#and i'm worried i've just spent too much time messing with him

[doom-dreaming]

Blue Team (+ Cortana) Sims

(Places four tiny Spartans and an even tinier Cortana into your hands.)

Our main boy. Gap-toothed and covered in freckles. :) They're all over his shoulders, too. And his chest. And his back. It's great. He also has a secret tattoo on his shoulder.

Kellyyyyyyyyyyy. My silly rabbit. In all her blue-haired glory. Fun fact: Kelly looks different in every single reference photo I used. Thanks, Halo. All I have to go on is "rough, angular beauty" and a bunch of wildly-different renderings from a billion sources.

Linda! Everyone's favorite sniper. Turns out the birthmark options can also look like scars, so that's cool. I just think they should have more battle damage than literally every picture I've ever seen of them. You're telling me these people have been in heavy combat for over four decades and their faces are pristine? I don't buy it, no matter how good they are at keeping their helmets on.

Fred turned out much better after I spent a little more time messing with his face bones. And he doesn't look as much like he's constantly on the verge of tears like the first version. Lmao. Even got the gray (sorry, "silver") hair in there. And idk, I thought the tattoo looked cool. I do have Blue Team tattoo headcanons, but Sims doesn't really have anything close.

She!!!!! I was trying to get her close to the Halo 2 Anniversary facial structure, since it's my favorite look for her and her face is different in literally every game. I think I did a decent job. As decent a job as one can manage in a minimally-modded Sims game.

Good news, the height slider looks great with this group. John and Fred are at max height (Kelly and Linda are close to it) and Cortana's at minimum and. it's just good. It's very good. I'm finally realizing I have a very real thing for size differences, which is technically something I always knew, but. Anyway. There they are, I'm pretty happy with how they turned out! I still haven't finished their house yet.

[cordeliawhohung]

You created a monster in me with underboss!Simon and now you must take responsibility.

Please feed my new addiction with relationship headcanons 😩😩😩. I love him and Shy!reader.

i've created so many monsters y'all gotta stop biting at my ankles or at least start paying rent or smth <3 also i'm still trying to work out a lot of the dynamics of the relationship between them so this is still a little bare boned but i hope you enjoy!

mafia!141 masterlist <3

warnings: mostly fluff :3 simon is a bit of a prick lol, fem!reader,

just in case anyone missed it, this is how underboss!Simon and shy!Reader meet <3

it takes a brutally long time for the two of you to start dating. a brutally long time.

and it isn't for lack of trying on Simon's end. he manages to get your number somehow (i hear Soap is very tech savvy...) and asks you out the week after the dinner at John's house, only for you to decline.

which is fine. he can take rejection. but this is... different. you're too kind when you say no. you're not saying it because you think you're too good for him, you're saying it because of something else, and Simon can tell the difference but can't exactly tell what it is.

it drives him nuts for a long time. you were supposed to be just another number in his phone for a booty call. he's used to getting pretty much anything he wants, after all, but even then it shouldn't have bugged him as much as it did. maybe it was because he liked the way you looked at him. not with disgust. not with some lustful intention. you were... soft. kind, even.

as for you? you think it's crazy how this 6'4", ripped, and kind guy showed interest in you. you, someone too anxious for her own good, someone who said no because it was less scary than committing to something. and you hate yourself for rejecting him.

so in an effort to stay close to him, you text him pretty often. you send him pictures of things you see or run into during your day. something funny at work, a cool rock you found in someone's garden, the spider that decided to make its home in your shower. and sweetheart, you have no idea what you're doing to the poor man ):

this goes on for a long while. just simon being a stupid man, not wanting to push your boundaries after you already rejected him, and you being too anxious to fix things and ask him yourself.

eventually, by some miracle (that i might write more about later because like i said BARE BONES) the two of you get together. and it's... interesting. simon isn't really used to dating. like properly. he's used to buttering a girl up, going back to her place for a quick fuck, and then only seeing her whenever either of them are too bored and horny to function. but with you it's nothing like that at all. there's no sex on the first date, not even a damn kiss, and he finds himself craving you more than ever because of it. wanting to be around you all the time, wanting to hear about your day.

man is fucking obsessed.

he treats you like a princess. he only ever really spent his money on stupid shit but now he can spend it on you! you never ask for anything, but god forbid if you express that anything, be it clothes or otherwise, looks cute because he will buy it for you, no matter how awkward you are at receiving gifts.

also! because he's so big and somewhat brutish, no one fucks with you when you're in public together. annoying kiosk clerks trying to aggressively sell you something? one look from him and they're gone. someone messed up your order but you're too anxious to ask them to fix it? he's advocating for you.

because of him, you find yourself growing less afraid and anxious of things. he teaches you how to be brave, and you teach him how to be soft. there's nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you <3

oh also btw he's in the mafia. he might have forgotten to mention that... hope that doesn't freak you out or anything. don't worry about the blood on his shirt or the bruises on his face or the cuts on his arms or... oh god you look like you're going to cry. it's nothing, sweetheart! promise! stop trying to take him to the hospital!

also, some sorta unrelated comments: i think shy!reader is def a hostess at a restaurant. i feel like simon would hang out at the restaurant too just to be around you. he'd also slip you a tip, even though you tell him you make hourly and don't depend on tips.

"consider it my way of saying thanks for sitting us at the table with the best view."

the view is you, btw.

AHHH i'm sorry this was such a mess? i have so many jumbled thoughts but i'm glad i was able to get some of them out and i hope they were somewhat enjoyable al;kdjf i'll be working on a short drabble/oneshot for him over the weekend, so i'm hoping that'll make up for this <3

[cursedlovesstuff]

Fixing Us. Part 3.

Nat woke up later than usual, the weight of the previous night's conversation still heavy on her mind.

As she stretched out her limbs, groaning softly, she dragged herself off the couch and made her way up the stairs to the bathroom to start her morning routine.

Knocking on the bedroom door, she called out Y/N's name, but there was no response.

"Y/N?" Nat called out again, opening the door to find the neatly made bed, but Y/N was nowhere in sight. Disappointment washed over Nat as she assumed Y/N had gone out with Esther, especially since it was the weekend.

Shrugging off her disappointment, Nat proceeded with her morning routine, brushing her teeth and washing her face before reaching for her phone to text Wanda, asking if she had time to talk.

Shortly after, Wanda messaged Nat back, saying she was on her way back to the tower asking if Nat wanted to meet her there to talk.

With that, Nat grabbed her keys and made her way to the Avengers Tower.

~

At the tower, Wanda greeted Nat as she sat down at the kitchen table.

"What's up?" Wanda asked.

"I messed up, and I need some advice," Nat admitted.

"When you say that you've messed up and need advice, that makes me worry," Wanda replied, concern evident in her voice.

"It's nothing bad... well, it is bad, very bad, but not enough for you to worry," Nat assured her.

"Okay, so what is it this time? Did you get spotted by Hydra agents or punch someone in the face? Because those are things that I can't help with; you'll have to ask Tony," Wanda joked.

Tony walked into the kitchen, grabbing water. "Ask Tony what?" he chimed in.

"Nat needs advice," Wanda explained.

"Oh god, I can have my lawyer here in 15 minutes. Wanda, call Y/N to let her know that Nat is in safe hands," Tony teased.

"Tony!" Nat exclaimed.

"What?" Tony asked, looking confused.

"Why is the first thing you assume when I ask for help that I'm in some sort of legal trouble?" Nat retorted.

"Because I had to bail you out for getting into a bar fight," Tony replied nonchalantly.

"I was in the bar fight protecting you and your slick mouth, but that isn't important right now. This is serious," Nat countered.

"Right, right, sorry. So, what was the advice you needed?" Tony asked, now serious.

"I think Y/N and I are heading down the path of divorce," Nat confessed.

"You think?" Wanda asked, her brow furrowing.

"No, I know," Nat corrected.

"Okay, so what did you do wrong?" Tony inquired.

"Why do you always assume I'm the one messing up and doing something wrong?" Nat questioned.

"Because Y/N is a literal angel," Wanda interjected, and Tony added, "Just a guess. So, spill the beans. Just between us girls, what did you do wrong?"

Tony earned a side-eye from Wanda and Nat.

"Don't worry about him, continue," Wanda said, brushing off Tony's comment.

Nat sighed. "Last night, Y/N and I got into an argument outside the bar and another when we got home," she admitted. "From what I know, I've spent too much time with Maria for Y/N's liking. I'm not home enough, and at some point in the argument, I may have said something that hurt Y/N deeply."

"You did what?"

"I may have said something hurtful unintentionally. We were outside of the bar, and I asked her if she could tell if Carol was just her friend or someone who wanted to sleep with her."

"Nat—"

"I know, it was stupid. I said it without thinking, and I didn't realize how much my words hurt her last night."

"Well, this is a lot worse than I expected."

"It's not just that. I think Y/N might believe that I either cheated on her with Maria or that I am currently cheating."

"Well, are you?" Tony asked.

"No, Tony, I am not cheating on Y/N, nor do I plan on it. But she doesn't believe me."

"So let me get this straight—you and Y/N got into an argument last night because you're never home and you're always out with Maria. You said something hurtful, and now she might think that you're cheating on her?"

"Yeah, that's about right. I forgot to mention the part where if I don't fix things soon, Y/N said I could marry Maria."

"You're screwed."

"Tony, stop it."

"What do you want me to lie and say everything is going to be fine? Nat's marriage is hanging on the thinnest line I have ever seen."

"I know it's on a thin line, and I want to fix it before it's too late. I came here for your advice and opinions, not to be judged."

"Well, I've never been through this situation. I think you're a workaholic, and you're so busy that you forget that Y/N is a person too, not just someone that you just met or started dating. She's your wife, and she needs to feel loved, valued, and cherished," Wanda remarked, to which Nat nodded before turning her attention to Tony.

"How did you fix things with Pepper?"

"Well, we have had our fair share of disagreements, but I'd have to say communication. You can be mad at each other, but you can't fix the problem if you don't know what the other is mad about," Tony shared.

"I tried walking in Pepper's shoes for the day, and it wasn't easy. She manages a lot of things for me, including press conferences. She helps in the lab, and when she and Wanda are taking turns, she helps cook dinner and clean up around the entire tower," Tony continued with a sigh.

"The point I'm trying to make is, don't get so mad easily and understand things from Y/N's point of view. Try and make her day easier. If she cooks breakfast, you wash the dishes. If she washes and dries the clothes, you fold them and put them up. If she's having a bad day, go out and get her favorite snacks or comfort food. Show her that you really care. It's 50/50, not 95/5 percent. Y/N is a good one; don't lose her by being stupid. It's the bare minimum," Tony concluded.

"Where do I start?"

"You can start by taking some time off work and showing Y/N that you really care. What's something that Y/N really likes?"

"She's not really a fan of really public things that are in crowded places or expensive gifts. She likes more thoughtful gifts that took time and effort."

"Maybe you can clean up the apartment, reorganize some things."

"The apartment is always clean. Y/N doesn't even like shoes going past the carpet."

"Maybe you can make her something."

"What if I cook her dinner?"

"You want to cook?" Tony asked, surprised.

"Yes, why?"

"The last time you tried to cook, you almost set the kitchen on fire."

"I didn't know what I was doing back then, but if it makes Y/N happy, I'll do anything."

"What's Y/N's favorite food?" Tony asked.

"She likes shrimp alfredo and homemade garlic toast. That's one of her favorites," Nat replied.

"Okay, shrimp alfredo and toast. What's your plan after dinner?" Wanda inquired.

"To try and get her to talk to me and hope it doesn't turn into an argument. Maybe I can get her some of her favorite things from the store to lighten her mood," Nat explained.

"It's a good start. It's getting late; we should get to the store and make dinner before Y/N gets off work," Wanda suggested.

"Y/N has a job?" Nat asked, surprised.

"Yes, you didn't know? She said she was tired of being in the house by herself all day," Wanda revealed, making Nat reflect on how close Y/N and Wanda had become.

"Well, we should get going," Wanda said after noticing Nat's silence.

"We should head out. Thank you, Tony," Nat said, acknowledging Tony before leaving the kitchen with Wanda.

"Yeah, yeah, go fix things with Y/N before I tell Fury you're breaking her heart," Tony teased as Nat and Wanda walked out of the kitchen.

[storywriter007]

do you do requests? if you do, can you do Leo x fem reader who is the daughter of Khione, she has ice powers and she has a very friendly, cheerful demeanor and is genuinely kind tends to smile a lot of the times although it does comes off as creepy sometimes, the reason why the reader smiles a lot is because just like Leo as a way of coping with her mommy issues and doesn't want people to worry

Fire & Ice - Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader

author's note: i do take requests :) and this is such a cute idea! like fire and ice, polar opposites, but they end up being the exact same. thank you for the request!

author's note 2: i didn't know if you wanted this to be fluff or angst, so i kinda did both (please send me more angst im internally dying writing all of this joy)

warnings: slight bullying, mommy issues, cursing

genre: angst ending in fluff

word count: 1.9k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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y/n gently braided the curly hair in front of her. she put a little elastic towards the end of the braid, and leaned back. it looked wonderful. beautiful brown curls cascaded down like a waterfall, and two cute little braids were at the top of the head.

"all done lay!" she smiled.

"you look beautiful," she said, holding up a mirror for the girl to see.

"thank you so much y/n! i loooove it!" she beamed, giving y/n a big hug.

"of course!"

she ran off, and y/n began cleaning up.

"surprised you didn't give the kid a brain freeze." a familiar voice laughed.

"nice to see you too, valdez." she rolled her eyes.

leo's smile died out whenever he saw y/n, and y/n's kindness turned into cruelty whenever she saw him. they didn't get along; not in the least. leo was a fire-producing maniac, and y/n was a snow-summoning psycho. their rivalry started when y/n was ice skating on the lake (after turning part of it into ice) and leo came up and set it on fire. y/n would've drowned if she didn't quickly skate away and create ice until she got to the grass. after that, y/n froze one of his favorite machines, and he spent days trying to melt all the ice off. they'd had it out for each other for two summers - ever since leo found out she was the daughter of khione.

leo was loud. annoying. funny on occasion. y/n was soft spoken. kind. caring. fire and ice. they were far too different.

"don't you have something to blow up?" she asked, meeting his brown eyes.

"yeah." he said, looking over at her cabin. "elsa's castle."

"i swear to god, i'm going to-"

"turn me into a rocket pop?" he grinned.

"i'm gonna freeze your bed. have fun sleeping outside for the week." she said, staring him down.

"that'll make two of us."

they both stormed away. gods, she couldn't stand him.

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evening struck, and as y/n made her way to the mess hall, she saw a little boy sitting all alone on a fallen tree. he had curly blonde hair. he was wearing a blue t-shirt and beige cargo shorts. he looked no older than twelve. he sat quietly, his face resting on his right hand. he looked upset.

"y/n, c'mon." one of her friends said.

"you guys go, i'll be with you in a few."

she made her way over to the little boy.

"can i sit here?" she asked.

"yeah." he said glumly, moving over.

"what's your name?"

"daniel." he said, not looking at her.

"tough first week, daniel?" she asked.

he nodded his head. new campers came in everyday, and it didn't get easier for any half-blood who stepped in the magical boundaries.

"it's alright." she reassured. "the first week is always the worst week."

"i've got no friends." he said shakily. "no one wants to talk to me."

he finally looked up and met y/n's gaze. she could see the scattered freckles on his face and the tears that were welled up in his light green eyes.

"what about your siblings?"

her voice was soft and calming.

"they don't wanna talk to me either." he said, defeated.

"i know." she sighed. "it's tough being new. but, uh, tell me dan, what do you like to do?"

"i-i like to draw." he said.

"that's so cool! i can only draw a stick figure, dear gods. what do you like to draw?"

"mostly nature and stuff. i draw a lot of animals and landscapes." he said, his tone picking up a little bit. "i have a sketchbook, if y-you want to see.."

his voice trailed off.

"i'd be delighted." she smiled.

the boy's eyes lit up as he rushed off and quickly came back with a sketchbook. he showed her all of his drawings and where he had drawn them. they were absolutely beautiful. they continued talking about the drawings, and daniel told y/n about all of the parks, lakes, and mountains he'd visited before arriving at camp. she could see he was feeling a lot better.

"don't you want to go to the mess hall?" y/n asked him. "get somethin' to eat?

"my siblings don't like it when i sit with them." he sighed.

"who said you have to sit with them?" she laughed. "sit with me. c'mon kid."

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after walking daniel to the ares cabin, y/n turned around and rushed to the camp headquarters for a counselor's meeting. she wasn't looking forward to seeing leo. as she walked into the very informal meeting room, his first remark was made.

"someone's late." he coughed.

the other counselors turned to look at her.

suck my dick is what she wanted to say.

"one of the kids wanted me to walk them back. that's kinda what happens when the younger campers actually trust you." she smiled, passive-aggresively.

"hey, they trust me!" he defended. "they love me."

"first you lie about your height, and now how much the kids like you?"

the crowd of counselors started laughing.

"don't encourage her guys." he said, so seriously that the crowd quit laughing. "she's gonna start singing 'let it go!'"

giggles and laughs burst out from every corner of the room as y/n felt her cheeks grow warm.

"c'mon johnny storm." she paused. "give them a real show and sing 'this boy is on fire,' won't you?"

he glared at her as more laughs erupted from the counselors. to them, it was all in good fun. to leo and y/n, it was the continuation of a war. just as leo was about to holler another snappy insult, their verbal sparring was interrupted.

"enough." chiron said, entering the room. "i've had it with you two."

the room stood quiet.

"yeah, y/n, pack up your shit." he snickered.

"i'm sorry for the constant misconduct." she smiled, trying to repair the damage. "i could fix it, if you'd let me turn valdez into a statue for my ice castle."

laughs erupted from more of their banter.

"go clean the stables." he ordered. "both of you, together. come back to your cabins once you've become friends."

"there's no way that me and evil frosty are gonna get along." leo protested. "we're gonna be there forever!"

shut up y/n wanted to yell. he was just making things worse.

"then i suggest you ask mr. jackson to teach you how to speak horse." chiron said firmly.

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y/n cleaned the stables while leo swept the floor.

"leo, could you pass me that-"

"no."

they had been here for four hours and leo had refused to cooperate. she was at the end of her rope with him.

"why do you hate me?" she asked, exasperated.

she'd wondered this ever since they'd got here. she assumed it's because ice and fire don't get along, but everyone at camp assured her leo would never hate anyone over something they couldn't control. especially, godly heritage.

"you got us stuck here!" he argued.

"you started it!" she countered.

their voices slowly rose as they yelled at one-another.

"you were late!" he continued. "and besides, i might've started it, but you ended it!"

"you started things with me from the first day i got here two summers ago! you tried to burn me alive! you threated to blow my cabin up! why!?" she asked loudly.

she was tired. she was sore. and she was sick of leo always being a douchebag.

"your mom tried to kill me!" he yelled.

"she tried to kill me too!"

"what?" he asked, his gaze softening and his voice lowering.

"nothing." y/n said, realizing what she'd just said. "nothing, just forget about it."

"y/n-"

"go to bed." she demanded. "i'll finish this by myself. not like you were doing anything anyways."

"you can trust me." he insisted. "please?"

"make whatever snide remark you were going to, and leave."

"please, y/n." he said, his voice low and steady. "what happened?"

"i was nine, and uh, my mother had decided she was done with me. she tried to freeze me, and uh, then she tried to stab me." she paused to say the next part. "and when none of that work, she uh-she tried to burn me."

"i'm so sorry."

"don't worry about it." she said, quickly plastering a smile on her face. "now it's your turn to answer my question. why do you hate me?"

"i-i don't. i never have." he sighed. "i figured you'd end up hating me regardless, so i just sealed our fate."

they stood in the silence of the stables.

"you started a fight with my because you assumed i would automatically dislike you? because you can summon fire?" y/n asked, it being her turn to be shocked now.

"yeah." he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "i thought you'd be some cold, icy, pessimistic bitch.

"ouch."

"until i saw you. how much you cared, and how much you smiled, and how much you made other people feel better. by the time, i realized you weren't what i had made of you, it was too late to turn back."

"leo." she said, unable to speak. "i care about people regardless. i would've never had a vendetta against you because you're a mini human torch. and even though you were convinced i hated you, i never did. i just played along."

"liar." he chuckled.

"when you passed out from exhaustion for forty-eight hours, do you know who monitored you each and every second? do you know who constructed your diet and recovery plan? do you remember the fuzzy voice telling you everything was going to be okay? because that was me."

"why?" he asked. "why are you so nice?

"i just want someone to stay."

they started at each-other for a moment. leo used humor and jokes to cover up the pain he felt. y/n used compensating kindness. they didn't want people to leave them, so they found something that would make them valuable: witty remarks and selflessness. they both covered up their profound pain and self-hatred with a form of fake happiness. they both had constructed a person who is only upset when no one is watching. and it was all because both of them didn't want people to worry, they just wanted them to stay.

"i feel the same way." he shared.

they weren't as different as they thought they were.

"i'm sorry." he said, sincerity in his eyes. "i misjudged you."

"i'm sorry too." she responded. "i held up my end of the bargain, didn't i?"

"i guess fire and ice aren't polar opposites after all." he smiled.

"i think they're identical." she agreed, reaching her hand out.

they shook hands, but didn't let go. leo's grip was firm on her hand. they looked into each other's eyes. leo pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers. his rough hands wrapped around her waist, as hers roamed his face and neck. it wasn't a needy kiss, it wasn't a passionate kiss, it was a "i'm glad you're here" kiss. leo felt her cold fingers move around his neck. it felt refreshing. y/n felt his warm hands around her waist. it felt comforting. after a few seconds, they pulled away, and laughed a little. y/n put her head on his shoulder as he held her tight.

[kairoot]

EICS. 💌 (05.) last time i saw you

WARNINGS ▸ 1.5K words, mentions of being tired and pretty depressed, let me know if i missed anything (i do not condone any of these things and this is not made to represent any of the idols' personality or behavior. it is simply for fictional purposes.)

SYNOPSIS ▸ you and jake broke up about a year ago and he made it his mission to forget everything about you. you've always wanted to send him a text or even a voicemail about how much you missed him but you always held back. that was until you two met again.

—

Too many days had gone by since the party at Heeseung’s and Jake’s head was swirling. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He’d spent most of his time alone for the past two weeks, his phone turned off and his dorm door shut. For whatever reason, he couldn’t get the thought of Y/n out of his head, ever since he saw her.

Jake lied in bed, staring at the ceiling. There were clothes scattered over the floor and bed while his room reeked with the smell of day-old ramen. His papers for classes were unfinished and spread out on his desk with open emails about his absences from school. He blinked slowly as his brain came up with all of the most impossible scenarios of him and Y/n. Like them getting back together. It seemed utterly impossible to Jake.

There was a rhythmic knock on his door that knocked him out of his trance. He didn’t move, though, hoping whoever was there would move on and go about their day. But he was sadly mistaken.

The knock came again, only it was louder and more demanding. Jake huffed, swinging his legs over the bed to stand up. He trudged to the front door, swinging it open with a pout on his face.

“Wha—“

He cut his sentence short when he saw his mom smiling up at him and his dad with a slightly smaller grin. His eyes went wide as he tried processing the fact that they were actually there. He had mixed reactions; ecstatic and annoyed.

During Y/n and Jake's time together, Jake’s parents were not too fond of Y/n and they always made it known to the both of them. Whether Y/n was at their house and his parents gave her a certain look or mumbled something under their breath.

Jake's mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the right words. His mom's smile faltered slightly as she took in the state of his dorm. "Jake, honey, what's going on? We've been worried sick."

Jake ran a hand through his messy hair, stepping aside to let them in. "I'm fine, Mom. Just... a lot on my mind."

His dad glanced around the cluttered room, his expression a mix of concern and disapproval. "Doesn't look like you're fine, son. This place is a mess."

Jake sighed, closing the door behind them. "I've just been busy with classes and stuff. Didn't have time to clean up."

His mom walked over to the desk, picking up a crumpled paper. "These don't look like assignments, Jake. What's really going on?"

Jake hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor. He could feel the weight of his parents' gaze on him, and it made the knot in his stomach tighten. "It's... it's Y/n," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

His mom's face softened, but his dad's expression hardened. "That girl again? Jake, we told you—"

"Don't," Jake interrupted, his voice sharper than intended. "Just don't. I don't need a lecture right now."

His mom put a hand on his dad's arm, silencing him. She turned back to Jake, her eyes filled with concern. "What happened, sweetheart?"

Jake took a deep breath, the memories flooding back. "I saw her at Heeseung's party a couple of weeks ago. Ever since then, I can't stop thinking about her. I thought I was over her, but... I miss her. A lot."

His mom reached out, gently touching his arm. "It's okay to miss someone, Jake. But you can't let it consume you. You need to take care of yourself."

Jake nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. "I know, but it's hard. Everything reminds me of her. And knowing how you guys felt about her back then... it doesn't help."

"But you never gave her a chance," Jake shot back. "You didn't see how happy she made me."

There was a tense silence before his mom spoke again. "Maybe we were too harsh. If she's on your mind this much, maybe you need to talk to her. See if there's still something there."

Jake looked at her, surprised. "You think so?"

She nodded, a small smile forming. "Sometimes, we need to follow our hearts, even if it means taking a risk."

Jake felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he needed to reach out to Y/n, to see if there was still a chance for them. As his parents helped him tidy up his dorm, Jake's mind was already racing with possibilities. For the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of clarity.

That night, after his parents left, Jake sat at his desk, staring at his phone. His fingers hovered over Y/n's contact, his heart pounding.

Y/n sat at a table in the bustling cafeteria, focusing intently on her lunch to avoid her friends' probing looks. Yunjin, Harvey, and Jurin were discussing the latest gossip, but Y/n felt their eyes darting to her, silently urging her to join the conversation.

"Y/n, you've been quiet all day," Yunjin finally said, her voice laced with concern. "What's up?"

Y/n shrugged, forcing a nonchalant smile. "Just tired, that's all. Long night of studying."

Harvey narrowed her eyes, clearly not convinced. "Is this about Jake? We all saw the way you looked at each other at Heeseung's party."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name, but she shook her head firmly. "I'm over Jake. Seeing him again just reminded me of why it didn't work out. I don't need him."

Jurin leaned forward, her expression empathetic. "But you miss him, don't you? It's okay to admit that."

Y/n sighed, feeling the weight of their concern. "Yeah, I miss him sometimes. But that doesn't mean we should be together. I need to focus on myself, on what makes me happy without relying on him."

Yunjin smiled softly. "That's a good mindset. But remember, it's okay to feel sad or nostalgic. Just don't let it control you."

Harvey nodded. "And we're here to help you through it. You don't have to do this alone."

Jurin chimed in, her voice gentle. "Yeah, we're your friends. We've got your back, no matter what."

Y/n felt a surge of gratitude for her friends' support. "Thanks, guys. It really helps knowing you're here for me."

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Y/n gathered her things, feeling a sense of resolve. She didn't need Jake to be happy. She had her friends, her goals, and her own strength. And that was enough.

Walking to their next class, Yunjin looped her arm through Y/n's. "Let's make a pact. No more moping over boys. We're focusing on ourselves and our future."

Harvey laughed. "Hear, hear! Here's to strong, independent women."

Jurin grinned. "And to friends who stick together through everything."

Y/n smiled, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. With her friends by her side, she knew she could face whatever challenges came her way. And as they walked down the hall, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. She didn't need Jake to complete her; she was already whole.

Sunghoon, Riki, and Heeseung sat in the campus café, their usual hangout spot between classes. The table was littered with half-empty coffee cups and textbooks, but the conversation was far from academic.

"Has anyone seen Jake lately?" Riki asked, stirring his iced coffee absently. "He hasn't shown up to any of our classes this week."

Heeseung shook his head, his brow furrowed in concern. "Nope. His dorm's been shut tight every time I checked. I tried calling him, but he’s not picking up."

Sunghoon sat silently, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on his phone. He had been uncharacteristically quiet and tense, his mood casting a shadow over their usual banter.

Heeseung exchanged a look with Riki, then leaned forward. "Sunghoon, what's up with you? You've been in a mood all day."

Sunghoon's grip tightened on his phone, but he didn't respond.

Riki frowned, frustration creeping into his voice. "Come on, man. We're all worried about Jake, but you're acting like something else is bothering you."

Sunghoon finally looked up, his eyes flashing with anger. "It’s nothing. Just focus on Jake."

Heeseung sighed, trying to keep his patience. "We know he saw Y/n at the party. It's probably why he's been off. But we can't help if you don't talk to us."

Sunghoon's jaw tightened, and he looked away. He was still fuming about how none of them had shown up to his big game last weekend, but he wasn't about to bring it up now. They had more pressing issues to deal with.

Riki tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. "Maybe we should call Jay. He was at the party too, and he might have some insight."

Heeseung nodded. "Good idea. I'll give him a call."

Heeseung stepped away to make the call while Sunghoon and Riki waited, the tension between them palpable. After a few minutes, Heeseung returned, shaking his head. "No answer. We’ll have to figure this out ourselves."

Riki sighed. "Alright, then. Let’s just go to Jake’s dorm. He can’t ignore us if we’re standing right in front of him."

Sunghoon's expression softened slightly, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Yeah, let’s go."

—

prev / masterlist / next

MILAN’S NOTE ▸ kinda hate this but I FINALLY UPDATED EICS I MISSED THIS SMAU SM I LOVD IT WITH ALL OF MY HEART

TAGLIST: @jwsdoll @kgneptun @thesunoosshining @lostwonderwall l @ariadores @haechansbbg @mrchweeee @instant-joy @jiseokzzz @n-eetune @wntersmina @wonyofile-deactivated20240614 @jebetwo @sussycheetos @ilovecats923 @hyuckscore @laylasmother @jakehooni @fertiliezedtoesw @ghostiiess @zyvlxqht @adr1an47 @sasfransisco @reallyspaghetti @143ikeu @enhaslxt @judeduartewannabe @ilovejungwonandhaechan @belovedsthings @mnxnii @hoonsbbokie (message, comment, or send a ask to be added)

[azrielslightintheshadows]

I've got you.

Azriel x f!Reader

Request; Right now I'm kinda going mad because of uni and I came up with this idea of the reader that is like studying something to help the inner circle, but she can't find anything (or whatever came up to your mind love) and Az, her mate, try to reassure her with cuddle/kisses and lot of fluff.

Warnings; Mentions of potential death, reader feels useless

Masterlist.

Hope this is what you had in mind love <3

The words on the tenth book you were currently reading seemed like foreign symbols, your brain had turned into a mush and you groaned as you massaged your temples. Nesta’s powers disappeared when she saved Feyre from death and everyone worried that it might have an impact on her health, thus you were searching every book you could find. Rhys and Feyre wanted to help but they were preoccupied by Nyx and everyone else made sure they were safe and handled the matters of the court.  

“Come on, you can finish the book” you whispered to yourself and flinched when a deep chuckle sounded from behind you. 

“You should take a break angel” your mate’s velvety voice filled your ears and you smiled softly. He moved closer and placed those beautiful scarred hands on your shoulders massaging them. 

“I can’t stop now, I haven’t found anything and we don’t know how much time we have if it actually messes with Nesta’s health” you said and your bottom lip trembled. Nesta managed to become one of your dearest friends and just the thought of something happening to her made you want to rip your hair off. The fact that you couldn’t find something to help her broke your heart in million pieces. 

“Calm down angel, we don’t know if she is in trouble for sure, maybe that’s why you can’t find anything” he said softly and pulled your chair back, he marked the page of the book and picked you up. 

“Everything’s going to be alright” he murmured in your hair and sat on the armchair next to the big window of the study. 

“I’ve read ten books and I can’t find anything. I feel so useless right now” you confessed and hid your face in his neck. 

“You’re not useless baby, you are the only one who’s trying to find something about the situation.” He paused for a second “I think that this makes everyone else useless.” 

You shook your head with a smile “don’t say that, you’re all busy” 

“We are but that doesn’t change that you are researching without any help. Give yourself some credit and take some time to relax before you burn your sneaky brain”  he pinched your side and you gasped. 

“Stop” you whined and hugged him harder making him chuckle and kiss the top of your head. Two cups of tea appeared on the coffee table next to you and Azriel hummed, he picked one and pinched your side again to make you look. 

“I’ll return to my book if you keep this up” you feigned an annoyed expression and he smirked.

“No you will do no such thing, this is Azriel time and I’m not sharing” he scolded. 

You took the cup from him and leaned back on his chest, peeking at the view outside and enjoying his warmth. Azriel was staring outside while his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back. 

After a while you sighed and looked at him 

“I have to continue…” you trailed off with a sad smile. 

“Let me help you” he smiled and carried you to the table. 

You spent the rest of the day checking every book, even Azriel’s shadows started flipping through books.

“They can read?” You asked.

“I don’t even know anymore, they surprise me every day” he shrugged.

You kept huffing and puffing, moving from one book to another trying to make some sense but nothing. Azriel looked frustrated too and even his shadows slithered back to him looking defeated. Your eyelids started dropping and you blinked, you couldn’t stop now. You picked another book and started reading. 

You felt something cold touching your back and you hissed.

“Shh it’s okay I’ve got you” Azriel whispered, you opened your eyes and realized that he had carried you to bed. He stripped his clothes and lied next to you, pulling you on his chest and letting a sigh. 

“Get some sleep angel, tomorrow we will continue the research together” he murmured and kissed your head. 

The next day you managed to find a book with a similar story, thankfully the fae who gave away his powers survived and you both cheered and walked hand in hand to the dining room to inform everyone. 

Just before you entered the dining room you glanced at Azriel with a lovesick smile 

“What would I do without you”

Hope you enjoyed it!

@hauntedwitch04

[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

---------------------------------------

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.”

[raidark]

Look, i'm not saying that Jacaerys' insecurities are not interesting or that he has legitimate worries (which will be proven right if they stick to the book... though i'm unsure on whether they will blame his behavior with Them for the betrayal).

But i'm still angry at everything they did to him. Especially since Book Jacaerys is my favorite character of Fire and Blood, of the whole Dance.

It makes me furious how many people are saying we the angry Jace stans have 0 media literacy and asking if we rather have Jace still doing nothing as he did for the whole season.

THAT is exactly the problem. That he didn't do anything in the show while in the book he did SO MUCH.

"And now you say you will strip that from me too" could be perfectly something Jacaerys says to the writers of this mess.

They sidelined all of his alliances achievements with the Vale, the Three Sisters, White Harbor and the North (the lack of Pact of Ice and Fire hurts the most). All the time that could have been spent to develop his character had they wanted and show his potential. Instead we only got a little show only scene with the Freys that barely proved anything about him.

I loved Baela's scene with Corlys, but it was Jace who mediated between Rhaenyra and him in the book, it was by his order that he was made Hand of the Queen.

It was also him who had the Dragonseeds idea... and before you say that he was also the one with the idea in the series, take into mind that in the book he called for the Dragonseeds (Valyrian ascent bastards) from the very beginning. The whole thing with nobles only is only in the show. Book Jacaerys didn't have any prejudice or apparent problem with bastards at this point of the story. It's obvious that he had already accepted this fact and it's in fact because he knows his origins that he gave Dragonseeds a chance and his faith. He leaded them for the love of god.

Yes, it's true that due to the nature of the book we don't know exactly what was he thinking. But it's the complete opposite reaction to his show version. Whether Book Jace understood or not the danger this plan posed on long-term, he did so just like Rhaenyra did, because they had no chance at the moment. Not to mention that while in the series all the candidates come from Kings Landing (?¿?), in the book they're taken from Driftmark and Dragonstone (which is populated, not only a castle for Targaryen), so there's a bit more of trust on them as subjects than on completely unknown people from the city taken and ruled by your enemy. (It also weren't so many who tried in the book)

I've seen some people say that Jace was besties with Addam and Nettles... and while we actually don't know their relationship, we do know that they mourned him badly while Ulf and Hugh weren't that affected. I really don't think they would be that affected if they didn't have some kind of bond before, even if it wasn't told to us. And I mean, it was Jace who supported legitimizing Addam and Alyn and make Addam heir to Driftmark ahead of Joffrey. Which, well, doesn't seem likely in the show.

The thing is that Jace DID a lot of things in the book, supporting his mother, basically leading the Blacks on the name of Rhaenyra Targaryen, who couldn't do it since she was RIGHTFULLY grieving during a lot of time after everything that had happened in quick succession, both Luke and Visenya's deaths.

And you know, THAT'S NOT BAD. It gave time to have other characters doing things like Rhaenyra's sons. It explored a side of Rhaenyra and how much her children's death affected her, explicitly showing how much they mattered to her and how brutally it broke her inside (while filling her with pure unadulterated rage after the Gullet). But well, playing devil's advocate, I understand a bit why they didn't go with this since I don't have any faith most watchers would try to emphatize with the grieving mother part of Rhaenyra, and would instead call her a weak queen.

Jace was a supporting and loving son, an extension of Rhaenyra, heart of the Blacks, responsible for the alliances that would bring them to victory by the end of the war. A boy who came to understand and accept his status in the world and used it on a positive note for her mother's cause. A worthy heir to Rhaenyra, one of the few people in this whole period that was worthy of becoming King in the future.

This wasn't about wanting him to do nothing in the show. It was about not butchering his character and be faithful to all the stuff he actually does. But because the writers couldn't (or didn't want to) understand it wasn't Rhaenyra's turn in the characters front lines right now (it would have come later), instead they had to underline him and strip him of everything he did and give it to other characters, while giving him traits and opinions that has made a lot of people despise him.

His fate was meant to be a tragedy that made an apparent victory for the Blacks as hollow and catastrophic as a defeat. And now there's almost no more time and Jace will be remembered by show onlys just for his self-hating identity crisis (which he could have had in the book as well, or before in the show, but not anymore at this point) and his bordering hypocritical classism. Not for everything he actually did and the traits you could imagine of him from what is said in the book.

But hey, apparently a certain part of the fandom thinks that's the only thing that makes a character, a human, complex and interesting.

I don't hate show Rhaenyra. I don't hate show Jacaerys. I will always support Rhaenyra's claim. But I can't just stand after so many decisions that go against them. Especially in the case of Jace who is already receiving such amount of vitriol hate while receiving love just from being victimiced and poor sad boy.

Ah. My boy needs his own sub-team inside Rhaenyra's supporters at this point -- not putting him against Rhaenyra or anyone else. But. Seeing Rhaenyra's stans wishing for his death...

I don't hate the characters. I hate the writers. I hate the changed dynamics, the change in characters' ages, the erasure of Nettles, how Jace was striped from everything his characte is, the stupid decisions....

[s3raphimssins]

hallooo can i request a chuuya x reader who was caught about to jump and do suicide and tries to stop and comfort the reader?

I really love your writing so i'd like to ask if you can write something like this 🙏

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷pairings: chuuya x fem!reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Felix's Note: hii!! Yess of course, I've never written something like this so I apologize if it's not up to your liking! And AGAIN I'M VERY SORRY FOR THE LATE RESPONSE. I Had this in my drafts but got busy :(( enjoyyy have a good day/night anon!

You couldn't take it anymore, life threw it's toughest lessons at you and you just weren't strong enough. It just weighed you down further. On top of all of this mess you ended up in the port mafia. You couldn't even leave, or you'd be met with the most gruesome end. But even that seems like a better way to end your story. You were just a receptionist in the mafia, it wasn't as if you had any important information. You were overworked and overburdened with no one to share your pain with.

Nakahara Chuuya was an executive in the mafia, you don't know how someone like you managed to be friends with him but here you were. He always tried cheering you up. Taking you out to enjoy life but none of it worked. What made life so worth living for? You lost everything so if you just disappeared you'd have nothing to lose. Chuuya made you forget most of your pain when you spent time with him, but recently he's been out of city, busy with his life and that time period was enough to revert back to your empty self.

It took over you and constantly ate you up, you went as far as taking medications for it but it didn't help, you'd already been through so much you were tired, you didn't want to do this anymore. You thought about this as you walked up the stairs of the apartments you lived in. You opened the door to the food and slowly walked towards the edge. This was it. The years of pain and suffering will finally come to an end right here. Your eyes felt heavy and tears fell down as pearls. You took your shoes off to the side. The wind blew rough but yet quiet. You took a deep breath and thought "thank you Chuuya but I have to let you down one last time". You thought of some people that tried helping you but failed as you were standing here right now.

Your heart felt heavy and you did it without wasting more time. You stepped ahead. You were ready to feel yourself falling for a few seconds before meeting your end. But that end never came. You heard someone scream out your name and grab you. You snapped out of your daze to find the same man you were talking about with a red glow around him. His hat fell off somewhere along with the coat he wore on top.

"God dammit! What are you doing?! " He shouted, he pulled you close to him and your knees trembled and felt weak. You stared in his eyes before the same tears started flowing again. He was worried. He wrapped you in his arms and pulled your head to his chest sitting down. You could feel his heartbeat. It was fast, very fast. His eyes were wide as if he were about to cry too. His fists clenched and his grip on you tight. "Chuuya... I couldn't take it anymore it was too hard, it wasn't fair! No one would care anyway..." You choked on your words as his shirt was wet with tears. "Angel... Please... Never say that... I care. Why do you think I had never left your side... I never wanted this to happen. I didn't want to lose you." He scramed out

"I loved you kay?! And I was plannin' on telling you once I got back, only to see you standin' out here!". He loved you...? " How could you love someone like me? I can't even love myself! " You cried out looking up at him with tears. "Y'dont understand. I care. I care for you. I don't know how to tell you but, you matter to me. All I wanted to do was t'hold you and tell you everything was gonna be okay! I want you to see yourself the way I see you. Your gorgeous, perfect, and enough. Whatever you do is enough and I'm proud of you. Even if you just drink a glass of water I'm proud of you for that."

His words ached in your heart. You only imagined someone saying these words to you, and when he actually said them all you could do was stay in his embrace and listen while sobbing. It still hurt, you still felt empty, but one thing that you didn't feel before was hope. You felt hope. You looked up at him after his confession and your eyes instead of emptiness, there was hope. You looked down, guiltily after you saw his face. There was sweat on his forehead, his eyes were red, his hair was ruined, he was disappointed in himself. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I came back from my trip to see you standing like that and all I could think of was what I would do if I had lost you. You are important to me and I am going to help you realize it. It may take a long time but I will wait years just to see a genuine smile on your pretty face again. " He wiped your tears with his thumb and draped his coat that was lying on the floor around you. He took his hat and put it on your head before hugging you again.

Maybe there was hope after all?

To anyone reading this I hope you know you matter and you're enough <3

[moodymisty]

So recently I've read the first trilogy of the Heresy for the second time, and I can't get Horus from those particular books out of my head.

He's tired. Annoyed. Worn down. He tries his best to save his faces and as time goes further he fails more and more often.

A Primarch could take a lot. He's a mighty being that is unable to get a burnout just from some paperwork. But he's got the whole paperwork of the Crusade, several millions of ships, billions of people to organize and command. In addition to his and his brothers' legions matters.

Even his Mournival starts to annoy him. In private, he is slowly losing his charm and fatherly demeanour, becoming grumpy and brooding. He only allows Erebus to stay close to him and... to you.

One late night he just walks into your shared rooms and stays silently in the doorway, his arms crossed in his chest. In the dim light coming from the corridor you could've seen the circles under his eyes and the weariness shown on his face. If you weren't asleep.

He could stay like this for a long time, even when the work is yet to be done and with his sons and Erebus waiting for him. Those quiet moments, of which you don't know, keep him at least somewhat sane.

At times like this, Horus feels like he can finally let himself go. He can slide to the floor, leaning against the wall as he just looks at your sleeping form, unwilling to crawl to the bed you two used to share every night so to not disturb your sleep. He doesn't have to be the Warmaster at those moments, he is not even a Primarch — as much as he loves and shows off his titles the amount of work cast onto him because of it makes him wish he was a baseline. He's just Horus, a man in love who allowed himself to have a moment of peace next to his unaware beloved before he comes back to his duty.

One day you wake up when he's like this, sitting next to the bed, only his head rested on the sheets. Maybe it was a bad dream or a sound he involuntarily made, it doesn't matter. You crawl to him quickly, still half-asleep, your voice raspy and your eyes half-lidded, yet you're still worried, almost scared of his uncharacteristic behavior.

"I'm alright, my love," he whispers, as he gently holds your hand in his large one.

But you do not believe him. You're hissing half-joking scolding as you drag him to the bed to you, berating him for his overly responsible behavior and enlightening him that he'll end up passing out in the middle of a battlefield if he doesn't get to know about some work-ethics. It's all jokes, and even the dragging is — if he didn't want to, he wouldn't move — until instead of a laugh, a small sob escapes his lips.

There's a moment when you have to be quick. You have to cup his face, make his teary eyes look at you. You can't let him leave, excusing himself with some dumb reason of being just "too tired".

After that, you both can finally slow down, and the loss of pressure on Horus shoulders, even if it is for just a moment, makes him become a mess.

He complies silently when you gently pull him closer so his head rests on your chest. You feel the violent shudders coming through his mighty frame. You feel your nightdress become wet from the tears, that pour out of his eyes with no sound and no resistance from his side.

Horus breaks — crackles — quietly. Like the sand of a sand castle, he breaks down accompanied by a soft lull of the shore.

You comfort him, and you can't tell how much time you've spent on it. But eventually your gentle touches and soothing words make him close his eyes and fall asleep.

You know he needs this night much more than you do.

awww Horus;;; this so so sad :'(

[st-eve-barnes]

You know that I'm no good (chapter 6)

(Modern Aegon x fem Reader, Modern Sihtric x fem Reader)

Summary: You want Sihtric. Aegon wants Skade. There's only one small problem: Sihtric and Skade are dating each other.

This chapter: things get messy with Aegon and Sihtric, alcohol isn't always a good idea, sometimes Helaena is a bad adviser and drunken confessions don't really count, do they?

Warning for the entire series: 18+ for explicit language and smut. Angst/comfort/fluff. Fake dating and so much mutual pining. Mentions of depression/drinking/self harm.

This is an Aegon x Reader fic with a bit of Sihtric x Reader on the side. I've wanted to write a modern AU that combines The Last Kingdom and House of the dragon for a while now so here it is!

Word count: +2900

Masterlist

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

You didn’t find Aegon again that night. You weren’t sure whether he was avoiding you or just letting you enjoy your time with Sihtric but both options bothered you. And the fact that it bothered you so much bothered you even more.

You shouldn’t even care, Aegon wasn’t your boyfriend and it wasn’t like you were in love with him so why should you care?

You weren’t in love with him. Absolutely not. You couldn’t be, it was Aegon for god’s sake. It was just a stupid crush, nothing more. It would pass, soon. Hopefully.

It was Friday night and for the fifth time in ten minutes you stared at your phone. No messages and no missed calls.

You had the entire night to watch Netflix in peace, Stranger Things was staring back at you from the screen, all you had to do was click Next Episode. 

But you couldn’t care less. All you wanted was for Aegon to call or text you and mess up your plans.

You sighed and let yourself fall down onto the couch, annoyed with everything but mostly yourself.

“Fuck it,” you grabbed your phone and decided to text Helaena.

“What are you doing tonight?”

She answered in less than a minute,“Chilling at home, why? Wanna do something?”

“Yes, please, anything, I just need to get out of the house.”

“Wanna grab a drink at Alfies?” she suggested.

“Yes!”

“I’ll meet you there in an hour!”

Alfies was a small, quiet bar near the town’s square where you and Helaena spent a lot of nights out during your years at university. It had been a while since you were last here but walking into the place was like stepping back in time, it still looked exactly the same and you felt at ease right away. 

Helaena already found you a spot at a table near the bar and you quickly made your way over to her. Before you sat down you gave her a quick hug.

“Thank you,” you whispered,”I really needed this tonight, Hel, you have no idea.”

“No worries,” she smiled up at you,”You know I’m here for you if you need anything. And every excuse to go out is fine by me.”

You both ordered more drinks, the combination of the alcohol, the Friday night atmosphere in the bar and Helaena’s funny work stories had you feeling better in no time and soon you were laughing with her and forgetting all about her stupid brother.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Helaena said after a while, noticing you seemed a lot more relaxed than when you’d first sat down,”Want to tell me why you were feeling down?”

“Not really,” you tried to duck the question and took another sip from your drink.”Just work I guess,” you added.

“You love your work, quit lying.”

You sighed, both impressed and a little annoyed that she could always read you so well.

“Okay, fine, you want the truth?” 

You should have stopped yourself right there, but the beers had loosened up your tongue and there was this ever growing need to just vent and pour your heart out to your best friend.

“It’s Aegon,” you confessed with a heavy sigh,”I might…have developed a little crush on your brother.”

That was the understatement of the year.

Helaena didn’t react at first, she just took you in and then nodded her head calmly, almost too calmly which scared you a little.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you asked.

“What can I say? You’re clearly not listening to anything I tell you about Aegon.”

“I’m sorry,” you hid your face into your hands,”I’m sorry, I’m being such a bad friend, I know, I just…can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can but you don’t want to,” Helaena pointed out.

You hated to admit she wasn’t entirely wrong.“Okay, fine, I don’t want to,” you admitted.

Helaena nodded and leaned back,”I won’t nag you about Aegon anymore if you promise to do one little thing for me. We’re friends so I can ask you, right?”

“What is it?” you asked hesitantly.

“We’re in a bar right now and looking around I can see quite a few good-looking, nice guys.”

“Hel,” you tried to stop her but she raised her hand to stop you.

“I want you to get drunk and go home with one of these guys, you get to pick, it just can’t be my brother.”

You shook your head.

“Unless it’s Aemond,” she added,”You can fuck Aemond if you want.”

You both turned to look at Aemond who was sitting in a corner booth, enjoying his drink while ignoring everyone else.

“I don’t want to fuck Aemond,” you quickly shut down that idea.

“Okay, anyone except my brothers then, I just…you need it, babe. Getting some will clear your head, like…a factory reset, turn you on and off so you can function properly again. Because the girl I’m seeing right now is not acting like my friend. My best friend would not be dumb enough to fall in love with Aegon of all people!”

Helaena never raised her voice, and she still didn't, but there was a hard determination to her tone right now you had never heard from her before.

Her words upset you but you couldn’t really blame her. Just last month you probably would have fully agreed with her.

“Can you do that for me?” she then asked, softer.

“I feel like you’re not the best influence right now,” you pointed out.

“Maybe so but neither are you.”

You nodded,”Okay…fine, but if I do this and it does nothing for me you have to stop bitching about Aegon.”

“I promise.” 

“Fine,” you caved,”Then I’ll do it, but only because you’re my best friend. And I need more alcohol first.”

Four more beers were enough to get you just tipsy enough to come out of your shell, and your seat, and mingle at the bar. You remembered guys often tried to pick you up here during your university years, it never resulted in anything though because you weren’t the type for one nigh stands back then. You still weren’t, but these past weeks you’d done a lot of things you hadn’t done before. What was one more, right?

The first guys you’d talked to bored you within minutes and you realized this was going to be harder than you initially thought, but you didn’t intend on giving up so soon. Maybe more alcohol would make them more fun. 

After two more beers you had finally found a guy who wasn’t too bad looking and actually pleasant to talk to. He’d lived in Winchester all his life and you both talked about your favorite spots in the city, the conversation flowed pretty easily and you ignored the fact that he was probably even more drunk than you were at this point. 

And the fact that you weren’t even sure you really wanted to do this, but if it would get Helaena off your back for a while then it might be worth it.

And she was right about one thing, it wouldn’t hurt to finally get some dick again. You had been unusually horny lately.

But just as you were about to ask the guy to get out of there another girl came up to him accusing him of cheating on her best friend. Needless to say that was the end of that conversation.

“Ugh, men suck,” you sighed to yourself and took another sip from your beer.

“I apologize, my lady.”

The familiar voice made you look up and you stared right into his beautiful eyes, one blue and one brown, and that sweet, flirty smile he seemed to reserve for you.

“Sihtric,” you sighed, relieved at seeing a familiar, not to mention gorgeous, face.

“Lady Y/N,” he moved closer to you and pointed towards your empty glass,”Can I buy you another one of those?”

“I think I’ve probably had enough,” you confessed, breaking eye contact for a moment”But thank you. That comment wasn’t meant for you, by the way.”

”Good to know,” he nodded,”So, um…Aegon not with you tonight?” 

You smiled bitterly,”No, Aegon is…I don’t know where Aegon is.”

“You guys break up?” he asked, a little too hopeful.

“No, I…actually I don’t know.”

He kept his eyes on you,”Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you no longer tried to avoid looking at him but instead gave into his flirty stare and allowed yourself to drown into his  gaze. ”Actually, no,” you confessed,”I’m not.”

“Anything I can do?” he asked softly and then he leaned closer, placing his hand on your waist,”Do you need a lift home? Or someone to talk to? I'm a good listener."

You gave him a thankful smile."You're really sweet."

He blushed a little with your compliment and gently rubbed your back before meeting your eyes again,"Tell me what you need."

Your mouth opened to speak but the words remained stuck in your throat.

"Wanna get out of here?," he then asked,"Get some air?”

You nodded.

Sihtric kept his hand protectively on your lower back, allowing you to lean into him to stay steady on your feet, while he guided you out of the bar.

As soon as you reached the front door and were out into the fresh air you both let go of each other, but not for long.

It was the alcohol, combined with the lingering promise you had made to Helaena. And the fact that you’d been horny as hell for weeks now and that maybe she was right and you did just need to get dicked down. Preferably by a hot, sweet guy like Sihtric.

You grabbed his hand again and pulled him with you, trapping yourself between his body and the wall behind you, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea. He placed one hand on your waist and rested the other against the wall, right next to your face, as he leaned in.

“Want me to take your mind off him?” he whispered while gently nuzzling your cheek. You grabbed his shirt to pull him closer and nodded your head.

His lips met yours in a soft, needy kiss and you moaned into it right away. It was all the encouragement he needed, hand sliding down your hip while the other moved into your hair. He deepened the kiss while placing himself in between your legs, pressing into you and letting you feel his hardness. You rocked back against him, just as impatient, and you both moaned at the friction.

Sihtric’s mouth moved down to your neck, licking and sucking your skin and your eyes closed in a blissful sigh. His kisses were sloppy and needy and it made you throb in all the right places.

“Fuck,” you whined.

He smiled against your skin.“You want this, right?” he checked.

You nodded eagerly,”Yes, I want this.”

He pulled your leg up around his waist and started grinding against your center, letting you feel all of him this time and there was a lot of him.

“Sihtric,” you moaned quietly when he placed little love bites on your neck.

Your hips were moving along with his, his cock giving you that perfect friction and if he kept doing this any longer you were going to fall apart just from this. Your eyes closed and you bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud. 

And then you made the mistake of opening them up again and looking over Sihtric’s shoulder.

Blond messy hair and gorgeous, very familiar, angry blue eyes were staring right back at you. With a surprised yelp you pushed Sihtric off of you.

“What the hell?” Sihtric’s shock was short-lived when he saw Aegon.”Oh shit…hey, I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to…I thought…she…”

Aegon wasn’t showing any emotion apart from the undeniable fire in his eyes, aimed right at Sihtric,”Can I please talk to my girlfriend?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m sorry,” Sihtric looked at you one last time, mouthing “sorry” again before he quickly fled the scene, leaving you alone with Aegon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, calmly.

“Me?! What the hell do you think you’re doing??” you threw back, a lot less calm than him,”Are you stalking me or something?"

"I was just on my way home."

"Well, be on your way then! I was having a good time before you showed up.”

“Against the wall of the fucking bar? For the whole of Winchester to see?”

You looked around and only now noticed there were more people around than you had initially noticed and too many of them had their eyes on you. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. 

There is no way you would have done what you just did with Sihtric in a public place like this if you’d been sober.

“I didn’t…notice that,” you admitted quietly.

“No, I didn’t think so," Aegon answered, too smug for your liking," Whose stupid idea was this, huh, did he talk you into this?”

“Actually it was Helaena.”

Aegon’s eyes widened.”Why on earth would Hel tell you to fuck…”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you interrupted him, wanting desperately to get out of this conversation. You suddenly felt exposed in every way and you wrapped your arms around yourself and sighed deeply.

Aegon's irritation fell immediately upon seeing your obvious discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, shaking off his frustration,”It's just…you looked pretty drunk and I didn't know if he was...I just wanted to make sure you didn’t do something you’ll regret later.”

You scoffed.“For your information I’m not that drunk, but thank you, oh my knight in shining armor for saving me from the insanely hot guy before he could make me cum. How will I ever repay you?”

Aegon’s gaze turned hard again and he avoided your eyes. You tried to walk past him, showing him just how annoyed you were with him, but your legs were wobbly and your head was light. You were struggling to keep your balance and you bumped into him, hard.

Aegon’s hands came to rest on your hips, keeping you steady and then his eyes were on yours, his gaze unexpectedly soft.“Not that drunk, huh?” he teased with a little smirk.

You wished so hard you could stay mad at him but when he looked at you like that all your anger faded. You hated how much you couldn't even hate him.

Maybe Aegon was right, maybe you would have regretted sleeping with Sihtric once all the alcohol had left your body and you were able to think straight again. Maybe it would have been the worst mistake of your life. 

Or maybe it wouldn’t have been. Maybe it would have been amazing and exactly what you needed to push Aegon out of your mind. You would never know now.

But one thing was undoubtedly true: deep down in your heart you knew Sihtric wasn’t your first choice. Not anymore.

Your first choice was staring at you with genuine concern in his big, beautiful eyes and your heart was breaking with how much you felt for him.

“Aegs,” your voice was nothing but a pleading whisper, hands grabbing at his shirt.

His hands were still resting on your hips and he pulled you a little closer to him, his voice nothing but softness now,”Want me to take you home, sweetheart?”

You nodded.

The walk wasn’t far but without Aegon to lean on you weren’t sure you would have made it there in one piece. He helped you up the stairs to your apartment and onto your couch, where you sank down with a dramatic sigh and let your head fall back into the cushions.

“God, I am never drinking again,” you stated, making him laugh.

“That’ll pass.”

He let himself sink down next to you on the couch,”Can I get you anything? Food? Water? A bucket?”

You laughed but firmly shook your head.”I’m good...can you stay for a while though?”

You turned your head to look at him, meeting his soft eyes again and Aegon nodded.

“Sure,” he whispered,”As long as you want.”

“Thank you."

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry if I ruined your night,” he spoke softly, looking into your eyes, your faces right next to each other now,”I shouldn’t have interfered.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you reassured him,”The truth is…you were right, I was pretty drunk, still am, and I probably would have regretted that in the morning. So...it's fine, don't worry about it.”

Aegon smiled and then neither of you spoke for a while. The room felt too quiet and you bit your tongue, realizing you should swallow your next words and not make things more complicated. But the alcohol in your blood disagreed and thought this would be the perfect time for total honesty.

“Aegs...I didn’t really want to fuck Sihtric, you know,” you confessed,”I only did it because…”

You sighed deeply and Aegon leaned in to look into your eyes,“What is it, baby?”

“I only did it so I could forget about you,” you whispered, regretting the words as soon as they left your lips.

Aegon was staring at you, unable to speak or process your words for a moment. The room was suddenly spinning even though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol and the way you were looking up at him through your lashes, your gaze so sincere and innocent, it was too much for him to handle. It took everything in him not to pull you into his lap and kiss you right there but he didn’t.

Instead he just took your hand and squeezed it softly.

“It’s okay,” you smiled weakly,”I know you don’t feel that way about me and it’s fine. It'll pass.”

“Look at me,” he pleaded.

You did as he asked, immediately drowning into those pools of blue.

“You know that’s not true, right?” he then whispered.

“’What? No, it’s...its fine,” you were slurring over your words now,”You don’t need to say anything, I just…wanted you to know…you would have been my first choice.”

He bit his lip and then swallowed hard, shaking his head,“You’re drunk, baby, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do, I do know what I’m saying,” you insisted but your words came out all wrong again.

Aegon just shook his head with a smile and then his eyes were on yours again,“I’m the last person you want to fall in love with, sweetheart, trust me on that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m no good,” he simply answered, looking away while giving you the saddest smile you’d ever seen on him, which of course only made you want him more.

”But you are,” you disagreed, keeping your eyes on him even as he tried so hard to avoid yours,”You are good, Aegon, I know you are, I can see it in you.”

“You don’t know me at all, love,” he whispered and moved away from you on the couch”You should just go to bed now, sleep it off. You'll feel better in the morning.”

“Will you stay?” you asked him.

He shook his head,”I really shouldn’t.”

“Please, I don’t want to be alone, you have to watch over me as I sleep, I could get a concussion.”

Aegon couldn’t help it, his lips curled up into an amused smile,”That’s only when you bump your head not when you’re drunk.”

“Oh,” you smiled and then ended up in a laughing fit, making Aegon shake his head.

“God, you’re so stupid,” he smiled fondly, no longer able to not look at you,"And so drunk."

“You’re stupid,” you teased him.

“Fine, I’ll stay with you,” he caved,”Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself in your sleep.”

You smiled satisfied,”You can sleep in my bed with me.”

“Absolutely not, I’m taking the couch.”

You pouted at him, giving him your best sad puppy eyes.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Look at me like that, it…makes it really hard for me to say no to you.”

“That’s the point,” you grinned and you reached for him again but Aegon just grabbed your arms to stop you.

“Go to bed, please, I’ll stay here in case you need anything but I am not sleeping with you.”

You pouted again and pulled away from him,”Pfff, you’re no fun, I thought you were the fun Targaryen but you're worse than Aemond.”

Aegon just smiled and shook his head at your attempt at insulting him,"Go to bed."

"Fine," you turned your back on him,"But it's your loss."

Aegon just watched you go and waited until you were in your bedroom before he let himself fall down onto your couch with a quiet grunt.”Yeah, I know.”

[gooppoo]

hi this is BRAINROT. in case you confuse it with a request, is pure concept dump and i wanted to share it with you.

imagine subby jake with reader and he is SO sensitive. like he just starts whining and being so NEEDY, like he is BEGGING for us to fuck him

- 💮 anon

fucking love.

I don't think you understand.

Requests Closed!!

mdni.

warnings: subby!Jake :) he's just being a little baby omg, you're kinda being a top ;), teasing, p in v, creampie

More and more he reminded you of a toddler.

All morning he followed you around, his hands grabbing at your body to pull you close to him. The afternoon was much of the same, this time he managed to get close enough to start whispering unspeakable things into your ear. Finally, he spent the evening practically on his knees.

Now, he had himself pressed against your backside as you prepared some items for tomorrows daily tasks. He was unmistakeable hard, and from the way it was twitching and the damp spot on his loincloth caressing your skin, you knew it was painful. On you shoulder, he rested his cheek, pleading with his life. His palms kneaded at your waist and even reached for your wrists at times.

"God baby, what else do I need to say? Please, just give me five minutes. I just want you to touch me for five minutes." There was a peculiar hiccup to his tone. Was that a tear trickling onto your shoulder?

When he sniffled, your heart dropped, "Fuck, I'm a goddamn mess. Please hon, jus'...ngh-" you had shifted against him and that was enough friction for him to tense "-c'mon, I'm already so close, jus' want you on my lap." He finished off with a few pathetic sobs.

Truthfully, you didn't think he'd take it this far. Jake normally had much more composure and dignity. Perhaps this was a side of him that was deeply buried. The part that was pawing at your arms and crying on your shoulder to make him cum.

"I-I've been behaved, ya know? Not pickin' fights, doing my duties, treating you good." You rolled your eyes, how could he get anymore pitiful? "Havent I been good? Baby, please, please fucking please!"

Now he was just plain crying. He had himself pressed against you so tightly that any minuscule movement made by your body had him yelping. At first, there was a particular kind of guilt that rung in your chest. You wouldn't like to be denied like this, for this long. But seeing him get so worked up that he was practically rutting against your back was downright annoying.

"Alright!" You huffed, "Enough, get a grip." Gently, you wriggled from his desperate grapple, and had him seated on the ground.

"Yes! Oh god thank you." His eyes already rolling back into his head at the thought.

You clicked your tongue, "I said pull yourself together." Your eyes shifted down to his loincloth, and you began to shimmy it out of the way, "Look at this Jake," you scolded.

He clenched his jaw, his brows dipping in an embarrassed manner, "I know babe, it's bad. I can't help it, you're too fuckin' hot and I turn into a goddamn animal."

At least he was self aware. The least you could offer him was what he wanted. For a moment, you genuinely worried about hurting him, denying him this long.

With a loving hand on his thigh, you indulged, "What do you want?"

"You!" he whined, "Anything, fuckin' anything."

"Be specific Jake."

Considering your words carefully, he chewed his lip, then babbled out, "Please ride me baby."

A faint grin painted your lips, "Sure Jake."

Staring off, you let your hands explore his twitching thighs, purposefully dancing around his impressive length. Every time you neared the area he cried for you to give attention, he'd rut into the air, and sigh out a few more pleads. Each beg and whimper of your name helped your own ache accumulate beneath your naval. Knowing he was yours to tease and tamper with had your mind fogged over with an incredible ego. You knew the way to hear him weep again was to sink yourself onto him.

So, you shifted onto his reliable lap, flicking away his excited hands. With two fingers, you woke up your center, spending a few moments at your clit and smearing your slick onto both of you. When your hand haphazardly pumped against Jake to lubricate him, his back collapsed against the ground, garbling out jumbled nothings.

"I hope you're ready." You warned him, hoping to penetrate his daze as you penetrated yourself with him.

He didn't reply with confirmation, only groaned lowly and richly as you enveloped him. With each inch that entered, you felt the way his blood pumped angrily and thought of how much self control he struggled for in that moment. He had been stiff for hours, too many hours, so how he wasn't finishing in you that moment was commendable.

You had to applaud him when your hips were flush, "Wow...so so good. Mm! Want me to move, my good boy?"

A sudden gasp for life snapped his eyes open at you. Had you struck or strummed a chord within him? His expression was almost readable.

Tentatively, his hands settled on your hips, the tiniest curve upward of hips lips teasing the idea of a smile, "Please."

You leaned down slowly, holding his enamored stare as you approached his expression, "Of course baby." You purred, taking his lips onto yours.

After gingerly pulling away, you used your strength to lift off his groin and slide back down again. Still, he wasn't finishing, but his nails digging into your sides said otherwise. You wondered if your slower pace was more agonizing than a steady rhythm. Either way, Jake would still be fighting to spit up fragments of sentences through his numbed mind. Most of what he coughed up was choked up moans that offered you motivation to keep at what was doing just the trick for both of you.

You knew both your hearts were working overtime. Blood rushed rapidly through your body, and Jake's blood was pumping furiously in you. Sometimes it was hard to decipher his nearing orgasm twitches, or how sensitive he had made himself.

Each time your pelvis met his again, he would mewl or sigh. These sounds weren't entirely foreign to you, but the frequencies of them was. It was like clock work he would sputter out a pleased confirmation, all of them making you hotter and hotter.

"Love hearing you like this Jake." You grit, finding the might to pick up your pace, and his moans became more jumbled.

"Ohhh, feels fuckin' amazing." Jake groans, barely coherent. Amazing was right.

To add a special spice, you rolled your hips in varying directions and watched as his composure completely crumbled into a fine dust. This seemed to trigger more tears from Jake.

"Is everything okay?" You let your hips slow and you wiped away his tears,

He was pathetically gasping for air, "C-can I cum? So good." Some more tears spilled over.

You had been in this position before. Tears rolling down your cheeks because Jake had fucked you like an expert. Sometimes, it is so good all you can do is tear up.

"'Course baby."

With a reassuring kiss placed on his sad, puffy lips, you returned to rhythmically maneuvering your hips. Though it would normally haunt you to see Jake in tears, you found his tears here and now to be so sexy.

A few more salty droplets were squeezed from his tightly closed eyes as he cried out. "Thank you, thank you..." he chanted mindlessly. A few pathetic thrusts of his hips meant his cum would soon be dripping out of both of you.

It was like Jake had crossed the finish line when he released. All day he had worked toward this moment, and now that it was here he was absolutely euphoric. He let his body do what felt best so he could milk every sensation you pulled from him. The amount of cum spurting into you was almost alarming, especially when Jake starting writhing beneath you and dragging his deeply embedded nails down your sides.

"Fu-u-uck!" Jake sobbed, his chest hiccuping with each syllable.

But you continued. Why would you stop now? Though all the signs pointed to him maybe being in pain, you knew this was the only way to heal him.

He was right. He had been behaving. Even when he was sobbing for you, he treated you right.

[cordeliawhohung]

Pup anon here, there’s just some backstory and yapping on this one followed up by a really sweet moment w him

It's definitely been a few days, I'll probably send different asks because I'll yap a lot lol, let's start with my job, I'm an OF manager, I edit the videos, the pictures, sometimes record the content, I manage the posts, the stories, the PPV, the sells, the lives, answer the texts, literally everything that goes down, I've worked with girls from several countries, but the last few months I worked with two from mine besides my usual girl that I've been working with for like two years now, they have huge platforms, like HUGE, so I said why not? that'll make me good money, boy did I know. One of them didn't work out, she wasn't mean or anything, but she wanted me to work every day from like 7 am to 12 pm for $160 every two weeks while I was making her thousands of dollars so that clearly didn't work out, with the third girl I was making good money, a lot, between all of them I was getting money like every week and a half, I always had money and living the good life, but the third girl was mean af, she always fucked something up and then called me to yell at me and call me names and to tell me to fix it up and that it was my fault (even if I wasn’t even working at the moment) at one point it became unbearable and I said nah we're done, now I'm just working with the usual one, she's an angel and I'm still making a good living.

Anyway, I'm autistic (this all sounds like a whole mess of information but I promise that it'll make sense) so it has never been easy for me to make friends since I was little, someone could be straight up bullying me and I would realize like a month later, and until today it stays the same lmao, but a few years ago I made some friends, never had problems with them, just one girl that we broke contact with like a year ago and she asked for forgiveness this year and everything went back to normal, in that meantime when we weren't talking to her me and the other girl became really close, like always together every single day, in that time my mom got cancer, she passed away a few months ago and even in that she was always there, that night she came to the hospital like at 12 am after my mom passed away for me to not be alone, spent the night at my house and helped me clean it after days on sleeping on the hospital, ordered food, etc, and even after that girl rejoined we stayed the same, I struggle way too much with expressing my affection with words, and she hates physical touch, so I was always giving her gifts to try to express it, we were always going out, exploring new places, having fun and I payed for everything, but when I ended up with just one job I couldn't do that anymore and she magically went back to being close to the other girl, always being at her house, not answering my texts anymore, she magically had money to spend with her but with me she never had any and we literally spent like two months without seeing each other (we live 5 minutes away) but she was always travelling to see the other girl so of course I got sad, felt conflicted because as I said earlier she hasn't been a bad friend, but of course the whole situation was hurting, on top of it I had been under a lot of stress, I had been sick a few days prior, my mom's birthday is coming up in a few days,I had an argument with my brother, my ex from a few years ago was leaking some old pics so yeah I just reached my limit at the time, I was (am) feeling a little used, I tried to talk with her about it but she brushed it off and simply said that I was misunderstanding and went back to keep being like that so I was sad and curled up in a ball for a few days, I didn't even check the phone, nothing, so here finally comes the main part lmao, I wasn't texting him back or asking him to meet or anything

He decided to come knock on my door after a few days, said that he was worried that something had happened to me or that he made something to upset me, when I opened it I was a mess, and as soon as he asked me if something was wrong I cried lol, couldn't even say anything so he just picked me up, closed the door and took me to the couch and sat me on his lap, letting me just cry and hug him, running his hand on my back, rocking me, kissing my head, after a while I finally told him what happened while still sniffling I looked awfulllllllll, he just listened to me, (the problem with my ex magically resolver itself, i’m not planning on asking) kissed my face and told me to go take a warm bath, I did, when I came out he had my favorite food ready, my favorite tv show ready, my favorite snacks, my cats snuggled up on the couch, a bat plushie, I don't even know where he got all that in an hour but I cried again lol, we spent the rest of the day / night together and he slept in for the first time, it was really sweet, we slept cuddled up with my cats, had breakfast together, still feels unreal

putting your other ask underneath the cut that way i can keep it all together for my brain

Now here’s the nasty stuff lol After all of that, that same next day he told me that he rented us an Airbnb on the mountain on a forest that I love for a few days, (I live in a very rural country, there's nature literally everywhere you look, but that forest it's just unreal with waterfalls and everything) Those were the best days of my whole life, the cabin was beautiful, it had a balcony on the room facing a river, it was just amazing, the first days I spent them getting calm and relaxed again, walking with him, watching animals, TV, anything, one of those nights we were kissing and stuff and after a while I was begging him to let me suck him off, I was dying to do that, I wanted to see, to everything, and he finally agreed, that ended up in me learning to deep throat a dick that was the size of my head, crying, a mess of drool, he made me ride his boot while I did it (that was the condition for him to let me) he talked about getting me a collar, of how pretty of a pet I would make, that I was made to just be dotted on and taken care of, that he would do just that, so many things that I can't even remember because my brain was all mush and not a single thought (I don't know how much to elaborate on it because I'm nervous that it'll be too much lmao, what a thing to be nervous about in a smut blog) I begged for him to fuck me but he told me that I wasn't ready for that yet, that he still needed to test my limits a little more, see how far he could go, get me ready for other things, etc, he did fuck my thighs and now I'm scared of fucking bc tell me why that thing reached my belly button, He also made me ride his face which I was terrified of but ended up being heaven, he spanked me, said he wanted to test how much I could take of it since I was begging so much for him to be rough, ended up in me once again crying, shaking, unable to stand from my jelly legs and the pain on them but hey I took it like a champ even if it was hurting like a bitch every single second and I still have bruises, I enjoyed that more than I thought I would and now he's agreeing to be a little rougher with me. When we went back home we went to my apartment to pick up some things that he left there, I was missing my cats so much, my brother had been feeding them and playing with them while I was gone, but tell me why I open the door and one of the little bastards goes straight past me while I'm saying hi to the others and goes to nuzzle on his leg? That was straight up betrayal. But to end this update and besides it, I just wanted to say that I read every single thing that you post and I wish that I could find the words to explain how your works make me feel, every single word that you write simply makes the most ethereal thing I have ever read, just leaves me with my mouth hanging every time, I had no idea that reading something could make me feel the things that are being described, to actually get immersed into it, your dark fics / series are like heaven to me, every single one of your works is, thank you for the simple fact of existing in the same timeline as me (And never be afraid of calling for me for updates, I sometimes forget, but for you I’ll become an entity that you can just summon on your blog every time you want)

--

okay first off, holy shit you've had a lot going on alsdkjf i'm so so sorry to hear about that weird stuff with your friend, situations like that is always so crazy complicated! like you have the right to be upset but you're right it's so hard to like, explain why you're hurting at the same time ): and i'm so sorry to hear about your mom. loss is so insanely difficult to deal with, and it always gets extra heavy around anniversaries like that too but i'm so glad he seemed to notice!!! (we gotta give him like, a code name to call him by or something lmfao) that's so crazy sweet of him to come over and check on you and be there for you, to like, make that effort. to not just be like "oh well she's not messaging me out of the blue fuck her i guess" but to ensure that you were alright )))): also, major green flag that he loves the cats and the cats love him haha.

AS FOR YOUR SECOND ASK-

girlllllll his pet kink is going WILD i fucking love that for you. wanting to collar you and everything oh my god. also, idk if this is just me personally, but it's like such a green flag imo when guys don't wanna have straight up sex right away. like just that anticipation and wanting to get comfortable? idk there's something about it and i love that for you so much. and it sounds like you're figuring out your a masochist a little bit LMFAO ( i get it i'm a bruise kink girly myself too) also don't be worried about like, sharing too much like whatever you are comfortable with of course! but the CATS DARTING PAST YOU oh the traitor. you're stronger than i am, i would've sobbed on the spot. but omg the fact he was like "let's get her out of the house to relax' is so crazy sweet of him ):

and you're crazy sweet ): i'm so glad you enjoy the works and i'm so glad to be able to interact with you like this! i feel like we are just like. sharing our dms with the world or something LMFAO i'm making you my familiar now, you're officially a cat in my mind i'll shake the box of treats to summon you lmfao. but eek! thank you so much for the update. so sorry to hear you were having a shitty time but i'm glad you have someone there to support and care for you (: (truly living your best Y/N dream lmao)

[wastingawayinmyroom]

well shit, the girl i've liked for a while just texted me and said she liked me

friendly reminder that she also ruined my life

anw, here's some percico to heal the soul (yours and mine)

...

And if you're feelin' lonely,

You should tell me,

Before this ends up as another memory.

...

"Hey." That's all Percy says. There's no need to say more, because a simple greeting is enough for Nico to know the whole story.

"Morning," he says, and suddenly, they're tangled together, a mess of limbs and clothes. Nico smiles, warmly, or maybe that's just how it makes Percy feel. "I missed you," Nico says, breathlessly, and the sight is something he wants to engrave in his brain.

He ruffles the younger boy's hair. "So did I," he says, and picks Nico up, which is a bit harder to do since the last time. He hasn't lifted anything heavier than a small backpack in a while. He hasn't felt like it, anyway, since Annabeth told him she was over it. He regrets it, because now he's out of practice and his arms are going to be aching like Tartarus tomorrow.

"Percy!" Nico says, giggling. "Put me down!"

His giddiness is infectious, and Percy finds himself smiling so much his face hurts. He hasn't smiled in a while, too. He regrets that even more. "Not yet, Neeks. I'm gonna show you something."

He carries Nico like that, all the way to the small Christmas tree he and his mom spent so much time putting up and decorating. The ornaments are a mish-mash of the ones he and Estelle made, and the ones they'd had since forever. Percy likes that a lot; it relates the past and the present, two things he always finds so different.

He sets Nico down. "That," he says, "Is what I wanted to show you."

Percy sits on the couch. Nico doesn't move, doesn't say anything, just stares at the tree in awe. He's pretty sure Nico has never had a proper Christmas (or doesn't remember having one), so maybe this is just new for him.

"Do you like it?" Percy asks, slightly worried. Nico still hasn't moved.

"It's beautiful," he says, transfixed. Percy chuckles. "Yeah," he says, and it's another time when something so simple can convey a hundred different other things, from Thank you to So are you.

This is one of the few times where Nico doesn't get all of those meanings.

This is one of the few times where Percy allows himself to wonder what they could've been, to take in the sight of Nico like it would be his last.

This is one of the few times where he forgets that Nico can never be his.

[zankaboo]

(this post is going to be kinda chaotic because I have many thoughts to share but I'm struggling with being coherent right now)

I'm 28 and I still live with my parents. But I think I need to seriously start considering moving out, or something.

Living with my parents never bothered me much. Part of me was happy about it because like, why should I move out and take care of myself if I can live with someone else and not worry about anything?

But recently I've been trying to work on my issues and I feel like I'm never going to fully heal unless I escape my mother. She is abusive. She's been messing with my mind for so many years that I don't really feel like my own person. I'm almost 30 and I don't know who I am, I don't know how to be an adult. I don't even know what kind of clothes I like to wear. My mom doesn't care much about my emotional well being, she criticizes everything I do. She cares about me in general, I know that and I know that she loves me in her own way but the way she treats me is destroying me. Now that I've started to really think about where all my problems came from, the only source I can think of is my mom. She made me hate myself. I self harmed because of her. I shed so many tears because of her. Nothing else fucked me up as much as my mom. She hates herself too and she projects all of her issues on me. And because of her I believed that I'm ugly and worthless as a person. My dad kinda sucks too, not as much, but he hurt me deeply a few times.

I love my parents tho. Even after all the shit they did to me I love them. My mom can be a very funny person if she wants to be. My dad too. But they hurt me so much. And I want to be away from them.

I've been trying to love myself, my looks, my personality. I stopped all the self depriciating jokes, I stopped calling myself ugly or saying "I hate myself" or "I'm going to kill myself". It's only been like two months but I can already feel the difference. Sometimes I look at my body in the mirror and I see something desirable now. And it's an awesome feelings. I'm really starting to see that change is possible. A better life is possible. And I really want it. For the first time in my life I really want to change things.

But I just don't know what to do. My mother controlled everything in my life, she made most decisions for me. So despite some improvements in my mental health, it all feels so out of reach right now.

I'm very lonely. Despite living with two people, I'm lonely. I get to hang out with my coworkers often and they're all cool people but those aren't really meaningful relationships. I don't have people that I can hang out with after work, or chat with, or call. But I spent so many years in isolation, I don't even know how to make friends. I think I have ADHD too which also might make those things harder for me (I heard that people with ADHD struggle with making friends and stuff). I lost every single school friend, even those that I considered to be close friends. I don't know if it's all my fault or if other people were at fault too. But for some reason almost no one wants to try to maitain a friendship with me and it's so upsetting.

I'm afraid of even looking for friends. I'm afraid of letting anyone know that I can't take care of myself, that I don't know the basics of adulthood. It is very embarrassing. I can't let people know that I'm like this, so helpless and clueless. Getting a boyfriend is completely out of the question at this point. I mean who the fuck would even want to love me romantically now? No one wants an adult baby. And this stings so fucking bad now because I've become infatuated with such a nice and funny guy and I haven't been able to think about anything else but him. If I could at least be friends with him, I would be so fucking happy.

I don't even feel alive to be honest. I'm just existing. I want to live, I want to meet new people, I want love and sex, I wanna go to concerts and find new hobbies. I want to make more art and improve my skills since it's my main hobby, I've always loved drawing. I want to try new mediums like painting or sculpting. I'd like to play some instrument too. But it feels out of reach now.

I really don't know what to do, where to start. I'm so lost.

I can't ask my parents for advice. I really wish I had someone who would teach me how to be a person, how to be an adult.

I don't want a life like this.

[band--psycho]

Harvey Specter x Reader - Stay Here With Me

I know it's been a little while since I've posted a story, I'm sorry work has been really hectic, but I hope you all enjoy this little Harvey drabble 💛

Warnings: Hickeys, somewhat smutty (implied smut)

“Is it noticeable?” Y/n asked, staring at the reflection of her and Harvey in the bathroom mirror.

“Don’t even answer that,” she sighed before Harvey could even open his mouth. 

All morning she’d been trying to cover up the numerous purple marks that were scattered along both sides of her neck. A very obvious sign of the previous night’s enjoyment. 

“You’re worrying too much,” Harvey soothed, wrapping his arms around her waist, his head leaning on top of her shoulder; his breath tickling her neck, making a familiar tingle begin to flow through her body. 

“You’re not the one who has to go into the office like this,” she argued back, trying desperately hard to not give into the filthy thoughts her mind was playing out. 

“Neither do you,” he whispered, leaving a trail of soft kisses on the hickeys he’d left. 

He knew he should probably feel guilt for leaving so many marks on her in such obvious places, but he didn’t, not even a little bit. 

Instead, all he felt seeing Y/n's skin with the marks was a type of pride. Their relationship wasn’t official. Donna more than likely knew they had feelings for each other and that was about it. No one else knew anything about them,   so the marks were the closest thing to marking her as his as he could get. 

“Mr Specter, you are my boss, you should be encouraging me to go to work,” Y/n breathed, leaning back against Harvey’s body, while his hands ran up and down her waist.

Y/n wasn’t stupid, she knew how dangerous it was to be sleeping with her boss, especially in regards to her career. She didn’t want people to think that she got any sort of special treatment because of who she was sleeping with. She wanted to earn her peers respect and win cases on her own merit. And Harvey respected that. 

That’s why they both kept it a secret. 

And a secret was easy to keep, until feelings got involved. 

Like they did last night. 

Neither of them knew when things changed from casual to what it was now, but last night was the first time either of them had admitted that change in feeling to one another. 

After that, Harvey took it upon himself to make Y/n cum until she was a moaning mess begging him to stop. 

“We’ll as your boss,” he began softly, his voice nothing louder than a teasing whisper in her ear, “I think you should listen to me and take the day off.0 

A quiet moan left Y/na lips as one of Harvey’s hands slowly and torturously made their way down Y/ns waist, to her thigh, his fingers dancing along the inside of her thigh only adding to her already building arousal. 

“Harvey,” she breathed, a pleading tone lacing her voice as he continued to tease her. 

“Come one sweetheart, take the day off,” he cooed, kissing just beneath her ear, his hands moving closer to where she craved him most. 

But Y/n knew that she wouldn’t get anything from Harvey until she agreed to take the day off. 

Thankfully, she rarely ever took time off and she wasn’t working on any time sensitive cases, so calling in sick wouldn’t really be too much of an issue. 

So that’s exactly what she did, she informed the office that she wasn’t going to be in today. 

And she spent the day with Harvey, who had made it his mission to add more hickeys on her skin and ensure that he fucked her until she couldn’t walk, mainly just so could spend the night and following day cuddled up with her in bed, with only the occasional teasing. 

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @yn-ymn-yln @rebelwrites @little-diable @munsinner @maximoff-xmen @hoeforhim @vintagecarsandrecordplayers @giraffescooler @stylesann @wild-rose-35 @malfoys-demigod @camilyb @bookworm1767 @book-dragon03 @diaryofkali @mayans-mc @dana-is-snax @happilysparklyunknown @samanthaofanarchy @mrsamerica @navs-bhat @tinystudentmiracle