#i have thought way too much about this musical

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jade Leech: J is for...

J word—

Twst devs: How can we fuck’m up real good

Intern-kun: J word bird’s eye view cleavage shot

xhjsvwiwkw Jokes aside! I love how much care he takes in maintaining his appearance, right down to ironing in the morning and purposefully styling the black strand into the “J” shape 😂 Whatever it takes to look like a gentleman, right… And he’s meticulous about his SPF just like me, frfr🧴💕

Rise and Shine!

Jade’s hands, you decided, were made for delicate efforts.

You had watched those hands a number of times, performing like skilled trapeze artists in a circus. Serving food and drink at the Mostro Lounge, rinsing the grime off of foraged mushrooms, drawing decisive graphite strokes upon a page. The terrariums sitting upon his shelf were the result of his handiwork—minuscule biomes, carefully constructed with a magnifying glass and tweezers.

Now he handled his hair with the same deadly precision. Fingers on the end of his singular black strand to keep it in place, he ran a hair straightener along the length. When the tool pulled away, the strand bounced back into a slight curl.

A perfect J to hug his handsome face. J for Jade, as he often said.

You had observed the times when a J hadn’t been the result. Too little, and the strand was an I. Too much, and the strand rebelled into a S.

“You’re so detail-oriented,” you commented from your place by the doorframe.

The response, a quiet, almost musical, chuckle. It seemed to echo off the cavernous walls of the Octavinelle washroom, bathed by sunlight-infused waters.

“It is important to maintain one’s appearance.”

“To make a good first impression?”

You knew why.

To lure his victims into a false sense of security. A neat suit, a disarming smile, and anyone would be willing to part with the treasures Jade fished for. Information, valuable information.

“That is part of it.” He didn’t look directly at you, but instead met your eyes in the reflection of his vanity mirror. “One can also glean a great amount of information from observing how another presents themselves. For example…

“You must have had a small baked good for breakfast on your way to Octavinelle this morning. A muffin, a croissant—something of that sort, yes.”

“H-How did you…?!”

His eyes trailed to your necktie, done up just the way you liked it. “… There are crumbs there.“

Your hands flew to your chest, hurriedly dusting yourself off. Jade’s small, pointed teeth showed from behind his mouth.

Amused.

“When I first came to land, I thought it strange that humans dressed differently depending on the occasion. You dress formally for strangers—work, interviews—but dress casually for your loved ones—friends, family. But I see now… It sends a message to the world about who you are and what your place in it in that moment in time is.

“Our school uniforms signify that we are students. Pajamas mean that someone is about ready to sleep or to prepare themselves for the day. A tidy appearance implies a tidy mind, and a slovenly appearance, a slovenly one.”

“Your mind scares me sometimes,” you joked. “I feel like it’s full of sharp things that could kill me”.

“Oya, is that because you are complimenting how sharp my attire is?” Jade pinched the lapels of his pajama top. “… Though I’m afraid this can hardly be called sharp.”

"You will be once you've changed." You glanced away, indicating that he should.

“Very well. Then, please excuse me."

There was the ruffle of satin coming off, the flap of fabric as it was folded and tucked away. More rustling as a new set of clothes fell over his body. The same old vest, blazer, and slacks.

"... You may look," he called softly.

You did.

And there he was, Jade Leech in his school uniform. It was perfectly tailored to fit him, dyed a simple and sleek black. His earring was in place as well, three diamond-shaped scales dangling from his left side.

A regular sight, yet it made your heart sigh all the same.

"Clothes really do make the man," you murmured, a finger at your lip.

"Fufufu. I will happily accept your praise." Jade drew himself beside you. His shadow stretched, a suit in of itself folding over you. An open hand, held out. "Shall we be on our way?"

"Yes, let’s.” You shyly slipped your hand into his, and it fit like a glove.

The black strand—coiled into a J—leapt with your shared first step.

Too little or too much. His words, running both hot and cold. But this felt…

You searched for a J word, like the shape of that stripe.

J for… Just right.

[intheemptymirror]

drunk dazed !

drunk-roommate!sunghoon x roommate!reader

summary: you never would’ve expected sunghoon— resident ice prince— to be the clingy type of drunk

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of drinking, sunghoon is drunk (duh), sunghoon and reader aren’t dating but they definitely have a crush/lil somethin goin on, you and sunghoon are roommates, you take sunghoons clothes off but it’s in a non sexual manner, he asks you to help him change, ooc sunghoon

a/n: i would consider myself an engene but i think they’re one of the groups i’m more of a casual fan about if that makes any sense? like i like their music and i consume their content and i have a bias and everything but they’re not one of my MAIN-main groups yknow? but i still love them and wanted to write something for them and i got this idea about how cute it would be if sunghoon was like clingy n stuff so here we are. tbh i don’t love this fic but i just wanted it done and i thought that even if i don’t like it maybe someone out there will. i have a jay fic idea in the works too so if you like enhypen that’ll be out eventually too ;)

if somebody bet you twenty bucks that sunghoon was the clingy type drunk, you would’ve paid them right then and there.

but here you were.

for the past few years you guys had been friends, you don’t think you could remember a time you ever saw him drunk. a little tipsy, sure, but never drunk. and then after you became roommates— which meant spending even more time around each other than before— you still hadn’t seen him get to that state. you had always just assumed he either had a scary high tolerance to alcohol or just didn’t like alcohol all that much.

sunghoon had gone out with the rest of the enhypen boys for a couple of drinks that night, which wasn’t anything unusual or new. what was unusual and new was the extent to which sunghoon drank himself. when he walked out the door three hours ago you weren’t expecting to get a phone call from jay telling you to come pick up your very drunk, very clingy best friend. having to carry a practically incapacitated grown man down the streets of seoul for fifteen minutes and then up a flight of stairs wasn’t a scenario you thought about very often but it was as hard as you would’ve originally imagined.

“y/nnie!” sunghoon whined out into your ear, his weight heavy against your back. a feeling that you would normally find comfort in was now a bit of an inconvenience. you huff out a bit of air and incoherently grumble a bit in what most would consider barely a response, but sunghoon didn’t seem to pay much mind as he pressed himself impossibly further into you. it felt like his whole goal was to make this as difficult as possible, as if gravity was dragging his body down to the ground and wanted to take you with him. you trip over your feet but manage to stay somewhat upright, which only makes sunghoon giggle.

you finally managed to stumble your way down the hall to your apartment door, stopping to catch your breath for a moment. as you stood still and panted with your eyes mindlessly locked onto the small apartment numbers on the door, sunghoon took the opportunity to nudge his nose into your cheek, his dark hair tickling the soft skin of your face. the sensation suddenly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in, making your body jolt slightly before you started the process of trying to open the door. you’re not sure why you were so eager to get sunghoon physically away from you while at the same time wanting him to stay attached to you forever. maybe your fast beating heart was from the physical exertion sunghoon put you through; maybe it was from the emotional. you didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

you grunted as you tried to shift sunghoon’s weight on your back so you could reach the keys sitting in your back pocket. he must’ve thought you were trying to get him off when you started to move because he let out a whine before gripping onto the front of your shirt in his large hands and tightening his arms around your neck to keep himself on you, which only threw your balance off and made you stumble back. you caught yourself before letting out an exasperated groan. “you’re making this really difficult, yknow.” sunghoon simply giggled in response and poked your cheek with his pointer finger, moving his head to press his face flat into the side of yours.

“you’re making this really difficult,” he slurs out his words. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile and soft laugh that escaped your lips.

“that makes no sense,” you say more to yourself than to him as you finally manage to slide your hand into your back pocket to fish out the apartment keys before unlocking the door and stumbling into the entry way, the sound of your bodies knocking into the wall disturbing the serenity of yours and sunghoon’s (and probably your neighbors) apartment. you somehow managed to slip your shoes off without falling to the wood floor before hauling sunghoon off to his room.

you turn your back to the mattress and completely let go of his weight, letting him flop onto the bed unceremoniously. he let out a grunt as his back hit the sheets, his arm pathetically coming up to try and reach for you once more. you huffed and turned to watch over him for a moment with your hands on your hips while you caught your breath. you watched him paw at the air in search for you before you grasped onto his hand to gently sit him up. he went silent as he tiredly blinked up at you, his pretty, brown eyes practically staring you down.

his intense gaze started to make you nervous, reminding you of a cat watching its owner. his eyes never wavered as he watched you walk over to his closet and rummage around it for a moment before pulling out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before dropping it onto the bed next to him. “get changed, i’ll leave the room.” as you start to walk away, sunghoon gently grasped your wrist in his hand, stopping you in your tracks. your eyes widen and lips part in surprise as you look between his half-lidded eyes, then to where his hand is making contact with your skin, then back again.

“help me,” he mumbles out. you open your mouth to deny his request, but upon seeing how he slightly sways side to side from intoxication and exhaustion you decide it would just be easier (and probably safer) to help him. “please.”

you study his face for any sign of hesitation before you slowly nod. “okay.” you step closer, standing between his legs as he stares up at you. your heart rate spikes at the sight of his flushed face and cute moles and messy hair and gorgeous eyes with their attention completely on you. you blink a few times to snap yourself out of the trance he’s put you in before your shaky hands hesitantly reach for the hem of the shirt he has on.

“lift your arms up.” you direct him once you’ve taken the fabric in your grasp to which he complies immediately, limply throwing his arms up into the air. you tug the shirt up— it gets stuck to which he thrashes around a bit to get it undone— and over his head before tossing it into the laundry basket sat in the corner of his room. you try not to stare too hard at the expanse of bare skin suddenly available to you, averting your eyes and swallowing harshly to calm yourself down. you choose not to say anything else before reaching for the black jeans he has on, hooking your fingers through the belt loops to tug him to a standing position. he stumbles slightly before balancing out and giggling, standing like a mannequin waiting to be dressed. which in a way, he kind of was.

you unhook his belt and tug his pants off gently before quickly grabbing the pair of sweats and crouching down to help him step into each leg of the pants. you’re glad you were too focused on getting him into them without him falling to focus on the fact that he had been practically naked in front of you for a few moments. you stand back up and tell him to lift up his arms once more, slipping the shirt on— without getting it stuck this time— and watching the moles that dotted his body disappear underneath the cloak of white fabric. throughout this whole process, his eyes hadn’t left your figure even once.

finally having him dressed in clean clothes, you usher him to get into bed, pulling back the covers and gently nudging him onto the mattress. he follows your direction with little resistance, little hums escaping his mouth here and there as he watched you pull up the soft covers and tuck him in gently. “comfortable?” he does a close eyed nod and smiles softly in response. you smile and nod in return. “good,” you whisper.

“i’m gonna go get you some water,” you brush his hair off of his forehead and make barely any moves to leave the room, but are stopped by him sitting upright so fast it was as if he was coming back from the dead and his hands shooting out to grab your arm.

“no!” sunghoon lets out a whine of protest, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes starting to gloss over with tears, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout as it starts to tremble. you’re completely caught off guard by his reaction, even more so when he starts to tug you back towards him until your knees are knocking against the bed. “don’t go, don’t leave me,”

you think you can hear your heart breaking at the sight, the feeling of it clenching uncomfortably in your chest overwhelming. you smile softly at him and reach out your free hand to pet his head in an attempt to soothe him, his lashes fluttering and head leaning into your palm at the sensation. “i’m just gonna go get you some water. you won’t even notice that i’m gone.”

“i always notice when you’re gone.” sunghoon’s voice rings out so clear and suddenly he looks the most sober he’s been the entire night. his vulnerability; it catches you off guard, but you can’t help but like the way it feels coming from him. it’s silent for a few moments more as you let the words he’s said sink into your brain. “just stay with me,” he whispers, as if afraid that if he speaks too loud, the fragile, glass-like state of whatever it is you two are in will shatter under his words.

you blink at him a few times before nodding softly. “okay,” you whisper back. sunghoon pulls back the covers before he guides you onto the open space he’s left you, laying down and tugging the blanket over your shoulders. after he deems you properly tucked in, he rests his cheek on his hands and stares. you both study each other in the moonlit room, your features somehow more ethereal in the soft glow. “you should go to sleep. you don’t want a hangover in the morning,” you whisper.

“i will in a minute,” he whispers back. you can see the cogs turning in his head, as if he was debating both for and against himself in his mind. you realize what that look was for though when the bed dips slightly under his weight as he shuffles closer to you, his arm coming up to rest heavy on your waist. “just let me do this,” he slides his other arm under your head before pulling you until you were pressed against his body. he lets out a sigh into the quiet night as his body finally seems to fully relax, the feeling of you against him helping his hyped up state from the clubbing and alcohol dissipate. he tucks your head underneath his chin, his hand mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your back, lulling you into a sleepy state as well.

you press yourself closer to him and bring your arms to wrap around his torso to hold him in return as you let your eyes flutter shut. “goodnight, sunghoon.”

“goodnight, y/n.” he replies, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep. you smile to yourself before you drift off shortly after, meeting him once more in your dreams.

[inkonparchment]

Class of '95

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

The tie rests in his pocket, feeling his throat constrict enough by the memories from a lifetime ago as Leon stands in his old high-school gymnasium. His breathing exercises carry him through the evening until his breath knocks out of him when he sees you again.

warnings/tags: older Leon. allusions to alcoholism. fluff. high school sweethearts.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i dont know if anyone has seen '10 Years' but this heavily inspired from that especially the song 'Never Had'. that and 'From Eden by Hozier'. also i know thats infinite darkness Leon in the banner but i had more death island Leon in mind. anyways, happy reading! this may be lame but its all i have to offer

Leon is glad he decided to forgo the tie, a last-minute decision he made sitting in the shadows of his car, staring blankly at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. The silence had been too loud without the car in ignition, occupied by a sudden itch to grip the steering wheel and drive off, daunted too much by the expanse of his old high-school. He feels like a fraud returning, no longer finding any specks of the person who used to wander down the halls, sit in the classes and occupy the benches in the cafeteria, his carefree demeanour carrying him through the days. 

He could hear the muted drawl of music bleeding from the doors, the balloons and décor scattered across the entrance with a banner reading ‘Welcome Back Class of ‘95’ in greeting. God, that made him feel old, the constant ache in his back a constant reminder of the toll the years had taken on him. 

The walk in isn’t so terrible, wiping the sweat from his hand as he comes across the registration desk, a kindly looking face asking for his name. He nearly laughs at the ‘hello my name is’ sticker, the marker squeaking as he scribbles on his name and pastes it on his jacket right above his heart. 

Leon feels his fingers twitch when someone shouts his name in disbelief, turning around to blink in the face of two men who were previously occupied with their own conversation. He recognizes them in an instant, his teammates from the football team. Youthful faces drowned by wrinkles, grey sprinklings in their hair and torsos full of muscle now replaced with a softening belly; but their smiles are still the same. He walks over to them, gripping their hands firmly in handshakes, disbelief on their faces when they register that it is Leon. 

Where have you been, man? We thought you were dead! Wow, it’s been so long. 

It’s all the same set of questions and remarks he gets when he tours the gymnasium floor. Yes, he can’t believe it’s been so long. No, he’s just been busy with work so no time for a missus or kids. Ah, what about work? He doesn’t want to bore anyone with the boring mumbo jumbo. Yeah, he’s disappointed the police thing didn’t work out but what can you do? 

His words soon start to feel rehearsed, like an actor on scene waiting for his cue, a smile plastered on his face to dazzle the audience. Leon does a fine job of it, relaxing when he realizes that it’s easy with these people who are more eager to talk about their wives, husbands and kids. He feels envy grow within him as his eyes get stuck on their greying features, the softness of their added age and the glittering bands of their rings. 

It feels disorienting almost seeing his classmates living the life he had pictured for himself long ago, a life he didn’t realize he wanted so much now. Maybe there was something about coming stunningly close to death as of late, not that it wasn’t usual for him. Perhaps the one too many knocks against his head had finally straightened out his disarrayed thoughts into linearity.  

The praises that are aimed his way are quickly dismissed by Leon, shrugging all the ‘you look really fit’s and ‘your hair is in great condition, between the kids and job I don’t have the time to dye it’ like bullets clattering to the ground, puncturing him in the aftermath. He has nothing to show for his life save for the scar marks and the unhealed bullet wounds littering his body. Their voices would not carry a tone of wistfulness if they truly knew his reality. 

Leon needs a breather. And like a dog to a bone, he retreats to the bar in the corner. 

It’s mostly empty, smiling politely at the couple that walks away with their beverages. He leans against the bar, grateful for the coolness underneath his palm as he orders his drink. Whiskey on the rocks with a twist. 

Leon struggled with the concept of autonomy for the majority of his 20s and 30s, anger rippling through his system with his teeth grit whenever he would be dispatched at a moment's notice. Every reverberation of his trusty Matilda was doused in casual rage of the irony of his helplessness in deciding his fate as he ensured the normalcy of those back home. Mission success after success that Leon paid for with his freedom, his aching body and greying years, mourning the naive version of himself that saw the world with a gleaming lense. 

He accepted his fate soon enough, made peace with the life he knew he was too much of a coward to leave, courtesy of his survivor's guilt or hero complex, he doesn't know. He really doesn't want to find out. Perhaps it’s the shift in his reality, a peek into a life outside where he isn’t vital to the national or global security. It tugs at the strings of his heart when he realises there’s serenity here. This thought does little to alleviate the deep ache within his chest as he watches his old classmates. 

This is difficult for the reasons Leon never prepared himself for, bitterness flooding him as he mulls over the possibility of the life he could have had. Would he be like everyone else here? Would smiling come easy, a wedding ring on his finger and pictures of his kids ready on his phone, proudly brandishing it out on a moment’s notice? What does he have to show for himself apart from the scars and wounds that litter his body? 

The bartender slides Leon’s drink in front of him, parting with a polite smile. He stares at the amber liquid, ice floating on its surface and the itch in the back of his head that he had tried hard to bury returned. Leon grabs the glass, swirling it for good measure and brings it up to his lips. The whiskey barely grazes his lips when a familiar sounding laugh freezes him in place. His pulse flutters, a statue in poise, back turned to the crowd when the sweet noise filters through again to his ear. 

And suddenly Leon feels himself thrown back to the year 1995 on his own personal time machine, bubbling up memories that he had long forgotten, evoking emotions he thought he didn’t know how to feel anymore. The laugh is light and airy, so gentle and delicate, encompassing his entire being, intoxicating him once again like it did when he heard it for the first time during chemistry class. 

He remembers the softness of your skin when you two had accidentally bumped hands reaching for the popcorn, blushing bright in the darkened theatre before he gathered the courage to hold your hand firmly, never letting go again. 

Leon swears he can taste the butter on your lips when you had bravely kissed him on the doorstep of your home, a grin permanently latching onto his face. His ears ring with the sound of your cheers from the stands, louder than anyone, wildly waving your homemade posters for his games, always present come rain or hail.   

Leon is almost afraid to turn, not wanting to disturb the way his mind has painted you in beautiful strokes, conjuring up a picture so vivid that he feels he can touch if he reaches out. But curiosity gets the better of him, lowering the untouched drink down with a thunk and slowly turning around. Leon forgets how to breathe for a moment. Is it in, in? Out in? No, it’s in and out. He tries to catch up to missed breaths, eyes hung onto you. 

You look just as beautiful as the day he last remembers seeing you. It overwhelms him. Time clearly passed you by but not in the same way it had him; brutish, barbaric and aggressively tossing him on the hard concrete. No, time had been gentle with you, tenderly caressing you in its palm, nuzzling you softly as it swept you with it. 

Your smile is still the same Leon fell in love with, proud at having being the receiving end of it quite often, adoring the way you still throw your head back a little when you laugh. There is an air of elegance about you, evidence of the years that you had culminated, experiences under your belt that had transformed you into the person that was standing just a little distance away from him.    

Leon watches you intently as your eyes flicker over to where he’s standing, words fumbling from your lips as you jerk your head back up and do a double take. Your eyes blink furiously, widening in surprise as though you never expected to see him in a million years. You stumble off an excuse to the people you were talking to, eyes not daring to stray away from him. 

His drink is long forgotten, hands both nestled in his pockets, heart thrumming in his chest as he waits for you to make your way to him. There’s a certain peculiarity in how you do; a strange mix of shyness and disbelief. Your steps are light and airy, features softening as Leon grows more vivid in your line of sight. There’s something familiar in the way you walk to him, something akin to how he watched you descend the stairs of your house as he had waited at the bottom, staring at you in awe with a corsage gripped tight in his hands. Even in the picture your mom had snapped, Leon was still looking at you.  

Warmth floods him when you come to a stop in front of him, glee on both his and Leon’s face, hidden beneath timidness. He takes the first leap.  

“Hey,” Leon smiles. 

You laugh and it is oh so sweet, stronger than a shot of espresso. “Hi.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

What do you say anyways to the most important person in your youth who you thought would be a constant? The breakup had been difficult but inevitable with the two very different paths you and Leon had picked out for yourselves. It was terribly heart aching with fingers gripping each other’s tightly, silent tears running down your face as you tried to inscribe every forehead kiss from Leon to memory with the sun setting in the far-off distance. Come morning he would be long gone, both of you deciding that it would be unbearable to start a new day without the sun shining on them both.  

What do you say after all these years have passed shaping you into different versions of the same person you once knew so long ago?  

“It’s really good to see you Leon.” Well you could say that for starters. 

A small puff of air leaves Leon’s throat, glancing down at the floor momentarily before looking back into your eager eyes. His heart clenches as he notices they still glow. “It’s good to see you too.” An understatement truly, it’s magical to see you again. He thought he never would again, his mind drifting to you in his moments of darkness, clinging on to the memories as they would rejuvenate him. His sentiment is a lot more loaded than yours, he realises, his guardian angel now materialised in front of his eyes.  

You flit about, mess with your hair, pull it behind your ears, trying to look at him whole with little glances. “I uh...I thought you didn’t attend these things.”  

“I didn’t know there were these things to attend,” He shrugged. Its true, it’s quite hard to reach him when none of his old contact numbers or emails work. Leon’s a hard man to reach. It was a surprise to him when Hunnigan had all but slammed the plane ticket and the print out of his old high-school reunion on his desk. He didn’t even bother asking how she got the information, feeling scrutinised under her hard gaze and her You need a break too, Leon. He’ll buy her favourite bottle of wine first thing back.  

“Well you know it is hard to reach you.” You tilt your head to the side, teasing glinting in your eyes. “No phone number, no address, no email either. Its almost like you vanished off the face of the earth.” 

Leon feels the tips of his ears grow hot, suddenly feeling a bit ashamed. You continue on with a casual shrug of your shoulders, “Every text or email I sent you bounced back so I just thought you didn’t want to catch up.”  

That turns him into a statue. What? “You tried to contact me?”  

A streak of blush colours your cheeks. “I mean not that frequently. Just like a couple of years back I guess? I don’t know I just did it on a whim. The text didn’t go through and neither did the email so...you know I thought you didn’t want to be contacted.” 

He didn’t know what to do with the information that you thought of him while he thought of you. He never imagined that you would actually try to reach out to him, why would you? Leon assumed you’d be well settled in your life now; husband, kids, the white picket fence. Isn’t that what the two of you would fantasise about, sharing whispered giggles huddled under the sheets?  

But there’s curiosity gnawing at his bones. He’s noticed the empty ring finger on your left hand about how you’ve spent ten minutes chatting with him here and no man has slipped his hand against your waist. You’re here, talking to him, in no rush to meet anyone else. Leon feels his fingers twitch, he would never let you out of his sight. 

He blinks, an easy smile settling on his lips, gazing at you softly at your confession. “I thought about you a lot too.” He wants to thread his fingers through your hair, tucking away the strands. “I’m sorry I went so far away.”  

You shudder, pursing your lips and looking away. You see to be shrugging your shoulders again. Cute. “It’s fine. Life gets in the way sometimes. I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

The music doesn’t bother Leon anymore. He likes it, foot tapping with the beat, letting the soft tune wash over him. The silence is nice albeit heavy, he imagines there’s a barrage of questions on the tip of your tongue. A gentle giggle pulls his attention to you, “What?” 

“Nothing. Its just,” You shake your head, “I don’t know if I should be concerned or not over how little the gymnasium has changed since we went here.”  

“Oh,” His eyes sweep the entire place, amused at your remark. “You’re right. I don’t imagine they’ve been very enthusiastic about interior decoration .”  

“They really have not,” You marvel. You seem to get lost in your thoughts, pulling your back straighter. “You think they changed the bleachers outside in the field?”  

Leon locks eyes with you, unrelenting stare as he grapples with the meaning behind your words. He spent a lot of time with you on them; shyly running to you after practice, talking with you there for hours, glancing at you cheering him on during games, the summer day you two had spent there laughing and kissing before Leon had scratched the two of yours initial on its surface, sweetly outlining it with a heart. It’s not cheesy sweetheart if you’re blushing into my neck this hard.  

Leon quirks his eyebrow, matching your smile. “Let’s find out.”  

The night is cool with clear skies and a soft breeze blowing through. Leon feels ridiculous, not in the stupid sense but in the makes-him-feel-young sense. Your hand is wrapped in his instinctively, your soft palm resting against his with a practiced ease as he tugs you along with him towards the football field. The music thrums away into the background until there’s only the sound of your shared footsteps and your soft laughs echoing in the air. He can’t help but glance at you time and again, marvelling at the soft wrinkles dusting the corner of your eyes.  

He doesn’t like it when he has to let your hand go, standing between the stands as the two of you  unspokenly begin the search for the same heart shaped mark left years ago in the dim light. 

“So uh,” You say standing a little above from him in the bleachers, attention focused on the seats as you try to sound casual, “Did you come alone?”  

“Yeah,” He’s quick to reply. “My pet goldfish gets really motion sick on planes.” He pretends to search for a while. “You?”  

You hum in reply. “I don’t think ex-husbands are too big on attending their ex-wife’s high-school reunion.”  

Leon turns towards you to see you staring at him already, fiddling with your ring-less finger. “Dead?” 

“Divorced.” 

“When?” 

“Few years ago.”  

“Why?” 

“He got his secretary pregnant.”  

Leon blinks, scoffing and surprised at the spark of anger that ignites in him. “What an absolute piece of shit.”  

You laugh. “Yeah.”  

The two of you go back to searching, a lightness on your shoulders now. He relaxes too, the stiffness disappearing from his back. “I thought a lot about you. Thought you’d have your white picket fence house by now. It’s...why I never reached out to you.”  

You bite your lip, smiling at the memory. “It’s okay Leon, really. The white picket fence seems like a lifetime ago now. Seems a bit silly honestly.”  

“It’s not what you want?”  

“I don’t know. A lot’s changed since we last spoke. I’ve learnt it’s better to let things happen as they are.”  

“Not taking chances anymore?”  

You look up at him, a sweet smile as you share a knowing look. “No, I’m taking them as they present themselves.”  

Leon’s stomach does that flipping motion again, sweat collecting on the back of his neck. He mentally notes to buy Hunnigan the snack she likes so much too. They resume their search, beckoning the other to their spot as they find something funny or worthy to see. It’s fun, his worries melting away as he laughs away the night with you. But that heart is nowhere to be found, tired of squinting.  

“Ugh, this low lighting isn’t really helping,” You sigh, trailing back to where he’s stood.  

“Maybe some extra help then.” He pats the front of his jacket, digging into his inner pocket and then brandishing out his flip phone nonchalantly. You stare at it for a second, watch him as he flips it open and then burst into laughter.  

“What?” He asks in disbelief, watching you wheeze with amusement. 

“Wow,” You manage to choke out, “Well no wonder its so hard to reach you. Does your phone even have an email app?”  

“It works fine for me,” He grumbles, hoping you can’t see how scarlet he is under the night sky.  

“No, no,” You grin at him, pinching his cheeks. “It’s cute.”  

Leon almost jumps at your fingers connecting with his cheek, inadvertently leaning into your touch. You still, realisation hitting you of what you’re doing. But you don’t stop. Your fingers splay out, hesitantly cupping the side of his face. Leon watches you carefully, trying his best to control his breathing. You shudder as the bottom of your hand grazes against his stubble, thumb slowly caressing against his skin. Leon shuts his eyes under your soft touch, a sigh leaving his lips. 

He holds your wrist, keeping your hand against his cheek, bringing you close to him by your waist. His eyes don’t stray from yours, keeping you in place. Your eyes glaze over, a sheen in them as they collect water.  

“Hi.” You whisper.  

“Hey, sweetheart.” He whispers back. 

“You look old,” You laugh, the sound mixing with a sob. 

“So do you.” He hums back, fondly brushing your hair back from your face.  

You bury your face in his chest, breathing him in. “Where were you? I waited for you for so long.”  

He pulls back to see you properly, tilting  your face up by a hand under your chin. He leans in, lips brushing over yours. You push yourself up on your toes, lips connecting with his. You feel so impossibly warm against him, lips slotting against his seamlessly. He breathes you in, tastes you deeply, gripping you against his body like he never plans on letting you go. You gasp against his lips as he steals your breath and noises.  

He pulls away just an inch, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, not daring to loosen his hold on you. “Not going anywhere now, sweetheart.” 

[aliesbienish]

The idea was good, the execution not so much

Established Buddie x Reader, ft our fave Diaz Chris. You and Chris plan a surprise for the boys, it doesn't quite go to plan.

The house was quiet when Eddie and Buck arrived home from a 24 hour shift. Usually when they finished at a reasonable hour they came home to hustle and bustle. You and Chris generally had music playing as you cooked up a storm throughout the kitchen.

Instead it was almost eerie silent in their house, in fact if it wasn’t for your car parked in the driveway they’d assume no one was home.

Buck shrugged at Eddie as they made the way down the hallway, peering in doors as they passed. It wasn't till they opened the door to the living room that they found any signs of life. Twinkling fairy lights were hung across the walls, basking the room in a light golden glow. Soft instrumental music was playing gently from the speaker and the table was set for four.

"What's going on?" Eddie whispered to his partner, Buck for his part looking just as bewildered. "Where are they?"

Buck shook his head in confusion, making his way into the living room. He spotted you and Chris pretty quickly, both sunk into the sofa fast asleep. Eddie followed him over and both men couldn't help the grin when they saw their partner and son, clearly accidentally napping while waiting for the boys to come home.

"Hi mijo," Eddie whispered, gently pulling Chris from your embrace and into his arms. "Dad! Bucky! You're home," He whispered wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Mom and I were supposed to surprise you, we didn't mean to fall asleep,"

"We can see that superman." Buck whispered, "What's the big surprise?"

"Ay dios mio," Eddie suddenly exclaimed, staring down at Chris in shock.

"What Eds?" Buck questioned.

"Look at Chris' shirt Ev,"

Chris grinned stretching out so Buck could read it properly. There sprawled across his tiny chest were the words 'BEST BIG BROTHER'.

"Oh my god," Buck gasped, mouth opening and closing but no other words coming out.

"Surprise," You whispered nervously, having woken up from your nap to Eddie's shout of shock. Both boys whipped around to face you, as you grinned sheepishly.

"Baby, is this true? It's not a prank right?" Buck whispered, placing his hand across your stomach like he already expected a big bump to be there.

"It is, I found out yesterday. Chris and I had a big plan to tell you both, there's even a bun sitting in the oven," When Evan got a look of concern on his face you followed up with "the oven is turned off, I promise."

"You're sure? About being pregnant I mean."

"Positive, literally." Handing over multiple tests to each of the boys, all with the same result. "Chris was actually the one who mentioned it, I may be slightly bias but I think our son is a genius,"

"So Amy from school, her Mom is pregnant too and she was talking about how she is feeling sick and getting tired more often." Chris chattered happily, "So then when Mom was like that the last week I thought that maybe she was."

"That's great superman," Buck said absentmindedly.

You couldn't help but notice that Eddie hadn't even spoken yet, and Buck's tone was making you worried. While you had discussed expanding your family before, it was always talked about in the vague future and the idea that maybe they weren't ready was chewing you up.

"Hey Chris honey, I think you should get the card we made for your dads! I think it's sitting in your bedroom." He excitedly agreed, giving you a short time to talk to your partners.

"I know this is a shock, but is this okay? It's sudden but I love you both soo much and.."

"Baby," Buck interrupted, wrapping you in his arms. "this is the greatest gift you could ever give me. I can't wait to have another child with you two, honestly I can't wait to see Chris as a big brother." You sighed in relief knowing at least one of your partners was on board.

"Eds?" Buck whispered while directing the other mans head up gently with his hand and gently placing a kiss on his forehead. You both noticed the tears in his eyes as he struggled for words.

"I am so so grateful to you [y/n], for allowing me the opportunity to get to be a dad to another child again. I love you more than words can express." Tears of happiness began to fall down your cheeks as he pressed a soft peck to your lips and place his hand gently on your belly.

"And Buck, I can't wait to watch you be a Dad to this baby. You are an amazing parent to Chris but I am honored to be a dad with you again to this baby, to get to watch you Buck, and you too [y/n], get to experience every little moment together. Between us and Chris this baby is going to be so loved and cherished,"

Buck and Eddie wrapped you between them in a hug, whispering words of excitement and joy. You only parted when Chris came back in the room, a grin on his face as he thrust the card towards Eddie and Buck.

"Here" he grinned, passing over the card with the front reading '10 reasons why going to the zoo will help me be a better big brother!'

[amourluvie]

lowkey… u should drop a mr crawling fic where he learns our language to say love you or smth like that 🫣🫣 or like anyone tbh

This is the cutest idea ever omg

◟✿ "you love me too?" An mr crawling x reader . . .ᐟ

Notes . . .ᐟ currently manifesting that homicipher gets really popular 🙏

Wc . . .ᐟ 2.2k

character . . .ᐟ mr crawling

After you decided to take him with you and finally escaped the other world,you have noticed he's just like a puppy,despite being a monster. He was always protecting you from the other monsters, specially the red haired man with a umbrella,and an intimidating aura. there were times that separated him and you,but your bond with him never broke. The way he patted your head whenever you were hurt to reassure that everything's is going to be fine with a comforting tone in his voice blossomed something in your heart. And you couldn't bring yourself to leave him there.

you gave him a bath first to get rid of the smell of rotting corpse and blood,and then feed him something that definitely wasn't soup with meat chunks in it,but he enjoyed it alot.

recently you have noticed that he always listened to your conversations with other humans,studying how other humans interacted with eachother,in their languages. It was very interesting to him how people interacted,he always has followed you to wherever you go,and you don't mind it at all since people can't see him,watching you talk with your friends behind you,being curious. if your friends could have the ability to see him,they probably would have been weirded out and thought of him as just a weirdo.

He watched as you watched those rom-coms,with a loving expression,there was this one thing that he was fascinated about. The way your eyes would glint up with love and affection and that soft smile that crept up on your face,was the time one of the characters will say the words "I love you" to eachother,simply confessing their love. As they melt to eachother's embrace and even shared a sweet,tender kiss. He wondered if he had said those words to you you would do the same thing to him too.

Curiosity got the best of him as he finally built up the courage as he went over to your bed where you laying in,on your phone just listening to some music,and laid down beside you as he laid his head down on your shoulder, you smiled at him as you put the phone down and started petting his head. Mr crawling thought this was the perfect time to finally open the key to his undead heart and confess his feelings for you.

"I love you." "I love you so so so much!" He repeated,with a eerie-ly beautiful smile that caught you off guard. "Wait what!?" You thought you misheard him, as he looked and tilted his head,much like a confused puppy. "I love you! You love me too?" He questioned,hope sparking in his undead eyes, blush painted your cheeks as you realised this wasn't a dream and he really loves you,and you loved him too. "Yes!yes! Me love you too! Very much!" As you planted a kiss to his forehead,falling into his arms and embracing him in a warm hug,much like those couples in your favourite rom-coms.

[bimbo-baggins17]

Thoughts on BABY DADDY SAM MONROE ‼️🫵🏼🫦

Oof okay, well first I’m gonna plug my beautiful Aga’s work link @anakinstwinklebunny

Immediately I thought of the sound on tiktok of ‘You want a beer?’ ‘He’s four!’ ‘Well I don’t know what to do with him!’

TW: mentions of weight, afab anatomy, Sam being Sam

- If we’re talking pre relationship-mending Sam, he’s not the best dad, sorry. “What do you mean you’re pregnant? I pulled out. Can’t you just abort the thing or whatever?”

- The only reason he’d go along to doctor’s appointments is because his mom would nag him and tell him it’s the right thing to do.

- Did he love you? In his own way yeah, he supposed but that didn’t mean he wanted a baby. He saw how his parents ended up and he didn’t want to be that way with you

- “Babe, where’s my last kit-kat?” You’d ask, searching your normal stash area. Your cravings were in full swing. He wouldn’t bother to look up from the video game he’s playing or magazine he’s reading, “I ate it earlier.” “Seriously Sam?” He’d just shrug like it was no big deal, “Yeah. You can always get another. Relax.”

- He’d begrudgingly rub your swollen feet when you’d ask him to, muttering under his breath occasionally and half ass doing it

- Smoking around you was still common, no matter how much you got onto his ass about it. “Sam, you can’t be doing that. Put it out!” Immediately he’d shake his head, “This is the last bit of my shit and I’m not owing Josh another favor.” “Go outside then if you have to.” “Ugh fine. Whatever ‘mom’.” You swore you were going to have two kids.

- “You’re gaining weight.” He’d point out one day and your heart would sink. “I’m pregnant. I’m supposed to.” “Still. Should try to lose some.”

- “Chicks, man.” He’d groan under his breath when you’d snapped on him for the third time today because he was being inconsiderate again. This time it was some comment about how Alyssa was hot and he’d definitely tap that.

- Something starts to change the second he feels the baby kick for the first time. He’d notice the way your eyes widen and you sit up straighter, “What is it?” “The baby just kicked.” The excitement in your voice was clear enough for him to pick up. He swallows and looks at you for a second before timidly asking, “Can I feel it?”

-It was the first time he really took interest, how could you say no? “Yeah, come here.” He walks over and you take his hands, placing them on the spot where you had felt it last. It’s still for a few seconds and he’s about to pull away when it happens again. His eyes widen and he stares in awe at your belly bump for a moment. Your smile widens as you look up at him. Slowly his own lips curl into a smile, “Wow.” He’d actually created life with you.

- Tries to convince you of some god awful name combinations for your son. Chester Daron, Atticus Taylor, Wes Manson. They’re all name combinations taken from members of his favorite bands.

- He’d get your son band onesies. Slipknot, System of a Down, Marilyn Manson, Linkin Park, Korn, Nine Inch Nails, etc. He’d be the punkest baby.

- He’d be there for the birth. He wanted to barf seeing the different fluids and how your body changes as it pushes the baby out. There’s no way that’s the same pussy he’d spend hours devouring.

- But then hearing your baby cry for the first time, it caused the rest of the shift to happen in him. He was a dad. A dad. Him. He couldn’t believe it. He created life with you. He quickly wipes away the tears that were forming with the back of his hand. “Jesus. You did it. It’s actually here.” “He’s here,” You correct him, “and we did it, Sam.”

- He’d ask to hold your baby, taking it into his arms with a kind of gentleness you’ve never seen from him before. Your son would hold onto one of his ringed fingers, “Wow. Such a tight grip already, little man.” It was a sweet moment, a tenderness in his eyes as he looks at your son. “Gonna show you all the best music. None of that poser shit. I’ll teach you how to roll the best joint too when you’re old enough.” You win some, you lose some.

[mrs-kodzuken]

empty promise ⟢ kenma k.

synopsis: you notice that your boyfriend, kuroo, of almost three years has been acting strange lately. you confront him on it and then suddenly you’ve made the decision to leave him. luckily, your best friend is always there for you.

other: cheater!kuroo x fem!reader, best friend!kenma x fem!reader, angst, break up, little mention of ED, comfort, manipulation, gas-lighting, asshole!kuroo, best friend!kenma helping rebuild reader, therapy, best friend!kenma has loved reader since 4eva eventual fluff

"Kuroo, I know it’s happening again.” You sighed, knowing this wouldn't end well, just like last time didn't end well per say either. You stared at the man across from you in the kitchen decorated with picture frames of the both of you as he hovered in front of the fridge, probably wondering why you didn't cook tonight.

“What are you talking about?” He sounded snippy; his demeanor changed as he peered his sharp gaze back at you, immediately becoming defensive. His slick, black suit that he wore leaving for work this morning was hardly as neat as it was, adding on to your suspicion. 

“You’re hiding something from me, I know it.” You finally got out, your heartbeat quickening as it usually did when you would have to confront your boyfriend of three years. It was upsetting that you would have this anxious-riddening feeling that made you sick everytime you defied him. 

“Seriously? This again? You’re fucking kidding me,” He snapped, slamming the refrigerator door shut, into which you jumped at the loud, sudden noise—eyes widening. 

“Yes, Kuroo, this again. I can't set it aside any longer; the feelings are tearing me apart.” You attempted to say, “I just want trust, and—and I feel like I’m not getting it from you,” You stammered, trying to reason with the man; his expression held anger as if he couldn't believe you felt this way, especially about him.

“There you go with your crazy talk; are you sure you’ve been talking with the therapist Y/n?” He accused you, the scoff apparent in his voice as he rolled his eyes. 

Furrowing your brows, you couldn’t believe that he would ask something like that. “Yes, at every appointment, and sometimes I text—“ You were abruptly cut off, the anxiety ate away at you, making you chip your nail polish. 

"I just think you’re being dramatic. Honestly, I think you’re the one who's making this relationship go without trust,” He hammered in on his accusations. The kitchen light flickered as a few beats of silence passed between you two. 

The absolute quietude in the house was almost deafening. The living room TV wasn't on; no soft music, nothing. No noise except the small buzzing from the refrigerator that you have always, always hated.

You took a deep breath and tried to collect your thoughts, you followed the steps your therapist gave you for moments like this. 

“Kuroo, where were you tonight? You’re home extremely later than you said.” You purse your lips, wanting to know, but the ache in your stomach was becoming too much. At this point, it hurt to love him, to question him. You knew what he would say, you could probably even guess the exact words that would come out of his mouth.

His taller frame stood across the kitchen; the usual loving eyes now turned cold and hard and it was all directed at you.

“At the office, I was working.” He snarled, “Oh, you think I’m fucking someone at my job now, huh?” He raised his voice, your eyes widening at the thoughts your mind crept to, but you wanted to discuss it first. Wanted to calmly talk about it, this is what your therapist told you to do. 

“No, Kuroo, I don’t think anything; I didn’t say anything like that. "All I said was that I had a feeling and I wanted to talk with you about it.” This is what your therapist had specifically told you to do; you could feel the crease between your eyebrows becoming more apparent with every sharp word Kuroo said. 

“Oh yeah, because I’m totally cheating on you. I told you that last time would never happen again; why are you having these ‘feelings’?” He rudely said, as if you didn't notice the signs.

The late nights, the alcohol on his breath, the lack of physical intimacy with you, the ruffled, messy state of his clothes and hair. It was painfully obvious at this point. You felt ashamed for not saying something sooner. 

“..There was just one night where you came home smelling like another woman and I—I just don’t know Kuroo. I wanted to make sure that last time wasn’t happening again.” You averted your gaze, not being able to stand the hatred in your boyfriend's eyes. You felt small against his larger frame and even larger, hurtful words. 

“Ha! Isn’t that something? You’re probably cheating on me with how much you work from home.” He dryly chuckled, throwing accusations as if they were sharpened knives now. 

“Kuroo, why aren’t you listening? You saying things like that hurt me, you know? I've been faithful since we agreed to be in this relationship. I'm just worried that history is repeating itself.” You try to get his attention back on the topic; he just wasn't listening to you.

You could feel your eyes starting to water, the buildup of arguing, the ache in your stomach, and the painful incriminations he was throwing. It was beyond hurtful, it ached.

“You’re delusional if you think you smelled another woman on me. There was no one at the office; nothing has happened since last April; nothing.” The bellowing of his voice was meant to try and beckon you to listen to him. And you were finally silent; you knew your pathetic voice would waver if you said something, anything right now. 

You watched Tetsuro open a bottle of alcohol, not caring that he just openly hurt your feelings without any regard to how you might actually feel and didn’t try to console you either. 

Opening your mouth to try and say something to reason with him, you couldn’t even say a singular syllable. 

“Just fucking drop it,” He muttered before trying to slide past you into the cupboard to find something to eat. 

"I’m leaving you.” Your voice harrowingly got out, and you glared at the floor, hating that you got dealt these shitty cards. You carefully took off the promise ring that you now realize was nothing more than just an empty promise and set it on the cold counter. 

"Fine, you'll realize that you're the problem. The toxic, insecure, crazy one and then come crawling back to me,” He said without a hint of remorse; you knew though. You knew that he wasn't your caring, sweet, helpful boyfriend anymore; he was someone's. And you damn sure were not going to fight for him. 

You watched as he left the house through the back door; you didn’t bother to check Life360 as you probably knew where he was going. You were right, unfortunately yet again. 

Not being able to take the heartbreak, you decided to pack. You wanted to leave this home; you wished Kuroo made you happy like he did in the beginning of the relationship, but instead all he does is make you stressed and upset. 

You gather your at-home work supplies, main toiletries, important documents, sentimentals, and clothes to last you three whole weeks. You could replace everything else; hell, you were a working woman, not some rando he could kick to the street to make you fend for yourself.

You figured he’d clear out the rest of your things before he invited his new girl here. 

You carefully put your personal belongings in your car before leaving the key to the house under the front door mat. You decided to take a few minutes to give yourself a cry; you needed it. Your entire life of what you thought you knew was completely destroyed within thirty minutes; you had to cry or else you wouldn't be okay. 

When you pulled out of the driveway, you called Kenma from your car. Kenma has been your best friend since college; he actually introduced you and Kuroo to each other.

And look how that turned out. Although, you had hardly spoken to him in a few because Kuroo cut off your contact with anyone that wasn’t him—mostly any male. 

Once the dialing ended, Kenma picked up. You tried to gather what to say in a few short moments, watching the streetlamps pass you by as you drove.

“Can I stay at your place for a few days?” You asked before he could ever say 'hello'. You cringed at your voice, which was raspy from the argument and the tears you shed. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. What happened?" Concern laced Kenma's voice for you; he was always so observant of your emotional state. But then again, you did sound horrible right now. 

“Kuroo cheated on me again; I left him this time; I should've—I just should’ve left the first instead.” You tried to keep it together and not have to pull over and cry about the situation. 

There was silence over the phone for a few minutes except the small sniffles and clearing of your throat. "I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve better than someone who easily breaks your heart like this.” You could tell that Kenma felt guilty because he was the one who set the both of you up on a date.

"I’m sorry that I’m going to crash at your place to get my life together; I know I’m a lot.” You sighed, parking in his driveway. His house was as huge as ever; living the rich life did suit him though. 

“No, you’re not a lot. Things happen, and I’m glad I’m someone you can lean on.” He genuinely reassured you, peeking out of the living room curtains and seeing your headlights, then ending the phone call.

You gathered your things and headed inside to Kenma's house, not having been here in a couple. It was just as admirable as the first time you were here.

“Were you just streaming right now?" You called in the house curiously; you could hear gaming sounds in the background of the phone call, they were much too familiar to listen to. 

Kenma came from around the corner of the kitchen; he was in his typical comfortable merch that he made. His hair was pulled back, and he had a bowl of curry in his hand. 

He paused, taking your form just like you did to him, except he was wary of your blotchy face and red eyes. 

"..Yeah—yeah, I was. But don’t feel bad; I was supposed to get something to eat anyway.” He half smiled at you, a small crinkle in his eyes. 

“You can make yourself comfortable in any room in the house; I'm going to finish my stream. If you need me, you know where to find me.” He turned away from you with a glance that you didn't see as you got familiar with his home again. 

“Thanks, Ken,” You mumbled as he was already gone. You were going straight for the room that has always brought you comfort—Kenma's bedroom.

Collapsing on his fluffy bed was the highlight of your night, letting the feelings of the breakup wash over you. You knew that it would be something you'd bring up with your therapist this week; she would help you and talk you through your mind process like she always did. 

Your eyes wandered as you controlled your breathing, grounding yourself with the distant memory that you last had about Kenma's room. It was always your safe space back then. You sighed and rolled over onto your back.

After lounging around and letting your emotions process thoroughly, you finally got up, the heartache from the past few hours still fresh. 

"I didn’t expect you would pick my room, but that’s okay. It brings back memories of our sleepovers.” Kenma's voice rang out, opening his black-painted bedroom door, effectively startling you, which made you jump. 

You regained your posture and gave a small, worried smile. “Are you sure? I can leave. Sorry, this just, just brings me comfort, you know?” You softly smiled, gazing around the room that you both would always share. 

Back then, if Kenma hadn't introduced you to Kuroo, you would have probably confessed to him. The thought made your eyes widen a bit, and you blinked it to the back of your mind because anything else could come of it. 

He leaned on the door frame and said, "No, it’s okay for you to stay. Were you about to sleep or something?” He raised a brow, not knowing that you planned to sleep with him. Nevertheless, he didn't care because, after all, he's missed you. 

You winced, not fond of the idea of sleep right now. “Not really. I know I shouldn’t mess up my sleep schedule like this, but life kind of got in the way." You dryly chuckled, gathering your comfortable clothes that you would usually sleep in at your now-old home. 

You sighed with despair, not being able to keep it in. The silence only egged you on as Kenma waited, his gaze only on you.

"I just keep feeling sorry for myself. How I should’ve been stronger to leave instead of being so lenient with him cheating on me so easily.” You were getting teary-eyed again, hating the situation you could've left from but didn't.

A soothing voice and an even more soothing hand surrounded your senses, trying to calm you. “That's normal. You thought you could trust again, so you tried it, and he proved you wrong. It just shows that you both weren’t compatible, a shitty thing for me to say, but I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you; you know me.” You could even hear the smile in his voice at that last part.

However, you were oblivious to the painstakingly ache in his posture due to the guilt of him putting you through that. 

“Yeah, I do. Thank you for always being honest with me. I really appreciate it, Kenma. It means a lot. You’re practically the only person I trust—to always give me the truth.” You paused at that bit, realizing how awfully true it was. 

“Always. I don't think I’d lie about anything; I don’t really see a point in it.” Kenma pondered out loud before going to light a few candles and turn on a warm-colored lamp for you since you’d be in here.

“Don’t worry about finding someplace to go yet. It’s okay for you to recuperate from life for a few days first.” He finished, his kindness for you glaringly obvious, but that's all you took it for, was kindness. You nodded, physically there but mentally not. 

“What are you doing?” Broke you out of your trance-like state; staring at a computer screen for hours on end didn't do your eyesight any good.

“Working..” You mumbled out, knowing he was able to scold you about this. You never stayed up late to do work, to party, to drink, anything. You felt like you were boring and this was a way to combat it, especially with you feeling guilty for yourself.

“Why? You’ve had like three hours of sleep; I thought you were going to recuperate from life.” Kenma asked, he had noticed that you were knocked out earlier. He came into his room to check up on you, but you were sound asleep, peacefully. Knowing you were finally safe from harm in any way made him feel good inside. 

"I tried; it didn’t work.” You turned back to your screen, wheeling around in Kenma’s office chair. You didn’t bother pretending like you didn’t know what you could and could not touch or act new with him. 

“Have you thought about trying harder?” He snorted, but he genuinely cared about your wellbeing right now. He flicked on the above light, it was better than nothing right now, he also cared about your eyes. 

"I’m only joking Y/n. want me to stay here with you or at least bring you something?” You saw his reflection on the screen, being able to notice his change of clothes now that you were sitting in complete darkness with the only light from your computer shining. 

“No, I’m fine.” You said, earning yourself a squint from Kenma, not that you could see it as you were still typing away.

“You’ve been here at my house for almost eight hours and have yet to eat or drink something. Restricting your body from things like that as a poor coping mechanism isn’t healthy.” He scolded, being actually serious. Ironic how he learned that from his best friend in high school, however, Kenma wasn’t even sure he wanted to call Kuroo his best friend after what happened tonight.

"I—I know that, I wasn’t going to.” You stammered, trying to think of an excuse with him standing right there, taking a few small steps to further his point. “Okay, maybe I was going to, but now I obviously won’t.” You rolled your eyes, not bothering to lie to him. 

"I’ll bring you something, and then we’ll see if you change your mind about working.” He patted your head like he used to, it brought you back to an easier life, a simpler life where you were actually happy and didn’t live your life anxiously. 

Being with Kenma was like breathing, it was simple. 

You didn’t feel insecure because you didn’t have make up on, or that you cried, or probably didn't look the best right now. Kenma wasn’t Kuroo, Kenma cared. 

You knew he always had and probably always would. It was beyond palliating to know that Kenma cared about the important things like whether you were okay, if you had eaten or drank anything, if you needed someone to support you emotionally or help you vent.

He didn’t care about the other things like pressuring you to always look perfect or to stray out of your comfort zone for business parties with people who made you uncomfortable. 

That brought you back to the present. “This, my god, this is so good Kenma. I'm stuffed.” You groaned at the last bite of the delicious meal Kenma made you. The pristine glass plates that Kenma knew you loved, he plated your food on that like he always used to do when you stayed over.

"I’m glad you like it. You can have the recipe if you want it.” He offered, sitting comfortably on the extra chair he pulled up so he could make sure you ate and finished the meal. 

“That’d be perfect, thank you.” You smiled an actual happy smile, you loved when Kenma did things for you without you having to ask. 

“How do you feel now?” He took your plate in his hands, standing up and wiping off the desk with your unused napkin. You watched him and yawned before responding. 

“Kind of sleepy; I just want to lay down or something.” You mumbled, rubbing your sleepy eyes, your body finally going into relaxation after he had pulled you out of the state you were in. 

“Told you.” Kenma pointedly said, “Go on, I’ll shut this stuff down for you.” He resisted the urge to kiss on your temple, watching your figure sleepy shuffle into the hallway. 

“Thank you, Kennie.” You sleepily said before leaving, hoping he would come sleep with you too, you missed those nights. The gloamings you spent with him was comforting, you wished you didn’t trade that up for someone like Kuroo who hardly ever wanted to be away from work for you. 

That night, you went to bed sound asleep. Unfortunately, Kenma couldn’t bring himself to 

“You make me feel like my breakup wasn’t the end of the world.”

“That’s because it wasn’t the end of the world. How long have you gone without basic human decency?” Kenma asked you, already knowing the answer to that.

Between the last few days, Kenma’s been your listener, besides your therapist, to help you overcome your breakup. The way he has cared for you without expecting anything else in return was endearing, almost too endearing that it hurt your heart.

You knew your feelings by the end of the few days of staying at Kenma’s, the feelings that came back from when you both used to be close. However, even if he was ready for you, you weren’t for him. You had to go. 

Moving the conversation along away from the awkwardness that surrounded you both, "I’m glad I got a therapist a while back because between you and her, I think I’ve helped myself a good amount from the breakup, and it’s only been almost two weeks.” You surprisingly said, grateful for the fact that you mentally checked out of the relationship a while ago but still needed to process it. 

You continued, not watching Kenma but your phone to show him. “That reminds me; I’m going to start looking for apartments so I can be out of your hair soon. You’re amazing for letting me stay so long, Ken.” Smiling, you pushed the lit up screen towards his view, showing the apartments that were way nicer than you expected. It even had an elevator! You were fondly surprised at that. 

As you kept raving about all these fancy apartments you found, occasionally scrolling through the apartment list to remember the details, you were interrupted abruptly by Kenma. 

"You can stay." Was all he said, that’s when you finally looked at him. The room seemed to still as you met eye contact with him too, in his eyes…you could tell he didn’t want you to go.

He wasn’t ready for you to leave after he finally just got you back. Unable to eventually stop you from going, he had to tell you how he felt about you leaving. 

You were speechless when it came to responding to him. Of course, you wanted to stay but it would go against what you planned, however you knew what you would say. Besides, you haven’t even put a payment in for the apartment number yet. 

Kenma scratched the back of his neck, a random habit he never got rid of when you were around. "If you'd like, it's nice to have you around more often." The tenderness in his eyes was just so familiar now to you that you just had to accept his offer.

Living with your best friend who you may have a slight simmering crush for, knowing that it was requited too wasn’t the worst idea. Quite frankly, it seemed like one of the better options at this point. 

And so, you happily agreed, you finally got the taste of comfort again and you desperately wanted to keep it. Your mind felt at peace, not racing with horrid thoughts all the time about whether or not Kenma had ill will towards you. You loved, and needed, your best friend because the nights he brought you were everything you lacked without him. 

The warmth from the lamps that he turned on every evening as soon as the sun went down because he knew you loved them. Kenma would always light a small candle or two before you both got comfortable on the bed that you now sleep in with him. He even kept your Nintendo switch that he bought for you because you expressed interest in it once.

You always wondered where it went too, however, nights with Kenma dwelled on animal crossing and your favorite sweet treat. You didn’t have to worry about restricting yourself to no end because you were told to keep your shape up.

Looking up from your switch, you watched Kenma’s concentrated face, loving the little details you could see up close, especially his blue light glasses. You also adored how he kept his hair long, sporadically putting it in a pony.

The face framing pieces of hair, that you now play with every so often, were your favorite.

“Ken…thank you, for letting me come back into your life. I wish I never left.” You paused, letting him hold eye contact with you.

“It was worth it though, because now I know.” You hinted, but didn’t say anything else. Relishing in the fact that Kenma’s response was purely just to pull you closer to him. 

a/n: requests are open! hope you like & this is all my work <3

[koyagifs]

𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

ʚɞ pairing : yunho x reader ʚɞ au : idol! | 9th member | established relationship ʚɞ genre : fluff ʚɞ word count : 1.040 words ʚɞ summary: after yunho came back from new york, he was eager to join you on a dance. ʚɞ what if! yunho and yn are dating

As he reached the door, he paused, taking in the faint rhythm vibrating through the hallway. Yunho had always loved watching you dance—it was mesmerizing how you could command the space with such energy and grace. He chuckled to himself, thinking about all the random little things he’d missed while he was away in New York: your habit of staying late in the practice room, your laughter that seemed to brighten the entire studio, and even the lighthearted banter you’d always shared.

Taking a deep breath, he gently opened the door and peeked in. There you were, completely absorbed in the music, moving with an intensity that made it seem like no one else existed in the room. He watched, mesmerized, a warm smile spreading across his face. He didn’t want to interrupt but couldn’t help himself.

“Someone’s been practicing extra hard while I was away, huh?” he teased, his voice soft but filled with excitement.

You jumped, clutching onto your chest as you turned to Yunho.

" jesus christ Yu," you gasped, laughter leaving his lip as he walked towards you.

Yunho laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he approached. “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. But the grin on his face told you he wasn’t really sorry at all.

You rolled your eyes, still catching your breath. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” you muttered, but there was a smile creeping onto your face. His presence, his laugh—it was so familiar and comforting after missing him for so long.

Yunho wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he placed a kiss on your lip. Melting in his arms, you returned the kiss, enjoying the warmth of him.

When you finally pulled back, he smiled softly, his gaze filled with that mixture of tenderness and mischief that only he could pull off. "You have no idea how much I missed this," he murmured, brushing a stray hair from your face.

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. "Maybe I do," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "You being gone was way too quiet."

Yunho chuckled, holding you a little closer. " so, what are you working on?"

Your eyes brighten with joy and Yunho could of sworn he fell even more in love with you when you rushed over towards the speaker where your phone was at. Yunho’s eyes lit up as he watched you, feeling his heart swell at how passionate you were. He loved seeing you like this—completely in your element, your excitement practically contagious.

" i was just dancing. Care to join?" you asked, pressing play on the playlist.

Yunho’s grin widened, and he didn’t hesitate for a second to rush to your side when he realized the song you decided to play.

Lost in the music and each other, you didn’t notice the door crack open, revealing curious faces peeking through. San, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong stood just outside, their expressions a mix of amusement and surprise as they watched you and Yunho dancing so closely, clearly in your own world.

Wooyoung nudged San with a smirk. “Look at those two, huh? They’re practically in their own movie.”

San chuckled, shaking his head. “Who knew Yunho had such moves? And here I thought he only danced like that on stage.”

Hongjoong smiled softly, crossing his arms as he continued to watch. He didn’t say anything, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he observed how happy you both seemed together.

Back inside, you and Yunho moved together effortlessly, his hand on your hip guiding you as you spun back to face him. The music softened, and for a moment, he looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart race.

As the song came to an end, Yunho cupped your face bringing you into a kiss. The world seemed to melt away as Yunho’s lips met yours, soft and warm, his hand gently cradling your face as he pulled you even closer. The lingering notes of the song faded, leaving only the quiet sound of your heartbeats echoing in the space between you. You melted into the kiss, feeling completely safe and grounded in his arms.

Your fingers grazed his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your touch, and he smiled against your lips, his thumb brushing your cheek. When you finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, Yunho’s eyes searched yours, a hint of awe in his gaze as if he, too, couldn’t quite believe the moment was real.

You both jumped from the cough that came from the door, and there stood your captain with Wooyung and San had smirking faces. Hongjoong held his phone up, showing your live as your face paled.

Your heart dropped as you realized what Hongjoong was showing you—the live stream was still running, and ATINY had witnessed every second of your intimate moment with Yunho. Heat rushed to your face as you took in the comments flooding the screen, filled with shocked emojis, heart eyes, and a storm of excited messages.

“Oops,” Yunho whispered, his cheeks turning pink as he scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed but unable to hold back a sheepish grin.

Wooyoung leaned against the doorway, barely holding back his laughter. “Well, looks like you two just made ATINY’s day. Didn’t know we’d be giving them that kind of fan service!”

Hongjoong lowered his phone, stifling a chuckle as he raised an eyebrow at you both. “You know, if you’re going to turn dance practice into a romance special, you might want to remember when you’re live.”

San smirked, crossing his arms as he chimed in, “Yeah, I’d say that kiss has already gone viral by now.”

You buried your face in your hands, letting out a groan. Yunho had rush over to grab your phone, ending the live. “Oh my god… I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

Yunho wrapped an arm around your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze, his own laughter finally bubbling up. “Hey, maybe it’s not so bad,” he teased. “At least now everyone knows we make a pretty good team—in all ways.”

[notaboypossiblyagenius]

I have this very steadfast headcanon that Emily plays the piano and I just think reader would go insane over that actually (I’m reader)

i cut it because i yapped big time:P

i had never thought about this but yes, absolutely!! this would make sense as to why she knows so many languages.

there’s a study that showed that piano training enhanced cortical responses to pitch changes in music and speech!! both the temporal lobe and the frontal lobe play big parts in processing the candece and rhythm, and the rules of languages and music. so, they play into each other a lot more than we think. musicians learn to listen for cues and accents and intonations, which would definitely help in learning a new language.

anyway, she’s been playing since she was young. throughout all the different cultures and languages she encountered during such a critical period of her life, she found that the only thing that managed to stay the same was music. she falls in love with the fact that it is an international language—one that can communicate without borders or boundaries, and she embraces it as the only constant in her fast paced life. She practices and practices, familiarizing herself with the black and white keys that seemed to speak to her in a way her own mother couldn’t bother to.

she’d down play it a lot, and she definitely would not mention it. the piano was her and hers only. her own little piece of the universe she kept tucked away because if everything else in her life got taken away, she still had her knowledge and her muscle memory.

and then along came you, showing so much interest in her and what she had to say that it almost made her suspicious. so, it was no surprise that when you found out she could play the piano you begged her to show you. she denied, of course, claiming that her skills weren’t what you thought them to be. but you were unrelenting, and when she finally gave in you couldn’t understand why she ever kept this hidden.

you could spend hours sitting next to her on that uncomfortable bench listening as she tried to break down a chord for you, or explain to you how a key could be both sharp and flat at the same time. it wasn’t anything you understood, but she seemed to light up whenever she explained it, and you’d endure the hours of confusion if it meant seeing her get back every bit of life her job took from her, her lithe fingers gliding across the keys with such a gentleness that it made you envy the inanimate object. sometimes she’d go months without so much as looking in the direction of the instrument, too busy with work to even think about it. but, you’d coax her into sitting down, saying that you wanted her to teach you something. it was her passion, what set her heart ablaze.

late into nights after she’d press you into her matress, fingers gliding across your skin the same way they did those keys, she evoked sounds from you that were sweeter than any chord progression. in the quiet of her room, between soft conversation and whispered nothings she’d confess to you that if it weren’t for her mother, she’d have to loved to pursue music professionally.

[hello-sweetheart]

Neat Freak

Steve’s parents don’t make him keep the house spotless. He really is just that clean and when Nancy tries to tell people there like “lol, sure” but she knows.

He’s a neat freak.

When she would stay over she would change into her pjs and make a small bundle of her day clothes on his desk chair, and steve would just. Fold them. Before getting in bed with her.

Doesn’t take long after for the others to realize it.

Robin thought it was just a guy thing, caring that much about their car. Scolding her for kicking her socked feet up on the dash, and leaving crumbs of toast when she had breakfast to go.

But then she visits his house the first time and Robin has never been good at using a coaster, too scatter brained to pay attention where she sets her drink down each time.

Steve, though? Without missing a beat he will move her glass to the coaster. Every time. Doesn’t even break his strike or pauses his conversation it’s just muscle memory by now.

The kids have had their will broken and no longer put up a fight.

Without being told to anymore, they toe off their shoes and hang their coat by the doorway. They don’t even do that in their own home. How Steve was able to get those wild animals house broken? No body knows.

His mom didn’t actually choose his room decor. It looks a bit barren but Steve likes it that way. It looks clean, easier to do so, too. Everything has its place tucked away from sight so it’s not an eye sore.

Even his plaid wallpaper and curtains he chose for himself. He spent all day finding the curtains that matched the closest and he was really proud of himself when found some.

“Steve, buddy, this looks mental.”

“But look,” (closest the curtains to show that even the pattern lines up seemlessly) “you almost can’t even see the difference between the wall and fabric. It’s like magic! It’s cool!” >:(

He’s very meticulous about his appearance. Dustin is absolutely flabbergasted when he sees his full hair routine for himself. Everything must be done a certain way in a certain order every time. It’s routine.

“Three puffs of the Farah Fawcett! THREE!”

“I DID THREE.”

“YEAH, BUT YOU DID THEM WRONG.”

When they discontinue it, Steve has a mini breakdown. He doesn’t like that his very specific and set routine has been broken. He’s convinced he’ll never find a hair spray to replace it. Everybody stocks up on cans of it to try and lower his anxiety.

He just loves cleaning, okay?

Ironing his kakis and polos until there are no wrinkles is so satisfying. Glass without finger smudges is so nice. His closet being organized by color is so efficient. When he’s worried, anxious, or angry he likes to keep his hands busy and it just calms him down going ham on a water stain in the bathroom.

When he hangs out at Eddie’s, he mindlessly starts picking things up here and there. It’s like heaven for him. He sees a mess and just wants to go to town. Eddie doesn’t mind as long as he knows where everything is in the end. He’ll admit that having his music organized alphabetically is pretty convenient.

It’s also a little funny to watch Steve iron his ripped jeans and battle jacket with an iron he brought from home.

“You’re a freak, Harrington.” Eddie has a shit eating grin. Steve flips him off.

“Fuck off.”

[cosmicpearlz]

yours for the time being |5|

summary: what happens when your academic rival of years proposes an offer of fake dating? pure chaos.

pairing: gryffindor!jude bellingham x slytherin!reader

a/n: it’s taken a while for me to write this but thank you for being on this series journey with me! enjoy my loves <3

a typical saturday night. aka the day where the famous slytherin parties take place. most nights it was for winning matches and others, it was just for the hell of it. the common room decorated in various halloween decor. the group deciding last minute to have a costume party. taking the idea from the muggles and what they do to celebrate the holiday.

"you look smoking hot," pansy whistles at you, as you made your way downstairs. your costume being a vampire. a mini black dress and a black velvet cape with dark red platforms to match the fake blood that dripped from the side of your lips.

"so do you love!" you clapped for her sexy cat costume.

"i think we all look good," draco chips into the conversation.

"you're literally dressed as a wizard. talk about no originality." draco rolls his eyes at theo's statement.

"simplicity is way better than over doing it."

"you didn't put any effort into it," blaise says and stares at the slytherin boy as if he had grown two heads.

"haters are my motivators," draco said, as he walked away to finish putting more snacks and drinks out. it was amazing how much alcohol you guys managed to sneak in.

theo dressed as cupid. supporting the red wings and having the heart bow and arrow. blaise was dressed as beetlejuice. even having his hair spray green and having the exact face paint. you loved that your friends went all out. well minus draco.

"let's pregame this shit and see where the night takes us," pansy yells, not that she had to, but she wanted to get her point across. you guys cheered and each grab a shot to throw back. you missed the way theo, blaise, and pansy smirked at each other. it was going to be a long night.

-

jude felt stupid. why had he let his friends convince him to go to a slytherin party. the gryffindor boy hadn't spoken to her in weeks and now they both were going to be in the same vicinity. 'maybe we still would have been together if i didn't hurt her feelings'. is all he could think about. maybe he would've been by her side right now and maybe just maybe they would've had cute matching costumes. the boy was dressed as a vampire. the top hat and the stupid cape. he decided to put fake blood on the white button up shirt instead of having it on his face.

"you ready mates?" harry shouts for jude and ron. the other gryffindor boy dressed as captain america. ron dressed as spider-man.

"i'm ready to drink to my heart's desire."

"jude, you made that sound incredibly depressing," hermione says, coming down from her side of the common room. she dressed as a fairy. a matching costume that she wanted to do with luna.

"well lets get to it. don't wanna be late," jude mumbles, already walking towards the common room door. he was nervous to see her. what costume would she be wearing? is she as miserable as he is? did she even miss him? will she be wearing that sweet vanilla perfume that drives him crazy? his mind runs a million thoughts.

-

the party is in full swing. everyone holding a cup or two and dancing to the music. your friends had been sneaking glances at each other all night. not that you were really paying attention. too focused on the guy in front of you. a handsome ravenclaw that was about jude's height. maybe a little shorter than him. you know what they say, to get over someone, you must get under someone new. although, you were comparing the boy in front of you to the boy that secretly held your heart.

"so, i found it crazy that we were able to spot a group of doxies. in the middle of spring, right before-" every word fell upon deaf ears, as you watched harry, ron, hermione and jude walk in. suddenly, you felt sick. matching costumes with the one person who you avoided. ever since that day, nothing was normal.

"excuse me," you didn't wait for him to respond, walking away immediately to get a drink. taking a red cup, you poured yourself a drink and downed it. going for a second before pansy stops you.

"you alright love?"

"jude is here."

"why don't you wait in our dorm room? just take a breather really quick," you nodded and maneuver your way around dancing bodies. pansy's eyes follow your movement until she couldn't see you anymore. only then did she wink at harry and the plan was in motion.

"mate, can you help me find something?"

"like what?" jude raised an eyebrow at harry. a drink in his hand, while he heavily eyed his friend.

"i think i lost my ring."

"we just got here and you weren't wearing a ring."

"do have to spell it out for you?"

"what are you talking about?" harry dramatically sighs.

"i had a one-night stand with this slytherin girl and i left my ring in the room. i need to get it now while we're here," harry lied. a damn good lie if you asked him.

"you're impossible mate, lead the way," jude nods his head at harry to take the lead. harry leads the two of them upstairs. catching the eye of hermione and pansy, he slightly nods. step two was officially underway.

-

you sat on your bed, twirling the drink around in the cup. platforms and cape long discarded. what were you suppose to say to him? how much you truly were sorry? that you wished you could take it all back? how ironic that the minute you try to push him away and out of your mind again, he shows up. like he always did. even before the fake dating. he was a pest that wouldn't budge. a stupidly handsome pest.

"it should be in this one." you heard a muffled voice speak from outside the door. the door swings open and jude is pushed inside. you gasp quietly and sit up straighter.

"y/n?" jude stutters out in confusion.

"hi," you softly spoke. the two of you turn attention to the door that was slammed shut. a realization washes over you.

"jude open the door!" you hop off the bed and walk towards the closed door. he turns to pull at the knob, and it was no use.

"it won't open."

"and it won't open until you guys make up!" pansy yells over the loud music. "or make out! whichever comes first."

"no pressure though," ron says. 'no pressure my ass' you mumble to yourself.

hearing the footsteps grow in distance, you knew that they were long gone. you sigh and sit right back on the bed. jude stands there, unsure of what to do. only then does he realize the matching costumes. his heart swoons and breaks all at the same time.

"you're welcomed to sit," you pat the spot next to you. no use in prolonging the situation. it was now or never at this point. jude sits on the bed, making a point to sit at the end of the bed.

"matching costumes, aye?" he looks at you with a lopsided grin. it didn't reach his ears like it normally would've it, but you found it endearing anyway.

"yeah. maybe we're connected in some way," you said, while looking down at your lap. picking lint off your dress that wasn't anywhere to be found.

"like soulmates?" you lift your head meeting his gaze. oh, how you've missed those chocolate brown eyes.

"yeah maybe."

the silence takes over the room again. internally, you were panicking. what do you say? would it be worth it?

"soo."

"soo," he mimicked you. something that you both were used to. you let out a breathy chuckle.

"how are you and lavender?" turning your eyes back to the bottom of your dress. missing the way jude looks at you as if you were crazy. he felt somewhat offended.

"me and lavender? what are you on about?"

"i seen you guys," you shrugged your shoulders. the gryffindor boy scoffs.

"what are we doing here y/n? you put your friends up to this?"

"why would you think that?"

"you're trying to rub it in. well congratulations, you win," jude's voice seemly increasing by the minute. it left you dumbfounded.

"what could i possibly be rubbing in? i'm in the same boat you are!" your own voice getting louder as well.

"yeah right. i doubt you feel anything like the heartless slytherin you are." ouch.

"that's not true!"

"yes, is it. you don't care about anyone but yourself. you've proven that long before." jude was being mean that this point. his yelling and the hatful words that spewed from his mouth.

"that's not true jude! you're absolutely wrong."

"how can i be wrong? huh?"

"because i care about you, you fucking idiot," you yelled, which sends him into silence.

"you're the one that broke it off."

"yeah, because you've hurt my feelings and i don't want to continually go through that."

"i've apologized for it and i spilled my heart out to you. i told you that i would continue to apologize for it." tensions rising once more.

"right right, you're soo apologetic that you turn around and call me a heartless slytherin who only cares about herself," you crossed your arms and faced the wall. you refuse to cry in front of him. jude sighs and looks down at his lap.

"i was just upset. i didn't mean it," jude says in a quieter tone.

"so, every time you're upset with me, you'll throw how slytherins act like this in my face? how i'm a person that feels nothing?" you looked into his brown eyes with glossy eyes.

"y/n i care about you so much that it scares me. i don't know how you feel because you won't let me in. that's all i'm asking-"

"jude i like you too! is that what you want to hear? i hate that i hurt you but you have to understand that i was protecting myself. i've spent so long building walls to guard my heart and here you come. in a few months, you've managed to-"

jude doesn't let you finish, instead placing a hand on your cheek and bringing you in for a kiss. it was tentative until you start kissing him back. the boy's confidence boosts, and he slides his other hand to your waist. pulling you closer to him. you grab the collar of his cape and press into him more. lips crushing together. you missed the way his lips felt on yours.

he bites your lip, asking for permission. you allowed it, opening your mouth just enough for his tongue to squeeze through. without breaking the kiss, you straddle him. one leg sitting on either side of jude's thigh. naturally, his hands find your waist again. tongues exploring each other and fighting for dominance. the kiss comes to stop, hearing something break from the other side of the door. pulling away, you both looked at each other. it wasn't long before you guys share laughter.

"i've missed you," jude's laughter quieting down to confess to you. you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug and placing your face in the crook of his neck.

"i've missed you too." jude's arms hug your body tightly, sending warmth to spread throughout you. his head leans into yours and places a kiss onto your head.

"so, what do we do now?" you lift your head to face him, questioning where you go from here. jude gazes into your eyes, a small smile etching its way to his lips.

"we try. think you can manage that?" rising an eyebrow in a teasing manner. you grinned back at him.

"yeah. i think i can manage that."

"to that i have one thing i want to ask you."

"which is?"

"will you officially be my girlfriend? before you answer, know that we need to have open communication and i need you to let me into that pretty little mind of yours," jude says, ending his sentence with playfully pinching your side. you laughed and pushed his hand away.

"let me think about that."

"y/n."

"i'm kidding. of course i'll be your official girlfriend." jude smiles again, pulling you in for another kiss. you knew then that you guys were gonna be just fine. as long as you had each other.

[leona-hawthorne]

heyyy, i’d like to browse for a book? i’m looking for something… blaise zabini. maybe a mix of fluff and smut?like “if you fuck me the way you fuck me up emotionally, i think you’d do a pretty damn good job at it.” and/or him taking your hand and placing it on his chest. “feel this heartbeat? this is the effect you have on me." luv luv luv ur writing and take all the time u need ✌️✌️

YAYYY i've never written for blaise before so thank u sm for requesting this!!! also I got your other request about you wanting opposites attract so don't worry bb 💝

1k celebration navigation

DEAL?... book browsing

ミ★ BLAISE ZABINI

You could already feel the bass thudding in your ribcage as you stepped into the dark, crowded club, the flashing lights casting a haze over the room. Blaise’s arm stayed protectively around you, his touch warm and steady as he guided you through the jostling crowd. As much as you wanted to blend in, to just enjoy this night with him and his friends, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. Blaise, with his effortless calm and air of fun, looked completely in his element, but every minute you spent here made you feel like you were intruding on a world you didn’t belong to.

For a while, you tried to focus on him, on his low chuckle when one of his friends cracked a joke, or the way he seemed so relaxed, his fingers holding yours reassuringly, the scent of his cologne. But the longer you were there, the more the crowded room started to close in around you, the crush of people pressing in on all sides. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself to be cool, to just enjoy the night for Blaise’s sake. But your hand started to clench around the drink he’d handed you, and you caught yourself glancing toward the door, longing for the fresh air.

He caught you looking around, noticing the slight way you stiffened whenever someone bumped into you. “Hey,” he murmured, leaning close so you could hear him. “You alright?” Blaise’s voice was low in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the pounding music. He glanced down at you, his eyes soft but with a hint of amusement, as if he could already tell you were nervous.

“Yeah, of course,” you lied, forcing a smile as you took in the crowd of people pressed together, the smell of drinks and smoke hanging heavy in the air. You didn’t want to spoil his night by letting on how out of place you felt, especially since he seemed to be enjoying himself. “Just a bit loud.”

Still, your shoulders tensed every time someone brushed by too close, and you caught yourself clutching his arm a little tighter than you’d intended.

He noticed immediately. “Hey,” he murmured, leaning down a bit so you could hear him better, “we can go if you want.”

Your stomach dropped. “No, really, I’m fine!” you insisted, hating the idea of being a burden. “Your friends are here, and you don’t have to—”

“Y/N,” he cut in, his gaze softening as he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to anything. I want to make sure you’re comfortable. If this isn’t your thing, it’s not a big deal.”

You hesitated, trying to shake off the pang of guilt. “I just… I know you have fun here, and I don’t want to be the one who drags you away.”

His expression shifted, something almost unreadable flickering across his face, and he tilted his head with that soft smile that made your heart stutter. “If you’re not having fun,” he said gently, “then I’m not either. Come on, let’s go.”

That was all the assurance you needed. Within minutes, the two of you had slipped out of the club and into the cool night air. As you drove in silence back to his flat, you tried to organize your thoughts, the guilt from earlier bubbling up again as you replayed the night in your mind.

Once you reached the quiet comfort of his living room, the words tumbled out of you in a rush. “I’m so sorry, Blaise,” you said, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve, not meeting his gaze. “I feel like such a buzzkill. That whole scene… it’s just not really my thing. You must get so frustrated with me sometimes.”

Blaise sighed, moving closer until you couldn’t avoid his eyes anymore. “Frustrated?” he repeated, as if the idea was completely foreign. “If you’re not enjoying yourself, then neither am I. It’s that simple.”

You shook your head, laughing softly despite yourself. “I don’t know, you just… you fit there, you know? You’re so relaxed, like nothing ever phases you. Meanwhile, I’m… just standing in the corner like an idiot,” you sighed. “I didn’t mean to be a killjoy, I just–”

“Hey.” He took your hand, drawing it to his chest, pressing it firmly over his heartbeat. “Feel that?” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “Feel this heartbeat? That’s the effect you have on me. You ground me, even in the middle of all that noise. So, trust me when I say, I don’t care where we are—if you’re there, that’s all that matters.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him, completely taken aback by the warmth and sincerity in his gaze. The steady beat beneath your hand seemed to echo through you, grounding you just as much as he’d said you did for him. In that moment, you realized he wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better. He meant every word.

"Blaise," you whispered, feeling the need to respond, to acknowledge the depth of what he'd just shared. But no words came, because what could you possibly say in return?

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, drawn to him like a magnet. His lips were so close now, tempting you, and you knew if you closed the gap, there would be no going back. Not that you wanted to. 

Your pulse quickened as you leaned in closer, the air between you charged with tension. He waited, giving you space to take the lead, but his eyes never left yours, dark and intense. When you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper, laced with nerves and something deeper, more primal.

“I still feel bad that you had to leave your friends,” you murmured, biting your lip as you held his gaze. “Maybe... maybe I can make it up to you. Another way.” 

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. His breath hitched slightly, a flash of desire crossing his features before he schooled them into a neutral mask. But you could see the effect they had on him, the way his pupils dilated, the subtle tightening of his jaw.

“Is that so?” he replied, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no turning back now. You reached up, trailing your fingers along his jawline, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. His eyes followed the movement, fixated on your touch.

Before you could second-guess yourself, Blaise leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips as he whispered, "Don't overthink it." Then, slowly, torturously, he closed the distance between you, his mouth finding yours in a tender kiss that sent sparks racing through your veins.

As you melted into each other, the rest of the world fell away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, gazes locked in a silent understanding.

He stepped closer, backing you up against the wall as he dipped his head to brush his lips along the column of your throat. Each press of his mouth sent shivers cascading down your spine, your pulse fluttering wildly under his tongue.

"Tell me what you want," he breathed against your skin, the command laced with promise. His hands skimmed up your sides, thumbs grazing the underside of your tits as he waited for your answer. Blaise was a patient man, but even he had his limits, and right now, he was close to snapping.

"I..." You swallowed hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts. What did you want? Anything. Everything. Him. "I want..."

He paused, pulling back enough to meet your eyes, his own darkened with restrained hunger. "What do you want, Y/N?" he prompted again, slower this time, enunciating each syllable. His voice was rough, gravelly, sending tendrils of arousal curling through you.

"I want you," you managed to gasp out, the admission slipping past your lips before you could stop it. Your body was screaming for his touch, begging to be claimed by him. "Please, Blaise."

At your plea, he growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as his teeth grazed your collarbone. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh through your clothes. "You have no idea how badly I want you."

With a swift motion, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. The hardness of his erection prodded insistently against your clothed core, making you whimper with need.

Without warning, he carried you down the hall, kicking open the door to his room. He tossed you onto the mattress, the springs creaking under your weight as he loomed over you, his eyes roaming hungrily across your form.

Slowly wantonly, he began to undress, peeling off his shirt to reveal the sculpted planes of his chest and abs. Your mouth went dry at the sight, your gaze tracing every dip and curve of his muscles. Next came his pants, sliding down his hips to pool at his feet, leaving him in just a pair of tight boxer briefs that did little to conceal his straining erection.

You felt your mind go blissfully blank, overwhelmed by the sheer perfection before you. Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly parched lips, your heart thundering in your chest like a wild animal desperate to break free.

When he crawled over you, his muscular body pressing deliciously against yours, you let out a shaky sigh, arching into the contact. But then reality crashed back in, and a wave of nervousness washed over you. "Wait," you breathed, reaching up to gently grasp his arms. "I... You know I've never done this before."

Your cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as you admitted your inexperience. "What if I'm bad at it?" The question tumbled out, half-hearted and uncertain.

A slow, wicked grin spread across Blaise's face at your confession, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and promise. He dipped his head, trailing kisses along your jaw until his lips hovered mere inches from your ear.

"Honestly, baby," he purred, his warm breath fanning across your skin and making you shiver. "If you can fuck me the way way you fuck me up emotionally, I think you'd do a pretty damn good job at it."

His hand slid down your side, fingers dancing teasingly along the hem of your shirt before dipping underneath to caress the soft skin of your stomach. "Don't worry," he continued, his voice dropping an octave as he pressed a lingering kiss to the sensitive spot just below your earlobe. "I'll teach you. You've always been a fast learner.".

A soft gasp escaped your lips at Blaise's words, your body responding instinctively to his touch, your skin tingling where his fingers brushed against you. The notion that he would guide you, teach you, made your heart race with excitement and anticipation.

"You really think so?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in your tone was evident, but beneath it lay a spark of determination. If Blaise believed in you, then perhaps you could rise to the challenge.

Emboldened by his reassurance, you reached for the hem of your shirt, hesitating for a moment before slowly lifting it over your head and letting it fall to the side. Your breasts, pert and rounded, rose invitingly, nipples already hardened into tight peaks from the cool air and Blaise's heated gaze.

Blaise's eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over your exposed upper body, drinking in the sight of your perky tits and stiff nipples. He licked his lips, his gaze fixated on the art in front of him.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, leaning in to capture the tip between his lips. He suckled gently, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud while his hand palmed the other breast, thumb circling the nipple.

As he nursed at you, his other hand slid lower, pushing your skirt up around your hips to expose your thighs. His fingers trailed along the smooth skin, edging closer to your panties with each pass until finally, he hooked them with his index finger and tugged the fabric aside.

"We'll take it slow, I promise," he murmured. "I want our first time to be perfect for you."

A sharp intake of breath hitched in your throat as Blaise's mouth closed around your nipple again, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your breast further into his warm, wet mouth. The gentle suction and flicks of his tongue had you squirming beneath him, your hands grasping at his hair to hold him close.

As his fingers danced along your inner thigh, pushing your panties to the side, you felt a rush of liquid heat dampen your folds. "Fuck, Blaise..."

"Shh, relax, love," Blaise cooed, releasing your nipple with a pop to trail open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent.

One long finger glided through your slick folds, collecting the arousal coating your pussy before circling your clit in lazy strokes. You were absolutely drenched, coating his digits with your arousal. "So wet for me already," he purred, the gravelly undertone in his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I want you so badly, Y/N, he confessed roughly, grinding his clothed erection against your hipbone.” Want to feel this pussy squeezing my cock.”

A low moan spilled from your lips as Blaise's finger entered you, stretching and filling you in ways you'd never experienced before. Your walls clenched reflexively around the digit, drawing it deeper as you rocked your hips against his hand.

"Oh god, yes..." you whimpered, the sensation of his thick finger pumping in and out of your tight hole, combined with the relentless circles he drew around your clit, quickly escalating your arousal to dizzying heights.

"I... I need more," you panted, your nails digging into Blaise's shoulders as you tried to urge him on. "Please, Blaise..."

The desperation in your voice seemed to spur him on, and soon a second finger joined the first, scissoring and stretching you even wider. Blaise groaned at the feeling of your hot, velvety walls gripping his fingers like a vice. He added a third digit, pumping them faster as he watched your face contort in ecstasy.

"That's it, baby, let go," he urged, his thumb rubbing firm circles over your throbbing clit. "Come for me."

Your body tensed, back arching off the bed as the coil of pleasure in your belly snapped, sending you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion. You cried out Blaise's name, your pussy clamping down on his fingers as wave after wave of intense euphoria crashed over you. He worked you through it, not stopping until the last waves subsided and you collapsed bonelessly against the mattress. Blaise took a moment to admire the flush of satisfaction coloring your cheeks and the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. 

With deft movements, he divested you of your remaining clothing–your skirt and panties joining your shirt in a pile on the floor. His own boxers followed suit shortly after, revealing his thick, hard length standing proud against his abdomen.

Positioning himself between your splayed thighs, he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your gasp as the blunt head of his cock nudged insistently at your entrance.

But then you placed a hand on his chest, halting his progress. "Wait," you whispered, suddenly looking uncertain. "I'm... I'm nervous."

Blaise cupped your face tenderly, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "Hey, just look at me," he said softly, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. "There's no 'right' or 'wrong' here, alright? It's just us, just you and me."

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch soothing and reassuring. "We've got all the time in the world, love. We can stop whenever you want, okay?"

Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, pouring all his affection and understanding into the tender contact. "I want this to be special for you, Y/N. More than anything. So we take it at your pace, deal?"

Your heart swelled with emotion at Blaise's words, the sincerity in his voice and the tenderness of his touch easing some of the tension from your body. You nodded slowly, reaching up to caress his cheek.

"Okay," you murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Deal."

With renewed gentleness, Blaise resumed his position between your thighs, the tip of his cock still nestled against your slick entrance. He looked into your eyes once more, seeking permission and reassurance.

"You ready, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "I promise I'll take care of you."

At your nod, he pressed forward incrementally, allowing your body to adjust to his size. Inch by inch, he sank into your warmth, his breathing growing heavier as he savored the incredible feeling of finally being inside you.

Once he was fully sheathed, Blaise paused, giving you a moment to acclimate. Then, with exquisite slowness, he began to move, withdrawing until only the head remained inside before sliding back in, setting a leisurely rhythm designed to ease your nerves.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as Blaise's thickness stretched you open, the initial intrusion causing a fleeting pinch of discomfort before gradually giving way to a pleasurable fullness. As he began to move, you wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back to draw him in deeper.

Each deliberate thrust sent ripples of sensation coursing through your core, the drag of his cock against your inner walls igniting sparks of pleasure that built with every pass. You arched into him, meeting his slow, sensual pace as you grew accustomed to the intimate connection.

"Mmh... Blaise," you breathed, your hands roaming over his back, nails scraping lightly across his skin. "Feels... amazing."

"That's it, baby," Blaise groaned, his hips rolling in time with yours as he picked up the pace slightly. "Take all of me, love."

He captured your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue twining with yours as he lost himself in the intoxicating taste and feel of you. Each thrust now carried a bit more force, but still with that same meticulous care, ensuring you were thoroughly pleasured rather than simply ravaged.

As he continued to move within you, Blaise broke the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh there. "You're so fucking perfect, Y/N," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Never felt anything like this before."

Your moans mingled with Blaise's, the sound of your combined passion filling the room as he drove you higher with each powerful thrust. The new pace had you clinging to him tighter, your nails digging into his back as you sought greater friction, more of that incredible pressure building inside you.

When Blaise's teeth grazed your earlobe, you shuddered, a sharp cry escaping your throat. "Blaise..." you whimpered, your hips bucking wildly to meet his now. "Don't stop, please..."

The intensity of your emotions overwhelmed you, and you found yourself teetering on the brink of another climax, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within your core. "I'm close again," you panted, your voice strained with need. 

Blaise's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you with increasing urgency. "Come on, baby," he urged, his voice a husky growl. "Come on my cock."

He reached down to circle your clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you hurtling over the edge. As your orgasm crashed through you, Blaise buried his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his own shout of climax.

Your entire being seemed to fracture apart, shattering into a million brilliant pieces as the most intense orgasm of your life ripped through you. You clung to Blaise desperately, sobbing out his name as the waves of bliss threatened to drown you completely.

In the aftermath, you relaxed back into the soft sheets, utterly spent and sated beyond measure. Blaise rolled to the side, taking you with him so that you lay draped across his chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

After several long moments, you lifted your head to gaze up at him, a dreamy smile curving your lips. 

Blaise chuckled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed down at you adoringly. "See? That was so much more fun than being at the club with my friends," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Definitely the better choice tonight."

[wassupmygays]

do u have any hc of the significance of pony and soda in the musical having jewelry/necklaces they play w a lot but darry not having any and i noticed when i saw brent is v still when he speaks but soda and pony fidget a lot

i am always fascinated and in awe of the ways actors use physicality to portray so much about the character, and this show is no different. you can definitely look at this both from canon facts and hcs of the characters.

darry, for example, we know through ponyboy's eyes as this rock of a man that doesnt give in to anything. ponyboy is seeing this through his young, upset eyes and just thinks darry is so stuck and strict bc he doesn't like ponyboy. but i also think that is just . darry coping. and trying not to break. brent has said in multiple interviews that he plays darry very still on purpose. partly because, thematically, he is the rock of the family. he is the pillar holding them up. he has to be still and strong. i feel like if he thinks if he lets himself fidget nervously too much, he'll break, and he just cant have that. the only fidgety character choice i know brent does is biting his nails during stressful scenes, which in my heart is a trait darry and pony share (pony does it in the book a bunch)

sodapop, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. i think if he settles down for a moment too long, that is when he breaks. jason understands soda as a character SO WELL every time he talks about how he plays him im just like yea. youre sodapop. anyways he regularly talks about how when soda allows feels emotions, he experiences them in Big Ways. he cries for days, he feels everything so completely. but he cant let himself do that all the time, so he bounces around. he deflects with a laugh. he busies himself with making everyone else feel better so he doesn't have to focus on his own emotions until he can get the time to let himself let it all go. headcanon wise i think he especially fidgets with his dad's dog tags whenever hes gotta try and hold it all together. he's also an adhd king, so even if he isnt trying to distract himself, hes not staying still.

and finally, ponyboy. i think he is a nervous fidgeter. hes also a 14 year old kid, with all of this pent up emotion about his family and his world and wanting more somehow. he has so much inside of him that he just doesn't understand. i don't think he's as hyperactive about it as sodapop, but its still there. hes chewing his nails, hes tapping his fingers, hes playing with his necklace, or hes running a hand through his hair. to me it feels like hes a mix of his brothers; he can't stay still at all, like soda, but his movements are smaller, like darry. him and darry share a lot of the same motions. and also i think writing, movies, and daydreaming is where he gets out a lot of his energy and feelings.

anyways. that was really long. i love you if you read all of that. as you can see i have So Many thoughts about these characters, so thank you thank you thank you for this ask and im sorry it took some time to answer dkfjdkjfkjf. i will always take more asks to talk about these characters and this story <3

[smilesrobotlover]

Kidnapping of the Princess

I wanted to write a little thing from where Leon and Veran met and fought during the kidnapping of Tetra. It started out with it being in third person but I changed it to first person where it was Leon telling the colors about what happened. So that was a fun experiment haha. It’s def not perfect and it’s something that’d be easier to show through a comic but oh well. Hope you guys like it regardless :)

Warning for kidnapping, character death, and injury

~~~~~

The memory of the day has never left my mind, still remaining there like a scar to remind me of what happened, what I failed to do.

It started as a joyful day, with the workers preparing the castle with decorations, the bakers prepping the most tasteful and elaborate cakes, and the seamstresses creating the most elegant dresses. A lot of work, for the princesses’ first birthday.

I remember I thought it was too much for babies; they’d never remember the party, but the whole castle was excited for it. You—well, I suppose Link—was only learning to walk, which made keeping track of you difficult, but you loved the decorations, just as excited for the party as everyone else despite not understanding what was happening.

The party started early due to the twins’ strict sleep schedule, and the Knights of Hyrule and I were focused on keeping everyone safe. I kept my eye out despite the crowded room, but people were simply dancing, eating, and drinking to their heart's content. The princesses were on their little thrones, playing with their toys and crawling around while the First Knight, Sir Arthur, kept people from trying to touch or play with them. I remember while I was trying to do my job, you—Link, escaped the maids and somehow found me, your little legs toddling through the crowd. Goddesses you never failed to give me a heart attack. The party was truly… fun, with you there with me, with everyone cheering and singing with the music, with the princesses squealing at every gift opened for them. I hate parties, but I was enjoying myself. Sir Arthur teased me relentlessly for it, bless that man.

In the middle of the party, the king gave a toast to his daughters, which I think was a mistake for what happened that night.

“To my first daughter, Zelda, who came into the world first with a powerful cry,” he had started, raising his drink while holding her. “I know you will be the ruler Hyrule needs. I love you so much my sweet Zelda.”

Princess Zelda was always a daddy’s girl—she loved him very much. But the second princess was a momma’s girl, and she held her hands up to the queen to be held before the king could do his next toast.

“To my second daughter, who came into the world after her sister with a gentle sob. I know that despite not inheriting the crown, that you will make the world a better place, and that you will be a strong foundation and example for Hyrule. I love you—I am blessed by the Golden Three themselves.” The king had started weeping at that point, with a long moment of silence grew as he tried to collect himself in his speech. “I could lose my riches, my castle, and my power and still be the richest man alive.”

The crowd clapped, with the king hugging and kissing his wife and daughters. It was truly heartwarming to see, and the crowd dispersed to continue their merry ways. The party was supposed to last all through the night despite the princesses retiring early, but the king and queen suddenly grew weary and tired, and they retired with them. I supposed that should’ve been a sign, but we thought nothing of it. I knew since having a one-year-old of my own that it’s exhausting, so I foolishly believed everything was ok.

To my surprise, Sir Arthur allowed me to retire with you since you were tired as well, so I walked with the maids to our room, which allowed me to pass by the royal’s room when it happened. The guards in front greeted me, and I gave them a nod, hoping to get away before they tried to converse with me, but there was a loud crash in the room, followed by crying. Without thinking, I burst through the room, with the soldiers following closely behind, and I saw her.

A tall figure loomed over one of the princess’s cribs, a broken vase between them, Zelda crying, and her sister squirming in the stranger’s hole. The king and queen were passed out on the floor, and I realized that they had been drugged. It was all a trap, a plan and a ploy to get to the princesses!

I shouted for the guards, ordered the two with me to secure Zelda and the king and queen, and ran after the stranger, but she crashed through the window before I could reach her, the only part of her face showing being her sinister smile. She fell from the window to the ground uninjured, but I didn’t let that stop me. I grabbed rope I had in my pack and jumped out myself, using it to safely land in the courtyard. She was far ahead of me, floating as she ran away with the crying princess, but I continued running for her, ignoring the pain in my knees.

The woods were dark and far more twisted than I remembered, and I found myself nearly tripping to the ground as I followed the kidnapper. There was a moment where I lost them, the sound of the princess’s cries echoing out through the trees, and Sir Arthur suddenly appeared to my surprise.

“Leon! What happened?” He had asked, and I simply spun in circles, trying to listen to where the cries were coming from.

“The second princess was taken, I don’t know where they went!”

“Calm yourself, perhaps there are tracks for us to follow?”

I remember glancing at the ground, only to find no tracks, and the memory of the kidnapper floating away played through my mind.

“There are no tracks,” I explained, “the kidnapper is—is like a ghost.”

Sir Arthur nodded. “Then let us listen for the princess.”

Sir Arthur always knew how to be calm during an emergency, and I found my breathing slowing as he rested his hand on shoulder which grounded me. We both closed our eyes and remained silent, hearing the princess’s cries grow quieter and quieter. But we knew where they were coming from. Sir Arthur pointed into the trees and nodded at me, and I nodded back. We sprinted through the woods, the cries growing louder and louder until we finally caught up with the kidnapper, who was simply standing in a clearing while trying to cover the princess’s mouth.

“Quiet you, you little brat,” she hissed, but she spotted us, her strange mask that hid her eyes facing the both of us. “Well, looks like you caught up with me.”

I remember her voice was strangely beautiful and smooth, almost mesmerizing to listen to, but there was a hint of malice that stopped it from being truly beautiful.

“Let go of the princess,” Sir Arthur ordered, his voice steady and firm.

“Or you’ll what?” The kidnapper asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

“We’ll do what we must,” he simply replied, and he lunged towards her before I could even think. The kidnapper seemed shocked as well, barely dodging the attack.

“Careful, you might harm the little princess,” she laughed, twirling around as Sir Arthur attacked. I lunged as well, aiming for the woman’s legs to hopefully incapacitate her without harming the princess. It was strange with the way she moved. I genuinely couldn’t tell if she was somehow floating, or if she was just tall, but she towered over the two was. She was also quick despite her size, but she quickly grew flustered trying to dodge the knights while holding tight to the sobbing princess, and she let out a yelp when Sir Arthur cut the fabric on her back, leaving it completely bare. She stopped and panted for a moment, but soon simply smiled as she backed up against the tree, her white teeth shining in the moonlight, and eight, glowing red wings appeared behind her now that they were free from the clothes. I could never forget the feeling of dread I felt when I saw that. She was a great fairy.

I looked over at Arthur just as she launched magic at him, sending him flying into the trees where he crumpled to the ground.

“Sir Arthur!” I had called out, and my first instinct was to run to him, even when the great fairy laughed and flew away with the princess. The First Knight was… weak when I got to him, but there was a fire in his eyes as he gripped my forearm, a pleading expression on his face.

“Save… the princess…” he breathed out, and though I didn’t want to leave him, I nodded solemnly, standing up when he let me go. I had a duty to Hyrule, and I couldn’t fail.

I heard the laughter of the great fairy echoing through the trees as I followed her, fire flowing through my veins that pushed me to run faster. I had my sword drawn, and I caught up to the great fairy, spotting her beautiful wings amongst the dark forest. I hopped on a boulder before aiming my sword down at her, and she spotted me seconds before I could hit her. My sword sank into the ground, but I pulled it out as the great fairy sneered at me.

“I suppose I should get rid of you too,” she huffed, and she laid the princess on the ground before facing me fully, magic in the air making my hair stand on end.

The princess continued to cry, and I don’t know if it was my dedication to my duty, or my own fatherly instincts kicking in, but I knew that I would do whatever it took to save her.

I had fought many tough foes in my life, but none of them compared to fighting a great fairy. Her magic was terrifying, with explosions happening left and right, thorny vines bursting from the ground and threatening to bind me, and I even felt her try to enter my very soul, but I stopped her before she could control me.

“Come on little knight, you can’t defeat me to save the princess?” She taunted, nearly lighting me on fire. I was able to land a few hits on her, but her size and strength made my slices mere scratches, but I never stopped. I hoped that even if I couldn’t stop her myself, that I’d be able to hold her there until the rest arrived. Eventually, I dodged her charging at me, her sharp nails threatening to gouge out my eyes, and I swung my sword up, cutting off her beautiful wings.

Her scream deafened all the sounds in the woods and she fell while clawing at her back. I simply turned and sprinted for the princess, who was sitting up on her knees in confusion. Oh the poor thing…

I had her. I picked her up, I cradled her in my arms, I brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, and then everything went dark.

I don’t know what the great fairy did to me, but the next thing I remembered were knights hovering over me, cutting off thick vines and roots constricting me.

“Leon, are you ok? Say something!” Valansuela shouted in a desperate attempt to wake me, and I was released from the bonds and helped up. I was confused, for I remembered standing and holding the princess. But here I was, almost stuffed inside a tree, the dawn breaking, and the great fairy gone with the princess. I had failed…

On top of it all, the first knight of Hyrule, Sir Arthur, was killed in the battle.

The morning of the kidnapping was… drastically different from the night before. The king and queen were distraught over their second daughter’s kidnapping, the soldiers were searching every inch of the kingdom to find her, and the knights were mourning their leader. I was sent straight to medic because of the injuries I sustained while unconscious, and despite actually fighting her, no one believed that a great fairy kidnapped the princess. Perhaps they were in denial that such a divine being would do such a thing, or they thought I had grown mad from the fight, but I know what I saw. I know what she was, and she killed my friend. It was beyond frustrating to deal with, but I was too… tired to try to convince them.

As grim as it seems though, I am… grateful that I was injured, because I had a few weeks to myself recovering. I… can’t tell you how many sleepless nights I had after that night. Nightmares of the princess’s cries, the great fairy coming for revenge, and you being stolen away from me plagued my mind. I couldn’t let you out of my sight, so much so that I would sometimes watch you while you slept, as if looking away would cause you to be stolen away. I’m just glad that I could stay with you until I felt… fine enough to leave you with the maids.

I’ve never forgotten the great fairy though, no matter how many people tried to convince me she wasn’t a great fairy. The memory of her wings, her scream, her smile… I just could never forget it. I always try to keep my eye out for her, and I’ve even gone searching for her once. But just like all the soldiers searching for the princess, I came up empty.

And it saddens me deeply to know that she was never found. The king and queen never got closure on what happened to her due to passing away when you were about five, and Zelda never got to remember her sister. It's just… I wish I could’ve done better for her. I wish I didn’t fail…

No matter what people tell you boys, please know that anything is capable of evil acts, even creatures like fairies. Be wary of every stranger, creature, and animal that comes your way. You never know what they are planning, and what they’ll do to you.

[lukalnst]

I would like to ask which of the Alien stage characters would be their favorite type of Goth Girl and how they interact with the goth girl reader..

LUKA, MIZI, SUA & TILL WITH A GOTH!FEM READER

Contains: Luka, Mizi, Sua, Till (separately) / Goth reader / Fem pronouns for reader / Headcanons + some writing / Kisses / Lipstick kisses / Fluff

Luka

Well, it wasn't something that he himself would try, but he wouldn't tell you to not dress like that.

Pretty much the opposite of what he looks like!

Still, you caught his attention. He hadn't seen anyone else dress the way you do, and do makeup the way you did.

So he just watches intently as you do your own makeup.

"That type of music is the most important part... I see."

He likes it when you tell him about the history of the Goth subculture. It actually intrigues him.

Luka just watched the way your hands moved as you finished applying some of the eyeshadow to do your own makeup. He was observing many things, actually; mostly the way you brushed the makeup onto your eyes and the way your hands moved when you did it.

He had done makeup before, but it didn't turn out as well as when you did it. Perhaps you could teach him some other time — just in a way that fits his appearance more.

Luka carefully approached you and seemed to be scanning every part of you. From your hair to your clothes, he just looked at you, thinking of ways he could compliment you in some way.

Before he could open his mouth to say something, you planted a kiss on his lips, which left a stain on his lips. His eyes widened slightly; what a rare sight.

"What... was that for?" He questioned you.

You just smiled at him. You were so gorgeous, so beautiful both with and without makeup. "I'm not done yet, I think I put too much lipstick on. Perhaps I should..."

Mwah.

His face seemed to warm up slightly as you kissed the corner of his lips, but at the same time, both of you knew that this was just the start.

Mizi

"Haaaah...? That's so cool!"

That was pretty much her reaction the first time she saw you using your signature makeup and clothes.

She was beyond amazed — you looked so completely and utterly adorable!

"Mizi — hey!" You protested as she gently pinched your cheek. She was quick to plant a kiss on it, too. But you couldn't blame her! You simply looked so adorable that she just had to.

She positioned her hands so she could be pinching both of your cheeks. She smiled happily at you, and then laughed to herself.

"You're so adorable! How come I've never seen you like this before?" She leaned in closer to you. You weren't sure to show this side to anyone else because you knew people were judgemental. Still, you knew you could show this side of yourself to Mizi.

"You... you don't have to kiss—" You were immediately cut off as Mizi placed her lips against yours. She had stained a bit of your lipstick on her own lips, but she didn't care.

"You have more outfits like this, right? I wanna see all of them!" She laughed softly to herself.

Well, if Mizi wanted to see them... who were you to deny her?

Till

Well, he was used to seeing people with alternative styles, so he wasn't shocked or anything of the sort.

He thought it was cool, actually!

Didn't know if he would try it himself, though.

He couldn't pull it off as amazingly as you.

"Woah. You're really good at that makeup thing."

Talking about things that involved makeup wasn't exactly Till's forte...

He could barely do anything on himself, as when he tried to even apply eyeliner on sometimes, he'd just mess it up, and it would end up looking oddly.

So, obviously, he admired you and your skills. That was a given as he had no skills when it came to that area.

"That's kinda cool," His words seemed pretty genuine. "I like your clothes. They're nice." He admitted. He knew that if he said too much, you'd probably end up teasing him, so he preferred to keep things to himself.

You smiled at him. "Is that all you're going to say?" Your words were filled with a playful tone.

His face seemed to warm up, and a soft shade of pink covered his face. "No! I mean — you look very pretty, very gorgeous or whatever. I don't really care..." He managed to stutter out.

Ah, it was going to be a long day for him. You'd probably tease him for the rest of the day of what he had just said.

... But at least, he'd be teased by a gorgeous girl.

Sua

She had tried makeup on herself before, but the way you did it was much more neatly done than the way she did it on herself.

Much like Till, she admires you.

"... That's pretty nice, you're pretty too."

Perhaps you two could practice makeup on each other.

You were getting dressed as Sua suggested you lay down so she could do your makeup. She had read a few articles about how to do it, so she probably could do it.

She showed you a set of pictures, then asked which one you liked most. You chose one of them, and then she sat down on your lap as she was careful to apply the makeup onto your skin.

After a few minutes, she was done. You looked at yourself in the mirror — she had done an amazing job! It was her first time, too. She just smiled proudly at herself as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Pretty cute, isn't it? But you're beautiful always." She said, softly wrapping her arms around you as you continued to look at yourself. She planted a soft kiss on your shoulder and then she whispered.

"You'll always be beautiful in my eyes."

[of-nyon]

Fuck it. Moar.

“– the most expensive frame we've ever fitted, we have the paperwork to prove it, all the financials printed and signed, and he absconded with his debt unpaid –”

Well, you couldn't have spent that much on materials, given how small he is, Prowl thought. Absently, he drummed his fingers on his desk in a habit he knew he had picked up from Jazz, a mech who, in Prowl's experience, could only sit still if his life depended on it and even then his chances were middling at best.

On the holoscreen, sat comfortably in an opulent office a few megamiles away in Nyon, was the Head Curator of Sanctuary House, the last registered place of work of Rodimus Prime, né Hot Rod. The new Prime was still holed up in the apartment he'd initially fled to, the Primal Vanguard keeping careful watch of any comings and goings in the building and the immediate surrounding area. Curiously, his previous employer had requested a meeting specifically not with Optimus, but 'whoever else comes after him that's dealing with this whole situation.'

“Are you asking,” Prowl interrupted, his time with Optimus and Jazz having loosened him to where thoughts that he would before have kept to himself now, occasionally, when warranted, freely left his mouth, “for the Matrix-chosen Prime to be returned to you? To work?”

“W-well,” the mech's plating ruffled, withering under Prowl's unimpressed gaze. There was paperwork. There was always paperwork. And this fool was wasting his time. “The expenses, you understand, and he was one of our most requested models, we took a real hit in revenue when he left – left! It's an outrage!”

Hot Rod was young, but he was older than Optimus' ascension and subsequent reforms, born into the last throes of Functionism, ultimately under the thumb of a mech Prowl had immediately disliked the moment the holoscreen switched on.

“Send us your invoice,” Prowl said flatly. “We will cover any debts he accrued.”

“But the lost revenue –” Also couldn't be too much, at this point. Hot Rod had only left Nyon an estimated decaorn ago. They hadn't even submitted a missing mech report. Prowl had checked; nothing on the servers in the precinct at Nyon came up with his name except an old loitering arrest that, thankfully, hadn't yet made its way to the press. Prowl had quietly redacted and classified it while he'd been in the system.

“If your charges are deemed fair, we will pay it. Good day.” He switched the holoscreen off and reached out for a datapad in the same movement. Applications for the Primal Vanguard, currently recruiting to bolster their numbers given current events. He carefully evaluated each one, sending any approved to Ironhide and providing feedback to any rejected mechs, of which there were many. He did pay attention to younger mechs than he might have otherwise; a cohort of mechs closer to the Prime's age would be, overall, positive, given supervision and training by the older staff. After making it through half the stack, he checked in on Jazz again.

:Any updates?:

:Hi to you too, Prowler.: Jazz sounded chipper, although he usually did regardless of how well he was actually feeling. He would probably insist that he was fine even if he was bleeding out in front of Prowl's optics. Prowl blinked the thought away. He didn't need that imagery, or for the tac net to latch onto the scenario and start crunching numbers.

:He's up. We've, uh, been ignoring the news and whatever the infranet's melting down into. Some of his old pals in Nyon've commed him, seemed all right with it. Sounds like the festivals there are nuts right now. Been teaching him some beginner's electrobass, pretty fast learner I gotta say, and some basic lockpicking, though it turns out he already knew some o' that. My kinda mech. Likes copper flakes in his energon. Didn't have a clue what I was talkin' about when I tried to talk music, though. We have got to get this mech to a concert, stat. What are they teachin' 'em in Nyon?.:

:In his case?: Prowl replied, letting the words wash over him and picking out any actual information. Copper flakes; a message to the kitchens was quickly sent. :How to pleasure clients, most likely.:

:Ouch, you don't gotta come out an' say it like that.: Prowl could hear his wince. :They're sayin' some real gross stuff about him online.:

More damage control: mechs anonymously boasting that they had had his services before (unlikely, given the amount of claims) or fantasising about it in lurid detail.

:Guess they said gross stuff about OP too, but I dunno, he ain't even had his adult upgrades yet, he's old enough but they cheaped out on him.: Something to note for when Sanctuary House sent their invoice through, if they tried charging for it. And a message to Ratchet and his staff. Prowl received a quick, curt 'accepted' ping for that one; he could imagine the expression on the grouchy medic's face upon finding out that information.

:But hey, if we get the Matrix to him, all good, right? Free upgrade!: Yes, they would need to check in with Ratchet on whether it was preferable for Hot Rod to receive his adult upgrades first, or to let the Matrix reformat him to its pleasing and then deal with the aftermath as it came.

internet went out yesterday so I missed most of Tumblr Halloween which is bullshit. Have a new wip in lieu of boops.

The first Holy Act of Rodimus Prime, True-Chosen, warm white light still spilling off his frame, was to bolt.

He hadn't even come here for the Matrix! He'd come for the crowd, pushing and straining against each other for so much as a glimpse of the ancient artifact, and certainly not paying attention to someone slipping a hand into their subspace to grab whatever he could.

Hot Rod ran, ignoring the “Hey, wait!” from the guard who'd waved him through earlier. Optimus Prime apparently meant it; sure, the rich folk still got the top spots, same as always, but they'd let through a lowlife street mech like Hot Rod without him needing to sweet-talk them. He polished up good, when he had the means and the funds and the energy, and he'd put effort into tonight's look in hope it'd get him past the guards.

All for nothing, as he dropped into alt mode and sped out, tires screeching over someone's panicked 'Sir!'. The grand staircase was coming up fast, and someone – not him – yelled as he cleared the thing in one go without slowing down, enough momentum going that he was still going forward on his front tires as the rest of his frame crashed down to the priceless marbled floor. People screamed and scrambled out of his way, the big doors thrown wide open for all of Cybertron to come and view the Matrix, but the crowd outside was too much. He flipped back into root mode, experience helping him wrest himself through tight gaps. The groups of incoming mechs didn't have the news yet, so no-one tried to stop him as he fought through the press of bodies – at least anyone chasing him would also have to contend with -

There was a screeching of sirens behind him. That had the crowd's attention, and Hot Rod didn't dare look back as he finally passed under the main palatial gate, a strange shudder running through his frame as he took to his alt again now he was out on the streets. The white light had bled off, at least. Sure, it wasn't illegal to be chosen by the Matrix, probably, that was why Prime had set this whole thing up in the first place, but it was definitely illegal to have a subspace full of stuff he really needed to sell if he wanted to fuel any time soon.

The sirens pursued. If this was Nyon, he thought, taking a corner so hard he skidded on two tires before coming back down on four, he would already be down any number of boltholes, slag, he could probably hide in the Temple itself, there was a way to get up into the rafters no-one else knew. But Iacon was different - wide, expensive streets, no cover, no friends. Well-to-do-mecha – or, more likely, their gardeners – blinked at him as he sped past. Delicate crystals chimed in his ferocious wake, mingling with the sirens.

Slag, slag, slag. They were maybe a corner away. They always chased a running mech. He took back to root again, coming up jogging, slowing down to maybe not look as guilty and they'd think they were chasing some other guy, desperately trying to find the way out of this mess. He'd never been -

“Psst, kid!”

His head snapped up. An arm was waving out of the window of one of the expensive houses, one floor up.

“See that drainpipe? If you kick off that windowsill you can shimmy up and – yeah, you got it!”

Hot Rod didn't stop to think, just lunged at the offered way out. No-one 'psst, kid!'-ing him ever did it because they were in with the cops, and he took the matte black hand that helped him through the window easily.

“Whew!” His saviour said as he tumbled through, realising at the last moment to duck his head as the sirens wailed past not a moment later. “Close call, eh?”

“Thanks,” Hot Rod gasped, vents billowing, then he stilled. The sirens had stopped.

“Ooh, I bet I know who that is,” the mech, a little civilian car with a burning blue visor, went over to lean over Hot Rod and yell out the window: “Yo! Prowl!”

“Jazz,” the Enforcer's voice floated up, sounding prim and proper and not nearly like he'd been gunning flat-out after a racer. “Is that smoke? Are you on fire? Do you need assistance?”

“Eh?” Jazz wafted away the billowing hot air coming off Hot Rod's trembling frame. “Nah, nah, 's this new effect we're coming up with for the next show, real cool, real hot, I mean. Just giving her a test run. You get your guy?” He was leaning conversationally on the windowsill now, Hot Rod trapped between his legs and the wall.

“He appears,” Prowl's disembodied voice said, “to have vanished in the middle of the street, right outside your window.”

“Wow,” Jazz replied, one foot tapping out a restless beat next to Hot Rod's knee. “That's crazy.”

“He's not in trouble,” Prowl continued. “With the Palace. If you see a red and yellow speedframe, likely forged racer, wide yellow spoiler-wings, flame decals, possible – possible Nyonian origin, please let me know immediately. Once the footage starts circulating, people will start recognizing him, and we need to ensure his safety above all else.”

“Huh. All right.” Jazz switched feet on a beat only he could hear. “What footage are we talkin' about?”

---

“Wow, mech, you are in it,” Jazz whistled, low and melodious and impressed. Hot Rod buried his head in his hands. By the time he'd been scrambling through Jazz's window the news and infranet had set on fire with the tale of a new Prime, with the recordings to prove it to the doubtful. Headline after headline, post after post, a whole slew of fun new conspiracy theories springing up around him. The press had very quickly identified him, the registration document at the Nyonian hot spot of his spark, name, and function splashed across screens the planet over.

Hot Rod, Entertainer.

From there it would be a short skip to the House that had picked up and framed his spark and raised him for the legally-mandated timeframe of three orns before he was put to work.

“Yanno,” Jazz said, “Prowler did say you weren't in trouble. Like, he knows you're here, just figures you're safe with me for the time being. That mech don't lie.” A pause. “Well, he does when the numbers line up, but not about this, I think. He really doesn't want you to go get yourself slagged, is what I'm saying.”

Hot Rod lifted his head up, twin points of blue optics burning through the gaps in his fingers.

“I'm just sayin',” Jazz repeated, holding his hands palm-up in a gesture of truce. “Anyway, lemme treat you while you're with me, mech. You gunned it down here, I bet you could do with some fuel.”

---

Jazz was sat on the couch with one leg crossed over so his foot rested on his knee, idly strumming his electrobass, picking out low notes while Hot Rod was small enough to curl up a cushion over. He'd slipped into recharge some time ago, no problem, mech'd had a busy day.

:Jazz.: His comm crackled to life. :How is he?:

Jazz glanced over at his new charge before (quietly) plucking out a dramatic strum he associated with Prowl's appearance on the scene. If you were friends with Jazz for long enough, sooner or later you got a leitmotif assigned to you. More than one, if he really liked you. Prowl had the record, with four to his name.

:Doin all right, I think. Got some fuel in him, an' he's sleepin now. Cute kid. He really the new Prime?:

:The evidence is irrefutable.:

:Dang. Been kept busy, then?:

:You do not know the half of it.: Prowl sighed through the comm. :Please keep an optic on him, he's safe where he is right now while we deal with the fallout. We'll reimburse any expenses.:

:No problem, no problem.:

:And...if all goes well and he does take up the Primacy, and even if he doesn't, there is a reasonable chance your apartment will become a sacred pilgrimage site.: Jazz laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it, even knowing Prowl was as dead serious as he was with just about anything else in his life. :Optimus is more than happy to offer quarters in the Palace. I know your contract with Mellow is ending soon. We can bring you on-:

:What, as official good taste in music-haver?: Jazz asked, amused. And Prowl was right; Mellow liked to commission artists, pay for anything and everything they needed, then forget about it for a few decacycles until the contract was up and he got to see whatever it was you'd put together over that time. The mech had been on a night out with friends, scouting out his next big hit, Jazz had scored a gig as a temporary replacement bass player, and then was all but chased down by the guy after the show. And who would say no to what he was offering?

:If you'd like,: Prowl continued. Jazz had some idea that they were poking into Mellow's business, but that was no business of his, long as he got paid. He hadn't been interviewed about it, but Prowl was eager to get him out of the apartment and kept offering him a place up at the Palace.

:You know what,: Jazz said, glancing over to the sleeping probably-a-Prime and testing out some higher notes he thought suited Hot Rod. :Sure. It'll be funny, if nothing else.: