head once more. “Jeez, you know I’m kidding!”

“Yeah.” Something in her voice made Lance shoot back up. She was staring right at him, looking more serious than he’d expected. “I know.”

Before he could ask what was wrong, Pidge walked away from where he stood and towards a panel in the back of the room. She deposited her tablet on one side, then started clicking away at a few keys.

“Coran mentioned we could reprogram the room to look like a field on Earth,” she explained once Lance had made his way over. “We could maybe get some vegetation from a planet in this quadrant and create an area for her to graze.”

“Yeah, that would be cool.” He felt almost dizzy from the ups and downs of Pidge’s humor. The coldness that surrounded her now made Lance want to apologize, but it also annoyed him. He thought they were having a good time earlier. “Introducing Kaltenecker to Earth food isn’t really the priority, huh?”

Pidge nodded, avoiding his eyes.

Despite the awkwardness, Lance didn’t want to leave. The idea of letting Pidge stay mad at him left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially after the day they’d had. She could be incessantly frustrating, but she had also grown on him.

Like a weed. A short, bad-tempered weed.

He watched in silence as she worked the panel. Her concentration was admirable, even when she used it as a way to push Lance away. It reminded him of their time in the Garrison, when it felt like every step he took in their friendship was met with two steps back from Pidge.

With the privilege of hindsight, Lance could guess how tiring the disguise must have been for her. Their studies had never been easy and Pidge had perfected her mediocrity like an art. Knowing her true genius now, Lance imagined she’d actually known it all but had chosen to keep herself under the radar.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Her tone struck a chord with him, bringing forth a familiarity that he hadn’t felt since Earth.

Lance put his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m just waiting for you, Pidgeon.”

She turned back to the panel, then took a deep breath, as if calming herself.

“I have a lot to do here,” she said in warning. After a moment, her expression softened. “Why don’t you take the game up to your room? I’ll grab Hunk on my way there and we can try to adapt everything to the castle’s power source.”

Lance could recognize her words for the peace offering that they were. He aimed finger guns at her, earning himself a snicker.

“Don’t take too long or I’ll fall asleep!” he called out as he walked backwards, towards the exit.

“I’ll get Kaltenecker to lick your hair, if you do!” she replied, attention already back to the control panel.

Lance laughed, but he knew that was no empty threat.

--

He didn’t often spend his nights roaming the hallways of the castle. Lance was a big believer on the benefits of good sleep and an established routine. It helped him maintain his complexion blemish-free and it contributed to keeping him sane when his mind felt scrambled beyond repair.

There were times, however, when not even spa days and special hair masks could calm his thoughts, and then he was stuck like this, struggling to fall asleep.

He buried deeper into his jacket. It wasn’t his normal one, but a big, fleece-y thing that Hunk and Pidge had gotten for him in their last trip to the space mall. Lance loved it fiercely. The castle cooled during the night-cycle to ensure the machines didn’t overheat and Lance always suffered for it.

A blinking light on the doors to his right caught Lance’s attention. It signaled movement in the hangar, just one of many fail-safes devised by Coran and Pidge to ensure no one was trying to mess with the lions. The light wasn’t all that worrying on its own; it was just a way to know what rooms were currently in use.

Lance was too tired to think through his actions. He moved into the hangar, not even questioning who might be in there. He wanted to see Blue. Or Red. Or anyone, really.

He rubbed at his eyes, collecting the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Sure enough, there was Pidge, curled around a set of tools and a big, wiry mess of parts. She had probably been propped up against the processing columns but ended up sliding down in her sleep.

The image filled Lance with so much affection that he found himself smiling. It was unusual to see their youngest member without her defenses put up. She was only second to Keith in her reserve, something that had initially displeased Lance about the two.

Pidge did have the habit of falling asleep while she worked, but Shiro and Hunk were the ones charged with checking on her. Lance thought she looked strangely cute like this, with her mouth a little open and her glasses askew. He’d forgotten how young she truly was, because of how smart and assertive Pidge could be. She didn’t want to be treated like a child and the whole team could respect her strength and maturity.

Even before they’d ended up light-years from Earth, Pidge had already carried more on her shoulders than anyone Lance had ever met. Despite knowing it was a vain hope, Lance wished he hadn’t made things harder for her back in the Garrison.

He crouched down and carefully pulled her glasses free. Strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead, but without the too-big frames Lance could see her face more clearly.

Pidge already looked older than she had when they were students. After so many wormhole jumps, it was difficult to determine how long had passed since their discovery of the Blue Lion, but the passage of time made itself known in other ways.

She was pretty, but that didn’t surprise Lance. Pidge’s no-nonsense ways and sharp eyes had always been striking, even when he only pointed out these aspects of her as a joke.

Lance took off his jacket and balled it up, trying to slip it behind her head. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it was an improvement to her current position.

“Lance?” Her eyes had fluttered open. From this close, he could see the fatigue that clouded them.

“Hey, Pidgey-Pidge,” he called out in a whisper.

“Hey, loverboy.” She giggled, lids opening and closing tiredly.

The nickname shot another wave of emotion through him. For some reason, Lance felt his eyes burn again.

“We should get you to bed,” he tried to say, though his voice sounded rougher than he intended.

Pidge didn’t immediately notice. She nodded a few times and sat up, stretching her arms over her head. She frowned at the pieces of tech still scattered around them, then focused her eyes back on him.

“Lance,” she sounded much more awake now, “why are you here?”

“Oh, you know,” he stalled. “Sometimes, in the middle of the night, a guy just needs to grab some food goo.” He flexed his now exposed arms. “I’m a growing boy, Pidge.”

Pidge raised a brow, looking supremely unimpressed. “Don’t lie to me.”

Lance winced a little at the terse tone she’d adopted. Even in her half-awake state, Pidge was still able to see through his bullshit.

“The kitchen is nowhere near the hangar,” she continued when he didn’t reply. Her voice was soft in a way Lance had never heard from Pidge. “And your eyes look red.”

He shifted his head to the side to escape her scrutiny. Lance half-expected Pidge to get angry at his stubbornness, so he couldn’t help the small, shocked sob that escaped him when her hand touched his chin, slowly lifting his gaze.

The worry in her face quickly changed into something understanding, an almost desperate ache that must have reflected his own expression. Without another word, Lance buried into her embrace, curved so that his forehead rested on Pidge’s shoulder.

“I c-can’t stop thinking about them,” he confessed amid his sobs. “What – What if they think I’m dead?”

Pidge murmured an “I know” into his hair. Despite their size difference, she wrapped herself around Lance so completely that he felt guarded by her arms.

“Come on,” she said once his whimpers had quieted down. “Your room is the closest.”

Lance let her move away. His knees hurt from the position he’d assumed on the floor and, now that he no longer had Pidge there, the cold of the hangar raised goosebumps across his arms.

“Put this back on.” Pidge draped the fleece jacket over his shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a moment, drawing a line in the fabric. “It’s a better coat than it could ever be a pillow.”

It wasn’t much of a joke, but Lance smiled at her. Crying made him exhausted, but not enough to ignore Pidge’s efforts to cheer him up. He stood up.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

They made their way to his room in silence. Pidge had to stop at the hangar doors to put in the security measures, but no more words were exchanged. Lance was just glad to have company.

They paused in front of his dorm. “Will you come in?”

Pidge studied him carefully. Lance didn’t think she could see much in the dark of the hallway, but the truth was that she’d already caught him in a breakdown, there was nothing else to hide.

“Do you want to be alone?” she finally vocalized her concern. Lance shook his head, feeling his chest constrict at the possibility that she might leave. “Then I’ll come in.”

He went straight to his bed and laid down. Pidge stood at the entrance, letting the door slide closed behind her. The awkwardness was palpable and Lance couldn’t blame her for it; Pidge was not the best at social cues.

“At least sit down with me. I promise I won’t start bawling again.” He didn’t mean to sound depreciative, but his self-consciousness must have shown, because Pidge narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don’t care if you cry, you doofus.” She marched up to the bed and sat down near the headboard. “Put your head in my lap.”

Her demanding tone didn’t fit in with the gentleness of her actions. Lance was amused by the incongruity. Pidge was rough around the edges and her earlier show off affection now made her bristle, almost as if she was afraid to reveal too much to him. Lance could understand the urge to put up a front, but he was too exhausted to be embarrassed.

He rolled on his side, fitting his shoulder under her thigh.

“My mom used to do this when I was upset.” Pidge ran a hand through his hair, pulling lightly at the knots until they were undone. “The rhythm of it always soothed me. That and her, really. Mom had – I mean, she has a calming influence.”

Lance didn’t comment on her slip up. The feeling of nails scraping against his scalp was pleasing. The personal closeness was something that they also did in his family and he had missed it. He was a naturally affectionate person and the team didn’t seem to appreciate his expansiveness all that much.

“I used to do this for Veronica and Rachel,” he breathed out. “Ronie is older and she would force me to braid their hair when I was younger. I complained about it non-stop, but now I miss it.”

Pidge traced his hairline, then down to his ear, neck, collarbone. She seemed absent-minded as she did it, mind caught somewhere else.

“Matt was the one who would call me Pidge. I used to hate that nickname. After he disappeared, it seemed only right to assume it as my new name. For him.”

Lance shifted a little, so that he could look up at her. “Your real name isn’t Pidge?”

This made her stop for a moment and look down at him in exasperation. Lance suppressed the urge to laugh, but his lips still twisted into a smile, despite his effort.

Pidge flicked him on the forehead.

“I thought you were being serious!” It was funny to see her like this. Pidge usually responded to him with either blankness or sarcasm, so it was satisfying to garner an actual reaction.

“I could have been!” Lance brought a hand up to rub his stinging forehead. “You do realize you never told Hunk and I your real name?”

“It’s Katie,” she said without preamble. The only sign of her unease was that, when Lance tried to sneak another look at her face, Pidge’s fingers held his head in place, before resuming movement in his hair.

“It’s nice to meet you, Katie.” He let out a soft snicker, which Pidge mirrored.

“Nice to meet you, Lance.”

Lance fell silent, letting her touch lull him into a torpor. The point of contact gave him something to concentrate outside of his thoughts of Earth, until the sensation and Pidge were all he could focus on.

“Did you fall asleep?” she asked after some time.

“No.” Lance slowly rose up from her lap. “I don’t know if I will be able to sleep tonight.”

Pidge frowned, looking down at her hands as Lance repositioned himself to sit at her side.

“You and I are more similar than I ever thought, I guess.”

“What, you also go crying around the castle at strange hours, hoping no one else will see?” She raised a brow at him in response. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, really. Lance had known how broken up she felt about her father and brother’s disappearance. “We will find them, Pidge. I won’t rest until we do.”

The emotion in her eyes shifted. He couldn’t really tell what Pidge was feeling, but the look on her face was both sad and warm, grateful even. Lance tried to think of a time when he or any of the others had tried to support her in her search. There might have been something said when she’d first revealed her identity, but nothing stood out since.

His chest tightened with the realization.

It was possible that Hunk or Allura had spoken to Pidge privately about it, and Lance would put good money on the odds that Shiro had comforted her more than once, but that was it. Keith was quiet and broody, too dedicated to their mission to consider what the rest of the team went through. And Lance…

Lance had been too self-involved to notice. He had wallowed in his own misfortune and it had blinded him to the fact that at least his family was safe in Cuba. Pidge’s father and brother were lost in the middle of an intergalactic war, taken prisoners. Her mother thought she was missing.

He didn’t feel like he deserved Pidge’s gratitude.

“Can you tell me something funny?” she asked out of the blue. “I don’t think talking about our families is gonna help either of us sleep tonight.”

Lance let out a shaky exhale. “You’re right. I’m all cried out.” He poked at the skin under his eyes. It felt sensitive and swollen. “All that investigating for good eye masks and the work was all for nothing!” He put his palm over his eyes, playfully turning his head to the side. “Don’t look at me! I’m a shadow of my former self!”

“You’re the resident beauty guru, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Pidge rolled her eyes at his theatrics. She pulled Lance’s hand away from his face. “And you owe me a story.”

“Hey, how do I owe you anything?” He pouted at her. “I just saved you from getting a crick on your neck!”

She pulled more harshly at his hand, making Lance yelp. “You woke me up and I even gave you a head massage!”

It was his turn to tug at her arm, but his smile betrayed that Lance was having fun. “Fine, but then we’re even!”

Pidge finally let go of him, looking smug. He closed his hand and pointed at her face in an act of mock aggravation.

“Is it okay if I lie down?” She looked around the room, as if searching for a hidden futon where she could stretch out.

“Sure, let me just…” He scooted down and to the side. Pidge maneuvered into the space he had created, stuck between him and the wall. “I don’t think these beds were made to be shared.” He laughed.

The position wasn’t the worst they could be in. Pidge was small enough that, with her back pressed to the wall, Lance had enough space in the mattress that he wouldn’t fall over.

“This feels like a sleepover.” Her face scrunched up at the words. He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or just amused by the idea. “I never had one of those before.”

“Never?” he marveled.

“No need to look that surprised,” Pidge huffed. “I just didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Not anyone close, at least.”

“Just Matt,” Lance blurted out without thinking. A shadow crossed Pidge’s eyes, but she didn’t seem upset.

“Yeah… You would like him. Matt can be as much of a goofball as you are.” She nuzzled quietly into the pillow. The lights had dimmed automatically when they laid down, so Lance couldn’t tell if Pidge was blushing or not. “It helps, you know? Having you here.”

Pidge refused to catch his eyes as she said this, which Lance understood. Being vulnerable could be scary, even when around your best friends. Still, he felt pride well up in him, glad that he had done something right towards her.

“You wanted a funny story, right?” he asked softly, the words only loud enough to be heard. Pidge’s gaze snapped to his, obviously relieved. “How about this: My first love was this little girl I met when I was fourteen. I never even knew her name.”

“That’s not funny, not really.” Pidge’s brows took a quizzical air. “How do you know it was love, then?”

“I just know. When I think about her, about that day… It felt like fate.” He saw the cynicism on her face before Pidge could even say anything. “I swear! I met her and everything changed. I don’t know if I would have met Hunk or got into the Garrison or even made it here without her.”

Pidge sighed against the pillow. “Honestly, that sounds like a lot of pressure to put on a first love.”

Lance watched as she drew patterns into the sheets between them. She wasn’t trying to be mean, he could tell.

“She doesn’t know, obviously. I didn’t even like her straight away. It’s just –” he paused, thinking it through. “It’s just funny, how much of a difference one person can make. When she talked to me, I was feeling sorry for myself. She cheered me up.”

That same day, he had met Hunk, who had later confessed that he’d only approached Lance because he’d appeared to be in a good humor. Without Hunk, his best friend, Lance might not have tried out for the Garrison. And, without the Garrison, he wouldn’t have been in Arizona to find the Blue Lion.

“Is she why you are so obsessed with fate and such?” Pidge teased. She was yawning every few seconds, but there was a smile on her face.

“You shouldn’t knock fate down.” Lance grinned, trying to bat her hand away from the sheets. They had bunched up a bit due to her movements. “It got us into space and closer to your family.”

Pidge made a face at him, then shrugged. They’d had this conversation before, about what had led the three out into Garrison grounds that night. Pidge argued that it was bound to happen, with how often she went out to search the radio frequencies, but even that fell back into Lance’s claim that they were all destined to become the new paladins of Voltron.

“I just think that love is about commitment,” she murmured, eyes already closed. “It’s about choosing one person and then falling in love with him, even when he’s obnoxious, even when he’s…” She trailed off, having fallen asleep.

Lance chuckled at her little speech. It was nice to think that someone would eventually choose to love him, forever. He felt comforted not only by the idea, but by Pidge's slow breathing, the heat of her hand so close to his chest. His own lids felt heavier and heavier. Lance closed his eyes.

[morbidly-malicious-muffins]

What Kind of Music Slashers Would Vibe to Headcanons♪

This little thing popped into my head. Fyi, the canon timelines are thrown out the window for this so... Yeah.

Bring forth the bop~

RZ Michael Myers

"Let my weapons be your children, let my armies be your damned. Try to suffer on in silence, try to stop me if you can." --- This Cold Black by Slipknot

I think he'd really enjoy metal in general. I can totally see him unknowingly stomping to some Marilyn Manson and Meshuggah, though the lyrics and message probably will just fly over his head.

He listens to some heavy shit, but probably all the more mainstream bands/artists.

The loudness and organized chaos of the genre fills the void in his soul and reflects the state of his mind, despite his stoic and non-verbal outer demeanor.

Someone please do everyone a favor and introduce Michael to some death metal. Admit it, it really fits his aesthetic.

This is just based on speculation, but I suspect a 70% possibility of RZ Michael resonating with Cannibal Corpse. Fight me.

He hates classical music with a burning passion. Back in Smith's Grove, they played Bach's Air Sul G on tap. (its canon in the first movie lmao) He hates it. Mikey no likey.

Freddy Krueger

"No stop signs, speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel, gonna spin it, nobody's gonna mess me around." --- Highway to Hell, by AC/DC

Freddy listens to classic rock, period.

This guy is ngl a supporter of music taste discrimination. You listen to pop? Disgusting. You listen to Jazz? Disgusting. Classic rock is the epitome of all music.

He'll call you music-related slurs you never knew existed.

As stubborn adamant as Freddy is, he does harbor some guilty pleasures, including 70's hair metal and glam rock. Pshh. What a heckin hypocrite.

Some of his all time favorites are Guns N' Roses, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, and AC/DC.

(Basic bitch)

*Hip thrust movements to go with his 'The Sprinkler' dance moves, Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N' Roses blasting in the background*

OG Michael Myers

He doesn't listen to music, but if he did, he would probably enjoy Jazz.

Michael only listens to Miles Davis because he enjoys his music and can't be bothered to discover more artists.

Oml Michael I know Miles Davis is amazing but don't neglect other iconic artists plzzz. Someone please make him listen to some Teddy Wilson and/or Dave Brubeck.

I imagine him sitting stiff-straight on a rocking chair (he just likes how it moves), knife in his lap, rocking and zoning-out relaxing to 'Blue in Green'. (I love that piece)

#AfterHeFinallyKillsLaurie

#RetirementGoals

He also hates classical music because of the same reason as RZ Myers. Seriously, if either of them so much as hears the opening chord of Air Sul G, expect the speaker to be stomped to a pulp in a split second.

Bubba Sawyer

Alright let's all be honest with ourselves... 70's pop and country is Bubba's shit.

Look me in the face and tell me he wouldn't adore ABBA, The Jackson 5, and Dolly Parton. Thats right you can't

Everytime 'Dancing Queen' starts playing on the radio, Bubba will drop everything and start busting down.

Ain't nothing and nobody stoppin him. Drayton is powerless against the supreme sovereignty that is ABBA.

But let's also appreciate the fact that our Bubster can motherfuckin get down. *wipes sweat from forehead + heart eyes*

He would also do passionate lip sync with his heart and soul, to Dolly Parton's 'I Will Always Love You'.

50% chance of him starting to cry right after he finishes his earnest performance.

*Holding Bubba in your arms, rubbing comforting circles on his back as he bawls hysterically, incoherently babbling on about how much he loves you*

I also feel for some reason he'd really like Joan Jett & The Blackhearts.

Thomas Hewitt

"For one moment, I wish you'd hold your stage, with no feelings at all. Open minded, I'm sure I used to be so free." --- Citizen Erased by Muse

Y'know what I have a hard time imagining the type of music Tommy listens to. Kutos, Mr. Hewitt, you have defeated me.

siKE

(This is where I yeet the timeline out of the window y'all)

Thomas enjoys Muse, Evanescence, and Radiohead. (Fight me)

He just loves how emotional their songs are. He'd have one earbud in as he works away at his projects for hours. The music helps him concentrate, it is also a source of emotional support to him.

Hearing the heart-wretching lyrical content of 'Lost in Paradise' performed so beautifully by Amy Lee's angellic voice is really comforting to him. It's like hearing about another person's experiences. It makes him feel less alone in dealing with his emotional and mental turmoils and burdens.

The first time Thomas heard 'Creep' by Radiohead, he almost cried.

He also listens to My Chemical Romance sometimes. He only knows the Black Parade album, but he loves it. If 'Creep' didn't make him cry, listening to that entire album from top to bottom sure did. He started sobbing half-way through 'Famous Last Words'.

Tommy is emotional boi 🥺

Brahms Heelshire

C l a s s i c a l

No matter how stinky Brahms is, you can't tell me that he's not classy.

Schubert is his bitch. Schubert's style tends to be quite majestic and/or dreamy, (generally) and can change color/sound very abruptly yet appropriately. (This is just my opinion based on experience with Schubert's pieces, but then I only know his piano pieces soo) (let's still cue that maestoso to scherzando transition)

But of course, Schubert isn't the only thing he listens to. He prefers the romantic period, so Mendelssohn, Rachmaninoff, Chopin, Shostakovich, Brahms, Schumann, you get the gist, all the staples. Oh yeah Elgar too. To be a proud English lad.

*Brahms swaying in the living room with the grace of a baby giraffe, engrossed in the beautiful melodies in Schumann's Kinderszenen.*

(Oml please check out 'Von fremden Landern und Manschen' and 'Kind im Einschlummern') (For those who play piano, they aren't that difficult too totally recommend) (Ok sorry I'm done now)

Brahms would totally waltz around alone to Chopin's waltzes and nocturnes.

Oh yeah apart from that classy shit, he likes to jam to meme songs.

"Hey now, you're an all star, get your game on, go play---"

*cut to Brahms passionately fortnite dancing*

Listens to The Strange Man Who Sings About Dead Animals for a good laugh. (Please, all of his songs are gold)

Vincent Sinclair

He'll have 'emo' and 'classical' with a side of metal, thanks.

I headcanon that Vinny McWaxy is an INFJ, so the boy is likely prone to crippling existentialism. It would make sense for some aspects of his music taste to reflect that.

*cut to Vincent sitting rock-still on his workbench/stool, hands hover in mid-air, staring straight ahead, some John Cage piece playing*

You'll never hear this from Vincent but he enjoys sexy-time music. He has this whole erotic playlist he listens to while working. (Boy likes to feel sexy on the job, I respect that.)

I think its pretty much canon that Vinny loves MCR. (Hello fellow emo piece of shit 👋) His favorites are everything by them really. A hardcore fan. He used to have MCR, P!ATD, and 30 Seconds to Mars posters plastered everywhere in his workshop until he had to remove them all to add to the intimidation factor of his waxy hell for passer-bys. For the record, he is very gay for Frank Iero.

On the metal part of his spectrum is mostly classic metal, groove metal, and thrash/heavy metal.

Rammstein, Pantera, Vildhjarta, new and old Metallica, Dream Theatre, Coheed and Cambria. His bitches.

He also uses music to scare victims when bringing them down to his workshop. *cue horror movie soundtracks*

*KI KI KI MA MA MA*

Is a whore for the dramatics when in a good mood.

*Lacrimosa by Mozart plays as he makes a point to bring the wax painfully slowly down toward a drowsy and petrified victim*

A lament for your upcoming death, pitiful human.

Bo Sinclair

"The day has come for all us sinners, if you're not a servant you'll be struck to the ground." -- Beast and The Harlot by Avenged Sevenfold

Bastard boy is into dad-music™. (same)

Dad rock, classic rock, pop punk, punk rock, old school pop, his shit.

He listens to a lot of the same bands as Freddy, but Bo (generally) doesn't discriminate and explores a more diverse variety of music.

Its a fandom canon that Bo loves Avenged Sevenfold. I totally agree.

A7x is the perfect amount of cynical, political, and shred for Beauregard, (I hc that ge hates his full name so plz don't ever call him Beauregard)

He listens to the radio whenever he's at work. Whatever that might be.

Will NEVER admit it, but he thinks Vinny's music taste is dope as hell.

He'll turn off the radio just to strain his ears to listen to Vincent's music downstairs. No one will ever know that though. You don't.

Actually likes classical music too. Its not one of his main genres but there's one piece he really likes, Second Movement of Shostakovich Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major.

He never thought he'd enjoy this type of music. Its so.... Calm. He discovered that piece from Vinny's playlist. When he first heard it on his brother's speaker, he fell in love. It was one of the extremely rare cases in which he'd be committed enough to ask Vinny the name of the music.

Tiny shuffle for man-kind, huge fuckin step for Bo. Good job Bo, we're proud of you.

Also pleeeeeaaase message me or request stuff, I'm bored and have little inspiration 🦊

I might do a pt2 of this, since I didn't write many of the boys and gals🤷‍♀️

Also sorry if I've neglected some genres/artists (Like i've neglected non-piano classical pieces.... Bc ya girl is just a pianist), a person can't know everything😗

---Zali 🖤

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 15 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 15

It took almost twenty minutes for Danny’s mom to finish her tirade against the police. Watching her flip out on the officers was almost therapeutic, and by the time she was done, he was more amused then terrified. It made the actual interview much easier.

The police were initially skeptical, especially since his dad took the lead on explaining what happened. His childish excitement at getting to chase something made it sound like some made up fantasy, but that changed when Vlad gave his account. With his reputation, they were forced to take it seriously.

The older of the two officers, O’Brian, took the statements as his partner, Kiziah, reviewed the scene for any clues or evidence of how the creature got in the house. Other police offers were on the way to do a proper investigation.

“You’re the one that reported that murder… That was just, I guess it’s two days ago now,” O’Brian mentioned as he glanced at Danny, who nodded. “We chalked up the weirdness of your original statement due to shock, but if you’re telling me this thing is the same perp, I have no idea what we have on our hands.”

“I… I don’t really know if it was the same thing or not, but it looked like it.”

The officer frowned as his partner returned. “No obvious sign of a break in,” Kiziah stated, “but I don’t want to touch anything without an evidence kit. There’s definitely a weird substance in the living room and near the front door that will need analyzed.”

“You didn’t hear anything?” O’Brian looked back towards Danny and his parents.

“To be honest, our family tends to be heavy sleepers,” his mother explained as she gave him a sheepish grin. “Jack can sleep through almost anything, and I tend to wear earplugs.”

“And I am of the opposite,” Vlad stated as he made himself a cup of tea. “However, it wasn’t until I heard Daniel sprint up the stairs and bang on his parents’ door that I awoke.”

“Sorry about that.” Danny winced at he glanced at the man. Vlad didn’t seem as creepy as he had the previous day, but something still seemed off about him.

The man gave him a dismissive wave. “No worries, my dear boy. I believe your actions were more than understandable given the circumstances.”

“Err… I guess you want me to say if I heard anything?” Danny shook his head as the officers stared at him. “I didn’t. It… it was just a feeling, you know? Like when you get a sudden chill.” That statement was true enough. He figured it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to state the more paranormal aspect of it. “I thought I was just being paranoid until I looked down the stairs and that… that thing stared back at me.”

An awkward silence fell as O’Brian took some more notes. It was only broken when Kiziah received some sort of notification and moved to let the investigation team in. They quickly went to work examining the scene and looking for anything out of the ordinary. While they worked, an older man with a scar down the right side of his face took O’Brian and Kiziah aside and spoke with them. Once they finished, the older officer approached Danny and his family.

“I’m Lieutenant Metzger, and I’ve recently been put in charge of the investigation of the recent murders in the city. You’ve probably heard the rumors this is a serial case. Well, that’s true.” A muscle moved in the man’s cheek as he seemed to debate with himself over how much he could tell them. “Due to some of the details, we were under the impression these were ritualistic in nature and called in the FBI for some help.” He sighed before asking, “Is it okay if I sit?”

“Sure,” Danny’s mother shared a confused look with her husband before she asked the officer if he needed some coffee.

When he agreed, he waited until there was a cup in front of him to continue. “Look, I don’t want this being leaked. We don’t need people thinking the police force is wasting money on chasing fairy tales.” Once the Fenton family agreed, he continued, “You aren’t the first one to report something not quite human around the time of the incidences. Due to shock and figuring it was some sort of disguise, we originally disregarded that. However,” he glanced around before he leaned in, “one of my own officers gave a report earlier this week of glancing something inhuman. It actually attacked his patrol car before it vanished. On top of that, I don’t think whatever that thing spilled on your carpet has any sort of mundane explanation behind it.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I’m going to be frank with you. I would like to contract you for some sort of weapon for this thing. From previous experiences, I’m fully aware your… experiments don’t tend to do harm to people, so if… by the off chance, this isn’t something normal, we’ll have a way to stop it.”

Danny’s father immediately lit up in excitement. After rambling some idea, he ran down to the lab to act upon it before anyone could stop him.

“Don’t mind him,” his mother fondly chuckled. “Jack is very enthusiastic about our work.”

“I… uh… take that you’re willing to help us?”

“Oh, absolutely. If this thing is what we think it might possibly be, we were going to do that anyways. But I do need to ask you something. You mentioned you thought the attacks were ritual in nature. I’m not really sure how to ask this, but for those poor people, was there a part of the body missing?”

Metzger’s shoulders tensed at her question as his eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”

“Wait… wait, you’re telling me… that thing… what it was holding in its hand…” Danny couldn’t say it. The memory of the blood dripping from that thing’s hand temporarily overwhelmed him. He must have swayed as his mother gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. If you decide to go help your father, I think he’d gladly welcome the help.”

Danny shook his head at the suggestion. He needed to stay put. It just felt safer with her and the officers around. She must have somehow understood as she gave his shoulder a motherly squeeze.

“You didn’t answer my question.” An irritated edge crept into Metzger’s voice.

His mother calmly turned back to him and returned his gaze. “I didn’t until just now. After Danny relayed his story, it struck a chord with me, and I did some digging. There is folklore in different parts of the US which tells of creatures who steal the life of humans and often a part of the body. If… if that’s what’s happening, then we’re in trouble.”

“What do you think this thing is doing?”

“Nothing good. Throughout history, humankind has offered up blood and other bodily sacrifices to gods, spirits, monsters, and everything in between. While usually the Aztecs come to mind, you can find evidence of this around the world. It’s believed those sacrifices would either strengthen or appease whichever entity was the focus.”

“Maddie, are you suggesting this thing is doing something similar?”

She nodded. “I… We aren’t sure if this thing is trying to strengthen itself or if it’s taking its gains to something else.”

A different memory surfaced in Danny’s mind. “That… when we were being rescued… the… the person that helped us get back… he said the A-listers got targeted for their blood,” he stammered before he could stop himself.

Everyone in the room stared at him. He and his friends really hadn’t talked about Frostbite. They mentioned to the police they thought someone helped them, but purposely left it vague. With how disoriented they were when they were found, the police were under the impression the trauma obscured some of their memories. Well, the cat was out of the bag.

Matzger stared at him. “Are you telling me what happened to your classmates may be related to… to this thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Like I told my mom before you came, the person who grabbed me and my friends isn’t the same… whatever that thing is. But, I don’t know what Dash and them encountered after we got separated.”

“Hmm… what about the person who helped you?”

Danny shook his head. “Not the same person. He called himself Frostbite, and…” How could he even explain Frostbite? He was a ghostly yeti with an ice arm for God’s sake! “I didn’t think he was real,” he eventually stated as he glanced down at his hands. “He was so friendly and helpful. He was so much different than that thing.”

“Honey, you never really talked about this Frostbite person before.” His mother tried to reach out for his hand, but he pulled away.

“I… I thought he was a dream or hallucination or something for a while.” He hoped he sounded sincere. It was somewhat true after all. The fantastical nature of what happen still didn’t seem real to him, but he knew better. “I think he had helpers… there were other voices besides his.”

“That would line up with some of the evidence we have from your case,” Matzger stated as he rubbed his chin. “The injuries of you and your two friends were vastly different than the others who went missing which suggested multiple perpetrators. One of the other boys did mention that he thought they were rescued by a small group of people. I will have to take a closer look at the injuries of your classmates to determine whether or not they match up with our current victims. That should give us an idea if it’s the same thing or something different.”

“Sir,” officer Kiziah interrupted, “we’ve finished our initial sweep. We did have some trouble trying to keep Mr. Fenton out of the way in the basement area, but he’s promised to stay at the one table while we work. He’s apparently drafting some blueprints. Forensics is here and are working on collecting evidence. They’re hoping to talk to you.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Kiziah. Can you explain to them their options during our investigation progress?” After flashing them an apologetic smile which seemed out of place with his features, he told them he would be in touch and excused himself.

After shaking his head at his superior, Kiziah stated while the family could stay in the house during the investigation process, it had the possibility of accidentally contaminating evidence. He recommended for them to stay at a local hotel for a time.

Although his mother seemed hesitant to leave the house, she eventually agreed to head to a hotel after Vlad made a show of being concerned for the family’s safety. It took a bit of time to get his dad to leave the basement, but by the time seven am hit, Danny found himself in the best hotel in Amity Park, per Vlad’s firm recommendations.

After sending his friends a few texts to let them know what happened, that he was fine, and where he was, he told them he’d call them after he got some sleep. Although he wasn’t exactly happy he shared the room with Vlad, the pristine bed ended up being far more important to him than any worries.

…..

Several hours later, Danny woke up to one hundred and three texts, fifty-four missed calls, and eleven voicemails. Sam and Tucker had only one voicemail and call apiece and only a handful of texts. The rest were from his sister. Groaning, he sent Sam and Tucker messages to let them know he’d call them after he contacted his sister.

He really didn’t want to talk to Jazz at the moment. When she was scared, she became spastic, and a spastic Jazz was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. Okay, the third to last think he wanted to deal with. The creepy thing and Plasmius took the top two places.

After taking several minutes to do everything other than call his sister, he finally buckled down and called her. As predicted, she spastically demanded to know if he was okay while berating him for not contacting her sooner. He just let her talk while making the occasional ‘uh huh’, ‘sorry,’ and ‘yeah.’ From experience, he knew it was better to let her get it out of her system.

He put Jazz on speaker while he attempted to find the hotel’s TV remote. Vlad didn’t seem to be in the room which really didn’t bother him. The man didn’t need to listen to Jazz flipping out after all. Eventually, he found the remote next to a message from Vlad stating he and his parents went to discuss something with the police and would be back with food.

“Danny, are you even listening to me?” Jazz demanded. He must have been quiet for too long.

“Uh? Yeah, I just happened to find a note Vlad left. You were saying something about how it was irresponsible for Dad to go running after the thing?”

“Wait, are you telling me you were left alone after everything that happened?”

“Jazz, I’m seventeen. I think I’m perfectly fine being alone for a few hours.”

“You were kidnapped by a crazy man and then were attacked in your own home! Do you really think it’s safe for you to be alone right now?” With that, she flew into a different tirade.

Knowing it would be a while, he decided the TV would be a preferable alternative to his upset sister. He turned it on only to have it immediately turn off. Thinking he accidentally doubled clicked the button, he tried again only to have the same result. Thinking the remote was damaged, he moved to try the button on the machine. Only, it turned on by itself. It and the lights began to dim and flicker, and his breath began to mist.

Glancing around, he watched as a girl emerged from the wall. At first, it seemed she didn’t notice him as she moved towards the opposite wall, but she stopped midway and faced him. She looked human but her entire body seemed insubstantial and almost wispy. Her skin, if it could be called that, was an unearthly white while her blue hair flickered like a flame.

She smirked at him while moving a little closer. “You shouldn’t be here, Baby Pop.” Her sultry and musical voice seemed far away, almost as if it was being broadcasted over an old radio. “Don’t know what you’re doing on this side of the veil, but you shouldn’t stay here.”

“What… what are you talking about? Who are you?” he stammered while vaguely registering Jazz asking him what was wrong.

“I like to slip to this side for some fun, but I might stick around a little longer this time. It’s already chaotic here, and a little more might do me some good. Besides, it seems I need to make a few people remember I still exist.” After appraising him, she gave another smile and headed back towards the wall. “You might want to get out while you can, Baby Pop. Things might get a little hot, and you new guys often aren’t strong enough to deal with the heat.”

“Hey, wait!” He tried to get her to stop, but she just vanished back into the wall. Unsure what to do, he stood in the center of the room dumbfounded until he realized his phone was still on speaker and his sister was calling for him.

“Hey, Jazz, I’m going to have to call you back,” he stated as he moved towards the door. “Something really weird just happened.” He hung up on her as he ran into the hallway looking for some evidence of the ghost.

He barely made it to the elevators when the fire alarm sounded. Not wanting to stick around, he quickly found the stairs and made his way to the lobby as the rest of the guests started to follow suit. By the time he reached the third floor, he began to smell smoke. There had to be a fire. Is that what that ghost meant? Did she somehow set it?

He really hoped that wasn’t the case. He really only needed on potentially supernatural thing causing problems in his life at a time.

[shoichee]

hello! thank you for allowing the askbox requests too. can i please have a scenario for kise with a writer s/o? like, she works very hard to become a better writer even though she is quite good and always ends up getting really tired and sad. she also writes kise a lot of love letters expressing her love and how thankful she is for having him there.

Hello, my anonnie!! Sorry it took a while! I wanted for this scenario to REALLY TURN OUT GOOD, so I have been racking my head in how to write this request for a while... hope you like it!

Scintillating

Kise x Reader

Word Count: 1985

»»—————　☼　—————««

I would love to open up today’s journal entry with the typical cliché I often read in books: ��The setting sun was gorgeous, its rays burning and illuminating everything in the cloud-filled skies,” or somewhere along those lines, but when I look up, it's quite the opposite. The skies I am now accustomed to are dreary blank canvases, with the exception of scattered smog and smoke as clouds, mimicking splattered black paint.

The sun, in its atrocious highlighter-yellow glory, gave way to a blobby, deflated orange in approximately 23 minutes, which meant that I didn’t have much time left before darkness would blanket the whole city for the next couple hours.

You sighed. Dropping the lead pencil with a clank, silence pervaded the room once again, save for the unnerving ticks of the wall clock. Another sigh escaped from you. The pencil that was dropped haphazardly on the desk was now delicately grasped by calloused fingers. There was still much work to do, yet your mind always drifts to these dinky daydreams. Years of writing have done a number on your hands; they’re no longer the smooth, silky skin encasing aching bone, yet Kise always reassured you that your hands are proof of your hard work.

A break would do, you thought.

Strained eyes turned away from paper to squint even harder out the window, trying to hurry the skies to grow dimmer so you can see Kise soon.

The sunset... a collection of fireworks of color... so, why do they look so drab to you?

Your eyes turned away from the window back to the inked paper. A frustrated noise escaped from your throat. The last thing that paper saw was your glare before it was crumpled up and tossed away. The pencil soon followed after. You just can’t seem to have the same knack for writing like you once did before.

When you think about Kise’s phenomenal improvement in his basketball skills compared to your own lengthy rut, your heart thumps a dull pain that was slowly, but surely, eating the rest of your self-confidence away.

So what do you do to cope? You rested your head on your messy desk before dozing off into a numbing sleep.

———

“... cchi? (y/n)-cchi? (y/n)-cchi?”

“... Mmm?”

You drowsily opened your eyelids, not registering the fact that you had ink transferred from the paper to your pressed cheek but more hyper-focused on the feel of Kise’s lips on your forehead and his arms around your waist.

Wait… Kise?

“... Ryōta? Wh-where did you come from?”

“Practice was done a while ago, and you weren’t picking up your phone,” he chuckles, admiring your state of drowsiness. “So after looking around for you, I came to your house. Your parents let me in.”

You shot up and quickly shook your head awake, ignoring the surprised but amused look Kise gave you.

“Ah—I… I forgot to write you a letter!” you panicked, scrambling to look for the pencil you chucked across the room earlier and simultaneously pushing Kise out the room. You only meant to take a short nap before you started your customary love letters for your boyfriend. As much as you knew they were cheesy and that they pissed off his fangirls to no end, writing them was the only dependable way for you to express your feelings to him. It was how you confessed to him, and it was how you were able to be honest with him up until now.

“Wha—? (y/n)-cchi, as much as I love your cute letters, I want to spend time with you too—”

“B-but—!”

Kise sighed before he swiftly maneuvers your attempts to push him out and gently scoops you up to nuzzle against your neck. “You’re usually not in a hurry like that,” he murmurs. “Have you been overworking yourself?”

“... Not particularly,” you said, averting your eyes.

You knew that Kise didn’t buy your words.

This was where you sometimes wish Kise wasn’t so sharp and intuitive, because you could feel his intense gaze piercing through your soul and exposing your most vulnerable side.

He placed you down on the edge of your bed before he gently bumps his forehead against yours. All you could do was hold eye contact with him as he gives you a concerned gaze from such a close distance.

“You don’t feel sick,” he mumbled. “Your temperature feels just fine.” But as he continued to look into your eyes, he knew something was amiss. “(y/n)-cchi, what’s wrong?”

He immediately backs up and sits on the floor to give you space, patiently looking up at you as you continue to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I…” you started, and your inability to properly express yourself haunts you again. Kise reassuringly caressed your calloused hands, and you took a deep breath before you tried again. “I’m… feeling a slump. I don’t feel like I’m good enough.”

You expected Kise to immediately jump on you to reassure you with sweet nothings and kisses, but here he was, furrowing his brows in deep contemplation at your words. A heavy silence pervaded your room.

“... When?”

“Ryōta?”

He looks up at you again, capturing you in his gaze. “When did you feel this way?”

You widen your eyes in complete surprise. Of all things to say, of all things to ask, this certainly wasn’t what you expected. You were waiting to hear a “what?” “how?” a “who?” or even a “why?”

“Well…” you hesitated. “Just very recently.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to notice until now,” he said. “Things have just been really busy on my end—but it’s not an excuse for my negligence, (y/n)-cchi! I promise I’ll do better as your—”

“Ryōta!” you interrupted, slightly amused at his flustered state. “You’re already doing so much for me, silly. It’s not because of you.”

“Uh… it’s not?”

“I just… feel like I can’t get better at writing at all. I just want to… be able to better express how I feel about myself, about you, about the world around me… but words are just so… out of reach.”

“But I think you’re an amazing writer, (y/n)-cchi. I always adore your letters, and the teachers love your essays,” Kise said.

“I think your basketball skills are jaw-dropping, and all the coaches praise you, Hell, you’re known as one of the Generation of Miracles. But even so, when you can’t improve yourself, don’t you get frustrated?”

At your words, Kise crossed his arms with a pout as he averts your eyes. “Yeah, well… I guess when you put it like that…”

“What are you being so shy for?” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“(y/n)-cchi, you complimented my basketball skills!”

“But I always do in my letters.”

“Yeah, on paper! This is the first time I heard you say it out loud!”

His ridiculousness never ceased to make you laugh, and at the sound of your fit of giggles, Kise moves his head back to you as he lets out a few chuckles of his own. “You finally smiled.”

“Ah? Well, you always seem to know how to cheer me up,” you smiled, but almost just as quickly, you resignedly sighed again at your current predicament.

In response, Kise stands up and deftly picks your figure up before settling you on his lap on the bed. You were face to face with him, and you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. His face grows serious again.

“I know cheap words won’t mean anything, but believe me when I say that I really do love everything about you,” he softly said. He brushes your stray hair away from your face. “... from the way you brush your hair from your face when you’re deep in thought.” He smooths out the wrinkle from your brows with the pad of his thumb. “... the way you furrow your brows when you read something challenging.” He moves to hover his thumb against the plush of your lips. “... the way you bite your lips or chew on your pencils whenever you’re concentrating.” He gently encases your rough hands in his own. “... and I especially love the way your hands flurry across the paper when you’re inspired.” He kisses your hands. “From your hands, I get letters that always make my day, (y/n)-cchi.”

“I know that this slump won’t be easy to overcome, but I’ll always be here to support you. You can always lean on me if things become too much, and I will always try to help you in any way if you ask. It’s never a burden for me and never will be. You always make me happy, so… I want to make you happy, too.”

You sat there, silently digesting his every word. His words struck a chord in your heart, and before you knew it, the ever-so familiar tears streaked down your cheeks.

“Wh-What’s wrong, (y/n)-cchi?! Did I say something that hurt you?! (y/n)-cchi, oi—!”

“A-ah, well,” you said, wiping the runny tears from your face. “You just made me very happy, Ryōta.”

“W-well don’t scare me like that! Aren’t you not supposed to cry when you’re happy?!”

———

It was another typical morning at Kaijo, but Kise’s mind was filled with thoughts of you. Were you feeling better? Are you okay? Were you pushing yourself too hard again? That was something he’ll see for himself when he’ll meet with you during break.

As he opens his locker to change his shoes, he mindlessly sifts through a plethora of fanmail and letters, until he sees a very familiar penmanship.

The letter was yours.

But you always send your letters before he opens the lockers again after school. That has always been your routine. Kise holds your letter like it was his lifeline and safeguards it in the inner pocket of his uniform blazer, and he manages to escape the clutches of Kasamatsu when he runs to a secluded corner of the courtyard to open your letter in childish anticipation.

Dearest Ryōta,

With nothing to do except to wait for school to start soon to see you again, I curiously peer out the window from the room, tapping my hands on the cool table, now that the sun was rising. It was breezy, windy enough to gently tousle a few flyaway strands of my hair. I remember constantly staring at the neighborhood, the familiar trees, the familiar streetlights, but now, they emanate a different feeling when I looked out this morning.

The sunrise, usually being a stale, flat orange, was now bursting with colors ever since I locked eyes with you last night, and it made the outstretched view I experienced from the room suddenly… bigger. I still remember how you made me feel much smaller, more vulnerable in just a matter of minutes of staring into your golden eyes. The sky became a giant bruised mango of various vivid reds, oranges, yellows, and purples, and it casted all of its glow onto everything below them. It made everything so surreal, like a painting, and I couldn’t fathom to see that even such a previously dismal place could have the potential to even look ethereal with just the effect of your words.

The sight truly reminded me of you, you who outshines everyone in my vision. You’re the one who truly captures my gaze.

I hope today, and the next few days, the next few months, and the next few years, will shower you in everlasting warmth. I hope I can become that source of warmth for you for a long time, just as you have for me.

In truth, I think your words have truly moved me so much that I’ve been inspired once again. I will continue to be relying on you, and I hope you can rely on me, too.

Thank you.

I love you.

(y/n).

….

Bonus: Kise was on cloud-nine throughout the entire day, including during practice after school. Not even Kasamatsu’s kicks snapped him back to reality.