#him secretly being Phantom was the final straw

[redrobin-detective]

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted. 

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on. 

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie. 

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers. 

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her. 

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand. 

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom. 

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!” 

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

#going angst week 2021 #*jazz hands* I uh finally contributed #this is another interesting thing that just sorta happened #I was actually rereading and writing more for Side Effects when I realized that someone could follow the paper trail of the accident #which led me to a tiny lil GIW Investigator who blew Dannys secret wide open #which *then* led me to the tragedy of Maddie learning of her child's 'death' second hand but over a year after a fact #there's something about delayed tragedy... thinking everythings ok only to learn it hasn't been for a while #Love Mads but btw her an Jack shes the one who seems the more likely to take offense to her son's ghost haunting his own life #to keep playing along and pretending to be alive #him secretly being Phantom was the final straw #Both pretending to be Danny then *teasing* her when he saw her as a ghost #(obviously thats not the case but Maddie believes was Made To Believe it was) #Oh I wanted to strange Agent S this whole time typing #the blatant.... manipulation #Maddie may feel free to grieve now but her child's torment was only beginning #haha good times see ya

[five-rivers]

Beltane

Written for Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick vs Treat. This is part of the Exhumed series.

.

Danny Fenton walked into the precinct. As often happened when he did this, all attention slowly turned to him. “Hi, Detective Patterson. Have you ever heard of Beltane?”

Patterson took a long swig of coffee through the plastic stir straw, because she felt the need to be at least a little drugged before dealing with whatever this was, and then said, “Is this the kind of thing the whole precinct needs to know about, or is it more specific to me?”

“Mm, not specific to you, but I’m not sure if everyone needs to know about it, yet.”

Despite only select members of the Amity Park police force knowing Danny Fenton had another identity, he’d become a sort of ‘ghost liaison’ for the precinct. Better him than the adult Fentons, who tended to break things even (especially) when they were being careful.

“Actually,” continued Danny, “you might have already noticed some things about it. I mean, it’s seasonal, and Mom and Dad were detecting ectoenergy and ghost activity spikes for events like this before they got the portal up and running. Although, the portal was supposed to stabilize and reduce those spikes… I guess reducing one isn’t bad?”

“Okay,” said Patterson. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. Do you want me to go find Collins?”

“Oh, that might be a good idea.”

“Great,” said Patterson. She turned her head to shout across the room. “McGee. Go find Collins.”

“Still the new guy?” asked Danny, sympathetically.

“It isn’t like we’re a popular posting,” said Patterson, “and, thanks to the ghosts, we don’t really need new people.”

Danny nodded placidly. “I know. But it must be hard for him, don’t you think?”

.

McGee had done his job. He’d discovered the corruption in the Amity Park Police Department and plumbed its depths. The problem was that he could never, ever, report it. Even if they didn’t have a perfectly good cause for it all, what they were ‘hiding’ (and they were only barely doing that) was so ridiculous that McGee had thought he’d gone crazy at first.

Ghosts.

The whole of Amity Park was haunted. Just like it said in those touristy brochures at the front of the local diners.

He stuck his head into the break room. “Collins, Patterson and Fenton want you,” he said.

“In the normal room?” Collins asked, shoving a sugary monstrosity of a donut into his mouth.

“I have no idea. She didn’t say.”

“Normal room then. Great job, McGee.”

McGee rolled his eyes. Great job, he said. As if he’d done anything.

God. What would Halloween be like?

.

“So, it’s like, reverse Halloween?” asked Patterson.

“Well, not exactly,” said Danny. He patted Daisy, the department mascot slash corpse sniffing dog who had followed them into the small interview room, gently on the head. “Actually, there are more similarities than differences. Basically, like Halloween, we’re going to get a spike in ectoenergy. Maybe even some ectoplasmic storms. More portals. That kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Most holidays and seasonal divisions have them, you know.”

“So… we’re getting Halloween round two?” asked Collins.

“What do you bet that this is what gets McGee to snap?”

“He’s been here since December,” said Collins. “I think he’s too stubborn to leave.”

“Is he still spying?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Patterson, waving a hand. “He gave up on that, after a while. But there’s a new office bet about whether or not he’ll stay stay, or if he’ll decide to quit. We’re not allowed to join in because we know him too well.”

“Mm,” said Danny.

“I don’t actually know if I feel like I know him that well,” said Collins.

“Well,” said Danny, “it shouldn’t be as extreme as Halloween. Since, I mean, there aren’t as many religious holidays directly associated with death and stuff happening on or around May first. So. Yeah. But the thing is, there are some traditional, er, activities. Spirited activities.”

Collins suppressed a groan, and was glad that Captain Jones wasn’t available today. He and Danny could sling puns at each other for obscenely long periods of time.

“I’ve never noticed ghosts doing anything on May Day,” said Patterson.

“This is only the third year anyone’s even acknowledged that ghosts exist,” said Danny, “so I’m not really all that surprised. But the reason that I came to talk to you guys is that some of the ghosts want to do Beltane stuff. Like the fire blessings. Also, I’ve been told that some of the trees in town are secretly ghost trees, and if we don’t want to deal with another tree army, we need to do some stuff to appease them.”

“Secret ghost trees.”

“My source is very reliable,” said Danny. “Also, while I say ‘we don’t want to deal with it,’ I think we all know who’d be dealing with most of it.”

“You would,” said Patterson.

“Got it in one. Like, I can convince most of the ghosts to either do their Beltane stuff in the Ghost Zone, or somewhere out of the way. They’ll be disappointed, but I can do it. The ghost tree thing, though…”

“Can’t we just, I don’t know,” said Collins, “get rid of the ghost trees?”

“Well, they aren’t really evil ghost trees. Or even really ghost trees. They’re more… ghosts that live in trees?”

“What, like dryads?” asked Collins, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s what I said, but they’re different species, apparently.”

“Okay,” said Patterson, “so. Appeasing the trees. How many trees are we talking about here, and how are we going to appease them?”

.

“Okay, so, this is definitely a whole precinct kind of thing,” said Patterson.

“And possibly an ‘all civil servants’ type of thing,” added Collins. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where are we going to get the funding for this?”

“Oh, don’t worry about money,” said Danny. “I’ll just blackmail Vlad, and if that doesn’t work, I can get Mom and Dad to pay for it.”

“What,” said Collins.

“I think this might be a bit beyond your parents’ budget,” said Patterson, “but knock yourself out as far as Masters goes.”

“Well, I guess if it is,” he allowed, dubiously, “I could get the cults to pitch in?”

.

“This is nice,” said Danny. The sky was a bit overcast, which was a shame, but the hundreds of bright flowers and cheerful music more than made up for that.

The May Day celebration was, in Danny’s opinion, a success. At least, this half of it was turning out to be. He’d have to wait and see how the Spirit Bonfires went tonight before he could really make a judgement.

He’d only had to blackmail Vlad a little, too. It turned out that the ‘ruthless businessman’ in Vlad was ludicrously easy to manipulate, and once Danny brought up how a celebration like this one could revitalize local businesses and bring in tourism, he’d caved.

Although, that might have been the threat of an angry tree army. Vlad had definitely come off worse for wear in the last one, on all fronts.

Then, publically putting the Phantom Stamp of Approval (and Necessity Given The Potential Angry Tree Army) on the event had gotten buy-in from his fans and (sigh) the cults. The cults were, in fact, very enthusiastic about their new Holy Day. Danny had made a map of all the places they’d set up booths, and was studiously avoiding them.

Sam and Tucker were doing a walkthrough of that area, now, to check for problems and unadorned thorn trees. They’d arranged to meet up soon.

So, Amity Park was decked out in ribbons and flowers. All of the schools had gotten Maypoles and the day off of classes. Several bands, both human and ghostly, were playing in different parts of town.

It was chaotic, but great.

Danny briefly cut into the street to dodge a pair of college-age men play-fighting with tree branches (a genuinely important tradition symbolizing the battle between winter and summer), then walked through a wall to avoid two ghosts doing the same thing.

Finally, he reached Madame Babazita’s table.

“Hi,” he said, “three readings, please.”

“Three?” she asked. “Just for you?”

“My friends should get here before mine’s done,” said Danny. Was he channeling some predictive powers? Maybe. Holidays did make his powers weird.

.

“I have no idea what your reading is saying,” said Madame Babazita, after fifteen full minutes. “The cards simply aren’t speaking to me today. Also,” she held up an Uno card, “I’m not sure how this even got here.”

“That’s okay,” said Danny, “I just wanted to make sure it was the same as last time.”

.

“Hey! Phantom!” called Ember across the crowd of ghosts that had gathered in the cemetery. Most of them were fire or nature themed. “You’re in for a treat!”

Danny, who had been examining the flowers left on his grave, looked up. “I am?”

Ember draped her arm around Danny’s shoulder. She’d been a lot more friendly with him since the corpse incident. “Sure are.” She stepped up onto the surface of his memorial, pulling him up behind her. Danny shook off a brief chill and looked around.

Ghosts were streaming into the cemetery from various directions, bringing armfuls of flowers with them. Danny could see two, huge bonfire piles of flowers growing near the cemetery gates.

“Are there going to be cows?” asked Danny, who was still fuzzy on the details of the ghostly side of the celebrations.

“I don’t know,” said Ember. “When I’ve seen this done in the GZ there are. Here? Who knows. Maybe we’ll just walk through.”

Danny nodded, unworried. Beltane sure was an interesting holiday.

The last armful of flowers was placed, and every flower in the cemetery caught on fire at once. Including the ones on Danny’s grave. Danny yelped, jumping into flight. As an ice core ghost, he vastly preferred cold to heat.

This went without saying, but fire was very hot.

Ember grabbed his foot, and he almost kicked her. “You knew that was going to happen,” he accused.

“Sure did, babypop,” said Ember, grinning. “Come on, don’t you want to pass through the bonfires?”

Danny eyed the very large bonfires on either side of the cemetery gates. They were lit up with sparks like fireworks, shifting like flowers blooming and withering and blooming again. They were beautiful and impressive, and Danny felt like melting just by looking at them.

“I don’t know…” He wanted to, but… melting…

“Well, if you want to go out the other way and be horribly unlucky for the next year…”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Is that another trick?” he asked.

Ember’s grin grew wider, and she took off towards the gates. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Danny sighed and followed her.

.

“Unbelievable,” said McGee. “Absolutely unbelievable.” He gave the elderly cultist a boost into the wagon.

“I know, right?” said Patterson. “All this property damage and a low-key kidnapping,” she gestured to the hapless late night partier who had called the police when the cult got too insistent about their message, “and they didn’t even have the good drugs?” She shook her head. “Not that we ever arrest anyone just for drugs in this town.”

“I did not just hear you say that,” muttered McGee.

“We’ll make an Amity Parker out of you yet,” said Collins, heartily, slamming the back door of the wagon. He thumbed the button on his radio. “Any other disturbances?” he asked.

“No, you’re good to come back,” said the dispatcher.

“What I don’t get,” said McGee, leaning against a nearby wall in a moment of weakness, “is why we aren’t breaking up whatever cult thing is happening in the cemetery.” They’d seen it quite clearly on their way here.

“Because those are ghosts,” said Patterson.

McGee took a deep breath. “The ghosts are having some kind of ritual in the cemetery, and you aren’t worried.”

“Not really, no.”

“I hate it here,” said McGee.

“Do you, though?” asked Collins, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

McGee opened his mouth to snap back that, yes, he did. But…

Hm. Huh.

Collins patted him on the back.

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2021 #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectoberhaunt trick #ectoberhaunt treat #ectoberhaunt day 1: trick vs treat #fic #fanfic #exhumed

[lilithbasically]

*Minors DNI*

Victorian Era Author Bakugo x Reader

W.C.: 2.4K

Warnings: | This fic contains Dark Content | Spectrophilia, graphic depiction of death/murder, blood mentioned, strangulation, mention of a corpse, psychosis, possessiveness, fingering, thigh riding, small bit of degradation, praise

October 15, 1880

The boisterous laughter of men floods the stagnant air of the smoking room, filling the space with thick, swirling tobacco smoke.

“Denki, your thoughts never cease to amaze me, my friend. I have no doubts you will succeed in your endeavors,” Katsuki says as his friend and publisher Eijirou raises his glass to toast.

“I’m absolutely serious, Katsuki. Wouldn’t it be nice to have cigarettes already rolled? My investors are in order and the beginnings of the tinkering process have begun! I consider tonight a celebration. Have your laughs, gentlemen, I will be sure you receive the first of the batch regardless.”

Friends among friends, what better company could be sought? Truth be told, a sense of dread washed over his skin, pulling ice through his veins when Katsuki took notice of the traitorous time ticking, telling him his companions would soon take their leave.

He didn’t mind being alone, really. If you had asked him just last week he would have told you that he wasn’t bothered by the lack of company in his inherited three story home. Now, though…now he wouldn’t be able to summon that response quite as boldly. He tried reasoning with himself, he truly did. Katsuki was an author of horror; Maybe his work had finally gotten to him after all. The mansion’s creaking floorboards and drafty windows could undoubtedly have that spooky effect. That didn’t explain the phantoms in his peripherals though, however fleeting they may have been. Nor did it explain the sudden touches of fingertips ghosting over his skin. Especially not the dreams; His dreams were the most alarming. Visions of the same woman. She was beautiful, enchanting even but the aura surrounding her was eerie and unsettling.

The last straw for Katsuki was when he was woken by a disembodied, bone-chilling scream that echoed within his ears and home. Sitting up straight in bed, gasping, sweat dripping from his forehead down to his chiseled chest he yelled, “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, DEMON?!”

‘You,’ your light, raspy voice whispers through the halls.

Katsuki didn’t dare respond. Instead, he focuses on calming the animal beating against the cage of his chest. “A weaker man would die of fright,” he sighs, exasperated. Content with finding nothing in a last thorough scan of the shadows lurking in the corners of his chambers, he laid his head back down and allows his exhaustion to take over, unconsciousness sweeping over his brain.

Upon waking Katsuki decides to take a trip into town to seek aid; Top hat and walking cane in hand, he steps into the crisp Autumn air. The light mist settling over the grounds hasn’t dissipated though it was well into the morning. Thick, grey, rolling clouds mute the world to match their tone; suffocating any hope the sun had of being seen today. Katsuki takes a deep breath and walks toward his carriage, the gravel walkway crunching beneath his feet, he resists the urge to turn around to confirm the tingle sneaking up his neck. She was watching him, that much he knew.

Katsuki observes the world from the cab of his carriage, slightly put off by the unusual quiet that was shrouding the town. No bustling horses pulling carriages, no children’s laughter ringing through the air, no women flitting from shop to shop. ‘Well, there is a bit of a chill in the air,’ he reasons with himself as he steps onto the ground below. The apothecary that stood in front of him was not the only one in town but Katsuki had heard rumors about this one in particular. The whispers about what they secretly specialize in happens to be precisely what he needed. Small chimes tinkle against the door upon his entry, his eyes taking in his surroundings. The walls covered in shelves housing a multitude of different shaped bottles, all with tags tied around the neck. Small burlap sacks holding what Katsuki assumed to be dry ingredients sat on a side table and dead, dried flowers hung from the ceiling. The space was welcoming enough, after all, it was just an apothecary.

Continuing his exploration, Katsuki didn’t see or hear the owner enter from the back room, “Hello, there! Welco-,” the man started before Katsuki let out a sharp gasp, jumping and spinning to face him before scowling at the ground at his reaction.

“Ah, I see. I’m very sorry for startling you, sir. Judging by your reaction, I think I can make an assumption about your being here, hmm? Follow me, please.”

_______________

The clinking of glass potion bottles and shifts of ingredient pouches in their wicker basket fill the cab of the carriage. Katsuki wonders if these concoctions and herbs will be sufficient or if it was simply eye-wash but the man attending the apothecary assured him it would, as long as his intention was clear; whatever that means. As the carriage comes to a halt, he steps out into the rain and jogs up the steps, walking inside to find the living room fireplace already lit. Raindrops fall from his tophat while he takes in the familiar surroundings, waiting for a phantom to insert themself in his vision. Yet, none do. He wonders if having the ingredients was enough to dispel their appearance until he sees you.

Really sees you; his spectre.

Following your silhouette around the corner proves meaningless. Wondering if he even saw you at all, Katsuki sighs as he runs a hand down his face before walking into his office. Lighting the gas lamp atop his desk, he looks out of the window into the woods through the distorted vision of the rain-slicked glass. He sits in his chair and follows the directions on the slip of paper, laying out the potions and ingredients as needed. Chanting the incantation he was provided, he grew more confident when he felt the specter’s presence grow smaller.

Drawing the ritual to a close, Katsuki realizes just how tired he is. Resigning to bed he pulls the covers up to his neck, snuggling in to get comfortable. Taking a deep breath in, he finally relaxes, the thought of you being cleansed from his home bringing him more comfort than he thought he was allowed. Slipping into a deep slumber, Katsuki’s dreams were normal for the first time in a long time until the familiar vision of you filled his subconscious.

“Oh, Katsuki…you thought you could rid of me so easily? This is all of your doing, my love,” your body brushing against him, making his cock throb, lips ghosting across his, “You are the answer to your own problem. You just need to remember, Suki…”

A sudden scream of his name jolts him from his sleep. Sweat dripping from his brow, heart crashing against his ribcage, his chest heaves with shallow labored breaths, his eyes dart from corner to corner searching for you. Once more, he finds his room empty except for the phantom traces of your perfume. Finally able to breathe properly, Katsuki lets out a deep sigh when he sees it’s no later than three in the morning, knowing sleep will elude him this time, “Might as fuckin’ well finish up the last chapter.”

Climbing from bed, Katsuki pulls on his robe and house shoes and shuffles to his office sitting in front of his typewriter he begins to write. Two hours later, Katsuki stretches and leans back in his chair, proud to have finally finished his latest novel. Closing his eyes with a soft smile on his face, he allows himself to surrender to his drowsiness.

__________

Katsuki blinks a few times to clear his vision. Sitting up, his eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him. There you are in your pretty black and red dress he’d gotten you for your birthday just a few days prior but something is wrong. You’re too pale, your skin lacks it’s usual vibrant glow. There was no natural flush to your cheeks, no rise and fall of your chest. His head aches as the memory of just moments ago swims through his mind. He remembers feeling love, fear…anger.

He had loved you for so long but you slipped through his fingers, abandoning him to live a life in the city. When he heard of your return Katsuki was overjoyed. Fate was giving him a second chance at a life with you! He’d have to be insane to ignore this opportunity. Katsuki pushed everything to the side in favor of monopolizing your time, spoiling you with gifts and affection. It was the very least he could do, after all you had been his inspiration, his muse, all these years. So, when you told him you were only back for a brief visit, something in Katsuki’s brain snapped. He couldn’t let you leave, he’d only just gotten you back! You didn’t appreciate all he’d given you. How could you lead him on this way? How could you throw his love to the side like it was no more than rubbish? No, he wouldn’t let you go. Ever.

__________

Katsuki’s eyes shoot open immediately landing on your figure standing in front of him. Looking at you with a mix of adoration and horror painting his features, he watches as you slightly tilt your head and allow a small smile.

“So you finally remembered, hmm? My darling Katsuki, when you told me I was your muse, I didn’t anticipate just how much you meant it. You’ve made me the star of your book. I would say thank you but, well, I don’t think I need to explain that,” you say, moving toward him and straddling his thigh.

“This isn’t real…it-it can’t be. You’re not real…I didn’t…”

“Oh but you did, my love,” you sigh, slowly starting to roll your hips and grind against his thigh. “You were so distraught by my leaving that you did the only thing you could think to do. Your big, strong hands wrapped around my pretty little throat and squeezed. Squeezed tight until I stopped moving. I tried to get you to stop. Tried digging my little fingernails into your wrists until they bled but it didn’t work. Now you get what you wanted,” pausing to wrap your arms around his shoulders, moaning as your clit drags across his thigh, “This is what you wanted, right, baby? You wanted me to stay with you because you love me so much.”

“Fuck, Y/N…I didn’t mean to…I’m so-“

You press a finger to his lips, “I know, Suki. You can make it up to me now though,” you whisper and move your hand to palm his member through his robe.

Katsuki places his hands under your thighs and picks you up, standing to walk to his bedroom. Gently tossing you down onto his bed, he removes his robe and boxers and rakes his eyes over your figure. You just look so beautiful like this, the moonlight casting over your body as it floods in through his windows. Katsuki crawls between your legs that open oh so obediently for him, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses in his wake. He makes a path to your core, groaning when he sees your arousal glinting in the moonbeams, “Mmmm…my pretty girl has such a pretty fuckin pussy…”

Dragging a finger across your folds, he slowly pushes two of his thick fingers into your cunt, pulling them out he pushes them past his lips, a guttural moan clawing its way up his throat at how sweet you taste.

“Damnit, Y/N, I can’t wait, baby.”

His lips and teeth leave his signature across your torso, pausing to latch onto each nipple and swirl his tongue around each bud, nipping and sucking lightly. Your moans encouraging his exploration, Katsuki buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing along your jaw as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance. Mewling under him when he finally pushes into you, Katsuki slots his lips against yours, swallowing your whimpers.

“Shh, I know, pretty girl. I’ll go slow for you…you can take it for me, yeah?”

At your nod Katsuki slowly starts filling you, the careful drag allowing you to feel every vein along his shaft, every thick inch of him stretching you far more than you’ve ever experienced. Grunting as he bottoms out, you gasp when you feel his cock twitch, the tip just grazing your cervix.

Knowing he’s holding back when he wants to fuck you mercilessly, you roll your hips into him and whisper, “Move, Suki…I’ll be fine. Fuck me like you need.”

“Fuck, Y/N…how are you so warm? God you feel so fuckin good…,” Katsuki groans, pulling your legs up to rest over his shoulders and leaning back down into you, hitting even deeper, pressing directly against your cervix now. Pulling back, leaving only the tip, he gives a couple shallow thrusts, teasing you, before snapping his hips forward, filling you with one swift thrust. Your cries are quickly overshadowed by the harsh tone woven through Katsuki’s voice, “Fuckin’ take it. You’ve been having a great time fuckin’ with my head haven’t you?”

You feel Katsuki’s hot breath against your neck, his hands grope and grip all over your skin. The heavy drag of his cock against your walls as he rolls his hips against you has you panting, quickly approaching your release with the way his pelvis rubs over your clit. Feeling your walls tighten, Katsuki speeds up, chasing his own release. Following you over the edge a small whine leaves his throat feeling you milk his cock, painting your walls with thick ropes of cum.

Planting a kiss to your forehead, each cheek, nose, and finally lips, Katsuki removes your legs from his shoulders and pulls out of you, hissing at the brief overstimulation. Moving beside you to lay on the bed, he pulls you to his chest, his mind still attempting to comprehend the fact that he just fucked a ghost until your sweet voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hey, Suki? Can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course, love. What can I do for you?”

“Umm…as much as I love you wanting to keep me close to you, I’d rather my body be put in a grave instead of under your bed.”

Chuckling, Katsuki presses his lips to your forehead and mumbles, “I’ll do anything you want as long as you stay.”

_______________

General tags:

@fatbitchgeek-blog @totally-not-bakus-hoe @sunflowers-rae @whatever-the-fuck-i-dont-care @katsukisdynamite @literotica @jems-all-in-a-wood

#tw dark content #tw death #tw strangulation #tw possessiveness #tw spectrophilia #bakugo smut #katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki x reader

[phantom-curve]

45 from the prompt list please for juke, happy Birthday to you!!!

Thank you! I clearly have not tortured these two enough so please enjoy this angsty Juke whump that ultimately has a happy ending because what other type of ending is there?! Set in a post-canon AU where Julie brings the boys back to life.

#45: feeling their temperature

Julie had been learning a lot about how to deal with various phantom related issues in the last few months. She had learned that the boys needed constant touch and reassurance that they were somehow solid to her, mostly in the form of Luke pulling her into a hug at the end of practice or Reggie throwing himself on top of her while she was sprawled out on the couch doing homework or Alex’s fingers just gently running across the back of her shoulders or the skin of her elbow when she would walk past him at any given time. She had learned that Luke missed meatball subs more than anything, and that Reggie was still sad that that one pizza place on the pier had shut down, and Alex secretly wished he could eat cheese one last time despite the way it had always made him sick when he was alive. She had learned that in the aftermath of their literal magical hug the boys had started getting tired enough to occasionally sleep again and sometimes they didn’t quite phase through things the way they used to and for some reason their poofing had become a touch unreliable.

She was trying to roll with it as much as she could, which was actually a lot given she’d kinda just been rolling with it ever since they appeared in her mom’s studio and turned her life upside down in the best way. But something she hadn’t planned for was illness.

It didn’t make sense, after all. They were ghosts. There was no reason they should get sick, especially given the fact that they weren’t, ya know, real physical entities unless she was touching them. So, it didn’t make sense that they were able to get fevers or sore throats or be congested. She hadn’t planned for it, had written it off as a definite impossibility. Until Reggie half-poofed into her bedroom, flickering in and out slightly so she only caught every other word.

“Julie! ...quick...Luke...not...good...need...help...please!”

And she went immediately, racing down the steps and out the back door to the studio before Reggie had a chance to appear in her bedroom again.

The boys looked absolutely exhausted as she crashed into the studio, Reggie collapsed in one of the chairs breathing heavily and Alex pacing so fast she was sure he was going to wear a groove into the concrete floor. Luke was stretched out along the couch, his face red and sweaty, and he was the only one that looked unhappy at her arrival.

“Julie, thank God,” Alex breathed out, his steps slowing ever so slightly as he made eye contact. “Luke is...sick? Do ghosts get sick? Is that possible? I tried to poof up to you but...it wouldn’t work. Why wouldn’t it work? Reggie said he kept flickering? Did you understand him, or did he just disappear? Oh God, why doesn’t the afterlife come with rule books!?!”

Reggie, bless him, tried to fill in some of the gaps.

“I dunno how much I was actually able to say up there, but something is wrong with Luke. We’re pretty sure he’s sick.”

“Am not!” Luke tried to yell from his spot on the couch, but he barely managed to get the two words out before he was doubled over gasping for air. As if any of them were actually breathing.

“He’s been like this all day.”

It didn’t take a genius or supernatural expert to see that Luke was not his normal bouncy self. Julie approached him slowly, not wanting to make things worse but desperate to affirm for herself that he was still here with her and would be okay at the end of whatever this was. Obviously, none of them actually knew if he would be, but at least if she was touching him, she would have the physical reassurance of his presence. She lowered herself next to his head, resting on her knees beside the couch. He turned glassy eyes her way, groaning and twisting over on his side so he was as curled into her space as he could be while still on the couch.

“Luke...?”

She tried desperately to keep the fear from her voice. The last thing the boys needed was for her to lose it, but she wasn’t sure she managed it. Losing the boys, losing Luke, was her number one fear since she had realized how much they all meant to her. It was a fear that had become even more real when she had watched them be nearly jolted from existence thanks to Caleb, her touch somehow being the one thing that had managed to save them. As if spurred on by that memory, she reached out to let one hand trail across Luke’s forehead and down to rest against his cheek. His skin was like fire beneath her touch.

“You’re burning up. Have you been hot like this all day?”

One side of his mouth tipped up, a half-hearted smirk curving his lips.

“I’m always hot, Jules. Didn’t think you’d ever notice.”

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes. But then Luke gasped and coughed, the sound deep and throaty in a way she hadn’t experienced since the time Carlos got pneumonia when he was little. She fluttered her fingers above him, not sure where her touch would be helpful or comforting. Luke reached up to snag her hands within his own, pulling them close against his chest. Julie tried not to focus on the way his skin seemed to be boiling beneath her.

“That cough doesn’t sound good. Have you taken anything? Ibuprofen, Tylenol, ice cold water??”

She was grasping at straws here. Whatever was going on with Luke was completely out of her wheelhouse, but she would be damned if she let some weak human virus or bacterial infection be his downfall. She had saved him from a goddamn demon’s curse, she could save him from this.

“No, Julie, I’m fine. I swear.”

His promise was cut off by another hacking cough. Julie tried to pull her hands back, if only so that she could use them for something other than just grasping onto Luke’s, but his grip held firm.

“Luke,” she tried again, pushing the tears she felt clogging her throat back, “you’re not fine. Please, I just...I need...there has to be something I can do.”

Their eyes met and held. She watched the way the emotions swimming in the sea of Luke’s gaze shifted and changed. Felt it deep within her soul when he decided to give up the façade and let her in.

“I don’t...it doesn’t feel right, Jules. It’s not like I’m sick, not like...”

Not like when he was human. The words hung unspoken between them. Julie felt her heart dive straight into her toes.

“Can we just...can you just...hold me?”

Luke’s voice came out in broken starts and stops, like the request was being dragged from his bones in a last-ditch attempt at satisfying a final craving before the very end. Julie thought her heart might explode, especially when her eyes searched his face and found nothing but longing and love etched into the pained lines there. It hit her then. He didn’t think this was something survivable. He didn’t think he was going to come back from this. Luke was facing the end, the actual end, and he wanted her at his side and in his arms when he went to meet his maker. The very idea ripped her soul in two.

“No, no, no. No, Luke, no. This isn’t...you’re not...no. You don’t get to do this to me. Not now. Not after...no.”

Julie felt the tears well up and spill over, wet tracks inching down her cheeks in the worst kind of betrayal. Not after everything she had done to save him. Not after she realized she loved him. It wasn’t fair. Luke didn’t get to just leave her like this. She wouldn’t allow it. Luke’s own eyes flooded, the two of them so in tune that when she blinked again her tears traced down her face in the same pattern that his did.

“Julie...please...”

He was pulling on her then, using their conjoined hands and his superior upper body strength to drag her up and onto the couch. Julie did her best to wedge herself into the space beside him, but Luke was having none of that, dropping her hands so he could twist his fingertips into her belt loops and haul her body on top of his. It was the kind of intimate cuddling she had been dreaming about for months, even before she had been able to touch him. Her head was tucked securely beneath his chin, cheek resting above the space his heart had once occupied. His arms were locked around her waist, hands solid and reassuring against the small of her back. She let her hands slip past the worn cotton of his cut-up band tee to rest against his ribs, the tears flowing fast and hot from her eyes to soak the material beneath her head.

She wasn’t sure Luke would even notice the difference. His temperature had to be sky high, every inch of his body where it pressed against hers engulfed in flames. Without realizing it, she began to hum the chorus to Edge of Great. She had been using it recently as a way to hype herself up when she started doubting something, the song never failing to remind her of Luke’s unbreakable belief in her. She felt it when Luke smiled, his head leaning down to rest against her own, voice blending with hers in a perfect harmony.

“We were pretty great, huh?” Luke’s voice was hushed as his lips moved across her scalp. “The band...the boys...us. We went right over the edge together, didn’t we? We’re just one dream, away from who we’re meant to be.”

Julie lost the melody as her quiet cries shifted to sobs. This couldn’t be it. They hadn’t even achieved half of the things they were meant to. Luke’s hum picked up where hers had dropped off, shifting slowly into the bridge of Finally Free.

“You’ll always be a part of me. Now ‘til eternity.”

Luke’s words were quiet and soft, melodic, as if he was still following the lines of the song in his head. There was a kind of peace to them that Julie hadn’t heard before, not since that awful night where he had stood before her and said there was no music without her. Not since the last time he thought she was going to have to watch him die. Not since the last time he had tried to say goodbye.

She couldn’t let him go like this. She had to fight, somehow, some way, to keep him where he belonged, right here next to her. She didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how to fix it, but she could give him this. She could tell him how much he meant to her. She could hope that it would maybe be enough. Just like last time.

“Luke...I can’t...I’m not...” Her chest constricted, cutting off her words. God, how did it already hurt so much? “I’m not ready to lose you. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

Luke convulsed slightly underneath her, the movement moving from the tip of his head all the way down to his toes. Julie hugged him close, terrified. She wasn’t sure if that type of reaction was a good thing or a bad thing, and she wasn’t fully ready to find out. Beneath her, Luke’s body began to rapidly cool. That had to be a bad sign, right? A fever like that wouldn’t just suddenly break, not unless...not unless...Julie couldn’t even make herself think it. She pulled herself tighter against Luke’s chest, leveraged every inch she could get against him as her hands flexed against his back. A strange noise sounded from deep within his chest.

“Luke? Please, Luke, no. Please don’t leave me.”

Julie clutched herself as close as possible, the feeling of Luke’s arms slackening on her back twisting her stomach. Her sobs were borderline uncontrollable now, breaths coming in painful gasps as she pushed her face deeper and deeper into the fabric of Luke’s shirt. I love you, I love you, I love you. Her mouth formed the words over and over again until she felt them stitch themselves into the lining of her soul.

The noise sounded again, louder this time, directly underneath the spot where her cheek rested against his left pectoral muscle. And then she heard it again, and again, and again, slowly repeating until it picked up a slight rhythm. Slow at first and then explosively fast all the sudden. It sounded...like a heartbeat.

“Luke, oh my God, Luke, please, please, oh my God, please.”

Julie had no idea what she was even pleading for. A sign, a glimmer of hope to hold on to, another miracle that would save the boy she loved and bring him back to her, fully this time. It was too much to ask for, right? Too much to put faith into. The sound, the heartbeat, within Luke’s chest began to echo even louder. Julie forced herself to be brave. Forced herself to lift her head and look at Luke’s face. She told herself she could handle it. She told herself she had to do it.

Luke’s eyes were open above her. He looked just as bewildered as she felt, but his eyes were open and she could see his nostrils flaring as he sucked in a breath, and she felt the lungs in his chest expand beneath her and he was alive. He had to be alive, right? That was the only explanation here.

“Julie...?”

“Are you...?”

“I feel...”

“Alive.”

They said it at the same time, voices blending together the same way they did on stage, perfectly matched as if the universe itself had made it so. Julie pressed one hand against his cheek, his normal temperature cheek, and the other against his chest, directly above his heart. She felt the steady thump of muscle against her palm, felt Luke’s lips stretch into the widest grin she had ever seen. His own arms tightened around her waist again, forcing her to collapse against him as he squeezed. His heartbeat, his heartbeat!, roared strong and steady beneath her. His lips were in her hair, the only part of him that was still hot, moving against her curls in a way she didn’t have to hear to understand. I love you, I love you, I love you. Tying them together, heart to heart, the knowledge of that truth undeniable and overwhelming. He was alive. He was alive. Luke was alive, at her side, alive alive alive.

“Hey guys?”

Reggie’s voice, strained and aching. Julie had forgotten about the other boys completely. She turned her head, new tears overflowing when she caught sight of them. They looked like Luke had when she entered the studio. But instead of feeling scared, an immense wave of relief crashed over her. She could do this. She loved them. She could bring them back. Julie disentangled herself from Luke, crossing the room to pull the other boys close. Luke followed, his arms encompassing hers, Reggie and Alex safe within a never-ending circle of love. They burned hot and quick, fevers rising and crashing in a wave faster than Luke’s, heartbeats returning just as swiftly. They all cried, limbs overlapping in a heap on the floor. And when Julie met Luke’s eyes above the backs of the other boys, a moment passed between them. A moment that promised a lifetime together, every day beginning and ending with love and them.

“Now that we’re alive again, can we please get something to eat?”

Luke pulled Reggie into a noogie, but Julie just laughed, her heart soaring high as she thought about the endless future stretched out in front of them. A lifetime of forevers, starting that very day.

#oop I'm back on my soft Juke shit #this is the last prompt! #mads writes #brought to you by love and the power of friendship #julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #jukebox #juke ficlet #jatp ficlet #send me prompts for my birthday! #<- that tag is just for consistency

[yesloverboy]

Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 5

SUMMARY: Desperate to explain himself, Tommy runs out of the party to find you after drunkenly kissing a groupie– despite his claims that he’s in love with you. Realizing he completely fucked up, Tommy vows to do whatever it takes to make it up to you and prove that he really means what he says. Something tells you it’s going to take a lot of convincing, but how far is he really willing to go?

word count: 4,327

[Warnings: swearing, body image, little bit of angst, a lot of fluffy goodness, drug and alcohol mention/usage.]

NOTE: Sorry for the big ass delay on this chapter, I started a full time internship and haven’t had a lot of time to myself lately. That being said I do have some stuff planned, so hopefully writing the next few parts won’t be nearly as difficult. There’s even a smut chapter coming (fairly) soon, so don’t worry Reader and Tommy will most definitely fuck. Cross my heart.  

tags: @kwyloz, @scarecrowmax, @lavendersoundbarrier, @stevenandsam, @totallynotkaibiased, @rogertaylur, @fatheadtheroger, @secretly-a-groupie, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @abbysdogcollar, @dirtysixxers, @black-tights-black-heart, @valentines-in-london, @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @hxllywood-whxre, @ccidk, @sharon6713, @myshakespeareandarling, @moon-beame, @carmineharry

 You manage to sprint up to your apartment before Tommy is able to catch up with you. A chorus of yelling and screaming can still be heard from downstairs, but it seems more aggressive than before. Deciding whatever’s happening is officially none of your concern anymore, you rush into the safety of your apartment. The door slams behind you with a heavy thud, causing the brittle walls to shake and echo in its wake.  

 With your back against the door, you find yourself unable to move. The events of tonight keep replaying in your head– from Tommy kissing you at your dining table to watching him become colored pink by some other girl’s lipstick. All the memories were meshing and molding together, burning a hole in your mind like a bad reel of film.

 Your ruminating thoughts are promptly interrupted by a harsh knock on the door behind you. For the first time since you moved in, you spin around and secure the door chain, preventing anyone from fully entering the apartment.

 “Y/N, it’s me! Open up!”

 You say nothing, stupidly hoping that Tommy will get the hint and continue the rest of his evening downstairs. Instead, he only pounds on the door harder, making you worried it may very well fall off the hinges.

 “I know I fucked up! Will you please just open the door so we can talk?!”

 Tommy tries opening the door this time, but the door chain catches the movement, only allowing it to open about four inches at most. Through the crack in the frame, you can see a sliver of Tommy’s washed out expression as he gazes at you with wide eyes.  

 “Y/N, what the fuck is this?” Tommy gestures to the chain fastened firmly in place, his face fraught with worry.

 “I have nothing to say to you,” your voice shakes as tears threaten to leak out once again. Gritting your teeth, you avert your eyes to the floor, unable to look at Tommy without trembling.

 “But, Y/N I love–”

 “Don’t,” you interrupt, finding that Tommy wanting to admit his supposed love for you after what happened was the final straw. “You don’t get to say that.”

 Summoning your courage, you take a few steps toward the door. Tommy watches you with glassy eyes, looking more like a kicked puppy than the party animal you witnessed downstairs. Sometimes it’s hard to believe they’re the same person.

 “Please Tommy, just leave.”

 Tommy bites his lip, and you know his leg is bouncing nervously by the way his shoulders involuntarily rock back and forth. “I-I can’t. I won’t.”

 With a heavy sigh you go to push the door the rest of the way closed. Surprisingly, Tommy doesn’t resist and allows it to slam in his face, eyes remaining fixed on the ground.

 For the first time since that morning, you’re finally able to breathe. You’re proud of yourself for being able to deny Tommy’s effort of engaging in damage control but, for some reason, it still doesn’t feel very good. The music from the party downstairs reverberates against the old floorboards, reminding you of the growing pit in your stomach.

 Deep within, you knew going to the show wasn’t a good idea, but Tommy’s deep blue eyes and gentle touch brought something out of you that you didn’t recognize. Now here you are, confused and hurt at the hands of your crazy neighbor who claims to already be in love with you. You thoughts wander back through visions of Tommy kissing the brunette downstairs, causing you to reflexively clench your jaw.

     I deserve this, don’t I?

 Feeling exhausted, emotionally and physically, you decide it’s best if you just turn in for the night. Trudging into your bedroom, you immediately shed Tommy’s jacket. It falls to a sad heap on the floor, coiling up in the corner of the room like a poisonous snake. Although the sight of it inherently sickens you, you still recall the way Tommy’s goofy smile and contagious laugh had lit up your apartment for the past week.

 In an attempt to drown out your thoughts and some of the party below, you switch on the radio and tune it to the oldies station, hoping that the white noise will be relaxing. You yank off your jeans and switch off the light, not bothering to wash your face or change into pyjamas. Nothing seems more important than allowing the softness of Ella Fitzgerald’s gentle croon lull you to sleep.

 You close your eyes, trying to cleanse your thoughts of all the stress and anxiety from the past few hours. Still, you dream of lipstick coated kisses and endless, blue eyes.

     I’ll be seeing you.

...

That morning, you allow yourself to sleep in, awakening only when the sun is just about to dip into early afternoon. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you look up at the cactus bathing in the sunshine on your windowsill. It’s standing taller in its jar than when Tommy left it for you. With a bitter scoff, you kick off the covers and exchange last night’s halter top for an oversized t-shirt. 

 Although you didn’t get wasted last night, your steady consumption of beer on a near empty stomach left you with a throbbing headache and a sour taste in your mouth. You try to busy yourself by starting a pot of coffee and jumping in the shower. No matter how hard you scrub, it seems you can’t get the scent of Tommy’s cigarettes and cologne off of your skin. If last night were a phantom, it would surely be haunting you. 

 By the time you’re able to get a sip of coffee, the entire apartment is hot and sticky with shower steam. Feeling hyper-aware of your raw skin and heavy eyelids, you decide now is a perfect time to make use of the balcony. Maybe getting some fresh air would even be good for you. 

 You remain in just your old t-shirt and a pair of underwear, permitting your hair to drip freely onto the floor. Typically you’d feel more inclined to cover up, but it seems you have much bigger problems than your idiot neighbors. Even if one of them was the biggest problem of all. 

 Coffee mug in hand, you unlatch the chain and pull open the door. As you go to step outside, you foot caches on a soft object blocking your way. What the fuck? Looking down you discover a long, lanky body curled into itself on your welcome mat. 

 “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, recognizing the tangle of limbs and brown curls as none other than Tommy fucking Lee.

 Tommy stirs at the sound of your voice, stretching out and rolling onto his back. You hesitantly nudge his arm with your foot, trying to shake him awake before he has time to process where he’s at. If you were being honest, Tommy was the last person you wanted to see. You assume he must have been a lot more fucked up last night than you thought, judging by the fact that he’s presently passed out on your doorstep.

 “Tommy,” you whisper harshly, wanting so desperately for him to get up and go away, “Tommy get the fuck up!”

 “Hmmm?” he hums in confusion, his saltwater blue eyes squinting against the invasive rays of sunlight. Tommy’s eyes meet yours, and you try to ignore the little flutter of hope your heart feels when his face lights up with recognition.

 Tommy pulls himself up on his feet, jutting upwards as if awakening from a dream. You take a step back, afraid he may lose his balance and collapse on top of you.

 Noticing you recoiling away, Tommy grabs ahold of your shoulder with a firm hand. You scowl as coffee sloshes out of the cup and lands on your bare feet, stinging your toes.

 “Wait! Don’t go yet– please don’t go yet, I have to talk to you–I have to explain,” Tommy’s words come out in an incoherent babble, “I waited all–all fucking night, just like I said and I, uh, can you please just let me come in?”

 You mouth falls open in utter astonishment as your weary brain puts the pieces together. Tommy didn’t pass out, he slept on your doorstep in the hopes that you would eventually open the door. Technically, he succeeded.

 Tommy doesn’t wait for your answer, and instead continues to plead with you, eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, “I couldn’t leave, I didn’t want to.”

 Sighing, you step aside and open the door all the way, wordlessly inviting him inside like you had in the past. You hate yourself for empathizing with his dark circles and broken posture from sleeping on the ground, but figure it very well may have been punishment enough.

 Tommy makes a beeline for your tiny sofa, flopping on it so forcefully that you fear it might snap in half. With his head hanging limply off the arm of the sofa, he buries his face in his hands and groans up at the ceiling in relief.

 “No offense, Y/N, but that welcome mat of yours fucking sucks.”

 You abandon your coffee mug by the sink, deciding you don’t have the patience to reheat it, and perch on the opposite arm where Tommy’s feet are resting.

  “That’s because it’s a welcome mat, not a please sleep on me when you’re being an asshole mat,” you retort, still unable to rid your voice of its residual bitterness from the night before.

 “I know, you’re right,” Tommy sits up straight, hugging his impossibly long legs to his chest, “But I had to see you.” 

 “Why?”

 “Because I–well, you know what I’m trying to say,” he picks at his shoelaces absentmindedly, cheeks pink with something that resembles embarrassment.

 You sigh running a hand through your hair, “You know I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Tommy.”

 “Look, I know I royally fucked up, but I just don’t know how to do this,” he gestures between the two of you as if there’s some kind of tangible force holding you both together. You swallow hard, wondering if maybe there is.

 “There is no this, Tommy. It’s obvious that there never was,” you can’t help how harsh you sound as the ghost of self-doubt starts to creep into your head, making you wonder if Tommy ever genuinely liked you to begin with.

 “God, but I want there to be. I want this to be something so bad, you don’t even understand.”

 I do, you think, wanting nothing more than to just shout it at him and end the conversation. You decide that you can’t, choosing now to guard your heart better than before. “I’m just not sure I believe you,” you answer honestly, voice barely louder than a whisper.

 Tommy leans forward and grasps both of your hands in his, the sudden touch causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. His hands are warm and secure against your own, fitting together just as comfortably as your lips had when he kissed you.

 “Hey, Y/N, look at me. Please.”

 You comply, meeting his gaze and seeing nothing but honesty. No alcohol, no drugs, no pushy bandmates– just happy-go-lucky Tommy.

 “Let me prove it to you, okay? I’ll do whatever it takes, I swear,” Tommy grazes your palms gently with his thumbs, settling the uneasiness in your stomach. As much as you want to move on with your life, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something in the universe that keeps dragging the two of you together. Even though Tommy fucked up, you had never met someone so eager to gain your approval and keep it– especially not someone you didn’t officially belong to.

 Tommy awaits your reply with bated breath, obsessively searching your face for any indication of what you might be thinking.

 “I’ll think about it,” you decide, giving Tommy’s hands a gentle squeeze of affirmation.

 Tommy releases your hands and claps his together victoriously, “Oh thank fucking god!”

 “You do realize I didn’t say yes, right?”

 “I know dude, but everyone knows that if it isn’t a no then it’s definitely a maybe. Which is code for almost yes.”

 “Unbelievable,” you roll your eyes, trying to fight off the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. For the first time that day, Tommy is grinning. Tommy’s smile was something you didn’t know you needed to see until it was gone, but being able to bring it back makes it all worthwhile.

 “You know you say that a lot,” Tommy averts his eyes, a hint of shyness lingering in his voice. Apparently you weren’t the only one turning into someone unrecognizable since the two of you crossed paths.

 “That’s because you haven’t given me a reason to stop,” you nudge his knee playfully with your own, “now get out of my apartment before I change my mind.”

 “Whatever you say, pretty girl.” 

...

 After Tommy left, you decided to busy yourself with flipping through the Help Wanted section of the paper, hoping to find some odd jobs to do while you wait to see if UCLA will let you transfer for the semester. If you were lucky, maybe you’d even score a scholarship. You try to shake the thought, attempting to be a little bit more realistic about your life choices. Help Wanted it is, then.

 Store clerk, housekeeper, secretary, assistant manager– nothing seemed to be jumping out at you. At this point, you know you can’t really afford to be picky, but it would be nice to find something that you won’t mind doing just in case college doesn’t work out.

 Chewing thoughtlessly on the end of a pen, your eyes slowly drift downward to a cluster of small print at the bottom of the page.

     ‘Help Wanted – Record Store Sales Associate’

 The possibility of working in a record store didn’t sound so bad. At least if something were to fall through with UCLA, you’d still be able to get involved with music in some small way. You go ahead and circle the small ad, think that you may even try giving them a call later.

 Your job search is halted by the shrill ring of a telephone coming from your kitchen. Perplexed, you get up and eye the old phone cautiously. In the short amount of time you’d been in Los Angeles, you hadn’t had any reason to give anyone your phone number just yet. Who could be calling? The old tenant, maybe?

 Picking up the phone, you barely catch it before its final ring.

 “Hello?”

 “Y/N! Hey, it’s Tommy!” his low voice crackles softly through the static. You can hear the sounds of cars and people talking in the background, and figure he must’ve stopped at a phonebooth.  “Tommy? How the hell did you get this number?” you try to ask calmly, but hiding the surprise in your voice is nearly impossible.

 You barely know your own number, and highly doubt Tommy’s memorization skills are better than yours. Tommy chuckles on the other end and you can practically envision the goofy expression on his face.

 “The landlady, dude! She may or may not have a thing for me, and I may or may not have asked her for your number.”

 Tangling your fingers through the telephone cord with an unthinking hand, you feel lucky that Tommy isn’t able to see the girlish smile forming on your face.

 “Of course you did,” you say, stifling a giggle.

 “Yeah well, you know me– oh yeah! I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

 “Shoot,” you reply, racking your brain for any ideas as to what could be so important that Tommy would go through the trouble of getting your number and calling.

 Tommy takes in a deep breath on the other end of the line. “Would you–would you go on a date with me?”

 You nearly laugh out loud. “So this is what you couldn’t wait until you got home to tell me?”

 “Well, I just thought that taking you out would be the best way to show you that I really care, ya know?”

 You feel your heart soften at Tommy’s words, but there’s still something inside of you that wants a little bit more payback for what he put you through yesterday. As much as you appreciate the attention and his eagerness to please you, you want to make absolutely sure that he isn’t trying to play you.

 “Tommy, you know I said that I’d think about it.”

 “Yeah, but that was before I had a plan,” he scoffs impatiently, “and now I have one and I want to take you out.”

 “Okay well I’m pretty busy, so talk later–okay?” you go to put the phone down when you hear the faint sound of Tommy’s excited yelling coming from the receiver.

 “Wait, Y/N! Before you go, can I ask you one more thing?”

 “I’m listening,” you say.

 “Do you like flowers?”

 The question catches you off guard, “Uh, yeah. Doesn’t everyone?”

 “Okay cool, I was just wondering. Anyways, I gotta jet! See ya, dude!”

 The line goes dead as Tommy abruptly hangs up, the dial tone echoing flatly in your ears. As usual, Tommy leaves you confused and smiling to yourself. Just last night you thought you never wanted to give him the time of day, and now here you are, grinning like an idiot alone in your house.

     Why him?

...

 There’s a knock on your door about an hour after Tommy’s phone call. It certainly doesn’t take much brain power to figure out who’s probably waiting for you on the other side.

 “What do you want now, Tommy?” you ask, pulling open the door.

 Tommy looks down at you with a crazed look in his eyes, “Whoa, Y/N! How’d you know it was me?”

 “Lucky guess.”

 Tommy leans against the doorframe, head cocked to the side to get a better look at you. “So, uh about that date…” he wastes no time getting to the point of his sudden visit, “...do you think you might wanna go?”  “I said I’d think about it,” you shoot him a wry smile, finding yourself relishing in the opportunity to make him squirm for once.

 Tommy runs his hands through his hair, tugging at his dark waves in mild frustration. “Yeah but that was hours ago and–”

 “One hour ago. At most.”

 “–and I just really want to show you I’m serious okay? Let me take you out, Y/N. Please.” Tommy’s giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes he can, resorting to his boyish charm to win you over.

 You rub your chin for show, attempting to give the illusion that you’re lost deep within your own thoughts.  “Hmmm…” Tommy looks at you expectantly, hanging on your every syllable, “...still thinking about it.”

 “Oh come on, now you’re just being mean.”

 “Maybe,” you laugh, a playful lilt coloring your voice, “but don’t worry, loverboy, I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

 “Fine,” Tommy pouts, looking oddly adorable for a nearly grown man in such a disgruntled state of being.  You give the toe of his sneaker a reassuring nudge, “I’ll come to you.” It wasn’t just a possibility, it was a promise. After all, he was impossible to say no to.  “When?” Tommy asks, chest swelling with hope.

 “Eventually.”

...

 It’s almost evening when yet another knock sounds at your door. With a frustrated sigh, you fling the book you’d been reading down onto the coffee table, letting it splay out in a heap of crumpled pages.  “Tommy, how many times do I have to tell you that I’d think about it,” you groan, rushing to open the door.  When it swings open you look up, expecting to see Tommy’s looming figure, but instead look across from you to find Mick standing at your doorstep. In one of his hands is a bouquet of crimson roses wrapped snugly in a sheet of parchment paper. They’re absolutely stunning, and look extremely expensive.

 “Sorry to disappoint, neighbor,” Mick says, voice weary and bored as always, “but your idiot boy is off doing god knows what.”

 “Then what are you–?”

 Mick holds up his free hand, gently cutting you off before you can finish. “He wanted me to give you these.” He points the bouquet in your direction so you can take it, the parchment paper it's wrapped in rustles gently against the summer breeze. “‘Says you told him not to come up here.”

 “O-oh,” you stammer, unable to control the flush of heat rising rapidly to your cheeks. You aren’t entirely sure why Tommy was so hellbent on getting you to go out on a date with him, but you can’t deny that his methods are starting to work on you.

 “Look,” Mick huffs, as if being bothered to speak is an unbearable burden, “I can’t vouch for Tommy often, but what I can say is that he really wants to make this right. Whatever it is that’s going on up here.”

 “But I thought you said he does this shit all the time?” you don’t mean to sound argumentative with Mick, but part of the reason why you had a hard time buying that Tommy really cares is because of what you had heard and seen for yourself.

 “I’ve seen him fall in love a dozen times, but I’ve only ever seen him want to stay in it once– and that’s right now. He even called off our gig tonight just so he could go and figure everything out.”

 You swallow hard, knowing deep down that Mick would never had come up here to do such a ridiculous errand if he doesn’t at least partly believe what he’s saying. You think back to last night’s party and recall Mick’s shocked expression mirroring yours when that girl kissed Tommy. If anyone had even an inkling of what you had experienced, it was him.

 “Thank you,” you reply, voice softening with sincerity.

 Mick rolls his eyes, “Don’t thank me, go downstairs and tell Tommy that you’ll do it. I know you’re not that dumb, neighbor.

...

 “Hey drummer, special delivery!” Mick yells as the two of you step into the Crüe apartment.

 The boys’ apartment is in the same state of disarray as when you had fled from it the night before. The only difference is that, now, it was devoid of rambunctious party goers and populated by the occasional roach or two. From down the hall, you can hear Tommy’s wide steps approaching as he struts toward the living room.

 “Mick! Hey man, listen. I really don’t have time for this I have to get everything ready for–” Tommy stops dead in his tracks when he sees you standing by the busted window, hugging a dozen roses securely to your chest.

 “Y/N! What’re you doing here?” Tommy’s face lights up, his eyes brightening as he approaches you.  

 Mick interjects before you can respond. “She’s here to tell you that’s she finally come to her senses. Although I can’t blame her for being...apprehensive,” he punctuates his statement by glowering in Tommy’s direction.

 Tommy is only able to raise his hands in a form of surrender, taking an instinctive step back away from Mick.

 “Now,” Mick continues, “I leave you to it.”

 With that, Mick saunters out of the window ledge and into the sunshine, his back ramrod straight to support the slight limp developing in his leg. When he’s finally out of sight, you and Tommy exchange a bewildered look that quickly dissolves into an amiable fit of laughter. The roses are still pulled firmly against you as you look up at Tommy. You love the way his nose crinkles when he laughs, and know that–one day– he’ll probably have crows feet from a lifetime of smiling. Hopefully you’d even be around to see them.  

 “You know,” Tommy starts, pointing at the bundle of roses in your arms, “if I had known flowers were going to do the trick I would’ve bought you a hundred.”

 “Let’s just say that a certain alien may have put in a good word for you.”

 Tommy lets out a huge sigh of relief, “I’m so happy to hear you say that. Sending the old man up there was a gamble, and he definitely wasn’t happy with me today. Guess I owe him one.”

 “Can’t imagine why,” you smirk, satisfied with the fact that you aren’t the only one around here that isn’t completely willing to let go.

 “Anyways,” Tommy asserts, stepping into your personal space and placing his hands on his hips impatiently, “isn’t there something you wanted to tell me?”

 You gingerly pull one of the roses out from the bunch and hold it out to Tommy, careful not to prick your fingers on the thorns.

 “Tommy, may I go on a date with you?”

 Tommy accepts the rose, a broad smile breaking out across his face, “Hell yeah, baby girl. Pick you up at noon tomorrow?”

 “Sure thing, drummer boy,” you say.

 In a moment of sheer impulse, you stand up on the tips of your toes and place a soft kiss on Tommy’s cheek. His thin layer of stubble tickles your lips as that familiar, electric feeling courses through your being. When you come back down to the ground, Tommy is stunned to silence. He gently places a hand on his cheek, securing it to the spot where you kissed him as if were trying to preserve the delicate gesture forever.

 “So now will you leave me alone?” you laugh, making your way over to the open window.

 Just as you are about to climb on out of the Crüe apartment, Tommy suddenly comes back to reality and rushes over. “Wait! Uh, don’t forget to wear a bathing suit tomorrow.”

 “A bathing suit?” you ask incredulously, a single eyebrow raised, “What for?”

 “You’ll see.”

Part 6

Masterlist

#idk if it was worth the wait #but lmk what you think! #and what you wanna see next! #mgk!tommy lee #mgk!tommy lee x reader #tommy lee #tommy lee x reader #motley crue #mötley crüe #vince neil #nikki sixx #mick mars #the dirt #the dirt netflix #writing #mgk #80s #80s music

[a-haunted-sock]

Okay I have to get this idea out of my brain before I forget it, so I’m just gonna write it here.

Oof this got long! Have a cut of some pie ;p

A post-s8 plance fic where Pidge, as the star programmer of the Voltron vehicle program, finds one day that she needs a certain piece of hardware/software for one of her projects that no one seems to have anywhere. Frustrated, she goes into the bowels of the Garrison to do the job herself and comes across a very old computer with an AI. Curious as always, Pidge boots it back up and discovers that the AI (idk his/it’s name, doesn’t matter) was used for *insert reason here* and was ultimately left in disrepair as the years went on and is oh SO GLAD someone decided to reboot him again!

Pidge finds the AI funny and charming despite knowing that it’s only a computer and begins to sneak into the Garrison basement to talk to it after hours. She tells it everything: being a paladin of Voltron, the amazing adventures she’s been on and the things she’s seen (think Olkarion etc.), her friends and subsequent loss of Allura and, yes sports fans, her feelings for Lance. Eventually, Pidge rigs some kind of computer that can interface with this AI so she can bring him up to have around while she works during the day time. Over time, Pidge begins to talk more to the AI than her family and friends and everyone’s worried for her. Doesn’t she remember that the AI isn’t human? Even Chip is starting to feel neglected! There should be a lot of isolation from other people in this first part.

After this time goes on, there’s some sort of reunion party at the Garrison so the whole cast is back and that means Lance too. He’s happy to see everyone and interested in what the Holt family is up to with the Defenders project. When he sees pidge again he notices the AI popping up on every available screen around her and constantly butting into their conversation, whatever that is. Lance finds it weird but Pidge assures him that the AI is actually a pretty rad dude once you get to know him so lance is like ok if you say so but let’s hang out some more somewhere else. The AI immediately gets defensive and begs them not to leave, to stay where he can “see” them.

The reunion party lasts a while (let’s say a week) and maybe it’s like open house for the Defenders project so lots of people are strolling the property. Pidge and Lance spend most of their free time together, and he sits in her lab and watches her work. They seem to be warming back up to each other and the AI does not like this. But being a....being that does not have mobility, he/it can’t do much about it other than letting Pidge know that he does not approve of such a dimwitted man taking up Dr. Holt’s valuable time. Time that would be much better spent with him changing the universe. Pidge rebukes him, saying that Lance is an old friend and she’s happy that he seems to be recovering from the shock of losing Allura and she’s more than pleased that he....wants to spend time with her (said w/ a blush obv). The AI scoffs, says that if he didn’t know any better, he’d say Pidge had feelings for this ugly boy.

One night instead of hanging out with her newfound technological companion, pidge goes out to hit the town w/ lance but it’s absolutely not a date and when she comes back, she happily informs the AI that Lance might be staying permanently, if he accepts her proposal of becoming a flight instructor at the Garrison. She cheerfully wishes the AI goodnight and leaves. This is the last straw for the AI. He wants to finally show Pidge that he can give her anything a scummy biological man can and interfaces with ALL the garrison’s tech in the dead of night to build himself a physical android body. Next day, upon opening up for the work day, Pidge notices all the monitors and screens in her vicinity begin to light up as the AI until she turns around and is shocked to see a rather handsomely built (no pun intended) new robot and is subsequently shocked that it’s the AI. “How do you like it? It’s so I can better assist you!” he claims, as if Chip isn’t right on Pidge’s heels glaring at him. Pidge finally puts her foot down, telling the AI that he has gone too far and is stepping out of bounds by doing something like this uninitiated and demands that he go back into his original computer in the basement or she’ll deactivate him herself. The AI acquiesces after a fight, but secretly when he slinks downstairs, he’s only stalling.

No one sees the AI for the rest of the day and that night, it’s the final party of the reunion before everyone leaves. Que the AI coming in disguise to dance with Pidge and finally tell Lance off. Once the jig is up, the AI resorts to Plan B and kidnaps Pidge down to the basement of the Garrison, where he has rigged the system to lock them in permanently. All of team Voltron rush after them and while they’re stopped for a while by the locked doors, Lance hatches some sort of plan to disable the AI, but he is too concerned for Pidge’s safety and comes up w/ some way of getting into the main chamber (probably vents or whatever).

Meanwhile the AI is unloading all his feelings onto his Dr. Holt. “You don’t understand how long I’ve been stuck down here! With nothing and no one to talk to! And finally, I see the light of day and a kind face....your face. Pidge...Katie, you’re perfect. I need you with me; think of what we can achieve together!” And Pidge saying something along the lines of “but you’re not human. I can’t live like this, away from the people I love.” There’s some kind of threatening on the AI’s part, blackmailing pidge into staying, citing hurting lance specifically. Before she can respond, a bullet ricochets off of the AI’s android body and with a battle cry, Lance comes busting in. “You can’t keep her here! She needs her family!” “And you?” the AI scoffs.

The climax obviously involves something like lance distracting the AI while pidge can get to the master computer to hack it and shut it down. There should be a moment where the AI scoffs at whatever Lance is talking about in reference to Pidge’s happiness being taken away by being abducted and reveals what Pidge did for Lance’s happiness “Do you know what she gave up? What happiness she sacrificed? And for what? Your happiness?” Lance is stunned into silence and looks at Pidge. By looking at her, he unfortunately gives away what she’s doing behind the AI’s back. With the jig up, and the two of them are backed into a corner, they do the only thing they can: find something large and heavy nearby and smash it together into the console, thus destroying the AI’s brain and rendering everything dark. Covered in oil and dust, clinging to each other, Pidge says “so Lance, still want to come and stay permanently?” He laughs. “With you? At least I know I’ll never be bored!” There’s a pause and then “Why would you give up that game?” “Because it would make you and Allura happy. That’s what I really wanted.” Lance freezes and then dives down to kiss her fiercely. When the kiss ends, he says “Well, I think we’re even steven now. Maybe we should work on each other’s happiness together?”  And end scene.

Phew that got long-winded! This is what happens when you’re listening to the Phantom of the Opera OST on repeat ad nauseum and come up with ridonc ideas for self-indulgent fics like these omg but I had to get it off my chest. And now that I think about it, this insane AI sounds a lot like the one from that dcom movie Smart House hahaha

#plance #pidgance #vld #flirtyrobot #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld pidge #vld lance #fic #this might be silly #my stuff #i'm not a writer #just someone that daydreams crap like this