#he encapsulated that experience so well i love it

[desertfangs]

I’ve been thinking about Armand/Daniel a lot lately (as one does) and yes the whole thing is incredible but for some reason I can’t get this line out of my head: “In the midst of life they plunged”, and how perfectly it encapsulates their entire relationship. Like the IMPLICATIONS of it. Armand hadn’t actually had a life, perhaps only a semblance of it, in over 300 years, and this mortal boy gave it to him and offered him a shot at an actual existence. Full of experiences, adventures, discoveries, opportunities, romance, fighting, crying, LIVING. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Daniel giving Armand the opportunity to have a life and to reclaim his youth will never not make me feral ❤️‍🩹

Anon! It's like you're inside my head, because I, too, think about them all the time. That line though is really awesome and it does encapsulate their relationship so well. You're so right about this and you should say it.

Like, if you think about it, it's exactly true that Armand hasn't had much of a life for a long time. He spent decades with Louis, living in a shared misery. And while I fully believe they had tender moments during that period, I think it was few and far between. Armand wanted Louis to be his guide to the modern era, but Louis was too lost in his grief and pain and numbness to be that for him. When that finally ends, he spends the next decades watching over a sleeping Lestat, keeping the city free of "vermin" to protect him like a guardian who wasn't asked for.

And basically seems to be his life when Daniel crashes into Lestat's house and starts playing those tapes. He's just chilling in New Orleans, watching over the dirt where Lestat is buried, as life moves around him.

The Chase gives Armand something else to do, to focus on. He follows this young reporter boy around tormenting him and teasing him and in the process, he starts to delve into the modern era, learning about things Daniel does and places he goes and even his means of travel - accosting him on a train, in a taxi. He bails him out of jail. He orders dinner for him at a restaurant in the most unhinged way possible, but it's also the sort of thing you might do if you just want to push some of the limits around you.

And then they come together as a couple, finally, and then into the very midst of life they plunge! Armand finally has someone who will do all the things with him: parties, shows, concerts, museums, travel. Daniel has been patiently (and not so patiently) teaching him about the modern world for years already, so now they really dive in. And as you point out, they also plunge head first into a relationship, living together, existing together as a couple and figuring out what that means, and everything that entails, good and bad.

It really is Armand getting a second chance at his youth and his first opportunity in centuries to just be a guy and experience the world on the arm of this beautiful, curious, sardonic boy who loves him for what he is and who he is and is passionate and gentle, even as he can be defiant and argumentative.

It makes me feral, too. Like it's just so good. Daniel gives him the world and the love he deserves, and in the end, Armand gives him forever. And I just... love them so, so much. 😭😭💖

Thank you so much for this ask!

#and sorry it took me an eon to get to this my brain was absolute toast on friday #it made me happy to see it but i wanted to respond propery #anonymous #daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel #the devil's minion #vc #vc meta #queen of the damned #answers in the desert #devil's minion

[juniperkinglet]

Shoutout to Summer Sons for everything about it but especially for making the gay love interest white trash. The kind of queer who lives in the middle of nowhere and doesn't have an education and has to hang around homophobes for survival. The kind of queer who isn't polite or well-dressed or pretty or "good representation." He's just a broke sweaty drug-dealing asshole mechanic trying to make ends meet and that's the mc's gay awakening. More of this forever.

#summer sons #sam halse #i've seen sam hate that just boils down to 'i have never been poor in a rural community before & therefore i don't get him' #he encapsulated that experience so well i love it

[kuragesoda]

honestly feels like poetic cinema that the final song to be revealed, ichiro's, is rap. like it feels right for ichiro's solo to be rap/hiphop amongst all the other songs which virtually have little to no rap in it

#its like ..... ichiro (the so-called poster boy (tm) of hpmi) encapsulates the entire franchise's spirit with his solo #i actually really like it honestly . it captures the essence of ichiro really well #like the other songs are like . explorations and/or experiments into different styles #but ichiro?? hes keeping it true . sticking to the core of the franchise; if you will #its cool . love that for him #idk dude im not even an ichiro stan but i just think it deserves as much love as the other songs did lol #random rambling :'>>

[vixstarria]

The morning after

I felt like doing a little follow-up to the love confession fic and writing a bit of silly camp banter.

The party join forces in poking fun at Astarion.

All origin characters, Tav, humour, banter, comfort, non-explicit, no spoilers

Approximately 700 words

You left Astarion’s tent. He stayed behind to fix his hair – his bedhead was truly a sight to behold, but it was a sight reserved for your eyes only. 

You were almost surprised to see that the world just went on as normal. The magic of the night began to dissipate as you had to turn your attention to the mundane. If only you could stop time... Encapsulate the memory and all the feelings that came with it, and keep returning to it, over and over.  

“There she is!!” came a cheerful shout from Karlach, as you approached the group, already busy around the campfire before you broke for the day. You sat down next to her, on the edge of a log, as she pressed a bowl of some kind of porridge concocted by Gale into your hands. 

“Hells, did Astarion keep you up all night? You look like shit.” She took a closer look at you. “Smug, happy shit,” she continued. “What were you up to in there? Wait, NO, don’t answer that!” 

“Don’t be so envious, darling,” drawled Astarion as he emerged, sitting down to her other side, fiddling with a damaged piece of equipment he’d neglected to repair the day before.  

“Envious?! Please, what would I even do with you, I’d break you in half.” 

Karlach grabbed and held Astarion in a bear hug, just about pulling him into her lap. 

“But you - you’re always hanging around Mama K, like a cat looking for the warmest spot.” 

Anyone else would have lost an arm for such familiarity, but Karlach seemed to have special permission. You weren’t sure whether it was because Astarion sympathised with her not having been able to touch anyone for years, or if it really was as simple as him enjoying the heat radiating from her. You suspected it was both. He’d never admit it, so you’ve never asked.  

“Release me at once, you foul beast!” 

“Say the magic word, fangs!” 

Astarion looked at you and mouthed “Help”. 

“You’ll be fine, love, she’ll get bored and let go eventually,” you ruffled his hair and returned to your porridge. The word “love” tasted different on your tongue to all the other times you’d thrown it around casually, and you smiled to yourself, as though at a private joke no one else was in on. 

“You know, Astarion really is a cat. Always striving to be the centre of attention, then being offended when he actually gets it,” pondered Wyll.  

“I’ve seen him get the zoomies in the middle of the night after returning from a hunt,” added Shadowheart. 

“Licking blood off his hands after a fight is definitely a feline gesture.” Even Lae’zel was taking part in antagonising him today. 

“He’s knocked over my drink for no reason passing by before,” offered Wyll.  

“He bites,” added Lae’zel. 

“And he does play with his prey before killing it,” mused Shadowheart. “And before I get stabbed – I'm not talking about you, Tav.” 

“And he’s just SO. DAMN. CUTE. Look at his pointy ears! Aaaahhhh!” squealed Karlach.  

Astarion continued to struggle in Karlach’s grip, kicking at the air, somehow winding up basically lying in her lap, sideways, as the group giggled amongst themselves.  

“Well I’ve had cats and even a tressym my whole life, and speaking from the height of my lifelong experience, the real defining question is this,” said Gale, sitting down with his own bowl. “When he’s hungry in the morning, does he wake you by tapping on your nose, and then turn around and show you his butthole?” 

“Ugh.” 

“Gale!” 

“What the actual fuck, Gale?” 

“AHAHAHA!” 

"Still as suicidal as ever, I see,” you commented, your shoulders shaking, as Astarion finally managed to slide out of Karlach’s hold, collapsing onto the ground, as she roared.  

“You better watch what comes out of your mouth, magician, you’re already on thin ice,” said Astarion. The threat lost its edge due to Astarion’s disheveled look and the fact that he too couldn't keep his face straight. “Now if you’ll excuse me...” He got up and walked away, dusting himself off. 

“The dignity, the grace, the sense of balance...” continued Wyll.  

~~~~~

Next in series - Intimacy

Series master list

AO3

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion acunin #karlach #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #lae'zel #astarion is a cat

[tarot-archives]

aromantic relationship 101: aroace drabble for laios

doesn’t see the ‘signs’ by himself. chichuck points out the way he looks at y/n. how much care and gentleness he shows to y/n. laios tries to say that you’re just a really good friend, but chilchuck’s words still hold weight in his mind.

the romance optimist marcille obviously agrees with chilchuck. the small gestures that laios sends your way: laios offering you his blanket when he gets last watch, laios holding your hand innan uneven terrain, laios’ eyes immediately searching for you when trouble arises. the conclusion was obvious (??) laios is in love with y/n!

two out of three, in favor of laios’ carrying romantic feelings for y/n. marcille plans a date at the two of them. she uses her gossip and romantic books as reference. dates around the market fair, then walking by the shore as they watch the sunset. lastly, a romantic dinner for the two of them.

all was well. you said yes when laios asked a date. you were the nicest dress you had in your closet for the date. and all things from the plan went smoothly.

all except that magical moment when laios has that eureka moment of love. yes, he does feel happy when he holds your hand. he does feel happy when you smile. he does feel happy when you’re by his side but… surely this isn’t the love that the others described. he doesn’t want you to string along.

no butterflies… no sparks… none of that romantic grandeur that marcille described. laios simply feels safe by your side. his mood does get better when you’re there but this isn’t love. this isn’t friendship either. and laios feels incomplete somehow with the lack of romantic love.

it takes a while for him to understand that he isn’t like the others. he had expressed his feelings to you. his heart bared open about the weight his heart carries, but what it means he was still unsure.

“so, uh friends?” you asked, but laios shook his head as no.

“lovers?” you said, the word leaving an numb weight on your tongue. a part of you sings when he didn’t say yes either.

“a secret third thing?” you couldn’t forget the way he squeezed your hands for a minuscule of a moment.

he looked down at you, hopeful and curious. “a secret third thing?” he repeats the phrase waiting for a single word to encapsulate the experience

“i don’t know what it’s called too. but it isn’t romantic or friendship either,” you smiled when he returned the same comforting squeeze to your hand. so you continued, “but i don’t care what name it has. i just want to be with you, if you’d have me…”

“i’d want to have you,” he wraps his hands around you in a comforting hug. there was no pressure from either of you since this experience is more important than labels.

requests? open

#laios x reader #laios touden x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #i was having qpr laios thoughts #and i really headcanon him as aroaace #but at the same time (as an aroace writer) i honestly have difficulty writing romance. #the secret third thing always gets me :))

[randomness-is-my-order]

the pjo show’s cinematography is so warm and homey and clever and detail-oriented so i wanna compile a few of my favourite still shots because why not??

^this one had me smiling so hard, not because it’s a particularly beautiful shot but the framing of the three is so well done. the focus is on sally who is talking to grover (both prominently in the front of the shot) while percy – who isn’t a part of the conversation but a listener of it – is still properly visible through the glass of the door and like??? i just think it’s a super cool way of having a passive character in the shot that i haven’t ever seen before, in a way that percy is both highlighted and still so clearly in the background that it doesn’t take away from the focus characters. also percy’s sweater matching the colours on the door is the cherry on top!!

^next is this one. it’s so perfectly angsty and though not complete, the symmetry is still eye-catching. it encapsulates the feeling percy must experience in that moment–him, amidst destruction, knowing he’s the cause but not knowing how or why. he looks all of twelve with his haphazard hoodie and almost forlorn look. he is not gloating, he is not cheerful. though he doesn’t know the gravity of his parentage, it’s almost like the show is telling us that his powers–which cause the door to break, too btw–will always be a source of isolation for percy. he is a force of nature, a destructive one most of the time, and the fact that he is just a child who is confused will never matter because this world doesn’t care for childhood but godhood alone.

idk, this shot just evokes a very unsettling kind of sadness for me. i think it’s beautifully framed.

^i absolutely love this one simply for the fact that the sheer struggle of the fight is so prominently visible. and yes, i cheated, this isn’t exactly a still shot but like an action sequence screenshot but whatever, it’s too good to not mention it here. the way percy is, honest to gods, bracing against the spear for his dear life, the evident and overwhelming rage on clarisse’s face, the blocking of the scene – it’s perfect. clarisse is not playing and percy is genuinely in danger and i love how this shot and the whole scene really sold us on that fact.

^ i just think it’s extremely cool that we can see the minotaur howling in pain, percy having his mouth wide open as if he’s letting out a yell as he goes to plunge the horn and that as percy does this act–killing the minotaur–which is surefire source of safeguarding himself and grover, something that will get him to camp, we can see thalia’s tree in the background. there is no reason percy had to make the kill here, with the chaos of the fight, so the fact that this is the spot and this is the shot as he kills the minotaur makes me think it’s deliberate. having thalia in the background is so impactful because again, percy could have met a similar fate in some other alternate universe but here, he wins and he survives.

^ do i even need to explain??? the shot is pretty and beautiful and almost magical. percy, alone with a tin of fire, burning blue food and talking to his mother. maybe one thing i can point out is that the sally-percy bond has been heavily indicated through glowing lights since the start. if you recall, the “you are not broken” speech by sally was given in front of the warm, glowing headlights of the car and percy’s face was illuminated by that warmth just the same way it is illuminated by the tin-fire in the forest.

^ first, this is too fucking gorgeous. second, percy is wearing his red jacket again and this dream happened after he reached camp so in my opinion, this dream was initially a comfortable imagining of percy’s mind and was then hijacked by kronos but i could be wrong since i don’t clearly remember how they manifested in the books originally. nevertheless, it’s a great detail to have him wear the red jacket because even if he may not have it with him anymore, it’s still clearly something he holds dear – and might associate sally’s memories with.

also, the fact that percy seems to have alot of scenes with fire might be because as someone who can control water, fire can never truly be a source of danger for him and therefore, he can find comfort in its warmth unhindered, always?

^ how could i not love this epic moment? the trident is perfect, big and blue and grand and majestic. half the screen is water, obviously. but what makes this good shot a great one is that there is literally no one else directly near percy except annabeth. the campers are all far away and in this shot itself only annabeth remains close to percy, though she is fittingly on the land, observing the scene before her. remember how i said percy’s legacy promises isolation but this shot tells me that despite that, percy will have someone who he can count on to be by his side (also cool that even in the bathroom, annabeth was technically still near him, even if she was, well, stalking him) and maybe this is my delusional ass talking, but annabeth being here is foreshadowing for me. i just think it’s a choice to have this epic revelation where they could easily have had percy standing alone in the middle of the lake but no, annabeth is also there and not only because she’s the one who led to that revelation but because she’s someone who isn’t intimidated by percy’s parentage and still can be beside him.

^ i adore this shot because 1) it shows us just how young and tiny percy is and 2) it tells us that maybe that door is so fucking huge because it’s being inclusive of centaurs and other giants of their world. also, symmetry strikes again!!! the colours are so well balanced, not bright and vibrant but on the pastel side that indicates an aged feel to them.

and lastly,

^ i just find it funny that a private academy like yancy has an official vehicle that looks as beat up and terribly malfunctioning as this. 😭 like this half van was so out of place i literally goggled at the screen when it first appeared.

okay, i’m done for now. i also really liked the faceless sally scene in the start paralleling medusa’s eventual beheading but i already made a post about it. this legitmately only covers about 10% of the shots i wanted to talk about but these might be my favourites. this was long af so if you read the whole thing, mad respect to you.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy pjo #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo tv adaptation #walker scobell #pjo tv series #leah jeffries #cinemetography #direction #pjo tv spoilers #annabeth percy jackson #percabeth

[salaciousdoll]

Feel It In The Air Tonight

Pairings: Eren Yeager x Chubby!Fem!reader

Encapsulation: there's always someone to pick you up when you're feeling down, especially in college even through words on cards. In which, Eren plays the two card game with you

Warnings: fluff, talks of the Uni college experience, TikTok card game, pain splatter rage room, Starbucks drinks, eren being a little jealous but not over the top, hints of depression,hard times, etc., other talks of mental health, loving and healthy obsessed Eren, making out, touching, smut towards the end, Eren with a tongue piercing but it’s not highlighted like that because I’m a dumb bitch and forgot to punctuate it in this fic, tatted Eren, pussy eating Eren, squirting, exhibition, cumming over fingers, overstimulation, fingering, dirty talking, some of the cast appears here, modern day au, black reader ( not explicit), car sex, oral( f receiving), overall you two are in love

Word Count: 6.8k( I know I know, a lot)

18+ Babes Only

Ps: Eren may be ooc for some, dont really write for aot so this is me coming back into the fandom for a little while <3

( I'm so tired and I had to do this on two phones)

The void space clouding your head was too expensive to handle for your taste. The vision of a red door with words you heard in the past and up until now painted the door like the paint should be black instead. The only way to jump out of this disgusting vision was to walk to the door, opening the door to get to the bright side, but you couldn’t. Everytime you walked to the door, it felt like you were being pushed back.

With one heavy foot over the other one, you felt as if there was a 100lb dumbbell hanging onto your ankle, the feeling coiled up inside of you was tragic for both you and Eren. Eren wondered why you weren’t present in class for these past four days, he’s so used to you coming into the class, holding a fresh water bottle in your right hand while your phone and keys are in the left hand.

He always watched the door to see if you were gonna come in and he was curious as well as worried over the days you didn’t walk through the wooden door. Eren asked Mikasa and Jean if they’ve seen you and they’re answer was the same. He asked Zeke have you been to his psychology class and he said no but not without leaving a message to you in regards to his class “ if you do see yn, please make sure she’s ok first and tell her to get to class when and if she could, she’s missing out on a lot”. 

Eren nodded his head before leaving the classroom only to bump into Armin with Sasha and Connie  on his way out, “ Oh hey guys, you seen y/n around campus? Or did she go home because she’s not answering the phone?” 

Sasha thought about it while Armin shook his head. Meanwhile Connie gave him a goofy grin, “ Did you even check her dorm, bro?” He placed an arm around Eren as they walked to the exit of the Housement building their reading comprehension class was in, “ You can’t honestly be that stupid, Eren.”

Eren snapped his fingers prior to running off to the building your dorm was in. He was so glad you didn’t choose a building that was far from the building with classes on the inside . He ran past Annie and Pieck bidding them hellos and goodbyes as quickly as he said it. He Slid in the elevator saying a few sentences to the two people that were already in the elevator: Reiner and Bertolt. After some time he finally made it to the opening of your dorm with the pleas and begs to be let into the dorm area by the front desk student employer and she let him since she had a crush on him once. 

He only came to your dorm twice. One time for a school project and the second time for a place to chill and talk to each other. You two weren’t exactly in a relationship, yet. You both are in the talking stage so you didn’t really invite him to your room like that. Luckily he memorized the room number as he finally came to a stop in front of it: 313b.

Eren took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He waited for you to answer but you didn’t. He grew even more worried so he began banging on the door, calling out your name as well. Everyone on your floor could hear this commotion and you were embarrassed even if you were on the inside trudging to the door with your cover over your body. You could only imagine what people on your floor are thinking about this.

The banging got louder as you came to a stop in front of it, “ Go away, E’. Not in the mood for anything or anyone right now.” Eren placed his hand on the door while leaning his forehead against it. “ Come on, yn. Let me in. Look, I know you’re not in the mood right now but please can we just maybe sit in silence on the inside? I need to know if you’re okay.”

You huffed, “ You’re hearing me fine as of right now, E’, so I don’t understand why you need to know if I’m okay. I’m good.” You paused because you knew you were lying to him and yourself. “ Yeah I’m good, so please just go to your room and leave me be.”

“ Y/n, Listen I know everyone has days like this, so it’s up to their friend to make their days better. Please let me in?”, Eren says, jiggling the doorknob. “ Please, I wanna be close to you.” You hesitantly opened the door revealing Eren with his sleeve tattoos showing and his hair down in a middle part, some hair tucked behind his ear showing his beautiful jade eyes clearly.

Eren took in your look and wanted to hug you until he couldn't. Your cover covered most of your body but your hair was out of its bonnet, which was a huge no-no in his mind because you always wore a bonnet whenever you were comfy in your dorm room. So that’s how he knows you’re not okay.

You moved to the side and he came in sitting on your desk chair— spinning the chair to face your bed, “ Whenever you’re ready, you can talk. I’m listening while writing something down. We’re getting you out of this room whether you like it or not.” You couldn’t even argue because you were mentally drained. School fucking sucks the fun out of the college expeirence but no one talks about it. 

Moving to the bed to plop down on your stomach felt so good, you just wanted to lay down all day and here he comes, demanding to take you out of it. Oh, how you wanted to curse him for life for disturbing your saddening peace.

30 seconds passed and all you could hear was Eren messing with your school materials bucket and your desk drawer— searching for index cards, “ Yes, finally found them.” He was mildly whispering and it was a little funny to you because he was never good at whispering even in your high school years.

The clock was turning and the sound of his writing was beauty to your ear drums. He was basically doing an asmr for you and you were almost falling asleep but the squeak of your desk chair pulled you out of you dozing off, making you roll your eyes.

After 30 minutes or so, you stopped hearing Eren writing and rocking back and forth in your chair. You could practically feel his jade green eyes digging into the back of your head as his breathing got more heavier. So, you decided to talk because the silence and the feeling of being stared at killed you, “ School.” Eren leaned forward with his elbows on his knees trying to hear you better. “ What about school? What’s going on?”

You sighed before turning over to face the ceiling with your arms around your comfort stuffie Armin brought you as a birthday gift. “ School has been so exhausting and I’m ready to quit, E’.” Eren moved his chair closer to the bed as you continued speaking, “ the work. The money. The food expenses. Everything. Yesterday I had to turn in a thirteen page essay about the 1916 project, then on top of that I have to battle with chem 101 work. Those fucking atomic theories and all that other annoying ass shit. The school lunch is horrible, don’t know how hard it is for a fucking college that we pay for to have a decent meal. I’m just  … just so overwhelmed with everything.”

His heart felt heavy for you because he felt like this once too, he felt like it was the end of the world and there was no one who could pull him off the dark stairs he was walking down until you and his other friends opened the other door he didn’t even see when he was walking down blindly through the darkness. So he made it his duty and honor to do the same for everyone else, especially you. 

“ E, I’m this close to dropping out and it’s sickening because my mother and father put everything into these past two years of college—I’m halfway there. Idkk… I just want to take a break for a little while.”, You say, finishing your little rant to him with a few silent tears down your beautiful eyes. 

Eren learned to kiss your salty tears away, causing you to be taken by surprise. “ Can we do something really quick, I can’t say anything that can ease your mind so I’ll just let my actions keep your mind from walking through the darkness and overload that college has to offer right now for you.” He moved over to your desk in the computer-like chair to collect the index cards. “ I know you’ve seen this so many times so why not make it reality for you. Pick one.”

He held out two cars facing him with sticky notes blocking the view from behind to stop you from cheating while you picked the cards. Sniffling, you took the card on the right as he smiled at you knowing you’re gonna love it.

You turned the card over and cracked a hurt smile at the words on the card, “ 100 dollars?! Really, ren’.” He laughed with his head thrown back and his hair crowding his face, hiding his beautiful smile, “ Princess, you know that’s not the end of this and besides, even if you hate that it’s coming out of my pockets, I don’t care. You deserve it for existing.”

You couldn’t help but to smile behind your plushie you now held to block your face, “ You’re so irritating.” Eren smirked— running his fingers through his long, pretty healthy hair. Afterwards, he held up two new cards with a pink and blue sticky note on the back of them, “ Go on, baby. Pick one.”

Sitting up at the edge of the bed and in between his legs— almost, you picked the left card with the pink sticky note on the back. Turning it over, you gasped at the result, “ Starbucks, haven’t had that in forever.” You smiled sitting the card down. “ What does the other one say?” Eren grinned whilst flipping the card over to show you the writing, “ It was the bookstore shop, I know how much you love reading books so I wanted to take you.” He shoved the other cards into his black jacket pocket— standing up to walk to your closet. You were honestly glad you were this comfortable and secure with him, plus you didn’t have a Roommate so that’s maybe why you’re really at ease. 

Eren brought out several clothes, tripping over your shoes spread out all over your floor when walking towards your bed. Throwing the clothes on the bed with the shoes he pulled from under your bed positioned below the outfit, “ Put these on, we’re gonna take your mind off this shit hole we're in, hope you’re ready. See you in 20 or maybe 30 depending on your time freshening up of course.

You watched him walk out the door, texting on his phone prior to laying back on the bed, kicking your feet and giggling in excitement. You needed this and you were gonna get it. Today is all about you, not school, not work. You.

After some time of cleaning yourself up, you managed to make it out to Eren’s car, hopping in. You two didn’t really talk in the car since you were still a little down from being dragged out here but grateful—nevertheless. He’s been trying to get you to talk but you only said about two or three words a sentence. Luckily it didn’t take that much time for you two to arrive at Starbucks.

You were about to open the door but he smacked your hand, giving you a pointed look. “ You know we don’t do that.” You had a little smile as he got out to walk to your side, opening the door with his beautiful smile on display, “ Your hand, mi lady.” Your smile widened a little when he kissed your hand as he grabbed it to help you into the car. He’s always been such a gentlemen with you and you loved it. 

Eren interwined his hands with yours— walking into the Starbucks which was luckily almost empty. People were just sitting down and talking with their drink and little cake pops.

“ I either get my favorite or something elsee… You know I always have a hard time deciding what to get, there are too many good ones. What’s your favorite, E’?”, you say while looking at the menu, squinting a little. Eren was paying attention to you the entire time you were talking and you didn’t even notice. Do you ever? The answer is no. 

Eren's eyes widened when he noticed you tilting your head whilst looking at him in confusion, “ What’s wrong, ren’? I asked you a question and you zoned out.” Eren cleared his throat prior to taking his eyes off you. “ Oh, my bad, babe. I like the salted caramel mocha with dark caramel foam, the foam adds so much to the drink. It’s really good.”

You hummed, turning back to the menu. Luckily a lightbulb came to your head— “ wait, I think I wanted to try one on my phone. Hold on.” You went to your photos and searched Starbucks in the search bar to find different varieties of drink mixes you wanted to try. You scrolled while Eren ordered his drink for Floch to take, he happens to be the cashier right now. Eren noticed the little looks floch snuck in as he was talking to him. He knew floch had a little crush on you ever since last year, so he gently put his hand behind your lower back, caressing it in the act of you're still searching in your phone. 

Jealousy was a beautiful and ugly thing, right now it was beautiful on Eren. His jade green eyes were narrowed as he still spoke to floch with a now hard but mellow tone. Floch for sure took notice and almost smirked a little bit at how foolish he was acting, in his opinion. He thought you were always so sweet and pretty so why wouldn’t he fall for you at the same time as Eren trying to court you.

“ Okay, I got my order ready, floch? Wow I didn’t know you worked here. Nice to see you as well, but may I please get the - your choice- please?”, you asked as you told him the right ingredients for the drink you choose— afterwards. Floch loved hearing you speak to him so he was rushing to complete your drink even after you told him to take his time. 

You turned to eren smiling, “ May I taste it? Here I’m gonna get another str-” eren held out his drink with a look that’s telling you he doesn’t care if it’s the same straw. You reluctantly took his drink and wrapped your two- toned pretty lips around the top drinking from it. It tasted so good in your mouth, you had to get this flavor again. 

Eren was watching you with a dry mouth the entire time. He was such a fanboy for you and you weren’t even a superstar but to him, you were his superstar. God, did he sound so corny in his mind. He can’t help it around you. This was the best step, I mean you always shared chips or other snacks whereas when you two shared beverages you always did a waterfall or grabbed the nearest cup— rinsing it out. 

Floch called your name as he flashed a smile at you to which you became very shy since the way he was staring at you was unusual. Floch was sometimes a cool guy in the past, you didn’t really talk to him to say the same now. 

You grabbed your drink from Floch after giving Eren his back, “ Thank you, Floch. See you around.” Floch was smiling into space because when you grabbed your drink his hand touched your hand creating butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to ask you out, hopefully he will do it before Eren. That’s why he gave you a little surprise with your drink.

“ Can I taste yours? It looks too good to not ask, sorry.”, Eren says as he eyed your drink with a cute scrunched up face. He didn’t even know his face was scrunched up because he was too busy mad at what he’s seeing on your drink. You let out a small laugh, handing him your drink, oblivious to the small number on the receipt, placed on the Starbucks cup.

Eren held the door open with his back as each drink was held in each hand. You two walked out as Eren took a sip from your drink almost walking back to get his own from the way your drink tasted. He hurried and snatched the receipt off, ripping off the part where his number was displayed when you were looking around, always being aware of your surroundings. Eren turned to you and held out your drink with a little smirk displayed on his face. You raised your eyebrow, “ What did you do?”

He shrugged, “ Nothing, now come on, today’s not done. I’ve got a few ideas in mind.” You smiled as he opened the car door for you letting you get inside. He closed the door, walking to his side afterwards. He almost dropped his drink while getting into the car, making both of you panic because that was gonna be hard to clean up. 

Eren sat his cup down into his cup holder anterior to him fishing for the cards in his jacket pocket, he held up the next two card with a orange and yellow sticky note in the back of it this time, “ Pick one.” You thought carefully afore picking the orange card with your eyes closed. Turning it over you were confused, “ What’s the paint job? Eren are you trying to t-” 

Eren almost choked on his saliva laughing at your answer, after he got himself together he answered you, “ Not that kind of paint job, honey. It’s a place, you need to let out your frustrations and I think that’s a perfect method. Our rage room is closed for renovation right now so I was gonna have to go out of the city if you choose the yellow card. Not that I mind, get to spend more time with my girl.” 

Your ears were heating up as you heard what he said ‘ his girl’. You loved the sound of that coming out of his pretty pink lips. You wouldn’t even mind giving him a paint job. You smiled at him, “ can’t wait to see this, never heard of that before.”

You two were talking during the car ride to the paint job. Most of the topics were about your friends and family having a fun time with your close friends. You two reminisce about upsetting Armin when you volunteered to help him bake just for it to turn into a disaster with flour everywhere and some of his backings burned — cough cough Eren’s fault. 

When you two arrived the parking lot was semi-full and the place was huge and pretty on the outside, so you can just imagine the inside of it. On the outside, the paint job had a paint splat next to the name colored in light blue, the brick walls were colored light pink and the outline of the bay windows was light purple. Making this look like a doll house. 

You looked up in awe while Eren looked at you the same way you looked at the building. “ This is so beautiful, I love the colors so much.” Eren chuckled at the warm energy coming from you, taking a look at the color of the place where everyone comes to rage while his hand rested over your back trying so desperately to not trail his hands, “ let’s go, baby doll. I got a feeling you’re going to have so much fun.”

Looking at him as he held your hand in one of his hands, opening the door with his free one, “ no we’re going to have fun. This is for both of us now. You didn’t think when I was at school that I didn’t see the stress in your eyes as you gave me that tired but still pretty ass smile. You need to have fun just as much as me, ren’.” Eren looked at you with wide eyes because no one else noticed the layers of stress developing in his eyes this past week, he always kept to himsel, just like someone you knew all too well.

Eren smiled at you with a real smile this time, eyes closed and all, “ You’re right, baby. We will enjoy this. I thank you for paying attention to that, I just don’t know how to openly talk about my struggles without getting too emotional. Don’t wanna seem like a pussy in front of you now, that wouldn’t be cool at all.” You scoff loudly at him, making sure he heard it before speaking, “ Boy, please don’t ever say that shit again, I don’t like when men do that. When you’re with me, you express every emotion and feeling you have inside of you.” 

You grabbed his face pulling him close to yours just to look into his eyes, “ I’m gonna touch your face when I say this, Ren’, don’t you ever feel like you’re gonna be a pussy when you’re with me expressing yourself. It not only hurts you, it hurts me because I feel like you don’t trust me enough to show me your real emotions and feelings. I’m always here for you and I already can see that you’re here for me, you don’t gotta say it back to me because you showed me countless times. Okay? So stop that.” 

Eren almost wanted to cry because his ex and father left him scarred so to hear this from the woman he loves even after the end of the world is very endearing. Eren looked at you with love laced in his eyes, “ {reader}, I lo-” a voice interrupted Eren’s confession, causing him to roll his eyes sighing loudly afterwards. 

“ Hey, hey, ready to paint walls? That’s a double entendre by the way.”, Connie says coming down the hallway laughing and pointing at you and Eren. Eren almost smacked his head against the wall on the side of you two. For one, this lame joke and two for him not doing this outside that way Connie and everyone else wouldn’t even know that they were here. 

“ Connie, I haven’t seen you in forever, how are you and the others?”, you asked as you went in for a hug and he gladly accepted it because he missed you just like the rest of them. 

Connie pulled away and was about to answer you until you felt someone jump on your back screaming your name. Just by the faint smell of peaches, you knew it was Sasha, “ Sasha!! Oh wow, I missed you. All of you.”

You turned around with Sasha now off your back clinging to your right arm whereas eren clung to your left one. When you turned, you saw almost everyone here. Jean stepped up and smiled at you, “ We missed you too.”

Mikasa smirked at you and Eren. She shipped you two like you were a part of her favorite movie as a couple. She knew of Eren's feelings so she was happy at the little affection you two had going on, “ Don’t you ever leave us out again, {reader}. I was so concerned about why you aren’t showing up to class. We’re talking about it later.” Your close lip smile brought joy to everyone because they could see the shimmer of light slowly coming back into your eyes as you heard their voices. 

Armin laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder whilst he was in front of you, “ Yeah, as I told you before, happiness is not about whether you can get a job or finish getting your degree, it’s about you. Happiness is about listening to yourself whether it’s your mind, body, or soul. Please take care of yourself, {reader}. You don’t deserve to suffer alone, we’re all gonna suffer with you just to pick you back up.”

You so badly wanted to cry because your heart was releasing the toxic gas of stubbornness and unhappiness as you looked around at your friends. Just seeing Annie, Pieck, Reiner, Bert., and of course you main 5 was so important to you. You needed this, to be around friends. No, family. 

You all walked up to the counter with Eren asking the lady about his reservations he made. Your brain finally started turning again and the thoughts made you gasp— smiling as you looked over at Eren, “ E’, did you plan this ahead of time.”

As everyone else was putting on their goggles, shower caps, and coveralls, he spoke to you, “ Actually I didn’t, I told them that you needed a get away and that I’m planning on taking you to either the rage room or paint splatter rooms. They did a coin toss— heads being the rage room, tails being the paint splatter room. Keep in mind that they did this coin toss with no acknowledgment that you picked one already. They would’ve been pissed if it landed on heads. Would’ve been hilarious to me though.”

You laughed at the thought of them going to the rage room instead and being very angry when you two didn’t show up, “ Yeah, that would’ve been video worthy too.” You changed into the attire you had to wear due to not wanting to get paint in your hair or clothes. 

Afterwards, you all headed to the plain white room that was available for you all. You all were playing with the equipment you all had on while walking and skipping through the hallway. You knew this was going to be an unforgettable experience, sharing it with your family and the man you were in love with.

You all stood there in silence not knowing how to throw the first paint splatter until you felt some on your coveralls. You looked down at yourself covered in yellow paint preliminary to looking back up and seeing a dazzling smile with an eyebrow cocked up as in issuing a challenge to you, “ Eren, I’m gonna kill you. We’re supposed to be painting the walls.”, as you put emphasis on the wall you hurried over and grabbed the red paint brush splatting eren with paint. “ Now what?”

Mikasa was minding her own business with Armin as they painted the wall while laughing with each other while Connie was running from Jean who picked up an entire can of pink paint, “ Come on, Connie. You don’t like pink, I heard you watched my little pony with your sisters last night. Why not have their own pinky pir in the flesh.” Sasha was laughing at them until Pieck splashed her with blue paint. Sasha stopped laughing as her eyes twitched in giddiness and excitement, she was going to devour Pieck for getting her first, “ You are so on, Pieck. Ymir you’re next and after that is Reiner.” 

Ymir was on alert until she got an entire paint can dumped on her head by Porco and Annie causing her to scream in horror at her body being covered in orange paint. You didn’t want to laugh but couldn’t help it when she yelled her girlfriend's name in hopes of rescuing her, and Historia was already there with black paint splattering all over Porco and Annie. Reiner and Bert. were enjoying themselves until you and Eren splashed them with two different purples: violet and lavender. Half of the room and people were covered in paint while the other half wasn’t due to different arts being displayed on the wall. 

This was what fun is. You were having so much fun with your family and this is where you belong. You felt safe, welcomed, and loved whenever you were with these people. Nothing but laughs, screams, horse playing, and you and eren rolling around in paint while trying to get one another was heard throughout the room. You felt so much has shifted just from these last few hours and you were right because now you and eren were saying bye to everyone after spending two hours in the splatter room. 

You waved to your friends out the window, smiling your usual smile without you, yourself, noticing that your actual smile was back, yet they did. They noticed and couldn’t help but to wave back, “ See you all and thank you all for being with me today, I really appreciated this so much, love you all and goodnight.”

Mikasa made a little phone gesture to remind you to call her after today with Eren as he pulled off with his hand placed on your thigh. He was already driving with one hand and looked so damn good while doing it. The tattoos that painted his arms were so intriguing to you. One arm was a full sleeve with faces of his mother and flowers surrounding her trailing all the way down to his wrist. The other one was a half sleeve filled with meanful drawings and a spider tattoo on the inside of his forearm. His hair was still down with a swoop of hair behind his ear, blunt behind his ear to hold it in place.

 He was cruising to calling on you by Jon b with the stars above you on the car roof and in the sky. You had an amazing time today, but would this be considered a dat-. Eren chuckled, “ not yet, this is the pre- first date, princess. Did you have fun today?” Yes, you were mumbling to yourself. 

You covered your mouth, yawning into your hand. “ Yeah I had so much fun today, I literally forgot about college until I realized we’re driving back to my dorm. I was also thinking about what you were gonna say earlier today in the back of my mind, do you mind repeating it?” Eren looked over at you— suddenly whipping the car into a parking space in the Saint Smith avenue park lot with the abandoned cvs on the street of Paradise. 

The roar of his engine died down as he cut off his car, looking over at you, “ I was going to say I love you, {reader}. There’s not a day in life where I can not stop thinking about you. Every time you came into that class, I wondered what perfume you were going to wear, what clothes you were going to wear, what hairstyle you were going to do, your natural hair or the other hairstyles you wore. I also wondered about what lip gloss you’ll bring, seeing you clearly have a preference for { your favorite lipgloss/lip balm/ carmex} instead. I paid attention to what pen or pencil you would write with, don’t even get me started on most things I’ve been noticing about you ever since I met you in 8th grade. I fucking love you and could not imagine my life with { reader’s first and last name}. I tried that shit for three days and did not like it at all.”

You were in awe at his confession and was about to say your own, but he spoke again, “ Can I kiss you?” You nodded your head in a meek manner to his question, “ Yes, you can, Ren’.” He smiled as he pulled you into a slow kiss with his hand on the side of your cheek. His lips felt like warm marshmallows on your own soft { favorite lip material }. He loved the taste of the flavor you had on your pretty plump lips. Your apple cheeks may be his second favorite feature on your body. Your stomach was his second after your eyes. Eyes were so important to Eren, he couldn’t explain it but whenever he looked into yours, he escaped to another place where he’s free of everything but you. That was a perfect world to him.

Your tongues moved against each other like two bodies covered in honey. You savored the taste of eren in your mouth as your tongues swirled with one another. You felt like you were about to suffocate from the lightness your head was feeling right now. The kiss was beautiful to you as you both took your time exploring each other's mouths. You heard his seat belt unbuckle prior to getting a tap on your thigh after he broke the kiss with your saliva disconnecting with the kiss, “ Get in the back, I wanna eat your pussy baby, I can’t take it and need to taste you. And you’re gonna taste how you look, I already know that, that’s for sure. But before that, may I eat your pussy, my pretty butterfly?”

Your pussy got wet just off the deep tone of his voice alone and the words he was using was the icing on the cake, so you spoke in a low voice, “ Yes, E’. Please eat my pussy, I need your tongue inside of me so bad right now.” Eren smiled as you finished your statement, “ Good, hope you’re ready baby, now go.”

You took off your seat belt before slowly climbing to the back trying not to knock over or break anything. You laid down as soon as your body sat down on his back seats— sliding down/ taking off whatever bottom wear you had on, leaving yourself in your panties. 

Eren eyes were trailing from your head and down to your thighs and pretty chubby feet. He was so in love with you and your chubby body. He always had a thing for you and he was about to show you right now. 

Eren paused his movement, reaching in his middle compartment grabbing a packet out of there. He turned away from you while you stared at him in wonder of what he’s doing. After a minute or so, he turned around with a devilish smile on his face, “ Ready?” You nodded at him and watched as he opened his door just to come to the backseat of the car where your feet were at. 

When he opened it, the breeze dancing along your pussy was wonderful. He told you to sit up against the door of the car and you did just that. All the while, he was watching your every move like a mantis watching its prey, Eren stuck out his tongue— tapping his index and middle finger on his stud tongue ring he got three months ago. 

Laying on his stomach with his face in between your legs;  Eren kissed your inner thighs with tender touches to them, he was whispering to himself— “ God, you’re so damn beautiful. I wanna stay down here forever.” Your big thighs were crowding around his head as you peered down at him in lust, “ Come on, E’. Stop teasing please.”

Eren placed two more wet kisses to your upper inner thighs— laying his head on your right thigh afterwards during which he lays his eyes upon you with a low gaze and small smirk tracing along his lips, “ don’t be impatient baby, a man gotta admire and appreciate a special piece of art in front of him right now. This is a special edition because I get to touch this, like this. Eren proceeds to place both arms under and around your thighs bringing his entire face to your wet, soaked pussy leaking through your panties.  He breathed in your scent and almost moaned at the thought of him tasting and fucking into this glorious pussy.

He kept eye contact with you as he placed three big smooches on the outline of your fat pussy against the fabric of your soaked panties. He smiled at your body shuddering underneath his arms whilst looking around to see if anyone is looking at him and you in the back of his white BMW X5 truck. You could almost taste the smell of this new car and you hate that this is about your second time riding in this since he never brought it out until now and the other time he picked you up to go get food. 

You didn’t know what it was but when he placed his thumbs underneath your fupa lifting it a bit with his hand prior to lifting his head up higher to bite the band of your panties to pull them down— his pretty white teeth showing perfectly— you caught butterflies in your stomach, clit twitching in anticipation at this action. He slipped them off and put them into his front seat back pockets. He was gonna try to have a collection of your panties in his car and dorm. When summertime comes, he’ll keep some in his house. That’s how much he plans on fucking you. 

Meanwhile, You couldn’t even think right now when he was just staring at your pussy on full display in front of him. It was like he was trying to take a photographic memory in his mind and keep it there. With Eren, it wouldn’t be so much of a surprise if he did. He stuck out his long, hot tongue licking the opening of your inner labia. You whimpered at the feeling of his warm tongue in your pussy and when he heard that he had no choice but to keep flicking his tongue up and down your pussy in complete desperation. His moans were audible as he flicked his tongue— making little mmm noises as he licked around your pussy. The feeling of his tongue tracing your pussy lips were astonishing, he was admiring you even with his tongue.

You grippped his hair, pushing it to the side to really see his face, “ Ahh fuck, Eren. Make this pussy cum, Mmgh.” Eren put more pressure into eating you out as his tongue was now moving in circles. As he was slurping up his spit and your juices, he placed two hands on the back of your thighs—slightly lifting them up to make your pussy even more fatter and seen. Eren loved the taste of your pussy in his mouth, he pulled away to catch a breath, “ shit! Your pussy is a fucking ocean right now. Don’t cum until I say you can, okay princess?” 

You didn’t hear anything he said, especially when you felt a dripping liquid plant itself on your pussy, it was his spit and you wanted him to do it again, “ ple..please, do that again, E’.” Eren took his mouth off your pussy, slowly spitting on your pussy. You moaned at the feeling of his spit hitting your clit and at the way he looked right now, “ Fuck! you look so pretty doing that Eren, please continue.” You honestly forgot that you two were in public because this was the greasiest you ever felt, you could only imagine how his dick gonna taste and feel like.

Eren quickly went back to creating zig zag motions with his tongue. He felt your pussy opening and closing and knew he had to add his fingers in, so he did add two fingers in making you gasp with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He watched as you bit your lips with a loud hmm moan, God!, were you perfect right now, “ You like that huh? You like when I put two fingers inside this slippery pussy, fucking hell {reader}, can’t wait until I fuck you.” Eren’s tongue moved quickly over your clit as he spoke so whatever he said was muffled a little bit but you could still pinpoint what he was saying. 

Your moans were getting louder as he twisted his hand to have his fingers twist and curl up inside you just right. Spit and pussy juice dripped down your pussy and Eren’s face was like a thirsty person spilling water on them as they were drinking it on a hot sunny day. You both were enjoying yourself at this moment that you didn’t realize your big thighs were clamped around his head at the same time as your hands gripping Eren’s hair in a tight ponytail form, he was for sure going to have a headache tomorrow. Your moans were so pretty coming out your mouth, “ Fuck, fuck, fuck, M’cummin ren’! Let me cum! Let me cumm…. Pleasee fuck~”  the word “fuck” was dragged out long because of him sucking on your clit while his hands sped up even more making wet squelch sounds as he moved in and out of you. 

Eren nodded his head at your demand, letting you tighten and untighten around his thick fingers inside of your wet cunt. He felt like he was gonna suffocate from the way you tighten your thighs around his head, but hey that’ll be a good way to go out in his book. Luckily, your legs went limp on the side of his body. One leg against the seat and the other hanging off the seat with your feet on the car floor. Your screams were loud and your body shook underneath him, cream was cummin out of your pussy and onto his fingers. Eren’s shirt at the top was covered in sweat and juice from your pussy. 

Eren watched with hooded eyes at your body calming down,” That’s it, cum for me, pretty girl. You’ve done such a good job containing yourself from cummin.” He leaned down to lick his fingers before licking around your hole opening and closing. “ Mmgh, stop before I squirt, you had enough~.”, you screamed the last part, dragging the word out as your pussy was now squirting in his face. He did it on purpose because he flicked your clit with his finger, “ Ahhh, ren’, Ren’ stop, fucking dick.” Eren laughed at your reaction as your pussy was squirting back at him in response to him flicking your clit playfully. He stopped on your command though. 

Afterwards, Eren helped slip { your bottom clothing gear of your choice} on without panties this time. He took off his shirt showing his 8 pack, chest tattoos, and full arm tattoos. His body was sculpted to the max. Meanwhile your body was tired and you couldn’t even push the bottom half of your body up when he put back on your clothes. Eren took his shirt and whipped his car seats off, throwing the shirt in the trunk afterwards. You let out a tired sigh and he chuckled at that, “ You wanna get a 30 minute rest and just stay like this.” Eren kissed your nose and your forehead, looking you in your eyes after that. 

You nodded and kissed his lips, “ I just need a pillow for my back, but I don’t think you have th- oh you do.” He grabbed the pillow from his trunk as soon as you said you didn’t think he had one, “ Let me guess, you got a cover too.” You pleaded the pillow behind your back and got comfortable, well tried to. Eren laid on your stomach with his hair covering his face,  nodding his head at your comment, “ Yeah.”

You took the black scrunchie off your right hand, tied his hair up in a high bun, placed a kiss on his forehead afterwards, “ I love you, now close the door and get some rest with me.” Eren got up again to close the door. He reclined the backseats back a little— laying back down on your stomach with his body between your legs. “ I love you too, my sweet doll. Get some rest, babe.” You yawned and dozed off to la la land after the good session you had. He was finally yours as you were his. 

Tagging: @dejwrites @privateparty3 @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia and many more who wants to be tagged

#aot smut #aot fluff #attack on titan smut #eren yeager fluff #eren yeager x fem reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #anime smut #anime men x reader #fem reader #black reader #x black reader #aot x black reader #fluff #chubby reader #anime x black!reader #attack on titan fluff

[aimasup]

THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS EPISODE 2 THOUGHTS AND SPOILERS

The warbling effect in the beginning perfectly encapsulates what it's like to try and move in a dream.

the colours behind the eyes (we only remember the last moments of our dreams when we are about to wake up, everything before that is mostly a vague blur)

And the floors shifting without your permission? Super accurate

Hey half the fandom how does it feel to be right about Ragatha and Pomni's dynamic post-pilot

CAINE MY LOVE

Bubble never change

ZOOBLE APPEARANCE

are they actually gonna change looks every episode if so yes please

Caine with a pipe <3<3

The humour is fantastic as always (the mannequin that pushed Gangle over made me chuckle)

Pomni might have been a gamer, she seems critical of the experience but only as someone who wants to engage

Ragatha being the diplomatic face man while Jax is the wild card negotiator, what a duo! Charming in their own ways! maybe Pomni could be the relatable third that is a grounding force

Kinger is a lot more involved with the adventure than we thought he would be! He isn't as terrified or absent as imagined, he's genuinely enthusiastic (it's kind of sad)

When the gators started talking about the village and the mom, dread crept up on me: Caine's intricately powerful

the stained glass window is darkly funny though ajskwjsks

Gangle you freak?? /pos You are moving up the ranks for me

It's great that Jax isn't just a "chaotic bad boy" type, I can see why Zooble takes any chance they get to strangle him (hate him, love his character)

Gummigoo's revelation was heartbreaking thanks

was Pomni depressed? Does she remember being depressed? Aghh so many headcanons rn about her life

can we get a shoutout to the Raggedy Ann movie references and the adorable gator goons

Kinger giving advice and saying "I remember how long it etc etc" whilst his head is bucketed has such warm?? vibes??

Ragatha holding her skirt to wade through the chocolate <3<3<3

I love that the chocolate doesn't stick to anything, I love that Princess Loo is slightly uncanny, I love that they use the glitches of the assets to move the story forward, I love the game world that works within the 3d animation well <3<3

Has Caine killed a human by mistake? With a snap of his finger? Or did he snap his fingers to delete them but it didn't instantly take them out and they abstracted...

The funeral was unexpected, it's nice that Caine gives them time off to do whatever

The idea that you will be missed if you disappear.,,.

Gooseworx wasn't lying this really is the depression episode (and it's still Pomni focused! Hooray!!)

OKAY BUT CONSIDER. RAGATHA BEING THE NERVOUS DESPERATE ONE IN BUTTONBLOSSOM.

sobs the plushies I want them all

#my post #personal stuff #tadc #the amazing digital circus

[mindyourstars]

JE TE LAISSERAI DES MOTS (SEBASTIAN SALLOW X FEM!READER)

Takes place after reader's 5th year. Spoilers for Hogwarts Legacy mentioned! Includes fluff. Lots of fluff. Word Count: 2.3K ****************************************************

            You had spent another day attending classes in Hogwarts with your mind only half paying attention to each lesson. It was relatively hard to focus when your closest and dearest friend, Sebastian Sallow, kept slipping you notes in classes with small little inside jokes and teasing remarks. It had been something that happened all day! Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and now Potions class. Each note you received was Sebastian’s attempt to make you smile. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved when you smiled. Everyone with eyes could see it, except you. 

            You saw a hand slide a small piece of parchment that was folded over two or three times. You discreetly unfolded it, reading the message in Sebastian’s familiar messy scrawl. 

Professor Sharp is looking rather vexed at Garreth’s latest concoction. I wonder how long until he blows something else to bits. 

            You had to shoot Sebastian a warning look as your lips twitched at the corners to reveal a subtle smile. It was no secret that Garreth was trying to create… something. He had recruited you to assist him quite a few times, but to no avail. You were going to reply when at the table over you heard loud bubbling followed by an even louder ‘BANG’. It would have surprised everyone in the course, but it had happened so many times the bang was followed by a collective groan. Everyone knowingly glanced at Garreth who was sheepishly standing in front of his newest failed experiment. 

            Garreth’s mouth opened in an attempt to explain, but he was interrupted by the smoke that began to encapsulate the class, causing Professor Sharp to run his hands over his already tired expression. 

            “I suppose it goes without saying that there will be quite a hefty number of points taken from Gryffindor.” His tone was as pointed as his gaze, causing Sebastian to glance at you with a teasing smirk. This in return caused you to giggle. 

            “Finding something funny, Miss (L/N)?” Your smile quickly melted into a cool expression as you shook your head no.

            “No professor Sharp, I sincerely apologize.” You spoke as calmly as you could and watched as the professor’s gaze lingered with yours for a moment before he shrugged. 

            “Let this be a warning to this whole class that we must take this course seriously! Class dismissed.” 

            You gathered your things and made way to the exit, waiting outside of the doorway against the wall for Sebastian to join you. After quite a bit of students shoveled out, Sebastian along with Ominis joined you by the wall. 

            “I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason you began to laugh was due to Sebastian.” Ominis uttered with no hesitation, his mouth turned up into a teasing smirk. 

            “Well, you DO know that I am quite the charmer, Ominis. It’s a talent not many possess.” He replied with a confident demeanor and a waggle of his brows. 

            You giggled again, hugging your potions textbook tightly against your chest as the three of you collectively began to walk the corridors back to the Slytherin common room. 

            “It was a pity laugh.” You teased, standing between the two boys who easily had their height over you. “I will say I am very much enjoying the weekly explosion that cuts class short.” 

            Sebastian nodded in agreement along with Ominis as the three of you turned another corner towards the moving staircases. 

            “It’s become a lovely little tradition.” Sebastian agreed with a chuckle causing you to smile at the sound. 

            Sebastian and you had been very close since you arrived at Hogwarts last year. He had gone through quite a lot since everything that happened between his sister Anne and his uncle Solomon. Ominis struggled to forgive Sebastian as well, but together the three of you slowly moved on with each passing day. 

            “Well, I have to go work on some homework for Divination, so the two of you do not get into too much trouble.” Ominis’ head turned in Sebastian’s direction for just a moment, causing Sebastian’s smile to falter ever so slightly. 

            Before Sebastian could say anything in response, you cut in with a chipper tone.

            “Ominis! You know that he’s in great hands with me.” You said with a bright grin, your tone matching the demeanor. 

            As a result, you could see Ominis’ shoulders relax. 

            “Alright, I will speak with you both later.” The Gaunt boy stated with a nod before he began to trudge down towards the common room. 

            You waited a beat before turning to Sebastian, looking up at him since he had grown a bit taller over the break between fifth and sixth year. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his familiar expression bracing his face. Sebastian did his best to try and be his old self, but with the loss of Anne a bit of him always lacked a spark that you used to remember. The boy who challenged you in Defense Against the Dark Arts had very much built a cautious air around him, but with you? He attempted extra to make sure that the two of you remained comfortable.

            In that moment, Sebastian began to tap his fingers while they remained crossed with his gaze keeping firm on you. It caused you to straighten your posture as you questioned what was crossing the Sallow boy’s mind. 

            “Why are you staring at me that way?” You asked with a nervous chuckle escaping your blush lips. 

            Sebastian grinned slightly and shook his head as he shrugged his shoulders. 

            “I was just thinking about how you and I haven’t practiced for crossed wands in the Undercroft in quite some time. We have a free afternoon… Care to join me?” He asked with a teasing grin. 

            The invite honestly surprised you. Sebastian avoided Crossed Wands for most of your sixth year. His tenacity to win seemed to scare him ever since the situation with his Uncle Solomon. His invite made you smile even brighter than before. It excited you that Sebastian was opening himself up to a hobby he used to once adore. 

            “Of course, Sebastian! I am very ready to absolutely wipe the floor with you.” You teased, shoving him playfully. 

            He feigned shock at your shove and shoved you back gently. It brought him more comfort in seeing the joy that came from your reaction. Sebastian had been tight-lipped about how he had been feeling with everything happening, but he wanted to love magic again. Magic didn’t have to be so dark. Ominis constantly reminded him of that. 

            “I would love to see you try, (Y/N).” He chuckled, but before he could continue to speak you began to rush down the hall towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, your laughter echoing through the halls like a sweet melody. 

            “Race you there!” You called back behind you, your eyes now full of delight.

            Sebastian didn’t hesitate as he began to swerve between students to attempt to catch up with you. Both of you felt your boots push roughly against the Hogwarts floors as you both playfully sabotaged each other to victory. After quite some time, you were the one to reach the Undercroft entrance, causing Sebastian to breathlessly come to a halt and shake his head. 

            “That is… unfair. You… cheated.” He told you, but you shrugged your shoulders as your own chest heaved in attempt to catch your breath. 

            “I simply am better than you!” You teased back, opening the entrance to the Undercroft as the two of you sauntered inside. 

            “Oh hush.” He quipped in return, removing his wand from the inside of his robe. “You definitely won’t win in our battle.” He teased, taking his place 10 paces from you. 

            “Is that a challenge, Sallow?” You scoffed, taking your own wand in your hands, your eyebrows raising in peaked curiosity. You were quite fond of the challenge. It was nice to have a bit of the old Sebastian fully realized in front of you, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all an act. So, you made a mental note to go a bit easy on him at first. 

            “Expelliarmus.” He stated as your wand flew from your hand. You gasped at the immediate start and Sebastian smirked sinisterly at you. “It’s very much a challenge, (L/N).” He teased, grabbing your wand and moving to hand it back to you. 

            You grabbed it in your hands quickly and the two of you resumed in your places. With a beat of silence, the room exploded in different swirls of magic surrounding the two of you. Spells were being yelled as the two of you were being flung and dragged towards one another. 

            “Accio!” Sebastian yelled as you were thrusted forward towards him, his grin prominent on his face as he picked your wand from your hand and shrugged. 

            “Guess I win, (Y/N). Not bad for a hiatus.” He stated, causing you to smile and nod in response. 

            “Not bad Sebastian, not bad.” You said as you tried to grab your wand from him, but he raised his hand above his head with a tight grip to make it a challenge for you to grab it. 

            “Uh-uh! Not so easy.” He teased which caused you to scoff. You raised your hands to try and grab your wand, but he maneuvered it around, so it was always just out of your reach. 

            You grumbled and began to hp up to try and grab it, but after your third hop you landed incorrectly and the two of you came tumbling down. The way you landed, both wands had been flung across the stone floor with small clatter sounds, and you were on top of Sebastian as he had broken your fall. The two of you burst out into laughs, but once your gazes met something… happened. You felt heat rise to your face as a blush began to make itself present ad Sebastian had the same thing happen. His ears began to turn a deep scarlet as his freckled cheeks began to be covered by the blush that was taking over his whole face. 

            You coughed to break the tension and moved to sit beside him on the stone ground. Sebastian clambered himself up using his elbows to also sit up beside you. You glanced over at him and smiled, laying your head on his shoulder. 

            “Sebastian?” You asked, your voice going from the teasing challenging tone to a much softer one.

            “Yes, (Y/N)?” He asked, his brown eyes moving to look at you on his shoulder. He was attempting to play it off, but his confidence faltered with each touch you gave him. 

            “I’m glad you did this. I’m glad you’re having fun with magic again.” You admitted, moving your head on his shoulder to meet his gaze. 

            Your faces were awfully close to one another. You could clearly smell the intoxicating scent of oak emanating from Sebastian’s robe. It was an intoxicating aroma. Sebastian’s eyes softened at your admission. He released an exhale, wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer. 

            “I couldn’t have done it without you… and Ominis.” He stated, causing a soft giggle to escape your lips. “I almost lost myself last year. I didn’t heed you or Ominis’ warnings and as a result I did something that I will live with the rest of my life.” He admitted, causing you to frown. 

            It wasn’t the greatest memory. Sebastian’s anger during that period of your friendship was concerning. His drive to save Anne had consumed him to a deadly degree. He began to grow desperate, and it was the type of desperation that drove a person mad. 

            “But you can get through it. You have your friends.” You comforted, but the word ‘friends’ caused a shocking reaction from Sebastian. 

            What you assumed would bring him comfort, brought a frown to his face. You pulled yourself from Sebastian’s grasp and glanced at him with concern. 

            “What did I say?” You asked, causing Sebastian to shake his head. 

            “Well... since we’re on the topic of confessions.” He began, his eyes darting towards the stone to avoid looking at you. 

            It caused you to worry. Did Sebastian not want to be your friend any further? Had something happened? You placed a hand on his cheek to make him look at you. 

            “Sebastian. What’s wrong? You could tell me.” You assured, his gaze meeting yours. 

            Before you could say something else, his lips crashed into yours. Your hand remained on his soft cheek, and there was no hesitation in your reciprocation. His lips were soft and tasted of a sweet honey, causing your mind to go dizzy. When he pulled away, you let out a chuckle.

            “Oh.” You said, your face turned into a bright smile. 

            “Oh? That’s all you have to say?” He exclaimed in shock. “You’re so hard to decipher, (Y/N), I just bloody kissed you.” He added. 

            “Sebastian, you’re being foolish.” You said in a kind tone. “I kissed you back, didn’t I?” You asked. 

            It took a moment, maybe even two, for Sebastian to piece together what happened; but once he understood his shoulders relaxed. He suddenly went from a look of confusion to a sheer look of glee. This caused you to grin back and kiss him once more. He paused the kiss and reached into his robe. 

            “What’s wrong?” You asked further, your body practically shaking with content. 

            “You know how I was writing you notes all day?” He asked, causing you to nod in response. “Well… this was the first one I wrote. I was too scared to pass it along.” 

            You grabbed the parchment, causing you to raise a brow as you unfolded it once. Then twice. Then a third time. Finally, Sebastian’s messy scrawl revealed itself. The words caused your smile to grow even wider (if that was even possible). 

Is it possible that I could be more in love with you?

            This caused you to bring the parchment to your chest before leaning your head on him once more. 

            “I think I’m going to love it this year.” You murmured. 

            “Yes,” He replied, his head resting on yours. “Me too.”

#Sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #Sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #Sebastian sallow x fem!reader #these two love each other lbr #hogwarts #the undercroft

[welcometomyoasis]

Seventeen with a poet s/o

Synopsis: Relationship dynamics between seventeen and their s/o who is a poet. Svt x gn! reader | fluff | 1.2k words | warnings: pet names (dove and songbird), slightly suggestive (nothing explicit, I just write that poems can be racy) | requested by anon

ᝰ.ᐟ I don’t understand but I luv you - ie, the ones who can’t always understand your poems but support you unconditionally anyway.

Seungcheol, Junhui, Soonyoung, Dokyeom 

➳ To be honest? He can’t understand every single poem that you write. The simple poems sure, but the more complex ones? He swears that it’s as if you’re writing in another language. The metaphors, the similes, the structure of the poems, the difficult words. He really will try his very hardest to understand despite your reassurances that he doesn’t need to short circuit his brain again doing so. To his disappointment in himself, it’s all too much for him. 

​​➳ Still, there is no doubt in his mind that the poem is beautifully constructed. He loves the way that the words just roll off his tongue when he reads it out loud. There’s almost a musical quality about the poems you write. He’s completely taken in by your words, as if you are a siren singing (writing) an alluring song to pull him in. He especially loves the poems you’ve specifically written about him. The words might be hard to understand, but they encapsulate all your feelings towards him. They are words written from your heart. All the love, all the experiences, all the emotions. He swoons at the thought that he is the reason why the poem exists in the first place. 

➳ Because he’s so proud of your poems, he will find ways and means of showing off your poems to others. The other seventeen members who are more likely to appreciate poetry are his frequent targets. He might even frame your poems and display them in his house so he can admire them whenever he wants. He’s also not afraid to admit that if he has a picture of the moment you are writing about, he will print both and frame them side by side. 

➳ Bonus: One day, he will surprise you with a beautifully written poem about everything he loves and appreciates about you. Sure, it’s not the most professionally written piece of poetry, but poetry is art. It comes from the heart. And through his words, you most certainly can tell just how much he loves you. 

ᝰ.ᐟ Same dream, same mind, same night - ie, the ones who understand everything you write and are more than happy to engage in discussions with you.

Wonwoo, Woozi, Minghao, Vernon, Mingyu (listen I am putting Mingyu here. He’s very smart and he writes lyrics for seventeen. I believe he is able to appreciate your poems to the fullest.)

➳ You’re kindred spirits, you and him. It’s an unspoken, but openly acknowledged fact that you are each other’s muses. You inspire each other when you are engaging in your creative endeavours. With you, it’s your poetry. With him, it could be song writing or painting. 

➳ You’re both a good match intellectually, emotionally, and mentally. You relate to one another well. You write odes to each other. In fact, it’s become a way you can communicate with each other. Whatever you find difficult expressing verbally or physically, you write down in your poems. For example, whenever you fight, you might write out your frustrations in a poem, or you both might write your fears in your work. Your poems and his work (be it art or songs or other forms of writing), they act as a secret language that only the two of you know about. 

➳ Admittedly, you both don’t necessarily share every single work you’ve done with each other. Art is personal afterall. There are aspects of it which you don’t want even your significant other to know about. But, it’s definitely become a thing where you both would sit down, over some tea (or soft drinks in Woozi’s case) to discuss what you’ve both been working on. It might be a chance for you to ask each other for some feedback, though that’s not always the case. These sharing sessions are intimate. In a way, it is like you both are probing each other’s minds, revealing the most vulnerable aspects of yourself. It’s a way for you to share your work with the person you feel the most comfortable with. Someone who you can be yourself with. Someone who will accept your work without any questions. 

➳ Bonus: Sometimes, when you both are going through your old works, you both can’t help feeling emotional. Every piece of work is a reflection of you, him, and your relationship. It signifies, reflects, and literally embodies the journey you’ve been through, who you’ve been, who you are, and who you are becoming. Simply put, your poetry and his work together, they tell your stories. 

ᝰ.ᐟ Let me hear you say - ie, the ones who will lightly tease you for being a poet but can’t get enough of your poems.

Jeonghan, Joshua, Seungkwan, Dino 

➳ Let’s just get this out of the way. He’s a tease. It’s not that he teases you your love of poetry or the fact that you write poems. Rather, he teases you because he loves to see you flustered when he (1) praises your poems (2) uses famous poetry to flirt with you. He knows you understand the poems and all the references in them, yes, even the ones with the more racy ones. 

➳ When he reads your poems, he will latch onto something if he understands what you are referring to. For example, if you refer to his hands or how his actions made you swoon, he will tease you endlessly. “You like my hands?” “Hmmm, if I repeat that action, will I manage to fluster you once more?” Obviously, he also praises your poems. He thinks it is amazing you manage to write such amazing words. He loves the way that you perk up/ preen under his words of affirmation. He always, always makes time to ask you about what poems you are working on no matter how busy he is, just so he can praise you. 

➳ He definitely will tease you using famous poetry. When he calls for you, he will recite “Y/n, y/n, where for out thou y/n”. Or when he thinks you look amazing, he will recite, “shall I compare thee to a summer’s day.” For fun, he will also make up many silly poems using the roses are red, violets are blue poems. His favourite? Roses are red, violets are blue, you love me, and I love you! (Actually? He might sing the barney song… you know, the i love you, you love me, we are one big family… that one.)

➳ Bonus: Ahem, anyway, he probably loves to call you his dove or his songbird. For some reason those pet names sound very poetic to him. Songbird is a little misleading, though he swears that he calls you that due to the way that you recite your poems to him. Others can recite your poems, but because they don’t know/ can’t fully appreciate the emotions and meanings behind the words you’ve written, it’s just not the same. When you recite your poems, it makes him feel a certain way. He feels like he’s reliving the moment that you are writing about, the emotions you felt, and it helps him empathise with you and your experiences, which only brings you both closer together. 

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee @zaggprincess2

#caratsland #k-labels #illuminated ocean.net #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen headcanons #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua hong x reader #junhui x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dokyeom x reader #minghao x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader #shu's archive ✎ᝰ.

[merakiui]

hold up chubby azul?? seducing chubby azul in da club??? ELABORATE!!!!!

You have no idea how much I love chubby Azul. He's everything to me. OTL the twins probably persuaded (dragged) him to the club because he spends so much time working. Even when he's socializing (read: networking), he's still in work mode. He deserves to relax for one night! But Azul's just not sure of this. He's never gone to a club before (at least not the type the twins are dragging him to) and for good reason (or so his self-deprecating mind thinks). He wouldn't fit in at these establishments. He doesn't look the part, and he's not at all confident enough to put himself out there. He's positive dating is an impossibility; he knows this because he's tried and failed. Who would want a fat, clumsy thing like him? He's so self-conscious and hateful of himself.

But somehow, notwithstanding his insecurities, he's allowed himself to go tonight, to get dressed up in a nice outfit and endure it solely because, deep down, he wants this experience. Sort of. His bravado is withering.

His plan is to just stick to the wall and hope no one pays him any mind. And it works, mostly. He's not interesting or attractive enough to enchant anyone. The twins linger long enough to pass him a fruity, alcoholic beverage, but then they're blending into the crowd and Azul's left all alone. It's so loud and dimly lit in here, and it smells gross and sweaty. The music isn't even that good either. He's so wrapped up in his critique of the place that he doesn't notice you at first. You've sidled up next to him, holding a half-empty drink of your own. And sevens you're so good-looking. You look like an angel.

Azul is immediately suspicious. What are you doing here? He starts to tell you that if you're looking for his friends you just missed them. But you shake your head and smile, saying you're here for him. And he tries to tamp down the nervous excitement that bubbles in his chest because there's no way you're genuinely interested in him. No one has ever been for reasons he thinks are obvious. He fidgets, turning his empty glass in his hands. This can't be real. You're probably just here to poke fun or get his hopes up and then dash them all at once.

So he chokes on the air when you tell him words he's never heard from anyone before: "I think you're very handsome. You're not seeing anyone, are you?"

This seriously can't be real. Is he dreaming? Is he going to wake up in the next minute and realize everything was in his head? This must be the cruelty that is wishful thinking. But he's still here moments later, perfectly lucid if not a little buzzed. He blinks back at you, utterly lost. You, a beauty more radiant than jewels, are interested in him? He's no one in this club. As far as anyone's concerned, he's just some ugly, loser wallflower. But then you're not anyone, are you?

He tells you he's not seeing anyone. He tries (and fails) to compliment you in return (even though no words could possibly encapsulate just how ensorcelled you've left him), his normally silver tongue tied in knots. You giggle a pretty, tinkling sort of sound and nudge him. And then you say, "Well, you are now. If you want."

And he agrees mindlessly, still so swept up in you. And you swap contact information. And he's sitting dazed and shocked on the ride back to his penthouse suite, wondering what in the deep, blue sea just happened. Again, he thinks he's dreaming. But it's to his pleasant surprise (and ensuing horror) when you text him the following morning, asking if he'd like to meet up.

Oh, this is actually happening. And it's not a dream.

#twisted chit chat #i want to give him so many hugs and kisses and tell him he's pretty every day!!!!!! orz orz orz

[stardew-shitposterino]

Stardew Valley Bachelors and how they’d react if you told them you’ve never dated anyone before

Headcanons about our baby girls :3 “Never dated” also refers to no romantic experience whatsoever. The Farmer is gender neutral, for Harvey’s it could be read as afab but I leave that up to your imagination

Content warning: mild nsfw

Sam:

-he doesn’t care because same LMFAO

-admittedly, he feels more comfortable with that piece of knowledge as he doesn’t feel as pressured to do everything right

-“wow, Farmer, really?! I wouldn’t have guessed, but me neither! B-but don’t worry, we will handle this together. This will be so much fun!”

-he’s excited to explore this new chapter of your life together…with lots of kissies

-can’t believe he is the first person to call you his’ and feels extremely flattered by it. He won’t shut up about it when he’s with Abi and Seb

-the smexy time with him will be a blast though. He’s maybe not the most skilled lover, but his enthusiasm makes up for all of it. He helps you relax and take it light. Be prepared for lots of praise and absent-minded filth coming from his mouth

Sebastian:

-homeboy really doesn’t give a shit tbh, he doesn’t even give you a big reaction

-we both know he hasn’t dated before either, but it’s nothing of his concern either

-“…ok, that’s cool…(?)” *proceeds playing games on his console”

-though you don’t have any reference points, he’s still trying to be the best boyfriend he can be for you because you deserve it (he won’t say that though)

-what can I say, he’s pretty indifferent 🤷🏼‍♀️

-about intimate business though…he has no clue what to do and wished at least you knew, but you both make it work. The first time is a bit too gentle, but that will change once you get the hang of it. It’s nerve-wrecking to him but he’s also excited to learn all these new things with you and make you feel good

Harvey:

-Harvey wouldn’t mind either way, he knows you’re an adult and that you can choose to live your life however you want to with whoever

-buuuut, unlike with the others, it makes him even more anxious that he is your first partner and wants to make everything right.

-“I’m not the most exciting guy, but I’ll try my best to make this relationship perfect for you, because you deserve nothing but the best.”

-His last relationship was years ago, so this feels new to him as well. He takes things slow with you, especially since he’s very shy and needs to ease into things as well. Everything being new to you makes him feel young again

-feels guilty for going further with you too as he doesn’t want to mess things up. He knows how painful and uncomfortable it can be and wants you to remember it fondly, peppering you with lots of kisses, soft touches, hand holding and prep work

-overall, he’s the best first boyfriend you could ever wish for. He’s caring, polite and cute :3

Elliott:

-ma man, ma boy, he has waited for this moment

-Elliott is a notorious romantic, of course he will take this opportunity to make your time with him the most special experience of your entire life

-“It will be a pleasure to show you the world through rose-coloured glasses, my love. *kisses your hand all so gently*. So you won’t ever forget that you are the light of my life, that you are loved.”

-not that he wouldn’t wanna do that if you had dated anyone before, but he goes along with things differently depending on your experience

-if you’re new to this, he will take it slow. The last he wants is to push you to do things you’re not comfortable with

-he’s a very romantic man, but that also encapsulates that he’s a very sexual man ( not in a creepy perv way of course, just very passionate about the whole gist of being intimate). But he waits with that for a LOOOONG time before he plans a romantic bedroom date with a hot bath, rose petals and body oils if he knows it’s your first relationship

-a lot of rom-com-esque adventures await you with this fine gentleman, and the build up to the big night will be worth the patience ;)

Shane:

-Quite frankly? He’s flustered the house lol

-I’m talking big rosy blush across his face and big eyes

-like, you chose HIM to be your first? Really?!

-he always thought highly of you, but now he has to reconsider how smart you could possibly be when you want him to be your first relationship

-“Uh, wow…a-and you’re sure you want to make this experience with me ?! Of all people?!”

-He has had many meaningless hookups in the past, but relationships….oof they weren’t that deep, and he never cared about any of them like he cares about you.

-He tries his best. He’s not an anxious mess like Harv, but he still watches how he behaves around you because he doesn’t want to break your spirit regarding relationships…he doesn’t want you to feel the way he has felt about love and trust

-though he had some hookups, it’s been A WHILE K, so he has major anxiety around your first time together. As much as he’d love to devour you, his anxiety makes him avoid it for the longest time. He wants nothing but the best for you, and he still doesn’t think highly of himself, not to mention his chub. But at some point, he is able to let his guard down as he knows you wouldn’t judge him for something like that ever.

Alex:

-ALEX, my precious…well yeah he is stoked ngl LOL

-he is a whole jock jerk but that’s all a facade, so this piece of information makes him a little less anxious but the more excited to give it his all to make this a one-of-a-kind experience to you

-“wait, REALLY?! That’s aweso- I mean, that’s interesting. I can consider myself a lucky guy to be your first boyfriend. You won’t ever regret it, I promise 😉” *dies on the inside and wants nothing but to scream in excitement*

-BUT it also boosts his ego through the roof. He can’t believe he is the guy that made you want to go the next step, especially as no one else made you want to have a relationship before him

-He’s nothing but a good old-fashioned lover boy. Man grew up with his grandparents, one of them being Evelyn (my precious granny), so he has some manners and knows how to treat a lady (if you’re not a lady, he will treat you like one regardless because that’s all he knows lol)

-I’m sorry but…man’s horny, and though he wants to take things slow for your sake, he will take the first opportunity to take you to bed with him let’s b real. He will be gentle with you and tries his best to make it “first time friendly”, but it is very hard for him as he has dreamed about this since the first time you’ve met.

#stardew valley #sdv shane #sdv #sdv bachelors #shane stardew valley #stardew valley shane #stardew shane #shane sdv #sdv harvey #sebastian sdv #stardew sebastian #sam sdv #sdv sam #stardew sam #sdv Alex #Stardew Alex #Stardew Elliott #sdv Elliott #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Bubbles and foam

Summary: Reader is the youngest of the six mermaid princess that presided the Great Sea. As the reader goes above water on her birthday, a certain prince catches her eyes and now she seeks an immortal soul. However, unknown tragedy befalls on the young mermaid.

Warning: angst. mentions of death.

Word Count: 3,984

A/N: This is based on Hans Andersen’s version. Had to tweak some details to make it more appropriate lol. I’ve been so sad lately I don’t feel like writing smut for a while.

Grandmama was always there for you and your five sisters. Grandmama says that when a mermaid reaches the age of 18, she would be able to swim up to the surface and explore.

“When you have reached your eighteenth year,” said grandmama, “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns.”

You’ve watched your sisters do it. One by one they’d go up and come back down to tell their experience.

“I saw a ship! It was big and all I could hear was the humans talk!” One of your sisters said.

The Sea King loved his daughters so much that he gave them each individually a garden. Ever since your sisters went up ashore, they’d collect human objects and store them in their gardens.

But you? You didn’t.

Your sea garden was adorned with flowers. All varieties of what the ocean could provide. But right at the center of your garden, stood a statue of a boy.

The white porcelain glowing under the sea’s light, showcasing the broad shoulders, a sharp square jaw as his eyes looked straight ahead. The statue was beautiful.

When your 18th birthday came up, you were granted permission to go up the surface and see the world beyond the sea for yourself. It was winter time and the sea was green. Icebergs floating around as ships passed by.

“Well, now, you are grown up,” said Grandmama, “so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters.”

Grandmama adorned your hair with white lilies and eight oysters to your tail.

“But they hurt me so,” you said as you felt the pinch of the oysters close in on your scales.

“Pride must suffer pain,” she replied as she swam back to get a good look at you. The oysters added royalty to your rank as princess. The white lilies made your hair stand out as they were as big as pearls.

“Farewell,” she said before letting you swim away.

As you swam up to the surface, you instantly felt the emptiness of what is called air. Sun had just set as your head made it out of the surface. Your hair stuck to your skin as your eyes marveled the sky. The gold and orange colors of the clouds being quite the sight as the waters were calm at this time. But, at the corner of your eye, you spotted a ship.

At first, you didn’t believe your sisters. Ships could float? You’d wonder. They always ended up shipwrecked at the bottom and you were sure that maybe humans were odd.

But to your surprise, your sisters were all right. The ship was giant and you could hear make voices scream and shout at they partied. The boat was decorated with royal artifacts, gold embedded on the railing of the ship and other shiny items you weren’t sure what they were.

You swam close to the ship and through a small peephole, you noticed a young prince. It was the statue in your garden!

Your eyes widened and you instantly felt your heart beat faster. Hands gripping tightly around the hardened wood-boards as you fell in love. His blonde hair swaying with the wind as it had become nighttime. His icy blue eyes in small a crescent as he smiled and laughed with his crew. His smile, the pearly white teeth shinning bright as diamonds. He was magnificent. You couldn’t help but admire the young prince.

But soon, the waves of the ocean began to run rampant against the sides of the ship. Slowly rocking it side to side as a storm was approaching. Darks clouds encapsulated what was once a beautiful and bright night. Flashes of white resonated against the sky as sounds of thunder could be heard.

You saw as the sailors ran to their posts around the deck, trying their best to keep the boat from tilting and rolling over. The prince showed up and helped around as best as he could.

However hard they tried to keep the ship from topping over, the ship began to sink as the rain poured down. Thunder crashing against one of the flags, igniting it on fire. The boat rocked mercilessly and soon all sailors fell into the ocean.

You were delighted when you say the prince fall into the ocean, thinking he’d finally join you. But to your dismay, you remembered he was human and he couldn’t live under water with you.

And so you jumped back into the ocean and swam towards where his body was sinking.

His eyes were closed as his body slowly sank lower and lower until your hands wrapped around his torso and you began to pull him up. You swam your hardest as you pulled the prince up shore, into a temple.

Morning came soon as you remained by the prince’s side on the shore. Your lips softly planted a kiss on his forehead as you brushed his wet blonde hair back, admiring his beauty as he was still unconscious.

“He’s so… beautiful,” you whispered to yourself.

Church bells rang and you quickly swam back into the ocean, hiding behind a rock as you stayed to watch over the prince. Upon hearing the voice of a girl, your curiosity got piqued and you saw that a group of women panicked and quickly aided the prince.

The prince woke up and smiled at the girls, not knowing that you were the one who saved him. This made you unhappy.

You watched as the girls brought the prince inside the church and you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. You sorrowfully swam back into the ocean, wishing the prince had seen you and acknowledged your effort.

Your sisters asked you what you saw but you kept your mouth shut. Days passed and you’d swim back to the shore where you left the prince, hoping to see him once more.

Your garden outgrew since that day after you’ve stopped attending to it, relenting in your own sorrow as you kept coming back to the marble statue. Flinging your arms around him as you pretended it was the prince’s warm skin.

The pain was too much that you told one of your sisters but of course, she’d told the other sisters about your fancy.

However, one princess had a friend who had seen the prince’s palace. And so your sister took you up to the surface and showed where his castle stood.

You’d watch the prince as you sat on a rock in the ocean ever since she showed you his castle. You’d watch him through the windows as he went about his day.

But he just didn’t know about you. About how you had saved his life. About how you had kissed him.

Your curiosity for humans only increased the longer you sat by the rocks on the shore and observed the prince and the sailors. You wanted to know more about them and what they do. You wanted to be able to experience so many things. But could you?

“If human beings are not drowned,” you asked grandmama, “can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?”

“Yes,” replied grandmama, “they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see.”

“Why have not we an immortal soul? I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars,” you asked.

“You must not think of that,” she replied, “we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings.”

“So I shall die,” you said, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No,” said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”

Looking down at your tail, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was a waste. An end to things. You didn’t want to stop loving him but could you even do so in the first place?

There a ball going on the palace but you found yourself away from the party and in your garden, admiring the statue of the prince you so wish you could love.

But- not all was lost.

“He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father’s palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help.”

The sea witch was one of the most powerful sea beings known to the ocean floor. Living through neighborhoods of whirlpools and populated seaweeds, you finally had made your way to the witch’s house. Made of bones of the remnants of shipwrecks.

“I know what you want,” said the sea witch; “it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish’s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul.”

She said as she felt you walk into her home.

“You are but just in time,” said the witch; “for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.”

“Yes, I will.”

“But think again,” said the witch, “for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father’s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”

“I will do it.”

“But I must be paid also,” said the witch, “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“But if you take away my voice,” you asked the sea witch, “what is left for me?”

“Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man’s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught.”

“It shall be.”

The sea witch concocted the potion and with a switch motion, she cut your tongue and dropped it in her fiery cauldron. She mixed until she had poured the potion into the bottle.

However, she had warned you about the dangers that would come from swimming up to the surface with your new body. The pain and pressure of it all.

You took the draught and with speed, swam up to the surface and drank the potion. It felt as if you had been stabbed. You felt your tail openly split into two but the pain became so unbearable that you had fallen unconscious on the shore.

As you woke up when the sun shined down on you, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your body. You looked down and saw that you had legs!

The sea witch wasn’t kidding!

Before you, stood the prince. His blonde hair swaying from the wind as his blue eyes stared down at you. He offered his hand to help you up and you gladly took it.

“Who are you and where do you come from,” he asked

But not being able to talk let you to keep those questions unanswered.

The prince didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he had helped you up by wrapped an arm around your waist and taking you back to his castle where the servants dressed you in silk robes.

One particular day, you decided to try and capture the prince’s heart. There was performance happening in the court, people were singing and dancing as the prince watched it all along with the king and queen.

But then you raised your hand and volunteered to be the next person to perform. The music played as your feet dragged along the floor gracefully. Your dance movements capturing the prince’s attention, he became enchanted with you.

And ever since, the prince has granted you permission to stay with him. You’d go on adventures together through the woods and mountains. He was growing fond of you and took you wherever he wanted.

But even so, your feet hurt. It felt as if you’ve been stepping on glass shards or blades all the time. It was painful but you bared with it.

One night, after the palace had gone to bed, you went to shore to meet your sisters who were all sad that you had chosen to become human and never see them again. But that didn’t stop them from visiting you every night.

You fell more in love with the prince.

But he didn’t love you enough to make you his wife.

“You are dear to me,” said the prince; “for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part.”

It was cruel. He didn’t love you like you loved him but he still wanted you around.

Days passed and his parents had told him he needed to marry for the sake of a political alliance between their kingdom and another.

I must travel,” he had said to you; “I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes.”

He then brought his lips to your lips and kissed you softly.

The town was beautiful. A kingdom that you had never seen before. As the king entered the parlance to see the king, you followed behind and marveled at the foreign castle.

The king and the prince patiently waited for the princess to arrive, many have said that the princess had been raised and educated in a church.

And then she arrived.

She had short black hair and pale skin, her eyes so beautiful and her lips rosy as she walked towards the king. The prince was shocked at seeing the girl who had saved him.

It was you,” said the prince, “who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach,”

He ran up to her and hugged up with all his might. His soon to be bride…

Your heart broke. He was to be married tomorrow morning which meant that you’d die. You had failed to capture the prince’s heart but did you even have a chance at all?

It was the morning of the wedding and the altar had been decorated. All the guests sat as they waited for the bride and groom to enter. What was supposed to be a joyous day became your last day.

You didn’t listen to the festive music nor did you pay attention to anyone talking. Because all you could focus on was him.

You mustered up the courage to dance along the crew even though your feet hurt. But it was nothing compared to the pain in your heart.

This evening was going to be the last and you wanted to spend it all with the prince.

To the one you had sacrificed yourself for.

The prince kissed his bride so dearly and both of them scurried off to sleep on the same tent. Leaving you alone with the silence of the night.

You neared the edge of the railing, waiting for the sun to rise. The first ray of sunlight would be your sign of death. However, you saw your sisters climb up the water and speak to you.

“We have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish’s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die.”

You held the knife in your hands and glance at the tent where the prince and his bride slept in. Upon opening the curtains, you couldn’t do it.

So, you leaned down to kiss the prince’s forehead as he muttered the name of his bride in his sleep.

It would be cruel to take this man away from his love and you weren’t cruel.

You threw the knife at the sea before throwing yourself off as well. Your body turned into foam on the surface of water.

Your spirit floats up into the air and you are being joined by the spirits of other mermaids and the daughters of the air. Your feet hurt no more as you felt yourself become freed from the pain of both your legs and heart.

“Where am I?” You asked

“Among the daughters of the air,” answered one of them. “A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.”

The prince and his bride began to look for you but upon seeing the foam on the ocean, they knew you had thrown yourself into your demise, saddened by your death and disappearance. Kissing them goodbye, tears collected in your eyes as you felt the warm embrace of the sun. Sealing your death.

“After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven,” said she. “And we may even get there sooner,” whispered one of her companions. “Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child, who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial!”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #re leon #resident evil leon #leon #leon kennedy angst #re4 leon #re4r leon #long reads

[imagine-darksiders]

On the Ropes

Chapter 25 - Uninvited Guests

Montgomery Gator X F!Reader

WARNING:

-Noncon touching, inappropriate behaviour, abuse of authority, implied s/a, self-doubt, mild threat

Summary: Tempers flare, emotions are high and boundaries are tested. You worry, but Monty worries more. He just isn't as good as expressing it as you are.

Sorry this one took so long. A few months ago, my parents made me a partner in their company with a view to take over the whole damn thing when they retire, and I've had to learn how to run a business without a lick of experience in the field, so that's been taking up a lot of my life lately. I'm still finding time to write, but it is harder.

Still! I hope a nice, long, juicy chapter full of angst and fluff and hurt/comfort makes up for the hiatus. Love to the brim. X

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As ideas go, Monty concludes that his latest might have been best left on the backburner, never to see the light of day. He hardly dares move, locked in place by his own mechanical parts as he stares down at you on the sofa, and you in turn, gawk up at him, your eyes still wet and shining with tears.

And for all his artificial intelligence, for all the state-of-the-art programming slapped into his circuitry, the most eloquent response he can conjure up in the face of his own blunder is a weak, faltering, “Uh…”

But what else could best encapsulate the jarring realisation that he’s been caught? He hadn’t really fathomed being caught at all, hadn’t even considered what he might do if he was caught.

Well, too little too late now, he supposes. There’s no way he can simply duck back through your open window and feign ignorance when you inevitably return to the Plex to confront him…

…. Could he…?

… No, no. Definitely not.

Closely observing your expression, the gator’s proverbial stomach sinks as your face begins to lose all aspects of shock and instead turns towards something more closely akin to anger, unpleasant in its familiarity, and Monty realises he’s running out of time to come up with a believable excuse to explain away his presence here, as if a 'good' excuse even exists.

Brows scrunching together, your jaw creaks shut, teeth meeting with an audible ‘click,’ that pulls an involuntary flinch from the gator’s tail.

He can handle Mick being angry with him. He can handle Andy and that exec, the staff and guests and all of their cross words and scathing looks.

Yet for some reason that he dare not examine, the very notion of you pointing your wrath at him fills Monty with a dread so palpable, he’d swear the coolant in his hydraulics freezes solid. The irony of the revelation doesn’t escape him. Until now, he’s spent so long being angry at everyone around him without sparing much thought as to how it must feel to be on the receiving end.

Beyond the threatening wave of apprehension cresting over him, he can still hear the sizzle of water against a hot stove-top somewhere nearby – the very culprit that had landed you on the floor, and him here in the first place - and in his eagerness to set things right again, Monty latches onto the one task he’s at least semi-certain he can’t mess up.

He doesn’t break eye-contact with you, not until he’s edged his way into the little kitchenette and finally tears his gaze from yours to spin around to the stove, knocking his tail against the fridge with a jarring clang of metal. He winces at the force, hoping he hasn’t dented it.

Grimacing at the knobs and dials sitting innocently on the cooker, he elects not to tackle them, instead reaching out to engulf the saucepan’s entire handle in a single fist where he simply lifts the whole contraption off the stove.

At once, the water boiling within its metal confines eases to a manageable simmer.

“Monty…” When his name leaves your lips this time, it’s deeper, colder, with the barest tremble flecked into your voice. “You… you can’t be here…”

The gator has enough sense not to bark out a nervous laugh at the century’s greatest understatement.

Clenching his fingers around the handle, he carefully plops the saucepan down near the back of the stove, away from the burning, red ring of heat. Excess water still dribbles in tiny rivulets down the side of the counter, but he turns his processor away from the mess by physically twisting himself around in the cramped space until he’s facing you once more, clutching his hands up to his yellow chest plate.

“You can’t be here,” you reiterate thinly, your eyes blown wide and pupils small and dark like pinprick holes, locked in his direction.

Then, with the suddenness of a bullet firing from a gun, you explode into motion.

Lurching over at the waist, you swipe your discarded crutch from the floor and begin shoving yourself gracelessly from the sofa with such fervour, Monty is momentarily struck by the ludicrous idea that you might be on your way to attack him.

“Of all the-! the stupid-!” you sputter, slamming the crutch’s rubber foot into your carpet and heaving yourself upright, wobbling across the room on an unsteady leg, “Dangerous! Irresponsible-!”

You continue hurling out adjectives and lumbering forwards, and Monty – suddenly alarmed that you’re about to topple face-first into the carpet again – kicks himself into gear. His pistons carry him across the room in a few, loping strides where he meets you at the edge of the kitchen linoleum, mindlessly throwing both of his enormous palms around your waist to steady you.

Almost at once, you latch onto him roughly, your fingertips squeaking against plastic as they attempt to gather purchase around a too-thick wrist.

“Monty!” The acrid taste of panic steadily trickles down the back of your throat. “Monty, this isn’t funny! I’m not kidding! This isn’t funny, you cannot be here!”

But Monty isn’t laughing. And although you sound borderline hysterical, there isn’t a trace of humour in your expression either. Maybe you hope it's a practical joke, or that you're seeing things. Anything except for the gargantuan reality peering down at you from behind star-shaped sunglasses. 

“I know,” is all the gator can muster up as a reply. Because he does know. He can’t be here.

And yet, he is.

“Then what-” you snap, “-the fuck are you doing here!?” It’s the first time you’ve really raised your voice at him, and there’s a sharpness to it that tucks the animatronic’s snout down towards his chest, rendered contrite in the face of your reprimand. Something deep in his subroutine starts to hum, discontented. Perhaps it’s the fact that the shoe is on the other foot now, and this time, he’s the one on the receiving end of someone else’s anger.

Another tear spills over to clump your eyelashes together.

Whirring loudly behind his glasses, Monty’s optics track its path over the swell of your cheek, and again, he creaks his jaw open, hoping something more substantial than his previous answer will miraculously come to him. As it is, he merely utters a soft, “I… don’t know.”

Evidently however, that had been the wrong thing to say.

For several seconds, your mouth flaps open and closed in disbelief before your face screws up into a tight ball of incredulousness and you manage to shrilly proclaim, “What do you mean you don’t know!?”

You snatch your hand away from his wrist to rake trembling fingers through your hair, digging into your scalp with the tips of blunted nails. “Oh god, oh god… This is bad, this is bad! You’re…”

Trailing off, you lean away from the animatronic, shoving a palm against his solid chest and giving your head a harsh shake, as if you might somehow throw the whole situation from your mind. Even as you pull away, his hands retain their firm point of contact on your sides.

After a beat of silence, you go still once more, blinking up at the gator and confirming that, no, you aren’t imagining the hulking, green goliath towering over you, looking far too large to occupy the space between your ceiling and floor. “Monty, for god’s sake,” you say through gritted teeth, “You’re in my flat!”

“I.. I know this looks bad-” he tries, removing a hand from your waist, palm tipped towards you in a placating gesture, “But, it’s okay-“

“- In what universe is this okay!?” you fret, batting at the massive paw that stretches towards you, “Monty! You’re outside the Plex! If you’re caught, they’ll-! Christ! You could be decommissioned! Is that what you want?!”

“I wanted to make sure you got home,” he emphasises.

“You can’t do that though!” you almost wail at him, shaking your fists beseechingly as if to beg him to comprehend your desperation, “You understand why you can’t do that, right?!”

“I was just-!” There’s a sudden buzz of static as he cuts off his own voice box, rendering the end of his sentence effectively unspoken.

But he ought to have known you aren’t about to let him get away with silence, not when you’re so clearly distraught and prying for answers.

“What, Monty?!” you exclaim, pinning him with your glare like a butterfly to a corkboard, “You were just what?!”

The gator’s jaw works mechanically, grinding the gears on their pivots as he clenches and unclenches it. He’s unwilling to give up the vulnerable words that have lodged themselves in his voice box, words that seem far too soft coming from the mouth of an animatronic with an unmalleable frame.

The only sound to break the silence is the steady ‘drip,’ ‘drip,’ ‘drip,’ of your leaky faucet.

“Montgomery,” you snap when his silence starts to overstay its welcome.

And the gator, despite his best efforts, flinches.

Plastic eyebrows slot together with an audible ‘clack’ as Monty lowers his optics to the carpet at your feet…

You’ve fallen back on his show title.

It’s a… rather decisive step away from the nickname he asked you to call him. The chasm that stood between you and the gator was wide when you set foot his green room not so long ago, yet in spite of first impressions, that gap has slowly been closing up over the last few days.

But now? Calling him ‘Montgomery,’ and in so terse a tone feels too much like the rift has just inched a few notches wider again.

Perhaps it’s that solemn, borderline desperate urge to regain what precious ground he’s lost that drives him to finally lift his gaze from the carpet and aim it somewhere near your glistening eyes instead.

“Just… tryin’a do what you did for me…” he utters.

Your face immediately untwists, brows launching up your forehead as everything about you opens up in clear surprise.

Whatever excuse you’d been imagining, he hadn’t provided it.

“What?” The question squeezes out of your throat, rasping and tight.

Hiking up the volume in his voice box, Monty retorts, “You came to make sure I was okay at the Plex. I-I’m just… doin’ the same thing!”

Sputtering around half-formed words for a several seconds, you finally manage to exclaim, “There is an astronomical difference between a human going to their place of work, and an animatronic up and leaving the place they were built, Montgomery, you can’t even try to pretend there isn’t!”

You’re well aware that comparing your autonomy to his own is a little below the belt, but the truth, whilst certainly ugly, is still the truth.

“Andy can tear me a new one for not going home after surgery,” you continue frantically, “But that’s nothing compared to what Faz Co. will do to you if they find out you’ve gone awol! And that’s not even the half of it! I mean - What if you run out of charge!? Or – or!”

As you steadily approach the line between distraught and thoroughly panicked, your voice begins to rise, cracking at the apex of your sentence, hypotheticals darting relentlessly through your head.

“What if someone saw you!? How did you even get here! Oh, fuck, Management’ll scrap you for spare parts, or - Damnit, Monty!” you blurt, ducking your head to try and meet his downcast optics, “Are you evening listening to me!?”

He is listening, as a matter of fact, quite intently. Though his visual feed may not be focused on you, the gator is hanging on your every word. But it isn’t the realisation he could be decommissioned that’s caught his attention. He already knows that the outcomes you’ve just listed are very real possibilities, should his little escapade ever be discovered.

No, instead, it’s the clear and undeniable fear laid thickly in your voice that grinds his processor to a halt. It sits on your tongue like a glaze, shining brightly for him to pick up on, and wonder how he missed it in the first place.

This isn’t anger.

This is something else dressed up to look like anger, and the tragedy is, it’s a disguise he knows all-too well, so well, in fact, that he should have recognised you’d donned it the moment you opened your mouth to speak.

You’re afraid.

If animatronics were built to house spirits, Monty’s would be tentatively lifting their heads. However, the revelation that perhaps he hasn’t driven off his best and only friend is cut woefully short when all of a sudden, his audio receptors give a ping, alerting him to new input approaching from a nearby source.

Without warning, the gator’s head snaps towards the door of your flat, mechanical clicks filling the unexpected silence as his optics adjust to the change in distance.

Footsteps… heavy and unhurried, slowing as they draw nearer to your door…

“Monty?” you hiss, distractedly following the line drawn by his glare, “Don’t try and-“

‘Knock.’

‘Knock.’

‘Knock.’

Three deliberate raps on your front door cause any further arguments to shrivel up and die at the back of your throat. You stop breathing altogether, and every noise suddenly seems too loud in the ensuing silence.

‘Who the Hell-?’ you wonder, dumbfounded, ‘-It’s the middle of the night!?’

No sooner has the thought occurred to you than a finger of ice-cold dread drags a chilly path up the notches on your spine, right to the fine hairs prickling at the nape of your neck.

Like a jackhammer, your heart rams itself up against your sternum over and over again.

‘He couldn’t have… Shit. Could he? But... How?’

“Y/n?”

You’re too slow to clamp your mouth shut around a gasp when you hear the voice, muffled but undeniably masculine, calling out from the other side of the door. Monty’s silicone lips ripple apart, though he at least has the forethought not to push an audible growl through his speakers.

The voice, however, doesn’t sound as though it belongs to the… the person you thought it might have belonged to.

You can’t place it straight away. You’re only sure that you know it from somewhere, but with several centimetres of wood standing between you and it, details are distorted and difficult to pinpoint.

Another knock startles you again, even more-so when it’s followed by, “Are you in there?”

A pregnant pause stretches until your teeth start to ache from keeping them pressed together so firmly.

And then, the words you thought you’d never have to hear again filter through the cracks beneath the door. “I thought I heard shouting.”

There’s an instinct that rises from buried depths at the utterance, instincts you thought you’d put to bed long ago.

It's as though someone has lit a fire under your feet. Mechanically, you twist around towards the sofa, your eyes locking onto the remote controls sitting on its arm rest. Limping up to them with stilted, frenetic movements, you snatch them up and aim them at the television, jamming your thumb into the ‘on’ button with far more force than necessary. Plastic creaks beneath your fingertips.

Seconds later, the screen flickers to life, landing on a film you don’t bother to try and recognise. Hiking up the volume until the tinny sound kicks out of the speakers and fills your meagre living space, you toss the remote back onto the sofa cushions and make your way arduously to the door.

Yet another knock indicates that your late-night visitor is persistent, you’ll give him that.

Several steps from the entrance, your progress is stopped by a sudden wall of green stepping in front of you, blocking your path forward.

“Move,” you rasp through gritted teeth, too quiet to be heard over the television as you smack at the gator’s tail that’s trying to curl around your thighs.

Monty’s head swivels around to frown at you. The purple casings surrounding his optics slide half-closed to give you the impression of a beseeching look.

You wonder if he knows who’s at the door.

“Hello? Y/n?” the stranger calls again.

“I - just a second,” you blurt out, ignoring Monty’s grimace as you bully your way past him, using your crutch to keep him from stepping around you lest he risk tripping you over, “Sorry, I’m... still getting the hang of these crutches.”

You have half a mind to demand to know who the Hell would have the unmitigated audacity to come around and knock on your door at this time of night.

Behind you, Monty’s claws try to hook into the back of your shirt, but the fear of accidentally tearing anything you own keeps him from holding on with any real purpose. As such, it’s only too easy to slip out of his grasp and press your eye up to the peep hole, the blood in your ears rushing to a watery crescendo.

A distorted yet familiar face peers back at you through the glass, sweat glistening off a ruddy forehead that shines under the overhead lights.

“Mick!?” you burst out.

What in the name of God...

Whirling around to face Monty, you throw an arm out, gesturing wildly towards your bedroom door.

The gator’s jaws are clenched tightly enough that you suspect if you were to toss a lump of coal between his teeth, he’d spit out a diamond, and while his tail twitches back and forth in clear agitation, he doesn’t otherwise move.

“Ah, you are there,” your not-so-mysterious visitor exclaims, “Mind opening the door?”

Yes, you mind! You mind very much! What is he doing here!?

Unless…

Your head turns slowly over a shoulder to gape unblinkingly at the animatronic looming close behind you. Your eyes find his, your stomach clenches…

“Hello?”

“Uh, just… hang on a second!” you stall, fumbling and fiddling with the metal latch, pretending to fight with it whilst you cast another, desperate look back at the gator. “Damn lock is always getting stuck.”

The moment his optics catch your eye again, you mouth, ‘Please’, jerking your chin at your bedroom door, ‘Please. Hide.’

Ever so slowly, Monty blinks, taking in the harsh lines that cut crevices down the centre of your forehead, right between your furrowed brows. And just like that, the corners of his snarl start to fall, and the apertures of his pupils expand to hide blazing, crimson LEDs.

A thousand calculations run through his processor at once, all of them pertaining to the risk of leaving you to face Mick by yourself. His programming shrieks in defiance as he takes a reluctant step backwards, being light as he can on cumbersome actuators.

He should stay… Neither of you know why Mick is here, though he can hazard several guesses.

You’re afraid, you’re vulnerable… You need him.

But probability reminds him that perhaps the situation isn’t so dire. He's sure he hadn’t been spotted on his way here, and if he was, why would Faz Co. send Mick – of all humans - out for retrieval?

What if the man's being here is merely down to chance?

If that's the case, then should he catch you with one of the Glamrocks in your home, the repercussions will be far worse than whatever Monty fears could happen by leaving you to deal with the situation alone…

So, driven back by the urgent glimmer of tears shining over your sclera, Montgomery Gator begrudgingly makes a decision that goes against his very programming. He retreats from the room, slinking backwards as silently as a two-tonne bot can through the door and into what he can only assume must be your personal recharging station.

All the while, you watch him over the threshold, waiting until the gator’s hefty bulk disappears into the darkness of the room beyond. Even still, you wait for him to push your door shut with an undetectable 'thud' before you finally wrench the lock on your own door free and tug the whole thing open, remembering to plaster a tentative smile on your face just in the nick of time.

“Mr Matthews,” you grind out sweetly, praying that the television in the background covers your stumbling addition of, “What a… a nice surprise!”

The man on the other side of the door straightens his posture at once. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s keeping one arm behind his back as he too slaps a grin on his face, though you imagine his is slightly more authentic than your own.

“Y/n, my dear,” he returns, revealing his hidden appendage and, to your surprise – and confusion - producing a fistful of limp, strikingly dark dahlias, the kind you might pull off the bargain shelf at your nearby petrol station.

 “I wasn’t sure you’d be awake,” Mick continues, edging towards you until the toe of his winter boot pokes over the threshold, “But I was in the area and thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing.”

With the flowers practically shoved under your nose, you try to surreptitiously lean backwards, putting your weight on the crutch as you reply, “O-oh, that’s, ah, very kind of you…”

Can he hear your pulse thundering? Oh god, can he see the dilation of your pupils? Does he know who you have hidden in your bedroom? He must… He has to. Why else would he be here?

Almost running on autopilot now, you continue, “You didn’t need to come all this way though. Um…” Trailing off to bite at the inside of your cheek, you hedge, “I didn’t realise you knew where to find me.”

To anyone with even a modicum of self-awareness, the statement is poised as a direct question, in expectation of an answer. ‘How did you know where I live?’ is being broadcast from every facet of your voice and expression.

But Mick, clueless or perhaps deliberately obtuse, merely lowers the flowers an inch and replies, “Oh, you’ve mentioned it to me a few times now.”

… Have you? It’s… entirely possible, you suppose. After all, you talk about a lot of things at work, and subsequently, you forget about a lot of things too. But who would remember all the small talk you make with co-workers, or the unimportant comments you toss out while you’re responding to ‘check-ups’ from management?

Your home address however… It took you a long time to even tell Andy where it was, in case of emergencies… You can’t imagine it’s something you let slip without noticing.

But… Mick is here…

So how else?

Shoving down the frustration at yourself for being careless, you clear your throat and nod at the flowers. “And, can I presume those are for…“

Mick jumps, staring down at the dahlias clutched in his fist as if he’s only just remembered they’re there. “Oh, yes of course they’re for you!” he proclaims, “Of course, of course. Only courteous to give flowers to people in need of healing, no?”

You blink at him mutely, pretending not to notice the excess oil he’s slicked into his hair tonight.

Is that why he’s here? To bring you flowers? Is that all?

Part of you wants to slump with relief. Another part however, older, wiser and sadder, remains cautious.

“Well, again, that’s really kind of you,” you tell him, reaching out to take the flowers from his hand. The stems seem to breathe elated sighs as he relinquishes his iron-clad grip. “I’ll have to find a vase for these…”

You’re not sure you even own a vase…

“Naturally,” he replies, peering over your shoulder to quirk a brow at the television blaring behind you, “Ah. Movie night?”

“Hmm?” Following his gaze, you rush out, “Oh yeah, I figured… since I’m off tomorrow and the foreseeable future, a little late night wouldn’t kill me…”

Would it be rude to ask your senior why he’s bringing you flowers at this time of night? Maybe you can tell him you were just about to turn off the TV and go to bed?

As you deliberate how best to tell the man on your doorstep to make himself scarce, he surprises you by abruptly asking, “May I come in?”

‘No!’ your own voice screams at you from inside your head, ‘Just say no!’

“I’m not sure that’s-“ you begin tactfully, but Mick is already bustling forwards, crowding you until you take a slight step to one side. After that, well… You’ve given him an inch, he’ll take a mile, as it were.

Once he has a literal foot in the door, Mick sweeps past you, moving breezily into your living area and roving his gaze all over the room, hands planted on his hips. “Goodness,” he remarks, cocking his head at your bare walls and sparse décor, “You don’t get much on a cleaner’s salary, do you? You haven’t put that… ahem, bonus to good use yet?”

You want to bristle like a cat that’s been kicked.

Mick’s jab is unmistakable, but his awareness of his own civility is not.

Swallowing back a retort, you simply murmur, “Hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I’ll go and put these in some water.” Truthfully, you’re still reeling from the fact he’d just invited himself inside.

Hobbling towards the sink, you delicately lay the flowers in the washing-up bowl and turn on the tap. An angry ring of red light catches the edge of your vision, and you glance over at the stove-top, clicking your tongue as you reach over and turn the cooker’s dial to the ‘off’ position.

Teeth find the inside of your cheek and bite down on the fleshy wall, worrying at it while you wait for the bowl to cover half of the flowers’ stems.

‘Monty knows better than to give himself away,’ you assure yourself, trying to pretend you can’t feel those eyes prickling at the back of your neck, ‘And it’s getting late. Mick’ll want to get home soon. This isn’t anything other than a concerned manager delivering well-wishes to a member of the staff.’

‘There’s a guest in the house,’ a voice that isn’t entirely your own pops up, unbidden, ‘Offer him a drink.’

“Can I get you anything?” you blurt out, turning off the dripping tap and swivelling about to face Mick, “Coffee? Tea?”

The man throws you a look, barking out a laugh. “My word, someone’s got you well-trained,” he chortles.

The moisture dries up in your mouth. He likely assumes he’s referring to your upbringing, or maybe your schooling, but his statement hits far too close to home and sends phantom prangs of alarm through your brain, fizzing like electricity.

But just as your head starts to feel light…

“No, nothing for me,” he sighs, entirely oblivious to the cracks forming in your outer veneer as he nods pointedly at your television, “Although, uh, TV’s a little loud, no?”

“O-oh, yes,” you give a start, wobbling past him, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.” That one was a little barbed, but you think it’s more than justified, given the circumstances.

Making your way to the sofa again, you reach for the controls, intent on swiping them off the cushions, but you freeze in your tracks when your eyes land on the overturned coffee table to your left. The coffee table Monty had knocked aside in his haste to get at you after you collapsed…

Behind you, Mick of course, has already seen it.

“Doing some redecorating?” he comments.

Thinking on your feet, you resume your task of picking up the remote and turning the television off, plunging the room into an uncomfortable silence once more. “No, just… had to move it earlier to do some exercises the physician recommended.”

Mick ‘ah’s’ in apparent understanding whilst you elect to deliberately leave the table where it is, tipped on its side.

“You wouldn’t believe how much space it takes just to do some stretches,” you add, “I haven’t gotten around to moving it back.”

You make a concerted effort to keep your eyes from drifting towards your bedroom door, painfully conscious that the gator must be standing just on the other side, head pressed to the wood to follow the flow of conversation.

“Mm, I can imagine,” Mick grunts noncommittally, and as you return your attention to him, you’re just in time to see him helping himself to a seat on your sofa, breathing out a long, languid sigh as he glances up at you, ruddy cheeks pushing out in a smile. “Come, sit!” he insists abruptly, as if it isn’t your sofa that he’s inviting you to. “Rest that leg of yours, you must be tired.”

If only he knew how terribly his suggestion puts your back up and sends your pulse skyrocketing.

All of a sudden, from the direction of your bedroom door, there comes a soft, nearly inaudible scraping sound, not unlike claws dragging across wood.

To your horror, Mick’s head starts turning towards the noise, but quick as a flash, you draw his focus by stretching your jaws into a wide, obnoxious yawn and settling down on the opposite end of the sofa, leaving a respectable distance between you both.

Covering your mouth with a palm, you loudly proclaim, “Oh! Oh, excuse me. I suppose I have got one foot in bed already.”

You try for light-hearted, miss and land on uncomfortable instead. But if Mick gets the hint, he doesn’t outwardly acknowledge it, merely hums and pulls a handkerchief from the pocket of his shirt, daubing at a glistening temple.

As you perch awkwardly on the edge of the seat, you keep a firm grip on your crutch and make every conceivable effort to avoid casting any wayward glances at your bedroom door. If there’s even the slightest chance that Mick isn’t here because of Monty, then you aren’t keen on blowing your cover.

“So,” the man next to you starts conversationally, clapping his hands down on his knees, “You’re holding up all right, then?”

Shrugging a shoulder, you reply, “As well as I can be, all things considered.”

Mick purses his lips, head bobbing sympathetically. “Mm, I’m sure that’s the case,” he admits, “Bad business, that attack in the tunnels. Very bad business…”

Bad business, or bad for business, you wonder.

And talk about an understatement. You have to sternly remind yourself not to scoff.

His mention of the ‘incident’ however does raise a certain flag at the back of your mind as it occurs to you for the first time that Faz Co. wouldn’t be above sending someone to make sure you’re sticking by the non-disclosure agreement. You wouldn’t put it past them…

Is that why Mick is here? Second guessing yourself for the umpteenth time, you take a deep breath and gently try to steer the conversation towards something of real substance. “I… signed the exec’s paperwork, by the way… So, you don’t need to worry. The matter’s done with, so far as I’m concerned.”

The fact that you now have enough money to start looking for a nicer place to live is certainly motive enough to keep idle gossip to yourself.

In response, Mick only tips his head back and barks out a laugh, “Of course you did,” he chuckles, shaking his head at you, beaming, “You’re a damn good woman. You work hard, you keep your head down. You do your job, and you do it well. You’re loyal…”

Trailing off, he twists himself about at the torso to face you, the smile sloughing off his face as he adds, “Loyal enough that you’d come to the Plex the day after you were carted away in an ambulance.”

With gradual unease, your fingertips curl into the sofa cushions.

Whatever expression you pull must be dire indeed because Mick immediately drops his serious façade and lets out a chortle, leaning across the sofa to give your knee a pat just a few inches from the top of the cast, apparently too amused to notice that you blanch.

“Now then, no need to look so spooked,” he tells you, “I’m not here to lecture you about what you should and shouldn’t be doing following a major incident. I just thought I’d mention that I saw you today-“

You can barely focus on his voice. He’s allowed his clammy palm to lay like a lead weight upon your knee. It’s still there. Why is it still there? The temptation to kick your leg out as if to shoo away a bothersome fly is awfully prevalent.

“I must say,” he carries on, oblivious to the way your gaze drills into the back of his hand, “I was impressed by your dedication to the company. I’d have come over to say ‘hello,’ but…”

Breaking off to torture you with a pregnant pause, the man’s jovial expression collapses, turning sour. “Well…” He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Then I saw you were with the gator.”

Right there on the sofa, your heart seizes up.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with that gator recently.”

‘He knows,’ you fret, flicking a frantic look at the door to your bedroom. The evidence is stacking up against you. Why turn up now, and why mention Monty at all?

Fingers trembling, you start the process of falling apart right next to him, debating whether or not to just get it over with and come clean when he suddenly furrows his brows at you and – at long last – draws back, retrieving his hand from your leg. “You need to watch yourself around that bot. You hear me?”

Relief and shock war for control for several seconds as you gape at him, only remembering to snap your jaw shut once you realise it’s been hanging awkwardly ajar for far too long. Swallowing thickly, you try to smooth down your bristling nerves and stammer out a clumsy, “I-I’m sorry?”

“I’m not the only one who’s noticed, you know,” Mick surges ahead as if you hadn’t spoken, “Most of the staff are starting to talk. A lot of the guests too. And now there’s that video going around…”

Your eyes are starting to ache with the effort of keeping them affixed to the manager, not your bedroom door.

“It’s no secret that it’s taken a real liking to you,” he grunts, “And the way I see it, that puts you at the most risk.”

Suddenly, you find it much easier to pay attention. Several, rapid blinks put Mick at the centre of your focus as you politely admit, “I’m sorry, I… I don’t follow.”

The look he gives you is decidedly pitying. Heaving a slow sigh through his nose, he roves his gaze up towards your ceiling as if he means to pluck the right words out of thin air. “Listen,” he begins patiently, like a teacher trying to explain something basic to their struggling student, “Bots don’t just… change like Monty has. I mean, what’s it been? Less than a week? And it’s gone from causing countless incidents of property damage and snapping at every staff member it sees to carrying one across the plex?”

He puffs out a derisive scoff and shakes his head, lips pursed. Then, leaning forward, he links his fingers together and props both elbows on top of his knees, glowering hard at the blank television screen. “I’m not buying it,” he utters darkly, “Sooner or later, its old ways will start kicking in again, and when they do, who’s the person directly in the firing line?”

Peeling one hand away from the other, he curls it into a fist, extends his forefinger, and aims it right between your eyes.

There’s something so inherently disconcerting about the action alone that you physically draw back from the man on the sofa, leaning away and eyeing his hand as though you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. But at the forefront of your mind – and a sudden source of great contention - is his implication that Monty is any kind of threat to you. Perhaps you wouldn’t be feeling a thrum of defensive indignation if the gator himself hadn’t been in the other room, no doubt able to hear every word Mick is saying about him. As it is, your chest starts to buzz with the desire to correct the man’s assumptions.

Peeling a dry tongue from the roof of your mouth, you slowly press out, “With all due respect, Sir-“

“-It’s Mick, doll. Just Mick.”

You try not to pull a face at his interruption. “Mick,” you start again, “With all due respect, I think that’s a bit unfair to Monty…”

At once, surprise opens his expression, smoothing the wrinkles between his brows as they go shooting up his forehead instead.

“Unfair?” he deadpans.

“I just mean that he’s been trying very hard to do things right lately, and we shouldn’t dismiss that just because he's had a few bad days, right?” Instances of breaking into your apartment notwithstanding. “Christ, Mick, he saved my life from that en-“

Mick’s beady eyes narrow at you.

Clearing your throat, you carefully amend, “… from that intruder.”

For several seconds, you watch on as the man’s face twists up once again into a frown, and he purses his lips at you, exhaling roughly through his nose. Leaning sideways across the sofa, he puts himself close to you and raises a finger into the air, wagging it at you in a manner that you really don’t care for.

“One example of the ‘correct’ behaviour doesn’t negate all the harm that bot has otherwise done,” he tells you firmly, “To the brand, to the plex…” Trailing off, his eyes gloss over as they drift to the back of his hand, staring at something you can’t see. After a moment, he quietly adds, “To me.”

Glancing sideways to find you fixing him with a strange look, he pushes out a cough. “A-And it certainly doesn’t prove that it’s safe. Never trust a dog that’s bitten once not to bite again.”

“Monty’s not a dog,” you point out, your brows set in a stern, unyielding line.

“No,” Mick agrees sharply, “It’s a two-tonne animatronic with a history of violence and a penchant for causing trouble wherever it goes.”

All at once, you bridle, clenching your fist around the crutch. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re in your own home that gives you a shot of courage straight through the chest. If Mick had confronted you with these accusations at work, you can’t deny you might have been a little more hesitant to retaliate. As it is, he came into your flat uninvited, he sat on your sofa and started bad-mouthing your friend…

 “Now hang on a moment, that’s just plain wrong,” you retort, “Monty hasn’t caused any trouble for me, and in fact, he’s gone out of his way to help me these past few days – quite a lot, actually.”

Somehow, Mick’s brows travel even further north towards his slicked-back hairline. He blinks, surprised, either because of your sudden and admittedly barbed defence of a bot you’ve only known for a few days, or because he hadn’t expected you to show him your backbone at all.

You quiver angrily on the opposite side of the sofa, heavy eyelids protesting the late hour whilst Mick blows a noisy breath through pursed lips, regarding you with newfound interest.

“Now then, there’s no need to get yourself all worked up,” he soothes cloyingly, “I didn’t come all this way to upset you.”

The willpower it requires not to bark ‘I am not upset!’ is tremendous, even more so to fake an apologetic smile and reply, “Of course you didn’t. Sorry, it’s just been a long day.” And getting longer with every second Mick sits there, behaving as though he’s done nothing untoward simply by being here.

“I’m sure it has,” he remarks.

And then… something happens. Something that sets the synapses in your brain firing off alarm bells left right and centre, paralysing you in your seat.

Without a word to announce his intentions, Mick shuffles himself along the sofa cushions towards you, closing the very deliberate gap you’d wedged between the pair of you minutes ago.

“If I’m being perfectly honest with you,” he begins in a low murmur, and you wish he wouldn’t be honest at all if that’s how he intends to speak, “I’m sorry I ever sent you into that damnable gator’s room in the first place. I mean, granted you’ve saved the company thousands in repairs since then… But… Ah, forgive me, perhaps this is unprofessional but…”

His already soft voice dies to absolute silence as he stretches his hand across the distance between you and sets it down on your leg once more, just above your knee - nowhere an uninvited hand ought to have any business treading.

You can’t tear your eyes off it. All the moisture in your throat has dried up, all the breath in your lungs stays trapped.

You’re not angry anymore.

“I simply wouldn’t forgive myself if that gator hurt you, you know,” his voice sounds muffled, half-drowned out under the blood rushing in your ears, “I’m only looking out for you.”

You’re scared.

He’s sitting close, too close, close enough that the smell of smoky cologne is suddenly clogging up your airways and sticking to the back of your throat when you inhale.

“Can you blame me for worrying though?” he asks, rubbing his hand up an inch as if he’s testing the waters. Sadly, your limits have been pushed before, further and further each time until the bad things just became mildly uncomfortable things, and the really dreadful things were simply better to ignore.

“You really are a very good worker. But that animatronic isn’t safe.”

Your breath catches in your gullet when you swallow, and even now, after all your experience and the hurdles you’ve cleared, you start to doubt yourself. Perhaps Mick really is just concerned. He certainly sounds it. You could be finding horror in something entirely benign. He’s a manager, he knows better.

He’s a molehill and you’re sitting here wondering if you should make him into a mountain.

Fingers twitch against your skin and you blanch, prying your jaws apart to… what? Scream? Tell him to get his hand off you? He hasn’t technically done anything wrong. You let him inside…

All of your senses come flooding back to you suddenly as a strange sound catches your ear; a latch clicking out of place, a handle turning inwards. Ears thrumming with adrenaline, you at last manage to rip at least part of your concentration off Mick and train your hearing towards your room instead.

Luckily for you and the idiot gator trying to stealthily open your bedroom door for some, inane reason, Mick seems far too preoccupied with catching your eye to even register the noise.

He’s looking for a reaction.

The appealing idea that this might just be one big misunderstanding starts to wash away bit by bit.

You cast your mind about, mentally searching the room for something – anything to derail the direction of his goal. When that fails, you reluctantly allow your gaze to wander from your television to the front door, over to the kitchen and then down to the flowers poking over the lip of the sink…

Flowers…

A stray gear in your brain chugs to life, kicking out a single, blessed idea.

“Hah!” you wheeze out breathlessly, forcing a wobbly smile onto your reluctant mouth, “You’re starting to sound like Andy. He worries about me too.”

There. It’s only for an instant, but out of the corner of an eye, you see Mick’s expression falter. “Flowers?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, “I’m surprised you didn’t arrive with him actually.” Feigning an expectant glance at your front door, you school curiosity onto your face and add, “You didn’t see him on your way up, did you?”

Mick’s hand starts to raise ever so slightly from your thigh, too slow for your liking, yet you grit your teeth and bear it for a while longer, like you always have.

“See him?” the man blinks, “I… no? Why would I have seen him?”

“Oh, it’s just, he texted me before you knocked on the door. Said he’d be here in another ten… fifteen minutes to drop off some stuff I left in my locker at work. I thought you might have come together.” Shrugging a shoulder as casually as you can, you quirk a brow at Mick and continue, “You really didn’t see him? Huh. I hope he’s okay. It’s not like him to be late.”

On the last word, the feeling of warm, sweaty skin pressed to your leg disappears.

Bingo.

“Well,” Mick announces brusquely, plastering a cheery grin on his face as he leans back and slaps his palms onto his knees, pushing himself off your sofa, “If Flowers is on his way, I’d better let you two have your space. Wouldn’t want to crowd you, hmm?”

Though it damn-near kills you to do so, you tilt your head and ask, “Oh, are you sure? I think he wanted to have a word with you about something.”

Mick’s face turns several shades paler than usual as he stumbles over his response. “Ah, well, I’m sure it can wait until I see him at work tomorrow.” Slipping a finger between his grey tie and the collar of his shirt, he tugs the fabric looser, taking several, hurried steps in the direction of your front door. “I’m sorry to have stopped in unannounced.”

Your smile reveals just a few too many teeth. “It’s not a problem,” you lie, using the crutch to lever yourself onto your feet, “I suppose I’ll see you at work, then?”

Mick’s backwards peddling might have been funny if you were in any mood to laugh.

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes. I’ll see you then,” he titters, “You just stay off that leg in the meantime.” His hand grasps the door handle, sliding clumsily around it for a moment as his damp palms clamber for purchase.

You heart soars when he finally manages to pull it open, only to step halfway outside and hesitate in the threshold of your home. For several, awful seconds, you stare at the back of his head, wondering if he’s changed his mind, or worse, if he’s called your bluff.

Sparing you a look over his shoulder, Mick catches your eye. “Just… remember what I told you about the gator,” he tells you suddenly, “Preferably before you decide to visit the Plex again.”

And with that, he just… leaves, disappearing out into the hallway and pulling your door shut in his wake until the latch ‘clicks’ shut.

Mouth full of cotton wool, you listen intently for the thump of dress shoes hitting carpet to peter out as Mick beats a hasty retreat down the hall. Fainter and fainter, the sound fades, until at last, you hear the far-off 'ding' of the lift doors sliding open and shut, and with a shuddering inhale, you promptly crumple forwards against the door, gasping out a wet, pitiful noise whilst you scrabble at the lock with shuddering fingers.

It’s only when the metal latch slides into place with a definitive ‘shunk,’ that the door of your bedroom bursts open.

With all the speed and unimpeded ferocity of a stampeding bull, Monty comes surging from the darkness of your bedroom, his shoulder struts reared back like a pair of snakes ready to strike.

“What’d he do to you!?” he demands, crossing towards you in just a few strides.

You spare a thought for your downstairs neighbours before you remember they’ve been on holiday since last week. And a good thing too. Each step the gator takes sends tremors through the floor below your bare feet.

Monty’s sensors – by now so well-tuned to your vitals – had been going haywire behind the door, picking up on your thundering pulse and the steady uptick in your cortisol levels. He’d had to stand there, helpless but to listen as Mick spewed his rhetoric into your ear, and Monty hadn’t been able to defend himself or refute the man’s claims at all. But you-!

Wonderful, righteous, amicable you... You had! Monty's systems were thrumming, thoroughly cowed to hear you come to his defence, which made it only more difficult not to burst into the room and sweep you away from Mick when the man all but purred reassurances at you.

But worse, perhaps, was the gator’s inability to see what was happening on the other side of the door. Mick’s verbal blows against Monty’s behaviour couldn’t have been the catalyst for your climbing heartrate, though some small, selfish code in the animatronic hopes you felt at least a little indignation on his behalf.

No… Something else occurred here tonight. Something Monty wasn’t privy to, but wishes he was, if only to settle the ire broiling in his circuits.

You have your back to him, and your forehead pressed against the solid wood of your front door.

He has to see your face… He has to know. He has to read your expression and see for himself that there isn’t any fear there, just exasperation or even a fiery burst of anger. Anything… Just not fear. He would take all the fear in the world from any human he meets if he would only be spared from yours.

Wrestling back the hissing lines of code that poke and prod at his temper, Monty slows to a halt as he reaches you, his apertures twitching wide then narrow again whilst they flit up and down your body in search of damage.

“Hey,” he calls, sliding a single, clawed hand around your bicep, “You hear me? What’d he-?”

If he’d have just known… If he’d have hazarded a guess as to where your mind had gone in that moment, he might have thought twice about laying his hand on you.

“DON’T-!” you yelp shrilly, whirling around to face him and thrusting your wrist against his, knocking the limb aside as if to parry a weapon instead of his arm.

Startled, the gator wrenches his appendage back, holding it above his shoulder in a display of surrender as he blinks down at you dumbly, jaw falling ajar.

And then, he sees it.

You’re staring up at him, your face drawn back, haggard and half-mad with terror, your chest heaves with the effort of taking in breaths.

He doesn’t have to perform a scan to determine what he’s been dreading. Humans have looked at him like that ever since he was first brought online. Monty’s processor thumps, dredging up a memory of Mick - younger and bolder than the man he is now – reeling away from the gator, face as pale as Moon’s and his eyes so wide the entire iris was exposed. Monty remembers the odd sensation of something soft collapsing between his teeth.

The animatronic violently purges the memory from his internal storage, though he knows it’ll still linger there somewhere, buried behind layer upon layer of firewalls until his guard is lowered once more.

All at once, he recoils like he’s been hit by a wrecking ball, staggering backwards until his tail hits the wall behind him and he’s forced to stop. Unable to retreat any further, unable to offer you any more distance, he simply stares at you from his side of the room.

It’s over… This wonderful, safe harbour he’d found in you is finally finished… You believe what Mick had said about Monty being a danger to you.

He always knew this had to end, of course. Good things can’t thrive in the vicinity of a Faz Co. animatronic. He just… didn’t think the time would come so soon.

Even still, he can’t help but cling with raw, desperate hope to you, scrabbling to keep a hold of your good graces because he’s too stubborn or too foolish to let go.

“I-I wouldn’t -“ he starts, concealing his claws with his fists and tucking them against his chest, “- I’d never… I wouldn’t hurt you. Not you, not ever. You’re…”

His voice box sputters, cutting out for a moment as he searches his bank of vocabulary for what you are.

When it finally dawns on him, his processor almost grinds to a halt.

“You’re all I got,” he confesses slowly, surprising himself with the revelation, “I don’t got nobody else…I ain’t gonna hurt you, you know that.”

You have to know that.

Please know that.

Gradually, far too gradually for the gator’s highly strung code to endure, you lower your arm  too look at him, brows high on your forehead.

“Monty?” you utter quietly, sending a quick glance between the animatronic’s downcast snout and the hands he still keeps curled beneath his chest. In another blink, you realise what you’ve just insinuated through action alone.

“Oh, I… Monty – No, of course you wouldn’t. I’m so sorry, I… God.” Slouching back against the door, your head knocks against it as you drop a palm over your face. “This is such a mess.”

Lowering your palm to the door, you splay your fingers over the wood behind you, drawing in a steadying breath and trying to ground yourself to the solidity at your spine. Another breath, and you finally drop your eyes to the gator.

For the briefest moment, you consider telling him why you couldn’t bear to feel a hand on you right now.

Your mouth creaks open, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue.

But something along the vein of common sense tells you that it wouldn’t be fair to burden Monty with such knowledge.

‘Besides,’ you remind yourself, borrowing your mother’s words, ‘It’s all in the past, and least said, soonest mended.’

Morose yet resigned, you swallow back your admission.

“I’m sorry, Monty,” you offer instead, raising a hand to rub at your drooping eyelids, “I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Unconvinced, the gator curls his tail inward, eyeing your arm - the one he’d grabbed.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The question seems to creep out of him, his volume levels set so low that you have to strain your ears to hear it.

“No,” you reassure him, dropping your hand to give him a gentle, albeit tired smile, “No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” he readily agrees, lifting his snout a little.

For a few seconds, the pair of you simply regard each other from opposite sides of the room, until eventually – and reluctantly – you have to let your smile fade away, replacing it with a worn, heavyhearted frown.

“That was close though,” you whisper to yourself, letting your eyes slip shut, “Shit, that was too close.”

How on Earth Mick didn’t find out about Monty’s presence here, you’ll never know.

A mechanical whir followed by a thud lets you know the gator has just edged a step closer. “Yeah, no kiddin’…” There’s a pregnant pause, and then you jump slightly, snapping your eyes open as Monty raises his voice to an indignant bark, “And just what in the heck did he think he was doing, comin’ round here in the middle of the night anyway?”

The look you shoot the gator is withering enough to have him tilting his head sideways.

“What?” he asks, apparently oblivious.

You elect to gloss over his blatant hypocrisy in favour of jabbing a finger at him, though the action lacks the same hostility it might have ten minutes ago. “You know, it wouldn’t have been ‘too close’ if you hadn’t been here in the first place.”

Perhaps recognising the rising challenge in your tone, Monty’s stance shifts as he raises up on his struts, towering so high that his mohawk almost brushes the ceiling. He peers down the length of his snout at you, the line of his brows set and rigid, half shuttering his optics.

“I ain’t sorry,” he tells you, and it’s so matter of fact that you give a hard blink, your own eyebrows springing up towards your hairline.

You’re starting to feel a little like Andy. If this is how exasperated the poor mechanic feels when you do something stupid, then you owe him several, sincere apologies.

“I… I was, though,” Monty adds suddenly, lowering his nose as if the bluster was only ever meant to be short-lived, “Before Matthews turned up. But now, I…”

For a second, he falters, then bulldozes through his hesitation with a sharp grunt and a shake of his head, meeting your gaze resolutely. “Now, I’m glad I was here.”

His optics flicker brightly, though they dart between your face and the cast on your leg at frequent intervals as though he’s uncertain of himself yet determined not to back down from his conviction.

“I ain’t stupid,“ he insists, but there’s too much fervency behind it, like you’re not the only one he’s trying to convince, “Matthews was doin’ something to you. If you hadn’t’a got rid of him, I’d’ve…“

“…What, Monty,” you sigh when it becomes clear he’s hesitating to sort through his words again, “What would you have done, short of giving us both away?”

“I’d have stopped him,” he growls, puffing out his chest and jabbing it with the sharp claw of his thumb, “I’d’ve protected you.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Oh, my hero. You’d get yourself scrapped, and me arrested for kidnapping an animatronic.”

It’s disconcerting to see a bot so large and intimidating positively wilt as though your point has just heaped a very real, very tangible weight upon his shoulders.

Letting a sigh slip through your nose, you catch a loose bit of skin between your teeth, worrying at it in the tangible silence that hovers between you and the gator.

You want to be angry with him for being here. You want to tell him how foolish and misguided his programming was to convince him that he should leave the Plex to seek you out. But if there was any strength left in you after the day’s events, it’s been well and truly sapped clean out of you. In fact, ‘sapped’ is too gentle a word for it. As memories try to pile up on top of one another, it takes more effort than you’d care to admit to beat them down again, leaving you with very little residual energy to conjure any resentment for an animatronic who followed you home because he wanted to make sure you got there safely.

This behaviour is so out of character for him.

And you? Well, you’re so out of your depth. Shit, you can never tell Sun and Moon about Monty’s escape. If the daycare attendants find out that they can leave the Plex as well, you’ll be in for a whole new world of trouble.

While you slump against the door, contemplating, Monty’s large head swings to the left, his optics studying the window. He’d wrenched it open so hard the frame had torn jagged splinters from the surrounding wood. The corner of his lips turn south as he lowers his optics to the table he’d overturned. That alone had almost been enough to rouse suspicion, but you’d explained it away expertly, from what he could hear, and Mick ended up none the wiser.

It comes as no real shock to the gator that if it weren’t for your quick thinking and well-oiled responses, he’d have given himself away ten times over. He’d have given you away…

Impulsive, Freddy might call him.

Stupid, would be Roxanne’s more cutting, though no less accurate decree.

It’s never been an easy thing for Montgomery Gator to admit that he might have been wrong. Even if his protocols thrum with a newfound urge to guard a member of Fazbear Co.’s faculty, his processor knows all too well that his coming here put you at the most risk.

The gator’s tail drops to the ground with a dull ‘thunk’ of plastic and metal on the carpet. “I just wanted to do somethin’ right for once,” he utters to the stillness, his truest desire finally spoken aloud.

He doesn’t look at you this time, but his audials pick up your gentle intake of breath and wonders what happened to the animatronic who would have bitten your head off several days ago just for looking at him the wrong way.

At least if that Monty did something wrong, it was usually deliberate. Somehow, as he’s quickly coming to learn, it’s so much worse trying to do something right, and getting it wrong anyway than doing something wrong in the first place.

Hurts more, he concedes.

The gator is too busy discovering the scope of his regret to notice you push yourself off the door, leaning hard onto your crutch as you squint up at him, cocking your head to one side like he’s a puzzle you’re still figuring out. Admittedly, you absolutely are. You’re not an engineer or a programmer. You can’t begin to fathom the depths that Monty’s learning algorithms can reach.

All you can see is an animatronic condemned by those who made him, trying to be better than he’s told he is. So, while you can’t condone his being here, for his own sake, you realise that he - much like yourself - has likely had more than enough of people telling him off.

Sucking down a long, thick breath, you release it all in as weary a sigh as you’ve ever expelled.

“You’re doing fine, Monty,” you say, and it’s kinder, warmer than you’ve sounded all evening, “You’re doing just fine. I mean, this was a little…” Pausing to gesture loosely at the overturned coffee table, you let out a soft laugh and continue, “Uh, overzealous. But your heart was definitely in the right place.”

‘Your heart.’

Slowly, hesitantly, Monty’s tail lifts from the ground, rising with the edges of his crocodilian smile. You might never know how much it means to him that you don’t point out how he doesn’t technically have a heart. And it means even more to hear that you know his intentions came from a good place.

“But,” you add, inhaling, like you’re bracing yourself, “I’m still not happy you’ve put yourself in such a precarious position just to check up on me.”

Monty’s metal framework groans as he slumps again.

“Ugh. Listen to me,” you chuckle, rubbing your temple, “I’m starting to sound like Andy.” Starting forwards, you begin limping for your room, stifling a wide, clumsy yawn behind the back of your hand. “Now, I have had, like, the longest day. And I’m going to bed before I keel over.”

“…But… what about your food?” he asks, sparing a glance over at the saucepan sitting idly on the countertop. The water inside has long gone cold.

Your footsteps pause as you draw alongside him, reaching out to lay a palm on your bedroom door. “I’m not hungry,” you murmur after a second. It’s not entirely a lie. For some reason, the meagre appetite you had for cheap noodles and tea has evaporated, leaving you hollow, yes, but not nearly as hollow as you were rendered by the touch of Mick’s hand on your leg.

Giving your door a shove, you push it open and reach around the corner, sliding your fingers along the interior wall until you find the light switch, flicking it on and illuminating the bedroom with a warm, yellow glow. Monty is frowning at you, you can feel his crimson optics boring into the side of your head, but you ignore him to say, “I suggest you go back to the Plex before you run out of charge.”

You must have mistaken the gator’s earlier acquiescence for a willingness to leave.

“I got plenty of charge,” he deflects.

As it is, Monty’s optics rove over the top of your head, widening significantly behind his glasses as they land upon the contents of the room that he’d been standing in just minutes ago. He hadn’t bothered to sate his curiosity then, far more apprehensive about what was happening on the outside of the space, but now, without oppressive darkness cloaking every corner and without a potential threat to contend with, his protocols take a backseat to his inquisitiveness.

He observes closely as you shuffle into the new territory, your territory, where you immediately make a beeline for the nest – bed, his CPU corrects – that’s set against the furthest wall.

Swinging his prodigious bulk around, the animatronic trails after you, ducking underneath the doorway and raising his snout to the air.

You don’t even have to look over a shoulder to know you’re being tailed. The heavy stomps are proof enough of the gator’s proximity. “Monty, come on,” you whine, “You’ve gotta go home.”

The gator only offers a gruff hum in response, otherwise distracted by the simple yet pivotal revelation that he, for the first time, is seeing your private, recharging chamber. Immediately, he’s struck by how much more lived-in this humble space is. Out there, in your kitchenette and the adjacent living room, everything seemed so much more bland. Less you.

In here, there are pieces of you scattered into each corner of the room, from the pile of unwashed clothes sitting in a nearby chair to the row of house plants lined up like soldiers along the breadth of your windowsill.

Curious, his optics roam towards a desk in the corner, upon which sits - to his immediate intrigue – a large, square tank filled almost to the brim with crystal-clear water, and lit from above by a cool, fluorescent light bulb. He knows what it is at once, though he’s never been privy to one in person before.

At his back, you reach the bed and promptly collapse onto your rear at the edge of the mattress, dropping your crutch to the floor and listening to it land with a sharp clatter of plastic.

“Ohhh,” you groan tiredly, leaning forwards to balance your elbows on your knees and drop your face into a palm, trying in vain to rub away the bags underneath your eyes with numbing fingertips.

Your whole body aches ferociously, all stemming from the sharp twinge of your ankle that lays protected behind a thick, white cast.

Six Weeks…

Day one has been hard enough. How are you supposed to make it to day forty-two? The question remains; is it uphill from here, or down?

Glancing over a shoulder, you restrain an impromptu smile before it can spread as you spot Monty creeping up to the fish tank on your desk, his head hunched low to peer through the glass at your little corydoras sifting eagerly through the substrate in search of hidden food.

“Hey, little guys,” the animatronic murmurs, his optics casting the water in a gentle, pinkish glow.

Fish are a novelty for him. He knows of them, of course, has seen images of them depicting many various shapes, sizes, and colours. He knows they can’t survive for long outside of water, and he knows they’re covered in scales.

But to see for himself how those scales flash under his scrutinous, crimson LEDs, to watch their barbels twitch as they playfully chase one another along the floor of the tank…

There’s a strange kinship there for the creatures who share the waterways with his real-life counterparts.

He likes them, he decides. He likes that you have them. It speaks to an apparent affinity for aquatically-inclined animals…

For several moments, you merely observe the gator from your bed, wondering why he’s stalling. At least, you assume he’s stalling.

“Monty,” you yawn, pretending not to notice how his purple shoulder struts jump in response to your voice, “What are you doing?”

The gator’s head twitches towards you briefly. “M’sayin’ hi to the fish,” he states simply.

Shooting him a deadpan glare, you retort, “You know what I mean. Why are you still here? You need to get back to the Plex before you’re missed.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna miss me,” he shrugs, “Sides, I’ve still got a couple’a hours of juice left in the tank. Don’t worry.”

“But I am worried, Monty,” you squeeze out - and oh, there’s that pinch of tenderness to soften the hard, brutal metal hidden under his casing – “If I wasn’t worried about getting caught, I’d haul you back to the Plex myself… How did you get here unseen anyway?”

“Came over the rooftops,” he replies proudly, cocking his head at a fish that approaches the glass, lured by the glow of his optics.

“The rooftops!?” you sputter, “How on Earth did you get up there!?”

Flashing a cheshire grin, the gator gives the casing on his thigh two hearty slaps. “Got the best pneumatic cylinders in the business. These things’ll carry me distances you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes I use ‘em to get from one side of the catwalks to the other. This is the first time I’ve seen what they can really do.”

Collapsing backwards on top of the covers, you splay your arms out on either side of you, letting a long, appreciative whistle pass your lips. “You jumped…. All the way here?” you realise aloud.

“Beats walkin’.”

“… And you’re going to jump all the way back?”

“Can’t exactly take a cab, can I?”

You don’t respond for a long while… So long that he turns himself all the way around and rises to his feet, half expecting to find you fast asleep on the bed.

Your eyes are closed, and you’ve gone very still. Your chest rises and falls with even, steady breaths, though your legs are still dangling over the side of the mattress, toes brushing against the carpet.

Monty frowns. A hum of machinery gives him away, not so silent as he paces around the bed towards you and lowers himself down onto one knee, reaching for your legs with the intention to lift them up to the bed so you can lay flat.

His first-aid protocols are nowhere near as advanced as Freddy’s, but he’s skimmed enough medical files in the last twelve hours to know that you should keep your damaged leg elevated.

With gradual movements, the animatronic’s fingers flex and stretch for your cast. However, his purple claws barely make it within a foot of your appendage when your body goes absolutely rigid, as though you’ve turned to stone right there on the mattress.

At once, Monty stops, glancing up to see one of your eyelids crack open and swivel over to peer at him, blinking slowly in the glow cast by his optics. “What’re you doing?” you ask guardedly. Something in your voice quivers. He catches it right away.

“I… just – I was gonna put your legs on the bed,” he explains.

The clock on your bedside table ticks quietly ever onwards, and it’s only when you remember to exhale that he considers your expression for another moment and finally ducks his head, asking, “… Can I touch you?”

Stuffing your teeth into your bottom lip, you clutch a fistful of the duvet beneath you and slowly shake your head from side to side. “Not… Not yet… I’m not…”

You falter, swallowing a painful lump that sticks in your throat like guilt. Monty didn’t do anything, after all.

But for an animatronic, his response comes far too softly.

“Okay,” he nods, pulling his hands away and returning them to his lap.

And that’s… all he does for a long time.

Sniffing, you lower your gaze, tugging yourself backwards using the duvet as leverage until you can haul your heavy cast over the side and stretch your legs out towards the foot of the bed, sighing in relief.

"Better put a pillow under there," Monty pipes up, jutting his chin towards the fluffy, white cushions spread out behind you.

Clicking your tongue, you stretch behind yourself and snag the first pillow your fingers grasp, hauling it over your head and tossing it haphazardly near your leg. After taking a moment to brace yourself, you lean back on your elbows and bite your tongue to keep down a cry as you lift the leg up and onto the pillow.

Through it all, Monty says nothing further. He does stare at you though…

You’ve noticed he’s being doing that a lot lately. What was it Mick said?

‘It’s no secret that it’s taken a real liking to you.’

You don’t want to think about Mick.

Finally, when the gator’s staring starts to grow a little too… intimate, you swallow thickly and peel your lips apart to mumble, “Monty, why don’t you want to go back to the Plex?”

He perks up at his name but loses his enthusiasm as he registers the question.

“I’ll go back soon,” he grumbles.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Monty’s vents hiss as he simulates a pensive sigh - like yours - and begins folding his legs up underneath himself, his plates sliding over each other as he settles himself down onto his rear, arms draping loosely over his knees. He knows.

“Six weeks…” he mutters, cautiously lowering his long chin until it brushes the duvet cover beside you. When you don’t protest or move away, he gives his head a little more rein to droop, and the framework in his neck no longer strains to keep it aloft.

Confusion lays its mark bare across your face. “What?”

Six weeks,” he repeats, “That’s how long you’re gonna be gone for. That’s a long time to…” Static clings to his voice-box, stifling his words. With a grimace, Monty thumps a fist twice over his chest until something clicks audibly into place. Then, forcing a laugh, he falteringly adds, “S’a… long time for a bot to go without having his room cleaned, yeah?”

“You could always let the S.T.A.F.F bots help you,” you point out.

“Nah, they wouldn’t do it right.”

A weary smirk toys with the edge of your mouth as you reply, ��Well, have you considered – and this might be a bit outlandish, but bear with me here – have you considered just… cleaning it yourself?”

“Course I have,” he retorts, “But… c’mon, it’d be more fun with you, wouldn’t it?”

He should have known when your smirk recedes to leave him looking at a flat, sombre line that you weren’t fooled for a moment.

“Monty… Is the truth really that embarrassing?” you pose.

‘Yes…’ he huffs wordlessly to himself, ‘It is.’

 “It’s all gonna go back to the way it was before,” he mumbles into the duvet.

“What is?”

“Everythin’,” he suddenly exclaims, wrenching his head back up, “It’ll go back to how it was before you came along. You’ll be gone for six weeks! What if I start gettin’ angry again? What if I forget about what you taught me, ‘bout accidents n’ stuff?” That thought brings on another that’s even more dreadful, and he curls his hands underneath his chest, leaning into them against the side of the bed. “What if you forget about me?”

You blink at him, bewildered, studying the jarringly human behaviour he’s exhibiting, and wondering, not for the first time, if it says something about you that you see humanity in so much of what these animatronics do.

“Hey,” you offer, giving him a sympathetic smile when he slides his nose further along the duvet until it almost touches your arm. Almost. “You might be overthinking things, Monty. I’m pretty sure I could never forget you.” You laugh at that, causing him to blow a whuff of air against your forearm. “And besides,” you add, “Six weeks is… like, nothing, okay? It’ll go by faster than you think.”

Far from convinced, the gator only grumbles unintelligibly into the duvet and casts his optics to the other side of the room. The bed underneath you rumbles as the rich bass growls out of his speakers.

“Listen...” you sigh, flopping your head down onto the pillow to blink up at the ceiling overhead, “When I was younger, one of my best friends moved halfway across the world with her family.”

Immediately, the gator’s jaw clenches at the mention of your ‘best friend’ before he catches the action and berates himself for behaving like a toddler being asked to share their favourite toy.

“We haven’t seen each other for… Oh boy, ten years, maybe? I still call her sometimes… Probably not as often as I should... And you know what?”

“…What?”

You roll your head over to peer at the animatronic beside you, finding his focus has returned to your face.

Pulling your mouth into a sleepy smile, you let out a hum before murmuring, “Every time I ring, she’s always so pleased to hear from me. I bet if she were to walk through my door right now, it would be like no time had passed at all.”

Monty’s optic shutters click open and shut. “How come?” he prompts quietly.

“Well, do you think I love her any less now because I haven’t seen her for ten years?” you reply, “Friends can’t be together all the time, you know. Even if they might want to be. Life gets in the way. Families, jobs, fatigue, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still friends. So, you don’t need to worry about not seeing me for a few weeks, okay?”

You can’t help but find this conversation very reminiscent to a similar one you had to have with Sunny after he learned you were leaving for a week of summer vacation.

“I ain’t worried,” Monty lies through his teeth, “Just wonderin’ how you’re gonna have any fun without me around.”

“Fun was not the doctor’s recommended treatment,” you yawn, letting your eyes slip shut and keeping them closed, bogged down by a cumbersome weight that’s been heaped upon your shoulders. A myriad of hurried little thoughts swirl around inside your head, too numerous to pin any single one down. Mick’s arrival and subsequent behaviour, whether you’re trying to read too much into what might have been nothing more than a friendly gesture, Monty’s escape from the Plex and the sudden responsibility you have for an animatronic you’ve barely known a week…

You just need to sleep.

‘It’ll all make sense in the morning,’ you try to tell yourself…

You’d make a shit salesperson.

For some time, the quiet gurgling of your tank's filter provides a soothing backdrop to the silence cast between you and the animatronic.

“Can I stay here?” Monty’s question breaks through the fog of flitting thoughts, his volume barely a digit away from being entirely mute, “With you? Just for a lil’ while?”

Prying your eyelids apart to blink tiredly at the gator, you let your chest fill with a slow, heavy breath, blowing it all out again through your nose.

“… Just this once,” you whisper back.

The gator’s optics brighten, then flit towards the movement of your hand on the bed.

You’ve raised your forearm, inching the appendage closer to Monty’s snout. Fingers worn dry and abrasive from chemicals and labour touch down on top of the animatronic’s nose, followed by your palm, spreading a pleasant flood of warmth down through his teeth and onto his tongue.

In response, some of Monty’s systems backfire, kicking errors codes to his HUD that tell him he’s overheating, and should release excess coolant to the affected areas. He ignores the alerts. He ignores everything. Everything that isn’t your hand is left by the wayside, forgotten in favour of soaking up a touch that he knows would never cause hurt.

Letting his optics click shut, the gator draws his silicone lips up into a lax, lazy smile.

The muffled ‘thumps’ of a heavy tail fall and rise from the carpet over and over, and Monty’s frame seems to purr as he relaxes his massive head onto your mattress, contented and committed to this spot until his battery hits zero and his limbs rust from underuse.

He knows he has to leave, but for now, just pretending… It’s the happiest he’s been in…

It’s the happiest he’s been.

“Just this once.”

#fnaf #five nights at freddys #fnaf sb #security breach #Montgomery Gator #On the ropes #Everyone is having a not okay time #Monty x reader #f!reader #fluff #angst #protectiveness #tw noncon

[bubblegump-1-nk]

Shall I Write It in a Letter

pairing: Gryffindor!Reader x Theodore Nott

summary: In which Theo wakes up one morning and realizes he can no longer not have you, so he writes you a letter. But when that letter gets lost, things become complicated. - inspired by Anne with an E; song: Bloom by The Paper Kites.

Warnings: angst that could be fixed by simple communication 😒, hints of cheating

P.S: I super duper highly recommend to listen to the songs either before, during, or after you read my fics . Not only do they encapsulate what the fic is about, but they’re also just super good songs!! <33d

~~~

Christmas break had been in session for about a week and a half, and Theo was spending his time off at home. Although he was sad to be away from his friends, he was happy for the much needed alone time.

The sun was shining brightly through the dark velvet curtains in his room, and he slowly woke up from his dreams. As his eyes fluttered open, he felt a pang of pain in his heart. His dream had been of you, specifically of kissing your soft lips on a warm summers day by the Black Lake. He’s found that more recently than ever, his head is full of you, as is his heart. As he’s laying in his bed, he closes his eyes once more, trying to hold onto the bits of you he won’t ever experience. In this moment, thoughts of you more prevalent than ever before, he realizes he doesn’t have to not have you. Quickly, becoming fully awake, he springs out of his bed and walks quickly to his desk.

He pushes all the papers and miscellaneous items off the surface, and pulls out a paper and quill. He’s become fully aware of just how much he longs for you, and why should he not be able to tell his best friend that he’s in love with her? He’s been yearning for your love for as long as he can remember, and it has finally transformed him into a fool, giving him the confidence to express his love for you.

My dearest y/n,

I’ve found that you’ve been circling my thoughts more than usual lately, so much so that I can hardly call them my own anymore. I think about you all the time, yet I’ve been too much of a coward to say anything. But I’ve realized that I don’t want to wake up one day, either in the near future or in the years to come, and regret not trying, because of pride, or embarrassment, or just simple fear. I need to escape this torture chamber I’ve made for myself, where I must hold you at arms length though I know I wish for nothing more than to be wrapped in your embrace at all hours of the day. So I need you to tell me if it’s all in my head. That the lingering touches and longing stares are just simple delusions I’ve created in my mind. But if they’re not, and Merlin how I hope they’re not, I’m telling you here and now that I am in love with you y/n l/n, and I don’t think I can bear to be apart from you any longer. I also want to go ahead and apologize for telling others I loved you, that they knew before you did, but to be fair I think everyone knew before I did, too. You are my breath of fresh air, the light in all my darkness, my proof that life is pure and good and that happiness is achievable. I may not be a religious person, but if worshipping you was a religion I’d be its most devoted follower. And if my feelings are not reciprocated, please find a way to put this past you because I could not endure losing you as my best friend as well.

Yours Forever, Theo.

After pouring his heart out onto the page, he carefully placed it into an envelope, wrote your name on it, and walked to give it to owl. After sending it away, he walked back to his room, his anxiety suddenly crashing through. Thoughts swarmed his head: She doesn’t love me, I’ve ruined everything, I should stop it from reaching her. But his heart quickly stopped his brain from doing too much damage. You needed to know or else Theo would live in agony for the rest of his life. Upon reaching his room, he sat back at his desk and sent letters to each of the Slytherin boys, confessing what he’s done. He even slipped a copy of the letter to Mattheo, the only one he felt he could truly trust with that piece of his heart.

~~~

It had been two days since the letter had been sent. Had his owl reached you by now? Had you seen it? What were you thinking?

He was an utter mess, his mind swarming with questions and his body teeming with anxieties.

Soon it was 4 days, then 6, then a week, and then the last day of break rolled around the corner. Still he had received no response from you, perhaps you wished to talk in person? His heart hoped that that was the answer, and that the lack of a letter was not your rejection

~~~

You got onto the train just as it was about to take off, thanks to your missing jumper. The train was packed with kids saying their hellos and catching up, and with much effort you finally found Harry, Hermione, and Ron and got inside the compartment.

“Is it just me or is it crazier than usual?” You ask as you sit down.

“Definitely crazier, apparently Lavendar and Parvati got into a huge fight over break so everyone’s running around to hear about it.” Hermione explains as she hands you some candy she bought for you.

You say your thanks and continue talking with your friends when there’s a knock on your compartment.

“Hi Dean!” You say as you get up to slide open the door. You step out quickly to talk with the tall Gryffindor boy.

You have a friendly conversation, lasting about 10 minutes before entering the compartment again.

“What was that about.” Ron asks, before anyone else has the chance to.

“I saw him at Diagon Alley over the break and he asked me out. We hung out a couple times over the break.” You explain.

“Never would have expected that one.” Says Harry.

You raise you eyebrow at him, “and why would that be?”

“Just always assumed it would be Nott.” Harry says.

“I can’t just sit around like a fool waiting for him. He’s shown he just sees me as his best friend and the quicker I get over him the better.” You explain.

“But, he hasn’t shown you that he feels that way.” Explains Hermione, who is team Theo and y/n.

“He hasn’t shown me any differently. Wake me up when we get there I’m taking a nap.” You say, tired of constantly being reminded of your inability to be with Theo.

~~~

You arrive at the castle, and you make your way through the crowds to find your Slytherin friends. Just as you spot their group, Dean Thomas stops you.

“Hey, I’ve saved you a seat next to me, ok?” He asks, while his hands snaked around your waist.

“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” You say to him, giving him a small smile before turning your attention back to the group

-

“Merlin.” Theo says, causing the group to turn their heads. He had seen you walking around the crowd, and had turned away quickly when you had finally spotted them. He hadn’t seen you on the train and obviously hadn’t received your letter, so a part of him still hoped that you just wanted to talk to him in person. His anxiety began to take over him when he saw you walking towards him - would you tell him to fuck off? That he’s some sort of creep best friend? Or would you tell him that your heart beat for him? - that’s when he saw it. Dean Thomas gripping your waist and you sending him that sweet, tooth rotting smile his way.

“Oh shit.” Said Mattheo, who had been the first to spot the pair.

“Fuck that’s messed up.” Said Draco.

“I’m sorry mate.” Enzo said, patting Theo’s shoulder.

“How’d that even happen?” Asked Blaise, confused because he had never really seen you interact with Dean.

Mattheo sent him a look, warning him to drop it.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Mattheo said, gently grabbing Theo’s arm, pulling him away towards the dining room.

Theo could still feel his heart breaking, each shard falling to the pits of his stomach and stabbing him. He got his answer at least, not only did you not love him, you clearly didn’t care enough about him to even write back to him. And now, his God-sent Angel, was flaunting around with another man. How could the sweet girl he grew up with, the one that showed him that even salt could be beautiful, break his heart and crumble its pieces in your fist?

-

You were confused when you suddenly saw the group leave, making their way into the dining hall. You tried to get to them, but the crowds of people pushed you back until finally, you realized it was fruitless when the crowd began pushing you back towards the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. You decided to just sit down, and that you would try to find the group, Theo specifically because you missed him deeply, after dinner.

Dinner passed quickly after the tedious sorting ceremony. You talked with your friends and caught up with those around you, sneaking glances towards the Slytherin table as often as possible. Finally, Dumbledore dismissed the students and you all made your way towards your common rooms. Since it was the first day back, teachers were making sure students went directly to their rooms, leaving you no time to find the Slytherins. You decided it would be best for you to just wait until tomorrow, though you thought you might implode if you spent one more second away from Theo. A thought that made you feel instantly guilty when Dean appeared at your side.

~~

The next day rolled around, and still you hadn’t been able to get ahold of the Slytherins. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed they had been avoiding you. Finally, right before lunch you entered the library to grab some books when you saw the boys congregated in the back. You made your way over to them, carefully stepping around the stacks of books Madame Pince was reorganizing.

Once you finally reached the group, you went to announce your presence before Theo looked away from Draco (who was telling some boring anecdote) and looked down at you. Before you had any time to give him a smile or say your hello’s, he detached himself from the group and stormed right past you, through the stacks of books, and out the door. You stood shocked, facing the doors before finally turning back around to face the group. Your face was painted with an expression of confusion, which only deepened you received a nasty look from Enzo.

“We’ll be on our way now.” Said Enzo, walking past you with Blaise following close behind.

What..?” You finally managed to get out in your state of shock.

“Listen, y/n, just do us all a favor and leave us alone, especially Theo.” Mattheo said, in quite a rude tone before walking passed you. You stood confused and shocked at the interaction that had just unfolded. What had you done? Why were the boys mad at you? What had you done to Theo?

~~~

“I just have no idea what it could possibly be.” You said to Hermione, as you paced around your dorm room, recounting the story from earlier.

“Maybe it’s Dean. Maybe he’s just jealous.” Hermione offered.

“No, but I’ve had flings with guys before, and it’s not like he hasn’t been with girls before. It’s some thing deeper than that I know it.” You state, picking at your fingernails.

“And your sure you haven’t done anything? I mean you can’t think of one thing that could possibly have led to this?” Hermione asks, just as confused about the situation as you.

“Yes, I mean I literally cannot think of one thing that could have led to this. I would never hurt Theo, ever.” You say, plopping down on you bed, exasperated by the days events.

“I’m sorry y/n but I have absolutely no idea why they’re acting like this.” Hermione said, sad she couldn’t be of more help.

“It’s fine Hermione, it’s not your fault. I’m just going to go to bed.” You say, wanting this nightmare to end.

Could you really be losing your best friend to a reason unknown to you? Not only can you not be with the man that you love because he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, but now you may have just lost him completely. You fall asleep after hours of rolling back and forth contemplating your complicated relationship with Theo, and even in your unconscious state you cannot escape him because he peeps into your dreams.

~~~

The following week is agony. Your best friend won’t talk to you, let alone allow himself to be in the same room as you, the boys you’ve known since childhood give you nasty looks every chance they get, you have to entertain a relationship with Dean your not even sure you want to get into and your teachers are stuffing you with assignments. All you need is a good party with lots and lots of alcohol. Once Friday afternoon finally rolls around, you can feel a slight weight lift from your shoulders.

~~~

You walked into the Slytherin common room with Dean. Pansy, Daphne and some other Slytherin girls hosted the first party since break and seeing as you’ve been close with them since 1st year, you were clearly invited. You decided you were going to look your absolute best for this party: you’re makeup was flawless, your hair done to perfection, and the corset and low-waisted mini skirt you were wearing was doing your figure perfect justice.

“Fuck me.” Said Theo as he saw you walk in with Dean. “I’m going for a smoke outside.” He says.

“Need company?” Mattheo asks, not wanting to leave his vulnerable friend alone.

“Nah mate, thanks though.” He says, before walking outside quickly, before he can see anymore of you.

It had only been a few minutes, and you had already downed about 3 drinks. Once the alcohol started to hit, you detached yourself from Dean’s grip making up some excuse, before finding your way towards the Slytherin boys.

You spotted Mattheo sitting on the arm rest of a couch, sipping out of a plastic cup. You walked up to him, hips still swaying to the music.

“Where’s Theo?” You stated, once you reached him, your confidence booming.

“What do you want?” Mattheo asks, looking up at you with contempt.

“I need to find Theodore Nott. Where is he?” You state.

“You have some serious nerve.”

“What?” You ask, taken aback.

“Listen, y/n, you’re once of my closest friends, but Theo’s my best mate. And what you did, that shit’s just fucked up. Like seriously, I didn’t even know you were capable of that.” He says, disgust leaking out of his words.

“I’m sorry?” You say, confused by his words.

“Merlin y/n, I mean how dull can you be? You just expect everything to be all right after you not only completely ignore his letter where he fucking tells you he fucking loved you, but you turn up with some Levski (famous quidditch chaser) wannabe? I mean that’s some next level shit.” Mattheo says, getting up as he presents his rage induced speech.

“What letter?” You say, unaware of what he’s talking about.

Mattheo just stares at you, stuttering to get some words out.

“I said: what letter, Mattheo?” You say, much more sternly.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you never received it?” Mattheo asks, in shock.

“I don’t even know what I didn’t receive.” You say, exasperated.

“Just, wait right here, I’ll be right back!” Mattheo says, before running up the stairs towards the dorms.

You stand there in shock, your adrenaline pumping. Had you heard him right? Theo had sent you a letter confessing his love to you? How had you missed it?

“Here! Here! I have it!” Mattheo yelled, running towards you, waving a piece of parchment around in his hand.

“This. One.” Mattheo says, between breaths as he reaches you, handing you the parchment.

You rip it from his hands, reading it quickly yet thoroughly. Tears brim at your eyes, did he really feel this way? Merlin you felt so stupid, how could this have gotten lost?

“I-I…” you stuttered, unaware of what to say.

“Outside. He’s outside. Go!” Mattheo said, stilling catching his break.

“I- ok, thank you!” You say, before quickly running out the door, finding your way outside.

You see Theo sitting outside, smoking a cigarette. His face is illuminated by the moonlight and you swear in that moment that you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“Theo! Theodore!” You yell to him, as you run towards his figure. The grass was still wet from the rain that had fallen earlier that day, and the blades of grass began to stick to your calfs.

Theo looks at you, before getting up and attempting to escape you.

“Theo, wait, please! Mattheo just showed me the letter! I never got it!”

He stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned around.

“What?”

You finally catch up to him, breathing heavily.

“I never got your letter, I didn’t know about it until just now.” You explain, showing him the letter Mattheo had given you.

“What?” He said again, bewildered by what was going on.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, or your feelings. I just never got to read about them until tonight.”

“So, you’re telling me you never received it, at all?”

“No. I never got a letter.” You explain, your eyes searching his for some hint of how he was feeling.

“Did you read it?” Theo asked slowly.

“Yes, just now I did.”

“And…” Theo asked, hope returning to him and hitting him like a truck. He was filled with anxieties and he felts his stomach doing flips waiting for you to answer.

“Of course I’m in love with you, I thought I made it so obvious!”

“I thought I made it obvious!” Theo said with a laugh, all negative feelings and thoughts leaving his body and head at your confession.

“My heart quite literally beats for you, Teddy. I’ve never been so scared then when I thought I was losing you.”

“Really?” He asks. His eyes are lit up and he can barely contain his smile

“Yes you idiot!” You say, smiling wildly

“What about Dean?” He asks, afraid.

“Fuck Dean! It’s only ever been you, Teddy. It’ll always be you.” You say, staring up at him with nothing but love and devotion.

“Does this mean that you’ll have me?” He asks, grabbing your hands.

You nod vigorously, unable to get any words out as tears of happiness are threatening to spill if you utter a single word.

And with that, Theo dips down and kisses you. The kiss is deep and passionate. You two explore each others mouths, and your hands explore each others body. You taste every bit of each other, and feel each others hair, faces, arms, waists, chests, in ways that you’ve never felt before. You take this chance to make up for all the lost time you’ve spent pining for each other in secret. The kiss is hungry, yet gentle and Theo holds you close, as if if he doesn’t hold you as tightly as possible you’ll slip away from him. After a few minutes he pulls away, touching your forehead to his and holding your face in his hands.

“I’m so so sorry for believing the worst in you. I was just in so much pain. Ignoring you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done” He states, referring to the week prior.

“It’s ok, Teddy. Let’s not worry about that now.” You say, causing his lips to come crashing down on yours again.

#slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #theodore nott #jealousyfic #harry potter #theodore nott x y/n #angst #theodore nott angst #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #lost letters #the paper kites #anne of green gables #anne with an e #theo nott

[deceitfuldevil]

NSFW Alphabet with Druig the Eternal

Warnings: Exactly as the title states, 18+ minors do not interact. Mentions of overstimulation, assumed unprotected sex, fingering, oral (giving and receiving), praise, degradation, CNC, cream pies, edging, teasing, semi-public sex, choking, gender neutral reader? (Tell me if that’s wrong), not proofread and written when I had been awake for 35 hours straight.

Word count: 2K

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Druig has known he has more time than most on this world since the dawn of the earth, and he uses that fact to his advantage when taking care of you after sex. Even after you’ve finished, he never just pulls away to end things. Druig always fucks you through and through your orgasms, his slender digits still scissoring slowly inside of you as the wave of euphoria you just experienced fully passes. He will wordlessly make his way into your mind and repeat over and over again how good you did and how beautiful you look. Letting those soft praises play on loop as he steps away only for a moment to grab a warm cloth to clean you up, then tossing the fabric aside and tucking you into his side as he holds you close until you drift to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Druig doesn’t care much for one part of himself over another, but when it comes to you your eyes are his favorite part about you. He loves turning them gold when he encapsulates you with his powers, he loves the way your eyes flutter back into your head as he pleases you so intently, he loves how you will look directly at him as if he’s the most interesting man in the world.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Knowing that Eternals cannot produce children is something Druig used to both of your advantages, because while he still can cum, there’s no chance of getting you pregnant when he does so. So obviously Druig loves to stuff his cum as deep inside of you as possible, in the most primal ways he can think of, always adding in a few more thrusts for good measure to make sure you’re nice and full of his essence <3

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

After you and Druig established consensual non-consent his favorite thing to do is sneak into your mind when you’re sleeping and make you start dreaming about him inside of you, so that when you wake up it’s the first thing on your mind and you immediately pounce on him, and what do you know, somehow he’s always ready to go.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Druig is older than some fossils, and he has more knowledge than any well versed historian could ever dream of. So yes, I think it’s safe to say he’s well-versed in pleasing you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As much as Druig loves to use his powers in the bedroom his favorite position is when he’s sitting up and you’re on his lap riding him like no tomorrow. Your hands placed firmly on his board shoulders to help steady yourself as you bounce up and down his length, your forehead resting on top of his head as you focus on not finishing too soon while soft whines escape your lips. Your chest right in his face where he has full view of his second favorite part of you. Druig loves when you’re fucking yourself on him and he gets to watch how much you truly enjoy it more than anything else.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As much as Druig shows his softer side for you, that soft side isn’t around much in the bedroom. In the moment Druig’s main focus is your pleasure, and there’s nothing goofy about that. He won’t crack a joke until you’re throughly fucked out and can’t even understand his words.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s no animal, but he always keeps things realistic. The carpet matched the drapes, and he keeps himself fairly well groomed down there because it’s what works best for both of you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

No matter if it’s a quickie or if it’s an all night long marathon, Druig is always deeply intimate and in the moment with you. Soft, dirty words whispered in your ear to edge you on. Always touching you in more than one place at a time to keep you guessing and begging for more.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jacking off has never been something Druig felt the need or urge to do, but most frequently his hand falls upon himself when his mouth is busy pleasuring you. He can’t contain himself when he hears your beautiful moans and tastes your sweet juices on his lips. Druig will have his nose buried in your essence and moan into your heat as he gives his throbbing member a few swift tugs, holding himself off from doing anything more until you’ve finished first.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

It’s somewhat controversial but as mentioned earlier, consensual non-consent (CNC) is one of yours and Druig’s favorite actives in bed. It’s so relaxing to just let him take over your entire mind and when you come back around you’re completely fucked out. It’s great for Druig too to make you make of mess of yourself for him before diving into you himself.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

There’s a lot of places Druig likes to do the deed with you. A beautiful waterfall hidden in the Amazon forest, tucked away in the garden of his followers making, even on the rainforest floor because he loves how primal it feels to literally fuck you into the ground. But his favorite place of all to fuck you is on top of the alter stand in his humble house of worship. Laying your back against the cold flat wood while your arms are wrapped around his neck he’ll imagine that all of his disciples are with you two in the house of worship witnessing the way he is thrusting in and out of you. Because your moans are the highest prayer of all.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Druig is so completely and utterly obsessed with you that just about anything you do can and will get him going. You’ll be tending to a garden and he’ll tell you how pretty you look on your knees, or it will be extra humid out and you’ll be putting your hair up in a ponytail and next thing you know he’s pulling your hair back and flattening his palm against your neck, telling you your heart is starting to race.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Age play is a no for Druig. He never wants to feel older than you, wiser than you, or above you in any way. He wants to be your equal, and doesn’t like to be reminded of all the years he’s endured on this earth before he met you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As pretty as you look with his cock stuffed down your throat, Druig prefers to be the one pleasing you instead of you pleasing him. He would spend days on end if you’d let him with his tongue prodding expertly at your entrance and his nose pushing up against your clit.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

A little bit of everything is always the right way to go in Druig’s opinion. He’ll almost always start off slow and sensual, and work in those high energy moments where you’re babbling and screaming his name as he roughly jack rabbits into you sending you over the edge.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Druig would never turn down a quickie, especially if presented with the chance. Most of your quickies happen when he loses his resolve and just needs to have your right then and there, and there’s nothing more satisfying than simply being able to take you whenever and wherever he wants.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

There’s two kinds of risky situations Druig will put you in. One is when you two have the quickies and he’s fucking you in an open garden or in his house of worship with the door unlocked, and he loves knowing any one of his followers could spot you two at any given moment. The other risky situation Druig likes to put you in is around the Eternals when he will get a little too handsy under the table or even under a shared blanket during movie night, you’re more of risk than he is in these situations because you’re the one who always makes a sound.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Never forget this man is a celestial, a god essentially. There’s no such thing as needing a break for him or running out of energy in the bedroom. Druig aims to please and please and please you until you can’t take anymore, only when you’re satiated, so is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Technological advancements weren’t always Druig’s favorite part of evolution, but as soon as he learned what good can come from adding a cheeky little vibrator into the mix, it became his new best friend.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As an eternal Druig does have duties and responsibilities to attend to, and it’s always when he’s about to go off on a mission or busy himself with something else entirely when he really leans into teasing and taunting you. Mostly going inside of your head, telling you exactly what to do, and how you’re going to do it without him ever being there. But hell never let you finish yourself off without him there, but he’ll tease and edge you for hours if he can. He’s unfair but the reward is so worth it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s definitely not overly loud or vocal in bed aside from giving demands and or praises, maybe a little grunting or whining if he’s close and ready to finish. But overall he’s pretty quiet so he can tune into the sounds you’re making.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Druig loves to make you cum as many times as possible, especially if he’s going down on you he’ll make sure to double down on his actions immediately after you’ve finished to build up another twice as intense orgasm.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is handcrafted, not a flaw or an inch missing anywhere on that man. He’s surely not too large to the point where you’re in pain every time, and by no means small in any way shape or form. His girth is slightly larger than average, always a right squeeze of a delicious one. His length will hit your cervix when he’s holding tightly onto your hips and slamming into you repeatedly, other times when he’s not as rough he’s got a bit a curve that brushed against your g spot in just the right place to have you seeing starts every time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Druig had a past with people who are now lost to history, but he never felt for them the way he feels for you. Therefore Druig is always yearning for you, willing to take you whenever you ask, and to do whatever you need.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

To circle back to the beginning, Druig will always make sure you’ve fallen asleep first afterwards in case you need a glass of water or something to that effect. Once you’re snoring softly in his embrace, he pulls your impossibly closer and allows sleep to take him as well.

—

A/N

Been a minute since I wrote but I’m trying to post at least one fic of some sorts every month and with this I’ll actually still be on track!! Can’t even begin the go on about the shit happening in my daily life but I hope I will start writing again more soon.

Thanks for reading <3

Much Love,

—Skyler

#marvel #mcu #fan fic #fan fiction #cute #fluff #love #au #druig blurb #druig oneshot #druig x y/n #druig reader insert #druig fanfiction #druig x reader #druig x female reader #druig imagine #druig headcanon #druig fic #druig smut #druig drabble #druig x you #druig eternals #eternals #marvels eternals #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu x you #marvel mcu #headcannons #x reader