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asahipleaseloveme · 2 years

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All Bets are Off

Kuroo x Reader A/N: this was supposed to be for my 200 follower event....but I got carried away. This might be extremely self indulgent. Oops. Anyway, I love Kuroo very much. Word Count: 2,222 Warnings: none? (let me know if I missed anything)

“That’s a nice jersey you’ve got on there,” an unfamiliar voice snapped your eyes away from the court where your favorite team was warming up.

“M-me?” you asked as you looked around to see that you were the only person in this section of bleachers.

The black-haired man chuckled before responding. “Yes, you. I haven’t seen a lot of people wearing this jersey.”

You pulled the shirt taut as you stared down at it. “Well, to be honest, it’s my favorite number. I saw it and bought it immediately. I didn’t know much about the player who sports this number, but he’s become my favorite to watch,” you stared at the man, mentally smacking yourself on the head for speaking so much.

A whistle blew, indicating that the match was about to start. You weren’t sure if the stranger was going to move on or if you should ask him to sit next to you. Not that you would really pay too much attention to him, as you tended to get really invested in the games.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I taught Tsukishima everything he knows?” he smirked.

“You? Psh, no way!” you stated in disbelief.

“I’m serious! I took him under my wing in high school. Watch, I bet I can get him to wave.”

“No way! I bet he won’t even look over here!”

“If he does, then I’ll sit next to you for the whole game. Do you accept the bet?”

You pretended to think deeply about the offer placed before you. “Hm, I accept. But, if he doesn’t wave back, then um, you have to….I don’t know…sit on your hands for the first game.”

“Oh, you came to play. Alright, I accept.” He took a deep breath and whispered to himself, “Okay, Tsukki, don’t let me down.”

He called out “Tsukki-dude” and threw his hand up.

To your surprise, your favorite player looked over in the direction of you and the stranger, and put his hand up while giving a slight eye roll.

The stranger turned back to you beaming. You smiled and patted the seat next to you.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsuro. Figured you should know my name since we’ll be sitting next to each other for the next couple of hours,” he smiled.

You gave him your name, and then the two of you sat in silence for the first few plays of the game.

Normally, when you sit by yourself, you try to analyze and guess the next play. You were so focused on the game, you had forgotten that Kuroo was sitting there.

“I bet he misses this serve,” you said out loud.

“Oh? And what are the stakes?” Kuroo asked.

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“You just made a bet. What are you wagering?”

You thought quickly. This was not something you were used to.

“Oh, right. Hm, if he misses his serve, you have to tell me what you do for a living,” you said cautiously “I mean, only if you accept that, of course,” you added.

“No faith in your favorite player? That’s harsh. If he makes it over, then you tell me what you do, deal?”

You nodded as the whistle blew. Tsukishima took a deep breath before tossing the ball. It sailed to the top of the net, only to hit the top and roll down on his team’s side.

Kuroo sat wide-eyed. “Wow,that was close! How’d you know he’d miss it? Amazing!”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I just watch a lot of volleyball.”

And so it went for the next couple of hours, you and Kuroo placing simple bets and gradually getting to know each other over the game of volleyball.

The match was coming to an end. The Frogs were leading this last set by one and only needed one more point to win the match.

“Let’s say we make this interesting. If the game ends on a Tsukishima kill, I get to take you out for a drink after the game,” Kuroo led with caution.

“Okay, I can get down with that. And if the game ends on a Tsukishima block, then I get to take you to breakfast tomorrow morning,” you countered.

“Breakfast…interesting. And what if the game ends differently?”

“Hm, then I guess we just go our separate ways,” you say with some disappointment in your voice.

“Well, then let’s hope Tsukishima doesn’t let us down,” the eagerness in his voice was breaking through.

The Frogs received the serve and it seemed like the volley was taking an eternity. Both you and Kuroo were literally on the edge of your seats.

Tsukishima spiked the ball and it made it past the blockers, only to be dug by the libero. A quick backset to the right side, and it looked like this game was about to be tied. But then, out of nowhere, Tsukishima’s arms made it just in time to block the spike and the other team was unable to reach it before it hit the ground.

You jumped up excitedly and clapped and cheered as loud as you could. Kuroo stood up as well, but his focus was not on the cheering team below, but on you. He stared at you in amazement; most of your bets were spot on and he can’t remember a time where he’d met someone into volleyball as much as he was.

“That was amazing!” you called out.

“Yeah, it was. So, breakfast tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah! You know that breakfast place a couple of blocks from here? Let’s meet there at 9:30 tomorrow morning! Does that work for you?” you asked.

He smiled at you, “yeah, that works for me.”

“Wait, here…” you handed him a piece of paper with your phone number, “just in case you’re going to be late or decide you can’t make it. I’m really serious about my breakfast, Kuroo Tetsuro.” You gave a little wave as you walked away.

“I’ll be there,” he stood staring at the piece of paper, his heart fluttering a little faster.

You pulled into the parking lot an hour before the agreed upon time. You were a little more excited than you wanted to admit. Kuroo was the first person in a long time that gave you butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He had texted you shortly after you left the game last night to thank you for letting him sit with you and to make sure that you had his number, too.

After twenty minutes of sitting in your car and staring at your texts, you decided to go wait inside. When you walked in, you were surprised to see that Kuroo was already in there waiting for you.

“You’re early,” you chuckled.

“Well, you said that you were serious about breakfast, and who am I to come between you and that,” he grinned deviously.

A warmness spread across your cheeks as you smiled back.

A nice server interrupted the moment that was happening between the two of you and showed you to your table. You both ordered a coffee as you looked over the menu.

“So, how long have you been a fan of the Frogs?” Kuroo asked you as he pushed the menu off to the side.

“Mm, a few years. I’ve always been into volleyball. I played when I was little all the way up to highschool. I wanted to play in college, but it just wasn’t in the cards,” you sighed as you also put the menu off to the side.

“Oh? That’s unfortunate. Why didn’t it work out, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. If I’m honest, I didn’t think I was good enough to play. And the more I think about it, the more I’m disappointed in myself for not even trying to go for it. But, it is what it is, you know.”

He chuckled, “yeah, I definitely understand. And this is going to sound cliche, but you shouldn’t regret the decisions you made; just look forward to the decisions you are going to make.”

“Ah, you are so right,” you said as the server made their way back to your table with your drinks.

“I would like the strawberry cream cheese french toast with a side of hashbrowns, please,” you smiled at the server as you handed them your menu.

“Wonderful choice. And for you, sir?”

“I’ll just stick with coffee, thank you.”

The server nodded and walked away.

You stared at Kuroo with a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

“What?” he asked you earnestly.

“You’ll ‘just stick with coffee’? I am appalled. How? Why?”

“I’m not really much of a breakfast person. Usually just have a coffee.”

“Oh my goodness. I bet I can change that,” you said, really just confused on how someone didn’t like breakfast.

“Oh, yeah? How do you think you can make me eat breakfast?”

“Well, obviously I’ll have to take you to breakfast more often.”

Kuroo stared at you, a light red covering the tips of his ears. You hadn’t even finished this breakfast date and you were already wanting to have more dates with him.

“Hm, I think I can accept that.”

The two of you chatted about this and that. Talking to Kuroo was very easy. He made you feel like you were the most important person in the room, and his focus hinged on every word you said.

The server refilled his coffee a couple of times before your food finally arrived. It smelled heavenly and you knew that it was going to taste just as good. You cut into it and started stuffing your face. You paused for a moment as you realized that Kuroo was staring at you.

“You wanna bite?” you asked with your cheeks full.

“N-no, it’s okay,” he politely declined, but you were already pushing your plate toward him.

“Please, I insist. It’s really good. I promise you’ll like it.”

He smiled as he took his fork and took a tiny corner piece.

“No, no. You have to take some stuff in the middle, too!” you stared at him intently, determined to not take the plate back until he takes a bite that you deem acceptable.

He laughed and did as you said. You watched closely as he ate the biggest bite of your food. The look on his face made you feel like you had just accomplished a great feat. He was at least willing to try something different, which made you happy.

“So?”

“It’s pretty tasty, ______. It might be a little too sweet for me though,” he chuckled nervously.

You gave a little pout as you took your plate back.

“Well, I tried. More for me, I guess,” you huffed as you took another bite.

The rest of the breakfast went by way too fast. The server came with the bill and placed it between you. As Kuroo went to take the ticket, you stopped him quickly.

“Hold on there, I asked you to get breakfast with me.”

“Well, I consider this a first date. And I insist that I pay for it,” he retorted.

“Hmm, but I insist. My meal was more expensive. You only got coffee! I should pay for the meal.”

“I’m going to have to argue that I should pay for the meal this ti-”

You cut him off by leaning over the table and kissing him, causing him to drop his guard. You were able to grab the bill from his grip. By the time he finally came around to realize what was happening, you had pulled away. You did a little dance in your seat.

“Looks like I’ll be paying this time,” you smiled as you pulled out your card.

“Actually,” he started and you paused, “I gave them my card when I first walked in and told them that I would be picking up the tab,” he smiled that irritatingly cute smile you had started to really come to enjoy.

“So, my distraction was all for nothing,” you slumped in your chair disappointed.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he smirked. “But I think you still have some syrup on your face. Let me help you,” he scooted his chair next to yours and took your face in his hands. He planted a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away, “Hm, now that’s a sweetness I can come to enjoy.”

You could feel your whole body get warmer. You weren’t exactly sure how you were supposed to respond to that, so you just sat there with a goofy smile on your face.

Kuroo was the first to break the silence between you.

“I have a question for you. Would you want to come over to my place and watch some recent volleyball games I’ve recorded? You’re really good at analyzing. I bet you predict more things correctly than me,” he was confident in his remark.

“Oh? And what is the wager?”

“I take you to dinner.”

“I accept that wager! You’re on!”

You knew that it wouldn’t matter if you won the bet or lost the bet, you would be going to dinner with Kuroo. The two of you giggled as you walked out together. You had never been much of a gambler before, but you might just hit the jackpot with Kuroo Tetsuro.

#kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu!!#this is very self indulgent...just fyi #i love kuroo with all of my heart #he deserves nice things...like breakfast #feedback is always appreciated

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beforeimdeceased · 9 months

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hit the 30 fic mark omg i can’t believe i created 30 things i am proud of and posted them i feel like an animal with its guts hanging out. you’re all looking at my insides…do you like them?

#brain scattered rn #30 is a lot tbh #i hope you guys like them #feedback is always appreciated #bunnie can speak? ☆

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shegetsburned · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐀𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 —

summary : lou kesyk infiltrates a separatist ship filled with prisoners to liberate them and get them back safe to Coruscant with the help of her master Isaak and clones.

characters : original character(s): lou kesyk, isaak axar - canon character(s): waxer

warnings : depictions of violence

author’s notes : been working on the plot of a new star wars serie with my ocs, and decided it was time to share the first chapter of this long ass story. It takes place after the second movie, so mainly during the clone wars. Hope you enjoy!

(let me know if some of y’all are interested in being tagged for the next chapters)

word count : 3k

opening chapter - chapter I - chapter 2

Who said flying had to be a pleasant experience? For prisoners of war, it had to be one of the most uncomfortable ways to travel. Well, after all, they were detainees, and detainees weren’t given special treatment.

It wasn’t as enormous as a Taylander shuttle, but enough to carry passengers.

The ship’s flying pattern was worse than any she had ever seen. Was it because of the numerous interferences surrounding the flight area of Lego or due to the lack of flight training in the droid’s code? Well, the passengers of the ship were clearly feeling the separatists’ incompetence to fly a ship to its destination, as it swayed from left to right.

The prisoners’ hands were tied with electronic devices magnetically stuck to the ceiling of the ship to keep them from moving too much. Their limbs were numb, some of the prisoner heads were resting on their upper arms from exhaustion. They all looked hopeless and miserable.

Twelve clicks until next destination.

It was the ship’s AI speaking into the monitor, signaling how close they were. It was also Lou’s signal to get a move on and stop this transfer.

She had been purposely caught by this transport, hours ago, on Lego’s ground. Thanks to the droids’ amateur procedure, she had been able to hide her weapon in her robe quite easily.

Her fingers meticulously twirling to try and take her saber out of the pocket where it was hidden. Normally, summoning the force wasn’t a hard task for Lou, but with her hands up in the air, it was a tricky process. She struggled to rotate her wrist inside the cuffs, occasionally watching the guards passing by her.

She did, despite her vigilance, attract the curious eyes of a wookie prisoner, who kept looking down at her hands. Maybe a huge and hairy wookie would be enough to alarm the droids on her, which empresses her to move faster.

Concentrated, she slowly lifts the swords out of her pocket, towards her sleeve. It slowly but surely makes its way to the end of her maroon outfit. As she prepares to draw it, a separatist droid stops in front of Lou, noticing her slight agitation.

“Prisoner. Stop moving. We arrive on short notice.”

She glares at it, squinting and stopping her movement in the process. “These cuffs are uncomfortable. I wish for all of us to be free of them.”

The droid takes a second to answer, turning to its comrade before they all burst out of a robotic laughter. Her little act of rebellion draws the other hostages’ attention towards their conversation. All attentive to her hopeful figure, even the weakest ones.

“These traitors are getting bolder and bolder with time.” This voice differed from the others. It was more creature-like. A hairy catuman appeared from the cockpit. Loud and indiscreet steps towards the girl made the shuttle sway even more. At the sight of him, exhales and whines of fear escape from the poor mouths.

The catuman who approached Lou was a mercenary for the Trade Federation. His stature made the small droid back away, scared of ending under the alien’s feet. Looking down at the frail human, he leaned forward, an evil grin plastered on his face. “What do you think you’re doing, little one?”

“I’m a free woman, I can do whatever I want.” Lou answers, unfazed.

A loud chuckle fills the ship followed by smaller ones. “You? You’re a free woman?’

“I might be your prisoner, but I’m a free woman.” She repeats, looking straight into the catuman’s eyeballs with determination. “You’re not a free woman, that’s what prisoner means.”

“I won’t repeat myself. Free us.” Lou finally declares confronting the creature once more.

The alien takes a long and profound inspiration, signaling his impatience towards Lou’s little number. What was she trying to prove? As he expires, projectiles find their way onto the girl’s face, to her dismay, contorting it in disgust. With amusement, the creature keeps looking at her, but not losing her objective, she closes her eyes and holds her right hand out.

In a swift motion, her lightsaber instantly flies from her sleeve to her hand. She gets a hold of it, her fingers closing around the handle, under the amazed eyes of the captives and separatists. At first, Lou opens her eyes, now facing the alien with the weapon ready.

It’s a matter of milliseconds before an hopeful prisoner lets out a screech and the lightsaber ignites. The warm orange light of the saber easily slips through the cuffs, slicing them in half and liberating the jedi’s hands. Lou then engages the catuman who had been standing there, baffled and wondering how they made the mistake of capturing a Jedi. With a long blow, she uses all of the space available to try and cut the creature in half. Finally reactivating himself, he dodges the strike with a quick step back, only found with a not so profound laceration along his chest.

Deciding that she’ll deal with the biggest one later, Lou holds her free arm out, projecting it towards the front of the ship, crushing two droids in the process. The ship balances again, as everyone begins to agitate themselves. Droids start firing at the young jedi, sometimes missing and putting holes in shuttle’s armature, and other times meeting the target’s lightsaber. Lou twirls it in front of her, blocking the lasers with the saber.

There’s now multiple holes in the hull, activating the alarm system ringing and bouncing on the ship’s walls. Taken by a burst of bravery, certain prisoners start wiggling their feet towards the droids, blocking their path and making them trip. Lou senses an opening as one falls to the ground to throw her lightsaber towards three aligned droids who are immediately cut in half. The saber returns into its owner’s hand quickly after.

The girl takes a second to wipe the nasty goo glued to her face before striking once again, assailing a deadly blow right into a droid’s body that was too close to her. Diving forward and making her way to the cockpit, she hears the growl of the catuman still struggling to get back up after being thrown.

Lou readies her lightsaber, lifting it in front of her, perfectly horizontal. Two courageous separatist droids start firing at her, but are quickly thrown away by their own deflecting projectiles. As they collapse right before the pilot’s seat, the enormous creature gets on its feet. He bangs his fists against his chest before charging towards the Jedi. Before he hits, Lou dodges by crouching and holds her saber out. He passes besides her as the lightsaber cuts his left foot, separating it from the rest of the body.

An enraged growl escapes from the mercenary but it does not stop it from diving right back in with an intention to kill. He throws himself on her but she’s able to turn around quickly, making her way around him. Throwing her lightsaber on the other side, making its way around as well, she executes her motion with caution. Using her knee against the floor to spin, she lands behind him, regaining control of her lightsaber and immediately lunges forward with a death blow into the heart.

He freezes completely, using his last moment of consciousness to look down at the hole formed around the lightsaber trapped into his body. His knees fall to the ground as we hear the sound of the lightsaber retracting.

Lou breathes heavily as her attention shifts back towards the prisoners who are filled with joy, but also concern. As a matter of fact, they still need to be saved, and the ship is still swaying, but this time, more aggressively, like there was no pilot.

Indeed, when Lou walks to the chair and turns it around, she sees the dead carcasse of the pilot laying on the seat. A quick look around reveals heavy damage taken from the blasters and the lightsabers cutting through the walls during the fight. One motor’s damaged. The fire emanating from the side alarms Lou who chooses to act quickly.

The quick thinking of the Jedi leads her to the first captive on her right, using her strength to dismantle the cuffs. “Free the others.” Lou’s soft look immediately calms the man in front of her before he turns around to execute the order.

She then throws herself on the seat, getting a hold of the commands. Her pilot’s training finally being put to good use, her hand navigates between the array of buttons, trying to get a hold of the ship now directly pointing down towards the canyons of Lego.

With a groan, she clenches her hands around the steering wheel and pulls towards her chest as hard as she can hoping to straighten the shuttle and attempt a softer landing.

Chatters and soft whimpers are heard from the back of the ship, as Lou takes a peak behind her to see the prisoners all tucked in a corner, holding onto any piece of ship they could and onto themselves.

Her attention then shifts back to the front, determined on keeping these people safe and landing without any injuries. Her grasp tightens around the handle, and with a final push, she succeeds in straightening the nose of the ship, but now too close to the ground. To limit the violent impact, she slightly turns the wheel, engaging the damaged ship into the canyon. Lou navigates inside the tight walls, all of her concentration focused on making it past this point, sometimes hitting the sides on the rocks, which loudens the cries of the passengers.

But as they advance, the canyon becomes impracticable for a ship of its size. The girl, knowing they won’t make it through the entirety of the canyon, decides to use the last of the ship’s power to get out of the obscurity the gorge provided them.“Brace yourself!” Lou cries out. The ship flies out, just for the other motor to explode as it lands hard on the rocky ground.

The ship glides over a thousand meters, losing parts on its way, before slowly getting to a stop.

Exhausted and shaken up, some figures get a hold of themselves through the smoke inside the shuttle. Lou, slowly getting out of her seat and coughing, wanders around. Her eyes are drawn to the small flames emanating from the metallic panels. Now unsafe and filled with dense smoke, the ship had to be evacuated.

Quickly enough, she makes her way to the back, making sure everyone is accounted for and helping them out through one big hole created from the impact. Lou leads them out, softly but quickly holding onto their shoulder and guiding them through the exit.

All covered in braise and exhaling difficulty, they make their way out of the ship, holding each other. When Lou takes a last look around at the empty vehicle, she rubs her eyes with her sleeve, trying to get a distinction of what can possibly be another captive. But focusing on the object, she realizes it’s nothing more than a seat.

The Jedi is the last one to walk through the breach, met by the blazing weather of the grounds of Lego. Her sight slowly readjust to a clearer environment as she squints towards the others.

They’re embracing each other. Glad to have made it out of a possible hell-hole. Relieved sighs and cries travel to her ears. A slight smirk forming on the side of Lou’s mouth. But before they have any time for themselves, a growl is heard in the sky. Like a ship descending into the planet’s atmosphere.

One of the prisoners points a trembling finger to the sky, terror in his eyes. But Lou already has her sight on it. Immediately drawing her lightsaber in front of her and backing up to protect the civilians, she readies herself for another fight.

But as the mist slowly reveals a more detailed image of the ship, Lou exhales and slowly regains a normal stance. Retracting her orange lightsaber. She feels this familiar force surrounding the vessel; her master’s presence.

Incomprehensibly turning to their savior for help, they stand there, tension descending as they see Lou’s calm attitude.. The ship slowly makes his way to the ground, dispersing any traces of pebbles and sand as they land.

A few seconds after the landing, the metallic white door to the side opens itself and spits several clones running towards the prisoners. Startled but now convinced of their safety, they accept the help given by the soldiers. First aid is given to those who need it the most, whereas others are escorted towards the ship.

As it all comes in motion, a man calmly walks out of the transport. Seeing him makes Lou carefully remove the hood laying on top of her and throw away the brown robe to reveal her Jedi uniform. It was sleeveless, covered with thick light brown leather and fur. A small cape ran down on the ground starting from her hips, covering the back of an armored leg wear and boots.

“Master Isaak.” She speaks with a wide relieved smile, finally seeing her master on the terrain.

The Jedi returns her smile with a soft gaze, but Lou notices a bit of tension in his hands. Isaak wore something similar to her but covered with more metallic plates, armoring his chest piece and arms. Small parts of his body were apparent; his hands and his face.

He walks up to his protege, leaning forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Everything’s alright? What happened?”

Isaak was examining Lou with concern. His eyes trailing the light bruises and speck covering her figure, in front of the girl’s amused stare. She reassures him with a chuckle.“I’m fine, master. Nothing to worry about.” She always had to reassure her master.

He escapes a sigh, understanding, before letting go of her and just slightly turning around to inspect the damages and the now very free prisoners. Isaak’s gaze stops as he sees the damaged ship meters away. “What happened to the ship?”

Lou bit her lip in search of an answer that wouldn’t worry him even more. Attempting to keep it as blurry but straight to the point as possible, she answers as Isaak’s gaze had shifted to hers. “Nothing major. Just uh- a difficult landing.”

“A difficult landing?”

“A difficult landing.” Lou repeats, eyes wide open, trying to understand if her master knew something more had happened or not. But before he has the chance of lecturing her, a clone approaches the Jedi, interrupting Lou in her lie.

“Sir, the refugees are weak and starving. Is our next destination still Coruscant?”

“It is. Let’s embark them all onto the ship and make them comfortable for the flight. We don’t want anyone dying on the way.” Isaak orders, in a more serious tone.

The clone acknowledges with a slight nod before turning to the girl with a heartwarming smile.

“Waxer, long time no see.” His smile is met with Lou’s pleased grin.

“Lou. I would’ve preferred to see you again under more joyful circumstances. You took down the ship yourself?”

A gentle laugh escapes her lips when she goes to answer. “All my doing.”

At these words, Isaak can’t help but give her an accusing look. Like Lou had just revealed this mess was entirely because of her. She gulps, peeking at her master’s reaction but staying on Waxer. “I mean, mostly.”

After a few seconds of debating whether he should address this issue or not, Isaak calmly points his chin towards the other clones. “Get to work, Waxer, the faster we’ve loaded them, the faster we can leave this place.”

The clone takes the time to put his helmet back on before nodding and walking away. Lou takes a step towards them as well but is suddenly stopped by Isaak’s hand around her arm. It’s never too tight, just enough to stop her into her movement. Frowning and looking at her master, she can’t help but see him stare at her forearm. There’s traces of struggle around the wrist. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks, now staring right at the girl’s eyes.

“I am, master. It’s from the cuffs. It’s nothing.”

Not even diverging once millimeters away from her gaze, he tries to discern the truth into her eyes, before letting go of her arm. “When we arrive I want you to meet someone from the council.”

Of course, her master had contacts in the Jedi council, three years ago, he had been chosen for a seat and humbly accepted the post. Other than him, she had only met master Yoda who had been more than welcoming to her, but Lou knew most of the Jedi were reluctant on having her train with the force, because of how old she was when she was found.

Most of her doubts came from their view of her, and Isaak knew it. But getting familiar with influential faces would be an effective way to diminish her uncertainty.

“You don’t want me to help Waxer and the others?” Lou says not knowing how to respond, she mostly wanted to avoid talking about it more.

“They can take care of themselves.”

She scoffs, her gaze turning away, a nervous hand scratching the back of her neck. “Yeah, well, maybe-”

“Lou.”

The Jedi looks at her master, helplessly looking for comfort.

“You’ll be fine.” Isaak says ever so calmly, a reassuring smile forming on his lips. Lou takes a deep breath and nods multiple times, acknowledging his order before returning to her affairs.

The man looked at her as she helped the few who hadn’t yet embarked on the ship. She had so much care to give and Isaak knew it. After so many years with her as his padawan, he saw so much more than what the Jedi could see. Proving her obedience and excellent skills would be an easy task if only she opened herself up to other jedi knights. Isaak’s goal was to show the galaxy everything Lou had to offer.

And he would work hard trying to achieve it.

#aaah finally #idk how this’ll go but I really liked writing it #header by @ObmanBalagan on Pinterest #Jedi oc #star wars oc #fanfic #star wars fanfiction #my fic stuff #oc: lou kesyk #oc: isaak axar #feedback is always appreciated #the empire ascension

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elliemarchetti · 1 year

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A Court of Deadly Virtues Masterlist

Charity [1/7]

Chastity [2/7]

Patience [3/7]

Kindness [4/7]

I’ll post a new chapter every Tuesday if people start to interact more

#masterlist #acotar fanfiction #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #a court of deadly virtues #acomaf retelling #dm me or comment if you want to be tagged #i always read the tags so you can ask here too #feedback is always appreciated #even on anon

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absurdthirst · 2 years

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I am a creator on here and I am getting really frustrated by the lack of meaningful interaction with my fics. A majority of what I get are likes, people will like every single chapter, one by one, follow me, and that is it.

I want to try a last ditch effort for engagement before I consider leaving. Do you think sending them a nice message asking them to reblog is too bold? Do you think blocking people who don't interact is too bold? ( All the likes clog up my notification tab)

I'm not trying to be a diva and ask for too much, but honestly it is only getting worse and worse each month.

I could be working on my own original work with all the time I spend on fics, but I do it because I love the fandom interaction. I LOVE the social aspect.

However,

The less and less I get that, the less and less I like fic writing.

Do you happen to have any tips?

Engagement is an issue that is happening all over. Believe me that it's not just you.

There have been a lot of people that have been complaining about this same thing and I am not sure if the ones that are just liking don't care at this point or what. It is very well known that Likes don't help for shit and Reblogs are all that matter from a Tumblr stand point. This isn't IG or Twitter or TikTok.

I don't think that blocking people is the answer. Otherwise you will get the reputation of being that writer that blocks anyone who doesn't give them the attention they think they deserve. But if anyone is rude to you about it and pushy on why you are demanding anything, block their ass.

I would start start putting at the top or bottom of your fics that Reblogs/Comments are appreciated. Maybe that will help. Also cross posting seems to help some. I get more Comments on AO3 at times.

Here is the ratio's on my very first ever fic in this fandom and my latest. It's pretty telling that things never change.

First fic in fandom:

Latest fic in fandom:

#writing is hard #people that say it isn't don't do it #feedback is always appreciated

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basicbipolarbitch · 2 years

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No cause why do I hate everyone except like 3 people. It’s so weird it happens every so often it’s like I literally don’t care if ppl live or die it’s very disconcerting and I don’t like the feeling

Does this happen to anyone else?

#feedback is always appreciated #actually bipolar #summers life #mental illness #bipolar 2 #depression #psychosis #???#death mention ig

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elitadream · 5 months

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"Nothing can hurt us as long as we're together." ❤️💚

#In response to a very kind ask I've gotten the other day 🥰#I'm so glad you guys like the way I portray the bros!#The feedback is always immensely appreciated 🥺🙏#Mario #Luigi #Mario Bros #family #warmth #comfort #affection #good siblings #fanart

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eon-break · 1 month

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IT'S NOT FAIR, 'CAUSE I KNEW YOU LIKE THE BACK OF MY HANDS

PORTER ROBINSON — CHEERLEADER

#porter robinson #porter robinson cheerleader #hyperpop #music video #gifset #gifsets #fan gifs #flashing gif #cw flashing lights #ask to tag #mine #ok so i mightve overdone this one a bit.#i wanted to keep the blue backgrounds but i was worried compression would make it a nightmare #unfortunate but i think focusing on the red and pink looks nice???#idk i hope this looks ok feedback always appreciated #also less compressed than i usually make them sorry if it loads slow TT__TT

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mint-yooxgi · 7 months

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i finally got the chance to sit down and read this chapter.... i cannot BREATHE. Just when i thought it was coming (heh) to an end, there was more. AND IT WAS AMAZINGGGGGGGGG. I am so excited and anxious to see what happens next now that she maybe has powers and can do all this cool stuff now. This chapter also just makes me even more excited for when she gets crowned as the queen, but it also makes me sad because i know that we are that much closer to the end of this story :( I was wondering if you were thinking about maybe doing a book 3? Or if you feel like once this book ends, then the story ends with it. Regardless, this whole series is probably the best ateez series to ever exist in the universe ever. You are so talented. Thank you and goodnight 😌

Ahhhh, thank you so much!!!! this makes me so happy to hear, you have no idea!! I have quite a few fun things planned now that the soul merging is kicking off, so stay tuned for the next chapter!!

And omg, I am nowhere near finished with this story yet!! I've decided it's definitely going to be a trilogy considering all the plot points I still have to write for it hehehe, so fear not! There's still plenty more where this came from! Plus, I've got some fun side stories I'm planning to write in relation to the series, mainly just smutty things I've thought about since not all of them can fit in the main storyline.

Thank you so much for sending such a lovely message, it really made my day!! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story and that you like my writing! Thank you for your support 🥰

#ask #the sweetest #omg #thank you #!!!#feedback is always appreciated

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zorlok-if · 6 months

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A love letter to the person who added Zorlok to this collection on Itch.io:

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

It breaks my heart that this is the only game in the collection as of now, but I wish you all the best in your future endeavors to find games starring sapphic succubi.

#the capital L Lesbian *chef's kiss*#thank you #as always #i appreciate this kind of feedback

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newoozi · 20 days

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how come no one ever talks about riding vernon's face. i haven't seen anyone write this before please i need it so bad. like think about it!!

he's got such broad, strong shoulders, and i feel like he really is the type to love eating you out. so when it gets steamy on his couch one day, and you feel like trying something new with him, you sit on his face (sorry for being so direct). he's matching your rhythm with his tongue, breath hot and warm, hands groping your ass and helping keep you in place. your pussy is sopping wet for him, and his nose rubs against your clit when you grind on him. he starts with kitten licks, and when you moan for more, rocking your hips against his tongue, he's humming against your folds at the movement and he gives in. he suckles your sensitive area, and you can barely keep it together. running your hands through his hair, guiding him (“right there, just like that sol, fuck—”) because neither of you are particularly used to this new position, but his tongue is still magic and he loves the taste of you. maybe he looks up at your figure, tits bouncing as you move, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, hands pulling at his hair, small gasps leaving your mouth, and he moans against you, sending you over the edge. you cum all over his face. he makes sure to clean up everything he can along your thighs and his mouth. he looks so pretty when he does.

just some thoughts i wanted to let out. happy friday everyone :)

#sigh…..#i think about him all the time….#him being into eating you out is also always on my mind….#chwe vernon #vernon smut #b*#sorry btw! if this is bad. it’s my first time trying this out.#feedback is always welcome and appreciated 🫡#seventeen smut

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canisalbus · 5 months

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I'm sure you get loads of these but heck I said I'd give it a shot anyway!

Your artwork is so inspiring and beautiful. I recently graduated from art school with a degree in Animation Production but I've decided I'd love to be an illustrator some day. Your work really motivates me and gets my brain juice buzzin. Keep it up!!!

#oh thank you! I'm glad you did!#first off as a general rule I think it's always okay to message any individual independent artist/creator #and tell them that you like their work #you may think they probably get lots of positive feedback and such and another one doesn't matter #but I would bet money that the actual amount is almost always smaller than you'd think #so every kind comment has the potential to cheer them up and inspire them #and motivate them to continue creating and posting their work online for people to see #messages like that can linger at the back of your mind for ages #I regularly think back to the nice things people have said about my art over the years #especially when I'm struggling with art block and feel like what I make isn't worth anything and that I'm bad and my stuff is bad #this got a little long winded and I'm probably preaching to the choir #but what I wanted to say is don't be afraid to let creatives know if you like their work it's always appreciated #I'm flattered to hear my dog doodles motivate and inspire you!#animation and illustration are both good choices imo #I wish you all the best on whatever you end up doing #answered #starfruitwyne

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nevadancitizen · 10 months

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“debts to pay: nasty majesty!”

synopsis: sniping isn’t really something you wanted to do, but something you were forced into. luckily, you’re one of the best. unluckily, someone wants that position. that someone happens to be a 6′10 freak of a man.

word count: 1.4k

characters: könig, sniper! reader

trigger warnings: canon-typical violence

notes: i think i heard someone talking about könig being jealous that reader’s a sniper and reader being jealous that könig’s an intrusion specialist? can’t find anyone talking about it though. if you’re out there drop by! i like your ideas ^-^ also i’m going to be trying my hand at a series for tha first time in awhile.. be patient w me!!

chapters: one (you are here!) / two

The first thing you notice about König is the similarity he has to Atlas Shrugged and its author, Ayn Rand. He’s constantly trying to play both sides, just how Rand was pro-communism in her politics and pro-capitalism in her books – oh, yes, he’s so shy and insecure and such a fucking loser to others, but when he sees you, you who’s been shoved into the position of a sniper, he fucking seethes.

It’s not even like you wanted this! All your life you’ve been dreaming of having his job, of getting your feet on the ground and putting boots in asses. Maybe it was a misguided attempt to get that adrenaline rush, maybe it was your true calling that your superiors would only recognize in time. But in any case, it wasn’t your job.

Being a sniper isn’t honorable. You sit for hours at a time, being perfectly still, waiting for the perfect opportunity that might not even come. And what were you even supposed to do if there was someone right in front of you? Run five hundred miles away and take a shot? It feels like being the crazy ex: stalking, waiting, and, finally, striking.

And that’s what you were doing right now. Sitting in a highrise apartment that wasn’t yours, looking out the window with binoculars, scoping out the target. She was moving about her hotel room, pacing back and forth while on the phone. It looked like she was having to hold herself back from screaming into it.

The comm in your ear crackles to life. Your superior addresses you, then asks for a sitrep. You sigh and look away, bringing the binoculars away from your face. Your peripheral vision comes back into focus after you rub your eyes.

You speak into your comms, “Schaeffer’s still in her hotel. On a call. Looks pretty damn angry.”

“Hold your fire,” your superior says. “Wait til she’s hung up. Then make it quick.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You quickly open the window and grab your sniper rifle, attaching a suppressor and resting the bi-pod on the windowsill. Breathing out slowly, you closed one eye and looked down the scope. It was just like looking down the binoculars, just with a crosshair, you remind yourself. You find Schaeffer’s hotel room window through the scope and watch.

A horrible feeling settles into the pit of your stomach. You feel like a creep. You want to give the revolutionist an honorable death – best her in combat or something. Not shoot once and run away like a coward.

Schaeffer screams into the phone, very probably something along the lines of ‘fuck you!’. She hangs up and throws her phone into the duvet of her hotel bed. Her hands fly to her scalp, looking like she wants to tug her locs out as she practically froths at the mouth in frustration.

“Permission to fire?” you ask quietly.

“Permission granted.”

The sound of the bullet leaving the gun is muffled by the suppressor, but right next to your head, it sounds like the crack of Babe Ruth hitting a baseball. Schaeffer jerks back and falls, just a bit of blood and brain matter splattering onto the wall. Confetti fit for a funeral.

“Target down,” you say into the comms. You quickly gather your things, making sure to leave no evidence you even broke into the apartment for the perfect angle on Schaeffer. With your disassembled rifle in a duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you walk out of the apartment as casually as you can – even pretend to lock it behind you.

You walk down the hall with your heart roaring in your ears, adrenaline screaming at your body to run as fast as you can, lest you get caught by Schaeffer’s followers. But you maintain a calm – maybe even bored – demeanor.

And everything is quiet until you step into the elevator.

A college student, no older than twenty, steps aside when you step into the elevator. You shift on your feet when you see a Vox Populi pin on their backpack – the name of Schaeffer’s revolution. The disassembled rifle clatters in your duffel bag. The college student sends a weird look your way as the scope falls out and clangs on the floor.

You quickly grab it and shove it in your pocket. You look at them out of the corner of your eye, gauging their reaction. “Don’t worry – it’s a prop. I’m a cinema student. The rest is filming equipment.”

The way you speak leaves little room for doubt. The college student hums in understanding. You let out a silent sigh of relief and thank your lucky stars.

You both stand in silence until the elevator reaches the bottom level of the apartment complex. You head for the front door while the college student heads for the front desk – probably to pick up a package or something.

You’re one foot out the door when you glance over your shoulder to see the college student pointing at you. One of the front desk attendants slides her hand under the desk and hits a button, causing an alarm to blare.

You take off, practically tripping over yourself as you run. Your hand flies to your ear, pressing the talk button on your comm. “Cover’s compromised, what now?!”

“Sending coordinates of a nearby operator. He’s in a black, four-door SUV,” your superior replies.

You slide into an alley, fishing your phone out of your pocket. The operator’s two hundred feet away – something you can cover without exhausting yourself too much. You pocket your phone and take off running towards him, eyes scouring the streets for a parked car that matches the description.

When you see that only one car on the street is a black, four-door SUV, you immediately open the door and slide into the backseat, throwing your duffel bag on the seat beside you.

You’ve only caught your breath just the slightest bit when you say your name and identify yourself as a fellow KorTac operator. You lean into the gap between the front seats to get a look at the driver, but your eyes dart to a ragged, black t-shirt in the passenger seat. Grey thread sews the neck and arm holes shut, and bleach-dyed tears run from two ragged holes cut in the pec area. You immediately recognize it as a mask that belongs to –

“König. KorTac.”

You whip around to see his narrowed eyes peeking out from behind his hood. He’s gripping the steering wheel like he’s trying to choke it out. You lean back into backseat territory, sighing.

You look out the window at the people walking on the sidewalk. “Superiors said to catch a ride with you.”

“And I wasn’t alerted.” König shifts the car into drive and moves onto the road, still keeping that white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

You roll your eyes and scoff. “It was practically a fucking fiasco, man. Don’t think there was time for them to call you up and say, ‘Hey, is it alright if one more operator tags along back to base?’!”

“Of course you’re the type to say fiasco,” König mutters under his breath.

“What does that even mean?!”

König doesn’t respond, just keeps his eyes on the road. You sigh and lean forward between the gaps in the front seats, turning on the radio so you don’t suffocate in this silence that’s quickly growing tense. König’s grip on the steering wheel relaxes.

You lean back against the seat, watching the countryside fly by. The disassembled rifle rattles in your duffel bag. You lay a hand on it to silence it.

Minutes go by as the top hundred hits play on the radio before König reaches over and turns the volume down just the slightest bit.

He glances in the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road. “Who was it?”

You shift in your seat, ever so slightly. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m trying to be polite.”

“Sure, ‘cause you know so much about politeness.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens again. You’re sure he could rip it straight off if he wanted to. Maybe he would. Hell, maybe he’d beat you to death with it just so he could take your job. He’s just like that when it comes to you.

You lean forward and turn the volume back up. A new song starts – one with heavy beats that almost shake the car. The beat cuts out for a split second and a woman sing-shouts “Na-a-sty!”

Your eyes flicker to the radio interface. The song is Nasty Majesty by Off the Hook. A small smile settles across your face as you lean against the window.

That’s what König is. A nasty majesty.

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imagine-darksiders · 9 months

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On the Ropes - chapter 23.

CYNOSURE.

Summary: You're in trouble. More trouble than you seem to realise...

Montgomery Gator X F!Reader

Slight Freddy X F!Reader

Tags: Jealousy, Protectiveness, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Violence, Anger, Past abuse, Friends to lovers, dialogue.

Please note, I haven't seen anything to do with the Ruin DLC. I'm writing this with just the base game in mind.

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If it were possible for a human to retreat inside their own shadow, you'd happily let go of your crutches and sink down into the safety of the darkness stretched across the daycare floor behind you, hiding within yourself where nobody – not Andy, nor Freddy or Monty or Eclipse – would be able to see you.

You want to be small.

You want to be still.

So small and so still that you could slip out of view entirely to conceal yourself amongst the dust and atoms that are naked to the human eye.

You'd only ask for a few hours. A few hours to be unimportant and unnoticeable.

Is that such an outlandish ask?

If it meant you don't have to be looked upon by a man with anger contorting his expression into something cold and ugly, you'd disappear in a heartbeat.

You've wished for similar things before, in entirely dissimilar situations.

“Andy,” you croak, trying not to dwell on how timid and yielding your voice has fallen, “I-I'm sorry, okay? I know I should've gone straight home-”

“So why didn't you?” The speed at which he cuts off your sentence is jarring enough to send you shrinking behind your shoulders and dropping your eyes to a spot on the mechanic's shirt that shifts across his heaving chest, slack then taut then slack with each breath.

He's asked a valid question, you remind yourself, swallowing thickly. And really, what did you expect? He has every right to be angry with you. You were discharged from the hospital and expected to go straight home to rest your broken ankle, but instead, you've returned to the very building where you sustained your injury in the first place not twelve hours later.

Sparing a second to go over the motions in your mind's eye, you start to get a picture of where you might have made a couple of minor errors in judgement.

Gulping past a lump of nerves in your throat, you raise your eyes to the mechanic's again and offer him your excuse, though you can only imagine how feeble it must sound in his discerning ears. “I... just wanted to make sure they... I needed to see that everyone was okay. Monty was half-destroyed, Andy, I couldn't just sit at home and not-”

Abruptly, the mechanic's jaws split around a sharp bark of laughter that causes Eclipse's fingers to cinch several pascals tighter around your bicep.

Even Freddy's ears flinch back at the piercing sound.

“Pah! You needed to know they were okay?” Andy parrots, giving his head a shake and planting his hands squarely on his hips. Seconds later, his face twists up to aim a scowl at you, all traces of false amusement gone. “And why in the Hell didn't you just call me!?” he points out, jabbing a forefinger against his chest, “You have my number! You could've just asked me! I'd've checked on 'em for you so you could go home!” You don't miss how his voice cracks on the final word. “What the Hell were you thinkin', kid?”

And you wish you had an answer for him.

You could counter his query with one of your own. Like whether or not he truly thinks you wouldn't have just gone to plex anyway, especially after he told you what had happened to the attendants.

Something solid bumps gently against your good ankle, and a hurried glance down reveals that Monty's segmented tail has swept close behind you, curling up around your legs as the gator shifts on his hydraulics and leans closer into your side.

It's a subtle shift, or as subtle as a three tonne animatronic can be. Privately, you hope he doesn't say anything in your defence. You can't imagine that Monty speaking his mind will lead to a peaceable outcome between he and the mechanic right now.

But if the ornery gator was on the cusp of formulating a response on your behalf, he never gets to spit it from his voice-box.

Forcing a rough exhale through his teeth, Andy raises a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed firmly shut. “Look, kid, I...” He trails off to sigh again, turning on his heel with a fist clenched at his side. You try not to stare at his bone-white knuckles, all too aware that Freddy's optics are adhered to your face.

“You got any idea how scared I was when I went to the Hospital this mornin' and you weren't there?”

Pressing your lips together, you numbly shake your head, though you're not sure he's even looking for a response.

Without turning to face you, he finally lets out a tired, old exhale, tipping his head back to glare up at a nondescript point on the ceiling. ”... It's been a hell of a long day.”

You have to wonder if he managed to get any sleep last night with how thickly his voice dips.

Although you're conscious you've used it to death, you nonetheless can't refrain from falling back on your typical, knee-jerk response. “I'm sorry, Andy...” you apologise.

“I know you're sorry,” he grunts waspishly without missing a beat as he begins to march towards the daycare entrance, “Now you'd better get your sorry ass to the car park, stat. M'callin' you a cab...”

“But-”

The mechanic's boots squeak on the rubber mats, silencing you when he whirls about to jab a finger at you, ignoring Monty's guttural hum of warning.

“But nothin'!” he snaps, which in turn has you snapping your mouth shut, “I ain't in the mood today, okay? Now get!”

His command echoes out through the cavernous room, disappearing into the rafters hanging high over the daycare.

As Andy stands there, seething, you keep your feet planted firmly on the ground. With Monty's plates quivering on your right, the attendant's fingers squeezing wrinkles into the sleeve of your shirt, and Freddy hovering between you, sending apprehensive glances between you and the mechanic, you take a shaky breath to steel your nerves before you finally manage to rush out, “But what about Eclipse?”

It's funny. Before today, you'd never actually seen a vein bulge in real life.

Andy's temple seems to throb for a moment as he stares at you, jaw creaking open in disbelief.

In another second, his brows are wrenched to the centre of his forehead and he makes a sound of incredulity at the back of his throat, almost a laugh, but a dangerous one.

“Eclipse?” he scoffs, “Who the Hell is-?”

Somewhere overhead, a mechanical 'thunk' rolls across the ceiling.

At once, Andy's question falls silent and he quirks a brow, tilting his neck back to squint at the overhead lights.

Following his gaze, you nearly jump out of your skin when the daycare is suddenly and inexplicably plunged into a jarring darkness.

Barely a fraction of a second passes before Eclipse's hand on your arm goes ramrod stiff, and in doing so, turns their grip on you damn near tight – tight enough that it hurts, which instantly sets alarm bells ringing in your head like claxons.

Neither Sunnydrop nor Moondrop, in all your history of service as a cleaning lady here, have ever once caused you even a sliver of harm, not by accident or otherwise.

Putting aside the fact that their programming is irrefutably air-tight given their proximity to children, Sun and Moon have informed you repeatedly that they'd rather tear out their own circuitry before they'd ever harm a friend.

So to have their grasp on your forearm turn borderline painful isn't just surprising, it's downright unfathomable.

In another blink of an eye, the darkness bearing down on you evaporates as the lights overhead promptly buzz back to life, flicker once, then finally stabilize in the familiar, steady hum, glowing brightly down onto the daycare.

But still, Eclipse's grasp doesn't shift.

Oblivious to your sudden wince of discomfort, Monty raises his snout to peer at the ceiling, optics narrowed uncertainly. “A power surge?” he hums.

“You gotta be shittin' me,” Andy growls, ignoring the little burst of static that leaves Freddy's voice-box at his vulgarity, “First the animatronics go haywire, now the lights're on the blink. What's next?”

None of them seem to have noticed the eerily motionless giant looming at your side, nor the look of trepidation you're sending the large, spindly fingers encasing your arm.

“Uh, Eclipse?” you utter tentatively, giving your limb an experimental tug. You don't like the way they're staring at Andy, their once luminous optics as dark as tar pits and their head locked at a rigid, right angle, sun rays extended to their maximum length.

Silicone fingers tighten a fraction when you try to reclaim your limb, prompting a soft hiss to seep in through your teeth.

You may as well have let out a bloodcurdling scream with how violently Monty tears his optics off the lights and whips his head in your direction, fast enough that you can hear his motors whirring noisily to try and keep up with the movement.

Oh no...

“Wait, Monty –” you start, but you already know by the wrinkling of his snout and the dilation of his aperture pupils that he's seen the source of your trouble.

Crimson optics lock onto the vice-like hand secured around your arm.

There's a single second where you see the gator's processor scan over the pressure that Eclipse is exerting before, in a snap, the daycare explodes with the sound of a furious, thundering bellow.

“HEY! GET OFF'A HER!”

Before you can even flinch, one of Monty's purple servos stretches across your body to latch around Eclipse's wrist.

“Monty!” you shout, alarmed, “It's okay, stop!”

At the sound of your voice, the attendant's faceplate tilts down, apparently unfazed by the gator's grip, and you can't do a thing to combat the visceral shudder that crawls up the back of your neck when your eyes meet their dark, unlit optics.

There isn't a trace of the irradiant orange light that had once glowed behind their casing, light that had given an impression of real life beneath the plastic shell.

Now, they're black as pitch, save for two, nearly imperceptible pinpricks of... of purple light...

At the base of your neck, tiny hairs shoot upright, prickling at the sense of a danger you don't quite yet comprehend.

The overheads must be shining through the back of their faceplate for a moment, there and gone in a flash, because as soon as you blink, the violet pupils wink out, yet Eclipse's grasp on you remains stubbornly in place.

“Hey!” Andy hollers from somewhere behind you, “What's goin' on back there!? Thought I told you to get to the car park!”

“I'm trying!” you retort, placing a hand on Eclipse's and attempting to gently coax their fingers from your arm. At the same time, several tonnes of gator grabs the collar of your shirt and gives it a rough pull, which sadly only results in nearly strangling you when Eclipse's grip doesn't budge an inch.

“I said let 'er go!” Monty snarls, giving your shirt another yank, throttling you in the process.

Rather than continue to play the role of 'rope' in this impromptu game of tug-of-war between two powerful animatronics, you hurriedly blunder out, “Monty! Please! Let go, you're making it worse!”

“I'm tryn'a help!” he insists.

Looming over you like a dark sun, Eclipse twists their faceplate in a full rotation, their beaming grin far more menacing than you recall.

At your back, Andy's scowl disappears in a blink, his mouth falling open in abject horror.

Quick as a flash, he snatches his stun baton from his belt and skirts around Freddy, barking, “Get out of the way, gator!”

Throwing a glance back over your shoulder, your eyes zero in on the prod in his white-knuckle grip and you let out a gasp, whipping your head back to Eclipse and pleading, “Guys! What's wrong? Please, talk to me! I-it's okay!”

They lean forwards, twisting their hand into your shirt until your knees buckle and tears spring to your eyes.

Something's wrong.

Deeply wrong.

You're trapped.

It seems delayed, but at long last, a creeping terror begins to sink its gnawing teeth into your stomach.

Sucking down a wobbly breath, you fill your lungs and let everything go again in a desperate shout, hurling out the words you never once assumed you'd have to use in their presence. “Sun! Moon! Stop, you're hurting me!”

And as if it's a shut down switch, as if that's what gets through whatever has momentarily assumed control of their processor - more than your struggling, more than Monty's crushing hand on their wrist - Eclipse turns their head a click to the left, and their optics flicker, orange, then black, then back to orange again.

“F..friend?” they rasp, their voice-box laden with static.

Monty freezes at your side, the plates on his neck flared like a spitting cobra as Eclipse shifts their gaze down to the hand still wrapped around your arm.

Then, in a sudden rush of movement, the attendant all but rips their appendage from you and staggers backwards, all four of their limbs springing up to catch their head, and in doing so, you're sent toppling backwards on unsteady legs, clutching at your aching arm.

“Gotcha!” Monty grunts triumphantly as he releases Eclipse in favour of planting his hands on your waist and lifting you into the air in one, swift movement, spinning his torso around to place you gently on the floor behind his tail before he whirls back to face the attendant, chest puffed out and teeth bared, giving him the look of a bristling wall of metal and plastic.

You have to lean around his splayed arms to see Eclipse is still clutching at their faceplate, babbling incoherently until they give an abrupt, violent jolt, their knees collapsing out from underneath them.

“Eclipse!” you cry, hobbling around the gator, who only throws an arm out to catch you in the stomach, halting you in your step.

Andy appears in your peripheral, his hand still clamped around the prod.

“What in the goddamn shit is goin' on with this thing!?” he hollers.

You nearly gasp when two gentle paws land on your shoulders and coax you backwards, dragging your crutches along the ground.

“Miss Y/n,” Freddy's voice thrums over your head, “Please, don't get too close!”

Eclipse's optics flicker to life once again, only to dim a second later as that eerie, violet light sparks into existence and swivels in your direction.

There you stand, half hidden behind Montgomery Gator and engulfed in Freddy's shadow, one hand gingerly cradling your elbow, staring back at the attendant with downturned lips and upturned brows.

Drained of fight, beset upon by pain and confusion, you forget to hide your expression.

You forget that they know the look of fear all too well.

“F-Friend!” they sputter, peeling one, quivering hand away from their face and stretching it out towards you, their fingers seeking a connection with you, even metres away, “Friend? I-i-i t ' s m – m e...”

Before you can utter even a whimper in response, the animatronic suddenly throws their mechanical neck back and lets out a gut-churning shriek, three of their four hands scrabbling erratically at their faceplate.

“NNNGH!!!! GET OUT!” they howl like a wounded animal.

It's a horrifying thing to watch. And yet you can't tear your eyes off them as they rock forwards, peering through rigid fingers that cover the upper half of their face.

It's rather telling that even Monty steps back when the attendant once again buzzes and jerks as if their system is roiling with far too much electricity, a live-wire dropped in a puddle of water.

“GET! OUT!”

Their shout extends, growing and swelling in volume to an awful crescendo, until suddenly, at the apex of their cry when you're sure your eardrums might burst, the sound cuts out, as if their voice box has been inexplicably disconnected by unseen hands.

And for a long, heart-wrenching moment, they go entirely, frighteningly still....

Stricken, you let your jaw hang open, gaping at Eclipse's stiff frame as it starts to teeter over like an enormous obelisk falling slowly to the earth.

With an awful cacophony of rattling parts and scraping metal, they come crashing to the ground, none of it muffled against the soft-play mats underneath them. To your horror, a trail of smoke drifts up from the back of their head, beneath the little, black box where their CPU is housed.

Several long and tedious moments seem to drag by at an excruciating pace before finally, finally, you release the breath you've been holding for the last twenty seconds.

It escapes you in a rush, letting you know just how long you'd kept it trapped inside your lungs.

That single breath has a ripple effect, spreading outwards and touching Freddy first.

“Oh dear...” the bear mutters, his hold on your elbows going slack.

At once, you lurch forwards on your crutches before he can re-secure his grip.

“Guys!” you belt out, limping past a startled Monty, only to find yourself drawn up short by a heavy hand falling on your shoulder.

“Hold up, lady” the gator barks, easily keeping you in place even as you try to duck out of his grasp.

“God damn, shit,” Andy rasps, carelessly hurling his baton back onto his belt, “What is goin' on with these machines!?”

The mechanic once again bulldozes over Freddy's sputtered comment about refraining from vulgarity in favour of approaching the downed animatronic, moving past you and the gator to nudge the toe of his rubber boot underneath Eclipse's elbow, giving it a half-hearted kick.

“A-are they-?” you begin, craning your neck to see over Andy's shoulder.

“Offline,” he responds brusquely as he rakes a hand down his face, tugging at the wrinkles that lay under his eyes, “But looks like they fried their CPU.”

“WHAT!?” you blurt.

You might have gone on to spiral into a frantic mess of sentences, but at that moment, you're swiftly yet carefully spun around by a pair of large, tentative servos until you find yourself gaping listlessly up into the maw of Montgomery Gator.

Wasting no time, the enormous bot presses himself as far into your personal space as he can physically get without bowling you over and darts his gaze up and down your body, his optics working on overtime to scan you from head to toe.

“You okay?!” he rushes out urgently.

“What?” Mind whirling, you shoot a glance down at the lifeless attendant on the floor before returning your wide-eyed stare to Monty. “Wh-... I – yes? Yeah, I'm fine.”

A rapid shake of his head indicates his disagreement. “But they hurt you!”

“They didn't do it on purpose. It was an acciden-” you start to say, only to find yourself cut off.

“Stop sayin' stuff was an accident!” the gator blurts, his stare locking onto the spot on your arm where Eclipse had left his mark. Lips of silicone peel back to expose the full length of his teeth. “Sure didn't look like an accident to me...”

“Need I remind you that this-” you jerk your chin down towards the cast encumbering your injured leg. “-was an accident as well.”

“That's-!” The gator's voice-box sputters with fuzz for a moment as he tries to push his processor towards the words he's looking for, eventually settling on, “That's totally different!”

“Is it?” Stuffing your teeth into your lip, you fall quiet for a moment, gathering your brows into a hard line and drawing in a deep, slow inhale through your nostrils, partially to soothe your agitation, and partially because your ankle gives a sudden, searing throb, as if it had at last grown tired of you ignoring its frailty. “If I thought for one minute that they'd ever do something to hurt me, I might agree with you,” you concede, casting a troubled glance down at the eerily still attendant, your knuckles white on the crutch handles, “But this... I don't know... It's like they didn't even realise they were doing it... Something isn't right.”

“I'm sure it's nothing our fine mechanics can't fix,” Freddy pipes up.

“Agreed,” Andy jumps in, “Whatever happened, we'll deal with it down in Parts. New tech guy's comin' in to go over the security systems anyway.”

“Okay...” You nod your head, flexing your fingers around the crutches and sifting through your racing thoughts to try and formulate a plan of action, one that'll get Sun and Moon the help they clearly need. You're only glad that this has happened to you, and not one of the kids. “Okay. Okay, right. I'll help you get them down to Parts and Services.”

You should have known you wouldn't get away with that.

Sharp as a whip-crack, Andy cuts you off, shooting you a steely glare. “Not on your life, you ain't. You're going straight out to the car park, I'm gonna call you a cab. And you're gonna go home.”

You open your mouth to offer a feeble argument only to fall silent when Monty's hand finds your forearm and he leans down to place his mouth near your ear, grunting, “Maybe it's for the best, y'know? Can't do much for 'em if you're on the verge of collapse yourself.”

“I'm not on the verge of-... ugh.” You puff out your cheeks, teetering sideways before you manage to catch yourself on a crutch and shove yourself upright again. Scowling down at your cast, you mutter, “Not exactly making a good case for myself, am I?”

Rumbling a note of acknowledgement, Monty gives the back of your shoulder a guiding nudge with his snout. “C'mon. I'll help you get to the entrance.”

“God dammit, NO! NO! Monty, you're gonna carry the attendant down to Parts,” Andy exclaims, jabbing a finger at the gator and puffing like a runaway train as he throws an arm out at the animatronic bear hovering to your left, “Freddy'll take her to the entrance.”

Dutifully, the bear straightens up on his struts and returns his hat to its rightful place between his ears. “It would be my pleasure,” he says cordially, reaching out a paw for you to take and lifting his muzzle to flash you a charming smile. “May I?”

Letting out a disgruntled sigh, you take a single step towards the cordial bear, only for a clawed fist to clap shut around the collar of your shirt and keep you in place.

A growl reverberates through the air behind you and you're rudely tugged back a fumbling step, allowing Monty to slink around in front of you, releasing your shirt as he petulantly snaps, “Nuh uh, you may not!”

“Montgomery,” Freddy scolds, flicking his ears back on their hinges.

Snapping his optics over to Andy, the gator blunders on as if his co-star had never spoken. “Why him? Huh? How come I can't take 'er?”

Holding you breath, you cast a nervous glance around Monty's bridling shoulder to peer at the mechanic, who looks to be about three seconds away from pulling out his electric prod and reenacting the harrowing scene from last night all over again.

Peeling his lips apart, you catch a glint of his gritted teeth as he slowly drawls out, “Because I trust Freddy a damn sight more than I trust you to get her there in one piece.”

At that, you feel your eyebrows twitch inwards of their own accord.

It's only small, but a flicker of indignation spurs you to stick out your chin and fix Andy with a stern look, missing the way Monty's immense frame seems to grow inexplicably smaller at your side as he wilts.

“Andy, come on,” you say, “That's not fair...”

One of the old man's eyelids gives a volatile twitch, a clear indication that his patience isn't just wearing thin, it's damn-near threadbare. Yet still, you stand your ground, etching a frown onto your face that grows deeper and deeper as the silence stretches on.

Andy's lips thin, and despite his agitated temper, he spares the gator a more thorough once-over.

The mechanic has been around for a while, long enough that he was there when the switch was flipped and Montgomery Gator's processor first whirred to life. Ever since, Andy has amassed countless reports of Monty proving himself to be a nuisance, a hinderance and a downright danger to the company, the staff, the guests... To you.

The damnable bot broke your ankle, for Christ's sake...

And yet... God... And yet you've gone and done it. You've gone and buried a tiny seed of guilt right in the centre of Andy's chest. It isn't much, but it's enough...

He can't deny that you and that poor kid may very well have died yesterday if not for Monty coming to your defence.

Andy might not have believed it if he hadn't seen the feedback with his own two eyes.

The gator had protected you.

Glancing down, he doesn't fail to note the tail curled up around the back of your legs, nor the hulking animatronic casting you in his shadow - ironic, considering the bot has been doing nothing but shadow you for the past few days. People are noticing the changes...

Andy Flowers knows what loyalty looks like... He just... never thought he'd see it in a bot like Monty.

“Hhh... M'gettin' too old for this job,” he sighs, lifting a thumb and forefinger to massage gingerly at his forehead.

It's a tough pill to swallow, admitting that you have a point - that Andy isn't, in fact, being fair. He may remember, in gruesome detail, the bite, the blood, Mick's harrowing screams, but - and call him biased - he can't ignore that he trusts your judgment. Nor can he disregard the tiny kernel of gratitude he'd felt when he watched, through Monty's optics, how the bot guarded you from that 'intruder' with startling ferocity. The fact that you're the one willing to vouch for the bot means something to Andy.

So. Is it fair of him to suspect that Monty wouldn't get you to the front entrance without incident?

Andy's eyes squint sharply and he peers at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of three stares boring back into him, apprehensively awaiting his next words.

After a little while longer spent in silence, you nod your head and gently prompt, “It's okay, Andy. Monty can get me there safely. I trust him.”

You and Freddy are so busy watching the mechanic, neither of you notice Montgomery twisting his head to regard you with wide, glimmering optics, plastic brows pinched together and tilted towards the ceiling. And then the man's gaze is drawn to movement behind the gator, movement that he at first attributes to the daycare attendant stirring back to life. So it comes as a surprise when all he sees is the gator's segmented tail swinging back and forth silently at the back of your legs.

'Huh,' he muses to himself, 'That's a new one.'

Aloud, he has to summon every ounce of his willpower to do what he's about to do...

Concede.

“Goddammit, fine,” he spits, slumping his shoulders in defeat and breaking the spell of tension he'd cast over the daycare.

At once, Monty perks up and you start to smile, opening your mouth to give a word of thanks, but before you can, the mechanic jerks his chin at Freddy and adds, “Fred, go with 'em. Make sure there aren't any more detours.”

Almost as quickly as it had lit up, your face promptly falls slack. “Seriously?”

“We don't need an escort,” Monty chips in, throwing a haughty side-eye at Freddy, who only appears all-too happy to fulfil the request.

“Freddy goes with you, and that's final,” Andy retorts, squinting at you sharply, “You're in enough trouble as it is.”

It... shouldn't bother him as much as it does how quickly you back down from him, lowering your eyes and huffing out a quiet, “Fine. Fine.”

As you start to shuffle past him, you can't help but turn back to peer down at the lifeless animatronic on the floor behind you.

“What about them?” you ask quietly, pausing beside the mechanic, “Who'll help you take them to Parts if Freddy comes with us?”

“I know a gal,” is all he grunts in return as he raises his wrist and taps on his Fazwatch. The screen lights up, and a chipper voice buzzes through the speakers.

“Andy!”

“Chica,” the mechanic replies in a far less enthusiastic tone, stepping past you to stand over Eclipse's body, “Need a favour. You up for a little heavy lifting?”

Curious as you are to hear her response, it's only worry for your attendant friends that keeps your feet stuck fast to the play mats, and it isn't until Freddy's paw lands on your back that you allow yourself to be gently ushered towards the daycare entrance, tossing a last, lingering glance over your shoulder as you go.

Andy looms over Eclipse, still muttering to his wrist whilst his free hand wraps around the back of his neck, rubbing at the short, grey hairs that grow there, his whole body slouching forwards as if it can no longer bear to keep itself standing upright.

You think you can understand how he feels...

Freddy's guiding paw only manages to stay on your back for all of a few seconds before Monty slips his nose between you and the bear, giving the latter a shove with his powerful jaws.

Thrown, Freddy stumbles sideways at once, emitting a sound of surprise as his footfalls clatter clumsily on the linoleum for a moment, a moment that gives Monty ample time to move his hefty bulk between you and his co-star.

You remain deaf to Freddy's grunt of disapproval as he's forced aside, shooting the gator a reprimanding huff before reaching up to right his hat from where it had been knocked askew.

In the meantime, you continue to limp forwards whilst your head remains twisted over one shoulder, your gaze locked onto the gangling shape that lays on the floor of the daycare, round face-plates half obscured by Andy's legs.

Dark, blank optics bore into you as you're ushered beyond the wooden entrance and out through the red, swinging doors that close in your wake with a firm 'bang,' cutting off your view of that ominous, sightless stare.

Frowning softly, you turn your head forwards again and give a noiseless sigh, emptying your lungs and readying yourself for the walk to the front doors of the Plex. It's to your own shame that you look forward to collapsing on your bed and resting, while the attendants are carted down to Parts and Services where a perfect stranger will poke and prod at their CPU.

You can only hope they'll be okay when they wake up...

And so, in silence, all three of you – human, gator, and bear – begin to amble along the corridor adjoined to the daycare, not a sound passed between you except for the heavy 'clunks' of the animatronic's footfalls.

You keep your eyes on the ground ahead of you, wincing now with every other step, but keeping your expression rigid, sensing the vigilant optics of two bots assessing you from above.

You've almost reached the end of the corridor by the time Freddy breaks the silence.

“How are you feeling, Miss Y/n?” he voices softly, leaning forwards to try and catch your eye.

Exhaling a long, arduous breath through your nose, you raise your head and consider your response.

Somehow, you have enough sense to know that saying 'I'm about three seconds away from pulling my hair out and having a little cry right here in this corridor' to a worry-wart like Freddy wouldn't be the wisest choice of words.

The poor bear is already peering down at you as though he expects you to fall over at a moment's notice. So, in lieu of the truth, you plaster on a reassuring smile and aim it up at the star, telling him, “I'm all right, Freddy...” And then, because you're aware of the skeptical twitch of his plastic brows, you add a safe truth. “I'm just... really, really tired...”

You don't notice Monty's head lower to squint at you discerningly.

“Ah, that is quite understandable,” Freddy nods sagely as he presses ahead and holds open the lobby doors ahead of you, leaving Monty to linger behind and watch you through them with a careful optic, “You've had a very exciting day.”

“Excitin' ain't the word I'd use,” the gator huffs, sliding through and reclaiming his spot at your side before Freddy can bustle in to take it.

Apparently oblivious to his co-star's comment, Freddy simply settles into a steady lope on the opposite side of Monty and peers around him to continue addressing you. “I noticed you were looking a little peaky during the performance...”

Now you know he's being polite. You can't imagine that spending a sleepless night in the hospital without any opportunity to clean yourself up has left you looking your best. In response to the bear, you merely give a non-committal hum.

Once again, you all fall silent, although judging from the frequent glances that Freddy shoots down to you, you think it's safe to presume he has something else on his processor that's just bursting to get out.

Sure enough, after taking a few steps towards the lift...

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Did I... What?” you blink, turning to raise a quizzical brow at the bear.

“The performance,” he reiterates, tapping his fingertips together hopefully, “What did you think?”

Well, you muse, aside from the impromptu shoutout...

“You guys were fantastic,” you tell him with a genuine smile that only grows wider when Freddy's ears wiggle in delight, jangling his little, red earring.

Turning to Monty, you add, “You though, Mont, you stole the show!”

Clenching his fists, the gator has to focus hard on the creaking plastic to keep the pneumatic actuators beneath his casing from pulling his lips into a proud smile. There's a pressing question that's been nagging at the front of his processor, one that's been burning a hole through his chip ever since he looked up at the concert and found you missing, and he'll be damned if he's going to let a little compliment from his... from you distract him.

“Liked it, did'ja?” he mumbles.

You're still aiming a tired grin up at the side of his snout when you reply, “Of course I did...”

“Then why'd you leave..?”

Ah... There goes your smile... He almost pierces his plastic palms with his claws in some kind of self-imposed admonishment for erasing it.

But... he has to know.

Swallowing, you turn to face forwards again, dimly registering that Monty is has begun to turn himself towards you little by little, subtly herding you in the direction of the lift behind the photo booth.

Your crutches click noisily on the tiled floor. The answer to his question is precisely what you'd been hoping to avoid. And now you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. Do you tell him the truth and cause he and Freddy to worry, or do you tell a white lie and potentially insult them with a lacklustre reason for ditching the show early?

… God, your eyelids ache with the effort of holding them open.

Defeatedly, your shoulders droop and you ask, “You want an honest answer, or an answer that won't upset you?”

“Well... Honesty is my favourite policy – Oh. Watch your step,” Freddy chimes in as he moves ahead of you onto the lift before turning to face you, taking your wrist in his enormous paw and keeping you steady as you step on after him.

“Thanks, Fred,” you murmur gently.

Though he makes a show of rolling his optics at the bear, Monty concurs. “We're big bots, lady. Reckon we can handle it.”

The lift shudders when the gator steps on after you, dipping slightly with a groan of metal. You pause long enough for the sound to stop before you reach out and jab a thumb on the button for the bottom floor, blowing a noisy sigh through pursed lips.

“Doctors gave me some pain meds after the operation,” you finally confess, “But only enough for today. I was meant to go straight to a pharmacy after I left the hospital to get some over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. But...” Your voice trails off as the lift slows to a smooth halt, dinging once before the doors slide open to let you leave.

“But you didn't,” Monty points out, his voice nearly a growl.

Watchful of your every move, the bots linger behind whilst you swing the crutches forwards and haul yourself from the lift. You don't bother to wait for them, fully aware that they could catch up and overtake you in just a few strides.

Dipping your head towards your shoulder in a sideways shrug, you glance around the lobby, relieved to find that most of the foot-traffic is concentrated inside the gift shops. There are very few guests milling about around the open space, just a few tired parents chatting with one another near the turnstiles and a group of teenagers perched on the edge of the enormous, bronze statue that has pride of place at the centre of the lobby.

Only a few glance in your direction as you hobble past, sparing Freddy and Monty vaguely curious glances, but nobody seems altogether inclined to get up and greet the stars of the Pizzaplex. It's likely they've been here more times than one can count, and the novelty of walking, talking animatronics has worn off.

Perhaps you're just more impressed because you've seen these bots behind closed-doors, but you find that it's a sad world where impressive feats of technology like the Glamrocks are regarded as mundane, as if they're little more than a passing fad.

As you suspected, it isn't long before titanic footfalls tromp heavily up to your side once more, neither bot willing to let you stray too far ahead, apparently. You appreciate the vigilance, though you still find it a little overdramatic.

“Started feeling the meds wear off during your performance,” you continue softly once Monty's big, green nose appears in the corner of your vision, “And I got worried that if I didn't get to the daycare soon, I wouldn't be able to hide my pain from the attendants, so...”

“... So you left before the pain got too much to bear,” Freddy finishes for you, his ears tipping back in sympathy.

The gator, however, picks up on something else entirely. “Does it hurt real bad'?” Bristling, he takes a glance down and begins to scan your leg for the umpteenth time.

You reply with an exasperated shake of your head, though the motion is still fond. “It's my own fault, Mont,” you tell him, taking the lead and bringing them through the open turnstile that allows guests to leave, manned by a single, motionless S.T.A.F.F bot.

The gator stomps through behind you, grumbling something under his 'breath' that you miss beneath the S.T.A.F.F bot's generic, blaring address.

“Thank you for visiting Fazbear's Pizzaplex. Please, have a Faz-erific day.”

“Likewise,” you respond automatically before turning over your shoulder to address Monty again, “And it's not so bad-” Liar. “- If it was really hurting, I might've asked one of you to carry me.”

Freddy is the last to leave through the turnstile, tipping his hat politely to the smaller bot before he hurries up to your side again.

“Flowers was right,” Monty rumbles, lowering his optics to the cast on your leg, “You should'a gone straight home....”

With the main entrance mere steps away, you let out a sigh and draw to an unsteady halt in front of it. Beside you, the heavy animatronics do the same, their footsteps stopping in near-perfect synch. Hesitant, Monty turns his head towards you, his optics clicking open in surprise when he sees your hand rising steadily towards his face. He doesn't move a piston, holding his metaphorical breath as you lay a gentle palm on top of his snout and give it a slow, soothing stroke, right from his glasses to the tip of his nostrils. He has no throat to gulp, but his gears whir as he swivels his gaze from your hand to your eyes, vaguely registering the warm hum emitting from Freddy's chest.

“I'm glad I came here first,” you tell him, resolute, “For my own peace of mind, if nothing else. I wanted to see for myself that you were okay. That endo nearly ripped you to pieces.”

It takes the gator's sensors a moment to recognise your touch.

And when everything clicks into place, it takes all of his processing power to refrain from sagging like a big, green balloon with the air let out. This is the second time today you've willingly put your fragile, little hand close to his crushing jaws...

Worry. You'd described worry. You wanted to see that he was okay? He almost finds the notion inconceivable.

After all, he's Montgomery Gator. He... He doesn't worry about anyone, and nobody worries about him. That's the way it's always been...

He wants to smack Freddy with his tail when the bear announces pleasantly, “You were worried about him.”

As you turn to face the star, your hand still resting lightly on Monty's snout, the gator settles for whipping his optics up to glare at Freddy from behind your head -

- But he's stopped when you say, plain and simple, “Of course I was.”

Of course you were...

Of course.

“Well” you announce suddenly, drawing your hand from Monty's snout and returning it to the handle of your crutch, “I suppose I'd better get going before any else turns up to tell me I've made some bad decisions.”

The warmth from your hand disappears too fast, too soon, and Monty has to catch himself before he leans down to try and keep your palm attached to his nose.

Freddy's head dips in concurrence, regarding you with a soft fondness that sets the gator's fingers twitching. But at last, the bear drags his optics away from you and turns them instead to the open entrance and the carpark beyond. All at once, the easy-going lift of his jaw falls, his brows sliding together into the centre of his forehead as a troubled hum spews from his voice-box.

Following the line of his gaze, Monty soon discovers why.

The afternoon is slowly bleeding into the first touches of a cold, dark evening, and the sky overhead has grown heavy with grey clouds. Snow falls lightly from above, not enough to be of any concern to the traffic on the well-gritted roads, but enough that they can several humans meandering back to their cars, rubbing their gloved hands together and wrapping brightly-coloured scarves around their children's necks as they exit their vehicles.

“Looks like we're in for another cold one,” you remark, drawing Monty's attention down to you.

Shifting on his actuators, the gator casts a fleeting look between you and the world beyond the Plex's main entrance.

This is it, he supposes. You'll be going home now... To a place that's entirely foreign to him, filled with unknowns and unpredictability.... A place where anything could potentially happen to you, and he'd have no idea until word eventually reached him from the staff gossip chain...

Why has it only just occurred to him that the outside world might be a dangerous place? He's never considered that possibility before, not once.

“You comin' in tomorrow?” he finds himself asking before he can mute his voice-box.

Puffing out your cheeks, you blow a noisy breath through your lips before giving a wince and replying, “Not sure I can, big guy. The doctor said that fractured ankles take about eight weeks to heal.”

Eight weeks?

Now, Montgomery would never claim to be a scholarly type of bot, especially in the realm of mathematics, but he does have the advantage of having a computer for a brain.

Eight weeks? That calculates to fifty six days. Roughly thirteen hundred and forty four hours...

Damn. That's... a long time for you to be absent. Why, anything could happen in eight weeks...

“You, uh...” the gator starts fumblingly, half distracted by Freddy's stare that refuses to shift away from the side of his face. Still, he manages to cough out the rest of his question in an awkward mumble. “You gonna be okay? You got someone lookin' out for ya at home, right?”

“Well, my fish haven't let me down yet,” you laugh, though the sound quickly peters out into a hum once you catch both Monty and Freddy peering down at you, neither quite as amused as you seem to be with your own little joke.

Sharing a look between themselves, Freddy is the first to return his attention to you and tentatively ask, “You live alone?”

Balking, you offer the bear a hesitant chuckle and reply, “Bit of a personal thing to ask someone, isn't it?”

Plastic brows click down into a long, stern line, like a father on the cusp of gently scolding his brood.

“Y/n...” he starts.

“No need to make it sound so dramatic,” you interject lightly, “Lots of people live on their own.”

“Hmm... I don't mean to pry,” he says, raising a large, careful paw and laying it down on your shoulder, a warm gesture that puts a brief ache of longing deep inside your chest, “I only ask because I'd like to know that there's someone there who can take care of you.”

Slowly, your eye swivels sideways to peer at the inhuman appendage engulfing your shoulder. Something in your ribcage shifts, like a blockage coming unstuck and letting clear, healthy waters run freely for the first time in a while.

You have to squeeze your eyes into a hard blink before they can grow too misty.

Sniffing up at the towering animatronic, you raise your own hand and lay it over the top of his, giving the smooth, sturdy plastic a pat. “You're a good sort, Freddy, I hope you know that.”

The bear's ears twitch forwards and his upper jaw lifts slowly, sending your smile right back at you.

“But,” you add pointedly, “You don't need to worry. I'm sure Andy will stop by every now and again to make sure I'm still in one piece.”

“I certainly hope so,” he utters warmly, right before he throws another blow at your quivering heart, “You're part of the Fazbear family. We take care of our own.”

Unseen by either of you, Montgomery stands a few feet away, observing the interaction with a growing sense of disquiet. Deep in his innermost circuitry, he can already feel that familiar, old monster raise its ugly head, it's hue a sickly green that's awfully reminiscent of his own paint-job. It growls inside his stomach hatch, bulging outwards threateningly as Freddy's paw remains on you.

But at least this time, the monster isn't given too long to fester.

In another second, Freddy slides his hand from your shoulder and steps back, returning his optics to the car park outside. Gradually, with a subtle creak of metal, Monty's jaws unclench and he twists his head around to follow the bear's line of sight, listening to the rumble of a distant engine creep closer.

Through the wintery gloom, a sleek, black car turns off the main road and passes beneath the neon sign that welcomes visitors to the Plex. Monty squints at it, his eye drawn to the illuminated, white box sitting on top of the roof that simply reads, 'Taxi.'

“Reckon that's your ride,” he mumbles.

Humming through closed lips, you bob your head in a nod. “Looks like.”

Admittedly, it's a relief to see the car pull in. Your legs are beginning to quake under the effort of keeping yourself upright for far longer than you really ought to have.

Movement at your side draws you back to the animatronic bear, whose friendly, blue optics are shuttered half-closed, his broad shoulders slumping dolefully as he bends himself down and opens his arms, paws upturned in invitation.

The gesture is so plain and comprehensible, entirely human in its execution.

He's asking you for a hug.

And, well... Who are you to deny the face of Fazbear Inc. a farewell hug?

Freddy regards you with a hopeful waggle of his ears when you smile, hobbling across the meagre distance between you, well within the circle of his arms. Uttering a pleasant hum, he loops his hands behind your back and gently scoops you into his chest. Just like that, you're surrounded by the bear's convivial warmth that does wonders to chase away the biting wind slipping under the Plex's entrance to chill your cheeks and fingertips.

Sinking into Freddy's chest, you let out a contented hum, pinching your eyes shut as he does the same, his baritone voice thrumming through the ear you've pressed to his casing.

“Take care of yourself, won't you?” he rumbles, his chin alighting delicately on top of your head, “The better you do, the sooner we get to see you again!”

It never ceases to amaze you how an animatronic can inject so much humanity into even their most mundane of actions and words. Freddy's expressions of genuine kindness are as authentic as any human's. Of course they are. The AI that was implemented into him was designed to learn from the very species that created it. How can anyone say his compassion is only artificial? Kindness doesn't care whether the one wielding it is human or robot.

Breathing a deep, sigh, you sink deeper into Freddy's embrace, selfishly indulging in a comfort you've been desperately seeking since the trauma of last night's attack.

Of course, with a certain animatronic alligator in the vicinity, this peaceable moment was never destined to last very long.

“A'right, a'right,” Monty complains loudly, his claws sinking into the hem of your shirt to ease you backwards out of Freddy's grasp, “That's enough. You're gonna squeeze the air outta 'er if you keep that up.”

Rightfully aghast, the bear reels his head back as if Monty had struck him, exclaiming, “I would never!” Yet even still, his arms slowly peel open from around you, allowing the gator to pull you free and nudge you towards the open entrance.

“Not to worry, Freddy, you were very gentle,” you tell him kindly before throwing Monty an expectant look, eyebrows raised and arms held in much the same way as Freddy just had, “What about you, Mont? Can I interest you in one of these?”

A very small, hidden part of the gator that he doesn't want to examine too closely is immensely pleased that you'd been the one to offer. He isn't sure his pride would be able to stomach it if Freddy were to witness him admitting that he wants a hug before you leave. Despite popular belief, Monty is a hugger... He just... doesn't get as much opportunity to do so as the other animatronics.

Still, he exactly show his hand so publicly, especially with Fazbear breathing down his neck. Folding his arms across his chest, Monty gives a dismissive snort and shrugs his massive shoulders, mumbling, “Sure, fine. If you wanna, I guess.”

He doesn't know if his faux-reluctance fools you or not, but in the next few moments, he finds he doesn't much care, not when you hobble close to him on the crutches and topple forwards into a hug that forces him to the throw his arms out to catch you with a soft 'oof.'

Startled, the gator stares down at the top of your head as you sink against his inflexible frame, moulding yourself to him as if he was designed to perfectly accommodate you, and you alone.

Now, Monty has hugged children before, those that have been brave enough to ask the massive gator with sharp fangs and even sharper claws. But this, he realises, might just be the first time he's ever hugged an adult. It feels... different.

Your hands aren't sticky, for one.

Worn, calloused palms wrap around his midsection, as far as your arms can reach, and the gator's core nearly overloads when you turn your face to the side and press your cheek against his chest.

Dimly, he registers that he has yet to actually lay his hands on you.

The gator's optics swivel between each of his raised appendages, fingers splayed out as they hover over your shoulders without direction. He notices his claws. They look... sharper than they had before. They look dangerous, especially now that he's seeing them against a backdrop of soft, fragile skin.

He would never hurt you...

But that's what he thought last night, and still, he'd been the one to fall upon your leg.

It's only when you start to pull away that he suddenly realises that this moment – this wonderful, overwhelming moment – is about to end. Desperation to keep you to himself for just a few more seconds gives the gator enough courage to curl his claws into his fists and press his knuckles into your back, his head tipped low to nudge his chin into the back of your neck.

The only sound you emit is a subtle huff of amusement before you return to your original position, giving him a firmer squeeze.

“Thanks, Monty. I needed this...” you mumble against him, giving him the out.

Working his jaw silently a few times, he eventually manages to reply, “Don't, uh... don't mention it.”

And then, just like that, it's over.

You pull back, and he lets you this time, his knuckles sliding carefully across the back of your shirt until you lean back far enough that he loses his grip, and his arms flop back to his sides with a creak of metal.

“Right!” you announce, blinking rapidly and shaking a weary smile onto your face, “And on that note, I'll see you guys soon.”

You start to turn towards the exit, raising a hand off one crutch to return the little wave that Freddy gives you, but before you can limp another step, the gator once again gives you pause.

“Hey... Before you go.. I, uh...”

You stop mid step, easing yourself about to face him again and sending him another expectant look.

For some time, he hesitates, yet when your eyes start to flick between he and the taxi outside, he balls his hands into fists and eventually mumbles out like a petulant teen, “I wanted to... to thank you, or whatever.”

“Thank me?” you echo, knitting your brows together, “For what?”

'For what...' He almost huffs in dark amusement. How can he sum it up in a few words, all the things he has to thank you for?

Monty's large hands fiddle idly with one of his spiked wrist-bands for a moment as he tries and fails to look you directly in the eye, hiding behind his glasses. “I spoke to Flowers...” the gator eventually sighs, “He said he wouldn't'a checked my visual feed if you hadn't told 'im it wasn't me that attacked you.”

“What else was I going to do?” you huff, giving him an amused smile, “Let you take the fall for something you didn't do?”

For several, quiet moments, he doesn't respond, merely drops his gaze to the floor between you and gives his shoulder struts a halfhearted shrug. It occurs to you, suddenly, that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have been surprised if you'd done exactly that.

“Oh. Monty-” you start, reaching out a hand.

“Ah, s'nothin',” he says gruffly, though he doesn't stop you when you touch your fingertips to the side of his dangling arm, taking care to avoid the spikes on his wrist band, “Just... Just... Thanks. Y'know? For havin' my back.”

The worry on your face stays for a few more moments, just long enough that he catches it when his optics find your eyes again, but soon, you allow your expression to soften, pressing your fingers a little more firmly against his casing. “Thanks for having mine first,” you shrug, lips quirked, “I mean, what are friends for, right?”

Quick as a flash, one of the gator's brows slides up his forehead. “Friends?” he parrots.

“Oh,” you fumble, casting your mind out like a net searching for the right word, “I mean... what, colleagues?”

Leaning back on his leg struts, Monty regards you coolly for several seconds, peering at you over the rim of his glasses before he snorts softly, one side of his mouth tugging up into a smirk. “Nah...Friends is fine. 'Sides, reckon you've earned an upgrade.” He drops an optic in a lazy wink.

Taken aback, you consider the bot in front of you, recalling the ferocious sight of the colossal animatronic who bore down on you in his green room not so many nights ago. Montgomery Gator, Monster of the Pizzaplex, has just claimed you for a friend.

Perhaps a few days ago, you might've been perturbed by such a revelation, but now, despite the agony working its way up your leg, despite the heavy cast and the stinging ache behind your eyes, and your worry for the daycare attendants, Monty's little acknowledgement sits like a bubble of light in your chest.

Gratitude swelling, you cock your hip and fondly reply, “Lucky me.”

The tender moment is ruined in an instant when, from outside, a loud, blaring horn blasts across the car park, causing you and the two animatronics to whip your heads in the direction of the taxi, whose driver has his arm sticking out the window, beckoning to you impatiently.

“Whoops,” you laugh, “That's our time. Andy must have told him to be on the lookout for a girl on crutches.”

With that, you're once again shuffling through the building's wide exit, only this time, Monty doesn't attempt to stop you, perhaps realising that he's gleaned all the extra time from you that he can.

“Oh, before I forget!” Twisting back to face the bots who're still standing vigil by the entrance, you call out, “Monty, can you let the DJ know what happened? And Triple M too! I don't want them thinking I've forgotten about them again.

Standing to attention, the gator knocks off a quick salute and shouts back, “Consider it done, lady!"

You throw him a wave in response before you turn back to the taxi and continue making your way over the frost-covered tarmac, away from the Pizzaplex, and away from the gator who stares after you with tilted brows and a mellow longing worming its way through his wires.

Together, he and Freddy watch you throw your crutches into the back of the car, then clamber in after them, and all the while, Monty finds himself stewing over how the driver hadn't stepped out to assist.

Grumbling to himself, he crosses his arms over his chest, tail lashing in agitation behind him.

"I don't like to think of her dealing with this by herself," Freddy murmurs at his side, ears tilted back at an angle conveying his worry, "I do hope she'll be all right..."

For once, Monty finds that he actually agrees with the bear.

"Yeah..." he utters, his optics tracking the glowing, red tail-lights of the taxi as it swings around the car park and turns right onto the main road, "Me too..."

#Fnaf #fnaf security breach #security breach #fnafsb #On the Ropes #Montgomery Gator #reader #Monty x reader #Freddy Fazbear #Glamrock Freddy #Fluff and angst #hurt/comfort #protectiveness #anger #violence #Five nights at Freddys #Feedback always always greatly appreciated

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